Doors in the Mind

It started as a party trick. I'd been into mysticism, sacred geometry, and mentalism for a long time, and one of my friends asked if I'd hypnotize her on a lark. My manipulative streak kicked in, and soon, my friends watched as I had her take off all her clothes, and dance around the room naked.

Granted, this wasn't the most modest girl knew, and we'd seen her do similar things under the influence of alcohol. Still, it was a rather impressive demonstration. It Impressed two of my friends particularly. They'd been going out a couple years, and in all that time, he'd talked her into letting him touch her breast when they where kissing.

She was vying for the dubious distinction of the most modest girl I knew, her prudishness bordered on Erotiphobia. She didn't even masturbate, needless to say, she was a virgin. After the party, he asked if I could hypnotize her into putting out. He didn't use those exact words, but that was it, in a nutshell.

I didn't make any promises, but was intrigued by the challenge. As I told him, hypnosis just doesn't work without trust, and any she had for me hit the floor with every stitch of clothing I'd talked that girl out of. I'd also have to basically put her under without her knowledge, since she sure as hell wouldn't consent. All the literature I'd read stated unequivocally that it couldn't be done. They also stated as unequivocally that you couldn't make someone do something against their character, and this seemed to apply as well.

I still agreed to try, but had him promise to follow my directions. The first was when I said "Phrenology," he must be as quiet, and unobtrusive as possible. This'd be hard enough without any distractions. The first step was to gain her trust. She didn't even want to be alone with me, because "I freaked her out" even before the strip tease incident.

She still tolerated my presence, because I can be charming, and entertaining. I'm also highly intelligent, but I don't make a big deal out of it. The way I see it, it makes up for some physical limitations. I may come off as a creepy little freak, but that didn't keep people from coming to me for advice, and answers.

She was having trouble in math, Euclidian geometry to be precise, and I agreed to help her study. I'd been hanging out with them a while, and she started getting used to me. Her boyfriend was there the whole time, but now it was because he didn't want to leave me alone with her. Like I said, I sometime have that effect on people.

As it turns out, our little math study sessions provided the perfect opportunity. All the numbers, variables, and abstract concepts lulled her into the right frame of mind. It was especially effective as I tended to recite formulae like "L time W times H divided by two" (area of a corner) in a singsong monotone of equal measured beats. I nonchalantly commented that she was getting stressed out in frustration, and he moved in to rub her shoulders like I'd arraigned beforehand. It would help her relax, and get comfortable with the situation. sure enough, she started to loll a little. Next, I pointed out that one of the formulas was used in "phrenology."

He nodded behind her, and kept rubbing. She asked about it, and I made up some bullshit about how it was a ratio of facial features thought to be the prime of beauty. She swallowed it, and went back to her study. "That reminds me," I went on, "Have you ever heard of a memory house?"

She'd seen Hannibal, but not read it, so she hadn't. I'd known about it before the book was even written, but was pleased when I'd read it. (in case you're wondering, I remembered Lecher referring to psychology as "on the level of phrenology," and that'd brought it to mind earlier. That's just the way my mind works.)

"It's a Mnemonic device," I droned on, "An imaginary construct where you can keep memories. It helps you organise your thoughts." the wording was deliberate. Phonetic repetition is an effective technique in hypnosis.

"How does it work?" she wondered fascinated.

"Lean back, and close your eyes," I instructed, but she balked suspiciously, "I'll help you make one."

"Don't try anything,," she warned me.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I lied, and nodded with a slow blink. The dream suggestion, and visual cues would work much better than saying something suspicious like, "You are getting sleepy, Verry Sleeeepy."

She relented, and closed her eves, but refused to relax. Her forgotten boyfriend stopped rubbing until I waved him on. "Now," I returned to her, "Visualize a room. it's empty now, but we can come back later to decorate. There's a door on the wall there, with the Pi symbol on it, open it, and look inside."

"Okay..." she said sceptically.

"Pi is the ratio of a circle's radius to it's circumference," I recited in my droning monotone.

She opened her eyes, "I know."

"Of course you do," I leaned in to intimate, "You just studied it. We're putting it in here so you can find it again when you need it."

"Oh," she says, and closes her eyes again.

