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It was a week before my husband George's fortieth birthday when Dr. Ward first hypnotized me. I have to wonder if the therapist had ever heard a request like mine, or if any therapist anywhere had, for that matter.
The house was covered in white wood siding, and there was a sign on the front lawn, complete with two small spotlights, proclaiming the house to be the office of Dr. Charles Ward. Under his name, happy looking script advertised his services as therapy, couples therapy and hypnosis.
Driving by the house no less than twice a day on average, I'd never thought much about the therapist's office. With George's birthday fast approaching, I was getting desperate though. I'd only gone into the office on a spur of the moment whim, only meaning to inquire about the possibility of finding a solution to my problem.
I loved George; he was a fantastic husband and my best friend. Over time, the fact that I just couldn't manage to give him the one "special" sexual experience I knew he truly desired ate away at me. He'd never had anal sex, and while he'd never pressured me, he did ask me to indulge his desire.
The problem was that I had no interest in that, and when we did finally try it things went wrong from the start. I was tense and uncomfortable and it just got worse from there.
It was so bad that he only managed to push the tip inside me before I cried out so loud that he stopped the whole disaster himself out of shame for what he was putting me through.
After that I felt even guiltier, so I bought some toys and lube and tried to practice on my own, meaning to surprise him with the gift of my new more inviting butt--that is, until I couldn't manage to relax myself enough to even pretend to enjoy the smallest toy.
Two years later, I'd got it into my head that I was going to finally give him what he wanted for his fortieth birthday. I knew the problem was psychological, it had to be, and instead of driving by the white house with the sign advertising hypnotherapy, that day I pulled into the driveway and went inside.
After a small outer area the size of a big closet, where there were only a chair and a coat rack, I passed through the open inner door to an office that was really more like a converted sun room added on to the front of the house. The windows on three sides were covered with blinds that were closed for privacy.
"Hi there. I'm Dr. Ward," he said as he came around the desk and offered me his hand.
It was mortifying just to meet him. He was both younger and better looking than I'd assumed. He was probably in his middle thirties at most. He had a great smile though, and a warm manner that somehow had me opening up to him when he offered to do a session with me right then.
"Relax, anything you tell me will stay in this room. As your therapist I'm bound from repeating anything you tell me, with few exceptions."
He turned a sign on the outside of the inner door and closed it, and I settled down on the couch opposite the chair he sat in.
"I'm not sure I can talk about this. It's too, well it's embarrassing."
He smiled at me again. "This is a safe place, Denise. You can tell me anything and feel no fear of being judged. This is what I do," he assured me.
Admitting such a personal problem to a stranger was hard, but somehow I found myself telling this charming, attractive man every detail of my failed quest to give my husband the anal sex he deserved.
By the time I was done, I was past the point of no return. After sharing what I had, there was nothing left to be lost. When he suggested that perhaps hypnosis might allow me to get finally get over my hang-ups, I agreed after only a moment's thought to give it a go.
He warned me that it would likely take more than one session, and explained his fees, and I repeated my agreement before he continued.
"Don't worry; this will just be like taking a relaxing, soothing little power nap. All you have to do is want this, and I should be able to help you. So before we begin, let me make sure I understand what you want. The goal here today, the goal that we're both going to try to achieve, is to help you relax and enjoy anal sex."
Hearing him say it, even after what I'd told him, made me blush anew.
"Your desired outcome is to take pleasure from anal sex, and be rid of the anxiety you experienced in the past. Only you can make this work, so you have to want this, to want me to help you."
It was humiliating to talk about it, but it was a bit of a relief as well. He didn't seem fazed by my admission, and I felt somewhat soothed by his calm, professional demeanor.
"Do you want me to help you, Denise? Will you trust me to help you learn to enjoy, and even desire anal sex?"
I nodded, and he had me lie back on the couch and close my eyes. He told me to imagine myself in a white room with a series of objects. He described them, and described how warm and comfortable I felt in the soft, fluffy white couch in the soft fluffy white room.
"Look at the clock on the table in the white room. Let the clock fade away, and let your perception of time fade with it. Feel yourself sinking deeper into the soft white couch, so soft and comfortable now that you can barely feel your feet and arms at all, they're floating and relaxed to the point that you're not even aware they're there."
He continued like this, until the last of the items in the white room disappeared, and I drifted away into the foggy state of complete relaxation.
It took me a moment to remember where I was when he awoke me. I sat up on the couch, and looked at him with uncertainty.
"Is that it?"
