Can’t Let Go

Greg emerged from the meeting ebullient, assured the team would move ahead. Each day Greg faced serious work challenges that required leadership, decisiveness, and relationship building. Often Greg met these challenges head on, sometimes stumbling yet always achieving. His dark curls, lithe, muscular body, and bright blue eyes did no harm to his charisma. His team members loved and respected him.

His girlfriend no longer did. Love and respect had bonded them as recently as six months ago, but it had leaked away. Cheryl was a delight, overflowing with positivity and a charming smile to match. Her saucy short brunette hair framed deep brown expressive eyes. She, too, had found success in her career and she truly loved Greg. Together, they were a high-powered couple until Greg’s issues steadily grew. 

Cheryl got everything she needed from their warm, loving relationship, except one thing. A sense of being in an equal partnership. Greg saw himself as a feminist and he was, except with her. Greg loved her deeply and sought to protect her, often leaving her out of certain decisions. And the mansplaining! Good heart or not, it was unbearable. Countless serious talks accomplished nothing. Greg could not see this in himself. He was helping…nurturing...never overbearing. Wasn’t he? 

Cheryl abandoned the long conversations and made a desperate move to get Greg to release his control. Sexual desire coursed between them often. Their sexual appetites held them together, and she thought she could use sex to twist the ridiculous control freak out of Greg. 

———————

Greg arrived at her apartment on what would be his last day there. On the door was an envelope with a single cursive word: greg. He opened it with a smirk on his full lips and read the scented note inside. “Come inside and kneel.” His eyebrows went up, but he shrugged and opened the door. Her place smelled slightly of myrrh and cedar, a bit musky. Sexual. One red bulb softly illuminated her living room, and he heard tinkling sounds from her bathroom, the familiar sounds of a woman getting ready. He grinned and knelt on the thick rug. 

Cheryl emerged from the bathroom, encased in black vinyl, wearing a mask. She growled at him, “Take off your clothes, bitch.”

He blinked twice and burst out laughing as he stood up. Cheryl paled and then blushed as she burst into tears and fled to the safety of her bathroom, screaming, “Get out! Just get out!!!”

Greg apologized at her door profusely. He tried to explain that she has surprised him and that she looked hot. He pressed his face to the door and explained more. He was tired from work. He couldn’t let go. He loved her. Her crying had ended. The bathroom was silent. 

He slumped to the floor, feeling terror that this would end everything. Finally, he heard her state calmly and clearly that he needed to leave. He explained again, but she cut him off. “You can’t control this. Get the fuck out.” He dragged himself to his feet and shuffled out the door. Even then, tears would not emerge from Greg’s sorrowful eyes. 

He arrived home to a long email from Cheryl, now his ex. She hoped one day he would learn that the greatest control of all was to let go of control. He shook his head. Ridiculous. 

But as the months slid past him and other relationships failed, he recalled her words. When the team at work began to crumble, he knew it was him. Fear caused micromanagement, which led to staff leaving the team. Finally, Greg was fired. 

In desperation and total confusion, he knew he had to make some kind of huge life change. He thought back to Cheryl’s apartment, on his knees, and how he felt when she appeared in all black, totally confident. 

Fear. That’s what he felt. There had been nothing to laugh at. Any man would have felt aroused and such sexual desire could even have opened the door on submission. But not for Greg. He laughed at her?! What was wrong with him? He couldn’t give up control, not even to the woman he had hoped to marry. Not even for a couple of hours of delicious sex. He had a problem. 

Googling about letting go of control took him to therapy sites, to hypnosis, and to female domination and various BDSM themes. He read dozens of articles and watched videos from scientific to lewd. It all sounded silly to Greg, but humility had found him. He had to try something! He saw there was a place in San Francisco that guaranteed help for men with control issues. There were multiple therapies available from traditional talk therapy to a BDSM dungeon and everything in between, including hypnosis and sex workers. 

He called and spoke to a woman with a lovely voice who treated him with kindness and understanding. He made an appointment, amused that such a place took appointments. They even sent it to his Google Calendar. 

