CYOA Wednesday 2024 – Week 47 [A Night to Remember to Forget – 21]

We continue this CYOA tale today. Synopsis below:

Brandon’s friends surprise him by inviting/hiring a hypnodomme to come to his birthday party. What fun happenings will ensue?

The winning option of the twentieth poll with 57% of the votes was:

They play some more, and he collapses exhausted, and ends up staying the night in her guest bedroom.

https://www.patreon.com/posts/116405565

Read the twenty-first segment below:

Mistress Susan took the glass from him, her fingertips brushing against his as she lifted it to her lips. The wine glided into her mouth like a beautiful secret, an elixir that seemed to enhance the very air around them. Each sip was deliberate, savoring the taste as if it were the sweetest nectar. Her eyes never left his, a magnetic pull that anchored him in place, ensnared by the depth of her gaze.

“Do you see how exquisite this is?” she purred, letting the glass linger just below her chin, its ruby depths catching the light like a captured sunset. “Each note sings of opulence and indulgence, just like our moments together. You love this, don’t you?”

Brandon nodded, transfixed, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest as he watched her relish the wine. It enveloped him in a cocoon of adoration; she was everything – vibrant, commanding, beautiful in ways that transcended mere appearance.

“Mmm,” she murmured, handing him the glass. “Tell me what it tastes like to you.”

Brandon leaned closer, wanting to be part of this intimate ritual. The dark red liquid slid down his throat. “It’s… bold and warm, Mistress. Like velvet draping over my tongue,” he replied.

“I like how that sounds… Slave, I need a footstool. You know what you must do.”

The words hung in the air, reverberating through him like the low hum of a distant melody. He felt the world tilt beneath him, as though reality had taken on a new shape, bending to her will. Without a moment’s hesitation, he positioned himself on the plush carpet, kneeling once again before her, and lowered his torso until his back formed a sculpted pedestal for her feet. They hovered above him for a moment before she pressed them down against his back, the delicate weight a heavenly burden he adored above everything.

“Oh yes,” she cooed, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. “Comfortable? Good.”

Brandon felt every curve and contour of her soles against his skin; the sensation was electric. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to embrace this newfound purpose. Each pulse of her warmth seeped into him, rooting him deeper into his role. Why was everything so perfect with her? Could this beautiful moment of devotion last forever?

“Good boy,” she praised, her voice caressing his ears like soft silk. “I’m so pleased with you right now.”

“Thank you, Mistress Susan. I’m honored.”

Her laughter bubbled forth, a melodic sound that threaded through the air. “Honored? Oh, how sweet!” she replied, her tone teasing yet laced with authority. “But you must know that your honor is only as deep as your obedience. Are you ready to surrender entirely?”

The warmth of her feet spread through him, each gentle press against his back igniting a fire within, coaxing out feelings he hadn’t known were buried so deeply. He could feel the firm arch of her foot, the way it molded to the contours of his spine, tracing pathways of pleasure that sent ripples of obedience coursing through him. With every stroke, every slight shift, he became more aware of how utterly captivated he was.

“Let go, my dear,” she whispered. “Allow my presence to fill you up.” She began to massage him with slow, deliberate movements, her toes kneading into the taut muscles along his shoulders. He bit his lip to stifle a moan that threatened to escape as her feet danced over his skin. He could feel the tension coiling within him release under her deft guidance, unspooling like thread from a spindle. She whispered soft arousal commands that danced between them, wrapping around his mind, and binding his thoughts in a web of everlasting submission.

“Mine,” she declared. “You are mine, my perfect slave. I control you. If I tell you to go hard, you go hard, and if I tell you to soften, you will soften.“ She clicked her fingers. “Do it now.”

Brandon’s arousal surged forth, his manhood stiffening to attention as if commanded by a divine force. He felt her smirk against his earlobe, the tingle of her breath heating his skin. “And now…” Another click. “Soft again.”

His manhood shrank, deflated like a popped balloon in the blink of an eye. He whimpered, his need clear in the very core of his being.

“Such a good toy,” she purred, rubbing her left foot along his spine. “You no longer have free will. I own every thought that crosses your mind.”

Mistress Susan continued to click her fingers, alternating between states to deepen his subservience. She held the reins and he was nothing more than a puppet, dancing for her amusement.

After almost an hour of intense play and mindfucks that seemed everlasting, Brandon’s strength began to leave him. He was spent, both physically and mentally, and it became apparent he was in no condition to drive back home on his own. The hypnodomme was also tired, and so she did something she hadn’t done in a long time.

With a soft sigh, she released him from the mesmerizing grip of her clicks and commands, allowing him to breathe once more. Her feet slid off his back, leaving a lingering warmth in their wake as she stood before him with an alluring smile. “Come,” she beckoned, extending her hand toward him with an elegance that mirrored the grace of her movements. “You’ll spend the night here, in my guest bedroom. I think you’ve earned it.”

Brandon blinked, still dazed from their intense session, but the thought of being so close to her for the rest of the night filled his mind with dizzying warmth. He reached out and took her hand, feeling a jolt of electricity at the contact as they walked together.

Mistress Susan led him into a spacious guest room draped in soft shades of mauve and lavender, exuding a soothing atmosphere that felt like a gentle embrace. The room was adorned with plush pillows and thick blankets, the kind that promised comfort and shelter from the outside world.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she instructed, her voice soft but filled with authority. She watched as he sank onto the edge of the bed, his heart racing with anticipation. It was impossible to ignore how every moment spent in her presence heightened his senses, leaving him craving more.

“Rest now, Brandon. Sleep and dream of me. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll no longer be in a trance and you’ll feel refreshed and energized, ready to face whatever comes. You’ve been an amazing subject and I hope we can do this again but you’ll decide on your own when my suggestions are no longer influencing your thoughts. Sleep.”

He lay back against the plush pillows, the soft linen cradling him like a cloud in a pastel sky. The scent of lavender filled the room, wrapping around him like a gentle whisper. He felt the remnants of her commands lingering at the edges of his consciousness, like delicate threads woven into the fabric of his thoughts. But now, those threads began to fray, loosening their hold as fatigue washed over him.

As he lay there, his eyelids began to flutter like delicate butterfly wings. He focused on her words, her reassuring tones woven into his being, as they echoed in his mind: “Sleep and dream of me.”

And so he did, happy and free as the best night of his life ended.

To decide what happens next, head over to my Patreon (you can join for free), and vote on the poll there until next Sunday. 

If you’re new to these CYOA stories, here are the basic rules:

1) You can only choose one option;

2) If there’s a tie at the end of the poll, and the competing options can be combined somehow, I’ll do that. If not, I get the deciding vote to keep the tale going.

3) The process continues every Wednesday until the story runs its natural course.

Have fun.