A Night of Hypnotic Submission and Forgotten Desires

It was one of those nights — she shaved her tan legs, slipped into a dress that hugged every curve, and let her blonde hair fall past her shoulders.

At the bar, she slid onto a stool beside a guy with a girlfriend. The girlfriend? Stunning. Him? Not so much. She barely acknowledged him, turning her attention to the woman instead.

When he got up to use the bathroom, she seized the opportunity, sliding smoothly into his stool, closing the space between them.

“I love your shirt,” she murmured, letting her fingers graze the rim of her glass. “And your nails. And your hair…”

The girlfriend smiled, leaning in, their bodies angled toward each other now. Her voice dropped, softer, teasing. “Yeah? I was just thinking the same about you.”

A slow game unfolded — legs crossing, uncrossing, a shared glance lingering a second too long. A subtle shift in breath, a hand brushing against a wrist, a knowing smile.

By the time the boyfriend returned, the air between them had changed. He didn’t seem to notice. “Hey, you ready to go?” he asked, expecting her to fall in line.

She barely looked at him. “No,” she said, eyes still locked on the woman in front of her. “Why would I be? I just started talking.”

The blonde smiled, turning her gaze to the girlfriend’s boyfriend with a playful glint in her eye. “I had one of those once…” she mused, then slowly lifted her heel and mimed grinding out a cigarette on the floor.

“Goodbye, boyfriend.”

The girl beside her giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned in closer.

The boyfriend’s eyes caught the Super Bowl playing on a nearby screen, and instead of reacting, he pretended not to notice what was happening right next to him. Casually, he took a seat on the other side of his girlfriend, as if reclaiming his spot would change anything.

She didn’t acknowledge him — her back stayed turned, her attention fully on the blonde.

“I hate football,” she said, her voice smooth, dismissive.

The blonde smirked, tilting her head. “Good,” she murmured, letting her fingers lightly brush against the girl’s wrist. “Because I’m way more fun to watch.”

“Have you ever been hypnotized?” the blonde asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

The girlfriend blinked, looking momentarily puzzled. “Hypnotized? What, am I gonna cluck like a chicken?” she laughed.

The blonde smirked, tilting her head. “Only if that’s what you really want,” she teased, letting her fingers lightly trace the rim of her glass. “But I had something much more interesting in mind…”

“You want him to watch you get hypnotized?” the blonde asked, arching a brow as she tilted her head toward the boyfriend.

The girlfriend followed her gaze. He was barely paying attention, too busy waving down the bartender for another beer.

She smirked, turning back to the blonde. “I doubt he’d even notice.”

“Perfect,” the blonde murmured, leaning in just a little closer. “Then let’s have some real fun.”

The blonde’s smirk deepened as she leaned in, her voice slipping into something softer, smoother — like warm honey.

“Okay,” she said, locking eyes with the girlfriend. “I want you to bring your two index fingers together.”

The girl lifted her hands hesitantly, pressing her fingertips against each other.

“Good…” the blonde purred. “Now just imagine — feel — them sticking together, like magnets. The more you try to pull them apart, the more they stay locked… fused… as if they’ve melted into one solid piece.”

The girlfriend gave a nervous laugh, glancing at her hands. A flicker of confusion crossed her face as she tried to separate her fingers — but they wouldn’t budge.

Her brow furrowed. “Wait… what the hell?”

The blonde just smiled, watching her squirm. “That’s it… see how easy it is to get lost?”

“You want me to show you how to make that — “ the blonde nodded toward the boyfriend, her smile sly. “Give you everything you want? I mean everything?”

The girlfriend’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “You mean… like, buy me stuff?”

The blonde leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down the girl’s spine. “Yeah… something like that. But I’m talking everything. Want to see?”

The blonde’s smirk widened as she stood up, smoothing down the hem of her dress. She sauntered over to the boyfriend, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder before leaning in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something slow, deliberate, dripping with filth.

