Sasha's Hypnotic Awakening

Sasha didn't like to let on her attractions. It was nobody's business that she was interested in Jean, and nobody's business that she wanted her body. It wasn't right. It wasn't proper. And Sasha was nothing if not right and proper. Didn't she wear the flattest bras she could find to disguise her awful, enormous, gravity-defying breasts? Didn't she wrap herself in the baggiest clothing to hide her stubbornly sensual curves? There was no way, Sasha thought, that she was going to be one of those girls. She wouldn't wear lipstick. She wouldn't tease. And she certainly wouldn't be a lesbian.

But every time Sasha was finally secure in her dusty life of sexlessness, Jean strutted into the studio and her heart stopped. Jean was a tall, proud dyke, all rainbow pins and patches on a black denim jacket that barely covered her proudly displayed chest. Sasha had no idea what kind of show she ran—just because Sasha managed radio programming didn't mean she had to listen to it—but it was one of those morning talk programs that made commuters howl with laughter. Jean's face was on billboards, signs, stickers, the paper. It made Sasha's tame, polite little pussy howl too—for blood. She'd soaked through so many of her plain white panties that her laundry bill had risen.

And for some reason, here was the perpetrator in the flesh. Jean herself. God. Look at that grin on her face, Sasha seethed, feeling her nipples strain against her bra. Look at that cute little grin. What a cocksure, slutty, hot little slice of sin...

"Sasha?"

Sasha blinked. "I'm very busy," she snapped. "Did you have something to ask me?"

Jean's lopsided grin got a little wider and her big brown eyes flashed—was that a wink? Sasha ground her teeth. "I just wanted you to take a listen to something and see if it's FCC-safe," she said. God, Jean looked like a whore, but her voice was like honey. And she wouldn't look like a whore anymore if Sasha stripped off those tight little jeans—no! She wrestled her urges back into her the recesses of her brain, where they snarled at her angrily. Jean was holding out a pair of earmuff headphones connected to a smartphone. The case proudly proclaimed that it was Earth-safe, compostable, and made from compressed seaweed because, Sasha read with disgust, "Your Mama Is Sexy."

"Fine. Give it here." Sasha snatched the headset and phone. Showrunners made her do this sometimes. She didn't know why they thought she'd be the big law enforcer. Sasha didn't care if all of them got kicked off the radio for airing profanities. She placed the receiver on her head, careful not to disturb her painfully tight bun.

It was some kind of experimental music, she thought. A kind of deep, descending thrum, a throb that was at once soothing and attention-grabbing. She checked the screen of the smartphone to see its duration and instead saw that the entire display was taken up with a black and white spiral graphic, spinning slowly but without pause or hitch. She watched for a minute to see if it would do anything, then a minute longer because it was so nice to watch the spiral. The noise in her ears almost seemed to be words at some points, but if they were, they were just below her ability to consciously hear them. Nevertheless, words did start to rise into her mind. Relax. Watch the spiral. Listen to my voice.

Lazily, Sasha thought that the honeyed tones in her mind could be Jean talking. Mmm, Jean. Now that she could let go and just watch the spiral, falling deep, deep into the spiral, she could let herself explore her fascination with her crush. Sasha sighed as years of tension unwound inside her. That's right. Let go. Your whole body is relaxing now. The spiral was soothing, the music was soothing, and Sasha could finally just relax and enjoy the tingle of lust that arose when she allowed herself to think of Jean. You're very sexually attracted to her. In fact, you want to tell her that right now.

"I find you very attractive, Jean," Sasha murmured, eyes still on the spiral. It seemed so right to say it. It was silly not to. And now she was a good girl. Falling deeper into the spiral now, feeling relaxed and tired. Sasha's eyes started to feel heavy. She was very sleepy, and every blink became heavier. Her eyes were harder and harder to open. Very, very sleepy. All you want to do is sleep and listen to Jean. Jean's voice is so nice. You don't want to resist her. When she talks, your mind becomes empty and blank. All you want to do is obey.

Distantly, Sasha felt the headphones being lifted off her ears. But her eyes were closed by then and she was falling into a deep, blissful sleep. Jean's voice was guiding her to stand and let her hair down, and Sasha floated happily through obedience, feeling herself become more aroused with every command she obeyed. Her auburn hair cascaded down to her shoulders as she tugged at her tight, uncomfortable clothes, kicking off her shoes. She had to feel Jean's hands on her body. She was desperate! Her breasts were finally free of those awful compression cups and they bounced joyfully. Jean's voice suggested that Sasha open her eyes, and Sasha did, because it was so good to obey Jean. Before her, Jean was topless, her pierced nipples and ample breasts begging for Sasha's caress.

"Come here, Sasha," Jean commanded, and Sasha obeyed without question or resistance. Jean's arms encircled her, her words allowing Sasha to give in to her deepest, most repressed fantasies. She wrapped herself around Jean and kissed her deeply, probing her mouth with her tongue and feeling the heat of Jean's body on hers. The sensation of Jean's skin against hers made Sasha moan, but Jean warned that she couldn't come—not yet. It wasn't time. Instead, Jean would play with Sasha's nipples, gently, insistently, as Sasha leaned back on the desk nearly crying with ecstasy. How could anything feel better than this?

She'd soon learn that there were better things even than nipple play. Gently, Jean pulled down Sasha's skirt, her every whispered word driving Sasha to unrealized heights of arousal. Sasha's panties, now as wet as though they'd been under a faucet, were a lost cause. They landed in the trash can, along with her modest skirt and flats. Then Jean whispered some last instructions. Sasha would let herself go now. She would experience true pleasure for the first time in her life. And if she hated it, she'd say so, fall asleep, and forget that this had ever happened. But if not...

Sasha's empty mind accepted Jean's commands without question as Jean plunged her face into Sasha's hungry cunt. The pleasure that Sasha felt then was without parallel. She couldn't possibly have described it, except that it was like a white-hot poker that somehow felt wonderful. She gasped, screaming in surprise and pleasure, as Jean's skillful tongue quickly brought her to an orgasm that made her tumble off the desk and down to the carpet in a paroxysm of climax.

Jean lay next to Sasha as they both stared at the ceiling. "Are you awake?" Jean asked.

"I am," Sasha replied. "So far."

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then, Jean said, "What did you think?"

Sasha considered. "I think I have to re-examine how I've been running my life. But first, I have a request for you."

Jean looked at Sasha and Sasha looked back. "What is it?" Jean asked.

"Take me home and let me listen to a little more of your work. I find it very... compelling."

Rhea is an erotic submissive and hypnotic subject. Find more of her work on Vocal and Amazon.