The Voice in the Dar

Author's Note

Hey Everyone.

I hope you're doing well and that you enjoy the first chapter in this new series. It has been a long time since I have posted here and this is the first time I have ever attempted to write a series, let alone an erotic series, and so I just wanted to make a few things clear before you start reading.

First things first, I want to thank my wonderful editors and BETA readers... especially

ThatsBogus,

whose support of me writing this story has made it so much better than how it started. I have really learned a lot from him having served as an editor for his amazing stories. Now the roles are reversed and I couldn't be more grateful to him.

Please show him some support by checking out his work. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Secondly, whilst this story may seem like it skirts the line between consent and non-consent, remember that this type of kink is entirely voluntary in real life and can be used to better your life. I don't condone any kind of awful behaviour that comes from practitioners of this kink. Remember that submission is based on consent and desire. Without that consent, it is not real submission and therefore hypnosis cannot really take place.

Finally, understand that the type of writing I enjoy is the kind that attempts to push the boundaries of what is considered acceptable.

Of course, the line is never fully crossed but it comes very close. I want to write about the depths of human desire and how we respond to it in ways we are not fully conscious of. This kind of submission is done in a non-judgemental environment and with someone who is responsible.

Thank you for reading this and I really hope you enjoy the first chapter of what will hopefully be an exciting new story.

All the best.

Ravenna

My eyes begin to sting as the light shines in through the gaps in the curtains, and my muscles are sore with being stuck in the same position for a prolonged period of time. I slowly try to move without pulling something and I can feel the life returning to my trapped arm.

I can only guess it is mid-morning from the familiar sounds of blaring horns and the screeching of tires coming from outside. Even on a busy Saturday morning, it never fails to amaze me the numbers of people who are up at stupid o'clock, doing whatever it is they are doing.

However, the clarity doesn't last long as the pounding in my skull makes itself known.

My mouth is dry, and I groan at finding that I am dressed in the same clothes I was wearing last night.

Inwardly, I chastise myself as I try to recall through the boozy haze what happened the night before. I am almost tempted to look through my handbag in search of my knickers.

God, wouldn't my mother be so proud of me,

I think sourly.

I yawn and stretch underneath the cotton bedsheets that have been pulled up to my waist and I really try not to move my head too much on the pillow. It feels like razors scratching the inside of my skull and it takes all I have not to throw up.

I remain on my side and face the little table on the right side of my double bed and see that it's exactly 9:30 AM. I groan as I try to picture myself going through my normal chores for the day like grocery shopping and cleaning, whilst Lucy gets under my feet with her constant chatter about whatever she got up to the night before. I resolve that I will only have to do one of those things today.

I am half tempted to roll over and just carry on sleeping, but I suddenly hear a loud knock and a bright and cheery voice sounds: "Rise and Shine, my Dear. The day is young!"

When I don't respond immediately, the door swings open and Lucy strolls in with what looks like a dissolving painkiller in a glass of water and a plate of buttered toast. I have never been so happy to see her as I am at this moment.

Lucy West, my dear friend and flatmate, flounces in with a swish of her long, curly red hair that looks like it has been recently combed. Her petite frame is wrapped in a velvet bathrobe and her fluffy slippers make their way across the wooden floor of my bedroom. Along with her effortless beauty and grace, her walk is that of a woman who doesn't care who is watching.

She strides in with a subtle sway to her hips and places the toast and my drink on the bedside table before jumping on the bed the way children do when they want their parents to wake up early on Christmas Morning.

She bounces up and down and says, "Have I got something to tell you, Jess."

I brace myself for the endless talk about her recent escapades. My pounding head and queasiness are becoming unbearable and I desperately try to repress them.

"I ran into the hottest man on the planet last night. And let me tell you, he is..."

The look on my face must have scared her as she suddenly hands me the glass of water and painkillers from the bedside table and I drink it down without stopping. Then I attack the buttered toast like I haven't eaten in days. I can already feel the haziness leave me and clarity returning somewhat. I breathe steadily to allow the room to stop spinning before I look at my best friend. Her bright, charming smile and green eyes warm with affection have twisted themselves into a deep frown. I know she is worried about me, like she has been these last few months.

