Crutch

By CuyahogaKingKong

MC, MD, MF, MA

Disclaimer: This is a fictional depiction of a fantasy. It contains hypnosis and sexual content. If you are not legally allowed to view such content, or would be offended by it, cease reading immediately. Do not attempt this in real life, as hypnosis does not work this way! If you find yourself tempted to try this seek the help and support of a qualified mental health care provider for your own sake and the safety of others. This story should not be distributed for profit, but may be freely shared and archived as long as it is properly attributed.

It started with a broken crutch about twenty years ago.

I was not quite 19, a freshman at Riverburn Institute of Technology (go Bullfrogs!) and as usual I was killing time in the dorm lobby. It was fairly late, maybe half past ten, and nobody else was around because it was finals week. Most people who had tests tomorrow were either studying or asleep, and most people who didn’t were out doing something to blow off steam. I had a test the next day, but not until the afternoon and most of the grade in that course was based on a paper I’d already turned in. So I was down there alone, doing something unimportant that I can’t recall now, when I saw her fall.

There was no mystery who it was. Steff (Stefania to her parents and government agencies) was a friend of mine and I recognized her even under her big parka. Even if I hadn’t, the crutch would have been a dead giveaway. She’d had surgery on her knee over thanksgiving break because she’d pushed herself too far playing basketball and volleyball in high school. It hadn’t slowed her down until that night; she’d stumped along with the same manic energy. The crutch betrayed her in the end though, and she landed hard on her bad leg. Between the wind and thick glass doors, I saw more than heard her shout “FUCK!” at the top of her lungs.

I might have been an awkward, out of shape nerd (pretty much every guy at RBIT was at least two out of three of those) but nobody could ever say I wasn’t chivalrous. Besides which, she was a friend in need, so I dashed out into the cold without my jacket. If you’ve ever been to Riverburn in the winter you’d agree this was a heroic act rarely equaled in human history. Thankfully, she hadn’t been far when she fell. She’d barely had time to roll onto her back by the time I reached her. She was soaked in the grey slush you get sometimes when snow falls on dirty concrete. She was breathing hard and spewing a profane stream of consciousness, mostly about the inevitability of this going wrong too but occasionally calling down plagues on the crutch, its manufacturer, and whoever was in charge of the weather. That all fit my expectations of Steff. What shocked me was seeing tears on her face.

I’m sorry to say that there were classmates of mine who would have paid good money to see Steff cry. There were some who would probably have traded their tuition for a chance to get a good kick in while she was down. You see, in a few short months Steff had acquired a reputation as a cruel stuck-up bitch.

In my opinion it was undeserved. I’d spent a lot of time around her. We’d had a few classes together the first quarter, and she lived on a different floor of the same dorm. She was in the Film Society like me, and was a regular at the board gamers club. I’d always found her quite good company. It seemed to me her reputation came from a few unfortunate traits.

She tended to get carried away when she was talking about something she cared about, and before you knew it she’s shouting in complete disbelief of your unreasonable position on Babylon 5 v Deep Space Nine. If you looked at her face though, you’d see her smiling, and inevitably she’d realize what she was doing, turn beet red, and apologize. It seemed to be a family trait; whenever she got a call from her parents it would escalate into a shouting match within minutes.

Another unfortunate trait should, on paper, have been great for her. She was quite a tomboy, preferring to hang out with guys. In those days the male to female ratio on campus was something like 4 to 1, and in the really hardcore science and engineering classes she was in it was more like 7 to 1. So that shouldn’t have been a problem. But Steff didn’t really get the difference between having your buddies bust your balls and having a pretty girl do it. If she thought of a cutting joke to make at your expense, she’d say it. Guys who didn’t understand that she expected you to return fire tended to take it personally. Most of us at RBIT were the type who spent high school cowering in terror of mean pretty people, so that didn’t help her make friends. And since she had so little in common with most of the few girls she didn’t have the protection of a pack to fall back to.

The real problem, the thing that a lot of my peers couldn’t forgive her for, the thing that branded her an awful bitch in the eyes of the general population, was much simpler. Steff was hot, and she wasn’t interested in having sex with any of us.

It’s not like she led anyone on or dressed provocatively. She pretty much never wore makeup, and her silky straight black hair was always pulled into a casual ponytail. The only time she ever wore anything but bulky sweatshirts and jeans was when she went to church with her family every Sunday morning. Her church dresses were modest but there was still no hiding she was a nineteen-year-old girl who worked hard to maintain her athletic figure. Her jeans weren’t particularly tight, but they couldn’t hide her firm round butt. If you were studying with her she might innocently reach for something on your side of the table, and then the neck of that big loose sweater would give you a brief glimpse of what consensus opinion believed to be C-cups. Or she might stretch her back after having been hunched over her laptop, and her undershirt would ride up just enough to give you an impression of a taut firm midriff. Piercing green eyes, peaches and cream skin and a megawatt smile were the final nails in the coffin; Steff was irredeemably hot.

