Disclaimer: This story is a portrayal of a nameless female submissive and an equally nameless male dominant engaging in hypnosis for fun and romance as a loving couple. If this prospect or that of seeing romantic hypnocuddles unsettles you in some fashion, I’d suggest not reading any further. This story is also a foray into the (often perilous!) world of first person limited point of view, focused on the sub. Sentence fragments abound and other such stylistic warnings apply. Thank you for reading.
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“Talking about the dark got you that worked up, huh?” He knew I never liked dark places. Too scary, too many unknowns and possibilities for getting hurt. Not safe. I confessed as much again. Maybe this time it would sink in. Maybe, unlike all the other times we talked and talked, this time, perhaps, I’d find the right words and he would understand. Insight! Kohlberg and other psychologists studied that. I’m sure they’d hate this scenario though. See, like always, his response was predictable and measured. Just a noncommittal sigh followed by silence-
And suddenly it became so much more. There was a spark in the air this time, a brainwave that changed everything. Pressing against the bed sheets – he laughed when I said they were zebra stripe print, but perhaps now they were more fitting than ever considering the choice gray patches from particular escapades still unclean – I shifted my head just slightly past the pillow I held hostage for emotional comfort, only to see an unusual look in his eyes. Something more than restrained compassion and a deliberate stonewall of empty affect. Then again, maybe I was just imagining things, who knows? There’s a saying about wishful thinking and eternal springs.
“Drop it.” I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head.
He didn’t mean that about what I said, right? The topic? I try and convince myself otherwise, which is kind of hard all things considered. “You can’t hold the pillow anymore. Not allowed.” Promptly, the emotional comfort and sleep device fled my grip to the floor with all the expediency and indignity which gravity could afford it.
Oh my.
Even a simplistic order with such a reflexive response like that makes my heartbeat race. It dropped before I even realized what he said. I can feel myself blush just a little, the heat underneath my makeup making my cheeks itch, and my eyes widen as I stare at him. I know my uncertainty is obvious on my face and I don’t even bother hiding it. What did he have planned this time, I wonder?
…I notice I’m biting down on my lower lip, mind all aflutter with anticipation and lust like some sort of teenie-bopper at a pop concert getting giddy that the lead singer looked at me, and all he’s done is make me drop my pillow. Now don’t I feel silly, building up these ideas of what will happen-
“Come here, my Good Slavepet.”
Oh master god so good yes fuck best master love master owned adored yes I am master’s slavepet I must obey…!
And I’m still shuddering, so many kinds of pleasure coursing through me I can’t even respond for I don’t know how long. A lover’s embrace, the smell of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day, seeing him smile, following orders, knowing who I am, what I am, what my place is, what my role is, that I am his… It’s literally the best feeling in the world, his praise, and I’m only barely ashamed of saying so.
With perhaps more enthusiasm than I intend to demonstrate – if I’m too eager, he’ll disengage and withdraw due to personal discomfort, but if I’m not eager enough he won’t think I enjoy it and yes that dilemma does make my head spin, thank you for asking – I hop onto the bed from my computer chair. It’s amazing how quickly I can cross small distances when properly motivated, even if my legs and, well, everywhere are shaky. Soon, we’re thoroughly entangled and my head rests against his chest.
His heartbeat is the sound of Genesis. Stable, constant, safe, protected, loved. Pump-pump. Pump-pump. Pump-pump…
“Good girl.” A primal shiver echoes across my body and I’m partially reminded of a ridiculous picture about devotion and love, but the particulars of that thought escapes me. He’s good at making thoughts escape me. That’s his job and what he does, and it’s easier for me to listen to him talk about his job because I am just-
“Back with me?” … What? I look up, my head feeling dazed and woozy. I’m sure I look confused, judging by the beautiful wonderful smile on his face. I love that smile. Still, he knows something I don’t and that just won’t do at all. I try to make accusations, something about perverts and hapless maidens, but then one of his hands brushes through my hair – ye gods that feels so good. Apparently it got too close to his face again? Probably. Not like he’d brush it affectionately like he probably knows I like that, no. – and he ends up agreeing with me. This throws me for a loop because half the fun of mock-accusations was him denying them. “You can say what you want. That doesn’t make it true.” Pointedly and, I won’t deny, with a certain degree of skepticism and mischief, I ask what exactly makes something true. I can’t wait to hear this. “I decide what’s true.”
And that’s all it took to get my panties wet.
