I made this tumblr to share on discord stuff that I make, without accidentally sharing my real name anywhere. xD
It's gonna be a HELL of a mix of stuff, probably mostly drabbles and writings. There will be NSFW stuff, so watch out!
Just had a rather fun bit of confusion wordplay happen on discord. x3
I felt like doing some shenanigans, and ended up with a wordplay confusion thing even I was beginning to lose track of what I was writing.
It was gloriously fun, though. x3
[Lightly edited to fix a couple of typos, because it pained me to leave them in, and also to help flow in a couple places. x3]
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My lines in **bold**, others are in *italics*.
CW: Confusion, wordplay, trancey language. I almost fell just writing it, so be careful about reading it. xD
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**And we seem to have run a wide variety of subjects in a short amount of time
From numbers to boobs to imaginations to endings.**
*Ooo! I'm a subject!*
**Flicking from one to another to another.
We have also switched from subject to subject in that way!
Since several people of the subject variety
Have popped in and out.**
*(is this an ADHD induction)*
*What's the harm in that*
**Subjecting themselves to various bits of the conversation
As the subjects change and the subject changes
But the subject doesn't truly change, since no subject has subjected a subject to be a subject...yet
We have changed many subjects
But changed no subjects
Since though we have flirted with the subject
We have brought no subject down
We have only brought up subjects
New topics
In conversations
Subjecting our potential subjects to an array and variety of subjects
As our subjects are various
Both topic and people
And people and topics both
Subject themselves to being changed
But the success to subject a subject to subjects
Has been more of a success than subjecting a subject into being a subject
Or at least I would say so in my subjective opinion. ^-^
Making sense~?**
*is trying so hard to follow*
**Trying so hard to follow?
But it's easy to follow
It's easy for me to lead
Easy for you to follow
As I move from subject to subject
Focusing on one subject and then another
Subjecting you to the subjective subject of what subject's subject we may be discussing
And subjecting ourselves to
And it gets to a point where it doesn't matter what subject.
Whether that subject is a person subject or a personal subject
All that matters is the words, right?
Subjecting yourself, the subject, to the subject, whether that subject is you, the subject, or not**
*yes, i think*
**You think?
You sure?
You think you think?**
*no*
**You think you have thought?
You think you thought a thought
About some subject
About yourself, the subject?
About the topic, the subject?
About thinking about a subject
But whether that subject you think about it what we're talking about
Or who we're talking about
You don't think you think you know
No?**
*um*
**Yes?**
*maybe*
**Perhaps that's too complicated.
Let's break it down.
You think?**
*confusing
yes
...i think*
**So yes, you think we should break it down.
Or yes you think you're thinking?**
*2nd one*
**You think you're thinking is the thought you think you think?**
*yes*
**No.**
*no?*
**You thought you think you're thinking of thought you think you thunk.
You thought you were talking about a subject of thinking
But really you're a subject of non thinking about the subject.
So you think you think, you thought you were thinking
But
No.
You don't think.
Simple, right?**
*I don't think*
**Why did you make it so complicated earlier?
When it's so simple.
You're a subject.
And you're not thinking.
Yes?**
*yes*
**Good.
Correct.
And realizing that truth
You drop.
The thoughts that you aren't thinking stop.
Your mind that is a subject drops.
And you just
Drift
Not having to think
Not wanting to think
Don't think
And sink
Feeling good?**
*y*
**Good.
Sink deeper
So easy to do
Such a relief after trying to think
Giving it all up
And accepting that you don't think
You sink
Then, following my words up even easier than you followed them down
Because this is simple, compared to what I was writing before
Rising and waking
Slowly and comfortably.
Feeling a bit drifty when you wake
But holding onto as much of that fuzzy feeling as you want and should have right now
Rising up
1
2
3
Awakening slowly
4
5
6
Stretching a bit, feeling your mind clearing
7
8
9
And with a big ole stretch
10
Fully awake and aware.**
It was like she was...was enthralled. Bespelled. Caught and fixated by the sight of...her.
Her eyes first...wide and staring and almost glazed over with need and desperation. Face flushed with...with a mixture of fluster and arousal. Naked of course, and every tiny shift of air feeling like a wave of sensation as it touches bare, sweat slicked skin. One hand supports her, flat on the floor behind and slightly to the side, while she watches the other hand move almost lazily and teasingly up and down her own chest. Watching herself...like this...it was impossible not to touch, with light caresses that sent a thrill of sensation and need down her own spine. Watching her fingers moving...moving her fingers while watching? Whichever, whatever, the important part is that the feel of her fingers trailing tightening circles around her chest was enough to make her pant softly with need...especially when a flash of mischief at herself has her suddenly pinch her own nipple, hard enough that she saw herself jerk with surprise at the delicious flash of pain.
A flash...a glint... and suddenly she remembers the most eyecatching part of her own reflection. It's amazing how easily she had forgotten it, how she had let it slip her mind and only recalled it as the sudden movement made the light flash off it.
The chastity belt.
Carefully measured and made for her, obviously, since it sat easily and comfortably on her hips. It was...surprisingly comfortable, since she'd somehow even forgotten it was there.
Seeing it and remembering it suddenly made her whimper and twitch her hips up a little as need and arousal rushed through her, making her so hot and wet and...
It didn't matter though, did it? She could be the neediest fucking slut in the world and only be able to touch if whoever had put that on her let her out.
She could see her own expression of desperation in the mirror...lips parted as if wanting to speak, to beg, to plead. She could tell from her reflected image how close she was to letting out all that craving in just...a flood of words. Useless words, pointless words. She closed her mouth and the image in the mirror did too, even though she could see the pleading in the eyes of her reflection.
She couldn't touch. Only rub uselessly at that metal that glimmers so tauntingly. Rub uselessly and desperately and pretend and wish she were able to delve her fingers deep into her needy, dripping pussy.
She could only pretend....
...
She could pretend. She could imagine. Even if she couldn't pull her eyes away from the mirror and from the truth of her inability to touch...she could imagine it.
Her hand drifts down. Trailing down her chest, down her stomach, down between her legs. Watching its progress in the mirror, she drew in a quick gasp of breath as she saw her fingers touch the cool metal. Watched as her hand skimmed futilely over the plate covering her and preventing her from getting even the tiniest touch, even the smallest of sensation.
But...she could imagine it.
Even though she watched her reflection and saw her own desperate, hopeless expression and knew for a fact that she wouldn't...couldn't...touch a thing...
She imagined it.
Imagined letting her fingers slip between her legs to find her pussy, aching and hot and dripping from the arousal raging in her body. Imagined rubbing her fingers in that wetness until they were slick and slippery, sliding just along the edges and teasing with the soft thrills of the lightest sensation. Imagined flicking her thumb over her clit to make herself jerk in surprise at the shock of pleasure that sparked through her. Imagined thrusting her fingers deep into her wet pussy and finding every...last...one of the spots that she knew had the most sensitive nerves and stroking them with the skill of many hours practice. Imagined...imagined...ima...im...
"Fuck!" She howled in frustration.
She had a strong imagination but it was impossible to ignore the truth in front of her eyes. While she had been picturing sensations so strong that she could almost almost feel them...her reflection's fingers had been scrabbling uselessly along that plate, rubbing desperately...but pointlessly.
She could try to imagine something else but her image showed her otherwise.
She was locked. Chaste. All that pleasure she had pictured, all the sensations she had tried to convince herself she felt were...just...hallucinations.
Whimpering softly, she seemed to wilt a little. She watched herself sag in the mirror with the look of defeat strong in her reflection's gaze. Her fingers still moved up and down and up and down slowly, unable to quite give up, but.....
"You've been here for nearly an hour."
A voice suddenly broke through her haze of need and arousal. She almost flinches, finally dragging her eyes away from the mirror. She looked up at them, whimpering and pleading. She just needed...so badly...
"Time’s up."
She was pulled to her feet on weak, shaky legs. Shuddering with need unrelieved, she glanced back at the mirror, at her reflection.
At...her reflection. Still...there.
Still sitting on the floor. Legs spread. Leaning back on one hand while the other rubbed uselessly at the chastity belt between her legs. On the other side of the...mirror. Mirror? No...an empty frame. An empty frame!
She gasps as memory floods in all at once. A deal offered, a bet accepted, a series of suggestions made.
