The wind cut like a knife through his uniform. He glanced up at the scoreboard and saw that the temperature had dropped to 3 degrees. He thought to himself, “Monday Night Football on New Years Eve. Why the hell did they schedule the final game of the season in Green Bay? Why does my last game in the NFL have to be here?” The clock read Two: zero: zero. Two minute warning. 120 seconds left before his life changed forever. In two more minutes he would become different person – unemployed, unavailable, and the property of the woman he loved.

He looked over his shoulder into a sea of 70,000 people and tried to locate Cynthia. She should be in the window of his private luxury box, but he couldn’t find her. With a sharp slap on the back from a teammate, it was over. The final game, a sixteen year career, and the only way of life he’d known since college. Now it was time for a new life.

As he walked up the tunnel to the locker room, all he had on his mind was Cynthia. People were all around him, some patting him on the back, others congratulating him on his retirement. The media watched every move he made with camera flashes so frequent it seemed like an electrical storm. Someone stuck a microphone in his face and abruptly asked, “So what are your plans for the second half of your life JJ?” He nudged past everyone and walked quickly into the locker room without saying a word. He normally wasn’t so rude, but all he wanted to do was shower, change, and get out of there to find his Lady.

He’d met Cynthia the previous August at a party at a friend’s house. She was the first thing he’d noticed when he walked in. She appeared to light up the entire room. Her shoulder length auburn hair seemed to frame her perfectly shaped face, piercing green eyes and deep red lips. Her black silk dress matched her patent leather shoes, complete with 4″ stiletto heels and straps that wrapped around her legs up to the knees. As her eyes looked up to meet his, he couldn’t break away from her stare. The next thing he knew he was standing a few feet in front of her, their eyes never breaking contact.

As she stood up, he opened his mouth to introduce himself. Before he could utter a sound, her finger pressed against his lips, silencing him. “I know who “you” are, there’s no need”. She pulled her finger away from his lips, and he remained silent. She whispered “Good boy”, I’m Cynthia, That’s how I wish to be addressed, not Cindy, not Cin … Cynthia.”

“I’m James”, he said softly.  “James Jennings, but most people just call me JJ.”

She smiled and replied, ”A pleasure to meet you, James.”  She extended her hand, palm down, towards him, as if expecting him to kiss her hand. To his own surprise, he took her hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed her gently.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Cynthia.”

“Come James, lets chat.”  She spoke with such gentle strength in her voice, it literally mesmerized him. She also had a mild Irish tint to her speech, and that alone almost caused his knees to buckle. He sat down slowly and as he did, he felt every eye in the room focused him. As if she was reading his thoughts, she whispered, “Never mind what anybody else thinks, all that matters is what we both already know”.

Confused by what she meant, he asked, “And what is that?”

“There are just some things in this world you have to accept without explanation James, isn’t that what you said in that retirement press conference you gave last week?”  He started to respond but her finger touched his lips again. “Shhh, my sweet, you’ll understand everything by the end of the season.”

After 15 years as an NFL wide receiver, JJ had become one of the elite players in sports. He was so well known, that he was in the category of “one name recognition” such as Ali, Gretsky, and Aaron. He was also one of the wealthiest. The final year of his current contract netted him a little over $11 million – $20 million with endorsements. Being single, he had a reputation of being quite a free spirit. He owned and piloted his own Lear jet and wasn’t afraid to let people know about it. With celebrity and wealth of that magnitude, it made him on of the most eligible bachelors available. It also made him a big target. He was extremely cautious about people getting too close to him. It was actually quite a lonely lifestyle.

After that party, he and Cynthia were inseparable. If there was ever a true case of love at first sight, this was it. He trusted her implicitly almost immediately. He had no fears of her being some sort of gold digger or con artist. For the first time in his life he wasn’t afraid of “life after football” as so many players so often are. She was different. She wasn’t starstruck with him. The money was nice, but she asked nothing financially of him. She did, however demand that she be treated with respect and like a lady at all times. She was a strong woman, very self confidant and sure of herself. JJ liked that about her so much that he was willing to do virtually anything she asked. For the first time in his life, he was truly happy and at peace. He was happiest when he pleased her. It was a perfect fit.

Four years earlier, with his notoriety at its peak, JJ needed a place to retreat for complete privacy and peace of mind. He purchased 400 acres of land in northern Montana, complete with a private 80 acre lake. He had an A-frame home built along the shore. The property was 50 miles from the nearest public road. In addition, the lake home was completely self sustaining, complete with wind and solar power. It was totally inaccessible by car. The only way in or out was to fly in and land on the lake. This was his refuge. His peace and solitude. His tiny piece of man made made heaven on earth.

Originally he planned to live there year round after he retired. Money wasn’t a problem, and because of some wise business investments, he was pretty much set for life. The one thing he hadn’t counted on was that he would fall in love and things were going to be different now. At age 38, he was considered an old man for professional football, and finally, the time was here. He knew what he had to do, and more importantly, what he wanted to do.

Since that night he met Cynthia, they had spent just about every private minute together. She traveled with him from city to city, game after game. He learned that she was a clinical hypno-therapist. Several times during the season, he had been injured. Nothing serious, but it was difficult to play with pain. Cynthia asked him one night after a game in which he had bruised his ribs if he wanted to try hypnosis to play through the pain. He was skeptical, but curious.

He agreed to try, but seemed a bit nervous. She asked him, “Have I ever lied to you James?”

With a nervous chuckle he said,”No, not that I’m aware of.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course”, he replied. “What do you want me to do?”

In a soft tone she answered, “All you have to do is relax, and listen, that’s it. Get yourself into a comfortable position..”

He layed down on the couch with his head in her lap and just stared up at her eyes. She looked down at him and gently ran her finger tip across his forehead. She softened her voice to a melodic tone, and began taking him through deep breathing and progressive relaxation. Slowly his eyes closed and she could feel the tension in his body subside.

The next thing James was aware of was opening his eyes and noticing that he hadn’t moved. His head was still resting on her lap. He noticed that his body was limp, and remembered thinking how beautiful she was as he stared up at her. He was expecting Hollywood. The swinging watch, and things like that.  He said softly, “I didn’t think it would work, I’m not a good subject I guess.”

“Oh really?” she said with a smile. “James, take your right hand and touch the top of your left gently.”  He did as she asked, and the minute he touched his hand, he felt the sore muscles around his rib cage loosen, along with a wonderful sense of calm. ”Everytime you need to ease your rib pain, just touch your hand and think to yourself…’No more pain’.”

He sat up quickly, and as he did he felt a pull in his rib cage and winced from the pain. “Trust me James, do as I say”. He obeyed, and again his muscles loosened and he felt virtually no pain. She chuckled. “You did just fine my sweet, look at the time.” He glanced at the clock and to his amazement, almost an hour had passed in what seemed to him only a few minutes.  She smiled again and said, ” Good boy, now you’re beginning to understand.” He looked at his hand, then the clock, and turned his gaze to Cynthia. “Tomorrow, after the game, we’ll talk and I’ll answer all those questions that are going through your head right now.”

The game the next day went almost perfectly. Every time he felt a tweak of pain, he followed Cynthia’s instructions and it eased. After the game someone asked him how he was able to play so well with the rib pain he had. All he said was, “You have to know the difference between pain and injury. Anyway, it’s just mind over matter.”

He returned to the hotel room and told Cynthia about what happened. “I know, I was watching you on TV. After dinner we really should have a talk James, we need to make some decisions about us.”

“Lets talk now”, he said impatiently.

“Later, after you’ve eaten and you’re relaxed.”

After dinner they both sat on the couch. She began by saying, “You know that in my practice I use hypnosis for all kinds of problems, right?”

“Yes, I know”

“Besides smoking, pain, anxiety, and things like that, you also know that I do a lot of couples therapy, correct?”

“Yes”, he replied.

“Did you also know that I specialize in erotic and dominant-submissive therapy?”

He looked at her and said softly, “You mentioned once that you did sex therapy, but you didn’t tell me what kind.”

She leaned back and thought for a second, and then sat forward and looked at him closely.  She took his hand and looked directly into his eyes and said, “James, you know that I love you, right?”

“Yes, of that I’m sure” he replied.

“And are you…”

He interrupted her and said, “Cynthia, I’ve never loved anyone in my life as deeply as I love you.”

She continued…”James, if you had to describe yourself as either dominant or submissive, what would your answer be?”

Without hesitation he answered, “Submissive, I guess”.

“And why would you say that?”

He squeezed her hand gently and looked directly back at her. “Because everything I do, I do for you. I’m happiest when I’m pleasing you. All I want is to see you smile, to see you satisfied, to just be with you, period.”

“And when did you start to feel this way James?”

Again, without hesitation, he answered, “The first time you said to me … ‘Good boy’, and everytime since.”  She took a sip of her drink, leaned back and crossed her legs. He continued to hold her hand and gaze at her eyes.  He continued, “Every time you say “good boy” it sends a feeling through my body like an electrical shock”.

“James, do you understand what a “true” dominant/submissive relationship is?”

“Yes, I think I do” he replied, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“I’ve always been a Domme, and you’ve always been my submissive. You understand that so far, you’ve only experienced a taste of this lifestyle. And that’s exactly what it is James, a lifestyle. You are free to choose or not choose. But keep in mind, once you take this step like this, you can’t take it back. You can’t un-ring a bell.”

“I love the way I feel when I’m near you,” he said, “I love the way I feel when I please you. The only thing I would be concerned about is that I’d look like some kind of wuss. But if you would be willing to teach and instruct me, I’d like to go forward. This appeals to something deep inside me.”

“James, you need to know that being submissive doesn’t make you any less of a man, or appear weak. Actually, it takes more of a man to admit and deal with his submissive desires than someone who just wants to play games and role-play. This is a total commitment. A Femdom relationship can be one of the most tender, trusting, and loving things that a couple can have. It’s romantic, beautiful, and a bit adventurous, but I guarantee, its not boring.”

“For you, Cynthia, for us, if this is what you want, than this is what I want also. You lead, and I’ll follow.” She just closed her eyes and squeezed his hand. He continued to look at her face intently.

“Alright then” she whispered, “Tomorrow, we start your training.”

During the next month or so James and Cynthia spent at least two days a week alone at his Montana lake house. Typically, if James played a Sunday game, he didn’t have to report back to the team until Wednesday. It was a short flight to Montana, where the Lear was put in a private hanger. They would then switch to his sea plane which was capable of landing on water or even in the snow of the frozen lake. Cynthia spent much of her time slowly referring her current clients, and preparing to live full time in Montana. They both agreed that immediately after the last game of this season, the last of his career, That the two of them would live together in the complete privacy of the Montana lake home.

