Trust me
Ron’s phone buzzed softly.
Even though he was at the dinner table, laughing with his family, enjoying pasta night and a glass of wine, he took a moment to glance at the message.
“Good boys know when it’s bed time”, it read. The number was a local area code, it wasn’t in his s.
“Excuse me,” he said, rising from the table. “Need to spend a moment in the bathroom.”
“Oh my god, dad! Too much information!” His daughter complained.
He smiled and went to the upstairs bathroom, the farthest from his family.
Once there he closed the door, turned on the fan to cover the sound of his voice, and called the number that had texted him.
There was a quick answer.
“Tick tock, look at the clock,” a female voice said.
“Time to sleep,” he replied, his eyes glassy and staring.
“Very good,” the woman purred. “How do you feel?”
“I am deeply relaxed.” He replied, his eyes fluttering closed and his mind emptying.
“Yes,” she agreed, “deeply relaxed. Where is Ron?”
“Ron is deeply asleep.” He replied, barely able to speak. “He is under control.”
“And where is Ron’s wife?” She continued.
“Ron’s wife is downstairs, with her children,” the man responded without hesitation.
The woman on the other side of the call smiled. She loved this part, the alienation from his own family. The feeling of power gave her a rush of pleasure.
“And who am I?” She asked.
He hesitated for an instant as one of his deepest “truths” was triggered. “You are my master, my truth, my deepest desire. I love you, and only you. I exist to obey you, serve you, and express your will. You, before all others.” He felt deep, soul bending pleasure having spoken his truth.
“You have an appointment tomorrow, at 10 am,” she instructed. “You will choose something that belongs to Ron’s wife, precious and irreplaceable to her, and you will bring it with you tomorrow. What are your instructions?”
“I have an appointment tomorrow, at 10 am. I will bring something that is precious and irreplaceable to Ron’s wife with me.” He felt pride and purpose repeating her commands.
“Very good, you have pleased me.” She said.
He felt joy and love.
The next day, Ron arrived at the Theresa Spa at 9:55 am. The receptionist was a pleasant woman, motherly and friendly. “Yes Ron, I have you right here, 10 am with Naomi. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” said Ron, smiling. He turned and sat on one of the big soft chairs in the waiting area. He could hear soft music, and the air was full of the smell of essential oils and a touch of incense. It was all bringing back memories of the first time he had come here, on a recommendation from a female co-worker. He had been struggling with some lower back pain and she had raved about this place.
One month earlier
The door to the spa area opened and a plus sized and very pretty woman in a masseuse smock appeared.
“Ron?” She asked.
Ron stood, smiling, “Yes, that’s me.”
“Hi, this way.” She said, holding the door open.
Ron rose and followed her down the narrow hall, doors to massage rooms every 20 feet on each side. Naomi stopped at the last door of the left, opened it, and waited for Ron to go inside.
He entered the dimly lit room and saw a massage table covered with clean linens, a rack with some bottles of what appeared to be massage oils and related products, and a small chair. All of that seemed typical, but this was a larger than normal sized massage room, and in the back corner was a large metal contraption that looked like a steam punk sarcophagus. Ron stared at it, puzzled.
“Oh, that’s an isolation tank.” Naomi said answering his unspoken question. Ron waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming.
“I’ll leave the room for a minute, please undress to whatever your comfort level is and get under the sheet, face down,” Naomi said with a warm smile. With that, she stepped out of the room.
Ron removed all of his clothes and got onto the table, adjusting the sheet awkwardly to cover his back, his face in the special donut-shaped cushion off the end of the table. Ron heard Naomi return and she began silently rubbing a lovely smelling oil into his shoulders. He began to relax almost immediately. His thoughts began to drift as he released more and more tension and stress.
“That’s it Ron,” Naomi said softy, let me help you relax. “
She worked her way down his body, expertly and professionally massaging his muscles, all the while speaking soothingly of peace, trust, and letting go. Ron felt incredibly good.
“I would love to show you the isolation tank, Ron.” Naomi said while working on his feet.
Ron felt a little anxiety creep back into his mind, “I’m claustrophobic.” He said, slurring slightly.
“Oh, it’s never latched, you could get out anytime you want,” she assured him. It’s truly the most perfect relaxation you could imagine.”
Ron was vaguely aware that his back, shoulders and neck were becoming numb, and wasn’t connecting that with his mental fuzziness. He just felt great, relaxed, and up for anything Naomi suggested.
“Sure, whatever you say,” he said, smiling a little.
Naomi opened the tank, tested the water to make sure it was warm, but not hot, and helped Ron get up from the table. The towel fell away and he was completely naked, but wasn’t concerned about that at all. With Naomi’s help he stepped into the tank and stood placidly as she placed water proof headphones on his ears, “to assure sound isolation”. Then she laid him gently back and once he was floating easily, closed the top, and latched it.
Naomi picked up her phone and called a number with a local area code that was not in her s.
She waited a few seconds and the call was answered, Naomi’s eyes stared and became glassy, and she spoke, “I have a new convert in the tank.” She smiled as she listened to the response, the smile of someone whose thoughts were limited to the needs and desires of her Master.
