His first time

He's sitting in a chair, looking terrified. 

He looks like he wants to bolt out of the chair, out of the door, and run away without even looking back. And he also looks like he wants to be here, more than anything in the world.

I know how it is and why it is like that. 

He arrived a couple minutes late looking like he'd taken some time gathering his courage before ringing the bell.

I've had worse, actually. Once a guy spent half an hour standing in front of my door before he finally forced himself to enter, and some guys have reached the door and walked away without crossing it.

Virgins. 

Not that he's never had sex, of course. Just looking at that face and that body I'd be surprised if he's a literal virgin. 

No, he's a virgin because he's never been here. He's never felt the touch of my hands on his body and, specially, he's never felt the touch of my voice in his mind. Mine, or of someone like me. And that's what makes him a virgin.

He's never been hypnotized and he wants it more than anything in the world. 

I know how it is, I was a virgin too once. It's okay.

No, really, it is.

He's sitting in a chair and the suspense is killing him.

— So, Gene. Are you ready?

— Yes.

I drag my chair and sit across him and hold his hands and tell him to look into my eyes. Just that. Look at me and focus on my eyes. Relax. 

I slowly, very slowly, very gently, talk him into relaxing and letting go of his worries. 

There are two ways to put someone under: You can either jump on them by surprise, or sneak on them from behind. And when he's so nervous, the first thing you need to do is getting him to drop his guard down a little or nothing else will work.

He just looks at me in the eyes and focuses on me with complete intensity. He wants this to work so desperately, he's trying so hard when he should just let go and let it happen... 

Relax, just relax, don't force it...

I talk to him in a low voice, just slightly louder than his own thoughts, while I hold his hands and stare deep into his eyes, and his breathing slows down a bit and his body starts relaxing, letting his guard down. 

Breathe in, breathe out... just let it happen...

I keep talking, watching how he responds to each word and to each thought, finding what works with him, and when I finally put my finger in front of his eyes he's already relaxed enough to let it happen.

He follows my finger with his eyes, left and right, left and right, and his breathing goes slower and slower, he's slowly falling and he doesn't even realize it. 

Just that: a finger for him to focus on and a low voice to drown his thoughts, quieting his mind, getting him deeper and deeper. He came here to get hypnotized and it's happening and he doesn't even notice it. He's no longer paying attention to my words, he's just letting them enter his mind while he follows my finger with his eyes. 

And then I draw a circle with my finger and he follows it and i tell him to sleep, and I pull my finger down and his eyes go down and close and his head falls down as well. Sneaking from behind. 

He's under.

I keep talking, getting him deeper and he likes it. His expression is relaxed, he's breathing deeply but easily, without any effort or struggle, and there is a small bulge in his pants. 

This is what he came for here. 

— Gene, can you hear me?

— Yes, Sir.

Now, this is interesting, I didn't tell him to call me Sir, but some guys just want to belong under someone.

I think.

But if there's something I have learned in this trade is that it's not wise to assume anything.

— Why are you calling me Sir, Gene?

— Because you hypnotized me, Sir.

Oh.

He really, really wants this. He had told me he had a submissive streak, but I didn't know HOW submissive. Maybe not even he knew. Looks like he's in for the full ride.

I've had this kind of guys before and I love having them, and most of the time they end up loving me having them. But again, this kind of thing needs to be done carefully. No matter how much you like the food, if you eat it too fast you'll choke, and I don't want him to choke on this.

We'll only go as far as he wants to, but I already know how far that is. 

And I know we won't go there today. 

— So, Gene — I continue. — Talk to me, and I want you to be completely honest, do you understand?

— Yes, Sir.

— Why are you here today?

— Because I want to feel how it's like to be hypnotized, Sir.

— And why do you want that?

— I... — he doubts a little. I know what follows, but I'm not sure he's ever said that out loud before. — I need someone to control me.

— And what do you want me to do to you?

— Whatever you want.

Now, that is way too wide a berth. People without experience are always like that, and most of the time they only know their limits when their fingers burn. We're gonna say it slow.

— What do you want to feel?

— I want you have things done to me and not be able to do anything. I want to feel... to feel...

— Powerless?

He sighs. That's the word he didn't know he wanted to say.

— Yes. 