As the December 31st game in Green Bay approached, James’ anticipation level had risen to a point that he found it hard to concentrate. As his training progressed, he found his love and devotion to Cynthia becoming more intense each day. He considered himself the luckiest person on earth to serve and love such a beautiful lady. He was happiest in the fact the their love was mutual. That gave him a great sense of peace. He knew that she would be sitting in his private suite watching the game. He also knew that when the game was over, he would become a different person. A person, that until he met Cynthia, he never knew he wanted to be.

As JJ walked into the locker room, he had nervous butterflies. He hadn’t had butterflies since his first game sixteen years ago. He wondered why she had disappeared from his view during the game. He noticed that above his locker was a gym bag with a silver lock keeping its contents private. A sealed envelope was attached to the bag. He took the envelope and opened it. Inside was another sealed envelope. Written on the outside of the 2nd envelope was “Shower, change, and go to the hotel. Do not open this until you are in your room.” It was unsigned, but he recognized the handwriting as Cynthia’s.

James entered his room with those same butterflies he had earlier. This was the turning point in his life, and he knew it. He opened the small envelope and found a short note a loose key inside. The note read, “James, I’ve chartered a private flight to Montana and should be there by the time you read this. Open the bag with the enclosed key and follow the instructions inside to the letter.” It was signed “Lady Cynthia”. Seeing the signature with those instructions sent a feeling through his body that he found difficult to describe. He later described it as a “pleasurable ache”. He turned the key in the lock and unzipped the bag.

Inside was another envelope and a small red velvet bag with a zipper. Opening the envelope he read, “Before continuing, make sure you understand all we’ve talked about through your training. This will be the final choice you make as an individual. If you open the red bag, you have made your decision to commit yourself to me, just I will commit myself to you. Your body will no longer be your own, it will be mine. Your journey through life will become “our” journey. I will lead, and you will follow. I will command, and your obedience must be absolute. If this is your decision James, simply continue on and when you come home, bring this letter with you.” Again, it was signed “Lady Cynthia.”

He unzipped the red bag and peered inside. The bag contained four items. A pair of red silk panties, a length of soft velvet ribbon about 12″ long, also red, a black satin scarf, and a list of instructions. He looked at the list and began reading. “Good boy, I see you’ve made your choice. 1st, Go get your laptop and contact me on webcam. Do this now.” His laptop was set up in minutes and he saw on the list of contacts, only one name, “Lady Cynthia.” He quickly made the video connection. Cynthia’s beautiful face filled the screen. Behind her he could see the flickering fireplace from the lake house in Montana.

“Hello my sweet, I’m very pleased with the decision you’ve made.” Her voice was low and romantic, yet he could feel the authority behind her words. “I realize that during the next few days you have many obligations to fulfill. I know that tomorrow you have a scheduled press conference at 10:30. Your formal retirement speech. After that you’ll clean out your locker for the final time. I’m sure there will be some kind of team dinner or party in your honor. After all loose ends are taken care of, you will board your Lear, and come home. I’ll be expecting you within 72 hours. Is everything clear so far?”

“Yes, crystal clear.” was his reply.

“Until then,” she continued, “you will do exactly as I have instructed on the list you’re holding. beginning now, do you understand?”

He just nodded his head.

“Good, my pet, you doing wonderfully so far. You may start with the 3 items on your list. Make sure you remain on video with me until I tell you to shut down…Begin now boy, tic, toc, tic, toc…”

James looked down at the paper in his hand and read number one. (1.) Strip completely naked, making sure to stay on camera at all times.”( 2.) lie on your back on the bed. Masturbate and release fully, again making sure you are in frame at all times.” (3.) After cleaning yourself up, take the red ribbon and tie it around the base of your balls. Snugly, but not tight enough to cause pain. Then stand in front of the computer with your hands at your sides and be silent.

He obeyed every word and stood before the webcam. Cynthia spoke, “Good boy James. the ribbon is to remind you at all times that I now own what was once yours. You may remove it while sleeping, but otherwise, it will be tied around my cock every waking hour of every day until you arrive home. The red panties will also be worn daily under your street clothes. Do you understand my instructions?”

He just whispered “yes ma’am”.

“Excellent my pet, your training has come along nicely. Remove the ribbon, put on the panties, and go to sleep. Repeat these instructions everyday until you return home. Don’t forget to contact me by webcam each night so I can inspect my property.”

“Good night Cynthia”.

“Good night my sweet.”

It was like landing through the fog as the snow skis on the turbo prop skimmed across the loose white powder of the lake. James slowly guided the plane into its small hanger next to the peer. Walking up the way to the front door seemed to be in slow motion. As he entered the foyer, he stood quietly for a moment to shake off the cold. He took his coat and hung it. He could feel the warmth rising past him from the heated hardwood floors. He set his bags down and glanced at his watch. It was about 3:30. He looked for Cynthia. All he heard was her voice.

“Welcome home James” she said in a soft whisper. “Before coming any farther inside I want you to take the black satin scarf out of the bag.” Just the sound of her voice aroused him. “I have just one more instruction to add. From this moment on, when we are in private, you will at all times address me in one of three ways unless I tell you otherwise. Are you listening?” He was fumbling around looking for the black scarf. “In public address me as you always have. In private it will be “Lady Cynthia”, “my Lady”, or “Ma’am” Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand”.

“You understand what?”

“I understand my Lady,” he replied in a timid tone.

“Good” she whispered.

She took the black scarf from his hand and told him to strip off all his clothes except the red panties. As he was complying, she walked behind him and used the satin scarf to blindfold him. He started to speak, but her finger touched his lips keeping him silent. She kissed him gently on his forehead, took his hand, and led him silently into the main bedroom. He could hear the crackling of burning logs in the fireplace. The warm heated floor felt wonderful on his bare feet. Cynthia stood in front of him and said,  “Put your arms behind your back, palms together, interlocking your fingers.” She took another scarf and bound is hands together. “Not too tight, is it? ”

“No my Lady” was his reply. Those butterflies returned to his stomach, but he was beginning to like the way they felt. His arousal was becoming very obvious.

The night before on webcam Cynthia had instructed James to shave every part of his body below his waist, as she put it, “baby smooth.” As he stood in front of her, wrists bound behind him, she lowered his panties and had him step out of them. She moved her hands over every inch if his shaved lower half, inspecting the job he had done. She gently squeezed his balls and held them, “Not too bad a job for your first try, I’m very pleased James.” Just hearing those words caused his legs to soften, and his penis to harden even more. She slowly stroked his shaft, teasing the tip lightly. He could feel himself reaching that point of no return as he started to throb. She suddenly stopped and squeezed his shaft very hard at the base and said in a firm voice, “You will not cum unless you are given permission”

“Yes Ma’am” he whispered, as he swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

Still bound and blindfolded, James heard Cynthia open a drawer and then footsteps coming towards him. He felt something very cold touch his penis. “Ice, it was some sort of ice pack” he thought. The cold caused his erection to subside almost immediately. Next he felt Cynthia untie and remove the velvet ribbon that he had become so used to feeling. He heard a noise like the sound of metal on metal. Suddenly she fit a steel ring around the base of his cock exactly where the ribbon used to be. then a click as it closed snugly. She held his penis and fed it through some sort of tube that forced it to curve downward. The ring and the tube were connected. He then heard the unmistakable clicking sound of a lock closing.

Cynthia removed his blindfold. ”Losing one of your senses gives you a completely different perspective, doesn’t it?” Blinking as he adjusted to the light, he looked down and examined the chastity device he was just put in to. ”I always protect what’s mine.” Cynthia chuckled. “This prevents you from touching yourself in any way. Oh, by the way, you’ll also have to sit to use the bathroom also.”

After making sure it wasn’t too tight, or causing pain, she stood back and inspected her property. “To answer what you’re thinking, it’ll come off when I decide. When I want to use it. The only exception is for sanitary reasons, which I will closely supervise.” He remained silent. “Good boy, now you understand.”

As James raised his gaze to look at Cynthia, he noticed that she was wearing the exact same dress she wore the night they met. She slowly walked over and sat in an over stuffed high back chair next to the bed. Looking at James, she signaled with her finger for him to walk toward her. He started in her direction mesmerized by her beauty. His mind vividly flashing back to that August night he first stared into her stunning green eyes. He had never felt anything like this before. The intensity, the intimacy, the pure love he felt for Cynthia. He walked to within a few feet of her and stopped. With his hands still bound behind him, she was totally in control of every part him, both physically and emotionally.

“Kneel before me”. From his training he knew what was happening, and was completely lost in the moment. He knelt on both knees directly in front of her. Cynthia raised her left foot to his mouth. She didn’t have to say a word. James kissed her shoes passionately moving from the left to the right, making sure he didn’t lose balance. He worked his way up both legs to her knees. “Closer” she whispered. “Worship my pussy my pet. Please me completely.”

He reached her inner thighs and the tops of her stockings. She wore no panties. He could hear her breathing faster and harder. His arousal was overwhelming, but the chastity device prevented him from doing anything but pleasing his beautiful Lady Cynthia. He felt her hand on the back of his head. “Fuck me my sweet. Your face is for “my” pleasure…” She pulled his face deep into her, using his head with the force and finesse as she would a dildo. She started grinding and thrusting her hips back against him while holding his head in place. “Make me cum, boy. Now!” With his own senses becoming overloaded, still his only thoughts were pleasing his Lady. Her pleasure would be his. Literally.

James felt her legs lock behind him and pull his entire body closer. She exploded in an orgasm of  rolling  waves. Every muscle tensing, pulling him in and thrusting hard against him. Orgasm after orgasm rolling like thunder kept coming until her body was exhausted in pleasure. After a few minutes she gently reached down and placed her finger under James chin lifting his gaze up to hers, she smiled. As the both of them moved to the bed next to the chair, she untied his wrists. Both completely spent and completely satisfied, Cynthia rested her head on James chest looking at him. She reached down and held his imprisoned cock. ”So, James, tell me, how was the first day of the second half of your life?”

“More than I could have ever imagined my Lady. I love you with everything that I am”.

” I love you too, James. I can’t wait till the “real” lessons begin tomorrow.”

