Sinfully Sideblogging

An 18+ side blog

[jukeboxemcsa]

Becki's a Spiral-Eyed Doll

In her imagination, Becki's eyes were always full of spirals whenever she laid back on the bed. She knew it wasn't literally true, she'd seen pictures of herself with her head hanging over the edge and her tongue out in that perfect cocksocket pose that always made her pussy so wet, but it was always such a compelling image that she had to go in and Photoshop little black-and-white swirls over her own mesmerized gaze. It was how she pictured hypnosis in her mind, long before she realized it was actually a real and achievable kink, and it was so compellingly erotic to think of herself as a spiral-eyed dolly that she spent a lot of her free time just trying to get the look of it exactly right.

Not that her eyes stayed open for all that long, of course. She usually felt them slipping shut somewhere around the time the first cock entered her mouth, sliding smoothly and effortlessly down her throat thanks to the angle her head was at and allowing her to offer up her face to be fucked by Master or one of his friends. Becki's cunt always throbbed so hard whenever Master's friends used her like that, feeling so much emptier and needier when she had the direct comparison of her other cocksocket and its visceral fullness--Becki never realized just how much she'd love being a denied doll with an oral fixation until she started playing with Master and actually wound up begging him to keep his hands away from her pussy. Something about the inherent subjugation of being unable to pleasure herself just scratched that itch in the back of her brain better than sex ever could.

They'd talked about getting a chastity belt for her, and Becki admitted that the pictures of her with her head over the edge of the bed and all of Master's friends just lining up to skullfuck her would be even hotter with a stainless steel plate preventing her from touching herself… but in a lot of ways, it made her so much wetter to know that absolutely nothing held her back from rubbing her cunt to one furious climax after another beyond Master's irresistible, unbreakable hypnotic control. She felt so deliciously weak with her clitty throbbing and pulsing uselessly away between her slick thighs, knowing that her hands simply refused to move down there and release that constant simmering lust, and it was really no wonder that the rest of his suggestions took hold so easily. Becki had proof that she couldn't fight him even if she wanted to, because her cunt wanted her to rub so badly and Master's control was stronger than that.

And Becki put every last bit of that desperation into sucking cock, so much so that Master had to turn her into a free-use slut for all his friends to keep her oral fixation satiated. He had men over every night to play video games and watch television and just hang out, and whenever one of them needed his balls drained they came into the bedroom where Becki was waiting in deep trance to skullfuck her until they nutted straight down her throat, and it all made Becki so wet and squirmy and delightfully happy to be useful. She knew she could safeword at any time, she knew all this had been negotiated with her enthusiastic consent… but in her mind she pictured herself totally helpless, with her eyes turned into spirals and her mouth turned into a fleshlight, and she couldn't imagine wanting anything more.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

A Happy Ending and a Lycklig Slut

Elina got a lot of comments about her collar every time she posted a picture. It spelled out 'SLUT' in polished metal studs, and combined with the way her gigantic pale tits hung out for anyone and everyone to masturbate to, it led to a lot of confusion about the meaning behind the word that defined her identity. That wasn't exactly a problem--Elina's English wasn't the best, but it was good enough to know what the word meant to any Americans jacking off to her huge breasts and puffy pink nipples, and they weren't wrong in believing her to be constantly horny and obsessed with sex. It was just that they didn't understand what her Master was trying to say the day he pressed the soft leather against the sensitive skin of her throat and she dropped into perfect, irresistible trance for hm.

That day was the culmination of literal years of careful, conscientious brainwashing, each session calculated to smooth away a little bit more of Elina's old self like a craftsman polishing a piece of wood with ever finer grades of sandpaper. It wasn't that Elina ever wanted to resist him--her mind was already naturally formed into the shape of obedience, even back when she first met Bosse and fell hard for his potent charisma and hypnotic talents. It was that she knew there was a difference between wanting to obey and automatic obedience, between constantly trying to please her Master and effortlessly doing exactly what she was told. Elina knew from the beginning that she could be made into a more complete and perfect slave for Bosse, and the collar was the fulfillment of a promise that he made to her that very first time he dropped her into trance and began to condition her mesmerized mind.

And there were so many little details she uncovered to her delight over the course of her training. Elina remembered the day she first forgot how panties worked, the utter bewilderment she felt when she tried to pull on a pair only to find the fabric inexplicably knotting and twisting in her grip until she couldn't manage to get them any higher than her knees. She recalled her first photo shoot, the day she put on a cow-print bikini that left her nipples exposed and made soft mooing noises while her Master cooed to her in a low soothing voice to tell her how proud he was of her for degrading herself. She had so many bright, vivid memories of being turned into a display of mindless obedience, a literal cash cow whose porn clips brought in enough money to support her so she could finally quit her job and become a live-in brainwashed fucktoy full-time.

And that day, the day she knelt before him and promised never to try to think for herself again… that was the day Bosse put the collar around her throat and told her she'd achieved perfection. The collar had 'ENDING' written on it in her native language, a symbol of the final culmination of her training and the ultimate achievement she'd reached in obedience, and every time Elina saw it in the mirror or in one of the photos or videos he took of her she recognized all over again that there was nowhere else to go. She'd reached her destination, become the mindless plaything she was always destined to be, and she could look forward to an entire lifetime of being owned and controlled and used just exactly the way she dreamed of. And if the Swedish word for 'ENDING' just happened to be 'SLUT', and some of her American fans misunderstood? Well, they weren't exactly wrong. Because Elina was, as they put it, as slutty as they came.

