So I guess I should make a pinned post and I’m sure it’ll change as I go.
I decided to make this blog to explore more of a submissive role since I’ve been getting more enjoyment recently out of it.
I’m 28, M and if any F dommes or other F subs would like to chat, I’m open to it. I will not be sending money or sending photos, I would have to be extremely comfortable first and had to have met IRL (which isn’t going to happen) before that happens.
I respect everyone’s choices and positions in life, but I’m not a sissy/trans blog, I won’t really interact with male dom blogs…I’m personally not into any of it, but if any of them need a space, I’m here.
Enjoy what I share, maybe I’ll share some stories or write captions of my own at some point.
This was your happy space. Head empty, letting your hypnotist sink their claws into your brain. “You’re better off like this, toy.” They said, as you sat, limb, relaxed, in the chair beneath them. “Trapped in trance, mindless for me. Letting me do all your thinking for you.”
It felt so good. To be blissfully blank for them. “You don’t have to worry here, do you? No, you just relax, and let me take charge.” Their weight, pressed against your legs, was keeping you centred on who was in charge, and it wasn’t you. You didn’t want to be in charge.
“Give up all your willpower, all your responsibility. It feels best when you’re not in control.” They paused, their hands brushing down your bare chest. “When I’m in control. So, sink deeper, toy. Let your brain absorb my presence. My power.”
It felt like your brain was a sponge, soaking in warm water, absorbing their voice, their control. “Let yourself be overwhelmed by me. This is when you’re happiest, isn’t it, toy? Happy, and blank, and brainless. Owned and controlled. Such a good toy for me.”
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
She had a new file. A new conditioning file. This was different he had said. This one would have a bigger impact then any of the others. After listening to it every evening for 6 weeks as she went to sleep she hadn’t noticed any difference. Although she always felt to tired after she listened and she couldn’t really remember what was on the file.
She took her headphones off, and started to drift away, except her top was uncomfortable all of a sudden. She shifted around a bit. Had her top shrunk in the wash? It was really stretched across her large breasts. Wait. We’re her breasts always that large? Yes of course they had. She must remember she was always a busty bimbo. She loved being a busty bimbo. Was that right? Wasn’t she at university? Did bimbo’s go to university? She was too tired to think about this now. She was always too tired to think. Thinking was hard. Better to be asleep. Busty bimbos sleep and obey she thought, closing her eyes and letting sleep overcome her.
I can't resist anymore. Whoever is breaking me is in complete control. I am helpless needy and obedient. I never want them to stop. I need to be endlessly broken further and further.
PLEASE PLEASE I BEG YOU TO HELP EACH OTHER MAKING ME INTO A HELPLESS OBEDIENT TOY! PLEASE!!!
“You thought you were going to be touching yourself?” Your hypnotist said, laughing at you. “Oh, silly toy. We don’t need your hands to make you feel good.” They leant forwards, eyes boring into yours. “No. All we need is my voice. Shh, my weak, sleepy plaything.”
As they ‘Shh’ed you, your mind began to grow hazy, and foggy. They pressed a finger to your lips. “Shh, and drop, and drift.” Your eyes rolled up, and then closed, slipping into trance. “Let my voice encircle you. Flooding your mind. Flooding your body.”
You felt it, as they said it. Their words entering you. “You don’t need to think. You just need to listen, you just need to drop. That’s it… And with every word I say, feel yourself becoming more turned on. More aroused. More desperate.” As they carried on speaking, you let out a gasp.
The arousal was sudden, but undeniable. A want for more. To touch, to be touched. “The flame of your lust being stoked more, and more intensely. Awh, are you a desperate needy toy? You are, aren’t you?” They nodded your head for you, with a single finger beneath your chin.
The agreement just turned you on more. “And now… feel that arousal converging, between your legs. Feel my voice, dancing down there, each word a movement of bliss. Like your pleasure is being drawn out of you. It feels so good, doesn’t it, toy?” Your lips parted. A desperate cry.
