Chapter 3: Rising Action
She removed her shoes as commanded. I was wondering what the heck was he up to next. Scott Stephens was diverting from his usual routine, getting far too intimate with my wife. He waved a rose across her eyes, Mason's authenticated pendulum, murmured incantations that turned their meaningless syllables into a compelling siren enticing Martha into a world between fantasy and her own desires.
The stage lights absorbed her as they cycled through every color imaginable, making her skin glisten against the swirl of hypnotic patterns. Martha stood on stage, surrounded by twenty rows of mesmerized spectators, eyes transfixed on her.
With a slow, deliberate grace, she untied the belt of her trench coat. Her fingers trembled with a mix of fear and wanton desire. Slowly, she slipped off the jacket, exposing her blouse.
I was squirming in my chair, my palms damp with sweat. We had discussed this before, but never had I imagined experiencing this kind of scene here, in this setting.
"Loosen the buttons, Martha. One at a time." The hypnotist's command held an unusual power that reached the very fabric of Martha's inhibitions. Her blood raced while her fingers coaxed each button free.
The exquisite fragrance of her perfume mixed with her arousal, floated across the stage, through the thick clouds of smoke.
With every button loosened, she revealed more of Martha's delicate collarbones and the hint of lacy lingerie covering her generous breasts.
The crowd, under the consolidated spell of Scott's voice and showmanship, grew increasingly vocal with whistles and moans. Driven by desire, he commanded her, "lower your blouse to your waist, Martha."
She hesitated for a split moment, oblivious to others for her mind's world was now ruled by a charismatic illusionist.
When her blouse slid down just enough to unveil her lacey brassiere, an orchestrated gasp echoed through the room,
He spoke again, erotic vitality lacing each syllable, "Martha, dear. Feel the hungry gaze from the eyes caressing your skin. Acknowledge their desire. Let their hunger feed yours."
Each word smashed her reservations, released her long-repressed cravings. She caressed the edges of her silk blouse and allowed it to fall on the stage floor.
I glanced nervously at Scott, uncertain where this would end, but excited nonetheless.
"Martha, turn slowly and present your intoxicated admirers your beautiful self," Scott instructed, calmly regaining control over the scene.
My wife, fifty-two and voluptuous, stood onstage for everyone's viewing pleasure. No man could resist her, particularly as Scott continued to command her every movement.
Next her belt needed to be removed so she could unbutton the top button of her slacks. Martha's subconscious obeyed, sliding the brown leather belt through the loops.
"Now place your belt beside you and undo the top button of your pants," Scott whispered, eyes full of passion and molding the very being of my wife.
Hypnotically, Her hands performed the tasks. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took. Her thighs clenched as if expecting something hard and exciting to stroke against them. Her body shuddered with bewildering sensations.
The belt dropped to the floor, and she unbuttoned her slacks with patience and coyness. With a flick of the wrist, her trousers fell to the stage, unveiling the sexy curve of her ass and the silky lingerie framing it. She was no longer Martha but a vision, mesmerizing and amenable.
But as I squirmed and fidgeted in my seat, I felt a strange mix of disbelief and awe. It was if I was witnessing my wife's complete transformation.
He said, niw remove your stockings do you can get more relaxed. Once more, she bent down to the will of her magnetic master, gliding the sheer stockings down her legs and baring every milky-white inch of her alluring figure.
The hypnotist clucked his tongue, enjoying the comprehensive he had obtained over her. "Step out of your slacks, sweetheart. And let the world experience you," he uttered with dark, sinister hunger in his voice.
As she stepped out, she kicked the pants away, her higher body swaying slightly.
There my wife is in only her lingerie on stage when she was very conservatively dressed an hour ago. No telling what was next. But, seeing my wife in a trance-like state brought an indescribable mixture of emotions as my dick grew hard in my pants. I imagined this was partly the point, to intensify feelings as Scott, the world-renowned hypnotist, kneeled, seductive and confident as ever.
His fingers beckoned, urging Martha forward. "Take one of those smooth, stocking-clad legs, and extend it towards my awaiting hand."
My wife swayed to his words more than a pendulum.
He told her that she was having an orgasm in her tranced out state . Some how even without touch. The hypnotist words were that powerful.
She obeyed his voice and I couldn't believe my eyes at what the man was commanding my wife to do.
The room filled with murmurs, whispers that took shape in a sinuous fog of blushing excitement that only the most daring of audience members dared to glance.
