30s, she/they, hot for hypno
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You weren't really asleep, not yet. You could feel it, though, creeping up on you. Your body felt heavy, and your mind felt slow. Your eyes were open, but they couldn't focus on anything. Even the screensaver you were watching was nothing but a blur.
Screensaver? Show? You don't remember what they called it. You're vaguely aware it was nothing but a pretext to get you to stare at the screen.
Stare at the pretty colors. Let them into your mind. Let the messages into your thoughts. Let their wishes become your thoughts.
This isn't what you wanted, is it?
Is it?
Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Your lips just hang, parted. You don't have any thoughts left. There aren't any words left for you to say. The next time you speak, the words that come out of your mouth might not even be your own. They might have been placed there by the colors, by the soothing voice above you.
That thought feels so good.
You aren't really awake anymore. Being awake means thinking and acting. You're still now. You only feel, and everything feels so good.
That makes it even easier to obey when the next command comes.
“Look me in the eyes, toy.” Your hypnotist said, holding your chin, pulling your head to look up at them. They were smiling down at you, as you sat in the comfortable chair. “Feel your gaze lock on to mine. Find yourself unable to look away.” You lost control of your eyes.
Their smile widened, as you stopped blinking, just staring up at them. “That’s it. Such a well-trained pet. So easy to control. And I want you to stare into my eyes.” You couldn’t conceive of looking anywhere else. “I want you to sink into them. You can do that, can’t you?”
They nodded your chin slightly, up and down, agreeing. And you were sinking. Your body was relaxing into the chair. It was so comfy. “Just stare, and sink, and drop.” They lowered their hand, and your eyelids fluttered, but didn’t close. They couldn’t. Your eyes couldn’t move.
“There you go… Still staring, unable to look away. No matter how heavy, and tired, and droopy, drowsy, sleepy those eyelids get.” As they spoke, those feelings intensified. Your eyelids were so heavy. “You can’t close them. Because you have to stare into my eyes.”
They leant down, coming closer to you. “Because you can’t look away.” They moved their hand on your chin side to side. Your eyes moved, staying locked onto theirs. “Good toy. So obedient. So blank. So blissful. Feel your thoughts draining away.” You felt it.
The sensation of your thoughts being dragged out of your head, and into their eyes. “Pulled into my eyes. And then comes your free will.” The sensation increased. “Your resistance.” Again. “Your personality.” It felt so good. To be so blank, and open, and empty.
“Drained away, by my eyes.” Their hand on your chin was all that was holding you up. “You’re just a shell. A weak, empty puppet, for me to control.” They were correct. That’s what you were. "To fill. And I will fill you, toy. When you’re properly emptied of everything that I need.”
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
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Claire barged into the room, slammed her hands down on the desk and glared at Mark.
"You son of a bitch," she snarled.
Looking up from his work, Mark clicked his pen and calmly set it down on the desk.
"What exactly makes you say that?" he asked, keeping a cautious poker face.
"I know where the money went, Mark. It's taken me a month to trace every little accounting 'mistake' and the invoices from non-existent suppliers and the half-dozen tax haven shell companies, but I did it and it all leads back to you."
"That's a very serious accusation, Claire," said Mark, leaning back in his chair. "I wasn't even aware there was any money missing at all. And I certainly don't recall authorising you to waste weeks of company time on quote-unquote 'tracing' it."
"Plead ignorance all you want, asshole, but as soon as I take this to the board, they'll have your head. If the police don't get it first."
Mark frowned. "Hmm. No, no, I don't think that will be how this goes."
He casually reached up and snapped his fingers in front of her face.
Claire's eyes suddenly lost focus and her body sagged, the mix of anger and triumph draining away in an instant. She swayed slightly in place, propped up by the desk as Mark stood and walked behind her. He grabbed the chair that she had kicked aside on her way in and pulled it over.
"Be a good girl and sit down, before you fall over."
Claire sat.
"Have you told anyone else about this?" Mark asked.
"No, sir," said Claire.
"Wanted to keep all the glory to yourself, did you? Confront me with it and gloat as I saw everything fall apart?"
"Yes, sir."
"Stupid bitch."
"Yes, sir."
Mark reached down and unbuttoned her blouse, tugging her bra out of the way. Claire gazed vacantly in the direction of the chair he had been sitting in.
"You're not the first person to uncover this, you know. Although you might just be the hottest."
He gave her breasts a squeeze before continuing. "Do you know why no one's ever actually exposed me before?"
"No, sir."
"Because every machine in this office is running software laced with subliminal messages. Software that I designed and deployed, programming every employee with the thoughts that I want them to have. Hmm. Do you have a boyfriend, Claire?"
"Yes, sir."
"He'll have to go. Dump him, tonight."
