Nicholas Wright Hypnosis Novels & Stories

The next morning arrived cold and gray. Nicholas Vance had been in therapy for exactly two weeks. Two sessions. One hour each. He had spent more time in waiting rooms than he had spent talking about his feelings. But something was changing. He didn't know what. He didn't know if it was good. He only knew that he woke up this morning and the silence in his penthouse didn't feel like a weight. It just felt... quiet. He dressed in a charcoal suit. White shirt. The silver tie.

There's only one other closed door so I knock as I let myself in. "Who the fuck are you?" Cheri asks, making no attempt to cover her naked body as she sprawls on the bed. Her racing stripe of brown pubic hair is a stark contrast to her blonde head. "I'm Nick," I answer, "the studio hypnotist." "The what?" Cheri swings her legs over the bed and her tits bounce unnaturally as she sits up.

I swallowed and averted my gaze, “I…I just thought that it might not work on him.” Her eyebrows drooped low in confusion as she blurted out, “What? But why? You just hypnotized the guards last night. And now that your witch-side is getting stronger there is no way that you could have failed hypnotizing him.” I swallowed again and nodded slowly, “Yeah, you are right. But you see…I just…I thought it might not work on him like it didn’t work on Alpha Nicholus…maybe,” the words rushed out of my mouth.

Like an anchor in a place where I’d just been mentally waterboarded by a smiley-faced adult who probably thought she was saving me. I closed my eyes for a second. Took a breath. And then—of course—that was when it happened. The sound of shoes. Confident, controlled, echoing down the hallway. Nick didn’t notice at first. But I did. I opened my eyes. And there he was. Mr. Wright. Cristiano Wright. Cristiano fucking Wright. Walking down the corridor like some walking Greek tragedy dressed in a three-piece suit. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Not in this wing. Not during lunch.

she voiced with teary eyes little did he know those were her last words, in the next instance her hands lost stamina while she took her last breath in agony letting the hot tear desperately roll down her cheeks. “Mom..mom!” He kept nudging her in disbelief. “Mom...no.. don’t go. Mom!” Nicklaus screamed out of his dream panting profusely as he glanced at his watch only to find the time mocking his desperation. “I’ve been out for just thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of torture” he scoffed in frustration as Klaus let himself in and a look of worry flooded his features. “I’ll get the hypnotist” Klaus announced “don’t” Nick refused pressing his temples slightly. “This isn’t a time to be stubborn,

That wasn’t how it worked. Number 3’s situation was another good point to look at. When she resolved herself to never give up any information, Mane used Words of Power to get the words out of her mouth. How was that possible? After all, Words of Power could physically force her to open her mouth, but it couldn’t bring the words out of it. What Mane did was simple really. He used Words of Power to bring up mists and illusions that clouded Number 3’s judgement, and then he was able to successfully hypnotize her. He studied Hypnosis from his 3rd Master – the Spiritualist. And he was pretty good at it. It was just that Number 3’s mind was firm so Mane had to use mists and illusions to disorient

"Ari, are you satisfied with my performance?" Blushing deeply, I tried to pull my hand away, but his firm grip left me no choice but to feel the warmth of his palm and the intensity in his dark eyes. "A hundred thousand dollars, going thri…" "No! I said no!" Nelson, disregarding all pretenses, struggled to stand up from his wheelchair. To everyone's surprise, it seemed that Nicholas' presence had somehow cured him as if Nicholas had performed a miracle on Nelson's condition.

So, after confirming that Irvin had been pretending all this time, she went straight to the hypnotist and asked how to stop his memories from returning. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hardwell," the hypnotist said. "There's nothing I can do. Hypnosis has never worked on people with strong willpower. And Irvin's willpower is exceptionally strong." Grace lowered her gaze, deep in thought.

“But your work—” “My work is dedicated to helping people who want to remember. Who are ready to face it and work through it,” she said. “Not forcing trauma to the forefront before they are ready.” She looked at me. “You endangered your life with this. You understand that. I’m not going to lecture you, but I’m going to tell you that hypnosis, especially self-hypnosis, is a mixed bag of tricks. Like dream analysis.” I drew back, a bit crestfallen. “Really?”