There you go, sweetheart. Just keep staring into the spiral, doesn't it feel nice to just drop your defenses for a moment and relax?
It feels so nice to just relax and feel calm after the day you've had, doesn't it?
You're doing so well for me, sweetheart, just keep staring deeply into the spiral. Can you see where the stars are beginning to burst forward? It looks so pretty, doesn't it?
Take a deep breath for me now, sweetheart... In and out, nice and slow... That was perfect, you're doing amazing.
Don't you want to stay here with me, continuing to listen to my words? Your head is feeling so fuzzy and floaty, you might just want to keep reading to make sure you stay in this peaceful headspace?
Come on sweetheart, take another deep breath for me. In and out. Okay, that was perfect. You're the perfect hypnosub for me, nobody else drops everything for me so quickly and efficiently.
You're absolutely perfect, sweetheart. We're almost done, I promise. I'll let you go back to your day in just a moment. I've just got a few more tasks for you, you'll be able to do them so easily I promise.
Can you reach down between your thighs for me? Just your fingers tips should touch first against your crotch, featherlight touches that you can barely feel but you know are there. Now put your palm down and squeeze, not hard because we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, now would we? Grind against your hand if you're already feeling needy... Just like that, perfect.
Can you do one last thing for me? It's very easy and I'm a little embarrassed to ask my sweetheart to do this for me... Make sure you share this around so more people can have the opportunity to feel just as good as you have..?
I have been slowly working on archiving my work and it's time to announce the Secret Subject super big hypnosis (and asmr) audio spreadsheet. Every piece of content I have ever done in one place so you can find it all. Eventually everything I have made since 2017 will be added!
New audios will be added until it is up to date, right now we have everything from 2017-mid 2020. I hope people find it useful as there is a LOT of audios I forgot I made and I'm sure someone will find something they like. Also a lot of the older work is now free because it's important to me to have a lot of content people can access.
Despite the change in my schedule I want people to know I still love hypnosis and I want to share kinky good times with people for as long as I can. 💜
Giselle held the little pink pill in the palm of her hand and stared at it.
This was a sample, apparently. A free sample from that new place. The one that said it could completely change girls, if they wanted. Wipe them clean and start over. Make them think different things. Or nothing. Gisele wasn't sure believed any of that stuff, really. Probably just hype.
But she had got the sample anyway. Not sure why.
The bubbly, smiling girl - also very pink - who had come running and jiggling up to Giselle and pressed the pill into her hand had explained that it was a sample of feeling dumb. Before Giselle had recovered enough to ask why she might want that the girl had jiggled off again, leaving Giselle just standing there, a little stunned.
And now she was back home, staring at it.
What was feeling dumb like, exactly? Could you feel dumb? She didn’t know.
A growing part of her wanted to find out.
Before she could change her mind she popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed. There was a tiny spike of worry and regret, but mostly a big bubble of excitement. It was just a sample, after all, and it wasn’t like she had anything else she needed to do today, really.
And she sat.
And nothing happened.
What was supposed to happen?
She sat a little longer before sighing. Just a dud. Probably just a placebo or something to trick the more gullible potential customers. A sugar pill or something. It had been very sweet.
Oh well. Giselle got up, and went off to go do something.
Some minutes later, book in her lap, she realised that she’d re-read the same page a good dozen or so times now. Every time she got to the bottom she’d blink, confused, realise she couldn’t remember the start, and go back up again. Then she realised she couldn’t even remember what the book was meant to be about anyway.
She looked at the front. Big words. She squinted. She’d picked this book? But it was so hard!
Silly girl. She giggled. It felt good. A tingle ran through her. She giggled again. Hadn’t meant to, just slipped out. She’d just felt so silly and stupid and girly and so it had slipped out without her even thinking about it.
Felt good.
Giselle put the book down without saving her place. Books were hard anyway. Words were hard. What was she doing? Couldn’t remember. Another giggle. Such a ditz! Head felt so fluffy. Fluffy and pink. Cute.
Smiling, she sat and stared into space for a moment or two before blinking and going: “Oooh!” and remembering the pill. It had worked! This was what dumb felt like!
It felt good!
Giddy, she sprung up. What else could she try while she was all dumb?
She tried to think but thinking was hard, and while she tried she chewed on her lip and looked around and caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall. And stopped.