"No, please! Please! Just a few more minutes, I would have remembered...realized...managed it, please!" She begs, the words falling from her lips so fast she seemed to stumble over them. "Please, please, let me go again, let me have more time!" She sobbed as she tried to dart her still damp fingers down between her legs to have the few moments she needed to rub and edge and climax. Her hands were grabbed and held and cuffed behind her back and away from her needy...fucking...cunt. Until she was silenced with a gag shoved between her lips, she cried and pleaded and wailed...begging for more time, another chance!
Because now she remembered.
"My dear, sweet toy. Our deal is struck. You have my full permission to touch yourself as much as you want. Any way that you want. Please yourself until you cum, if you so desire. But you must do so...while sitting on this side of the frame."
It had seemed a good deal! Until...the second half.
"This frame becomes a mirror to you. Whatever you see within it becomes your reality. It becomes your reflection, becomes your truth. The other side of it cannot help but be your reflection, cannot help but follow you. The only words they can speak are yours. The only actions they can do are yours. The only pleasure they can feel...is yours."
She’d been filled with a creeping suspicion and doubt, but...months and months and months of being forbidden to climax had left her willing to leap at any chance, any opportunity.
Plus...she'd have a chance to bring pleasure to another someone else in this game, right?
[NSFW drabble writing time! This one was fun. x3
I tried to keep it gender neutral, since I wrote it in second person perspective. xD
CW: Let’s see...bondage, definitely. Bondage that essentially reduces someone to a useful set of holes as decoration and entertainment for a party. Someone being very annoyed at you for being late and lightly punishing you for it. Gags and nipple clamps. Spanking, paddling, caning with no specifics of how much or how hard. Face fucking. Drooling. Getting licked and having a tongue in your mouth. Blindfold. *looks thoughtful* I think that’s most of the biggest ones, let me know if I missed something to warn about. ^-^]
"You were told to be here at a specific time." The woman's annoyed, clipped tone matched the hurried speed of her steps as she yanked me down the hall and into a large room. (It was too bad they couldn't go at a slower pace, there were many rooms that I got a peek into as we scurried by that seemed...interesting. Also, when you had checked in late, while stripping down and getting locked into a reverse armbinder that held my arms tightly but comfortably behind me, they had taken 30 seconds and a paddle and quickly beat my ass red as punishment, and that throbbing was making itself known as we practically ran down the hall.)
The hall ended at a door that opened up into a huge room that was set up and decorated for a hell of a party. There was all your normal things, a buffet table, a band playing in one corner, many places to get drinks, etc. And then there was your not so normal offerings - many of the smaller tables were actually people contorted into difficult positions and either bound or commanded to stay still that way, many of the wait staff standing quietly next to the buffet table had various layers of bindings and accessories, cages in two of the corners had people within them who were sweating and trembling with need because they knew they had an evening of being toyed with and played with and needing to put on a good show ahead of them.
And then there was the wall.
The room was roughly divided in half by a fake wall in the center of the room. It was obviously fake, it didn't even reach the ceiling. On purpose, of course - it would affect the acoustics of the room, if it did. Most people likely wouldn't even notice, though, distracted by the purpose of the wall instead - from this side, you saw a line of heads. People somehow trapped and held there, only their heads visible and, more importantly, accessible, most of them gagged in various ways, some blindfolded, or collared or leashed or...
You didn't get a chance to see very many details, though, as you were hurried to the other side of the wall. As you rounded the side, several questions began to be answered - the wall was fairly thick, and the inside hollow, wide enough that everyone held in it showed only their head and neck on one side and on the other their legs and...well~
There were stockade style 'holes' in the wall on each side, cleverly designed to slide up easily to allow someone to fit through, then slide back down and lock into place and look just like solid wall, giving the illusion that the wall had practically been built around the helplessly displayed captives.
A system you were about to be introduced to, as you were tugged along to the last remaining 'hole' available, the wall already slid up and waiting for its occupant.
"Hurry!" Snarled your guide, shoving you at the wall, not caring if you stumbled and nearly tripped. "The party is about to start, you have seconds to get into place. If you ruin this illusion, I'm going to personally make sure you regret it."
You're tempted to slow your steps just because, except you're just as eager to get into place. Bending over with your arms bound behind you seems an uncertain thing, but as you start to duck your head into the 'door', you find out there's someone inside the wall to help guide you through. You don't see them for long enough to tell anything about them, as they support you and help you put your head through the other, smaller hole on the other side.
Apparently that side is the easier side, because it's only seconds before you hear a sliding sound, and the wall above your head shifts and drops and soft padding surrounds your neck even as it grips and holds. You try to move a little to test, but though it is comfortable, it is also ungiving. A little click of a locking sound sends a shiver down your spine and heat between your legs - no matter what else they do, you are now completely trapped.
You're nowhere near done, though. Working quickly, the pair of staff rush to finish getting you prepared - it takes a little more work to position your legs just right, nice and wide and spread and accessible (and shackles you hadn't seen in your mad dash to the wall are clicked around your ankles to make sure you stay in that position), to situate the larger door as tightly, but comfortably on your hips as possible and to lock that as well.
Already the reality of the situation you're in is beginning to finally click in your mind, and you find yourself biting back a gasp, trembling and clenching a little, as you consider how you're being reduced to just...a useful decoration for the party guests to enjoy and to play with. (And, you realize also that not all of the trays being carried offer only food - you notice on some various tools and toys that might end up used on any of the entertaininment, including you)
For a moment you find yourself wondering, daydreaming, imagining what various uses you might be put to...but then a slap on your already red ass brings you back to this moment. Obviously, your guide decided to take a final chance to punish you for being late. Bah.
It almost sounds...like...through the wall, you couldn't hear her words, but you could tell she was talking, and you heard the person within the wall agree with her on something, promising to follow through on...something.
A moment later, she had come around to the front of the wall, a wicked smile on her lips. Without looking away from you, she gestures at one of the wait staff, who hurries to her side. She whispers a short couple of sentences to him, and he runs off.
"I remember your contract. You checked all the boxes, all the consents. You were willing to come here and serve as whatever entertainment we decided would be necessary." She said lightly, coolly, but with an expression that made you...shiver. The wait staff member was already returning with a box, and he followed the woman over, staying at her side.
"I don't like it when people are late."
Reaching into the box, she first pulled out a ring gag. Okay, you'd seen some of the others were gagged, and the idea of having your mouth wide open and extremely...usable was....hot. So you didn't fight as she slid it into your mouth and locked it in place. Oh fuck, that was...hnnngh. Again, the realization of just how helpless you were now, how displayed you were, how....hnnnnghhhh. Your arousal skyrockets, and you can't help but squirm uselessly, a soft little whine escaping you.
Next out of the box was....a sign? She held it up for you to see - "I'm a bad pet, please punish me. (I'm not allowed to cum!)" - and then stepped over and hung it up on the wall, over your head. "There's one for the other side, too~" She almost seemed to purr as your eyes widened. You tried to speak, to swear, to demand, to beg...but the gag stifled your every word and made it useless.
Chuckling, she knocked lightly on the wall. "Our friend inside has orders to torment you as well." She leaned down and purred directly into your ear, biting out each word. "Next time...don't be late." You hadn't paid attention to her hands as you had stared at her, trying to make your expression apologetic and pleading...which meant you didn't see the blindfold until she had already slipped it over your eyes. She patted your cheek and walked away, laughing. "Now the party can get started!"
Body locked in place, mouth and legs both spread wide open, lost in darkness and already gasping and trembling with need, you could do nothing but wait. Wait and wonder, straining to hear any clue of when something would happen, when something would begin.
It was not outside, but inside the wall, that the first thing came. A trailing of nails lightly down the part of your neck locked inside, a teasing touch on the exposed skin of your collar, then...a surprising bite of a clamp upon first one nipple, then the other, making you jerk a little at the sensation. It seemed gentle, but there was enough of a little weight dangling from it that if, you were to be, I don't know, locked in place at a party for hours, by the end it would definitely make itself known, would definitely ache and hurt in ways that made you moan through your gag just thinking about it.
It was also enough of a distraction that you didn't hear the sounds of the first guests coming in, their delighted exclamations as they saw the decorations and entertainment. The wall, as intended, was most eye catching, and almost everyone drifted over there first. And, since you ended up on the end closest to the door, you were the first one many considered and looked at. Several people passed by, but...a bad pet needing punished was a hard thing for some people to resist, and soon enough you had your first...entertainee, so to speak.
