Author's Note:
This is story I wrote many, many years ago. I've decided to re-visit it and publish it on Literotica for the first time.
You wake up naked in what appears to be an cell of some sort. As prisons go, it doesn't seam to be an unpleasant place. Plush white carpeting filling the 10x20 space. A large, soft comfortable bed facing a large screen tv/entertainment center complex. The sliding door on the left side of the cell opens to a comfortable bath with a large tub/shower with good water pressure. All the necessary toiletries have been supplied to you. There's even mint coated dental floss.
There's a desk against the back wall with a computer. The only program you've managed to find on it is an interactive German language program. In the opening directions it informs you that as you progress in the program you will gain increased rewards, including books, movies, and culinary treats.
In the corner is a very expensive stair master and exercise machine. A chart hangs on its side with your name on it.
The door to your cell is locked (you had to try anyway). No window. Only a sliding plate that you can't move. You've pounded on the door with no response.
Why are you here? How did you get here? Everything's so hazy...You remember being in your apartment...the phone rang and then...what?
Time passes. Nothing's changed. The TV doesn't work, nor the stereo and the CD player has no discs. Out of lack of anything else to do you start with the German instruction program. "Gutten Abend mein frund!" It bores you. And you click it off.
You pace nervously. You're scared. It's strange being naked. It feels like someone is watching you. You decide to make a toga out of your bed sheets. As you are doing so, it suddenly occurs to you to try to take the bed apart. Maybe you can make a weapon or something....
The bed won't come apart. It's welded together. But as you pull on a bedpost, its cap comes off. Inside you can see a note. It's handwritten on blank white copy paper. You read it hoping it will give you some clue of you went from being a book editor to a pampered naked prisoner.
* * *****************************************
I'm writing this as a vain warning, because I fear that anyone who reads it will read it too late. Lord knows where I'll be tomorrow, possibly somewhere in the Caymans, but I'm not sure, but I hide this here as some testimony to who I am and what happened to me.
My name is Jim Gravois. I'm just an ordinary guy who smoked too much. I don't smoke anymore, I was cured of that, but at such a price...read and know my story. Though if you are reading this here, then the odds are that this has already happened to you.
As I said, I'm trying to quit smoking. I'd tried everything and I was getting desperate. I'd even try hypnosis. That is how I mind myself in the waiting room of Dr. Vanja, licensed hypnotherapist.
I paced nervously in waiting area. I already had two nic patches on and damnit if I didn't need a cigarette already. I have tried to quit many times but I don't have the will power. Each shuttering cough reminds me how much closer to the grave I am getting. I've got to quit and if it means going to a hypnotherapist so be it. I just hope the voodoo they do works. I called this guy out of the yellow pages. I just took the first name that I saw. Dr. Vanja. Indian name? Maybe. I didn't care. I just wanted to stop. I called their office one late night last week after I broke my last cold turkey spell of a mere 5 hours. They confirmed and here I am.
The receptionist must be used to my types. Addictive types. My endless pacing did not disturb her in the least. She gave me a thorough look over when I walked in, but that seamed to be the last of her scrutiny. Pretty girl though. Blond. Pretty face.
My pacing was broken by the door to the inner office opening. A tall man in a nice suit stepped out with a contented, dazed look on his face. Not the doctor I was sure. The receptionist indicated for me to enter.
As I stepped into the doctor's office, I was immediately struck at the contrast between it and the reception area. Whereas the receptionist lair was cold, impersonal, this office was as intimate as a small cabin. Plush dark carpeting, wood trim, built-in bookcases, a large mahogany desk and the traditional couch, though this one upholstered with overstuffed buttery leather; it looked so inviting...
Finally Dr. Vanja spoke. I hadn't even seen her. Though I don't know how I couldn't have.
"Hello Jim. I'm Dr. Vanja."
I was awestruck. I wasn't expecting a woman, much less a woman of such....unusual beauty. She was very dark. Indian? Part black? I couldn't tell. But she was very sultry. She almost seamed to blend in with the dark surroundings. She had long, straight jet black hair that must have reached to her ass. She was petite, maybe 5′ 2″, but she had a figure. I could see well formed breasts straining against her blouse under her smart jacket. She had pretty dark legs, not too thin but built well for her small frame. Her skirt was uncomfortably short. She moved towards me and we shook hands. I got a slight erotic charge as I could have sworn that she lingered on her grasp. I stumbled to get out some words.
"Oh, hello. I'm sorry I was..."
"I know. It is a nice office."
"Yes. It is." I felt like an idiot.
"So how long have you been smoking?"
So much for small talk. I guess the meter is running. That was fine with me, it gave me a chance to take in this beauty before she had me on the couch staring at a swinging watch.
"Long time. I guess I started when I was....5"
She emitted a polite little laugh.
"That long? Old habits are hard to break. But you really want to break this habit don't you?"
"Real bad. I've tried everything. The flesh is willing but the will is weak."
She cocked an eyebrow.
"Not to worry. After some time with me, you'll never smoke again," she gestured towards the couch, "lay back and let's get started."
I moved over to the couch. Whereas I was merely nervous before, I was now reaching a strange mixture of anxiety and arousal. The whole situation. A couch, a private office, a beautiful woman putting me under her complete control...the erotic elements were undeniable. I felt my penis begin to stir underneath my jeans. I prayed she would not notice, though if she did she did not say anything about it.
I asked if I should remove my shoes and she indicated I should. The level of eroticism moved up another notch.
The couch was even more comfortable than I imagined. I sunk into it and tried to let it relax me, hoping my budding erection would subside.
Dr. Vanja did not help things. She pulled up a chair and sat by my side. Legs together but uncrossed. From my prone position I was angled to look down the top of her thighs. I imaged what I would find there. I had to actively remind myself not to look at her legs. Resultingly I found myself trying very hard just to look at her eyes. In hindsight, she may have planned it that way on purpose.
"Nervous?" she asked with a polite smile.
"A little bit. I don't know much about this, other than you can make people think their chickens or bark like a dog."
She smiled again and laughed a little. She had a nice laugh.
"A hypnotist can't MAKE someone do anything they don't want to do. Those people up on the stage are barking like dogs because they want to. They know they're performing. They're part of the show. I've never been able to make anyone here in my office cluck like a chicken."
"You've tried?"
She smiled again. "Only as an experiment. Hypnotherapy is very different than stage hypnotism. I'm not trying to make the patient to anything they don't want to do. On the contrary. I'm working WITH a patient to get them to do something they want to do, or in your case, stopping a certain unwanted behavior. Now unless you really WANT to bark like a dog..."
"No, no...just the cigarettes will be fine."