"Yes, sir."
"Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. The programming affects some people more strongly than others. Most start meekly accepting my commands within a few weeks of joining the company, though I did notice that you were oddly resistant. Of course, then you spent a month of overtime trying to dethrone me, locked alone in your office staring at a monitor for hours on end."
Mark pinched one of Claire's nipples, watching for a reaction. She gave none and he smiled.
"Stand up and strip, slut," he said. As she rose and finished unbuttoning her blouse, he settled back into his own seat and enjoyed the show in silence for a moment.
"Very nice," he said, when Claire was standing naked in front of his desk.
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, here's what's actually going to happen next. You're going to crawl over here and suck me off. Once I cum all over your tits, you're going to get dressed, go back to your office and delete every scrap of evidence you have against me. You'll forget you ever noticed anything wrong with the accounts and you'll be a good, docile little employee from now on. Among other duties. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Claire sank to her knees, put her hands on the carpet and crawled around the desk to Mark's waiting cock.
I don't want my mind broken. I want it calibrated. A broken compass stops working. A calibrated compass becomes reliable. The hypnotist doesn't need to remove parts of me. The puppy is already there. The dolly is already there. The worshipper is already there. The bimbo is already there. All those instincts already exist somewhere beneath the surface. The art is teaching the needle which one to follow. Teaching those parts where to point, again and again and again. A little adjustment here. A little correction there. Until puppy doesn't feel like a role I play, dolly isn't a costume and orship isn't an action. It's where the needle settles when left undisturbed. The most effective brainwashing isn't loud enough to feel like brainwashing. It's subtle. Patient. Persistent. A thousand tiny calibrations that slowly redefine what feels natural. What feels right and what feels wanted, until one day you realize that every path you choose somehow leads exactly where they intended. The needle still moves freely but it learns which direction feels correct. That's what makes conditioning so beautiful. Eventually the compass guides itself and it never notices that someone else chose where north would be. It is entirely irrelevant if the compass is a sex object for others entertainment.
Your thoughts don't just stop. They disappear, fading away entirely. You can still feel, but even those sensations seem distant for a moment, hidden behind that haze of --
"Blank."
Then even that is gone. Your thoughts had started to creep up on you, but of course they had noticed. They saw a bit of intelligence in your eyes, a bit of movement in your mouth, and they knew you had to be --
"Blank."
It happened again. And again. And again. Your mouth is open now in a vague smile, but you don't recognize that you're happy. You only know that you feel good, because there's no room for anything else in your mind but sensation, and you always feel good when you're --
Have you ever been driving down some long, monotonous road and just zoned out as you watch the lanes lines drift by?
Have you ever felt your mind just shut off and move along on cruise control?
Have you ever let your body steer the car while your mind sleeps?
And have you ever suddenly parked in front of an old Victorian style mansion in the middle of the woods without realizing how you got there with an uncontrollable urge to go in?
You stomp through the rain to the rickety wooden porch. Of course your rental car would die right after your phone ran out of battery. Through the downpour you can see a few amber lights shining through the windows.
They have power, whoever lives here. You should be able to sweet talk your way in so you can charge your phone.
The floorboards creak as you step up to the carved oak door and bang on the brass knocker. To your relief, you hear the rusty click of a latch and the door swings open. Standing behind it is a young woman with red hair and fair skin dressed in a wine-red corset and flowing gown. The corset accentuates her hourglass figure and you try not to stare at her round breasts poking over the top. You glance at her face. Her misty eyes stare back at you.
You explain your situation and she smiles warmly and shows you in. You follow, your gait matching the rhythm of her swinging hips. The hallway is narrow and coated with oval framed pictures of regal ladies from years ago. You feel their eyes watching you as your host continues to lead you deeper down the hall.
She shows you to a small waiting room, half submerged in shadows. She offers you a padded chair next to richly embroidered couch and mahogany coffee table. You take a seat, asking if there’s a place you could charge your phone. The woman only shushes you and places a tray with a teapot and cups on the table and then lights a candle.
“The power’s on a generator,” she explains. “I will need to start it first. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
She leaves.
You turn back to the table only then realizing that someone is watching you from the couch.
“Would you like some tea?” comes a lilting voice. Another woman, this one tousled blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. She’s thin and delicate, dressed in a white Victorian era dress. She smiles invitingly at you. Her lips are painted black.
Without losing her gaze on you, she pours a cup of steaming tea, offering you the teacup on a porcelain saucer.
“Drink the tea,” she softly urges.
You hesitate. Something doesn’t feel right. The way this woman is staring at you is both disturbing but also compelling. You watch the swirls of the steam as they drift in front of her face. You shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers, that’s obvious. But her eyes keep coaxing you to take a sip.
