A timid knock on the door. It’s amazing how much you can tell about someone just by how they knock. This creature knocked two and a half times. Literally. The first one was reasonably audible, the second one much less so, and the third was… you could tell that she barely touched the door and froze with fear. I bared my teeth. You could charitably call it a smile, if you were a fellow predator. She, and it is a she, that was the stipulation, stood just outside the door, probably frozen in indecision. Should she run? Should she wait? Or knock again? But she was clearly ashamed of her half-knock already, and screwing up knocking again would add to her embarrassment.

They are so transparent, every single one of them showing up at my doorstep. My wolfish smile got wider. She got herself entranced before even entering my office. This was too easy, but I was not one to turn away from a moth flying into a flame. From a fish swallowing a hook. Still, best reel her in carefully, no need to be too cocky. I waited… Let her squirm a bit. A quiet little shuffle. Just a moment more… I heard her turning around to leave.

“Enter!” My voice is clear, loud and commanding. This moment is important. She has already made a decision to go, and now I had to override it. Set the tone for unquestioning obedience. She froze. Good. Now she has to make a decision to obey or to leave. This is not an easy decision. She is already embarrassed by her failed knock, and now doubly so by trying to leave too early. Or at least too early in her mind, in reality I am controlling the events. Now, this is a critical moment. If my command overrides her fear, this is a turning point. Literally and figuratively. It works twice as well. The act of turning around gets imprinted in her brain, subconsciously, but just as surely.

… And here it is. Right on cue. The door opens just a crack… then a bit more, and a face peeks in. Her eyes found mine. She shuffles in place, still unsure what to do. I command her to get in, with a slight head turn, then pointed where she should go, with just my eyes. This may seem like theatrics, but it is an essential part of the hunt. She learns to keep all her attention on me, and gets used to obeying without thinking, instantly. And, sure enough, she follows my silent instructions.


“I… I…” She stopped, inhaled audibly, then continued, willed forth against her will by my command, her voice no longer quivering.

“I was told you are…” She trails off again. Not like I didn’t know why she came. Time to take control.

“You want a master.” A statement, not a question. Pause. A nod from her, and a silent gulp. “You want to be played with.” A blush, then another barely perceptible nod. No, that just won’t do. My face becomes stern and questioning, and I wait.

“Yes, Master!” A look of surprise on her face. The degree of her submission to me just bubbled up to her conscious mind. Perfect. This interplay between conscious and subconscious deepens the submission.

“You are learning fast.” A compliment on her submission, making her feel grateful. Another blush from her.

“Thank you, Master!” No hesitation this time. I love these moments. Toying with someone’s mind anew, touching it where it has never been touched and watching familiar and predictable, but still fascinating reactions.

Now, to reiterate. Always good to repeat, that’s how words become truth. “You need a master. You want a master to play with you, to use you, to hurt you, to put you in your place. To finally show you, and the world, what you really are.”

“Yes!” She is excited, having been understood without having to explain. Then freezes, realizing her misstep from the look on my face.

“Yes, Master!”

“Apparently I have overestimated how fast you learn. Maybe this is a mistake.” I pretend to look contemplative.

“Sorry, Master! No, Master! Yes, Master!” Then, after a confused pause, “I will do my best to learn faster, Master, please teach me!” Looking to me for approval. I bare my teeth at her. “We’ll see.” Her face falls.

“You want me to show you what you really are. What do you think you are?” Good to ask them where they are coming from, just to mindfuck with it later.

“I’m a slut. I’m a whore. I am nothing. I need to be hurt. I need to be fucked, I deserve to be tortured and broken!” Her mouth is contorted in self-disgust. She is in shock. She has never said it out loud before this moment. She never even dared to think these thoughts, or if she thought them, she never dared to acknowledge them. Shock, and then relief. Suddenly her world makes sense, for the first time in a long time. She is shaking from this revelation. And now she is also aroused, without realizing it. Oh, how delicious. She got where I want her, all by herself, with only subtle guidance. Now to savor the moment. To watch her expressions, to watch her body language as her own words echo in her her mind, again and again. Finally, she resigns to it.

“That’s right. If I take you, you will be my plaything, to be fucked, to be broken, to be whored out, to be owned and used without regard for your own needs. Because your only need will be to serve me.” I may have gone too far, too soon. She hesitates. Then nods, cheeks bright pink. And just like that the prey is caught. Time to devour it.

“Let me warn you. You will be nothing. I will hurt your body, I will torture your mind, I will find what you are afraid of and will use it to break you more. You will willingly tell me your worst fears, your most terrible nightmares, and I will make them come true. You have darkness and pain in you that you have no idea about, I can see it in you. And I will drag it out of you. You will beg for mercy and for more torture at the same time. You will not be able to have an orgasm on your own anymore, I will control your mind, and your body, you will be my property, my marionette, my chattel to do as I please. Do you consent to that?”

“Yes, Master! Please, Master! I want to be your property, Master!”

“Look how horny saying this makes you, chattel. I can smell you from here. What a worthless pathetic piece of meat you are, just waiting to be controlled, not even a human anymore, just a horny animal. And hearing that turns you on even more. You are disgusting. You smell of your own cum leaking out of your cunt, your panties are soaked.” She automatically sniffed and reached down with her hand.

“Stop! You are only permitted to touch yourself when I tell you to! Oh, look, that made you even hornier and needier. Do you want to come, chattel? Chattel will be your name from now on. Do you want to come, chattel?”

“Yes, Master! If you want me to come, Master! I don’t deserve to have needs of my own except to serve you, Master!”

“Good girl. You are learning pretty quick for a pathetic little whore with a soaked cunt. Now, to seal the deal.” Her pants did get soaked by now, her eyes locked on mine, entranced, blinking rapidly. So easy, so suggestible, so delectable. I look at her crotch, raise two fingers, make a rolling motion. She squirms, like I am rubbing her clit. I make a squeezing motion. She jumps and yelps. Now flicking motion.

“Come, chattel!”

That was a command, and her body obeys, led by her mind, already mine. She squeaked, twitched, sunk to the floor, eyes rolling into her head, and screamed from the intensity of it. Little does she know of what awaits her in the days and weeks to come. But she said “yes”, fair is fair. My little tasty prey.

(Picture is taken by me)

Masturbation Monday


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      Exactly, the real submission is in the mind! Some people are natural at submitting, and others at projecting an air of authority and confidence that makes others want to submit.

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