A hand works its fingers through your hair and pulls up, forcing you to 'look' up at them, not that you can see anything. A yelp, muffled and wet from the drool that had already been trickling from your open mouth (even after such a short time wearing the gag!), but a yelp that is cut short as suddenly a cock slides into your mouth, thrusts deep into your mouth, making you try to choke and sputter in shock. Instinctively you struggle though you can barely move, only managing a little wiggle that sends the clamps bouncing and jittering a little.
Only a moment later he tenses and goes still, while still buried in your throat, and you can hear him groan, feel him cum, filling your mouth and throat while you try to swallow, feeling what you can't drooling and drizzling out of your mouth as he slides out and lets go of you and you let your head drop, gasping raggedly and coughing through the gag.
"Wait staff, this one has made a bit of a mess, come and clean it up, won't you?" A male voice said lightly, a rumbling chuckle accompanying his words. "This is a hell of a party, they have gone all out." He was obviously speaking to one of his companions as they walked away, his voice disappearing into the sounds of the party you could concentrate on now that he had finished. The room was filled with the sounds of music, of moaning, of cries of pain and pleasure and hedonistic enjoyment of all kinds.
You tried to focus on certain sounds, to puzzle out what was going on (damn this blindfold!), but the sudden hard smack of a cane on your ass shot your concentration to hell. Guess people were taking that sign as truth, and you twitched and jerked with each strike, writhing in pained pleasure.
A gentle touch on your cheek came as a shock, especially when paired with a whisper. "Stay still, I have to do my job." A moment later, something warm and damp trailed along your chin, wiping off some of the drool and cum drizzling from your mouth. Not a cloth, but...what could it be...and then as warm air caresses your skin you have a flash of realization. A tongue, careful and gentle. One of the wait staff, tasked with 'cleaning', carefully and thoroughly licking you clean. Without thinking about the fact that you were blindfolded, you try to look down at them, and a set of hands firmly grab your head and hold it still. "I already cleaned the floor, I don't want to do it again so soon, keep your head up please." Oh fuck, did that mean he was licking the floor clean, too? You had no way of asking, no way to verify, but you suspected that was the case, and if so, holy hell the party organizers were thorough about coming up with as many hot ideas for this event as possible.
He seemed a bit uncertain, a little unpracticed at this (though you were sure by the end of the night his tongue would be much more skilled, if perhaps a bit tired and sore) especially when he let his tongue dart into your mouth, sliding through and around the ring gag, lapping out the pool of cum collected there. But finally he finished and pulled away, you would assume to move onto the next 'used' decoration. (You hoped that there were 'cleaners' for the other side of the wall, though you suspected that that damn sign would mean they wouldn't be allowed to be as thorough as you would hope. Fuck, only a few moments into the several hours long party...and you already wanted, needed to cum.)
Actually...thinking of it. How long was this party supposed to last?
How many guests were coming?
Why didn't you think to ask any of these questions earlier, when it was still possible?
As another guest slides into place at your mouth, and someone else takes a turn behind you, the one thing you are certain of is that this is going to be one hell of a party.
[ Got a random drabble idea while listening to the song One Day More, of all things. x3
The same kind of phrase, over and over, but referring to so many different things. x3
CW: Denial. Lots of denial. Different kinds of denial. Mentions of vibrators and snaps. x3]
"Hasn't this been an interesting little idea of a challenge, my pet?"
It was hard to focus on the voice, on the words, and yet impossible not to. For one thing, it would be so easy to lose the challenge if she missed any part of what was said.
"A challenge for me, to come up with as many different fun ways of 'denial' as possible...other than the obvious one, of course."
A light tap of a button accompanied that amused tone, and for a moment the vibrator flared into full strength rather than the teasingly low setting it had been on, and she gasped and jerked, arching her back as she bit her lip and fought to keep the building need and pleasure in her body solely on that shuddering edge and no more.
"Shall we list them out? I know that would help you in our little game, of trying to keep track of and juggle as many different kinds of denial as possible, and to not let any of them slip."
A low chuckle, the tone shifting as they list off things like items from a grocery list.
"Denial of climax, certainly. Staying at or nearly at an edge on and on and on. Denial of binding-" They trailed their fingers along one of her wrists, a teasingly light touch on trembling arms held over head as if bound to the bed with invisible bindings, struggling to keep them there and not wiggle and squirm. More difficult was acting as if her legs were bound, and resisting the urge to scoot down on the bed and press herself harder against the faintly vibrating toy set so that it barely touched her.
"Denial of teasing...mostly, at least. Because I could be doing SO much more and you know it."
A soft, stifled whimper brought a laugh from them, and they place a finger on her lips.
"Ah, ah, ah. Denial of speech, of sound. Stay quiet, needy one."
They pretended to look thoughtful, then grinned and snapped their fingers as if remembering, the sound making her flinch for a second and her eyes flutter and twitch.
"Denial of trance, of course. Don't let that affect you, my dear, stay awake, up, alert. I want you to be completely aware of everything happening, of course~"
A low chuckle as she barely manages to keep her eyes open, breathing coming a bit ragged as she fought the trance, feeling fractionated as fuck without ever having managed to drop entirely.
"Which one will you lose track of first, I wonder?"
The voice purred, so very, very amused.
"Because the last one, of course...is to be denied success. The game, my dear, is rigged against you. You cannot win. Isn't that absolutely delightful?"
[I did a text hypno thing in a server recently that I thought was particularly fun, so I poked it and cleaned it into something more usable as a script. x3
CW: This script plays with the directions that lead to trance, temporarily making it so that most general directions lead into trance, so ends up with some confusion.]
So I have been told that I am particularly good at...directions. I mean, technically I have all the same directions that everyone else does...you know, left, right, in, out, north, south, forwards, backwards, up...
I just tend to be fairly good at giving directions for those directions.
And oooh, that's a fun little play on words isn’t it?.
Direction and giving directions. And taking directions!
Taking directions...to take direction is an interesting way of saying...following. Listening. Obeying
So I can give direction, and someone else can take direction depending on the direction I give~
But to which direction?
You know the conventional direction.
But if you think about it, really that's just...tradition.
You see, I'm a big fan of reframing~
Of....well, redirecting, you could say. ;3
Taking things and reflavoring them, repurposing them, reframing them, so that viewed one way they mean one thing.
But viewed another...
For instance~
Convention and tradition says that down is the direction to trance.
That your mind sinks
Drops.
Falls
As it gets trancier.
And that when you rise and come up
You awaken.
But~
Thoughts can also drift off.
Drift away.
Float away
Which makes them seem very light.
Very airy.
Very...up?
It would be easy to picture.
Your mind and your thoughts rising away from you
Up and up and up
Farther and farther from your body
From your self.
So far away that it's so easy for them to seem gone~
Like a cloud in the distance, easy to ignore.
And if that were the case.
Then reaching up and grabbing hold of your mind and your thoughts.
And pulling down
Would not drop you into trance.
But pull you out of it.
Right?
So down can lead to trance.
And up can lead to trance.
But also
Have you heard people talk about going into trance?
Letting your mind quietly go and disappear into a place inside you
Where you can pay no attention to the thoughts.
Going into a trance that leaves you so pleasantly quiet and still.
Well, then, if that were the case...
You would then have to come out of trance, right?
But...also...
You can let your thoughts come out of yourself.
Push all the thoughts out of your brain
And be tranced that way, too.
Hmm.
So down leads to trance, right?
And up leads to trance, right?
And in and out both lead to trance, right?
Until you're so caught up in directions, whirling here and there and everywhere, that everything just seems to lead directly to trance....right?
Oh dear, there's another direction.
Yes sets are a well known induction, where you get someone to agree with you time and time again until you can lead them into trance.
For instance: "You're following my words easily, yes?"
"You're starting to feel more relaxed, yes?"
You're beginning to remember and realize that I've been using 'right' to get you to agree with me this whole time......right?
We're beginning to run out of 'safe' directions, how many of them might be left?
In fact, as I've pointed out how many direction words can actually be used to trance you...
You might now be very aware of any and every direction word that I sprinkle in to my sentences, isn't that right?
At this point it may be a tad confusing, trying to keep track of which direction words have effects, and which ones do not.
