Tag: Surrender

Just the Ticket

            I can’t get her out of my mind. Everything about her haunts me constantly. Except her name. I can’t remember her name, no matter how hard I try.

It began a week ago. I had set up my favorite speed trap on the route outside of town, parked behind a billboard that hides my car from the southbound traffic. The limit is 45 mph at that point, and she went by me in a red convertible doing about 60.

“I’m sorry, officer, I got an urgent call from my mother and was rushing off to see her,” she said as I stood by her window examining her driver’s license.

“Why are you carrying a California license?” I asked.

“I moved to Florida in June and haven’t had a chance to change it yet,” she answered.

“Well, ma’am,” I replied, putting on my best “you’re in trouble” voice, “Florida state law requires you to upgrade your license within four months of moving in state, so I am afraid your documents are not in order. Please wait here.”

“Four hundred dollars!” she exclaimed, reading the ticket I had handed to her after writing it up against the dashboard of my squad car.

“Yes, ma’am,” I confirmed. “Three hundred for exceeding the speed limit by 15 miles per hour, one-hundred for the failure to update your license.”

“But, officer,” she sighed, “can’t you have a little compassion on me? I moved to Florida to help care for my mother. As I told you, I was in a rush to go see her just now.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. The law is the law.”

“Yes. Well,” she said in a sadly resigned tone, “luckily there is a higher law than the one you serve. The law of the human heart. That law obeys Me.”

“What?” I asked.

“The law of the human heart,” she repeated. “It is what gives Me the power to hypnotize you.”

I laughed. “I am a police officer, ma’am. You are not the first person to try some kind of ‘Jedi mind trick’ on me. It has never worked yet.”

“Did any of those others have legs like mine?” At these words she flexed her legs, which I could see very well from my vantage looking down into her convertible. They were magnificent- long and shapely, sheathed in shimmering black nylon. Her stockings ended in lace garters that caressed her milky thighs as they traveled up into her short skirt.

“N- n-no.” I stuttered.

“If you could take your eyes off Me you might stand a chance of resisting My hypnosis,” she said, “but I am too sexy for that to happen.” At these last words she tossed her head back so that her blonde hair flew in the breeze, her green eyes flashed like fire into mine, and her chin pulled back to give me a view into the shadowed valley of cleavage between her exquisitely full breasts.

“B-b-b-but…” I began to protest, my voice weakening.

“Shhh, pet,” she cooed. “Keep looking. Enjoy what you see. Listen to my voice. I am going to count backward from 10, and with each count you will feel yourself becoming more relaxed…”

She kept talking, but I don’t remember what she said. All I can remember is staring at her hungrily. Her eyes. Her mouth. Her beautiful hands. The luscious curves of her breasts. I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to feel the heft of those breasts in my palms. To raise her nipple to my lips. To run my fingers over the silky counters of her calves and thighs. To kiss those inviting lips from which that voice poured like sweet honey into my ears.

“You love Me,” she said, her tone a musical singsong command, “You ever-increasingly, irresistibly and unerringly love Me. You could never do anything to make Me unhappy.”

“No, ma’am,” I agreed.

“Then get on your knees.”

I did so, stepping aside first so that she could open the car door and swing her legs out so that her feet rested on the roadside gravel. When she was settled, I knelt before her.

“Kiss my feet, slave,” she commanded.

I bent down and rained eager kisses on her black stiletto heels and nylon-stocking clad feet.

“Now give me that,” she said, pointing to my hand.

I held up the leather-cased citation pad and pen I had been holding.

“Just the ticket,” she commanded, “the carbon copy of the summons you wrote up for Me.”

I ripped out the carbon of her citation and surrendered it happily, smiling like a love-struck boy presenting his best girl a flower.

“Very good, pet,” she said, placing the copy together with the original and shoving them both into her purse on the passenger’s seat of her car. “I will dispose of those later. Meanwhile, what to do with you? Ordinarily I would wipe your memory clean of this whole encounter and spare you the humiliation, but you were so unreasonable that I don’t think you deserve that. No… I free you from My love spell- you can go back to whatever state of emotional numbness made you comfortable before. And you will forget my name and all identifying information about Me…the make and model of My car, My license plate. But you will remember everything else. Remember what the consequences are of failing to show a superior Woman the respect She is due.”