Greg showed up at the scheduled time at a place on the far end of Polk Street, away from the seedy side. It was a traditional three story home, painted pale pink, which matched the classic pastels that endured salt air in SF. He opened the door and bells jingled quietly as if he were entering a quaint little gift shop. 

The receptionist with the lovely voice, Carol, recorded his name and he sat down. Moments later, heels clicked and a door opened. A tall woman slipped through and called his name. She was not what Greg expected. Red hair framed a pleasant face that was almost farm-girlish. She had a real woman’s body that was neither model skinny nor BDSM voluptuous. She threw a great smile at Greg and they entered a small room with two comfy chairs and a small coffee table, complete with coffee, tea, and a bowl of caramels and chocolates. 

She introduced herself as Wendy and they began to chat. She put Greg at ease and then discussed his issues. He admitted he could not release his control, even though he knew it was hurting himself and people he loved. He said that letting go felt like being roasted over a fire with the sound of a rake on sidewalk in his ears. Greg couldn’t do it. His control had vaulted him high at work and attracted Cheryl. Though he admitted maybe it had lost him those things, too. 

Wendy described several options. Hypnosis could help soothe his mind and help with mental and emotional release. Sex itself can help through orgasm and pleasurable experimentation, but Wendy suggested it might not work for Greg. She suggested some men could let go of body control through pain from a sexy, dominant woman. The pain released endorphins that could wrest control from him. 

Greg chose the last option. He understood pain and sex. He could try to learn from a FemDom. He made an appointment for the following afternoon. 

————————————

At 4:00 I walked past the cute receptionist, down a different hallway, and sat in a hardback chair at the end of the hallway by a heavy wooden door decorated with classic BDSM symbols. As I waited, I could hear muffled sounds from within. The swoosh and crack of a whip. Sharp cries that became hoarse, pleading words. More whipping. Sobbing. A grunt and more sobbing. 

This was fucking crazy! Did I want this? Abuse?! I should bolt. But that would take me right back to where I was. Damn. I clenched my fists as I imagined the whip creating harsh welts, but I didn’t leave. Then the door opened and a woman peeked out. “Come in. You passed.”

“Huh?” I mumbled. 

She laughed. “You heard a recording. Now get your sexy ass in here.”

I laughed and she grabbed my shirt with her left hand, pulling me to her as her right hand gripped my chin. Hard. 

“I get to laugh. You get other things, pig.”

My breath caught. Fear or desire? Both? I finally looked her up and down. All in black, like Cheryl, but in faux leather that complimented her simple blond ponytail and blue eyes under strong eyebrows that intensified her gaze. Her toned body featured high firm breasts and long legs ending in boots. The classic Domme. She gripped my face harder and pulled me inside to a wide leather bench, where she tied my hands and feet so I was spreadeagled before her. 

“Use the traffic signal colors as your safewords. I’m going to hurt you and I’m going to make you like it. I can take you places you’ve never been. Trust me.”

This was going too fast! I didn’t trust her at all, but when she licked her glossy red lips slowly, my willingness to try grew. I lay still. 

She cut my clothes off. What the hell would I wear out of here? Why didn’t I say “red”? Being naked and tied stirred something inside me. I could not hide my biological response, and she snickered. 

I felt a sudden sting on my bare thigh and realized she had slapped me! My erection flagged slightly, and she continued slapping my thighs. I watched her full body and beautiful eyes, but the pain wasn’t doing it for me. It hurt but offered nothing more. Who wants pain? What was I doing? When she picked up the whip, I called out “red” and was sent home in cheap sweats, a t-shirt, and no underwear. They offered me pink panties, but I declined. 

A week later, I went back, feeling defeated. Wendy took my hand, rubbing it gently as I relayed my story of pain to her. Pain hurts. It’s not sexy. I don’t like being tied by some stranger, no matter how hot she is. 