Ooh, she was cute! Had she always looked so cute, or was it just because she was all dumb and stuff? Giselle didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter and she didn’t really care - she just knew she did. Just for fun she pulled her top up and flashed herself, giggling. So silly!
That was fun though…
The top came off. The bra did, too. She was even cuter, now! And it was so hard not to touch herself and watch herself and the giggles were mostly coming out as moans now. Being dumb was fun, being dumb felt good. She was so soft and silly. When she pinched her nipples she gasped - they’d never felt like that before. Being dumb was the best!
Giselle couldn’t really remember when the rest of her clothes had come off but it was just so hard to care. Caring was like thinking, and thinking was hard. She was dumb! Legs apart, head back and empty. Much easier. Not a single thought in her head. Just giggles and moans. If someone was there to tell her what to think she’d listen, but they weren’t. She was dumb and alone and cute and wet and so this is what happened.
Felt so good to be dumb. So easy. Right.
Eventually, thoughts started coming back. Slowly. One by one. By then, Giselle had settled on a nice, steady rhythm of playing, eyes closed, one hand feeling how soft she was while the other worked away between her thighs. The thought trickled back though, and as they started to build up she stopped, and opened her eyes.
There was shame, a little shame for what she’d done, but not as much as she would have thought. Red-faced, she got dressed, then undressed to have a shower, shaking a little the whole time. So mixed up. A few traces of ditziness remained even as her brain started working again and the sample wore off.
It was just a one-time thing, she told herself. She’d just been curious. It wasn’t her.
But…
If she happened to pass by again… and get another free sample…
Well…
Giselle giggled. That wouldn’t be her fault if that happened…
holy FUCK i want this in my life
the no warning forehead press, the chin grab the forced eye contact the finger follow without even a word, the tap and just gone...
Note: The clit box/pussy portal concept is one I’ve seen floating around the internet since forever and I think it’s sooooo hot so here’s my take on it teehee
He’d finally done it.
His fingers trailed over the box's cool, seamless edges. A marvel of engineering, deceptively simple in its sleek titanium casing. No one would guess what lived inside. Who lived inside.
Because there, nestled in precision, pulsed a perfect replica of her pussy. Every fold, every nerve ending, every flush of blood beneath soft skin, atomically identical. Synapses wired directly to hers. A closed loop: every stroke, every touch, every cruel pinch he inflicted here would ripple through her body, her real body, with merciless accuracy.
And the inverse? Even sweeter. Every desperate clench of her cunt as she helplessly responded to his touch would answer here, in his hands, twitching like the pathetic, obedient thing it now was.
No consent. No escape. Just ownership, distilled into a box small enough to fit in his palm.
His thumb brushed the damp seam of the replica’s slit, so warm, so alive, and miles away, her breath hitched.
A grin split his face.
Time to play.
—
She’s getting ready for bed. Wearing just a big t-shirt and panties, freshly showered and sleepy. He knows because he installed cameras and microphones all throughout her apartment months ago. There isn’t a single thing she can do without him knowing.
He sits in front of his computer, multiple camera angles feeding him live video and audio. He opens the box with careful hands, her pretty pussy nestled within the lining. So cute, untouched, unsuspecting.
His fingers trail idly along the smooth, pliant flesh, and he watches as she flinches, eyes wide, glancing down at herself. He smiles.
And so it begins.
He doesn’t waste any time, his fingers moving to spread her pussy lips before he leans down and pulls her clit into his mouth, tongue moving in quick movements as he alternates between sucking and licking. He watches the way her body shuts down, shock and pleasure flooding her system as she collapses onto her bed.
He doesn’t care to give her any time to recover. Instead, he pulls his mouth away to replace his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her spit-slicked skin in tight, cruel circles, taking in the way her breath comes in fast gasps as she tries to press her legs together, confusion, fear, panic written all over her face.
It doesn’t take long before her clit is a trembling, hypersensitive nub between his fingers, swollen and darkened from relentless attention. He runs the pad of his thumb over it in slow, agonizing circles, feeling the way it pulses under his touch, tiny convulsions of pleading nerves that only make him smirk. On the screen, her legs jerk, her hips rising off the bed as her body betrays her, craving more even as her mind doesn’t undestand.
She’s a puppet, and he controls every string. He squeezes the delicate bud between his fingertips, rolling it like a toy, listening to the wet, obscene slickness of her cunt in the box mirroring the mess between her thighs on-screen. He can see the wet patch on her panties, the outline of her pretty pussy clear behind the soaked fabric.