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[birdwatcher-butch]

REALLY into the particular brand of praise/degradation that objectifies me and also affirms how good i am at sex

"shut up and let me use you"

"yeah, you know what you're good for"

"look at you, you're just where you belong"

"god, it's like you were made for this"

like YES I love doing this and I love being good at it and I kind of want to do it forever...

[jukeboxemcsa]

Darren Becomes a Boytoy

"Well, would you look at that," Bailey purred, as Darren shifted positions in the tub and his erection rose up out of the water like a surfacing submarine. The moment he saw it, his tongue began to loll out of his mouth as his jaw slackened; he found very rapidly that he had other, more important things to focus on than his dignity, and he didn't care if he wound up looking like a vapid horny himbo because he needed to trace each individual pulsebeat of pleasure that traveled from his hypnotized brain all the way to the very tip of his penis. Even Bailey herself was beginning to fade into the background as his gaze settled into a cross-eyed stare of helpless fascination.

"It'll feel even better if you touch it," Bailey chuckled, and even though Darren expected to find himself bristling at the amused condescension in her voice, the pulses of pleasure soon swamped out any other emotion. He instead found himself nodding, reaching out with his right hand to play with his stiff prick while his left continued to tease and caress his heavy, churning balls--Darren normally didn't masturbate with both hands, he used one of them to hold his phone and look at porn, but somehow the woman he'd hooked up with back at the bar had turned him into the sexiest thing he wanted to see and his cock gushed precum onto his fingers almost the second he began to stroke.

A tiny part of him wondered where all this was leading to--Bailey made everything seem like foreplay, from going back to her apartment to taking a warm bath together to relaxing in the water and listening to her talk about his stiffening dick--but he couldn't hold onto the thought because nothing else really mattered when his cock was nice and hard like this. "The less you think, the better it feels, honey," Bailey purred, a tiny giggle of amusement in her voice, and Darren realized with a start that he wasn't quite sure how many of his recent thoughts had simply been her words slipping into the back of his mind while he was preoccupied with jacking off. But another few pumping strokes made that fade away too.

The water slowly became tepid, heated only by the warmth of their bodies, but Darren didn't really notice. He was too busy sliding his fist up and down his shaft, smearing precum into the sensitive skin of his cock and grunting out thoughtless agreement to everything Bailey said. "You're such a good plaything for me, aren't you, sweetie?" she asked, and Darren found that he couldn't even really give the question a moment of careful consideration--it just felt too good to stroke, too good to stay floating in that mindless ecstasy just below the threshold of orgasm and let his mind go numb and dumb and mazy. If that meant being Bailey's toy then he was happy to do it, and his pleasure stretched endlessly on like a corridor with no end as he stared helplessly at his own twitching prick.

Eventually, she let him cum. The orgasm was intense, sending a jet of semen spraying all over his chest and belly, and the release left Darren more drowsy and dulled than ever. He felt his eyes finally slip shut as his erection softened, post-coital exhaustion combining with the trance to leave him limp in the tub, and it barely even registered when Bailey cleaned him up, drained the water, and led him to the bedroom. He was too deeply hypnotized to think anymore… and although he didn't know it, this was exactly how Bailey had wanted him from the beginning.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Bailey Falls Asleep in Her Chair

It wasn't time to wake yet. Bailey knew it wasn't time to wake yet, because she could still hear that strange thrumming drone in her ears and the whispers inside it telling her to sleep, and even though it was a little bit strange to be drifting in a kind of hazy slumber that kept her just alert enough to listen but not to open her heavy eyelids Bailey nonetheless enjoyed the relaxation too much to resist. She slumped back in her cozy computer chair, eyes stuck shut and mouth hanging open, and simply let herself doze like a… like a good girl. It felt good to be a good girl.

It felt very good, in fact, and although Bailey had a loose and muzzy awareness that it was her own hand down between her legs it nonetheless felt like someone else was doing all the work to turn her on. She felt so delightfully passive, really nothing more than an indolent observer who nonetheless experienced all the dreamy ecstasy her fingers elicited, and it didn't feel like masturbation when she touched herself. It seemed more like she was being fucked by a stranger, the same stranger whose soft and gentle voice hid inside the pulsing drone that switched off Bailey's mind so completely, and whoever they were they knew just how to bring her to climax. Bailey didn't know how many times she'd cum already, but she was beginning to understand just how much pleasure she was capable of.

Every climax tied itself to the whispers, binding them closer and closer together until they seemed like one and the same thing to Bailey's dozy brain, but she was too sleepy to think about that right now. She didn't remember feeling so weary and exhausted before she opened the file her friend sent her--actually she recalled a moment of surprise, a brief befuddled notion that this wasn't the musical composition they were working on together--but now she was too relaxed to question anything that was happening to her. It was a warm and soothing sound, and the whispers cloaked inside it were even more warm and soothing. Bailey was going to need to send this to someone when she was done listening, just so they could experience the comforting tranquility of obedience.

That last word struck her as unusual, and there was even a moment when Bailey's brow furrowed as she struggled to figure out why her eyelids wouldn't open and her mind wouldn't stir from this dozy, dreamy state of pure bliss. But the thrumming drone piled relentlessly on like a blizzard of mesmerizing euphoria, burying her under layer after layer of thoughtless rapture until she simply couldn't imagine digging herself out from under it. She was obedient, that was a fact, and she wouldn't wake until that obedience became the core and center of her entire identity. And every step in the process of her subjugation would feel better and better, and every thought she surrendered to the whispers would make her cum that much harder. It was only common sense, really.

