Rosita was going to be naked soon.
Her slinky burgundy dress already felt too tight and constricting on her curvy body, clinging to her feverishly warm brown skin and distracting her with the way it rubbed against her sensitive flesh with every little motion. Rosita ached with the desire to pull it off, to show Mateo the breasts she'd been teasing him with in pictures over the last few frustrating months and watch the bulge in his trousers twitch with desire in response. She wanted to be nude so badly that she could picture every last second of her disrobing like a pornographic movie unspooling in the theater of her mind. They were finally alone now, finally alone together after months of delays from the insignificant to the pandemic-sized, and only one thing kept her from getting naked right now.
She knew that if she waited just a little bit longer, Mateo would command her to strip for him. And her helpless, hypnotized fingers would drift into sleepy obedience at last. "Are you ready?" Mateo asked, and Rosita shivered with arousal at everything those three simple words implied. She nodded, her throat closing up with arousal too tightly to allow speech to escape. They'd negotiated all the boundaries, all the wish lists, everything she wanted and needed and simply couldn't imagine herself doing, and now it was finally time to be hypnotized. To be controlled. To be an obedient slut for the Master she could admit, at last, that she really wanted.
Mateo smiled, his chubby russet cheeks dimpling adorably. "Then let's begin," he said, sitting cross-legged on the couch across from her and taking her hands in his own. "We're going to start with something very simple, Rosita. Just a little counting game, that's all. You're going to start at one hundred, and when you feel me squeeze your hands, you're just going to count one number down. And on every even number, you're going to close your eyes, and on every odd number, you're going to open your eyes. Do you understand?"
Rosita swallowed heavily, trying to force her words through the thick lump of anticipation in her throat. "Count down whenever you squeeze my hands. Close my eyes on the even numbers. Open them on the odd numbers." She nodded. "Okay." She waited for a long moment, her clit pulsing like a second heartbeat between her legs. She couldn't stop imagining how good it would feel to take her clothes off, her fingers moving languorously at Mateo's instruction to expose her tawny brown skin to his hungry gaze. How hot it would be to enjoy the delicious sensation of his hands brushing her lush, heavy tits and thick nipples. How badly she'd wanted this for months now.
Then his hands squeezed hers, and Rosita closed her eyes and murmured, "One hundred." Her breath escaped in a whoosh of excitement, and she inhaled unsteadily to replace it.
"That's it," Mateo said, his voice smooth and soft in the darkness of her mind. "It's very easy to close those heavy eyes and relax, just let them shut while you focus on the numbers descending down for me. You're already familiar with hypnosis, you're already comfortable with trance, and you already know what happens when you close your eyes and listen to my words." He squeezed again, and Rosita felt a momentary twinge of defiance welling up inside her. She didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to sink deeper.
But she also wanted to follow along with his instructions. So she opened her eyes and said, "Ninety-nine." She couldn't help but notice that her gaze almost instantly focused on the deep brown of Mateo's irises, so rich and dark that she almost couldn't tell where his pupils began. It was so easy to lock on that comforting stare, to just look back at him and stay centered on the sound of his voice and the warmth of his hands holding hers. Rosita's breathing slowed, her arousal not diminishing but somehow becoming leashed to the relaxation spreading through her body.
"And those eyelids are already feeling much heavier, much more difficult to open," Mateo said, his thumbs very lightly caressing the skin on the backs of Rosita's hands. "You're already anticipating the next number, already looking forward to the chance to close those heavy eyes again and sink deeper into the warm darkness inside your head. It's so nice to think about how much better you're going to feel each and every time those drowsy eyes open, each time you count for me...." He squeezed Rosita's palms. A wave of relaxation washed over her.
And with the relaxation came another number. "Ninety-eight," Rosita muttered, noticing the droning quality in her voice almost before she realized that her eyelids were slipping shut again. It felt so much better the second time around, like she'd had to get out of a warm bath to grab something from the bathroom counter and recognized the pleasant sensation of the hot water against her skin even more strongly by contrast with the cool air. Her head bobbed forward ever so slightly, not drooping or slumping but simply dipping that first tiny bit into peaceful trance. Rosita could still think. She just didn't want to.
"That's it," Mateo purred, his voice silky with encouragement. "It feels so nice to be allowed to close those sleepy eyes again, so nice to just let go of everything and relax deeper for me. You're resting deeper in my voice, your muscles relaxing and letting go of the tension, and it's so comforting that all you want to do is float in peace and pleasure for me. It gets harder and harder to open those heavy eyes each time, harder and harder on...." He squeezed. It took Rosita a surprisingly long time to remember what number to respond with.
But she managed. "Ninety-seven," she mumbled, her eyelids unsticking from one another with a Monday-morning-lecture reluctance. Her head felt surprisingly empty of thought--even the idea of ideas seemed vague and distant, as if her brain had been lightly anesthetized and the drugs hadn't quite worn off yet. At a loss for anything further to do, she found herself staring vacantly into Mateo's deep brown eyes again. They were something to focus her gaze on, and Rosita didn't really have anywhere else she wanted to look right now. She couldn't wait to hear the next number and drop.
"There we go," Mateo cooed encouragingly, smiling gently at Rosita while his thumbs continued to trace slow, sleepy circles on the backs of her hands. "Every time those heavy eyelids open, you can feel that drowsy, exhausted state getting stronger and stronger. Every time they close again, you can feel yourself dropping deeper and relaxing more. Ten times deeper when your eyelids close, twenty times sleepier when they open, enjoying that sensation each and every time you count for me, pretty girl." He squeezed her palms again, and Rosita's head sank forward in a definite droop this time.
Her brain got momentarily stuck trying to remember the next number. Mateo's 'ten' and 'twenty' kept lodging themselves in her head, the warm coaxing sound of his voice so all-encompassing in her mind that she was unable to think of anything else for a moment. But finally she heard herself say hesitantly, "Ninety-eight?" and she was able to relax and concentrate on the soft, drifting bliss that swallowed up her thoughts and left her floating in peace and pleasure. This trance was far stronger than the first one she'd enjoyed with him, and much more intense than the little text sessions and phone calls that had tided them over during quarantine. She was really losing track of herself now.
