i've been ending for 45 minutes and i don't plan on cummimg any time soon what should i do? I'm gonna leave that up to you guys
Not today Justin
Keni
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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Janaina Medeiros

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@cuntslutslave
i've been ending for 45 minutes and i don't plan on cummimg any time soon what should i do? I'm gonna leave that up to you guys
The Difference Between Honesty and Ethics
He never hypnotized her. After every session, he could say that with all honesty, and she would repeat it with the dazed and weary tones of a mindless, obedient slave. The words always found purchase in the soft, fertile depths of her drowsy brain, and she came away convinced that she was simply too weak to resist the temptations he offered. She wasnāt being brainwashed or programmed or controlled; she was just giving in to her cunt and what it needed. He never hypnotized her. So she wasnāt hypnotized.
She never noticed the tiny, imperceptible gap of logic between those two sentences. And he used that to bind her ever more tightly to his will.
When she returnedāand she always returned, the insistent tingle between her thighs stronger than any leashāthe first thing he had her do was take off her panties, and anything else she needed to remove to completely expose her pale pink pussy to his gaze. Some days that left her with a blouse on; other days, like today, it left her sitting on the black leather recliner in only her gray sports bra. He never said a word, not at this point in their engagement. He merely smiled and nodded and handed her the small handheld vibrator with the clit suction attachment. She knew what to do with it from long experience, and all he had to do was wait.
She began with her fingers, stroking lightly along her labia until they came away wet. It never took long; often, her cunt was soaking before she even arrived at his office, trained with Pavlovian perfection to drool in anticipation of the pleasures to come. Her touch was always light, gentle, delicate; heād conditioned her to tease herself, to find that precise feathery stroke up and down her sensitive flesh that always brought her nerves to attention. Soon, the sensation was the only thing in her mind. That was when he gave her a nod, silent permission to do what she craved so badly.
She nestled the vibrator into position and turned it on, and he could see the change in her almost instantly; her eyes rolled up in her head ever so slightly, eyelids fluttering that tiny bit as she tried to keep them open so that she could fix her gaze on him instead of simply letting herself drift away into warm, sleepy bliss. Her lips parted, the muscles of her face slackening into a vacant expression as all the tension melted out of her mind and drained down into her hot, tingling cunt. If heād spoken right now, she probably would have needed him to repeat himself for her conscious mind to pick up the meaning over the constant thrum of pleasure in her tightly-focused brain; her thoughts were on her clit, and they wouldnāt drift away easily.
Still, he gave it a bit longer. When her fingers drifted down to join the toy, teasing and rubbing at her perineum to stimulate both her asshole and her pussy at once, he knew she was getting close to the state of pure, perfect distraction he needed. When her eyes finally slipped shut and her lips spread in a slow, sleepy smile of utter self-indulgence, he knew she was there. That was when he began to speak to her slowly, to heighten her arousal and program her unthinking mind with pleasure. Once she was already deeply entranced by her own masturbation, her consciousness became his playground, his toy, his possession to use and control. And he did. He never hypnotized her, he could say that with all honesty every time⦠but he didnāt need to. Not when she was so very good at hypnotizing herself.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
Doing Nothing
So what do you think?
āWhat do I think of what?ā
The video youāre watching.
āIām not watching a video. Iām just sitting here on the couch doing nothing.ā
ā¦are you sure? Because from this end of the connection, it looks like youāre watching my video feed and masturbating.
āNo. Iām not. Iām sitting here on the couch doing absolutely nothing.ā
Are you talking to me?
āNo. Iām not. Iām sitting here on the couch doing nothing.ā
So youāre completely unaware of my voice.
āIām completely unaware of your voice. Iām not listening to you. Iām not talking to you. Iām just sitting on the couch. Doing, uhm⦠nothing.ā
And youāre not pumping two fingers in and out of your pussy, then.
āNo. Iām sitting here on the couch doing nothing. Nothing is happening. Iām just. Uhm. Relaxing.ā
Like your mind is asleep.
āYes. Like my mind is asleep.ā
And when you wake up, youāll only remember that you spent a little time doing nothing on the couch.
āWhen I wake up, Iāll only r-remember that I, uhm, that I spent a little⦠time. Doing n-nothing, on the, the, oh ffffuck! The couch.ā
You wonāt remember your instructions.
āN-no, Master. I wonāt, uhm, remember my instructions. Iāll come back to you tomorrow like a good girl and do nothing on the couch again. I, I, oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK!ā
Thatās right. Good girl. Deeper nowā¦.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
Falling Forward
āWelcome back, Anna.ā She didnāt really hear the words coming from the concealed speaker, though. She was too busy staring at the tunnel of light that flowed endlessly deeper into the center of the screen that took up the entire wall opposite the door, wondering why it looked so insidiously familiar to her. The sound of another womanās voice, the coaxing tones of sweet, seductive confidence that flowed into Annaās ears and drew her further into the warm pink room⦠she tuned that out without even trying. She didnāt wonder about the significance of ābackā in the strangerās greeting. She was too busy staring.
Annaās head began to slowly tilt to the side, her lips began to gently part as she stared into the crisp lines and smoothly flowing colors of the pattern on the screen. It formed a seamless illusion of depth, as though at any moment Anna could decide to step forward and find herself on an endless conveyor belt leading her deeper and deeper into the pulsing vortex of light. Each band of color was a different shade of pink, casting reflections on the other walls of the room that blended their hues with the picture in front of her. It gave Anna a sense of intense vertigo, the floor slowly tilting as her dizziness gradually increased.
She took a step forward, involuntarily, and swayed on her feet with overwhelming giddiness as she tried to retract it. The voice kept speaking, kept murmuring soft and warm and comforting words in Annaās ears, but she was too busy desperately fighting for balance to listen. She somehow knew that if she fell, she would tumble down and down and down into the shimmering tunnel of light forever. She had to hold perfectly still to keep herself upright. She had to stand straight up. She had to keep her eyes focused on the center where the sensation of motion was at its least. She had to stop blinking. She couldnāt do all that and listen, too.
Again, that sense of eerie deja vu washed over Annaās brain, trying to insist that sheād seen this illusion before, that sheād fallen victim to it in the exact same way. But she knew that was wrong. She knew sheād never been to this building before. She knew sheād never been into this room before. She knew she was still wearing the same clothing that she had on when she arrived, and that there were no gaps in her memory where she might have put on a sheer top that showed her nipples clearly through the thin fabric. She didnāt need to reach up to check. Which was good, because her arms felt too heavy to lift now.
Another step forward, halting and stumbling. The voice purred with praise, and Annaās g-string moistened again with arousal. She was so wet. She was so horny right now. Why was that? Annaās brain was so full of questions that she overflowed with them; they spilled from her slack, vacant mouth in dribbles that soaked her chest and emptied her mind out drop by drop. She took another step. Then another. It was the only way to keep from falling forward into the screen.
None of this was possible. None of it could really be happening. And with a sudden, startling pop that she felt inside her head, Anna realized that it wasnāt. She wasnāt really standing here, stumbling forward against the pull of a gravity that defied the laws of physics. She hadnāt really surrendered her body to this new, exhibitionistic look. She wasnāt really being hypnotized by the roomās owner, made to return again and again for more programming and forgetting each time. Things like that just didnāt really happen. Anna breathed out a sigh of relief, comforted by the belief that she was merely imagining it all.
