Hypnotherapist Ch 14

Dear Readers,

I hope you are enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I put a trigger warning after this, because I know it can be a sensitive topic for people. Nothing in this trigger warning happens in the story, but it is recalled for therapeutic purposes. I try not to get graphic and descriptive, because you are here for erotica, not trauma (at least I hope, if otherwise, I am not the author for you). So I hope it isn't an issue, but I've been asked for warnings before, so consider yourselves warned.

Regardless, that is a small portion of the chapter, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapter regardless. If that is a problem for you, you can skip the portion with Sarah Hunter, and go straight to the ending in Washington D.C., or skip the chapter entirely. I will try not to call back to the darker content too much after this chapter, so if you can't get within a mile of it, you should be safe after this. If you are okay, I hope you enjoy the story.

~NaughtyPaladin

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Trigger warning: I go a little dark here, if you don't want to read depictions of a therapist working with a survivor of domestic abuse, child abuse, and spousal abuse (all male on female), you may want to skip this chapter.

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Mrs. Moore screamed her orgasm as my cum shot up her ass. She struggled to keep bouncing on me, riding me with my dick buried in her sphincter. I was a little preoccupied with two handfuls of Desiree's ass as I licked her dripping cunt. Mother and daughter had hands on each other's shoulders as they both shuddered with pleasure and arousal.

"By GOD!" Mrs. Moore gasped.

"Mom, this is so hot..." Desiree whimpered.

Mrs. Moore finally slid to the side, my dick popping out of her ass. "Ohhhh..." Was all she could manage to groan, twitching.

Desiree removed her folds from my face. "Let me clean that up." She offered, and grabbed a washcloth, cleaning the evidence I'd been balls deep in her mom's ass from my cock before wrapping her lips around me and suckling hungrily. Once I was stiff again, she hopped on, aimed me carefully and sunk her pussy on my cock.

"That's it..." Mrs. Moore swooned. "Give your womb to this blessed servant of God. It will be your privilege to bear his children."

The thought was sexy, but I was already being a little crazy with my plan to knock up Emma. I was glad I knew Desiree was religiously taking her birth control. Desiree seemed to find it hot too and started riding me like a woman possessed. I just smiled and laid back, letting my receptionist give my cock a full-length cunt massage. Having just cum in her mother, I didn't have anything to shoot into her, but she had an infinite supply of orgasms she seemed convinced she was going to work through.

Once Desiree was spent, mother and daughter curled up beside me.

"Blessed daughter, I'm so happy for you." Liz crooned, stroking her daughter's head. "I can't wait for your sisters to join you in this happiness. To think, God sent us a man like Abraham, David, and Solomon of old to whom all my daughters could offer themselves."

"Now, where are your daughters?" I asked.

"They are out doing their chores." Liz explained.

"We should buy an outfit for Samantha to wear on her birthday," I suggested. "After all, not only will she be becoming a woman, but she'll be of age to present herself to me."

"Like her wedding night!" Mrs. Moore celebrated in excitement. "Yes, let's!"

I almost regretted them getting dressed again. Mrs. Moore seemed to still dress like a conservative, religious, southern woman when I wasn't around, but since I was here, she definitely dressed more... available.

She led me and Desiree over to the family computer and sat, and I, unable to resist, took my place standing behind her and reached into her shirt, groping her nice large breasts. We settled on some 'barely-there' lingerie, a pair of white, crotchless panties, and a matching bra with removable cups, to go under a nice summer dress, it would be easy to take off her. Thigh high white stockings with garters to hold them up, and some sexy heels rounded out the outfit.

"She'll be so beautiful, like a bride!" Liz hummed happily as she completed the final order.

"Wonderful." I grinned, just imagining the freshly legal teen splayed out for me was exciting, but I had to wait for that "freshly legal" to happen. We had 16 days until Samantha's birthday, which gave enough time for her 'virgin bride' outfit to arrive before the big day.

Unfortunately, after that we had to return to the office. I didn't want to miss any walk-ins and our two-hour detour to fuck at the Moore house already had me closed longer than I wanted. I'd driven us to the Moore house, so I drove us back. Desiree just smiled and took her panties off, pulled her skirt up and encouraged me to finger her the entire way back to the office.

