something cool about queering your idea of sex is that you can walk out of a heavy make out session feeling like you had the rawest sex of your life. you can be sitting close at a bar kissing them and maybe you’ve found a way to sit so your knee is discreetly between their thighs and feeling the pleasure it gives them and then feeling them give that pleasure to you. you can be looking each other in the eye and you can feel them inside you from that alone. like you want to tear their clothes off and are hungry for the feeling of their skin and their closeness but even just this feels like heaven, feels connected to them in the deep place where pleasure comes from.
“When I was a dominatrix, I once rubbed balloons all over a man for seventy-five dollars. He would’ve called it sex. I would’ve called it work. It was mutually consensual, and I think we were both correct in our assessment.
If your sex is balloons, if it is blowing raspberries on your lover’s belly, if it happens fully clothed ir in furry costumes, if it happens in a group or alone — give it the same gravity, the same reverence or irreverence as all the tiresome scenes of heterosexual penetration we all grew up reading. … There is no marginal erotic unless you sideline it.”
Tldr; consent doesnt have to be freely given, considered, informed, specific, reversable, enthusiastic, etc,,, but if it isnt more than one of those things then theres a good chance something is wrong
There are a lot of frameworks for consent that claim consent has to meet certain criteria to be valid and none of them quite sit right with me because there are situations in which those criteria can be unmet that don't violate consent
So id like to proper a framework where these criteria are viewed as scales, the higher the total the less risk there is that someone looks back and says "actually i wish i hadn't done that" and the lower the total the more likely it is that you should rethink the thing you're about to participate in. Critically there's no minimum total for consent to be 'valid' firstly because ever scenario is unique, secondly because these numbers aren't empiricle youre just estimating them, and thirdly because im not suggesting you actually do this every time im just positing things to consider. I'm calling this Consent Security
A. How intense is the thing you're agreeing to (10 is the least intense 1 is the most (i know thats a littte counter intuitive but it has to be this way to affect the totals in the right way)). This will be subjective, but broadly you'd expect having someone hump your boot to be not very intense where as having a limb cut off is really intense, this is inversely related to how 'secure' the consent should be
B. How impared are you in this moment (10 is the least impared and 1 is the most). Are you; Drunk? High? Sleepy? Hungry? Emotional? Experiencing symptoms™? What is your baseline level of 'imparement'? As someone who hallucinates i dont think i can ever be considered to have a 10 in this catogory, if you have something similar or maybe brain fog or chronic fatigue or some other type of mental disability maybe your baseline is less than 10 too?
C. How much do you trust the other participants (1 is the least trust 10 is the most). How long have you known them or how well regarded are they or how much does someone you trust trust them in turn and so on. The more you trust the other participents the less important all the other catogories are
D. How freely given is your conscent (1-10 least to most). Almost everyone has some type of power they could leverage against almost everyone else, and more than likely one of you has the 'most' 'power'. Does one of the other participants have some control over your housing or income or some type of social power over you? Have they just asked a bunch of times in a row and its easier to say yes than to keep saying no? Is there some other type of preasure to say yes? If any of those are yes are they likely to actually use that power? None of this means everyone else cant meaningfully consent it just means this number will probably not be 1 or 10.
E. How well informed are you about the situation (1-10 least-most). On the far ends of the extremes someone might say "do you want to do a globophilia scene with me?" and you probably dont know thats a baloon fetish, or maybe youre a suergon whos being asked to do some light scalple play. But probably the amount of informed you are is going to be somewhere in the middle
F. How specific is the thing youre consenting to (1-10 least-most). That is to say how detailed is the plan for the intended activities. There's almost certainly going to some level of ambiguity, you probably don't have a minute by minute plan (i.e. ten minutes of making out, seven minutes of you giving me head, then ill get out the knife and make a bilatteral cut on your stomach thats 3mm deep, and so on), but maybe the conversation with your dominant goes "what are we doing today" "dw about it, its a suprise" "ok, yay <3"
G. How reversable is the thing youre consenting to (1-10 least-most). This could be about negotiating a situation where you don't have the option of backing out half way through, but this could also be about permanent alterations like scars, or things with short term consequences like icy-hot cream, or even just shubari takes time to get you out of once you've said you're done
H. How enthusiastic are you about the situation (1-10 least-most). 1 can be thought of as hard limits, things you absolutely do not want to do. 2-3 can be thought of as your soft limits, things that you don't want to do but also aren't off the table in the right situations. 3-4 might be things that make you nervous or anxious or just aren't really feeling like. 5 might be things youre entierly neutral about. 10 is probably your favourite ever things. These numbers are by no means set in stone, at any given moment something as simple as giving head might be anywhere from a 3 to a 10 depending on your mood
All of this will give you a total of 8-80 where 70+ means youre golden and less than 20 is maybe a problem. But really the total doesn't matter hugely because each category should be weighted differently (trust being the most important imo), because the further from 5.5 any category is the more seriously that number should be taken with 1s and 10s being especially important, and because all of these numbers can change within the space of a second
Finally this is a first draft of this concept so constructive criticism is encouraged
idk how to describe this idea but... your guy best friend who keeps INSISTING his cock is too big for most pussies. 'there's no way someone like you could fit it"
it's such a strange comment. but you just can't forget it... you obsess over the idea for weeks until you decide, fuck it. I'm showing him.
and when you finally sit on his bare cock, pubes pressed against your clit, he looks up with a smarmy smile.