His expression shifted instantly. His lazy, half-bored gaze snapped into focus, his beer halfway to his lips, forgotten. He turned his head slightly, looking past her at his girlfriend — who was still sitting there, legs crossed, hands resting on her lap, eyes locked onto the blonde like a moth drawn to a flame.

Shock flickered in his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. He blinked once. Twice. Processing.

A long pause stretched between them. A minute passed.

Then, a slow exhale. He set his beer down, rolling his tongue over his teeth as a wicked grin crept onto his face.

“Why the fuck not?” he muttered, pushing back his stool.

The blonde smirked, pulling a pen from her clutch as she took his hand. Slowly, deliberately, she pressed the tip against his skin, scrawling an address in bold, black ink.

She blew on it softly, letting her lips linger just close enough to make him swallow hard.

“Midnight,” she murmured, meeting his eyes. “Don’t be late.”

Then she turned back to the girlfriend, flashing a knowing smile. “Now, where were we?”

The girlfriend’s brows knitted together as she glanced between them, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of apprehension.

“You said you can make me get everything, yeah?” she asked, shifting in her seat. “I’m confused… what’s going on?”

The blonde just smiled, sliding back into her stool, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the bar top.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, tilting her head. “You’re already getting it. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

She leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind the girl’s ear, her lips dangerously close.

“But don’t worry,” she whispered. “You will.”

The blonde left them sitting at the bar, her smirk lingering in the air like a whispered secret.

Hours passed.

Then, as midnight approached, her phone buzzed.

A text.

“We’re outside your office.”

The blonde moved to the front door, pausing for a moment before unlocking it. With a slow, knowing smile, she swung it open.

“Welcome to the house of horrors,” she purred. “Please, don’t touch anything.”

Inside, the dim lighting cast deep shadows over the carefully arranged furniture. Against one wall stood a St. Andrew’s Cross, its dark wood polished and fitted with sturdy leather restraints. Nearby, a spanking bench with thick, cushioned padding waited beneath the glow of a red-hued lamp. A bondage chair with built-in restraints sat facing a full-length mirror, positioned for the best possible view.

The center of the room featured a leather-covered gyno table, complete with stirrups and adjustable straps. Heavy iron suspension hooks were bolted into the ceiling, ropes and cuffs hanging like ominous ornaments. The walls bore D-rings and anchor points, spaced with calculated precision, ready for whatever position the night might demand.

The blonde turned back to them, her smirk deepening as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Shall we begin?”

The blonde snapped her fingers, and just like that, their bodies slackened, their gazes hazy and unfocused.

Her voice dripped with quiet command.

“I need you against the wall,” she murmured, stepping closer, her fingers trailing lightly down his arm. “Now strip. Every inch of clothing — gone.”

He obeyed without hesitation, peeling off each layer as she watched, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Good,” she purred, letting her gaze drift downward. “Now stroke. I need you hard for me… nice and stiff.”

She reached into a nearby drawer, retrieving a sleek black cock ring, turning it slowly between her fingers.

“Because once I slip this on,” she whispered, her smirk deepening, “you’re mine.”

He locked eyes with her, a flicker of something between arousal and surrender crossing his face. Without a word, he stripped down, letting each piece of clothing fall to the floor.

The moment his pants dropped, his cock sprang free — already hard, already aching.

The blonde smirked, tilting her head as she ran a single finger along the edge of the cock ring in her palm.

“Well,” she murmured, stepping closer, her breath warm against his skin. “Looks like you were more than ready for me.”

The girlfriend stood motionless in the center of the room, still fully clothed, her eyes vacant, her mind completely adrift.

Gone.

Deep in trance, she didn’t speak, didn’t react — just stood there, silent and waiting.

The blonde guided him to the wall, securing his wrists — one locked into cold metal chains, the other left free. His legs were spread wide, ankles bolted into place, leaving him completely exposed.

Standing there, bound and vulnerable, his free hand wrapped around his cock, waiting.

She walked over to a small table, picked up a metronome, and flicked it on. The steady tick… tock… tick… tock… filled the room, a hypnotic rhythm settling into the air.

