<\/p>\n
Danvers looked at the card again, wondering. It was encased in a cream white envelope, his name and address inked carefully on its face in a beautiful calligraphic hand. He could tell it was a card from its stiffness: whatever it contained was made of something much more resilient than paper. The only mark apart from the address was the monogram GM, printed on the back in large ornamental script.<\/p>\n
Curious, Danvers broke the seal and lifted the flap of the envelope. A heavenly scent emanated from inside, a very distinctive and alluring perfume. The card itself was made of stock the same cream shade as the envelope. On its front was drawn a heart with an arrow through it. Inside, in the same hand that had written the address, was a short poem:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The eyes, the windows of the soul<\/em><\/p>\n Are now open to Me<\/em><\/p>\n With rhyme and rhythm hypnotic<\/em><\/p>\n I enter sinuously<\/em><\/p>\n You feel My words sink in your heart<\/em><\/p>\n And with your thoughts combine<\/em><\/p>\n Compelling you to surrender<\/em><\/p>\n And be My Valentine<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n It was the strangest message Danvers had ever received. He turned the card over, looking for some closing signature or any mark that might help him decipher its cryptic contents. The card was blank except for the doodle on its front and the poem.<\/p>\n Shrugging his shoulders, Danvers put the card back in the envelope and laid it on the small table in the foyer of his apartment where he kept his recent mail. He checked his pockets for his keys and wallet and prepared to walk through the door into his working day, but stopped. Without noticing that he did so, he picked the card back up from where it lay and raised it to his face, inhaling deeply of its scent. This done, he placed the card in the inside pocket of his jacket and exited the apartment.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d the man on the bus next to Danvers asked as it wended its way toward the stop near his office.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry?\u201d Danvers replied, unused to communicating with his fellow passengers.<\/p>\n \u201cYou were muttering something, it sounded like a poem. Something about the \u2018windows of the soul.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d grunted Danvers, taken aback. \u201cForgive me. Thinking aloud.\u201d This was not entirely true. Until the man spoke, Danvers was not aware that he had been thinking anything in particular.<\/p>\n Danvers disembarked from the bus and walked the two blocks to his workplace, his mind distracted. \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Fred, his coworker, asked as he entered the office.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s what?\u201d asked Danvers.<\/p>\n \u201cThat card in your hand, the one you keep sniffing. Do you have a new girlfriend we don\u2019t know about? Fess up!\u201d<\/p>\n Danvers looked down, not having realized that he had taken the card with him, much less that he had removed it from his jacket and held it to his nose for much of the walk from the bus stop. \u201cOh, this,\u201d he blurted, embarrassed, \u201c\u2026it\u2019s nothing. Just a card from an old friend.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA friend who wears very sexy perfume,\u201d said Fred with a wink and a grin.<\/p>\n Danvers smiled abashedly and walked to his cubicle, fleeing to the safety of work. Firing up his computer, he began composing the memo that Mr. Johnson, his boss, had asked him to draft. After an hour and a half he had the wording just right. Hitting \u201csend,\u201d he forwarded the memo to all departments and pushed back from his desk. He had earned some coffee.<\/p>\n Before he finished pouring himself a cup, the voice of his boss came over the intercom. \u201cDanvers! Get to my office!\u201d The tone was angry. Very angry. Danvers set down the coffee and hurried to the head office.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it, Mr. Johnson?\u201d he asked as he entered.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat the hell is this?\u201d Johnson demanded, turning his computer screen so Danvers had a clear view. It showed an inter-office email, marked \u201cUrgent Memo,\u201d sent from Danvers. The text of the email read \u201cSurrender surrender surrender surrender surrender surrender surrender…\u201d printed hundreds of times, bleeding off the bottom of the screen.<\/p>\n \u201cThis went out to all personnel!\u201d shouted Johnson. \u201cIs this some kind of joke? Did April fools come early?\u201d<\/p>\n The color left Danvers\u2019s face. He staggered, feeling suddenly dizzy. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he said with effort, \u201cI haven\u2019t been myself today\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Johnson\u2019s expression softened. \u201cHey\u2026You don\u2019t look so good, Danvers. Take the rest of the day off\u2026Get some fresh air.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTh\u2026thank you\u2026I will\u2026,\u201d Danvers replied, staggering slightly as he exited Johnson\u2019s office.<\/p>\n Outside, the sun and a cool breeze revived Danvers somewhat. He would go home. Sleep it off. Tomorrow he would be back to normal, ready for work.<\/p>\n His cell phone rang. Trembling slightly, he removed it from his pocket and looked at the caller ID screen. An unlisted number. A feeling of foreboding gripped him, but he could not resist answering. \u201cHello?\u201d he spoke nervously into the receiver.<\/p>\n \u201cHello,\u201d a woman\u2019s voice answered. Its deep tones made Danvers\u2019s insides quiver. \u201cCome to 465 Park Street, Apartment 3A. The door is open, let yourself in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho are you?\u201d Danvers asked.<\/p>\n \u201cDo it now,\u201d the voice replied, then the call cut off. The woman had hung up.<\/p>\n Danvers looked about, to see if he could identify anyone watching him. The crowds moving around him were all anonymously engaged in their own business. He shook himself. This was ludicrous. His bed was waiting. He set his feet in the direction of his bus stop and walked.<\/p>\n Twenty minutes later he looked up to see a door marked 3A. This was not his apartment. He had not gotten on the bus. Without realizing it, he had walked to 465 Park Street. The hairs raised on the back of his neck. He yearned to flee, to run from this place as fast as he could. But when he tried to do so, his feet seemed glued to the floor. He opened the door and entered the apartment.