Tribade Stocking Mesmerism

Irina's stocking fetish came to her late in life.

She was a girl, and from a young age girls put on tights and, later, pantyhose as a matter of course. They were clothes. Not an object of fascination, sexual or otherwise. Mundane.

For her mother it had been a little different, the way she told it: when she'd been a young lady, hosiery had been a distinct part of dressing properly. It still hadn't been erotic for her, either, though; it was something you wore without wondering whether you needed to or not: the decisions you made were on which hose to wear based on your outfit and on what quality the event required. However, unlike in Irina's generation, you were aware of them constantly while they were on because you didn't want to ruin them with an errant snag. She'd used to laugh when her mother told her those stories.

Now she was constantly checking to see if her seams were straight.

She was in her mid-thirties before she thought of stockings as anything other than accessories, at best. That was three years after Paula married Karl, and it was all

her

fault.

Paula and Irina had met in college and, though in very different majors, they'd otherwise had a great deal in common. Both of them took their studies seriously, took drinking seriously, and took men seriously... in approximately that order. Usually. Sometimes this got them into trouble, but in watching one another's backs they generally found their way out of it again in due course.

Now they lived in suburbia and spent most of their time working their 9-to-5 jobs (or 8-to-6, more likely, these days). Neither of them had kids, but Paula had as her responsibility the care and feeding of a husband and took it seriously enough. More seriously, it seemed, than Irina would have imagined.

They met frequently for coffee or, as this occasion would have it, for cocktails. Two drinks in and conversation flowed freely; three drinks in and things were bound to get positively salacious. Halfway through their third that day, in a conversation focused on the kinks of lovers past and present, Paula revealed her plans to her friend.

"Karl doesn't care much about whether I give him head or not, as long as I'm wearing stockings."

"Yeah, you've told me that before. I don't buy it. Every guy likes a blow job."

Paula laughed out loud. "Oh, I didn't say he doesn't like me sucking him off. I'm just pointing out his true love is me in vintage lingerie and nylons."

"Never got that."

"Yeah, neither do I, totally. I kinda wish I did."

"I doubt it. You don't want to get too deep into a guy's brain. It's scary in there."

"Probably true. But..." She looked thoughtful. "I'm long past feeling challenged or uncomfortable with girdles and gloves and garters — I've been wearing that stuff on and off since way before the wedding. But what if I could kick it up a notch?"

"Not sure where you're going with this, girl."

"A few days ago, I'm washing the big old bag-o'-stockings I accumulate every couple of weeks or so, giggling at Karl's reaction to this pair or that... and I start in to thinking: what if I enjoyed wearing this stuff as much as he enjoys seeing me in it?"

"Fat chance."

"Right. But, 'what if,' you know?"

"The mind boggles."

"Hush. So I started looking into it. It's amazing what Google turns up."

"Wait, looking into what? How to wear vintage lingerie, and like it?"

"Sort of. I already wear the stuff. I was more looking into... behavior modification. How to get excited by your partner's kinks as much as they do."

"That sounds... extreme."

"Maybe." She could tell Paula was nearing the limits of her comfort level with this conversation. Irina was uncomfortable with it, too, truth be told, but morbid fascination kept her engaged as her friend continued. "Honestly, is it any different than gradually getting used to it, over many years?"

"I think 'getting used to' and 'enjoying' are in different categories, Paula."

"True. But, hell, I've already decided I'm going to wear that stuff for him... seems like if I get a kick out of it, too... so much the better."

Hmmm. "Just what are we talking about, here, girlfriend? Pavlov's dogs? You going to reward yourself with crème brulee every time you put on a girdle from the 1950s? Or is it something more... ahem..."

Sexual?

"No, it's not that. It's... I found a website that offers to do this through hypnotism."

"You're kidding."

"No." Paula looked embarrassed. "It's... I haven't decided to do it yet. But they have testimonials."

"I'll bet. 'I loved the hypnosis,'" Irina chanted in a zombie voice. "'I will do it again and again and again.'"

"Shut up!"

"Seriously, Paula. I don't believe any of that crap's for real. You're gonna waste your hard earned cash on that?"

"I dunno. It seems like it's worth a try."

"But why? This is all pretty sick to me, Paula. I mean, why can't Karl love you for who you are?"

"He does! It's not like that, I swear, Rina. This is something I want to do for him. For us. Not something he's

ever

asked for."

