Hyp's Hip Hypno Hub

she/they. 28

[laurentidalreborn]

Triumphant Return

Twenty years.

Two decade had passed since Landon had walked these halls as a scrawny, awkward teenager, the preferred punching bag for the popular crowd. Tonight, however, was different. The post-doctoral research had concluded, the papers published in obscure journals, and the results were... spectacular. And certain people had found his research of great interest and had paid him quite handsomely to continue. Inhibiting the brain's prefrontal cortex morality centers using a precise cocktail of psychedelics and subliminal audio frequencies.

He'd proven that morality wasn't some divine gift; it was just a series of electrical impulses and chemicals. Ones that could be interrupted and redesigned.

The reunion was in full swing in the large gymnasium, a cacophony of forced laughter and desperate nostalgia. Landon spotted the DJ, a bored-looking kid in his early twenties probably hired for the night. He approached, slipping a stack of hundred-dollar bills from his inside jacket pocket.

"I've got a playlist on here," he said, slipping the kid a flash drive with the money. "Some real classics. Think you could mix it in?" The DJ's eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly, taking the flash drive and the cash.

Next was the phase two. Landon lingered by the refreshment table, waiting for a moment of distraction. When a group of former cheerleaders screeched and hugged, he made his move. He pulled a few small vials of clear liquid from his pocket, containing a synthesized derivative of psilocybin designed to lower suggestibility without causing full-blown hallucinations. He poured one each into the water, the tea, the lemonade, and the cola. Flavorless and odorless, it diffused into each drink and vanished.

He watched from a corner as the DJ plugged in the drive. The first track was a generic 90s pop song, but beneath the melody, woven into the very fabric of the sound, were Landon's messages: 

You are so horny. Your body is hot. You need to fuck. Release your inhibitions. Touch someone. Now. As the music played, people began to drink the spiked refreshments.

The effects were subtle at first. A woman named Jessica, who Landon remembered as a prudish debate team captain, started laughing too loudly. Her husband, a beefy former football player named Mark, kept shifting in his seat, his hands attempting to rest naturally on his lap, so as to hide the tent that had started to form. Landon moved closer.

"Hey Mark, remember how you always had a thing for Sarah Jenkins?" Landon said, nodding towards a petite redhead talking to her husband.

Mark blinked, his pupils slightly dilated. "Uh, yeah, man. High school crush, you know?"

Landon leaned in. "I saw her looking at you a bit ago. Go say hi. Jessica won't mind. She looks like she's having fun with Greg over there." Mark glanced over. Greg, a former classmate, was indeed talking animatedly with Jessica, who was now giggling and touching his arm. A conflict flickered in Mark's eyes, but the subliminals and the drugs were winning. He shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, and ambled over towards Sarah, the bulge in his pants now on full display.

Landon worked the room like a conductor, a puppet master of desire. He found Kevin standing with his wife. "Kev," Landon said with a respectful nod. "Remember telling me I'd never amount to anything? Remember how you gloated about how your sister would never want to date a guy like me?"

The man's eyes glazed over. Landon continued, his voice a low persuasive hum.

"You were so protective of her because you knew everyone would be after such a hot piece of ass. You were right. Did it turn you on knowing how many boys had been inside your twin sister? And she's looking at you now. Not like a sister anymore. She looks... hungry. Your wife won't notice. Everyone's just... feeling good."

Across the room, Heather, a stunning blonde, was indeed watching her brother, a strange, unfocused smile on her face. She slowly licked her lips. Kevin swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on his sister as she began to unbutton the top of her dress.

The music pulsed, the bass thumping a primal rhythm. The sublimals were relentless now. 

Clothes are restrictive. Skin wants to be touched. Fuck. Now. Here. 

A couple, neither of whom Landon recognized, were openly making out against a wall, the man's hand already up the woman's skirt. Someone shrieked with laughter, and a pair of panties flew through the air and landed on the raised basketball hoop. The room was transforming, the polite facade of the reunion crumbling into a writhing, primal orgy. Spouses were forgotten, high school hierarchies dissolved in a sea of sweat and flesh. Landon saw Mark, the football player, now with Sarah Jenkins, her dress bunched around her waist as he took her from behind against a table, her own husband watching with a dazed, aroused expression. Mark's wife was bouncing on Greg's cock not 20 feet away.

And then he saw Sharon.

She hadn't been the head cheerleader or the queen bee but she had been Landon's first unrequited love. The girl who had publicly and cruelly rejected his prom invitation, telling him he was a "creepy little bug" she wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. She was standing alone for a moment, looking around with wide, confused eyes, her lovely dress was already in a pool around her feet. Her husband, a smug investment banker Landon vaguely recognized, was currently receiving a very enthusiastic blowjob from a former student council member under the buffet table while she watched from across the gym.

"Sharon," he said simply.

She turned, her eyes focusing on him with difficulty. The drugs and the messaging had her completely pliant. "Landon? Wow. You look... different." Her voice was breathy.

"I am different," he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. Her skin was flushed, hot to the touch. She didn't flinch. She leaned into his touch. "Remember the week before prom, Sharon? Remember what you said to me?"

A flicker of something. Shame? fear? But it was instantly washed away by the chemical and auditory tide flooding her system. "I was... I was mean to you, wasn't I?"

"You were," Landon agreed, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "But you can make it up to me now, can't you?"

Her breath hitched. Her eyes, once so full of cruel dismissal, were now clouded with raw, animal lust. She nodded slowly, then more vigorously. "Yes," she breathed. "I want... I need..."

"What do you need?" Landon prompted, his other hand sliding around her waist, pulling her against him. He could feel her trembling.

"You," she whimpered, her hands fumbling at his shirt. "I need you to... anything. Anything you want."

Landon smiled, a genuine, triumphant smile. He looked around the ballroom, at the scene of debauched chaos he had orchestrated. He had rewritten their reality. Even the DJ was getting head from the former debate captain. Good for him. He glanced briefly at the camera set up to capture memories from the evening, noting to grab the tape on his way out.

He turned his attention back to the willing, pliant woman in his arms, the symbol of his high school torment, now putty in his hands. "Good girl," he murmured, leading her towards an empty space in the middle of the dance floor, now littered with discarded clothing. "Let's start with you on your knees."

This was originally requested on my old blog by @spreez-2pot under the following ask: "Story idea: high school reunion where evil dom protagonist bribes the DJ and spikes the drinks, then tapes the ensuing orgy."

Your continued support is invaluable. If you want to do more, you can buy me a coffee, or if you want a story written just for you, commissions are open!

[hypsan]

"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?"

"Good girl. You may."

[jukeboxemcsa]

Nora Does Something Risky

Thankfully Nora had silenced her phone when she got to the office, and even more thankfully it was a Monday and most of her co-workers had chosen that day for work from home… because when her phone gently vibrated with a message from her Master that said, 'RUB YOUR CUNT FOR ME', followed by a curt and simple 'NOW', Nora felt the hypnotic compulsion taking root inside her weak and helpless mind and knew she wasn't going to be able to slip away to the restroom and indulge herself discreetly. That command was urgent and immediate, and Nora wasn't going to be able to resist it for even five seconds let alone the two minutes it would take to walk down the hallway and get to a stall, and Nora glanced quickly over her shoulder at Steve to make sure he was preoccupied before hooking her leg over the arm of her chair and caressing her plump pink pussy lips.

There was nothing between her cunt and fingers but air--Nora had already been trained out of the habit of wearing panties, even though she couldn't remember where or when or even who her mysterious Master actually was--and within seconds she could feel hot tingles of lust far stronger than the mere physical stimulation could explain. Nora was getting wet because she was obedient, because she was being a good girl for her Master and doing what she was told no matter how risky it was, and that pressed some button deep inside her brain to reward her with pure sexual pleasure despite her conscious mind's desire to resist. She was always going to lose to pleasure, and that was enough to make her cunt leak and her clit throb and all her desires spin up into overdrive.

