I know what she has done to me. I know and within me it causes a churning feeling of shame, fear and limitless love. I think I know because, this much she allows me.
She possesses me, totally. I do not know how deeply, but moreso, I suspect than any human has been owned, controlled and possessed. Possessed, as by a demon. She found it easy to take me as prey. It was like a cheetah bringing down an antelope, with grace and sensuousness.
A couple years back, I entered a hypnosis clinic to stop smoking. Yes, it worked well. My wife, now my Greater Self, attended with me so she could act as an operator for follow up and reenforcement. About a year ago, she suggested we see if I was still responding to the induction commands. I had seen the library books on hypnosis, around, and even looked at some of them, so I was interested too. Besides, I found it sexy for her to "put me under".
Soon I found myself coming to her every evening, begging for another session. It had become a narcotic. Soon, she was putting me to sleep every night, as she still does. I cannot say that I noticed the changes. It seems I was always this way. It seems right. She is wise. I need her guidance in all things. This is why I have given her my credit cards and my check is direct deposit to her account, where I cannot access it. She gives me a small allowance. All I need, and I account for it all. She provides everything I need. I shop. I buy groceries, and she collects the change when I get home. I buy her clothes and mine, but must ask her for money in front of the clerk. It is such a sweet feeling, acknowledging her control like this. I must also ask for money in restaurants. And in restaurants, she orders and it is always excellent. She knows how to choose for me. And she decides what I can wear. She makes my face burn in department stores, where I buy very little from the men's. She likes me in feminine men's style. She likes me to wear jewelry, a little makeup, and a trace of Trèsor or Opium, in the evening. I feel not right without a bra and nylons, and I think she has helped me with this. And yes, the bra! Somehow, I really remember myself as a young girl, sometimes as a boy. Confused but provoking images, my nipples and breasts itching, fiery to the touch, and growing. Did they really grow? Look at them. This is not padding. I have many memories of myself as a young girl.
When she is seated and strokes her nylon covered legs I MUST kneel and beg to worship her. I know this is implanted, and that there is a hold on the command to not do it in public. She loves to do this in public and with company. I think she fully knows the storm of desire and need that are unleashed in me. I know she custom designed this torture. By touching my arm, just above the elbow she makes me say, "she is my owner". She uses this in many circumstances. She can make me dizzy with terror, humiliation and lust. She can and does so effortlessly. I am trained to satisfy her orally and to become erect when she wishes to use me. And I am trained to never achieve orgasm. And I find I cannot masturbate.
So, now I am hers, specifically trained to meet her wishes and pleasure. I? I? I am only She, My Greater self. My reward? She keeps me constantly in expectant ecstasy, semi erect, itching breasts, terrorized and loved. The only happiness in a male world is for her to deign to become your Greater Self.