More unorthodox hypnotic therapy

THE UNRAVELING OF DR. SOFIA RICCI

The moment Vasudeva’s fingers closed around Sofia’s wrists, something shifted in the air between them—a crackle of energy, a silent snap of surrender.

"O-Ohmygod... What is he..." A mental echo, ripe with lustful arousal.

The young beauty's pulse hammered against his palms, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as he pinned her hands above her head. The silk of her blouse strained against her chest with each rapid inhale, the top button already undone, revealing the delicate hollow of her throat.

She whimpered.

Not in fear.

In relief.

Vasudeva’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

Oh, little psychologist, he thought, his crimson eyes drinking in the flush creeping down her neck. You’ve been waiting for this your whole life.

"Your mind is a cage," he murmured, his voice a velvet blade sliding between her ribs. "All those rules, all that control." His knee pressed higher between her thighs, the pressure deliberate, unrelenting. The fabric of her trousers was already damp, the heat of her radiating through the material. "But cages can be opened, Sofia."

Her hips jerked involuntarily, a silent plea.

Vasudeva tsked, his free hand trailing down her arm, his fingertips skating over the rapid flutter of her pulse. "So eager," he mused, his voice a hypnotic purr. "And yet, you still fight it." His fingers slipped beneath the cuff of her sleeve, tracing the delicate bones of her wrist. "Tell me, Doctor—when was the last time you truly let go?"

Sofia’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

The mystic guru's smile widened.

Exactly.

The First Touch

With deliberate slowness, Vasudeva’s hand slid down her arm, over the curve of her shoulder, until his fingers brushed the first button of her blouse.

"May I?" he asked, his voice dripping with false courtesy.

Sofia’s breath hitched.

She nodded.

One by one, the buttons gave way beneath his fingers, the fabric parting to reveal the lace-edged cups of her bra, the swell of her breasts rising with each unsteady breath. Vasudeva’s touch was ice against her feverish skin, his fingertips tracing the upper curve of her breast, circling but never quite touching the peaked nipple straining against the lace.

Sofia whined, her back arching off the divan.

"Patience," he chided, his voice laced with amusement. "Healing takes time, Doctor."

His fingers continued their torturous path, skimming down her ribs, over the quivering plane of her stomach, until they reached the waistband of her trousers.

"Breathe in," he commanded.

Sofia obeyed, her chest expanding—

—and in that moment of distraction, Vasudeva’s fingers dipped beneath the fabric, his touch searing against the damp silk of her panties.

Sofia cried out, her hips bucking.

"Breathe out," he murmured, his fingers pressing just so against her clit through the soaked material.

A sob tore from her throat as the first wave of pleasure crashed over her, her body convulsing, her mind shattering.

Vasudeva watched, enraptured, as her orgasm ripped through her—untouched, unearned, a gift he had given her with nothing but words and the barest brush of his fingers.

Beautiful.

The Hypnotic Spiral

When Sofia came back to herself, her blouse was fully open, her bra unhooked, her trousers and panties pooled around her ankles. Vasudeva knelt between her thighs, his crimson eyes locked onto hers, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her inner thighs.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a lash of power.

Sofia’s gaze snapped to his, her pupils blown wide, her lips swollen from biting back moans.

"Good girl," he purred, his thumb brushing over her clit, feather-light. "Now, count backwards from ten."

Sofia blinked, dazed. "W-what?"

"Ten," he repeated, his voice brooking no argument.

"T-ten," she stammered, her breath hitching as his fingers dipped into her, curling just so.

"Nine."

"N-nine—oh God—"

His thumb circled her clit, slow, maddening.

"Eight."

"E-eight—fuck—"

By five, her voice was a broken whimper.

By three, her hips were jerking in helpless little circles, chasing his touch.

At one, Vasudeva pressed two fingers deep inside her, his palm grinding against her clit—

—and Sofia screamed, her back bowing off the divan, her vision whiting out as her second orgasm obliterated her.

The Corruption

When she could breathe again, Vasudeva was above her, his platinum hair haloed by the lantern light, his crimson eyes burning into hers.

"Who do you belong to?" he whispered, his voice a dark caress.

Sofia’s lips trembled.

His fingers twisted inside her.

"Who do you belong to?"

"Y-you," she sobbed, her nails digging into his arms. "You, you, you—"

Vasudeva’s smile was triumphant.

"Again."

"I’m yours," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Only yours."

His fingers withdrew, glistening with her arousal, and before she could protest, they were pressed against her lips.

"Taste," he commanded.

Sofia’s tongue darted out, laving at his fingers, her eyes fluttering shut at the bitter-sweet tang of herself.

"Again."

She sucked, her luscious red lips closing around his fingers, her moan vibrating against his skin.

Vasudeva’s free hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

"Perfect," he murmured.

And then he kissed her.

"Hmmmph!!"

The Aftermath

When Sofia stumbled out of the villa an hour later, her clothes were rumpled, her hair a mess of chestnut waves, her lips swollen from Vasudeva’s kisses.

She paused on the steps, her fingers trembling as they brushed her mouth.

What have I done?

But even as the thought formed, it dissolved, replaced by a warmth pooling low in her belly, a hunger that would never be sated by anyone else.

She needed to come back.

She would come back.

Vasudeva watched from the window, his fingers still tingling with the remnants of her essence, his cock aching with restrained power.

Soon, he promised himself.

"Next time, I’ll take her completely."

And then?

Vasudeva would gain another acolyte.