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Celebrity Hypnotist Chapter 15 [2/3]
The Office Of Dr. Paul Fischer, PhD - Australia.
"Now, Nicole," said Dr. Fischer,"Has the nightmare returned
at all?"
"Yes, Doctor," Nicole Kidman replied, still uncomfortable about
talking about this horrible recurring nightmare, even three months after
initially telling it all.
"And tell me, Nicole, on all the occasions that the nightmare
has returned, what has been the common factor?"
"Not this again," she muttered under her breath.
"Nicole, I wouldn't be a good Therapist if I didn't explore the
options, and this remains the most convincing one so far."
"I'm still telling you, the idea that Tom represents the stranger
in my dreams is ridiculous."
"Do you enjoy anal sex?" asked Dr. Fischer in a characteristic
turn around which always put Nicole off guard.
"Wha? That's none of your business!" she cried, outraged at the
question.
"In fact, it is precisely my business," returned Dr. Fischer
smoothly,"When you told me the precise contents of the nightmare, you told
me the stranger comes into your bedroom and forces you to engage in anal
sex, which you enjoy. Now my question is, do you enjoy anal sex? or is
it something you do to please your husband?"
Nicole glared at him angrily, but he just sat calmly, staring
back at her until finally she dropped her head and answered.
"Sorry, Nicole, I cannot hear you," Fischer said in that same
smooth, detached voice.
"YES I ENJOY IT! OKAY! ALL RIGHT?" she snapped,"Is that what you
wanted to hear, that I like getting butt-fucked!?!?!"
If her outburst surprised or shocked him, he gave no sign, simply
making a note on his pad and asking another question.
"And when did you first allow your husband to engage in anal sex
with you?"
"What? I don't know, I don't remember!" she snapped at him, still
angry at both herself and Dr. Fischer for her emotional outburst,"How
should I know?"
"Listen very carefully, Nicole, because this is
very, very important," said Fischer, leaning forward,"Did you first allow
your husband to engage in anal sex with you before or after the first
occurrence of the nightmare?"
Nicole sat quietly for a moment, then finally answered.
America, 2 Days Later.
----------------------
"Man, I feel like a woman!"
With those fateful words, the director yelled cut and began
snapping instructions to his lackeys, who rushed about preparing
everything from grabbing the props to getting him a tuna on rye.
Shania Twain, the beautiful singer who had rocketed to super
stardom over the last year or so, stood dressed in top hat with a small
veil across her eyes and, of course, the famous men's shirt and short
skirt underneath her black trenchcoat. The icing on the cake was, of
course, those thigh high boots she was wearing, which accentuated her
lovely legs deliciously.
She gripped a white cane in hands covered in black gloves, and
her smile was a mixture of devil-may-care sex appeal and sophistication
which had undoubtedly made her the subject of more than one erotic fantasy.
"That's lunch," muttered the director of the music video,"Good
work people, we should be able to finish this up by three."
Soon everybody had left the sound-set, except Shania, who wanted
to take a quiet look at the set itself without a hundred gaffers and best
boys and extras rushing about.
"Lovely, isn't it," I murmured, startling her out of her reverie
and making her spin about, the tail of her trenchcoat flapping about.
"Oh, Tony!" she gasped,"It's just you."
I smiled, my conditioning working perfectly. The 'crew'
and 'Director' were, of course, just Operatives here to lend an air of
authenticity to the pre-conditioned set-up in her own mind. I was 'Tony',
a friend of hers who was visiting the set for the day.
"Yep, just me," I replied,"We're totally alone here, everybody
is gone."
"All alone, hmmm?" she said with mock seriousness, cocking an
eye at me,"We could do anything we wanted, run around naked,
spout politically gibberish, have sex.... and no one would ever know."
"You big tease!" I laughed, swiping a derisive arm at her,"If
you said that to any other man in this country.... hell, in this world!
they'd blow their load right in their pants!"
She grinned cheekily at me, then sauntered forward and wrapped
her arms around my shoulders,"What are you saying Tony? Are you immune
to my charms?"
I gulped and she chuckled, swaying her hips from side to side,
allowing her groin to rub softly against mine. Underneath that man's
shirt I could feel some nice, large and very womanly breasts pressing
against my chest.
"You don't stop teasing, Shania," I half-laughed, half-pleaded
with her,"You're going to do one of us an injury."