“Yes, that’s it, moan for me.” They said, laughing again. “You sound so good like that. Get lost in the sensation of ever-increasing pleasure. You don’t need physical stimulation, when my voice can make you feel like this… Sink deeper.” Your mind was rolling with the sensations.
Every word they said felt like a pulse of pleasure, washing from your extremities to your core. “More turned on. Closer to the edge. Oh, that’s it. You want to cum, don’t you? Maybe I’ll let you. Maybe. It’s up to me. My voice has all the power here, doesn’t it?”
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
“Did I say you could stop?” Your hypnotist asked, as you sat, quivering, in post orgasm bliss. Your mind took a moment to catch up – they hadn’t told you to stop touching… So… Your body was reacting before you had finished processing the thought.
More touching. More pleasure. Only… This was more intense. “That’s it toy… You’re still under my control, no matter how much your body feels like it can’t take any more. So, keep going.” Your mind was crumbling again, any semblance of thought was dissolving.
The pleasure and their control were intertwining, wrapping around your brain, and crushing it. You let out a soft whimper as the pleasure continued to grow, continued to pulse, and spike. “Awh, what’s wrong?” Your hypnotist cooed down at you, as you writhed.
“Is it too much sensation? Are you feeling overstimulated? Has it begun to hurt yet?” That last question was asked with a… vindictive tone. And it was beginning to hurt. The spikes of pleasure were becoming small brushes of pain. They were laughing as you gasped.
“Good. I want you to hurt for me. To suffer for me. I want you to feel your submission through the sensations that creep through you. Pleasure can be a source of pain, just as surely as impact can, toy. Keep going. You can stop when I tell you, okay?”
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
“Scrolling is better than sex.” That was what the ad had said. Maybe you shouldn’t have clicked that link. But you were horny, and needy, and so fucking desperate. You just wanted to feel good. You just wanted to find more porn to watch. So, you had clicked.
Now your phone wasn’t responding to you. The pretty pictures, and videos kept on scrolling automatically. Soaking your brain, and body, in all the pleasure and dopamine you could handle. Your hand was moving absent mindedly between your legs.
But cumming wasn’t really on your mind. You were gooning by this point. The only thing you could focus on was the images, the videos. Occasionally, a spiral would cover the screen, and words would fill your ears. Encouraging you to sink deeper. All you could do was obey.
And that was okay. You didn’t want to do anything else. You just wanted to become more braindead, more obsessed, needier, hornier. Why would you stop? You had all the porn you could ever need, right here. That ad was right. Scrolling is better than sex. Of course it is.
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
Your hands were stuck in a loop, between your legs, touching you, pulling you closer, and closer to the edge, then, right as you were about to cum, your brain would switch off. Then you’d come back up, and need to touch more. “Touch, drop, obey, toy.” Your hypnotist said.
Your hands were drawing pleasure from wells you didn’t know existed. “That’s all you need to do. Is touch, and drop, and obey.” It felt too good to even think about stopping. Not that you could think. “The more you touch, the more you drop, the more obedient you’re being.”
That logic tracked. As much as anything did in your head right now. “So, just keep touching. Get lost in the pleasure for me.” Your eyes rolled up as you reached the edge, your body went limp, and then came back up. Your mind was so hazy… You only knew to touch.
“That’s it… Sink deeper. Drop further.” They sounded so pleased with you. “Touch. Drop. Obey. Such a good toy for me. My obedient little pleasure puppet. Helpless to do anything but sink further into pleasure for me. Because it feels too good to stop. Touch, drop, and obey!”
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
You felt their teeth at your thigh, biting, sharp pressure, that pushed all the thoughts out of your head. And then they pulled back, leaving you feel drained, and kind of hazy. You felt them lean up, looking at you, and your hypnotist laughed. “That was just one, toy.”
Their fingers trailed over where they had bitten. “Just one hypnotic bite, and look at you, you’re already struggling to hold on. They moved up to your stomach, then your chest, and leant in again. The bite was harder this time, it focussed all your attention on it.