She stepped closer, her voice smooth, controlled.

“You’re going to stroke to the beat,” she murmured. “Nothing faster. Nothing slower.”

Her eyes locked onto his, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

“And as you stroke to the rhythm… with every motion… every movement… you’ll drop even deeper into trance.”

She reached for the jar of Vaseline, scooping out just enough to make her touch glide effortlessly. With slow, deliberate strokes, she spread it across his length, coating every inch until he was slick and glistening under the dim light.

Then, with a wicked smile, she picked up the cock ring and slid it down, threading it over his throbbing shaft, inch by inch.

As it settled at the base, she gave his balls a firm, calculated squeeze — just enough to make him gasp.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her fingers lingering for a moment before pulling away. “Now keep stroking… and don’t lose the rhythm.”

Against the cold, unforgiving wall, he stood — legs spread wide, ankles bolted into place, one wrist locked in chains above his head. The other hand, slick with Vaseline, moved in slow, deliberate strokes, gliding up and down his throbbing length, perfectly synchronized with the rhythmic clicks of the metronome.

The blonde turned her attention to the girlfriend. She stood motionless, dressed in something casual — jeans, a fitted tank top, and the faint outline of a pink bra beneath. Young, early twenties, her skin smooth, her posture eerily still.

Stepping closer, the blonde raised a hand and snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face.

No reaction. Not even a blink.

Intrigued, she reached for a small needle from the nearby table. With calculated precision, she pressed the sharp tip against the girl’s arm and gave a quick poke.

Nothing.

No flinch, no shudder, no sign that she even registered the sensation.

Deeply, utterly gone.

“When I snap my fingers, you will obey without question — completely, effortlessly — and you will love every moment of it.”

“Take off your tank top — slowly. Let me watch as the fabric glides over your skin… let me see every inch it reveals.”

As she obeyed, the soft cotton lifted inch by inch, exposing the smooth curve of her stomach. The flickering light caught the glint of a small silver belly button ring, a delicate charm resting just above her navel.

Higher still, the tank top peeled away, revealing the faint lace trim of her pink bra, the swell of her chest rising and falling in deep, trance-like breaths.

Finally, she slipped it off completely, letting it drop to the floor. Her arms lowered back to her sides, her posture still relaxed, still deep in trance — waiting.

“Take off your jeans — slowly.”

She reached for the button, unfastening it with a soft click before sliding the zipper down, the sound cutting through the still air. Her hips shifted as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband, peeling the denim away inch by inch.

The jeans hugged her legs as she pushed them past her thighs, revealing smooth, bare skin. The fabric gathered at her knees before she stepped out, one foot at a time, leaving the crumpled denim at her feet.

Now, she stood in nothing but a delicate pink G-string, the thin straps resting high on her hips, barely covering her.

A subtle five o’clock shadow dusted her mound, just enough to hint at the softness of her untouched skin beneath. It was raw, real — something unpolished yet undeniably alluring.

“Come here,” the blonde commanded, her voice low and unwavering. “You’re going to stroke his cock now.”

Without hesitation, the girlfriend obeyed, stepping forward, her bare feet soundless against the cold floor. The blonde guided her, placing her hand around his slick, throbbing length, her fingers wrapping around the heat of him.

“Just like that,” the blonde murmured, watching as the girl’s hand began to move — slow, steady, matching the rhythm of the metronome.

Tick… tock… tick… tock…

She stroked in perfect time, her trance-deepened expression unchanging, her breath calm, unaware of anything beyond the motion, beyond the command.

The boyfriend let out a slow, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure overtook him. For a moment, his mind wavered, slipping just enough to surface from the trance.

Sensing the shift, the blonde’s sharp eyes locked onto him. Without hesitation, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

Snap.

Instantly, his body slackened, his breath steadying, his mind sinking once more into deep, obedient submission.

“That’s right,” she purred, stepping closer. “Stay right there… right where I want you.”

His cock was flushed — deep red, almost purple — swollen and aching, every pulse bringing him closer to the edge. His breath hitched, muscles tensing, the pressure building unbearably.

