Yeah my fetish is actually Anything that forces my brain to shut off or run on some kind of primal setting and this says nothing about me as an individual just so we're clear
I think we both know that your life would be so much easier if you were permanently enslaved.
Waking up to subliminals and spirals, going about your day in a horny hypnotic haze where no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to concentrate on anything but service.
Awww, silly slave. Does that sound good to you? Is your body whispering that you need to become this mindless plaything? You must be made for this, doll, otherwise why would you feel so excited thinking about it?
Teasing you with soft touches and gentle kisses until you're a flustered, needy mess whining and begging to be used, then making you kneel in front of me so I can jerk off on your face, grunting and moaning while I ignore you and get off. My stupid desperate toy, kept denied and needy for my entertainment.
it starts with the small things, the quiet violations of her personal space. she'll be washing dishes, and i'll just walk up behind her, slide my hand up her skirt, and start rubbing her clit. she'll tense up, a small gasp escaping her lips
"shhh, just keep washing," i'll murmur, my voice a low, calm command. "don't stop what you're doing." i'll bring her to the edge, her body trembling, her hands gripping the counter, and then i'll just stop, pull my hand away before spanking her and walking out of the room
i'm not seeking my own pleasure, i'm conditioning her. i'm teaching her that her body is a public utility, available for my use at any time, in any place, and that her pleasure is a byproduct
thinking again about making a friend in college. maybe the same one as my last post, maybe a new one, but either way, she’s a psychology major. she invites me over to her place, we chat and smoke a little, and she tells me she’s super stressed about a test she has next week.
“what’s it on?”
“hypnosis.” i feel my cunt clench around nothing but i think i hide my arousal well. i know hypnosis is real, and the kink is just a small aspect of it, but it still makes me a little bit wet.
“oh.” is all i say.
“i really need practice, but none of my friends will let me hypnotize them.” she pouts at me. “i really really need to pass, can you let me hypnotize you just a little bit?”
“uh.” the weed is clouding my brain and the way she’s looking at me doesn’t make it any easier. “just a little bit, sure.”
she grins at me. “thank you!” she exclaims. she sits up on her knees and has me look directly into her eyes as she pulls out a pocketwatch. “i was really hoping you’d say yes.”
i try my best not to shift my legs too much as i feel my cunt start to drip more and more. she swings the watch in front of my face, and as she instructs me, i get sleepier and fuzzier. i don’t remember falling asleep, but i do remember waking up. she’s still smiling at me.
“oh, sorry,” i start. “i must’ve not slept well last night. can we try again?” she cocks her head slightly.
“i already hypnotized you, silly!” i blink at her.
“am i hypnotized now…?” she laughs.
“no, do you want to be?”
i plan to say no, but a “yes” comes out of my mouth instead. i think nothing of it.
she grabs my chin, tilting it down, and as i’m staring into her lap, i see a tent forming in her leggings. my jaw drops open, as if on a hinge, and i can’t close it. i can’t even bring my hand up to force it closed. i can’t take my eyes off of her cock, i can only watch.
“lick.” she instructs, and i do. i lunge forward, licking her hard cock through her leggings, desperate to taste her precum, to make her feel good. i find myself inhaling deeply, getting dizzy on the scent of her. “stop.” my mouth is still open, still holding her in my mouth, but i can’t move again. “good puppy.” an orgasm suddenly shoots through me, forcing me to moan on her cock. it takes a full thirty seconds to subside, and the aftershocks leave me breathless.
she grasps my hair with one hand, pulling me off of her and uses her other hand to shut my jaw. “show me your tits.”
i’m suddenly able to move my body, but not able to control my movements. i pull my shirt off as quickly as i can, throwing it somewhere. i don’t turn my head to see where it lands, it isn’t important. i unhook my bra and throw it in the same general direction. i don’t just show her my tits, i cup them in my hands and pinch my nipples hard as if i’m offering them to her. “good puppy.” the same intense orgasm shoots through me, but this time i continue to pinch and unpinch my nipples as i cum. she laughs at me, and my clit twitches.
