Good Girl
I’m what you’d call . . . a good girl. Yes, I was a cheerleader, but only in high school. It’s not like I’m little miss priss or anything. Until recently I’d never had a very rich fantasy life. And certainly not the kind of fantasies I have now.
Now? Ah yes, now . . .
Well at this moment I’m on all fours scribbling this down while Master pets my head and calls me his good girl. Bottom up, face down. It is sort of helpful that he’s making me write this. I know it’s designed to help me realize how far I’ve come, but I’m hoping it’ll show how I came to this.
Okay, back to the beginning.
Like I said, no rich fantasies, just little old me being stubborn and independent as possible. I’d always had a lot of trouble with guys. They either wanted me for a one night, or they couldn’t stand being with me. I’m just one of those girls that insists on doing things for herself. Although occasionally a girl friend could talk me into things.
That’s really where this all started.
Heather invited me to a bar.
No biggie. I can handle bars. I’ve been to them before. I like dancing, and don’t mind a drink every now and then, as long as I buy my own drinks. I don’t need some guy to buy me a drink. If he wants to talk to me, he can come to talk to me, as long as he talks to me and not at me. Get it?
Anyway, Heather finds these two guys, and she’s doing her little giggly girl act, which is just so sickening, but it gets her what she wants I guess.
So, she huddles me in a corner and tries to whisper over the blaring music. “Sindy, c’mon! They’re cute!”
I smirk. “Serial killers are cute too!”
“Oh stop!” she slaps me playfully on the shoulder. “Look, I want to go with them, and I need some backup, k?”
I let out a big sigh. “We take our own car?”
“Of course!”
“Okay, but just for a little while.”
“That’s so cool! Oh, and one of them is, like, a hypnotist.”
And with that she dances away.
Meanwhile, I’m standing there with blood thundering in my ears, trying to be sure if I heard what I thought I heard.
The night:
“I’m sorry,” says Del. “I don’t drink.” He gives me a friendly little smile and a shrug, and I’ve got to admit: he is cute.
“Oh, well I can’t really either, since I’m driving,” I tell him, and he seems pretty pleased by that.
“Soooo,” Heather interrupts, “Del, when are you going to show us your voodoo magic spells, huh?”
Del’s face turns serious, and I see something I can only describe as authority. Just a second ago he was this nice friendly guy, and all of a sudden he’s got the face of a cop. Strong and commanding. Not unattractive, but I don’t like bossy guys.
“Yeah, Del, show them what you can do!” his friend laughs.
Del turns to his friend, Romey, and his eyes go dark. He just stares at him, and Romey backs away in mock surrender. He’s laughing, but you can see he’s a little intimidated too.
“There’s no magic involved,” Del explains. “Besides, to hypnotize someone, you need their cooperation.” He looks at me first, then over at Heather.
I suppress a shiver, but Heather just plops herself forward on the counter, all her cleavage showing, and says, “Think you can do me, Delly?”
‘Delly’? I wince. I hate it when she’s like that.
“Sure. Right this way.”
He picks up a sofa chair and guides Heather to it. Romey and I sit on the couch. He inches a little closer than I like and whispers in my ear, “Watch close, Sindy. Del’s a genius at this stuff.”
Heather wriggles in her chair, sort of bounces in her best sexy fashion and flashes her eyes at Del. I don’t like where this is headed, but there’s not much I can do about it. I’ve always had a ‘thing’ about hypnosis . . . it scares the hell out of me. Giving up control like that. And especially to a couple of strangers.
Heather flirts up a storm, but Del starts talking to her in this voice that’s soft and demanding all at the same time. He seems so sure of himself. It scares me even more. But there is something . . . intriguing about it too.
“Okay, Heather, if you’d kindly give me your hand. That’s right. Notice my touch. Notice how gently I touch your hand. Please watch my eyes. Just let your eyes settle on mine. We’re going to be staring at each other for awhile, so I hope you appreciate my eyes. Yours are certainly lovely.”
She bats her eyelashes and smiles at him. “Well, I think yours are lovely too . . . Del.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind of you, Heather. Now, Heather, watch my eyes, and feel your hand in mine. I’m going to just gently shake your hand, just like this. Do you feel that?”
Before she could even say “yes”, he continues.
“Just loose and limp, loose and limp. Even as I shake your arm you can already begin to feel your muscles relaxing. All the muscles in your fingers are relaxing, letting go, letting go. Even as I shake your arm, looking directly into my eyes, noticing how your body is settling into the chair, just settling in and relaxing. Relaxing. Loose and limp, loose and limp.
“Watch my eyes, Heather, as I’m shaking the tension away, all the muscle tension of your wrist, shaking off, shaking away, loose and limp, settling into the chair as you feel the muscles loosen in your elbow and arm, all the way up to your shoulder, loose and limp.”
He was really giving her arm a good shake. Heather was staring intently up at him, and I could feel myself sort of relaxing a little, settling into my own chair. I took a quick breath, gathered all my senses about me, and felt a lump in my throat.
He was going to hypnotize her. With shock, I realized he was actually going to do it! It repelled me, excited me, left me all confused and flustered. I wanted with all my heart to be her right now, falling under his control, letting go. But at the same time, I was terrified of it all.
“Loose and limp, feeling heavy now, heavy all over, top to bottom, heavy and relaxed, heavy and relaxed. Watch my eyes, Heather. Feel the strain of your eyes, of all the muscles in your face. You can let them go whenever you wish. Let the muscles of your face go. Your cheeks . . . go. The tension in your jaw release. The tightness around your eyes as they look up, straining to keep even with mine . . . relaxing, relaxing.”
Her cheeks were jostling now, as he shook her arm, and it seemed to me, she wasn’t really doing anything, not going under, but she wasn’t actually thinking anymore either, just sitting there and listening, while he soothed her more and more. His voice was soft, but insistent. Almost impossible to resist.