They both drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

~~~~~~~

The Second Half is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

(continued from part 2b)

Sometime after part two…

I was busy working in my studio. After all the events of the past few weeks it was nice to be able to stop and ‘clear my head’ so to speak. And I DO have my own work to do, don’t I? Things with Susan seemed to be happening quickly…too quickly? I felt myself being inexorably pulled into Susan’s orbit without any chance to pause or reflect on it. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Is there? After all…

When suddenly (is there any other way?) the phone rang…

“Hello…”

“Hello Matthew.”

“Ah, Susan. Hi.” It’s Susan. Just hearing her voice and (as usual) any doubts or misgivings instantly vanish. Once again I am amazed at the power she has over me. Now if I was to really sit down and think about it, I would wonder if this power is something that she has asserted or something that I have given her. Or both? But I’m not going to wonder about that. Because that’s not really important, is it? No. What’s important is how Susan makes me feel when I am able to give her my service. Isn’t that right?

“Are you busy?”

“As a matter of fact…I need to get this illustration done. I’m on a deadline and I have to send it out tomorrow…”

“Well, I just wanted to ask you something…”

“Anything.”

“Well, I just realized that I’ll need to find a lawn service. You know, to mow the lawn, rake leaves. Things like that. I was hoping you could recommend someone.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve seen plenty of people around. But I’ve never dealt with any of them. I mow my lawn myself. I could…I’d be happy to mow for you…”

“Would you? That would be very helpful, Matthew.”

“No problem. be glad to do it.” I just offered to mow her lawn. in perpetuity. Didn’t I? Why did I do that? Oh, I know why…

“Mmmm.” That’s all she said. ‘Mmmm’. Obviously we both knew what Susan meant was: “Yes, I acknowledge that naturally you will be glad to mow my lawn for me,”

“An illustration. is this for work?” Susan asked.

“Yes. Well, it’s for a book, and as I said, I need to send it out tomorrow to meet the deadline. I’m afraid I may be up all night…”

“Hmm. Well I don’t like the idea of you being up all night long. I think I know what you need. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“I…oh…okay…” Huh? What? It’s not Susan’s business how late I stay up, or how I get MY work done. Is it? Is it? But what I said was: “Do you need directions?”

“I’m sure I can find it.”

“I’ll be out in my studio.”

“I’ll see you soon, Matthew.”
_________________________________________________________________________________________

Actually it was originally a greenhouse. And I do do some gardening in there from time to time, but I converted most of the space into a studio. I was hard at work (no, really!) when I heard the crunch of gravel as Susan’s car came up the driveway. I went out to greet her and led her back to my studio.

“…Was originally a greenhouse, but mostly I use it as my studio…”

“Nice and sunny, isn’t it? And you do all your work here…”

“Well, it gets me out of the house…” Ha ha.

“Ha ha! So you still do this by hand?” Susan indicated the current work on my easel. “I thought this was all done on computers now…”

“Yeah, but sometimes I still like to do it the old-fashioned way. There’s nothing like having a brush in your hand…”

“Yes, you are quite handy with a paintbrush, aren’t you, Matthew? Hmm. Interesting.” Susan studied the illustration closely.

“Do you like it?”

“Mmmm.” (I’m not sure what Susan meant by that ‘Mmmm.” but I’ll take it…) “It looks like you have quite a bit to go. You said it would probably take all night…”

“Uh…Yeah…”

“Well I think you should be able to finish your work in a timely fashion. I don’t like the idea of you not getting enough rest. After all, you need to be ready in case I call on you to be helpful…”

“Uh…Yeah…” Obviously Susan has a point. I need to be able to help her when she needs me. Don’t I? Because that’s what’s important, right? It’s not right for me to be upset that she can just come over here and tell me how to get my work done. Is it? That’s just me being selfish again. Isn’t that right? And yet…part of me resents that Susan thinks that she can just come over here to my house and take charge of my life. Just like that. But part of me… Well, a lot of me… Doesn’t resent it at all.

“What you need, Matthew, is something to put you in the right frame of mind…”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Something that will help you to concentrate on your work and relax you at the same time.”

“Really? That sounds…good…”

“Oh, it is. I think you will really enjoy it, Matthew.”

“What do I have to do?” (Yes, I chose. What else could I do?)

“First let’s get you changed…”

Of course. I shouldn’t be surprised. Being with Susan means I have to change. My clothes, that is. At this point I realize what’s going on. It seems that every time I am with her I have to take off my clothes and put on what she wants me to wear. And not just any old thing either, is it? She’s doing it deliberately, isn’t she? She’s conditioning me, changing not only my clothes but me. I realize this…I know what’s going on. And yet. Yet…Knowing this, I find myself powerless to stop it. Or, to be honest, there is nothing I WANT to do about it. I WANT this, don’t I? I want to please Susan and make her happy. To be her superhero. To be hers. Because, after all, that’s what’s important. Isn’t that right? Yes it is.

I hadn’t really noticed until now, but Susan had a duffel bag with her. She opened it and pulled out…yet another unitard.

“Here, Matthew, take this.”

It was quite thick and heavy. Much heavier than the various different Lycra unitards Susan has had me wear before. Why…?

“Do you have someplace to change?”

“Um, yes. There’s a small washroom just over there…”

“Good. Why don’t you just slip it on and then I’ll give you a hand…”

“Okay…” So I did. I went into the washroom, took of my grimy sweats and pulled and tugged the thick, shiny black unitard on. Because Susan wanted me to. It was really tight and I felt really compressed and awkward in it, and it wasn’t even zipped up yet… I returned to where Susan waited.

“This is really…tight…”

“Mmmm. This material doesn’t stretch too much. But I like how you look in it. And it will look even better once you lose a few pounds…”

“Ah…” Of course it will…

“Let’s get you zipped up…”

Obediently, I turned around, offering Susan the zipper. She had a bit of trouble getting it going, but slowly the unitard grew even tighter and more form fitting. I even seemed to have a little trouble breathing…I felt really confined and encased, as if…

“Huh?”

“Matthew?”

Susan had finished doing up the zipper but her hands had not left the back of my neck. They were paused, waiting…

“Oh, I…”

“Matthew??”

“Yes.”

I hadn’t noticed when and from where Susan got the padlock, but the sharp ‘click’ told me I wouldn’t be taking the unitard off until Susan unlocked it.

“Thank you, Matthew.”

“I…Uh…” I had the strong desire to say, ‘No, thank YOU…’

“And now for the best part…” Susan reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a black helmet which looked like it was made from the same material as the unitard..

“That’s…”

“Yes. Well, it’s a hood. Sort of. It goes with your unitard. It has a lot of interesting features…”

“It looks like a helmet…”

“Mmmm….”

I have no idea what that particular ‘Mmmm’ of Susan’s meant. But I’m about to find out, aren’t I?

“This is the main part of what I was telling you about earlier.”

“What…that can help me concentrate and relax me at the same time…?”

“Exactly…well, if all goes according to plan…”

“I..well….” At this point, I’m feeling a bit…well, maybe more than a bit…nervous. But… What choice do I have, really? “How…?”

“Well, let’s try it on…Okay?”

“I…well…okay…” No. No choice at all, really.

“Thank you, Matthew.” Susan then began to draw the hood over my head. ” As you can see this hood has holes for your eyes. So you can see out. For now..” She had a bit of trouble working the hood down over my head and adjusting it so that the pads on the hood lined up over my ears and mouth.

Wait. Pads? What are they for…?

“There, how’s that?” Susan’s voice seemed oddly muffled.

“OLLFFF” I said. I guess I can’t talk too well wearing this. I nodded my head, that it was okay. If a bit tight…

“Good. let’s do up the zipper….”

“ULGH.” The helmet-hood tightened up even further. Pressing those pads tightly against my ears and mouth. If I didn’t know better… Wait. I think I’ve already established that I don’t know better. Do I? I then felt rather than heard a familiar ‘click’ coming from the back of my neck. Where did that padlock come from?

I was now completely, tightly encased from head to toe in a very tight, very black, form fitting unitard. And locked in. Until Susan lets me out. Until Susan decides to let me out. While I’m in my own house. Well, my own greenhouse. And…I just realized I can’t talk. And I can’t hear too well either. I’m…kind of a prisoner in my own home. Actually, more than kind of. This, this is wrong, isn’t it? But then it should feel wrong. Shouldn’t it? It feels…it feels odd, yes, but also exciting. And kind of right. Because…. Because, well this is what Susan wants. And what is important is…

“I said, can you hear me, Matthew?”

“Mmmph.” I nodded.

“Good. Now we come to the fun part.”

Fun part? Fun for who?

“Now, for the rest of the afternoon, you are no longer Matthew…”

“Mn?” Who am I?

“You have a task to perform. a painting to complete.”

Yes. Okay.

“You will focus on your task. You have nowhere to go. No one to talk to. Those are distractions. You don’t need them…”

Yes…I…

“Now I will give you something to help you relax. It is important that you are relaxed and calm while you are focused and working…”

I…yes…what? What could it be?

Susan then pulled out a small silver object.

“It’s just a little MP3 player. It fits into a little pocket on the back of your hood. and it plugs into the speakers over your ears…”

It’s music? Susan’s going to play me music?

“I put a little relaxation program on it. For you to listen to while you are working. It will help put you in the right frame of mind.”

Music? Relaxation? Program?

Susan then slid the tiny player into its pocket on the back of my head. Then attached the wires. Then I felt the press of her finger…

Waves crashed on the seashore.

The sun was bright and hot, but the breeze was cool. Seagulls called to each other and off in the distance a sailboat chased the horizon. The sand was perfectly warm and there was no one else around. This was the perfect place to set up my easel and paint…

And paint…

The large rock in the harbor is home to the mermaids. They call to me their siren song… Eerily seductive, I long to join them… But I have a task to perform…

And paint…

Up in the mountain meadow the air is crisp and cold. The vistas are awe-inspiring. Breathtaking. I cannot paint them all. But I must try. A Wood Nymph whispers in my ear. I can’t see her but I feel her beside me. She is telling me something. Something Important. I don’t hear her words exactly, but her words are inside me…

And paint…

In the castle the Queen sits on her regal throne, resplendent in her flowing robes. I know this even though I am far, far below her in one of the many workshops. I have an important task to perform. For my Queen. She has sent one of her many Ladies-in-waiting to keep me company. The Lady watches over me as I work. As she watches, she talks to me, but I cannot hear her words. I can’t her her words, but her words are inside me, and I understand. I understand them all…

And paint…

Who am I?

What is important?

I was Matthew.

I am…?

Susan. Susan is important…

And paint…

Service. Service is important…

And paint…

It is dark. I cannot see. There is nothing for me to see. Whispers come from the darkness. They bypass my ears and flow directly into my head. I don’t listen to the whispers, I don’t need to. Her words are inside me and I understand…

Something warm and wet presses against my mouth. Something familiar yet unfamiliar. My head fills with earthy scents and the tastes of meadow and ocean. And I understand…

The roller coaster creaks and shudders as it inches steadily upwards. Tension builds as as the rider creeps slowly but steadily towards the apex. Then at the top, she is weightless for a brief moment before the gut wrenching acceleration pulls her downward towards…

__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Welcome back.”

“I…what? Who…who am I?”

“Who indeed?”

Susan? Mistress was looking down on me, a secret smile on her face. She seemed oddly flushed. As if… As if… That was a dream wasn’t it? What happened? Then I realized that I am down on my knees before her. Down on my knees and somehow, at some point the gag from my hood had been removed without me noticing it. Susan Mistress smoothed her skirt down over her silky legs and a brief familiar memory of recent past flashed through my mind. Was it something I did or just imagined? I’m so confused… It’s so hard to focus…I feel, I feel an overwhelming tightness pressing all over my body. Pressing against me, tugging at me, pulling me down… Down into the swirling darkness…

“You did a good job for me today, my painter. But now you must sleep…”

I fight the tug of the inky blackness all over my body but it’s no use. It is all around me…already covering me…I am already inside it…locked inside it…

Sleep.

The blackness covers my mouth, fills my ears and shades my eyes. It binds my arms and legs. It holds me in a silken embrace which is so impossibly soft yet at the same time so impossibly tight. I cannot escape. I don’t want to escape. The blackness is filled with whispers. With words. But I don’t hear them. I can’t hear them. For her words are already inside me and I understand…

Sleep.

——————————————————————————————————-

“Hello, Matthew.”

“Susan?” Mistress?

“Yes. Welcome back…”

“I…what…?” I feel briefly woozy, my head feels very light…the helmet…the hood is gone, when? I’m still wearing the unitard, but not the hood. When did…?

“How do you feel?”

“I feel…I’m okay…” I feel good actually. Really good. Refreshed. And…well..excited…!

Susan smiled down at me, a secret smile (When have I seen it before?) and I realize that I am down on my knees before her…when…when did that happen?

“Good job, Matthew. The painting is very nice. come and see…”

Susan walked over to my easel but I remained where I was, down on my knees. I meant to follow but…it seems my legs just…

“Susan says- Matthew, please come here…”

Immediately I stood and walked over to Susan.

“And now, Susan says- Matthew please kneel.”

I got down on my knees next to Susan. Just…automatically…!

“See what a good job you did, Matthew…”

I looked at the painting. It was finished. It WAS good. Everything I had intended to paint, everything the client wanted was there…How…?

“Didn’t I tell you? That I knew exactly what you needed? Now you’re done in plenty of time…”

“Yes. I…” I don’t know how it was possible for me to have finished the painting so quickly, but…I guess that’s not really important, is it? “Thank you, Susan.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, Matthew. I’m so glad I could help you. After all, you’ve been SO very helpful to me, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I…well, I…like helping you…”

“Oh, it’s more than that, I think. Susan says- Matthew please tell me.”

“I…” Then the words just came out. I couldn’t help it… “I want to be yours. I want–I need to serve you. To give you my service. To…ah…be under your control…”

“Mmmm.”

“What–what’s happening to me?”

“Oh, it’s just a little after effect, of the relaxation program. It will fade after a while. But then it will be reinforced the next time you listen to the program, and every time after that…”

“After…that?”

“Yes. I’ll leave the mp3 player here with you. So you can listen to it whenever you feel like it. And of course, I’ll leave the unitard here too, and the hood. Because they go together. In fact, I think you’ll find that you’ll need to put on the unitard and the hood before you’ll be able to listen to the program. And once you are wearing the unitard you’ll need to listen to the program before you will be able to take it off… And if things go well, there just might be more programs for you to listen to…”

“I…Oh…” This may sound crazy–but right now I have no doubt that everything Susan just said is true.

“Wouldn’t you like to listen to the program again, Matthew? And would you like to have more programs to listen to?”

“I…yes. Yes I would…” Yes. I would.

“Good. Very good. Thank you, Matthew.”

“No, thank YOU.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ve got to get going. But I’ll be in touch soon. Again, good job today, Matthew…” Susan headed toward the door.

“Thank…Oh! The unitard…I’m still…” The zipper. Susan forgot about the padlock… I went after her and caught up to her just outside the greenhouse.

“It’s not locked, Matthew. At least not with a padlock. You ought to be able to take it off now…”

I felt amazed and foolish at the same time. I was sure that…it did happen….? I felt around the back of my neck. I could feel the zipper pull but…

“I could have sworn…”

“Mmmm. Oh, there is just one more thing…” Susan came up to me and leaned close, I thought, I hoped she was going to kiss me but she leaned into my ear and whispered something. Something I heard yet didn’t hear… And then she was gone.

I went back into the greenhouse and looked again at the painting. Again I was amazed at how I could have done so much work in such a short period of time. And there was something else, something about the painting that…

That figure…that woman…looks…oddly familiar…doesn’t she?

——————————————————————————————————-

It was a struggle, but I was able to get the the tight unitard unzipped and peel it off my body. I had no doubt that I would find myself wearing it again. And soon. The events of the day swirled around my head and I couldn’t help but feel a bit confused by what happened. What did happen? What was with that ‘relaxation’ program anyway? Did I really do what I think I did? And what…what was with that ‘Susan says’? What did that mean? And the padlock that wasn’t there? and the…

I felt like I gave something of myself today…well, other than my service. I felt like I gave Susan something…Something that I can never get back. I think I’ve done that before haven’t I? But…this time it feels different. And….I am eager to do it again…

End Episode 3

