Chapter 16: The White Witch of Walden - Prelude II

THE GREATEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE

What had Menlo done to Brenda? For more than a year, I really thought I knew the answer to that. I'd found out about the "room below the room." I'd even "changed" Brenda in small ways, with regards to her low tolerance to alcohol, as well as her perception of my manhood. But while this really seemed to satisfy all the various theorems of hypnotic mind control as I saw the equations, it slowly, finally dawned on me that I had horribly underestimated the man. And by the time I discovered this error, the world had lost all traces of Diana Darlingshire forever. One of the greatest sins of my entire life is the sad fact that I unwittingly eradicated a living, breathing human being and replaced her with someone else.

I discovered my error this way:

On the fateful evening I first hypnotized Dee, I was absolutely flabbergasted by my ease of putting her under my control, and by how I was able to take her into the deepest realm of hypnotic trance so effortlessly. Keep in mind that she was the first person I'd ever actually attempted to hypnotize (besides my lovely bride, who from the very beginning, had literally begged me to place her under my power). Once I had Dee as deep as she was able to descend, I spent great pains introducing her to her own "room," which I attempted to match exactly to Brenda's. I led her to her own "room below," and saw no harm in subjecting her to the same "changes" I'd made in Brenda.

Getting tipsy on a single glass of wine wasn't that big a deal, I surmised, and even if she was later confronted by someone who had once seen her down a whole bottle, she would probably be only mildly confused. So I used "the way it always was," etc, etc; just like Menlo had drilled into Brenda. I also used the lower room to make the same "suggestion" that my cock was the largest she had ever seen, or ever would see. I wanted her to remember me fondly, and I was relatively sure that my "over-endowment" would not spoil things for her in her future sexual relationships with other men. Likewise, the existence of an overactive G-Spot couldn't hurt anything, could it? I considered it my gift to her.

Back up in her real hypnotic "room," I was careful to discuss her newfound "infatuation" with me in strictly temporary terms. Brenda's arguments from that morning made sense. Sex in a truly loving relationship would certainly be much more meaningful than plain animalistic lust. The results, when I awakened her, were extremely gratifying. At least, they were as far as I was concerned. I don't know why it never dawned on me that she would consider HERSELF the aggressor in the sexual act, and thus shift the weight of all the guilt associated with the evening onto her own pretty shoulders.

The following day, when I finally recovered from a near-coronary after finding out her true identity, I was more than a bit overwhelmed when I realized that the girl actually DID love me. In fact, as the days and weeks rolled along, she seemed to love me more and more all the time. Loved me to the point of idolatry; to the point of worship. I think I was more flattered than anything. Flattered even unto blindness, as the case turned out. It really, honestly never even dawned on me that her love for me was not true (well, not truly her own idea, at any rate), until I read her diary almost a month later. She had insinuated in her text that she thought her love for me had begun the moment she'd set eyes on me. "The way it always was," she'd written, "and the way it always will be." The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I suddenly suspected that something was very, very wrong here.

After thinking about it for a couple weeks, I thought of a test that might shed some light on this new supposition. I walked up to Dee as she knelt in one of the flower beds planting some new type of posies. "Why don't you plant some violets, Dee," I asked innocently.

"Violets are weeds," she answered, looking up at me and smiling.

"It just happens to be the state flower," I observed.

"Oh, they're pretty enough, but they're really one of the most prolific weeds around. They spread by seeds, by rhizomes below the ground, by runners above the ground, and when the wind breaks off a leaf, it takes root and grows wherever it lands."

I sat down on the grass beside her. "Would you like me to hypnotize you?" I asked.

"YES!" she answered immediately, emphatically. She turned and gave me her entire attention. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes suddenly appeared so heavy she could hardly keep them open. I said nothing; just smiled and returned her gaze. It was happening again. "Please..." she whispered, but her eyes could barely stay open now.

This was yet another big difference between Brenda and Dee that was beginning to become more evident with each passing day. For despite all of Menlo's talk that morning more than a year before, Brenda WAS addicted to hypnosis. If I went for more than a couple days without giving her the sweet surrender of the trance, she would become more and more anxious, and she'd finally come to me with her meek-little-girl face and beg plaintively for me to take her hypnotically. Dee, on the other hand, would never think about it at all until the hypnotic induction began. I had once gone a week without hypnotizing her, and she showed none of the anxiety that would seize Brenda. But, just as now, once the induction had started, she seemed to suddenly "remember" her addiction, and she would give in to the urge with impassioned, overwhelming emotion.

Now, I watched her trying desperately to maintain eye contact, but she was slowly losing the fight. Her arms hung useless at her sides. She swayed forward, and then she sat up straight again with a supreme effort that seemed to drain the last bit of strength from her. Her lips were mouthing her "Submit and Obey" mantra, but she was too weak to find her voice. Finally, smiling, I opened my arms to her, and she leaned forward, nestling into my body as she made a little moan of surrender. She had hypnotized herself. I'd never said a word.

I gently turned her and moved slightly, so that her head was in my lap, her body stretched out on the grass beside the flower bed. I ran my fingers through her thick red hair. The smile on her lips bespoke her absolute bliss.

"Dee..."

"Yes, Master."

"Where are you?"

"I'm lying naked on my bed in my wonderful room."

"We're just going to talk for a little while, okay?"

The smile broadened. "Sure, Master. I love talking to you while I'm in my room. I could do it forever!"

"Dee, I'd like to talk to you about violets."

"You must really like them, Master. You've talked about them before. I'll plant some, if you want."

"No, no. I only want you to plant flowers that YOU like. I've given you that one freedom here at the house. You've done very well. Your flower beds are all beautiful."

She blushed. "Thank you, Master."

"But I want you to think about violets now. Picture them in your mind... see them in the early spring as they bloom in the woods. See them clearly. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes... yes they are. I never realized how lovely they are."

"I think you might learn to like them more than you thought."

"Yes. Beautiful..."

"Wake up now, Dee."

Her eyes sprang open, she blinked a few time, then did her yawning-stretching routine as she gave me her biggest "just-awakened" grin. She sat up and put her arms around me.

"Do you want me?" she asked tentatively.

I laughed. "Yes, very much."

She jumped up and tugged at my arm, pulling me to my feet while I laughed at her earnestness and she blushed at the inability to hide her raw physical need to please me. She began pulling me toward the house, but I had other plans. I led her over to one of the big oaks, pulled a cushion off the wooden swing hanging from a lower limb, placed it on the ground, and pointed down at it.

"Here," I said.

She looked about her with wide, horrified eyes. "HERE?!"

"Take off your clothes, Dee," I told her flatly. She hesitated. "Now!" And she immediately pulled her t-shirt over her head and began fumbling with her belt, always looking about her. She looked panicked. She was trembling. She was very, very lovely.

"There's a boat out on the lake!" she whined. I turned and looked. The guys in the john boat were a long way out and hadn't taken any notice of us yet. I reached out and held her slim, bare waist with both hands and maneuvered her so that the tree was between us and the boat. She hopped up and down a bit as I did this, her blue jeans down around her ankles, her hands behind her back, fumbling with her bra strap. When I let go, she sat heavily on the cushion and began pulling her shoes off. In a few more seconds, she sat completely naked. I had lain down, my hands behind my head, and I waited for her. There was a deep, pink blush that made her whole face look dark, especially against the contrast of her pale body. Her eyes were constantly casting glances in every direction, then demurely back down at the ground. I'd never seen her more nervous, and I wondered why we hadn't explored the wonderful world of public sex before.