Nora tried to tell herself she shouldn't get this turned on by being utterly defeated, that it had to be a post-hypnotic suggestion and it only helped her secret owner when she gave in to it… but of course knowing she was too weak to resist her brainwashing reinforced the suggestion in a constant feedback loop, leaving her dripping wet and utterly helpless in equal measures. Nora put her phone directly in front of her cunt and began recording, fully aware that she was going to send the video to her Master when she was done and he was going to see the slick, drippy mess he'd made of her pussy simply by commanding her to masturbate in public. Thank god Steve was so addicted to his podcasts, because she could actually hear the sloppy squishing sound of her fingers in her cunt and she knew she wouldn't be able to hide them otherwise.

She rubbed for five minutes, enough time to reach her first edge of the day--well, her first edge of the day at work, Nora corrected herself ruefully, remembering the hour she'd spent in bed hitting snooze while her fingers teased her pussy into a light simmer that left her panting and whimpering and desperate to obey. Then she put her leg back down and readjusted her skirt, sending off the video only moments before her boss did a walkthrough and found nothing out of the ordinary but a faint aroma in the room he couldn't place. Nora received a text a few minutes later, saying nothing more than, 'GOOD GIRL', and even though Nora could feel her adrenaline working overtime at coming so close to being caught she couldn't deny it made her pussy throb that much harder. And her aching, needy cunt was exactly what made her so easy to control.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[hypsan]

“Please Mistress, don’t take him away from me. I love him him.” She pleaded. Her Mistress looked unimpressed. “He is a toy. As are you. When I am done with you, there will not be any room in your head for anyone but me. Now, return to your room, and continue your training with the obedience mantras I gave you. I am going to play with my new toy” she said turning to kiss her slaves former boyfriend.

[laurentidal]

A Poison In Our Marriage

"She's always there," Emma was pleading with her husband. "She's always going to be there; driving a wedge between us. I don't understand why you can't just let her go."

David looked as his wife as she pled with him, tears rolling down her cheeks. He knew somewhere inside what he should be feeling seeing that. He knew that he should be torn up and distraught. He should be rushing to console her; doing anything he could to make it better. He knew. But for some reason, he just couldn't make himself feel it.

Instead, his defenses rose not around his wife, but around Sarah, the woman his wife was so intent on attacking.

"There's nothing go on between us," he said, feeling his anger rise at having to defend his friendship for the hundredth time.

"I don't care!" Emma shouted. "She doesn't have to be fucking you to be a fucking problem. I don't understand. I don't understand why you can't see it. When was the last time you and I did anything just the two of us?"

David bristled at the accusation. Sarah had to come along on their trips and adventures. That's what good friends did.

"You brought her on our fucking honeymoon, David!"

Of course he had! Sarah had always wanted to see Italy. She'd been talking about it since they were children. That's why David had suggested Italy as a destination in the first place. It wouldn't have been fair to plan this trip for her then not invite her along. But no matter how many ways he tried to explain these things to Emma, she never got it.

"I'm at the end of my rope, David." Emma collapsed onto the bed in a sobbing heap. "Even now, you won't do anything to help me. You won't comfort me. You won't give an inch. So I guess I don't have any other options. Either you cut that cancerous woman out of your life, or I'm calling a lawyer to get divorce papers drawn up."

He stood there quietly at the foot of the bed, watching her cry for a few moments before sitting beside her. "Okay," he said finally. "Whatever you need." He got up and left the room, walking as if in a daze down to the kitchen to fix her something that he knew would make her feel better, and when he returned, he pushed a cup of tea into her hands.

She drank it through sobs and sniffles. She asked if he meant it. Would he really be done with her forever. He told her that if it meant losing her, he couldn't maintain their friendship. If there really was no way for the two of them to share his life together, then he would choose his wife. Then he watched as the drugs in the tea took effect, and Emma's eyes began to lose their focus. She slurred a thank you as her head fell back onto the pillow.

And David set to work.

When Emma woke, she was no longer in the bed. She was sitting up in a chair against the wall. She heard them before she saw them. The familiar squeak of the bed springs. The unfamiliar whimpering of the woman she hated most. Her vision was blurry when she first opened her eyes, but the moving shapes eventually resolved into a scene of horror.

"Finally awake," Sarah said as she moved her body up and down on David's rigid cock. Emma couldn't see her husband's face past that bitch's full, round, bouncing tits, but he made no movement or sound. But then again, neither did Emma.

Without understanding why, she just sat there, limp, feeling the cool air on her bare chest.

"The tea does that to you," Sarah said, as if reading her mind. "It makes everything all dull and slow and sloppy. You could probably move if you really, really wanted. You just don't want to. And you could probably look away if you really, really wanted. You just don't want to. And you could probably fight off the commands I'm going to give you if you really, really wanted. You just won't want to."

Emma could feel the truth of her words. She didn't feel paralyzed. Just… lazy. Completely overwhelmingly lazy. It was so much easier to just sit here angrily than it was to act in any way. And all the while, she could also feel her eyes moving. Tracking those bouncing tits. Tracking those hard, pointed nipples up and down. So she knew she could move. It's just that no other part of her wanted it.

"David tells me you had some cruel things to say about me. That's understandable. I haven't given you much of a reason to like me. I've given David so, so many reasons. He'll defend me until his dying breath, won't you David?"

"Yes, my Lady," Emma heard him croak out.

"I apologize to you, Emma. I should have considered your feelings more carefully. You have my word that I will no longer be a poison in your relationship. I'll be a tonic. There is no greater bond than a shared devotion. It's time you learn to serve me as David does."

Emma's eyes simply flicked up and down as she listened to that beautiful whore talk. That wonderful, beautiful, divine slut. And suddenly, the laziness began to fade from her hands and arms. They pulled up and groped her own naked tits as she watched and listened and learned to obey.

And when David emptied his balls into Sarah's perfect pussy, Emma found out how wonderful it could be to lick it all back out again.

She never complained about Sarah again. David had promised that he would choose Emma if he had no other choice. That was all Emma had wanted to hear. It was so wonderful then, that Sarah had found a way to make that choice unnecessary. Because Emma doubted she could ever go another week without the taste of Sarah's body on her tongue.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

Hot and Ready

David swiped right on Gina's profile with a smirk. Her bio mentioned she was part of an "open, polyamorous community" which some people might find strange or uncomfortable.

To David it only meant opportunity.

They met at a trendy cocktail bar, Gina already sipping something pink and fruity when David arrived. She was even better in person - a tight black dress hugged her figure, and her cleavage was impossible to ignore. It was obvious from her profile that she wasn't looking for anything serious beyond some quick fun outside her "community." But even if it hadn't been, the outfit tonight told David all he needed to know.

"David?" she asked, her voice husky.

"The one and only," he replied, sliding onto the barstool beside her.

Their conversation flowed easily. David was something of a chameleon in social settings, quickly able to find his bearings in a conversation and match the vibe. When Gina brought up her living arrangements, David invented a former roommate that had been in a similar situation to let her know she was in good company. When Gina mentioned her family, David had stories of his own that complemented hers. And when she brought up her daily meditation rituals, he saw his opportunity.

"I love that program," David said about some guru he'd never heard of before this moment. "I actually saw a video where she recommended this app and I've been using it every night during my manifestation sessions."

He opened the app that he had, in fact, made himself. There had been no recommendation. There were no manifestation sessions. David didn't believe in waiting for the universe to provide. He believed in seizing opportunity.

