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  1. Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist - Chapter 1
  2. Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist - Chapter 2
  3. Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist - Chapter 3

Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist - Chapter 3

Categories Diary, Incest, Male / Female, Mind Control

Author: Hypno Wolf

Published: 27 June 2018

  • Font:

Sigh... I was a little frustrated. It had been days since I'd hypnotized Chani and she hadn't taken any effort to display her breasts to me. I was sure our session had gone so well; she seemed to incorporate each suggestion I had given, yet my carefully crafted hypnotic instructions had, thus far, bore no fruit.

There was one positive though. Indeed one really big positive, Chani had asked me several times when we could do some more hypnosis. Between work, school and my wife's schedule, the opportunity had not yet presented itself. Tonight, however, we should finally be able to have our second session. I was certainly looking forward to it, and apparently, so was Chani.

Now, to be sure, I was disappointed. After our first session, I had expected Chani to be putting her tits on display later that same day. But, the fact that she hadn't wasn't entirely unexpected. I've been practicing hypnosis for decades, I've seen it all, and if there's anything I've learned in that time, it's that all my clients are different. I generally tell my clients not to expect to notice the hypnotherapy working for at least three sessions. Not everybody wants to hear that. People have been conditioned, by the fictionalized hypnosis portrayed on TV, that hypnosis is magic.

Now look, I'll be the first person to tell you that the results of hypnotherapy can absolutely be magical, but... it's not magic. I can't tell you how many people come into my office after having been in therapy for ten, fifteen, even twenty-five years, having spent countless hours of their time and tens of thousands of dollars of their money. But, when I suggest that it may take as long as ten whole weeks to overcome their issue... well, that's just not good enough.

Sorry, I got a little sidetracked there. I know you're not reading this to listen to me bitch about my business. Let's get back to what happened with my daughter.

As I was saying, I wasn't totally surprised that she hadn't responded to my suggestions. Different people react differently though, and I have a whole toolbox full of tricks and techniques to break through those barriers. It just takes time and a little patience.

The past few days weren't a total bust, however. (Ha, no pun intended!) My daughter's behavior had changed, and those changes were, seemingly, permanent.

Firstly she was still responding to the initial commands that I had unintentionally installed, "Time to work, Chani," and "Time to play, Chani."

Secondly, she was continuing to call me daddy while being more overly affectionate than usual. Nothing untoward, just long hugs and kisses on the cheek. The first couple days she seemed to be a little unnerved by her own use of the diminutive phrase of daughterly affection, "daddy." In short order though its use became second nature and she no longer paid it any attention.

I hadn't had a lot of time alone with her, usually just an hour or two in the later afternoon. Over the past couple of days, I had used her trigger phrase, "Time to play, Chani," when she arrived home from school. As before she would begin acting like my little girl and run off to change into her old, ill-fitting clothes. I did so enjoy the lack of bra and the magnificent sight that afforded me, but it wasn't intentional on her part. She wasn't trying to show off to me; indeed she seemed oblivious to it.

Of course, I had also been using the counter-phase, "Time to work, Chani." I would let her play with her toys or watch TV until it was about time for my wife, Marsha, to get home. Then I would give her the phrase, and she would act a little confused, hed back to her room, and change into her regular clothes. I was particularly curious to see how she would respond to this transition between her child-like and adult versions. Once back in her typical attire she seemed oblivious to anything unusual that may have happened.

Such a response isn't unheard of. In fact, it's pretty common. Our brains are really good at ignoring things that just don't fit into our worldview. And Chani's mind, "time to work" Chani specifically, seemed happy just to pretend that the "time to play" Chani didn't even exist.

Having observed and contemplated all these events over the past few days, I was very much looking forward to getting Chani back into trance tonight and seeing what we could accomplish. Marsha was working a double shift at the hospital today, so I could take my time.

To my excitement, during dinner, Chani brought up the possibility of having our second hypnosis session.

