Hypnovember Day 19 - Visor
College reporter Chris was caught was trying to investigate some shady activity going on in an abandoned mansion
YOU ARE THE REASON
trying on a metaphor
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Andulka
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Claire Keane
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Xuebing Du

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@lookdeep-intomyeyes
Hypnovember Day 19 - Visor
College reporter Chris was caught was trying to investigate some shady activity going on in an abandoned mansion
Gonna try and make a spiral to help myself forget how to cum for a few days...
Or maybe just help me not want it at all <3 cumming is bad for good bunnies without someone to give them permission...
Just kinda putting some thoughts here about self brainwashing to become aroused, and how I'm doing things. I'm also putting this here because goddamn, recounting these events is arousing as hell, might as well put it here to read back later.
(Transmasc/nonbinary hypnokink/self brainwashing content below)
More about self brainwashing! But this time it's what typically happens when I do it to myself~ just a little walk through of what happens to me when I do it~
When I get it in my head to start brainwashing again, it sticks with me. I started to condition myself early on to have it be a nagging, needy feeling that won't leave me alone once I've thought of it. Usually for fun, I try to resist.
Resistance play is a big part of this for me! I try my best to do other things and ignore the heat pooling between my legs, the edges of my vision beginning to fuzz out. I try to fight it, but the more I think about it, the easier it gets to rationalize doing it again, just one more time...
If I get too stubborn and I'm in a safe place, my hand will snap automatically and trigger an immediate drop into a trance that skyrockets my arousal. As it stands, if I am the one who does it and it happens, I cannot resist it. Even if I try. I'll be helpless to the snap and my body will suddenly go rigid. My eyes will cross, I'll stand up straight, and my clit will throb.
Over time, my arousal has become absolutely linked to trance. I've wound the two so tightly together that now regular arousal starts to put my mind into a helpless, sleepy state of need and obedience. So having this happen speeds up the process tenfold.
If I'm not far enough gone, I'll sit down with my laptop, grab a spiral and an audio(usually wordless binaural beats made to arouse, Mindshop on YouTube is great for this) and stare into it until I'm fully under. If I'm not touching by this point already, I will be soon.
If I'm already too far gone and touching myself, smile wide and eyes crossed mindlessly, I'll simply find a place to lay down and start to rub.
My whole body remains stiff as I do this, staring straight ahead, either into a spiral or blankly at the wall, and I fall into a repetitive motion of circling my clit with my fingers. The instant I start to touch, my brain shuts off completely. I'm gone, doomed to touch for at least an hour, if not more if time allows.
From there, things get fuzzy. My perception melts into pleasure and bliss and obedience to a baser need. I reinforce the addiction to self hypnosis and edging, pulling myself further and further into it with each and every stroke. The more I do it, the more I want to do it. The more I edge, the more I need it. It's a viciously delicious cycle.
The session, after a while, ends in either an orgasm(usually when I've had a long day of edging and actually need release), or a ruined orgasm, and the session starts over. I've come to really appreciate them, as they take away the urgency to cum but not the arousal left behind. It feels like submission, not being able to cum, and it turns me on like fucking crazy.
Eventually, once I'm done, I'll slowly rise from trance and make sure I'm doing alright. Check my body, check my need for food, water, cleaning, or rest. I'll curl up with some youtube videos, a blanket, a plushie, and my favorite headphones after taking care of the base necessities.
And I make sure to praise myself a whole damn lot. It helps to reward myself after sessions and take care of myself after, or record my thoughts. That way I can get my shattered brain back in order in a safe way, and self soothing is paramount at this stage. In a way, it links my mind back to self brainwashing as a pleasurable, good experience that I crave more because of the aftercare involved. Pleasure and then rest and safety are huge, huge parts of all of this.
If I have other things to do that day, I eventually ease off the aftercare and continue on. If i don't I can rest for as long as need be.
Writing about all this has... honestly made me crave to do it more~ so I might end up going to do that soon...