~~~~~~~

Are You Busy? – Paint By Numbers (Episode Three) is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

I smile as I hear the door to the bathroom open. You cannot resist slipping in and watching me shower, can you? I’m not at all surprised to feel a waft of cool air as you open the glass door and step inside. After all, showering together is one of our favorite things to do.

As you reach out to touch me, I silently hold up my hand to signal that you are to stop. Your brows arch in surprise but you comply.

“I control you now.” Instantly your eyes close and your head drops.

(Read the entire story at The Silken Web).

~~~~~~~

Hypnotic Bonds – An Excerpt is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

Shallara opened the door to let Tim in. He moved quickly into the entrance lobby, and looked at Shallara quizzically. “You said that you wanted me undressed, and kneeling, Lady Shallara. Where would you like me to get undressed?” His tone was respectful and submissive. “Why, here would do just fine I think!” came the response, “fold you clothes neatly, put them in the coat cupboard on the upper shelf, and wait for me here”. She turned on her heels, and he could hear her move back into the sitting room.

Starting with his shoes and socks, Tim started to get undressed. This couldn’t be happening to him! Yet it was. The period pains had been all too real, and if this was the price he had to pay, well, it was just one evening, and he would pay it. The pains had to be psychosomatic, and he was sure that in time the effect of her spell (she called it hypnosis!) would wear off; he just had to swallow his pride and ride this period of his life out. He had gone shopping as instructed, and it became all too obvious as he removed his slacks, that the silk red panties had now become part of his attire. Hidden and secret, he had to admit that he actually enjoyed their sensual touch!

He stripped down to his bright red panties, bundled his clothes into the corner and knelt down on the door mat and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard the tell-tale click of Lady Shallara’s heels, and her sharp tone caused him to flush. “Straighten your back, Tim, don’t slouch like that!! Get your hands behind your head, now!”

The words stung, and the harshness surprised him. She eyed him critically. “Tim, Lose the armpit hair…it is an absolute turn off for me. Either shave it or ask Ariella for some advice on depilation, but it has to go! If I see it again, I will have her use her Epilator on it. Don’t know what that is? Just try it. And if she needs to use it, I am going to tell her to use it on n your pubic hair too!”

Despite her casual sun dress, she came across as a no-nonsense dominant. As she stood directly in front of him, her sandaled feet almost touching his knees, her hands on her hips, he suddenly sensed that he was in beyond his depth. This was no therapist; this was a domme, and the flashback to his spanking at her hands made him scared.

“You just bundled your clothes up! I would have expected you to fold them carefully. This is not a good way to behave” Shallara snapped.

“The maid can tidy then away,” he shrugged.

“Be careful what you wish for in Mysteria, Tim. It often has way of coming to pass!” she replied..

“The clock’s ticking, Tim. You’re on a double rate now because it is so late in the evening. You’re lucky it’s not triple as you have both Ariella’s and my rate to cover”. His heart sank even further; surely she couldn’t have her here? “You can stand up and follow me into the dressing room over there. Ariella is going to help you brighten your day and put a smile on your face.” Tim no longer took any of Shallara’s words at face value, and his instinct warned him that this was not a smile that was going to be filled with joy.

“May I first go to the washroom? It was a long ride over here.” His tone was sullen and flat

“Of course, you can! It’s the door right over there,” Shallara returned. “I will be waiting right here for you.” She watched the door close, and listened to the waterfall that seemed to take ages before the supply became exhausted. The toilet flushed and Tim walked out, a well built man in silk red panties.

“Tim, I didn’t hear the tap running. Did you wash your hands? And what is that wet spot on your panties?”

He looked down, and turned a bright shade of red. “Umm…I guess I didn’t shake myself properly.”

“You didn’t what? Shake yourself properly? You were in my bathroom, dammit!!! There are rolls and rolls of tissue paper in there, and you didn’t shake yourself? What about drying yourself? We all do it!”

She pushed the door open and glanced inside. “So you come into my washroom, you splash on the floor, you don’t dry yourself and you didn’t wash your hands. And then you walk out leaving the seat up!!! Look at the rim of the toilet. Why is it yellow? Why did you leave your disgusting pubic hairs on it?” Her verbal explosion rocked Tim. It was definitely not going to be a pleasant evening. The floor wasn’t going to open him up and swallow him, and there was no escape.

Shallara recovered her composure. Her voice reverted to a passive-aggressive reasoned tone. “So this is exactly why men need to be taught to sit down like females to pee, Tim. Do you see why? If you sat down, there wouldn’t be any of this disgusting mess to clean up, would there Tim? I am going to give you five minutes to clean it up. There is disinfectant under the basin. When you are finished, you will return to your kneeling position in the entrance hall. And for Pete’s sake…get those soiled panties off!! There is a clean dressing gown hanging behind the door.”

Minutes later, he was back in position. A sheer, pink nylon dressing gown clung to his body contours, and his face looked downcast and sad. He looked so cute there, kneeling in submission that she almost wanted to let him off the hook. The arrogance was long gone, and Shallara saw a man who was close to tears.

He looked up at mournfully, and eyed the strap that swung from the belt at her waist. “I suppose you are going to whip me again?”

“No Tim, I will only whip you if you ask for it. In fact you would have to beg me for it!!” She chuckled. “I cannot imagine that happening tonight!”

Tim shook his head. “Not a chance!. Not after what you did to me last time. Nothing you do or say could entice me to ask you for a whipping….”

“Come with me, Tim, we are going to give you some help and offer some strategies for coping with your, with your…” Shallara hunted for the right phrase. “…with your… bathroom habits. But I am not going to punish you for this specific incident. We do have some open issues still…we will address those later though. ”

She took him by the hand and led him into the lounge. The music, Enya’s Orinoco Flow, was a complete giveaway for him. He knew what was coming as soon as she sat him down, but he wasn’t prepared for the suddenness of it. The last thing he remembered was looking right into her eyes, and the snap of her fingers clicking against her thumbs.. ”Sleep for me Tim, Sleep now!” Her voice seemed to float in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t sleep and it wasn’t a state of awareness. He was vaguely aware of the strange feeling of the nylon dressing gown, but it felt strangely comforting,

“Tim, whenever you go to the bathroom, you will sit down to pee…..you will keep your thighs together, and your clit pointed down…we will always refer to your penis as a clit going forward Tim….you will point it down and squeeze it between your thighs to ensure that there is no chance of splash…..you will keep your thighs and knees together and your feet only slightly apart…you will dab yourself dry before your get off the seat, it’s the only hygienic thing to do…keeping everything dry and hygienic is extremely important to you, Tim…you will clean up any drops you inadvertently drop…..”

The voice droned on and on, repeating the messages and instructions. And finally it was over. Shallara clicked her fingers and commanded “Wake now – awake and alert”. Tim rapidly surfaced from his trance and looked slightly bemused. “Come along, Tim, we have now used thirty minutes of your session. We need to get going with your program. Let’s go into the dressing room next door.” Shallara took his hand and led him through the entrance hall and through a door into a room he had never entered.

Sitting in front of a vanity table, sat a bored looking Ariella. “Hi Tim, I have been waiting for you! Come and sit down here beside me.”

