A Hard Days Night 7

Another click of the mouse. Another website. Sandy scanned through the text, reading hints that she almost knew by heart. "Try to go to sleep at the same time each night and get up at the same time each morning." "Avoid caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol late in the day or at night." "Make sure you eat dinner at least 2 to 3 hours before bedtime." "If you can't fall asleep within 20 minutes or don't feel drowsy, get up and read or do something that is not too active until you feel sleepy."

There wasn't a hint anywhere that said, "If you still can't sleep and it's two o'clock in the fucking morning, sit up and stare blearily at the fucking computer looking at useless goddamned websites about insomnia that don't do a goddamned motherfucking thing to help until you're ready to start sobbing and screaming at the FUCKING WALLS!" But Sandy was doing it anyway.

Another click of the mouse. Another website. This one mentioned sleeping pills, aromatherapy, herbal supplements. Sandy had tried them all. She just wound up getting too drowsy to move, while not being able to sleep any better than she ever did. It was worse than the insomnia. The effects of the drug left her feeling like a prisoner in her own body while she lay there, awake with her eyes half-shut and her limbs loose and rubbery.

That was if they worked at all. Sandy had bought a few "herbal supplements" that had been about as powerful as chamomile tea, and about ten billion times worse tasting. She'd known they weren't going to work even before she'd bought them, but when it's three o'clock in the morning and you're up for the third straight week, when getting a good night's sleep is like a second fucking job you don't even get paid for, well...Sandy had been desperate. And that had been a week and a half ago.

Another click of the mouse. Another website. Warm milk? Sandy was firmly in the grip of industrial fucking insomnia, bloodshot eyes and mood swings and nerves shot to hell, and they had the nerve to recommend warm milk? It took a considerable amount of Sandy's waning self-control to keep from punching her monitor. She settled for grabbing a pen and flinging it across her bedroom as hard as she could.

Another click of the mouse. Another website. This was all about medical options. She'd already been to a doctor, he'd given her the same bullshit advice she'd gotten from the useless fucking websites. (Sandy sat there for a long moment, trying to remember a time when she wasn't so frazzled that her internal monologue consisted entirely of profanity. She couldn't do it.) All she wanted was a prescription for something that really knocked her on her ass, something better than the over-the-counter crap. But he hadn't given it to her. Just the memory nearly brought tears to Sandy's eyes. (Then again, right now, noticing a loose thread in her nightgown nearly brought tears to her eyes. Had she mentioned that her nerves were absolutely fucking shot?)

Another click of the mouse. Another website. This one mentioned hypnosis. Yes, because she could obviously hire a hypnotherapist to show up at her house at two o'clock in the morning and...hang on. She scrolled down a bit further. "For best results," the page said, "you should listen to these recordings only when you are ready to sleep. Do not listen to these hypnotic inductions while operating a motor vehicle." Recordings. Something she could listen to right here, right now. Something that promised to help.

Sandy had tried listening to 'soothing recordings' before, but they'd always been useless crap like "the sound of the rain in the forest", or "waves on the beach". But this...she skimmed through the disclaimers a bit further. These people were actual professional hypnotists, they had credentials and everything. They seemed to really know what they were talking about, and they were saying that listening to these recordings could put you into a hypnotic trance...and that the journey from trance to sleep was just a hop, a skip, and a jump away. Just the thought of being able to sleep, really sleep instead of lying in bed in abject exhaustion with sleep always just out of reach...if this worked, Sandy would never stop thanking these people.

They had four different recordings on the site: Male Voice/Male Subject, Male Voice/Female Subject, Female Voice/Male Subject, and Female Voice/Female Subject. Sandy clicked on the last of the four boxes; she'd read somewhere that female voices were supposed to be more soothing or something.

Clicking the link brought up a page of instructions, and a little notice from Firefox that told her it was downloading "sleepytimeff.mp3" to her hard drive. While it downloaded, she read the instructions (since that seemed to be an acceptable alternative to grabbing her monitor and shaking it while shouting, "Transfer the file faster, you useless hunk of crap! I want to

sleep

!")