And in imagination, anything could happen. Anna took one final step forward, and sank like a stone into the tunnel of light.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
Molly OāBlivious
Margaret shrugged her skirt and panties off in a single smooth motion and settled back onto the couch, her fingers already tapping at her phoneās screen to open up her web browser. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and she hadnāt checked her favorite porn site in what felt like ages. She spread her legs wide, giving her easy access to her warm, tingling pussy, and opened up the private site for one of her favorite models, āMolly O'Bliviousā.
Molly didnāt look particularly Irish, at least not as the stereotype wentāshe had long dirty blonde hair that curled around her shoulders, and though her skin was a pale pink, it didnāt have the alabaster tones typical of people who lived in a rainy island climate. But she didnāt get the stage name from her appearance. No, it came from the wonderful pictures of her that her boyfriend/Master took of her after hypnotizing her not to notice him or the camera⦠or the fact that she was half-naked and masturbating. That never failed to get Margaretās cunt wet.
It must have been a while since sheād been there, because it looked like there had been a whole bunch of new updates since she last visited the site. Margaretās fingers drifted down, lightly teasing her pussy lips as she scrolled through the photos. As always, Molly wore the black nylon dog collar around her throat that anchored the hypnotic suggestion in place; without it, sheād no doubt notice that her clothes kept coming off any time she got distracted by arousal. But apparently she was such a good hypnotic subject that as long as she had it on, her subconscious would construct whatever kind of rationale it needed in order to obey her commands. Even the most direct and obvious evidence of her current situation would simply slip past her compliant mind. God, that was so fucking hot.
Margaretās hands began to move a little bit faster, scrolling through the newest gallery and masturbating at the same time. She sometimes felt a little bit guilty, enjoying a voyeuristic thrill at the expense of someone who didnāt even know that she was being photographed with her legs parted and her cunt on full display; according to the website, though, Molly had enthusiastically consented to the suggestion and even got something of a thrill out of being brainwashed into showing off her body to strangers without knowing it. Not that Margaret had any idea how the other woman would even know, let alone get off to it. Maybe he told her after he woke her up?
Margaret let out a tiny wince of pleasure as she caught up to the present and realized that the photos were updating in real time. They were doing a session right now, it appeared; Molly was lying on a couch in the photo from a few minutes ago, naked below the waist and looking at her phone a smile on her face that suggested she was just about to plunge her fingers into her wet cunt. Margaret was embarrassed to admit that seeing the tastefully-decorated room gave her something of a crush on Molly and her boyfriendāthe bookshelves behind Molly featured some of Margaretās favorite novels, and she suspected sheād get along wonderfully if they ever met. They even had some of the same action figures! It was almost as if⦠as if they were the same⦠the same, the, the sameā¦. Margaretās eyes rolled back in her head as a surge of pleasure from her soaking pussy derailed her train of thought. God, she was horny right now. Good thing there was nobody around. She sank a second finger in between her dripping labia and continued her masturbation, o'blivious to everything else.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
The Amazon Captive
āI have heard of you Amazons,ā the Roman noblewoman says, gazing at the naked captive with eyes that glitter with hunger. āThey say that once you are in chains, all your strength deserts you. A punishment from the gods, for daring to believe yourself stronger than any man.ā She lifts up the heavy padlock that hangs around the Amazonās neck. It clasps shut only a collar, a punishment that would be symbolic on anyone else, but the warrior stands meekly with her hands behind her back as though wrapped in chains from head to toe. āIs that true?ā
The Amazon hangs her head down, utterly defeated and yet unbowed. āA price extracted by the gods,ā she offers back, unable to put defiance into her voice but unwilling to acquiesce to a lie. āFor the power that made us stronger than any man.ā She understands the gods better than any Roman, and knows that a story like this is what they live for. Itās why they granted their favors to the Amazons to begin with, to see a scene like this someday play out and enliven their immortality. Conflict, chaos, discord, sacrifice, nobility in suffering⦠and of course, plenty of sex. When the Roman noblewoman reaches down and puts her hand between the Amazonās thighs, it feels somehow like an inevitability.
āBut nonetheless,ā the noblewoman purrs silkily, her finger wriggling its way between the naked warriorās labia and finding her clit inside the soaking folds of her cunt, āthe essential facts are accurate. Your strength has deserted you. Is that all your strength, I wonder? Is your strength of will and character as diminished and defeated as those pretty muscles of yours?ā Her other hand reaches up to stroke the Amazonās bicep, feeling the taut definition of the helpless womanās arm under the skin. āIf I tell you to kneel for me, what would you say?ā
The Amazon hangs her head low, her gaze cast down to the floor as she struggles to resist the pressure to answer. The noblewomanās fingers continue to work inside her pussy, pushing her past the weakened limits of her endurance until she quivers on her feet. After an eternity of pleasure that defeats her in mere instants, she answers. āI would kneel, madam,ā she murmurs, her shoulders slumping in abject subjugation. āI would do anything my captors ask of me. The magic of the gods compels my obedience.ā The words taste like ashes in her mouth, and yet theyāre sweetened by the dripping mess her cunt has become. The gods love such kind cruelties, she knows. They must be watching her right now with lust in their immortal eyes.
The Roman cups the Amazonās chin in her hand, then leans in to kiss the helpless womanās soft, full lips. āAnd you cannot free yourself,ā she growls, her voice thick with animal lust. Her body presses against that of the naked warrior, the heat of her arousal obvious through the thin fabric of the toga. āYouāre too weak to remove your bonds without aid. As long as the collar remains about your neck, you will be mine. Forever.ā She adds a second finger to the Amazonās cunt, sliding them easily in and out without resistance. āHow does that make you feel?ā
The Amazon desperately struggles to resist answering, but⦠itās no good. Her strength is gone. She has only the weakness of submission left in her, and she can no longer deny what it does to her soaking cunt. āIt⦠arouses me, Mistress,ā she sighs out at last. And although she was defeated before, that is the moment where she truly surrenders.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
Getting Ready for Mistress
It was the stroking that always got to him. Jerald never remembered it was a trigger until it was too late; he got home from work at the end of a long day, feeling horny and exhausted and knowing full well that Bianca wasnāt going to be home for another two hours, and it always seemed like a good idea to go and spend a little of that time in the bedroom relieving his sexual tension. He wasnāt worried that he would leave himself too spent to make love to his wife. Bianca always had a gift for making him hard.
And at first, thoughts of his wife seemed to be exactly what Jerald needed. His hand wrapped around the flushed, coral-hued head of his cock, already so slick with precum that he didnāt even need lube, and he imagined Biancaās long red hair trailing down his chest as he began to stroke. He pictured her wide mouth parting in a sinful smile as she kissed her way down his belly to nuzzle his shaft with her soft red lips. His balls tightened with excitement as he thought of her pale, perfect breasts, capped with those beautiful pink nipples⦠but he didnāt cum. Not quite yet.
Slowly, dreamily, it dawned on Jerald as he stroked that ānot quite yetā kept stretching out farther and farther as his hand relentlessly slid up and down on his aching shaft, that the image of his wife in his mind made him impossibly hard but the teasing smile she wore in his thoughts only grew more and more amused by his growing need. Sheād done something to him, he realized distantly, recalling night after night of mesmerized bliss inside the pure and perfect pleasure of her voice and her will. Sheād made it impossible for him to cum without permission. No matter how hard or how fast he strokedāand oh god, he was jacking it so hard and fast right nowāhe couldnāt make himself climax. Not until Bianca got home.