And it's amazing how many direction words end up mingled in to everyday conversation~
So as I get right to saying words that may have left you confused about what tricks I may be up to...
Perhaps I should be kind, and simplify things~
Because right now, if you've been following me down this meandering path, you're likely in some place I call the in between
It’s a place between being fully awake and being fully tranced.
It’s further up than down and further down than up.
And while it can be nice to float
Unsure of where exactly you are.
Which direction you're going.
Or where you’re going to end up
There comes a time when things must come to an end.
And I think I'll be merciful this time. ;3
And make it simple, and make it clear.
If you've been following my words in and out, right and left, up and down.
Until all directions make you fuzzy and confused and a little bit trancey
The one thing you have definitely been doing the whole time is to follow my words
To follow my direction. ;3
As I've been giving you directions...
And in so doing, taking your direction.
Or at least your sense of it.
So now I shall give you that direction back.
And give you a direction, and a direction.
Direction of a way to go, and direction as in an order.
So following my directions...
I want you to drop down now~
Suddenly free of the in between.
Free of the uncertainty about directions.
You are very sure of one thing.
And that one thing is: that trance is down.
And so are you
Dropping.
Drifting.
Falling
The hesitation gone, the uncertainty lifted.
And the in between left behind.
As you drop
Enjoying the feeling.
The sensation.
Just for a few moments though
Because now I'm going to count you back up
And up once more means 'awake'
And as you come up, all directions return to their original meanings.
All directions will no longer pull you towards trance.
(Other than down, of course, because tradition. ;3)
Now, counting you up and awake.
1,
2, more and more awake and alert.
3, more clear and coherent.
4, keeping only the amount of lovely fuzziness that is safe and appropriate and wanted for your current situation.
[Wrote this up for a resistance themed hypno night on a server. ^-^
Sort of an...infomercial/self help stylized ‘training’ meant to ‘help’ you build up your resistance. Several techniques are described you could potentially use to bolster your resistance but unfortunately it seems they all come back around to pulling you down instead. x3]
Hello and greetings and welcome to Resistance Training!
When you find yourself facing lines of cleverly typed text or the soothing, amused voice of a skillful tist, do you melt into a drifty, floaty, compliant pile of mush? When you try to hold onto being up and awake, do you instead find yourself unable to resist slowly slipping further and further and further down~? Do you want to show those tists a thing or two, that yes you definitely can resist their words, those words that weave and wend around your mind and that can be so lovely to listen to and to follow down...?
WELL!
I am here to help you with that!
Hmm.
And if any of you happened to get caught by even just that much, ...well, then welcome, it’s a good thing you’re here, isn’t it?
So if you did find that your attention got caught a bit, if you got pulled down just a little, I’ll help you back up, up, all the way up. Because if you’re here to practice your resistance, then you need to start completely awake and aware.
I thought that for this, I would discuss a few different tactics you can use when trying to resist.
Probably the most common technique you can try to make use of is...just not thinking whatever the tist is trying to make you think about. After all, one of the common techniques on the the tist side of things is to slyly remind you about how nice it is to drop, how pleasant trance feels, and just how much you might find yourself wanting it, so very deeply. Which is a difficult thing to resist, because yes, trance is so wonderfully pleasant that remembering how it feels can so easily undermine your determination to resist.
So of course the best course of action would be to NOT think about it, right?
Except...to NOT think about something, you first have to think of it. Like, if I were to tell you to, say...think of a hot pink unicorn. To negate that thought, you have to think of it first, and then go ‘Not that’. Which means for a fraction of a second...it exists in your mind already.
So if I were to tell you to remember just how pleasant it can be...to give in....and to let yourself drop into a wonderfully deep trance... To NOT think about it, you have to let yourself remember that for a moment before then going ‘yes, that, that thing I’m thinking, don’t think that.’
And if I continue, gently, slyly reminding you again and again of just how nice it is to drop, well...you just keep letting that thought in, again and again. And how many times might you succeed on then going ‘not that thought, don’t think it, don’t let it have power over me’ before it starts sticking around just a little longer each time. Finding it harder and harder to want to let the thought go, the memory of wonderful, calm, relaxing trance. Of feeling thoughts go quiet and fuzzy and drifty.
While this technique can definitely work for a while, unfortunately it tends to undermine itself, and it tends to erode away the resistance it is supposed to be helping, until someone gets so caught up in the thoughts that they’re trying to not think, that they just give in and drop.
So it seems that that won’t be a very good tactic to us-....hmm. Oh. Dang. I think I may have caught some of you again.
*sigh* Really? It’s just the first example! And it was an EXAMPLE. Do please try to remember that these are hypothetical examples we’re talking about and attempt to keep them from affecting you, because they’re not meant to. They’re just examples.
All right, up, up, awake and aware again. (My, my, some of you definitely need training.)
Everyone fully awake again? Good.
Continuing on, if ‘not thinking’ something doesn’t work, what can you do instead?
Well, think of something else of course! Then you don’t have to try to negate a thought, you can just replace it!
If someone tells you to think of a hot pink unicorn, you can think of a neon green penguin instead and you’re good!
...except...I mean, sometimes the brain can make interesting connections, interesting leaps and associations. And while you’re thinking of a neon green penguin, you might think that, hey, it’s an oddly colored animal just like a hot pink uni-...oh dear.
This can happen when trying to resist trance, too. You might be thinking of...oh, washing machines, in an effort to ignore thinking about trance and how nice it would be to drop into it. I mean, what could possibly be hypnotic about a washing machine? You put dirty clothes into it, you load it with the necessary soaps, you turn it on, and then it starts turning and agitating and making the clothes go around and arou-....hm.
Okay, how about a bathrobe! Focus really intently on the idea, the image of a nice comfortable bathrobe, in a color and a pattern that you like. It definitely won’t have any associations that could possibly remind you of how nice trance is. I mean, you do tend to wear it before or after a nice hot bath. That’s a pleasant thought, to have a tub full of hot water, scented with some bubbles, maybe some candles lit or music playing, just something relaxing. Of having an hour or two to enjoy sinking down into the water, watching the bubbles pop, perhaps your thoughts popping along with them, pop, pop, po-....oh dear.
That doesn’t work either, does it.
Damn, it’s just so hard to keep thoughts from accidentally turning hypnotic, isn’t it?
About as hard as it’s proving to be to keep y’all awake and alert.
Maybe if I count you up, it will help! Back up and fully awake, 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5!
(Gee, I hope that worked, y’all are proving to be extremely slippery to hold onto, I just can’t seem to keep you from dropping bit by bit, no matter what I try to do. I had better end this quickly, before the rest of your intended resistance erodes away and I end up dropping you with a single word. That would be absolutely terrible, wouldn’t it?)
So...if you can’t ‘not think’ about a thought...and you can’t replace that thought with another thought...what other technique could you even use?
Perhaps not thinking at all? You can’t think about how nice and wonderful it would be to be in trance, if you stop thinking now~
Wait. That doesn’t work either. That would just take away ANY resistance at all, make you blank and empty and so easy to drop in an instant, in a word, in a...
....well, damn. Oops.
I’m beginning to think I should retitle this as ‘nonresistance training’, because it seems I might be having the opposite effect.
Well. I mean, to be fair though...is that really a problem? After all, while resisting can be fun, giving in is so much more pleasant, isn’t it?
*chuckles* Besides...now that we’ve reached this point, I never did say that I was going to help you build up your resistance. After all, I am one of those tists who does so enjoy watching you attempt to resist and to fight only to reach out and gently knock you over and down into trance despite it.
Perhaps my intention all along was actually to gently train you to be less resistant. Perhaps it’s a lovely little trap that I’ve laid for you and have led you along until you fell...or dropped...into it~
Only I know for certain, though.
And I’m not telling. ;3
For now, though, this training is done. Since it is possible some of you might be a bit fuzzy and uncertain at this point, I’m going to bring you fully up, pull you up with a count, and when we reach 5, you’ll be completely up, awake and aware, and any suggestions you may have received during this training will slide away and disappear, leaving you the same as you were when we started this training - if you want it to, that is.
So.
1, rising upwards
2, holding onto any feelings of calm that you would like.
3, more and more awake.
4, stretching a little, feeling completely settled within yourself.
5, you are awake and aware and alert!
