I’m not
sure where it came from, exactly. Maybe it was the stories that she, Liz and I
wrote a few weeks ago. Maybe it was because Noelle believes the hotel was
haunted. Or maybe it’s just because she’s a creative genius. Whatever the
reason was, she pulled me aside, quite early in the weekend, and told me she
had this idea for playing with Sleepingirl.
“We put her
in the elevator, and as the doors shut, she drops into trance, and she goes
deeper. Then when she reaches the bottom, she wakes up, and hits the seventh
floor button. As the doors shut again, she goes back into trance… again. And
she goes still deeper as the elevator goes up.”
I thought
it was a fantastic idea, and I knew Sleepingirl would be up for it. The
question was, when? And how? That can be a fairly complicated suggestion to
pull off.
I mulled it
over until Sunday night rolled around. Noelle and I grabbed SG from the party.
We had given her some broad outlines but hadn’t given her the details. On the
way to the elevator, it hit me. Of course!
She and I
had set up a consensual non-consent trigger keyed to… well.., keyed to one word.
“Jessica!”
I had used
it earlier in the weekend, and she nearly ran away. She said her heart went
into overdrive and based on how flushed and frightened she seemed, I believed
her. I held my hand on her heart as I said it again, in a sing-song, Tennant-as-American
kind of way. “Jessica!” Her heart accelerated to hummingbird fast.
Don’t tell
me triggers don’t work.
So there we
were in front of the elevator.
I looked
her in the eye as Noelle looked on. “Jessica!”
She
blanched but hung on my gaze.
“Here’s
what’s going to happen. In a minute, you’re going to summon the elevator. When
you enter, you’re going to be compelled to hit the ground floor button. As the
door closes, so will your conscious mind. You will fall with the elevator into
a deep, deep trance, remembering nothing. When the door opens, you will have no
idea why you’re there, just knowing that you missed your floor, and you have to
hit the button for the seventh floor. As the doors close again, so will your
conscious mind. And as the elevator rises, you will fall deeper. And when you
reach the seventh floor, you will wake up, no knowing how exactly you got
there. The only thing you know is that you missed your floor, and you have to
press the ground floor button. Do you understand?”
She nodded
slowly. Carefully. As if she didn’t want to disappoint me.
Noelle
smiled. Her smile reflected my feeling—predatory and alert.
“Good. Then
begin.”
Sleepingirl
moved slowly, to the button. All at once, we weren’t there. Our predatory
smiles turned to glee.
The doors
opened. We walked in behind her. She pressed the button going to the ground
floor. She took a position in the middle of the car. As the doors closed we
watched in thrilled reverence while her whole body slouched into trance.
The
elevator doors were mirrored, so we could see every inhale and exhale of her
trance.
I started
whispering in her ear to reinforce the effectiveness, that as she felt the drop
of the car, she would feel herself dropping even more deeply.
We quickly
reached the ground floor. The doors slid open and we watched as she woke up,
groggily shaking her head and looking around. Then she smirked, as if she
remembered something, and reached out to press the “7” button. She watched with
trepidation as the doors closed, and she dropped.
I whispered
to Noelle to see if she wanted to help out with the suggestions on the fly. She
said she would jump in at the end.
As the
elevator went up and down over and over again (I think we completed 15 circuits
in all) I kept up as much of a patter as I could. Here is what I can remember
(more or less):
At the
beginning: “As the doors close, you find yourself falling. And you may ask
yourself, haven’t I done this before? This isn’t the first time this has
happened, is it? Or the second? Or… how long have you been here?”
“As the
doors close, you find your eyes stay open, Jessica. You stare at the woman in
the mirror. Look at how deep she’s going. Maybe you find yourself pulled along
with her.
“Can she
decide what is real? How deep is she going?”
“Maybe,
Jessica, you’re not actually in an elevator right now. Maybe you’re at home,
sitting at your computer reading mcstories. Maybe you’re reading about a girl
trapped in an elevator, going up and down over and over and over again.”
“Maybe
you’re at that computer, masturbating, and your imagination has made it so real
that you’re writing that girl into life in your mind right now”
“So are you
there, willing yourself into being here? Or are you here, willing that
masturbating girl into existence over there?”
“”And what
is that doing to you, Jessica?”
“Are you
more disturbed at how turned on you are by this than you are turned on by how
disturbed you are?” At this point she started being visibly turned on,
breathing heavily as she stared, slack jawed and vacant, at herself in the
mirror.
“How does
it feel to have no control over this? As you are compelled to repeat this dance
over and over and over again?”
“How does
it feel to be in this state, alone, and at the mercy of the trance?”
“What sort
of person allows herself to be in this state?”