"While the file is downloading," the site read, "get yourself a candle and find a safe place to put it where you can see it from your bed." Sandy stood up and looked around. A candle? She knew that some women liked to have candles all over the house for decoration, but she'd always preferred those little decorative fountains instead. (She tried putting one of those in her bedroom for a while, back when the insomnia had first kicked in. Figured it'd help her drift off to sleep. All it had done was make her need to pee.)

She headed downstairs, racking her brains in an effort to think of where she might have a candle. She found the decorative candlestick that Aunt Gladys had willed to her, the one she'd loved as a little girl, but there was no candle to put into it. Three blackout flashlights, a pack of matches, and a cigarette lighter from back before she quit smoking, but no candles anywhere. "Goddammit!" she cried out, startling the cat.

She went back upstairs and sat back down in front of the computer. Maybe there was another set of recordings somewhere, ones that didn't require a candle. Maybe she could start a new search for "insomnia + hypnosis", find someone else that could help, maybe she could...oh, fuck it. Sandy grabbed a shirt and pulled it on over her nightgown, following it with a pair of sweatpants. She probably looked like hell, but the people visiting a Wal-Mart at 2:30 AM always looked terrible, right? Not that Sandy really knew. She normally was sound asleep at this time of night. But "normal" had left the building a month ago.

She drove the ten miles to Wal-Mart with an almost paranoid caution; Sandy might not be able to sleep, but that didn't mean she felt particularly awake, either. The last thing she needed was a cop pulling her over in the middle of the night for reckless driving. In her current state, she'd probably wind up getting arrested for assaulting an officer. Then again, at this point Sandy felt like she was willing to take a nightstick to the back of the skull if it meant getting to sleep.

After pulling into the parking lot, she wandered up and down the aisles like a zombie for several long minutes, trying to figure out where exactly they kept candles. 'Home Furnishings'? 'Hardware'? 'Cheap Decorative Shit For People Who Have Too Much Free Time On Their Hands, Because They Don't Work A High-Pay, High-Stress Job That's Also Kept Them From Having Any Kind Of Social Life For The Last Three Years'? (Okay, that was the insomnia talking again. Sandy loved her job. Stressful? Yes. Busy? Yes. But she'd been a partner at the firm for over a year now, and if that was enough to cause insomnia, surely she'd have gotten it before now?)

Candles! "Oh, thank you sweet and merciful God," Sandy whispered, not even caring if anyone heard her. Because candles meant that she could listen to this recording, and listening to this recording meant that she could get hypnotized, and getting hypnotized meant sweet, blissful, restful sleep! She practically sprinted to the checkout aisle with them.

The woman working the checkout aisle looked pretty much exactly like Sandy had always pictured late night Wal-Mart employees--doughy, sullen, and with an expression of vague contempt on her face. Sandy handed over the candles without a word, and the cashier scanned them in silence. "Twelve twenty-five," she said after a brief pause, her voice making it clear that the words were a necessity of her job, not an attempt at social interaction.

Sandy fished around in her purse for her wallet. "Crap!" she hissed out, transfixed with sudden terror at not finding it. Had she left it back at home? Why would she do that? What kind of an idiot do you have to be to leave your wallet...her heart unclenched as she finally found it, nestled snugly near the bottom next to an old tube of mascara. With a sheepish smile, Sandy pulled out her debit card and paid for her purchase.

It was 3 AM by the time Sandy got home, but on the plus side, the file had completely downloaded. Hopefully, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes for the recording to send her to sleep. She'd already decided that if it worked, she wasn't going to set the alarm. Saturdays at the office weren't mandatory anyway, and if she could get one decent night's sleep, she'd be able to get twice as much done on Sunday. And if it worked once...the thought of endless nights of soothing, dreamy sleep tantalized Sandy as she set up a small TV tray at the foot of her bed, then placed the candle into the candlestick and set both on the tray.

