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.
