There were two women on Aaron’s phone. Aaron knew one of them, Mistress Blunt. She was dressed casually, in a loose shirt and yoga pants. He didn’t know the other woman standing next to Mistress Blunt, but Aaron knew what was going to happen. He had watched this video several times in a row.
Mistress Blunt and the other woman, a blonde, bent down towards the camera. Old-timey crooning flooded out from his phone’s speakers, filling his apartment with the sounds of yesteryear. Despite the hit on his budget, Aaron had always enjoyed living alone, especially now that everyone was stuck inside. He could watch the video as many times as he wanted.
The video was just a few seconds long. Mistress Blunt and the blonde woman bent towards the camera as the old-timey “woo-woo” vocals played, the other woman started to bow a little in front of Mistress Blunt, and then the background of the room became bright red. Mistress Blunt and the other woman suddenly were in a black silhouette. The music became spacey, lyrics asking to “put your head on my shoooooulder” in slo-mo.
But Aaron could only pay attention to what was happening between Mistress Blunt and this other woman. She had knelt entirely in front of Mistress Blunt and then Mistress Blunt tugged at a chanin the kneeling woman was wearing. That was the video, and then it began playing again.
Aaron couldn’t stop watching this tug. This was what he had missed so badly, the physical connection. He watched the video twice more and went back to work, where his boss had scheduled a meeting to yell at him.
Work had become a constant onslaught of screens, daily team meetings, weekly one-on-ones, bi-monthly all-hands meetings. He stared at the screens and wrote what he had to write for work, analyzed the studies, read the figures, sent out emails asking questions, listened to his bosses yell at him for whatever they wanted, found something to scarf down between all that. He felt bad relying so much on delivery but it wasn’t like his boss was lenient on lunch breaks. It seemed like he was working more than ever. He was one of the lucky ones, he had to keep reminding himself. He still had a job.
He didn’t feel so lucky when he was working into the dead of night for ungrateful bosses. He felt himself melting at work. He thought of a cartoon he had seen as a child which was about a little man in Sweden. The man was standing on a giant ice cube in the middle of the river, only to have the Sun come down from the sky and blow on his ice cube until the man could no longer stand. He had to scramble off the cube, limbs spinning like giant propellers, and he was finally able to jump onto another frozen surface. And then the Sun came down and started to blow on that one too.
He tried to do a good job—he remembered the big talk his boss had given him a few months before the pandemic, where they had talked about raising his personal brand. He felt like an idiot buying into it all. But it was late, and just for practical purposes he needed to turn his brain off so he could work more tomorrow. There was only one thing he could do. He pulled up the video of Mistress Blunt in the woods.
Technically the video was called “Left in the Woods (Mindfuck).” Mistress Blunt was in the center of the screen, wearing a light black top and black jean shorts, surrounded by lush greenery. There was a whip around her neck, which felt very casual. She was wearing red lipstick, and it reminded Aaron of his very first crush, the eco-terrorist supervillian whose kisses made men fall in love.
She had a big smile on her face. Aaron loved this smile because he knew what was coming next: she was going to laugh in his face. She was going to make fun of him for being so fucking delusional, thinking that she was going to rip his clothes off out here and fuck. Her saying this suddenly made the image appear in Aaron’s mind, suddenly imagining her using him in that way, of giving her pleasure in that way, of being powerful, of being strong in that way. That way was stuck in his head. That way, that way, that way.
But as soon as the image flew into his head she was laughing in his face. She was making fun of his boner. She looked so beautiful in the sunlight. The camera suddenly turned gonzo as she pushed it to the ground.
Aaron was masturbating like crazy at this point, and it was to two things: one was just the pure physical essence of Mistress Blunt. Her laugh was so contagious, he wanted her to laugh more and more at him. He wanted to humiliate himself lower, create more delusional hopes for her to quickly burn away.
But it wasn’t just how low he could get himself. Aaron felt freedom radiating from Mistress Blunt in all her clips, none more than this one. As the light of the computer screen illuminated his face in his dark room, there was a sense that Mistress Blunt could move places he could not, could live in ways he could not, could simply exist in ways that he could not. This was a larger than life sensation, a sense that she could do anything she fucking wanted and he was stuck, stuck like glue, stuck like a sinkhole.
He started pulling up her subscription sites. He pulled up pictures of her wearing cashmere sweaters, pictures of her in red sheer lingerie, pictures of her naked. Each picture created its own scenario, its own world. He felt more comfortable imagining himself naked and her in a clothed situation, drinking coffee, sexting lovers.