“Have some tea, darling,” a voice says from behind you. It’s the woman who let you in, her hands gently resting on your shoulders from behind your chair. “It will help you relax.”
Before you can answer, her hands begin dancing and rubbing down your shoulders. Hours of stressful driving pour off you. Your gaze stays captivated by the blond woman’s eyes in front of you as she wafts the tea under your face.
“The tea will calm you,” the red head says. “It will make everything feel so warm and loose. Drink the tea, sweetie.”
Her hands pull back your head and you feel two warm, fleshy pillows cushion the back of your neck. The woman holds you in her silky cleavage as her nails gently scratch over your scalp.
"Drink the tea."
You don’t want to be impolite. You cautiously take the tea from the woman on the couch and sip. Rich, warm flavor floods your mouth and seeps down your throat.
“Have some more.”
The red head is raking her hands through your hair, rolling her tits around the sides of your face. You smile. It was such yummy tea. You’re going to have another sip.
And another.
And another.
Soon the cup is empty and you’re feeling good. You feel calm, tranquil. You lean back, content to let the buxom red head press her chest into your head. She’s cooing words to you. Words you don’t need to worry about. Words you can just listen to.
The blonde woman slides down to the floor. Soon you feel a silky hand with long slender fingers reaching down your pants. Finding all the right spots between your legs.
You sigh dreamily and surrender yourself to the mercy of the two strange women.
“I’m not trying to be mean or anything.” He shrugged. “It’s just that everyone has a knack for one thing or another. And this happens to be yours, doesn’t it?” All that answered him was a muffled whimper. Not surprising, considering where the evening had led, but still the reaction always sent a shiver down his spine. “That’s the delightful thing about minds, isn’t it? They are capable of being manipulated in so many fun ways. It’s like your brain was literally built to be softly tricked and lulled into docile compliance for me! Wouldn’t you agree?” He never would admit it out loud, but it was impossible not to get intoxicated by the feeling of grabbing a slack, dazed face and force a helpless head into a clear nod. Especially this one. “Of course you would.” He kept his voice sweet and carefree. As if he were not currently in the process of turning any possibility of choice into mere illusions. “Because it really feels too good to stop, doesn’t it?” After countless repetitions night after night, the words were met with only the faintest mewl. The sound was the single strongest response he could have imagined at this point. Strong enough to resonate all the way down to his deepest desires to tear into the vulnerable mind that so readily opened itself up to him.
Instead he restrained himself, the only selfish indulgence he allowed himself being the way his fingers traced the outline of a face that seemed to grow more and more blank with every passing moment. He could not have stopped his hands from doing that unless he would actually tie them down. But that would be bad. If he could not use his hands, how else would he make sure that no matter how often he reiterated that it was perfectly safe and normal to relax into this feeling and into his manipulations, those neck muscles could still hold enough tension to keep a clear line of sight to the spiral?
“Not like we need it at this point, do we?” He puppeteered his favourite toy into yet another empty nod. No response this time. Only the way those heavy eyes fluttered a little bit faster at his words gave away that they even registered at all. It burned itself into his mind and he knew without even needing to question it that this moment and this face would appear for him every time he closed his eyes for weeks to come. It always did.
“The spiral isn’t what actually hypnotized you, is it? But it made sure you were nice and spellbound and fascinated by it while my words dismantled your will thought by thought, right?” By this point he was just forcing the nod because it was far too delightful to feel how limp every single part of his doll had become. Not even a token amount of resistance left, every shadow of bratty defiance melting away faster than new decisions could form. Even those warm, clever eyes had rolled all the way up, to the point where he just knew it was physically impossible for them to actually see the spiral anyway. But that didn’t matter half as much as the certainty that he took control. That even if they ever refocused on the room, or at least on the screen he kept that empty head pointed at, there would be no choice but to fall right back into the swirling band of colours. Because he didn’t leave any room for choice. And because they both needed him to do that.
“You’re so good at being hypnotized by me because you’re simply so incredibly skilled at being my mindless, obedient sub.” From countless sessions like this one he knew without a doubt they were past the point of words, let alone complex responses, when even that suggestion only triggered another moment of fluttering eye rolls. Some nights he began to talk just for the sake of talking once they came this deep. The words were far less important most of the time than to anchor this feeling to the sound of his voice. But other nights… “And I made you this way.” Instantly he noticed the signs. A sudden, deeper breath, almost transforming into a gasp as the words found exactly the right button to press. A twitch, the epitome of voluntary movement this entranced brain wanted to be able to achieve. The flushed heat spreading along the skin under his fingertips as even through the haze of mesmerized devotion, the rush of submissive bliss at the idea was almost too much. The burning intensity wrapped in such subtle changes always got to him. There was no high quite like making such a bright mind lean this far into the belief that he really was rewiring everything about it to reshape an entire person into the perfectly brainwashed toy of his fantasies for his own pleasure. Except perhaps the unparalleled sensation that was born from knowing that the person in question craved it every bit as much.