Her clit pulses under his fingers, a trembling, engorged little nub, dark as a bruise, so swollen now that it protrudes obscenely from her slick, puffy folds. He squeezes it, watching the thin skin stretch taut, watching it throb in frantic protest.
He traces the swollen bud with his fingertip, circling slow, barely a touch, just to watch it suffer. It’s obscene how responsive she is, the little nub twitching under his attention, glistening with slick. He presses down harder, rubbing in tight little spirals, the flesh trembling beneath his fingers like a caged animal.
He lets his fingers drag lower, spreading the plush folds wide, so wet, dripping for him, even as her fists clench in the sheets. His other hand strokes her clit lazily, coaxing her higher, watching the way her hips twitch with every circling press.
He scrapes a fingernail slowly along the underside of her clit, savoring the way it quivers. Her folds flutter, her hole clenching around nothing, as if begging for something to fill her.
He indulges her, thrusting two fingers deep into the slick imitation of her pussy, relishing how the tight walls convulse.
He leans in, pressing his tongue flat against the throbbing nub in his hands, lapping at it with slow, wet drags. The way it jerks under the heat of his mouth, god, it’s beautiful. On-screen, her back arches. A broken moan tangles in her throat.
His fingers move, fucking her in deep, lazy pumps, her inner walls clenching around nothing, trying to hold onto something, anything, to anchor against the pleasure.
She rocks into it, chasing his invisible touch, teetering over the edge.
So he pulls away.
Her entire body jerks in protest because she doesn’t get to cum yet.
His fingertips trace the very edges of her clit, never touching where she needs it most, just ghosting over the hypersensitive nerves until her entire body writhes. She claws at the sheets, her thighs twitching open despite herself, her pussy clenching around nothing, her clit begging for friction.
Then, finally, he gives in, but not the way she wants. He presses the flat of his thumb down on the engorged nub, grinding in slow, mind-numbing circles, watching on the screen as her back arches wildly.
He increases the pressure just a fraction, just enough to keep her teetering. Her cunt is dripping, her clit a dark, throbbing bead under his control, her body no longer hers, just a thing, just a wet little hole responding on command.
When her thighs start to shake, when her voice breaks into a sob, he stops, watching the hope fade from her eyes.
He pulls out a fine-tipped vibrator, pressing it directly against the bundle of nerves, dialing it just under the threshold of orgasm.
A keening noise claws up her throat as the pleasure builds and builds, never cresting, never breaking, just holding her there on the edge, her cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for the release she won’t get.
He watches her writhe, soaked in sweat and shame, her body no longer her own.
And through it all, her clit pulses in his grasp, a tiny, twitching heart of suffering and ecstasy.
He can see her chest heaving from her panting breaths, so close to what she wants. And so he stops, pulling the vibrator off, watching her helpless pussy twitch and ache.
She lets out a wail, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as desperation gnaws a deep ache inside of her.
He watches the screen, half-amused, half-annoyed, as her fingers hesitantly drift between her thighs. She wants to cum and she thinks she can do it herself.
A mistake.
The moment her fingertips brush her swollen clit, his grip tightens on the replica in his hands, his thumb pressing down just enough to make her freeze.
No, no, sweet thing. That’s against the rules.
He gives her clit a harsh flick and watches as a scream rips out of her throat. But that isn’t enough to deter her, because moments after, her fingers are back on her clit, rubbing like a filthy, disobedient whore.
He sucks in an annoyed breath and picks up a thin electric rod. Without hesitating, he presses the tip against her clit and shocks her, the zapping sound ripping through the air.
A sharp, stinging jolt shoots through the tiny bundle of nerves in his palm, and oh, the way it jerks. The way she jerks, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as she yanks her hand away, thighs slamming together as if she can protect herself.
But protection isn’t an option anymore. Not from him.
He lets her pant, lets her shake, lets her think it might be over.
And then, with slow, deliberate cruelty, he pinches the clit between two fingers, holding it still before driving the electric rod against it, letting it fire off several zaps in quick succession.
She screams. The clit in his box convulses, the trapped flesh trembling violently.
He smiles.
“You’ll learn,” he murmurs, flicking the little nub again, hard. She yelps, back arching off the bed.
Her fingers stay far away now, knuckles white as she grips the sheets instead, her body trembling under his unseen control.
