The Jewels of the Sunken Palace
A Femdom Hypnosis Dark Fantasy
One more step… the lights flickered and the shadows danced… one more step closer… he swayed as he moved, lulled by the silent music he felt… the music she danced to… one more step closer to her… the light in her eyes glimmered like… like the…
Her lips were pursed as her hips shifted one way as her stomach rolled the other…
I write to you in haste. We have found the passage below, down through the earth, through the dungeons, and deeper than the deep caves. I have sent as many of our expedition back as I could part with. Both to deliver this letter to you, to and to ensure our discovery is not lost should the worst happen.
The nature of this place is beyond all comprehension; this Under Land is a world of subterranean forests and rivers, a realm of wind and clouds, and even rain. The ceiling, the sky of this place is lit by a roof of stone that glows with the flow of magma or some other force I cannot explain.
I remain here, well provisioned and closing in on the path to the Sunken Palace and its mysteries. We have discovered many signs of the lost city, and more than a few considerable treasures. After shares, I have chosen to send you mine to this point along with this letter and a map. The men I am sending to deliver these to you I have trusted with my life.
If I do not return, know that some unknown hardship or fate has befallen me, and that you my heir may choose to finish this work or take what good it has wrought and honor me as you so see fit.
Your Uncle, Sir Rhyen Dain
The letter came, and so too did the map.
But neither the treasure, nor the men came with it.
It was found by chance in a well-oiled and preserved leather wallet in the bottom of a thick and hard used satchel. The satchel itself had been found in the corner of an old bandit hideout that had been razed by the forces of the Chosen One’s Queen, and sent with care to its rightful recipient, the newly knighted Damien Dain, who like his uncle, was an explorer for the Western Crown.
There was little else in his heart but the wonder for the unknown, the lost, and the legendary. There was much in his life that could have filled that hole, but his youth and daring blinded him to a more practical life, or at least blinded to one that was as dangerous in more predictable ways.
Little wars had bred a larger chaos on the continent.
Even as the Demon King of the Waste was felled by the Chosen One, foes both new and ancient had arisen to disrupt the peace, trade, and almost all manner of travel. In the remnants of the Empire, in those smaller kingdoms that made up the center of the continent, had sprung violence.
It was whispered that powerful and manipulative figures seemed to be pulling the strings of this new chaos. Rumors started to flow about maniacal shadows is almost every forest and old ruin, and over the span of a year, fear became the only true currency of the realm.
Sir Damien had long considered lending his arm to more valorous heroism, perhaps chasing the whispers of evil that came from the darkness, or from the far away northern temple now rumored to be ruled by a mysterious and legendary evil.
It was the travel and the mystery that spoke to his curiosity and wanderlust, not so much the chance for glory and deeds of arms. But all of these dangers demanded a champion of the light, and as fit and daring as he was, Damien was not that kind of hero.
Luckily, being a knight, he knew a few that were; and together with a small train of spelunkers and baggage carriers, he and his band pierced the surface of the world and dove down deep, deeper than the deep caves, the lost dungeons, and into the Under Land his uncle had spoken of.
“This must be a sight for you.” Sir Connor Bane, Damien’s best friend, clapped him on the shoulder as they stood on a plateau under the strange white gold glow that radiated from the roof above.
Damien’s father had died when he was a boy, killed by an enemy spear in a pointless battle, and his mother was distant and cold, then quick to remarry. Her new husband had little use for anyone who could possibly lay claim to her lands, and wanted a son of his own. So, Damien’s uncle had adopted him, and made him his heir.
Damien had thought the whole of the exploration had been lost, that the search was fruitless and his uncle’s death had been for naught. But the letter and the map had changed all of that.
“Do you see, yonder,” Sir Hedrick Sparrows, the third of their noble and gallant company, pointed out to a forested valley far in the distance. ‘Those are rain clouds. There is weather down here, weather, and wind, and night and day in this place.”
It had been unnerving to discover this place, unnerving and vindicating beyond belief. “We should make camp here, close to the entrance. Hedrick, take a few of the men and walk the perimeter, don’t scout out too wide, but keep an eye out for water and light a torch now, we don’t know if the lights will suddenly go dark. Connor and I will situate camp.”
The Fate of Hedrick
The tall grass parted, spread by two pale hands, and Sir Hedrick found himself staring into pale, translucent blue eyes, eyes the color of the real sky so many miles above, so many miles away.
She had elvish ears, pointed, and larges, they stuck out from her mane of deep green hair, and a golden crown sat atop her head, adorned in the center with a large white diamond. Soft, pale lips turned into a smile, and her body started to shift.
Through the grass Hedrick only say her upper half: those pale arms that were wrapped in golden bracelets and bangles, with one arm adorned only by a gold snake with ruby eyes that twisted up to her elbow, and her considerable breasts, as large as his head and supported by a bra of gold and silk, that was also bedecked with golden chains and dangling gems of all colors and sizes.
She did not speak to him, nor did he speak to her, instead, they stared into each other’s eyes as her torso started to shift and her hands rose to her eyes. When her fingers closed with her thumbs and her body moved, the sight of those bouncing, massive breasts caught his eye, and as her hips started to shift from side to side, Hedrick became enthralled by her dance.
The way she moved, the way she shifted, there were stories of dancers able to move like this back on the surface, but they were in distant lands and had not graced his eyes. Now though, he stared in awe as her head and shoulders started to sway, and her breasts started to bounce in a different pattern. As the gold of her bangles clanked and jingled, he could almost hear or at least imagine the silent music of her dance…
He wanted to speak, he wanted to move, he wanted to back away as she started to sway closer to him, but what he wanted more was to move with her, to follow the sway of her bouncing breasts and the serpentine motion of her body, loose, fluid, and truly hypnotic.
Somewhere behind him in the small copse of trees, they’d found a spring, and the others were gathering water and collecting deadfall for the camp. Somehow this place could support plant life even with the absence of the sun.
But that didn’t matter now.
His eyes had not left her breasts, and as they came closer, the up and down motion of them had made Hedrick aroused. His blood was flowing though his body was still as a statue. His breath was sharper, though he had not made a single move. And while he was in a dangerous place full of unknown perils, all he wanted to do was watch and follow her.
He started to mimic hers swaying back and forth, mirroring the direction of her head and shoulders, all while the soft bounce of her massive breasts continued.
His eyes were drawn up though, to her lips as she pursed them together as though she were about to kiss him, even though she was still more than an extended sword’s length away. He watched, dumbstruck as she spit something at him, something green…
That struck his face, his eyes, and even his mouth. As it connected with him, Sir Hedrick felt a wave of numbing, electric pleasure throb through his body. He gasped as the weakness spread, powerlessness and pleasure flowing through his body as one,
He stumbled forwards, not backwards, and raised a trembling hand to wipe away the stickiness on his face, and as his fingers slid past his eyes, he was staring deep into hers, watching her pupils change from those of a person’s to those of a serpent’s.
“Look,” her voice was soft, deadly soft and smooth as the creamy skin of her breasts, “look down, sink down brave one, down into the warmth of my breasts. Come to my embrace, step into my arms, and rest your head on my breasts. You are weary and wanting, weak and lusting, join me in my dance, join with me in my grasp.”
To see what both versions of this story hold for our heroes, click on the purchase link below