~~~~~~~

Shallara: The Last Drop is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

As the door to Shallara’s apartment edged open, Tim felt as if his heart had stopped beating. The self assured executive that had stood at this door just a couple of weeks ago had been transformed into someone who was nervous and needed reassuring. His hands were clammy and he felt short of breath. His bowels felt as if they were turning to water.

Shallara’s smile seemed to melt him. She seemed almost compassionate as she reached out and took his had. “Come in, Tim, let’s go through to the sitting room.” Once again, she was elegantly dressed. A rust colored summer frock seemed to trace out the curves on her slight body, and set off her short blond hair. Her tanned, slender calves seemed to flow down into delicate feet that ended in eye-catching red painted toe-nails. High heeled sandals, strappy and fire-engine red, made her seem taller than she really was, and they seemed to float across the deep piled, cream carpet as she led the way into the living area.

He was relieved to see that Ariella wasn’t in the apartment; simply recalling the embarrassment of his previous two encounters with her made him burn with shame. Shallara led him back to the couch in front of the fireplace and sat him down. As if in a dream, he watched her as she elegantly picked up that distinctive bottle of Laphroaig Islay whisky, and splashed a measure of it into the crystal glass. As she handed it to him, the light sparkled off the cut glass, glowing golden from within.

The peaty aroma from the scotch seemed to mingle with the smoke from the hearth. Just a sip of it and he seemed to find himself drifting into a relaxed state. He sensed Shallara standing behind him, and the tension melted away as she gently massaged his shoulders. The haunting tones of Enya’s Orinocco Flow seemed to drag him down deeper and deeper into a comfortable trance. He could hear the word “Mysteria” being whispered over an over again in Shallara’s silky voice. It seemed to come originate from right within his head, and it was pleasantly re-assuring.

And then he realized that he had entered another world completely. It was comfortingly familiar, and as he looked around, he noticed the sensuous ladies in sun-frocks gliding along the paths in a lush garden. The soft sunlight filtered through the trees, casting the garden in a radiant, golden glow. Totally at peace with life, he felt overcome with a feeling of well-being and total relaxation. The gentle rubbing on his knotted shoulders had stopped, and he felt Shallara’s presence on the couch next to him.

“Welcome to Mysteria, Tim. I believe Ariella brought you down here last week. Nod your head if you recall this state”. Her voice was husky and sensuous, and her perfume seemed to fill his senses. Her presence seemed to have entered his very core, and he desperately wanted to be one with her. In his drowsy state he gave an almost imperceptible nod. “And Tim, I believe that she suggested to you that you would love to wear red silk boxers. They feel so good and so right”. He felt her fingers play lightly across his crotch. “Nod your head if you now wear red silk boxers, Tim”. Again, the faint nod.

“That really pleases me, Tim. You love to please your Lady Shallara. Such a good boy!”. Tim felt his feeling of well being move up to another level. Somehow, she had managed to slip his zipper down, and he could feel his manhood start to harden as she rubbed him delicately through the silk material. “It feels so good, doesn’t it?” she asked again. “And as good as it feels Tim, it can feel even better. Listen carefully. I want you to go to Victoria’s Secret and buy a few pairs of red silk panties. It is for me, Tim. Whatever you think would please me. Whatever you think would turn me on. Nod your head if you want to do this for me, Tim”

“But Tim”, she continued, “You are to buy them in a size that will fit you. And whenever you come to see me, you will be wearing red silk panties. It will feel so right, Tim. It will excite you that you are doing this for me. ..and now Tim, we must go deeper, because there is something else I want to tell you. Deeper down now. Feel yourself relaxing further and further. Feel how good it feels to sink into a deeper and deeper trance. All you can hear now is my voice. It seems to be entering every pore of your body. ….”

Her voice seemed to drone on and on. And then suddenly, it stopped, and once again, as he surfaced to a lighter trance, he heard her again. It was as if time had been interrupted, and he had absolutely no recollection of what she had gone on in the interim.

“Before we leave Mysteria, Tim, there is something else I want to tell you. You really will please me if you always kneel in my presence Tim. My apartment is just another place in Mysteria, and you know that males always kneel before their Ladies in Mysteria Whenever you first enter into my presence in Mysteria, I expect you to request permission to undress. You will carefully fold your clothes and place them in a neat stack in my coat cupboard. And then you will kneel, dressed only in your silk underwear. You really want to serve me well, and please me, don’t you Tim? Nod your head if you want to serve and please me in Mysteria please.” The nod was barely noticeable. “I am going to count you up now, from one to five, and then we are going to have a chat. At the count of five, you will be wide awake and alert. Now, one, you feel the energy coming back into your body, two……..and five, wide awake and ready to serve”.

As Tim came back to a fully awake state, he sat up and looked at the lady sitting on the chair next to him. He made a move, but she motioned him to sit still. “Tim, there is something I need to tell you. I need your conscious mind to understand what your sub-conscious mind is now up to, so that you can make the correct choices.” She smiled at him, and could imagine the turmoil that must be setting in to his mind. “Tim, Cheryl Stern told me that you had been making some inappropriate remarks in the office about…well, let’s be delicate…and say about the temperament of one of your colleagues that you attributed to a certain time of the month….shh….hear me out…please don’t interrupt !”

She reached out and clasped his hand, as she looked into his eye. “Tim, while you were…having a little nap over the last ten minutes, your subconscious and I were having a very deep chat.” She smiled. “I was explaining to it, over and over again, what the symptoms of a ladies period are.”

“Now, on an accelerated timetable, two weeks instead of four, but for only two days, you are going to feel many of the symptoms of a period. You are going to go home tonight, and in the forthcoming days, you will spend many of your spare moments doing research on the internet, understanding the cause, learning its affects. You are going to spend a few weeks being obsessed with the topic. The more your learn, the more you will sympathize. You are going to become acutely familiar with the pains in the abdomen, the bloating, the cramps. You will come to expect the nausea, headaches, and the indigestion. You are going to feel and live through it, and I am sure you will start feeling extremely empathetic to your female colleagues in the future! In fact, you are going to feel so empathetic, that you are going to start experiencing a period.”

Shallara watched him flush. “Live through the first two periods and experience what it is really. Reflect on how you start to react, how your emotional state changes. Use this as a period of reflection. It will only be after that, and only if I have an opening in my schedule, will I consider booking you an appointment to do some …let’s call it, feminization empathy counseling with you. We will do some female related activities together that you find so….so….irritating and trivial.”

Shallara stood up, and indicated to the very red faced Tim that the session was over. She took him by the hand and led him to the door. “Enjoy your lingerie shopping,! Oh…one other thing, Tim…” He looked at her expectantly. He seemed to her that he was crushed. The arrogant male that had come into her life just a few weeks ago was no longer. “Tim, next time you come, after a decent period… ”.

Shallara gave a dramatic and exaggerated pause, waiting for the pun to register, and then continued, “…you need to come here with a purse in hand, and inside that purse, I expect to find a bottle of facial cleanser and makeup remover”.