"Dad, do you think we could do some more hypnosis tonight? I could really use it."

"Sure, honey," I replied. "Anything particular going on, or just the same stress we talked about a few days ago?"

"Mostly the same stuff," Chani responded. "Jessica is still mad at me. It's been extra hard the past few days with her avoiding me."

"I'm really sorry to hear about Jessi," I said genuinely sorrowful. "I know you two will get through this, even if it doesn't feel like it right now. After your homework's done, we'll do some hypnosis and get you feeling better. Okay?"

Chani helped me clean up after dinner then headed off to her room to focus on her homework. Similarly, I sat down at the desk in my home office and got to work myself. People seem to hold the illusion that being an entrepreneur means easy money and little work with endless amounts of time off. If only!. Being your own boss is great, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't tell you the last time I worked less than a sixty-hour work week.

A couple hours later a soft knock on my door signaled Chani's presence.

"I'm done with my homework, daddy."

"Okay, sweetheart. I'm just about done here. Tell you what, why don't you get ready for bed. That way when we're finished with hypnosis you can just drift off to sleep. That's usually how I do it with your mother," I suggested.

"You hypnotize mom?" she asked, a little surprised.

"Oh yeah, all the time. Well, not all the time, but it's not uncommon," I informed my daughter.

"What for?" she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"It's been different things over the years, I guess. Mostly for stress though. Like I told you the other day, it's pretty common. Go get ready for bed. I'll meet you in your room in fifteen minutes," I said, ending the conversation and turning back to my work.

Fifteen minutes later it was my turn to knock, this time at my daughter's bedroom door.

"Come in," came her reply.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Chani was sitting cross-legged on her bed, dressed in her pajamas. She had washed her face and removed her makeup, all ready for bed.

Good. It was still relatively early. Once she was in trance, I'd have plenty of time to work with her before it got too late.

I sat down on the bed next to her. "So, last time we did some traditional hypnotic induction stuff, counting down and stairways and whatnot. Remember?" I asked Chani.

"Yeah, I remember something about a stairway, and then I remember waking up," she replied.

"Good, good, that's pretty standard. Today I'm going to do things just a little bit differently. Now, we're still going to focus on relieving the stress and helping you feel really great, but before that, I'm going to spend a little more time on creating the hypnosis," I said rather matter of factly.

"Umm, okay. Why?" came Chani's slightly hesitant reply.

"Well, hypnosis is like anything else; the more you practice, the better you get at it. What we're going to do is to practice going in and out of hypnosis a few times. That way, next time we have a session, you can go in real quick, and we can spend more time getting you feeling fantastic and less time talking about stairways. Make sense?" I explained.

"Yeah, makes sense. What do I need to do?" she questioned. The apprehension was gone from her voice.

"Just like last time. Listen to my voice and follow along. Ready?" I asked. She nodded her reply.

"Then take a deep breath...," I began.

Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, I guided my daughter into a hypnotic trance then brought her back out multiple times. With each induction, I helped to guide her deeper and deeper. On the third or fourth time I implanted a simple trigger, "Chani, each time I and only I say the phrase, 'Deep Sleep, Chani' you will instantly return to this deep, relaxing, calm, and safe hypnotic state." I repeated the instruction a few times then once again brought her out of hypnosis.

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath and smiled up at me.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Good, relaxed. I..." she started, but before she could continue, I cut her off by uttering the trigger.

"Deep sleep, Chani." Instantly she slumped back down, returning to the hypnotic state.

Repetition is crucial in hypnosis, so again I brought her out of trance then dropped her back in using the trigger. Afer several successful attempts, I added something else.

"Chani, this time when I bring you out of hypnosis you will have no memory of being hypnotized today. I just came into your room and sat down a moment ago. You are excited to get started." I was really interested to see how she responded to this suggestion. It usually worked with people as deep as she was now, but she hadn't responded to all my instructions from our first session. I repeated my instructions a couple more times and once again brought her out of hypnosis.

