Entry for Public Lovin' Fanfiction Contest hosted by

GossipLips, JandMsMommy, and MissJanuary

- PublicLovinFanfictionContest dot blogspot dot com -


Legal BS: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2012 CallMePagliacci. All rights reserved.

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: This fic features a sex act (or two) performed while one participant is under hypnotic suggestion. I want to make it absolutely clear that what Edward says to the audience is true: a hypnotist CANNOT make their subject do anything that violates their moral/ethical code. Common hypnosis does not create a zombie-like state of unquestioning compliance. They cannot make their subject do anything they truly don't want to do. A hypnotist can, however, remove or reduce inhibitions or mental blocks. Therefore, I see no consent issues involved here any different from those associated with drinking or drug use. Forewarned is forearmed, so please keep this AN in mind.

— — — TEYCI — — —

"And now, for my next trick, I need a volunteer from the audience."

The house lights come up amidst a flourish of spotlights. Giggling bridal parties and rowdy frat brothers on spring break make up about two-thirds of the partially-full auditorium. The rest is retirees wondering where the hell Bobby Darin is.

Edward "the Enervating" Cullen scans the audience. Most people can be hypnotized, but only a few can be hypnotized deeply enough to make for a good show. Since Edward will only hypnotize beautiful women, his subject pool is cut down considerably. He glances at a party of tipsy bridesmaids with plastic penises on their heads and on their drinks' straws. One, a blonde, has a tiara covered in flashing LED lights proclaiming, "BRIDE!" Edward is planning on passing them by, hoping for a better prospect at one of the other tables, when he sees her. She isn't wearing a dildo headband, but she does have a few strands of cock-embellished Mardi Gras beads around her neck. Her hair is brown, and her eyes are dark behind delicate, feminine eyeglasses. And she's wearing a skirt. She looks like the kind of girl who could get lost inside a book for hours—perfect. She's beautiful, and Edward, with his sixth sense, knows she's the one.

"One ray the more, one shade the less Had half impaired the nameless grace, which waves in every raven tress... You, my raven-tressed beauty," Edward says, gesturing with his hand at the girl. Tanya immediately shifts from her seductive pose at his side and slinks down the steps into the house. A spotlight follows her movements, the spangles and beads on her cliché assistant's outfit glinting on the faces of the slack-jawed men in the audience. Clichéd, perhaps, but indubitably effective. They follow her every sashay.

Meanwhile, Edward's "volunteer" is blushing furiously and shaking her head, looking like she wishes she could just disappear. Jessica had wanted to come see the magic show, citing the star's hotness as reason enough to go; she didn't tell her bridesmaids about overhearing the hotel staff whispering about Edward—calling him Edward the Orgasmic and Edward the Energizer Cock. She's been bored thus far with his simple illusions.

The girl is shaking her head, blushing, but Tanya's firm hand on her elbow pulls her to stand. Tanya guides the brunette to the stage, catching her as she stumbles, and Tanya releases Edward's volunteer with a Vanna White-esque gesture. She mumbles something as she passes Edward.

"What's that, my beauty?"

"It's 'one shade the more, one ray the less.' You switched them." Shy as she is, Bella delivers the line to his shoes. They're shiny—and black, like the rest of his outfit.

"Forgive me, my dear Erato," he says, placing a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. She gasps; his touch is warm, and suddenly, so is Bella, all over.

She takes in his appearance as she looks up: black dress slacks over long legs; long-sleeved black shirt, top button unbuttoned; tie loose but held in place by a tie clip with a blue evil eye amulet on it; strong shoulders. She visually traces the line of his neck to his jaw, made even more prominent by a five-o'clock shadow, past full lips (currently set in a cocky grin) that should be too feminine for a man but aren't, over a just-slightly-crooked nose to his eyes. Framed with long, red-gold lashes a shade lighter than his hair, his eyes are bright, green, and shining with more than simple mischief. They are wicked.

They are mesmerizing.

"As well as my nickname suits you, I doubt that's what your parents called you. Tell us, what's your name?"

"B—Bella." She's nervous.

"Bella…beautiful Bella. Let's have a round of applause for Beautiful Bella!" There's a smattering of dutiful applause.

"Beautiful Bella, have you ever been hypnotized before?" Edward's eyes are burning, flame-tested thallium. He stares at Bella. His eyes are a tractor beam, and her attention is quickly dominated by his presence.