What's the harm in more reinforcement and conditioning~?
Employee Improvement Program
(brainwashing, mind control collar, company drone, corporate slutwashing, nc, mf blowjobs, and such nsft things)
Sadie knew she should probably have higher standards for herself than to accept a job at a warehouse belonging to such an infamous tech corporation. She had heard a lot about the fully computerized "electronic management system", the poor morale, and even some recent rumors about employees being forced to wear some kind of tracking technology made by the tech giant. Some crazy conspiracy theorists even said they brainwash people, much to Sadie's amusement. Point was, the company's reputation was bad. She needed to pay her rent this month SOMEHOW though, and this was the only company that replied to her application in time.
LuLu Goes Ahegao Again
LuLu didn’t realize just how well her conditioning was working until she made a conscious effort to resist it–just the once, just to prove to herself that she didn’t need to obey her Master’s instructions to get herself off. She slid the Bluetooth vibrator into her slick pussy and turned on one of her favorite patterns, then took the lovely little handheld massaging wand Master gave her for her birthday and rubbed it up and down her labia, concentrating the whole time on keeping her tongue inside her mouth and her eyes staring straight ahead. No matter how much better it made everything feel, she promised herself, she wouldn’t make… that one particular face.
But as always, the moment LuLu started thinking about the expression she wasn’t about to allow herself to make, the name popped into her lust-drunk brain and wouldn’t go away. Ahegao. A look of utter, vacuous stupidity, the look of a mindless fucktoy who’d given up on thinking and was letting their cunt make all the decisions for them. Tongue out like a drooling bitch in heat, eyes crossed in blank, helpless arousal, a face that exemplified horny sluts like her so completely that it almost parodied them. LuLu blinked hard, struggling with the effort of holding her gaze steady on the far wall. She… she knew Master would let her masturbate without showing off her dumb horny ahegao face. He just made it feel so much better when she did.
But… but LuLu could feel the effect it was having on her. She knew that he was subtly programming her every time she sank into orgasmic bliss for him and allowed her hypnotized mind to drift off into pleasure instead of paying attention to his warm, comfortable voice. She knew that when she made herself look dumb, it tricked her muzzy, mazy brain into believing that she really was the kind of stupid slut who couldn’t think about anything beyond her next orgasm. She knew that her ahegao faces slowed down her thoughts into sluggish confusion, and every time she tumbled down that slippery slope into bubbly vapidity it took her longer and longer to climb out of it. She… she liked it, of course she did, she wouldn’t keep coming back to Master if she didn’t, but LuLu wanted to show that she could stop. If she had to.
Because if she couldn’t… oh god, if she couldn’t… then that would mean that it wasn’t just a game anymore. That would mean that she was really being turned into a stupid slut by Master’s brainwashing, and the constant ache between her legs for another climax was just part of the same conditioning that left her drooling on the couch with her eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out while she fucked herself ever more empty and obedient for her owner. If she couldn’t stop herself from going all ahegao, LuLu would have to confront the simple truth that whatever trick her subconscious was playing to make her dumber and deeper and wetter and weaker, it was working. And that would be….
Oh fuck. That would be so, so fucking hot. LuLu felt her jaw slacken, her tongue slowly beginning to loll out in vacant arousal even as her gaze centered in on the bridge of her own nose. She could test Master’s control next time, she thought absently. Right now she just wanted to fuck herself nice and stupid for him. LuLu’s pussy clenched hard around the toy as she made herself cum that much harder for her owner.
(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!)
Iris Looks Back at You
It’s the look she gives you that’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life. Her face is blank and expressionless–well, it would be, there’s only so much emoting you can do when your mouth is formed into a wide circle around the endlessly thrusting cock of a total stranger. But when she opens her eyes and stares at you, there’s a hint of blank, bewildered astonishment behind those bright blue irises that speaks volumes. Iris knows that she’s lying on her back in one of the guest bedrooms of a house she’s only visiting, naked and getting skull-fucked by a random guy so hard that his balls smack into her upper lip with every thrust. She just… doesn’t know why.