Wendy said we needed to try hypnosis. The next step should have been standard vanilla hypnosis, often used to help people stop smoking. I think she saw the hopeless look in my eyes when she said that. Wendy paused and suggested instead that we take a risk and try a hypnodomme. I countered with my negative feelings about being dominated and hurt, but she said she had two ideas about me. First, that arousal would be a key to my letting go, but it had to be done the right way. 

I asked about the second idea and she smiled into my eyes. 

“I think,” she murmured, her brown eyes never leaving mine, “that you need to feel connected. You didn’t even know the name of that Domme last week, did you? You need to honestly like a woman to desire her, don’t you? You need a woman with a warm heart, a soothing voice, and dark secrets. Then you can let your arousal ramp up. Am I right, Greg?”

I felt a bit flustered as she released my hand and grazed her long red nails up my arm, then down my chest, finally resting her warm hand gently between my legs. Immediately my cock strained. 

“Unfortunately, Greg, I’m neither a Domme or a hypnotist, but I have someone I would like you to meet. She’s a little risky, but I believe she can train you to really let go.”

She removed her hand and I found I had been holding my breath. I drew in a cool lungful of air and asked, “Why is she risky?”

“Well,” Wendy said, resting her hand gently on my left knee, “She may explore things about you. She may find surprises in that locked-up mind of yours. She won’t hesitate to exploit them to help you. Or please herself.”

My dry mouth responded hoarsely, “Let’s try her. I’m pretty sure she will have her hands full just trying to get me to release control.”

Wendy smiled. “I’m sure you’re right, Greg.” She gave my cock one last squeeze. “Come with me.”

Thinking that’s exactly what I wanted to do, I followed her to a different small sitting room decorated in deep green and violet. This one has a large couch with seats and pillows like clouds. I sat in an overstuffed chair next to a similar one. Wendy blew me a little kiss as she closed the door. I was alone, very curious, and a little horny.

The warmth of the room and the softness of the chair caused me to zone out a bit until I heard a sweet, almost musical voice say, “Hello Greg, I’m Tessa. Tessa Fields.”

“Tessa,” I said, already liking her name on my lips, “So glad to meet you. I hope you can help me with my control issues. I’ve got rock bottom and nothing has helped so far. I’m getting kind of desperate.”

Tessa laughed lightly, assuring me she could help, but only if I let her. We had a conversation about my struggles at work and with Cheryl. Tessa listened intently, nodding and asking questions. She didn’t seem anything like a dominatrix or a hypnotist. Her professionalism shined through and we chatted easily. I liked her and felt the tiniest hint of trust growing for Tessa.  

Tessa had beautiful green eyes and as I looked into them, sometimes I felt the warmth of our growing connection and sometimes a bit of fear. Maybe she was more dominant than I had first thought? Long dark hair framed her lovely face and lipsticked mouth. Her smile promised she was an angel sent to help me, though seeing her wet tongue in her open mouth suggested a bit of devilishness. I felt off balance. 

Tessa had amazing breasts, large and perfectly shaped. Her body was full and she wore dark hose ending in shoes that showed off her toes, with nails so red they showed through the nylon. 

Tessa was my “type.”

I watched the clock, the second hand sweeping slowly and the minute hand creeping ever so slightly until our time was up. She reassured me that she could help me and thought it possible that I might allow her to hypnotize me. She raised a hand and swept her tresses to one side of her face and tilted her head at me. “You might even like it,” she whispered. Her voice had a rhythmic cadence and a tone that seemed to not just touch my ears, but penetrate them. “Come to me on Friday.”

I looked forward to my return to Tessa. In fact, I thought of her often in the days between visits. Whatever risk she might bring, I wanted to let her try to help me. Tessa was special. 

———————————

After a little chat about some silly things that we had in common, Tessa’s voice slowed and my responses followed suit. Gradually our discussion slowed, pauses increased, her voice became sultry and smooth. Feeling safe with Tessa and now I followed her simple directions. It was easy, not at all scary, not submissive. It was like my friend was doing a guided meditation for me. 

