Britney smiled a well-rehearsed smile. Be pleasant. Be kind. Smile through the fear, smile through the pain. Midwestern stoicism. A part of it was a sort of āfake it ātill you make itā method: if you looked happy, pleasant, at peace to the world, maybe at some point youād start believing it, youād forget the mask was just that. Well, that didnāt work for Britney. Not one bit. She felt the monster always there, lurking under her cheer. Her new therapist, Roderick, was staring at her. She kept her poise. She needed to get the measure of the man as much as he was evaluating her.
āSo, Britney, what brings you here?ā
No. Not yet. Perhaps never. She had to know Roderick could be trusted before she spoke the truth.
āJustā¦ a lot of stuffā, she replied.
āOkay. Where do you want to start? Do you live alone?ā
āOh, I live with my parents and my little sister, Christina.ā She noticed the therapistās eyebrow raising slightly. āYeah, I know. Britney and Christina. Thatās what you get with parents a bit too into late nineties music paired with a bad sense of humor. I mean, Iām okay with it now. Christina hates it, though. Goes by Kelly anywhere other than home, and even tried to get our parents to call her that. Of course they didnāt. Big fight that day, but sheās at that age, you know? Eighteen as of two months ago.ā
A cute ice breaker. Not saying anything too personal, but being pleasant and fun. Roderick laughed.
āSorry. Itās justā¦ Britney, you know what was the first CD I ever bought with my own money? Baby One More Time. So as far as I can see, Iām talking to my idol!ā he joked.
Britney laughed. It was weird. She had been bombarded with Britney jokes all her life, and yet Roderickās laughter seemed so genuine, so contagious. And for a man, that confession would not have been easy to make, so he was either gay or supernaturarly confident.
āBut seriously, whatās troubling you?ā
Okay, Britney figured. Letās give him a taste.
āI have theseā¦ problems. Anxiety, depression, guilt, insomnia, a feeling thatā¦ā
ā...That no matter what you do youāll never be good enough, productive enough, pure enough, virtuous enough?ā
āI get the feeling weāll be talking about your family quite a bitā
āThatā¦ yep, thatād be inevitableā
āOnly when you are ready. You mentioned guilt, thoughā
Shit. He picked up on that quickly.
āWhy is that? Iām not a mind reader, but I doubt Iām sitting in front of a mass killer or somethingā
Okay. Maybe it would be better to rip the band aid off. Either he would run for the hills, kick her out or believe her. Britney prayed it would be the latter one. She also feared it.
āSoā¦ what do you know about hypnosis?ā
Roderick looked confused.
āHypnosis? Well, it was seen as a valuable treatment method in early psychology. Fell out of favor for a while, but some newer methods take some inspiration from it, like EMDR, or even some kinds of meditation. Britney, are you looking to beā¦ hypnotized?ā
Britneyās pussy felt warm. Shit. She hated how much she still loved the idea.
āNo. No, Iā¦ Okay, I guess you can imagine howā¦ that method can be used for, you knowā¦ sexual thingsā
Roderick turned red. Poor man, he looked like a kid getting the birds and the bees talk. Time to grow up, Roddy.
āI supposeā¦ a sort of roleplay scenario could involve pretend hypnosis, a form of, hum, domination playā¦ā
āI donāt mean roleplay. I mean the real thing. Some, sure, there is some measure of roleplay involved. Some people play at being under, or play at hypnotizing people. And some may half believe it, I donāt know. Iām saying it was done to me. For real. And I wanted it at the time, orĀ wanted some of it, but what heā¦ they did to me wasā¦ beyond anything I agreed toā
āOkay. Iām sorry, Iām trying to understand. You were hypnotized for sexual pleasure?ā
āYes. Consistently. Thoroughly. For a long time. It was aā¦ deep brainwashing. Deep. I wasnātā¦ me. I was something else entirely. I wasā¦ a doll. Iā¦ obeyed. And I liked it. I wasā¦ conditioned to like it. And Iā¦ did things in that state, Iā¦ recruited others. Iā¦ and, huh, some thingsā¦ Iām over it, but someā¦ huhā¦ notions were left behind inside meā
The therapist tried to take it all in, to come to grips with the information in front of him. Was it a delusion? Was it half real? Was it a fantasy run amok?
āNotions? Tell me about itā
He didnāt ask. He commanded. He probably didnāt even notice, but Britney had no choice. She had to answer. The words came out, clear and revealing as a wave of pleasure coursed through her body. It felt good to obey.
āTo this day I have immense difficulty not obeying a direct command from a man, especially one of a sexual nature. My body enjoys complying with the demands of a manā, she blurted out.
āThatās, huhā¦ sounds like a ratherā¦ dangerous predispositionā
āNot that much. Most men donāt go around telling random girls to blow them, you know?ā
āBut surely if some unknown person just told you toā¦ā
āIād fall to my knees instantly and love itā
Britney looked at her therapist. Make or break time. He would tell her to leave, orā¦Ā
āI donāt think thatās possible. Not withoutā¦ā
āMonths, years of indoctrination? Because thatās what I got. And I did thingsā¦ Iām not proud ofā
āBut such a degree ofā¦ ingrained need to complyā¦ thatās the stuff of cults, orā¦ I donāt know, the harshest black ops military training. It takes professionals, time, effort, consistencyā¦ā
āI was very diligent. A good girl. And I donāt know ifā¦ he was a professionalā¦ but he knew what he was doingā
āSo you believe you were brainwashedā
āI donāt believe. I know!ā
Britney was getting upset. This she had not envisioned. Stubborn mule. How was he supposed to help if he didnāt understand? If he didnāt believe what was her lived reality? And he was barely hiding his frustration. He really didnāt think it was possible.