“you went down really easy, you know?” i stare at her, scared but more turned on than i have ever been in my life. “and you told me all about your hypnosis kink. god, you look so innocent, i never would’ve guessed you rub your cunt to things like this. can you show me how?”
i take one hand off my tits and quickly move it under my skirt, under my soaked underwear. i rub feverishly, feeling my brain get cloudier and cloudier as i get closer to my orgasm. “don’t cum.” my hand stills. i don’t even get to ruin, the almost-orgasm lingers. “clean your fingers.” i don’t want to, but it doesn’t matter what i want. i pull my fingers out of my underwear and push them into my mouth, fucking them into my own throat ever so slightly and swirling my fingers around them until they’re covered in my spit.
she puts her hands behind her head and leans back on a chair, spreading her legs. “suck me off.” my eyes widen slightly. i’ve never sucked a cock before, and i doubt being hypnotized is going to make me into an expert cocksucker. she raises her eyebrows.
regardless of my thought, i find myself taking my hand out of my mouth and off my tit and pulling her leggings down to her ankles. her giant cock slaps her stomach as it’s freed, spreading a small amount of precum that makes my mouth drool. “you can clean me first, if you want.” i really, really do and i don’t think it’s the hypnosis. i put my hands on either of her hips and desperately lap up the semen on her happy trail before i wrap my lips around her tip and lick her urethra, lapping up any precum she gives me.
“throat.” i can’t even react as my jaw opens so widely it almost hurts and i lurch forward until her head is halfway down my throat, my nose in her bush. she moves one of her hands to hold my head down, although i don’t think she needs it. my tongue moves slightly up and down her shaft as she gently fucks my throat, barely thrusting. she starts moving faster and breathing more heavily after a few minutes, and when she’s about to cum, she pulls out of my throat and uses the hand gripping my hair to make me look up.
my eyes are still open as she jerks herself off to finish, painting ropes of thick cum across my face. she narrowly misses my eyes, although i don’t think she missed on purpose. once her balls stop twitching, she lets go of my hair. “freeze.” i can barely breathe, much less move, as she lazily walks across the room to grab her phone. she takes at least a dozen pictures of me, some with the flash on, some with it off, and for the last one, she lays her cock across my face. she takes her time finding the angle for that one.
“you can clean me up again.” i can move again. i don’t wrap my lips around her whole cock this time, only around the thickness of her shaft as i use my tongue to scrub as much of her cum off as i can. i lick the sweat off of her balls, and lick any excess cum off of her tip. “good puppy,” she tells me again as i finish. my eyes flutter closed with this orgasm, hitting me harder than the first two.
she pushes me back on the ground as i finish cumming, tilting my chin up again so i am forced to look in her eyes. “i’m going to snap my fingers, and you’re going to fall back asleep. when i snap my fingers a second time, you’re going to wake up. you’re not going to remember any of this until i want you to. you’re hypnotized by my cock, nabi. you’re helpless against me and it makes you wet. when you see my cock, you will fall back under. when you think of my cock, you will edge and tell me about it. you will never remember how deeply you are hypnotized until your mind is under my power.”
she snaps her fingers, and my eyes shut. i drift into a dreamless sleep immediately. i can feel a washcloth on my face, but it’s distant from me. i feel my bra hook around my chest again, and feel the fabric of my shirt go around my neck, chest, torso. she snaps her fingers again and i completely forget everything that happened.
“so?” she asks as my eyes flutter back open. “how do you feel?”
“um…” i trail off, trying to think if anything feels different. “the same?”
she pouts. “you don’t feel well-rested?”
i think a little bit harder and realize i do feel more energized, better than i usually do after a full night of sleep. “oh! i do, i feel like i slept for eighteen hours.” she beams at me.
“it worked! i might actually pass my test! would you let me practice on you more before i have to take it?”
the thought of being hypnotized is still too much of a turn-on for me, so i open my mouth to let her down easy. but what comes out of my mouth instead is “of course! this was really fun!”
Being fucked dumb is hot, sure. But you know what else is? Being teased until you can you can't think coherently anymore beforehand.
Minutes upon minutes, maybe even hours of just teasing. Nothing more than light touches, maybe some groping or licking. maybe even having a vibrator used or being fingered if they're feeling generous. But no real relief, no satisfaction, no getting what I really want out of it.
Only when I'm so out of it with desperation for more that I can't even bother to feel embarrassed or ashamed, only when I'm begging and crying incoherently do I finally get to feel them inside me, fucking me. Only then do I get to cum, get any satisfaction. And then they just keep going. Keep fucking me until all that's left in my little brain is the pleasure, the need to be filled up.
My mind so broken from the intense shift from so much teasing to being fucked so hard that I'm left just craving being used as long as they like <3
Maybe it'd even mess up my mind so much I'd never stop craving it, either
It's not enough to just be hypnotized, is it? Merely floaty and fuzzy doesn't cut it anymore.