"The area is equal to the pi times the radius squared," I went on, "It's also the ratio of the diameter to the circumference. Two times pi times the diameter equals the circumferences. The diameter is twice the radius, so the circumferences is twice the radius times twice pi."

"Uh huh," she concentrated, but with a slight smile on her face.

"Now," I shifted slightly, "Turn around, and there should be another door across from this one." She nodded silently, and chewed her lip. "It has a right triangle on it, the sides three inches, four inches, and five inches. Open the door, and look in." She nods again. I took her through Pythagorean theorem, using the 3/4/5 triplet for example. "Three and three is nine, four and four is sixteen nine plus sixteen is twenty five. Five and five is twenty five, so three squared plus four squared is five squared. For every right triangle, the sum of the squares of the legs equals the square of the hypotenuses."

The repetition of numbers was incredibly effective. She repeated them silently, burning them into the floor of her brain. I judged her just about ready, and decided to try and put her deeper. she was under, but I didn't want to jerk her through the gears fast enough to snap her out of it.

"Now, there's many halls here. with many doors, leading to many rooms. It's as infinite as knowledge, all you know is here, and all you will know will fit. there's another floor below this one, a warehouse of the everyday thoughts that don't need rooms, or halls, or walls. Deeper than that, below the surface of your thoughts is your heart. It beats with blood, but it also holds emotions. everything you feel is down here, and everything you will learn to feel." She didn't respond at all. She was too deep under, entranced by this hitherto unknown vastness within her.

"You haven't even scratched the surface of feeling yet, never truly loved, never felt the warmth of knowing you're loved."

Finally, she responded, her face fell with a deep sadness that I could almost feel out here. Even her boyfriend was affected, blindly massaging her back with his eyes closed.

"There's much for you to learn," I went on, "Great things too far off for you to understand, and little things like the fact that massages feel better without a shirt in the way."

That brought him back, he looked up with a grin. "Do you want to try that?" She nodded, lazily, "Alright, turn right, and go through the door with the hands on it. This is the massage room, and shirts aren't allowed in here."

Slowly, mechanically, she pulled out her shirt, and we helped her out of it. Meanwhile, I motioned for us to switch, and took over rubbing her back. "That's better," I thought for her, and I must admit with no false modesty that it was true. I was a better masseur than him, hell I knew the word.

I will point out that you can't learn everything there is to know about massage from a book. On the other hand, we had about the same amount of experience, plus the knowledge I'd read.

I knew Shiatzu, and tantra, or at least I could pick them out of a line-up. Reaching up to rub her neck with one hand, I reached down with the other, and unhooked her bra. "your chest looks tense," I suggested, would you like it massaged too?" She nodded as I gave her boyfriend his first glimpse of her bare breasts. He reached in, entranced, and began to rub them. "that's better," I supplied for her again, and she nodded again. I wasn't expecting that, and that worried me. At that point, I decided to pull her out as gently as possible, so I could sweep up behind us.

"It's quiet in here," I noted, "You cannot hear a thing." I hoped that would let me talk to him, and convince him it was time to call it a night. "all right, that's it."

"Whuh?" he looked up confused.

"We've been at this at least twenty minutes," I warned him, "I don't know if I can go any further, and she'll notice the time discrepancy if I do."

He finally concented, so I started the long journey back to reality. "This is but one door in the long hall of sensuality," I whispered in her ear, "We can delve deeper, when you're ready, but for now, let's go up, and explore some more."

She nods again, a bit more forcefully, so I get her going back. "The corridors are long, and dark, so you don't think you'll be able to find your way back again. In fact, as you climb back out of the darkness, you forget what was down there, and what you did there. Eventually, you forget that you where even there, that it's there at all."

I never new all those hours palying D&D in middle school would ever be useful. We dressed her as I bought her back, "up past your everyday concerns, past even the math room is a tower. at the top, you can see the world around you, and that none can get in but you. Open your eyes."

We'd switched our places back, so everything was back to normal when she came back to us. "Now," I say in a conversational tone, "You should be able to remember all the stuff we studied tonight. Pi is about 3.1415926535, but with the nine there, you can just round it up to 3.1416." She glanced up, and mumbled under her breath.

