A spy meets a woman at a club and come back home for some fun with ropes.

Well this is my first crack at erotic story writing.  I write in play format so there is very little aside from dialogue, so I hope you don't mind having to use your imagination to fill in some of the blanks.  If you read this could you please leave a comment, I was very reluctant to share this and it would mean allot to me if I got any feedback (even if you didn't like it).  Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.  Just a note about the naming, C stands for Congo Spy and I left her description purposely vague, you should fill in whoever is your ideal mistress (I imagine a tall Indian Woman with dark brown almond shaped eyes and legs that come up to her shoulders).

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This is a tale of hypnotic domination through strength exchange. My own fetish has always been 'amazon domination'. My delight is to feel weak and vulnerable in the arms of a woman much stronger than me. I'm looking for ways to use hypnosis to make that happen, and this is a fantasy dry-run. Enjoy!

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       In watching and pursuing

              The light, that lies

              In woman's eyes,

              Has been my heart's undoing.

                 Though Wisdom oft has sought me,

              I scorn'd the lore she brought me,

              My only books

              Were woman's looks,

              And folly's all they've taught me.

             Her smile when Beauty granted,

             I hung with gaze enchanted,

             Like him, the sprite,

             Whom maids by night

             Oft meet in glen that's haunted.

             Like him, too, Beauty won me,

             But while her eyes were on me,

             If once their ray

             Was turn'd away,

             Oh! winds could not outrun me.

            And are those follies going?

            And is my proud heart growing

            Too cold or wise

            For brilliant eyes

            Again to set it glowing?

            No, vain, alas! th' endeavour

            From bonds so sweet to sever;

            Poor Wisdom's chance

            Against a glance

            Is now as weak as ever.

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            Thomas Moore (1779-1852)

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The lovely ladies of the FHRA take control of a brilliant but shy biochemist for

nefarious purposes

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