And every single time, when he finally decided to give up and roll over to get some sleep before he begged his beautiful lover and hypnotic Mistress for release on her return, Jerald discovered the hard way that his stroking hand was the only part of him that could still move. His other muscles simply refused to obey his commands, leaving him paralyzed on the bed even as his own fingers relentlessly teased him to greater and greater heights of arousal. He was so impossibly fucking horny, so needy and hard and dripping with the desire to cum. But he couldnāt move. He couldnāt even really think anymore. His tongue slowly extended from his mouth, sticking out in a nub between his lips, but that was all that came of his efforts to resist.
And when Bianca came home, she found him just like that. Naked, supine, and motionless save for the constant stroking of his own raging erection. āGood boy,ā she purred, undressing at the foot of the bed so that Jerald could see every inch of her skin as it was exposed. āThatās my good little fuckdoll. You want to be my good little fucktoy, donāt you?ā Jerald couldnāt answerāeven if he could move his lips to respond, Bianca was already straddling his face and rubbing herself on his tongue like it was a sex toy. But she knew exactly what he thought. It was why he suggested the suggestion he forgot every day⦠and why tomorrow, sheād find him in the exact same place, ready to be used all over again.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
Living the Game
āItās just a game, right?ā Jessie asked, the first time he bent her over the rack and attached the suction cups to her nipples. Of course it was, Luke assured her. They were just having a little fun with her fetish, borrowing one of the old low-capacity milking machines from the barn and putting it to a slightly different use for a few days. It didnāt mean that he didnāt see her as anything less than a human being; she was his wife, after all. They loved each other. If she had a fantasy about something like this, well, he just wanted to give her what she wanted. That was all.
āItās just a game, right?ā she asked, slipping into the cow-print bikini bottom before leaning in to present her hanging tits for his inspection. Absolutely, Luke told her warmly, bouncing her heavy breasts in his hands before hooking her back up to the milking machine for another go. Jessie enjoyed it, after all, and it clearly made her wet when he used her like this. The cute little swimsuit that she wore for her nipple-teasing sessions always came away from her labia absolutely soaked. She liked being milked, and wearing things that made her feel a little more⦠bovine⦠only enhanced the experience. That was all.
āItās just a game, right?ā she asked, over the sound of the cowbell that hung on a collar around her neck. Unquestionably, Luke replied, giving her a condescending pat on the rump. The little details theyād been addingāthe collar, the bell, the cute little headgear with the cow ears and cartoonish hornsāthose were just for fun. They just helped her get a little bit more into character. All Jessie needed to do was say the word and heād disconnect the pumps and unlock the padlocks that cuffed her into position in the milking rack. She always had the right to say no. And if she still wanted to walk into their little stall and give her udders up to him⦠that was just her kink. That was all.
āItās just a game, right?ā Jessie asked, nervously turning the birth control pill over and over in her fingers and staring at it as if hypnotized. Without a doubt, Luke purred condescendingly, giving her udders a gentle squeeze that forced a lowing whimper from Jessieās lips. Any doctor would tell her that when a woman stopped pumping, it wasnāt long before her body got the message and stopped expressing milk. If she ever wanted to stop, sheād be able to go back to normal without any permanent changes. And in the meanwhile, if she truly wanted to make her milking sessions more real, then Luke was happy to help. Because he loved her. That was all.
āItās j-just a game, right?ā Jessie whimpered, squirming and rubbing her thighs together as spurt after thick, creamy milk gushed from her dangling udders. It was, Luke replied, his voice smooth and calming in her ears. The audio files he made for her to listen to were just something to keep her mind occupied when she was bent over with nothing to do and drunk on the endorphins released by the constant stimulation of her sensitive nipples. They werenāt having any kind of effect on her. She was just enjoying the fantasy a little bit more now that she needed to pump as much as she did. If she caught herself mooing sometimes while he fucked her from behind in the milking stall, that was just an enjoyable detail that made their sex better. That was all.
āM-m-mooooo?ā she asked, her voice filled with a confusion so deep that she didnāt even know what she was asking anymore. Without words, the only hint that it was even a question was her tone. But Luke understood what she meant. She was a good cow, he responded, giving her a pat on the rump and hooking her back up to the milking machine. She was a good cow who had a silly dream that she was a person, but now it was over and she was much happier. She was there to be fucked and milked. To be owned. That was all.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
Captured by a Glimpse
Jenny realized a fraction of a second too late what sheād done. She was looking in the mirror again. And as always, her gaze was drawn instantly down to the smooth, soft expanse of her pale pink breasts. She had just enough time to understand that she was falling victim to the trigger again before her hands moved automatically to pull up her top and rhythmically bounce and squeeze and grope her sensitive tits. Then her thoughts simply⦠scattered.
She could feel her awareness growing hazy and distant, separating her rapidly simplifying consciousness from her actions as her disassociation grew. The woman in the mirror was squishing and fondling those soft, tingling titties, not her. It was a strangerās voice she heard, mumbling out, āIām milking my mind away.ā The breasts she was staring at didnāt belong to her, not really, any more than the body that she was loosely tethered to did. She was a slave to her tits. And her compulsive, relentless fondling proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Gradually, Jennyās mind settled into a state of passive acceptance. Her body swayed slightly in place, drunk on sensation as the constantly moving fingers worked the soft flesh of her breasts. She slowly forgot the wary, distrustful part of her mind that tried so hard to keep her from looking into mirrors and seeing her enormous tits, the part that failed so badly and so often because it was weak and small compared to the vast reservoir of obedience filling her subconscious. All that mattered was pleasure now, and Jenny felt that more and more strongly every time she repeated her mantra and played with her boobs. āIām milking my mind away.ā She sounded happier every time she said it.
Her breathing became shaky, the intense sensation making her gasp one heaving breath out after another that only served to attract her gaze more and more strongly to her mesmerizing tits. Tiny droplets of liquid spattered onto them, and it was only once Jenny had worked the slick fluid into the soft skin that she realized she was drooling on herself. She felt totally detached from her body, a passenger in her head watching the landscape drift by without any real involvement or control. The woman in the mirror was chanting, not her. The woman in the mirror was compliant and submissive. Jenny was just along for the ride.
She could hear the voice growing unsteady, the chants taking on a whimpery, desperate quality that sounded almost like Jennyās hypnotized slave self was forgetting the words. At the same time, the tingling in her breasts intensifiedāJenny recognized the sensation, she knew that her climax was building. Ever since she first started to explore her body, Jenny had found that her boobs were sensitive enough to make her cum just by touching them; now, that same susceptibility to pleasure was being used against her. Every orgasm rewarded her for following her suggestions and obeying the trigger in her brain. Each time, Jennyās will dropped away that much easier. Soon, her tits would control her completely.
āIām muh, muh⦠Iām milking mmmmuhā¦.ā Each āmmmā sound became harder and harder to pronounce, the ecstatic sensation of surrendering her will to the spell of hypnotic control tugging at her weary, confused mind until even the mantra slipped away into drowsy bliss. She started over, but this time she only got as far as, āIām mmmmmuh⦠I'mmmmmmuhhhhā¦ā before her brain fogged over again and she lost the thread. And when she finally whimpered out, āI'mmmmmmmMMMMMOOOOOO!ā, Jenny finally experienced the climax she craved and knew she would never be free.