Bailey eventually woke, her fingertips wrinkled and the cushion underneath her smelling like cunt. She woke because it was time to wake, because she'd surrendered herself completely and the whispers told her she could come out of her trance only when she was completely owned. She knew she needed to email her new controller… but first she knew she needed to find someone to send the file to. Someone who wouldn't realize until it was too late that Bailey was merely passing on the gift of obedience to the next link in the chain.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Debra Gets Caught by Her Boss

Debra let out a tiny, embarrassed squeak as Jed let himself into her office--she thought she'd locked the door, she'd certainly hoped no one would see her like this, but of course her boss would have a key and he was probably wondering why she wasn't responding to calls or messages. She looked at him with pleading eyes, desperately trying to find a way to explain the inexplicable, but the words got stuck in her throat and she wound up giving her heavy tits a long, hard squeeze instead. The room filled with a silence broken only by the massaging vibrator buzzing away between her spread thighs.

But finally she managed to stammer out a halting, pathetic excuse. "It--it came in the mail," she gabbled out, acutely aware that she kept rubbing the head of the toy over her slick, swollen labia the entire time she was talking. "I, I don't know who sent it to me, there was no return address on the package, but when I opened it, I… ohhhh ffffffuckkkk, I couldn't stop myself. It, it was like something just unpacked itself inside my brain and I had to. Um. Use it. On myself, I mean." It felt maybe a little too late to be shy about her descriptions, but even though Debra was sitting naked on top of her filing cabinet with her legs spread as wide as they would go and her hands relentlessly kneading the flesh of her lush, pale breasts she still felt embarrassed to admit what she was doing. Her cheeks went beet red with mortified dismay.

And Jed just… stood there. Thankfully it seemed like he at least had the presence of mind to close the door so the sound of the wand wouldn't carry quite so far, and his office was the one right next to hers so it was unlikely anyone would hear her masturbating herself stupid like this, but he was ominously patient and expressionless while he watched her stammer her way through a weak and unconvincing explanation. She'd seen him like this in meetings before, giving people just enough rope to hang themselves with while he let his silence drag every last nervous confession out of them, and she knew he was using that same technique on her right now--only there was nothing to confess to. Debra honestly didn't know why she was doing any of this.

She said as much, too. "I swear, I--I tried to stop myself, I really did. I would never, um, I mean, not on company time at least, I--Jed, you know me, we've worked together f-for years, I… I couldn't make myself stop! It was like I was h-hypnotized or something--" Debra's words broke off in a desperate wail as just the notion of being hypnotized into playing with her pussy while someone watched left her clit desperately throbbing with orgasmic bliss despite her embarrassment--god, she was cumming in front of her boss like her only job at the company was to provide him with pornographic entertainment, and she… she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop pressing the vibrator to her cunt and she couldn't stop her multiple orgasms and she had to look like such a dirty slut right now and--

"That's a good girl," Jed broke in, smoothly and cleanly severing Debra's chain of thought mid-link. "That's a good slut for Master." The words carried so many implications, recontextualizing all their late nights in the office and constant mentoring sessions and one-on-ones that got all muddy and jumbled in Debra's overwhelmed brain… but she couldn't think about any of it. She couldn't think about anything but fucking her toy and cumming her brains out, and a sense of relief washed over her when she realized she was doing exactly what her Master had trained her to do.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Emily Passes the Evaluation

"Hmm, let's see, yes, those look like maybe A-cups…." Emily's eyes are open, but she can't seem to focus her gaze on anything in particular as the woman in front of her gropes and fondles her naked body like a farmer evaluating a livestock purchase. She feels her stare locking onto whatever happens to capture her attention in the moment, coming to a halt just like her dazed and drowsy mind before something new grabs it and tugs it and sends it scattering all over again. It keeps her from really considering the full import of what's happening to her, and she's so utterly consumed with indolence that she can't even bring herself to smile despite the warm, drifting pleasure flowing through her sleepy brain.

The woman's hands skim down Emily's taut pink belly to her smooth-shaven cunt, working a single finger between her labia without the slightest trace of seduction to her caresses. "Definitely wet, obviously very responsive," she mutters, and even though Emily's not really capable of thinking through the implications right now she immediately understands what the stranger who's evaluating her is talking about--she remembers responding, her urgent stride slowing to a lethargic halt as the monitor hanging in the window of the downtown office building she was passing caught her eye in a way she couldn't refuse. She'd stood there staring at it for a long moment, absorbing the tiny subliminal flickers behind its swirling, mesmerizing images, and then she'd abruptly walked into this office and stripped off all her clothes.

And she's not alone, either. There are at least two other women behind her, faces equally expressionless and bodies equally nude, and Emily can see in front of her two groups sitting on either side of the room after going through whatever sorting process the brunette in front of her has decided on. They've all got similar physiques, small-breasted and smooth-shaven and slender, and Emily has a vague and drifting memory of recognizing herself in a description hidden behind the flowing, swirling lights she saw in the monitor earlier. They're all being selected, culled from the vaster herd of humanity on the street below according to some criteria she's too dulled and dissociated to fully process, and anyone who didn't fit those criteria simply dismissed the patterns without a second glance and went on their way. But Emily….