You do. You arrived fashionably late for the party, and parking was intolerably difficult and the walk to the front door intensely uncomfortable in your high heels. You took what you assumed was a shortcut across the grounds and came upon two men smoking cigarettes outside and discussing who they were going to pick once the subliminals in the music took effect and the women inside started ‘gagging for it’… and that was the exact term they used. 'Gagging for it’. There was something so crude and nakedly lustful about the choice of phrase that you were suddenly, terrifyingly relieved that you always avoided smokers. A simple instinct kept you out of their sight, and to this day you can’t help wondering what might have happened to you if you hadn’t.
Instead you hung back, thoughts of looking for another way in replaced by a desperate need to learn everything you could about what was happening inside. The men talked freely, half-drunk and filled with lewd anticipation for the pleasures to come. They discussed their good luck at having a social connection with Harold Gatling, the host of the party who you only knew third-hand at best, and their excitement at being let loose into whole rooms full of young, pretty women who had no idea that their brains were being scrambled by the cutting edge in mind control technology. One of them said he wanted to use it on his wife next. The other said he’d be taking a few girls home with him to keep. You thought you recognized their voices from the office. You hoped to hell you were wrong.
It occurred to you that Iris was at the party, and despite your very real and justified fears of what might happen if you went inside you knew you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t go looking for her. She was an old friend, if not a close one, and you felt like you couldn’t simply leave her to soak up the music and absorb the hidden programming. It sounded like a few minutes of exposure wouldn’t mess with your mind too much, and as long as you went in and out quickly you were probably safe. Nonetheless, you took some tissues out of your purse and tore them up to make improvised earplugs before you slipped in through the side entrance.
It took you very little time to find her. Most of the men were thankfully too preoccupied to worry about privacy, and they made enough noise to give you a clear idea of their whereabouts without any real effort. You caught up with Iris in one of the spare bedrooms, getting her face plowed by a cock she can barely get her lips around and looking at you in helpless confusion. And now you’re standing there watching her, feeling the invisible timer in your head ticking down your last few moments of safety, knowing you have to leave soon. But if you try to get her out of here, the men will notice you. They’ll keep you here until the music takes effect and you’re just another blank-eyed sex toy for them to fuck… and you can’t risk that.
You turn to leave. And the shocked, bewildered look in those bright blue eyes stays with you.
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Having a little fun before the announcement😵💫♥️
Hehe🥴💫 Hi everyone! Just a reminder for the #hypnogiveaway in my OF this Wednesday! Join for a chance to win!❤️There are even more prizes! Including sessions,hypno cosplay photos and videos, and more! 💕
OnlyFans
When you ask your Echo to play you Playlist but forget that you were listening to your training files. 💫
({*})
’({*})’ The message popped up at the top of Kathy’s screen while she was watching a video, drawing her attention away from the action at the bottom of the screen almost instantly. She stared at it for a moment, not quite certain how to respond to the abstract little emoticon at first. Then her thumb absently tapped the notification, switching apps, and her lips spread into a wide, blissful smile. She leaned back, putting one leg up on the couch cushions and leaving the other on the floor. Her right hand drifted down to her pink panties, beginning to tease her pussy through the worn cotton fabric almost without even realizing it. Her eyes focused with an almost magnetic intensity onto the chat window, and she began to type with her free hand.
‘I am allonne and avalabl’, she tapped out, sending the message with little red squiggles still highlighting her spelling errors. It wasn’t important to correct them, she knew, not when she was talking to… talking to… talking to this particular person, her brain supplied vaguely. They knew that she didn’t have both hands free to text right now, and they knew that she was, was… distracted. Kathy felt very distracted right now, in fact, so distracted that she couldn’t even pay attention on what was distracting her. Her breath came in short, whimpering gasps, and her mind thrummed with a pleasure that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. She kept looking back up at that little symbol, the ’({*})’, her attention drawn straight to the little asterisk that she somehow imagined to be wet and throbbing and swollen with ecstasy.