(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)
(Crossposted to my BDSMlr account which Iām no longer allowed to link to. Itās not hard to find there, though.)
How to get your Sub in subspace, a guide for beginners
Ā Although everyone into the BDSM scene has heard of endorphins, actually very, very few people really understand what they are, how they work, what the āhighā is all about and how one can correctly induce the body to produce them. This short primer will answer those questions, and serve as a guide for anyone topping another so that they may successfully send their bottom into a very deep endorphin stupor! (Also known as leaving them in a big puddle of quivering ecstasy!)
The endorphin high is caused by a bunch of natural, morphine-like chemicals the body pumps into your brain to reduce your sensitivity to pain (thus raising your pain threshold.) The fact that the body seems to release these endorphins in measured āloadsā is a key to understanding how to āplayā the body to produce these āloadsā and āreleaseā them into the body and brain region when the āloadā is ready. One has to keep in mind that another chemical ā adrenalin ā is also produced by the body in reaction to pain, and its behavior should be understood also. This is covered later more thoroughly in the section at the end on aftercare ā which is a VERY essential element in guaranteeing the success of the effort, as you will see.
The endorphin āloadsā as they are available in the body are released in their entirety, and after a āloadā is released, it takes the body about ten minutes to generate the chemicals for another one. After the body has been induced to release (or āinjectā) a āloadā into the system, you must then continue stimulating the body for at least ten minutes in some manner before the body will be ready to release another one. This stimulation can be just about anything ā sensation play, light paddling or flogging, light caning, etc. ā and it does not have to be intense or even nearly match the intensity of stimulation that had caused the release of the last āload.ā
Once prepared, an increase in stimulation over a five minute span up to a measured āclimaxā will trigger the body to release the freshly prepared āloadā (based upon the submissiveās current pain threshold, āmeasuredā to push them over a new edge.)
So, armed with this information, what does a session look like from the topās and bottomās point of view? This should break it down for you.
When a scene first starts, there are no endorphins in the submissive, and even fairly light torment is very stingy, ouchy, and, well, painful! There is an endorphin reserve already in place that is awaiting release into oneās body in case of an emergency, and after just a few minutes of even relatively mild stimulation building to a mild climax, this reserve āloadā is released, and suddenly the pain threshold clearly rises and the subject can easily tolerate what earlier may have been pushing their limits, making them jump around and squirm, for instance. This new, more pain tolerant state is Level One. There is no altered state of consciousness yet ā but there is an increased pain threshold.
Once this has happened, for the top itās basically just about treading water for ten minutes and doing anything that provides relatively light but constant stimulation to induce the bottomās body to prepare/create their next āloadā for release. This is a good time for sensation play, or light paddling, flogging or whipping ā and since the only requirement is that it remain fairly constant stimulation, it is a chance for the top to relax for a bit, since the stimulation can be very mild and be easy and relaxing to apply during this time.
Once the ten minutes has passed, a build in intensity over a subsequent five minute period will excite the body to a peak, and a sudden 10ā15 seconds or so of intense stimulation just beyond the personās current pain threshold limit will trigger the body to eject its freshly made, current load into the bloodstream. Now the bottom will be atĀ Level Two ā with still no perceivable altered state of consciousness (beyond panting in relief that you, the top, have ceased with the intense bit!), but there is a considerableĀ and noticeable leap in pain threshold now.
Following this, again, ten minutes of mild, easy stimulation to provoke the body into generating the next load as quickly as possible. Keep this well below the pain threshold youāve now created, with just a little intense whack, etc. every so often, about a minute apart. This will keep the adrenalin build up to a minimum, for reasons explained later on. Take it easy, tops, relax, rest that arm and wrist a bit! Then, this relaxing ten minutes is followed with five minutes of building the intensity again to well above the previous level, as the bottomās pain threshold is pretty high already now and they can take a lot more before the body interprets this as being āin crisisā and thus triggers the endorphinsā release. Finished off with 10ā15 seconds (up to a minute) of a real intense, over the edge push, and the body will inject that next load.
Now atĀ Level Three, the bottom will definitely feel a little bit āwoozyā ā exhibiting a āmildly druggedā state. Their eyelids should become heavier seeming, and they will fall into a more relaxed condition than before, with more low moans and groans, and with their inhibitions becoming more relaxed. Again, applying ten minutes of any relatively mild stimulation (donāt have to work hard, tops!), followed by a five minute build to a 10ā15 second intense climax now that is WELL beyond the previous one, will result in the next endorphin āloadā being released to push the bottom into a very nice Level Four head space.
At this Level Four state, there will be a very definite altered state of consciousness in evidence, and the bottom will feel clearly drugged and will be very compliant and submissive now. This is countered, however, by the largest charges of adrenalin they have received so far (from the intense climax just used to push them over this āedgeā), so they are still quite communicative and their reaction time is still quick (even hypersensitive ā a small whack with a paddle, cane or whip can now generate a huge amount of twitching or jerking of the subjectās body with certain bottoms.) Now, during the ten minute ātreading waterā period for the top, the moans and groans will be longer and deeper, the body often limp in itās restraints, and the reactions to the occasional harder 'strikesā will be obvious and even somewhat amplified. This is the tops finest time ā they can still relax and obviously not be exerting themselves very hard, yet produce fine moans of ecstasy from their bottom with hardly any provocation! The pain threshold is high, even if the reaction time is increased due to the adrenalin, so harder occasional strikes are welcomed, and the reactions are certainly encouraging!
After this ten minute āendorphin replenishmentā period, now it is important to be very sensitive to the limit levels crossed earlier, as you begin that five minute build in intensity that will end in the most intense limit pushing you might do with the bottom for this session (if you are stopping at level five). The bottom will have a very high pain threshold at this time, but also will be fairly groggy (in spite of the adrenalin-fueled reaction times) and less able to communicate their safe word ā in fact, will now be so compliant that it is very UNLIKELY that they would use it even if they should do so! So, push this āgrand finaleā with finesse and sensitivity to what is going on with your bottom! At the other end of the 10ā30 second climactic build in intensity ā in a wonderful blast ā this latest endorphin load will push the bottom into Level Five: a state of supreme ecstasy, docility, and the ability to take just about anything you could throw at them. They will become very limp and relaxed very suddenly ā and be very clearly in an altered state of consciousness now.
This is the point most people end the scene and remove the bottom to cloak them in a blanket and begin the all-important aftercare ⦠and unless you know your bottom extremely well, this is where the session should end. However, for those in that category of knowing their bottomās limits and abilities quite well, the rules and timing are the same as with the earlier segments. Now, your 'mildā stimulation could be fairly intense if you wanted it to be, and the bottom will become extremely submissive ā and receptive ā and accepting of any amount of stimulation you could lay on them. This is a dangerous condition, because there is NO WAY a person will utter a safe word in this condition ā they can barely talk at all! So, it is best to keep the stimulation relatively intense but not too too (Note: the stronger intensity applied now will hold up the adrenalin levels, and the combination with the elevated endorphins levels creates a condition of intense excitement and of simultaneously intense ecstatic relaxation for the bottom, so theyāll be into receiving whatever is being doled out. More on adrenalin in a minute, though!) Again, finish off after the ten minutes with a building in intensity to one beyond that reached earlier, with a 10ā15 second extreme point, and the next 'loadā will be released. So, now we have brought the bottom to a very amazingĀ Level Six! (But, again, this should only be attempted with a bottom whose limits and abilities are already very well known! The top is working without the benefit of safe words being utterable, in most cases by this time, so care must be exercised this whole while.)