"Wow. Sure showed me." He puts his hands behind his head. "I'm so upset that I was wrong."
He's gotta keep up that pretend "You were so right, I can't believe i was wrong" thing going, while grinning like a little shit, okay? Smug as hell but pretending to be so surprised and a little 'disappointed' about being wrong. 😵💫
If it had been the father, Laney might have been on her guard. She knew a lot of guys had weird fantasies about fucking their kid's babysitter, and even in her third year of college her slight frame and small, pert breasts left her looking exactly like the kind of young and innocent teenage girl that was the subject of exactly that kind of erotic daydream. She'd gotten quite adept at deflecting the attention of older men, and even though Bob Denning was scrupulously polite and professional around her she'd have clocked anything funny coming from him a mile away.
Even if his wife Anne had gone for a traditional seduction, Laney probably would have been wary. Mothers were a bit safer than fathers, simply because of the traditional role they were pressed into by the demands of heteronormativity, but it was remarkable how many of them looked at Laney in her long skirt and chunky sweater and chunky glasses and decided this was the perfect person to slake their loneliness and indulge their bi-curiosity at the same time. To say nothing of all the threesomes she got invited to--seducing the babysitter was cheaper than couples therapy, apparently, and adding a third to the relationship seemed to be how some folks coped with a slow decay in their interest in intimacy.
But Anne didn't put her hand on Laney's knee when she sat down next to her on the couch to ask how the evening went, and she didn't pluck an imaginary bit of fluff from Laney's sweater from just over her right breast. She seemed soothing and comforting, apologizing for the lateness of their return and asking if Laney was still okay to drive because she looked so tired, and all of Laney's study in sociology that gave her a nice solid grounding in the underpinnings of the 'sexy babysitter' trope didn't prepare her to spot a hypnotic induction when she heard one. Psychology wasn't even her minor. She was thinking on the societal level, not the individual, and she genuinely believed it was her own weariness making her head droop forward on her shoulders every time she nodded along with Anne's softly murmured words.
By the time she noticed that the conversation was turning to sex, Laney was already focused intently on the dawning pulse of arousal between her thighs, and her body felt too leaden to rise from the couch under those highly specialized circumstances. She recognized the subtle shift that primed her mind to crave something big and thick inside her to satisfy that irresistible urge, but all her theories about patriarchal dominance and the underlying social conditions that caused individual women to betray feminism in order to improve their own economic and cultural standing had faded into a pounding throb of wet, red lust in her head and she eagerly helped Anne get her out of her restrictive clothing.
That was when Bob came in, although of course Laney could only hear him because her heavy eyelids were stuck tight shut and refused to open, and when he pressed the tip of his stiff prick against her tight pussy Laney suddenly discovered just how hot it was to be someone else's fantasy. Her deeply hypnotized, utterly dissociated mind heard the mewl of desperation coming from her own lips, but it felt like someone else was begging and pleading to be fucked and she allowed herself to believe it was all just a warm waking dream when Anne reached down and parted Laney's labia to give her husband easier access. And when he began to plow her slick cunt and the orgasms began, Laney forgot every last complicated thought in her head in favor of rutting ecstasy with her new owners.
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Lori didn't know exactly why she felt a tiny thrill of anticipation on losing. It wasn't her usual style--she was competitive at everything she did, from running track to playing Tekken 8, and usually she fumed every second she spent handing the controller off to one of her friends to take over the next match. But for some reason, Lori felt this tiny little tickle in the back of her head that promised better ways to occupy her time while Isa and Maganda duked it out. Even as she watched their duel beginning on the large screen television at the foot of Isa's bed, a slow and thoughtless bliss stole over Lori's mind and made her body relax into placid passivity.
Which meant that when she felt the stiff prick sliding into her from behind, she couldn't even make herself turn her head to find out who was fucking her. She simply lay there, staring at the screen in front of her even as it slowly melted into a blur of color and light, recognizing that it wasn't generally typical to play under 'winner stays, loser gets her pussy plowed by a fourth person hovering silently in the background and just waiting for one of the trio of friends to hand off the controller so their character won't just flail around wildly as the pleasure overwhelms them' rules… but also realizing that this felt comfortable and natural to her. She was used to this. And in a weird way it all made perfect sense to her.
