Many nights, the last thing Aaron could recall was his girlfriend Sophie hugging him tight. After a spell of half-sleep the pair would roll to his side. Sophie’s arm would curl around his chest—fingers digging softly into his flesh as he melted into her embrace.

Aaron would feel the brush of her breath on his nape and the vague press of her breasts against his back. A satiny leg would slip into the gap between his thighs.

This tight and this secure, he would forget any anxious thoughts that had weighed on his mind. He would let them all go as he slipped into a carefree oblivion.

How many nights had gone that way? It must have been a lot.

Now he thought about it, could it have been every night? And for that matter, could he remember her murmuring in his ear? Maybe once or twice. Or was it more? A few times perhaps.

Why was he thinking about it now? Because here they were again. Aaron was ensconced in Sophie’s grip and was being dragged down into slumber. He caught her whispering and tried to make a note of it. And as he fumbled for a mental handle or foothold everything faded and he dropped, too warm, too happy, too cozy to care or remember.

Now she was back, locked against him once more. How much time had passed? Days maybe.

She was leaning in to tell him something, and in the dark he could picture her lips so close to his ear, pouring some coded message into his open mind. But all he could catch were muted vowels and consonants.

What was she saying?

Enough! He had to get to the bottom of this. With things getting foggy, he told himself to thrash it out with Sophie in the morning, but once he dropped he had already forgotten.

Wait a moment. This time he remembered: This time he was aroused as hell.

“Why the fuck am I hard?”

Because Sophie’s finger had been fondling his nipple for some time. In a peculiar dance she brushed it and pulled away, circled and pressed with her fingertip and let it bounce back up before pouncing again.

Alert now, Aaron willed himself to move, but from such depths his command came through like he was underwater. He couldn’t understand what he was telling himself. The message never made it to his body, leaden and passive.

All the while, Sophie’s finger blithely intruded on his vulnerable erogenous zone. He moaned into the nothingness, with his girlfriend braced against him on a different plain. Aaron had never been into whatever this was. Nippleplay? Too weird. It never did anything for him, and previous lovers had turned their attention to other zones when he didn’t respond.

But now, unable to move or communicate, only able to feel—really feel—he worried what would happen if Sophie kept toying with him. This far under and this helpless, what torment could her finger stir up? In the netherworld, where time was becoming stretched, he shuddered at the notion of her shiny painted nail swooping down on his erect nipple again.

The anticipation was more than he could bear. Knowing that he could do nothing to stop it, just made the sensations more urgent. All he could do was receive. He pictured that fingernail like a vast astral body—hideous in its magnitude—penetrating the atmosphere, about to collide with the surface of his world.

His moans, always reverberating, intensified into screams. And it was this cacophony that greeted the contact of that slender digit against his exposed, tender nipple. Somewhere in the nooks of his mind he marveled at how such a simple touch could obliterate him.

Aaron cried out with all his strength, but there was no relief.

Sophie only forced his legs apart. Her thigh invaded the space in between, and was now pressing against his ass, into his perineum. How was it that she was able to manipulate his body so easily?

No time to ponder; the pressure was too intense. Pleasure shuttled between his pelvic floor, his nipple, his back against her breasts, and his ear, gaining ubiquity, expediting his submission. Now he knew it: He was going to cum in the most humiliating way he could imagine, to date.

Aaron’s only hope was to rouse himself to consciousness, scale the void and seize control. The alternative was defeat. Gazing up, giant walls of rock took shape in his mind, and he summoned some resolve and started to climb. He tried to ignore the moans reverberating through this unfathomable shaft. He had to fight and haul himself out.

But now his grip was coming unstuck. The surface of the cliff was getting slick. He held his hand up to see the sagging strands of precum bridging his thumb and finger. Aaron bucked when the force intensified against his most vulnerable opening.

There was a steamy weight on the air now. And the lubricating sides of the chasm were too slippery to hold. He could try to remain where he was and cling on for dear life, but sooner or later he would lose his grip and fall.

In his addled state he made an heroic push for safety. His manhood depended on it, and his sense of pride steeled him against insurmountable odds as he fought back the gasps and decadent moans.

And just when the lip of the chasm came into view and charged him with new resolve, Sophie’s word, cold and to-the-point, came booming down from on high. “Time to cum!”

His fall was absolute, only more harrowing because it made a mockery of his resistance. At last he caught his breath with a titanic creaking groan, and was forced upwards by a jet of dense moisture shooting from below. It blew him like a rocket into the waking world, moaning with total abandon, without a shred of pride.

The dampness coalesced in his shorts—lush strands of cum were vaulting into the material, against his skin and out onto his thighs. He was still panting as Sophie’s finger finally came to rest.

Aaron’s perception became sharper, and he prepared to voice his dismay at being trapped and used. He was going to have to reassess their relationship if he could not trust her. How dare she take advantage—

Oh wait, now he remembered. It was about a month ago. They were sitting on the bed in the daylight. Sophie, faintly agitated, was asking him something. He sensed her round, inquiring eyes probing him for a response before he could work out what she wanted.

“So, honey, you know I’ve been messing around with kinky hypnosis the last few weeks.”

“Hmm”, he replied, barely interested.

“Well I’ve hit a wall—I can only go so far without a subject. Could I maybe, sorta use you as a guinea pig?”

Now she had his attention, and he could tell she was looking for some way to package the request.

“Before I even start, you know this needs to be mutual…we need to set boundaries. I promise, you’ll keep hold of what you want, and drop what you don’t.”

He feared she was wasting her time, but wanted to support her as best he could.

“Sure, have at it…” Now parodying a B-movie villain, he said, “...hypnotize me!” And his own words slapped him in the face in the here and now.

“Wha- what happened?” Cum was still oozing out.

“Oh honey, you did so well for me. You’re even more submissive than I thought.”

Her declaration fired another involuntary spurt and a stifled moan, as clarity arrived in the corners of his mind. She eyed his ruined underwear with amused pity.

“We’ve been building up to this for a while. It’s been a lot of work.”

Now, silken, luxurious inductions and hooked suggestions were swirling in his mind like a sedative. But most of all he remembered all the conditions and limits, so meticulously laid out and agreed upon.

“Remember what you need to remember, forget what you want to forget.”

His eyes met Sophie’s. She cooed at him as she swept his hair from his forehead. Through the confusion and arousal, devotion came welling up. She had never seemed more beautiful, as she regarded him with an expression he couldn’t quite fathom. What was it? Satisfaction, excitement?

“Oh, and honey. Sink for me.” And all was dark once more.