It didn’t take long to get a response. 'Are you rubbing for me, pretty girl?’ Kathy’s vision swam for a moment as she felt a swell of pride welling up deep inside her brain. She was so happy to know that she was doing exactly the right thing just now, even if she didn’t know how she knew it was right or even precisely what it was. She just knew she felt good and useful and happy and fulfilled, and she wanted that feeling to keep going. Her fingers stroked a surface of warm, wet cotton that she’d polished to a satiny sheen over time, and underneath them her body quivered with hot, tingling bliss, but she didn’t really notice. She didn’t need to notice to answer the question. She only needed to follow her instincts like a good slut.
'rrubing now yes’, she texted, unable to make herself reply with anything more coherent. It was too hard to think of anything clever to say at the moment; Kathy’s mind was descending into a cotton candy mist filled with slick, syrupy pleasure, and she couldn’t really keep her thoughts on anything for more than a few moments at a time. One second her attention was drifting down to her wet panties, the next back up to the little ’({*})’ symbol that had scrolled up near the top of her screen, the next to the name associated with the chat window that she struggled harder and harder to read only to fail so deliciously. Kathy liked struggling. She liked failing. She liked everything that happened to her when she was a good girl like this.
'Keep rubbing, slut,’ the response came back. 'I’ll be over soon. Make sure the door is unlocked.’ Kathy already knew it was. She always left it unlocked when she was at home by herself like this, just in case she got an unexpected text and needed to spend her time staring and sinking and playing with her soft, slick pussy. She didn’t know that was the reason, of course, but that was the wonderful thing abut the ’({*})’ emoticon. It always reminded Kathy of everything she so happily, eagerly forgot.
(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!)
Not Again
oh yeah… he was picking up speed now “That good, baby? You like that?” oh yeah “Feel me fucking you right up your spine?” wait… no. not that hypnosis crap again… “Deeply… running up your back into-” no. not again… “It’s so good though. Hard! Right up your spine. Fucking…” n-no… I don’t like… like being… “You like be fucked out.” no… i don’t… i- “You like be fucked out.” like… “You like be fucked out.” like being fucked… “You like be fucked out.” fucked… out… “Good girl… I’m fucking you out.” fucked… out… “Blurry now… Fuck out…” blurry… fucked… out… “Hard to think now. You can’t think.” cant think “Fucked out.” out “Cum.” cum “CUM!” cummmmnmnmnmm… .. . “You are fucked out.” … … … “Good girl.” … … … .. .
This is a legacy post from my old blog reformatted for the new era. A more detailed and full version of this One Shot GIF can be found HERE.
A Moment to Herself
Nancy slowly, carefully inched her fingers into the waistband of her panties, seeking out her clit with all the delicacy of a safecracker listening for each individual tumbler dropping into place. Her other hand went tightly over her mouth in a makeshift gag; she knew she didn’t dare scream–they’d find her if she screamed–but if she lost control and let out a tiny involuntary whimper then this might save her. She was alone in the bathroom, she had her back to the door… it was time to let out some of this pent-up sexual energy before it forced her into a mistake the way it did with the others.
The others. She could think about them now, here in the privacy of this quiet little room with a few minutes of mental space to herself. She could think about the way that Barry squirmed and wriggled his way deeper into his little hiding space between the cubicle wall and the building wall, only to get distracted by the constant contact between the tent in his jeans and the fabric covered surface. They found him when he groaned, and she could only watch as they tore apart the maze of wooden frameworks to get to him. Within moments, they’d shredded his clothing away from his body to give themselves free and open access to his throbbing cock. He… he didn’t last long after that.
