Wake up, handsome!

When he opened his eyes, he didn’t feel any pain, but a weird numbness kept him from moving a single muscle…

Slept well, Dear?

She was sitting on top of him, gloriously naked under a crimson open silk night robe. The memories were slowly coming back to him, while he stared at her full breasts, semi-hidden behind her crow-black curls.

He tried to ask what was going on, but he just didn’t manage to speak out. He kind of regretted judging her too quickly. Although he had never really believed in magic, he had no choice anymore.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed she was picking a pair of scissors left on the bed. Half panicked, he imagined getting killed in one of her rituals. Had she planned all of this? Surprising him, yet once again, she just bent towards his face, and cut a lock of his hair.

Thanks for that!

She stood up, and walked to the little table in the corner of the room. There rested a grimoire,  and she opened the book with a grin on her face. Not paying any attention to him, she glued the hair on the yellowish page, before inking a few words besides it, and reciting an incantation.

He wanted to tell her he would do anything for her. She wasn’t a bad catch afterall, and she obviously had the better of him, at the moment.

Turning his way, she rolled her hips, as she walked back to the bedside. She didn’t seem angry, but he didn’t want to assume anything. Lying on the bed, cuddling by his side, she whispered to his ear…

You’re mine now, Sweetheart. Mine and mine only. Now I’ll free you from this paralyzing spell… But you’ll have to me a good boy, right?

Via Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge, this is the suite of a previous story posted here