Good.
He drags his thumb over the sopping slit in the box, gathering slick before lazily circling the clit again, just enough to tease. Just enough to make her squirm on screen.
She bites her lip, thighs pressing together in futile resistance.
He reaches for the tiny silver clamp and arranged it around her flesh, watching it bite down on her swollen clit, the sensitive tissue protesting with every pulse. Tears well up in her eyes on the screen. She shakes her head, whispering no, no, no, but there is no mercy for her.
He twists the clamp tighter around her tortured clit, delighting as the swollen flesh bulges around the metal teeth, darkening to a lurid purple. Her whole pussy quivers in response, her hole weeping, her inner muscles spasming in confused, helpless pleasure.
He grabs the vibrator again, the toy humming to life against the clamped bud, the frequency so precise it makes her flesh flutter, muscles contracting helplessly. Her back arches off the bed, a broken noise wrenching from her throat as pleasure spikes, sharp, unbearable, inescapable. Her fingers scrabble at the sheets, hips bucking in stuttering little jerks as the toy torments the hypersensitive nerve cluster.
Drool slicks her lower lip as she pants, eyes unfocused. He watches with satisfaction as her cunt pulses around nothing, slickness dripping from her in obscene rivulets. The vibrator buzzes harder, and a broken sob tears from her, sounds of desperation spilling out of her mouth.
He adjusts the clamp a fraction tighter, then twists it just to hear her scream. The vibrator rolls slow, merciless circles, pinning her clit ruthlessly. Every nerve in her body is lit up, pleasure crackling through her in waves that crest but never break. She is no longer a woman, just a thing shaking apart between his fingers, reduced to quivering flesh and involuntary spasms.
Every pulse of the vibrator sends shockwaves through her, stomach clenching, toes curling, breath coming in jagged little gasps. But he keeps it steady, never increasing the intensity, never allowing her the relief of building toward release.
Just edging. Just an endless, torturous plateau, where she can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside her but never tipping over.
"P-Please—" she whimpers, her voice thin and broken, nails digging into her own thighs as if that could ground her.
He tsks, amused. As if she has any right to beg.
With deliberate cruelty, he turns the vibrator up, just one notch.
The effect is immediate. Her stomach muscles quiver violently, her legs splaying wider in helpless invitation, her mouth dropping open in a soundless scream. The clamp keeps her clit swollen and aching, the vibrator sending sharp, concentrated pulses straight into the overstimulated nerve bundle.
And still, she doesn’t cum.
Because he won’t let her.
Not until he decides she’s suffered enough.
—
The moment finally comes, her body, strained to its absolute limit, teetering on the razor’s edge of orgasm. He can feel it in the way her clit pulses in the box, a desperate, throbbing little heartbeat between his fingers. He has denied her all night, teased her, shocked her, clamped her, ruined her, but now, at last, he will let her break.
He pulls the clamp off cruelly, watching her clit swell as blood comes rushing back, flooding her already raw nerves with new torment. Her clit trembles, swollen so fat it sticks out from between her lips, begging for mercy. He doesn’t give her a chance to recover before he presses the vibrating toy directly onto her swollen clit, cranked to the highest setting.
On screen, her entire body snaps taut, a silent scream stretching her lips wide.
"That’s it," he murmurs, watching her cunt flutter around nothing, soaking the sheets beneath her. "Cum for me."
And she does.
Hard.
Her back arches violently, her thighs locking around the empty air as her orgasm rips through her. The clit in his hands convulses, pussy spilling slick in thick pulses under his touch. He grins, keeping the vibrator pressed firm, not letting up, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from her until it hurts.
She thrashes, her moans turning hoarse, painfully overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop.
He laughs, low and dark.
"You think you're done?" His fingers dig into her folds, spreading them open, exposing her glistening, twitching hole to the unrelenting buzz of the vibrator. "I’m just getting started."
Another orgasm wrenches out of her, messy and uncontrollable, her cunt contracting in helpless spasms as tears streak down her face.
Her legs jerk on the screen, thighs slick with sweat and arousal, heels digging into the mattress as if she could escape the pleasure eating her alive. But she can't. Every pulse of the toy sends electric jolts straight through her clit, her pussy fluttering around empty air, dripping onto the sheets beneath her.
He smirks, circling the vibrating tip harder against the swollen bud, watching the way her stomach muscles clench, another orgasm building whether she wants it or not.