She was also completely focused. RBIT isn’t an easy school to get into; its robotics and physics programs are world class. Doing well there can lead to being headhunted by the next big tech startup or a job at NASA. Steff was aiming that high or even higher, she wasn’t shy about saying so, and no boy (certainly none of the ones around here) was going to tempt her to waste time and energy on them. A couple of clubs and some casual hangouts were all the social life she wanted. Guys who tried to convince her otherwise were shut down quickly. Kindly if it was the first time and they did it nicely. Very much unkindly if she thought they were disrespecting her or persisted after the first “no thanks.”

Essentially, Steff was not the sort of girl you expect to be reduced to tears by a simple fall. She was the sort of girl you expected to plow ahead if she stepped in a land mine. But there she was crying and wet and miserable.

“Hey, Steff. You’re alright. Let’s get you inside,” I said in the condescending tone one instantly adopts when talking to an injured or sick person. She was too upset to resent it, instead she sniffled thanks as I helped her up. She leaned on me, and we hobbled inside as fast as I dared walk her. I didn’t want to risk another fall, but it was damn cold. Out of the wind and snow she was more coherent, but still shivering and crying.

“Do you think you, I don’t know, tore something? I can drive you to the ER.” I was one of the few who bothered with a car, most students used Riverburn’s mostly adequate bus and train system rather than hunt for parking spaces in the University District. Nobody drove, yet there was always traffic and nowhere to park; physicists were building a supercollider to try and figure that one out.

She shook her head. Her face and mine were maybe a foot apart. I had a brief moment of awareness that this was a very pretty girl leaning on me, but the red rims of her eyes brought me back to feeling sorry for a friend in pain. “It’s not the knee really. That’s just the last straw, you know? It’s just… why’s everything so hard.” We’d limped over to the elevator while we talked.

“Finals? I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re always over prepared for things. You work twice as hard as anyone else.” She made a noise that was part sob, part laugh.

“Yeah,” was all she said. She wiped her eyes as the elevator finally arrived. The building’s only five stories tall, but the elevator being so slow you’d think it was fifty. “I’m glad you were the only one here. You won’t tell anyone I was crying, will you?” She said ‘was’, but tears were still trickling out.

“I promise. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know that, right?”

She smiled at me sadly. “You’re not a girl. Nobody’s going to call you hysterical, or say ‘poor thing, it’s all too much for her’ and try and convince you to give up and do something easier. Nobody’s rooting for you to fall.”

I wanted to argue with her, but she wasn’t wrong. “Fuck those guys” was all I could think to say.

“No thanks, I can do better.” That was a more typical Steff thing to say. “Then I’d be a stuck-up slutty bitch. I’d rather stay a stuck-up frigid bitch, if you please.” We both laughed. “I’m not really though. You know that, right?” She looked at me earnestly. I’d never seen her so vulnerable.

“I know you’re not a bitch.”

“I mean I kind of am. Sometimes. I mean stuck up. I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I think I have to be better than everyone. There’s a difference.” Her voice was quieter than I’d have thought she could ever be.

“Says who?” She shrugged.

“Me? My Dad? I don’t even know. It’s just who I am, I guess. Got to be the best at everything.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve played scrabble against you. You’re a straight up psycho.” I tried to lighten the mood and got a smile.

“I still say qi is not a word.”

“It is! It’s an alternate spelling of Chi!”

“Okay maybe it’s a Chinese word, but it’s not an English word.”

“I’m getting an A in History of the English language, and I can tell you that English is pretty much all words borrowed from other languages. If we start throwing loanwords out, the scrabble board will start looking like a stanza of Beowulf.” She chuckled a little. The elevator finally opened. Seriously, it was only three floors.

In principle guys shouldn’t be on the third floor late at night. It’s one of the few all-girl places on campus. But seeing as the Resident Director who was supposed to police those kinds of things was currently fucking Steff’s neighbor Claire, this rule wasn’t exactly enforced. Even if someone had been around to object, I had a perfectly good reason to be there. I still felt like a bit of an intruder as I helped Steff limp to her room.

There was one and only one good thing to be said for our dorm; all the rooms were single-occupant. They were smaller than the legal minimum for housing violent felons (we looked it up one night) but at least they didn’t try to cram two people in them. Steff fumbled for her keys, and since the door wasn’t wide enough for us both she sort of hopped inside. I lingered for a second, not sure whether to follow. Thankfully Steff didn’t give me time to be awkward before she spoke up.

“Thanks for the help. I hate to ask, but, well, could you help me get into bed?” She rolled her eyes at herself. “You know what I mean, right? The ladder is kind of awkward.”