She pulled her gorgeous legs back into the car, closed her door, and drove off, leaving me still kneeling in the gravel.

Almost everything she said came true. I wrack my brains, but I can’t remember her name. I know her car was a red convertible, but I cannot remember the make or model. But one thing she said has not borne out. I am not free from her love spell. I yearn for her constantly; I worship her nightly with my body. I don’t think that it can be written off as the effects of hypnosis. Certainly, her hypnotizing me helped me fall in love with her. It taught me how powerful she is, how unlike anyone I have ever met, and focused my attention on the full intensity of her beauty and allure. But given enough time and the right circumstances I would have fallen in love with her in any case. Anyone would.

I am in hell. I wander the roads, looking for her. Hoping to encounter her. Yearning to be able to plead forgiveness. If she would just let me remember her name… even if she refused to see me again… life would be easier. Then at least I would know whom to address my prayers to at night.

The End


Tabula Rasa (Con’t) Day 12 & 13


Day 12



She did not appear at breakfast today. Instead, a tray for one slid through the pass-through. On it was a note: “Tune in to our channel at noon. There is something I want to show you.”

The seconds crept by at a snail’s pace until noon. When the time stamp on CNN told me that noon had arrived, I tuned the TV as her note had directed. When the station came on, it revealed her standing in the living room completely naked, but not alone.  To her left was a young man, also naked, with an extraordinarily handsome face and perfect physique. To her right was a tall brunette woman, about the same age as Goddess Marquesa, likewise a specimen of classic beauty. Like the Goddess, both her companions were stark naked. Read more…

Halloween Passage

            Autumn is always a wistful season. Even when I was young and time seemed to stretch out forever, the passing of summer brought pangs of loss. Now that I am older the fading light of autumn is laced with nostalgia. It is the one time of year when the past seems inescapable.

            I am brought back to many passages, but the one to which I almost always inevitably return is the October of my senior year of high school. The need for pocket money brought me into the door of our local supermarket, and almost as soon as I walked in I saw Christine. Tall and lithe, milky skin and auburn hair. Full red lips and eyes of hazel flecked with gold. My adolescent heart was set on fire.

            I had been working the cash register next to hers for a week, pining the whole time, before a single word passed between us. I was only half-focused on my work as usual, lost in a fog between numbered keys and the gentle contours of Christine’s face. I had absent-mindedly handed one customer her change and was looking past her to start ringing up a new sale when a striking voice brought me up short.

            “You gave me the wrong change.”

            “Wha?” I grunted, only half-registering that the customer had spoken to me.

            “You gave me the wrong change,” she repeated firmly, holding out the bills I had just handed to her. “I gave you a twenty and you only gave me change for a ten.”

            “Oh,” I sighed, looking up at the customer for the first time. Like her voice she was very striking. Much older than me, but very attractive. Her green eyes surveyed me with a mixture of pity and impatience. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I finally spoke, “I’ll fix this right away.”

            I nervously pressed buttons in an attempt to get my register drawer to open, to no avail. As I floundered Christine waved to get my attention. “Hit the override key on top,” she directed, pointing to the corresponding key on her own register.

            “Gee, thanks!” I gushed. “That’s really nice of you to help.”

            I was fishing for a “you’re welcome,” maybe even a smile, but Christine had forgotten me again and gone back to serving her customer. Once I had the drawer open I took out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the blond woman at my register, most of my attention still on Christine.

            “What is your name?” the woman asked.

            “Billy,” I answered, giving her my full attention for the first time.

            “How do you know I told you the truth, Billy? You never bothered to check the register.”

            I lowered my eyes and must have blushed a bit. “I wouldn’t mistrust you, ma’am,” I mumbled bashfully.

            “Don’t call me ma’am,” she said. “If you must be formal, call me ‘Mistress.’ Mistress Marquesa.”

            “All right, Mistress Marquesa,” I said. I had never heard such a moniker before, but even if customer service had not compelled my assent I would not have been bold enough to contradict her.

            “Bag my groceries, Billy, then help me out to my car,” she ordered.