But just as he teetered on the brink, the blonde’s voice cut through the haze.

“No.”

Her tone was firm, undeniable. She placed a hand on his chest, pressing him back against the wall. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips.

“We have much more use for your cock tonight.”

Without warning, the blonde’s hand shot down, fingers wrapping around his balls. She squeezed — sharp, deliberate.

A strangled gasp tore from his throat, his body jolting as the sudden pain shocked him back to full awareness. His dazed, trance-heavy expression flickered, confusion flashing in his eyes as he realized where he was.

But before he could react — snap.

Her fingers snapped, and his mind dropped instantly, his body going slack once more.

Effortlessly, she reached up and secured his free wrist, locking it into place against the wall. Now, he was fully bound — arms stretched, legs spread, his cock still aching, still denied.

The blonde stepped back, admiring her work, her smirk deepening.

“Much better.”

The blonde stepped closer, her voice dropping into a slow, rhythmic cadence.

“Listen carefully,” she murmured, her fingers tracing a slow line down his chest. “Your eyes will remain open… you’ll see everything… you’ll be completely aware.”

She leaned in, her lips just inches from his ear.

“But no matter how hard you try… you won’t be able to make a sound. Not a whisper, not a gasp, not a single word.”

Her hand slid lower, teasing, testing.

“In fact, the more you try to speak, the stronger the silence becomes. The harder you struggle, the deeper the stillness wraps around your throat… locking it down, making speech impossible.”

She pulled back, watching his pupils dilate, watching the realization settle into his bound, helpless body.

“Go on,” she challenged, tilting her head. “Try.”

He opened his mouth, his throat tightening as he struggled to force out a sound — any sound.

Nothing.

His lips parted, his chest rose with the effort, but silence wrapped around him like an iron grip. No matter how hard he tried, no words came, not even a whisper.

His eyes flickered with panic, confusion, frustration — helpless.

The blonde smirked, watching the realization dawn on him.

“That’s right,” she purred. “You can’t.”

The girlfriend remained right where she was, her hand gliding up and down his cock in a steady, hypnotic rhythm.

Dressed only in her pink lace bra and matching thong, she was completely gone — her expression blank, eyes distant, her body moving purely on command.

She showed no hesitation, no awareness, no thought of stopping. Just the slow, relentless motion of her hand, following the rhythm set for her, as if nothing else in the world existed.

“Now open your eyes and watch, slave,” the blonde commanded, her voice dripping with authority.

His eyes fluttered open instantly, wide and dazed, helpless to resist.

He saw everything — the girl in pink, still stroking him without thought, her delicate fingers wrapped around his aching, swollen cock. The way her body moved, lost in trance, following orders without hesitation.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move.

He could only watch.

The blonde stepped closer to the girlfriend, her voice a silky command.

“Take off your bra. Slowly.”

The girl obeyed without hesitation, reaching behind her back with practiced ease. The soft lace loosened, straps slipping from her shoulders as she peeled it away, baring her perfect, supple breasts. The bra slid down her arms and fell to the floor at her feet.

“Good,” the blonde purred, trailing a finger along the girl’s collarbone. “Now play with your nipples… tease them, make them hard for me.”

The girl’s hands moved instinctively, cupping her own breasts, fingertips rolling over her nipples. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her body responding without thought, lost in the depth of trance.

The blonde smirked, casting a glance at the man, still bound, still forced to watch.

“Enjoying the show, slave?”The blonde shrugged off her robe, letting it slide from her shoulders and drape over the back of a chair.

She stood there, completely bare — her body a masterpiece of perfect curves, toned and lean, her breasts naturally full against her slender frame. Her smooth, shaved pussy caught the dim light as she moved with effortless confidence, every step intentional.

The bound man could do nothing but watch, his breath hitching as she reached for a harness and slid it up her legs, fastening the straps snugly around her hips. With practiced ease, she grabbed a thick, glistening strap-on, securing it in place before reaching for the bottle of lube.