I’d almost be ashamed of myself, but he really does decide what’s true and I know it’s true that he decides what’s true. Completely, on every level. Of course he decides what’s true. It’s only natural that it’s his responsibility to hold so much power, because I’m so uncertain and weak and powerless and it’d be so much better for me to just focus and listen because I’m just-
Back with me?” … What? I look up, my head feeling heavy and foggy. “Comfy?” There’s that wonderful perfect beautiful smile again. That sweet smile I love so much, making his face glow and fill me with happiness. I nod slowly, trying to mirror his smile at him. Both of those tasks are way harder than I thought. …Wait a second, was he always on top of me like this? I try and remember. I have to try even if it’s become so hard to do because nothing’s coming to mind and nothing comes to mind because I have no mind and I am just-\
“Back with me?” …What? Of- of course I am! Eyelids are just heavy, that’s why I didn’t open them this time. Too comfortable, safe, secure. His arms are wrapped so tight around me and I’m so warm and happy like this. Yes… I’m too tightly bound by his arms to move. I tried even, but nothing came of it. Not even a twitch. So I should just stop trying. Because I can’t even try, because I’m too powerless, too warm, relaxed, and happy, because I’m just-
“Back with me.” … Huh? He was- I don’t understand. Everything’s fuzzy now too. Slowing down. Trying to open my eyes. I have to try. Try to see him. One of them manages to open, just long enough to see him. See his radiance, his smile, his hand moving to my face and oh god his touch on my skin. At some point those perfect wonderful his fingers trace to my eyelids and push it down down deeper and deeper so close almost shut feels so good to let it all go shut because I’m just-
“Back with me.” …Back with him? Yes, that sounded right. I try to thank him, show how grateful I am that I’m back here with him where I should be. Exactly where I should be. It’s so hard, even barely nuzzling him with my head. A soft sigh instead of words. He… he understands, right? “Love you too.” And my heart races, a more pronounced sigh. He knows. I would squeeze him so tight and love and cherish him but I can’t move because I don’t need to. Perfectly natural, exactly how it should be. He knows better, takes care of me, and keeps me so safe and loved and adored because I am just-
“Back with me.” … Yes… back with him, where I should be. Nothing else matters, not when I can just relax and follow along. He’s so sweet. Wonderful. Perfect. Everything’s so… doesn’t matter now. Just his words, his tight and safe embrace holding me down, so I can just listen and feel. Because that’s easy, so easy to do. My arms are too slack to hold onto him anymore. Too weak, powerless, could never hope contain him. “… Bonds bring your arms to your side where they belong…” And they do, of course. It’s perfectly natural. I’m not moving them, they’re just following his orders. Like they should be. It’s so perfect, my arms just obediently following orders that I try to… try to… try- ohgodhekissedme! The taste of the most delicious nectar. His lips on mine and oh god everywhere down and down and further down my neck and pampered and loved like a prized possession should be because I’m just-
“Back with me.” … I… yes. Back with him. I am. That’s all that matters. All that will ever matter. It’s just him and me and it feels so good, so right like this. And I love him so much. He knows I do. “… and you know that I love you, so…” Heart races, but everywhere just relaxes. Muscles go slack, loose, limp, and heavy like they should. Because I can let go and trust him, because I love him and he loves me and his words are my reality. That’s all that matters. All that will ever matter. So good knowing that I’m obeying with every single relaxed muscle, like my legs. My weak, limp, loose, heavy legs. So powerless. Can’t contain him, they could never stay entangled. “… Bonds make your legs settle on the bed and spread out comfortably…” Just like he wants. And it just happens. I think. It’s hard to tell; I can’t see and thinking is so h- doesn’t matter. I love him and he loves me and his words are my reality. That’s all that matters. So my legs spread out just like he wants. Mindlessly following orders and obeysubmitserve just like I mindlessly follow orders and obeysubmitserve happily, eagerly, obediently because I am just-
“Back with me.” … Yes, Master. Back with Master. Master is everything to me. So perfect and beautiful. Should thank him, cherish him like he cherishes me, but no. Arms won’t move, legs won’t move. Eyes are locked shut. I try to hold a smile, smile for Master. It’s somehow harder than I… “… Good girl. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Yes Master of course Master love Master so much. I try to say so, to sing his praises, but my mouth won’t move. Too relaxed. Because I love Master and Master loves me and Master’s words are my reality. “Of course you are. And…” It feels so good to obey and love and be loved for obedience submission service like a good girl always does because all that’s his slavepet is for. His. “… And it’s so wonderful, being cherished, loved, and so perfect…” There’s a blush. Is it me? I don’t know. I can’t deny Master. After all, Master calls me things so sweet because I am those things and I love Master and Master loves me and Master’s words are my reality so I just give in and accept it more and more with each and every kiss down my neck deeper and deeper until I’m just-
“Back with me.” Yes Master. My Master. So wonderful, beautiful, perfect. Holding slavepet so close and tight everywhere because slavepet loves Master and Master loves slavepet and Master’s words are reality. Everything is wonderful and slavepet is so happy and loves Master so much always forever obeyingsubmittingserving because slavepet loves Master and Master loves slavepet and Master’s words are reality. Only service. No memories. Only submission. No will. Only obedience. No thoug-
“Just Master. Back with me.”