āI understand, Britney. But there are things I donāt really follow. Implanting such aā¦ deep trigger would take willing cooperation and constant reinforcementā¦ā
āWhich I did. To myself. Every night, almost every day too. I went deeper and deeperā¦ edgingā¦ never cummingā¦ deeper and deeperā¦ā
āBritney, are you okay? I think thereās a degree ofā¦ delusion happening. You believe you have to obey, but you donāt, and a part of you knows it. I think, faced with the reality of what you claim, the delusion wouldnāt be able to take hold. If, for instance, I said ātake off your shirtā...ā
Britney moaned as she stood up. She smiled seductively. Please. She needed to please. She winked as she slowly removed her flowery shirt, revealing her large, tempting breasts, barely held by her bra.
Roderick looked in amazement.
Britney closed her bedroom door. She had lied to her mom about having grabbed some fried chicken on the way home. A part of her had wished her mom had noticed the obvious falsehood: Britney had become a very conscious eater, and random fried chicken from a fast food joint was something sheād normally avoid like the plague. Of course, her mom hadnāt realized that.Ā
Music blasted from Christinaās room. At any other time Britney would be annoyed by her little sisterās disregard for how her actions affected those around her: now it was perfect cover. Britney had learned to keep her own noises down, but there was always the chance that a moan might be a tad too loud. Well, she didnāt have to worry about thatā¦ and she knew sheād be moaning and whimpering soon.Ā
The command bounced inside her head like an unrelenting echo. You will do to yourself what they did to you. You will use all you know to brainwash yourself for me. You will do your best to fall deeper than ever before.
Brintey was terrified. Roderick had used a firm tone that made it very clear he expected her to obey, and Britney had known, at the very moment she had heard it, that she would. There was a small part of her, tucked away in some corner of her mind, that screamed and screamed and screamed in vain. Britney would not only do as commanded: she would do her very best and she would feel irresistible pleasure at the knowledge she had obeyed like a good girl. That small part of her pleaded for her to stop, told her that she had barely come back from her last brainwashing, that if she did this there would be no going back to normal ever again. Diligent Britney, good girl Britney, intended to make sure of it.
Big projects required planning, so Britney started writing her road to perdition. She would need audios, very specific ones: luckily, she knew someone that recorded them on the cheap. She would need mantras. She would need to find the right porn. And she would need to be very deliberate, very careful. After her unwilling brainwashing, she had put up limits, mental barriers, big red lines that would snap her out of doing anything she might regret. She would have to destroy them. Luckily for her, no one knew her weaknesses like herself. She made a list of everything that would normally be a step too far and a strategy to make herself love it, long for it, give in to it with joy.Ā
After a couple of hours her plan was set, and payment for audios sent. Those would arrive the following day, but there were actionable items to take care of immediately.Ā
Any good brainwashing started with edging. It was the key that unlocked many doors: playing with her pussy endlessly, never letting herself cum, shut up her critical thinking faculties. People were vulnerable when they were horny, and she hadnāt had an orgasm in years. Every moment edging was an act of submission and self-degradation. It simply told her body: you donāt deserve to cum. Edging made her soft, malleable; her mind permeable. Ideas could enter and lodge themself deep, grow and like a vine grab and cover up other, less sexy, less convenient ideas. Edging while reciting those new ideas was a more advanced technique: one Britney had mastered for years. She could edge and repeat the words with such skill that it felt natural to her, as if her own voice was independent of her, coming at her from outside and burrowing deeper and deeper as she edged and edged. It took no effort for her to enter a state where she was there and not there, the castle of her subconscious with doors open and unbarred. That vulnerability, that hopeless abandon was the terrifying delight that got her soaked, as if she was opening her naked legs in the middle of a park at night. It was a complete mental surrender. She chose the first mantra, a simple one to begin with, and slid her hand between her legs. She was already wet.
I donāt need to think. Iām just Masterās toy.
Every time she said it, it felt more true, more solid, more real. It felt obvious. Of course she was just a toy. His toy. What else could she be? The waves of pleasure pushed her deeper and deeper into blissful mindlessness. It was okay. She didnāt need to think. She was just Masterās toy.
An hour passed. Britney knew because she had set an alarm on her phone: left alone she might have stayed under all night. Pleasant as that sounded, she had a plan to follow. She made sure to drink some water. Edging took energy and she needed to take care of herself. What use did a broken toy have? No, she had to follow the plan. She looked at the list of mantras. Any doubt that she would follow every one had vanished. She was His. She needed to be perfect for Him. The little screaming voice was barely a whisper. She put on headphones, turned on the porn playlist she had made, reminded herself of her mantra and went back to edging.
I exist to please Masterās cock. Two girls worshiping a dick with their mouths. I exist to please Masterās cock. A woman bound, taken from behind with no regard for her pleasure or comfort. I exist to please Masterās cock. A camgirl fucking herself with a horse dildo. I exist to please Masterās cock. A woman being passed around a party like a living fleshlight. I exist to please Masterās cockā¦
The alarm brought her back. She felt fuzzy and dizzy and so good. She felt light, as if the weight of fighting, stressing out, being a person had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt happy. She felt like she had a purpose. She drank some more water and ate an energy bar. She allowed herself a few minutes to float along in her state of secure bliss. She was being a good girl and she knew it. She was doing what she was meant to do. One more session, then sleep. She had a long day ahead of her. She chose her third mantra.
I must obey, no matter what.
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