"Okay," Irina replied, conciliatory. "I believe you. 'I, Paula, of my own free will, pledge to become my husband's stocking slut.'"

"Funny. And kind of creepy, when you put it that way. But funny."

"It's creepy even when I don't put it that way." Her friend pouted at her over the remains of the coffee-and-Bailey's, and she felt bad for being so snide. "But I'm your friend. I don't judge."

Much

.

"Thank you. If I do this..."

"Yeah?"

Don't.

"If I do this... will you be my safety?"

"Your

what

?"

"My safety. You watch while it's going on and make sure nothing... weird happens?"

"Honey, I don't feel comfortable with this idea at all, let alone going with you to some appointment somewhere."

"No, I don't have to go anywhere. It's all done online. I don't know if it's done live, or by a computer program, or what. I just... I want you to sit in the room while it's happening. To make sure... I don't know. That I don't start clucking like a chicken or something."

"Not sure I'd want to prevent that. Could be damn funny."

"Humpf. Bitch."

"Hey, if the cast-iron fits..."

"Come on. I don't think I could even

tell

anyone else about this, let alone trust them to be there. Please..."

She'd heard that tone before. "Is this gonna be like the time you made me go on a double date with that guy so you could screw his friend?"

"No! Yes. Maybe? That didn't turn out so bad."

"It did for me."

"You married him!"

"My point exactly."

"Rina..."

"Fine. I'll be your Safety Girl. But no promises on the clucking."

"I'd expect nothing less."

* * *

"So how does this go?" Irina inquired at her friend's breakfast table that Saturday. She'd figured this stocking/hypno-thing was all drunk talk, but Paula had called her Friday night and set an actual date since Karl would be on a golf outing most of the day.

"I'm... not sure, exactly. When I made the payment I just got an email with a web link and some guidelines."

"Guidelines?"

"Wear comfortable clothes. Use headphones. Operation of heavy machinery not recommended while in trance."

"Don't hypno and drive?"

"That sort of thing." Paula bit her lip, pondering.

"What's up?"

"Oh, just thinking about this. How weird it will be."

"Yeah. Hon, you know how I feel about this. No man is worth this crap." Sure as hell her own ex-husband hadn't been.

"Oh, Karl is."

"If he loves you, he'll love you as you are."

"Of course. He does. But why not make it better? For us both? What's the harm?"

You're about to pay someone to play around in your head and you're wondering what's the harm?

She shook her head and sighed. There was no point in going into this again. "I'm your friend. I support you."

Even if you're a fucking whackjob.

"Okay. Let's do this."

They adjourned to the office. It was in the basement, with blackout curtains over the small windows to reduce glare. Irina had only been down here a handful of times, and she gave Paula props for the ambiance. Hard wood furnishings, dark blue carpeting, and a lounge chair across from the desk for guests. Irina dropped into said chair and pulled a novel up on her phone while Paula dimmed the lights then went directly to the laptop and jiggled the mouse to wake it up. She clicked around for a couple of minutes, typed a handful of strokes, then turned the screen a bit toward Irina. "Here, you want to watch what's going on, too?"

She snorted. "Fuck that, babe. You may not mind giving it up to some internet basement kid with delusions of grandeur, but I'm not going there. I'm watching you, not the screen."

Paula giggled. "Fair enough." She moved the monitor back, then pulled on and plugged in a pair of headphones that looked positively ancient.

"Nice throwback to the 90s," Irina quipped.

"What?"

To the noise-canceled Paula she mouthed,

Never mind

, receiving a nod and a thumbs up in reply. And then it began.

Irina wasn't sure what to expect, in all honesty. Her exposure to hypnotism was entirely born of television and an obviously (to her) faked stage act she'd seen in her freshman year of college. So while she was nominally paging through her book she spent the first several minutes watching her friend closely. At first, Paula looked like she was reading something on-screen, her eyes scanning back and forth. The glow from the LCD was mostly dim with a hint of green. The green intensified slowly, or maybe Irina's eyes were adjusting to the dimness, but soon enough the color plateaued in brightness and there were vague ripples of motion in the light reflected off her friend's face and the wall behind her.

Paula, for her part, seemed engrossed in whatever was on the monitor. When the green light took over, her eyes didn't seem to be reading anymore, just staring intently at one point on the screen. Soon enough, she leaned forward in her chair, let go of the mouse, and rested her arms to the side.