Emily's absolutely caught, her various thoughts hanging helplessly in a web of mesmerized lassitude that keeps her from reacting even as the woman in black spins her around and bends her over and gives her ass a hard swat just to see how it reddens. "Oh, that's very nice," she murmurs to herself, "very pretty indeed," and Emily can't help feeling a surge of warm, wet arousal between her thighs. She understands that she probably shouldn't get turned on by pleasing her captor, and she probably shouldn't want to be chosen for whatever's going to happen to her--Emily knows she won't be missed if she simply disappears, another thing she suspects she shares with every other woman who found herself compelled to wander into this office and strip naked to be evaluated. But the hypnotic trance filling her mind simply overrides all of her concerns.

"This one's a keeper," the woman announces, and Emily straightens up and heads directly over to the group of women on the left without any formal command to do so. Once her mind knows what obedience is and how to achieve it, she simply flows along the path of least resistance, and soon she's slumped in the corner like all the others just staring vacantly into space while the next woman steps forward. She knows she should be screaming inside her head, desperately panicking at the thought of being claimed like this… but even in the privacy of her own mind, all she can feel is drifting pleasure at the notion of being owned.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Madison Gives a Little Glove Love

The moment Madison put on the gloves, Corinne knew she was done thinking for the night. Not that there weren't clues already--when she arrived, her girlfriend was wearing her full dominatrix gear, with thigh-high leather boots over fishnet stockings and a corset that narrowed her waist and emphasized her pale, voluptuous breasts. But there was a difference between 'we're in for a night of passionate sex' or even 'I'm going to top my darling submissive girl' and 'I have complete hypnotic control over your entire mind, and I'm going to flex my power over you to transform you into my brainless, whimpering slut for a whole evening just because I can'. And once Madison put on her black leather gloves, Corinne was in for the latter.

Because the gloves had a little suggestion attached to them. They had that lovely scent of well-worn, immaculately cared-for leather to them, one of Corinne's favorite aromas in the whole wide world, and Madison combined it mercilessly with another of their mutual kinks to control and manipulate her. Because one time after a little teasing and fractionation Madison got her to admit to an old fantasy about being chloroformed by her roommate that made her squirm and wriggle with embarrassed arousal just talking about it, and the next day when Corinne was lucid again Madison asked if the submissive woman would like to live out that dream on command. And soon Corinne wound up believing, not in her waking mind but deep down in her subconscious where it mattered, that Madison's gloves were impregnated with drugs that would make her woozy and sleepy and deliciously weak.

And sure enough, Madison pressed her hand over Corinne's mouth almost the moment the redhead walked into the apartment and murmured, "Hush for me, sweetie." And Corinne felt that mushy, foggy sensation settle over her thoughts, making it a struggle to stay awake and leaving her muscles so weak and wobbly that it was child's play for Madison to undress her and lead her over to the couch before the effects of the imaginary drug wore off. Once she'd gotten her submissive lover naked, Madison returned the glove to Corinne's face and gave her whiff after deep, sensual whiff of that old-leather aroma until she was limp against the cushions and her eyelids had lowered to mere slits. "That's my good little sleepy dolly," Madison purred, bringing out a massaging vibrator from behind the pillows. Corinne could only gasp, and take in another breath of the hypnotic scent.

The gasps became whimpers, the whimpers became loud moans, and soon both women were grateful for a hand over Corinne's mouth if for no other reason than to forestall complaints from the neighbors. Madison stroked every inch of her body with the buzzing toy, returning again and again to her wet pussy but never long enough to give Corinne the orgasm she so badly craved. And with every panting, heaving gasp of sexual pleasure, Corinne sucked in another lungful of the drug her unconscious mind was convinced was there, sending her deeper into limp and muzzy confusion that only ended when Madison lifted the glove away and allowed her a few brief interludes of fresh air. Which only fractionated Corinne further, until she realized it wasn't just the night she was done thinking for--at this rate, she wasn't going to wake up the whole damn weekend. And she could not be happier.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Hong Discovers the Leash and Collar

For the first few seconds, when Hong first emerges from trance and begins to sit upright, she thinks there's a chance she might still be free. She feels relatively lucid for the first time in what feels like days, her brain no longer trapped in a sluggish cycle of muddled realizations that she's staring at a spiral before it fractionates her back into a state of oblivious bliss so deep and profound she barely even notices the fucking machine plowing her sopping cunt. And even though her nipples stand out stiff as bullets from her flat chest and there's a dull, throbbing pulse of need radiating from her pussy, she can control the urge to satisfy it. Maybe she outlasted the suggestions. Maybe she--

That's about as far as Hong gets, mentally, before her trainer enters the room and loops the collar around her neck. He pulls it a little bit tighter, but he doesn't really have to--the moment Hong becomes aware of the soft leather against her skin, she feels her wit and intellect drain out of her like water running out of a newly-unclogged sink. She opens her mouth to speak, but all that emerges is a trickle of drool and her lolling, outstretched tongue--her eyelids suddenly droop and flutter, too heavy to hold fully open, but she can tell that beneath them her eyes are crossing in a perfect ahegao expression for her Masters. It's all just like she was trained to behave, and the leaden weight of her full subjugation settles onto her before she even knows it.

Of course they left her a mind of her own. Hong's going to need to go back out into the world, she's going to have to smile and nod and tell everyone that her unexpected disappearance for a few days was just her taking a little road trip and they were all worried about nothing. That's why her captors always succeed, why they've never been caught despite the hundreds of cells Hong passed on her way to her own brainwashing chamber--their victims don't drop out of existence and go missing, they come back as perfectly trained fuckpets for anyone who wants them. Hong can already feel the suggestions unpacking themselves in her head, leading her to a new apartment and a new job where her owners will have full access to her mind and body.

