Your old name is redundant, I'll come up with a much prettier pet name for you.
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@greenlondon
Your old name is redundant, I'll come up with a much prettier pet name for you.
To Give it Back to me
Let’s keep you right here. Right on the edge.
“Oh, God, yes Sir, I’m so close.”
Good girl. I saw your calendar.
“Oh, ngh… you did?”
Yes. I think it’s so cute that you’ve been counting down the days to your orgasm.
“Well… I’m excited.”
I’ll bet you are. Are you ready for it?
“Yes, Sir. So ready. Please may I cum?”
Not yet. I’m going to count down, slowly, while we keep you right on the edge. When I get to zero, you may cum.
“Oh thank you, Sir.”
Unless you decide to give it back to me. Fifteen.
“Wait… I… I get to cum, right?”
Fourteen. Yes, you’ll have my permission to cum, just like I promised. A nice, full orgasm. As soon as we reach zero. Thriteen.
“But… you said unless I give it to you…”
Twelve. Right. Unless you want to give it up for me, instead.
“But… are you telling me to give it up?”
Eleven. No, no, no… this is your orgasm. It’s been six months, and I promised. I can’t fault a desperate little slut for wanting to cum.
“I do want to cum. Really bad.”
Ten. I know you do. And it’s so close now. Nine.
“But… do you want me to cum?”
Eight. You’ll have my permission.
“Sir… do you want me to, though?”
Seven. Of course not. You know I don’t like you to cum. But a promise is a promise. Six.
“Oh, Sir…”
Get ready. It’s almost time for you to cum. It’s going to feel so nice. Five.
“No… Sir… I’m not going to cum. I’m going to give it to you.”
You are? Are you sure that’s what you want? Four.
“Yes, Sir. I just want to make you happy. I want to be your good girl.”
Three. It does make me happy. So happy, little one. Are you sure? Two.
“Yes, Sir. Good girls don’t cum, and that’s all I want. I don’t need to cum.”
You’re such a remarkable girl. I’m so proud of you. Are you ready? One.
“Yes, Sir. Please take my orgasm.”
Okay, let it go. No, no. No thrusting at the air. Legs open. Keep very still. I want you to feel every moment as it goes away.
“Ng… Y-yes, Sir.”
This one is so sweet. I’m so glad you gave it to me.
Th-hank you, Sir.
Oh, you’re shaking. Come here and let me hold you. Shhhh. We’ll give you another chance in six months, okay?
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
You’re welcome. Snuggle in really close, now. This was such an amazing gift, and you know what?
“What?”
I hope you never cum again.
“Me, too Sir.”
I like fucking you past the point where you can participate. There’s this moment where your hands stop gripping the sheets and just go slack and your voice drops from moaning to this low broken humming. Your eyes are open but you’re not behind them anymore. And I just keep going. Rocking into you while your body goes heavy and loose underneath me, your head tilting to the side, your mouth wet and slack against the pillow. Every thrust pushes you a little further away from consciousness. I can feel your pussy still reacting, still squeezing, still wet and warm and pulling me in, but you’re somewhere else entirely. Just this broken thing breathing underneath me while I use you. I cum in you while you’re fading and your hips roll up into me one last time. Muscle memory.
And then I pull out, clean you up, and tuck the covers around you.
You’ll wake up in the morning sore in places that make you blush. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand. And draped over the chair by the bed is what I’ve picked for you today. The skirt that’s just short enough. The collar you pretend is a choker when your coworkers ask. The underwear that’s barely there, or maybe no underwear at all, just a plug and the understanding that you’ll wear it until I tell you otherwise. Everything folded neatly. Everything chosen. Head to toe… from the heels to the shade of lipstick I want to see on you later.
And you put it on. Every piece. You put it on because waking up to a laid-out outfit means someone thought about you before you were conscious. Someone looked at you asleep and dripping with their cum and thought about what they wanted you to be today. Someone wanted you so specifically that they planned your entire surface down to the details.