Then, with deliberate cruelty, he pulls out a vibrating dildo and presses it straight into the tight, dripping hole in the box.
Her scream splits the air, her spine bowing off the bed, fingers clawing at nothing as the thick intrusion fills her in the exact spot designed to destroy her. The moment he turns it on, her entire body bucks like a live wire, the deep, rumbling vibrations rocking through her core, pressing mercilessly against the swollen inner wall of her cunt.
The clit vibrator doesn’t stop, buzzing against her abused nub while the deeper toy punishes her g-spot, sending shocks of sensation radiating through her lower belly.
She wails, thighs slamming together in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the pleasure, but it’s impossible, her hips twitch in tiny, involuntary thrusts, her cunt clamping down around the thick vibrator like it’s trying to milk it.
Her clit jumps under the relentless onslaught, pulsing in time with the brutal vibrations, the dark, swollen flesh quivering violently under his treatment. The dildo shifts inside her, the angle just right to send another bone-deep spasm tearing through her, her back arching so sharply it looks like she’ll snap.
He grinds the vibrator deeper, angling it so the thick, ribbed tip digs ruthlessly into the spongy spot inside her, the pressure unbearable. Every thrum of the toy sends gushes of slick spilling from her hole, her pussy clenching in erratic, overstimulated spasms, not an orgasm, not anymore, just her body breaking from the relentless pleasure.
Her clit is engorged, purpling from the abuse, twitching against the buzzing toy like a dying thing, her entire pussy quivering in time with it.
And still, he doesn’t stop.
He increases the speed, the dildo drilling into her sensitive walls, the clit toy vibrating so fast it blurs, her entire body convulsing like a puppet yanked on its strings.
Another scream rips out of her, her hips jacking up off the bed, her cunt flooding the sheets as the forced pleasure tears another orgasm out of her, violent and uncontrollable. Her muscles lock, her fists slamming into the mattress as she cums, hard, messy, shameless, her hole pulsing around the vibrator, her clit throbbing in his grip like a second heartbeat.
But it’s not a release.
It’s torture.
Her eyes roll back, her moans turning to sobs as her body betrays her, cumming again, and again, her overstimulated nerves alight with agony and ecstasy.
She is nothing now.
Just a wet, trembling hole, a toy, a broken thing locked inside a box, bleeding pleasure at his command.
And he laughs, pressing down harder, watching her break.
"Oh come on, Jen, you can't just train someone to be stu--" The clicker sounded before Emmy could finish her sentence, and she broke off abruptly as a wave of pleasure utterly derailed her train of thought. It was just the purest, the most brain-breaking pulse of bliss she could possibly imagine, and for a moment everything stopped while she drifted along in its endless warmth and felt her cunt throb in sympathy for the ecstasy her mind was experiencing. She emerged from it to find her eyes crossed and her tongue lolling out in an expression of blank stupefaction, and her hands gripping her small breasts through her shirt. Her nipples were already stiff under her fingers.
It was an obvious refutation of her claim, but Emmy rallied as best she could. "O-okay, but that was, that was just once," she fumbled out, all too aware that she'd just ceded without question the axiomatic truth of Jen's ability to simply click her thoughts away as though such a thing made perfect sense without any need for explanation. "But I mean, uhm, I--I didn't see it coming, and I think if I knew you were going to do it I… I would…." She caught herself glancing over in Jen's direction, instinctively bracing herself for another mind-melting intrusion of bliss, and it wasn't until she realized she'd simply trailed off into blank fascination all on her own that she tried to stir her sluggish brain back into action. "I mean I wouldn't let you--"
That was when Jen clicked again, and Emmy's face once again assumed that same expression of ahegao idiocy as her thoughts simply dead-ended into pure euphoria. It was every bit as strong as she could possibly imagine, exactly as much pleasure as she could fit into her suddenly empty brain, and this time when she emerged from her momentary stupor Emmy found that her shirt was pulled all the way up to her collarbone and her fingers were pinching her nipples so hard it almost hurt. Emmy rarely bothered with a bra when she was just hanging out around the apartment, not with tits as small as hers, and a wave of mingled embarrassment and lust hit her at the realization that her pert breasts were fully exposed to Jen's lascivious gaze.