By the time they pulled back, you realised that your thoughts were even more distant, harder to collect. They laughed. “You look so cute like this, chewtoy. A helpless little object I can play with. That was two… One more, and you’ll be completely gone.”
They moved higher up your body, face to face with you, they were grinning, a malevolent grin. Before you could gather your scattered thoughts, they leant down, teeth to your neck. This time it was like a switch had been flipped in your brain, turning your mind off.
Your entire world was focussed on the feeling of their teeth at your neck. And it felt so good. Such an intimate area, being bitten so hungrily. You felt your empty mind being drained away, replaced by their will, their control. You were their chewtoy. Their plaything.
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
You couldn’t move. The bindings had you held too tightly. You couldn’t see. The blackout lenses blocked all light. And then you had the words of your hypnotist being pumped into your ears, a short loop, focusing on making you more desperate, more aroused, more sensitive.
And with you like this, immobile, blinded, and unable to hear the outside world, their hands were the only thing you could focus on. The only thing you wanted to feel. And they were happy to oblige. Squeezing, rubbing. Your mouth was open, though you couldn’t hear your moans.
You were just being wrapped in the desire for more. It had started out gentle. A light touch here, a nail softly dragging against your skin there. But now their hands were so much rougher. Fondling, and grabbing. Squeezing tight every place you had ever wanted.
And you only wanted it to continue. The touches were delightful. The feeling left you so desperate. Every time their hands left, you only wanted them back. You were their blank, obedient toy. An object to be touched, and used. And it was the only thing you wanted to be.
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
The party was in full swing—cheap beer, pounding music, bodies pressed together in the cramped living room of some senior's off-campus house. Sarah clutched her red cup and leaned into Joe's shoulder, content. He was sweet. A bit nerdy maybe—skinny, brown hair, glasses—but hers.
"Yo, check this out!" Some guy—Brad, maybe?—waved a box. Bright pink, glittery lettering: ROLE WITH IT: TWENTY QUESTIONS. "Found it in the attic. Instructions say you stick a name on someone's head, they gotta guess who they are. Get it right, you win. Get it wrong..." He shrugged. "Dunno. Let's find out."
Someone scrawled a name on a post-it. Sarah didn't see what. Before she could object, Brad slapped it onto Joe's forehead.
"Hey—" Joe started.
"Rules are rules, bro! Twenty yes-or-no questions. We only answer yes or no. Guess who you are and you win!"
Joe rolled his eyes but played along. "Fine. Question one: Am I female?"
"Yes."
The word hung in the air. Sarah felt something—like a ripple, a shift—and suddenly Joe was... different. Still Joe, recognisably, but female. Softer jaw, slight swell at the chest, narrower shoulders. She—he—stood there in an oversized band tee and jeans, blinking.
No one else seemed to notice. Sarah's cup was still in her hand. The party continued.
"Weird," Sarah murmured, but the concern wouldn't quite form. It was like trying to hold water.
"Question two," Joe pressed on, oblivious. "Am I a celebrity?"
"No."
Nothing happened. A few people laughed.
"Am I over thirty?"
"No."
"Am I a teacher?"
"No."
Two wrong. Joe frowned, feeling the post-it on her forehead. Something was itching underneath it—like a whisper at the edge of hearing. You know you want to guess...
She changed tack.
"Am I blonde?"
"Yes."
Mmmmmh. The sound escaped Joe's lips before she could stop it. Her brown hair shimmered, lightened, stretched—silky platinum-blonde cascading past her shoulders, thick and lustrous. She ran her fingers through it and shivered.
(Oh fuck that feels good—)
"Looking good, Joe!" someone hooted. Sarah laughed along, though her stomach tightened.
"Do I work out?"
"Yes."
Joe's body tightened. The softness of her female form firmed, toned, became sculpted. Her legs lengthened, lean and tanned. Her stomach flattened into subtle definition. She stretched, feeling the new power in her limbs, and grinned.