"What do you mean, Denise?"
"Surely it must take longer than that," I said.
He smiled, and then looked to his right. I followed his gaze, and stared at the clock. Almost an hour had passed, passed as if it was an instant.
"Oh wow. I ... I mean, did it work?"
"We won't know for certain until you try, and I'd like to do some more sessions to reinforce the work we did today in any case. That said, I think you'll see the difference soon enough. You're a very good subject."
He looked pleased with his work, and I found myself feeling better already about my birthday surprise. George was going to be so happy, I couldn't wait to tell him.
"How will I know if it's working?"
He chuckled. "Don't worry about that. I don't think you'll have any trouble telling. In fact, I think you'll start to see the effects quicker than you might think."
We discussed payment, and my next session. I shook his hand again and thanked him before I turned and walked to the door. He spoke just before I reached it, "You know, you really do have a lovely ass on you, Denise."
It was a shocking thing for him to say. I felt my face flush hot as first embarrassment, and then anger filled me. I turned to look at him, and he just smiled. My whole body tingled with heat, and it took me a moment to realize that I wasn't just upset with him, there was something else. I was ... aroused.
"It's so lovely that I can't help thinking how much I'd like to be inside it," he continued.
"Excuse me?"
"An ass like that just makes me think about how tight it would feel when I slowly push my fat cock deeper and deeper inside. I'm getting turned on just thinking about it right now. How about you? Does the thought of it turn you on, Denise?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was outrageous. But I couldn't concentrate on my anger with my body responding the way it was. My pussy throbbed with arousal, and for some reason all I could think about was the way it would feel to have his cock inside me. Not just inside me--up my ass.
Then I realized what he was doing.
"This is some kind of test, right? I-I think it's working."
He stood up and approached me. I couldn't help but notice the bulge in his pants. "Test? What do you mean? I'm just saying that your ass is so gorgeous that it has an effect on me. Look," he said, and then his hands dropped to his waist and he started to undo his pants.
"I-I have to go now."
It was already clear that his hypnotic suggestions were working in me, and as hot as I felt it was horrifying to feel that arousal directed at someone other than George. What did he think he was doing? Did he really think he could get away with this?
He had his pants open, and when he pushed down his boxers and his erection sprang free. He was pretty big, and despite myself I stared at it.
"I'm showing you what I'm talking about. Your ass makes me horny, Denise. Look at my cock. Look at how hard I am from thinking about fucking your hot ass."
"I-I have to go. This isn't what I wanted. I love my husband," I told him, but still I gawked at his impressive manhood.
"Don't fight it Denise. Can you really look at this big dick and tell me that you don't want to feel it inside you? That you don't want me to bend you over my desk take you from behind? I don't believe that for a minute," he said, and then he stepped closer to me.
My body yearned for him in a way that was beyond resistance. I hadn't ever been this turned on before. My traitorous pussy wanted him so much that I could feel my wetness soaking the crotch of my white cotton panties. Why hadn't I worn sexier underwear? Sexier underwear--oh God, what was wrong with me?
Staring at the thick length of his manhood pushed away my confusion and shame. The sight of that big dick left only one thought in my head. The only thing I could think of was hot it would be to do it, to lean over his desk and let him ram me right there. He moved behind me and then his hands were on my hips. I shuddered at his touch, and a moan escaped me.
"This is wrong," I said, but I didn't try to stop him as he guided me towards his desk.
"Then why does it feel so right?" he asked in my ear.
I was dripping wet. I needed that big dick, needed to feel it filling my ass. It wasn't a matter of right and wrong any more, the all that mattered was my ass and how much it hungered for his cock. His big, thick, hard cock.
I had to have it. A needful moan escaped my lips. It was humiliating to have my desire so openly visible, but that just made it hotter. My wanton need to be fucked like a dirty whore overrode any embarrassment.
"It does feel right, doesn't it?"
"Yes," I admitted with another moan. I could feel his erection pressing against me. A few steps more and we were there, my legs pressed up against the desk. His lips brushed my neck while his hands fumbled at my slacks. It felt so good that he had my pants and panties down around my knees before I realized it.
"Bend over."
His hands pushed me down, gentle but firm all the same, and I let him do it until I was laying with my breasts and head mashed down on its surface, my rear obscenely exposed to him.
I felt his cock press against my exposed slit for a moment, and then he pushed forward and buried himself inside me. The sensation of him filling my cunt felt wonderful but I wanted more. I wanted him to take me the way George had always so desired, but that I had always refused. I wanted to feel him in my ass.