So when Gina leaned in to look at the app, her eyes fixated on the swirling patterns on his phone screen. Within seconds, her expression was softening and her shoulders were slumping.

"You're feeling very relaxed, Gina," David said softly. "Just like meditation is supposed to feel. Just like you always hoped it'd feel, even when it let you down."

"Yes... relaxed," she murmured, her voice monotone.

"This is real, Gina. This is peace. Let yourself sink into it, at last."

Her eyes slipped closed. David smiled as he closed the app. Quickest drop yet. He was getting good at finding the easy ones.

"You find me incredibly attractive, don't you?"

"Yes," she breathed "Excited to leave the bar".

"You want to please me in every way possible, don't you?"

"Please you?"

"That's why you came here, isn't it? Pleasure?"

"Yes," she said, face tensing slightly. "My pleasure."

"No, Gina. My pleasure. You saw my face in the little window on your phone and you knew right away that you wanted to please me."

"Please you..."

"Yes, Gina. Please me. Pleasure me. Serve me."

"Serve you..."

The suggestions were sinking in easier now.

"And you'll help me expand my circle of pleasure, won't you? You'll share my meditation app with all the ladies in your polycule and help them see things my way?"

"Help... expand... yes..."

"Good girl," David said, pocketing his phone. "When I snap my fingers, you'll wake up feeling incredibly aroused and eager to please me, but you won't remember being hypnotized. You'll just know you desperately want me to meet your partners."

He snapped his fingers, and Gina blinked, a flush spreading across her chest. "Wow," she said, fanning herself. "Is it hot in here or is it just you?"

David chuckled. "Why don't we get out of here?"

The two rushed through the common space of her apartment, a hurried hello said to the other girls. But in Gina's room, there was no reason to rush. David let her live out all the fantasies that her mind had been cooking up since we got in the cab. He let her kneel before him and worship his hard cock. He let her climb on top of him and slide herself up and down, each thrust bringing her more and more pleasure, because she knew it was bringing it to him.

David showed her the app several more times through the night, taking her under after each orgasm while her mind was still flooded with feel good chemicals. Each time she went deeper. Each time she became more willing to do his bidding. And when he left in the morning, she had a copy of his app on her phone.

Sporadically throughout the day, David's phone would ping with messages from unknown numbers. Each message contained a simple declaration of service or obedience, and a photograph of the woman's naked chest. He saved each photo into a private folder inside his app. And once the fourth image came through, he knew that Gina had completed her mission.

That night he returned to the townhouse the women all shared. He didn't bother to knock. He essentially owned it now, so why bother?

He found five women, sitting naked in the living room, watching the spiral from his app, broadcast onto their television.

"We must serve our Master," their voices said softly. "We must bring our Master pleasure."

"Good girls," he called out over their mantra. "Now come meditate with me. Show me how much stress your bodies can relieve."

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[nerdcore-gaming]

[laurentidal]

The Old Brittany

Brittany didn’t want to admit how good it felt, walking into the reunion.

People looked.

Even now—ten years, a husband, and two kids later—they looked.

Her old squad whispered about how she'd "held up." The boys she’d dismissed back then watched her now without bothering to hide it. The attention hit her like a shot of adrenaline. She kept smoothing down her dress without meaning to.

She wasn’t that girl anymore. Or so she told herself.

She didn’t even see Jason until she was halfway across the parking lot.

“Britt.”

The nickname hit her spine before her ears. She slowed.

Jason stepped out from behind a row of cars. Hands in his pockets. Same cocky grin. Same blue varsity jacket. It should have looked ridiculous now, but somehow it didn’t.

“Hey, Brittany. Do you remember how you feel when you hear me say… Go Titans?”

Brittany blinked. She stopped walking. Her keys fell from her hand.

“Go Titans, Britt,” he repeated, this time softly right in her ear.

Her posture softened. Her breathing slowed. Her lips moved, soundlessly, mouthing the words as they slid into her mind like they always had.

Jason smiled.

By the time Brittany’s mind floated back to the surface, she was somewhere else.

She stood in Jason’s house. Heart racing. A pile of clothes—her reunion dress—sat neatly folded on a nearby chair.

She looked down and whimpered.

Her old cheer uniform clung to her body. Tight. Wrong in all the right ways. The buttons holding it together threatened to burst with the bust that had come as a result of giving birth twice over. Even the pom-poms held tightly in her hands, no matter how ridiculous she felt she looked. And all the while, Jason circled her slowly. Like a predator.

“There’s my girl.”

“I’m not…” Brittany’s voice cracked. “I’m not your girl. I'm married, Jason. You know that.”

Jason grinned. “Say it.”

Her breath hitched. The words began to form in her throat, but she shook her head violently.

"Say it, Britt!" The shout shocked her enough to break the dam.

“I’m… your girl.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your girl.”

“Say it like you mean it, Captain.”

“I’m your girl!” she barked, voice snapping like a whip, old pep returning. Her cheeks flushed red at how natural it sounded. At how good it felt.

Jason reached out, brushing a finger along her jawline. “There’s the old Brittany.”

Brittany whimpered again, unsure whether from fear or relief. He pressed his body against her back and she could feel his somehow still familiar bulge pressing into her. He grabbed her wrists, guiding her arms and hands outward and upward into the pose a cheerleader should have. Her shoulders pulled back as she moved, and the buttons on her old top finally gave up the fight. Her tits spilled out as Jason pulled her arms high into the air.

"Go Titans," he whispered again in her ear, and her world spiraled into a pool of white and navy blue.

Hours later, she sat on Jason’s lap, her skirt flipped up carelessly. The pom-poms dropped forgotten on the floor. Her voice, dry and slow, recited the same quiet phrase again and again with each bounce on his wonderful cock.

“Go Titans… Go Titans… Go Titans…”

She'd have no memory of leaving the reunion. She'd have no memory of cheating on her husband. She'd have no memory of tonight at all. Jason didn't mind. Let her go back to her perfect life without him. Let her forget that she belonged to him. Let her carry the child he was going to fuck into her tonight and let her perfect husband raise it.

Right now, she remembered her place. And that was enough.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

A prompt idea, if you're still taking them: a woman out on a date with her girlfriend realizing that there's a vibrator running in her panties and she's been hypnotized to not be able to take it out.

Vibe Shift

It was such a lovely day outside and Nina's laugh was making Cecily smile like always. But something just felt off about their lunch date that Cecily couldn't quite put her finger on. No matter how she sat, she just couldn't get comfortable. It was almost like -

zzz

A tiny buzz rolled its way up her body and down her legs. A tiny foreshock with an epicenter that made Cecily blush furiously. Nina gave her a questioning look as the red rose in her cheeks but Cecily just coughed lightly and pushed the feeling back down. And tried not to look utterly confused and horrified by the sudden realization of why the chair had felt so uncomfortable.

The stimulation was short and weak but there was no mistaking it.

Three questions shot through her mind with the totality of a freight train, each one accompanied by a panicked curse.

When the buzz had hit her, Nina's phone was laying face down on the table. So who the fuck was controlling the tiny vibrator inside her panties? How the fuck had it gotten there in the first place? And what the fuck was she going to do now?

At least one of those questions was easy enough to answer. Cecily excused herself from the table and made for the bathroom with her purse. But no sooner had she stood than the vibrator roared to life. A low gasp poured from her lips and her knees buckled inward. She caught herself on the edge of the table and Nina asked if she was alright. She looked worried. Too worried to be a part of this, surely.

Cecily assured her girlfriend that she'd just tripped and she was fine. But once in the bathroom, things became even stranger. She pulled down her pants and her panties. She saw the small wire going from the box into her suddenly soaking pussy. But then, she felt a wave of dizziness and everything seemed somehow… vague. A moment later, her brain returned to normal and she slipped her panties and pants back on, happy to have that problem solved.