With all the adrenalin now in the body ā as well as the complete release of inhibitions from the heavy dosing of endorphins now in their brain ā behavior of the bottom can become unpredictable at this point, and you should be prepared to restrain against some wild thrashing and arm flailing that could take place (at least be out of harmās way!) The person/bottom is going to be in such an intensely altered state of consciousness now that their reactions could possibly be of an extremely primitive nature, and they may be capable of only 'animal-likeā noises and reactions, and no or very little recognizable speech. So, watch out! Following this reasoning, approach the subject as you would a wild animal ā very gently, talking soothingly and gesturing in a calming manner. Be prepared for sudden wild jerking, or seeming attempts to 'get away.ā And donāt take it personally! At Level Six, this person is totally ga-ga! Be assured, they are enjoying every millisecond of this experience! And a very long period of dreaminess is now in store for them ā if their aftercare is handled properly!
So, why do I go on and on about the aftercare? The work of putting endorphins into the subjectās body is finished, right? Well, yes, but you have also succeeded in putting very, very large amounts of adrenalin into their system, and adrenalin is tricky stuff. Even at Level Four, aftercare is important now because of they way adrenalin burns off ā it burns off very quickly ā compared to endorphins, which burn off very slowly. At Level Five or Level Six, there is enough adrenalin in the body that it will take 10 to 20 minutes for it to burn off (even up to half an hour!), and during this time, the bottom very likely will experience a number of adrenalin 'crashesā (similar in a way to coffee jags), and some of these can be very intense ā and even quite frightening! They will need to be kept warm and be held and comforted AT LEAST throughout this period of adrenalin burn-off. My feeling is that if you donāt care enough for the bottom to enjoy cuddling and caressing with them for up to half an hour, you probably shouldnāt be taking them to any Level Six endorphin/adrenalin levels! (Or even perhaps to a Level Four!)
This adrenalin ācrashā experience for the bottom is something many, many tops are unaware of, and they have no concept of the amount of harm they could be doing to someoneās psychological state by not performing adequate, loving, fondling and comforting aftercare during this time. All the bottom needs now is to be held and to hold you (or whoever you assign to perform aftercare) back ā in order to be comforted by your presence, and to be allowed to make you become the entire focus of their awareness. No stroking, or massage, or other stimulus is needed or even desirable at this time. What is important is to keep in verbal contact with the bottom (not requiring words as responses, merely nods), instructing them every little while to relax. The adrenalin will have them in a very agitated state ā high heart beat and breathing levels, etc. ā and this situation is completely counter to the endorphin experience.Sure, they have a ton of endorphins in their system, but the adrenalin is presently holding them off from experiencing the full effect of them. The topās guidance is extremely important at this time to help them relax through the adrenalin burn-off period.
The important thing to realize is that, if not actually 'talked downā out of the adrenalin agitation, the person could easily never allow themselves to relax enough to even feel the massive content of endorphins that currently exist in their system! (Maybe youāve all seen the bottom who, after 45 minutes to an hour of intense stimulation to the point of near-total collapse on the cross or bench, is released and ā after a mere couple of minutes ā is just mingling around and talking and mixing with people as if nothing ever happened. These people are floating on a self sustained adrenalin buzz. This not only is likely to be unhealthy, but these bottoms are cheating themselves out of a long, long stretch of total endorphin-induced ecstasy!)
Step-By-Step Aftercare Instructions
So, while gently holding the bottom and letting them hold you back, coo softly and comfort them, and tell them to go ahead and to let themselves relax. You will feel them do so as they comply to your wishes, as they are quite docile and compliant to receiving instructions at this point. But they will also slowly tense up again from the adrenalin. Keep reminding them to relax, telling them to give themselves permission to relax totally. As they begin to succeed at doing this after a while, some will encounter a frightening feeling, which some describe feeling as if 'falling off a cliff,ā and they will tense up a great deal from fright in that event. Or, they might encounter a feeling of intense 'blacknessā (as the endorphins get a chance to relax even their optic nerve) and they will freak out and pull back from relaxing again.
If they report such experiences (or even before they do) tell them not to fear that, but to let it go and pass through it ā telling them to relax themselves through the sensation of falling or blackness with the understanding that this is quite normal and is a common experience. Once they do that, having learned to ārelax through itā, they will be āin itā after that point, and will begin to relax very deeply, very often seeing colors and beautiful technicolor visions and dreamlike landscapes, spaces and places. How sweet!
Once this happens (which, again, will take at least 10 minutes ā and up to a half hour for some, depending on the amount of adrenalin that they must burn off), then your bottom needs only a little more loving attention, and can then be left bundled in a blanket somewhere on their own to float in a happy bubble, very possibly for hours!
Tops should be mindful of the fact that if they had intended to have sexual play with their bottom, they should probably fit that in around level three or four, for after hitting level five, their bottom may be too floaty to be able to concentrate for long on what they are doing. Then again, that can sometimes result in extremely passionate and inhibition-free indulgence, resulting in heights of ecstasy and orgasm never before experienced. But, if your bottom drifts out on you or loses their erection, donāt say I didnāt warn you! Thereās no telling which way they will go at level 5 or 6!
āFlyingā
There is another factor that can produce an altered state of consciousness FAR FAR beyond even that of the most extreme endorphin experience. This is experienced by submissives whose intense focus upon their Master or Mistress (their Dominant) ā and upon pleasing them ā eventually leads to a hallucinogenic kind of altered state known commonly in the BDSM community as āflying,ā having an almost mythological aura surrounding the word by now, though for very good reasons! It is probably the most profound experience one can have as a submissive. It involves a state of intense devotion towards the dominant (who is not just a mere ātopā at this point!) that borders upon religious worship, with complete trust and a total commitment to please and satisfy them thoroughly. Through the attainment of a complete selflessness and focus on the dominant, a transformation takes place that is very, very deep, almost trance-like.It can become so profound as to produce an extended, hallucinogenic state that is very wonderful and blissful. Many have reported even seeing visions under the spell of this āflyingā effect. All have attested to the profound sense of peace and bliss they have experienced while even near the āedgeā of this state.
This āflyingā state can be attained by some with very little endorphin content in their system (some say even with none, but Iām quite certain most folks have attained at least a level Three or Level Four endorphin high in order to trigger the total release of inhibitions which this psychological state seems to require, at least generally speaking.) With practice, the release into this āflyingā submissive-space should come easier and easier, eventually with even a mere suggestion being able to trigger the effect for some with very little or even no endorphin content being in the picture. COMBINED with the level 5 or 6 endorphin head space, there likely can be no deeper state of ecstasy possible for the bottom ā short of total enlightenment! Until such an experience of full enlightenment can be accomplished, perhaps the attainment of this interim bliss is quite acceptable, and certainly should be considered an attractive and enjoyable state to be in! The secret ingredients are intense focus; a commitment to please the dominant utterly; and complete and total devotion! These ingredients ā with some endorphins in the mix ā should produce a quite satisfying effect for both the submissive and the dominant!
(Disclaimer ā I am not a medical doctor, I assume no responsibility for people who try to use this information or for the effects which may arise from the application of the information above. As resulting from my personal knowledge, research and experiences, I can, however, assure you that this information is completely accurate to act as a guide for those exploring these effects as part of their own BDSM explorations.)
