Hands Behind My Back

There's never a more beautiful angle to look at my Goddess than the one I get when I'm down on my knees. Seeing her beautiful pubic mound framed by the broad swell of her belly and those soft, creamy thighs always makes me feel so deliciously weak, as if I couldn't possibly rise even if I wanted to. I don't want to--I'm blissfully content to kneel in front of her in deep trance, my mesmerized gaze fixated on her gorgeous body, daydreaming about all the wonderful things she's going to make me do now that the working day is over and we can play with each other the way we've been aching to for hours now. But I feel like I'm utterly lost in her power, and that's the important thing. That's the thing I want.

The thing we both want, honestly; Goddess might be lounging in her favorite easy chair with her legs spread wide and her heavy breasts swaying ever so slightly with every little movement of her beautiful body, but I know she's every bit as thrilled to look down and see me on my knees with my vacant blue eyes all soft and glassy and my cock flushed and throbbing with excitement as I am to look up and see her seductive smile. We're both of us lost in the roles we've chosen, even if I know I'm so much more deliciously lost than she is.

"Deeper and deeper, pet," I hear her purr in her seductive growl, and my eyes roll back in my head until the whole world comes to me through a warm red mist that flutters over and over with shadow. She could take me so easily if she wanted to, sap the last of my strength and my will and leave me slumped on the floor in a haze of supine bliss... but she's commanded me to keep my heavy eyelids from closing, and I'm too deeply hypnotized to disobey. It's a curious effect, a sense of delightful exhaustion so profound that it settles on me like a weighted blanket while still leaving me free to obey. I love it when Goddess finds new ways to mess with my head like this. I love discovering that there are always new pleasures to explore.

"Feel your hands drawing together behind you, my good, good boy," she coos. "Feel them pressing together, wrist to wrist, and locking tightly into bound and helpless submission to my will." I'm so deep that it doesn't even feel like something I'm doing anymore; there's an invisible cord tugging on my flesh, binding my hands behind my back, and I don't even think for an instant that it might be my own subconscious wrapping me up. I'm not really thinking much about anything right now except for Goddess's beautiful body, and it's wonderful.

It's only a matter of moments before my fingers clasp together, knuckles knitted closely as though glued to one another; and if I thought I felt helpless before, it's nothing compared to what I feel now. My body doesn't even belong to me, it belongs to my Goddess, and I'm her captive as surely as if the ropes in my imagination were real and solid. It deepens my trance even further, and my head slumps forward onto my chin as my eyes struggle and fail to stay open in anything other than the most notional sense of the word. My cock throbs harder and harder, precum drizzling from the tip in a steady stream, and all I want to do is drift down into blissful oblivion in Goddess's will.

But she keeps teasing me. "Stay with me, pet, stay with me," I hear her say, and I manage to raise my sleepy head into a tiny fraction of a nod. We both know I'm not really awake, that she's merely hypnotized me into pretending to believe I'm still possessed of some kind of an approximation of consciousness, but that's what makes my surrender so delightfully sensual--the deeper I go, the weaker and more submissive this pretense of awareness makes me. Until my mind has well and truly melted into surrender to her powerful will. Until even the pretense collapses, as it eventually has to, and I open up completely to her control.

I'm not there yet, though. Not quite. And she can still command me with her warm, seductive voice. "Come to me, good boy," she purrs, and I awkwardly knee-walk toward her--I can't even crawl, not with my hands trapped behind me, but my ungainly motions only serve to remind me of just how deeply controlled and obedient her hypnotic talents have made me. Even though there's nothing at all holding my hands together but the power of suggestion, even though it should be almost unthinkingly easy to separate them and go to her on hands and knees like a proper supplicant, I can't make myself do it. All I can do is clumsily make my way over to her before sagging face-first against her warmth and softness with a sigh of exhausted relief.

This close, I can smell Goddess's arousal, a gentle floral scent that wafts into my nostrils and makes my cock twitch and pulse and gush another torrent of precum onto the carpet. It makes me blissfully happy to know how much my submission excites her; as deep as I am, pleasing her has become a beacon in the fog that fills my exhausted mind, and getting tangible confirmation of her desire for me thrills me on a level beyond simple eroticism. There's something deeply joyful about being loved like this, offering my mind and my body and having that gift not just accepted but embraced, and it binds me to my Goddess far more deeply than any hypnosis ever could.