"You look like shit. Where did you go last night?" Her vibrant green eyes look me up and down as I steady myself on the pillow and pull the duvet covers over the pencil skirt and silk cami top. Sans panties. Her eyes narrow at this very unusual occurrence, it is most often me who is waking her up with painkillers and gentle, soothing words.

Through my sore vocal cords, I manage to say "I...er..."

But then I suddenly run to my small en-suite bathroom and empty my stomach contents into the toilet bowl before I can answer. I am still unsteady and I have no idea where on Earth I find the strength to stand, let alone run. I grip the toilet seat for dear life and I feel Lucy come up behind me.

"It's alright Sweetie. Get it all up." She pulls my brown, uncombed hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand and lifts up my top to rub up and down my bare back. She then kisses the back of my shoulder as it becomes too much for me. Only a true friend would stick around for such things.

I catch my breath before I finally speak "Thanks Luce. You're an angel, but in answer to your question: I have absolutely no idea."

Lucy lets out a worried sigh and squeezes my shoulders, but decides against interrogation for now. I have seen how easily she sniffs out that something isn't right, and I'm relieved she doesn't push me for information. Maybe the look of my pale face and wild hair is making her give me the benefit of the doubt.

"Maybe it was that wine we had last night. It wasn't the best thing to drink, even with food." Lucy says, pulling a face of disgust.

"The Student Union bars would be really proud of us, Miss Lucy West." I say with an attempt at humour, the frailty of my voice made even worse by the full effect of my Yorkshire accent. Not that you would notice it much on a normal day given my years in the States.

She laughs "Jessica Ashton. I shall never tire of your Britishness."

"And I could be even happier with your Americanisms if they could get me another glass of water," I reply dryly.

*

Freshly showered and wrapped in my favourite silk robe and nightdress, I sit next to Lucy at the breakfast bar, in the kitchen of our Red Hook apartment. I continue to let her gush about the latest man she has snapped up with a little more enthusiasm than I did before, but in the back of my mind, I strain to remember what on Earth made me leave her last night.

I look down at the plate that used to contain Lucy's famous American-style pancakes- one of many amazing dishes in her repertoire, that I inhaled on sight with another God knows how many cups of tea. She smiles as she continues on with her antics about her handsome stranger with messy dark hair, strong arms and baby blue eyes. Her eyes shone and the corners of her mouth turned up in a goofy smile as she talked about him.

"Where is he now?" I ask.

"He and I left to go onto another bar, and we decided to meet up next Friday." Her answer surprises me.

"Oh, that's unusual. You're going to meet up with him again?" I reply.

"Oh yeah. He's cute. He's funny and so hot. I am willing to wait for something a little more than we did last night." Lucy's face looks perfectly content, but I am simply flabbergasted.

"What did you do?" I know I probably sound uncharitable, but I can't help it.

"Well. After I left you last night, we went on to a bar around the corner and we just talked. We talked for hours. I was going to invite him back home, but he refused. He said he wanted to 'get to know me better.' Lucy says with a smile.

I almost choke on my tea before I respond with: "You didn't go any further? That's not like you..."

"No. We only kissed...It was an awesome kiss. Probably the best kiss I've ever had. It just seemed wrong to have sex so soon. You know what I mean, sweetie?"

"

Well, it's a bit strange Hun, don't you think?" I say, aware of how incredulous I sound. I honestly don't understand Lucy's constant changing of partners, even though I have never shamed her for it. Whilst you can have the greatest friend in the world, it doesn't always mean you agree with her choices.

She's proud of being the woman who hooks up with a completely different man every week and has never talked about any guy in serious terms since she broke up with her only long-term boyfriend over three years ago.

Typical. I endure three months of absolute hell after my most recent breakup, and suddenly Miss Lucy West has decided she likes a guy long enough to give commitment a try. Well, at least for longer than a night.