This a brilliant, a must read for anyone who doesnāt understand fully how sub space works! Whatās even more important is understanding the aftercare needed and why itās so critical.
Of course this more relevant to the real life Doms out there
I am rebloging this now and I will reblog it on Wisdom Wednesday. This is fundamental information and should be a mandatory read for all Doms.
This is a āmust readā for both Tops and bottoms. Especially the part about aftercare, the most critical part of play.
~Sir GreyWolf šŗ
@lovemynewlife
This is an excellent reference. I must say, as related by several subs over many years, most aspects of this piece are accurate.
Each submissive may require slight adjustments. It is vitally important to pay close attention, be a keen observer, demonstrate patience and follow through with intention. And, especially when you are worthy of her worship, the results are a priceless gift!
Will always reblog thisā¦ā¦
For the Anon a little while ago asking about levels of subspace, hereās the article you were looking for.Ā
A really solid guide to subspace. I must write one up about getting into 'edgespaceā sometime!
āYouāre getting weaker.ā Marcieās voice was calm, almost clinical, a complete contrast to the sensual way her fingers stroked and caressed Ryanās cock. āHow long has it been since youāve tried to fight me, hmm? A day? Two? Do you even know what time means anymore, pretty pet? I donāt think you do. I donāt think thereās much left in that empty little head of yours. You just want to make me happy now, isnāt that right.ā She didnāt make it sound like a question, and her hand curled into the hair at the nape of his neck and forced him to nod. It still felt impossible to deny.
Even so, Ryanās brain turned reflexively to the question. He tried to remember how long it had been since his world had been reduced to Marcieās bed and Marcieās voice and Marcieās touch, his eyes going glassy and unfocused as he retreated into his foggy and confused brain and struggled to make it function. It was futile; Marcie only teased him with the promise of thought so that she could demonstrate her ability to erode it with constant pleasure, but Ryan couldnāt stop himself from trying. It was another way she crushed his will. He was too weak to stop it anymore.
He remembered flashes, jumbled and out of order and free from time. Cool water dripping down his throat, the medicinal aftertaste catching him off-guard again. Slow, stumbling visits to the bathroom, his groggy mind processing the absence of shackles only as a sign that he was finally earning Marcieās trust. Earbuds playing soft music underlaid with Marcieās lilting voice, reminding him over and over that the only freedom from the drugs and the captivity was through erasing his own mind for her. Endless spirals swirling on an inescapable screen.
And down at the very bottom, so deep he couldnāt even connect to it anymore, the memory of his body betraying him, going numb and collapsing as he looked up at his girlfriend and asked her, āā¦why?ā And Marcieās smile, going out of focus and becoming a blur as she eagerly explained.
āBecause I can,ā she purred, pulling his clothes off to leave him limp and naked on her kitchen floor. āAll these conditioning techniques weāve been studying, all the things our professors have told us about behavior modification⦠havenāt you ever wondered how far they could go? Havenāt you ever asked yourself what you could do to another person if you just had all the time you needed to program them?ā
She dragged him to the bedroom. He was already there, he was there right now staring vacantly up at Marcie and nodding or being nodded as his cock throbbed under her ministrations, but he knew that she brought him here before. And when she did, when she chained him to the bed and dripped a little more of the hypnotic drug down his throat, she said, āThatās you. Iām going to remake you, turn you from a bright young pre-med student into an empty, brainwashed slave. Weāve got all summer together. Nobodyās expecting you anywhere. Iāve got all the medicine I need to keep you groggy and receptive. By the time classes resume, youāll be more than happy to sign the drop papers yourself. And then youāll be mine. Wonāt that be wonderful?ā
Ryan nodded again. At Marcieās words then or now, he couldnāt remember anymore. All he knew was that Marcie was right.
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Brianna was almost ready. The subliminals had been playing for hours, a faint whisper just below the threshold of consciousness that sheād stopped noticing within seconds of stepping into the hotel room. They lulled her into a reverie of soft, teasing arousal, seducing her with suggestions she couldnāt quite hear and making the thought of leaving seem just a little too much like work to her exhausted brain. It was such a long flight, she thought, flopping onto the bed in a haze of sudden lethargy. And the conference doesnāt start until tomorrow. And I deserve to treat myself. Iāll order room service, get a good nightās sleep, and be up bright and early for the first day of presentations.
By the time room service arrived, she was already playing with herself. She managed to pull her hand out of her panties when she heard the knock on the door, but the waiter could see the glassy look in her eyes and the expression of barely suppressed lust on her face when he brought in her food. She mumbled a perfunctory āthank youā, signed off on the bill, and practically shoved him out of the room in her eagerness to be alone again. Her clit was tingling, her nipples were stiff and aching, and she just wanted to eat and get herself off and go to sleep.
(The waiter reported back everything heād seen. It was received quite enthusiastically.)
Food removed the last distraction from the urgent need she felt between her legs, and soon Brianna had all her clothes off and was lying on the bed. Strangely, despite the urgency of her arousal, Brianna found her fingers slowly circling around and around her clit as her other hand teased her nipples. She could feel the intensity of the tingling in her cunt, the kind of sexual heat that would send her rummaging through her drawers for her biggest dildo when she was at home⦠but here, she simply couldnāt muster up the energy to fuck herself. Itās the flight, she decided. Iām just exhausted, is all. I have plenty of time. Itās barely even dark out. Iāll just keep⦠keep playing. Keep rubbing.
Brianna put the choppy, disjointed nature of her stream of consciousness down to exhaustion as well. She was wrong, but the subliminals didnāt allow her to understand the true reasons for her actions. They led her down a false trail of rationalizations until she stopped even trying to explain to herself why she was lying on the bed and slowly, helplessly teasing her cunt until the mattress beneath her was absolutely soaked. Until her drowsy, groggy mind simply gave up the ghost and let her world become a waking dream, one where she endlessly rubbed her slick flesh until the only thing in her head was erotic bliss.
Eventually, she even gave up fantasizing. She just stared at the ceiling, daydreams of cute co-workers and Hollywood stars faded into numb lethargy, eyes fixed on a random swirl of paint, sinking into the euphoric glow of arousal and playing with herself until her brain simply disassociated. She forgot that she was trying to make herself come. She forgot about the conference. She forgot about sleep. She became a passenger in her own head, watching her body mindlessly obey the subliminal messages without any real interest. She was almost, almost ready.
And then she heard herself say, āReady for programming.ā Just like the subliminals told her to. And her unseen observers knew Phase Two could begin.
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By the third day, Diep knew she was never going to escape. She had looped around the vicious circle too many times, her mind tangling itself in knots of helpless pleasure so thoroughly that she couldnāt cut through them to think about how to get away from Quanās palatial estate. She remembered arriving, but every time she tried to find her way out of the vast maze of rooms and chambers she wound up getting lost and confused. She inevitably stumbled on a person before she stumbled on an exit, and as soon as they saw the translucent swimsuit Diep wore, they knew just what to do.
And Diep couldnāt stop them. Her willpower had melted away into pleasure by the end of Quanās party, and it always seemed so easy to let them slip around behind her and play with her full, luscious tits until she was a mindless, drooling mess. Something about the way that her sensitive nipples tingled with arousal always sapped Diepās resistance, and it wasnāt long before she was staring blankly into the distance as a complete stranger worked her own saliva into the sheer fabric of her swimsuit as Diepās mind retreated back into her conditioning. And once she was blank and empty like a good titslave, Diep always let herself be passively led down the one route she knew by heartāback to Quanās brainwashing room.
