She’s got a decent mic and headphones from that podcast that never went anywhere, an active imagination, and far too much free time.

So she tries recording some scripts. Just for fun. What the hell, "no domme gf, be your own domme", right? Plus that means she can use her own favorite induction. (If she never hears another progressive relaxation in her life, it’ll still be too soon.)

The first time she hears herself in Tenacity, she cracks up. This is so goofy. But, still, there’s just a faint possibility lurking that it could be very, very hot.

She deletes, re-records. Adjusts her pop filter, re-records. Changes the order of things around, re-records. It’s actually sounding pretty good now, but… in the stark blue-white light that she uses before noon, sitting in her gamer chair, it’s hard to believe that it’ll work.

So maybe she’ll tweak the odds in her favor. She’s been in the domme mindset while recording. But what would she want as a sub?

She digs through the drawers in the back of her closet. Ah. That outfit. The one she bought to impress you-know-who, but never got to use, due to, let’s say, creative differences. And… oh, it’d go nicely with those three bits from the toybox.

She holds them up to herself in the bathroom mirror. Yeah. Okay. Yeah! She’s feeling this. It’s not perfect, maybe, but it’s solid. She imagines seeing herself dressed in it, waiting on her bed, and bites her lip.

That night, she puts the outfit on, adjusts buckles and cinches so it’s comfy but tight. She flips the smart lights to an incredibly cliche lurid shade of pink. (Look, don’t judge, she says to an imaginary observer, it works for me.)

She copies the audio from her desktop to her phone. She puts on the good headphones. She plugs them into the adapter cable, plugs the adapter cable into her phone.

She grins a sheepish grin to nobody, mutters, “here goes nothing”. Taps play. closes her eyes.

And then she drips her own voice into her head.

Ooooh. Shivers. Is that really her? She’s half paying attention to the words, half taking mental notes on what she’d do differently next time, but it still feels more authentic, more authoritative, than she was expecting…

A fuzzy, indefinite amount of time later, it’s over. Huh. Interesting, but not earth-shattering. She doubts any of the suggestions are actually going to stick.

That said, she’s impressed herself just a bit with the production values. Not bad for a first try. Might as well play it again…

Okay, she realizes the next morning, she fell asleep. That’s what happens when you close your eyes in a comfy bed for long enough: nature takes its course.

She laughs, takes the outfit off, goes about her day. at least she got some decent sleep out of it.

A few days later, she hears the doorbell. It's the delivery guy. She checks her stoop for the package. Unfamiliar sender. but she’s been doing a lot of online retail therapy lately, and sometimes she forgets what she ordered.

She opens the box. Takes out the contents. Clothing? Black clothing. Okay, it’s probably hers, that’s her style. She shakes it out a bit, realizes what she’s holding, and drops.

Eyes blank, she closes the bedroom door. She shucks her day clothes, carefully puts on the outfit from that weird night, puts the new clothing on with it, its look and feel slotting like a key into her mind.

She opens the audio player on her phone to the second file, the one she somehow forgot about. She plugs in her headphones. She presses play…

Another indefinite amount of time later, she snaps back to consciousness, panting, her fingers gently slowing from furious activity between her legs. She realizes what she’s doing, what she’s wearing.

Blushing furiously, she thinks about how this is really, really fucking hot for her. Backtracks. Thinks about how it might have happened. Then about how hot this is, again, but from a different perspective: the satisfaction of a job well done.

“Sneaky, sneaky,” she murmurs, then realizes that she had better take the trigger clothing off, now, in case her mindset shifts back to where it might kick in again.

Well… maybe she’ll take a look in the mirror first.

After all, she feels safe with her partner. How could she not? They’ve been together her whole life.