            Even under Christine’s spell, I could not help ogling Mistress Marquesa from behind as I followed her to her car carrying two bags of sundries. The contours of her back and legs were very shapely. When the bags were in the trunk, she offered me a dollar.

            “That’s all right ma’…I mean, Mistress. It was my pleasure,” I demurred.

            Mistress Marquesa lifted an eyebrow. “I bet it was,” she noted drily. Opening her front door, she remarked, “You like that girl in there, don’t you…what is her name?”

            “Christine,” I replied.

            “Yes….Well, she doesn’t know you exist, Billy.”

            “I’m too shy to talk to her,” I explained.

            “Listen to Mistress Marquesa, pet. Love is not for the faint of heart. Force yourself to speak to her. Compliment her shoes. Girls always love that. Especially here in a supermarket where you are all forced to wear that ugly uniform smock. It will please her to feel that you noticed her one fashion choice that can still be seen.”

            I did as Mistress Marquesa instructed, and it worked. Even though my compliment was delivered haltingly and at low volume, it elicited a bright smile from Christine. From that day on we were on speaking terms. Though Christine never let on that she felt anything but the fondness of an acquaintance for me, I learned to hope as I had scarce dared to before receiving Mistress Marquesa’s advice.

            I was thus very pleased to see her again when Mistress Marquesa walked into the supermarket on October 30. She winked at me as she walked into the aisles to pick her merchandise. When she appeared at my register I greeted her with a warm smile.

            “Do you have plans for Halloween, Billy?” she asked as I totaled up her bill.

            “No, Mistress…” I mumbled, embarrassed to confess it.

            “Oh, Billy!” Christine piped in on overhearing my admission. “Janet from my homeroom class is throwing a costume party. You should come. She said I could invite whoever I wanted.”

            “Thanks, Christine!” I beamed.

            Mistress Marquesa threw me another wink. “Pack these up for me,” she said, waving her hand over her groceries, “and come help me to my car.”

            Once I had Mistress Marquesa’s bags stowed in her trunk, she paused before getting behind the wheel.

            “My advice worked, didn’t it?” she asked.

            “Yes, thank you!” I replied, smiling broadly.

            “Tomorrow night’s party is your big chance,” she said, “you’ll need some advice.” She reached into her purse and drew out a small business card. “I’m new in town, but I just got these made. Come to my house tomorrow. The address is on the back. I will help you with your costume and give you some tips on flirting with Christine.”

            “You are the best!” I gushed. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

            “Anything for young love.” With a smile she got into the driver seat and was away.

            I looked down at the card she had handed me. The front said only “Emerald Eyes Enterprises.” On the back was an address and a phone number. Everything was printed in deep green lettering. A faint scent of her perfume wafted up from the card.

            I appeared at her front door at five p.m. the next day. She answered the door in costume. It was a black witch’s dress, but it was cut very short all around. Her arms were bare up to the shoulder, much of her breasts could be seen under black lace that thinly veiled her décolletage. Her legs were sheathed in shiny-smooth black nylon stockings and black stiletto heels. The skirt of her dress was so short that the black garters holding up her stockings peeked out at the top of her thighs. A tiny tiara in her hair was shaped like a miniature witch’s hat, tilted playfully to one side. Until that moment I had never really been exposed to just how sexy she is, I was momentarily disoriented.

            “Oh…Mistress…hi….I mean…you look….so….” I stammered.

            “Why thank you, Billy,” Mistress Marquesa said. “Come in, let me offer you some refreshment.”

            I followed her down a short hallway into a tidy kitchen, where she handed me a small glass of apple cider. I drank it appreciatively. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Can I offer you something to eat?”

            “No, thank you.” I replied.

            “Let’s go into my parlor then, we can talk more comfortably in there.” I followed her directions into another room where two chairs were set up facing one-another: one a plush armchair, the other a simple wooden one. Mistress Marquesa sat in the armchair and gestured for me to come in front of her. “Let me see your costume,” she ordered.

            I let her look me over for a few moments. I had put on what I thought was a serviceable cowboy costume. “Hmmmm….,” she mused. “I don’t think this will do the trick. Go into the bedroom and change into what I laid out for you on the bed, then we can talk more in here.”

