Youre My Temptation

I know that I shouldn't. And I wouldn't, either. No, I don't mean 'wouldn't, I mean 'won't'. I might notice you staring at your textbook, your eyes riveted to the page, your expression so beautifully blank and open as you follow the words automatically and let any distractions fade into the background to be captured by your unconscious mind. I might think about all the ways that being so focused and relaxed makes you seem deliciously vulnerable. I might even let myself daydream a little, just giving in to a harmless fantasy about you that I'd never admit because it would never go anywhere but the privacy of my own head. Because I wouldn't. I mean... I won't.

But I could.

It's a treacherous word, that 'could'. It whispers to me every time I look over at you, every time I see your lush, full lips slightly parted in absent-minded concentration, your muscles relaxing as you focus all your attention on your notes. It pries at the cracks and corners of my willpower, reminding me how beautiful you look right now splayed out on the floor, your long, bare legs looking so soft and smooth in the afternoon sun. It whispers suggestions to me, suggestions that I daren't listen to. I'm smart, but the voice of my temptations is every bit as smart as I am. I know that if I only let it, it would find all sorts of reasons why it's not wrong at all to simply talk to you. That's what we're here for, right? To talk?

And if I talk to you about something else instead of our classes, something captivating like the sparkling pendant that slowly rises and falls with my every breath in a fascinating, soothing rhythm, well... where's the harm in that? It's not like it would be my fault if you let your mind follow along wherever I directed it, concentrating on your new center of attention with the same careful focus that you give to a lecture or a textbook... right? You're just very imaginative and attentive, and if you decide to take a break and listen to me for a while, that's your decision. And if you decide to stop deciding-

But no. No, I have to cut that train of thought off. I know where it leads. It leads inexorably to thoughts of your beautiful smile fading into blank fascination, your sparkling hazel eyes becoming glassy and vacant as you stare in rapt attention at the crystal around my neck. It leads to images of those long, pale legs of yours slumping into relaxed, amiable immobility as you lose track of your body and sink deeper into concentration. It makes me imagine your head bobbing up and down absently as you listen to my voice, absorbing my words easily and thoughtlessly and oh so happily as you relax more and more. It leads to you sinking into an obedient, hypnotic trance for me.

But I won't think about that. I won't even daydream about it anymore. Because every time I fantasize about you, those same lightly parted lips murmuring out mindless agreement with my words as I help you sink deeper into peace and pleasure and guide your thoughts into compliance with my will, it becomes harder and harder to pretend that it's just a harmless fantasy anymore. When I know that I really could coax your relaxed and trusting mind into helpless relaxation, lulling your higher brain into open, blissful acceptance and slowly stroking your thoughts to sleep until you're lost in a waking dream of joyous acquiescence... god, how can I not?

Because it's wrong. I'm going to tell myself that, over and over again until the urge goes away. I'm not going to think about how easy it would be to turn your trust against you, melting your resistance before it can even form and making you feel safe and comfortable in my control. I'm not going to imagine guiding your dulled, uncritical mind into a fantasy of pleasure that you stop distinguishing from the reality of your surrender to me. I'm not going to picture your glassy, unseeing eyes staring straight ahead as you peel off your clothes, item by item, helpless to resist the wonderful sensations you experience whenever you listen and obey... I won't do that. I won't, I won't, I won't.

But I could. I absolutely could. There's only my willpower standing between me and the total erasure of your willpower. Once you had your hand between your legs, I know that I could use that pleasure to soften your resistance into unthinking, helpless obedience so easily. You wouldn't stand a chance, not with your thoughts dulled by pleasure and your mind overflowing with thoughtless bliss. You'd be putty in my hands. I'm sure of it-I've studied hypnosis for years, and I know that you'd be such a perfect subject if I ever decided to use my skills on you.

Not that I've ever even mentioned it to you, of course. I've thought about it many times; so many of my fantasies start with you finding out that hypnosis is one of my hobbies, and your eyes lighting up with eager enthusiasm as you ask me what it feels like to go into trance. But I've always been afraid to tell you. I've worried that once you knew I could hypnotize you, you'd constantly be on your guard for an attempt to lull you into relaxation, never quite at ease with me because you knew that anything I said could be the beginning of a covert induction. I couldn't stand that kind of mistrust coming from you. That's why I'm only admitting this to you in the privacy of my own head, where you can't hear me. It has nothing to do with wanting to leave the option open in case I ever broke down and decided to use it. Nothing at all.

Because I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't use my skills to smooth away every last objection with my silky hypnotic voice, fogging your wits and melting your resistance into lust. I wouldn't ever condition you with sexual pleasure, promising your deep self more and more thoughtless ecstasy every time it convinced your waking mind to rationalize your obedience as your own idea. I wouldn't wipe away the memories of your helpless, frenzied masturbation, leaving a trigger in your mind to return you to that same blank, empty state of compliance whenever I willed it. I could, of course I could and I know I could and every time we're alone together it's all I think about... but I wouldn't.