"I'm kinda jealous." Desiree admitted, between orgasms. "I didn't get a special outfit before our first time."

"Yes, but you get me far more often." I pointed out.

"Tru-u-u-u-eee. Oh, I love everything you do to me..." Desiree groaned.

We got back to the office and Desiree freshened up so you couldn't tell we'd just had a little orgy with her mother. She brought me lunch at my desk and gave me a little kiss, earning her a swat and squeeze on the ass before she returned to her desk.

The afternoon was slow, but I was preoccupied preparing for what I expected was to come, so Desiree had to be satisfied with our pre-lunch activities.

"Tyson Anderson is here to see you." Desiree finally interrupted my flow.

"But he isn't supposed to be here until..." I began, then I saw the time. Good God, it was already 4. "Nevermind, send him in."

Tyson was a balding fellow, rail thin, with a middling sense of fashion that may have been his most redeeming feature, physically at least.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Anderson." He introduced himself.

"Doctor Anderson?" I greeted him. "You have a practice in the area?"

He wilted a bit, "Ah, well... I suppose introducing myself as 'Doctor Anderson' is a little presumptuous. I'm a counselor at the High School under Principal Shepherd. But I am working on my Doctorate! A few more years and I'll have it." He sounded determined, but something seemed... off.

"Oh, and how long have you been working on your Doctorate?" I asked.

"Well, my responsibilities as a school counselor take up most of my time, so... well it's only been... ten years since I got my Masters..." he tried launching into an explanation.

"That's alright." I assured him. "So, Doctor Anderson, what brings you in?"

He seemed pleased I'd given him the unearned title, and sat up a bit. "Well, Principal Shepherd asked me to come in and talk to you, get to know you, and determine if you were trustworthy. He said he'd be coming in too, but wanted a second opinion."

Mr. Anderson gave me an accusatory look, "Coach Moore and Ms. Smith seemed taken by your abilities and skill a little too quickly, and he wanted to make sure no funny business was happening."

I blinked. I mean, it was a justifiable position, I was up to "funny business" as he said, but... this guy? This was who Principal Shepherd sent to make sure I wasn't fucking with the minds of him and his staff?

"By all means." I motioned to the room. "You can see nothing crazy is going on here. Would you like to experience the hypnosis? That's the best way to see it really is harmless."

"No... I'm here to NOT be hypnotized." He declared, pulling out a clipboard. "So we'll know for sure!"

He scribbled something at the top of his clipboard. "Now, have you ever been fired from a previous practice?"

I almost laughed. He thought a questionnaire with no verification would force a 'villain' like me to reveal myself.

"No, this is actually my first practice." I laughed.

"Hmm..." he noted something. "And, have you ever had a conflict with a previous supervisor at previous practices?"

He was literally just reading down a checklist. No wonder he was struggling to get his doctorate. The man seemed incapable of independent thought. I worried for the students in his care.

"Well, as I've never worked for a previous practice the answer would be no." I tried not to laugh.

He started working through the list and a quick lean and peak told me that somehow, he had compiled a multiple page checklist. He was hardly noting my answers, just checking boxes. This was absolutely worthless.

"It is quite hot this time of year," I began, "Have you been dealing with the heat okay?"

He seemed confused by the sudden line of questioning. "Um, yes, it's fine."

We began fencing, back and forth, he'd ask an inane, useless question, some of which I'd have to be an idiot to answer truthfully, but he asked them anyways ("Have you ever had sexual relations with a client before?" Seriously, who was going to answer yes to that?), then I'd ask him either about the hot weather or part of his wardrobe.

Now, why the hell would I engage in this charade, you might ask? Well, frankly, Mr. Andersom was walking straight into a stealth induction. His brain was not being used, hardly at all, to ask the questions, and my questions on two divergent lines of inquiry, referencing previous questions frequently to establish solid lines of thought, I began the process of setting his mind into a trance. I knew it was working, when instead of tagging my questions to my answers to his questions, he began waiting for my questions.

It was a slow, painful process though. The more intelligent the person, the more easily they slipped into trance, as it was a mental effort to enter trance.