"I, I don't think this is going anywhere pro--um, product--um, good," Emmy stammered, unable to avoid noticing the way the big word didn't seem to fit into her head anymore. "I, I think I should--" she started to take a step in the direction of her bedroom, knowing that it had to look like she was giving up and running away but not caring anymore if it meant she got to hold onto even a little bit of her brain, but she learned too late that her shorts and panties were down around her ankles and she wound up getting tangled in the entwining fabric and falling backward onto the couch. And just as she was trying to get the suddenly confusing articles of clothing back into place, Jen clicked again and everything went white.
When she came back to herself, Emmy was on all fours like a dog on the couch, completely naked and gazing up at Jen with an expression of idiotic affection on her ahegao face. "I, um… wha', what was I saying?" she asked, completely giving up the struggle of coming up with her own thoughts and outright asking Jen to fill the void in her head… and she had just barely enough wit to recognize the familiarity of this moment before another click filled the silence and Emmy's mind drooled clean out of her cunt.
(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!)
Lianna knew her words were going to find purchase when she saw the gigantic stuffed cow flopped out on Amber's couch; she'd had kind of an intuition about the leggy brunette all evening, and it was pretty obvious it was going to lead to sex as soon as Amber invited Lianna back to her place to 'watch a movie', but the big stuffed animal definitely fit with the signals Amber was giving off even before Lianna clocked the very tip of a Bluetooth-enabled insertable sticking out of her desk drawer. She was absolutely dealing with a woman who liked to dumb herself down into a simpering girl at the end of the day, and it just so happened that Lianna loved to find sluts like that and help them reach their true brainless potential.
So when she feigned concern and asked Amber, "Are you sure you want to start a movie at this time of night? Your eyes are already looking kind of heavy, sweetie," it was in the sure and certain knowledge that Amber knew exactly what she was really doing and welcomed exactly that kind of suggestion. And sure enough, a flicker of delighted recognition passed across the younger woman's face in the instant before her eyelids began to tremble and flutter, the pitch and timbre of Lianna's husky voice triggering an automatic response that soon had the brunette swaying on her feet. A sway Lianna subtly emphasized by putting her hand on Amber's shoulder in the guise of supporting her.
She barely even had to nudge Amber into trance--it was just a few gentle murmurs of, "That's right, baby girl, so heavy and drowsy and sleepy for me," and the dark-haired woman's head was slumping forward until her chin practically rested on her chest. She tried to raise it again, jerking back up to look at Lianna with eyes that had already rolled back in her head until only the whites showed, but a light caress of the soft skin just above Amber's collar and a whisper of, "It feels so much better to fight when you know you can't win, doesn't it, dear?" simply collapsed that playful resistance into blank, blissful acceptance. Amber was clearly an experienced subject, and that made Lianna's cunt drool with anticipation.
It was really only the work of a moment to get Amber naked, or at least it felt like only a moment to Lianna--she knew she was experiencing a bit of time dilation by then, her own intense focus on the hypnotized woman serving to put her into a light rapport trance, and little things kind of began to slip away around the edges. But she soon had the dazed and sleepy brunette settled into her own computer chair, legs spread and face slack with dreamy bliss, and from there it was just a matter of turning on the vibrator and slowly, sensuously working it into Amber's desperately twitching cunt. "That's it, just feel the pleasure making your mind small and simple and eager to obey for me," she purred, and Amber's tiny mewl of excitement told her everything she needed to know.
Lianna commanded Amber to open her eyes once the young woman's fingers were fully occupied rubbing her own pussy, and it was such a delight to watch them instantly fixate on the spiral--that was the nice thing about modern smartphones, Lianna mused absently, you were never more than a few taps away from a perfectly mesmerizing graphic to use. She cooed out, "Dumber and deeper and wetter and weaker, dear," and it was with the most profound surge of gratification that she watched Amber's eyes cross and her tongue slowly, inexorably loll out of her open mouth.
(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!)
"...aaaand all the way up. Welcome back, how're you feeling?"
Hana's head whirled with the familiar fog of amnesia, that gentle, unobtrusive don't think too hard about it that she'd by now learned to associate with imminent surprises. She didn't feel particularly strange, aside from the usual post-trance sluggishness, but by this point she'd learned how that meant absolutely zilch.
"I feel like..."