I mean I won't. I understand how language can shape our thoughts, believe me I do. When I tell myself that I won't hypnotize you, it has a very different meaning than when I tell myself that I wouldn't use your pleasure to condition you into unthinking obedience to my will. 'Won't' is solid, determined, absolute. 'Wouldn't' leaves a tantalizing window of opportunity open in my mind, promising me so many delicious possibilities if only I give in to my desires and hypnotize you into being my slave. You can see the difference, can't you?

For example, If I say, "I wouldn't call you late at night, just before bed when your thoughts are thick with sleep and your mind is mazy and vulnerable, and use my trigger to send you plummeting back into my irresistible hypnotic trance," I'm leaving an unspoken "but" in that sentence. If I say, "I wouldn't make you masturbate for me, chanting mantras of obedience into the phone as your program your drowsy mind deeper and deeper into soft, suggestible pleasure until your unconscious mind can't fight my commands anymore," I open up the possibility that I wouldn't and I shouldn't... but I could and I might.

I could. And I might. Such powerful words. I don't know where they would lead me if I followed them, I really don't. I don't know what kind of practical limits hypnosis has, if I were to abandon the ones imposed on me by my ethics and give in to all the depraved fantasies I've had about you these last few years. I don't know how far I could go in shaping your mind to my will, if only I tried. Are you even capable of resisting, once I dull that clever brain into unthinking acceptance and associate my voice with endless fathoms of orgasmic bliss? Would you even know I was programming you, or would your deep self work to conceal the changes from your conscious mind? Even if you knew, would there be anything you could do to stop yourself from crawling back to me and begging me to brainwash you ever more powerfully until your only thoughts were the ones I gave you?

I don't know. And I'm never going to find out. I'm never going to give in to that temptation, never going to find out where it leads. I... I could imagine, naturally. Not that I have, but I could. I mean, it doesn't take much imagination to picture you naked and compliant, kneeling between my legs and pleasuring me with your lips and tongue. That, that's almost obvious. I barely even need to fantasize about it now, any more than I need to picture you spending hours upon hours in mindless trance as you masturbate to recordings of my hypnotic voice. Those aren't, I mean, that's not what I'm talking about when I say I wonder... but I don't wonder. Because it doesn't matter. Because I wouldn't, I won't.

But I could... couldn't I? I really don't know how far I could take you. Could I create an entire hidden persona in your mind, an obedient and mindless slave who would emerge only by my will and who would let me do anything I wanted to that lush, beautiful body of yours? Could I empty out your resistance until all of my suggestions sounded like your own thoughts, your mind no longer able to distinguish between my words and your own desires? Could I drain your volition away until you were nothing but a blank, compliant husk that responded robotically to my commands? Could I make you into an eager, brainless pet, sleeping in a kennel at the foot of my bed every night? A horny, desperate fucktoy who humped anyone and anything I asked you to? I... I somehow feel like I could. If not for my steely determination to refuse that little voice in the back of my head.

But it never, ever goes away. I thought that maybe someday it would, if I just spent enough time with you to see you as a person and a friend first, and a gorgeous, leggy fantasy woman second. I thought that the more I got to know you, the more I appreciated your brilliant brain and laughed at your sparkling wit and fell in love with your charming, adorably sweet personality, the less I'd want to empty you out and make you my slave. But if anything, it's only gotten worse. Picturing that brilliant brain, that sparkling wit, all that charm melting into empty, glassy-eyed servitude to my will... it gives me such a rush of power and authority. It turns me on so much to think about all that independence, all that intelligence under my complete control that almost all of my masturbation sessions center on programming you to obey. To be honest, I think I want to brainwash you now more than ever.

But I won't. I'm strong. I can resist temptation. I can stay near you, enjoying the pleasant warmth of your companionship and letting my fantasies remain exactly that. We can be together like this, just the two of us hanging out in my apartment with nobody to hear you if you moaned and whimpered and begged, and it won't affect me. I'm not going to hypnotize you. I'm not going to brainwash you. I'm not going to make you my obedient, mindless slave, no matter how much I want to. I don't need to keep away from you-can you believe I once thought of doing exactly that? I had my transfer papers all filled out and everything. I was ready to move halfway across the country just to avoid being alone with you. It was so silly. I don't need to do any of that. I just need to stay true to myself. I can do that.

And then you get up. You glance over to me, your gaze sparkling with a new fascination. "That is such a cool pendant!" you say, pointing to the necklace resting against my suddenly feverish skin. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear it before. Is it new?" And all of my iron resolve melts in the face of your temptation, leaving behind only surging desire in its wake. I know I'm going to feel guilty afterward, I know that I shouldn't and I know that I wouldn't if only things had happened any other way... but then you look at me with those wide, trusting eyes. And I do.

THE END