“How long
can you keep going? Until there is nothing left? Until you explode? Until you
disappear entirely?”
After a
certain point I nodded to Noelle and she leaned in and started whispering in
her other ear. Together we whispered about how deep she was. About how much
deeper she was than before.
This time,
on the seventh floor, we each grabbed her by the arm and shoulder and led her
out.
We led her
in front of her elevator.
We led her
to her knees.
We asked
her if she was ready for it to end.
We asked
her if she was ready to beg for more.
We asked
her if she wanted to be released.
We asked
her if she wanted released.
We told her
she was building to something. Some release of all the pent up energies of the
weekend.
We asked
her if she was ready.
I looked at
Noelle and saw that she was as flushed as I felt.
We told her
there was only one thing she had to say.
One word.
And it would happen.
More. Less.
Release.
It would
stop.
It would
keep going.
Somewhere,
from some hidden reserve, with an effort that took everything out of her, she
started repeating, “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.”
One word.
“Please.”
“Say it.”
She gulped
for air as the effort to change from “I don’t know” to “please” overtook her.
“Just
say…’please.’”
With a
final break of will, she said it, in a hoarse shouted whisper.
“Please.”
Noelle and
I glanced at each other, ensuring our timing was perfect.
“Now!”
She moaned
a delicious, breaking, submissive moan as all the tension poured out of her.
We held her
as she shook in her place, kneeling on the ground.
Finally,
the convulsions ended.
We waited a
beat for the last echo to fade.
“And-
awake!”
She
started. The sense of crashing unexpectedly into the waking world that passed
across her face was delightful.
She grabs
us and we help her slowly to her feet.
She is
laughing. We are laughing.
Topspace,
much like power, as the prophet said, is delightful.
She thanks
us.
We thank
her.
She can’t
stop shaking. She is vibrating in the cold night.
“Don’t be silly, baby girl.” Louise tried to protest that she wasn’t a girl, she wasn’t a baby, she wasn’t silly and she didn’t want Anne’s fingers inside her pussy, but every time she tried to register her dissent the older woman found her clit again and Louise’s words melted into a low, liquid moan of helpless bliss that sapped the strength from her limbs and left her paralyzed with pleasure. And Anne simply talked over her gasps and whimpers. “You need to be trained, that’s all. There’s a good girl inside that willful, naughty little brat, and what better way to find her than to reach in and touch her right where she lives?” Louise couldn’t argue. She couldn’t even fucking talk.
“Good girls are naked. Good girls are open. Good girls are ready to stretch themselves any time Mistress wants to push four fingers inside that wet, dripping cunt, aren’t they?” Louise wanted to say that she didn’t care what a good girl was, because she wasn’t a good girl. But all her strength, all her volition seemed to be leaking out around Anne’s hand, leaving behind nothing but pure sweet ecstasy that pinned her to the mattress and parted her legs for Anne to fuck. Perhaps if she hadn’t been asleep when the other woman crawled into her bed and began to tease her pussy, she might have been able to resist it back when it first began. But now the pleasure was too strong. Too overwhelming. Even her initial faint, feeble protests had lapsed into moans and whimpers now.
And those whimpers held no strength at all. Louise could feel herself growing more and more exhausted with every attempt to assert her independence even in the privacy of her own head, until it just seemed so much easier to go with the flow and listen to Anne’s soft, soothing words in her ears and spread herself wider to allow the older woman’s fingers to push deeper into her soaking cunt. “Silly little brats think they can think,” Anne purred calmly, her gentle demeanor belied by her furious thrusts. “Good girls know better. You want to be a good, compliant girl and get rewarded by Mistress, don’t you?” Louise didn’t think she was agreeing, but Anne seemed to take her every grunt and moan as another gesture of acquiescence. And Louise didn’t have the energy to correct her anymore.
“I think you’re going to stay with me a little while longer,” Anne said. Louise tried to protest–she had to get back to Seattle, she had to get back to her life, she only ever intended to stay with her mom’s friend for a few days while she looked at colleges in the area and did a couple job interviews–but those fingers kept stretching her needy cunt, filling her so completely that there wasn’t any room for independent thought in her brain anymore. She came again, the pulse of white noise swamping her mind and leaving her dreamy and horny and open to suggestions. “You’re going to stay here where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t lapse into naughtiness. And maybe… just maybe, when you’re properly trained and you know who your Mistress is… we can talk about letting you think for yourself again.”
Anne chuckled. “Once you know the proper thoughts for a good girl to think, that is.” She thrust hard. Louise’s eyes opened wide in astonished bliss, then rolled all the way back in her head as another orgasm drove her punished mind into oblivion at last.