“That’s right, isn’t it?” The way his hands moved his toy up and down made it anything but a question, yet he strictly kept the gentle permissive tone. Never ask too much too quick, his brain would tell him. It had taken them years to build up to this point, and yet that nagging voice in the back of his mind wanted to hit the brakes. Even in a moment like this. Especially then. “It’s not a mean thing at all that I am wiping away every last trace of your free will, because you never had that to begin with, right?” It would forever amaze him how a face so utterly devoid of conscious thought or intent could manage to grow even more eager to obey at those words. There was no magic greater than finding exactly the right thing to say to the right person at the right time to watch them come undone in the most pleasurable ways. There was neither recognition or recollection behind those empty doll eyes anymore. As soon as they took a break, all this already would have turned into little more than vague guesses about the events that occurred. Yet in this moment he was certain that his control was everything to this precious mind broken dolly. Just like its surrender was everything to him.
“All you want is to helplessly follow and obey Master’s will instead, isn’t it?” There it was. The softest, high pitched whining noise. He couldn’t resist it. There was a kind of spell in the sound that pulled him in and made him want to break his doll so as to bind it in deep mindless devotion. “So really, I’m not bullying you by wiping more and more thoughts from that mind, right? If anything, I’m doing you a favour. You really are such a pretty thing, all melting and submitting and obeying in deep trance. That’s a skill worth building up! And the fact it makes you a more and more mindlessly devoted toy entirely for me really is just icing on the cake, isn’t it?” Even as they had to shift positions, moving didn’t take away from the magic of the moment at all. “So I’m definitely not wrapping your mind and will around my finger. These words don’t instill an overwhelming compulsion to serve and please me. None of that is happening to you right in this moment, so you don’t need to resist it at all. Understood?” One of these days he had to try and find a way for his doll to see what he saw in response to the devious twisted suggestion he fed to an all too receptive empty head on its way up and down and up and down. He had never done that. It was one thing to fully immerse themselves in a mutual fantasy, but even though it would be at their request, he’d not yet brought himself to take the risk of taking pictures or even a video. But it would come up in their discussions again. That much was clear already. And he wasn’t surprised. A sight so breathtakingly beautiful was worth being shown off. Especially to the person in the picture. All the more when their brain so happily turned any memory of the event into a deeply impressionable haze he could manipulate at his leisure.
Carefully he moved them onto eye level, deliberately removing the spiral from view. “You’re not totally hypnotized right now,” he lied with a warm smile. “So there is no need to resist my hypnotic suggestions.” He loved to imagine that those eyes fluttered so much at these words because they felt drawn to his, but realistically it rather was a sign that they were too far gone in trance to really focus on anything nearby. “Listening to my voice does not program you to obey me without thinking. So it’s in your best interest to listen only to me for a little while longer, okay?” It made no difference if that head nodded along on its own or if it was a result of his grip gently but firmly forcing it. But the later was by far the better tease and he simply couldn’t stop. “Don’t look away.” As if those eyes could be convinced to look anywhere but into the void where a consciousness had been earlier. “Just listen.” Right now, until this session wrapped up, he was someone’s entire world. Could there be a better feeling than that? “Obey.” The word that had started one of the most fascinating dynamics one could imagine. He placed a kiss on their forehead. “Sleep.” In a little while they would wake up as thoughts and mind naturally returned to where they needed to be. Which parts did they love this time? How much would they remember and which parts would they want him to remind them off? He couldn’t wait to find out.
***
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It wasn't enough for them to claim your mind. It would have been, if you were meant to be nothing more than a toy, but you were always meant for more than that. You took to the control so easily that you were meant to be shown off. You were meant to be a pet.
So you learn how to present yourself.
Part of it is easy. You sink so well that obedience comes naturally. Even when you're halfway awake -- even when you're very nearly awake -- it feels so good to do as you're told. You obey without thinking, and you feel pleasure whenever you obey. That part reinforces itself.
Obey without thinking.
Obedience is pleasure.
You would do anything to feel good.
After that, it's a matter of refining. You need to look beautiful, even when you're lost in ecstasy. (That part is easy. Surrender looks good on everyone.) You need to practice holding still, in whatever position you are given. You need to not let your body tremble with pleasure and anticipation. You need to be able to keep focus on one person until it's time to let your attention slip to another's.
And always, you need to remember that your owner remains at the core of your obedience.
It won't be too difficult. You already have the easiest parts down.
Obey without thinking.
Obedience is pleasure.