"Oooh, I can feel that!" laughed Shania as my erection pressed
up against her crotch,"You been hiding a secret from me Tony? What are
you, half Italian, half African all of a sudden!"
I chuckled to myself, I hadn't included that little line in
my conditioning, and despite the total lack of truth in the old myth
that penis size had something to do with sexual ability, it was always
nice to get the praise.
"I'm serious, Shania," I whispered,"You ever hear of blue balls?
Well, you're going to give me a serious case of...."
"Shhh," she whispered. her face suddenly serious even as her
eyes were alight with glee,"I'll see to it you get the relief you want."
"Wha..." I started, pretending I didn't know what she meant, and
then she cut me off by moving her face up and kissing me.
I pretended to be shocked at first, then melted into the kiss and
wrapped my arms around her waist.
We broke the kiss finally and grinned at each other, both feeling
flushed and feeling the adrenaline pumping throughout our bodies. My eyes
were wide and hers were dancing, and finally I broke the sound of our
heavy breathing.
"Shania.... that was incredible! I've never kissed anyone like
that before."
"Oh Tony," she chuckled, pulling the veil and top hat off and
allowing her long red hair to spill free,"I can do a lot more with my
mouth that just sing and kiss!"
And then she proceeded to prove it.
I leaned on an angle, between the abandoned instruments from
the back-up musicians, my pants down around my ankles and Shania on
hands and knees over my lower body.
My head had been leaning back on an extreme angle, as I enjoyed
one of the most amazing feelings it was possible to feel. Shania was
true to her word, all right, her lips weren't just fantastic at singing
and kissing, and after a cheeky smile at me and a deliciously suggestive
wink, she returned her talented mouth to my cock-shaft.
Her famous lips closed around my prick once more, her hands sliding
down the sides of my hips, gripping my ass-cheeks firmly to allow her
leverage, pulling her mouth down further and further, till impossibly
she had deep-throated me in one, magnificent stroke of her lips. I lay
there, breathing heavily as I felt the wet warmth of Shania Twain's mouth
around my cock, her full, red lips squeezing at the base of my cock as
she gently sucked on the length of my meat, her throat constricting and
widened. I slowly, with low groans, pumped my cock up into her throat,
eyes sparkling as I looked down at her face and listened to her soft
gurgles of pleasure as she suckled on my prick.
She began to bob her head up and down my cock, her lips clinging
tightly to my meat as she ran them up and down my hard, erect shaft,
her barely skirt-covered ass shaking about as she ran one arm down her
waist and between her legs, fingering herself.
- Dirty bitch isn't wearing any panties - I chuckled to myself,
the admonished myself for the derogatory way I was thinking of her. She
was enjoying herself, yes, but only because I'd freed up all her
inhibitions by placing her mind in a similar condition to a fantasy or
dream. In real life she was happily married and faithful, and even
rumored to be a member of a cult that did not allow it's members to have
sex.
In any case, that was neither here nor there, as right now my
only concern was with the Shania Twain who was sucking me off while
frigging her own cunt with four of her fingers.
She was moaning and gurgling with unmistakable need by now, her
head bobbing erratically, her ass shaking about as she fingered her juicy
cunt in a desperate attempt to get off.
But it was no use, she was conditioned to get more and more
aroused but never be able to break through that barrier to orgasm unless
she had a prick inside of her.
Namely, my prick.
By now her juicy, burning pussy would be screaming for more, her
twisting, probing fingers sliding into the quivering, twitching pink flesh
of her snatch, aching for.... no, demanding, to be filled with the hard
pole of Celebrity Hypnotist cock-meat that was currently filling up her
mouth.
With a suddenness born of desire, Shania wrenched her mouth away
from my erection and sat up, her fingers pulling out of her tight, juicy
snatch with a wet sluicing sound. She had discarded the topcoat, veil,
white cane and trenchcoat earlier, but that was all she would be discarding,
part of my desire for this scene came from the delicious image of her in
a men's shirt, short skirt and, of course, those oh so sexy thigh high
boots.
Shania's soulful hazel eyes were alight as she clambered over me,
her thighs spread wide, her short skirt pulling up the sides of her thighs
and revealing her shaven cuntlips and thin rectangle of pubic hair.
She straddled my crotch, her juice dripping snatch directly above
the head of my penis, her eyes latching eagerly onto my crotch.
