Daddy's Hypnosis Help

My daughter, Jane, is a really good girl.

She wears sweaters over her shirts, slips under her dresses.

She's modest.

She doesn't flirt and she doesn't date.

My good girl.

My wife always taught her the right way: how to be pure, how to be chaste.

She always listens. She's always obedient.

She lives her life as straight as an arrow.

A few years after my wife died, Janey decided she wanted to become a nun.

It was almost as if she were meant for that life from the very beginning.

So, by the time she was eighteen, she'd already picked out a convent. She's already started volunteering there and training for the life.

But she was upset, I could tell.

"What's the matter?" I asked her, driving back home from the convent.

Her straight, dark hair had gotten away from her headband and was hanging in her face. She didn't answer.

"Baby, please tell me." This wasn't like her. She was always up front. Always honest.

I stopped at a light and she lifted her face so she could watch me with her light-green eyes. "I've been having bad thoughts."

Something about the way she said that made my dick twitch. I shook my head. "Well, honey, everyone has bad thoughts. It's about how you react to those thoughts. Do you entertain them? Do you cast them aside?"

As I pulled the car through the intersection, she said, "I keep them. I don't dwell on them, but it's like, I keep them for later. Like I'm storing them up."

I swallowed. "What kind of thoughts?"

She took a deep breath and sighed it out. "Sometimes I think about... killing people."

I wanted to laugh, but managed to hold it in. "Everyone has violent thoughts. People can annoy us to near insanity. You don't plan on actually doing it, right?"

She bit her plump, pink, bottom lip. "There's this one nun, Sister Agatha. She always acts like I'm disgusting. A horrible, slutty sinner. No matter what! I've never even done anything to her, daddy!"

"Some people are just assholes, Janey."

"Dad!" she scolded. "You can't say that about a nun!"

"Sorry. But she doesn't sound very nice."

"No. I've thought about strangling her skinny neck before. But the horrible part was, I liked the thought of doing it." She dropped her head again, the long, dark strands hiding her eyes again. "I didn't even pray for forgiveness, daddy."

"I see. Well, you can't beat yourself up about it, baby. When we feel mistreated, feelings of resentment grow until we can't think of anything but offing them. It's natural."

"I can't stand it."

Her words stayed with me until we got home.

Jane dropped her bag by the door and headed to her room.

I dropped onto the couch and flipped through tv channels for a while.

That was the first time I thought that maybe my girl shouldn't be a nun. I didn't want her stuck behind walls with people who made her feel terrible about herself.

Later, Jane came down, still in her long skirt, her buttoned up shirt and vest. She dressed modestly always. She held a couple print-outs and sat beside me. I muted the tv.

"Dad. I want you to help me, okay?"

I nodded. "I'll do what I can."

"I want you to hypnotize me." She said, handing me the print-outs. They were detailed instructions on how to hypnotize someone.

"Seriously? I really don't think that this is the answer."

"I can't confess this to the priest, daddy, I just can't! What if he makes me stop training? My life would be over!"

That was dramatic, and I knew she was terribly upset because she was never dramatic.

"It probably won't even work," I told her.

"Try? Please?"

"What do I do, once you're hypnotized?"

"Tell me not to have evil thoughts anymore."

I swallowed, hard. I guessed it wasn't such a bad imperative. "I'll try, I guess."

She sighed with relief and I knew I was doing the right thing, if only to calm her down. If it didn't work, I might just suggest a different career path for her.

I read through the instructions and then went through the steps. I had her lie down on the couch, propped on a pillow, while I knelt beside it. I spoke the words in a quiet, soothing voice. I went through all the words twice, because it didn't seem to be working.

"Janey?"

"Yes," she hummed quietly.

Did it work?

"Janey, I want you to tell me about all your bad thoughts. The ones you haven't confessed to the priest. We need to get them out of you so you won't dwell on them anymore."

"I've thought about killing Sister Agatha," she said in that droning voice. "Her thin neck would snap easily."

I swallowed. That was a creepy thing to come out of my daughter's mouth.

But now, I know she's hypnotized.

"I've thought about poisoning her smelly tea. I've wanted to watch her face turn purple and bloated with poison."

Jesus.

"I hate her. I hate her. I—"

"Janey," I say trying to keep sounding soothing. "I want you to forgive Sister Agatha for her sins. She needs help. I want you to brush off the mean things she does to you. But if she doesn't stop, or she gets worse, I want you to tell me."

"Yes."