— Say it. What do you want?

— I want to feel powerless.

— And do you want me to make you feel powerless?

— Yes, Sir.

— What kind of things do you want me to do to you?

— Touching me. Undressing me...

— Kissing you?

— ...no.

All right, there's our limit. Now we have a common ground to what will happen today. We both know what he wants, although he wouldn't dare to say it in the open when he's in control. 

But that's why he came here.

— Listen, Gene: when I snap my fingers, you will wake up, but you will still be under my complete control, do you understand?

— Yes, Sir.

Nearly all of what happens here happens inside his mind, and that means that what he believes is what happens. As time passes he will learn to do this better, deeper, more completely, but even at the beginning the most important step is that: He needs to believe.

He wants to believe, so he's already almost there, he only needs me to help him take the first step.

— Anything I tell you, it will be a truth you can't escape, no matter what. All my words are orders for you. Do you understand?

— Yes, Sir.

— Good. Now... wake up.

He snaps awake and looks at me, and when he realizes that he had been under his face lightens up. Yes, this is happening. He's wanted this all his life and it's finally happening to him.

— How do you feel, Gene?

— I feel great. Rested, calm... 

Yeah. That was the beginning, but there's more to come. He's about to not feel calm, trust me. Very not calm.

I just check that he's indeed okay and then proceed.

— Now, take your hands behind your back. — He complies, with a slightly puzzled look. — When I snap my fingers, your hands will be tied behind you and your feet will be glued to the floor, and you will be unable to release yourself, no matter how hard you try. Do you understand?

He's only starting to nod when I raise my hand and snap my fingers.

It's like he got an electric shock. His body arches and he struggles against those chains that are only in his mind and he realizes they're more powerful than any real chain he could be tied with, and his eyes flicker with fear and excitement when he realizes he's no longer in control. 

Powerless, he said.

I will show him powerless.

That's why he's here today and that's what he asked for, because deep down that's what he desperately wants: to feel powerless. And I will give it to him. 

Whenever you do this, there is a thin line to walk between control and fear, between power and pain, between overwhelming someone and giving him more than he can handle. There are breaking points and then there are real breaking points, and that is a line that must never be crossed. 

And with a virgin it's even more complicate, because neither here nor I know really where the line is, so I have to go very slowly, very gently, breaking him in but not breaking him, figuring out together how much he can handle, so I'm going to take it slow.

Better too little than too much, always.

So I get close but not too close, just enough to make him feel that I'm invading his personal space and he can't do anything about it. I look over him and grab his chin to make him look up at me. 

— Hi there. — I give him a crooked smirk, the kind of smirk that says, without words, that I'm on charge here. 

I raise my finger in front of his eyes and they widen, and he starts panting when he realizes what is about to happen. He looks hungry for this. I move it gently from side to side and his eyes get focused on it until they focus so hard they get out of focus and he's stuck looking in front of him... he's under and now he knows it. He's not completely gone, he knows what is happening, but he's now a passenger in his own body and will just watch what's done to him.

— You're feeling completely in tune with your body. — I say. — When I touch you, you will be able to focus on what you're feeling, ignoring everything else, and it will feel ten times better than anyone else touching you there. Your entire body is sensitive to my hands and what I do when I touch you. Do you understand?

— Yes. Yes, Sir. — 

Good.

I bring him out of the trance and he looks at me, expecting. He knows I did something to him but doesn't know why until I slid a finger down his cheek.

He shudders and moans and his eyes close for a second, completely lost on the pleasure my touch causes him. 

For the next minutes, I explore his face and his neck and he's lost on how good he's feeling, squirming under my hands, and when I take them off he's out of breath and can't even keep his head completely up.

Then I slid my hand down and brush his nipples, and he jolts and arches his body up. His cock is already hard, a massive mound inside his pants, but I know I probably won't get to see it today. 

You need to know when not to cross the line.

He's looking at me like he's in pain, like the pleasure he's feeling is so intense that he's having a hard time taking it all... and that's exactly what he came for.

Pleasure.

Powerless.

Under control.

I take my hand to the first button of his shirt and linger there for a few seconds, looking at him in a silent question, and he nods to me in a silent answer. 

He has the body of a dancer.