Somewhat bored, Irina continued with her book, and she was startled enough perhaps fifteen minutes into the session to gasp and hiss out a

Jesus!

when she heard Paula's voice.

"What was that, sweetie?" Irina started, then realized that her friend hadn't been talking to her.

Or to anyone, really. Her eyes were glossy... glassy, wide open but unseeing. It was disconcerting, but her words were perhaps more so.

"Yes," Paula drawled, to some unheard query. "I am going deeper, now."

Irina felt a chill go up her spine at this, frankly, spooky behavior, but restrained herself from smacking Paula to snap her out of it and make it all stop. Instead she continued to watch and listen.

"The spiral brings me deeper down into sleep," the other woman went on. "It opens my mind to new possibilities. To new thoughts and new feelings. I am going deeper now."

There was a count, now, from one to ten, and beyond. Irina watched, fascinated, as her friend's eyes half-lidded but never actually closed. Her voice grew calmer and quieter as she continued, slowing to a crawl as she neared her numerical destination.

"One hundred. I am deeply hypnotized now, and ready for suggestions." Paula's lips parted slightly as she paused for a moment, but then she began repeating her new guidance in zombie-like tones.

"I am sexy."

"I am sexual."

"I like being sensual."

"The way I dress adds to my sensuality."

"When I dress my legs in stockings, I feel sensual, sexual, and sexy."

"I love the feel of hosiery on my legs. It arouses me for my legs to be covered in nylons."

"Wearing stockings makes me feel confident, powerful, and beautiful."

"I want to wear nylons more often. I love the feelings I get from wearing them."

"It excites me even more to wear hosiery while making love."

"I want to wear stockings."

"I need to wear stockings."

It went on from there, ad infinitum as far as Irina was concerned. It seemed repetition was central to the technique, as there wasn't much variation on the themes. It had to have been ten minutes or more before Paula stopped babbling about her hosiery and was silent for a moment before continuing.

"I understand."

"I will be able to come to this deep level easier each time I am hypnotized."

"I will wake up soon. One hundred..."

... and on up to one, she proceeded, before her eyes snapped fully open once more. Paula blinked and leaned back from the monitor, fiddling with the mouse for a second and then turning to her friend with a long stretch.

"Wow. That was interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Yeah. It's hard to describe. At first it was just like paying attention to a good book, getting immersed in it, you know? And then I just lost track of where I was, like the book had fallen away and I was still reading it, or someone was reading it to me, and I honestly don't remember what I read, I'm just thirty pages further. Does that make any sense?"

"Fuck no."

"Thanks. Did I... do anything weird?"

"No more so than usual, I guess."

"Come on, Rina!"

She shrugged. "You stared at the screen and started repeating stuff about a spiral, sleep, and then there was a bunch of stuff about stockings and how much you like them. You repeated that stuff a lot, then some stuff about how easy this was and it would be easier next time, and then you counted for a while and woke up. That's all she wrote."

Paula was fascinated. "That is so freaking cool. I don't remember any of that. Well, okay, the spiral at the beginning. But after that... Wow." She dimpled.

"Do you feel any different?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't think... hmmm... maybe?"

"How?"

"I guess I just... I don't know... I feel like it would be sexy to get dolled up and stocking-y right now."

"How is this different from usual? Also, that's totally not a word."

"Stocking-y? It is now."

"Nevertheless."

"Different? Maybe. I usually think of getting dressed up in the context of how much Karl's going to like me in what I'm wearing, and maybe sometimes what he'll do to me because of it... but now it's a little more... how

I'll

feel wearing it. What it'll look like in the mirror. What the fabric will feel like against my skin. Sensual."

Yeah, that was the word.

"Well, sounds like it's working."

Paula brightened. "Yeah, I guess it does, doesn't it?" She turned to her friend. "Thanks, hon. I really appreciate you looking out for me in this."

"Sure. What else are best friends for than to...

Wingardium leviosa!

"

"Huh?"

"Damn. You were supposed to bark like a dog from that. I don't think it's working after all."

"Huh? Oh. Bite me!"

"Your bark is much worse than my bite."

"Omigod. Please leave now."

They staggered back up the stairs, arm in arm, laughing all the way.

