Helplessness
The first time I saw a hypnotist, I told him I needed help dealing with stress. It wasn’t like a proper therapist/client thing or anything; he was a good friend, looking for someone to practise his technique with. I wasn’t really that stressed out, but I told myself it would be good to help a friend.
I kept going back, always just wanting to relax. After a while, he pointed out that I probably didn’t need his help any more. That if I had so much trouble sleeping, he could give me what he called a “trigger”. Say the words he taught me, and I’d instantly relax. It was oddly pleasant to feel my body responding so quickly, like once it had started it would be impossible to change my mind. But I kept on going back to him, asking for more help always in the same way.
“Feeling relaxed?” he asked. I nodded, and felt my whole body instantly become twice as heavy. I was trapped now, a little warning voice whispered from my subconscious, he could do anything to me right then and I couldn’t even move my calm, sleepy body.
“Feeling obedient?” I nodded, and in that instant the relaxation was so complete that I couldn’t even feel my body. The only sensations in my universe were the delightful, powerful, calming resonance of his voice, and the feeling of warmth from his hand resting on my arm.
“You’d do anything I said now, wouldn’t you? Following my words just feels so natural, you’d never think of fighting it.” That warning voice in my head perked up again as I nodded. I knew I couldn’t fight whatever path he chose, if he wanted to rape me or anything like that, I’d be completely helpless. And even through the calm haze that enveloped me, I could feel a tingle rushing through my body at that thought.
“So you can find your lips moving, obeying my instructions without you needing to think about it, or even to be aware of it,” Nod, tingle. A flush of anticipation, a rush of arousal. I couldn’t help myself, thinking about what he could do to me was turning me on like nothing I’d ever felt before. If he hadn’t made me so relaxed I couldn’t even think of moving, I’d probably have jumped him already.
“You can tell me what you want me to help you with. I know, every time you just ask me to help you relax, I can see there’s something else you’re embarrassed to say.” And relief, knowing I could still trust him, that he always had only my best interests at heart. Just with maybe a little disappointment, excitement, curiosity as I wondered what he might have told my lips to do if he didn’t have that degree of self control.
“I keep hoping you’ll take advantage of me,” I heard my voice say. It wasn’t the helplessness I’d dreamed of, but I couldn’t stop myself, and the blush of shame quickly turned into a blush of heat as the words kept spilling out: “I get so horny thinking about feeling helpless and I know if you wanted to there’s nothing I could do to stop you, and I keep on coming back when I don’t really need it so that I can keep fantasising about what you might do.”
“What would you like me to do?” his voice was just as calm as before, but strong and masterful. Was it only now I was realising that the level tone and mesmerising, even cadence were chains with which he could direct my thoughts? “Maybe you’ve been lying to yourself, denying your needs, but you don’t need to lie to me. You can be completely honest about your fantasies and tell me all the things you’ve been imagining, and let me know what it is you want the most. Do you want to find yourself telling me even the secrets you won’t admit to yourself?”
I nodded, and heard my own voice growing quieter until it was just the babble of a stream in the distance. Charming and peaceful, helping me feel so calm, I didn’t even know what I was saying to him, but that didn’t matter when I could trust him so much. I knew he’d use the things I shared to protect me.
“And do you really want me to do that?” I shivered with delight, deep inside my immobile body. I didn’t have the first clue what I’d just asked him to do, but I could nod wholeheartedly in agreement. I wanted, so much, this strong and reliable friend to take me and do whatever he wanted with my body and mind. I wanted to say yes without knowing, because I wanted the choice not to be mine.
I woke with a smile on my face, feeling more relaxed than after any session before. My arms and legs were heavy, like I was drifting out of the deepest sleep imaginable. He was sitting on the armchair opposite me, a grin just as broad on his face. He had an eyebrow raised, too, the questioning expression I’d been able to hear in his voice.
I stretched, wondering just why I was so happy. Again, I’d considered adjusting my clothes, showing my body off a little in case he might be tempted. But as usual, I’d not had the nerve, and had told him that I still found it hard to dispense with the stress of work at the end of the day. He’d showed me how to relax so deeply, and he’d made my body sleep, and he’d asked me… asked me what I really wanted. I remembered that I’d nodded enthusiastically – knowing that every bob of my head would make his words twice as compelling – when he asked if I was sure about my choices; but that was the only answer I could recall giving.
