The Experiment
Week Eight—Monday
I skipped my session again today. It’s hard; part of me really wants to continue participating in the experiment, but I’m standing by my guns. When I got in this evening, Millie asked me where I had been. Where had I been? The library, I told her. That’s right, isn’t it? I had been at the library, hadn’t I? I couldn’t remember what I’d done there. Oh well, it’s not important. I don’t need to remember. There’s nothing special about an evening at the library.
Week Eight—Tuesday
I’ve changed my mind about participating in Professor B’s experiment. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I realize how important his experiment is. I just can’t let him down. I want to contribute to science.
I told Millie, and she seemed worried and disappointed. I kept telling her about my sense of responsibility and of the commitment I’d made. I told her that Professor B would be set back weeks in his experiment, maybe even losing a whole semester. I guess that’s hard for her to argue with, because after a while she fell silent.
I didn’t tell her that part of the reason I want to continue is because of how much I love being hypnotized. I enjoy my sessions so much. And I’m benefiting from them. I figured that would just cloud the water, but it’s true. I really look forward to being hypnotized, and I’m just not worried about what happens. It’s exciting, and I don’t need to worry.
Week Eight—Wednesday
Another delightful session. It feels so good to be back in the experiment. I’m not sure what we did, but I felt warm and aroused at the end. I don’t need to remember. I enjoy my sessions so much. And I’m benefiting from them. While I was getting dressed, I told Professor B that I want him to hypnotize me more deeply. He told me that sometime soon, I’d know what to do to go deeper, and that I should let myself go with it. Ummmm, that sounds lovely!
Week Eight—Saturday
I had another of my strange dreams last night. I was with Professor B again, this time in a nightclub. I’m not sure if I was hypnotized in the dream or not. He didn’t do or say anything to hypnotize me, but I had that dreamy, floating feeling that I get when he entrances me.
We were sipping drinks, when suddenly I realized it was a strip club. There was a stage next to our table, and a well-endowed and lovely woman a couple of years younger than me was dancing. She was only wearing a tiny g-string, and was slowly working that downward as she swung her hips in time to the music. She moved from one table to the next, enticing the men at each. For some reason, I was the only other woman in the club. When she got to our table, she leaned over so her face was close to mine, made a kissing motion at me, and winked. I was beet-red, although I could feel my nipples perking in response.
It’s odd, normally I wouldn’t even consider going to a strip club. I think it’s demeaning to women and shouldn’t be condoned. For some reason, in the dream, I was happy to be there. It didn’t bother me in the slightest that an almost-naked woman was displaying herself to a roomful of men. In fact, it was turning me on, and I remember feeling grateful that I had a chance to be there.
Professor B spoke. He made a suggestion in the most casual tone—something like, “You’ll enjoy stripping on stage now.” The effect it had on me was electric. I wanted to be a stripper, just like the woman on stage. I wanted it more than anything. My need and desire was so intense, so irresistible. I was aware of my previous views—that public stripping was reprehensible, that self-respecting women don’t do that—but these ideas were from the distant past and held no power in my thoughts. I asked Professor B if he’d mind if I went onstage. He smiled and told me that it was OK.
I mounted the platform, and the stripper, now completely unclothed, was there to greet me. She cupped my face in her hands, smiled at me, kissed me lightly on the lips. My mind was whirling. I felt a mixture of arousal, compulsion, embarrassment. There was no question in my mind that within minutes, I’d be naked before the crowd. It was simply something I needed to do.
The men in the audience were going wild as I began to move to the music and unbutton my blouse. It felt so natural, so easy. There seemed to be a dialog going on in my head. I could hear Professor B’s voice, and myself responding to it. He was saying phrases, and I was repeating them back. “You’re an exhibitionist.” ”I’m an exhibitionist.“ “You love showing off your body.” “I love showing off my body.“ “You want to strip naked in public.” “I want to strip naked in public.” As I imagined hearing his voice and repeating the phrases, I continued to undress, feeling myself becoming more and more aroused.
My blouse was off now, and I moved closer to the audience as I unfastened my bra. My nipples were so tight, so tingly. I put a finger in my mouth and wet my nipples, first one, then the other, circling each slowly. The men simply loved it—they were clapping and cheering, urging me on.
Just thinking about this dream now, I’m feeling all moist and flushed. I undressed slowly, bumping and grinding to the music. When I got to my panties, they were so wet that they clung to me as I peeled them off. Once I was naked, I needed to masturbate. I could still hear his voice and my responses. “You’re an exhibitionist.” ”I’m an exhibitionist.” “You love playing with yourself in public.” ”I love playing with myself in public.“ God, I’m such an exhibitionist; it gets me so hot to show my body and play with myself in public.
I was rubbing myself continually. I just couldn’t stop. I wanted to cum so badly. I was looking at Professor B, watching him as I continued to pleasure myself. I was aware of all the other men, of them watching me, yet my attention was held by Professor B. I was waiting for something—I wasn’t sure what. At last he gave a slow nod, and I began to orgasm.
As usual, I woke up at this point. I was drenched with sweat and gasping for breath. My god, what an intense sensation. I’ve never had dreams like this before. They’re very sexy, but so strange!