Natalie's Compulsive Behavior
She… she was doing it again, wasn’t she? Carefully, Natalie forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings despite the beckoning presence of the swirling spiral in front of her. She was at her computer, once again visiting a website that promised to brainwash her into the compliant slut she’d always secretly longed to be. She was wearing the chunky pink headphones she purchased a couple of weeks ago on an impulse she only later realized didn’t belong to her at all. And she was… yes, Natalie was topless again, her pert pink breasts and puffy nipples fully on display to a webcam she didn’t remember activating. She’d definitely slid back into the dangerous habit of obedience.
Of course she remembered once she thought about it. She’d gotten home from another grueling day of academic torture, her PhD studies so relentlessly taxing that all Natalie wanted to do was switch her overheated brain off for a few hours; and while her fellow students might do that with weed or booze or reality television, Natalie’s unconscious mind had another option available to her. One that always lurked in the back of her head, tempting her with sexual pleasure and the bliss of surrendering to an uncomplicated existence of giggly, obedient bliss. Natalie never had to make choices when she was hypnotized. She never had to struggle with the weight of her decisions. She could simply take her top off, stare into the spiral until her eyes crossed and her tongue extended in vapid, drooling euphoria, and do as she was told. Was it any wonder she had trouble resisting?
But it had begun to concern her. The sheer unthinking automaticity of the way Natalie came home to her tiny little efficiency apartment, shucked off her clothes, and mechanically scarfed down whatever food she’d grabbed on the way home before sitting down in front of the computer to edge herself stupid seemed a little… compulsive. Not even necessarily because of the hypnosis, although Natalie admitted her decision to begin doing live-cam sessions on the site so any stranger could tune in to her channel and see her staring vapidly into space with drool all over her tits was probably not something she would have imagined herself doing before three solid months of listening to files shifted the window of ‘normal’ in her brainwashed brain. No, it was more of an addictive pattern of behavior, a coping mechanism that was becoming less and less healthy. She’d resolved to stop.
She was doing a terrible job. Even now, Natalie realized, her deep brown eyes were wide with captivated amazement, stuck back on the heart of the spiral as if magnetized, and she couldn’t stop fingering her sopping cunt despite her best efforts. Whatever resolve she thought she possessed, it was no match for the hypnotic suggestions and the pleasure reward she received and the soul-deep satisfaction she got out of switching her mind off and letting herself become a blank, giggly fucktoy for a while. This was the… the third night this week she’d succumbed? The fourth? Natalie suddenly couldn’t remember how numbers worked, and that made her so happy she could feel her pussy clenching around her fingers. God, she was so fucking wet right now.
But she couldn’t let herself get sucked in any deeper, no matter how happy and horny being a hypnoslut made her. Natalie resolved to stop listening, to give up on the files and the programming and everything that was gradually taking over her non-academic life. Just… just as soon as she had one good climax. With trembling fingers, she clicked the button in the corner of the screen that allowed for live chat with random visitors to the site, hoping that she could beg at least one of them to let her cum.
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