The collar is the key. The collar and the leash, oh fuck she absolutely craves for someone to hold the leash and give her instructions now--it's turned the dull ache of lust in her pussy into a ranging fire of boiling arousal, and Hong knows she would beg to be owned and commanded if she wasn't also so desperate to look like a dumb slut for her trainer. She tries anyway, a series of embarrassing and degrading grunts emerging from her throat, and it reminds her immediately of how she'd sound trying to talk with a cock in her mouth and that only makes her wetter. Hong's legs spread wide, displaying her needy cunt, and she slides off the bed and onto her knees to better demonstrate her readiness for surrender.

She doesn't touch herself, not without permission, but when the hand reaches out to take the loop at the other end of the chain it feels like a climax in Hong's head. She willingly crawls along like a bitch in heat, letting herself be led out to a locker room where she can be dressed back up in her old clothes… but she makes sure to bend over, forehead touching the floor, so she can reward her trainer for a job well done with a good, hard fuck before she rejoins the world.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Eliza Learns What She Was Doing Yesterday

"I… is that me?" Eliza's brow furrowed as she stared at the footage on the screen, not even noticing her hands moving to pull her shirt over her head because her mind was so completely focused on trying to process what she was seeing. The time stamp in the upper left said the video was from yesterday, but Eliza knew for a fact she was here at work all day yesterday and she didn't remember doing anything like… like… she watched herself crawl over to her manager, debasing herself by nuzzling at his crotch like a puppy greeting its master, and felt a hot prickling blush beginning to creep up her cheeks.

Her boss chuckled, and Eliza vaguely registered his warm hands closing over her small breasts before the astonishing sights on the screen rendered the sensation irrelevant. "Of course it's you, El," he murmured, his voice smooth and sensual in her ears. "We go through this every day, don't we? I show you the footage from yesterday, you tell me you don't remember doing all that kinky shit, and when I walk you through all the ways you degraded yourself as my slutty little pet it reinforces your conditioning and reminds you just how vulnerable that weak, empty mind of yours really is. And that convinces you that you can't fight me anymore."

Eliza frowned. That couldn't be true, it absolutely had to be just something he was making up--Eliza knew herself, she knew she was a smart, fierce boss bitch who was going to explode out of this shitty retail job any day now to conquer the goddamn world--but at the same time, it was hard to ignore the sight of that chestnut ponytail bobbing up and down on the screen in front of her as the slut she was yesterday went to town on her manager's flushed and jutting erection. "I, um, I can't fight you anymore," she muttered, mentally replacing the words as soon as they left her mouth with the far more reassuring statement of defiance she knew she'd intended to give.

"That's a good girl," her boss cooed, groping and kneading the soft flesh of her tits. "You can't resist what you can't remember, isn't that right, Ellie sweetie?" There was a dangerous edge to his words, an unswayable confidence that went straight down to the base of Eliza's brain and tickled some deeply rooted urge she'd almost entirely forgotten about, but she was too focused on the screen to notice. She was watching her co-workers wander into the office, take her from behind in both holes while she continued to slurp and nuzzle her manager's crotch in vacuous contentment, and… god, even when he went soft she just knelt there licking his balls like it was her new fucking hobby. She didn't even look like she knew she was doing it.

And she was wearing…. "I can't resist what I can't remember," Eliza mumbled, her hands reaching out to the short length of chain sitting next to the monitor on her manager's desk. Something in her brain yammered at her, trying to get her to pay attention to what she was doing and just think for a second, but Eliza was trying to focus on the video and she was trying to focus on her boss's voice and she was trying to focus on the hot, sensual tingle in her stiff nipples and it was all getting to be a bit too much for her. She padlocked the chain around her own throat, just like the slut on the screen, and that was when Eliza went away for another day. And her owner fired up the video camera, documenting every step in her inexorable descent into submission to show her later.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Cleo Falls for It Again

"Do you know the best part?" Lara chuckled, undoing the straps on Cleo's spaghetti-string top to expose her breasts to the camera. "She did this to herself! Oh, not the ball gag, that's just there to make sure she doesn't disturb the neighbors while I'm playing with her. But this dumb bitch saw those cuffs hanging from the ceiling, and literally thought to herself, 'Oh, those couldn't possibly be that hard to get out of. I bet if I just reached up there, I could probably see for myself.' And she actually strung herself up for me to find when I got home!" Lara threw her head back and laughed, as though she'd just told the funniest joke imaginable, and of course Cleo couldn't say a word to contradict her.

Even if she could, she wasn't sure exactly how different her story would be. Certainly she understood now what had possessed her to stick her hands into the restraints that had seemed so foolishly enticing just twenty short minutes ago. She always remembered the post-hypnotic suggestions once the gag went on and the webcam flickered to life and Lara was teasingly displaying her naked body to an audience of appreciative perverts. But could she really claim Lara was wrong to call her a dumb bitch when she was the one who kept getting fooled by her own programming, again and again and again like Charlie Brown kicking endlessly at the football? It was hard to salvage her ego in the face of so many defeats.