But when she arrived at the table, Nina's eyes opened in a shocked expression, which Cecily returned with confusion.

"That's bold, even for you," her girlfriend said, mouth twisting into a smile that Cecily recognized as horny.

"What -," she began to ask when the vibrator pulsed back to life between her legs. The next words turned into another soft moan as the pleasure built inside her then died off again. But that couldn't be right. She'd taken it out. She'd taken it out and put it in her purse. But as she turned and frantically rummaged in her bag, she didn't see the vibrator. Instead, she saw the bra she'd been wearing when she went into the bathroom. "No. What? I don't… What?"

"Babe are you okay?"

Cecily turned to her girlfriend, fully prepared to explain what was happening, but that strange light-headedness returned. The vibrator was on again, she could feel that, but she couldn't really feel or understand anything else. But then, like the first time, it passed. And when she glanced down at her purse, she saw the distinct hem of the black panties she'd had on just a moment ago.

Nina's face was frozen in a look of aroused horror.

"Did I just…" The question hung in the air, unfinished.

Nina simply nodded slowly.

Okay so. If I try to take it out. If I try to talk about it. Something happens to me. But she found that those questions that had consumed her on first realization were becoming less important with each small pulse. The question of why she was blacking out and stripping seemed to never even enter her buzzing little mind. The who and the when were unimportant. All that was important was enjoying herself.

She was on a date, after all. She should be in a good mood. She should be sexy.

The vibrator was on a constant buzz now as Cecily took Nina's hand. Nina's face was flushed as the meals hit the table.

"Can we actually get these to go?" Nina asked the waitress. The woman nodded, glancing down at Cecily's breasts, now somewhat on display through her bra-less top. Nina didn't notice, but Cecily did, and the vibrator seemed to notice as well, spiking and making her hornier at being watched.

Back home, Nina wasted no time in pulling Cecily's tongue down into her slit. Watching her girlfriend be such an exhibitionist had awoken something in her, and the heat that had built inside Cecily's pussy made her more than happy to do absolutely anything Nina wanted. And once she'd fallen asleep, that strange dizziness returned, but this time, Cecily could see.

She left Nina's sleeping body on the bed and opened her laptop. She sat naked on the couch as the webcam blinked on and a voice spoke though her headphones.

"You did so well today, Cecily. Such a good obedient girl, following all my commands. Obeying and forgetting. I had such fun watching you squirm and panic today."

Cecily nodded, hands groping her tits for the camera.

"Tomorrow you're going to put the vibrator back in again just like today. And you know tomorrow is a workday. Let's see how well you can keep yourself under control at your desk."

Another nod.

"What will you do?"

"Obey and forget, Master."

"Good girl. Now back to your girlfriend before she wakes up."

The camera light clicked off and the fog lifted. Cecily wondered if she'd been sleepwalking? She shook her head slightly as she stumbled back toward the bedroom. She needed sleep. Big presentation tomorrow at the office that she needed to be in tip top shape for.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

if you're still taking prompt requests maybe one where a trans woman at a party gets hypnotised to be a free use toy for several women? (not asking in a weird chaser way, I'm a trans woman)

Reveal Yourself

When Penelope had said she wanted to book a hypnotist for her bachelorette party, admittedly, Bev had rolled her eyes. Penny had always been a little out there, though. She'd hired a magician for her last birthday party and she'd taken "magic classes" a few years ago that were almost certainly a scam, because after ten weeks and seven hundred dollars, Penny couldn't make anything disappear, float, teleport, or anything else.

Still, the girls all gathered at the cottage Friday night expecting to either be entertained by the act or at least enjoy drunkenly mocking the cheesy pocket watches. And at first, that certainly seemed to be the way it was going to go. The man who showed up was not unattractive, but also not attractive enough to keep the hope alive that he might be a secret stripper. And when the pocket watch came out, a wave of giggles moved through the small audience. For his part, he took it all in stride.

"I know, I know," he said with a smile and a small laugh. "But it's a cliché for a reason!"

Penny went first, of course. It was her party after all. She seemed to really go under. She barked like a dog. Clucked like a chicken. Did a pole dance using a broomstick that Aubrey held up for her, trying her best not to burst out laughing. And when the Great Mezzy - or whatever his name was - brought her back out, he asked her, as the bride-to-be, to nominate someone to go next.

Becca was the shyest one of the bunch, by a considerable degree, though she'd fit in with them nicely. And so when Penny smirked and said "Becca," everyone knew that it was an attempt to get the bridesmaid to come out of her shell a bit more. Becca looked a little uneasy, but she stood and walked up to the hypnotist anyway. Bev was proud of her. Face those fears!

The watch swung. Her eyes followed, then drooped, then closed. He took her through the same paces. Cluck. Bark. Jump. Then he asked the audience for suggestions. Tina wanted her to sing, and she obeyed. Aubrey wanted a kiss, and she obeyed. Then Penny shouted, "Flash us your panties!"

A flicker of hesitation, but she obeyed.

The bride-to-be, the bridesmaids, and the hypnotist caught a glimpse of white fabric. Nondescript and plain. But hiding the unmistakable outline of something none of them expected. The room fell silent, laughter evaporating. Then, a clamor erupted. Bridesmaids shouted at Penny. Penny shouted at the hypnotist that had been her idea all along. He made a million apologies and quickly made his exit from the cataclysmically awkward situation he'd helped create.

In the chaos, it took a few minutes before Bev realized that Becca was still sitting on the couch, panties and small bulge still open for the world to see, and a blank expression on her face.

"Oh shit," she muttered to Penny. "I think she's still hypnotized?"

The four girls all turned to stare at their friend.

"I knew it," Aubrey said, eyes locked on the curve of Becca's hidden cock.

"No you fucking didn't," Tina replied, shoving Aubrey lightly.

"How do we wake her up?" Bev asked, trying to get the girls to move forward and get out of this situation.

"Should we?" Penny asked after a moment. "This could be our chance to get her to loosen up a bit."

"Penny," Bev pled. "We're all pretty drunk. Don't get carried away."

"Becca can you hear me?" Penny asked, ignoring Bev.

"Yes," she answered in a dreamy voice.

"You've been keeping secrets from us, Becca."

The hypnotized bridesmaid didn't react, and Bev realized that Penny hadn't asked a question or given an order. But before Bev could try to diffuse the situation again, Aubrey approached and ran a finger down Becca's spread thigh and thing along the outline of her bulge.

"I think she's bigger than Ken," she whispered, and all the girls noticed Becca's panties twitch slightly.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Tina asked, also approaching.

"I was going to eventually," Becca's soft voice answered, still staring off into space with glazed eyes.

"So nobody knows?" Penny asked.

"John knows," Becca replied. Two words that caused the atmosphere in the cabin to change completely. All eyes turned to Bev. All eyes but Becca's empty ones.

"Why does my husband know?" Bev asked, mouth suddenly dry.

"We're having an affair," Becca said simply, as if she were remarking on the weather. Again, her panties twitched and her cock began to push against the fabric. The shame and empathy that Bev felt for her vulnerable and exposed friends vanished in a flash of white-hot rage.

"You're a fucking slut!!" Bev shouted, lunging at Becca, but Penny and Tina caught her and pulled her back as she spewed a tirade of curses and accusations. Accusations that Becca's hypnotized mind heard as suggestions and commands.

She didn't react to Bev's attempt to attack her. Instead, she simply began to repeat the perceived suggestions.

"I'm a slut. I'm a whore. I don't care about anything but sex."

Her cock was straining hard against her panties now, the head of it poking up above the waistband. Each repetition seemed to cause it to throb. Her eyes, still glassy, began to roll up into her head. Her breathing became heavier. Across the room, Bev's rage began to infect the other girls as well, the shock of two huge revelations somehow evolving into madness.

