CYOA Wednesday [A Day to Learn to Let Go 23]

If you liked my story A Night to Remember to Forget, you’ll be happy to know a spiritual sequel started today on my Patreon. It will be presented in CYOA format like the original and it’s entitled A Day to Learn to Let Go . All members (free and paid) can read it and vote on how they wish to see the plot proceed. Synopsis below:

Meredith’s long dream of organizing a series of BDSM conferences and workshops is finally coming to fruition. Mistress Susan is one of the guests of honor, with a workshop dedicated to hypnotic BDSM. What fun happenings will ensue?

https://www.patreon.com/posts/140780297

Read the twenty-third segment below:

23 – Elena Takes the Stage

Elena Rodriguez rose from her seat with feline fluidity. From the moment she stood up, the eyes of half the room set upon her like moths to lamp flame. Her hair, coal-dark and cascading in undisciplined waves, radiated with every catch of overhead fluorescence, each strand becoming a tiny lightning filament as she made her way toward the front.

She was not new to this sort of attention. She wore a dress cut to her contours – scarlet, unapologetic, a challenge to prudence and a wink to mischief. The fabric clung and swayed in counterpoint to her stride, and when she passed by the knees and elbows of her fellow attendees, the brush of her presence was not merely physical. It was a declaration: that Elena Rodriguez was here, and that she fully expected you to notice.

Behind her, Jack Reynolds, her seminar companion and sometime confidante, watched with a mixture of concern and pride. He knew this side of her, the one that thrived on high-stakes social dares and left the observers gasping for breath in her wake. If she was willing to take a leap of faith on the stage, then the show was sure to be good.

Elena did not hesitate at the dais; she mounted the steps with poise, her heels punctuating the hush. For a moment, she hovered on the edge of the stage, searching the crowd beyond the dazzle of the spotlights. She smiled at Meredith and was surprised to see the somewhat vacant expression in her eyes. Was she still in a trance? Now, that was a story worth pursuing when the time was right!

The room was slowly turning into a buzzing hive of curiosity once again. Elena thrived on this voltage. It was not simply that she liked to perform; it was that performance, in situations like this, felt like freedom. There was always an element of risk, but she loved the sensation of being a coin tossed high above the table, suspended at the apex, not knowing quite where she would land.

And Mistress Susan, with a connoisseur’s eye, recognized this. She stood at the far end of the stage, holding the remote control like a scepter, and gestured Elena forward with an open palm, the invitation deliberate and regal. “Welcome, my dear,” she said, her voice a velvet cord that drew the audience in. “Please, tell the audience your name.”

Elena paused for a second before answering. She thought of her twin sister, the infamous Goddess Sinnamon, whose own professional exploits in the city’s underworld of pleasure and pain had been the family’s scandal and secret pride. Growing up, Elena had lived in the shadow of Sinnamon’s outrageous self-invention, compelled to prove that she too could navigate worlds of intensity and contradiction. But she was not her sister. She was herself, and today she would show exactly what that meant.

“My name is Elena Rodriguez,” she said, projecting her voice to the rear corners of the hall, “and I’m here because I want to see what happens when you let yourself fall.”

Mistress Susan smiled, eyes alight with appreciation. “That’s a very good answer, Elena. Falling is, after all, half the fun.” She took a step closer, closing the distance between them with a grace that was equal parts seduction and threat. “Are you familiar with hypnosis or suggestion games?” she asked, the cadence of her voice already suggestive, each syllable a feather brush to the skin.

“I’m familiar with your work. I know what you can do.”

“So you know the rules,” Mistress Susan nodded. “Consent is everything, and nothing happens without your permission. Are you ready to have some fun?”

“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

“A bold woman. I like that. Elena, I’d like to play a little game with you – one that involves both surrender and resistance. May I begin?”

“Please do.”

“Good girl,” Mistress Susan murmured, and something in the tone sent a shiver through Elena’s core. It was not simply the praise; it was the suggestion embedded within it, the implicit promise of a transformation to come.

The audience leaned forward as one, the entire room lurching toward the spectacle. Elena’s heart beat so rapidly she could hear it in her ears, but her feet remained planted, her chin lifted. She was here. She was present. She wanted what came next.

Mistress Susan made a show of preparing. She produced a small, silken scarf from her pocket – black, embroidered with silver thread – and held it up for the audience to see. “We’re going to start simple. Elena, I want you to hold this scarf in your hands. Feel the fabric. Smell it, if you wish.” She handed the scarf to Elena, who accepted it with a trembling, almost reverent, touch.

The scarf felt cool and slick, like the pelt of some exotic animal. Elena squeezed it in her palm, rolling it between her fingers. She looked up at Mistress Susan, who was watching her with an intensity too powerful to ignore.

“Now,” Mistress Susan said, “close your eyes for me.”

Elena obeyed, and the world fell away. There was only the sound of her own breathing, the faint hum of the ventilation system, and the electric hush of expectation.

“Listen to my voice,” Mistress Susan continued. “Let it fill you up, like smoke. Let everything else drift away.”

As the words settled, Elena became acutely aware of every sensation: the fabric in her hands, the brush of cool air on her bare arms, the heat rising in her cheeks. She let herself be enfolded by the voice, allowed it to become her temporary center of gravity.

“You are still in control,” Mistress Susan reminded her. “But you are also free to let go, as much or as little as you want. That’s the beauty of this: the choice is yours, every step of the way.”

Elena nodded, eyes still closed, feeling the truth of it. She could walk away at any time. She could open her eyes and break the spell. But she didn’t want to, not yet.

“Good,” Mistress Susan cooed. “Now, when I snap my fingers, you will feel a gentle wave of relaxation starting at the top of your head and rolling down through your entire body. It will feel wonderful, like the first sip of cold water on a hot day. Are you ready?”

Elena licked her lips. “Yes.”

The snap echoed in the high ceiling, and instantly Elena felt her scalp tingle, her shoulders loosen, her knees grow strangely soft. The sensation was so pleasant she almost laughed, but instead she let out a shuddering breath. The fun was about to begin anew.

To decide what happens next, head over to my Patreon (you can join for free), and vote on the poll there until next Sunday. 

If you’re new to these CYOA stories, here are the basic rules:

1) You can only choose one option;

2) If there’s a tie at the end of the poll, and the competing options can be combined somehow, I’ll do that. If not, I get the deciding vote to keep the tale going.

3) The process continues every Wednesday until the story runs its natural course.

Have fun.