“Down your spine, even as you feel the warmth of your hand in mine, loose and limp. Even as you feel every breath in and out of your lungs, in and out, relaxed and heavy, loose and limp. Everything’s coming down now. All of your senses, letting go, your mind letting go, loose and limp. Muscles releasing all their tension. Eyes so heavy, so relaxed and heavy. The tension gone from all the muscles from around your eyes. Your whole body is just . . . loosening, letting go, letting go . . .”
Her eyes seemed lethargic suddenly, blinking at half speed. It looked like it was all she could do to keep her eyes on his. Her face was blushing and she really did look loose and limp, just like he said. The lump in my throat was pulsing like a second heart now. I was on the edge of my seat, petrified, excited beyond words, watching my friend have her will charmed away from her.
As he was shaking her arm, her head started to bob, and all of a sudden he just breathed the word, “down!", and pulled on her arm.
She toppled forwards and I felt as if I was on fire. All the tension in the room seemed to rush out all of a sudden. All that anticipation hanging like a thick cloud was suddenly just gone.
I swallowed and swallowed, felt like I was going to explode all over, and had this terrible urge to rush to him and beg to be put under.
At the same time, however, I was repelled by my own thoughts.
It was so quick! It couldn’t have happened so quick! He should be droning on and on about her heavy eyes! She was supposed to only pretend to go under, then pop her head up laughing.
Instead, she was slumped forward over her knees, her skirt riding up, showing off her underwear to anyone who wanted a good peek. Heather might be a little boy crazy, but she was not a slut. She would never let this happen unless . . . it was real.
Del spoke quickly, almost as if slipping his words into her before she could object. Quick and confident, he snapped his fingers, pressed her further down over her knees, and kept telling her, “deeper and deeper”, over and over. By the time he was through, she was like a ragdoll, almost boneless.
“Now, Heather, you can hear me and only me, and you can respond to me without waking up. Can’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fine. You’ll find that you might waken a little here and there, but then you’ll remember my eyes and you’ll slip right back down, right back down, deeper and deeper with every breath. Every breath, every word you hear, sending you deeper and deeper. Isn’t that right, Heather?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fine. Heather, which do you like better, cats or dogs?”
“Cat’s,” she whispered.
“That’s fine, Heather. In fact, you love cats, don’t you? Absolutely love them with all your heart, don’t you?”
“ . . . yes,” she said finally.
“You so love them so much, you’d like to be one, wouldn’t you? You’d love to be a sleek cat. In fact, you want to be one, don’t you? You will be one for us, won’t you? You’ll become a cat for us whenever you hear me say the word ‘meow’, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Every time I say the word ‘meow’ you’ll become a cat. You will be a cat for us, and you’ll react in all the ways a cat does, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fine, Heather. And you can feel my hand on the back of you neck now, can’t you? My warm hand. And you can feel how totally relaxed you are. Completely relaxed, deep in trance, and every time you feel my hand on back of your neck, you’ll return to this state, won’t you?”
“Yes.” Her answers were more certain now.
“That’s fine, and you’re so relaxed, so deeply asleep that you won’t remember any of this, will you? Just like when you’ve had a dream and it slips away from you when you awaken. When you awaken, this will be a dream that slips away, down into your subconscious, and away from your conscious mind. Isn’t that right, Heather?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fine. And now I’m going to count from five to one backwards, and when I reach one, you’re going to awaken feeling refreshed and wonderful, as if you’ve had a full eight hours sleep, but remembering nothing. Remembering nothing, but following all my instructions, is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, Heather, you’re doing fine. And every time you hear your name, Heather, you will no longer be a cat, will you? In fact you won’t remember being a cat, will you?”
“No.”
“That’s fine. Five . . . four . . . coming up now, feeling your body awaken . . . three . . . two . . . almost awake, ready to open your eyes feeling totally refreshed . . . and one!”
“Uh . . . what’s going on?” Heather asks uncertainly, and looks over at me. What she sees on my face makes her worry, I guess. “Did it work?”
I can feel all the blood run into my cheeks. I hope the guys don’t see it. I give her a slight nod and try to warn her with my eyes, but she glances away.
“How do you feel, Heather?” Romey says, grinning from ear to ear.
“Um, fine, I guess. I just sat down though. Nothing happened.”
“That’s okay, Heather,” Del says apologetically. “It doesn’t work on everyone . . . does it, Romey?”
Romey turns white as a ghost. I’m wondering what the hell is going on there, but before I can even ask, Del helps Heather out of the sofa chair. She proceeds to straighten her skirt.
“Ah, so, what do we now? You want to have a go at Sindy?”
I’m so blushing bad now I think I’m literally going to pass out. That lump won’t even let me speak without choking. I try to say, “No, I don’t think so.” But instead all I do is open my mouth and swallow . . . loudly.
“Aw, c’mon, Sindy. I bet he could put you under, couldn’t you, Delly?”
Del’s smile is friendly again. “I could put Sindy under like that.” He snaps his fingers to emphasize his point, and for a moment I’m afraid he did put me under and that was some kind of signal. Fortunately, nothing happens.
“Oh by the way, Heather. Meow.”
Heather drops to all fours and starts twisting her body around Del’s legs, making a purring sound with her tongue, and mewing the whole time. I can’t believe it. I want to excuse myself from the room, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from my friend on the floor.
“What a good kitty?” Del laughs and scratches her shoulders and down her body. Sure enough, she lifts her ass to him as he scratches it.
This is so bizarre. She’s crawling around in a skirt, hose, and heels, truly believing she’s a cat. All I can think is, could he do that to me? Could he turn me into his pet? Then I wonder where the hell those thoughts came from!
Del plays with her awhile. Bringing her out of it, then slamming her with it again. She’s standing in the kitchen, flirting with him . . . boom! she’s on the floor, rubbing my hand with her face.