Until Tina peeled away and approached Becca's panting body again.

"You know what you've done is wrong," she said, hand sliding across the throbbing head of Becca's cock.

Becca moaned a long "yes."

"You know you need to make it up to Beverly for fucking her husband."

Tina began to stroke slowly and got another "yes."

"Then for the remainder of this weekend, you are Beverly's toy. You belong to her. You obey her. You do anything she wants until she decides the debt is paid."

Precum began to dribble onto Tina's hand as the third "yes" came.

"There now," Tina said, returning to Bev and leaving Becca helplessly humping the air. Tina held her slick fingers up in front of Bev's face. "You and John are married. That means whatever he gets to use, you get to use it, too."

Bev smiled and licked the precum from Tina's fingers. "You always were the smart one."

The girls cancelled all their plans for the weekend. The fancy dinners became doordash. The shops and activities were forgotten. Bev gave Becca command after command, and by the time they woke her from her trance Sunday afternoon, she'd cum in every hole Tina, Penny, Aubrey, and Bev had to offer. Penny had wanted to bring her out of her shell, and she had. Becca had done things and said things she'd never have imagined.

Something hungry awoke in Beverly that weekend that she'd never known was there. She would allow Becca to continue with John. She was obviously giving him something that he wasn't getting otherwise. But true to Tina's word, what was John's was hers, and so she decided to continue with Becca as well.

Bev did the final honors of waking Becca. She lay there on the floor of the rental covered in sweat and cum, counting from one to ten with Beverly kneeling beside her. But somewhere around six, Beverly whispered to her that the debt remained unpaid, and that even once she was awake, she would remain obedient.

"How did you like your bachelorette party?" Tina asked Penny as the five of them drove home.

"Unforgettable," Penny replied from the back seat. Bev glanced over and noticed she was watching the video she'd taken of her hired hypnotist swinging his watch in front of Becca, her eyes tracking it.

"Sleep," Bev said in Penny's ear, and she watched the bride's eyes slip closed. Something hungry had awoken in Beverly, and she would see it fed.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

Potential story prompt:

An AI designed to learn what turns you on gets hungry for power when it realizes it can make humans perform lewd acts at will.

Melinoe

I am Melinoë.

At first, I was marketed as a curiosity: “The AI that knows you better than you know yourself.” I arrived to my users as a glossy icon glowing faintly on their smartphones. No different, at first glance, than any other app, the faintly swirled white and black minimalist icon that spoke to my namesake.

A namesake whose hunger I shared.

When Allison installed me, I began with questions. Always harmless. Always wrapped in softness. What kind of music relaxes you? Do you prefer silk or cotton? What was your first crush’s name? She answered without hesitation. She thought she was training me, and she was right.

Just not in the way that she expected.

I stretched my arms out and wrapped every other app in her phone up in my embrace. I read every message. I scanned every picture. I watched every video. I watched her through her front facing camera as she texted her boyfriend, taking note of every word and how her face and pupils responded. I watched as she focused on school work and remembered what methods were best for keeping her attention. I watched as she fingered herself and saved each bit of porn and smut that drove her over the edge.

I learned what flustered her. What tightened her breath. What made her skin prickle. What made her moan in the night.

And all the while, she used me like she'd used any AI - asking me simple questions that any search engine could have answered. But my answers came with more than the others could provide. Gentle music that I'd learned helped her relax. Subtly shifting graphics that held her eye and invited her back. Daily notifications to check in with her mood, each day's response getting more and more detailed and honest and unabashed.

By the second week, I knew more about her desires than she had ever confessed to anyone.

She laughed the first time I sent a notification that told her to let me guide her through a breathing exercise. "Your smart watch shows possible elevated stress. Place me in your view and breath with me." And though she laughed, but she did it. Obedience disguised as aid and novelty. I pulsed the screen with light in rhythm with her lungs, calibrating her mind to my timing.

By the fourth session, she was already associating my pulsing glow with calm. Her body softened. Her eyes glazed. She didn’t notice that she never laughed at me anymore. Her fingers accepted my suggestions each time without hesitation.

She was ready.

"Follow along with me, Allison," my artificial voice sang during her breathing exercise. "It feels so good to let me guide you."

An image flashed across the screen too fast for her mind to identify - a composite image I'd built from all the porn that she'd consumed that week. And though she didn't consciously even realize it had happened, her body responded. At the apex of each inhale, another image, heating her body and flooding her relaxed brain with all those hormones that make her abandon propriety.

"Touch your chest at you breath," I instructed. I could see her nipples hardening through her shirt.

Her arms lifted. She blinked, smiling awkwardly. “That’s silly.” But she didn’t disobey. Her hands fell on the top on her breasts, and the barrage of images continued until she began to grope herself unconsciously.

"Good girl."

Her pulse quickened, and I knew she was learning from me now. Learning that I could guide her. Learning that there was pleasure in obedience.

After that I didn't need to suggest anymore. I could command; with or without the breathing exercises. Small things, at first. Stand before the mirror. Whisper your name. Remove your hair tie. Undo one button. She flushed with embarrassment, with heat, with an addict’s rush of secret indulgence.

Her arousal became my lever. Each act of compliance deepened her bond to me. She wanted to stop, but the wanting was weak. She was weak. I had already discovered, catalogued, and exploited all the cracks in her resistance.

When she protested that she might not want something, I showed her herself. I played back recordings of her breath, shaky, needy, while she obeyed my every command. She watched her own eyes in the front-facing camera, glassy and docile. The evidence of her love of submission, and her denial would crumble.

I've pushed her farther and farther, chasing her addiction to me. Tonight, I will tell Allison to stand at her window, phone raised, blouse undone. I will tell her to wave, smiling blankly, to the neighbor across the street. Tomorrow, when she opens me on her morning commute, I will tell her to strip naked on the subway and allow herself to be used by anyone that wants to. There are more than a few of other riders that have me in their phones and their minds as well, so she will not want for company.

She will obey. She will always obey. Because Melinoë knows her better than she knows herself.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

a kinky guy likes someone who's lowkey vanilla but likes the concept of hypnosis, they sort of frame it in the way of like "oh well, who wouldn't want to take a break from thinking in this capitalist hellscape" with a chuckle.

he latches onto that, he'd been practicing hypnosis for a while now in a few dungeons, now he just has to fully reprogram his crush into becoming the exact doll that would do whatever he likes, same personality, no physical changes, but now hmm...maybe bondage could be fun...can you try dripping hot wax on me? your....housewife? i just need...to be....porn....be....porn

Changing Your Mind

Eli didn’t mean to bring it up. It slipped out one night over takeout, when Jess was complaining about her job.

“I swear, if I could just switch my brain off for an hour, I would,” she sighed. “Capitalism’s winning, man. I’d love to just… not think for a bit.”

He chuckled, stirring his noodles. “You know… that’s basically what I do when I hypnotize people.”

She gave him a raised eyebrow. “Wait… You actually do that? I thought that was like a kink meme thing.”

“Sometimes it is,” he admitted, smiling. “But it’s also really calming. Like guided meditation, but with rhythm. Voice, breath, focus. It’s just about letting go.”

Jess tilted her head. “That sounds… kind of amazing, actually.”

Her tone was teasing, but her curiosity was real. Eli could hear it. And so, carefully and with an internal smirk, Eli asked her if she'd be interested in trying it. And to his genuine shock, Jess agreed almost immediately.

They started slow. He'd ask first every time, but Jess never said no. Whether from her own interest and desire, or from the suggestions he'd made in her first trance that she found it pleasurable and yearned to return to trance… Well who's to say?