"Very good. Now—"

"I've thought about doing bad things to the priest."

I swallow, feeling even more scared now. "The priest, too?"

"When I'm in the confessional, if I look just right, I can see his dark hair and his blue eyes. I can see his strong hands. His soft mouth."

Oh.

All the fear in my body changes, directs a current between my legs.

She squirms a bit on the couch, seeming uncomfortable. "I think about opening the window and sliding through that small opening to his side. I think about his hands on my waist. I want him to touch me. I want him to get me out of my clothes." Her hand scrabbles clumsily at the highest button on her shirt.

Dear God. My cock is full of blood. I want to end this, but she needs to get it out so she won't think these things anymore.

"I want those soft, holy lips on my breasts. I want his strong fingers running up my legs and pulling down my panties. I want him to show me what's in his pants. I've seen the bulge. I know it's huge, but I want to see it."

My cock strains against my pants at her fantasy, at her droning voice, at this revelation. At the way her hands rip open the buttons of her shirt and the large ones on her vest. At the way her hips squirm.

"I want to feel it. I want him to force me. I want him to apologize. I want him to beg. I want him to say, 'Jane, please let me inside. Jane I'm sorry but I have to have you." Her voice is getting louder. "I want him to say, 'Oh, Jane, let me fuck you!' and then I want him to do it. I want the priest's fat cock ramming into me, ramming me against the confessional wall! I want him helpless! I want him unable to stop!"

But she's always been so good! She's never even shown signs of lustful thoughts before!

Her squirming is getting out of control, her hands yank at her long skirt, trying to get it up over her knees. "I want him to fuck me!" she shrieks. "I want him to make me cum!" Her hands pull and twist the navy-blue material of her skirt and I watch, stupefied as inch after inch of her creamy thighs is revealed to me. I've never seen anything above her knee or below her neck. Her mother made sure of that, and I was happy with it.

But this...

"I want Father Matthews to jam me with his dick!" She finally gets her skirt up high enough for me to see her white, cotton panties.

I swallow hard. I'm breathing hard. I can't move, can't look away.

Her delicate fingers move to wrestle with her panties and a whine drags out of me as I get a glimpse of her young puffy lips. The panties slide back and forth, dragging against her swollen nub.

"Oh, God..." I utter.

Juices spread on her pussy, on her clit, soak her panties. She leaves one hand jerking her panties over her clit and the other slides up to undo the few remaining buttons of her shirt. I can see the edge of her white cotton bra under there. I've never even seen this. I shouldn't be seeing this!

I should stop this!

I really should, but I just don't want to anymore. I want to see.

I have to see.

She's going to cum soon and she'll stop. I won't see. I won't see what's under her shirt. I'll never get to see.

"Stop," I croak.

Her hands still. Her chest rises and falls. Her eyes remain closed.

My mouth is dry. "Janey, I want you to take off your vest."

I just want to see, that's all.

Her hands struggle with the thick material. She arches her back and wriggles out of it.

Only one button holds her white, button-up shirt closed over her bra. The shirt lies open across her stomach. Her navel is just above her bunched up skirt.

"Janey, I want you to take off your shirt," I murmur.

There's no expression on her face, no wrinkled brow, nothing to indicate distress.

Thin fingers slide across fabric to the last button as I wait, my cock swelling with anticipation.

I lean forward, breath ragged.

The button slips, the shirt parts, her back arches, her round, full breasts straining against the cotton of her bra. Hard, fat nipples are visible through the material, surprising me with their darkness.

A moan jerks out of me. My mouth waters. My hands reach.

But I can't touch. I can't.

I... just want to look.

"Janey. Take off your bra."

Again, no reaction on her face. Her back arches once more, thrusting cotton-covered, luscious breasts toward my face. Her hands slip behind her back. The bra slackens. She pulls it away.

"Oh, God," I groan, as her breasts bounce before me—round, perfect, unbelievable breasts.

Her creamy, white skin, her hard, dark nipples, the full swell of flesh. They make me wild, insane.

Until now, I've resisted, but my hand unzips my pants, wrestles out my huge, leaking dick. I know it's never been this big or hard. I let it rest against the front of the sofa, only a foot from my daughter's half-naked body. I let myself thrust against the sofa, just a little. Just a little.

"Janey," I murmur. Oh God. "I want you to take off your panties."

Without hesitation, her hips lift, her thumbs drag down her thighs taking the white scrap away.

Her little, wet pussy!