“Okay, I think that’s about enough,” I inform Del. To my surprise, he agrees.
“Heather,” he reaches down and touches the back of her neck just as she’s starting to come out of it. She’s a human, looking around, wondering why she’s on the floor, then all of a sudden, “Sleep!” She’s sprawled out on the floor.
Del grins up at Romey. “Let’s see what this girl can really do!”
Del’s been whispering to Heather softly for a couple of minutes. She’s nodding her head again and again. I don’t know what he’s asking her, and I’m not sure I want to know. I don’t hesitate to voice my objection though.
“Uh, guys, I think that’s enough. I mean, it’s getting late.”
“What are you afraid of?” Romey asks me, and I can feel the blood boil in my veins. It’s my stubbornness working against me again.
“Nothing,” I lie, and cross my arms and keep silent.
Del touches Heather on the hand and begins counting again, five to one. Then, she’s back, bright eyed, no problems. Good, maybe we can go now. But I wonder what he’s done to her.
“How do you feel?”
She stretches. “Great! Oh, Sindy, you’ve got to try this! It’s like a total blast! You’re out for a minute, then when you wake up, it’s like you’re totally feeling great!”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her, her minute was more like half an hour. Anyway, she seems alright, and she’s not a stupid person, so maybe we can make our escape now.
“Sure you don’t want to have a go, Sindy?” Del asks me. His voice is sweet and gentle, but I’ve heard what he can do with it, and it frightens me. I do my best to laugh it off, but he gives me a weird look, like maybe he know something I don’t.
“Anyway, it’s getting late, so maybe we should go.”
“Yeah, but let me give you my number, Del,” Heather offers and I’m wishing like hell she wouldn’t do that, and wondering if somehow he didn’t program her to do that. But that’s silly. She would’ve given it to him anyway. I can see how attracted to him she is.
“Well, that would be wonderful, Heather.”
“Say there, Sindy,” Romey says from over my shoulder. “Why don’t we exchange numbers.”
“Um, I really would rather not. No offense, but I’m kind of seeing someone so—”
“Kind of?” he half insists.
“Look, I just don’t want to, okay? I’m trying to be nice.”
“Jesus! Whatever. Fine.”
You just can’t say ‘no’ to a guy without insulting him. I learned that a long time ago. He storms off to the fridge to get another beer, but doesn’t take long. He knows something is going to happen. He knows more than I do.
“Well, it’s been great meeting you both,” Del says, and he seems sincere enough, and not forward at all, so I smile.
“Same here, but we really got get going.”
“Heather,” Del says softly, “I bet you’ve got very soft skin. Don’t you? You’ve got very soft skin.”
She looks up at him with a peculiar expression. Not really blank or zombie like, but not quite all there either, and before I know it she’s removing her blouse, one button at a time, still staring at his eyes, almost lost in them or something.
“Heather!” I complain, and try to make her put it back on.
It’s not the guys that stop me though; it’s her. There’s something in her eyes that’s like she’s begging me, telling me, ‘Sindy . . . I want this!’
I don’t like the way this turning out. Heather’s almost naked. Every time, she seems to come to her senses, he says the words, “soft skin” and she strips further. Down to her undies, mewing at his feet every time he says, “meow”, she wiggles her bottom like she’s got a tail and licks his hand.
“Del, stop this,” I try, but he’s not moved.
“Sindy, if she didn’t want to do this, she wouldn’t. I’m not making her do these things.”
“Well, why the hell else would she be doing them then?”
“Because she’s got a submissive streak a mile wide, as do you, I suspect.”
I get flustered then. “I do not.” But it’s hopeless. As much as I resist it, I’m mesmerized by what he’s done to my friend. I’m repelled by it, appalled by it. I would tell anyone who’d listen how disgusting it is, but I’d be lying. The truth is, I wish it was me debasing myself like that.
“Heather . . . sex kitten.”
She looks up, realizing suddenly that she’s human again, then all of a sudden, she stands up and starts . . . moving. Swaying her hips, tossing her hair, sucking on her lips, trying to be as sexy as possible. She and I used to do it as a joke in private. Impersonating topless dancers as sexy as we could manage, but now she’s doing it for real.
“What—what are you doing to her?”
“Releasing her,” Del says, and he sounds almost as if he’s in a trance himself.
“Hi, Del, don’t you want me to fuck you?”
“No, sweetie, but Romey over here would like it very much if you would be very nice to him. Wouldn’t you, Romey?”
Romey was speechless, just watching Heather like a hungry tiger, ready to eat her alive. He nodded silently as Heather slithered over to him and started rubbing against him and softly kissing her way down to the already tented crotch of his pants.
“Del, I want you to stop this.”
“Sindy, I asked her if she wanted this and she said she did.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t have to. Look, I’ve never done this before, turned a couple of girls into sex slaves.”
“Oh, bullshit! And I’m not even close to being your sex slave.”
He shook his head in regret. “You want to be though.”
I was livid, but I just couldn’t find the words to express it.
“I promise, Sindy, I’ll make sure she’s okay. I won’t let Romey take advantage of her.”
“What do you call that?” I pointed to her on her knees slowly sliding Romey’s zipper down.
“Is this what you want, Romey, darling?” Heather was sweetly asking him. He just nodded, his eyes lit up with awe and anticipation.
“That,” Del replied, “is your friend doing just what she wants to do. I know how this seems, Sindy, but please try to trust me.”
The noises Romey and Heather were making were too much for me, and Del could see that so he ushered me outside. There, in the cold night air, he worked on me some more.
“Think back, Sindy. Has Heather every expressed an interest in this kind of behavior, y’know, a sex slave, a harem girl, anything like that?”
I thought back to the S&M books I found in her closet by mistake. I remembered how embarrassed she was, so much so that she couldn’t even talk about it, and Heather talked about everything.