Wanting to be wanted is the most universal feeling there is. And there’s no bigger proof of that want than someone reshaping you into exactly what they need. Choosing which version of you walks out the door. That kind of attention means you’re being thought about, whether you’re in their bed ready to be fucked or not. It means you exist in someone’s mind as a project they’re building with their own hands, and there’s no bigger compliment than that.
Now go get dressed and be the fuckdoll I’ve always wanted.
need an owner to teach me how to rub my puppy parts against their thigh.
grabbing my hips and helping me slowly drag them up and down until I get so needy I start humping his thigh on my own, getting my puppy juices all over his pants, senselessly whining and pawing at his chest until I cum without his permission and get put in the cage while he jerks off above me 3: nghahshshjsjajkakw i need an owner/s
"Give up control" this, "you're totally under my command" that. What about aggressively trusting and safe hypno. What if I made them brainless and empty with the promise that everything is okay and that I love them. What if I held them gently and reassured them the entire time What Then
Okay but domesticating hypno dynamics.
Sitting next to your dom(me) while they play games, and you're staring at a spiral, drooling, bouncing on a toy...
Your dom(me) and you folding laundry. They get bored, and suddenly you're sucking them off. But you didn't realize time passed, you two were just doing laundry.
Yeah
independent and high achieving girl who wants nothing more than to kneel at your feet and kiss your hands
a girl who's been praised for her strength who really just wants to melt into your arms and look up at you adoringly.
a girl who only felt valued for intelligence and academic success who just wants to let her mind go blank as you touch her all over, looking at you doe-eyed and making pretty gasps as you fuck her stupid
Thinking about being an academic's crowning achievement. Years of failed studies, failed grants and failed theories....then they find me. Suddenly everything works. Their papers get published, their reputation grows and their colleagues stop laughing. Every promotion, every award, every ounce of prestige is built on what they managed to do to me.
At some point they stop looking at me like a person. I am evidence. I am proof. A living demonstration of their work. Something to be studied, refined, displayed, something that belongs in their lab because after investing years into dismantling and rebuilding a mind piece by piece, who wouldn't get attached?
They tell themselves their interest is purely academic, that they're simply protecting years of research but nobody spends that much time shaping a mind without becoming possessive of the outcome. Nobody pours that much effort into creating something without eventually starting to think of it as theirs.
The best worst part isn't that the professor changed me but it's that they documented every step. They mapped out every weakness, they recorded every reaction. Every piece of resistance carefully removed and replaced with something more useful. They can point to entire sections of their career and say:
"That's where I taught them to stop fighting."
"That's where they started depending on me."
"That's where the conditioning finally held."
To everyone else, it's groundbreaking research. To me, it's an autobiography written by someone else.
NEED to be cockwarming someone under their desk while they do important work and occasionally pet my hair affectionately
Be a good girl and drool for me. I want to see how much you'll humiliate yourself before I slide my cock inside you.
When they make you super dumb and proceed to ask really difficult questions just so they can mock how stupid and vapid you become for them. Nothing but a toy, no thoughts just a wet cunt to use.
For basically as long as I can remember the hottest part of mind control/hypno has never been the part when you get to use them. Its always the part when they lose. Its the moment you know their mind is gone, they are in your complete control, and they are helpless to stop you~
"Remote control toy"
But it's just a brainless sub that'll mindlessly obey any task given
"What was your name, sweetie?" She asks, as you struggle against the restraints. You would be a lot more insulted if you could remember yourself...
Thinking about lazily and sloppily sucking his cock while his hands are in my hair, partly holding it back, partly gently scratching my scalp, but wholly guiding my throat just how he wants it and how good it feels to be used for his pleasure like that
It is so mind-numbingly hot when a Dom tells you no. No, you can’t touch yourself. No, you aren’t allowed to cum. No, I’m not going to use your pathetic little hole. You get so fucking desperate when you feel that helpless, when you’re begging and pleading with them just for them to deny you. When they remind you that you’re only there for their enjoyment, and they’re more than happy to take your pleasure away on a whim. Because to them, you’re just a toy to play with and abuse. Nothing makes me needier. Nothing makes me want it more than being told I can’t have it.