I thrust painfully against the couch, while I lean forward. I just want to see! But I smell her juices, too. A sweet and tangy smell.

I let my dick slip between two couch cushions, right under my daughter's bare waist. So close to touching her. If I just stop holding my dick down, my cockhead will touch her back.

Nothing has ever sounded better to me.

I struggle with myself, moaning at the friction of the cushions.

I lose.

The tip of my cock meets the soft skin of her back. I rub there, leaving a little glob of precum, moaning at the glorious feeling.

"Janey," I moan. "I want to touch you." I want to cry with the need.

Still with no movement on her face, still with her eyes closed, she arches her back, bringing her breasts so close to my mouth.

My mouth opens and my head lowers. My tongue slides across one firm mound, my mouth closes around the swollen nub. "Mmm," I moan, thrusting against her back.

Her breathing speeds again.

My hands finally crawl up her soft stomach. I lift my head so they can cup both breasts. I squeeze so hard it will probably bruise.

"Janey," I whisper. "I want to. I'm going to."

I pull my dick out of the couch and stand above her.

I could stop this now. I could go upstairs and jerk off. I can still stop.

My baby's legs spread, her head turns, her mouth opens. "I want Father Michaels to ram cock into me so far it comes out of my mouth!"

I fall on her, wedging myself between her legs shoving my pants down farther so I can get at her. My hands pull up her hips, pull them toward me. The wet crease of her pussy slides across my cockhead.

"Guh!" I could just cum here. Rub around in this slick mess until I blow all over her soft pussy lips.

I push between her lips, slide, probe her opening, work it open. The top of my skull feels fuzzy, like I might pass out from this pleasure.

"Father," she moans.

"Say daddy," I grunt.

"Daddy," she drones.

"Shout it."

"Daddy!"

I slam into her, my baby's hot wet walls squeezing down on me.

I work in and in, feeling the bottom, trying to get even deeper, even if I have to rip into her cervix.

Jane's hair has come out of her headband again. It covers her face as she moves her head back and forth.

I want her to see.

I want her to see me inside her.

Even if she won't remember.

"Janey. Open your eyes."

Her lids open as I work into her. Her light-green eyes are hazed over as they watch me.

"Yes," I hiss. "Yes. Oh God, yes."

This build seems to never stop. I've never felt so fucking good! Never needed to get so deep!

"I'm gonna cum in you, Janey!"

Her hazy eyes watch me and every single thrust makes me moan excitedly.

And suddenly, I'm cumming! And it feels so goddamn good, I can't stand it.

I spurt into my baby, crying out. I shudder and grunt as the last few drops squeeze out of me. "Yes."

I fall on her, slather her breasts with my saliva.

I've lost my mind, I know.

I don't want to pull out. I want her to stay under me on this couch. I never want anyone else to see her ever again.

She's mine and no one else can have her, not even God.

I pull out so slowly.

I rise above her.

"You'll never fantasize about the priest again."

"Yes," she drones.

I take a deep breath. "Whenever you get horny, you'll think of me."

"Yes."

"Whenever you get horny, you'll fantasize about your daddy."

"Yes."

My breath quickens, my dick twitches. "Whenever you have bad thoughts, you'll ask me to hypnotize you again."

"Yes."

"Now, you're going to go upstairs, take a shower and get dressed. When you're done getting dressed, you'll wake up, remembering nothing that happened here on this couch. You won't feel any pain from this. You will still feel very good about me. Happy about me. Loving toward me."

"Yes."

She gets up off the couch, her pert breasts bouncing, and her skirt falls back into place. I pick up her remaining clothes and follow her to the bathroom.

She starts the shower and drops the skirt. I grab it and take it down with the rest to the laundry room. I start a load of whites and toss in her panties, shirt and bra.

I check the couch, which only has a few greasy cum spots. A few specks of blood. I get the cleaner and remove the stains, then I flip the cushions.

I sit on the couch and flip channels.

After a while, Jane comes down in modest dress: shirt, sweater, skirt. Her hair has been blow dried. Her eyes are clear.

"Hi daddy," she says warmly.

"Hey baby," I reply.

She sits next to me and leans on my arm. "I just really wanted to hang out with you."

"Sounds good to me."

I flip channels for a bit longer.

"Ooh," she says. "Go back. I love Channing Tatum."

I chuckle. "You love him, huh?"

We watch the buff guy for a while, then Jane turns to me.

Her pupils are large, her lips parted.

I smile at her.

Her cheeks redden and she turns back to the movie.