"It's a bit out of the ordinary for sure, but these things happen, and I'm glad that they do," Lucy says with absolutely no hint of anger in voice, although I can see in her eyes that she's hurt by my words.

I feel the guilt wash over me like a wave, and I hang my head in shame at how ridiculous and unfair I am being.

Why am I shaming my friend for doing the exact same thing men have been doing for centuries?

This is no way to think of my friend. I am happy to see her so elated. Maybe this is her finally realising there's a point to monogamy.

Lucy is the most loyal and kind friend I have. She is the type that holds my hand and allows me to cry buckets onto her shoulder. Even through the worst, Lucy could always make me feel whole, at least for a little while.

Like when I was going out with Brian, whom I met on a night out before I met my most recent boyfriend.

Brian and I slept together once and he never called me back. Luce made sure that I had at least a room full of other men lined up for what she calls a 'Revenge Fuck', and when that didn't work for me, she promptly forgot about all the men drooling over her and took me home for the night to lots of booze and a comedy show on Netflix.

Overcome with love for my best friend, I walk over to her, hugging her tightly. She wraps her arms around me and kisses the top of my head. She runs her hands through my hair, and then languidly down my back.

"I'm sorry Luce, that was wrong of me. And I am so sorry I haven't been the greatest friend in the world lately." I whisper into her ear, swallowing back tears as best I can.

"It would make anyone feel like shit, Jess. You're better off without him.

If he thinks that's the way to deal with things...," She whispers soothingly. I brace myself for hearing his name but thankfully, it doesn't come. It may not wound me the way it used to, but it still makes me sad to hear it, even over three months later.

"This new man sounds amazing. I can only hope that he treats my best girl right" I say with a bit more strength to my voice. I am still reluctant to let go of her.

We remain there for a few moments and with the gentle grip of her arms around my waist and mine around her middle, I feel all the sadness and confusion drift away for a moment.

I may not be in the same awful darkness as I was some months before, but Lucy is still tentative, like I am made of glass.

My hands then gradually move up and down her neck and they grip her fiery hair that stretches past her shoulders and she moans into my touch before she tilts my chin up with her finger, making me look into her emerald eyes. They are hypnotic, filled with tender feelings as they survey my face, and I bite my lip.

She doesn't say another word but instead pulls me closer to her and we kiss tentatively.

Our tongues then begin a slow, sensual dance in our mouths as her body presses into mine. I moan against her mouth and she reaches inside my robe, her hands moving up around my thighs.

She squeezes my hips and bum gently and my hands entangle in her hair before we swiftly break apart, a little breathless but far from alarmed.

Lucy then holds me against her, never freeing me from her gaze and her fingers trace the sides of my face as I grasp onto her like a life raft.

She gives me another one of her dazzling smiles before she says: "Darling. You give the best hugs. I love you so much," she says in that soft, New Orleans accent.

We pause briefly in the moment, neither of us saying another word and we stare at each other, giving flirtatious glances and stepping even closer into each other's space... something we have not done in a very long time.

I smile at her, feeling more content by the minute. Lucy smiles back and then breaks the spell further by saying:

"Why don't we go out shopping in the city today? We can just look at all the things we may be able to afford if we can snag us a couple of really rich, good looking men." I chuckle as she says this and shoot her a sceptical grin.

"I don't feel like going out today, Luce. Why don't we do it tomorrow when we do our usual chores?"

"Well...we have to do something," she says, her hands still inside my robe.

*

We end up spending the rest of the day watching movies and eating crap food as we put the world to rights and talk about our upcoming weeks. Lucy works in a restaurant as a maître d' in Manhattan, charming the clientele with her bright smile and alluring eyes. We often meet up at the same restaurant on Fridays after work, eating a meal for two on her staff discount, whilst she picks out the best-looking men to be our dates for the evening.

However, my skills at being a friend have faltered in the last few months as I had tried to focus all my energy on not crying about how my first real relationship as a twenty-six-year old collapsed around me after nearly two years. I had honestly thought that Justin and I would be together forever.