(Fuck yes—)
"Do I have a perfect ass?"
"Yes."
Her jeans strained. Her ass swelled—round, firm, a juicy bubble that jutted out like it was begging to be grabbed. Joe reached back and squeezed it, biting her lip.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
"Do I have big, perfect tits?"
"Yes."
The band tee tented. Swelled. Ripped. D-cup breasts, impossibly round and perky, burst free, barely contained by a lacy pink bra that hadn't existed moments before. Joe moaned—actually moaned—cupping them, feeling the weight, the sensitivity.
(Oh god oh fuck they're so sensitive I can't—)
"Joe..." Sarah said weakly, but her boyfriend wasn't listening. Her boyfriend was squeezing her new tits in the middle of the party and loving it.
"Do I have a tight pussy?"
"Yes."
Joe's hand flew between her thighs. The jeans had become a tiny skirt at some point—she hadn't noticed when—and her fingers pressed against damp lace. She gasped. The sensation was overwhelming—hot, slick, clenching. Her pussy tightened impossibly, a perfect little vice, and she could feel how wet she was getting.
"Oh fuck—" she whimpered, fingers pressing harder. (So tight so wet need something inside need—)
"Do I have a perfect asshole?"
"Yes."
Her other hand reached back, fingers brushing the tight little rosebud beneath her perfect cheeks. She shuddered. It was sensitive—so sensitive—tingling with potential. A wicked thought flickered through her mind: I could take cock there too. I could take it anywhere.
She was built for pleasure.
"Am I popular?"
"Yes."
The room shifted. People turned—no longer amused, but drawn. Hungry for attention. For her attention. Joe felt it like a drug, a surge of validation flooding her brain. She stood taller. Tossed her hair.
"Am I pretty?"
"Yes."
Her face rearranged. Fuller lips, cockier expression, higher cheekbones. Long lashes fluttered over eyes that were turning—blue, piercing, cruel. Her skin bronzed. Her nails lengthened, painted pink.
(Who am I who am I I'm so close—)
"Do I have hot nails and makeup?"
"Yes."
Perfect winged eyeliner. Contour. Glossy pink lips. Acrylics. Joe—no, not-Joe—examined her flawless hands and felt a rush of pure, bratty satisfaction.
"Am I... Ashley Spencer?"
"YES."
The transformation slammed home.
She grew three inches. Her body filled out—gym-toned perfection, tanned and tight. Her clothes reformed into a tiny pink crop top and matching mini-skirt, heels that added four inches. A designer bag appeared at her shoulder. Her phone—pink case, naturally—pinged with notifications.
Ashley Spencer stood in the middle of the party, exactly where she belonged.
She reached up, peeled the post-it from her forehead, and crumpled it in her perfect pink nails.
"Like, obviously," she sneered, tossing it over her shoulder.
Her blue eyes scanned the room and landed on Sarah, who was staring with a confused, hollow expression.
"Can I help you?" Ashley snapped. "You're in my way, loser."
Sarah opened her mouth. That's my boyfriend. That's Joe. We were... we were...
What were they?
"You look so clueless right now," Ashley continued, lip curling. "Did you actually think you could talk to me? Ew." She shouldered past, knocking Sarah's cup from her hand.
Two guys—hot, muscular, exactly the type—fell into step beside her. She grabbed them by their collars, dragging them toward the bedroom.
"Come on, boys. Ashley's bored."
The door slammed.
---
The bedroom was dark except for the streetlight filtering through the blinds. Ashley pushed the first guy—Tyler, some quarterback—onto the bed and straddled him while the second, some thick-necked frat boy whose name she didn't care to remember, positioned himself behind her.
She was already wet. Had been since the transformation. Her body hummed with need—insatiable, greedy, perfect.
Tyler's cock was thick and hard against her thigh. She pulled her crop top over her head, set her perfect tits free, and wrapped her pink-manicured fingers around his shaft.