As the door closed behind him, she shucked off her heels, and moved over to her desk phone. “Ariella sweet ….it is me! This is going to be so much fun….”

~~~~~~~

Shallara: A Period of Reflection is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

Ariella gently and rhythmically massaged Tim’s shoulders. She let the haunting melody of Enya’s Orinocco Flow relax him further as she momentarily lost herself in her own thoughts. It had all started with a visit to her doctor; he had been unsympathetic and arrogant. She had walked out of his rooms feeling depressed and humiliated. To be told so bluntly that there was nothing wrong with her because the blood tests had all come back fine was just so dismissive!

Thank goodness she had gone to see another more empathetic doctor. She was kind, attentive and totally absorbed in the consultation. Ariella came away from that appointment glowing with a new confidence. “Your body, your spirituality and your mind – they all have to work in harmony!” she had been told. If any element was out of kilter, she had been told, that could throw the whole system of course. And so it was. The treatment that was prescribed, she thought, was so progressive: “Meditate, Ariella. Or better, start practicing self -hypnosis! And while doing that, explore your wilder side; use your mind to explore the unlimited potential of your imagination – you will be a healthier and happier person!”

Shallara had helped her restore her self image, the medical problems had vanished, and she had found herself doing some of the most stimulating and sensual activities that once she would never have imagined for herself. Last night, the call had come from Shallara: “Remember Tim? Yep…that guy whose backside you watched me work over? He phoned last night, Ari, and he wants to submit to me!”. There had been giggles, and the Shallara continued: “I told him we could try, but that he had to come to you for a haircut. Take him down Ari, to the Isle of Mysteria, and give him a preview of what he is letting himself in for!”

And so here she was, giving Tim a cut and wash, and slowly taking him down deeper and deeper. Ariella’s voice took on a slow measured rhythm. It flowed over Tim like honey, and with the rhythmic shoulder massage, he felt himself drifting off into another world. Ariella seemed to be taking him down a long dark passage. Her hand now gripped his and the homely smell of shampoo provided a safe anchor. Further and further along the corridor towards that door, glowing golden and warm door at the end.

And as suddenly as he had entered the tunnel, they were out. The door swung wide open, and he was out, on a wide path, it’s wide stone flags threading their way around a manicured garden that was flooded with sunlight. Ladies in vividly colored sun frocks wandered through the gardens, their sandals tapping an elegant code on the smooth stone walkway. It was almost like a scene from Cosmo; the ladies looking fresh, feminine and cool. His eyes settled on one striking lady: bright red shoulder straps set off against her bronzed shoulders, a wide brimmed red hat that crowned off her casual, but elegant attire. She seemed to provide the perfect canvass for the red lipstick that accentuated her perfectly formed lips. Her eyes seemed to draw him in. She wore a warm, autumn shades eye shadow that was picked up by a healthy flush on her cheeks. A simple, glittering gold chain hung from her neck, shaping itself against the delicate underlying bone structure. Her long fingers twirled the stem of her martini glass, and she momentarily seemed to glance his way, before she glided off to engage with a passing pair of similarly dressed friends,

There was something so familiar about her, but it wasn’t until Ariella whispered in his ear: “Keep your eyes open for Lady Shallara, Tim. You may be lucky enough to see her here in Mysteria. I am sure you will remember her from your first few encounters” Ariella gave an evil little chuckle, and continued: “Look out for someone whose hat wouldn’t be out of place at Ascot. ….and Tim, if you are going to serve her, you had better be thinking about the apron you will be wearing. She likes her submissive to wear those, with nothing on below…..except perhaps, on special occasions, they might wish to wear a pair of silk red panties.”

Others groups of ladies sat around garden tables, sipping fruit juices from tall glasses. The colors dazzled, and the harmony of the garden and its occupants seemed to come almost out of a virtual world he had once played in.

A few healthy looking males waited with attention on the ladies, replacing emptied glasses and whisking away the empties. Wearing tunics instead of shorts, their dress vaguely reminded him of the Roman legionnaires he had seen in plays. Ariella’s had tugged him forward. “Don’t worry about the people here, Tim. You can see them, but they can’t see you. This is the Isle of Mysteria, Tim. I will tell you about it as we walk on. Whenever you hear the word “Mysteria”, you should come right back here. It’s an Island owned and ruled by females. The ruling council is made up of Ladies; ladies like Lady Shallara. And below the Ladies are the female inhabitants. They are here because they relish their gender and sensuality. You won’t find shorts and jeans here Tim. Here the females celebrate their femininity!”

“The men you see serving the ladies? They are here by choice too, Tim. They know their station in life and get a great deal of satisfaction from it. Their creed is ‘to serve and satisfy’. They are people like you Tim, people who, for whatever reason, have a desire to submit.” By now they had entered a building that looked somewhat like a small, modern collegiate. “This is where they come to get trained – you would like to look around and see what we have in store for you, wouldn’t you, Tim?” Her voice was sultry and her thumb gently massaged the back of his hand. In this mood, if she had asked him for the world, he would have wanted to give it to her.

They walked together across the tiled lobby, and entered a wide, well lit passage. “This is the Hall of Re-education. For those subbies who seem to have forgotten some of their lessons, they are brought back here for a reminder.”

Tim peered through the eye-level pane of the first door. At the back of the room, about half a dozen men knelt back on their heels, their backs straight, their eyes looking down, their hands crossed behind their backs. Waiting their turn, waiting for their session of re-education.

“This is the Riding Room where any male who has been caught having unauthorized orgasms is brought. It is not intended to be punishment, but rather a reminder that excessive or unauthorized orgasms can be rather uncomfortable. We call it ‘Riding the Horse’”, Ariella whispered huskily into his ear. In the center of the room, a beam was suspended at about waist height. A man straddled the beam, his feet unable to touch the floor, his weight resting entirely on his crotch. He seemed to be looking down in dread.

A young lady in a white dress teased his member into an erect state, and her dexterous fingers very quickly coaxed him to a tiny ejaculation. With a well practiced flourish, she scooped it off in an implement that resembled a soup ladle. It all looked so clinical: her white dress, white latex gloves, and her face, though pleasant, was devoid of any emotion. There was no pleasure evident at all for the unfortunate male. He seemed to spasm, but there was barely an emission. “These offenders are usually subject to six consecutive ejaculations. After the first or second, the ejaculations become dryer and dryer – and after the third, they are extremely uncomfortable. It is one of the least favorite re-education experiences we have here”.

“Let’s move on…in this next room, we have exactly the opposite situation. It is for re-educating males who ejaculate before they have been given permission. Here they learn orgasm control”. As in the previous room, those waiting for their lesson kneeled at the back of the room patiently, their faces impassive, not showing any of the discomfort they must have felt kneeling on the tiled floors. A young male knelt on a small table, his knees wide apart and his hands rested on his knees. It was a much more engaged female who ministered to him, teasing him again and again to a state of near climax, and then letting him come down off the brink.

Her demeanor seemed caring and sympathetic, as she took him up and down the scale of excitement. She was dressed in a sunny, yellow floral frock, and red nailed toes peeked through her sandals. There was nothing to indicate that this was discipline of any kind at all, but Tim could feel the tension in the air. At last she brought her subject to a final peak, but as she sensed that he had reached the point of no return, she simply let go, and watched impassively as his member bounced around uncontrollably, and the ejaculate dribbled down his thighs.

“Come Tim, we need to get back. Whenever you, hear Enya playing in the background, and you are in safe environment with either Lady Shallara or myself, or whenever you hear the word “Mysteria”, you are going to rapidly come back her to the Isle of Mysteria. From now on, whenever you visit either Lady Shallara or me, you will be wearing red silk boxers. Now as I count you back, you are going to feel refreshed and wide awake. This will all seem like a vivid dream, and you will not want to discuss it with anyone….not even me. So on the count of 0, you will open your eyes and be wide awake…..5…4…”

Ariella picked up a pair of scissors, and clipped at the side of Tim’s hair. Looking at him through the mirror, with a wry grin, she looked straight into his eyes: “Had a good daydream there, Tim?” Then looking down pointedly at his lap, she asked “Would you like me to use the hair dryer to dry that damp spot on your pants?”

~~~~~~~

Shallara: The Isle of Mysteria is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

I’m a guy. A man. So sometimes, on occasion when I’m surfing the Internet I look at porn. Well, okay, maybe more than sometimes. A lot. Like I said, I’m a guy. And there is a lot to look at. You can find stuff that caters to ANY conceivable fetish that you have…

I was looking for something…something different. Something to appease the dark and twisted desire demon deep inside…something out of the mainstream. You would think that the subject of Female Domination would be out of the mainstream, but there seems to be quite a bit of it out there. So many Mistresses, so alike. How many leather wearing Ladies holding whips posing in front of wooden frames do you need to see before you get bored? And you’ll see a lot. All promising a painful playtime. So long as you pay. And pay. Not for me. No, I want something more…deeper…more personal…something like…Hypnosis?

There are Dominants who promise to Hypnotize, to steal your will, to bind you in chains that no key can possibly unlock, to control you in ways in which you don’t realize until it is too late. Could this be what will finally grab my desire and hold it? So tempting. And again so many to choose. Assuming I had the choice. Magical Sorceresses, Silver-tongued Sirens, Seductive Dominas all with flashy websites and flashy promises of Knowing Just What You Need.  So I tried them all. Well, at least all the free samples I could get!

Quickly I realized that there were basically two types of Hypnotic Dominants. Let’s just call them the “real” and the “fake”. Now, the fake ones are those who see it as a sideline, just another facet of their business. Their business being primarily talking on the phone to some guy with his dick in his hand and smacking some Bad Businessman on the ass with a ruler during his lunch break. She will talk a good script but talk is all it is. No effort. No training. Not for me. The real ones are the ones who actually study and understand Hypnosis. Why some even have actual degrees in it! And they understand psychology. And they understand the male psyche in particular. Which does not require a degree. She will craft a trance, boy let me tell you! With music and sounds and sexy voices. I have gotten lost in some of those… …um, anyway. But even among the “real” Hypnotic Dominants there are two types. Let’s just call them: “Those in it for the money” and “Those in it for the love of Hypnosis”. Just between you and me, I think I prefer the latter.

So it would seem I still had a choice to make, even among the “for the money” Dommes there were some very appealing, dare I even say Hypnotic alternatives.

But then I stumbled upon Her site.

I don’t even remember how I found her site. Must have been a link from a link from somewhere else, but there I was. Simple, homespun almost. No flashy graphics or animations. No music or sexy come-ons. Just a simple welcome to the page of Miss–well, I can’t give her name really. I mean I want to. I really do. But I just…can’t. But I can say it’s an ordinary name. As She is, to all appearances an ordinary Woman. And we all know how appearances can be. Deceiving that is. But she is the opposite of deceiving. In fact, she is the most direct and uncomplicated Woman I would ever meet. Did I say meet? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves…

Anyhow, there I was. At Her website. As I said it was different from all the others, simple and plain. No, “WeLcOmE to the Lair of MisTReSs ExOtIcaLuxus owner of Your Mind!!!11” And so I went in. Inside was equally as plain with just a simple menu and a picture. A picture of Her. At first glance she looked quite ordinary, the typical “girl next door” but as you looked at her picture you began to notice things… Like her hair, shoulder-length and brown the kind of brown that reminds you of soft autumn leaves, and how it frames her face, open and plain but with a spray of freckles across her nose that gave her a mischievous air. And her eyes, just what do you call that color? And her lips, how can a smile be an invitation and a warning at the same time? She was dressed not in any exotic costume of leather or rubber, no fishnet nor whip. Just an ordinary blouse and knee length skirt. Yet on Her they managed to both convey a sense of mature competence and display a, well, “killer” figure.

Once I tore myself from Her photo I explored the rest of the website. Which did not take long. The only menu items on the site lead to three things. There was a short section of her philosophy, an audio file to listen to and a page with a link to send Her a message.