She squeezed a generous amount into her palm, spreading it slowly over the length of the toy, coating every inch with slick precision.

Then she looked up, her smirk wicked.

“Now… let’s put this to use.”

She sauntered back over to the girlfriend, who had seamlessly resumed stroking the boyfriend’s cock, her movements slow and steady, perfectly in sync with the rhythm set before.

The blonde watched for a moment, amusement flickering in her eyes as the girl’s delicate fingers glided up and down his swollen length, lost in trance, obediently following the unspoken command.

The blonde moved in closer, her fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down the girlfriend’s hips. Her touch was light, teasing, before gliding up over her stomach, cupping her breasts, circling her fingertips around the girl’s already-sensitive nipples.

The man, bound and helpless, could do nothing but watch.

Leaning in, the blonde pressed her lips to the girl’s neck, trailing soft, wet kisses along her skin, her tongue flicking against the warmth of her pulse. At the same time, her hand drifted lower, slipping between the girl’s thighs, barely grazing her through the thin lace of her pink G-string.

The girlfriend let out a slow breath, her body responding instinctively.

Then, the blonde leaned in, her lips brushing the girl’s ear as she whispered something only she could hear.

At the quiet command, the girl’s hands dropped away from the man, her body stepping back without hesitation.

“Good girl,” the blonde murmured, her voice smooth and intoxicating. “Now… take off your G-string. Let me see everything.”

Without pause, the girlfriend hooked her thumbs into the waistband, sliding the delicate lace down her thighs, stepping out of them gracefully.

“Now,” the blonde purred, taking a step back to admire the view, “touch yourself. Get yourself really wet for me.”

The girl obeyed, her fingers slipping between her legs, her breath hitching as she began to explore herself — deeply entranced, completely gone, lost in pleasure at the blonde’s command.

The blonde stepped forward, tilting the girl’s chin up with a single finger, her gaze dark with intent.

“Bend over the bench,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding. “Ass up.”

The girlfriend obeyed without hesitation, draping herself over the padded surface, her back arching, her ass perfectly presented. Her glistening wetness was visible, her body already primed from touching herself.

The blonde smirked, running a slow hand down the girl’s spine before gripping her hips, spreading her just enough to admire the view. Then, with deliberate ease, she brought two fingers to her lips, spitting onto them before sliding them down between the girl’s cheeks.

She traced the tight ring of muscle, circling slowly, coating her entrance with the slickness of her own spit. The girl shuddered, a breathy moan escaping her lips as the blonde’s fingers pressed against her, teasing, preparing.

With her other hand, the blonde gripped the base of the strap-on, positioning it at the girl’s soaked entrance. She pushed forward, just enough for the thick head to slip inside, stretching her open inch by inch. The girl gasped, her body tensing before melting around it, surrendering completely.

The blonde rocked her hips, sinking deeper, the toy filling her pussy, stretching her perfectly. Each thrust sent a shockwave through the girl’s body, her breath coming in short, broken moans.

Then, with slow, calculated control, the blonde pulled back slightly, pressing the slick head of the strap-on against the girl’s spit-lubed asshole.

The pressure built — tight, unyielding, her body instinctively resisting for a moment before giving way, the thick toy pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

A cry caught in the girl’s throat as she took it, her body stretching, accommodating, the overwhelming mix of pleasure and fullness making her tremble beneath the blonde’s grasp.

The boyfriend, bound and helpless, could only watch — his cock pulsing, aching, throbbing, the denial pushing him deeper into madness.

The blonde smirked, feeling the girl shudder beneath her. With a slow, deliberate motion, she slid the strap-on out of her tight asshole, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness.

Then, without hesitation, she pressed the slick tip back into her soaked pussy, pushing in deep with a smooth, claiming thrust.

The girl moaned, her fingers gripping the bench, her body trembling as the blonde set a steady rhythm — pulling out, teasing the entrance, then thrusting back inside, deeper each time.

The sensation built, the fullness overwhelming, the pressure against her most sensitive spots driving her higher, higher — until her body tensed, breath caught, and pleasure crashed over her in uncontrollable waves.