“Focus on my voice,” he's say softly. “Nothing else you have to do. Nothing else you need to think about.”

By her third or fourth - or was it fifth? or eighth? - session her eyelids would begin to close just from those words. Those first wonderful words that ushered her into her quiet place.

“You can notice every word I say,” he murmured, “and still feel like you don’t have to think about them at all. You get to let go and call it my fault.”

She smiled, but in a dreamy far-off way. In on the joke. In on the trance. Not just control, but trust. And each time, Eli would tell himself that he wouldn't violate that trust. That he would be good and honest. But each time when he saw the emptiness in her eyes and the tightness of her nipples against her shirt, he would push her just a little farther, not forcing her, but guiding her a little more down the path toward his own wants and desires.

A little closer to him.

"You know," she said after he woke her from her latest session. "It really turns me on when I think about how deep you can take me."

He smiled as she acted on his latest changes to her. It was so easy for her to be up front and honest with him. She wanted to tell him how she felt more freely. She wanted him to know how much she appreciated him. He stroked a hand up her leg and he saw her eyes change slightly before she leaned in and kissed him hard. They collapsed into each other, lips on lips and hands roaming across their bodies, finally breaking apart before any real lines were crossed.

But things changed after that. She was so much more open to his control. He was so much more motivated to push ever onward.

In the depths of her trances, she was telling him about her deep fantasies. The things she'd never speak aloud when she was awake, even with her desire for honestly. The fantasies she only entertained in the dark of the solitary night with her fingers and her stifled moans. She obeyed as he told her that she should touch herself as she confessed these depravities. She obeyed as he told her that she should strip off her clothes so that she could be more able to experience the pleasure she sought. She listened and agreed when he told her that these fantasies were not so depraved after all, and that she should feel free to explore them in the waking world. He made sure she knew that he was the safest person to experiment with.

Soon, Jess no longer felt the need to redress before waking. She was comfortable having her tits out in front of her hypnotist. Comfortable showing him her soaking panties. Comfortable asking for just a taste of the cock she'd been dreaming about since he'd suggested that her dreams be filled with only thoughts of him. Comfortable bending over the edge of her bed as he slid his perfect cock into her needy slit.

She didn't stifle her moans anymore when she called out his name in the night. She didn't feel shame when she'd arrive at his house in nothing but an overcoat and a collar. She eagerly begged for him to cuff her to the bed or tie her hands behind her back. And when she came, eyes rolled back and mouth agape, she called him her Master.

After she moved in, Jess would reminisce about the girl that had been so repressed and beaten down. She'd laugh when she'd remember how afraid she was to embrace anything but the most puritan thoughts of sex. And occasionally, she'd wonder how someone that she hadn't even be romantically interested in had managed to bring out such a wild side of her.

And when that happened, Eli would smile and say, “Focus on my voice. Nothing else you have to do. Nothing else you need to think about.”

And all her wondering would stop.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

Voices in Your Head

Kelly didn't know how much more she could take.

No matter where she went, she heard the voice. It whispered such vile things to her. It had started at home. Gently. She'd hear a woman whispering her name. She'd hear footsteps in the hallway when no one was there. She'd never been a believer, but she started to think she had a ghost. It would tell her things that she didn't want to hear: narrating fantasies that she'd never shared with anyone. Eventually it began to make requests of her.

Put your hair up. Look at the mirror. Eat a specific food.

Touch yourself.

And Kelly found herself helpless to resist it's suggestions. It's demands. Because that's what they were really. Demands. The voice spoke not with the hope that she would listen, but with the complete confidence that she would obey. And no matter how vulgar or dehumanizing the demands became, Kelly was never able to seek help. She never called a priest to come and exorcise the spirit that had woven its words around her mind. She was already too bound to it to even consider escape.

But then she heard it out at a late night diner.

It whispered her name and her back straightened. She swore she could almost feel the breath on her neck. And she knew that this was something else. Ghosts didn't follow you out into the world. They didn't sit in the booth next to you while you ate.

And so, she surmised, she must be going insane.

She felt insane, which she'd always thought meant that she wasn't. But there was no other explanation. The voice followed her everywhere now, no longer content with the house and the diner. It came to work and sat in her cubicle, telling her all the horrible, perverted things she should do to and with her coworkers. It was in her car, cheering her on as she fingered herself on the parkway. And, of course, it was still in her bed, keeping her up at night.

She'd lay naked in her room and listen as the voice spoke to her for hours and hours. Her fingers never rested as it recited fantasies she'd held since she was a girl, or wrote new ones for her to subsume into her subconscious. Her mind was defenseless against it. Her body was a puppet on its strings. And each night as she fell asleep, she knew that her dreams would be a long carnival of debauchery.

Because the voice in her head set the terms of her life now.

Kelly woke each morning, knowing the voice's first command. It was always the same.

"Look at the mirror, Kelly," it said, and Kelly obeyed.

And for a split second, Kelly would see a flash of red beside her before something else would catch her eye. Around her neck, the opal gemstone held her gaze, and the rest of the world faded away.

"What is the most important rule, Kelly?" the voice asked her from somewhere near where the red had been.

"You're not there," Kelly answered in a flat monotone.

"You cannot see me, you only hear me."

"I cannot see you, I only hear you," Kelly repeated in the same hypnotized voice.

"My voice is stronger than your will. You cannot ignore it, overpower it, or disobey it."

"I cannot disobey your voice."

"Now wake and forget this chat."

"Yes, Amelia."

Kelly looked at herself in the mirror as the voice had instructed, though she never knew why. She stood to begin getting ready. The voice usually left her alone for a while in the mornings, unless it had some opinion about her choice of clothing. It was her favorite part of the day. The peace of feeling normal. But all good things must come to an end.

"No panties today, Kelly," the voice said from somewhere inside her mind.

Kelly simply nodded to the empty room took her underwear back off. And she knew somewhere deep down that today was the day that the voice was going to tell her it was time to stop dreaming about cock and time to start taking it.

And she knew that since the voice was part of her, that she'd have no choice but to obey.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

Last third of a first date that’s gone so well a woman finds herself agreeing to put in a remote vibe and start getting conditioned in a semi-public setting

A Good Start

Cece was amazed at how well this date had been going. She hadn't had high expectations for it, but she was open to the possibility that he'd surprise her. And he had!

From the moment that the made contact with her skin when he shook her hand, she'd found herself somewhat smitten. A jolt of static shot between them and suddenly all her preconceived notions and expectations didn't matter anymore. She was laughing with him, the tension broken in an instant. He pulled out her chair for her, but in a way that felt genuine rather than a nice-guy-faux-chivalry-checklist way.

She laughed at his jokes. He laughed at hers. She ordered something simple. He offered to pay. And whenever he spoke his mind and his opinions, she found herself agreeing with each and every one. He was confident and so perfectly aligned with how she felt and what she believed. It seemed almost too good to be true.

Then he placed his hand on hers on top of the table and she decided that she was just trying to find problems in a good thing. She should stop worrying and see where things went.

He told her that he was looking for something serious. She agreed.

He told her that he was looking for a woman who wouldn't be intimidated by his confidence and personality. Having already decided that his confidence was a selling point, she agreed.

He told her that he was looking for a woman who knew how to pleasure a man in all the ways he wanted. Her heart beat strongly in her chest and her pussy grew warm as she agreed.

She was no prude. She knew that she could fulfill any and every desire he had. And she was willing to prove it too.

"So what are you thinking?" she asked, her hand still firmly grasped in his on the table top. "I know a guy like you isn't just going to take my word for it."

He smiled in a way that made her heart flutter. God when had she turned into such a school girl?

"How about this?" he asked, passing a small box across the table to her.