She opened, then blinked her eyes a few times, seemed slightly disorientated but quickly recovered. Then, before she could give it much thought, I interrupted her with a question.

"How are you feeling, honey?" I asked. It was a simple question, but also somewhat devious. If she did remember being hypnotized, it was a reasonable question to ask her when just coming out of hypnosis, as I had already done several times this evening. If, on the other hand, she really did believe that I had just now walked into her bedroom and sat down, it was also a perfectly reasonable question to ask.

"Good. Excited, I guess. I'm just ready to get started," she replied.

"Excellent. Any questions before we begin?" I asked. This really was excellent, she seemed to have no conscious memory of the nearly 30 minutes of hypnosis that we'd already done tonight. I wasn't quite sure how I would use that, but it was good to know it worked.

She shook her head, "No."

So I continued, "Okay, take a deep breath and... 'deep sleep, Chani.'"

Instantly she was back under, and deep. I really did want to help her stress, so we began as we had done a few days prior. I got her repeating her "mantra" as it where, "I feel so... relaxed, calm, free, good."

As she repeated the phrases over and over something very interesting happened. She began to tilt her head back just a little and thrust out her breasts.

"Hmm, how strange," I thought to myself. In our first session, I had tried to link the idea of showing her breasts to me with feeling relaxed, calm, free and good. Apparently what I achieved was the opposite? Maybe, I wasn't sure. But because she was now feeling those things she seemed to want, at least on a subconscious level, to show off her boobs for me.

At the moment I didn't know what to do with this information. I filed it away as I was sure it would come in handy later. Regardless I already had a plan for tonight, and I didn't want to be sidetracked. But... plan or no I was enjoying the view as my daughter continued thrusting out her substantial bosom for my viewing pleasure. She even began swaying her shoulders back and forth a little just to give them the slightest jiggle.

Shit, I was getting hard. One step at a time though. I couldn't rush things, so I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to divert some blood flow back to my brain.

The mantra was really working, and Chani must have been feeling just fantastic. I could tell because her hands reached down to the hem of her shirt and began to work it up slowly. First, her belly button came into view and just as I got the barest glimpse of "underboob" I interrupted my daughter, "Okay Chani. Stop repeating the phrases and take a deep breath."

She complied, but her shirt remained lifted for a few moments. Eventually, her hands slowly dropped it back into place, and her posture relaxed. The show was over... for now.

"Chani, in a moment I'm going to count to 5 and when I do you will return to waking consciousness, fully awake. When returning to waking consciousness, it will be 'time to play, Chani.'" I instructed, placing emphasis on her trigger phrase.

I then continued, "Before I do though pay close attention to what I say. When you awake it will be 'time to play, Chani,'" I again emphasized. "But, even though it's 'time to play, Chani' you feel very sad. You feel very sad because school was very hard today. School was very hard today, and it made you sad. Your daddy, who loves you very much, is sitting next to you on your bed because you just finished telling him all about how sad you feel."

I repeated this scenario twice more to make sure it had sunk into her mind then I counted to 5, bringing her out of trance.

As expected she looked momentarily confused, but before she could focus on that confusion, I quickly interrupted, "Chani, " I started a little forcefully to grab her attention, "I'm sorry that you're feeling so sad. I'm glad that you told me all about it. As your daddy, I will always be here to listen to your troubles, and I will always help you feel better. You understand that don't you, that you can always share your troubles with daddy and that daddy will always help you feel better."

"I guess," she responded.

"Good, let me hear you say it," I said with just enough authority in my voice to help overcome any objections.

"Umm, you will always be here to listen to why I'm sad? And you will always help me feel better?" She questioned.

"That's right. Repeat it, but this time believe it because it's true," I instructed.

She did, this time instead of it being a question she stated it as a fact, but quickly followed up with, "I still feel really sad, daddy. Can you help?"