It's just his shirt open down and that's probably all I will see today, but I don't care. For a first time, it's more than enough.

If he was overwhelmed when I touched him over his clothes, now he's almost to the edge, simply by the feeling of my fingers dragging across his torso. There is this movement, softly sliding my fingertips on his sides right before his back begins, that drives him completely crazy and makes me wonder how it would be if I used some feathers on him. 

One of the best things about a first time is that the future is full of possibilities. Feathers and whips, ice and fire, pleasure and pain... and in the future we will learn together which of these he likes, but right now everything seems possible. 

— Can you please... — he says in a choked voice, like he's embarrassed of what he's about to ask.

— Yes?

— Can you please take my pants off?

— Sure. 

Now this is more than I was expecting today. I open his belt and drag his jeans down his legs until they bunch down at his ankles, and he also has the legs of a dancer. 

I can tell he's feeling exposed, completely helpless, and more turned on he's ever been in his life. His cock is hard and twitching inside those briefs, and just noticing that I noticed it makes it even harder.

Not that I'm gonna touch it to make sure, though. 

I keep carefully away from it while I caress his legs, but in a short time I go back to his chest. That's what he likes and wants. 

It's a short time, but it feels very long, before he's again panting and moaning and on the edge, simply from my hands on his sides and my fingertips on his nipples. I can tell he's almost there, trying to fight against his orgasm and losing.

— Please... please...! — I don't even need to ask what he's begging for: we both know.

— Hold on, boy. Hold on for as long as you can, it will be worth it.

And then I continue making sure he can't hold on. 

When he's more advanced I might be able to control his orgasms completely, stop them with a word or trigger them with a glance, but right now that still belongs only to the future. Right now all I can do is tell him not to have it with my words, while I'm making him have it with my hands. 

Another touch.

Another moan.

Another begging glance. 

— Please...!

No.

If he wants to cum he's gonna have to earn it.

I take my finger to his chin and lift it to make him look at me. 

— Gene, I want you to imagine that you're gagged. You can't talk anymore. — and I snap my fingers.

This is it: Having his speech taking away pushes him over the edge, and his entire body tenses like the string of a violin, and his eyes roll back, and he spasms while he cums in his briefs, his entire body shaking and the only reason he's not moaning is because I gagged his mind.

It's been only fifteen minutes since he sat on the chair. I was already prepared for this: the first time is never long, because there is just too much stored that has to go out. There will be other times, longer and better, but none will have the same thrill as the first time, the joy of the unexpected, the intensity of the new discovery. 

Even after I tell him that he's no longer tied, I have to help him out of the chair and to get to the couch. He's still trembling and half out of it. 

There's a dark wet spot spreading on his briefs, but who cares? That's what towels are for. 

I sit next to himm, talking softly. What I say doesn't matter that much, what matters is that he feels me there with him while he's cooling down, that he has a point to anchor himself with until he regains the ground under his feet.

— Do you want a glass of water? — I finally ask when I feel he's already back to himself. 

— Yes, please. — He sounds exhausted.

— Alright. You may get dressed in the meantime if you want to.

I stay longer than I need in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of him in the living room. That's the one thing that it's better if I'm not there.

When I'm back with a glass of juice in one hand and a glass of water in the other, he already changed into his other pair of briefs, and his pants are on and he's closing his shirt. Back to his day clothes, without any sign of the sex crazed creature he was in that chair under my hands.

He chooses the juice, so I drink the water, and he finally lets out The Sigh. 

I know that sigh, it's the sign that he's finally back to reality and accepting it.

— So... how was it? — I ask.

— Intense. I'd never felt anything like that, but I loved it.

— Great. 

— How about you? 

— It was really good. — I say, and I'm not lying. Just like he needs to be under control, I need to be in control. It's inevitable. I like having a guy under my hands, telling him what to feel and what to think, and while this was tame compared to most of the things I do, knowing that it was his first time gives it a special quality that nothing else can match.

We still talk a bit more, making sure things went well, making sure there will be a next time, and when and how, and finally he's out the door.

I go to my window and watch him walk away, and there is a new spring on his step and a new quality on the way he moves, like he got something new inside him, and everyone he crosses paths with today will notice that there's in him that joy but they won't know why it is.

But he knows, and I know, and that's what matters.