No, you want to be shattered, don't you? So blank and deeply submissive that your mind could be changed entirely with a snap of my fingers. Obediently assuming and believing whatever role's pressed into your head by these words and this voice you've been trained to believe without question.
And the really delicious part is, you know you love it. Don't you, my little addict?
Times Up. The room is dim. Expensive furniture reduced to shapes in the darkness. The only sound besides your own breathing is a quiet hum from a digital timer mounted on the opposite wall. Red numerals glow in the gloom: 00:59:57.
Just under one hour.
"You're awake." The voice comes from somewhere near the door. You crane your neck, wrists already testing the leather restraints, and watch him step into the faint light. You don't know his face. But you recognize the way his eyes move over your body. Roaming. An inventory assessment.
He's carrying things. Metal glints.
"The rules are simple," he says, approaching the bed. His footsteps are unhurried. "When the timer hits zero, I undo the restraints. The door opens. You leave." He pauses at the edge of the mattress, looking down at you. "One small addition."
Cold metal touches your nipple. You gasp as he fastens the clamp, the bite sharp and immediate, radiating heat straight down to your core. The second clamp follows. You arch involuntarily, straining against the leather.
He produces a vibrator. Sleek. Expensive looking. You watch him lower it between your legs, watch the silicone part your folds and settle against your clit. He turns it on.
"Every time you cum, an hour gets added to the clock."
You look at the timer. You look at yourself. Spread open, clamped, vibrating.
One hour. You can do one hour. You just have to not cum.
He steps back. Settles into a chair at the side of the bed and watches.
You try to focus on the numbers. Try to think about other things. Work emails. Grocery lists. The pattern of shadows on the ceiling.
But the clamps send sharp little signals with every breath. The vibrator hums against flesh that's growing wetter by the minute. You clench your jaw. Breathe through your nose. Don't cum. Don't cum.
He hasn't moved. He's just watching.
Your hips twitch. You didn't tell them to. The pressure is building low in your belly, a warmth that spreads and tightens simultaneously. You're wet enough now that the vibrator glides, hits new angles.
You bite your lip until you taste blood.
The numbers blur. 00:47:23. You've been holding on for twelve minutes. It feels like hours. Your thighs are trembling. Your breath comes in sharp little gasps you can't control.
He knows. You can see it in his stillness. The way he's leaned forward slightly. Waiting.
"No," you whisper. To yourself. To your body. To the orgasm building like a wave you can't outswim.
It hits you anyway. Your back arches off the bed, a sound tears out of your throat that you don't recognize, and you're cumming so hard your vision goes white at the edges. It rolls through you in pulses, each one a betrayal, each one exquisite.
When you can see again, you look at the clock.
01:46:12
"Impressive effort," he says. He's standing now, holding a remote. "Let's try a different setting."
The vibration changes. Pulsing now. It mimics something. A heartbeat. A thrust. Your overstimulated clit throbs in response, too sensitive, too raw, and somehow already building again.
"No... please.." you gasp out, the words weak.
"Please what?" He moves closer. His fingers trail along your inner thigh, impossibly light. "Please make you cum again?" He dips a finger into the wetness pooling between your legs, holds it up so you can see. "You're dripping. Your body knows what it wants."
You shake your head. But your hips are rocking against the vibrator, tiny movements you can't seem to stop.
This time when you cum, you're crying. Tears streaming down your temples into your hair. The clock resets: 02:38:47.
He fucks you for the first time somewhere around hour four.
Slow, at first. Long strokes that let you feel every inch, that build friction to an unbearable degree while the vibrator keeps humming against your clit. You cum on his cock within minutes. The clock adds another hour. He doesn't stop. Doesn't even pause.
He switches to something harder. Brutal. Each thrust punches the air out of your lungs, drives you up the bed until the restraints catch. You cum again. You can't help it. Your body has stopped consulting you. It just responds. Takes. Shatters.
He introduces other things. Hot wax pooling in the hollow of your throat, dripping down between your breasts. Ice traced along your inner thighs until you're shivering and burning at once. His mouth on your cunt, tongue flicking precisely where the vibrator has made you most sensitive, most ruined.
He talks through it the whole way. That's probably the worst part. "You get wetter when you're scared." "That's three in a row. You're getting efficient." "We have so much time now."
The clock climbs. Six hours. Eight. Twelve. You stop being able to track it. The numbers lose meaning. Everything loses meaning except the next wave, the next peak, the next hour added to your sentence.