"Get ready for the fucking of a lifetime, baby," she whispered,
her voice low and sexy,"Make me feel like a women!"
I just grinned, again chuckling at the unheralded dialogue she
herself had come up with. Maybe it was because in this 'fantasy' she
was getting to be the kind of cock-hungry slut you found in so many
porn movies (whose profits exceeded even The Organizations own, I had to
admit) that the dialogue she was spouting was so ridiculous, whatever the
case, it's erotic appeal could not be faulted.
I grinned at her, my gaze fixated on her face, then dropping down
to that man's shirt, bulging out from the chest, her breasts straining
the material.
Her gaze followed mine and with a smile, she grabbed the middle
of the shirt and pulled in opposite direction, popping several buttons
and revealing her naked chest, her breasts standing firm on her chest
without the aid of a bra.
She lowered herself down, holding her pussy barely above the
head of my cock, so close I could feel the steaming heat of her cunt,
ready for me. If that wasn't enough, soon Shania Twain's large, swollen
breasts where hanging almost close enough to my mouth to touch.
She pulled her skirt up over her hips, exposing her cunt and ass
fully, before lowering herself slightly and rubbing the slightly parted
lips of her twat over the flared tip of my cock, teasing both of us
with the delicious, exquisite contact.
I moaned, rolling my head on my neck before reaching up with my
hands and grabbing the cheeks of Shania Twains beautiful ass before
assisting her down, feeling her sink down slowly onto my cock, entering
the delicious heat of her hot crotch.
Shania, just like when she had deep-throated me, didn't stop
lowering herself down until she could feel my pubic hair pressing against
her lips.
She threw back her head, rolling her neck around in a slow circle
before letting out a long, low moan of pleasure before beginning to make
a series of small, undulating movements of her hips, tiny circles that
moved the liquid heat of her cunt around my cock-shaft, driving me wild
with pleasure.
"Oh yes!" I moaned,"So good!"
"We're fucking.... fucking!" moaned Shania, squirming her cunt
down hard onto my groin as I hunched my hips back up at her, listening
to her erotic sighs of pleasure, her groans of satisfaction.
"That's right," I moaned,"We're fucking, so let's get fucking!"
Shania giggled, then began to bounce her body up and down, her
large breasts jumping about independently of the rest of her body as she
filled her cunt again and again with the rock-hard shaft of my prick. She
gripped her breasts firmly, halting their hypnotic bouncing momentarily
as she felt herself up, slamming her cunt down again and again and again
onto my cock, giving me everything she had.
"Look at it, baby!" she cried out wantonly,"Look at that big
dick of yours in my cunt!"
My eyes ran eagerly down between Shania's thighs, taking in the
erotic sight of those thigh high boots, those creamy thighs and the lewd
image of my cock, glistening and hard, disappearing again and again in
between the shaven lips of her hot pussy.
Our hips moved in time, the two of us pumping against each other
in perfect tandem, my cock slamming in and out of her tight, sucking pussy,
each time more wonderful than the last.
Shania let out a loud squeal unrecognizable from the sexy vocals
she usually pounded out on her singles as she upped the tempo, pounding
her body up and down, faster and faster, slapping her pussy onto the base
of my driving cock, lifting her hips until my cock almost pulled free of
her before she would ram it back down again, grinding her erect clitoris
against my pubic mound, both of us gasping and crying out in pleasure.
Her cunt-juices flowed from her pussy, churning about as my cock
stabbed in and out of her again and again. She threw back her head and
let out a gurgling, sobbing squeal of pleasure that was almost like a
sexy chuckling. She continued to clutch at her naked breasts, practically
mauling them, running her nipples between the knuckles of her fingers as
she dropped her ass back down in tight, grinding circles onto my cock,
greedily sucking and devouring my cock. She arched her back, riding me
like a cowgirl, fucking onto me with everything she could muster, all the
energy and passion that went into her singing, her concerts, her career,
all of it released onto my cock.
I thrust my cock upwards as she came down, our crotches making
loud, wet smacking noises as they slapped together with each stroke.
She fell forward, throwing her arms down on either side of my head
to support her weight, her tits pressing lightly against my face as she
ground her cunt down on my crotch before pulling up slightly, then slapping
back down..
"Suck em, baby, they're yours!" she moaned, pressing her tits
more firmly against my mouth.