Her happy place was no longer a sanctuary of her thoughts, but a wild jungle that knew no rules.
"Spread your legs, Martha," the hypnotist whispered, an insatiable hunger in his voice. Her heart pounded anxiously, body betraying her shocked mind as she complied with his demand.
Martha's thighs cracked open, revealing her seductive silken panties, slick with the arousal seeping through the delicate fabric. The wetness reflected her surrender to the sensation she was experiencing, born from Scott's skillfully twisted inductions.
"Slip your hand beneath the silk, Martha.
Discover the wetness that bathes your panties, that locks onto your fingers with a viscosity that matches the weight of your arousal," he commanded.
At least she has her magnificent tits covered in her bra still, along with her soaked panties still on. What the fuck was this hypnotist trying to do to my wife?
Scott kept his eyes locked on hers, commanding her hand to move. "Slide your fingers underneath the fabric. Explore the wet furrow belonging between your legs. Concentrate on how it reacts to your intimate touch."
Martha, in her entranced world, slid her hand into her knickers and delved through her moist warm sex, shivering all over at the sensation as he'd briefly explained.
Now the wetness coating her fingertips fueled a deep carnal craving. As the crowd watched, two fingers slipped along her sensitive folds and into the velvet of her cunt. She whimpered, bit her lower lip, and started to grind her hips against her own hand.
Fingers flexed within her, Scott whispered, "Martha. Feel your body take flight.
Her natural 34C breast were bobbing up and down in her bra. Seemingly about to break loose it seemed at any moment and show off her nipples. Her whole body looked flushed and hot, mirroring her unconscious desire for this trance-like sexual experience to surge deeper into uncharted territories.
Without breaking Scott's controlling gaze, she quivered as her sensitive clit was stroked by the repetitive course of her own fingers. It took no more than those manipulations to stimulate emotions she had never realized before, but now couldn't imagine ever doing without.
"Now, Martha. Move those fingers away from your clit," the hypnotist commanded.
"Explore your breasts and nipples. You can knead the flesh and give them the attention they desire. Pinch the nipples hard."
Caught in the hypnotist's snare, Martha massaged her large 34C breasts—once soft pillows now flushed with need. Like a horny nympho, she caressed, massaged, and pinched her tits, rolling the hardened nipples between her fingertips.
"Stroke your sensitive nub again, Martha," the hypnotist whispered.
Her other hand, now free, dove into the folds of her silken underwear and found her swollen, sensitive clit. Scott pushed her onward in her spiraling pleasure, a master marionettist.
Martha, enslaved by her unconscious needs, was no longer on a stage but in her bedroom, unrestrained. I knew that I needed to do something, but my body had betrayed me as well, my erection straining against my trousers.
She pulled each bra strap down unexpectedly , and Scott commanded her to release her breasts. A heavy sigh left my wife's lips as the twin heavens came into free release, swaying rhythmically in time with her heavy breathing.
Martha squeezed those gorgeous tits, pinching the plump nipples, causing her eyes to flutter in a dark mix of shame and pleasure.
"Let the arousal take you, my dear. Lose yourself," the hypnotist whispered, twirling the rose between his long, dexterous fingers.
Her panties were the last thing left of her modesty. They were soaked from excitement. Next he said to tear them away as the ly are holding her maximum pleasure back, denying her of the full experience, that her underpants should be no match for the woman's hunger.
Conforming to his will while on stage, she shivered, ripping her panties off like the hulk. The obscene tearing sound resonated in the room. I flinched, hitting the verge of my own climax. Yet, I was metaphorically chained to my seat, captive to the scene unfolding before me.
Under her husband's breathless gaze, Martha reveled in the freedom that came with her newfound lack of inhibitions—her pale, naked form glowed in the stage's colorful spotlight.
She grazed the inviting lips of her labia & cupped her wetness.
Without abandon, she rubbed her clit, matching the rhythm set in the thrumming tune that insisted everyone including her submit to the dance of malicious delight. Each rotation summoned the surging wave of pleasure that assailed her from within, dragging her to the depths of dark erotic satisfaction.
In ecstatic surrender, she let herself be immersed in this oceanic haven, allowing which the hypnotist had summoned forth from the deepest fathoms of her repressed desire.
Her second hand joined the first, cupping her wetness, the sweet nectar oozing relentlessly. Amidst her body, a new rhythm was awakened—a throbbing energy demanding a release of its own.