Like most of us Steff had lofted her bed in order to get more usable space. She made that decision before she knew she’d need surgery and she refused to make any concession to common sense afterwards.

“How do you normally get up there?” I’d actually been curious about that for a while. It had always felt like a vaguely inappropriate thing to ask.

“I have one good leg and two strong arms. Only I’m not feeling so strong right this minute. So, if you don’t mind…?”

“It’s alright.” She had already taken off her jacket and was whipping off her sweater. It was a totally reasonable thing to do, it was soaked, and she was wearing a t-shirt under it. But it got the reptilian hind-brain of a young male human excitedly anticipating her taking off more. She didn’t of course, but she did take the tie out of her hair and shake it out.

“You’re a prince. Seriously.” She sighed. She followed some internal train of thought that led to her saying “My TA in Physics 203 tried to kiss me at our study group tonight.”

“Shit.” I said. “What happened?”

“I was in this study group he led. We met tonight to get ready. Everyone else bailed early, but I wanted to keep working. He took that as an invitation and… I mean I think it was an honest mistake. He backed off afterward and got real embarrassed. So I’m not going to make a big thing about it. It’s just… all I was doing was trying to be friendly. Not even friendly, just not unfriendly. Somehow it’s my responsibility to manage the feelings of every guy around. Too cold and I’m a bitch, too warm and I’m a tease, and I’ve got to thread that needle with all of them all the time while I try to live my life. I feel like I have to second guess everything I do and say and no matter what I never get it quite right.” Her hands were shaking and there was a quavering quality starting to creep into her voice. “So… I wanted to tell you that I appreciate how you don’t read into things. I can just be a person, and trust that you’ll… I don’t know, understand I guess.”

“Thanks,” I answered lamely. There was a beat of weighty silence. “Are you going to be ok getting around tomorrow? With the broken crutch, I mean. If you need me to I can— “

“I’ve got another. Well, this one is more like a cane, and I was supposed to start using it and put some weight on my leg beginning next week. But it’ll do, I think. Thanks, though.”

“Alright, so how do you want to do this?”

It took her a second to answer. “I guess to start with just try and hold on to my waist and give me a boost up. Honestly the main thing is to be there to spot me if I fall. I’m probably just being a big baby, but the way my luck is going today I’m sure I’d fall if I were alone.”

A minute or two later, as I was giving her a totally necessary boost with my hands on her perfect-feeling rear, I reflected that it was a good thing she’d told me how she felt about me. Knowing how disappointed she’d be if I caved in to the temptation to squeeze gave me the extra moral strength to remain one of the good guys. Her bed was up at about eye level, so we were face to face again once she was up there.

“There’s a pill bottle on my desk, can you hand it to me?” I did and she swallowed one dry. “Thanks. It’s for the pain. I usually don’t take them, but I really need to sleep. I can’t have the pain keeping me awake while I just grind myself down in my own head.”

I was surprised to hear myself speak. “You know, I used to get panic attacks about tests.” I started, “Do you know what I started doing?”

“Switching to easy English classes?” she teased, fluffing her pillow.

“No, that happened here. I’m talking about back in High School. A therapist taught me this relaxation exercise. I could show you. It might help when you have nights like this, you know? When it all seems too much.” I felt a little bit like I was taking advantage of her. I wasn’t lying though, learning to do this had been a godsend. No way I would have had the test scores to get into RBIT if I hadn’t done it. Steff really did seem to need something to help her through the night.

She gave me a very strange look. There was hesitation, evaluation, and skepticism in there, along with a lot I couldn’t quite place. “You aren’t about to do anything gross or weird, are you?” she said seriously. “Because I honestly can’t lose a friend tonight.”

“It’s nothing like that. Though it is a bit weird. Incidentally, that word used to mean wise in Shakespeare’s day. It’s that too, in my humble opinion.” I tried to be casual about it, but in truth she freaked me out with that statement. She really was a close friend. I didn’t want to lose that. There was a silence, brief in time but vast in awkwardness. I was sure that I was near, if not over, some important line. “You know what, it’s probably— “

“Ok.” She cut me off as I was starting to make my retreat. “Yeah. What did you do?”

“It’s a sort of meditation. If nothing else, it’ll probably put you to sleep. Then I’ll let myself out, 100% guaranteed without anything gross.”

“Hold on.” She wiggled under her blankets, and soon a mass of wet denim sailed through the air. It landed in a pile of clothing that presumably covered some sort of hamper or basket. I had to laugh.

“Ok, now that’s just entrapment. You can’t complain about guys misreading signals and then five minutes later throw your pants over their heads.” She swatted at me halfheartedly.

“You said this’d put me to sleep! I’m not sleeping in wet jeans.” She blushed a little. “Let the record show that that was not any sort of invitation, and any blue balls are entirely the responsibility of their owners.”