Imagining her fully naked didn’t come naturally—clothing allowed him to place a scenario in a specific setting, be it an evil stepmom or a cruel cuck. But he knew she would want him uncomfortable, so he stared at her naked body. Her breasts, her stomach, her bush, her ass. He stared at all the naked pictures he could find and felt smaller each and every time. Suddenly the scenarios felt every stronger. This rush was surprising but it also made sense. Every time he put Mistress Blunt’s pleasure first, his own would only increase.
Aaron knew that the freedom that emanated from Mistress Blunt started with putting her pleasure first. He was told so many things all day—redo this, edit that—and when he stared at his screen he just had one. Give her everything. He could get weaker and she could get stronger. There could be order in the world.
He went on like this, buying her clips and absorbing her freedom, until he noticed a green light next to her name. And then he saw a green light appear on the screen. He had a message
“Good boy.”
He wanted to spill out of his body, to fill the return message with pages of ecstasy, but he decided that might be weird. He started to type out a hello, something normal, but then she started typing more. His hand leapt off the keyboard.
“I’ve seen you buying clips for a while. Do you want to add to my pleasure?”
“Yes Mistress.” Suddenly he couldn’t think about what words to say. He was on autopilot.
“Let’s play a little game.”
A message appeared in his inbox costing $6.66. He clicked on it. There were her red nails moving over and through her black lingerie, getting lost within her bush. It was .GIF playing over and over again. Aaron couldn’t stop watching her nails.
“Say please Mistress, I need to play the game more.”
“Please Mistress, I need to play the game more.”
The next message required spending $66.66. He clicked through instantly and it was a .GIF of Mistress Blunt wearing cashmere, the same cashmere from before. She was wearing a simple gold necklace. The camera was pointed down towards her cleavage. Now her hands were massaging her breasts, almost spilling out of her top.
“That was fast. Say thank you Mommy.”
“Thank you Mommy.”
“Tell me what you’re feeling, little.”
“ I love clicking for your big beautiful breasts Mommy clicking and stroking and clicking and stroking I can’t stop clicking I feel such a rush such freedom I feel the freedom of stroking for your big beautiful breasts freedom in the bushes in the trees everywhere where Mommy is and I just need to obey and stare and empty out and fill up with your words and commands.”
“Lol.” She typed some more, than a pause. Then she typed some more, than paused. It was like she was trying to make a decision.
“You’ve played the game so well little one. You’ve brought me amusement on this night. I’m sure it’s raining where you are too, we’re not that far apart.”
Suddenly, for the first time that evening, Aaron heard thunder.
“There’s another level to the game, a secret level. You don’t have to play it if you don’t want. We’ve had a very nice time tonight. But if you want to play the secret level, you have to say yes. So take a deep breath, and either type “thank you Mistress” or “yes.”
He took a deep breath. It was barely longer than a pant, so he took another one. His eyes were dinner saucers.
“yes”
The next message cost $666.66. Again, he clicked through to follow the hypnotist dominatrix’s instructions without hesitation.
“You’re not going to work tomorrow. You’re taking the train to me by 4 PM. Figure out the train details on your own. You’re going to bring the following ingredients, I’m making dinner for my friends. You’re going to take out all the money you can, put it in an envelope. Kneel with the envelope outside my door and ring the bell at exactly 4 PM. You think this is your idea. You love this idea. You are going to forget this message. You’re going to say “This was my idea!” to yourself during the entire ride. Wear your hiking shoes. Respond with “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Mistress!” and close your computer.”
Below the message were various details.
“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Mistress!”
His bosses were furious at such a late health excuse but they were white noise. They had forced him to get on Zoom to explain himself and they sounded like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. The grocery shopping was heavy and tedious and he had to go to multiple stores but he floated on air. He did some reading on the train, got lost in a novel. He told himself this was his idea. He found her address. It was a lovely cabin, a smooth porch with deep brown lumber.
He took a deep breath. It was 3:50, he had a few minutes. He set the bags down, trying to make sure they could all stand on their own. The jars of ghee stabilized the steaks, and on top that the onions, leeks, tomatoes and in the next bag were potatoes and the red wine from northwestern Italy that the clerk said tasted like berries. He enjoyed this little puttering. This was his idea.
His bags settled. He was glad he had worn his hiking boots. In the few minutes he had left, he breathed in deeply. The air out of the city was so much crisper, it was like his lungs inhaled extra oxygen out here. He heard the birds chip. He dug out the envelope, wet his lips, and held it between his gums. It was a lovely sunny day. This was his idea and it was the best fucking idea of his life. It was 4 on the dot. He rang the doorbell.
This is part of my BDSM Stories writing contest, contributed by an eager erotic hypnosis submissive who adores mind control. Want a more intimate look into my personal relationships? Follow me on my OnlyFans. Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter and for those who feel inspired by the above interview, reach out.