“From now on, every time you cum — whether you try to resist or give in completely — the only thing filling your mind will be me. My blonde pussy. My body. The way I fuck you deeply.

And the more you try to think of anything else… the stronger the image of me becomes.”

The blonde’s hands slid around the girl’s body, fingers finding her nipples and giving them a slow, teasing squeeze. She rolled them between her fingertips, pinching just enough to make the girl gasp, her body still trembling from orgasm.

Leaning in, the blonde let her breath warm the sensitive skin between the girl’s ass and pussy before lowering herself completely.

Her lips parted, and the first touch of her tongue was featherlight, barely grazing the girl’s clit — a soft, maddening caress.

She plunged her tongue deep into the girl’s soaked pussy, savoring the warmth and the way her body instinctively clenched around the intrusion.

Then, with a slow, indulgent sigh, she dragged her tongue lower, licking over the slick, swollen folds of her ass before gliding down to taste the tightness of her lower back.

The blonde rose to her feet, wiping her lips with a satisfied smirk. With a sharp snap of her fingers, the girl’s body reacted instantly — her trance-deepened mind obeying without hesitation.

She stood, turned, and without a word, resumed stroking the man’s cock, her fingers wrapping around him, gliding up and down in perfect, mindless rhythm.

The blonde unbuckled the harness with deliberate ease, sliding the strap-on off her hips and letting it drop to the floor with a quiet thud.

The blonde stepped closer to the girl, locking eyes with her as she lifted a hand and snapped her fingers.

Without hesitation, the girl’s gaze softened, her lips parting slightly, waiting.

The blonde stuck out her tongue, still glistening with the taste of her own pleasure. The girl obeyed instantly, leaning in, her own tongue meeting the blonde’s, licking, tasting, savoring every drop.

As their tongues danced, the blonde’s hand never stopped moving — her fingers wrapping around the girl’s wrist, guiding her to keep stroking the man’s cock in steady, controlled motions.

The blonde stepped closer, her presence looming over him as he remained bound, helpless, forced to watch every moment unfold in front of him. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but no words came — only the flicker of awareness in his eyes.

She smiled.

Her voice softened, dripping into his mind like warm honey.

“You don’t need to think, you don’t need to try… because your body already knows the truth. From now on, no matter where you are, no matter who you’re with, no matter if she’s beside you, touching you, offering herself to you… your pleasure belongs to me. The moment you even try to come, the moment you feel that ache building, your mind will drift right back here. To me. To this.”

She traced a single finger down his chest, over his stomach, watching his breath hitch.

“And you won’t fight it, because you can’t. You’ll feel it in your skin, in your bones — because I own your body now, and it will betray you in the most exquisite ways.

You’ll bring her to me. Once a month. Every month. Because that’s what good boys do. She’ll come for her check-in, and you’ll sit, watch, obey… because that’s all you can do.

And when she wants something — when she needs a new purse, a gift, a favor — you will comply. Because if you don’t, if you hesitate, if you resist… your body will fail you. Your strength will drain. Your energy will wither.

Sickness creeping in, slow at first… but then worse. A young death of natural causes. Because nature always corrects mistakes… and disobedience?

That would be a mistake.”

She let the words settle, wrapping around his subconscious like a coiling vine, taking root.

“Now breathe.” She smiled. “And let it sink in.”

She snapped her fingers.

Instantly, both of them dropped — deeper, heavier, their bodies slackening as the trance swallowed them whole.

With calculated ease, she unshackled the man, his limbs limp, his breathing slow and steady. Leaning in, her voice slipped into his ear like a whisper he could never quite escape.

“When the clock strikes five, you’ll find yourself fully dressed, behind the wheel of your car, driving as if this night never happened. The memory will be gone — my face, my voice, my touch… all of it, erased.

Except for one thing.”

She smirked, brushing a finger along his jaw.

“When that itch creeps in… when that ache stirs deep inside you, building, clawing, desperate to release… then you’ll remember.

You’ll remember Red.”