“Duly noted. Seriously, lie back and get comfortable.” I gave her a second to do so. A lot of the tension had left the room. “This is very simple. The main thing is to focus on your breathing. Take a deep breath in through your nose. Keep breathing in until your lungs are completely full.” I showed her what I meant and she imitated me. “Then slowly let the breath out through your mouth.” I went through that process with her four more times as I tried to remember how the next part went. It had been a couple of years since I’d done this, and I’d never tried to guide anyone else through it before.

“Now let your breathing become more normal, but try to keep your focus on it.” I was doing my best to keep my voice at the soft but audible “happy little trees” level necessary. It was harder than I’d expected; I had to manage my own growing excitement. Not that there was really anything to be excited about. I was just going to help my friend relax and sleep after a bad day. “Picture your mind as an infinite pool of clear water. It’s not flowing in any direction. It has no sides, no bottom, just perfectly clean water. Every thought you have makes a ripple, like a raindrop falling on a it. Some of them are big, some are small, some only fall once, some keep coming in a steady drip, drip, drip. Some of them might be things that make you happy; some might be things that make you nervous. They are perfectly fine though, they’re all just water. Drops of clear water falling into an infinite pool of clear water. They can’t harm anything. Just focus on breathing. If you find your mind wandering to other things, just let those thoughts drop into the pool with the others and go back to your breathing, in and out.”

I felt like I was doing this poorly. Aside from the breathing and the drops of water, I really didn’t remember much. Telling myself the specifics probably didn’t matter, I focused on her. Steff had her eyes closed and was breathing slowly. She did look less tense, even peaceful. Maybe this was actually helping. God, she was beautiful. Most of the time I could forget that but seeing her like this made it really inescapable. I swallowed hard and focused on the fact that this was my friend who was struggling. That’s all this was about.

“The ripples that come from your thoughts and feelings can be quite big. But they only move the surface of the water. Then they stretch out farther and farther until you can’t see them, and they don’t matter. The disturbance is small and brief; the stillness is limitless and enduring. As you keep your focus on breathing, fewer and fewer drops fall. Some still will, and that’s fine. There’s nothing bad about them. As you keep going, they keep getting fewer and smaller. The stillness predominates. It’s limitless. It’s eternal. It’s always there. If there ever seems to be too many drops falling, you can always close your eyes and focus on breathing, and it will come back to the surface. It’s always inside you. So just keep focusing on your breathing and let the water get stiller and stiller.”

I was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep. Her mouth was slightly open, and her body seemed limp. As promised, I carefully tiptoed my way to the door, turning the lights off and closing the door behind me very, very softly. Then I dashed up the two flights of stairs to my own room as quickly as my hard on would let me. There were probably less than ten seconds between my closing my own door and me shooting a load into a fistful of tissue, thinking about Steff’s peaceful slack-jawed face and how powerful I felt guiding her to that point.

I’d been into hypnosis and mind control fantasies since I first got interested in sex at all. Blame comic books and old movies with gorgeous heroines helpless to disobey the villains if you want. There’s a power fantasy element in there as well of course. Mostly I think it came down to being shy and awkward and therefore keenly fascinated by the idea of being able to cheat, to make a girl want you as badly as you want her. There are lots of layers to this particular psychosexual onion. I wasn’t delusional though, I understood that actual hypnosis isn’t close to as effective as it is in fantasy. I knew that. Still, the idea of being able to hypnotize (or use a magic ring, or some kind of crazy alien technology on) a beautiful woman into being my adoring eager slave remained my go to fantasy. And if you gave me the chance to pick one real-life woman to do it to, Steff would definitely be my first pick.

I was pretty sure what I’d just done with Steff didn’t even rise to the level of mundane non-fantasy hypnosis. It really was just an exercise a therapist taught me so I didn’t freak out during my SATs. It had helped me with that, and Steff was my friend who could use some help. If I even did it right, which I thought was unlikely. It was perfectly innocent. The fact that it was the sexiest experience in my short virginal life didn’t change that. I was only trying to help my good friend. I didn’t do anything to violate her trust. Right?

I was still arguing that with myself as I fell asleep. I had dreams about an apple tree and a very reasonable and persuasive snake. But that might not have been related. Paradise Lost was on my upcoming exam.

The next day went pretty much as expected. I woke fairly late, took my exam, and then spent the afternoon staying out of the way of my tense peers who were frantically prepping for their next one. I had two days before my last one, a history course I was feeling rather confident about. So like most men of my generation given the opportunity I squandered it on video games. Eventually I got hungry and joined a few friends who were going to the dining hall. Steff wasn’t one of them, but we found her there. She was sitting by herself with a mostly empty tray and a thick textbook in front of her. Her face lit up when she saw us; she must have been feeling lonely.