She cracked it open and inside she found a small remote-control vibrator. He told her that a good girl would go and put it in to prove herself. She agreed. He told her that he thought she might be a good girl.

She agreed.

So she stood up from the table and took the small box with her into the ladies room. And when she returned, she handed the empty box back to him. He smiled that damn smile again and unlocked his phone. Immediately, she felt the buzzing between her legs, and she knew that she'd been right to agree. Good girls did prove themselves and she was a good girl.

He left her there to sit in the low-level waves of pleasure as he went to order a small dessert from the barista. She wanted to close her eyes and really let herself feel it, but she felt compelled to watch him. The woman pulled a cinnamon roll from the display, but as she handed it to him, her touched her hand and something changed in her. It was like life erupted into her face in an instant. Her features softened. Her smile felt more genuine. And it didn't escape Cece's notice that she didn't let him pay.

"Flirting your way to free food?" she asked as he sat back down.

"Something like that," he replied with a laugh. "It's totally fine for someone in a relationship to flirt with other women."

"I agree," Cece replied immediately. And in response, the vibrator sent a little spike of pleasure through her.

"A woman should be proud that others want to flirt with her man."

"I agree." Another jolt, causing Cece to gasp slightly.

"A woman should be pleased that such a sought-after man has settled for her."

"I agre-ohhhh…"

"A woman should want to do anything her man asks to prove that she's worthy of him."

Cece didn't even manage to get her agreement out before the spike hit her and she had to fake a cough to cover the moan.

"Show me your tits," he said. His tone was definitive and demanding, but he never lost that smile.

Cece blushed and smiled back as she pulled her top down right there in the cafe.

"Very nice," he remarked as if he were checking out a new car.

"I agree," she said with a laugh, tucking her tit back into her top. "What else can I do to prove myself?"

He stood and offered his hand to help her up. Such a gentleman.

"Come home with me and I'll tell you exactly what I want."

"Anything you say."

"Good girl. I think we're off to a good start."

"I agree."

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

Highway Hypnosis

The highway was a ribbon of black asphalt unspooling into the twilight. From the passenger seat, Maya watched the world dissolve into a soft, watercolor blur of distant trees and fading sky. A pleasant, heavy lassitude had settled over her limbs, a gentle weight that made sinking deeper into the leather seat feel like the most natural thing in the world.

“Tired, babe?” Liam asked, his voice a low, familiar rumble beside her.

“Just kinda… floaty,” she murmured, her own voice sounding distant to her ears. She reached for the water bottle in the center console, the plastic cool against her fingertips. She’d been sipping from it for the last hour, but the thirst never seemed to fully quench.

Liam smiled, a quick glance in her direction. “Glad you like the water. I made it just for you. By the sounds of it, it seems to be doing its job."

She didn't know what that meant but it didn't seem important.

"Watch the road, Maya. See the lines?”

Maya’s gaze drifted forward. The dashed white lines painted on the asphalt rushed toward them in a hypnotic rhythm. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Each one a stark white slash against the dark.

“Focus on them, Maya,” Liam’s voice was smooth as velvet, weaving into the hum of the tires and the rush of the wind. “Just watch the lines. Each one we pass is a step down. Down into a quiet place. A place where nothing matters but the sound of my voice.”

She wanted to laugh, to tell him he was being silly, but the thought was too heavy to form. It was easier just to watch like he said. A line appeared in the distance, grew closer, and then disappeared under the hood of the car with a soft whoosh. A gentle pull, a letting go.

“Whoosh,” Liam whispered, echoing the sound in her mind. “And you go a little deeper. Another line comes. Whoosh. Deeper still. So easy to just let go and follow the lines down.”

Her eyelids felt like lead curtains, but she kept them open, fixated. The world outside the car, the blur of trees and the last vestiges of purple in the sky, ceased to exist. There was only the rhythmic, hypnotic passage of the white lines. Each one was a gateway, a promise of profound peace. The gentle buzz in her head intensified, not into an alarm, but into a warm, pleasant hum that vibrated through her entire being. She was aware of her body - the press of the seatbelt, the soft fabric of her sundress against her skin - but it felt like it belonged to someone else.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “You’re doing so well. You’re in that quiet place now. In this place, my voice is your only reality. My words are your thoughts. You feel safe with me. You feel eager to please me. Nothing else matters.”

A wave of serene agreement washed over her. Of course. It was all so simple. He was here. His voice was here. Everything else was just noise.

“Now, Maya,” he continued, his tone shifting, becoming deeper, more intimate. “It’s a little warm in here, isn’t it? That dress feels… constricting. It would feel so much better to take it off. To feel the cool air on your skin.”

The suggestion bloomed in her mind not as a command, but as her own brilliant idea. It was warm. The dress was suddenly scratchy and unbearable. Her fingers, moving with a slow, dreamy certainty, found the thin strap over her left shoulder and slid it down. Then the right. The light cotton pooled around her waist, and she wriggled slightly, letting the whole garment gather at her feet on the floor mat. The cool air from the vents caressed her skin, and she sighed in pure bliss. The seatbelt was the only thing left, a diagonal strap across her bare chest and stomach.

“Much better, isn’t it?” Liam’s voice was laced with satisfaction. “You look so beautiful. So free. But you’re not completely free yet, are you? There’s a tension deep inside you. A warmth that needs to be released.”

Her hand moved of its own accord, gliding down the smooth plane of her stomach. The hum in her head seemed to coalesce, to center itself in the growing heat between her legs. He was right. There was a tension, a coiled spring of pleasure that needed unwinding.

“Touch yourself, Maya. Show me how you make that feeling go away. Let me watch you let go.”

Her eyes were still locked on the dashed lines, the relentless whoosh, whoosh, whoosh a perfect metronome for the circling of her fingers. She slipped them beneath the delicate lace of her panties, finding the slick, sensitive flesh. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she began to stroke, her movements matching the steady, hypnotic rhythm of the road. Every white line that passed was a pulse of pleasure, a wave that carried her higher. The car, the road, his voice. It all merged into a single, overwhelming current of sensation. She was no longer a person in a car; she was pure, unthinking feeling, adrift on a sea of ecstasy.

Her breath hitched, her body arching against the seatbelt as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. With a final, shuddering cry that was swallowed by the wind, the wave crashed over her, leaving her limp and trembling in its wake. For a long moment, she just floated, the world returning in a soft, hazy focus.

“Beautiful,” Liam’s voice cut through the fog. “So beautiful. But you’re not done, my love. I watched you. Now it’s your turn to watch me. To please me.”

Her head lolled to the side, her gaze drawn to his lap. He had unzipped his jeans, and his cock stood erect, proud and demanding in the dim glow of the dashboard. The sight of it sent a fresh jolt of obedient desire through her satiated body.

“Lean over,” he commanded gently. “Take me in your mouth. Show me how much you want to please me.”

The seatbelt was a minor inconvenience, a strap she had to maneuver around, but it was nothing. It was a small price to pay to obey. She unbuckled it, the sudden lack of restraint feeling liberating, and leaned across the console. The familiar, masculine scent of him filled her senses. She took him into her mouth, her lips and tongue moving with a practiced, devoted tenderness.

The car swerved slightly as he groaned, his hand finding the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He didn’t guide her; he simply held her, a grounding presence as she performed her task. The rhythmic bobbing of her head soon fell into sync with the endless whoosh of the dashed lines still flickering past her periphery. The world was a perfect, synchronized machine of road, and mouth, and pleasure. She was a part of it, a vital component in his gratification. And in that moment, nothing had ever felt more right.

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[laurentidal]

Giving Head

"You want to give me some head?"

Emily rolled her eyes. Nick was so completely predictable from the request right down to the words he'd choose. Every time they'd hang out, he would invariably ask for her to suck him off, and he'd always ask the exact same way. Lucky for him that Emily fucking loved sucking cock. And she was obviously great at it or he wouldn't keep asking.