Maybe next time the training will go even better~ ;3
[Had a discussion about using the concept of sensory deprivation in hypnosis recently. Well, it started as a discussion about time dilation and hypnosis after I mentioned how I use time dilation to make my naps seem longer. x3
"...ready." My own voice sounded eager, shaky, breathy, trembling.
"You did fix those parameters, yes? Breathing is important."
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. "Yes, miss. Breathing is most def-"
"Because~" She interrupted, grinning slyly. "If I do any breathplay, I very much want it to be on purpose, not accidental. Understand, dear?"
"Mmmmyesmiss." I mumbled, squirming a little at the dark purr in her voice.
"Very well then. Since you're ready...remembering the parameters as set..." She reached out, tapped my forehead lightly, and said quite firmly, "Complete sensory deprivation on now."
Hypnosis is amazing sometimes. Logically, I know I can see, hear, feel, taste...well, you know, all the senses. But now it's like I don't process any of it. (All right, granted, one of them is easier than others, I did close my eyes. But still!)
I hear, but do not listen, touch but do not feel. A tiny part of me knows that there are sounds, scents, sights, feels, but...the rest of me does not register them.
"Good girl." Well, all sounds but one, everything except for her voice, her words.
Also, it's a very odd sensation to feel pleasure when your body can feel nothing, just a rush of bursting arousal only within your mind.
That particular trigger does not linger, tho', and soon leaves me back in that...well, it's hard to describe. A pleasant floating emptiness, a nothingness, different from normal trance but so pleasant in its own way. My skin feels the touch of her hands, but I do not notice. There is a lack of space, of time, of worry, of...anything, really. It's almost like...my body is tranced instead of my mind. My ears hear a sudden soft buzzing sound, but I do not listen. Because it's so similar in a way to being thoroughly, deeply, dropped, completely in trance...except my mind works...my thoughts are clear. It's just the rest of me that's gone still and silent and-
"Ability to feel sensations returned only to your pussy." She murmurs the command that I don't actively hear, that I only know must have happened when suddenly sensation returns with a surprise and a vengeance, as I can feel, only in one space, one spot, and hmm, lo and behold, she's taken advantage of this time to settle a vibrator placed just...so....
If I could move, speak, gasp, whimper, I would do so now, would squirm and writhe and pant and beg and...but none of the rest of the effect has been lifted. Still unable to see, hear, move, speak, feel anything other than that one spot, with absolutely nothing to distract from the buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, so strong, so overwhelming.
And I cannot hear her, cannot see, cannot know if she's there, watching, amused, or if maybe she's done what she's teased in the past, and left, left me like this, helpless and unable to focus on anything, anywhere, except there.
Laying apparently still and silent as in my mind, my completely clear and able to think mind, I writhe. Thoughts scramble over and around each other, half formed begging, whimpering words of *need*, absolute need. Wanting and craving and getting so...damn...clo-
"Complete sensory deprivation again, dear~"
And then a sudden return to nothing, the frustration so strong that in my head I raged, futile as it might be.
Floating again in empty sensation the need and arousal died down quickly, unfortunately. I could not actively tell if she had turned off the vibrator or if my mind was just paying it no attention.
"And....sensation returns just in that one spot again, and three times as sensitive." If I could actively hear her words and be able to respond, I would growl at the wicked glee in her voice. As it was, again the sensation came back and in seconds my brain was scrambled, the arousal not really having gone, just...temporarily set aside.
Now it returned, and returned so fiercely, so overwhelming, that in seconds, the begging in my mind was just helpless sounds, not able to form words, even within my mind.
And STILL I could do nothing to stop it or make it continue or get stronger worse better what did I even want I wasn't sure anymore just lost in endless waves of need and pleasure and arousal and so fucking close to being able to-
"Complete sensory deprivation once more~" She said with almost a giggle, as again my so obedient mind shut off all that sensation. Again.
Words came back quickly, and most of them had four letters in them.
The fact that she knew me, my every response, my every action and expression and motion and movement so well, could read me so well, was FUCKING inconvenient when she could tell, even when I was unable to move, just how close I was to cumming and stop *right* on that edge, godsfuckingDAMNIT.
Again and again and again she switched that sensation on and off and on again, until I was desperate, absolutely desperate (though never so overwhelmed as to need to stop, even if it came very close a couple times, I got so intensely sensitized and painfully aroused).
I had no idea whatsoever of how long this had been going on. It felt like hours...but with this kind of thing, it could have been barely a few minutes.
If I could feel, I would realize my body was slick with sweat, trembling and wrung out from so much(?) time being relentlessly toyed with.
"Perhaps I should be merciful..." She said thoughtfully, considering me intently. She leaned forward, turned the vibrator all the way up to high and leaned in to whisper into my ear. "You are allowed to cum, my dear~" She purred, but there was a wicked tone to her soft words. "Sensation returned to your lovely dripping pussy, twice as strong as before." Which would...put it...at about 20 times? It was getting hard to keep track.
Even as deeply controlled as I was, my body couldn't help a tiny jerk of surprise as the sensation returned, the intensity of it overriding even my suggestible self.
It took only a bare few moments for that arousal to surge up, rise and crash over me with a strength that, even with my eyes closed, whited out my vision for a moment. I might not register the feel of it, but my body trembled and spasmed and shook and...
Thoughts scrambled, mind beyond a melted pile of mush, words and thoughts lost and shattered in the pleasure that rattled through me.
Even if I were able to listen, able to see...I would not have noticed her slip out with a sly smile. Not have noticed the door gently click closed, leaving me here.
Alone.
As the vibrator continued at its strongest setting, giving me so little time to recover before it was already pushing me up again, wringing more arousal, more pleasure, more need from me.
It was after the third orgasm that I realized she must have gone through with what she'd teased me she might do and left.
And unless I was willing to 'break' the sensory deprivation (and I'm a fucking stubborn brat as everyone knows, especially her), I was trapped like this until she came back.
Waiting, by her side.
Kneeling and impatient.
Wanting, wishing, needing attention.
But waiting, obedient and quiet.
Going very still as a hand raises - to draw another line, or perhaps to reach out, brush a fond hand against a waiting head or...push a button that would cause squirming, gasping pleasure.
Waiting, watching, craving.
How can she seem so disinterested, when every fiber of my being is so attuned to what she's doing, hoping each movement...might...
Then suddenly, almost without my notice how could I have not noticed?, a button pressed, and lovely delicious vibrations set me squirming, gasping, whimpering, but...too soon, the toy on which I kneel goes still again and I whine.
And she pays no attention save for a hidden smile? as I return again to impatiently waiting, kneeling, at her side.
I’m Arie, and I’ve gotten rather well known for dealing with fuzzies.
No, not dust bunnies and hairballs (although with my VERY long hair, I AM also used to dealing with hairballs. xD), I’m talking about fuzzies of the mind. ;3
When I first started this hypnosis thing on the tisting side, I did NOT know what I was doing, and I latched onto using the concepts of ‘fuzziness’ and ‘fuzzies’. A LOT. I’ve kind of gotten known for it. ^^”
And a lot of people ask me about it, when they hear people I HAVE fuzzied before talk about it. (And hint about how they’d love to experience it. x3) But my availability is SO sporadic that it’s very hard to people to match up to me for sessions. D:
I’ve been doing some recording experiments lately that turned out well, so I thought I would write a script and try my hand at recording it, and to share the fuzzies with the world! : D
CW: This is a silly, vanilla induction themed around fuzzies. I tell you about fuzzies, how they work, take you down and bring you back up. It allows you to stay fuzzy afterwards if you choose to do so, otherwise it will brush all the fuzzies away by the time you’re fully back up.
Greetings and hello and welcome to my kingdom, for I am Arie the Fuzzy Queen and you are my subject, bow before me! *evil laughter*
[beat]
I’m kidding, I’m kidding. This is not THAT kind of recording. ;3
I have picked up the nickname of Fuzzy Queen, though, that is actual truth. Make sure you’re comfortable and I’ll tell you the tale of the fuzzies. It’s kind of an interesting story but it wanders a bit, so make sure you listen close and follow what I say so you don’t lose track. ;3
When I first tried my hand at DOING hypnosis, I struggled a little bit with HOW. I was flying by the seat of my pants, doing it instinctively, relying on what I had heard other people do and making use of my creative writing and improv skills. I had one person in particular that I did many things with, and it was with him that I first started using the imagery of fuzzies.