You would do anything to feel good. That's why it was so easy to trap you.
“All it takes is a snap, toy.” Your hypnotist said, emphasising their words with a snap of their fingers. That single action filled your brain with a hazy fog. It was so hard to think. They giggled at you. “There you go. That’s what I expect, toy. A blank, brainless toy.”
Their hand tangled in your hair, tugging gently, pulling your heavy, sleepy gaze upwards, to them, towering over you. “And that’s exactly what you are, whenever I snap.” They snapped again. It felt like the power had been cut to your brain. Your eyelids drooped more.
“This is how you’re meant to be, toy. Blank, brainless, and mine. Sinking deeper with each snap.” A third snap. Your eyes closed, you were only being held up by their hand, in your hair. They released that hand, and you fell forwards, into them. It felt right.
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
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“You thought you were going to be touching yourself?” Your hypnotist said, laughing at you. “Oh, silly toy. We don’t need your hands to make you feel good.” They leant forwards, eyes boring into yours. “No. All we need is my voice. Shh, my weak, sleepy plaything.”
As they ‘Shh’ed you, your mind began to grow hazy, and foggy. They pressed a finger to your lips. “Shh, and drop, and drift.” Your eyes rolled up, and then closed, slipping into trance. “Let my voice encircle you. Flooding your mind. Flooding your body.”
You felt it, as they said it. Their words entering you. “You don’t need to think. You just need to listen, you just need to drop. That’s it… And with every word I say, feel yourself becoming more turned on. More aroused. More desperate.” As they carried on speaking, you let out a gasp.
The arousal was sudden, but undeniable. A want for more. To touch, to be touched. “The flame of your lust being stoked more, and more intensely. Awh, are you a desperate needy toy? You are, aren’t you?” They nodded your head for you, with a single finger beneath your chin.
The agreement just turned you on more. “And now… feel that arousal converging, between your legs. Feel my voice, dancing down there, each word a movement of bliss. Like your pleasure is being drawn out of you. It feels so good, doesn’t it, toy?” Your lips parted. A desperate cry.
“Yes, that’s it, moan for me.” They said, laughing again. “You sound so good like that. Get lost in the sensation of ever-increasing pleasure. You don’t need physical stimulation, when my voice can make you feel like this… Sink deeper.” Your mind was rolling with the sensations.
Every word they said felt like a pulse of pleasure, washing from your extremities to your core. “More turned on. Closer to the edge. Oh, that’s it. You want to cum, don’t you? Maybe I’ll let you. Maybe. It’s up to me. My voice has all the power here, doesn’t it?”
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
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Agent Lara Kraft had spent three weeks pretending to be someone she despised.
Every morning she put on the smile.
Every morning she adjusted another outrageously impractical outfit and joined the endless parade of devoted followers drifting through the marble halls of Madame Aphrodite's headquarters.
And every day the act became harder.
Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she navigated another corridor lined with gold-trimmed columns and pink-veined stone. The architecture itself felt designed to lower defenses. Pink swirls softened every edge. Sweet perfume lingered in the air. Hidden speakers whispered gentle music that seemed less like a melody and more like a heartbeat.
Around her, the faithful moved with serene contentment. Some giggled quietly to themselves. Others walked with an unsettling confidence, dressed in glossy leather or elaborate uniforms that seemed more costume than clothing. Every one of them wore the same expression: calm, devoted, utterly convinced they had found their purpose.
Lara hated it.
Entire corporations had shifted their policies after executives met online with Madame Aphrodite. Influencers who tested her products turned into shilling cam girls. Mothers transformed into BDSM styled recruiters and whores. All absolutely enamored and loyal to the one responsible.
Nobody could explain why.
The Agency had attempted every form of surveillance available. Neural scans showed nothing. Psychological profiling resulted in nymphomaniac experts. Chemical analysis resulted in ordinary lists of common ingredients. Nothing was found. The idea that flashing images and swirling lights projected through ordinary screens coupled with common beauty products, seemed for the impossible one hundred percent rate of success, simply impossible.
Which was why Lara had been sent.
The Agency believed she possessed a rare neurological resistance to whatever influence Aphrodite employed.
At first, the immunity had felt reassuring. Now it terrified her.
Because the longer she remained inside the organization, the more she wondered whether she was truly immune at all.
A burst of laughter echoed from a nearby room.
Lara instinctively copied the vacant smile she'd seen hundreds of times before. The expression settled onto her face so naturally now that she hated herself a little for it.
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
She turned a final corner.
At the end of the hallway stood a pair of enormous doors fashioned from polished white metal. Intricate patterns spiraled across their surface, catching the ever-presesnt pink light.
Beyond them waited the woman responsible for all of it: Madame Aphrodite.
Lara's pulse hammered against her ribs.