"You're looking a little tired, are you sleeping well?" I asked.

Mr. Anderson, who had given no such indication, now he yawned. "I'm... fine..."

It was close.

A few more questions, and his eyes were half-lidded.

"Mr. Anderson, you will now sleep." I declared, his eyes closed and he leaned back on the couch.

FINALLY!!!

"Doctor Anderson, can you hear me?" I asked.

"Yeeeees." He mumbled.

Good. The worst case would be he lacked the actual mental capacity to enter trance, and he just fell asleep. I'd never met someone that mentally deficient, but...Mr. Anderson was making me worried I'd finally found one.

I ran through my normal setup, deepening the trance, placing triggers for the usual things (putting him under a trance, waking him up, and so on), and making sure he did not remember ever being put under.

"Mr. Anderson," I dropped the "Doctor" pretty quick. He hadn't earned the title anyway. "When you go over your notes, you will find I have given you the most ideal answers for any questions we did not get to." We were running low on time, and since he'd chosen the last appointment for the day, there was no way in Hell I was staying late to brainlessly answer his questions. "You will realize that the reason Coach Moore and Ms. Smith have been so taken with me is because they are correct. I am a competent therapist and you have every confidence that I can deliver on the expectations they are laying for me."

His head bobbled in a sleep-nod.

"You will be convinced you were never hypnotized. You vividly remember asking me the questions on your questionnaire the entire time. Any time you enter a trance, you will be convinced you were awake and aware the entire time." I told him, then had an idea. "Since you see just how good I am, and how much of an asset to the school I can be, you'll be willing to stake your reputation on me. This means anyone who calls me, or my services in question, is in a way questioning you, your credentials, your ability to reason and your intuition."

He bristled a bit, but I realized he was probably just pissed that anyone would DARE question him, even the implication it might happen.

I specifically DIDN'T give him my marketing plan. I needed him defending me, not evangelizing for me.

"Any time someone objects or complains, you will believe the proper steps to address it will be a private meeting between the complaining party, you, me... and Principal Shepherd, if he's available." I concluded. "You will not find me hypnotizing anyone at any time, even Principal Shepherd, odd and once the hypnosis is concluded you will be certain you were a safe and unbiased witness who ensured that no mental manipulation took place, even if you, yourself, were one of the parties being hypnotized."

He almost took too long coming out of his trance. Finally, he did rise and took the information that we were out of time for our session.

"Now, we didn't exactly have a chance to do any therapy, so I think the Insurance may be problematic. But if you want to have follow-up sessions so you can keep vigilant watch over me, we can do that." I offered.

"Since this is an assignment from the school, I'll be able to pay for it out of my department funds." He noted, but seemed worried. "Remind me how much it would be if the school paid, out of pocket."

I made a judgement call. "We can work with you for a reduced rate." I assured him. "After all, Principal Shepherd wants to make a partnership with the school happen to help encourage and motivate the students. I can work with you to help make that happen, assuming I haven't failed your professional assessment?"

"No, I think our students will really benefit from your services." Mr. Anderson declared, packing up his clipboard.

He left happy and I was excited. I could almost see the cheerleaders now, lined up, hypnotized and ready to take my cock.

When I got home, there was a notice posted on my door. The HOA claimed my grass was "too long" and "too brown". It was August and a drought! My grass looked just like the grass of my neighbors, and I was livid. I almost stormed over to see if I could somehow get the HOA President to take it back, and maybe apologize, before I decided to do something I regretted. Instead, I had a small epiphany.

Why did I even still need a house? I could sell it, claim a room, or as many as I wanted, in the Moore's sizable farmhouse. I could claim a space in the bed of my girls on any given night I wanted. It was an unnecessary expense. My house was just a place I ate, slept, bathed, and played video games. My gaming computer, and any consoles I got, could stay at the Moore's house.

I looked at the HOA notice, and made my decision. I would sell. But wound up as I was, I needed to release.

I pulled up my phone. Who to call, who to call...

The answer was easy.

"Emma! I was thinking..."