She looked at the site one last time before starting the mp3. Candle...got it. Get in bed, undressed and ready to sleep...Sandy pulled the shirt and sweatpants back off. After a moment of indecision, she shucked off the nightgown as well, leaving herself totally nude. Got it. Light the candle...Sandy smacked her own forehead in irritation, then raced downstairs for the matches. With trembling fingers, she struck one and held it to the wick. For a brief moment, she was terrified that it wouldn't light, that she'd gotten a bad box and she'd have to go back to the Wal-Mart and return them and she'd be gone for another half-hour before she could even think of crawling into bed and...no! It lit! Sandy almost clapped her hands together in glee before realizing that she still held a lit match.

She blew it out and walked back over to the computer. Lit candle, ready for sleep, all she had to do now was click play and get in bed. With one last, tiny, desperate prayer to whatever gods cured insomnia, Sandy clicked the mouse.

"Hello," a soft, feminine voice said. Just the tone of it sounded like music to Sandy's ears. The woman sounded confident, but soothing at the same time. Like she knew that Sandy would fall asleep listening to her, like there wasn't a shadow of a doubt in the world that she could put Sandy to bed. "This recording is designed to put you into a hypnotic trance, one that you can use to send yourself to deep, relaxing sleep." Sandy sighed happily at the thought.

"Please make sure that you are lying down, either in your bed or in a place where you will be able to sleep comfortably." With a start, Sandy realized that she'd been so intent on the woman's voice that she'd forgotten to get into bed. That had to be a good sign, right? She hopped into bed as the woman's voice said, "You should have a lit candle placed where you can see it easily, without needing to strain your neck. If your candle isn't lit, or isn't placed in a good position, go ahead and adjust it now." Sandy looked down, seeing the candle's flame dance and flicker in the dim light. She let her head sink back a bit into the pillows. Nope, no problems here. Sleep, here we come!

"There," the woman said after a bit of a pause. "Now you can see the candle, and stay very relaxed and comfortable. I want you to take just a moment to look at that candle, just watch the flame and nothing else. Concentrate completely on the warm, gentle flame and listen to my voice. We're just going to do a simple, progressive induction, just something that lets you relax your body completely and gets you ready for sleep. It's very easy. All you need to do is just focus your attention on the candle and let my voice tell you what to do. You'll probably find that you won't even notice my voice after a bit. You'll just find, as you stare at the candle, that it takes up more and more of your attention, and that you're relaxing easily...and naturally...and completely. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Sandy nodded before she realized that it wasn't like the recording could actually see or hear her. But she just felt such a rapport with this woman, with that wonderful soothing voice, that it was hard to remember that she wasn't actually there in the room with Sandy. That Sandy didn't even know who had made the recording, whose voice she was listening to. All Sandy cared about was that it was working, that this woman was going to help her sleep. The fact that she was responding to the voice without thinking made Sandy happy, it meant that she wasn't thinking clearly anymore. It couldn't be that long before not thinking clearly became not thinking at all, right? And that meant she could finally sleep.

"Now, as you stare deeply at the candle, I want you to feel the muscles in your feet. Feel them relaxing, all on their own, as you watch the candle. Feel the tension, the stress just drain out of those muscles, leaving them nice and loose and relaxed. Your feet are relaxed...and because this is a progressive induction, that means that same relaxation is just going to progress right up past your feet to your calves. You don't need to do anything about it, you don't need to do anything but watch the candle and listen to my voice. You're finding that my words are just passing into your head so easily, now, and that you don't really need to think about them at all. Your feet relaxed without needing to do anything, your calves relaxed without needing to do anything, just because I said that they would. The more you listen, the more relaxed you become. And you want to be relaxed more than anything, don't you?"

Sandy nodded again, and this time she barely even tried to chase the elusive thought of how silly it was to nod to a...a...the woman started talking about her fingers and hands, and Sandy quickly found that the soft, peaceful sensations spread up her arms the same way they were spreading up her legs, and it made her stop wondering what she was wondering about. She didn't want to think anymore. Thinking was what kept her awake. She didn't want to be awake, so she didn't want to think. She just wanted to stare at the candle and relax.