"You know sweetheart, everybody feels sad like this sometimes. It's a form of stress, and daddy specializes in helping people feel better when they're sad or stressed. In fact, I bet you even know how I help, can you guess?" I asked as I began leading the conversation.

And a strange conversation it was. The person sitting in front of me would soon be graduating high school and moving away to university. She was confident, accomplished and mature. She was an adult in mind and body... and oh what a body it was. Even so at this very moment, I was having this conversation with someone who acted like a much younger version of my daughter. Her posture, facial expressions, and words seemed so immature.

It caused me to hesitate, to feel guilty even. But I reminded myself, that the affectation of youth was just a temporary illusion. Chani was a woman, physically and mentally, this was just... well it was just like role-playing. Temporary, a form of emotional venting, a game.

Baring that in mind I was able to continue, "Honey? Any guesses as to how I sometimes help people? I'll give you a hint. Just like you came home from school very stressed today, your mom often comes home from work very stressed. How do I help your mom when she comes home from work all stressed out?"

She began looking up, searching her memory, "Umm, you say nice things to her?"

"That's true my beautiful, special, amazing princess, whom I love dearly. Sometimes I say nice things. What else?" I prompted.

She smiled a little then said, "You give her a big hug." This time it was a statement, not a question.

"Of course I do," I said spreading my arms wide and pulling her close. "And..." I said giving her a fatherly kiss on the forehead, "I kiss her. How's that, Chani? Do you feel all better?"

"Yeah daddy, I feel all better," she said rather unconvincingly.

"You know honey, I can only help if you're completely honest," I responded reassuringly.

"Well, I do feel better, a bit, but I'm still sad," she admitted after a moment obviously concerned that she might hurt my feelings.

"Hmm, well I guess we're going to have to break out the big guns. I do have one more, extra special, extra powerful technique for making you feel better. Just follow along. Okay?" I asked.

"Okay...?" she responded, unsure.

Gently and lovingly I then took her face in my hands, leaned forward and kissed her lips.

This was it. Thus far, everything tonight has gone 100% according to plan, but this moment could make or break it all.

In hypnosis, there is a common, and powerful technique which is based on a simple principle. The idea is that who we are in the present moment, how we think, how we act, what we believe, is nothing more than the inevitable expression of all our past experiences stacked on top of each other. Therefore in order to modify present behavior, it can sometimes work to alter the perception of past events.

Sometimes that means modifying real memories, removing the emotional impact, or looking at them through your older and wiser eyes. Other times, however, it means creating completely fabricated memories.

There's a lot to this process, and I can't get into all the details here, but by going back into someone's past and giving them a false memory, usually of having some additional, beneficial resource, the subconscious then acts as if they had that resource from that moment forward. It becomes part of who they are in the present moment. It's incredibly powerful, but like most subconscious tools and techniques it doesn't work on everyone.

I was reminded of this technique while observing my daughter over recent days. She seemed to be bringing some of the behaviors she was exhibiting as "time to play Chani" into her normal, adult life. I wondered if she was experiencing a modified version of that "timeline" memory technique. And, keeping that in mind, I formulated my plan for this evening.

As I said though what happened next could potentially ruin everything. On the plus side I was reasonably sure that if this step went horribly wrong, Chani wouldn't remember it. That thought emboldened me.

Chani didn't seem to respond to my initial kiss. Which was probably a good sign. I didn't want her freaking out. The kiss itself wasn't too remarkable. I had kissed her many times before, even on the lips, but those we quickly fatherly pecks or, much more rare, big playful and silly smooches. This kiss was something new, gentle, loving and held just long enough to imply romantic without coming on too strong.

Chani accepted the kiss and even returned it, though I could sense her become a little unsure as I held it a beat or two longer than might be normal. She was likely a little confused, and at this moment, confusion was my friend.