“That’s just fantasy,” I said flatly, and pushed from my mind my own incredible excitement as I read one of the books. I’d thrown it back into the closet though, quickly denying that I could ever be turned on by anything like that.
“Heather needed it to be more.”
“I’m getting her and going home.”
“I won’t stop you.”
“Return her to normal, Del.”
“It’s too late for that. It’s Pandora’s Box. You know that. I can say the magic words that will return her to Heather, but it won’t last. She’s going to want more. She’s gotten a taste, and she’s going to come back and beg me to do it to her again.”
“Del, you hypnotized her. We both know that. That . . . slut is not Heather. She’s your version of Heather. Your private little slutty little slave. That says more about you then it does her.”
“That’s right, it’s hypnosis. But it’s not brainwashing. She has an excuse. If I hypnotize her and suggest to her that she be a sexy, slutty little slave girl, she’s going to use that as an excuse. It’s not her, it’s a suggestion she has to follow. But it’s just a suggestion! Nothing more. It lets her off the hook. It’s an excuse.”
“I want to go home now. And I want her to come with me.”
He sighed, nodded, and agreed. “Fine. I’m sorry you feel this way about me though, Sindy, because I really like you.”
“Now, Del.”
We went in, he whispered something in her ear and suddenly she was back. Same old Heather.
Well . . . actually . . . nothing was the same anymore. Not even me, but I didn’t know that just yet.
So what . . . it took me like a week to realize I was going to go see Del again. For the first three days I walked around campus feeling like I was wearing a sponge instead of panties. Wet, wet, wet. I couldn’t look at Heather without imagining her down on all fours servicing Romey. I sought out her trashy books twice and stopped myself. I couldn’t study, couldn’t think, couldn’t sleep. All I thought about when I closed my eyes was surrendering to Del’s mysterious power, waking up enslaved, forced to do whatever he told me. And in my fantasies, he always told me a lot. I won’t go into detail, especially since I found out later they were nothing compared to my future reality.
The next two days of dampness in a certain unnamed area I spent seriously considering the telephone. I wanted to call Del like I’d wanted to call no other man in my life. I’d finally decided this couldn’t go on. I had to sleep, and if seeing Del and being hypnotized was the answer, than so be it.
It didn’t hurt that I was averaging about four orgasms daily, all from just closing my eyes and remembering Heather in his power. I even skipped out in the middle of my Lit. class to go masturbate in the bathroom. It wasn’t so unusual that I might masturbate. I did it often enough, about once a month, right before my period usually. It sort of helped with cramps sometimes, but never like this.
When I came home early one morning and saw Heather on the telephone, I knew I couldn’t resist any longer. She was sitting there, one ear to the receiver, her left arm stretched out before her, solid and stiff. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted forward, and she kept whispering these soft, utterly compliant “yes’s”.
I got a soda from the fridge and sat on the couch watching her, thankful her eyes were closed because I was rubbing myself again. What was wrong with me? It was like I was a sex maniac all over a sudden. Or maybe, for the first time in my life, I’d clued into something that was so fundamental, so basic to my personality, that I couldn’t deny it. Pandora’s box.
When Heather was awake, she just stared at me. I motioned for the phone, and after a few words to Del on the other end, she handed it over.
“Hello?” I said.
“Sindy?” Del said, surprised.
“I . . . I need to talk to you.”
“Anytime, Sindy. I can’t tell how you much I’ve thought about you over the past few days.”
“Yes, that’s nice. Thank you, I guess. Look, whatever is going on between you and Heather . . . is okay with me. I’m not mad or anything. I don’t blame you or anything. I did a little research on hypnosis, and talked to a professor at psychology and it was all like you said . . . voluntary. My professor even offered me a demonstration.” I felt my voice shake on the last sentence. I hoped Del didn’t notice.
“Well . . . maybe you should take him up on it.”
“Yes, maybe. . . . That’s all, Del. I just wanted to tell you I was okay with you and Heather.”
“Heather and I don’t have anything going, Sindy. She’s not really my type, but . . . I’m glad you understand.”
“Sure.”
With that, I gave the phone back to Heather, who just gave me a puzzled look.
What was wrong with me? I wanted to go see him, make an appointment or something, but I just couldn’t. I was afraid he was right about me, that somehow I was this little slave girl trapped inside a tomboy, and I just couldn’t stand the idea.
Another day of me squishing when I walked was all it took. On my way to the Library I usually passed the apartments where Del lived. Without thinking, I headed for them, asking myself the entire way if I knew what I was doing.
I didn’t . . . or did, or . . . I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think about it.
I knocked.
‘Please don’t be here, Del. Be in class. Be at the rec center, anywhere but—’
“Coming,” came his voice from inside.
I swallowed my heart, felt like crying, felt like laughing. I just stood there flustered, totally confused and turned on, one big basket case. If he opened the door, I was just going to burst into a million pieces and rush inside his apartment like a river.
The door swung open, and his handsome face appeared.
“Sindy?” he half-gasped, half-asked.
“Y-yes, I—can I—I need to talk—” I paused and tried to collect my thoughts.
“Do you want to come in?” he offered. I could hear the hope in his voice. Was he attracted to me? He was. He’d admitted it that first night. How could’ve I forgotten that? Had he been as messed up the last week as I had? I doubted it.
I stepped inside, my hands in my pockets, out of my pockets, on my hips, off them, fidgeting with each other. I crossed my arms and tried to think of something to say.
“What can I do for you?” he wondered.
‘More like to me,’ I thought.
“Del . . .” I tried, then stopped and began again. “Del—”
“What is it, Sindy?” he asked, his face losing that friendliness, edging towards strong and commanding again. “What do you want?”
“I—I have to . . . I just . . . I—”
“It’s okay, Sindy. Just say it.” His whisper was so soft, it took me by surprise. And yet, as sweet as it was, there was something that felt dark about it too.