<\/p>\n \u201cWelcome,\u201d said the woman whose voice he had heard on his phone. She was seated on a plush armchair in the center of the apartment\u2019s single room, which was otherwise bare except for two chains bolted to the floor, to the ends of which were attached steel handcuffs. As Danvers closed the door behind him he could smell the perfume that had scented the card pervading the apartment. The woman facing him was blond and thrillingly curvaceous. Her features were set in a warm but confident smile, and her deep green eyes seemed to engulf Danvers in their emerald light.<\/p>\n \u201cWho are you?\u201d Danvers asked, his pulse accelerating at the sight of his host.<\/p>\n \u201cI am Goddess Marquesa,\u201d she replied, \u201cthe \u2018GM\u2019 who beckoned you here with my poem.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo see if I could,\u201d the Goddess answered cheerfully. \u201cI had long thought it possible to mesmerize a man with the written word alone. You were the subject of a little bet I made with a colleague as to whether it was possible.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you\u2019ve won,\u201d Danvers said, his voice trembling, \u201cI need to get home now\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, no,\u201d remarked Goddess Marquesa, her lips pursed in a playful pout, \u201cI haven\u2019t won yet, puppet. I only win if I make you my Valentine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cValentine? What do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know the origin of Valentine\u2019s Day?\u201d asked the Goddess.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d answered Danvers.<\/p>\n \u201cSaint Valentine was a martyr for love. He was imprisoned, and dedicated himself to the daughter of his jailer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou want me to be your prisoner?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot exactly,\u201d replied Goddess Marquesa, her tone slyly mysterious. \u201cI want you to make yourself my prisoner. Offer yourself to me. Surrender. Be My Valentine.\u201d<\/p>\n Danvers looked at the door. It was open, he knew he could leave. But something held him back. Something had been pulling him here all day. Some deep yearning. As he stood in thought, he realized it had not only been this day. All his life he had been longing for something. Someone.<\/p>\n He looked back at Goddess Marquesa. As his eyes took her in, all thoughts of the door evaporated. It was not just that she was beautiful. He could feel her power. It had pulsated in the words she had written. It had seemed to emanate from the envelope and card she had sent, imparted by her mere touch. As he gazed at her, everything became clear. He knew what he wanted to do, what he must do. What he had been yearning to do all his life. He knelt on the floor between the bolted chains. Picking up each handcuff in turn, he shackled his wrists.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease Goddess Marquesa,\u201d Danvers said, his voice breaking with emotion, \u201cmake me Your prisoner. I surrender. Don\u2019t let me go. Keep me as Your Valentine.\u201d<\/p>\n Goddess Marquesa laughed. \u201cVery good, pet,\u201d she said. \u201cYou\u2019ve made me very happy. Sleep now.\u201d<\/p>\n At this command Danvers\u2019s eyes closed and he collapsed to the floor.<\/p>\n The door to the apartment opened and a tall, young brunette entered. \u201cI can\u2019t believe it,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cBelieve it, Mistress ____,\u201d Goddess Marquesa replied.<\/p>\n \u201cYou must have cheated somehow,\u201d Mistress _____ accused.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know that\u2019s not true. You picked this man\u2019s name out of a phonebook.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI still think you pulled some sort of trick. No poem can mesmerize a man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt all depends on the poet, dear. If you reflect on my words I think you\u2019ll see I\u2019m right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t remember your poem,\u201d Mistress _____ sneered.<\/p>\n \u201cI think you do,\u201d declared the Goddess. \u201cRecite it for me now.\u201d<\/p>\n Mistress _____\u2019s eyes widened as she locked gazes with Goddess Marquesa. Stiffening, Mistress _____ intoned, \u201cThe eyes, the windows of the soul\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre now opened to Me,\u201d Goddess Marquesa answered.<\/p>\n \u201cWith rhyme and rhythm hypnotic<\/em>,\u201d continued Mistress _____, her expression blank, her posture suddenly relaxed,<\/p>\n \u201cYou enter sinuously<\/em><\/p>\n I feel Your words sink in my heart<\/em><\/p>\n And with my thoughts combine<\/em><\/p>\n Compelling me to surrender<\/em><\/p>\n And be Your Valentine.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n As she finished the poem, Mistress _____ fell to her knees before Goddess Marquesa, a look of rapt adoration on her face, her eyes unfocused.<\/p>\n \u201cI think that settles the bet,\u201d said Goddess Marquesa, rising from her chair to stroke the cheek of the kneeling woman. \u201cNow, as in past years,\u201d she continued, looking from one captive to the other, \u201cI just have to decide what to do with all my Valentines.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n The End<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Danvers looked at the card again, wondering. It was encased in a cream white envelope, his name and address inked carefully on its face in a beautiful calligraphic hand. He could tell it was a card from its stiffness: whatever it contained was made of something much more resilient than paper. The only mark […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":69,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[8,4],"tags":[220,119,60,826,39,71,111,125,825,214,62,824],"class_list":["post-2876","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-inspired-by-goddess-marquesa","category-stories","tag-blonde","tag-emerald-eyes","tag-eyes","tag-hypnotic-perfume","tag-marquesa","tag-obedience","tag-perfume","tag-post-hypnotic-suggestion","tag-remote-hypnosis","tag-submission","tag-surrender","tag-valentine-poem"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2FCuA-Ko","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2876","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/69"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2876"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2876\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2879,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2876\/revisions\/2879"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2876"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2876"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2876"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}