“So, how was physics 203?” I asked, spearing a piece of institutional grade ziti. For the thousandth time I thought how criminal it was to serve pasta this bad when we weren’t five miles from Little Italy.

“Great!” she replied, entirely too enthusiastic for someone describing an exam. “Thank you. Seriously, what we did last night really helped me relax. It was like- what, what’s so funny?” She turned to Chuck, a mutual friend who wasn’t able to suppress his grin.

“Nothing, sorry. It’s just,” Chuck adopted a ridiculously high falsetto, “‘What we did last night really helped me relax!’ Do you not know what that sounds like?”

“Shut up. And I do not sound like that. It’s like you inhaled enough helium to fill the Hindenburg.” She glared at Chuck in exaggerated outrage.

“Hydrogen,” Harry said. “Not helium. Everyone knows the Hindenburg was full of hydrogen. That’s why it blew up.”

“Sure,” I added, “because Chuck built a time machine and stole all their helium. Really though I just showed her this thing I do for test anxiety. You’re supposed to close your eyes and imagine your mind as a pool of still water, stuff like that.”

Steff got a strange, startled look. Her green eyes went wide, and she blushed. “I- I have to go guys. See you later, ok?” She seemed flustered, hastily closing her book and hoisting her bag onto her back as she left, leaning heavily on her cane. She hadn’t bothered to bus her tray, something I’d never seen her fail to do before.

“That was odd.” Harry said. “Think something’s up?”

Chuck shrugged. “Finals. Stress makes people get weird. At least she didn’t forget to eat. Tim Young passed out in the middle of Bio 173’s exam. Turns out he’d been so panicked he just kept studying; he hadn’t eaten anything in three days. Paramedics took him off to the ER so they could give him an IV.”

“Damn.” I said.

“Poor guy” Harry said. “I bet Donaldson doesn’t let him retake the test either.”

Steff’s odd moment was mostly forgotten as we discussed other stories of people cracking under the strain. Most were second or third hand accounts from upperclassmen and graduate students looking to make the new kids’ skin crawl, but it was an entertaining subject that occupied us through dinner. As we slogged back through the slush it kept nibbling at my conscience though. Had she somehow realized how hot it was for me last night? I’d tried to pass it off as no big deal, but I don’t have much of a poker face. Was she embarrassed? The whole night had been oddly intimate. She definitely let her guard down in a way I’d never seen before. Maybe she regretted it now. I replayed key parts of the night in my head uselessly. By the time I got to my own door I had only come to the conclusion that I should probably pay her a visit. Just to make sure everything was ok. I turned the knob, idly noting as usual I had forgotten to lock it.

Steff was waiting for me. She was sitting in my rolling computer chair. My sole window framed her head beautifully. It gave her a halo of weak orange light from the setting winter sun. She was perfectly composed with a serene smile on her face.

That smile was all she wore.

“Hello, Master,” she purred.

I was too stunned to say or do anything. I just stared. The door slowly closed in my face. I stared at it for a full minute.

There was no way I had just seen what I thought I had seen. Or heard what I thought I’d heard.

Absolutely no way.

It was simply not possible.

I grabbed the doorknob again, confident that reality would have reasserted itself. Steff definitely wasn’t sitting in there naked. Steff definitely didn’t just call me Master. That sort of thing was as possible as dividing by zero. I opened the door.

The entire field of mathematics would need to be revised. Dividing by zero was entirely possible, because Steff was still there, still naked, and smiling even more.

She’d spread her legs a little more and brought her hands up behind her head. Her eyes were full of mischief. “Does your slave’s body please you, Master?” Her tone left no doubt she was sure of the answer. This time I remembered to actually go into my room before the door closed. That was the limit of my brainpower for a while. I just stared. If Steff minded, she didn’t show it.

When my mind became capable of holding any thought that wasn’t about her rosy, perky nipples, what it settled on was that this had to be a prank. That made no sense. After all what would the punch line be? She’s the one who was naked. No doubt I had a dumb look on my face, but the balance of embarrassment should strongly be tipped towards her. She looked anything but embarrassed.

She stood up and limp-hopped to me. Her unsteadiness broke some of the surrealness of the situation. In a fantasy your dream slave girl doesn’t need to grab onto your bedframe to avoid falling, right? Or maybe she does.

“Your slave is sorry she can’t kneel properly for you, Master.” She sounded genuinely regretful. She took another hobbling step and wrapped her arms around me. “Your slave hopes you aren’t too disappointed,” She whispered. And then she kissed me.