“Hypnotize me,” I said, and it sounded so loud I was afraid I’d screamed it. “Please, I—”
“Okay, but you need to relax, okay?”
I sighed. “Okay.”
“Why don’t we sit on the couch and talk for a moment okay?”
I went and sat on the couch. Did I really want this? It seemed like it. I didn’t know why, but I did. Maybe I just wanted to know . . . or maybe learn something about myself, find out why I was acting this way.
“Look . . . I can see you’re very nervous about this—”
“Well, yes, I’m terrified. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Just relax, Sindy. Trust me. You really won’t do anything you don’t want to.”
“But I want . . . I want to not be able to. . . .” I couldn’t finish.
“Okay, I know, I know. I tell you what. I’d like you to look up at the tip of that ceiling fan right there. Just the tip of that fan blade, okay?”
I swallowed, face on fire, took a breath, felt like crying again, and prepared to surrender my will. I looked up at the tip of the ceiling fan. There was a little brass tip on it. I focused on one of the screws.
“That’s good. Now, I can see you’ve very tense, so I’m just going to hold your hand, okay? Feel the touch of my hand under yours. Feel it’s warmth, take a deep breath for me now.”
I inhaled.
“Now hold it in, and as you do so, think about all the tension in your body gathering together, mixing with the air in your lungs, preparing to rush out the moment you exhale. Now, let it out.”
I did so.
“All of it, every last little bit. Now, is that a little better?”
I swallowed, nodded, started to say yes, but he interrupted.
“Just keep your eyes on the fan, please. Now, once again, breathe in please. . . .”
We did that again and again. Me just staring at that little screw on the tip of the fan blade, and him guiding my breathing. In and out, in and out. That’s all we did for at least ten minutes or so. I was getting a little disappointed actually. This wasn’t nearly the powerful experience I thought it was going to be.
“Are you feeling better, Sindy? More relaxed now?”
“Yes,” I said, eyes still fixed to the fan. What with it being up on the ceiling and all, my eyes were getting a little tired from having to constantly look up.
“Good. Now I can see you’re still a little tense, so we’ll use that, alright? Just thank of your right hand now. Concentrate on the sensation of the fabric of your jeans, the denim rough against the pads of your fingertips, your palms. Focus on the warmth of you legs and the jeans, on the warmth of your hand as it settles and relaxes on your leg. Think about the position of your fingers so near to one another. Think about the position of your thumb. As you feel these things you’ll realize that one of your fingers or thumb on your right hand is going to move. It might be just a twitch, or a slight spasm in the muscle, but one of them is going to move. It’s not a question, Sindy. It’s a fact.
“Even as you pay close attention to the sensation of your tired eyes, the strain of staring up at the ceiling fan, you’ll become aware of how very still your right hand is, and how it needs to move. Just like any part of your body needs to do when it’s been so very still for so very long, it requires movement. you can feel how tense your fingers are, the joints of them, the knuckles, the joint of your wrist, and the real need to move it.
“Try not to move it though. Try your very hardest to keep your right hand as still as possible, even as your eyelids feel the strain of staring up at the ceiling fan, even as they feel the need to close. Even as you feel the need to let go of all that tension.
“You can think about each breath relaxing you a little if you like. With each breath, feel your body begin to settle into relaxation, back and down into the couch, even as you focus your attention only on your right hand, knowing that any moment it’s going to move, move of its own volition, its own will. And knowing also that when that movement happens, you’ll truly begin to relax, begin to relax, relax fully.
“Focusing only on your right hand about to move, about to twitch, about to spasm, as your eyes grow so tired, so dry and red and itchy.”
I blinked a couple of times because my eyes felt incredibly dry. I was trying to moisten them a little.
“With every blink, relaxing, knowing you can only truly relax fully when your right hand twitches, when it moves, spasms. Not knowing which finger it might be, maybe the thumb, or the wrist, but knowing that with all your concentration on it, it must move soon. Focusing on how very, very still it has been. So still, so motionless for so long. The tension building in your fingers, in your thumb, in the joints and knuckles, in your body, in your back and shoulder, in your knees and ankles, in the muscles surrounding your eyes as they strain to remain open, even as they water and need more and more to close, to close and relax, knowing you can only relax once your right hand—”
My right thumb twitched! Just like he said. With a start, I realized he was hypnotizing me. Right here and now, he was just doing it and I hadn’t even noticed. Then my thoughts faded as I tried to keep up with what he was saying.
“—will begin to feel a separation of mind and body, Sindy, as you relax, as you proceed downward into deep relaxation, even as the muscles of your body let go of their tension, as they release their tension, as you relax and let go, loose and limp, loose and limp. . . .”
Something was happening. I was having a real tough time keeping my eyes focused on the ceiling fan. They were running with tears and I kept blinking them for longer and longer periods trying to soothe him. Del must’ve noticed it, because the next thing I knew, he’d bypassed me altogether and was talking to them.
“—eyelids know they will close soon because they are so heavy and dry, heavy and dry and itchy and red, itchy and red and need relief. And the muscles surrounding them can begin to relax, even as you continue to try to keep your eyes open, knowing they can’t stay open much longer, that they need relief, that they will close soon, body relaxing now, that they will begin to close to find relief from the constant heaviness, so dry now that they are closing. Closing, Sindy, closing, down and down, slipping down now, knowing that when they close they will be so soothed, so relaxed, feeling so good to be closed that they will not open. No matter how much you may want them to open again, they will not. They know this, and so do you, Sindy. Counting backwards from five to one now, Sindy, knowing you must keep them open until I reach one. Must keep them open, Sindy.”
My eyes were on fire, desperate for relief, blinking and crying. It was all I could do to keep them open.