Now Her philosophy was again simple and direct. She believes that Women were meant to rule over men. Completely. Women are desired, and men do the desiring. Men pursue Women, because they need to, and deep down they need to put themselves under the rule of a Woman. She was looking for a particular man to rule over and serve Her. In order for her to find that man she would use Hypnosis to entrance and train men, until She found the One.

Again, this was not like anything I expected after reading so many other Hypnodomme sites. This was something, well, raw and real, not like “buy my programs, then buy some more”. This was, thrilling in a way. Could She actually be serious? What happens to the men she entrances and trains and doesn’t keep? And what would it feel like to be entranced and trained by Her? At that point my penis really wanted to know.

the next menu item led me to a page with a link to download an mp3 file. There was a warning that this file contained powerful hypnotic programming and would cause irrevocable changes to any male who listened to it. Now I have heard THAT before and come out whole so I certainly was not going to believe that at face value. But somehow this warning coupled with the seriousness of the rest of the site made me pause and think, what if? Well, what if? What if it COULD do what She says it will do? What would that feel like? Is THAT the experience I have been searching for? Is it? or Isn’t it? So I downloaded the file. It took a while, it was rather large. Too big to be just a sample. Was She really giving away a full-length induction for free? I began to think that maybe, maybe this was all a clever ruse. A joke. A trap to lure unsuspecting suckers into another “pay per worship” Domina business plan. I would not fall for that!  Well, I would find out soon enough.

Finally with the download done, I pulled out my headphones and arranged a spot on the couch so I could lie down and listen.  Then I started up the mp3 and waited. And waited. I checked the screen, no it was playing; but no sound. Nothing. It WAS a joke after all! Wait, there was…something. Very faint, a whisper…words…just at the edge of my hearing…but there…words…but I can’t quite make them out. And, also a tone or tones, like a hum, did I just notice that, or was it there before? There IS something in this file after all, but what? No welcome? No explanation? No Induction? What is this? Might as well listen, I don’t really feel like getting up now anyway…

I became aware of music, I didn’t really notice it start, but all of the sudden it was just there. Sweet and mellow, violins and maybe a flute and It sounded like, like I was on one of those inflatable rafts floating aimlessly on a small pond on a sunny Summer day. Floating and drifting, gently bobbing on the water as the clouds passed lazily by…floating…drifting as the bright sun chased the breezes across the meadow…   ……. ……

“…Three…becoming aware of your surroundings…Four, eyes open now, stretching your arms and legs….And, FIVE, fully Awake and ready to start your new life! Knowing what you must do…

So yeah, I immediately went back to Her site and clicked on that last menu item. The link to send Her a message. I really had no idea why I was sending Her a message and I had no idea what I was going to say; but it didn’t really matter did it?

The End
Or, Just the beginning?

~~~~~~~

A very short Hypnotic story about Hypnosis…or something like that is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

(continued from part two)

An introduction to penalties

Ariella loved playing backgammon with Shallara. She usually lost, but the thrill of the game and Shallara’s company excited her. She had grown to accept herself as the submissive in their relationship, and she would now have it no other way. Plumpish, without being too overweight, Ariella was a cheerful person, who seemed to bring out Shallara’s kinky and assertive personality.

It was Shallara who had introduced her to the game. She vividly remembered the day it had happened. Shallara had shown her how to lay out the board and how to move the stones. It had been fun and then there had been an exciting rush to see who get there stones off the board first. And in her first game, she pipped Shallara to the post. Well, it was all the luck of the dice, and she couldn’t see how it was possible to stack the odds in any player’s favor.

Shallara had gone out to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate before the second game. She returned, not only with two mugs, but with a large wooden spoon. “A bit big to stir the chocolate with that!”, had been Ariella’s comment. “It’s not for the chocolate, silly, it’s for the penalties!” came the retort. Ariella looked at her quizzically, but she soon got her answers. A few things very quickly became abundantly clear to Ariella: backgammon was not a game of chance; Shallara was an expert at manipulating the odds in her favor; and a penalty, received whenever anyone’s stones were knocked of the board and onto the bar, resulted in a painful smack with spoon on the bum.

Time and time again, Ariella found herself bent over and holding her knees, while Shallara popped her on her bum with the spoon. At first she hesitated; it was embarrassing to have to poke her bum out for the spanks. She felt embarrassed and self conscious, and as the number she received mounted, it became harder and harder to offer herself up. “It’s the rules, pet…you have no option”, she was chided. Lumping it, she would bend and take it. Her hands seemed to be on springs, flipping back to rub her bottom after each smack. Shallara watched with amusement as the red rings began to paint a lovely red pattern on the milky white skin, and each new addition brought a new tone of ‘ouch’ from Ariella. She did have the pleasure of returning the favor a few times, but by the end of the game, her bottom was a deep crimson, bright circles of glowing pain tattooed onto the chubby cheeks.

Let the game begin

But this time, Shallara had said there would be no physical pain inflicted by the victor. And the proposal for penalties seemed to have been watered down to the point of being ridiculous! Each penalty would oblige the holder of the bumped stone to drink half a glass of water and neither player was allowed to go to the bathroom to relieve herself until five minutes after all her penalties were paid. Shallara was likely to win; she usually did. And that submissive streak in her allowed her to agree to almost anything Shallara proposed.

And so it was that she found herself kneeling on the on the floor at Shallara’s apartment, while Shallara sat in comfort on the sofa. Under Shallara’s direction, she had pulled the coffee table out into the center of the room in front of the sofa, and they were using it as the games table for the backgammon board.

The dice rolled and with long slender fingers, Shallara moved her stones, knocking another two pieces off the board and onto the bar. She tapped the board impatiently with fire-engine red nails. In a takeoff of a authoritarian domme, she assertively instructed her : “Drink again, girl !”. Ariella reached down to her side and poured a glass of water, downing it in three long gulps. She could feel the pressure starting to build up in her bladder, but she knew the rules that she had agreed to. With a final roll, Shallara finished the game, leaving Ariella with six stones on the board.

Cheerfully, Shallara tapped the board as she tripped out of the room on her way to the bathroom. She had her own penalties to relieve herself of ! And it was then that the hidden severity of the penalties struck Ariella with full force. As she heard the toilet flush, her own bladder rapidly began to complain. The water seeped through her body, making her fuller and fuller. With intense discomfort she drank the last three glasses of water, and settled won to wait the mandated 5 minutes before she too could go and relieve herself. The pressure had moved beyond her bladder, right down to that point behind her sex from which it cried to be released. The minutes seemed to take for ever to pass, and with only two minutes behind her, the discomfort seemed unbearable.

Shallara returned and sat on the couch, sipping a glass of red wine, smiling at her discomfort. “Having fun yet, Pet ?’ she asked, as Ariella shifted around. “Please Shallara, you have to let me go !”. The plea sounded desperate, but fell on deaf ears, and the minutes ticked on. At last she felt that she had reached her limit. “Shallara, please you have to let me out……I can’t hold it anymore”

A look of mock concern crossed Shallara’s grinning face. “Two more minutes to go my love….I am sure you can do that just for me ?”

A trip down the stairs

Ariella sat on the couch resting her head on Shallara’s shoulder. The game and discomfort behind her, she felt warm, protected and relaxed. Shallara’s mesmerizing voice seemed to be taking her down a flight of steps to a far away world. The hypnotic melodies from Enya’s Orinoco Flow’s resonated in her mind, taking her deeper and deeper. Shallara’s gentle fingers massaged her wrist and seemed to lead her into the dungeon. It all seemed so right and not terrifying at all.

Torches flamed on the walls, infusing the room with their earthy, smoky scents. A fire blazed in the hearth, making her cheeks feel flushed and alive. The stone floor clean and cool under her feet, and her toes, with their nails gleaming red, tested their dark, clean hardness. Chunky wooden frames of different shapes and size, all fitted out with black iron rings were spread out around the dungeon, a padded spanking bench sitting at it’s center.

And in the distant background, in another world, Ariella heard a doorbell chime. She barely felt Shallara disengage herself and gently lay her back against the couch. Shallara was talking to someone in the distance, but it all seemed so unimportant as she looked around and visually explored this playground to which her Lady Shallara had brought her. With everything feeling so safe and secure, Ariella felt herself drifting off into the dreamy world of dungeons and spanking benches that she flowed from her subconscious mind, waiting to be rejoined by her Lady Shallara.

(to be continued)

~ ~ ~

Do you have a case you would like Shallara to treat? If so, drop a short note to Shallara at ymail dot com and let her know what the issue you want dealt with, and what your recommended therapy might be. You might just find it written up on the Femdom Fantasies site !

~~~~~~~

Shallara: A Watered Down Penalty is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

A tribute to Lady Julia

(continued from part one)

Tim Sharpe stood outside the apartment door and knocked hesitantly. He glanced around self consciously, hoping that he would not be seen by any of the other tenants entering their own apartments. Well dressed in a dark business suit, tall and well built, he exuded confidence. Like any executive, he had a sense of self that seemed to fill up the space around him, so the casual observer would have wondered at the timid knock. He hesitated, chewing slightly on his lower lip, and knocked harder. The plush carpets seemed to soak up the sound of the knock, but he was rewarded when the door opened partially to let him in.

His trepidation was not without cause. Tim’s drive into the management ranks seemed unstoppable only a day ago. But now it all seemed to be crashing down on him. He broke into a cold sweat every time he thought back to the meeting that he had been called into with the Human Resources Vice president, Cheryl Stern yesterday. The meeting had been held in her office and at her instigation. The tone was very somber – charges of harassment had been leveled at Tim by two of his female subordinates. Tim was well known to be a misogynist. He frequently put down his female staff, and was barely civil to them, so he was not really surprised that one of them had complained. It was the seriousness with which it was being treated that shocked him !

He was stunned by the option that Cheryl Stern laid out for him: he could either fight the charges in a tribunal, or he could take a course of sensitivity training, at his own expense, with a therapist called Shallara. Tim had snorted, and blustered, but realized that he had no option.

He now stepped through the door into Shallara’s apartment, just a bit puzzled that this meeting was taking place in an apartment rather than in consulting rooms. As the door opened wider, and as he took in the scene, he wondered at the setup. He walked through the entrance lobby into a luxuriously furnished sitting room. The walls were a rich creamy color, and the cream carpets felt soft underfoot. A fire burned in the hearth, casting dancing red patterns on the wall. Crystal light fittings glittered on the walls, and cream colored, silky curtains looped across the window. One end of the room was taken up by a custom-fitted oak bookshelf with cupboards at one end. His eyes took in and widened as he spied the leather covered trestle resting at the one end of the bookshelf, underneath which a small wooden case sat. A large cage, perhaps three foot square stood in the other corner, but he couldn’t figure out what on earth it could be for.