I, for one, wasn't going to argue, and I quickly took one of
Shania's stiff nipples into my mouth. Her eyes closed, her ass hunching
down harder and faster, her cunt on fire, gripping hard on my cock as I
nibbled and chewed on her stiff, hard nipples.
Placing all of her weight on one arm and her constantly shifting
feet. Her free hand flew between her legs, her fingers rubbing wildly
against her engorged clitoris as she continued to slam her cunt down onto
my cock.
I gripped firmly onto Shania Twain's beautiful ass, my fingers
gripping into her cheeks as my mouth devoured her tits, taking her nipples
in alternately, chewing and nibbling on each one in turn as her cunt
greedily devoured my prick.
I moaned around Shania's tits as I rammed the length of my cock
in and out of her pussy, impaling my shaft into her over and over, fucking
Shania Twain's cunt hard, loving the delicious pleasure of her tight, hot
cunt.
She pulled back suddenly, sitting upright and taking her tits
away from me. My mouth felt empty without hot Shania Twain tit-flesh inside
of it, but the erotic image of her sitting on my crotch, my cock buried
balls deep inside of her cunt, her face flushed and eager and her tits
glistening with my saliva almost made up for it.
Having changed her leverage and the angle of her cunt somewhat,
Shania began to buck up and down once again, moaning and gasping in fast
succession, impaling herself onto my cock over and over in total abandon,
grinding her cunt down onto my cock, squealing louder and louder, hitting
high notes an Opera Singer would be proud of.
Her hands once again flew to her breasts and ceased their jumping,
bouncing rhythm. She squeezed them hard, pressing her fingers firmly
into her firm tit-flesh, nipples poking out between her digits. Her
panting and moaning was reaching fever-pitch, her chest rising higher
and higher. She had begun making sharp intakes of breath, as if she was
at the peak of a crying or laughing fit. Of course, this was something
different and similar to both those extreme emotions.
Her body stiffened, froze, and then she was screaming at the top
of her impressive voice as she hit her orgasm. As she came, her pulsing,
flexing snatch gripped down on my cock hard, milking my shaft as waves
of orgasmic intensity rocked throughout the Singer's body.
She twisted her head about, her long, red hair flying about madly,
her body twisting and turning on mine. I had to grip tight to
her grinding, writhing ass as I continued to slam my cock up into her
spasming, sucking cunt.
"Ahh fuck!" I cried, and blasted my load into her, cumming hard
and shooting thick, ropey strings of sperm up Shania Twain's cock-crammed
cunt. My body locked up, my muscles flexing and holding impossibly
long before Shania's own body collapsed onto mine and once again I had
her tits in my mouth.
I began sucking eagerly once more on her erect nipple, my fingers
spreading her ass-cheeks apart as I pumped the last of my cum into Shania's
hot, juicy cunt.
We lay together for a couple of minutes, her cunt stuffed with
my cock, sucking gently on her nipple as my hands caressed her delicious
ass.
After a few more minutes of this enjoyable pastime, I whispered
a word into Shania's ear and then rolled her off of me. She lay on the
ground, her man's shirt pulled apart to reveal her breasts, her short
skirt pulled up over her hips and her red hair spread out along the
ground, framing her perfect features. Her legs were spread, and the
countering image of those black thigh high boots and her shaven cunt lips
lewdly spread, a mixture of her cunt-juices and my sperm pooling up in
the crack of her ass.
Her face look sated, a lazy grin on her face and a faraway look
in her eye. I had left her in a state of hazy good feelings and rosy
pleasure, which allowed me to go about my next few minutes work without
staring into the face of a robot.
I settled down to begin the not so difficult process of
deprogramming her. Much of this had already been set up in the act of
actually conditioning her mind to run along the course I'd intended, and
all I needed now was to pick that apart and reinforce her opinion that
it was all a fantasy, a dream, something that the mind didn't need to
remember and so could be filed away with 98% of all the dreams most
people had, soon forgotten forever.
Except for by me, and every other Member Of The Organization
who could afford to pay the prices that my product fetched.
I was all ready wondering how it would work out.
"I want your prick up my ass, sweetheart! Fuck me in the ass, I'm
begging you!" cried Jennifer Lopez, on all fours, presenting that famous
Jennifer Lopez ass to my gaze alone.