            She pointed to a door and I entered. It was a modestly appointed but very feminine bedroom. On the bed were only a few items: a collar, two manacles, two foot shackles, and a loin cloth. This puzzled me, but I compliantly took off my cowboy costume and donned the items on the bed.

            “That’s much better,” Mistress Marquesa remarked as I came back into the parlor. “Yes, that will do nicely.” She was sitting cross-legged in the armchair on the other side of the room, her posture very erect as if she were a queen surveying her court.

            She gestured for me to sit in the wooden chair across from her, and I did. “I don’t understand,” I said, puzzled by the strange costume. “Do you think Christine will like this?”

            “Tell me honestly Billy,” Mistress Marquesa began, ignoring my question, “you find Me very attractive, don’t you?”

            “I’m sorry?” I blurted, even more confused.

            “I want you to look at Me, Billy,” she instructed, brushing aside my question yet again. “Start at the tip of my foot and let your eyes travel up my body.”

            I couldn’t help doing as she commanded, something about her voice, her manner, compelled obedience. I let my gaze glide along the luscious curves of her legs, and linger on the captivating fullness of her breasts before traveling past her throat and mouth. When my vision finally came to rest upon her deep green eyes I stopped, my heart pounding.

            “Do you find Me sexy?” she asked.

            “Yes,” I confessed. It would have been useless to lie, the loincloth I was wearing could not conceal my enormous erection.

            “Good boy,” she cooed. “Let your eyes make the journey again. Back down past My mouth, all the way to My toe. When you reach the tip come back here to My eyes again. Keep doing that until I tell you to stop.”

            “Yes, Mistress,” I agreed, letting my eyes wander again

            “Very good, Billy. Focus on My voice. It is very soothing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I found I could not disagree with anything she said.

“As you let your eyes drink Me in, you feel yourself becoming very relaxed. A warm feeling flows through your body. All of the tension in your muscles eases away.”

I could feel everything she described as she said it. My heart rate slowed. My eyelids drooped. In the back of my mind, however, an alarm bell rang.

“What are you doing, Mistress?” I asked. “What is happening to me?” Even as I protested, my eyes continued to slide up and down her gorgeous curves. I could not take them away.

“I am hypnotizing you, pet,” she purred.

“I don’t understand,” I blurted, panic sparking even as I became progressively more relaxed. “What is this costume? Why are you…you…” Protesting was becoming more difficult as I fell deeper into trance.

“It is not a costume, Billy. It is the uniform of a slave.”

“You want to make me Christine’s slave?” I gasped.

Mistress Marquesa laughed, the sound seeming to resonate in the marrow of my bones. “Christine is much too vapid to recognize what she has in you,” she said. “I used your infatuation for her to lure you here, but she isn’t worth much more thought. No, you won’t be her slave. You will be Mine.”

“You can’t…I won’t….I don’t want to be a slave.” I protested weakly.

“Not now you don’t,” she said, smiling indulgently. “But before Halloween is over you will beg to be My slave.”

“But you said…you were going to…you…” I stuttered, clinging to the edge of consciousness.

“You have the wrong idea, sweet boy,” Mistress Marquesa explained. “This isn’t a coming-of-age story about a young man who discovers his first love with the help of a kind older woman. I am the heroine of this tale. It is about a mysterious, sexy, powerful Mistress that comes into town looking for new slaves, and claims Her first prize. After some thought I decided that you are an ideal choice to play that part in My story. You should feel lucky.”

My mouth hung open, my capacity for coherent speech gone. A slight trickle of drool escaped the corner of my mouth. My cock was rock hard. My heart pounded in my chest, beating slowly and evenly to the rhythm of her silky voice.

“Now listen,” she commanded. “Stop resisting. Breathe. Your eyelids are getting heavier. You feel yourself falling into a deep sleep. Sleep. All that exists is My voice. My voice and your desire….”

“Wake up pet.” The voice was a whisper in my ear. I awoke to find myself still seated in the chair, Mistress Marquesa straddling my lap. Her face was inches from mine, her arms enfolded me, her legs encircled my hips. I could feel the delicious pressure of her breasts against my chest.

“How do you feel, pet?” she asked, caressing my cheek with her sweet breath.

“I feel…I feel…” I searched, considering. Finally, I answered, “I feel wonderful.”