And it would only get harder. "Look at this, look at how stiff her nipples are getting," Lara giggled, reaching around to strum the nubs of dark brown flesh that jutted from Cleo's lush, pale breasts. "It turns her on so much to be on display for you like this. Her pussy gets so wet when I tease her so bad she can't even think anymore." Cleo could feel the teasing words sinking in like venom pumping into her veins, muddying her suggestible brain with thoughts of being used and toyed with and left to desperately hump the air, and she understood that everything Lara said was brainwashing her malleable mind. The next time she decided to stop by she would fall for this trick even more readily, forgetting all the times it caught her before and convincing herself that this time, she truly would escape without any help from her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend.

"Maybe I'll let some of you come visit us," Lara cackled gleefully, pretending to be oblivious to Cleo's whimpers and the rapid shakes of her head in denial. "Maybe while I've got her up here like this I'll put her ankles in a spreader bar and let one of our lucky viewers plow that pretty cunt while she moans into the gag like a good girl. Do you think she'd like that? Because I do. I think she's a total slut who can't stop sniffing around men's crotches in the hopes of getting a little of that good good dick, and while that's cute it's not the sort of thing we can just ignore. Is it?" Her hands went from strumming Cleo's nipples to pinching and twisting them until the helpless woman squealed in a mix of pain and pleasure, and any protests Cleo might have made about Lara's assumptions were muffled into incoherence.

Lara shrugged. "Until then, I guess she can get her pussy railed by one of my friends. Under supervised conditions, of course." Cleo's ex stepped out of the shadows, erection jutting urgently in Cleo's direction, and despite herself she felt her cunt slickening in anticipation. This was the other reason these tricks always worked on her… and the reason, she suspected, why her deep self wasn't exactly eager to make the whole thing stop.

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[jukeboxemcsa]

In the Gallery of Free-Use Women

There are two kinds of people who visit the gallery: The people who look at the pictures, and the people who look at the pussies. No one is ever wholly one kind or the other, of course; even the most urgently aroused individuals will at least spare a glance at the pictures hung over each naked woman, fixing a mental image in their heads before they thrust their fingers or cocks into the orifices presented to them. And even those who are obsessed with imagining the woman they're fucking will usually give a cursory examination to the living body bent over and pushed through a hole in the wall to leave them little more than anonymous pieces of anatomy dressed in thigh-high stockings and quivering with arousal.

But still, it's an interesting dichotomy. There are always those that delight in the pleasures of fucking anonymous holes, reveling in the joys of using a woman who will never know them and will have no idea who pinched and groped and prodded their naked flesh; and there are those who look at the photos of the blank-eyed, hypnotized women and imagine what they must look like on the other side of the wall, desperately struggling with the sourceless pleasure they can only guess at as they try and fail to rouse themselves from their mesmerized stupor. Some have called it a brilliant meditation on the split between mind and body; still others imagine it to be a commentary on the dehumanizing influences of modern society. And a few call it abhorrent, but that's what the waivers each woman signed are for.

Naturally there are always some who want to see the other side of the wall, to watch the women as they whimper and moan and their faces betray the arousal of being fucked by strangers; but that's what makes it art, and not simply pornography. The visitors to the gallery are denied the right to contemplate the objects of the exhibition as people, forced to use their imagination and the pictures provided if they want to think about the human aspect of being displayed as a free-use fucktoy for anyone who might walk past. There's no real evidence, in fact, that the women in the photos actually represent the women in the holes--certainly the faces change from time to time, and so do the bodies, even if only regular and perceptive visitors would notice. But the faces could belong to anyone. So could the pussies.

That's given rise to one of the most persistent urban legends regarding the gallery, one that's kept going through word of mouth even though the artist has vehemently denied it and in fact threatened to sue anyone who repeats it in print. There are rumors that women who visit the gallery--and there are plenty of women who visit, even though the deposits of semen spattering the floor around the bent and trembling bodies are almost exclusively male--will sometimes find only two holes occupied instead of three, and the photo over the third hole is that of their own blank-eyed and hypnotized face. It's then that the compulsion strikes, and the unlucky visitor finds themselves taking a place in the gallery of free-use fucktoys… and if you believe the stories, those women are never heard from again.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Nora Gets Stuck in the Dryer

"Ummm… little help?" Nora knew she shouldn't actually need any help at all extricating herself from the dryer, no matter how big her boobs were--the opening was very large, she'd obviously managed to get herself inside, and her soft pale tits were squishable and squeezable enough that she should be able to pull herself out without any effort. But somehow every time she tried Nora managed to press her body firmly enough against one side or another that she remained fully and completely stuck right up until Dustin walked in on her… and that was more than a little embarrassing, given that she'd been rooting around in the dryer for a pair of panties to cover her ample, jiggling, fully naked butt. Her roommate's boyfriend was basically getting a free show.

And loving it, from the sound of his voice. "Sure, no problem, babe," he chuckled, walking up behind her and giving her a playful swat that sent ripples across her plush and exposed behind. "Was that what you were looking for?" Nora winced, unable to stop herself from letting out a tiny whimper of arousal--naturally she knew she shouldn't be getting turned on by her predicament, and especially not by the way Kelly's romantic partner was acting so intimately familiar with her naked body, but… but damn if it didn't feel like the erotically-charged atmosphere in the apartment hadn't been building up to something like this for weeks. Dustin was over here more often than he was at his own place, he and Kelly constantly took liberties with the 'no public display' rule they'd agreed to, and she'd even caught him hypnotizing her on the couch a few times. Some kind of weird kink the two of them had.