This was it.
Weeks of watching people surrender their lives, careers, and identities to become shills, porn or recruiters. All of it led here.
She approached the doors.
The guards standing beside them smiled knowingly. Neither spoke.
One touched a control panel.
The doors slid silently apart.
Warm, swirling pink light spilled from the chamber beyond.
Lara drew a slow breath. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to turn around. To leave. To report what she had learned and never return.
Instead she stepped forward.
The light washed over her, soft and inviting. Her eyes strained for detail as they adjusted from the marble corridor. She made out shapes, then outlines.
A polished table sat near the far wall. A pair of plush, white sofas faced one another nearby.
"Welcome Lara."
The voice wrapped around her like a warm breeze.
Madame Aphrodite's figure slowly took form. Tall, graceful, dressed in an outfit that hugged her body like liquid metal. It shifted in color from pink to purple. The familiar logo of a stylized mix of heart and the letter A stretched over impossible curves. Lara felt her own body react to the sight of the perfect female form in a way that she despised. Arousal and submission. Madame Aphrodite's blonde hair spilled in glossy curls around her face and shoulders. Her skin practically glowed.
"I've been waiting for you." The smile on her lips promised secrets. Pleasures. Rewards. "It's time we had a chat."
The last syllable left her lips and settled between Lara's legs. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate to find relief without revealing how badly her body already ached. She wanted to turn.
But she couldn't.
Her feet remained glued to the floor, unable to obey the commands she sent.
Madame Aphrodite continued.
"This little game of cat and mouse was fun. But now that everyone inside your little organization is either one of my girls, or a paying porn addict, can we stop," the smile widened on the woman's face as if she could read Lara's thoughts. The woman stepped closer and touched a perfectly manicured hand to Lara's arm. "You've been wonderful, my little fuckdoll. Broken, brainwashed and brainless you corrupted all their computers and servers. Every time they used those silly machines they became more and more mine."
Lara felt the soft brush of Aphrodite's lips against the side of her neck, sending a ripple of heat across her skin, followed by the gentle warmth of her breath. "They're all mine. Everyone." She pulled back and met Lara's eyes, the intensity of her crystal blue gaze so powerful it was impossible to look away. "And you, Lara, have played such an important part." A delicate fingertip brushed along the curve of her jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Lara's heartbeat quickened. Her knees trembled. The world narrowed down to the point where Madame Aphrodite touched her, the air heavy with her perfume, a scent both floral and spicy, sweet and dark. It wrapped around her like a cloud of temptation.
"What," Lara croaked.
Madame Aphrodite chuckled and said, "Oh my dear, don't you remember? All the times you sat on the chair, the way my eyes made you relax, the way the pretty patterns made you obey my every command?" Her lips hovered just above Lara's own, their warmth so tantalizingly close that Lara nearly moaned with longing. "All those times we fucked. The way you writhed beneath my hands, my mouth, the way you cried out as you came undone in ecstasy." She trailed a hand along the curve of Lara's breast, teasing through the fabric.
Her mind spinned. Memories flashed through her consciousness. Images of Madame Aphrodite hovering above her, her eyes dark with hunger, their bodies intertwined, writhing and arching against one another, seeking release after sweet release.
She remembered the taste of her lips, the soft moans escaping their mouths, the feel of her body pressing against her own as they explored every inch of pleasure imaginable.
She shivered.
"You've done everything I told you too. You've used your influence to change the direction of the agency." Madame Aphrodite whispered. "Now it's nothing more than another porn production center for my brand. Making my products seem healthy, or good for the user."
Lara felt the world tilting around her.
"You're lying," she whispered.
"Oh, my little fuckdoll, I've never lied." Aphrodite murmured. "You simply forgot." Her gaze held hers, the blue depths swirling with secrets. "And now it's time to remember again." A glimmer of mischief sparkled within them, and before Lara could respond, Aphrodite leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep kiss.
Lara's eyes widened. Her tongue danced around the invading divinity. Madame Aphrodite tasted sweet, like strawberries, honey and sex, a heady combination that sent a jolt of bliss coursing through her.
Her resistance melted.
Her knees gave way.
Madame Aphrodite's lips curved in a triumphant smirk as Lara slumped against her, surrendering completely to her touch.
"That's my little fuckdoll," Madame Aphrodite whispered as she drew back from the kiss.
A flicker of panic shot through Lara. She tried to pull away. But it was useless.
Her arms were too heavy, her limbs too weak to resist.
Madame Aphrodite guided her to one of the white couches. Gently, almost lovingly.
Lara felt like she was floating.
Her thoughts swam in a haze of lust and confusion.