As I ran my hands over my body, smoothing the creases in my shirt after I sat up, I realised there was a small damp patch on my shorts. I froze, blushing, desperately trying to pull back the memories. “Did you…?”
“No,” he shook his head gently, “Why should I do anything, if you’re not awake to enjoy it? I think maybe you got a little over-excited, though. You really like the idea of having no control, don’t you?” I was blushing, but I couldn’t deny it. Even in those few seconds, not knowing if he’d touched me, if he’d used me, made me feel so vulnerable, and that feeling only turned me on.
“Maybe we should take your shorts off, so they don’t get any more wet,” he sauntered closer and grinned just a little, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to say. I blushed, didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to hide my excitement. Before I could gather my wits, I felt his hand on my butt, gently holding me close. It wasn’t exactly molesting me, but it wasn’t quite the gesture of a professional acquaintance either. I looked into his eyes, trying to judge his intentions, but I didn’t want to break that contact in case he never came so close again.
His left hand, he extended two fingers and gently brushed them against the dark patch on my crotch. That was clear, he was going to push me, and for the first time I felt a thrill of nervousness, of excitement, of apprehension. If I was truly honest with myself, this is what I’d been hoping for or dreaming of for months, but right in that moment it was too much, too fast. I gently grabbed his wrist to move the offending hand back just a fraction.
I couldn’t. I couldn’t grab his wrist. I couldn’t make him stop. My fingertips moved harmlessly through the air. I tried again, but my hand closed on empty space before I even reached his hand. There was some impossible confusion inhibiting my spatial awareness, and even if I wanted to stop him – of which I was still a lot less than sure – there was no way I could persuade my muscles to touch him. His touch became just a little firmer, and I gasped in delight. Damp fabric, rough fabric, pressure from his fingertips rubbing the coarse texture against my most sensitive part.
His other hand pulled away from my ass, but before I could protest it was back again, this time sliding under my belt to caress the bare skin of my buttock. I was breathing heavily, faster now, not knowing what he was going to do but delighted to know I had no choice in it. His fingers rubbed harder and I couldn’t suppress a lustful moan.
“You want to kiss me,” he said, affecting a sinister tone that barely masked a chuckle. He was enjoying this too, and he was exactly right. He wasn’t asking, he was telling me, and the moment I thought about it, I felt the desire exploding inside me. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward and pressed my lips hungrily against his, my tongue plunging into his mouth as we embraced closely.
“What…” I gasped when we finally separated, “What are you going to do to me?”
“Oh, I think I’ll let you do the work for a while. Your clothes are too constricting, and they’re going to get in the way. You need to strip, now.” My eyes widened at the force of the command, and obeying those words was the most important thing in the world. I ripped off my shirt as fast as I could manage, unhooked my belt and kicked off the shorts.
“Good,” he purred, his voice low like a lion’s alpha murmur of appreciation, “Now let me watch. Getting naked for me turns you on even more than you expected. Twice as much and twice as much again. You know I can do this to you, you know how helpless you are, and you know that every time you realise you can’t resist it only turns you on more. I nodded breathlessly, eagerly. I needed to be helpless, and I knew that for a long time now a nod had been the way I made myself obey him all the more completely.
“You’re so horny you can’t help yourself,” he whispered, “The instant you remove your underwear, it will arouse you so much that you literally cannot help masturbating.” I’d never thought about that kind of helplessness, but I could imagine perfectly how amazing it would feel to be a slave to my own desire, my body overruling my will. I wanted to know if it would be as wonderful as I imagined, so I moved away just long enough to leave myself completely naked.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this, stripping for my friend, putting on a show for him. I couldn’t believe how eagerly I threw myself back onto the couch and both hands rushed to my crotch. I couldn’t believe how good it felt, every touch was the most intense sexual experience of my life, and the next second those feelings were even stronger. There was nothing I could do, no choice, no thought. My whole world was the scenario I’d longed for, and it was perfect.