"Hypnotized? No, never. My, um, never mind…" Bella's cheeks flush again, but she doesn't look down as she would've usually. She can't.

"Tell me, Bella." Edward's voice is smooth like black patent leather. He releases her chin, letting his fingertips graze her cheek as he reaches to push her glasses off her face and into her hair. Her trembling calms under the augurer's touch; Edward feels her pulse speed slightly as he trails his fingers down, over her throat.

"Renee—my mother—tried to teach herself to do hypnosis once, a couple years ago. She practiced on me. It didn't really do anything, and she gave up, of course," she replies immediately, her voice quiet but surer than it was a minute ago.

Edward's smirk grows. "Is that so? Beautiful Bella, which method did she use? I'm certain you remember."

Bella neither sees the audience nor notices the hushed whispers of her friends. She sees only Edward, and her mind is clear.

"Progressive relaxation. She gave up after a week or so."

"That's the method I'll be using. Let's see if I have better luck. Will you allow me into your mind, Bella?"

"Yes." She's never been so certain.

He shares a dark look with Tanya as he nods, giving her the signal to fetch the props from the wings. The music speeds slightly, lento to adagietto, coaxing the audience into anticipation. Tanya pushes in a large apparatus on casters: a box large enough to hold two grown men, with a glass window cut into the front, extending from the top down to about the top of her strawberry-blonde head. Behind her, Tanya pulls a wheeled table. On it is a pile of black fabric.

Tanya picks up the black fabric, revealing a hooded robe embroidered with silver symbols. She shakes it out with a snap and guides it up Edward's long arms. Just the tips of his long, white fingers are visible once she smooths it over his shoulders. Bella notices a quick, private look pass between them as Tanya straightens Edward's lapels. Tanya steps back and goes to stand by the black box. Edward moves forward, preternaturally graceful, and extends his arms. A showman.

"As I'm sure Bella knows," he says, gesturing to the girl as she stands, mute, watching the action on stage, "hypnosis can only be performed on a willing subject. While the mind enters a highly suggestible state under hypnosis, it is impossible to make the subject do anything she does not want to do. Not even one as powerful as I can make her act against her own moral or ethical code.

"I'm no Svengali," he says with a chuckle that only three older audience members echo, "and I could never turn Beautiful Bella here into a Manchurian Candidate. Not that I'd ever want to, of course.

"Beautiful Bella, you will clearly remember everything that happens whilst in your hypnotic state. Your memories of the events to come will be intact, in sharp focus." He steps closer to her. "You will not forget a thing.

"Now!" The lights flash, and the music intensifies again, allegretto. Bella and Edward are absorbed by an elliptical pool of light.

"Bella, I must read your aura. I will open my mind and body to your Akashic energy. This," he says, sweeping his hands down his body, "is the Robe of Volturi, belonging to a race of hermit-mystics I searched the world over for the chance to learn from. When I raise the hood and speak the incantation, I will be shielded from the energetic influence of the audience, so I can focus entirely on you, my Beautiful Bella."

Edward starts to move his hand to grasp the robe's hood, but he changes his mind, and reaches to touch Bella's chin again.

"Are you afraid?" he asks, his murmur somehow carrying the length of the auditorium.

"No," she answers immediately.

"Do you trust me?"


"Good." The mentalist raises his hood and says a few strange words. His face is shadowed, but Bella can still see his eyes as they focus on her own, as if they were incandescent. The green is lit from within.

"Bella…Beautiful Bella…listen to my voice, and only the sound of my voice. Let everything else fade away." Edward walks around Bella, studying her. He raises his hands, forming a halo with his fingers around the crown of her head, a bare inch from touching her hair.

"Relax, Bella. Beautiful. Feel the tension leak out of your neck. Breathe deeply. I can feel your nerves, Erato." He inhales, and so does she. She thinks his voice is like the Northern Lights, shimmering and whispering around her, strange and incomprehensibly powerful. Bella feels small in his presence, but protected—shielded. Instinctively, she knows he won't cause her harm.

"Yes, good, Bella. Breathe deeply. Picture yourself in a beautiful, sunlit meadow. Feel the tension leak out of your shoulders, all the way down to your fingertips. It's warm there, with the sun on your face. You're relaxed, aren't you, Beautiful? Calm. Calm. Calmer. You're in the meadow, and in the distance you can hear cool water flowing."