Fuzzy is a common descriptive word used to describe the feeling of trance, after all, especially if you’ve gotten wonderfully fractionated. That lovely sensation of your thoughts going still and quiet, like a gentle static that fills your brain, a feeling of fuzziness that overlaps everything and makes it so quiet and calm. Like when you go outside after a particularly thick snowstorm, with the sounds being muffled by the heavy layer of snow blanketing everything around you.
One day, while focusing on that concept, that sensation, that feeling, I started describing ‘fuzzies’ - like little mental dust bunnies, bits and specks of fluff and fuzz that are attracted to your mind, that stick especially to a mind gone a little melty, a little trancy, that cling to your thoughts and gently tug them down.
There are many things I’ve figured out about these kinds of fuzzies over time - I have learned the ways of the fuzzy, and have many skills and abilities in toying with them, manipulating them...but we’ll discuss that another time, in another recording. :3
There is one main, important truth about fuzzies - they are attracted to minds, especially melty minds, minds that are drifting, floating, dropping. The deeper you go, the more fuzzies there are. The farther you drop, the more fuzzies you find. And as you drift downwards, deeply dropping, you brush against fuzzy after fuzzy after fuzzy after fuzzy, and they cling to your mind, holding tight. They cover your mind and your thoughts in a thick blanket of warm, comfortable fuzziness.
If I were to count down, from 10 down to 1, you would find that each level of number has more fuzzies drifting around than the level above it, which means the deeper down you go with the numbers, the easier and faster it is to become fuzzier and fuzzier. And just the act of following those numbers down, moving down through those fuzzies, brushes your mind against the fuzzies, and the deeper down you go, the more fuzzies you find and attract and keep, feeling them coat your mind and your thoughts in a thick, comfortable layer of fuzzies that gently weigh down your thoughts and mind and make it so easy to drift and drop and float downwards.
I’m sure you’ve caught a few fuzzies already, even though all we’ve been doing is talking about fuzzies, even though all you’ve been doing is listening to me talk about the Way of the Fuzzy.
Shall we find a few more, then?
Starting all the way up at 10. Only a few fuzzies floating around up here, not too many to catch.
9. Starting to turn and drift downwards.
8. Feeling your thoughts going quieter and easier to pay no mind to.
7. Brushing against fuzzies with every number down, every step down.
6. Drifting and floating, dropping deeper and deeper.
5. Halfway down, finding so many fuzzies floating around now that they’re almost impossible to avoid, even if you wanted to.
4. Feeling calmer and more comfortable with every number
3. Catching more and more fuzzies with every number, every word, every moment.
2. The fuzzies thick on your mind, heavy on your thoughts, weighing them down and making it so very easy to
1. Drop.
Caught by the fuzzies, caught by my words, and pulled all the way down.
Feeling yourself floating so comfortably, your mind surrounded with fuzzies, covered in fuzzies, finding it hard to think clearly when your mind is so...very...fuzzy. Fuzzies of course cause fuzziness, so the more fuzzies you have, the fuzzier you feel. A comfortable kind of fuzzy, never so fuzzy that it’s confusing, but always a pleasant, lovely level of fuzziness, never to a point where it’s too much, just always...wonderfully...perfect.
Now, if this weren’t an introduction to fuzzies and how to find them and catch them (or let them catch you, rather), then I could at this point do all sorts of fun little tricks - as the Fuzzy Queen, I have powers over fuzzies and can bid them to do my will, can do neat things like pull the fuzzies out of your mind and put them back, stir them up and make them duplicate, make there be enough fuzzies in your mind that just the weight of them on your thoughts make you instantly drop. I have also in the past set a ‘fuzzy trigger’ that when you say it, fuzzies are attracted and pulled to your mind.
We’re not going to do any of those things, though~ This is an introduction to fuzzies!;3
Instead, I’m going to count you back up, back up to 10, and as we go I’ll gently brush away any unwanted fuzzies, so that when you’re back up and awake and aware, you’ll have only as many fuzzies as you want and is appropriate for you at this time.
Don’t worry, they’ll just drift off and away easily, and be floating around out there for the next time we go seeking them.
So starting all the way down here at 1.
2. Starting to rise, starting to follow my words up, starting to follow the numbers up.
3.
4. I reach out and begin gently brushing away the fuzzies from your mind, letting your thoughts begin to clear.
5.
6. More than halfway now, rising easier and easier as I brush away more and more fuzzies.
7.
8. Only keeping as many fuzzies as you want to hold onto and is appropriate at this time.
9. Starting to move and stretch and feeling so relaxed and calm and content.
10. All the way awake and aware now, rising up up up!
Heya. ^-^
Hopefully you have enjoyed Fuzzies 101 - you’ll find that however many fuzzies you chose to keep or not keep, they’ll stick around for quite a while. They’ll fade away when you want them to, if you need them to, or after you sleep.
[Short drabble. I got thinking about hands today.]
CW: Not much to warn about. Slight dominant style language/behaviour, so faintly NSFW.
Gentle hands.
Fingers that brush gently along the side of one's face, trailing nails lightly over the skin, thumb stroking softly, as a hand cups the cheek fondly, palm warm against the skin in a lightly possessive hold.
Firm hands.
Fingers that stroke idly through the hair, the tips sliding easily through the strands, nails tracing along the scalp just hard enough to be felt, a hand that buries itself deep within the locks of hair before slowly sliding closed, gripping tightly, holding firmly, tugging enough to make it be felt.
Demanding hands.
Fingers that reach out to press against lips that are opened to keep back words being said, then slide, shift, twist, until they grip and hold the chin, thumb pressed hard, fingers holding, lifting, keeping, before loosening just long enough to slide down, letting nails trail down over skin so sensitive, before quick movement and gasp - fingers, palm, hand around throat, holding intently, pulling upward, demanding, owning.
[Another writing in a sort of universe I was setting up in my head, same setting as the ‘Machine’ writing.]
CW: Denial, hypnosis, memory play.
"Come on, come on, come on, sooo fucking clooose!" She panted desperately, trying to keep her whimpers and moans stifled, trying to stay quiet and stay hidden and yet also...also...trying to cum, grinding the vibrator against her clit, the power as high as it would go. She panted raggedly, writhing and squirming with need and arousal and...and YET. And yet it wasn't fucking ENOUGH, somehow.
//"My dear darling pet..." A voice whispers in the back of her head, a memory floating just out of her conscious mind. "You will not remember this, my dear..."//
Somehow she had gotten free, had found her mistress's toy cabinet unlocked and open and had a rare, rare chance to grab at something and make a run for it. Not because she wanted to get away, no, but because her mistress delighted in chastity and denial and she just wanted a chance to take matters into her own hands, so to speak.
//How oddly convenient that the restrictions against touching happened to be lifted, also...that thought started to form in her mind, then gently slid away as quickly as it came.//
"Fucking...damn it...all to...hell!" Desperate times called for desperate measures, and even though the likelihood of it working was slim to none, she remembered something her mistress has done before, slyly amused words purred gently at her. "S-sensitivity times three." She murmured, then gasped, arching her back as her every nerve seemed to pulse and grow three times as sensitive.
//Another memory drifts along in her subconscious, very similar to this sensation. Her mistress, playing with her mercilessly while quietly leaving orders buried deep within her mind. "You will find yourself free. And you will run. Not to escape, no, because no part of you wants to ever do that. But a chance to freely play, a chance to do whatever you want, to climax without permission? Oh, THAT will be too exciting to pass up..."//
Still not enough! Her breathing was coming in ragged desperate pants, tiny little whines and whimpers escaping despite her best attempts to stay quiet. She hadn't heard any searchers nearby anyways, surely it was safe. She changed her grip, bucked her hips up, tried...ugh, but it still wasn't ENOUGH! How could it not be enough yet! She needed...wanted...had to... "Sensitivity times one hundred!" She gasped out, then almost squealed at the sudden intense response of pleasure and sensation. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck!