"Somebody's a horny little slut, isn't she? That's good, the lubrication will help."
He withdrew himself and I wiggled my rear back towards him in invitation. He was right--at that moment I was a horny slut. I wanted him like I'd never wanted anything. When he pressed the head of his manhood against my rear opening, I groaned with anticipation.
"Beg for it, you dirty little tramp. Beg me to fuck your ass," he demanded.
Somehow his nasty words only made me hotter. I was dripping wet, exposed and bent over his desk and all I could think about was that hard cock of his and how it wasn't inside me. Yet.
"Fuck my ass. Do it, fuck my ass. Please fuck my ass," I pleaded.
His cock pushed against my back entrance and I tried to relax myself there to receive him, but he felt so big, too big. He grunted and pushed harder still, until I felt my ass being was forced to relent, swallowing the tip of him in one rushed bite.
"God, you do have a tight little asshole, don't you?"
It hurt, but at the same time it felt so good that I gave a sound that was a mixed squeal of pain and arousal. He paused there with just the swollen head inside me and I bit my lip and groaned at the sensation of my ass being forced to stretch to accept him.
He pushed deeper and deeper, filling me. I groaned and shuddered as he invaded my rear, it was an extreme feeling--he wasn't just fucking me, he was pushing my limits, delving a territory unexplored as he forced himself all the way inside me. I felt like I was his; somehow I knew that he was making me his as I grunted and moaned there, speared on his cock.
I struggled to admit him so deeply, but as much as it hurt, this was a good pain. A pain that I didn't want to stop, because it was just proof that I was being fucked in the ass and loving it, fucked like some kind of slutty whore. Fucked like I needed to be fucked. My pussy drooled and I didn't resist, I just closed my eyes and moaned as he screwed me, at first slow, but then with increasing speed and strength.
The sound of my moans was joined with that of his body slapping against my rear cheeks, every meaty whack timed perfectly with our moans.
I was shaking and heaving with pleasure and pain, reaching and grabbing at the desk as he fucked me. Rational thought was gone, there was only helpless need. Just pleasure and pain. Mindless, but unable to shut up, I muttered helplessly as he pushed forward with relentless force.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," someone muttered as we both came.
Sometime after I regained my breath, he withdrew from me and did up his pants. My shame returned as I pulled my own clothing back into place, but the pleasurable glow of being fucked like the dirty little butt slut I was hadn't faded yet.
Despite my growing horror at the fact that I'd just cheated on my husband, I couldn't help but feel something like gratitude toward him. He'd fulfilled me so deeply that I couldn't find it in myself to hate him. I left in a rush, his cum oozing from my sore ass as I drove home.
By the time George returned home from work, I had showered twice and still didn't feel clean. I was so ashamed at what had happened with Dr. Ward, at how hot it made me feel to think about what a dirty slut I was. About how much I was his dirty slut.
I made the best dinner I could, and I don't think I was ever nicer to George than I was that night. I waited on him, I was affectionate, and I had every intention of being his whore in bed when I had the chance.
My sore ass was on my mind all night, though, a throbbing reminder of where Dr. Ward had planted his flag. I tried to concentrate on please George, but the arousal that lingered in me wasn't for him, it was for the damned hypnotist.
It didn't take any more seduction than it ever had to get George naked, but even though I wanted to enjoy it, sex just didn't feel right. Far from giving him my sore ass, I had to fake an orgasm while riding him during normal sex to give him the green light to finish. It wasn't hot, it felt wrong, like a chore.
He fell asleep hard afterwards, like he always did, and I went downstairs to hide my tears. Sobbing in my dark kitchen, I hated myself for how much I wanted something else. Something wrong. Something other than my husband. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I realized that all I wanted was Dr. Ward to bend me over his desk again.
The more I thought about it, the more turned on I became, until my hand slid into my panties and caressed my sex. I had only to imagine I was in Dr. Ward's office again, presenting my rear to him like an animal in heat, and I was near the edge of release with startling speed.
My fingers moved faster as I remembered how his hands felt on my hips, pushing me down, positioning me where he wanted. I thought of the pressure, and then that sudden, glorious moment when he pushed his way inside, and I groaned aloud.
Tears still drying on my face, I had to stifle my cries of pleasure as I came there in the dark. I climaxed thinking about the vile hypnotist while my husband slept, unaware that his wife was a traitorous whore.
Annalisa
- 13.09.2021
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