Edward's hands ghost over her skin, never touching, hovering just out of contact, but Bella can feel him regardless. A memory of Renee's brief interest in reiki skitters through Bella's mind, then dissolves into a mist. Two patches of tingling energy pebble Bella's skin into gooseflesh, first on her scalp and then on her neck, over the curve of her shoulders, and down her arms. The sensation is a pleasant though inexplicable combination of listlessness and hyper-attention.

"Nothing can harm you in the meadow, Bella. Breathe with me, Bella, breathe. The tension is leaving your back, isn't it, Bella? Good. You're growing calmer, more relaxed. Listen to my voice and feel your limbs grow heavy. Feel the soft grass against your skin as the breeze blows through the meadow. You're calm, and you're feeling more and more relaxed. Good, Bella. Beautiful Bella."

All Bella knows for certain are the presence of the smooth voice and her desire to obey it. She feels beautiful—powerful, strong, and sexy.

Competing with the meadow visualization, in her mind's eye an abstract vision forms, like two planet Earths seen from space: shades of green for land and sea, black clouds. The planets rotate, the colors swirl, and Bella is captivated by her imagination. She wants to abandon the generic meadow but cannot.

A cloud of energy floats down Bella's spine, over her ass, and she is trembling again. It's not nerves this time. The green-and-black orbs spin faster. Edward whispers to her, a mesmerizing susurrus that clothes her like a warm fleece. He tells her to relax her body, Beautiful; be calm, Beautiful; breathe, Beautiful.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

"You're safe, Bella, safe in your meadow. I will protect you. Relax your legs, your thighs, your calves, even your toes. The sky is clear and blue. The sun is high in the sky. Smell the wildflowers all around you. Good, Bella, Beautiful Bella, you're doing wonderfully. Calm. You're feeling more and more relaxed."

Bella feels like she's floating alone in the South Pacific, warm and weightless. A thousand thoughts could be running through her mind, and none at all. Her body tingles. She notices the energy between her thighs, a caress, but nothing is amiss with that. It seems natural. The touch is over too quickly, and Bella is disappointed. Her skirt sways, though she stands still.

"Bella, you're now completely relaxed and resting comfortably, and you will remain so until I tell you to wake. You will only accept suggestions that are for your benefit, that you're willing to accept. You will do nothing, feel nothing, that you do not want to."

There are no sounds in the auditorium now except for Edward's voice and the strange techno music coming from the speakers suspended over the stage. Bella's heartbeat is steady and slightly elevated despite her trance. Edward doesn't speak, but still she hears his voice in her mind: I'm in the meadow with you, Bella. We're sharing a picnic blanket. I kiss you and push you onto your back.

"Can you hear me, Bella?"

"Yes," she answers both voices.

Edward stares hard into Bella's eyes. None of his usual gambits—the typical hypnosis gags, plays for laughs—seem right for this girl. He can't make her juggle, tell inappropriate stories, or do the chicken dance. Dance. A knowing smile slowly spreads on his face.

"Judging by your table companions, you're here in Vegas for a wedding. You're friends with the bride. Is that right?"

"Yes. Jessica and I have been friends since high school."

"The wedding is making you anxious, Beautiful Bella, I can feel it. Why?"

"I'm really clumsy, and I have to ballroom dance with the best man at Jessica's wedding. I'll trip or step on his feet, or both."

"But Bella," Edward says, pushing the hood of his robe back, "you're a wonderful dancer. You can waltz beautifully. You're so graceful, Beautiful Bella."

Edward makes a show of pushing the sleeves of his robe back, and no one sees a little egg vibrator's remote concealed under the cuff of his dress shirt. With a brush of his fingertips, he turns the toy on its lowest setting, and Bella's spine straightens. A low, humming vibration stimulates her clitoris perfectly. Her face doesn't betray Edward's little trick. She gazes at him intently as her legs start to shake.

I kiss your lips, Bella, and tell you how beautiful you are. I press my body into yours. It doesn't occur to Bella to question why she can hear Edward's unspoken suggestions. She simply accepts them.

Edward steps forward, dragging his fingertips down her arms. He grasps her hands and raises one to wrap around his neck. She then feels his hand grip her hip before it slides around her lower back. Bella's eyes are trained on his, and he pulls her closer.

"You will dance with me now, Beautiful Bella." The stage lights come up and he steps into her personal space.

