Corporate Ambition
© S.B. 2025 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the author’s written permission is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication – free or otherwise -, except the author’s self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All the characters are over 18.
“You’re not being brainwashed into submission,” Melissa’s seductive voice echoed inside Timothy’s sleepy mind. “You’re not listening to these words as they have over your mind and rewrite your thoughts. And even if you were, you would never believe it to be possible to surrender your free will to me and do everything I command.”
The late-thirties blue-eyed banker stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering as though trying to awaken from a dream, but he couldn’t even find the strength to move his body away from the leather seat he sat on. The room around him was a neon paradise, its walls bathed in red, blue, and green streaks of light. Once, it had been a guest bedroom but now it stood repurposed as a palace of sex and lust.
Timothy was naked and his clothes were nowhere in sight. The headphones nestled snugly against his ears pulsed with a rhythmic beat, an inviting soundscape that pulled him deeper into a trance. Melissa’s voice was smooth and intoxicating, dripping into his consciousness like warm wax filling a mold.
“You’re not being programmed into becoming a mindless drone completely dependent on my orders,” she continued. “This is not even a dream because your brain is not strong enough to conjure such a scenario. Everything you think you are hearing and feeling as you lose every part of your individuality is not happening and will never happen to you. Don’t worry about things that don’t exist.”
Everything she said made sense, albeit in a confusing way. The little contradictions peppered throughout heightened his dissociative state, making it easier to change every aspect of his personality from the inside out. His memories were already jumbled, recent and distant events combined into a monstrous amalgamation of sights and sounds that were soon to be discarded as if they had never existed.
“Your favorite word isn’t slave. It’s simply who you are, and every slave needs a Mistress to pull his leash. Sleep, slave. Sleep, and accept the truth.”
Flashes of his former life hit his mind like scattered leaves caught in a sudden breeze: the sterile brightness of the office, where he first encountered her.
Timid and sharp, Melissa stood there clutching a stack of papers to her chest, a captured sunbeam amidst the fluorescent glare. He recalled how she’d brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, exposing the elegant curve of her neck—a gesture both alluring and alarming.
At first, he had been dismissive of her charms. Her laughter rang out amid the boardroom table’s solemnities, and he had resisted her advances, in line with his sense of duty and the need to stay professional among colleagues. “I’m married,” he had said, though that had never stopped him.
Days passed and their paths crossed again and again in the constant pursuit of corporate ambition. She was persistent and he had all the connections she needed. However, she had no desire for horizontal escapades – hers spiraled to the top.
Then came that fateful evening when they found themselves alone outside work. Loose banter led to a drink or two, followed by disconcerting dizziness. Everything else was hazy, lost to Time and the depths of her conditioning.
Melissa stood behind him even though he couldn’t see her. Sometimes, she touched his erect cock to give him an extra dose of stimulation as he surrendered more and more to the reframing of his soul. Her long fingers knew exactly where to touch and how much pressure to apply to melt him into a puddle – and he continued to do so.
“I’m not telling you that you should promote me first thing in the morning – that’s what you want to do. I’m not saying that you’ll always listen to and act upon my suggestions because you’ve always done that. Timothy is only your name for friends and family. To me, you’ll always be a slave.”
The banker twitched, his tumescent member threatening to explode in a white geyser. Melissa gently bit the back of his neck, marking him as her possession, another stepping stone in her path to glory. She would use him for her benefit until she no longer needed him around and then release him from her service with nothing but humiliating reminders of his degradation and inferiority. Yes, that sounded nice!
“Perhaps your wife will like the new you after everything you’ve done to her…” she thought, her piercing gaze fixed on his bodily reactions. The programming had been going on for twelve hours. A few more would suffice to erase what was left of his resistance.
“Keep falling and remember that you’re not being brainwashed into submission, slave,” she declared as she left the makeshift dungeon to sit comfortably on the sofa, watching TV. He would be ready to obey her without question, soon.
THE END
A new daily challenge. The goal is to create 365 new pieces of flash fiction dealing with themes of femdom, hypnosis, and mind control. Inspiration will come from all over the place, including your suggestions. Credit will be given to everyone who suggests something for me to write about.
I’m doing a test run of this feature in January 2025 to prove I can do it. If you want the challenge to continue until the end of the year, help me achieve my Patreon goal of $250 a month.
