Hypnotist Makes Her Cigarette Habit Sexy
Darla had tried everything to quit smoking. Gum. Meditation. Acupuncture. Therapy. Nothing ever worked, not even for a day. The one thing she hadn’t tried was hypnosis. She was skeptical it would work on her. Next she considered going to a professional, but then how would she know if they were a quack? After weeks of agonizing, and chain smoking from the stress of trying to quit smoking, it came to her. She could go see a stage hypnotist, to see if they could actually do it, then she could approach them to see if they could help.
Luckily, Las Vegas was the place to find any sort of entertainment available. She found herself with three choices. Two were men, one was a woman. For some reason, her heterosexual self felt weird about being put under by another woman. That left two. One was “The Great Hypnotico,” the other just used the name Alan Miller. The first one sounded far too goofy, so she went with the second. Then, a phone call later, she had reservations for a Saturday matinee.
The opening act was a really crappy comedian. It was made worse by Darla not wanting to drink. She wanted to be sober to be hypnotized, if it did happen.
When Alan Miller was introduced, and stepped out of the curtain wearing a classic black Zoot Suit, Darla was surprised how handsome he was. A guy like him could be a model, not doing penny ante hypnotism shows. He gave an introduction then, as Darla had expected, he asked for a volunteer from the audience. She kept silent. Alan selected a mousy, withdrawn, young woman and led her to the stage. Darla was impressed he hadn’t simply picked the girl with the biggest tits in the room. Darla could see that woman, and she had volunteered. She was busy pouting now.
Alan didn’t use a watch or anything special like that. Just his voice and the occasional hand gesture. He began his induction, using a slow relaxation technique and multiple countdowns. His patience paid off, as the girl drifted away, right in front of the audience. Next, he led her through a typical series of tricks. He did the classic, cluck like a chicken. He had her forget her own name. The piece de resistance was him having this shy young girl give him a surprising erotic dance, that almost turned into a lap dance. Darla was amazed she would act like that in public. Maybe, this guy really knew what he was doing.
After almost an hour, Alan finally returned her to consciousness. The crowd gave the woman a huge ovation as she nervously returned to his seat. Alan bid the crowd good night, and the show was over. The crowd began to file out, but Darla hesitated. Would she go see him? Could she even get to him? She was lost in thought when she heard the usher.
“May I help you, miss?”
She made up her mind.
“Would there be any way I could see Mr. Miller?”
“Of course, Mr. Miller loves to hear from fans. He’s with someone else right now. Would you mind waiting? I can take you to our green room.”
“That sounds great.”
The phrase “green room” sounds great, until you learn it’s an oversized closet, crammed with chairs, there’s garbage everywhere, plus the food has been picked over to the point there’s only honeydew left. Darla felt nervous. She kept thinking about chickening out. She also craved a cigarette. That, ironically, was what kept her there.
Almost ten minutes later, the usher returned and asked her to follow. When they reached a door with a paper star taped to it, the usher knocked. The door opened, but it wasn’t Alan who answered it. It was the big breasted woman who hadn’t been invited onstage.
She turned back, waved and said “Thanks, Alan.”
Darla heard his reply, “It was my pleasure.”
The woman bounced away, literally bounced, in more ways than one. Darla wondered how anyone with tits that big could go without a bra. She needed one herself, but not that badly.
“Come in,” Alan called.
The dressing room was a step up from the green room, but hardly the Ritz.
“Hello,” said Alan with a smile. He had removed his jacket. Darla took one look at his swimmer’s build, not overly muscular, but as cut as a Greek statue.
“Hi,” she said, nervously, “I’m Darla, Darla-“
“He cut her off, “First names will do. Now, how can I help you?”
“I want to quit smoking,” she blurted out, happy to just get it off her chest.
“I’ve worked with people who needed that. I won’t make any guarantees, but I also won’t charge you, unless you feel you need follow up sessions.”
“Ok, I’m willing to try. What do I need to do?”
“I want you to close your eyes, and listen.”
She did. She heard his fingers snap, then, seconds later she heard him speak again.
“You can open your eyes.”
