Megan was pretty, shy, blonde and well-behaved. She didn’t drink, she rarely went out to bars or clubs, and when a man showed interest in her she inevitably blushed bright red and fled the scene, too repressed to return the interest, scared of being labelled a slut and a tease. She knew she was missing out on life as a result, and she hated it, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to be that little bit wilder and have fun.
Her mother, despairing of Megan ever finding a boyfriend, let alone a husband, took her to a hypnotherapist, to help her get over her shyness. But the hypnotherapist saw something deeper in Megan.
“What is it you’re really afraid of, Megan?” he asked her.
She blushed prettily, and looked down, and replied in a quiet voice. “I’m afraid of what I want.”
“And what do you want, Megan?” he asked her.
She said nothing, only blushed deeper.
“Do you like it when men make decisions for you, Megan?” he asked.
She was silent, but, after a few moments, nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“You have to say ‘yes’, Megan,” he told her. “Say ‘yes, sir’, if you like men making decisions for you.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, in a breathy, needy voice. The flush in her cheeks was no longer just embarrassment, he was sure, but also arousal.
“Good girl,” he told her. “In that case I’m going to make decisions about what hypnotherapy you need, and it’s not going to be exactly what your mother asked for. And afterwards, men are going to make a lot more of your decisions. Are you ready?”
She looked up at him, biting her lip, and the excitement on her face practically glowed. “Yes, sir,” she said again.
He let her remember the instructions he gave her in her trance. From now on, she would never say no to anything a man wanted to do with, or to, her, no matter who the man was. She needn’t vocally consent, but she would do nothing by word or deed to imply that she didn’t consent.
Further, she would seek out places and venues where she was likely to meet men who would want to do things to her, and she would dress to attract their interest.
Lastly, she would go and get a small tattoo on the inside of her wrist that said “I won’t say no”, just to help men get the message.
She was practically quivering on the hypnotherapist’s couch as her mind processed the consequences of her treatment. Her face was flushed and her nipples were rock-hard beneath her thin shirt and bra.
The hypnotist was smiling at her. “Welcome back, Megan,” he said. “You were very pretty under hypnosis. In fact, I think I want to play with you now. So I’m going to get up, slap you across the face and spit in your mouth. Then I’m going to rip off your clothes, push my cock in your mouth for a while, before throwing you down on the floor and taking your virginity by raping your unprotected pussy.”
She gasped, as he rose from his desk, but she didn’t back away, just sat there, eyes wide.
“If you don’t want that to happen, Megan,” he told her, “all you have to do is say no. I’ll stop if you tell me no.”
But she didn’t say no, as he slapped her, spat on her, stripped her, and then raped her pretty little mouth and her sopping wet cunt. She cried a little as she lost her virginity, but only a little.
And the best part, of course, was that hypnotism didn’t work like this at all. He could no more hypnotise her into being a rapetoy than he could make her his mindless slave. All he had done was give her permission to act the way she had always wanted to….
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