She had me breathe with her, slowly, deeply. I inhaled clean, clear goodness and exhaled smoky badness. Her low voice soothed me and my I was vaguely aware of my breathing getting steady and smooth. “That’s good,” Tessa breathed, and I smiled shyly as tension left my body. “This is why I am here,” I thought. She helped my body get heavier and heavier until I felt relaxed and warm, immobile on her couch. Her voice swirled around and through me until I let out a long shaky breath and sank. 

Tessa shifted her chair closer to mind.  Her breath blew softly on my ear and neck as she coached me into blissful relaxation. I was aware of what was happening and thoughts still sprouted from my mind, but I felt deeply relaxed. I could notice the thoughts and then let them go. She counted me down several times, but each time she got to 3-2-1, I resisted.

Tessa told me to open my eyes and they popped open as I grinned. She rolled her eyes attractively and said we would try something different. She asked me to keep my eyes open and simply stare at the blank ceiling. I did as she said, my body returning to calm. She began describing the relaxation I felt in my muscles. They’re growing weight and warmth. Sinking deeper and deeper into Tessa’s couch. My eyes remained open, as directed, but I felt them wanting to close. She whispered into my ear, so intimately, “Heavy, heavy eyelids, Greg. Keep them open for Tessa. My eyelids fluttered yet stayed open. She described heavy calm eyelids that had to fight to not close them. It felt good to do as she said. “It would feel sooooo goood to clise your eyes, but keep them open for Tessa.” The “for Tessa” part triggered something inside me and I started to lose the eyelid battle. He voice felt deeper in my ears, like her words skipped my ears and connected her thoughts directly to my mind. I fought valiantly against gravity and felt despair as my eyes kept closing. Weak eyes. Then Tessa whispered in that magical rhythm, “Sleep for Tessa” and they slowly closed, unable to open. 

My mind felt both free and blank. Tessa was whispering something and fleeting thoughts were released. I lost myself on her every word, a lifeline to Tessa. More thoughts escaped and my mind quieted. As it emptied I felt Tessa filling it with praise and kindness. She told me I was beautiful and sweet. She called me pet names as my jaw went totally slack. My eyes succumbed to her gentleness and I felt tears well up, hidden by my heavy eyelids. 

I don’t know how long I was under but suddenly I heard “3…4…5…wake for me, Greg.” I did. What has happened? 

“How do you feel?”

I admitted that I felt delightfully relaxed and refreshed. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I wasn’t sure how this would help, but maybe it could? She asked me how I felt about her and I found my eyes on the floor as I murmured, “Good.” 

She gave me a recording and asked me to trance daily “for Tessa” and to come to her in a week. She added casually, “No orgasms, Greg.”

I left, unable to say a word.

—————————

I tranced every day for Tessa. “Yes, Tessa” occupied my mind throughout the day and I leaned into it. I slept deeply at night and felt a gentle hum of arousal every time my mind quieted. Each recording did something different to me. At first it was just progressive relaxation and sleep, some without an awakening trigger at the end that I used at night. Some focused Tessa herself, making me promise to think of her often. Near the end of the week she her voice had shifted from soft to strong and I obeyed, craving her commands. By the day before our session I felt real stirrings of submission. I almost didn’t go. 

—————

Tessa took me deep this time and it felt like my willingness had increased. She made my mind blank and my heart pound…and I could feel her enjoying it and that felt oddly arousing. 

In the following moments, or minutes, my awareness of Tessa heightened. Eyes closed, I still saw her in my mind, watching me. Those lips. Those eyes. Reading me and using what she saw to relax and arouse me so my mind softened. 

I let go just a little bit and it felt like her voice crawled in deeper. My resistance faded and then I heard, “Sleep for Tessa.” 

Again I awakened to “…4…5”. I thanked her and as I walked out of her office I realized my pants were wet with cum. I went to the restroom to clean up but when I touched my sticky cum, something shifted inside me. I looked at my index finger, coated in cum. My eyes glazed over and I slid it into my mouth. I moaned and sucked, loving the flavor. 

Her voice buzzed in my mind all week and I felt no urge to masturbate. 