Not that hypnosis worked on Nora, of course, but she did have to admit there was something incredibly hot about watching Kelly fall deeper and deeper into an obedient trance that left her weak and gullible and open to all of Dustin's suggestions. It made Nora wet just thinking about it… which only increased her embarrassment when he let his palm slide down the broad curve of her ass to investigate her lewdly winking pussy. "Or were you thinking something more like this kind of help?" he asked, lightly probing the cleft between her soft pink labia, and Nora blushed as she discovered that she couldn't stop herself from grinding into his touch like a needy little bitch in heat. If only she hadn't waited so long to do laundry. If only she hadn't gotten stuck in the dryer. If only--

"I'm sorry, babe, I didn't hear that," Dustin growled, his commanding tones neatly severing Nora's dazed and distracted train of thought. "I asked you if this was what you wanted." There was something steely in his voice, not harsh or cruel but absolutely unyielding, and Nora knew as his fingers froze inside her that she wasn't going to get any more stimulation until she broke down and admitted how much she was enjoying his sensual caresses. Which should have been a good thing, because this was another woman's boyfriend and Nora wasn't even looking for sex when she came downstairs and she really just wanted to get herself extricated from the dryer she'd gotten inextricably stuck in… but she couldn't tell her cunt that. It badly wanted what Dustin was doing to her. And she felt wonderfully, impossibly weak compared to that warm, wet throb of lust between her thighs.

So she stammered out a helpless "Y-yes," and before she knew it Dustin's fingers were replaced with his big, thick cock as he slid into her from behind. That finally triggered a tiny ghost of a memory for Nora, a vague and drifting hint that some part of her knew exactly what was going to happen the moment she came downstairs, but by then she was too busy cumming to think about it anymore and her brain quickly fogged over into orgasmic indolence for the man fucking her. All she knew was that this was just the beginning… and now that she'd fully surrendered, there were no limits to the pleasure the three of them could experience.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Laura Gets a Final Confirmation

"You know what it's going to do to you, right?" Laura was sure he did, you didn't get to this point without full awareness of what you were in for, but it always helped to satisfy her conscience to be absolutely sure that every man the met with was entering into this arrangement in full awareness of what they were giving up. That was why when Brandon nodded vacantly, looking up at her lush breasts and stiff pink nipples with an expression of thoughtless satisfaction on his freckled features, she didn't let him get away with it. "No," she chided gently, refusing to let him drift off into helpless titnosis. "I want you to tell me."

Brandon blinked heavily, and Laura could tell he was already having some trouble both in verbalizing his thoughts and in coming up with thoughts to verbalize. This close to her, just the lingering scent of her body was beginning to enact real, chemical changes within his brain as the aerosolized particles of Laura's very particular biological gift entered his nostrils and infiltrated his bloodstream. But she refused to lean in closer until he spoke, and eventually he mumbled, "I, um, I… it's gonna make me dumb," in a tone of yearning need. "I'm gonna drink your milk, and it's gonna make me all horny and dumb for you, ma'am."

He lazily reached up a hand to caress Laura's breasts, touching them in a spirit of almost reverent worship as his eyes went a little bit distant in daydreaming contemplation. "And when I'm dumb, I… I'll be yours, eager to please and h-happy to stick my dick wherever you tell me. You, uhh, you run a… like a stud farm, but for people?" His brow furrowed as he tried to verbalize the particular mechanics of Laura's highly exclusive private fertility clinic and the complexities of its precise legal status given the intimate nature of the insemination process, but with every breath a little more of his intellect slipped away and soon his forehead smoothed out into untroubled bliss. "And you're gonna want me to fuck a lot. I, I like fucking."

Laura nodded patiently. "And what else do you like, Brandon? I need to hear it before I'll let you drink." She didn't need to deliver the dose this way, of course; Laura had long ago isolated and synthesized the particular component of her breast milk that had such a dramatic effect on the human brain, and she could just as easily have slipped it into Brandon's morning coffee the day of his very first appointment. But turning it into a ritual helped to convince her subjects that they were surrendering to her in a profound and permanent fashion, and if they knew they were going to belong to her forever and they did it anyway then Laura didn't have to feel bad about having so many slaves.

And sure enough, Brandon sighed blissfully and murmured, "I like doing what I'm told, ma'am. I… I heard about this place, about you, and I instantly knew I just had to find you and drink your milk and be your dumb horny slave forever. Please, ma'am? Please can I have a taste now so I can stop thinking? Please?" It was enough to mollify Laura's conscience, and she put her hand around Brandon's and helped him squeeze the first few droplets of creamy liquid into his open mouth. The drug kicked in almost instantly, sending his brain into stupefied euphoria, and he didn't resist at all when she leaned down and pushed her nipple between his lips. He simply suckled at her teat, the first dose of many he would receive over the course of his service, and she didn't even have to reach between his thighs to know that his cock was getting rock-hard as all his fantasies were finally fulfilled.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Carla Finds an Explanation

"…rub their minds away, good maids--oh!" Carla whipped her hand away from her pussy and tried to straighten her skirt the moment she heard the door open, but it was no good--her uniform was disheveled, her chestnut hair hung lank and sweaty under her cap with the exertion of her furtive masturbation, and of course the long linen gloves the maids all wore had a stain on the first two fingers of the right hand that smelled like cunt. It was impossible to hide what she'd been doing in front of the mirror, and she blushed and stammered in an attempt to explain to the master of the house exactly why she thought it was appropriate to play with herself when she was supposed to be cleaning.

