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.
*****
"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.