It didn't surprise her when Isa and Maganda kept right on playing, utterly ignoring the gasps and grunts of pleasure that escaped Lori's slack and gaping mouth as the man behind her absolutely railed her sopping cunt. It didn't seem even slightly unexpected when she went from zero to orgasm in under ten seconds, the sensation of a prick in her pussy triggering some kind of hypnotically induced ecstasy above and beyond anything even the most vigorous fucking could explain. Even the way her eyes rolled back in her head, a response to the way her mind was automatically and instinctively mesmerized into stupefied bliss without any hope of resistance, just felt like how her afternoons with her friends were spent these days. They all liked to play video games. They didn't ask why.
Certainly Lori wasn't asking much of anything. She was gripping the bedsheets instead, clutching tightly to the soft fabric as though a physical grip would somehow prevent her brains from falling clean out of her head in white-hot lust. Thank goodness their Master--and he was their Master, Lori realized, even though she didn't have even the vaguest recollection of a face or a name to put to his total dominance over their minds and bodies--thank goodness he was going to spend a little time fucking whoever lost the match between Isa and Maganda, because Lori was going to be utterly useless for a good few minutes after this and she didn't think she stood much of a chance of winning a match under those conditions.
But they'd all get their turn as Master's fuckhole, Lori sluggishly realized. The others would inevitably lose, their subconscious minds distracted by the promise of so much pleasure just waiting for them whenever they were defeated, and it would undermine all their efforts to succeed. And that subtle, stealthy association between defeat and ecstasy would carry through to their efforts to resist Master's control, leaving them weak and fractionated and utterly malleable in his mental grip.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
A: The Platinum Puppet / Platinum Bambi files are custom Bambi Sleep files created by myself. They use AI voices, custom sound effects, and very effective binaural tones. People who struggle to focus/ or have ADHD report these files as very effective.
Here is a list of the files, a description of the contents, and triggers used in each.
Q: Where can I find the files? A: You can find all my files in the google drive above, my Bambi Cloud playlist and my Patreon! If you listen on Bambi Cloud make sure to leave a like :)
Q: Do you need to listen to the original files before you listen to the Platinum Puppet files?
A: You don't have to, but it helps. The better you respond to the files and triggers, the better experience you will have with the Platinum Files. However, many of my files include their own inductions and can be listened to as their own, standalone files. I recommend listening to the Compact Trigger Reinforcement file once or twice if you are new to Bambi.
Q: Are the Platinum Bambi files safe / strong?
A: I do not include suggestions of personality erasure in my scripts. That's probably the biggest problem with Bambi, and I'd like to keep this community safe. However, if you have addictive tendencies, listen with caution. As of January 2025, I have started to make IQ reduction files, but these are clearly labeled and have scripts available. There are suggestions to enjoy hypnosis, listen often, and they are very much 'brainwashing' audios.
So if you want to experience being Bambi without the suggestions of her 'taking over' or anything anxiety inducing, my files may be fun for you.
However, when it comes to being "strong", absolutely. My files are some of the most effective bimbo brainwashing files out there. So listen with care ;)
Q: Do you do custom files? Can you make 'x' file?A: Not right now. Definitely in the future but I will make a post when I am accepting customs. I typically am very busy as well.
Suggestions help me with ideas for files, so if you have a suggestion you think is cool, send me a DM and I will take a look at it! (please keep them broad, don't message me with "Make a file for Bambi to Love Armpits")
Not just any butler, her perfect one. The kind who wakes her with coffee just the way she likes it, brushes the wrinkles from her gowns before she even steps into them, runs her baths, and lays out her jewels like she's the only thing that's ever mattered.
He never stumbles and never complains. Always composed, always sharp, always utterly devoted.
But oh, the torment.
Because she's wicked. She steps out of the bath, dripping, eyes on him, slowly untwisting her hair. She lets her silk robe slide just a bit too low. She makes him lace up her corsets, kneel to fix her thigh-highs, his hands trembling as he works. All the while, she just watches, because her favorite view is him on his knees, eyes lowered, lips parted, desperate to serve.
He never breaks. Not in front of her. Not when she leans a little too close to whisper her plans for the evening. Not when she sits with legs just slightly parted and tells him, in that tempting, but unbothered voice, "Fix the hem of my dress. It's slipping."
But later... Later, when he's alone, hands shaking, breath ragged, he finally lets go.
His voice is barely a whisper as he moans her name, head thrown back against the pillows, stroking his cock desperately. And it's not just lust; it's worship. Devotion. Need.
The thought of serving her, worshipping her like a goddess, and yearning for her in silence is enough to unravel him completely.