"Oh, you want it, you got it!" I laughed, stepping forward and
rubbing my hands together eagerly.
It had been an interesting week indeed.
I had been at a bit of a loss on how to actually get into contact
with Jennifer at first. Tired of my old trick of setting up a meeting
over a prospective movie, and also wary of growing complacent and falling
into a predictable pattern, I'd come to the rather sobering conclusion
that I was out of the loop when it came to the younger, hipper celebrities
in this town.
Sure, I'd been to a couple of parties, my connection in The
Organization made sure I was at all the right events, but I didn't have
any close personal friendships with any young, trendy celebrities nowadays
and felt no desire to. I'd moved on, I guessed, and somehow I wasn't young
anymore.
Sobering thoughts indeed for a man who knew myself to be superior
to all others and, in my more wishful dreams, forever young and immortal.
Luckily, The Organization had been my safety net and gotten me
in touch with a man who had been with them for over twenty-five years,
a staggering thought to me, who considered myself an old hand after nearly
fifteen years with The Organization. He had to be one of the longest
serving Operatives who had not moved on to bigger and brighter things, not
because he lacked talent, but because he was genuinely happy where he
was.
A man named, and amazingly it was his real name, Leon Black.
In the seventies he had been the very image of the stereotypical
Blaxploitation star. With afro, silver tipped cane, giant lapels, gaudy
trenchcoats and massive platforms, he'd still somehow maintained an air
of dignity and, yes, even menace.
In the eighties he'd become the very image of a Young Urban
Professional, in expensive tailored suits and haircuts that cost more
than some peoples entire wardrobe.
Now, in the nineties, he was the epitome of laid-back confidence,
moving with an easy grace and cocky smile that couldn't help but instill
your confidence in him. Often only appearing in jeans and a t-shirt that
showed off his athletic but not overly proportioned upper body, he still
had that dignity and menace he'd had in the seventies, now distilled with
quiet assurance.
I wondered what defining features he would take into the year
2000, and if he could continue to follow trends and maintain stereotypes
whilst retaining his unique individuality.
Upon our first meeting he'd embraced me with a familiarity that
was somehow endearing and then gone about making me one of the finest
coffees I'd ever had. Given that the legitimate front for his work for
The Organization was a very popular line of Coffee Houses, this was hardly
surprising.
"So, tell me," he asked with a cultured voice that sounded almost
British, startling given his African-American heritage, shaven head and
pierced ear,"What exactly do you want with Ms. Lopez, you looking for
a grab and bag? A wine and dine? or maybe a wham bam?"
I sipped my coffee, keeping a straight face, then allowed myself
to laugh. He joined me, obviously just as amused as I was.
"You enjoy the stereotyping?" I asked him,"Or has the act just
become second nature?"
He grinned,"Let's just say, if you're the smartest person in
the room, the smartest thing to do can be to let the other people think
the opposite."
I smiled and sipped my coffee again.
- Too true, - I thought, - And you just go on thinking that
you are the smartest person in this room, my friend, it's the smartest
thing I can let you do. -
He watched me drink, looking at my eyes without looking at them,
and I felt a muted sense of what I had felt the first time I had come
face to face with Tom Cruise (*), that sense of being sized up mentally.
Outwardly I gave no sign, but inwardly I chuckled with approval,
he was trying to get an idea of my own intelligence obviously, but not
in the bold, over-confident manner with which Tom had done so.
Coming to whatever conclusion he had come to, he sat down beside
me, not bothering to stand over me during our conversation and subliminally
dominate me. He knew I was The Celebrity Hypnotist (even though by the
end of our meeting he would remember my name and face as
something different, just my own little insurance policy) and he knew I
would be aware of any tactics he attempted.
"So seriously," he said,"You're looking to pick up Jennifer Lopez,
have a little fun with her, and leave her none the wiser."
He leaned back in his chair and sipped at his coffee,"I gotta
admit man, you are like something out of a comic book,
pretty damn impressive."
"Why thank you, Leon," I chuckled, and then leaned forward over
my coffee,"But I intend to do more than just have a little fun, I am
going to drill that hot Latin ass of hers all night long!"
Leon raised an eyebrow in surprise, and then he joined me in a
quiet chuckle.
(*) In Celebrity Hypnotist Chapter 4, available upon request
from dimitri_resides@yahoo.com
End Part 2/3
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