“Five, closing very soon. Four, incredibly heavy. Three, wanting so bad to close, to find relief. Two, unable to open them after they’ve closed, so securely locked, so tightly closed. And one. Close.”
I breathed with relief as they stopped fluttering and closed. Now my eyes were betraying me. First my thumb was listening to him, now this.
“Think about your closed eyes now, how tightly closed they are, how they don’t want to open, don’t want to return to the itchy and dry, and that harsh, heavy strain, how they just want to remain soothed, remain closed, how tight they press against your eyes, how tightly closed they are, how no matter how hard you try, they will not open. No matter how much you want them to, they will not open. The more you strain to open them, the more the muscles of your eyes will relax. In fact, let’s help those muscles relax now. I want you try to open them now. Try to open them, and feel the relaxation in those muscles, the very real lead weight of your eyelids as they remained pressed downward. Tons and tons of weight on your closed eyelids even as you try so hard to open them and fail.”
I did try. I lifted my eyebrows and all at once felt all the muscles just let go. Just like that! Boom! I knew after that first try I’d never be able to open them, and yet it didn’t feel weird or abnormal. Of course I couldn’t open them, they were tired, really heavy. It was like trying to lift a pile of bricks. Yet I knew somewhere inside that I should be able to open them.
“Now that your thumb has moved and you’ve begun to relax, you’ll begin slipping downward, away from the tension. Now that your eyes have closed, and are unable to open, you’ll begin to float away, drift away, away from this room, away from your body and towards the sound of my voice. You don’t have to concentrate on anything now but the sound of my voice. The sound of my voice, the sound of my voice, the sound of my voice, Sindy.”
When I woke up, that was the last thing I remembered, him saying that phrase over and over. And yet, my whole world was upside down.
I opened my eyes, felt the urge to take a deep breathe, and stretched a little. Del sat on the couch watching me. Almost at once, I gulped.
“You did it, didn’t you?” I asked, fearing the answer.
“I did what you asked.”
I looked around, thinking I’d be naked and crawling around on all fours. I felt normal. I didn’t feel out of control or like I was somebody’s zombie slave, but there was still this thrumming throughout my whole body. I’d been just hypnotized, and the very idea made me almost vibrate with excitement.
“So . . . what did you do to me?” I wondered, realizing how vulnerable I sounded.
“I . . . explored a little, then I planted a suggestion that you wouldn’t remember anything, and also a suggestion that when I said a certain phrase, you’d go under.”
I nodded, still waiting to be turned into a sex slave at any moment. If he’d done this to Heather, I could see why she wanted it again. There was the anticipation or agony of the unknown: not knowing what someone had suggested to you and whether or not you might do it. But also, it felt really great. When you came out of it, you were alert and refreshed, and just generally feeling good.
“Is that all?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know, but there was some part of me that was hoping he’d done more.
He shrugged. “It was only a first session, Sindy.”
“Yes, but Heather—”
“Heather wanted to be shown off, in front of people, but most of all in front of you. She wanted to be . . . humiliated I guess you’d say in front of you. Quite a lot of her fantasies involve you, it seems.”
“Oh.” Was that a good thing? Should I be flattered, or was Del trying to tell me that my best friend and roommate was having sexual fantasies about me. Oh, I know how guys are about that kind of thing, lesbians and all—I don’t get it—but if it’s you and your friend is having those kind of thoughts, well . . . it has a tendency to weird you out a little.
“Your fantasies are more private. You dream of giving yourself totally to one person. Heather has what you’d call the good girl/slut complex. She’s been forced to be a good girl her entire life, when what she really wants is to be the other. It’s sort of like resenting the popular kids in school, when in actuality you envy them.
“You, Sindy, have some very deep rooted fantasies. I suspected something of that nature, but I must say you surprised even me.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, and since you aren’t actually owning up to them consciously, I’d say the days ahead are going to be . . . hm, strange and wonderful.”
“Del . . . I don’t feel like anything has happened. I still feel the same.”
“You want proof.” It wasn’t a question. He’d expected such a challenge. Was I that predictable?
“Not proof, necessarily, I just—”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Um, I guess my thumb twitching.”
“Yes, and your eyes getting heavy after that?”
“Oh yeah,” I admitted, “I couldn’t open them. I forgot about that.”
“Uh huh, how did that feel to not be able to open your eyes?”
I felt my eyes sort of half blink all by themselves. I could just think about that feeling and have it almost happen all over again. “Just . . . well, it felt normal.”
“But you do remember trying to open your eyes and not being able?”
“Yes, that’s so strange. At the time—”
“Goldmine, Sindy.”
It took me a second to realize what he said, and then I was just overcome by this extreme heaviness all over. “Wha-wh—”
“Down and down and down, Sindy. . . .”
So now I’d done it: let some strange guy take advantage of my subconscious mind. I’d done it. I was over it . . . right? Not even close. I was still antsy in class, hardly able to concentrate. I kept wondering what Del had done to me. What suggestions had he implanted? Would I follow them? Would I obey his silent, unrememerable commands?
Well, he’d apparently told me not to remember them, or my session with him, and that had worked. Whenever my mind wandered back to his apartment (and it did constantly), I remembered knocking, talking to him, then there was a huge blank spot. I knew something had happened, that time had passed, but I couldn’t recall anything about it.
That alone made my undies damp.
Sleep was no better. My fantasies constantly undid me. I kept remembering Heather. How glassy her eyes had become. How lethargic her blinking had become. How slack her cheeks had become. How obedient and compliant, absorbing everything Del told her like she was a big sponge.
I kept putting myself in her place, and it was only made worse by the knowledge that I had been in her place. I watched myself grow limp and fall into Del’s lap (or sometimes on the floor at his feet) over and over in my head, like reruns on television.
