Hypnotist Professor

Chapter 2: Teach Me A Lesson, Sir

Sara

He said no. No. To hypnotizing a student for sex and living out her sexual fantasies. What part of that did not sound like absolute heaven to him? I had found out through my roommate that Professor Kahl, my university's hypnotism professor, had personal hypnosis sessions with students before. Some ended in orgasms and sex if the rumors were true. So what was the problem?

Did he not want me?

My gaze fell over my outfit in the mirror, and nothing appeared atrocious enough to persuade the professor into rejecting me, blackmail and all. I supposed my breasts were a bit smaller than average, but they were perky and I never had to wear a bra because of their size. My eyes were big and wide, as were my lips. My height also gifted me with long legs, which made all normal shorts and skirts appear way shorter on me than other people. What did he see wrong with me?

I tried to push the question aside and focus on other things as I walked to my first class of the new semester. The class was, of course, Hypnosis 101 with Professor Kahl. I had taken it to fulfill a psychology requirement, but now I regretted my impulsive actions from the day before. Showing up to his office and demanding he hypnotize me and live out my deepest, darkest, and sexiest fantasies... God, it was humiliating.

Why did he say no?

My cheeks were no doubt a Merlot red as I sank into a seat in the middle row of the classroom. It was a small lecture hall and each row was elevated above the other, gifting the professor with a view of everyone's torsos and legs.

Professor Kahl strode into the classroom, and the sighs of his female students were instant. He was a stone cold fox. When my roommate Anna told me the rumors about a professor hypnotizing and sleeping with his students, I had imagined a balding creep with a perspiration problem. Not a man who reminded me of a heartthrob movie star who grew up into melt worthy man. Instead of having a perspiration problem himself, he made everyone around him sweat.

The second he placed his coffee thermos down and opened his briefcase, the three students in front of me started whispering back and forth.

"God, I could lick him for hours."

"Do you see that hair? That hair is something you want to hold onto."

"You mean while riding his face?"

"It's a great face. Very ride-able."

I rolled my eyes at them, but they were right: he had a great face. He had a great everything.

Tall with a muscular build, he would dwarf a woman of my petite and small frame in the most delicious way.

He spoke with a confidence, which triggered some deep, instinctual part of me while also poking my jealousy. He commanded a room with no problem. His back was always straight, his body aware of its surroundings. I wanted to watch him lose his control. But that was not what I was there for.

I wanted to be the one to lose control. I wanted him to take me into a deep trance and allow me to partake in everything I had ever fantasized so maybe I would stop fantasizing about it. My last boyfriend from my junior year had acted like I was a freak when I revealed my hypnosis kink to him. He did not understand why I wanted to be used and controlled. I did not understand it either. I did not know what had caused it.

All I knew was, even as a kid, watching that scene from The Jungle Bookwhere the snake's eyes turned to spirals and it whispered, "Shhh, go to sleeeeep. Go to sleeeeeeep" as the boy fell into a deep trance, I felt a tingle between my thighs. Even back then.