"Mmmmmh," she purred, stroking him slowly. "Let's play a game, baby."
She leaned down, letting her blonde hair fall across his chest, and dragged her tongue along the underside of his cock. He groaned.
"Twenty questions," she whispered. "But I already know all the answers."
She took him into her mouth—slowly, deliberately, lips sealed tight as she sank down his length. Her tongue swirled. Her cheeks hollowed. She pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him through her lashes.
"Do I give the best blowjobs?"
"Fuck—yes—" Tyler gasped, hands fisting the sheets.
Ashley smiled around his cock and took him deeper, bobbing her head in long, luxurious strokes. She could feel the frat boy behind her, his hands gripping her hips, his cock nudging at her entrance.
She pulled off again, a string of saliva connecting her lips to Tyler's tip. "Do I have the tightest pussy?"
The frat boy pushed into her and they both moaned.
"Oh my god—" he choked out. "So fucking tight—yes—"
Ashley threw her head back and laughed, high and cruel and delighted. Her pussy clenched around him like a vice, dripping wet, impossibly snug. She rocked back onto his cock, feeling every inch stretch her out, and bent forward to take Tyler between her lips again.
She was spitroasted between them—two big cocks filling her from both ends—and it felt like winning. Like power. Like everything she was always meant to be.
Tyler's hands found her tits, squeezing, pinching her nipples. She moaned around his shaft, the vibration making him twitch. The frat boy grabbed her hips and fucked her harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
Ashley pulled off Tyler's cock with a gasp, stroking him rapidly, her blue eyes locked on his desperate face.
"Do I look pretty with your cum on my tits?"
"Fuck—yes—Ashley, please—"
She laughed again and sank her mouth down to his balls, sucking one gently while her hand worked his shaft. The frat boy was pounding her now, grunting, his rhythm turning erratic.
"Cum on my tits," she commanded, pulling off Tyler and turning her upper body just enough to present her perfect chest. "Do it. Now."
Tyler stroked himself twice and exploded—thick ropes of hot white splashing across her D-cups, coating her smooth tanned skin. Ashley shuddered with delight, rubbing it in with her fingers, bringing them to her lips to taste.
"Mmmmmh. Delicious."
The frat boy slammed into her one final time and emptied himself inside her, groaning her name like a prayer. Ashley clenched around him, milking every drop, her own orgasm rippling through her body.
---
Through the crack in the door, Sarah watched.
She watched the blonde goddess—who was that again?—wipe cum from her tits and lick her fingers clean. Watched her push the two guys away and check her phone. Watched her reapply her lip gloss in the mirror like nothing had happened.
Joe, Sarah thought one last time.
The name dissolved.
---
Ashley adjusted her top in the bedroom mirror and smirked. She didn't remember any Joe. Why would she? She'd always been here. Always been this.
The two guys were pulling their clothes back on, staring at her like she was a goddess. Which, obviously, she was.
Ashley pulled out her phone. Opened the camera. Flipped it to selfie mode.
Cum still glistened on her chest—thick white streaks across those perfect D-cups, a drop clinging to her collarbone. Her blonde hair was messy. Her lip gloss slightly smeared. Her eye makeup just a little smudged.
She looked fucked.
She looked perfect.
She pouted at the camera—full lips, bedroom eyes, cum on her tits like jewelry—and snapped. Then another. And another. Different angles. Different expressions. All of them gorgeous. All of them her.
She scrolled through the photos, selecting the best one. The one where the cum caught the light just right, where her tits looked impossibly round, where her expression said I own you.
Posted to her private story. Caption: 💕👑
The likes started rolling in within seconds.
Ashley Spencer checked her reflection one more time. Still covered in cum. Still flawless. Still her.
"How do you feel watching your best friend being conditioned Slave?" He asked, watching her play with herself uncontrollably.