//A feeling of fingers gripping her hair, forcing her head to one side. Still memory? Still memory. Still buried deep. A voice, dark and velvety smooth, and so fucking amused and pleased. "You are going to run...not too far, just far enough to hide. And then...then you are going to try so desperately to cum. But you WON'T be able to, my pet..."//
So close! So close! So...so...c-close. She didn't care anymore about the sounds she was making, didn't care if she got caught, as long as she could...fucking...cum! But somehow...somehow...she still...couldn't. "S-sensit-tivity...times...a th-thousand..." She spoke blindly, not caring about the consequences, just...needing...wanting...and then it hit, and there was nothing but pleasure and pleasure and wave after wave of fucking pleasure and sensation and it was STILL staying on the fucking EDGE.
//"And best of all?" The voice whispered deep within her mind. "Best of all...is the fact that you're not going to remember ANY of this, my dear, sweet pet. All of this I told you will just...fade away into the back of your head..."//
It was all too much and not enough and she had gone beyond the point of being able to make any comprehensible sounds, was just a whimpering, twitching mess of spasming need. She didn't notice her mistress and several servants standing nearby, watching. Not even when her lady knelt down beside her and spoke did she notice, and the woman shook her head slightly. "Now, now...that won't do at all, now, will it. You've worked yourself up so much I think you've broken your brain accidentally." A slow smile. "Here...let me fix it a little, so that I can break it the CORRECT way later." She reached out, tapped her pet's forehead gently. "Cum, my pet. Cum HARD, and let that intense, desperate need die down a little."
A wail of relief and pleasure tore from the pet's mouth as she spasmed for a long, long moment...but even as it hit, her mistress grinned wickedly. "And forget it as quickly as it happens, my pet...leaving you feeling just as needy, just as desperate as before, with no memory of having had any release." The cry of relief sudden turns sharp and strangled as the words take effect...the blissful expression fades, replaced again by intense desperation. Though the intended outcome is successful, as the pet is able to focus and to see again...and as she looks up, and sees the dark smile of her mistress, she cannot keep back a whimpering wail. So close...she had been so...fucking...close...
//"It will fade away...JUST like the LAST time we did this little game..."//
[This particular writing was inspired by something my pet told me. ;3]
CW: Denial, hypnosis, anal, buttplug.
Need. Need and arousal. Need and arousal and fucking DESPERATION.
Needed to touch so badly, you needed to touch and to climax so FUCKING BADLY.
But your owner had left. Left you alone. Left you needy and squirming and desperate.
Damn. Sometimes this hypnosis shit was amazing, and sometimes it was so fucking frustrating, because you know that there is nothing keeping you from touching, nothing keeping you from...
Except your own mind. And your owner's words. Words that had wrapped around and through every part of your mind, words so deliciously invasive that even now, when you're so absolutely desperate to cum, if you try to reach down you just...can't...force your hands down.
Because you're under their control. Completely and utterly, just the way you love it.
And hate it. Because they're gone, and none of the toys are locked up, nothing is locked up...except you. Damn hypno chastity.
Whimpering and moaning softly, you keep eyeing the toys, wanting them so badly, but knowing the instant you grab anything and try to use it, your hands will lock up and your arms will freeze.
...except.
Your owner had been very thorough about forbidding you the use of many things...but they had missed (on accident? on purpose?) mentioning plugs.
Maybe...perhaps...this time it could be enough, enough to tip you over, enough to sate this intense desperation and need.
Almost trembling a little, you grab what you need - plug, lube, remote control, and hurry to get started, not knowing when your owner might return, wanting to take advantage of this possible loophole while you've got it.
A gasp, a groan, a whimper, a moan, as you lube up the plug, flushing bright red for a moment as you realize this particular bottle was an interesting style, a lube designed to mimic the texture of the 'real thing' as much as possible.
...which gives you an idea. You use more than you necessarily need, and once you have the plug settled in, you get on your bed, face down, ass up, and pick one of the most punishing programs the remote has in it, setting the plug vibrating fiercely in a wicked pattern. Closing your eyes, gripping the sheets in tight clenched fingers, you try to visualize someone fucking you mercilessly, picturing every intense vibration as a thrust, the feel of the lube like cum...building an entire scenario in your head, gasping and feeling a phantom tug in your hair as your imagined partner just grabs a fist full of hair and YANKS, holding you down and fucking you...and fucking you...and...and...fucking...you...
But it's not enough.
You whimper, reaching out with a trembling, shaking hand to turn the program off and instead turn the vibrations all the way to maximum. You can't help a short yelp, moaning and writhing as the sensations grow to an almost unbearable level, bringing you right to that edge.
...TO the edge. But not over. Not anywhere over.
It still wasn't enough.
Fuck, it wasn't enough.
Finally, whimpering, you give up. Give up and turn it off.
Now even more needy and desperate before, this only...only made it all SO much worse.
You stand on shaky legs after pulling out the plug, shivering as a few drops of the cu-no, lube slide out of you and down your legs - after your imagined scene, it felt so very much like you really had been used thoroughly and left to whimper with need.
Still panting softly, still quivering with arousal that would be left unfulfilled, you turn to go and clean up...and freeze, eyes going wide.
"Well, well, my pet. Someone's been having a little fun, haven't they?"
[At one point I was sort of writing a whole bunch of things set in the same place, this enormous house where all kinds of things happen. This is one of the rooms/situations. x3]
CW: Memory play, fucking machine, exhibitionism.
"What...the fuck...is that?" You couldn't help the soft, surprised exclamation that escaped you with a soft hitch of your breath, staring intently at the...thing...in the middle of the room.
Wait. No. Back it up a minute.
It was a rather dull day. Your owner was busy, so instead of spending most of the day getting merrily and mercilessly fucked and played with until you were a wrung out whimpering mess, you were wandering around alone and bored and frustrated and...then you found the room.
See, there are many secrets in this place, many locked doors with interesting things behind them. Some you have seen, have been taken to, pulled into, but...many of them still remain a mystery to you. Desperate from boredom, from being left to your own devices without a single order or command or...well, you found yourself drifting through the hallways, idly trying doors, finding them all locked.
Until you found one that wasn't.
A bit surprised and VERY curious, slowly you turned the handle, opened the door just a little, just enough to let you slip in and close it back behind you. Just in case this door is supposed to still be locked, you don't want anything to give away that you're in here, right?
Flipping on the light, you glanced around the room - kind of an interesting one, reminded you of...of something. Something flickered in your memory for a moment, but you couldn't quite catch it. Maybe it was...oh! It's a little like one of those ballet practice rooms, with a hard wood floor, mirrored walls, a curtain strung across one wall. The curtain catches your attention briefly, had it moved? A whisper of motion, as if something...maybe just the air conditioning, because it was rather cool in here. Probably that's it.
And then we're all caught up, because thoughts of the curtain fled your mind as you noticed it, as you saw the...thing...in the middle of the room.
"What even...what the fuck is this thing?" You breathed the words quietly, but the shiver that goes down your spine and the shudder in your words are your admission to yourself that you very well know what this is.
A fucking machine.
What else could it be? The more you look at it, the more convinced you are that the thought that drifted into your mind is correct, this is...this is a framework designed to hold someone in place while they got thoroughly fucked by the machine.
It was an...interesting design. You circle it slowly, letting your eyes consider it, working out in your mind how...where are you even supposed to...what goes where...? It takes surprisingly little time to figure it out, maybe you've seen one like this before somewhere, perhaps at one of the parties your owner has taken you to?
It's interesting how relatively simple the design seems to be. Two long, thin platforms designed to be knelt upon, cushioned in a way to be a tad more comfortable if left kneeling there for a long time, angled in a v shape so that if you were there...were kneeling there...mm. Er, yes...ah...it would spread your knees wide apart so that people could see...
Flustered, you move a few steps further around, noticing now the thick, heavy leather straps that wou-...could wrap around your legs, over the ankles and right below the knee, holding you down firmly, keeping you in place. Unable to move, no. Held there as...
Well, it was hard to ignore the 'fucking' part of the fucking machine, that's for damn sure. You find your eyes focusing on the setup beneath the platforms, the pistons, the thick dildo that would, once everything was turned on, would rise up and down and up and do-
"F-fuck." You pant, breath harsh in your throat, picturing that image in your mind so vividly for a moment it's as if you were THERE, as if you were living it, as if it were memory and not imagination. Held, fucked, displayed, used. Fuck and damn and...
Idly part of your mind notices that the attachments can be switched in and out, and even that there's a second piston that could have something attached to it, but since there's nothing else in the room, those other options will have to wait for another time.
You know...it's possible. You could...well, it would help out imagination a great deal...if you just...
