Femdom Mind Control Flash Fiction
by S.B.
How Much Longer…
Chase glanced at the contract laid down on the table and frowned.
“There’s no way I’m signing that!”
“We both know you will,” the leather-clad demoness smirked. Gone were the days of half-naked apparitions in the dead of night. Now, all her contracts came in style.
“It’s simply too much!” He cupped his chin, holding on to the one excuse he could remember.
“Not really. Once you’re dead, you won’t feel the passage of Time the same way. I’m being generous considering what you’ve asked of me.”
“If… and that’s a big ‘if’, I agree to your terms, how can I be sure you’ll honor your end of the bargain once you’ve enslaved me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She hissed.
“Because you’re a spawn from Hell, that’s why!”
“And you’re a man which is definitely worse on my book. If it makes you feel any better, no slave has ever complained after I claimed their souls.”
“Are they even allowed to complain?”
“Of course not. The clock is ticking, Chase. If you want your new album to be a smashing hit, this is my final offer. Fame and fortune for the rest of your mortal life and a thousand years of service to me after that. Take the pen and let’s conquer the world together.”
He hesitated until greed spoke louder right as the clock stroke midnight. Deals made during Halloween season were even more powerful and so were their effects. Less than twelve hours later, he was already number 1 in the US and UK charts. Seven days after that, everyone hummed one of his songs at least once a day, and after a month had elapsed, his bank account had more zeros to the right than ever. Where he would go from there, nobody knew.
On the last day of the year, Chase was found dead in his office, the cursed pen protruding from the back of his neck. The doctors called it ‘suicide’ though ‘unexpected demonic possession’ would have been more appropriate.
His spirit tried to protest when she came to collect, but was silenced forever by the most ironic of responses.
“I gave you what you wanted, silly man,” she shrugged. “It’s not my fault you never asked how much longer you were going to live.”