A Dream of Extreme Control (part 1) – NSFW

This is post is Not Safe For Work. This post has been rated BP-MA (blog post-mature), and is only for mature audiences. This post contains part one of a story with sexual language, naughty words and an extreme level of control by one person of another. So there is no mistake, I repeat, an extreme level of control by one person of another. Reader discretion is advised. This post is also completely fantasy. You should not try this at home. You have been warned, people.

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She was alone in the house. She had just come home from a frustrating day at work. She sighed and thought of him. She wondered what his name was. She had known it once. Somehow he had messed with her mind. She knew what he had done, but she could not quite recall what it was. She had a clear memory of him asking her several times if she truly wanted him to do it, and her saying yes until she was near exasperated by having to say so over and over. But after that the memory became fuzzy. She could recall hearing his voice but she could not recall what his words had been. He had done something. She knew the word for it, but it always seemed to slip away from her when she tried to think of what he had done.

She wondered where he was. She had called out to him when she had gotten home. She could not remember his name. She also did not remember that outside the house, she knew and could speak his name. Once she was inside the house, she would never remember his name unless talking on the phone to someone she knew. When she was inside the house, he was called Master, Sir, Owner or Lord.

Her already souring frustration turned into a bad mood. Work was tiring and emotionally draining, and he was not here for her. She pouted as she walked back to the bedroom. She heard the door to the basement close, and knew he had simply not responded to her when she had called out to him. She frowned. How could he be so unfair to her? So mean? Didn’t he care?

When she got to the bedroom she threw her purse on the bed and turned to wait for him to appear. She heard his steps get closer. When he stepped through the doorway, she began to talk angrily and loudly. Her day had been hard. She wanted to him, and he had not been there to comfort her. Why was he smirking. This was not funny.

He was smirking because he found amusing listening to her complain while she referred to him as Master and Sir. But he did not tell her this. He merely waited for her to finish her ranting. Then, in a gentle voice, he spoke one of many post-hypnotic trigger phrases.

She gasped. In a moment she had forgotten the words he had said. She was aware only that he had exerted his control over her and that she was quickly becoming very aroused. Her clothes were uncomfortable, and her hands began to hastily remove them. She looked at him as her jacket and skirt and blouse were shed. That he could do this to her seemed so unfair, and yet, the control, oh the control, how she adored that he could do this to her. It was that adoration and not any part of his command that seemed to drain the strength from her knees. By the time she was down to her bra and panties, she was kneeling. The bra was unfastened and yanked away from her. The panties were ripped in her lustful desire to be out of them.

And so she knelt there, naked, her clothes piled on the floor, her panties held up, cupped by her hands, holding the garment out to him as if it were an offering.

“Good girl,” he said. The sound caused her to whimper as she felt the aching heat in her crotch.

He took the panties from her hands. Her hands dropped to her thighs. She was starting to tremble. She knew the ritual that came next and what it portended for her.

“These look like a woman’s panties,” he said. “But adult women do not throw temper tantrums. Do they?”

“No, Sir.”

“But you just did.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Should women who throw temper tantrums be treated like adults?”

“No, Sir.”

“Who throws temper tantrums?”

“Children throw temper tantrums, Sir.”

“Should women who throw temper tantrums be treated like children?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And what punishment is earned by children who throw temper tantrums?”

“A spanking, Sir.”

“So what punishment have you earned?”

“A spanking, Sir.” There were tears in her eyes. Only bad girls earned spankings.

“Spanking position, on the bed, now.”

Her body began to obey before she could think about it. A part of her mind told her to stop, to grab her clothes and run. But she crawled to the bed, stood up and leaned her torso over it. Was this part of his special control or did she simply want to obey him? She did not know. She did not care. It all amounted to his controlling her, and there was nothing she craved more.

Which is why when the first strike of his flat hand stung her bare ass, she said, “Thank you, Sir.” His hand slapped her ass five more times, and each time she thanked him. When he was done she felt primed. She knew this ritual was not done. She squeezed her thighs together. She wanted to touch herself. She wanted to touch her crotch… her cunt. But she could not move from her position. Where before she might have been able to run away from him, now the whole scenario seemed locked in place. She would follow the ritual completely in his control. There was no escape from it, and this made her whimper with desire. What was more intimate than his controlling her body and mind? She could not imagine.

She whimpered. He laughed softly. She squeezed her thighs as tight as she possibly could.

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If I am able, I will post more of this story soon. As always, all feedback is welcome.

2 Responses to “A Dream of Extreme Control (part 1) – NSFW”

  1. I have always wondered about hypnosis an what place it had in bdsm. Is that it? Having control over a submissive on a completely subconscious level? Honestly that is absolutely terrifying while at the same time deliciously tempting!!!!
    Carlie

  2. My dom controls me with hypnosis. It’s amazing, and he uses it in many ways. I have triggers for pleasure and triggers for punishment. I don’t like being punished, but then who does. Hypnosis is amazing when it comes to scenarios though the only limit being imagination. I love and trust my dominant to play with my head however he chooses, and I enjoy it.

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