"I'll remember that, " she said to me.

After that first session, I had it out with him. He'd nearly messed everything up for us, and gotten us busted, if you'll pardon the expression. "What do you think you where doing in there?" I confronted him.

"What?" he asks hurt.

"You nearly made me snap her out of it," I point out, "If she came too, half naked, with both of us touching like that, she would never have gone out with you again. She could've called the cops, and brought us up on assault charges, sexual assault charges!"

He hangs his head, and nods it dejectedly, "You're right, I'm sorry, won't happen again," he mumbles.

"You're damn skippy it won't," I cut in, "None of it will. You'll have to be satisfied with what you got tonight."

"Hey," he looked up a little miffed, "We had a deal."

"Bullocks," I contradict, "I said I'd try. She's too resistive, and you're too distracting."

"Cummon," he pleaded, "Give it another shot, I'll be good."

"What do I get out of it?" I sneer.

"I'll owe you," he attempts to lend.

"You already owe me," I remind him.

"What do you want?" he offers.

Now's my chance, "I let you touch her tits, it's only fair I get the same."

"No way," he doesn't seem convinced. The possibility of getting more no doubt clouded his judgement.

I laugh, "Fine, you might be able to talk her into taking her shirt off next time you give her a back rub, but she'll stay on her chest, and in her bra." I prognosticate.

"How do you know?" he doubts me.

"Try it," I leave.

******************************************

The next day, she calls me. "I got a math tes comming up," she informs me, "You think you could help me study?"

I concider, "What's Pi?" I decide to give her a pop quiz.

"Three point one four one six," she recites almost instantly.

"Close enough," I judge.

"Well," she can't resist showing off, "It's closer to .314159, but you said I could round it up."

"When do you want me to come over?" I wonder.

"Can I go over there?" oh, yeah.

"Sure," I curb my enthusiasm, "When?"

"I'll be there in a few," she hangs up without another word.

In the interrum, I set the stage. The sheet gets pulled down over my window, and I light some candles to balance the illumination. Going through the room, I hide most of the incriminating stuff, books by Crowley, La Vey, Tarot cards, my Athame, Pentacle, Chalace, and Rod. I also pick up some magazines, and shove them under the mattress, 10%, Yin&Yang, ATM, ETC. I leave out the cauldron/ braesur, because it's too big too hide, and deniable.

It's not much of a walk, but he drives her up sooner than I anticipated. Apparently, she got a ride from her boyfriend. He would, of course, want to tag along to be in on it, and keep an eye on me. That changed my plans slightly, though.

I let them in, then lead them up to my room. I live with some other guys at my school but it isn't a fraternity. I put PSI, and PHI up over the door as a joke. They weren't around, but that wasn't unusual, they came by to sleep, or fuck the girl du jour, and didn't study from what I could tell. I barely knew them at all, and they pretty much left me alone.

"Got the study sheet?" I wondered. She nodded, and got it out of her backpack. Fairly basic stuff, regular polygons, Pythagorean proof, phi ratio... I tore off some sheets, folded over the corners to a right icosolese triangles to make a square, and trimmed it back while I taught her. She kept her eyes open, and watched what I was doing, glancing up occasionally to store some thing away. When I had six squares of paper, I folded them over again, then again, and again until I had four lobed shapes like pyramids with the sides flattened into wings. Then, I wove them together, tucking ends into each other until they became the six points of a collapsed octahedron. Finally, I started offhandedly spinning it between my palms with my fingers. She watched raptly, the spinning vanes cause a little air to be thrown out like a centripetal pump, but I was really going for repetitive cyclic motion. Again, it wasn't stereotypical, and suspicious like swinging a pocket watch in front of her face. It worked, she was entranced, so I didn't have to get mine out.

Finally, her face went slack, eyes staring off to infinity in the general direction of the spinning candle-lit Euclidian solid. I moved to set it aside, but her eyes followed. "Close your eyes," I directed gently. She did, but I saw them glaze over, and roll up as the lids came down.

"Now," I went on, "You are in the foyer of your mind, the spacious place without walls, or halls, or doors. A spiral staircase leads up to your memories, and a hatch in the floor goes down to the dark corridors of your heart." I almost said 'trap door,' but didn't want to make that association.