Scott, the mesmerizing figment guiding Martha through this surreal sea of sensuality, knew precisely when to tighten or loosen the grip of suggestion he held over her. Like a master with a delicate puppet, he pulled the strings skilfully, commanding her next move.
"Martha, press those fingers forcefully inside your drenched, intimate lips and allow the intrusion to make you tremble," coaxed Scott.
The hypnotist's voice weaved around her like tendrils, prompting her to plunge three fingers deep into the quivering folds of her sex, oiled by her eagerness. She cried out incoherently, arching her back in sweet submission to her newly implanted cravings.
Her breasts, in all their creamy glory, danced in the spotlight as her fingers pummelled her drenched core. Her body begged for release, growing more feverish with each passing thrust.
Upon seeing the erotic spectacle I was witnessing, my cock throbbed painfully in my pants. I tried to imagine how Scott had procured such an utterly uninhibited performance from my once conservative wife. His suggestive prowess reached its pinnacle as his wicked tongue burned into her subconscious.
" harder... faster", his voice became more demanding and twisted. She thrust her fingers even deeper, savagely fucking her most intimate space. Tension knotted and coiled within her, building to a much-desired crescendo. Her hands, slippery and coated in her own pleasure, frantically pulled at her sensitive flesh, while a searing urgency to reach a forbidden peak gripped her trembling body.
I fucking marveled at my wife's wanton abandon while hiding behind the veil of shock.
My treacherous cock begged me for release as enticement spread through my groin, my breath hitching with every lusty cry rising from the stage, rippling and echoing throughout the theater.
She bucked her hips wildly, Susan engulfed by the unruly force of her imminent orgasm, ecstasy and near-insanity igniting an unquenchable fire within her veins. I pondered over how Scott, the crafty bastard, orchestrated an artful dance of desire and seduction between us.
I let my throbbing member free , keeping my eyes glued to Martha's escalating sensual escapade. The veil between reality and a hallucinatory induced fantasy blurred.
With visions of my wife grasping her swollen clit and wet pussy, my desperation to cum rose in intensity.
Amidst this diabolically riveting scene, I convulsed, and my seed exploded in a torrent of ecstasy, baptizing my sweaty t-shirt and soaking my clenched fingers.
My body thrummed, freed by waves of guilt-ridden pleasure, my heart echoing through every thunderous thump against my ribcage.
As she convulsed in her orgasm, I heard a jarring snap that crackled above the music, a hypnotic trance-inducing instrumental with an exotic and darkly sensual tone she danced to rapturously. My heart quickened as I noticed her staring vacuously into the darkened theater, blinking with a renewed sense of awareness, her mouth opening and closing as a wave of shock consumed her. I went up to
Her and thrust my dock in her face.
She tremendously jerked, as if waking from a tremendously deep sleep, eyes refocusing. Instantly, her gaze dropped to the stiff, neatly shaven mess between my legs. The shock situated on her striking features vanished, flicked away as if by magic, brought down the final layer of this lascivious veil I had been trapped in.
"Sean?" Her voice purred tsunamis of curiosity and bewilderment.
Before my wife had the chance to said another word, her hand tightly enveloped my shaft.
Desire coursed through me as her delicate fingers explored my manhood, bringing it back to life with every tantalizing graze. I groaned, guilt clawing at the pit of my stomach as I gazed upon the shame-filled understanding in her eyes.
"You too?" she whispered hoarsely, eyes shimmering with sadness and unspoken forgiveness. Consumed by unbridled lust, I nodded eagerly - not trusting myself to form a coherent thought let alone a written sentence.
With a wild gleam in her eyes, Martha dropped to her knees and closed her mouth around my pulsating shaft.
The theatre disappeared around us, shadows falling away, replaced by the harsh reality of our passion. I leaned my head back as she bobbed up and down, the feeling of her skilled mouth unbearably tantalizing. Our moans melded together, a sinister hymn to the night. My fingers explored her hair and the nakedness below her neck - gorging themselves on her body's intoxicating softness.
My sweet Martha, an epitome of sensual grace, pleasured herself in front of a roomful of strangers while I devoured her beauty.
A shudder of humiliation coursed through her - temporarily bringing us back to reality. I looked down at her, concern engraved on my face. "It's alright, babe," I murmured. She blinked at me, those sapphire eyes lost in an ocean of want and vulnerability.
As if propelled by some force beyond our comprehension, her body drifted from my grasp.