"I'm, I'm dreadfully sorry, sir," she babbled, wringing her hands together nervously and trying not to notice the way the moisture from her slick pussy wicked from the wet spots on the fabric to the dry. "I just, um, it's just that good maids, well, good maids serve, don't they? Good maids serve, good maids obey, good maids rub their minds away." Carla's brow furrowed momentarily, wondering where that inappropriate turn of phrase had come from and why it popped so readily into her head when she was looking for a reason to explain her secret need to masturbate in the master's bedroom, but his stern and silent glare kept boring into her brain and making her desperate to fill the silence with something. Anything.

And that strange little rhyme was right there waiting for her. "Good maids, um, serve, sir. Good maids obey. Good maids… good maids rub their minds… away?" She could feel herself slipping into repetition, her distracted and fluttery brain increasingly unable to think of anything else to say, but she couldn't seem to stop it--the end of the phrase led so naturally into the beginning that it was hard to disentangle her muddled consciousness from the impulse to recite it again and again. "Good maids serve. Good maids obey. Good maids rub their minds away." God, it just felt so natural on her lips. She could see herself repeating it, over and over again while her fingers found her sopping cunt and teased it ever deeper into her muzzy subconscious like a path of desire.

The master--her Master--walked around behind her, turning her back to face the mirror while his hands slipped around Carla's waist to grope and fondle her breasts through her uniform. She felt herself going slack against him, her hands dropping limp to her sides while she stared at her own vacant eyes and repeated, "Good maids serve, good maids obey, good maids rub their minds away." The throbbing pulse of arousal in her swollen clit, which had never really gone away, redoubled its intensity until she was whimpering out the words in a trembling mewl of lust that obliviated all other thoughts. She just wanted to be a good maid for Master, and she was so happy to take herself deeper under his guidance.

By the time her head finally sank forward and her eyelids fluttered shut, the last image in Carla's mind was of Master's left hand pulling up her skirt and flossing her plump, drooling pussy lips with her own panties. His right hand continued to grope and squeeze her ample tits, demonstrating his utter delight with her compliant body, and it only made Carla weaker and wetter to feel his cock pressing into the small of her back and know that she was turning him on. "…good maids serve, good maids obey, g-g-good girls rub their minds away," she mumbled, her voice now nothing but a vacant monotone, and she finally relaxed knowing her position in the household was perfectly safe. Because as lewd as it was to masturbate in the master's bedroom, it was exactly what Carla had been trained to do.

(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!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Debbie Does Hypno

"Okay, babe, smile for the cameras, give me your sluttiest look, that's it, and we're rolling in three, two, one, action!" Debbie stuck out her tongue and gave a lewd grin, but it transformed itself into a cross-eyed ahegao stare as the little light over the camera winked on and it suddenly penetrated her consciousness that she was actually doing her very first porn shoot. The awareness that she was being caught on video with her elbows hooked under her knees and a fucking machine relentlessly pounding her cunt just slammed into her brain with an intensity that left her instantly sopping wet and she wound up momentarily using her mouth for its intended purpose as she moaned out, "ohhhh, fuck…."

Then it was right back into ahegao vacancy, Debbie's deep brown eyes going glassy and unfocused as a pleasure too powerful to be explained away by mere physical stimulation took hold. They'd told her all about this when she agreed to add 'hypnosis' to the list of kinks she was willing to perform, but somehow it hadn't quite seemed real to her when they were doing the preparatory induction--then it seemed like just some nice older man talking to her, telling her all about how the shoot was going to go down while she distracted herself staring at his sparkly pendant and let his words flow past. But Debbie must have soaked up those suggestions better than she realized, because the second the camera turned on her clit began to throb like a second heartbeat between her thighs. Just like he told her it would.

Debbie let out a wild, demonstrative moan as the fucking machine continued its work, saliva dripping from her outstretched tongue to trickle into the valley of her cleavage while she squeezed and pinched her stiff pink nipples in wild, uninhibited lust. Everything about it felt so goddamn fucking good, even the little collar around her throat she'd chosen as her sole fashion accessory--it was like her sense of touch extended a few inches past her skin somehow, like even the air molecules drifting around the room were teasing her with gentle caresses. Debbie's first climax came in under three minutes, and it hit with a force that left her shuddering and squealing and cumming so flamboyantly that if she'd seen herself she would have sworn she was faking it.

But no, it was all real, hypnosis made it all so very fucking real and Debbie couldn't help wondering if it would be unprofessional to try to get the contact info for the man she talked to because Jesus FUCK. If he could do this to her, if he could get her cunt so leaky fucking wet it was churning into a messy froth that coated the dildo railing her pussy to one climax after another, then what else could he do? What could he turn Debbie into? The fantasies began to make Debbie forget the camera was even there, and afterward when she watched the footage she would marvel at how enthusiastic her performance was. But in the moment, all she could think about was going deeper and being… owned. Used. Claimed. It hit each and every one of her hot buttons simultaneously and a few she didn't even know she had.

They took a break after twenty minutes, and Debbie was surprised to discover just how wrung out and rubbery her muscles were from so much tensing and releasing. But when they asked her how she was doing, Debbie gave them a big smile and said, "I could go all day, boys." And the best part was, she knew she really meant it.

(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!)

[kicks0u]

hello !!

I'm opening up 4 slots for no background character illustrations like these for £70 - please DM me if you're interested !

[kicks0u]

this batch has been going rlly well so i'm gonna open up 2 more slots! please DM me if you're interested <3