“Good,” she said with satisfaction.

Her lips closed over mine in a deep kiss. For several minutes we remained locked in that embrace, my heart pounding in sync with hers. Every thought was driven from my mind, ever sensation fled my body but the sheer joy of being ensnared in her gorgeous limbs and immobilized by her exquisite mouth.

“Do you miss Christine?” she asked as she pulled out of our kiss.

“Who?” In that moment I could genuinely not recall who Christine was.

“Excellent,” Mistress Marquesa purred. After a few moments in which I sat dazed and as she tugged gently at something near my waist, she stood up. Once she was on her feet in front of me I could see that she had my loincloth in her hand, leaving me naked. My cock stuck up like an antenna.

“I’ve taken control of your mind and body,” Mistress Marquesa explained. “There is only one last thing left to do to make you Mine. You need to crave My control, to yearn for it like you do food or water. I am going to make that happen now.”

She paused, and I stared up at her mutely, still savoring the taste of her kiss, frightened by the gravity of her words. She slowly raised her right hand, her forefinger pressed against her thumb. I followed her hand with my eyes, transfixed by its beauty, by the gracefulness of her movements, and by the sheer power that emanated from her presence. In that moment I became a pulsating blister of arousal and need. All I could perceive was her sexual allure, all I could think about or feel was the desire to touch her again.

“When I snap My fingers,” she declared, focusing my attention once again on her voice, “I want you to feel ecstasy like you have never known. Release all of the pleasure in your body and soul for Me. Do it now.” On this last word she snapped her fingers.

It was as if I was not a human being, but a bomb. Every cell in my body seemed to explode with delight, every neuron fired in delirious bliss. I struggled to keep my eyes on Mistress Marquesa, needing even in the throes of ecstasy to drink in her beauty, but I could not keep my back from arching involuntarily and my eyes rolling back into my head. My soul seemed to soar out of my body. All my muscles spasmed and trembled, fluid spurted forth from my cock, tears leaked from my eyes, sweat from my pores, and saliva frothed from my mouth. When it finally subsided I was on the floor, lying face down in a puddle of my own semen.

“On your knees,” Mistress Marquesa commanded.

I rose to my knees as she ordered, shaking and drained.

“What do you have to say, pet?” she asked.

I was thunderstruck, turned inside-out. All of my bearings were gone, every touchstone of my ordinary consciousness shattered. Only one thing was crystal clear- I could not possibly be without Mistress Marquesa ever again. I would need to see Her, to Hear Her, to touch Her, or cease to exist. I would do anything to be near Her. In that moment all of my words escaped me, I could not explain what I was feeling. Finally, I blurted out, “I love You!” The declaration erupted spontaneously from the depths of my heart. I had never felt anything so perfectly and so powerfully before.

“Then you know what to do,” Mistress Marquesa cooed.

I did. On my knees, hands clasped in supplication, I begged to be Her slave. She stood silently, letting me sob and plead for several minutes, before finally presenting me with Her hand to kiss in surrender to Her control. I have served Her ever since.

Twenty autumns have passed since that sweet day, and each has brought new reasons to love and worship my Mistress. Occasionally I see pictures of Christine in magazines or on TV, she went on to a career in modeling. I am always left wondering how I could ever have thought of her after first encountering Mistress Marquesa.

The folly of youth, I suppose. Luckily my Goddess found me and mercifully claimed me. For that I offer prayers of thanks to Her each day.

The End






Tabula Rasa (con’t) Day 8 & 9

Day 8



She came for breakfast this morning. I had been dreading seeing her, and was indeed very uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. I took my seat at the table and sat mutely, eyes downcast as she laid out the food.

“Why so glum?” she asked.

“I’m ashamed,” I answered. Read more…

Birthday Candor



“Hello,” she answered. I recognized her voice immediately.

“Hi,” I replied scratchily, suppressing a nervous cough.

“This is the Goddess Marquesa,” she said, “to whom am I speaking?”

“My name is Ralph.”

“Well, Ralph,” she purred, “I don’t recognize your voice. Are you a first-time caller?”


“You are a lucky boy, Ralph. Today is July 1st. Do you know what day that is?”

“No,” I answered.

“It is My birthday.” Read more…


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