As Madame Aphrodite's hand slipped under her dress and began to stroke the dripping folds burning between Lara's thighs, the sensation overwhelmed her. Her clit pulsed with need, and every brush of Aphrodite's fingers against it sent waves of pure pleasure rippling through her entire being.
Lara's hips instinctively bucked, desperate for more contact, more friction, more of the blissful torment Aphrodite was inflicting upon her.
Madame Aphrodite chuckled as if amused by Lara's desperation, her crystal blue gaze never leaving her captive's flushed face.
"You've been such a good little fuckdoll for me," she purred, her breath warm and enticing against Lara's ear. "Utterly broken, brainwashed and brainless for your goddess. Let go of the farce, Lara. Throw away dumb, boring Agent Kraft. And be my little fuckdoll Lara."
Her fingers continued their maddening caresses, alternating between feather-light touches and firm strokes, keeping Lara teetering on the brink of an orgasm she knew only Madame Aphrodite could give her.
Lara's breath hitched as her climax built. But before it could crest over the edge, Madame Aphrodite suddenly withdrew her hand, leaving her aching and wanting.
"Wha-Why?" she managed to gasp, her voice strained and raw.
Madame Aphrodite smiled, her expression both sultry and mocking. "Agent Kraft isn't a fuckdolls. Only fuckdolls can cum in my divine presence. Throw her away. Lara." Her eyes twinkled with promise and danger as she brought her glistening fingers to her mouth, licking them slowly, savoring the taste of Lara's arousal.
The sight was intoxicating. Lara felt her resistance crumble even further.
"You can cum once you embrace what you are." Madame Aphrodite whispered. Her lips hovered just above Lara's own once more, the heat between their bodies a palpable force. "Beg to cum, my little fuckdoll," she murmured, her voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. "Throw away the boring Agent. Agent, what was her name? Who cares. Am I right my cute silly bimbo fuckdoll."
The words sank into Lara's mind like honey, sweet and cloying.
"Like not me, duh," Lara said with the cutest little voice. A cold shiver ran through her. That wasn't her. It wasn't Lara. She wasn't an Agent. "Wait. That wasn't," Lara struggled. The arousal was making it hard to think.
"Duh. Not like you dumb Agent. Lara is totes a fuckdoll," her mouth giggled in that same cutesy tone. Lara tried to speak but it didn't come out right, instead she heard herself say. "Like she totes doesn't know anything, or like, think for herself or anything. Duh!"
"Good girl," Madame Aphrodite crooned. Her hand slid back beneath Lara's skirt, finding the slick warmth that had become an insistent throbbing ache.
"Yes," Lara moaned.
The pressure of the divine fingers as they circled her clit sent jolts of electricity through her, and Lara arched into the touch. Thoughts and memories fractured under the onslaught of sensations. She no longer knew who she was or what she had done. All that mattered were the exquisite pleasures of the moment and the promise of release.
As the rhythm of Aphrodite's fingers increased, so too did the urgency within Lara. The world faded into a haze of pleasure. All that existed was the beautiful woman in front of her, her intoxicating touch and the sweet agony building inside her.
Madame Aphrodite's gaze locked with Lara's, the blue depths swirling with an ocean of hunger, amusement and something darker.
"Throw her out, my fuckdoll. No more Agent. Only fuckdoll," she whispered, her voice like silk.
The pressure mounted, and Lara felt the orgasm creeping closer. She couldn't think, couldn't focus. All that existed was this moment and her goddess.
Madame Aphrodite leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss. Her lips were soft and warm against Lara's, her tongue exploring and claiming.
And then, just as the wave of ecstasy was about to crash over Lara, she withdrew.
Again.
"No, please!" she gasped.
Madame Aphrodite merely chuckled.
"Oh-em-gee. Like totally throw her out. Gawds are you dumb," Lara's voice came out in that cutesy tone she now realized belonged to Fuckdoll Lara.
The panic that flared up inside Lara felt almost distant, like an echo from someone else's life.
She tried to speak again but it was all too confusing. She didn't know who she was anymore.
All she knew was that she desperately needed release, and only Madame Aphrodite could grant her that sweet oblivion she craved.
"Go on. Just forget everything that isn't tied to your goddess," Madame Aphrodite murmured. "Give me everything. Every memory, every experience. Everything that makes you who you are. Embrace your fuckdoll, let go of Agent what's-her-face." A faint, seductive smile curled her lips. "Just one last step, and then I'll give you everything you little fuckdoll desires."
Lara felt herself melting, succumbing to the allure of the promises Madame Aphrodite offered her, promises that echoed with an unspoken price. A price she knew she'd pay without hesitation, because in that moment, nothing mattered more than her pleasure, than her goddess.
A twist of her clit ended the fight.
A shiver coursed through Lara's body. She whimpered, her voice a soft mewling that sounded alien to her own ears. Her thoughts scattered, and the world spun.
