Year 1 of Spell… B-O-U-N-D’s Femdom Hypnosis and Mind Control 55 Words Stories Challenge. The stories in this post were written between March 1st and March 31st.
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Muse Talk III
“Another day, another short story, huh?”
“Of course, my dear.”
“Are you still using subliminals to keep him focused?”
“No. I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”
“Such as…?”
“Hypnotic chastity. He writes feverishly hoping for a chance to cum and I keep telling him that, maybe one day, I’ll let him.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
The topic of chastity is an interesting one. It’s appealing because of the commitment it entails, it’s also somewhat obnoxious in some of its most kinky expressions. I thoroughly dislike chastity devices because I find them demeaning but I like the discipline of the chastity act itself. I think the Muses lie somewhere in-between in this regard, and hypnosis has a way to make things even better.
Practicing
“Ten different personalities, huh?” Doctor Moore asked as she circled the sleeping patient.
“Yes,” Doctor Black replied, “but they share common traits. They’re all submissive and yearn to be rendered mindlessly obedient to women.”
“There’s only one possible treatment then.”
“Indeed. I hope you brought your metronome, today. We’ve got a lot of practicing ahead.”
This piece was inspired by a writing challenge I was hosting that month, namely an event dedicated to medical stories. It’s silly, it’s fun. Sometimes, one submissive personality isn’t enough.
Her Greatest Strength
She felt the ropes around her wrists. “Do you really think you’re going to take over my house?”
“Oh yes…” the male dom chuckled.
“You forget that a Hypno-Domme’s greatest strength lies in her voice.”
As her tone shifted, so did his perception. His mind was gone long before his body sank to the ground.
Another piece I wrote for the fun of it. Underestimating those with real power is never wise. The best thing about this story is that my Mistress liked it a lot. I hope you do, too.
Going Home
“… and three… welcome back,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” he stretched, smiling.
“How was it?”
“Wonderful. An overwhelming rapture that made my soul shiver and…”
“Just one word, please. How do you feel when you go under for me?”
“Home,” he sighed.
“Good,” she said before gently touching his forehead.
Going home never felt better.
Something more heartwarming this time around. The romantic in me was awake, it seems. It happens, sometimes. I’m a highly emotional and sensitive person and that reflects on the things I write more than I usually admit. It’s a good thing, I think.