When overwhelmed, overloaded or confused, the prefrontal cortex (the conscious mind) has a tendency to freeze up and cede control of the body to the older, more primitive, more instinctual parts of the brain. That is precisely what I wanted to happen. Chani's conscious mind was already a bit overloaded by having to create and maintain this alternate, younger persona. Further, the forty minutes of going in and out of hypnosis helped add to that overload. And now, with the confusion of this not quite fatherly kiss, her brain was ready for a break, to just allow instinct to take over.

So, while the temporary persona of "time to play Chani" was one of youth, the reality was that Chani was, in fact, long past puberty, a woman with all the hormones of your average high school senior. In a nutshell, regardless of affected persona, her body was instinctually and chemically primed for sex.

Breaking our kiss only for a second I shifted my right hand behind her head, intertwining my fingers with her hair and pulling ever so slightly, triggering a latent and powerful mammalian trait of female sexual submission in response to being bitten on the back of the neck.

(It's true btw, look it up. Many species of mammal, and more specifically some of our primate cousins, use neck biting to trigger sexual submission.)

Meanwhile, I shifted my left hand up along her jawline and began gently stroking her ear with my thumb.

Completing these two movements simultaneously I noticed as Chani's eyes closed and she took a sharp intake of breath. Taking that as a sign of encouragement I leaned back in and began to kiss her again.

For several heartbeats, Chani's lips remained soft but unresponsive, and I feared that perhaps this wasn't going to work. Soon enough though she began to return my kiss.

Once she began to respond in kind, I slowly began shifting the style of my kissing. Initially long, light and gentle, I started to add just a hint of urgency. As before, after a few moments, she began to match me.

I was in no rush, so I continued this pattern. As Chani would match me, I would then take it one small step forward. Each step added more passion and the passion encouraged me to take it even further. In no time our kisses left father-daughter propriety far behind us as we forged ahead inching ever closer to something which much more resembled two teenagers making out in the backseat of a car.

Keeping one hand on the back of her neck and alternating, my other hand roamed her body. Soon I was caressing her back, hips, stomach, and thighs.

Chani's breathing kept increasing as her own hands started exploring my body as she pulled me even closer to herself. Soon I was no longer in control as she took an equally active role.

Wanting to maintain the upper hand, as it were, I broke off from her lips, tugged her head back by her hair and passionately began kissing, and gently sucking on her neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, but based on her reaction it was certainly hard enough for her to enjoy it.

Spending a couple minutes lavishing her neck with love bites and kisses I returned to her lips, this time introducing my tongue into our makeout session. As before she seemed to need a few moments to acclimate, but in no time at all, she joined me and our tongues danced together.

Trying not to be lost entirely to the passion I continued to observe the situation, and soon I noticed the reappearance of Chani's interesting behavior from earlier. She was again thrusting her chest out at me as one of her hands methodically, worked her top up until at last her beautiful and perfectly shaped breasts popped free, her pajama shirt bunched up above them.

She broke our kiss and breathlessly began to plead with me, "Look at my boobs, daddy. Do you like them? Are they pretty?" Leaning back away from me she cupped them with both hands and presented them to me.

"So beautiful, sweetheart. Everything about you, including your boobs, is absolutely beautiful," a stated, being completely sincere.

Chani beamed with pride then suddenly a look of uncertainty and fear came over her face. For the briefest moment, I was terrified that she had come out of it and was back to being her normal self when she again spoke, her voice hopeful and timid, "Will you touch them? Will you kiss them too?"

Suddenly my attention was drawn to the painful throbbing in my pants. I knew I was already hard, but having my incredibly sexy daughter present herself to me like that and ask me to kiss her breasts brought me to a whole new level of turgidity.

"Of course, Chani. I would like nothing more," I said as I guided my daughter into a lying position on her bed and leaning over her began to kiss her tits gently.

She relaxed back on her bed and closed her eyes, lost in the sensations as I started focusing on her nipples, kissing, licking, sucking and gently biting them as my hands again began roaming her body.