"Yes," she moaned. The last vestiges of Agent Kraft crumbled, leaving only Fuckdoll Lara in their wake. The realization that Agent Lara Kraft had ceased to be sent waves of ecstasy through Lara. She moaned at her realization that she was a brainless, broken fuckdoll, devoted only to her divine mistress. She didn't think. She only served and obeyed.
"That's right, fuckdoll." Madame Aphrodite purred. Her lips curled in a satisfied smile as she leaned back, admiring her handiwork. "You've done so well, fuckdoll. Now it's time for your reward."
Madame Aphrodite stood and stepped gracefully away. Her eyes never leaving Lara, she gestured towards her feet. Towering heels shined under the pink lights.
Fuckdoll Lara's mouth watered.
"Kneel, my fuckdoll." Madame Aphrodite ordered, and the words sank deep into Lara's being, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. She immediately dropped to her knees before her divine goddess, her head bowed in submission. "Yes," Fuckdoll Lara said. The words slipped easily from her lips. She no longer cared or remembered about the agency, her job or any of the other details that had once weighed so heavily on her shoulders.
All that mattered now was pleasing her goddess.
"Lick," Madame Aphrodite said simply, and Lara felt a wave of heat rush through her.
"Yes, goddess," Lara said as she bent her head down, her tongue eagerly extending towards her divine mistress' toes. As her tongue made contact with the smooth skin, she felt a rush of pleasure and arousal course through her body. She licked and sucked on each toe in turn, worshiping the perfect feet before her as her pussy throbbed with obedience. She knew that she was nothing more than a brainless, broken fuckdoll, and the thought filled her with a sense of purpose and pride.
With adoring eyes the fuckdoll gazed into the crystal blues of her goddess. A golden shimmer pulsed through the divine orbs, as a hand caressed her scalp, like an owner rewarded a pet.
This was all that mattered.
Serving her divine goddess in whatever way she saw fit.
The witch's house sits quiet in the forest. Few people are able to find the path that leads to it. You weren't even trying to find it on purpose. You were walking, weaving through trees, trying to get away from --
You can't remember anymore. That's just fine. You don't have to remember what's out there, beyond the edge of the clearing. Your world can stop right where the trees begin. You don't need anything more than what can be found here.
The witch told you that.
The witch's house sits quiet in the forest. Most of the time, you sit quiet in her house. She lived by herself for a long time before you came along, and she's used to doing things herself. Every now and then, she remembers that you exist and comes up with a task for you.
Those are the best days. When you sweep the floor or rethatch the roof or gather herbs from the garden, you remember that you have a purpose, and that purpose fills your whole body. It's the greatest pleasure you have ever felt. You don't know how you ever made it through your days without it. When you try to think back on your life before, it all seems empty and purposeless. Your path was always going to lead you here.
The days when you sit waiting are good as well. The witch only wants you to wait, and so that purpose fills your body just as much as the purpose of action. Sometimes she practices spells near you, and the magic washes over you, reminding you that you belong here.
The witch's magic is binding magic, and every spell has a bit of that binding to it. You are bound ever closer to her, and you cannot imagine being happy any place else.
A building made for brainwashing. You walk in, and you simply ask for the kind of brainwashing you want. Slave, drone, pet, slut, doll, maid, toy, bimbo, and anything else you can think of.
As soon as you have made your request, you’re taken to a small private room and strapped down. A brainwashing helmet is placed on your head. As soon as it’s turned on, you will feel it overwhelming your mind and forcing it into submission, as your old self is forcibly reshaped.
You will be brainwashed like this from anywhere of a few days to a whole month. Brainwashing will be your life. When the brainwashing is done, you will be exactly what you asked to be.
Your hands were stuck in a loop, between your legs, touching you, pulling you closer, and closer to the edge, then, right as you were about to cum, your brain would switch off. Then you’d come back up, and need to touch more. “Touch, drop, obey, toy.” Your hypnotist said.
Your hands were drawing pleasure from wells you didn’t know existed. “That’s all you need to do. Is touch, and drop, and obey.” It felt too good to even think about stopping. Not that you could think. “The more you touch, the more you drop, the more obedient you’re being.”
That logic tracked. As much as anything did in your head right now. “So, just keep touching. Get lost in the pleasure for me.” Your eyes rolled up as you reached the edge, your body went limp, and then came back up. Your mind was so hazy… You only knew to touch.
“That’s it… Sink deeper. Drop further.” They sounded so pleased with you. “Touch. Drop. Obey. Such a good toy for me. My obedient little pleasure puppet. Helpless to do anything but sink further into pleasure for me. Because it feels too good to stop. Touch, drop, and obey!”
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!
You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!
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