And then there was Miranda. Poor fucking Miranda, who must have been more vulnerable to the pheromone mists than the rest of them. While they were all looking for places to hide, she seemed confused and distracted, almost like she was seeking out the source of some unheard music. She stumbled around in circles, heedless of the thunderous pounding that told the rest of them the pack was getting closer, and when they found her she’d already given in and started rubbing herself through her clothes. By the time those claws sliced expertly through the fabric, leaving Miranda nude and whimpering with arousal, she already had the glassy-eyed look of one of their concubines. She didn’t last long after that, either.
Nobody lasted long out in the open. Once they got those weird, glowing eyes fixated on you, well… it was so long free will, hello to a lifetime of mindless sexual slavery. Nancy wondered if it was perhaps a part of their life cycle, some sort of breeding impulse that required a human uterus to carry their embryos–but if that was the case, why go after Barry? Why go down on all eights and lick his cock with that long, prehensile tongue of theirs? Maybe they just liked sex. Maybe the human race had made so much incredible porn over the decades that even aliens knew how much the dominant species here liked to fuck, and this was just their equivalent of sex tourism.
Maybe… maybe it was pointless to speculate. They were here, they were strong and fast and hunted by sound, and if they found you there was no escape. Nancy’s only choice was to stay hidden, stay quiet, and keep masturbating every time the urges got too strong to resist. She let out a muffled gasp as her pussy clenched around her rubbing fingers, the only outward sign of an orgasm made impossibly intense by the fog of sex that filled the air everywhere now. Then, slowly and carefully, she slid her fingers out and began planning her next move.
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They All Know About Abigail
Abigail never understood quite how they always knew. She didn’t think she looked any different from other women–she wore her dark hair long and straight, and the shape of her deep brown eyes probably made it clear that her mom’s mom came from Hong Kong back in ‘57, but there had to be plenty of people in the Pacific Northwest with similar ancestry and none of them ever got… mmm. Mmmmmmm. God, his thumb tasted so good in her mouth. Abigail couldn’t stop sucking it once she started. He cupped her chin and led her with just the lightest tug through the parking lot to his car, and for some reason she didn’t even try to stop him.
Because he knew. That was the thing that kept perplexing Abigail, even as her head began to bob up and down on the proffered digit and her eyes crossed once, twice, and finally rolled back all the way until only the whites showed. He didn’t ask her if she was the kind of woman who would react to a thumb pressed against her lips with a low, liquid moan of pure ecstasy and an enthusiastic lick that turned into some kind of lewd display of oral fixation. He didn’t say, “Gee, I wonder if you’re the sort of slut who gets all suckdrunk and stupid every time someone pushes something into that drooly mouth of yours.” He just… he knew. He knew how vulnerable it made her. How easily and effortlessly she became a thoughtless, compliant toy for anyone who gave her something to suck on. How?
W-was it her outfit? She wasn’t wearing anything especially sexy. Was it something she wore? It did seem to happen more when she had her nose ring in, but she could remember times when some man would just look at her… look at her and push his thumb into her mouth… p-push his thumb into her mouth and make her all, all horny and needy and fuzzy and b-b-blank… make her blank and, and guide her, oh f-fuck, guide her down to her knees, right here in the parking lot, oh god, anyone could see her if they walked by… guide her to her knees and give her something else. To suck. And she wouldn’t be able to resist, because sucking felt so good. Abigail’s eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open in the face of wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure.
They just knew. Like it was written on her face, like her identity was on some kind of secret database of Obedient Cocksluts and every man in town had access. Some days Abigail couldn’t get more than halfway through the parking lot before some guy saw her heading to the grocery store and decided her time was better served with her mouth wrapped around his shaft until warm, wet, sticky cum splattered onto her tongue. And her cunt leaking with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, Abigail would give in and go along. Because she really was that needy and vulnerable and helpless for anyone who filled her slutty face. She didn’t know why, but that didn’t concern her. She just wanted to know why it was so fucking obvious to everyone.