And as heavy an impact as the opulent room made on him, it was the lady that had opened the door that quickly made his heart pound. He felt dry mouthed and suddenly large and clumsy, as she reached out to shake his hand. Short blonde spiky crowned a lithe, but short, body. Her fire-engine red lipstick stood out against a fair, flawless complexion. He seemed to be drawn into her eyes, as reached out to take her extended hand. A simple gold chain snaked around her wrist. His eyes took in her cream business suit, the cleavage, and strayed down to her feet. Red toenails peeked out from the strappy silver sandals.

As a slightly amused smile played on her lips, he struggled to regain his equilibrium. A jolt of testosterone seemed to hit him as he recovered, and a thought flashed through his mind that this couldn’t be all bad. A grin crossed his face. In a flash he had mentally undressed her, and he decided that this would be his next conquest. Silently he made a bet with himself that within two weeks, he would have his way with her in bed.

Tim found himself being taken by the hand and led across to the couch. He sat stiffly as she walked across to a cabinet and took a crystal glass, into which she dropped a couple of pieces of shaved ice. Her hands mesmerized him as she picked up a decanter and poured a tot over the ice. Barely a word had been spoken and he felt his hands becoming clammy and edgy.

But the mood changed very quickly as Shallara moved back and sat on the couch beside him. She handed over the glass and he savored the aromatic smell that drifted up. Tim fancied himself as a Scotch connoisseur, and as the first drops of the golden liquid touched his tongue, he recognized the unmistakable taste of a Laphroaig pure malt. And as the warmth of the fire reached him, a sense of comfort suddenly seemed to overcome him. In just a few moments he found himself easily chatting to this enigmatic lady that perched on the edge of the couch next to him.

As they talked, he found that it was her that seemed to be leading the conversation. The warmth of the fire in the hearth, the gentle fuzziness in his head brought on by the alcohol and her rhythmic tones, seemed to be taking him down somewhere he had never been before. A feeling of well-being and relaxation seemed to overcome Tim, and the physical closeness of this stunning therapist seemed to feel so right. A self satisfied smile played on his mind as he mentally scored this conquest. He had barely had to exert himself in charming her, and here she was, all but sitting on his lap !

Her sultry voice whispered into his ear. It seemed to be speaking to his very inner soul. It was even more intoxicating than the malt that had helped put him into this state. He felt her take the tumbler from his relaxed fingers, and moments later he felt her fiddling gently with his little finger. So intimate and it all felt so right. And as she reached across and lightly lifted his left hand, he could smell her seductive scent that seemed to drift off her neck. Her voice whispered on and on, seeming to say the same things over and over again. But he didn’t want it to stop. His whole consciousness seemed to open up and absorb her every message.

All too soon, it seemed to be over. As Shallara brought him out of his reverie, she saw Tim look down at his hands. A puzzled look came over his face as he looked at the two silver rings, one on each of his pinkies. He looked across to her for an explanation; she gave him a wicked grin. “You can’t take them off, you know? The one on your right will be with you for the rest of your life. Deep, deep down in your subconscious, it is now linked to an imaginary band that circles your balls. If EVER you speak down to a lady again, you will come to regret it”.

The feeling that he had experience just moments before vanished. A fire flamed in his eyes. “You bitch, you…”. Tim found himself doubled over in pain as the ring he could never see tightened around his scrotum. He looked up, confused and scared. “Are you OK Tim ? Apologize. Tim, and it will all be ok” he heard her say through the mist of pain. She sound so concerned, so compassionate. A few minutes later, after an apology that had seemed to stick in his throat, Tim found himself wondering how she could be so compassionate, yet so dispassionate at the same time. As he was guided to the door, he felt surprised at how quickly the pain and discomfort had dissipated as soon as the apology was made.

Emboldened, and remembering the bet he had made with himself, he turned to Shallara. Staring deep into his eyes, he thrust off the humiliation of the previous moments, and drew on seemingly endless reserves of self confidence. “When can I see you again? Perhaps a candle lit dinner this evening? I know this really romantic restaurant”. Shallara’s laugh seemed to chill him to the bone. “Tim, you won’t be seeing me again! You wouldn’t be of any use to me anyway!” She watched as he flushed. “You have seen what the ring on your right hand does. I forgot to explain the ring on your left. It’s like the opposite of a wedding band. I call it a chastity band. For as long as you are wearing it, you will not be able to have an erection. And remember, like the ring on your right hand – you are unable to remove them.”

The blood drained from his face. In a stuttering voice, he started to beg and plead for her to take it off. Shallara’s grin grew even wider. “There is one way to get it taken off – on a temporary basis, Tim. But you will always have to go and get it put back on. You can’t survive for more than a day without it Tim, without that dreadful pain you felt earlier returning. Remember that pain Tim ?….that one when you were rude to me ? The only person who can remove it for you, for that short sexual relief that you will soon come to need Tim, to dream about, to crave Tim, is….”

Shallara gave a dramatic pause as she let the information sink in’ “Who is it? You?”, he asked. He felt winded, as if he had just finished a marathon. His world had seemed to have collapsed around him. “It’s worse than that Tim, It’s not me”. She felt the heat flooding up between her thighs as she relished the moment of dominance. Most of her sessions had one of the magic moments, when it all came together, when she had her subject humbled and humiliated in a delightful way. It created a rush of sexual excitement that made her want to escape to some privacy and relive the moment while she pleasured herself physically.

“It’s Cheryl Stern, Tim, your HR VP. She is an old friend of mine, so I am sure she will give me updates on how you are doing with your female colleagues….and of course, an update on how often you request your chastity ring to be removed will always be fun to get ! We have an arrangement that whenever you ask, she will let me know. You won’t even be able to play with yourself Tom, without me knowing it !” She watched him close the door behind him, and pad down the corridor to face the reality that lay before him. It worse than the tribunal he had been offered – it was the reality of a female controlled life. And one in which his every orgasm would be monitored and reported. With a hold over him like that, life would never be the same – at office or at home.

Walking across to her bureau, Shallara sat down and rhythmically squeezed her thighs a few times, relishing the warm feelings and dampness. She flicked through the rest of the appointments she had booked for the week. Like Tim’s had been, the entries were simple: A symptom and a recommended therapy. The cases looked typical: from chauvinism to cheating, from bitchiness to pornography addiction. And in each case Shallara knew that the consultation would leave her feeling empowered and just a little …. aroused.

~

Do you have a case you would like Shallara to treat? If so, drop a short note to Shallara at ymail dot com and let her know what the issue you want dealt with, and what your recommended therapy might be. You might just find it written up on the Femdom Fantasies site !

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Shallara: Ring of Denial is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)

In tribute to Lady Julia

Shallara lay back in the salon chair, relaxing as Ariella massaged her damp scalp. She had been letting Ariella do her hair for years now and had developed a close friendship, one that bordered on the intimate. Sensuous, soft fingertips rhythmically massaged her hairline, moving ever so slowly down to her temples. Exotic oriental music played quietly in the background, and she felt herself drifting deeper and deeper. The wild flower scents from the shampoos seemed to overcome her senses, feminine, sensual and exotic.

She barely noticed that Ariella’s voice seemed to be changing. The idle chatter had been replaced by something more focused, more directed. She felt voices in her head leading her through a maze of passages and arches, until she emerged into a sunny courtyard. Somewhere, deep inside, as she continued to drift off, she heard Ariella’s gentle voice urging her to: “sleep for me now”

The private courtyard was surrounded on all sides by sandy colored, flat roofed building. Large arches and deep, shady verandas looked out onto the harsh sunlit area. A crystal clear pool dominated the center of the courtyard, with nubile women playfully splashing each other as they frolicked under the blazing sun. The eunuch, leading Shallara was huge. He had baggy white linen knee length pantaloons, and a broad red cloth sash crossed his chest, covering his pendulous male breasts, before wrapping around his huge waist. A red turban on his head sat on his head, with a large red gem clip holding it together.   He led Shallara to a padded table lying in the shade of exotic broad leafed palms and gently pressed her down and onto her back.

Her dream became even more sensual and erotic as felt herself being prepared for her first night in the harem. Girls wearing bright silks skits and tops massaged her, rubbing oils and lotions into her silky skin. Her nails were cleaned, polished and buffed; exfoliant was applied to her arms and legs and vigorously rubbed of. Her skin felt clean and alive. Her hands and feet tingled, and a deep warmth suffused her breasts. Shallara felt her thighs being gently eased apart, and offered no resistance as she felt a cool, aromatic cream being applied to her pubis before the hair was gently scraped away, for she knew that this was the way of the Sultan’s harem.

But all too soon, it was over. Shallara seemed to snap back to reality as Ariella moved her chair upright and began to blow dry her hair. Ariella’s bubbly chatter had started again, and Shallara struggled to retain fragments of her dream as it started to fade rapidly into the past. Uncomfortable, she squirmed in the chair as she tried to reposition her skirt which seemed to have ridden too high up her thighs.

Not too soon, Shallara had bid Ariella farewell and arrived back in her apartment. She needed to use the bathroom, and her panties were damp and gave off a telling, musty odor. As she undressed in front of the mirror, she admired her spunky new hairstyle. Her blond hair was short and spiky. Ariella had done well! Shallara remembered clearly the instructions she had given her, for she had rehearsed them in her head a number of times. “Ariella, I need a change . I want to look sassy and spunky – like a tomboy! I don’t just want to look good – I want to excite both males and females. Cut what you have to, to make this happen!”

And as Shallara looked at herself in the mirror, slowly peeling off her underwear, a look of bemusement crossed her face, followed by a wide grin. Staring back at her was a freshly shaved pubis, the skin smooth and silky. A temporary tattoo had been rubbed onto the mound; a fresh red rosebud curved it’s way gracefully up to her lower belly. The dream came flooding back to her consciousness, as she once again remembered the gentle scraping, the scent of shaving cream, and the gentle application of soothing oils. A wicked smile flashed across her face. They had an evening of backgammon planned…just wait Ariella, I know how to get you back!

Do you have a case you would like Shallara to treat? If so, drop a short note to Shallara at ymail dot com and let her know what the issue you want dealt with, and what your recommended therapy might be. You might just find it written up on the Femdom Fantasies site !

~~~~~~~

Shallara: The Hairdresser is a post from: Femdom Fantasies. Authors retain copyright. If you enjoyed this story or have something to add, please leave a comment. Remember, feedback typically encourages writers to write more ;)