She was a stunning woman. Not just because she was very tall. Not because she had hair that flamed like a house on fire. Not because her legs went on for days or that her breasts gave the word “full” a new meaning. Her physical attributes were all this and more. No. What caused the young man who stood in front of her to stop everything he was doing and stare at her with rapt attention were her eyes. Large, and with long lashes, they were so vibrant a green as to put to shame the finest jade. And they held him in a gaze that never wavered, never faltered. Never eased up. He felt his mouth go dry even as his mind began to spin.
“What’s my name?” Her voice was as cool as the mists on a Scottish moor and he felt his muscles start to relax for the first time since he’d found himself pinned by her stare. With the relaxing of his tense, and for some reason wary, muscles came an almost dizzying confusion in his mind that he couldn’t explain. He was in a restaurant booth with an incredibly beautiful woman who was obviously interested in him. Trouble was, he couldn’t remember how he got to the restaurant, let alone the booth. The last clear memory he had was of giving up his seat in a crowded subway car to a woman who’d caught his eye — this woman, in fact. Whose name he didn’t even know.
“Are you sure you don’t remember my name?” she asked with a smile.
“Of course I don’t know your name, Beitris Laing!” he protested and just as suddenly clapped his hands over his mouth in shock. That was no lucky guess, not with a name like that. It was as if a curtain in his mind briefly lifted and her name tumbled onto his lips.
“Good boy, Timothy Hudson,” said Beitris. “And what’s your name, Timothy Hudson?”
Timothy opened his mouth with a cocky assurance, ready to utter his name. But he suddenly couldn’t recall it. Try as he might he just couldn’t remember his own name. Worse yet, he knew Beitris had just said it twice and he still couldn’t remember it!
“What the hell have you done to me, you witch?”
“I would think that’s obvious, little boy. I’ve used my witch powers and made you forget your name, among other things,” Beitris replied.
Confusion contorted Timothy’s face almost painfully. “Why?” he asked.
“Because I can. Besides, you asked me to, that’s why! And before you tell me how crazy you think I am, let me show you something.” Beitris gazed deeply into his eyes and another curtain of memory parted. Timothy saw himself on his knees in front of Beitris on a deserted subway platform. He saw his mouth form the word “please” even as an ecstatic smile came over him.
“You see? I merely did as you asked. And you showed your appreciation by coming out with me.”
A thin layer of his confusion vanished but Timothy still couldn’t accept that he’d chucked aside his usual caution and shyness to dine with this hauntingly beautiful woman.
“Oh but you did, Timothy. Normally I don’t pick on strangers but you were just so cute with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes and that kind smile of yours; I couldn’t help myself. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a proper date, or had a play toy worth my time.
Timothy’s eyes widened with a touch of fear. “Plaything? I’m no one’s…”
Beitris gestured with her right hand, a gentle flutter of her fingers that she punctuated with a “snap!” “Coig gach là,” she said. Timothy had never heard the language before but the effect of her words hit him like a freight train regardless. His hands gripped the table so hard he thought he might snap the heavy wood into kindling. His cock sprang to hardness and he nearly choked on his own breath.
“What…what did you do…?” he stammered.
“Nothing much,” she replied with a throaty chuckle. “Just hypnotically induced five days of cum denial on you.”
Sure enough, Timothy felt as though he hadn’t ejaculated in nearly a week. Granted, that wasn’t a feeling with which he was terribly familiar but it was the only explanation for the heaviness in his balls and the ache in his cock. Hypnosis: something he had more than a passing interest in but this was way beyond anything he’d ever fantasized about.
“Also,” Beitris continued, “it’s five days of the most intense teasing you’ve ever had. I think you’ll find my hands are very talented, Timothy.” Beitris waved her hand again and another scene played in his mind’s eye: him writhing on his bed as Beitris’ beautifully manicured hands stroked his raging hard cock, running it up and down the scale of arousal and holding him mere instants from cumming. He thrashed and shuddered but couldn’t escape her; for every one of his actions she had an equal and opposite reaction that kept him in her grasp and on the edge. Non-stop. For five days and nights. The mental Timothy wailed in utter frustration.
In the here-and-now his tongue hung out of his mouth, his eyes crossed and his head slowly sank to the table. A helpless whimper crawled from his throat even as the drool began to puddle on the tablecloth. Beitris waved her hand “Caisg!” she commanded in her strange language. The image faded into the background of Timothy’s mind. The arousal, however, didn’t disappear; it still gripped him as hard as he was now gripping the table.
“To answer your question, no. That didn’t really happen; I just made you think it did through hypnosis. All we Celtic warrior witches can do that. It’s been a while, though, since I’ve chanced upon someone so…open. You like?” Beitris’ full, ruby-red lips curled into a salacious smile.
She caught his eye again and time seemed to slow. Celtic. Scottish. Gaelic. Back in the subway car, he noticed her eyes first but her musically accented voice made his breath catch in his throat. He suddenly remembered literally freezing in place at the sound of her voice when she thanked him for giving up his seat to her.
“Such a proper gentleman!” she’d remarked.
“Well, not so proper and not so gentle.” Something possessed him and he had answered with an uncharacteristic swagger.
“We’ll put that to the test.” Her lilting laughter should have been a warning but he wasn’t thinking too clearly.
And now here he was, in the grip of a hypnotic beauty the likes of which even Shakespeare couldn’t have known. Timothy slowly regained a little of his composure, lifted his head and wiped away the drool with as much dignity as he could muster. His eyes met hers again.
“So. You like?” Beitris asked again. Timothy instinctively understood what her question really meant. He needed to be very careful with his answer; the wrong words could be the end of him. Could he? More importantly, should he? Timothy thought long and hard while Beitris waited with an impatient hunger burning in those stunning eyes.
“Hell yes,” he finally replied. Beitris smiled down at him.
“Right answer. Cuir-a-mach!” she commanded.
And he did.
By Seedee Beetoo
(Storyteller Droid of the Old Republic)
With a tip of the hat to Salamando