She responds effortlessly and without a second thought. Edward leads her around the stage, twirling her in a rhythmic one-two-three, and she follows with ease, naturally. Their bodies move together in symbiosis, and Bella's feet are sure despite her legs' uncontrollable trembling. The rhythm changes and speeds into a quickstep; burns out into a simmering tango. A corner of her mind is aware that her arousal is beginning to seep through her panties and drip down her thighs. Bella acknowledges it and sees nothing to be bothered about. Her gaze is owned, utterly owned, by his.

After dancing for several long minutes, Edward guides Bella back to center stage. With his leg between hers, Edward drops Bella into a low dip, slowly guiding her torso in a wide curve. He can feel the egg buzzing against his thigh. The increased pressure makes Bella shudder and gasp out a small oh! Edward straightens up, pulling Bella with him, slowly. Their torsos are pressed together, as are their hips. Bella's breasts press into his muscular chest with each breath.

Edward is hard, and Bella wants him. Taking a step back, he breaks away from her.

"You were amazing, Bella. Everyone, give a round of applause for Beautiful Bella!" Edward releases Bella's hand, keeping the other around her waist. He makes a sweeping gesture toward the audience, who—with the notable exception of a table's worth of stunned bridal party—are applauding heartily. As he does so, he flicks his wrist, the hem of the robe slides back, and the vibrations on Bella's pussy intensify. You can feel how hard I am, aching to be inside you, as my tongue slips against yours. She whimpers, but only Edward can hear it. The audience thinks her glazed eyes are a part of the hypnosis, just like her quickened, deeper breathing. She was just dancing rather enthusiastically, after all.

"That's not all you can do, is it, Beautiful Bella? You can help me with my next trick—an escape."

"Yes. I can help you."

"Do you feel comfortable with this?"

"Yes, I do."

"Yes, you do. You will help Tanya bind me."

The lights change again, bathing the three figures and the strange apparatus in white light, illuminating every angle. A thrill shudders through Bella. She feels so exposed, and the eroticism is nearly overwhelming. Tanya steps forward and takes Bella's free hand, and she and Edward guide Bella to stand in front of the black box.

"They call this the Wolf's Binding, Bella. Do you know why?"


"They say the man who first tried—and failed—to escape it became so mad with frustration," he begins. Instead Bella hears, You're mad with frustration, rocking into me, trying to gain some desperate friction, but I won't give you what you need. Not yet. You will desire my cock more than your next breath by the time I'm done with you.

"That he began to scream," Edward continues, "baying at the moon like a wolf without his pack. He was forever a wild man thereafter."

I will make you wild with lust. Bella begins panting lightly; her face remains impassive.

"You and I will escape the Wolf's Binding, Bella. You will help me do it. Tanya," he signals.

Tanya opens the Wolf's Binding's door. She gestures inside, running her hands along the three walls to show the audience there is no trick door. While Tanya busies herself preparing Edward's restraints, he speaks to the audience.

"I have nothing up my sleeves." He unbuttons his shirt at the wrists, showing his forearms—covered in thick black tribal tattoos—to the audience. He easily palms the remote control, increasing the power as he does so. Bella gasps behind him, but it escapes the audience's notice. Many are making similar sounds.

"The designs on my arms are themselves magical, of course. They increase my mental powers, but nothing is concealed. Bella, my poetess-muse, and Tanya, my lovely assistant, will attest to this. Come, ladies, show the audience."

Tanya moves forward, ease and confidence in her every step. Bella's gait is not tentative in the least, but is inflected by a certain wonder and fascination, as if she's just found she's not paralyzed from the waist down, after all.

I slip my hands under your shirt, and you're not wearing a bra—just the way I like you. I palm your perfect breasts in my hands, and you arch your back, offering yourself up to me. I circle your nipples with my thumbs. Already pebbled, they grow harder. I pull your shirt off, exposing your breasts to the buttery sunlight, and I keep massaging them, Bella, until you're writhing beneath me. I slip my knee between your legs for you to grind against.

The remote is surreptitiously slipped into Edward's pocket as he extends his forearms for inspection. The egg is now at its highest setting. Bella gasps again, releasing her breath in a low moan, but she does not stumble.

On Edward's right, Tanya's inspection is clearly practiced. Her hands run over his ink cursorily, up and down four times. She angles her lower body three-quarters of the way to the audience, her upper body more straight-on. The position makes her waist look tiny.

Bella, on the other hand, grazes trembling fingers over the black whorls, tracing the design, not understanding but still committing it to memory. Her breathing is increasingly ragged, and her breasts feel warm and heavy. The two points of her hardening nipples are barely visible through her camisole and thin cardigan. She feels simultaneously unbearably close to orgasm and like she could float on the edge of climax for eternity.