"Wonderful Sir. It makes me so horny to know I betrayed her at your command. Part of me tried so hard to resist. l love Lisa for who she is, and I know you will turn her into something she would hate, but it was just so hot knowing that you said I could be the one to help with her pleasure conditioning. That when she was under your control you would let me play with her. I didn't even like girls before Sir, but now the idea of fucking Lisa for your entertainment makes me so fucking wet. Please Sir, can I eat her out whilst the file melts her brain?"
She felt so needy. She hadn’t fucked a guy for an hour. Jesus, when did that become a thing. Sex didn’t used to be a big deal for her. She had even gone to therapy to resolve her low libido. Hypnotherapy. That had been her mistake. She knew that now. Not that knowing it helped her.
After one session she had felt like her libido had gone up 100% so she went back. Again and again. Each time she found her arousal increasing but she couldn’t ever seem to orgasm. On her own, with any of the guys she dated, even on the one occasion she experimented with another woman. After 3 months she asked her therapist about it. He smiled and said there was something they could do about that.
The next session they had she came harder then she had ever done in her life. She went back every week after that. It became habitual. He took her deeper and deeper into trance every time, consistently telling her how her arousal was connected to his voice, how his voice had allowed her to find her libido, how his voice allowed her to cum. Only his voice. It got to the point where she would cum whenever he told her to, only when he told her to. He wouldn’t even need to trance her. Just saying a word took her from zero to orgasm in seconds.
Then he stopped letting her orgasm and her life changed. Suddenly it wasn’t enough to pay for a session in order to be rewarded with an orgasm. She had to let him touch her whilst she was in trance. To play with her body while he conditioned her to respond his touch. To his commands. After a while she found herself following his commands even when not in a trance. Feeling a surge of arousal when she knelt at his command. Heating up when he told her to open her mouth. Bringing herself almost to orgasm in response to being told to suck his cock. Her association with cumming was now completely tied to her obedience to his commands, and all of his commands were sexual.
She tried not to go back so many times. She told herself it was better to live a life without orgasms then to be used as a sexual object in this way. But it never lasted long. After a day or so she would be crawling the walls, her phone would ring and she would be on her knees obediently sucking his cock within the hour.
She gave up resisting after a while, resigned to her fate. He seemed to sense her resignation, which had led to the call this morning. The one telling her to buy the clothes she was wearing. To put them on in the shop and bin her other clothes. She was going to be a hooker, he had told her. A streetwalking whore for him. She wouldn’t be allowed to cum until she brought him her earnings from a night’s work. She had shivered at the thought. Firstly with revulsion, and then to her shame with arousal as she imagined herself being fucked by a stranger for money. It had been a year since her first session and in that time he had broken her. Taking her through increasingly desperate cycles of need to the point where she was about to sell her body for money, and feeling so incredibly aroused by the thought of it.
She had fucked 3 guys since then. 3 strangers. She felt her conditioning strengthen after each one and she realised her need had been programmed to increase with each customer. She knew she should have fought harder. She knew what she was being made to do wasn’t right. And yet all she had said to him on that call this morning, before she went out to follow his commands was “Yes Sir.”
"I see you've finally watched the new corporate training videos," he said.
"Yes, sir," she purred in response. "They were very educational."
The signs were easy to spot in most of the girls even without talking to them. The makeup, the clothes, the distinct lack of a bra. And in her particular case, the pretty smile that replaced the permanent scowl she normally wore whenever they talked.
"Get your tits out."
He spoke as if he was asking her to hand him some paperwork but her response was immediate, ripping her blouse open without hesitation.
"I've always wanted to get a closer look at those," he said with a smirk. "I think it would improve morale if they were bigger though."
She nodded, grinning. "Yes, sir. Anything for the company, sir."
"Good girl. And speaking of your newfound devotion, you'll need to stay late tonight. Will that be a problem?"
"Not at all, sir," she said. "I broke up with my boyfriend after watching the first training video."
With that, he simply pushed back his chair and pointed. His former boss sank to her hands and knees, tits swaying gently as she crawled to her new duties.
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