Planning Stages

The First Night

"I was just reading this hot new story. Want to act it out sometime?"

His voice was casual, but she knew it belied anticipation. And, of course, arousal.

"Read it to me," she ordered, smiling.

They curled up in bed that evening. He read aloud from his laptop. She looked over his shoulder at the screen, following along with the story.

He was right, the story was hot. At a certain point, she stopped reading over his shoulder and started imagining the main character as he slowly fell into trance. She could see him in her mind's eye, his eyelids growing heavier, his protests growing weaker as his muscles relaxed, his erection rising...

When her thighs started rubbing together, that was her sign story time should come to an end. "Alright, stop reading," she said.

"Um, okay." He sounded confused. "You don't like it? We can pick another one."

"No." She took a deep breath. "No, I like it. I like it so much, I've gotten really turned on. And I need you to fuck me. Now."

"What? Wow, okay." He quickly closed the laptop and put it on the bedside table.

She waited until the laptop was safely tucked away before pouncing.

"Looks like you got turned on, too," she purred.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Like I said, it's a really hot story."

The Second Night

"Can we finish reading that story?" she asked, snuggling next to him.

"Okay, but are you going to be able to restrain yourself?" he asked jokingly.

"I will try," she replied solemnly.

They got through the whole story this time. He was right, it was hot. Really, really hot. By the time he reached the end of it, she was squirming.

"So, what did you think?" He turned to her. "Wanna act it out?"

"Yes." She bit back a moan. "But I need you to close that laptop. Now."

He quickly closed the laptop. "Okay, closed--"

He didn't get a chance to say anything else, because she jumped on top of him. It's hard to talk when someone else's tongue is down your throat.

The Third Night

"So, were you interested in acting out that story?" he asked casually.

"Yes." Her tone was decisive.

"Okay. Ready to plan it out?" he asked.

She nodded. She had been leaning against the headboard. Now, she sat up shifted into a cross-legged position. He did the same.

"Alright, we'll recap," he said. "The main character sneaks into the home of a wealthy, eccentric woman. He wants to steal this priceless antique."

"But she catches him in the act," she interjected.

"Yes," he smiled. "She catches him in the act. And she holds up the chalice he's trying to steal. He looks at the chalice, the way the light is reflecting off it..." He trailed off.

"And the reflection dazzles him," she finished, moving closer. "He can't concentrate. The more he looks at the reflecting light from the chalice, the harder it is to think. So, the wealthy, eccentric woman suggests she think for him." She leaned forward and kissed his neck.

He sighed happily. "Yeah." Then, he blinked and shook his head. "Um, where were we?"

"We were about to have sex," she said, sliding her hands under his t-shirt.

"Were we?" he asked distractedly.

"Uh huh," she said between kisses.

He looked down at his lap. "Oh, yeah, I guess we were."

The Fourth Night

"I don't remember how much we planned last night," he commented as he pulled the covers over himself.

"Not very much," she admitted.

He rolled onto his side. "Can we try planning a little more? I would love to bring this fantasy to life."

"I do, too." She clasped his hand. "Okay, let's do this. No distractions."

"No distractions," he echoed. His expression was determined. "Okay, recap. A thief breaks into the home of a wealthy, eccentric woman, intent on stealing a valuable chalice."

"Yes," she confirmed.

"And the woman catches him," he continued. "And she uses the chalice to hypnotize him."

"Yes," she repeated.

"And he becomes her mindless slave." His voice took on a dreamy quality.

"You want to be a mindless slave, don't you?" she purred, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Yeah," he moaned. "So much."

"You want to be my mindless slave," she said as she straddled him.

"Yes!" he exclaimed softly.

She leaned over and kissed him. "I can make that happen. We'll talk more about acting out the story tomorrow."

"Okay." His smile was drowsy, yet wide.

The Eighth Night

The security around Serena Alton's mansion was pretty weak. This should be an easy job, he thought.

He was already inside her library. If he weren't trying to steal a priceless antique, he would have been impressed. The library was huge. Bookshelves stretched as far as the eye could see. Two large armchairs faced a fireplace. A fire crackled quietly.

He looked around. There were antiques everywhere -- tables and displays were spread across the room. Where was the chalice?

"Are you looking for this?" A woman's voice coming from the direction startled him.

He cautiously approached the chairs near the fire. A beautiful woman sat in the chair, holding a golden chalice.

"You caught me," he said ruefully.

"Not quite yet." Her smile was predatory. She held up the chalice. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes," he breathed. It was a five hundred year-old chalice, forged in Europe by one of the most talented goldsmiths of the time. It was worth a fortune. And he was so close to it, he could reach out and touch it.

The woman held it up higher, so the light of the fire reflected off it. "Look how it reflects the light." Her voice was soft.

The reflection of the flames danced in the gold. "Uh huh," he said in a monotone.

She turned the chalice slightly. The flames danced in a different direction. "Don't you just want to watch the reflection of the flames?"

His eyes were glued to the dancing flames. "Yeah," he said softly.

"Aren't they entrancing?" she asked, turning the chalice slightly again.

The pattern shifted. He had to keep watching it. "Uh huh," he repeated.

Another turn of the chalice, another set of patterns to follow. So hard to look away from... so hard to keep his eyes open. Watching the flames was such an effort.

"If you close your eyes, you can still see the flames," she suggested.

Relieved that he didn't have to keep his eyes open anymore, he let his eyelids slip shut.

"It's easier to kneel, too," she remarked. He sank to his knees. Behind his eyelids, the flames danced on the surface of the chalice.

"Now, I've trapped you," she said, standing up. "You're now my slave. You'll join the ranks of a dozen others who have tried, and failed, to steal the chalice."

He didn't hear her words. They washed over him. All he could focus on were the dancing flames.

She ran a finger along his jaw. She loved watching him deep in trance like this, his body here but his mind miles away. She wanted to tell him how glad she was they were finally doing this, how turned on she was. That would ruin the fantasy, though.

"Are you ready to submit to me fully?" she asked him sternly.

His smile was wide. "Yes."