Sandy realized with a start that she'd lost track of the voice. It had just been going on, so soft and comforting, so relaxing that it wasn't until the voice had actually said, "...and you might find that you're losing track of my voice," that Sandy had recognized that she was losing track of the voice. But the next words from the recording had been, "That's alright. That's perfectly natural. That's a sign that you're sinking into a warm, deep trance, and that's a good thing." Sandy breathed a soft sigh of relief. "You don't need to think about it at all. Your deepest self will remember everything I say, so you can just let my words pass into your sleepy mind, hearing without listening, and let go completely into trance."

Sandy realized that she was doing just that, her mind going completely blank for long stretches as she listened to the voice without really even noticing what it was saying. She realized that she was just relaxing and listening and going blank and empty, and she embraced the notion like a soft teddy bear. Her monitor had gone into sleep mode now, leaving the room lit only by the glow of the candle, the glow that had become Sandy's entire world. The glow and the voice and that warm, soft, dreamy relaxed feeling that had spread all the way up to her chest and all the way up to her thighs and...

"And now you realize that there's just one place that's not quite relaxed yet. Now that your mind has quieted completely, my dear, now that your body has become still and soft and totally melted into my voice, you can feel that tension, right there. Right there between your thighs. That's the tension that's been keeping you from sleeping. You've been wanting to sleep so badly, but your body's been whispering to you, whispering that insistent need, the need for pleasure. You've just been too distracted to hear it. But I've helped you hear it. I've helped you find that need, that arousal that's growing even more powerful now, the tension building inside your hot, aroused pussy. Now that you feel it, you're wondering how you could ever have missed it, aren't you?"

"yss..." Sandy whimpered. She hadn't noticed it at all until the voice mentioned it, but now the tingles of arousal coming from her pussy were practically impossible to ignore. She wanted to reach down and slip her fingers into her pussy, massage the hot, slippery wetness until she finally released all that tension, but her arms felt too relaxed and limp to move. All she could do was gently writhe between the sheets, a prisoner in her own body. The sensation seemed familiar somehow, but unlike the drugs and sleeping pills, this time Sandy had help. The voice.

"Yes, of course, and now that heat is building even further, even deeper and more intense as you listen to my voice. It's that arousal that's keeping you from sleep, and you want so badly to cum now, you want to just let yourself go and feel that overwhelming pleasure as it courses through you and you can finally coast over the edge into orgasm, and then past orgasm into deep, restful, relaxed and wonderful sleep. But you can't, not so long as you're so horny, not so long as you're so needy." Sandy let out a little whimper of frustration and lust.

"It's okay," the voice said. "It's alright, I'm here. You never need to worry about anything, not while I'm here. I'll help you. Just keep listening to my voice. You've gotten so good at listening to my voice, now. I know you want me to help you cum. I know you need me to help you cum. I know you trust me to help you cum."

Sandy was practically moaning now, her jaw slack and a trickle of drool dribbling down her cheek. For an instant, she wished she'd chosen the male voice for this, wanting to hear a man whisper erotic thoughts into her ears as she lay relaxed and helpless on the bed, but she was too horny to care anymore who it was that talked her over the edge into orgasm. She just needed to cum, needed to cum and sleep and the voice would give that to her, and she would be so grateful. "So grateful, you'll know you can trust me completely, you'll be so happy to trust me completely and utterly once you cum for me."

Sandy gasped sharply in arousal. She just wanted to cum for the voice, she wanted to obey the voice because the voice was so helpful, she would trust it and obey it and give into it completely because the voice was the source of pleasure, the source of relaxation, the voice gave her everything she needed and wanted so she knew she needed to...

"...obey, must obey me completely, and the more you obey the more pleasure you feel. Just listen to my voice as your hand begins to move all on its own, moving under my control down to your wet, hot, needy cunt and rubbing your clit..." Sandy's moans were loud and uninhibited now in the empty house as she felt her fingers rub, slick with her own lubrication. "And you feel better now, your hand obeyed and it gave you pleasure, your mind obeys and it gives you pleasure, you're lost in the pleasure and you're feeling so good and so happy and you're so close to the edge, so close to sex and sleep and everything you need, everything you want and all you have to do is obey, when you obey completely you'll cum so hard, sleep so deep, just as soon as you let your mind go completely and obey, you know you want that, so close now, so very close, just about ready to give in and...now. Cum, obey, cum, obey..."