For the next several minutes I alternated between making out with Chani and focusing on her tits. She was lost in lust and passion, unable to speak, communicating only through her moans of pleasure. For my part, I was lost in the satisfaction of giving her pleasure. Eventually, a subtle but familiar tang wafted its way into my nostrils, Chani was obviously wet.

The heady musk of her womanhood was inviting, almost too much so. A vision of kissing my way down her abdomen as I tugged her PJs down entered my mind, but I quickly dismissed it.

Things had already gone further than I had anticipated. Too much too fast could bring this whole enterprise of incestuous corruption crashing down around me. I had to be patient. And, considering that I haven't had a makeout session this epic since I was a teenager, I figured we'd reached a good stopping point.

"Chani?" I prompted pulling myself up next to my daughter, level with her eyes.

"Hmm?" She smiled back up at me.

"What do you think of my extra special technique for helping with when you're feeling stressed or sad?" I asked, reminding her of how this all started.

It took her a moment to respond. Her brain was literally sitting in a pool of Dopamine, Serotonin, Oxytocin, and various Endorphins making it very difficult to think at all, let alone respond to questions. "I like it, daddy. A lot!" She paused for a moment then added, somewhat dreamily, "Can we do it some more?"

I smiled back at her, "Not tonight, honey. But remember whenever you are feeling sad or feeling stressed, Daddy will always help you feel better. Right?"

"Uh huh," she replied in the affirmative.

"Let me hear you say it," I once again requested.

She reached up to touch the side of my face, smiled wide and said enthusiastically, "Whenever I am feeling sad or stressed, daddy will help me feel better!" Then she leaned up and kissed me passionately before dropping back down to her pillow.

"Goodnight, Chani," I said.

"Goodnight, D..." Chani started before I once again interrupted her.

"Deep sleep, Chani." At my words, her whole body relaxed, and her eyes drifted closed. "Chani, you will now sleep soundly and deeply through the night having only pleasant dreams. Tomorrow when you awaken it will be 'time to work, Chani' and you will feel wonderful."

I repeated my hypnotic instructions several times before extricating myself from Chani's bed. I, as best as I could, returned her PJs to their normal position, taking a few moments to appreciate those magnificent breasts before covering them up. (Who knows when I'd be able to see them again.) That done I tucked in my beautiful girl, turned out the lights and got myself to bed.


My wife dragged herself into the bedroom early in the morning after getting home from her double shift. I hated that she had to put herself through that. Once Chani was out of college Marsha could stop working, or at least go part-time. I'm a pretty light sleeper usually, so as expected her return woke me up. I greeted her then headed off to the kitchen for my morning caffeine as my wife showered.

Clean, but too tired to dry her hair, my wife, Marsha, exited the bathroom and shuffled, zombie-like, to bed. I hugged her, wished her sweet dreams and told her that I would see her at dinner. (After a double shift she would typically sleep a good 12 hours getting up just in time for dinner.)

I then showered, dressed and headed into the office for an early start to the workday.


Work went fine, but to be honest, I couldn't stop thinking about the night before. I was excited, exhilarated even, but also... I was terrified. This wasn't the first time I'd been in this position. As I mentioned, I had been using hypnosis to corrupt women for many years. Well, that makes it sound like more than it's actually been. Yes, I'd been doing it for years, but only to a handful of women.

With each of them, there is a period, in the beginning, when I just don't know how they'll respond. What if they remember? What if they start to notice and put two and two together? Everything has to be perfect, you have to go slow because one misstep and I might find myself in jail.

Last night seemed to go great, but so had the previous hypnosis session with Chani. I honestly had no idea how she was going to respond. Usually, that wouldn't be a big deal. I would just take baby steps and see what worked and what didn't. Last night, however, was no baby step. In fact, that was one giant step, and if I went too far, the best case scenario would be that I had forever destroyed the relationship with my daughter. That was the best case... I didn't want to even think about the worst case.