* * *

It was several days before Irina saw her friend again, meeting for lunch at a Vietnamese place halfway between their respective employers. While slurping down the pho, both women exchanged complaints about obnoxious coworkers, asshole managers, and evil customers (as was customary) before moving their conversation to the personal.

"So, did that guy from Accounting call you back?" Paula inquired. "You said the date went okay."

"Nah. I think he's screwing Sandi now."

"See-Through-Blouse-Sandi?"

"The very same."

"Slut."

"Hey, her face isn't that cute. She's gotta emphasize what she's got."

"You're

defending

her?"

"I'm just pointing out her probable wardrobe motivations. Besides, Allen wasn't that much fun anyway. Spent like half the time discussing his fantasy football league and trying to get me to join."

"Ouch."

"Right? Way to sweep a gal off her feet. She's welcome to him."

"You'll find someone."

"Ih. It's summertime. Too hot to share a bed right now anyway."

"That's why you send him home when you're through with him. Usually."

"Ugh. God save me from the clingy ones!" She sipped at the remains of her iced tea and signed the check, taking her Visa back from the tray. "Speaking of 'cling', how are your stockings coming along?"

Paula smiled prettily, a tiny blush animating her cheeks. "Fine. It's been fun! Like, more-than-usual fun! Karl's noticed I'm wearing them more often, and one time, even when he wasn't around..."

"What?"

"I dressed up by myself. For myself. And... you know..."

"I most assuredly do not."

"Never mind."

Irina tittered. "Babe, if you're having extra fun, even in your alone time, more power to you. I spend time with Battery-Operated Boyfriend quite a bit myself."

"Yes, well, I haven't used anything battery-operated in years. Not since Karl moved out here. I was just, you know... touching."

"Too much information, P. Way too much."

"Hey, you're the one who brought up B.O.B. A-ny-

ways

..." she enunciated. "I have another session online this weekend. Can you come over again?"

"Again?"

"It's supposed to reinforce stuff if I do it more often."

Sigh. "Yeah, okay. It's not like I have any plans." She stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder.

"Meow! You don't have to," Paula replied, getting up as well. She was wearing a knee-length dress. With hosiery, Irina noticed. Stockings were a safe bet. "I just feel... safer if you're there."

"Yeah, I get it. Don't worry, sweetie. I won't let you down."

"Thanks."

And she hadn't. Irina made sure she was at the house Sunday afternoon as scheduled. Karl was at a sports bar with one of his buddies watching a college game of some flavor or other, so after the ladies shared a pair of mimosas and fifteen minutes of gossip at the kitchen counter, they adjourned to the basement again.

Without many preliminaries, Paula moved over to her side of the desk. Irina couldn't help but notice that even though the other woman was wearing only a housecoat for clothes right now, the legs peeking out from beneath it were a little too matte and smooth to be completely natural. Irina wondered if she was wearing them in anticipation of her computer thingy today or if she'd just started wearing hose around the house on random weekends.

This time it went smoother for Irina. She barely even looked up from her book when Paula started speaking out loud, as she had been expecting it, and the subsequent countdown and one-way conversation about going deeper into trance was no surprise. When she reached, "I am entranced and open to suggestion," Irina stopped ignoring the monotone chant and looked up in mild curiosity at what was to come next.

It started with repetition of what Paula had said during the last entrancement about being sexy and the sensuality of stockings, but then took a switch into a less general path.

"I will always move my legs in ways designed to entice."

"Women in stockings are so seductive and sexy. They always get what they want."

"Even just the act of putting on my nylons arouses me."

More of the same followed, and Irina went back to her book during the repetition phase, but she arched an eyebrow when her friend paused for a moment.

"Yes. I understand." The room was darkened considerably, but Irina could see Paula fidgeting a bit. "I will. I am, now."

"My best orgasms happen when I'm wearing nylon stockings."

Well, that was less subtle than usual, wasn't it?

"My best orgasms happen when I'm wearing nylon stockings."

It was then she noticed that Paula's hands had disappeared below the desktop.

Nuh-uh

, she thought.

She isn't...

It became clear, however, that Paula indeed

was

. Her breath was quickening, a light sheen of sweat glowed green on her forehead, and the movement of her shoulders made it very clear what she was doing as she recited her latest epiphany. "My best orgasms happen...

unnnngh...

when I'm wearing nylon stockings."