At that point in my life I had kissed two girls. That was the sum total of my sexual experience. Neither of those girls could hold a candle to Steff. Not in terms of looks, nor skill, nor enthusiasm. It was enough to make me forget the bizarre circumstances. I was convinced this wasn’t a prank. One or both of us had clearly gone insane, so I might as well embrace it. I slipped one of my hands down and gave her ass the squeeze I wanted to the night before. It was a clumsy grope, but she squealed with delight. “Yesssss,” She sighed. “Touch your slave, Master. Feel her up.”

“My slave,” I said. I’d never been as confused or as aroused in my life.

“When you spoke the trigger your slave remembered all of it. How her mind is still water. How you took her deep down under the surface. How you dropped needs into her depths. Needs to serve, obey, and worship you.” She nibbled on my ear as she got to that last part. Of course, none of that was true other than the still water. “Your slave thought you might try that when she let you hypnotize her. She hoped you would. And you did. You made her helpless. Like the girls in those stories.”

That pierced through the fog of lust I was in. “How did you know about that?”

She bit her lip a little and looked down. “Master should be more careful about clearing his browser history and locking his door when he’s out. Menace went snooping, then ‘warned’ your slave about you. She thinks he was trying to impress her by embarrassing you; he acted like he hacked you to expose your sleazy secret.” Ugh. Mike Ennis, aptly nicknamed Menace. Imagine the worst qualities of an entitled frat alpha male dudebro, combined with the worst qualities of a creepy gross basement dwelling would be hacker. The person you are now imagining is almost as bad as Menace. Thankfully he got arrested after an incident at a Halloween party. Stories differed as to what happened, but they mostly involved attempted rape, him getting the absolute shit beat out of him, and him getting caught with a lot of drugs.

If she heard it from him that meant that for at least a month and a half Steff knew about my secret kink. Well, it looked like that worked out for me in the end. Not much blood was going to my brain anymore, but I was starting to connect some dots. She must’ve gotten curious; now she’d decided to deal with her exam week stress through some hypnoslave role play. Unexpected, but comprehensible, and I was entirely on board with it. I couldn’t think of another reason Steff would be waiting to ambush me naked.

I did my best to get into character. “Well, slave, that explains why you went under so easily. You didn’t want to resist at all, did you?” She shook her head I ran my hand over her back, savoring the smoothness of her skin. I kissed her neck and breathed in her scent. My other hand cupped her breast and she sighed. She ground her naked hips against me. I could feel the wet heat through my jeans. Desperately I told myself not to blow this by cumming in my pants.

I pulled away slightly. “Alright, slave.” I tried to sound confident and, well, masterful. I doubt I did, but Steff didn’t seem to mind. “Sit right here.” I guided her down onto the futon under my bed. “You’re going to play with that hot pussy of yours, but you aren’t going to cum without permission.” That seemed like a good way to buy myself some breathing room without breaking character. And it would give me more opportunity to admire her gorgeous body.

“Yes Master. Your slave can’t cum without your permission. You own her body and her mind. Her, oh, her pleasure comes from oh, obeying you.” She was already breathing hard, running one finger along her slit while her other hand caressed her breast. For the first time it registered to me that she was totally clean shaven. I think up till that point my brain was simply too overwhelmed to deal with the idea of seeing Steff’s pussy. But there it was. And she was playing with it. Because I ordered her to.

I was clearly delusional. Or possibly this was a succubus using her likeness to seduce me and devour my soul. Equally likely, and either way I was fine with it. My sanity and/or soul were an entirely fair price to pay for this.

It suddenly dawned on me that I was still fully dressed. I was even still wearing my heavy coat. I shrugged out of it. Unwilling to look away from my slave I blindly tossed it in the general direction of my little closet. Taking off my sweater meant missing a fraction of a second of the show as it came over my head. I took the opportunity to blink. It was likely the first time I’d done so since I opened the door.

I hesitated a bit. Unlike her I didn’t have a body blessed by genetics and sculpted by exercise. By RBIT standards I was probably average or even above, but I could definitely stand to lose 20 pounds. Ok fine more like 30, while also growing about six inches taller, and I wouldn’t have said no to my dick being about twice as big. My point being I didn’t have much confidence when it came to my body. Especially in present company.

Steff licked her lips. She pinched her nipple. Her finger circled her clit. A soft moan escaped her.

I whipped my shirt off and hastily unbuttoned my jeans. If she was disappointed she didn’t show it; she looked at me like I was a god. It made me feel like I was one. I was in such a rush to join her on the futon I almost tripped on my own pants. I kicked my ankles free and landed beside her.

I grabbed her hard and kissed her. I groped a fistful of soft breast. I clutched her much more roughly than I had intended. Feeling sheepish I broke the kiss to apologize. “Please, Master, more,” she panted at me before I could.