Even after a quick hypnotic session, Emma wasn't happy until she was on her back, legs spread, taking my cock in her pussy. Once she had the first load of cum safely inside her pussy, she happily did whatever I wanted. Let me tell you, it's hard to get salty, no matter how toxic your teammates are, when you have a sexy, naked slut between your legs orally worshipping your cock. Every load screen, her breasts were my stress balls. It made for a great night of gaming, and ending it giving her a second load of cum meant she left happy, legs squeezing together, like it would keep the cum in her womb longer and get her pregnant immediately, even though she just stopped taking her birth control.

Again, hypnotizing myself to sleep gave me one of the best nights of sleep I'd ever had. I woke, stroked my morning wood a couple times and decided, yep, having a compliant slut to take care of that for me would be great.

I got to the office and almost pulled Desiree straight in to plow her, but before I could even grab her hand, she spoiled that plan real quick.

"Your first appointment, Ms. Hunter, will be here momentarily." Desiree informed me.

Damn it. Ms. Hunter... Ms. Hunter... I sat at my desk. Why couldn't I place which slut was 'Ms. Hunter'? Robin was the only one I could think of that hadn't submitted and I wasn't confident I'd be dumping my morning load in.

I sighed, left my receptionist unviolated for the morning, and went to go refresh my memory of who 'Ms. Hunter' was. I found her file, opened it up, and came back down to reality real quick.

Technically, I'd met with Ms. Hunter before, but... last time, she'd been wearing her sheriff's deputy's uniform. I drummed my fingers on the desk and tried to think. I had to be careful with her, not only did she have some legit trauma, but she was also inherently suspicious of men, if I recalled correctly. My notes agreed. Trauma did some weird things to the brain and could cause unexpected reactions.

I'd managed to get her under and put my usual triggers in place, but hadn't made a whole bunch of progress towards trust and compliance. Though I remembered quite clearly the way she'd had to adjust her panties and the peek I'd gotten.

"Hey there, shrink." Sarah Hunter's feminine voice greeted me from the door as she knocked lightly. The door was open, but I had been pretty deep in thought. To my disappointment and discomfort, she was still wearing her deputy uniform, taser, firearm and who-knows-what other bad news for me if this went south.

"Welcome! Come in, sit down... make yourself comfortable." I told her.

She seemed entirely too uncomfortable. That wasn't great.

"Nervous, about being here alone?" I asked.

"Well, unless you want to see how well my nine millimeter, long-distance hole puncher works, you still won't try anything." Sarah declared. "So no."

The sweat on her brow either said August in Texas was hot, or she was lying.

"I'm glad you decided to come back." I told her. "Official business for me and personal business for you this time. You chose your reason being 'other, explanation: It's complicated', would you care to elaborate?"

"Well, I'll be blunt. I've been in therapy before, and it didn't exactly help anything but, if you're as good as you seem to think you are, maybe you can help me." Sarah admitted, actually seeming sincere

"I'll be happy to do my best." I assured her.

"I'm sure you will." She noted dryly. "Fix the nut the other therapist couldn't crack and I'm sure it would be an ego boost. Hell, you actually help me and I'll write the most glowing review and endorsement of this place that anyone, anywhere, has ever received."

"So let's start at the beginning." I began, actually bringing out a pad and paper. Great as her legs and butt were, I did have a job to do, and this would help me know what triggers to push, and which to avoid. "Do you have any guesses when your complications started?"

"Probably when I was eight years old." She told me bluntly. "That was when my dad got in the car accident, hurt his back, and changed. The first time he hit me, and the first time I saw him hit my mom."

I had recorded a reference to domestic violence in my notes. She had only mentioned her father hitting her mother last time, but... it sounded like she hadn't been spared.

"Tell me everything you feel up to sharing." I instructed, taking notes. "The more the better, but don't feel compelled to tell me anything."

"Oh, it's nothing special." Sarah laughed cynically. "I've seen it plenty in my work to know that. The excuses vary, but the results are the same. The drink made him do it, the back pain made him do it, society's unrealistic expectations of men made him do it."

I braced myself. They warned you in training that things like this could get ugly in therapy. I wasn't a psychologist. I wasn't a doctor. I couldn't write prescriptions and I couldn't do anything, except hypnotize them and try to get them through their trauma.

"Of course, I just met you, and I'd rather not-" Sarah began.