"Am I concealing anything, ladies?"

"No," they both answer.

"The chains, Tanya."

The assistant struts to the table and wheels it closer to where Edward and Bella are waiting. Bella is loath to take her hands off Edward's skin, for she feels more grounded while touching him, like she won't, despite her newly stable feet, float away at any moment.

You beg me to take you. You beg me to fill you with my cock and make you scream my name. I will, Bella, but not yet.

"You still feel calm, Bella, Beautiful Bella, and you feel calmer still as I continue to speak with you. I will ask you again, and you will answer honestly. Do you want to do this?"

Do you want me to do this? Our clothes are gone, and I'm running my cock over your naked, dripping-wet pussy. I hit your clit with each pass, making you cry out each time.

"Yes…please, yes." Bella is overwhelmed, drowning in arousal, and her core is clenching repeatedly now. Release escapes her by the barest measure. She's never wanted to come so badly in her life, and she has never been held on the edge for so long.

Edward wraps his arms around Bella's body without touching her skin with his. The minuscule contact between the fabric of Edward's shirt and Bella's skin spark, electric. He holds his wrists in front of him, in a penitent's position, palms up, fingers curved in. He can feel the sexual tension radiating palpably from Bella's body, like a struck tuning fork. The ratchetingof the handcuffs closing around his wrists echoes in the dead-quiet theatre. There's no music now. It is eerie.

"Put your hands up, Beautiful Bella. Yes, like that," he says as she complies. In a trice, she is handcuffed as well. More chains bind the handcuffs together, and more still wrap around Edward's and Bella's waists. With a final metallic click, a padlock dangles from Edward's hip.

"Show the audience it's secure, Tanya."

Tanya tugs on the chain, and Edward allows the movement to pull him forward, forcing his front against Bella's back. His erection presses into the cleft of Bella's ass, and she shudders violently with the need to climax. She doesn't know how she holds off.

"Come with me, Bella, Beautiful Bella."

Come for me, Bella. Edward presses her body closer to his as he walks backward, stepping carefully into the black box, where more chains hang from the walls. Tanya quickly secures them, attaching at four separate points to those around their waists.

"Now, Bella."

Bella orgasms before Tanya can get the door to the Wolf's Binding closed all the way. Hypnosis-bolstered grace or not, Bella collapses in his arms. Her strength disappears as heat flashes through her. She wants to scream, but no sound escapes her open mouth. Edward holds her as she shakes, the aftershocks rolling through her for a long minute. The sensations become uncomfortable as she comes down, the egg still vibrating against her now-sensitive flesh.

Edward laughs softly, the dangerous, sexual sound of an unrepentant sinner.

"I don't think I've had a girl come that quickly before." He raises his hands as far as he can while restrained. His fingers tense, flex, and then relax. Simultaneously, all the padlocks disengage, and the shackles fall away, pooling on the floor of the box's dark interior. Bella stares at the open handcuffs—glinting dully in the strange light of the Wolf's Binding—far too blissed-out to concern herself with the logistics. Her mind is too absorbed with the image of her laying, spent, in the meadow, this gorgeous man above her. Edward reaches into his pocket, and the vibrations instantly slow but do not disappear.

"In addition to being soundproof, this box is back-lit," Edward murmurs, drawing his large hands over her quivering thighs, under her shirt, pushing her bra aside to palm her breasts. He groans.

"You're beautiful, so beautiful… They can't see in, not in detail. They can see our silhouettes, though. They can observe my—ah—struggle to escape."

He grinds his hot, hard dick against her again. "It builds anticipation, though I'm sure you know all about that. Building anticipation."

Bella responds with a hum, already beginning to work her way toward climax again. Edward stops her as she rubs her thighs together, shoving his knee between her legs and holding them apart. Bella moans plaintively.

"Desperate, I'll just bet. I think we can dispense with the meadow-seduction compulsion for now."

Bella's mind is clear.

"Bella, Beautiful Bella, two things can happen here, and you are free to choose either option, whichever you want. Do you understand?"


"You can stay in here with me, and after a few minutes emerge triumphant. Those chains cannot hold me. I will remove the egg and you will return to your seat, and none will be the wiser."

Pulling Bella's body flush with his, he leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Or, we stay here, and I give you the single best orgasm of your life. Which do you want, Bella?"

