Have you ever thought about honey? I know that’s a strange way to start an experience like this one, but play along ok?

It’s sticky and sweet and gooey. Just, imagine it. Imagine dipping your finger into a jar of honey, watching the perfectly smooth surface give way as you put pressure on it, and then the honey oozing from your fingers as you pull out. Think about pushing that finger into your mouth and sucking it, gently.

It tastes good, doesn’t it?

I think so. I think there’s something wonderful about honey. How it’s so sticky and gooey. Imagine it on your skin, on your body. It would slowly seep across you until you were covered in it. Mmm, so sweet and tasty, isn’t it?

It’s soft, and yielding and wet and it smells so good. You can just imagine dipping your finger into the jar again for me, taking even more this time, and sucking it from your finger. Imagine sucking it from my finger.

Imagine me there with you, sitting on the table of your kitchen as you sit below me on a chair. Between us are lots of jars of honey, one is open. You look up at me and see my long brown hair falling down onto my shoulders, above a cute yellow and black dress and matching stockings. A queen bee.

I reach down into the jar with my finger, the nail painted black, and scoop up some honey. It drips in big dollops that fall onto the table. I bite my lip as you stare at my finger. You want to suck the sweet, sticky honey from it.

It’s addictive. I tell you as you stare. You don’t care, it smells sweet and tasty.

It will make you need more, I say.

You don’t mind. It looks so good. You want it in your mouth.

You’ll fall into a trance once you taste it, I remind you.

It doesn’t matter to you as my finger moves toward your mouth. You lick your lips.

You’ll be enslaved by the queen bee, I warn you.

You can’t help yourself, you open your mouth and wrap your lips around my finger, sucking the sweet golden liquid from it.

And you fall. You fall into a soft, warm, gooey trance. You feel your mind soften, turning into a mushy, oozing mess of honey. It’s warm and wet and sticky and you can’t think anymore. You can’t think of anything but the honey.

My voice fills your mind. You let it in, it moves through honey so easily. It imprints upon the honey. It makes a home in your mind. Burrows into your brain like it’s a hive.

It whispers of servitude. Of loyalty. Of honeyed delights and pleasures beyond measure.

Your eyes flutter closed. You lick your lips again.

You need more honey. You want to beg, to plead for it.

Honey gives you pleasure. You feel my finger at your lips and suck and lap at it. It’s so good, but the more you eat the more you want.

You can’t resist. It’s addictive and you don’t care. Every time you hear my words you’d do anything they say to get more. I am your queen bee.

You think only of serving me, of tasting the sweetness of submission for your Queen. You are a mindless drone.

You are my mindless drone.

You are addicted to my power.

And you will awaken from this trance in a moment, filled with submissive desires, to serve and please me, your Queen. You are a drone in my hive, and I am your queen bee, and my voice is the sweet honey you crave.

You are my addict now.

And as I count from 1 to 5, and you awaken, you will let the memory of this trance fade from your conscious mind, but your subconscious will remember that you serve me, your queen, as a mindless drone, whenever you see or taste honey. You will always associate the sight of a jar of honey on a shelf or the sweet taste of honey, with serving me.

Good my drone. One.

Feeling yourself stir from your relaxed state.

Two. Letting your eyes flutter open now.

Three. Seeing the world around you once more and noticing a sweet taste on your tongue.

Four. Letting the sounds of your environment stir you even more.

And Five, wide awake feeling wonderful.

I hope you enjoyed that experience, and you’ll come back again soon.