You’re certain it’s safe to look at the lamia as long as you don’t get wrapped up in staring at her. That just makes sense—keep your senses and don’t get lulled so you lose yourself. It feels nice and floaty to sway with her in a little dance; she rotates her head, but as dizzying as that is you’re sure you can keep your senses and stay cognizant.
“Sleep little human,” sings the lamia, “gaze at me . . .”
You’re not sure how you could do both those things, but, sleepy as you are, you’re not ready to doze off just yet. The lamia’s colorful eyes are fascinating; you’d like to examine them more. You know she’s trying to do something to you, a tingle spreading through your head like ripples in a pool, but as long as you remain aware of that you can resist and experience how relaxing yet stimulating it feels. As long as you don’t get wrapped up in her beauty it’s safe to stare at her for a while.
The lamia chuckles. “You love how pretty my eyes are, you love just staring into them.” You ignore her sweet, syrupy voice; every word she speaks slips softly in your ears and fluffs your mind like a yielding pillow, but you can’t let yourself get wrapped up in her words.
She rubs your shoulder. You try to shrug her off but can’t move; you feel heavy, your arm slack. You’re too relaxed to want to move. That weighted feeling grows as something slinks over your legs and circles around your back, rising around your torso. You consider looking down at what’s wrapping around you, but you’re too distracted by the lamia’s swaying, absorbed in staring at her beautiful, glowing eyes. Maybe you should look away, but it feels so nice and pleasing to stare; it’s still perfectly safe. As long as you don’t get too wrapped up in her beauty it’s not dangerous to gaze into her eyes.
“Just relax,” she croons, slipping her other hand behind your back. You were so focused on her pulsating stream of lovely colors you didn’t realize how close she’d crept. You pull back but can’t move; scales slide up your torso, pinning your arms down, and you remain still. You really don’t want to move away, anyway; you want to move closer, examine her beautiful eyes as closely as you can.
“Let yourself sink into me.”
You sink, as she says, settling into the embrace of her thick, soft tail squeezing over your body. Her eyes shimmer out into the world, her vivid colors splashing over your vision. Your eyelids droop, you’re so sleepy, but you push your eyes open. It hasn’t become dangerous to look yet, and you want to stare with every moment you can.
After all, it’s safe to . . .
Just as long . . .
As long as you . . .
The lamia sings you to sleep, implanting the word, sleep, sleep, into your sleepy, slippery, spellbound mind. She twirls your hair and scratches your head and you moan at her close, careful touch. You go slack in her coils as her tail slithers over your shoulders, engulfing your body in her thick scaly tail, slipping the last loops around your neck and squeezing snugly. You can’t move an inch now, but you’re not concerned.
It’s safe to stare as long as you don’t let yourself get completely and utterly wrapped up in her beauty.
As the last whispers of that thought fade away your mouth grins, eyes open wide to absorb every bit of your beautiful lamia love’s heavenly swirling light as possible. As she slithers her tail further, thicker, tighter to wrap you up head to toe your mind fills with the desire for your sight to be drowned by her glamour, to have on your mind only her and her ravishing colors. All you want is to know only the beautiful lamia’s love.
You’re completely safe, absolutely safe to be fully and perfectly wrapped up, wrapped up in the lamia’s beauty, and wrapped up in the lamia’s silken, squeezing, safe tail.
At some point you did the thing that wasn’t safe. But then, in the end, your definition of safe changed from safe from the lamia to safe with the lamia.
And there’s no reason to think you’re not perfectly safe hypnotized.
And, there’s no reason to think when you’re hypnotized.