Right. She wanted a master to use her. Tough, smart, assertive Steff wanted to be a hypnotized submissive sex object. That was so bizarre yet it made total sense. I leant her back. With one hand I held the back of her neck; I slid the other up the inside of her thigh to where she was eagerly fingering herself. I brought my mouth down on a breast, licking, sucking, and nibbling in my eager amateur manner. Steff just panted and melted.

My hand gently nudged hers away and I took over. I closed my eyes and focused on the novel feel. Soft, wet, and hot. So hot. My finger grazed her clit. She made a sound something like “Hnyah!”

“Master! Oh Master, your slave is so close. Can she cum Master?”

I let go of her breast with an audible “pop.” It was excessively satisfying. “Not just yet, slave,” I told her. Steff’s pleading was a serious turn on. I felt powerful in a way I’d never imagined. I slipped my middle finger inside her.

God she was tight. Granted I had nothing to compare it to, but how tightly she was squeezing and clenching around my finger made me ask, “Steff, are you a virgin?”

She nodded. “Oh, only ever ki- kissed before.” Steff was panting. Her eyes were dark pools of jade need. I don’t know why I was surprised she was a virgin. I guess I supposed someone that sexy couldn’t possibly be as inexperienced as I was.

“Me too.” I said to her. I kissed her very softly. “Alright slave, you can cum for your master.”

I expected to have to finger her for a while or play with her clit to tip her over the edge, but the words were barely out of my mouth before she seized up. “Tnyumas!” she gasped out. Her thighs clasped shut on my hand, and she squirmed against me. “Tanyumazzer, thank you Master.” Steff’s eyes were unfocused. Her fit young body had become a puddle in my hands. An infinite puddle of clear pure water. I watched her face as she gradually floated back toward reality. God, I thought, that was intense. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to actually fuck her.

It suddenly hit me that I had no condoms. I winced internally. This was not a scenario I was at all prepared for. Although, “Slave, Steff, are you on the pill?”

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “Sorry Master.”

I did not at all trust myself to pull out of that pussy. Once inside I fully expected my dick to be quite reluctant to leave. Tempting as it was to just roll the dice and hope for no accidents, luck had already been overly kind to me tonight. But there were other options.

Steff seemed to be back in this world, and only breathing a little heavy. I figured she was ready for my turn. “Slave, are you ready to suck your master’s cock?”

“Yes, Master!” She had an eager look I recognized. Usually, it meant she just saw a way to win whatever game we were playing. She slithered onto the floor. It had to be cold but she didn’t flinch. Kneeling was out of the question with her knee, but she could bend it enough to sit cross-legged. She took me in one hand and licked tentatively.

She had no idea what she was doing, of course. Fortunately, I was in such a state she didn’t exactly need to be an expert. As always Steff worked hard and learned fast. A few quick licks of the tip, then longer, languid strokes of her tongue up my shaft. Then she took me full into her mouth, sucking hard and swirling her tongue. Her eyes never left my face, watching my reactions carefully. Given time she’d no doubt come up with a blueprint of the perfect blow job.

She wasn’t going to get time tonight. I ran my fingers through her hair. Not trying to control her pace, I just savored the silky feel. “Oh God, Steff. You’re going to make me cum.”

She made an eager humming sound, which felt amazing. Then she sucked harder still and pushed her face as far down my dick as she could.

I grunted and shot what felt like gallons into her submissive face. She looked up at me with my dick in her mouth, pure adoration and gratitude in her eyes. Everything was overwhelmingly perfect.

I slumped, spent. Slowly Steff, my slave, slid my cock out of her mouth. There was the sound of lips smacking and then a very audible gulp. A few seconds her face came back into view with an expression of beatific wonder. Without a word she cuddled close to me. She put her head on my chest; I wrapped an arm around her and grabbed her side.

The sun went down when we were too busy to notice, and now it was quite dark. A little bit of reflected orange-yellow streetlight was all there was to see by. Neither of us was willing to get up and turn on the light, grab a blanket off my bed, or get a towel for our sweaty bodies. We just lay there breathing and cooling off.

My slave was the one who finally spoke. “Um, Master? Could you wake up Steff now? Your slave loves being your slave, but she’s also Steff. Steff probably needs to do things. She’s always busy.”

It took me a while to understand what she meant. Eventually I realized her fantasy was that her slave-self and her real self were separate identities. When I thought about it that made some sense. It drew a distinct line between her submissive fantasies and her assertive normal personality.

“Well,” I joked, “I should probably get dressed and have a head start. She’s likely to be mad when she realizes what I did to my slave.”

She smiled up at me. “Steff belongs to you too. She’ll know that when she wakes up. Your slave only cares about serving you; Steff serves you but still has school and… other stuff?” We both started laughing. Her laugh was higher and gigglier than normal. I would not have pegged Steff as a bimboization fan, but it seemed like her fantasy slave-self wasn’t nearly as bright as real Steff. Of course, real Steff wasn’t a fawning submissive nympho either.