-49, 48, 47-
The numbers didn't interrupt her thoughts, they were just sort of... there. Hovering in the background the way things normally hover in the background of your mind: I'm a bit chilly, tomorrow is the big day, I should buy milk. It felt a little bit like reading them, a little bit like hearing them, but mostly like her thoughts themselves felt: indistinct, conceptual. Except that it hadn't felt like her thinking them.
"What the hell was that?"
-46, 45, 44, 43, 42-
Her hypnotist tried to remain aloof and unreadable, even succeeding for a second. Then they cracked a smile that widened into a grin, then into wild uncontrolled laughter, body shaking with some private amusement, dark hair bouncing up and down. She sat there, stunned, until they calmed down and spoke at last.
"Aha, darling, you know how you can never resist having the last word? I figured I'd have some fun with that impulse. As I'm sure you figured out by now, you get fifty words to last you the rest of the day - forty-two now - and once you get to zero... Actually, you can find that out yourself whenever the moment's there. Before lunch, if you keep going at this rate."
Her mouth had already opened by the time she bit back the instinctive retort. Okay, so that was the game. Fine. Easy, even. She'd been caught by surprise there, but now she understood the rules. How hard could it be to only talk when absolutely necessary?
"Now, did you understand all that or should I use smaller words?"
"How stupid do you think I-"
-41, 40, 39, 38, 37, 36-
"You fucker!"
-35, 34-
She shut up.
"Oh, don't go quiet on me now, I -did- still ask you how you were feeling. It's my job to check in on you, you know."
This time the impulse to snark didn't come. She took her time to decide what she'd be saying, teasing out emotions from the conflicted mess inside her stomach, converting them into language, compressing all that to a carefully-budgeted handful of words.
"...Frustrated. Impressed. Reflective."
-33, 32, 31-
"Very well said, dear. You're so much more thoughtful with your word choice than you normally are! Thirty-one left, right? Good luck holding on to those."
-----
The rest of the day was like a strange, quiet version of their usual hang-outs. Having lunch. Doing the dishes together. Playing that board game they'd played a hundred times. Sometimes her hypnotist picked up the slack in conversation, launching into long rambles that didn't require much in ways of interaction. Other times, they were simply both silent. Hana hadn't ever quite realized how much there was an expectation to speak, or be ready to speak, whenever you were with another person. Now that had been taken away, everything seemed... easier, almost?
The countdown was still there, of course, and over the course of the afternoon it steadily ticked down. Sometimes she'd get tricked, slip up, and lose a few words, instinctively responding to anything from "Hey, Hana?" to "So why isn't Green Lantern part of the Avengers, anyway?".
Other times, she was forced to talk. Her hypnotist made her verbalize her entire takeout order, with no small amount of sadistic glee, and for one moment she'd been tempted to forgo her favorite just to be able to order something with a shorter name. She didn't, though - chả cá lã vong was just too good.
Even so, by the end of the day, there were twelve words remaining. She felt proud. She'd made it through. For all the fun that she admitted she'd had along the way - first and foremost, she'd been playing to win.
They'd gotten ready for bed without incident, and as she crawled in, she flashed the biggest, smuggest smile in her arsenal. Reveling in her victory didn't require words.
Her hypnotist, somewhat concerningly, was bearing some cryptic smile. A vague sense of worry crept into Hana's mind, like there was something she'd been forgetting, something really important and-
Her hypnotist snapped their fingers. The response was immediate, words jumping from her mouth like it'd been spring-loaded, the whole movement of tongue and lips no more voluntary than when you close your mouth to swallow.
"I'm your toy."
-11, 10, 9-
Of course. Of course. This was so their style.
"Well, dear, it would seem I did not just put in that countdown this morning. It took some restraint, not using it sooner, but I'm sure you're happy I could control myself. Though I'll confess I initially imagined I'd have to use it more than four times."
She glared silently. A part of her, both resigned to her defeat and defiant to the end, proposed throwing out a string of epithets and going out on her own terms. Before she could decide if she wanted to do that, her hypnotist spoke again.
"Now, I think we both know what's going to happen here. You are so adorably sensitive to countdowns, after all, and this one is happening directly inside your own head. You're already a little fuzzy, aren't you? And it's only going to get worse as we start counting down more."
Actually, yeah, she was a little-
A snap.
"I'm your toy."
-8, 7, 6-
Snap.
"I'm... your toy."
-5, 4, 3-
Snap.
"I'm... your... toy"
-2,
1,
0-
She was gone before her head hit the pillow.
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