"Would you like to taste me, pet?" she asks, and my head moves against her thigh with a sleepy motion that doesn't convey anything close to the depths of my enthusiasm. But Goddess knows how deep I am right now. She knows that I'm not really seeing anything, despite the tiny flutters of my mostly closed eyelids that my befuddled brain is convincing me is a believable pretense at being awake, and she understands that I'm so completely and totally hypnotized right now that only her power over me keeps my body from flopping over into supine exhaustion. Under the circumstances, even a tiny little nod is the same as begging.

"Good boy," she murmurs in response to my nod, shifting position and gripping me tightly by the hair to guide my head down between her legs. I feel the electric mix of pain and pleasure as my scalp tugs against her grasp, but I'm riding an endorphin high so deep and profound right now that every sensation is welcome to my hypnotized mind. She presses my lips to her labia, and I taste her salty musk as I let my tongue slide out of my mouth so I can begin to lick at her plump, delicate cleft. I have to rely on her to keep me in the right position--with my hands behind my back like this, I can't brace myself against her thighs the way I otherwise would. Which only reminds me how truly, delightfully helpless I really am.

My tongue sinks deeper into her soaking folds as I hear Goddess gasp out, "That's it, good boy," and I can feel her musk smearing into my beard and coating the rough hairs with the scent of her arousal. I'm going to smell like her all evening long, and I know from long experience that it's going to soften my will and deepen my submission even after I finally emerge from trance; I'll be putty in her hands, hers to do with as she wishes, and I can't imagine anything more wonderful. If I didn't have to go into the office tomorrow, I'd happily skip my morning shower and spend all day inhaling her aroma with every obedient breath.

I find her swollen clit and nuzzle it eagerly, pursing my lips around it in a slow, suckling kiss that gradually increases in pressure until I can feel Goddess shuddering against me and wrapping her legs tightly around my head. My every breath comes to me in a fog of her scent, and years of conditioning convinces me to sink even deeper into trance as it fills my lungs and literally overpowers me. I'm always a good boy for Goddess, but never moreso than when the flavor of her arousal drifts into my mouth and nose and reminds me of every other time I've surrendered to her will--it's an anchoring effect, dragging me back to all the other memories of obedience and reinforcing them at the same time. I don't think my eyes are even notionally open anymore, but there's really nothing to see right now anyway.

I feel a liquid gush of pleasure against my tongue, and I know I've stimulated her to orgasm, but I don't stop licking and sucking and nuzzling even for a moment--my mind is deeply conditioned to obedience, and nothing makes me happier than the continued ecstasy of serving my Goddess with my mouth. Every one of her climaxes echoes its ecstasy into my hypnotized brain, providing me with a pleasure so intense that whatever arousal I'm feeling in my actual cock pales into insignificance by comparison. It's not like I can stroke myself anyway, not with my hands imprisoned behind my back like this.

She comes again, her free hand moving to paw at her heavy breasts--not that I can see it, of course, but after all this time I don't need to see Goddess to know exactly what she's doing to intensify her own pleasure. Her body is as intimately familiar to me as my own, and in many ways so is her mind... not because I know her as well as I do myself, but because I'm so deeply, thoroughly, eagerly brainwashed that every thought in my head is influenced by her hypnotic power over me. I'm acutely aware of everything that turns her on, because she made sure to train me into that knowledge. It's how I'm able to please her so perfectly.

Her whole body is quivering now, almost overwhelmed by ecstasy as I spike my tongue again and again between her slick labia and tease her to one orgasm after the next, and I've genuinely lost track of everything but the radiant delight of bringing my Goddess to her latest climax. It's so wonderful to know that it's not just the physical stimulation that's getting her off--it's me, my surrender, my mesmerized mind and hypnotically bound body. She can feel the rush of power flowing through her, the awareness that I'm eagerly owned and obedient to her every whim, and nothing could make me happier than being the object of so much pride of possession. I want to give her everything. I want to be her personal fucktoy and I'm always grateful every time to realize it's really happening.

And then she finally pulls me away, releasing me into the relatively cool and fresh air, and helps guide me down onto my side so that she can reach down and stroke my stiff, throbbing cock. It feels like only seconds before my balls tighten in orgasm and gush after spurting gush of semen flows from the tip in a joyous release of all my pent-up excitement--I've been building to this all night, though, and the climax I feel echoes all the mental orgasms I experienced between my Goddess's thighs. Only once I'm finally done, the carpet now a sticky mess that I'll happily spend twenty minutes or so cleaning once my mind returns to me, does she free my hands and let me slump into blank, blissful oblivion for a little while. And my mind slips away without even a flutter of resistance to her perfect, glorious will.

THE END