I cupped her chin and looked her in the eye. She had a wide-eyed, moonstruck expression on her face I’d never have expected to see on her. It was adorable, but she was right, it was time to stop the play acting. We really needed to talk about what we’d just done.

“Ok,” I said. “Steff, I want you to wake up now.” I hoped she wasn’t expecting something more elaborate to ‘trigger’ her awake. It’s not like she gave me a script before she ambushed me with all this.

Any actress who was able to match Steff’s transformation in the next minute would win Oscars by the truckload. From slouching comfortably on me she straightened up suddenly and slid back a few inches. For a second she looked startled and confused. Her eyes darted from my face to my naked body to her naked body to a half dozen random places in my room before closing. Meanwhile the confusion on her face became shock, shock became disbelief, then disbelief became a sort of delighted embarrassment. “Oh!” she said, “Oh, wow, that was… God, just… I can’t even…” She covered her mouth with one hand and put her other one on her forehead. She laughed nervously in her own throaty chuckle. “So, that all just happened.” She bit her lower lip and broke into a lopsided smile. Beets worldwide wished they were as red as Steff was at that moment.

“Yeah, it did.” Steff opened her eyes and looked at me again. We just grinned at each other for a moment.

“You really did it,” she gushed. “I didn’t think you had it in you, if I’m honest. But I was hoping you did. And now… you really did it! I mean in principle I should say… most girls aren’t secretly hoping for someone to hypnotize them into being their sex slave. So please, tell me you aren’t going to try and do this to any other girls. Please?” She was oddly earnest about that.

“Call me old fashioned, but I’m a one hypno-slave kind of guy,” I answered, rather pleased to come up with that on the fly.

Steff seemed relieved. “Ok, good. If I thought you were going to I’d feel like I should fight this and stop you. But of course you made it so I can’t fight, so that would just make me miserable. If it’s just me, and I can’t stop you anyway… well in a super fucked up way it’s really liberating being your slave. You trigger me and then there’s only one thing that’s important, and it’s something I can handle. ‘Use my body to make Master happy.’ Everything is really that simple.”

As usual when she got excited, Steff was speaking in rapid fire paragraphs. I knew her well enough by now not to try and make her slow down or interrupt her flow. If I could have dealt with what she was saying in manageable portions, I might have caught on sooner.

She plowed on. “Thank you for not… I’ll get on birth control. I wouldn’t have thought to hold off on, you know, fucking just now. I’m guessing you don’t have any condoms. I think there’s a big basket of them outside the campus health offices, but that’s way the fuck on the other side of the quad. I’ll be over by there for my Intro Chemical Engineering final in the morning. I’ll grab a few. I really don’t want to get pregnant. I don’t mean ever, just, you know, not now. Shit, what time is it!” She franticly looked around my room till she spotted my alarm clock. “Oh, ok, that’s not too bad. It felt like it should be three am or something, I mean didn’t it feel like that was hours and hours? In a good way. Still though, my exam is at eight, I need to get some sleep. If I even can, I’m exhausted but also, I feel like I could run a marathon then fight a bear, holy shit, no wonder people are always having sex!” She started laughing again. “Sorry. Did you want to get a word in edgewise, master?” she asked with an impish grin.

“At one point I was going to ask how you felt about what just happened, at another I was going to ask when your test was tomorrow, and I think I was going to offer to let you stay the night if you’d like.” Steff had gotten up and hobbled over to my desk. Apparently, that’s where she had stashed her clothes and her cane when she came in to lay her trap for me. She was pulling a t-shirt over her head while I was talking. When she started wiggling into her jeans I got up to help steady her.

“Well in reverse order, that’s sweet but you know how tiny these beds are, like I said it starts at eight, and it was the best. We should have an actual conversation about, you know, everything tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the dining hall around noon, that work? Or I’ll call you if I finish early, but I don’t want to rush the test and I should probably take a few minutes afterward to just sort of think about all this.” Steff was leaning on me while she pulled on her shoes. “I don’t think I’ll need help getting into bed tonight, and anyway if I let you into my room right now I probably wouldn’t let you out again. So sorry if this is rude but I really should get going.” She looked kind of guilty and sheepish, and seemed to be waiting for my permission to go.

“Ok. Get a good night’s sleep, ace your final, then meet me for lunch.” I maneuvered myself so I could open the door for her without giving any passers by an eyeful of sweaty naked nerd. “Yes, Master,” she winked at me. She paused at the door and gave me a sweet little kiss.

“I still can’t believe you really did it.” She looked at me with as much admiration as she had as Slave-Steff. “You really hypnotized me. You really made me your slave.”

She closed the door behind her. It took a few minutes for what she said to register.

“Huh,” was the best I could do when I finally caught up.