But what confused me the most was that he hadn’t told me when to return. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to go back when I wanted to, or if he’d implanted some suggestion to return on my own without knowing. Would I just open my eyes one day and see his friendly face? Would I be talking to a friend and go blank when they accidentally said a certain phrase? Would they tell me I’d just marched off like a robot?
I received my answer one day . . . sort of.
I was at home, doing laundry, trying to study my history in between loads, and for some reason I kept glancing at the clock. There was something about 7:15. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I was waiting for 7:15 to come around. But what then? I didn’t know.
At 7:15 the phone rang. I figured it was Heather or someone from class desperate about the upcoming test. I picked up the receiver and heard a dial tone. Whoa! It had just rung, hadn’t it? I could’ve sworn I’d heard it! I mean, I would’ve testified under oath in a court of law that I’d heard that phone ring.
Suddenly, my fingers were moving. I knew they were moving. I was watching them press the buttons, but I wasn’t really making them move. On the first ring, I heard Del’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Um, hello?” I asked, confused.
“Sindy?”
“Del?”
I jerked with surprise, tried to pull the phone closer and accidentally pushed my book off the table. “H-hi, I was, um, wait a minute, my papers—”
I gathered my papers and smashed them together between the pages of the book, tried to calm myself, took a deep breath, and reclaimed the phone. His voice excited me beyond belief. It was that warm, soothing tone that had put me under and so easily discovered all these things about me, things I was currently questioning. I still wasn’t sure that he was right about me.
“Hi, uh, my books got . . . anyway, how are, um, things, Del?”
“Relax, Sindy.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
I waited, held my breath, wondering if that was some trigger, some cue that I was supposed to do something, feel something. But nothing happened.
“Sorry,” I laughed.
“It’s okay. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
“No, I’m just studying.” My hand swept a lock of my brown curls behind an ear. I was very aware that it was something I did when I was flirting. I wasn’t sure why I did it now though, cause even if I was flirting with Del, it wasn’t like he could see it. But then, maybe he could, in the same way I could hear him smiling when he talked. Weird.
“Is Heather there with you?”
“No. . . .” My heart fell. Is that what he wanted?
“So . . . you’re alone?” he asked.
“Yes. . . .”
“Goldmine, Sindy.”
My whole body seemed to just be taken by an extreme heaviness all of a sudden. He kept talking, but it sounded like mumbling, and it seemed to go on and on and on, and somewhere in there, I was dimly aware I heard my own voice. It’s hard to describe. It’s like I wasn’t quite totally in trance. It was a little like hearing a television in the next room, the sound dulled by the wall. You could hear it, even make out a word now and then, but you couldn’t really hear it at all. It was just this low, bassy rumbling like someone’s voice, but with no way to tell what was actually being said.
Then, the next instant, I was hanging up the phone, hearing myself say, almost automatically, “Yes, Del.”
Then I was sitting there staring sort of dazed at the phone. It was like when you get up early and you find yourself just staring at the cereal box, or the TV. Then you snap out of it, as I did, and you’re back to normal.
I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I was pretty sure I’d just followed one of Del’s suggestions. My heart was in my throat again. I had an incredible urge to run to my bedroom and take my panties off, to start rubbing until I couldn’t stop.
Instead, I took a walk. I figured some fresh air would do me good.
It took about twenty-five minutes before I found myself at the door of Del’s apartment. I jerked awake, wondering what I’d been thinking about this whole time.
My hand moved to the doorknob and twisted it. That’s the last thing I remember, because when the door opened, it was just like I fell forward into nothingness.
My eyes opened and I was on the couch. I still felt groggy, like I’d been under anesthesia at the dentist’s office or something. Just sort of out of it. I stretched a little, rubbed my eyes and tried to wake up.
“Well . . .” Del smiled. “You went pretty deep that time. You surprised even me.”
“Hm, that’s a good thing, I suppose.”
Del frowned. “What is it about all this that bothers you, Sindy?”
I put my head in my hands for a moment, then tried looking him in the eye. That didn’t work either, so I let my eyes sort of wander off while I sat there wrapped my arms around myself. “I don’t know. It’s embarrassing for one thing. I’ve always prided myself on being independent, and now, it’s like my own mind is betraying me. How could I of all people have submissive fantasies? I thought I was normal.”
Del laughed. He shook his head and just grinned at me. “Normal. You are normal, Sindy. Look, everyone has these deep dark little fetishes, secrets they don’t anyone to know about.”
“Yeah, but this. . . .”
“Do you like Madonna?”
“I like her a little yes.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I like her music, I guess.”
“What about just her, without the music. Don’t you think she’s kind of powerful and . . . oh, I don’t know.”
“Fearless,” I muttered.
“Yes . . . fearless. Exactly. I’m not a big fan of her music, but it seems to me she knows who she is and that makes her more powerful, stronger.”
“Hm, yeah, I guess so. She certainly is strong.”
“But she’s feminine too. Look, the more you know about yourself, the stronger you are. You don’t know what you’re really capable of. I think you’d be surprised how really strong your mind is.”
I just stared at him.
“You came to me because you were driven by some unknown feelings deep inside you.”
I nodded, glancing at the floor.
“Well, now you know about them. You want to know what it’s like to not be always in control, to not always be strong and independent. That doesn’t change who you are. You’re still you, Sindy. You’re still strong and independent, but this is a release from all that, from reality, from having to always be that way.”
I swallowed, wondering if any of this was true.
“What do you want . . . really? From this whole experience? What is it you want to feel?”
I swallowed again, deeper, that lump in my throat harder to get down. I knew the answer. It remained only for me to admit it.
“Loss of. . . .” I tried.
“Control?” Del suggested.
I breathed through it, the admission, no, the confession weighing like a ton of bricks on my shoulders. “Loss of . . . everything.”
“To be lost?”
“Helpless.”
“Controlled?”
I nodded, in complete disbelief. Why would I want this? What was wrong with me?