————-

Shyness overwhelmed me as I entered her office and sat in my overstuffed chair. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Part of me wanted to run out the door and never return. This wasn’t really me. I was my own man! This felt wrong! 

Then Tessa took my hands in hers and suggested I look into her eyes. She smiled. She asked how if I felt uncomfortable when in trance and I knew that I never had. I felt wonderful when trancing with Tessa. I looked down at our joined hands, watching as her left hand released mine and rose to cup my cheek, lifting my chin so my blue eyes met her knowing green ones. “You’re safe with Tessa, Greg. When you go deep I will always care for you. You’re beginning to feel submission. So soon! Such a good boy!” I looked back into her eyes and gratitude enveloped me. 

Tessa took me back into trance and this time it was easy to drop for her. My body stayed still and my mind went blank, hungry for her to fill it. She aroused my skin so it tingled and warmed. She used her voice to tease my nipples and inner thighs. Her voice entered my mind like never before and she made me hotter and hotter…for Tessa. My cock hardened and my asshole pulsed. I licked my lips and arched my back as I whispered her name, over and over, each utterance driving me deeper into trance and submission. I heard her laugh softly with pleasure at my wildness and I felt my cock surge. Pleasing Tessa felt better than anything I had felt before. I would gladly relinquish my own pleasure to please her. 

At the end of the session she warned me that if I returned, she would make me beg from the depth of my heart. She would claim me and I would be hers. She promised that she would be thrilled if I returned. She would find the secrets in my mind and help me come to grips with them. She would heal me. She would also find my boundaries and use them to connect us even tighter. She would gently and sweetly mold me so I would please her. After this next session, I would belong to Tessa. She asked me to think very seriously about that before coming back. 

She suggested new recordings and sent me away with a soft swat on my ass, then took my hand and pulled me to her. Our faces drew close and I had no power to close the gap. She caressed my cheek and reached her glossy lips toward mine. I parted my lips and she blew gently into my mouth; I inhaled her, feeling her touch me inside my lungs. She licked her lips, watching me shiver. She tilted her head and closed her eyes. I could smell her lipstick and her heady perfume. A whimper escaped me and she laughed, whispering, “Long for me, pet. Let go for Tessa.” 

“Please,” I begged softly. 

“More, pet”

“Oh please, Tessa please! Please…please…” Tears rolled down my cheeks. 

Tessa smiled and ran her finger into my hair as she kissed away each tear, making me cry harder. “Look at you, so sweet. You’re already mine. Kneel for me.” 

My legs trembled as I lowered to my knees. I looked up onto her green eyes, my own brimming with tears. 

“How does that feel, boy?”

“It feels…right. But I’m so confused, Tessa.”

“It is right. You need to worship a woman like me and I enjoy your worship.” She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ll teach you what you are. I’ll help you understand your role and the beautiful thing we share.”

My tears flowed freely now. Tears of gratitude and freedom. My head swam in confusion but my soul knew it has arrived home.

“Would you like to be naked, Greg?” Tessa murmured. 

“Yes.” I said and and I began unbuttoning my shirt. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Tessa” I moaned as I stripped off my clothes and knelt again. “I need you. I need this.”

“Oh I know,” Tessa said with a laugh. “And this is just the beginning. Soon you will crave me even more. I’ll have you wrapped around my finger. Or should I wrap my fingers around you?” She leaned forward and gripped my slippery cock, increasing the strength of her grip almost to the point of pain. Then she smiled, released my cock, and dabbed lightly at my frenulum. Precum oozed obediently. 

“Tessa…these feelings…help me?”

“Oh pet, let go completely for Tessa. You adore me, of course. You can finally be yourself. And you can be mine, too.” Tessa kissed Greg with a soft open mouth, infinitely gentle, her lips wet and accepting, his trembling. She had removed his aggression so all he could do was respond, following her lead. 

Tessa kissed him teasingly until he was a kneeing quivering mess and then she claimed his mouth with her tongue. Hard. Rough. She released him with a giggle and he fell at her feet, kissing her ankle, lost - and found - in Tessa.