"Open the hatch," I basically tell her to open her heart, "and climb down. It's dark, but you don't need to see. None knows your heart better than you," I lie, "so you easily navigate." She breathes some more.

"The way is long, and winding, but you eventually find your way to the Hall Of The Senses. Here is the massage room, do you want to go in?"

"Yes," she answers in a flat inflectionless tone, and starts for her shirt. Though my post hypnotic suggestion stated that she wouldn't remember, it doesn't work like that. I basically closed, and locked the door behind us last time, but once we came back, so did the rules.

"Where would you like to be massaged?" I ask gently. I usually don't prompt like this, but I wanted it to be "Her" idea. It makes it more natural, so I'm not trying to get her to do something against her inner inhibitions, but reprogram them.

"Everywhere," she sighs. My heart races, and I notice him getting excited too.

"Lie back," I direct, and the two of us help her down. 'till now, we'd been sitting equilaterally, but now, I moved up to her upper body, and he stayed down where he was interested in. I reached for her bra, and he moves to stop me.

"Again, you can hear nothing in here," I quickly shut us out of her. To him, I state, "We had a deal."

He shook his head, "She's mine."

"Oh really?" I raise my hands over my head dramatically, as if to clap them.

"No, wait!" he tries to stop me.

"I control her," I remind him, "You'd get nothing without my help. Allow me this, or I end it now." He sighs, unsure, so I offer, "I can get you in her pants, if you do exactly what I say."

"Fine," he gives in. She's got nice breasts, a bit small, but perky. The bra, and gravity pressed them down, creating little curved creases between. Thankfully, it was a front clasp, so I was able to open it without reaching under. It popped open, but didn't slide off.

I murmer to her, "Now, you can go deeper into the room, where they massage you deeper on your body," I reward him for his acquiescence. But no clothes are allowed at all." she balks, just lies there not moving.

"It's alright, noone is in her to see you, noone can even come in here but you." Finally, she slowly reaches down to undo her jeans. He happily helps her out of them, exposing her blue cotton panties. I note a little perturbed that it doesn't match the white tafetta of her bra, but let it pass. To compensate a little, I spread my hands across her chest, brushing the open bra aside. Her hard little nipples scrape across my palm to appear on the other side. They're tiny, and dark with blood. Pinching them gently between the web of my thumbs, she arches slightly, a small smile on her equally plumped lips. Looking back, I see him rubbing the slight mound of her pubis. She lets out an unconscious sigh. Briefly removing my hands from her chest, I wave for his attention, make an "OK" with my fingers, and slip another through it while shaking my head. He opens his mouth to protest, but I shake my head explicitly "NO!" and glare at him. He resigns, and nods dejectedly. This is "massage," so penetration would be going too far.

"You can come back here whenever you please," I permit her, "Whenever it's private, and you want a little pleasure for yourself." If I could get her over her inhibition against masturbation, maybe I could get her ready to accept sex.

I had a similar place in my mind, connected to the hall of dreams through a fantasy shortcut. Here, I remembered all my fondest erotic wishes, and experiences. I was there now, watching with some interest as we molested her. Taking notes, and recording every detail. She felt so good in my hands, her soft smoothe breasts, the harder warm nipples.

Mimicing their response, more points stood out on her chest, goose flesh pebbling her despite the warmth of the room. A flush followed, spreading up to her neck, and her lips darkened further with blood. A rosy glow suffused her cheeks as well. Her breathing got shallower, and the scent of her arousal started overpowering the burning wax in the room.

He'd pulled her panties down, and was running a couple fingers between her other lips. I'm sure her button was out by now, so it must've been running between them. Sure enough, a shudder rolled across her, then again. They kept comming, in time with his slow strokes.

She also hunched forward, like I do when I brush my tip after an orgasm. It's reflexive, so I didn't take it as a sign of her comming out of it. Finally, her belly rippled. She gasped, and sighed, but didn't cry out. Muscle stood out in her jaw as it clenched, and her eyelids rippled.

"That's good," I thought for her, "That's so good. Now, there's no further you can go in this room. Come back, though, when you want to feel like this again." Finally, she subsided.