Unable to concentrate, I packed up a little early so I could be sure to be home when Chain arrived. The change of scenery didn't help though so I found myself sitting in my home office counting the minutes, waiting for Chani to come home.

At first, it was tolerable. But eventually, her usual arrival time came and went. That's when I really started to worry.

What if she remembered? What if, right now she was spilling her guts to a friend... or to the police. The minutes slowly ticked by and with each one the sinking feeling in my stomach grew worse and worse.

Eventually, I noticed that it was time to start dinner. Marsha would be hungry after her double shift and long sleep. I was happy to cook for my wife and if nothing else it would give me something to focus on besides my impending doom.

So I made my way into the kitchen and got to cooking.

About thirty minutes later, nearly three hours later than expected, Chani walked through the front door. She had obviously been crying...

Oh, shit! This was it. I was dead. My whole world was about to come crashing down on top of me. I'll admit it, for a second my thoughts turned to suicide.

I tried to steady myself. I could be wrong. I've got to play it cool. Just in case there was still a chance.

Struggling to keep my voice calm I addressed my daughter, "Chani, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Oh, daddy!" she said, dropping her book bag on the floor and running into my arms. "I asked Jessi to meet me at a coffee shop after school." Tears still ran down Chani's cheeks, but her voice had the quality of someone who was just too tired to cry any more. "I was hoping that if we could just talk we could work through things and be friends again. She agreed and at first things were going well. We both apologized and told each other how much we had missed each other. I was so happy!" She paused and took a step away from me as her gaze dropped to the floor.

"Our conversation was going so well that I really felt connected to Jessi again. I got too comfortable, and I said...some things. I said some things that I should have kept to myself." Chani stared off into the distance, obviously reliving the events in her mind's eye.

"What, sweetheart? What things?" I asked, confusion in my voice.

"I said... I don't know... It's not important. Regardless Jessica got very upset. She just stood up and left. I've ruined our friendship, it's over. I left the coffee shop and intended to walk home, but somehow I ended up at that playground we used to go to. I just sat on the swings for the past couple hours and cried," she finished obviously in emotional shock.

I felt terrible for my little girl, honestly I did, but at that moment I felt so relieved that I had to struggle to keep a smile from forming on my face. It was just high school drama, not criminal charges. I felt light as a feather like a two-ton weight had been lifted off my chest. I pulled Chani back into my arms and hugged her tight. "I'm so sorry, Chani. I really am. What can I do to help?"

Her response caught me off guard. I guess I should have been expecting it, and maybe subconsciously I was, maybe that's why I worded it that way, but consciously I was utterly floored when she answered me.

"Help me feel better, daddy...," she said as she reached up, pulled my face down to meet hers and began kissing me.

I was so caught up in the moment, so happy that I wasn't busted, so incredibly happy that my plan last night had actually worked that I didn't hesitate for a second. I dove into my daughter grief fueling her passion, lust fueling my own. Our mouthes groped, our lips caressed, our tongues danced. I was in heaven. Nothing could make this moment any better.

Or so I thought until my daughter reached down, grabbed the wrist of my left hand which had been holding her hip and pulled it up, guiding it under her shirt and placed it firmly on her right breast as she breathlessly spoke without breaking our kiss, "Touch me!"

I did. I began massaging her breast groping and squeezing. Her own hands were flying over my body feeling, grabbing, pulling me in lustful, passionate desperation.

I was completely lost in the sheer ecstasy of the moment. Right up until I hear a loud and angry, "What the FUCK!"

Marsha, my wife, was awake...

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Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist - Chapter 3

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Comments (2)
vivicavixxen — 28 June 2018 15:31
Agh! What a wicked cliffhanger! Can't wait for the next part
Hypno Wolf28 June 2018 19:15
Thanks! I hope to get the next chapter out soon. I realized that I really need to plan this out a bit better.
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