Every time she returned, Diep found it more and more difficult to leave. The soft music masked Quanās mellow voice, making his instructions sound like the whisperās of Diepās own fantasies as she played with her own tits and stared vacantly at the sea of swirling colors that played across the screen on the far wall. She lost herself for hours along with the other women, eating when fed and speaking when spoken to, her body kept in a constant state of mindless arousal that distracted her and weakened her will. When she finally remembered that she needed to escape, she was so deep in the fog of lust that her mind couldnāt even process things like clothing. The swimsuit that her groggy brain already associated with the bliss of obedience was the only thing she could imagine herself wearing now.
But even then, she held out hope for a few days that she could shake the slow, crumbling erosion of her resistance and find a way out. She just needed to slip off long enough to get a night of real sleep, peel off the swimsuit and finger her dripping cunt until she had a genuine orgasm to clear the haze of arousal that drifted through her mind. She knew that she wasnāt far from Saigon, she knew that Quan would never dare come after her once she was back with her friends and family. She just needed to keep trying. Sooner or later she would escape⦠or at least, that was what she thought until the third day. When she found Thu.
Diep stumbled upon Thu while wandering through the east wing, her mazy eyes flickering over random doors and stairways in an effort to find the way out. The other woman wore a swimsuit just like Diepās, practically see-through and tight enough that her tits strained against the sheer fabric. She looked more focused than Diep, but only marginallyāDiep didnāt recognize her, but that didnāt mean anything. She didnāt look at anything in the brainwashing room but the screen. She could have been sitting right next to Thu all day and not even known it.
āIā¦ā Thuās voice broke with exhausted relief. āDo you know the way out? My nameās Thu, I was at a party last night and Quan, um⦠he, Iā¦ā She paused, staring blankly at Diep in an effort to collect her scattered thoughts. āI think together we can make it. We just need to keep each other focused. If we can just get out of here, I think weāll be⦠beā¦ā Her voice trailed into silence as Diep reached up and began to play with her tits.
āYes, we need to focus,ā Diep heard herself say, her voice an empty monotone. āWe need to focus on obedience. On pleasure. Are you focused on pleasure, Thu?ā The other womanās head wobbled, lolling in an effort to resist the nod that Diep knew she wanted to give. Her hands slowly rose up to mirror Diepās careful, methodical caresses. Her eyes locked onto Diepās, losing volition. That was the moment when Diep knew she was Quanās slave forever.
āI am⦠focused on pleasure,ā Thu sighed, a trickle of drool escaping her lips as she spoke. She leaned into Diepās touch, giving herself over completely to her conditioning. After a while, they led each other back to the brainwashing room. Thu slipped away a few hours later, but Diep didnāt notice. She was staring at the screen⦠and playing with her tits.
The Girl in the Mirror
To whoever finds these pages,
I am writing down these memories in the hope that recording my experiences might awaken me from this awful nightmare. Or at the very least, help preserve what remains of my sanity. If you stumble across these words, I pray they are not too late to save you from the fate that has befallen me.
Because I should not be here.
I belong in another life. In another, quite different reality.
Yet now I realise how little it takes to stumble between worlds. The gentle push of Ā a sudden squall, a soaking deluge on a dim dank late October evening. A split-second decision to veer into the nearest doorway to shelter.
As the cold rain teemed down, without an end in sight, I began to pay more attention to my surroundings, and realised I beneath the porch of a quaint old antique shop.
Impulsively, I decided to venture inside. A tinny brass bell tinkled as I entered, although not loudly enough to wake the shopkeeper, a white-whiskered gentleman who continued to snooze obliviously behind the counter.
I walked past him, slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb his slumbers. The interior was a ramshackle collection of worn-out furniture and curios. The gaps between the merchandise had been eaten away by the additional of new items, to the point where the walkways through the shop were so challengingly narrow it felt more like an obstacle course than a retail space.
I weaved through the jumble carefully, trying not to bump or break anything. The palette of the shop were shades of tired time-worn browns, the rusty dusty dressed colour of items whose original owners had passed, and their inheritors too. Those who had once cared for and polished these items were long dead, their bodies decayed to mud or incinerated. Yet their possessions had endured. Even though their furniture had died long before them, being fashioned from the corpses of long-dead trees.
This was, I realised, a mausoleum of what had once been treasured. A requiem to the furnishings that had once brought such joy to their homes, and which now sat in musty silence, mourning their owners, awaiting the chance of a new one.
I began to see the items around me differently. Not as tired old junk, but merely dormant, just like the shopkeeper.
That was when my attention was captured by a dressing table, and in particular, its strange old oval mirror. There was an odd sharpness to its silver rim, one that made it seem like a still pool of water, somehow captured upright. Its glass seemed ethereal, almost impossibly clear, in stark contrast to the scratched and pitted wood of the table underneath.
My reflection gazed back at me, with clarity and depth that belied the dim light of my surroundings. I had the eerie sensation that if I concentrated hard enough, I could begin to see things beyond my own reflection. I thought I caught a glimpse of a rudimentary bed, covers bulging as if someone was sleeping beneath. Alarmed, I span around to check behind me. But I found myself quite alone. With no sign of a bed of any kind.
I turned to walk away, but couldnāt help looking over my shoulder at my diminishing reflection. It was so vivid, shining as if backlit amid the piles of gloomy clutter stacked around it. Each step further away from it made my tummy churn, as if I was already missing it.
The shopkeeperās eyes blinked open as I passed him. He asked me if Iād seen anything I liked, nodding when I mentioned the old dressing table. Its price was surprisingly reasonable. Recklessly, daringly, I decided to buy it.
.
.
.
The old dressing table was delivered to my home the following day. I had it placed at the foot of the bed, so its wonderful luminous mirror could throw its light across my bedroom. I liked to lie on my bed and stare at it, especially as I masturbated, with my legs spread wide, my intimate manipulations reflected back to me in perfect clarity.
Then, a few days after it arrived, I began to notice weird aberrations in the reflection, objects in the bedroom not quite appearing where they should be.
In the days that followed, the discrepancies between my room and the reflection seemed to increase. Until one morning I was shocked to see something moving in the reflected image. It seemed to be a person, a young woman. It did not appear to be me. Startled, I looked around anxiously, but found myself alone.
I peered closer, the fuzzy image sharpening, replacing the reflection of my own surroundings the more I concentrated on it. Now I could see the girl beyond was standing in front of her own bed, which looked like the one Iād momentarily seen in the shop.
Details of her face began to resolve, and I noticed for the first time she was wearing a bridle bar gag in her mouth, which opened her lips into a provocative pout. She was remarkably pretty, I found myself jealously wishing I was as eye-catchingly beautiful.
The woman loomed closer, lifting her flimsy gown and looking over her shoulder to examine herself. I realised then she must be looking into a mirror of her own. As she hitched up her hem, she revealed that she was not only wearing nothing underneath, but that her bottom was bright pink, with the telltale overlapping rectangular bands of a recent strapping. She inspected her marks in full view of me, as if I was standing right in front of her, my magical mirror giving me an extraordinarily intimate view.
Can she see me? I remember wondering. Does she know Iām watching her?
As I spied on her, she began to rub her spanked bottom with both hands, often pausing her massage to let her forefinger stray between her cheeks. As she pulled her buttocks wider, I noticed a silvery glint from between her legs, which I initially thought was some kind of labial jewellery.