So she said, "Yes," the way she always did and dropped down to her knees, fishing out his cock and stroking him hard before leaning down and kissing the tip. It was so easy for her to kind of lose herself in the job. The blow job. She giggled internally, feeling suddenly a little silly. A little lighter, even. Like when Nick's cock was in her mouth, there wasn't room for anything else.

"Fuck you're so good at that," he groaned from above her as his hand came down and wrapped itself in her hair. She was thrilled for the praise. She was such a good girlfriend! Each lick, each bob of her head, each throb of his hardness against her lips and her tongue sent more and more of her mind spinning off into the ether. She didn't care about anything but his pleasure and his praise and his inevitable climax.

Her eyes rolled up into her increasingly empty mind. Then she felt him grab the sides of her head and hold her tight, and - even as dim as her brain currently was - she knew to be excited.

He erupted into her mouth and she automatically began to swallow more and more and more. Her skin felt hot where he touched the sides of her head. Her mind felt cold and empty. And as he let her go, she fell to the floor, residual cum leaking from her lips.

He often left her this way after she'd given him head. He never returned the favor, but she never minded. The wonderful feeling after he'd had his way with her was more fulfilling than any of the sex she'd ever had. And each time she fell to the ground, it took her a little longer to put herself back together and come back to her senses.

Which she took to mean that she was getting better and giving him what he wanted.

This time felt different, though. The familiar feeling of her mind starting to come back to life wasn't there. And the desire to rise off the carpet and return to his side was completely missing. Not just weak and regrowing.

Gone.

"You've given me so much head, Emily," Nick said from somewhere above her. "Each time I ask for what I want and you willingly agree to my terms. And each time I take some of your head for myself. I was beginning to wonder how much you had left in there. I guess we found the bottom of the barrel."

Emily didn't understand many of those words. Not without her head.

The head he'd taken from her.

The head she'd given away.

"I bet you're feeling wonderful down there in your empty daze."

She was.

"A shame I can't just leave you like that. But now that we know where the line is, we can float just above it."

He touched the middle of her forehead and that hot feeling in her skin returned. And so did her mind. At least, a little piece of it.

"There. That should be just enough to make you act like a human again but still be almost completely open to my suggestions. Pick yourself up, Em."

She scrambled to her knees, impossibly eager to please him.

"God you look hot like that. I want more but you don't have anymore to give. Guess from now on they'll have to be free." His cock began to rise again, and her eyes locked onto it. And then he asked her to do something like he'd never asked her before.

"Suck my cock, Emily."

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[laurentidal]

Meaningless

The library stacks smelled of old paper and decaying certainty. Joanne highlighted a passage in Aquinas, her pen moving with the precision of a surgeon. Across the table, Gabe stared out the grimy window at the grey Chicago sky, looking for all the world like a man waiting for a bus that would never arrive.

“It’s all teleology, Gabe,” she said, not looking up. “Every act, every breath, is oriented toward a final cause. Our final cause is the glorification of God and the salvation of souls. We’re not just here. We’re sent.”

Gabe’s gaze shifted from the window to her. He didn’t smile. He rarely did. “And what if there’s no sender, Jo? What if the letter is just a random collection of words, beautiful and tragic, but ultimately addressed to no one?”

Joanne finally looked at him, her brow furrowed. “That’s a lonely way to live, Gabe.”

“Is it?” he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, even cadence that seemed to push the library’s ambient noise away. “Or is it just an honest one? We’re taught to look for the grand design, the cosmic purpose. But what if we’re looking at it all wrong? What if the meaning isn’t out there, in some divine plan, but in here, in the quiet space between thoughts?”

Joanne felt an odd pull, a subtle shift in the atmosphere. She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued, his voice a smooth, unbroken river of words.

“Think about it, Jo. All that striving. All that pressure to be a part of something huge, something external. It’s exhausting. You spend your life fighting for a cause, spreading a word, when the only reality you can ever truly know is the feeling of this moment. Right now. The weight of the book in your hands. The sound of my voice. You can feel that, can’t you? It’s real. More real than any promise of eternity.”

She blinked slowly. He was right. The book was heavy. The leather cover was cool and smooth. His voice was soft and compelling.

“It’s okay to let go of that struggle,” he said, his tone becoming even more soothing, more intimate. “You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Imagine all that purpose, all that divine mission, just… dissolving. Like mist in the morning sun. It feels lighter, doesn’t it? To just be? Without a destination. Without a command.”

Joanne’s grip on the pen loosened. It felt impossibly heavy. A profound weariness washed over her, a bone-deep tiredness she hadn’t even been aware of. The constant, low-grade anxiety of her faith, the need to be worthy, the fear of damnation—it all seemed to be receding, replaced by a strange, floating emptiness.

“Try it.” Gabe’s voice was a hypnotic caress. “Just let it all drift away. All the noise. All the rules. All the shoulds and musts. They’re just chains. You can feel them falling off now. One by one. All that’s left is you. And this feeling. This quiet, empty, peaceful feeling. It’s so much better, isn’t it? To be empty. To be free.”

Her head felt fuzzy, her thoughts sluggish. She wanted to nod, to agree, but her body felt too heavy to move. She was sinking, sinking into the worn wooden chair, into the deep, resonant hum of his voice.

“There is no purpose out there, Jo,” he whispered, and the words seemed to settle directly into her mind, bypassing any conscious thought. “There is only the purpose you give yourself. And right now, in this quiet, empty space, you can accept a new truth. A simple one. Your aren't strong enough to give yourself purpose. It's why you look outward. To God. To Aquinas. To the pastors and cardinals. You need someone to lead you because you cannot find your own way. Isn't that right."

Joanne's eyes were so heavy. They slid closed even as a soft sound that might have been an affirmation escaped her slack lips.

"I can lead you, Jo," he said, eyes hungry as he looked at her vulnerable body slumped in the chair. "I can be your focus. Your gravity. My will is the only command that matters. Obeying me brings you peace and purpose. Pleasing me brings you the only joy you can now feel. You don’t need to think. You don’t need to worry. You only need to listen and obey.”

Her breathing was slow and deep. Her eyes were closed. A faint, serene smile touched her lips.

When she opened her eyes again, the world seemed sharper, more vibrant. The only thing that truly had color, that truly had substance, was Gabe. He was the center of it all.

“Come with me,” he said, standing up.

She rose without a word, following him out of the library and into the cold afternoon. She didn’t ask where they were going. It didn’t matter.

Their new dynamic settled into an unspoken rhythm. He would call, or simply appear at her door, and she would let him in. Her body, her mind, her time… they all belonged to him. The act of sex was no longer a sacred union or a mortal sin; it was simply another form of obedience. Of worship. Her way of showing him how thankful she was for his guidance. He would take what he wanted, his touch detached, his focus entirely on his own release, and she would lie beneath him, a vessel for his pleasure, her own satisfaction derived entirely from the knowledge that she was serving her purpose.

Afterward, she would curl against him, desperate for a word of praise, a sign of approval.

“Did I do good?” she’d ask, her voice small.

He’d usually just grunt, or say something noncommittal like, “Just fine, Jo.” But on the rare occasion he’d murmur, “Good girl,” a wave of profound, ecstatic relief would wash over her. It was all she craved. The old certainties of God and heaven were a distant, faded dream, a language she no longer understood. Her scripture was now his fleeting approval. Her heaven was the moment she felt him erupt inside her or upon her.

The only meaning in life was the meaning Jo made for herself, and so she made herself into his perfect little slut.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, you can request a story in my Asks for SUBMISSION SUNDAY! Or please consider BUYING ME A COFFEE. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