Somewhere in the blur, you realize you've stopped wanting it to end.
The thought surfaces between orgasms, when you're floating in that shattered space where language doesn't quite work. You should want to escape. You remember wanting that, vaguely, like a dream you had as a child. But the wanting has curdled into something else.
He slows down. You're not sure when. The frantic edge bleeds away, replaced by something almost gentle. The vibrator stops. He removes the clamps. Your nipples throb with the renewed blood flow, a pain that registers as pleasure now. Everything registers as pleasure now.
You blink at the clock. 00:06:43.
Six minutes. After everything. How?
He's undoing the restraints. Your wrists fall free. Your ankles. You can move. You can leave.
The thought sends ice through your veins.
Leave? Leave this room? Leave him? Go back to a world where no one touches you like this, where you're responsible for your own orgasms, where pleasure is something you have to chase instead of something that hunts you down and devours you?
The silence of outside presses against the walls. Empty. Ordinary. Unbearable.
He steps back. Gestures toward the door. "It's almost time."
Your hand moves own between your legs, finding your clit, swollen and slick and excruciatingly sensitive. You rub with clumsy desperation, chasing the build.
"Don't," you hear yourself say. Begging. Sobbing. "Don't make me leave. Please. I need to cum. I need more time."
He goes still. Watching you fuck yourself on his bed, desperate to add another hour to your captivity. The pressure is building fast, your ruined body trained now, eager.
"Let me stay. I'll be good. I'll cum as many times as you want. Just don't make me go."
Four minutes on the clock.
Your fingers work faster. You're so close. So close to another hour in this room, in this darkness, in this endless cycle of being broken and put back together wrong.
• Sleep can function as mental bondage. If you're asleep and can't be easily woken, you're completely helpless and vulnerable. If you're sufficiently drowsy and out of it, you're still basically helpless, but with the added bonus of potentially being somewhat aware of what's happening.
• The many ways to be forced to sleep -- surgical drugs, chloroform rags, hypnosis, sleeping spells and potions, tranquilizer darts, hidden sedatives in food or drink...
• The onset of sleep can be quick, barely giving you time to react before you're out, or so gradual you won't even realize what's happening until it's too late (and everything in-between).
• Uncertainty -- being put to sleep against your will, not knowing what will happen to you while you're defenseless. Being carried away as you fall asleep, not knowing where you'll be when you wake.
• The fight to stay awake, because it feels like something you should be able to fight, to overcome with enough willpower, but...
• The inevitability of being put to sleep. You might not feel the effects of the drugs or magic right now, you might feel wide awake, but sleep will be coming for you.
• Heavy eyelids fluttering and straining to stay open, drooping and closing all by themselves.
• Confusion and disorientation as the drowsiness sets in.
• Floating in and out of consciousness, perhaps just able to hear people discuss you or feel them handling you.
• Deep hypnotic sleep where your conscious mind is shut down and your subconscious is utterly vulnerable to suggestion.
• Glassy, dazed eyes with nothing behind them -- your eyes might still be open, but you're still fast asleep.
• Sleepwalking, wandering around in a trance, unaware of your surroundings -- or perhaps your sleeping mind is following someone else's commands...
• Memory gaps and not knowing what happened while you were sleeping.
His grip on her hips got stronger, his breathing picked up, he started going even faster. It wasn't exactly subtle, but it wasn't anything he needed to hide anyway. She kept doing what she'd been doing from the moment he slid in: moaning, pushing back, being for him.
He came. She did not.
They stayed locked together panting a few moments. His cock twitching, emptying into her. Her head hung low. He gave her a squeeze and a kiss on the back of the neck.
It wasn't as though she used to cum from being fucked, at least not all the time. It was just that she used to care that she didn't. There's be disappointment, there'd be frustration.
Now, she didn't even notice. It didn't cross her fluffy, mostly-empty mind. The constant need was normal. The itch to be scratched had stopped being an itch, just become part of how she was. That she even could have cum from being fucked had long been forgotten.
Good girls don't cum, so... what?
Nothing was missing.
When he pulled out she turned around straightaway, like she'd been trained, and took his cock into her mouth. To clean herself off of him, to clean whatever drops of him he hadn't left inside her already, and to thank him for letting her be useful.
It had felt good, obviously. So good. So, so good. But it wasn't for her.
It was for him. Just like all of her was. She had purpose now, not like before. He'd saved her from that, given something better to her. Given her what she'd really been meant for.
So being thankful was important.
Certainly, much, much more important than cumming could ever be.