If she knew, she could hide it. She could pretend she wasn’t a suckslut, at least long enough to get through her day. She could go out at night, find men to give her the oral orgasms she craved. She could choose who made her blank and mindless and horny for a good hard face-fucking, a nice deep-dicking all the way d-down her… her throat…. Abigail went away for a little while into pleasure. She came back with cum dripping down her chin. And she stumbled to her feet and tried hard, without any success at all, not to show how much she loved it.
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Driven to Defeat
“Driving you down. Deeper and deeper.” The words come accompanied by a powerful thrust each time, sliding all the way into Ryan’s ass until he can feel Master’s balls smacking against his perineum, stimulating his prostate and forcing his aching shaft to slide back and forth against the silken sheets. “Claiming you. Owning you. Taking your mind. Taking your body. You’re mine now. You’re my slut. My bitch. My slave. You can’t fight it. You can’t resist. Every time you try. I fuck your mind away. More and more. Deeper and deeper. My cock in your mind. My cock in your brain.”
Ryan grips the edge of the bed, his fingers tangling into the silk fabric as his eyes squeeze tightly shut under the onslaught of sensation that makes it simply impossible to think. He can feel Master’s hands, possessively resting on his back and hip, lightly holding him in place so that Master’s cock can keep driving into him with thrust after long, hard, pounding thrust. It’s almost astonishing to him how little it takes to hypnotize him into blank, submissive pleasure–just two hands, the weight of Master’s body on top of him, and that powerful shaft in his ass. “Fucking your resistance out. Fucking you deeper. Making you mine.”
Ryan lets out a long, ragged sigh, his whole mind focused on the pleasure that courses through him with every thrust. It’s all he can do not to cum; the constant pounding keeps pushing him back and forth against the mattress, and the smooth silk strokes his dripping, needy shaft like a lover’s caress. But he knows that if he cums, he’s just going to release more of his resistance, more of his willpower and self-determination, leaving him even weaker and more submissive to Master’s control. He’s been there countless times, lying on the bed and feeling the cum-soaked sheets against his belly while Master fucks him deeper into subjugation. “Deeper into defeat. Deeper into obedience.” He can’t let it happen again, not if he wants to be free.
But then it hits Ryan, the same way it hits him every single time. “You want to be mine. You want to give up. You want to cum for me.” If he wants to be free, he can’t cum. So if he wants to cum, that means he must not want to be free. The logic is elegant, simple, and utterly inescapable, and it makes Ryan’s balls tighten in desperate urgency as Master’s cock teases his prostate over and over with every thrust. If Master makes Ryan cum, makes him shoot his load like a horny teenager who doesn’t even know how to control his ejaculations, then he must want to be controlled. He must secretly, deep down, want to be an obedient brainwashed sex toy for his Master’s cock. It all makes perfect sense.
That’s why he keeps coming back to this hotel room every weekend. That’s why he takes off his clothes, lies down on his belly on the mattress, closes his eyes and waits for the door to open. That’s why he’s always so passive and meek while Master lubes up his ass to be fucked. Because he wants to be a mindless, horny fucktoy for Master. Because he wants to obey. Because he’s nothing but a horny, slutty bitch for Master and he can’t fight the pleasure it brings to be owned. “My fucking slave,” Master growls, and Ryan’s cock spurts helplessly against his belly as he finds himself gushing out his resistance yet again.
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“I o-erm… Iobey.” You said the words quickly, and your face flushed. Your heart raced. That word just… Made you feel so very flustered. You didn’t meet their gaze, and your hypnotist leant forwards.
“What’s wrong? You’ve told me that you love to obey before.”
“Yeah, but. That, that was whilst I was in trance.” You blushed even harder, you could feel the heat rising in your face.
“And? Do you think you’re only a good obedient toy whilst in trance?” They took a finger and traced it along your cheek, down to your chin.
Your eyes followed the finger, up the arm, and came to rest back on them, back on their eyes. “No.”
Their look turned sterner. Holding you, pinned by their gaze. “So, what’s different?”