"Will I ever see you again?" Through the thick, wet fog of her sexual excitement, her words are clear. Edward's response is not.

"I don't—I don't think so, no. No, Bella." Edward never sees the girls a second time. A mountain can only be summitted for the first time once. But this time, with this girl—something tells Edward it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it'd even be good.

"Then I'll take what I can get while you're here."

"In that case…"

Leaving her bra pushed up, Edward releases her breasts and drags his hands down her torso and over her hips. Bella is moaning softly, nearly continuously now. She writhes against him and feels how solid his body his, how strong.

"Brace your hands against the door."

She complies with another moan, pressing her palms flat against the rough, matte black wood, her fingertips brushing the window's frame. It doesn't feel nearly as sturdy as Edward does. Only the top of her head is visible through the window, indistinct and in shadow, framed by Edward's shoulders. He flips her skirt up, and her ass is revealed to him.

"Oh, God."

Her panties are thin, white cotton and small, leaving a good portion of her ivory flesh exposed. The movement and redirection required to insert the egg earlier had to be performed too quickly for Edward to appreciate her choice of lingerie, but he makes up for it now.

Because she's exquisite. Her ass is round and soft, and Edward can't resist running his hands over it, digging his fingers in and kneading. He slides the fingers of one hand down, between her legs, feeling the slight buzzing of the vibrator through her soaked panties. She's wet, so wet, and she arches her back, rubbing against Edward. She knows he's the only one who can give her the unquantifiable thing she wants.

Bella is moaning louder, feeling weightless and grounded, and desperate in both feelings. She wants the man behind her, and he's denying her now. She whimpers.

Edward grips the fabric of her panties and pulls it up and to the right, opening her up for him but keeping the egg pressed tight against her clit. The increased pressure makes her yelp.

"I don't have to test you to see if you're ready, do I? Mmm, no, I can tell that you are. But I want to, regardless." As he speaks, he slides two fingers of his left hand between her lips, massaging her entrance.

"Yes…fuck, yes."

Edward eases his finger in, pumping shallowly to warm her up. Her slick arousal makes the intrusion easier, but she's still squeezing down on him hard with her inner muscles. Bella is buzzing all over, not just the toy between her legs. The soles of her feet tingle, even, and her hamstrings are pulled tight. A delicious tension snaps up her back, and her nipples are so tight they ache. She feels as if she's perpetually going over the "fake out" drop of a rollercoaster, that first shallow curve that taunts the rider with the thrill to come. Flip-flopping belly, heart in her throat—Bella feels that, amplified a thousand times.

There's the sound of metal clinking, fabric rustling, and then she feels it: the head of Edward's cock is rubbing against her pussy.

"Beautiful Bella, do you want me?"

Bella can only groan, low in the back of her throat.

"Answer me!"

"Yes! Fuck me, please!"

"I told you that you'd beg."

He pushes into her firmly; hard, but not cruelly so. The rollercoaster's bottom drops out, and Bella falls into another orgasm just as the skin of Edward's hips meets hers. He grits his teeth and repeats the word fuck until he's sure he can hang on to his own climax.

Edward doesn't let her come down. Before the tremors rolling through her body subside entirely, he's already pulling out and pushing in again. He rotates his hips and uses his hold on her right hip—where he's still holding her stretched-out underwear out of the way—to pull Bella back onto him until he can't get any deeper inside. She cries out as he moves in pulses, allowing only the least possible amount of space to come between them before pushing in again.

Edward curses again as he struggles to reach into the pocket of his slacks, which hang loose from his hips. He grabs the little remote and then presses his hand against the door, next to Bella's, boxing her in. His fingertips curl over the window's jamb.

"Goddammit!" He pulls out, farther this time, and pushes back in before setting a moderate pace. In and out; push and pull. Bella's never felt so full, and her eyes roll back in her head. Her thoughts are adrift, a swarm of stingless bees in her mind. Every one of them is attuned singularly to the man fucking her from behind. Sensing his rhythm, Bella pushes her hips back to meet his thrusts.

Bella doesn't see Edward's thumb move over the remote, but she feels the vibrations intensify. She can't stop moaning. Edward drives into her relentlessly, working her over like there aren't a couple hundred people a few feet away. Bowing his head, Edward kisses and licks down Bella's throat; noses aside Bella's cardigan. The bite he gives her on her shoulder is hard enough to leave a mark, but Bella's sweater covers it again when Edward removes his mouth and works his way back up her neck. He can feel the tip of his cock hitting her, deep inside, and he waits. He waits until Bella cries out sharply.