“It’s okay, Sindy. It’s not as weird as you might think. By the way, you can take your sweater off now. Strip. It’s just something that happens to us.”
I tried to laugh, but I felt tears in my eyes. I was not aware, however, of my hands pulling at the bottom of my sweater. I knew I was taking my sweater off, but I wasn’t really aware of it. It was just . . . not something I thought about.
“People are like that, Sindy. Strip. You can take your shirt off too, if you’d like. We get stuck with fetishes. Maybe it was some way we were raised, some thing we saw or experienced as children.”
I undid the buttons on my blouse and stood to ease it out of the waistband of my jeans. A second later and I was slipping my arms out of the sleeves and folding it neatly. I was laying it on the coffee table and sitting there in just a bra without thinking about it.
“But what happened to me to make me like this? And why would I feel the need to be so independent the rest of the time?”
“Strip. Your pants too, if you’d like. Who knows? Look, I’m not your therapist. It’s your life! You figure it out.”
I stood and realized my shoes were still on. Still, I needed to get my pants off. Oh well, I couldn’t take my shoes off, so I unbuttoned, unzipped and sat down trying to wrestle the stupid things off. Del started cracking up.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, a little cross, because it didn’t seem obvious.
“Nothing. Uh, Sindy . . . realize. Take a good look at yourself.”
I sat there for a moment, wondering what he was laughing about, then all of a sudden I looked down and saw myself. Bra and panties, blue jeans wrapped around my feet. . . .
“What the—”
Del started laughing harder now.
“Oh my god.” I pulled my jeans up, reached for my shirt and started for the bathroom.
“Sindy,” he was laughing so hard he could barely spit the words out. “Goldmine. Hee, hee, oh man! Goldmine, Sindy.”
I crawled around the kitchen, waited at his feet, and looked up, whining. He laughed and put down a bowl of water. I bent down and lapped at it, spilling most of it here and there.
Suddenly, he was leaving the kitchen and I felt the need to be with him. He saw down on the couch and I crawled up beside him and put my head on his lap, trying my best sad and pitiful look. He scratched my head, showed me a wooden spoon he had and said, “Fetch, girl?”
I hopped back down on the floor and tried to wag my tail. I guess I was just wiggling my ass. I jumped up, trying to get the spoon out of his hand.
“No, Sindy! Sit!”
I kneeled, my hand down before me, still staring at that stupid spoon. He patted my head and tussled my hair.
“Good girl! What a good girl!”
My heart did flipflops in my chest. There was this sudden immediate wave of pleasure. I was thinking of one of those impossibly good orgasms I’d had with a past boyfriend years ago. It was so good it had left me tingling afterwards, and here I was tingling all over again. It was almost like I’d just had that same orgasm all over again.
He tossed the spoon across the room. “Go get it, girl!”
I crawled as fast I could, never taking my eyes off the spoon. It took a few seconds for me to grab it with my teeth, then I was heading back to his side. He tried to pull it from my mouth, but I wouldn’t let it go.
“Drop!”
My jaw opened . . . by itself it seemed.
I knelt there, feeling very naked. Of course, I was naked, and that should’ve startled me. It had only been a week or two, but already I was naked on command, acting like a dog on command. I vaguely recalled eating dog food out of a bowl. It tasted a lot like beef stew, but I wasn’t sure. The minute I saw Del, I was just out of it and doing . . . practically anything he asked of me.
On campus, if I saw him, we’d exchange signals. I only had two I could give, and I didn’t know what either one was, but he knew, I guess. One was to let him know I was available. I caught myself rubbing my cheek once when I signalled him, so that might have been it. The other signal was to let him know I was busy.
If I was available though, he had a whole slew of signals. I can’t remember most of them. But there were a few. . . .
He tugged his right ear, I dropped to all fours. Usually, I let go of a pencil or something and pretended to pick it up. Sometimes there was no pretending. Oh, it wasn’t like I did this around anyone I knew, though there was always the chance someone would see me and ask me about it later. It happened once. I forget what I told her, but I remember she just shook her head and told me I was weird. She had no idea.
There were flashing signals too, signals telling me to flash him. Usually it was my breasts. To Del’s credit, he was very discreet. It was never just out in the open. It was usually around some corner and always as quick as I could manage.
But I had to do it once I saw the signal. I could pick where I would do it, even when to a certain extent, though it had to be done relatively soon. It would sort of build up, the tension, until I did it, and then afterwards he would give me the signal for “good girl”. He’d pat the air like he was petting the head of a dog. It would pop into my head suddenly: the image of me kneeling at his feet with him petting my head.
Then boom! Crashing into me, all these incredible feelings. I would orgasm in my jeans right there on the spot. I had to cover my mouth a few times, bite my lip, because it felt so good I just wanted to lay down and tremble until it stopped.
Sometimes he did that too. I’d be somewhere, maybe a restaurant, and all of a sudden he’d just be there. I couldn’t have missed him. He’d been there all along I realized, but I guess he’d given me a signal to not see him or something, because he’d be there, I’d be in the middle of ordering, then he’d do something, I don’t remember what, and I would be having this intense orgasm right there on the spot.
I remember once a cashier looking at me worried because he thought I was going to pass out. He said something about thinking I was an epileptic.
Despite all this, or maybe because this, I kept showing up at Del’s apartment. He kept putting me under and kept doing things to me. What could I do? I wouldn’t be obeying his suggestions if I didn’t really want to . . . right?
So here I am, my butt parked up in the air while he just stares down at me, looks over my ass every once in awhile to see how I’m doing.
It’s sort of hard to believe. I’ve had more orgasms in the past month than I can ever remember having before. And Del and I haven’t even had sex.
Hm, he’s laughing again. I’m not sure why. Something about that last sentence I guess. About sex? But we haven’t. I would remember that. I know I would.
Wouldn’t I?