Inside the tank it was completely dark and completely silent. Floating in the body temperature water meant that Ron was not experiencing touch, heat or cold. His mind, with nothing coming in from his senses, began to wander, to look for stimulation within. He thought random thoughts, and in his relaxed state he made no effort to steer the course of his mind. He found himself imagining a woman, dark haired, with eyes like blue flames. He pictured her body, curvy and feminine. He heard her voice, softly wrapping itself like satin in his mind, describing the way he felt about her. The voice was flowing from the headphones, but in his current state it became the monologue of his inner voice.
“We are so close, so connected.
We know each other and trust each other, more than anyone else.
You want so desperately to please me.”
He became aroused and he found himself gyrating his hips. It was starting to feel cramped, and so he reached up to lift the lid of the tank, and it didn’t move.
Panic started to rise, he began pushing harder, but it was stuck fast.
“Help!” He called out, “Naomi, help, let me out!”
But no one came.
Naomi heard his struggle, and knew he was ready for the second phase. She paused the sound file that had been playing, and started the next one, “The Lifeline,” it was called.
Ron heard the voice start again, it was kind and reassuring, “You are going to be ok, I’m here for you.”
In his manic state he answered it, like he was having a conversation with someone inside with him, “Help, Please! Open the top, Please!”
Her voice continued, anticipating his request, “When you can relax, the top will open, trust me.”
It repeated, over and over, seductively, confidently, almost maternally, “Trust me.”
Ron was coming unglued. A therapeutic professional would have described this as a psychotic break, but the voice knew this was an opportunity.
“Trust me, please, let me help you.”
Ron began babbling, thrashing, his adrenaline fueled strength threatening to break the sturdy latch, but the voice continued, “Please, trust me.”
This went on for hours and hours and hours, at least for Ron, for whom time had become a hideous subjective thing without end.
And Naomi waited.
After a while the thrashing stopped, and it became still in the tank. Ron’s eyes stared, his mouth agape. His psyche had retreated, shutting down to preserve what sanity remained.
Naomi paused the sound file, and began the next, “Truth.” She smiled, it was happening. She felt wet and aroused thinking about her own conversion, months ago. The moment she understood everything.
Ron’s broken mind received the voice again. “I am your Master, your truth, your deepest desire. You love me, and only me. You exist to obey me, serve me, and express my will. Me, before all others. Repeat.”
And he did.
His mind, broken and disconnected, desperate for a way forward, latched on to the task and committed to it completely.
He repeated it over and over. And as he did a small screen glowed in front of his face. On it, he saw her, the woman whose voice had saved him and given him purpose. She smiled, and as her voice instructed him and gave him meaning he fell helplessly, desperately in love with her. He would do any thing for her.
He experienced intimacy with her in this moment he had never, and could never, have with another woman.
“Do you want to leave the tank, and leave me?” She asked.
“No, please, let me stay…please…”
And that is how Ron chose his path.
After 45 more minutes of repetition, a chime sounded, and Naomi opened the tank.
Ron looked beautiful, happy, content.
Without a word she helped him out and dried him off.
There was a soft beep from an IPad Naomi had left on the chair, and she picked it up and pressed “accept”. A video stream revealed the most beautiful woman Ron had ever seen, and he almost wept with joy. It was her.
“Hello Ron,” she said, a serene smile on her face.
“Master…” he managed to whisper.
“Yes darling, how do you feel?” She purred.
“I feel perfect,” he said, sincerity causing his voice to crack.
“Very good. I wish I was there to give you a kiss.”
Ron almost came, the thought of even the softest kiss causing his mind to explode in ecstasy.
“Now darling, tell me everything, everything about you.”
And he did.
He told her his life story, his hopes, his dreams, and every secret he had ever held.
He answered her every question eagerly, and when she was done, she had access to every part of his life.
“Naomi, my sweet pet,” she said at length, “do you want to play with this one?”
“Yes Master, under your control.”
“Good girl. Ron, you will give Naomi all of your sexual attention, until she is satisfied. Please her as you would please me.”
“Yes Master,” he replied and turning to Naomi he suddenly found her sexually irresistible. Any flaws he had judged in her before were now the sexiest thing he could imagine. He gazed at her in lust.
“Kiss my wet pussy, Ron.”
Ron dropped to his knees and her scent was already affecting him, she was so wet. She opened her smock revealing cheap department store panties soaked through, and Ron buried his face between her legs, kissing, licking, inhaling deeply. His enthusiasm and helpless pleasure caused her knees to buckle, and her head to fall back, leaning against a wall.
Pulling her panties free, Ron had never tasted anything as sweet and dark as her soft velvety lips. He couldn’t get enough, licking, and sucking, as she guided him to her clit. Her moans made him want to stay there, but it was so wet and delicious inside her that his tongue kept moving back and forth. Flicking her, and plunging inside her. Lapping and drinking.
Naomi didn’t last long, coming in waves, her hips bucking and her legs collapsing as he followed her down until she finally begged him to stop.
He did and stared silently toward his master, still on the screen enjoying all of it.