"Uh! There it is. Fuck. Fuck. Oh, God," Edward groans.

Edward's chest is rubbing against Bella's back with every thrust, and he wishes he could have skin-to-skin contact, hating the fabric between them. Looking down Bella's shirt as he sucks lightly on the skin beneath her ear—she likes that—he wishes he'd pulled her bra down, not up, so he could watch her pert breasts bounce. He wishes this little tryst could last longer.

Edward increases the power on the vibrator, waits, and then increases it again. He thrusts into her hard, and she cries out, nearly screams. The four-minute eternity they've spent in the box is about to bring on the third orgasm she's had since Edward the Enervating laid eyes on her.

The egg is maxed out, and so is Edward's hold on his own climax. He's about to command her to come when she flips her long hair over her shoulder and looks back at him. She reaches, trying to capture his lips. Open-mouthed and panting, he's about to deny her. Edward doesn't kiss his volunteers. He never does.

But then his lips are firmly on hers. Their tongues touch, and they're both coming together and falling apart in each other's arms. He kisses her, she kisses him. They drift back down to Earth, the kiss softening as their breath calms. Edward simply enjoys the feeling of her body pressed against his as the waves of his climax fade to ripples, then nothingness. The stillness lasts only a second.

He breaks their kiss, shuts off and removes the egg, and straightens his own clothing before Bella is aware of anything more than an aching, unsatisfied emptiness. A lifetime of stage tricks makes his movements fast, sure, and nearly impossible to follow, even by eagle-eyed observers.

"Are you really magic?" Bella asks as he tries to straighten her stretched-out panties. He chuckles. She brushes his hands away, then slips them down her legs, steps out of them, and, turning carefully, tucks them into his pocket with a wink. He's momentarily stunned but recovers. He says his lines as he always does.

"When I count to three, you will awaken rested and refreshed. You will have a clear recollection of the events that transpired here, but no desire to repeat those events. When I count to three, you will be alert. Wake up. One, two, three."

Edward watches the trance's clarity fade from her eyes and is surprised by the limpidity that remains. She bites her lip; he wants to take her again. It's too bad that he can't. Won't. He won't.

"Are you ready, Bella?"

She hesitates.

"One last kiss before you fade away?" she asks softly.

He can't help but smile. He leans down and touches his lips to hers. The kiss is soft, its chastity at odds with the depravity of the actions leading to it.

"How about now? Ready to go?"

She nods, still staring up at him, looking contemplative.

"Turn around."

With a deep breath, Edward forces a cocky grin back onto his face, trying to replace the sleepy satiation he knows lingers there now. There is nothing amiss about their appearances that can't be explained away by their "escaping" the chains of the Wolf's Binding. He notices her glasses on the floor, and he crouches down quickly to scoop them up before putting them back on her head.

Edward pushes the door open, but Bella doesn't see a latch. Blinding stage light pours into the black apparatus, and Bella blinks in shock. It's a rough way to come to one's senses. Edward guides her forward, a triumphant hand raised above his head. He releases her waist and uses the freed hand to gesture to Bella. The audience's applause is long, loud, and genuine. Bella blushes and looks down.

"Beautiful Bella, everyone!" Bella shudders.

Edward takes Bella's hand and raises it. To the sound of cheers and whistles, he guides her into a bow. Bella turns her head towards him, and murmurs, "Where's your dressing room, Edward?"

Edward turns to her and gathers her hands up in his. He leans forward and brushes a kiss against her knuckles. A raised, questioning eyebrow. A moment's pause. Take the stage door. Walk down the hallway. Third door on the left. I'll come for you. You will tell me how you resisted my final suggestion.

"Thank you, Bella. You may return to your seat now."

AN2: Thank you to Jasper's Destiny at SparklyRedPen for betaing this, and to Sara ( abadkitty) for adding this to her already-incredibly-long to-do list (including betaing my other fic!) and prereading it for me. Cris ( judo_lin) also preread, in addition to writing her own entry for the contest.

Thanks to Whoever It Was on Twitter who, when I was talking out loud about my idea of a Magicianward, suggested a Hypnoward.

I will gladly answer any questions you may have about this fic, regarding hypnosis or otherwise, but I promise that everything you truly need to know is in the text. Or you can Google it.