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.
"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?
.... There is more of this story ...