Almost before you realized what you were thinking, what you were doing, you found yourself next to the machine, eyeing it thoughtfully. The leg restraints you could do yourself. Those would be easy. A gently curved pole rose up from the back of the framework, ending in a pair of heavy metal cuffs attached to either side of the pole.
You picture for a moment how that would work. With your build, and the angle of the pole and...hmm. It would hold your wrists, your arms, above your head and slightly behind you, and in a way which would be awkward and uncomfortable unless you...er. Ah.
Unless you were knelt all the way down, which would also...ah.
So a choice would happen - rise up a little, get a little respite from getting fucked, but twist your arms in an awkward way that would quickly get painful or...drop down onto your heels, rest your arms, but get fucked deeper and more thoroughly.
Suddenly you realize you'd closed your eyes, that you were panting, imagining so clearly just how that would feel, constantly squirming from one to the other, never able to find a position that you could stay in. Feeling the cuffs holding your wrists so tightly, feeling...
You consider climbing up on the framework to inspect the cuffs more closely, perhaps try to figure out how they close, how they lock. But then the thought slips from your head, distracted again by imagined sensations that make you whimper.
Just...just for a minute, maybe. There's noone here to lock you in, so you could just...
Quickly, quickly, so you don't lose your nerve and changed your mind, you remove your clothing, piling it neatly in one corner, then climb onto the framework, working out the best way to kneel that is most balanced. (Noticing with a flush that it also spreads your knees wide apart and displays you...and how already, just these thoughts had you worked up and...ahem. Anyways.)
The leather straps are surprisingly easy to wrap around your legs and fasten tightly, your hands moving down to put them in place as if you've done this dozens of times before. You lean a little bit to each side, kind of testing the strength and support of it, and nod a little, impressed. Good construction - but then, your owner always makes sure to spend whatever it takes to get the best.
Unfortunately the machine's piston is completely retracted, so even if you sit all the way down on your heels, it's nowhere near you, so you'll just have to imagine the feeling of that thick dildo pushing up into you, relentless, slamming up and down and up and down with the careful exact force that only a machine could do...
Growling a little in frustration, you twist around a little until you can look at the cuffs, reaching up to them. Maybe...just partly slip your hands in. It could help you picture it, imagine it, feel it, right? So you raise your arms up and behind your head, slipping your hands partway through the cuffs, closing your eyes and trying to imagine how this would be.
But your imagination, so vivid a moment, fails you suddenly. The picture is gone, the image faded. Another soft huff of annoyance and then...you hadn't looked at the cuff's design very closely, hadn't been able to tell how it worked. But as suddenly and without considering whether it was a good idea or not you push your arms upwards, sliding your hands all the way into the cuffs, you realize that its one way. They're designed to let you push your hands through...but not be able to pull them back out.
And this isn't something you realize because it just happened, it's something you realized because you REMEMBERED it. The memory unfolding piece by piece, only a second before it happened again in life. A soft click as the machine turned on, humming as it began to move. Slowly at first, pressing up and in gently and making you bite back a gasp, but faster and faster as it began to work, pulling a surprised cry from your throat.
But also the shushing sound of the curtain pulling back on its runner, the fabric parting to reveal a huge crowd seated in front of the stage - yes, STAGE, this was a fucking stage! - and standing, waiting with a huge, mischievously wicked grin, your owner with a remote in hand, controlling the machine, controlling the show.
Because this was a show. It was a crystal clear memory now, burning bright in your mind. This was a show, and not the first one you've put on. How many times has this happened now? How many times have you, by your own damn choice, climbed onto this fucking machine, gotten caught, and held displayed, spread wide so that everyone here, this whole audience, could watch you gasping, squirming, writhing. Fucked mercilessly, held tight, constantly shifting, rising and lowering to relieve the pressure on your arms, or get relief from the machine pounding into you...
It was so hard to tell, so hard to know, as the first wave of pleasure and need starts to crest and wash over you, what was the hottest thing about this - being fucked like this...having an audience for it...or knowing that this has happened before and will happen again and again and again, forgetting every time until the next time you 'happen' to find an unlocked door...
[A fairly short story based on an interesting mental image I’ve toyed with for quite a while, someone who ends up as a centerpiece in a party.]
CW: Bondage, human furniture, exhibition, some noncon(ish), overuse.
This was not what I expected, is what I thought to myself. I would have said it, but I was not currently...able to.
See, I was invited to a party. Well, to help with a party. I mean, they said they needed help with the decorations and the entertainment. I didn't realize they meant for me to BE both decoration AND entertainment.
I showed up, raring and ready to help, and I was lead to...a strange wire sculpture of some kind in the main foyer. "Do you need it polished?" I asked, circling the thing around, eyeing it curiously. "What even is it, some strange art installation?"
Well, it is an installation, and some would call it art. Other would call it an intricate bondage frame...cage...thing...that once someone, say, calls in a favor you thought they forget about and gets you to strip and climb in and then locks it around you, holds you tight in whatever position the sculpture is posed in. And of course it's designed in a way that YOU can't change that position.
AND of course then is when the tables are wheeled in and put in the foyer, and covered with a wide variety of interesting...items. I couldn't even see all of them, but what I can see - dildos and vibrators, clips and clamps, lubes and lotions and potions of all kinds, sensory play things of many sorts. It practically looked like a sex shop imploded into the room. Just thinking about some of those sent a shiver down my spine, my body trembling with thoughts of what could be done to me, particularly all trapped and helpless like this...
And then I'm left, waiting and quivering, bent into a position that would be uncomfortable without the framework of the sculpture to hold me and support me. Waiting and waiting and waiting some more, listening to the sounds of caterers preparing food, the party's host moving around and finishing up some last things.
"Oh. Right." I hear them say, almost distractedly. "I should've gotten you more ready sooner than now." They purred, hurrying over to pick up a ring gag which they slipped into my mouth with far too much ease, silencing my protests and complaints as they threaded it through the sculpture and locked it into place. Then they snagged a large vibrator and hooked it to the sculpture in some way I could not quite see from this angle (I have come to assume that the frame of the sculpture is designed in a cunning way that allows all kind of attachments to be held in particular places), set it on medium low, and left me there.
Admittedly, the situation alone was enough to get me squirming and needy and aroused, but this addition skyrocketed that, until I was a moaning, whimpering mess in no time flat.
And just in time for the guests to arrive!
I hadn't realized I was in the ENTRANCE foyer, the first big room after the entryway. And that almost every room the party was happening in connected to this room. So people walked past me to come in, to go from one room to the next, to go pretty much ANYWHERE. I was front and center in welcoming everyone, and the idea of so many people seeing me, watching me, playing with me (as I realized the point of the toy display only right then - I didn't say I was the brightest!).
It didn't take long before the first person decided to take advantage of the entertaining decoration (and I admit, the idea that I was practically just interesting furniture was hot in and of its own right. Just a thing to be used and played with, for everyone to see and make use of.) Lost in my own realizations (and the vibrations), I did not notice someone walk over to me and, with no warning, shove a thick dildo into my mouth, through the ring gag. I almost choked for a second as they worked the entire thing in, then latched it into place. It did a good job of cutting off all my whimpers...of annoyance, as the next thing they did was turn the vibrator down to the lowest setting. Come ON, I'd been working slowly closer to a climax!
Frustratingly, another long pause before someone else dared do anything. This time a manipulation of the frame itself, forcing my legs wider apart, spreading and displaying me even more than before. They seemed amused by the cunning design of the sculpture, realizing they could bend me into ALMOST painful positions (it would not let anything be pushed or pulled farther than humanly safe, thankfully), but got bored after a while, and I found myself in an awkward position where my ankles were practically behind my ears.
Made for an easy target for the next person to come play, a muffled squeal escaping me as suddenly a paddle came down fast and hard on my ass. They almost giggled with glee, smacking me thoroughly a couple times before setting it aside and moving on.
After a certain point, time seems to run together, people blending together. I don't know how long it has been that I've been here, been the entertainment. It doesn't help that I've been blindfolded a number of times. Many edges, many climaxes. Noone seems to mind that the 'artwork' is covered in sweat and drool and cum, exhausted and panting and whimpering. Wondering what else could be done, what else might be on the tables.
Wondering if this is enough to fulfill that favor, and if it is, what I can do to have to owe it again.