And yet, when I tried to pin him down to actual concrete plans about our future rather than just pillow talk, I got excuses like 'After I get my publishing deal'or 'I am beginning the first chapter of my book right now.' With Justin's dream of being a world-famous author going up in smoke every time, it was beginning to take a toll on our relationship. Every time his manuscript got a rejection from a publishing house, it would be damn near impossible to pull him out of his funk and eventually, nothing I said or did made him feel better.

As I stare blankly at the TV screen, I am beyond grateful to Lucy for all the times she has been there to keep me from going mad. The memory of the shouting and deep hatred he showed me breaking my heart all over again.

"I can't do this anymore Jess. This really has destroyed things for us. I hope you're happy!"

"What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?" I cried out in horror.

"This has been building for months, Jess. There's really no going back from this. We have no future now!"

"Well... can you at least tell me what made you so angry tonight? I know things have been hard for you lately, but we made plans to get your manuscript looked at, and start the process for..." He cut me off with a look and said in a dangerously low voice:

"You don't get to say that to me after what you have done. Goodbye Jess."

"What did I do? Tell me what did I do!" I yelled to no avail, as he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Agonised and dumbfounded, it took all I had to stop myself from running after him. I was simply too raw to even think about putting one foot in front of the other.

Lucy then forbade me from calling him and we allowed enough time to pass after that awful conversation before calling him up and demanding an explanation. Yet, he never called back and I spent all my days trying to avoid thinking about him too much, and failing deplorably.

It has been three months since and although I am still hurt in a lot of ways, I am now at the point where Lucy could leave me alone for a while without fear I would hang myself in the closet or something. Not that I would do that to her, but I think every girl has felt the pain of losing the man she cared about for so long in the most callous way. Life can be a real bitch sometimes; especially when you have no idea as to why your life has fallen apart so abruptly.

All at once, the doorbell rings and Lucy scampers to the door. I lightly chuckle as the poor pizza delivery man has to pretend he isn't gawking at my best friend's sensational physique. You can see her pert nipples through the thin material of her pyjama top and her shorts fit her so snugly that it would make any woman take a shot to her self-esteem. She turns back to me briefly, giving me a cheeky wink. She smiles and hands him a tip before bidding him farewell. She then places the pizza box on the coffee table and we switch the movie back on as we dig in.

Lucy and I cuddle closer under the blankets as we watch a particularly awesome part of

The Bodyguard

. We stare at Kevin Costner's handsome face as he shoots at the unknown assassin, and we give each other a look as if to pretend we wouldn't give our right arm to be in Whitney Houston's place.

"He's so gorgeous." Her mouth drops open and grips my hand even harder as she tries to stop herself from giggling like a schoolgirl.

"You do realise he's old enough to be our father, right Luce?" I say in my usual kill-joy way.

"Oh, don't pretend you wouldn't pay good money for him to be your bodyguard, Jess. I wouldn't mind him keeping watch over me every night" she says with a wiggling of her eyebrows.

I laugh and try to think of a witty response, but Lucy unexpectedly pauses the movie and faces me with a look of worry.

"Jess. I wanted to wait until your hangover had cured and now, I think it's safe to ask... what happened to you last night? You didn't come home until late and that's not like you."

This surprises me and I try to avoid a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that there is something very important that I have missed. I ponder this revelation for a moment, but I fall short of an explanation.

"I don't know, Luce. I had a few drinks, and I swear to you that this is true, I don't remember anything after you left last night. It's all a blur," I say in resignation.

Lucy doesn't look convinced.

"Jess. Did this have anything to do with that man you were with last night?

Even if you did drink a lot, which you normally don't, you'd remember something, surely?"

"Lucy, honestly. I don't remember a thing. And it seems perfectly okay to me." I inwardly laugh at my uncharacteristic behaviour.

"You spend a night drinking with a guy you barely know, and you wake up the next day in the same clothes, with a bad hangover and no memory of even the most basic thing about him. Do I have this right, or am I missing something, sweetie?" I take in Lucy's words, knowing full well how peculiar they sound when spoken out loud.