You squirmed, unable to look away from their eyes, mind feeling a little fuzzy. “N-nothing. It just makes me feel flustered.”
They smiled, their arm dropped away from your chin, and they leant back. “Okay, sweetness. In which case, lets help you get over that. Does that sound nice?” You nodded, still looking into their eyes. They snapped their fingers, and you dropped.
* * *
And you were back up. Feeling fuzzy. They smiled at you. “How are you doing, toy?”
Your mouth moved automatically. “I obey.” That familiar feeling of flushing didn’t come. But… That’s not what you meant to say. You tried again. “I obey.” And as realisation dawned, they giggled.
“Now now pet, don’t pout. It’s not going to be forever… Just as long as it takes to feel natural. I mean, what do you do?”
“I obey.” You felt a different sort of flush rise. Arousal. The lack of control was all sorts of fun, and as the rest of the afternoon continued, that arousal would continue to rise.
Feeding Her Cunt
Pauline’s fingers slipped into the waistband of her lacy panties, and she let out a tiny hiss of arousal as she began to rub up and down her soft pink labia. She began to summon up an idea in her head–nothing consequential, just a daydream about getting the garden ready for spring–and tried to hold it in her mind while she slowly teased her wet pussy. It was getting hungry, after all. It needed to be fed. And after all this time, Pauline knew very well that if she didn’t give it some thoughts to suck out of her brain, it would simply take them instead.
The garden looked good in Pauline’s daydream; she had ideas about planting gardenias, maybe in the bed where she grew obedients last year… but she could feel arousal nibbling at the edges of her thoughts, twisting ‘bed’ and 'obedients’ into slow, sultry fantasies about being obedient in bed, and she knew that her cunt was swallowing up her mind bit by crumbling bit. She reached up and squeezed her breast with her free hand, tweaking and pinching the nipple as her arousal gradually took over her brain and emptied it into the hungry void between her thighs. Soon she wouldn’t be able to think at all. She’d just rub herself like a vacant, horny slut and give all her will up to her wet pussy.
Thankfully, its eyes were always bigger than its stomach. Even when Pauline descended into slack-jawed, drooling emptiness, her mind on nothing more than her rubbing, thrusting fingers, she knew that her cunt couldn’t simply devour all her thoughts forever and leave her nothing but a blank-eyed masturbating fuckdoll. She’d come back out of the deep sexual trance her pussy put her into… but she knew from experience that she’d come back a little bit slower. A little bit simpler. A little bit more obsessed with all the things her cunt loved, like sex and submission and fucking and teasing and big thick vibrators throbbing away against her slutty clit and getting stretched by a whole fist until she looked down to see Mistress’s wrist emerging from her soaking–“GNNNH!” she squealed, her first orgasm swallowing the fantasy whole.
She… she needed to come up with thoughts to feed to her cunt. She needed to give it parts of her so it didn’t take the important ones, like… like… like Pauline didn’t know, because they weren’t there anymore. Some things were just gone forever, erased by the constant pulse of sexual heat between her thighs, and she didn’t even know what was missing but she knew they were gone because sometimes she’d try to think and she’d just feel a warm, wet throb of arousal between her legs instead as she realized she’d gotten close to one of the parts of her brain that her cunt had swallowed up. And then she’d need to masturbate all over again. Her cunt was getting so strong these days. If she wasn’t careful, someday it would eat her whole.
And then she’d become nothing but a mindless, hypnotized slave for Mistress. She’d just squat on the bed with her legs spread whenever she wasn’t needed, rubbing her slutty pussy and emptying out her brain as quickly as the new thoughts tried to form, blank and drooling and completely in the thrall of her hungry cunt. She’d be an eager, obedient slut, a horny fucktoy without a single notion inside her vacant little head, and she… she… Pauline tried to remember why that was a bad thing, but all she felt was a warm, wet throb of arousal between her thighs that made her want to rub the rest of her will away for Mistress.
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