She did, turning to him, “Why?”
“I can tell already it won’t work, you’re too tense. Maybe some other time.”
Darla worked hard to hide her disappointment. Still, it was a Hail Mary to begin with.
She looked at her watch and realized it was later than she had thought.
“I should go,” she said.
“Maybe some other time.”
That wasn’t going to happen, Darla told herself.
“Thanks for trying,” she said, before heading straight for her car.
She wasn’t even at the car yet when she lit up a cigarette. No help at all. She got in with the cigarette still lit, and kept it going inside, until it burnt to the filter. Darla felt flushed as she finished it, so flushed she turned on the AC, despite it being 70 degrees outside. She got home in twenty minutes, headed inside and lit another cigarette. The flushing returned, and her nipples began to harden. She realized what it was; she was horny. It had been a few months since she dumped her ex, and she’d gone without since. She figured she’d just make dinner to take her mind off it. It helped, but not entirely. She barely tasted her meal, she was so preoccupied, and she sank into her sofa for her after-dinner cigarette.
Halfway through the cigarette, her pussy got wet.
By the time she finished, her panties were soaked. She headed to the bedroom to change. As she opened the drawer for a new pair, her eyes fell on her vibrator. She didn’t use it often, but…
After an hour of self-fucking, she felt a bit of relief. She staggered back to the living room, desperate for a smoke. As she finished it, she realized she was still horny. This was crazy! She lit another cigarette, just to try to calm it, but it only got worse. She needed to get fucked, masturbation was not going to cut it, but how? The idea of calling her ex flashed across her mind, but even this horny, she couldn’t bear the thought. But there was no other option, unless…
This was Vegas, after all, and she made decent money. The prostitute she called came highly recommended, and she came over and over and over, until she lost count. It was, quite literally, the best sex she had ever had. Twice, she had to buy another hour. She was exhausted at the end, and the hooker had another appointment. Darla thanked him, tossed him a $50 tip, and said goodbye. Out of breath, she collapsed on the bed. When she did get her breath back, she lit up a post-coital smoke, the best kind there was.
Two puffs in she realized it. She was horny again!
There was a knock at the door. It was 4 a.m., the prostitute must have forgotten something. She went to the door, naked, since he’d certainly seen everything already. She opened the door… and there stood Alan Miller. She was too shocked to be embarrassed. He smiled at her.
“How was the sex?”
“It was… wait, how did you know?”
“I saw the guy leave. Plus, you’re naked. May I come in?”
“Yes,” she said, wanting to get to the bottom of this. It didn’t even twig in her mind to ask how he’d learned her address, without even knowing her last name.
“Yes, the nudity and the hooker leaving paint a pretty clear picture.”
“How… he wasn’t a hooker,” she lied to save face.
“I know one when I see one,” he said with a wry grin before continuing, “Besides, when I hypnotized you earlier tonight, I planted a trigger.”
“You didn’t hypnotise me,” she said, puzzled.
He ignored her and continued. “I made it so whenever you smoke, you get horny. More smoking, more arousal.”
“So, I’ll ask again, how was the sex.”
She hesitated then went with the truth. “Amazing. So good I can’t really describe it.”
“That’s part of the trigger too, you’ll enjoy sex far more from now on, that is…”
“The way I see it, you have three options, I can undo the hypnosis and free you of the entire trigger.
You can keep trying to quit smoking, but you’ll be giving up the amazing sex too.
I can leave you as is. The knowledge that smoking makes you that horny should be enough to help you quit. Or…” He paused.
“Or, you can just keep smoking. Then you’ll be a wanton, sex addict, but it will feel so good. Imagine feeling that good, all night, every night. Besides, it’s not like you can’t make a living doing it.”
At this point, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
“Smoking feels good. Sex feels even better. Why not dedicate your life to both?”
“I… I don’t know.”
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his own pocket. He pulled out two, lit one, and offered her the other.
“What’s it going to be.”
She snatched it from his hands and lit it up, drawing deeply.
After a few long puffs, she asked “Are we going to fuck now?” hoping for the answer yes.