The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Femdom Mind Control Flash Fiction

by S.B.


Red spells danger so goes the saying. I know that. I’ve known it since the day I was born for there is as much truth in colors as there is in words. Unlike many though, I don’t live for the thrill, for the prospect of ever-growing excitement. Give me the comfort of a fireplace any day of the week and I’ll be there, warm and cozy, content in the awareness of my self-imposed safety and shutting down the world with unwavering hesitation.

This is what you’d hear me say less than twenty-four hours ago, and I’d say it with so much conviction that, perhaps you’d feel persuaded to join me in my silent haven, enjoying the routines for what they are and nothing more. Yes, the odds of that happening were far greater than what has come to be, which makes me wonder if the mere existence of odds in the first place is not a funny way for the Universe to prove me wrong at every turn.

Something red came my way, unfolding its countless perils before my eyes like a Hollywood carpet. The glamour is strong, bright, flashes upon flashes of something too good to be true and yet I keep walking towards it, closing the distance to the source of temptation, hoping she turns around and notices me standing there.

So what’s so special about her? How can this attraction be put into words? So many considerations come to mind, hopeful ramblings on the back of my mind and the tips of my fingers. It could be her dress that draws me in, the tight yet free-flowing silky delight that shows just enough cleavage to keep me hoping for more. It could be the way her raven hair curls inwards just below the neck, causing me to suppress a sigh. It could be the soft glow on her ruby earrings, a perfect match to the solitary bracelet to the left and anklet to the right. It could be the fact that her shadow seems larger than my whole world, pulsating to the beat of an almost invisible heart-shaped tail.

When temptation seeps in, it’s hard to know for sure what’s real and what’s not. What I know for certain is that red also spells intrigued, impressed, ravished, conspiring with every language to break through the veils of silence so that weary thoughts can learn to fly.

And now, it’s happening. Her eyes are on mine, my fireplace is out. The lonesome path I’d been trailing has finally been acknowledged, and things are laid out clearly in a conscious and deliberate way. I’m aware it’s all a dream, a quintessential fabrication that will cease to be the moment I stop believing in it. I know it all. I just don’t care.

“Are you coming?” I hear her ask, a mere formality to appease my dying mind.

Why wouldn’t I? Why would I stay? Why would I walk when I can crawl behind her, and be a part of something bigger than myself? Producing a contract out of thin air, she has me sign it with a drop of blood. My soul fades through the parchment as my lips kneel to kiss her feet.

Red spells controlled, too. I will obey.