Her fingertip was circling her bottom hole now, the crinkled little hollow clearly on display, as if she wanted me to see everything.
Overcome by the urge to play, I stripped off and sat on the edge of the bottom of my bed, as close as I could get to my mirror, and the compelling scene beyond. I spread my legs wide, stroking my drippy slit before l let my finger drift lower, until I was circling my own bottom like the girl I was watching.
I could not hear the girl I was watching, so I had no idea if she was panting, or emitting little mews of satisfaction as she played. I couldnāt see her other hand, but assumed it was circling her clit, just as my other hand was doing. I wondered if she could hear me, my moans and my squelching?
I saw her turn around, and peer towards me. Suddenly, I was looking into the eyes of the girl in the mirror. Her expression didnāt change, but it seemed that our gazes connected. Somehow I felt that I knew her, and caught glimpses of her memories.
Painful memories.
Of abandonment. Loneliness. Salvation. And bondage.
I could hear the clink of chains. And the cries of floggings.
I stared at the mirror, overcome by a sudden feeling of vertigo, as if I was peering over the rim into an endless hole. But unable to stop.
Carried away, I continued rubbing, and the beauty in the mirror stared into my eyes as I reached the point of no return. Iām sure I saw her smile.
.
.
And then, I must have fainted.
They call it la petite mort.
The little death.
I came, more intensely than Iād ever done before.
And something inexplicable happened.
.
.
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Low-Fi Brainwashing
Everyone always imagined that an Agency brainwashing suite had to be some kind of top-secret room in the basement of the Pentagon, with a gleaming chrome chair for them to lock people into and a helmet to clamp over the hapless victimās head so that they could pump sixteen kinds of impossible radiation directly into their brains. But the Agency had learned the value of going low-fidelity over the years. Spiriting someone off to Arlington every time you had an asset that needed conditioning was a pain in the ass, and it wasnāt exactly like you could smuggle a giant metal settee in your carry-on. Better to find a technique that would work anywhere, with equipment you could find in just about any city in America, and adapt it to circumstances.
That was what Kelsey was finding out the hard way, as she wriggled and writhed on the bed in a desperate attempt to resist the pleasure that slowly saturated her mind and body. She struggled against Ā the restraints, trying to squirm away from the buzzing massage vibrator resting gently between her thighs.. or even just to squirm a little closer to it, so she could get her rocks off and end the constant, delicious torment that fogged her brain with endless need. But the man at the end of the bed held it just close enough to keep the stimulation going, while never letting Kelsey cum. She thought she was going to go insane.
The voice in her ears didnāt help, either. It kept promising her more and more pleasure if only she gave in and obeyed, an end to the constant cycle of near-climaxes that kept Kelsey whimpering and mewling into her gag. She tried to block it out, but the hotel room was utterly devoid of any kind of sensory stimulus that she could use to distract herself from the buzzing, tingling arousal in her clit and the slow, measured tones telling her to give in and surrender. She didnāt even have a clock to look at. All Kelsey could do was moan and gasp and drip her arousal onto the mattress. She didnāt know how much more she could take.
Eventually, her struggles ceased. Her muscles simply felt too exhausted to keep pulling against the restraints, and her mind felt too groggy and weak and passive to pretend that resistance still had meaning for her. There was no escape from the pleasure, after all. There was no escape from the voice that trickled into her ears and kept reminding her how helpless she was. All Kelsey could do now was let the words flow over her, retreat into her own mind and try to keep herself from falling into the endless sea of bliss that the voice promised if only she surrendered to her conditioning and obeyed. She went blank and passive, waiting desperately for a chance to escape that never came.
The agent gave her a few more hours after her body stopped moving before he removed the gag. He gave her water, enough to replace what sheād lost from dehydration and the slow, steady trickle between her thighs, and pried her eyelid open to check her progress. She barely even twitched. Her eye didnāt refocus on him at all. She was almost completely gone⦠but the Agency was nothing if not thorough, and the last thing they wanted was an inconvenient relapse into resistance at an awkward moment. He replaced the gag, put his earplugs in, and restarted the recording. And with a desperate, broken whimper of arousal, Kelsey let the words flow into her again.
When Mark came back out, Nadine was sitting on the porch by the pool. Her massive tits had spilled completely out of her swimsuit, which now hung open to her waist, and she was caressing her ample breasts with her eyes shut and an expression of helpless arousal on her face. Mark tried not to smile as he knelt down in front of her and snapped his fingers to get her attention. āNae-nae?ā he said to her, his voice dripping with patient condescension. āYou, um, you popped out a little there.ā
Nadineās eyes fluttered open just long enough for her to stare down at her chest. āOh,ā she mumbled, her voice mazy and confused. āI, itā¦ā Her fingers kept rubbing and kneading the soft flesh as she spoke, groping herself with an unthinking arousal that kept her mind distracted and hazy. āHow that happen?ā Her brow furrowed, the effort of thought already too much for her groggy, overloaded brain. āI was, I wasā¦ā she trailed off into silence, her eyelids already slipping shut again as she tweaked and tugged on her sensitive nipples.
āYou were swimming in the pool,ā Mark said, sitting down in front of her and running his hands up and down her inner thighs. Nadineās legs spread even wider, and she let out a tiny mewl of delight as he continued speaking. āYou went for a nice, long swim in the warm water, and every time you got out, I told you how good it would feel to go back in. Remember?ā His tone was firm, smooth, calm and commanding. It slotted into Nadineās thoughts like a plug fitting neatly into a socket.
āuh huh,ā she said distantly, squirming as Markās fingers brushed lightly over her fabric-covered pussy. āi, um⦠i āmember going deeperā¦ā She went silent againāit felt like words were getting harder for her with every passing second as the sensations of her own fingers on her water-slicked tits took over her dazed and fuzzy brainābut the memories seemed more vivid than ever. The feeling of euphoric delight that tugged at her mind stronger and stronger every time she listened to Markās suggestions and went back into the pool. The arousal that drew her deeper into thoughtless bliss as the water soaked into her skin. It felt⦠she feltā¦
āYou feel relaxed and compliant,ā Mark said, as if reading her thoughts. His fingers slipped inside her swimsuit, finding her slick and messy cunt and fucking it as he spoke. āThe chemicals in the water took away all those silly thoughts and made your mind so blissfully small and empty for me, didnāt it?ā He didnāt even sound like he was giving Nadine commands anymore; his words sounded like implacable, irresistible facts, as impossible to argue with as the speaking clock. Nadineās pussy clenched tightly, responding instinctively to that kind of authority now.
āumm, ām, umā¦ā Nadineās head lolled forward, drool dripping down onto her tits as she struggled to make her mind work as anything but a battery for her lust. ālllaxed⦠ānd cum, cum⦠pliant.ā She was openly panting with arousal now, squirming under Markās touch as her body got closer and closer to climax. āp, please fuhhh, please fuck me Masterā¦ā She didnāt notice the last word that slipped out of her lips. It simply came to her all on its own, like the images of Markās cock plowing her slick cunt.
āOf course, pretty slave,ā Mark purred, pulling her swimsuit aside to expose her pussy. Heād left his own back insideāone of the advantages to having a private pool was knowing that he could go naked whenever he wanted. The other was being able to fill the pool with anything he felt like putting in⦠an advantage Nadine was just beginning to truly realize.
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