if you're going to kill me, look me in the eyes
seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Croatia

seen from Netherlands
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ukraine
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
if you're going to kill me, look me in the eyes
Imagining a wax play scene with hypnotic suggestions that wherever the wax drips, as it cools and hardens, the hardening property seeps into your skin rendering you immobile.
Knowing what’s going to happen and being completely immobile and powerless to stop it (not that you’d want to stop it) as a blindfold is lovingly placed over your eyes to protect them. Knowing what’s coming and no longer being able to predict when. To predict whether it will be the searing heat of freshly melted wax poured from close to your body or the gentle comforting warmth of wax poured from higher up.
It doesn’t matter though, because when it finally comes, you don’t even feel the heat or the drip of the wax on your forehead; no, you are far too overwhelmed by the sensation of the wax seeping into your mind, clogging up and stopping the gears that can no longer turn as the wax hardens, your mind as immobile as the rest of you.
It only took one drop of wax on your forehead.
As the next drop starts to solidify on your forehead, you’re completely unable to think even of how far from finished you are.
In the Meantime...
I blinked a few times as you drew your finger up my spine, mostly to reorient myself as I came up out of trance, but also partially in conclusion. Even with my mind as fuzzy as it was, I didn't think we were done playing just yet.
I pouted slightly, an expression you knew me well enough to know was more playful than truly disappointed.
"Sorry, sweetie. Need a bio break. Don't worry though, I'll be right back to fuck you up some more. If you want something to entertain you in the meantime, though..."
You positioned my right hand to point its index finger at the centre of my forehead, tantalizingly situated just a few centimetres away, accompanied by a few taps to freeze it in place.
"You can just stare at that while I'm gone."
I didn't even realize you'd left. You weren't even a flicker in my awareness anymore.
I just stared.
My entire awareness was consumed by my finger, frozen in space just a few endless centimetres from giving me the blissful drop that I craved.
Or would have craved, if staring at my finger didn't already feel so good.
So good.
It was so easy to just stare. Even at the same time that it was a struggle to keep my eyes from rolling back as I looked up, locked in place by my fascination with my own hand.
Just for fun, I tried to look away. Tried to look at anything else.
What was I doing again?
I got distracted by how my finger seemed to shift and move in midair as my eyes struggled to work together to build the image.
It felt so good to stare.
So fucking good.
How long had I been staring at my finger?
Did it even matter?
Even before I could decide that no, it didn't matter in the least, my finger became fuzzier and fuzzier as my eyes rolled back in response to your finger stroking down my spine.
You caught me as my body went limp, already speaking soft suggestions into my ear, my mind already on another plane altogether, completely unaware of your return.
HypNovember 2024/25 Day 19: Phantom Sensation
Alternate title: The Wheels on the Bus
Okay, yeah, I can appreciate living in a big city where things happen, where local hockey teams make playoffs and all that jazz. Hell, I get excited about those things too!
Except for the part where it makes downtown a total zoo on occasion.
Like today, when I checked my phone after an appointment to find a text from my boyfriend.
“Sorry, babe, I know it’s freezing but I just checked the traffic. We won the game!! But it’s a nightmare to get downtown right now. You'll get home quicker if you take the bus than if you wait around for me to get there.”
It was followed shortly thereafter by, “Don’t worry too much about the cold, though. After all, the wheels on the bus go round and round… ;)”
Ah, crap.
Taking a deep breath to prepare for the suggestion that was about to take hold, I made my way over to the bus stop, where luckily, a bus was already waiting. Unluckily, the bus had obviously been there for a bit while the driver grabbed a coffee or whatever, because it was absolutely packed. But I wasn’t about to wait in the cold for the next one.
I let out a small gasp as I stepped onto the bus, waving my bus pass in the general direction of the fare device until I heard the beep in an attempt to distract myself from the sensations of small rings forming around my nipples and clit. There was nothing physically there, of course, but that didn’t make my body any less responsive to them.
I wedged myself deeper into the bus, trying to find a small pocket of space to exist amidst the bodies of everybody else just trying to get home. By the time I found a space pressed between a man in a nice suit and some asshole behind me who hadn’t bothered to take off their backpack that was now jammed into my spine, I had gotten used to the sensation of the rings.
I knew that wasn’t the end of it, though.
The driver returned, and the bus lurched forward. It took everything I had not to whimper as the rings encircling my most sensitive places started to spin at pace with however my brain translated the speed of the bus wheels.
With how crowded the bus was, I couldn’t even reach my phone for a distraction from the incessant teasing of the stop-and-go traffic as the rings spun, picked up speed, and stopped again over and over and over. I was grateful for my thick winter coat that kept private how hard my nipples had become, not to mention the wetness that had started to pool between my legs, but it made it all the more frustrating that I wasn’t able to find a way to surreptitiously give my nipples a bit of stimulation, a small amount of relief from the ache that was starting to build.
Not that it stopped me from trying.
With nothing to do and nothing to focus on other than trying to keep my balance and keep quiet as the sensations gently teased my nipples and clit, I started to feel truly desperate. Especially since this bus driver seemed to have something of a lead foot, so every so often the bus would lurch and send me hurtling into the man in the suit in front of me, taking every ounce of my willpower not to moan as my front pressed up against him.
After one particularly sudden start and stop of the bus, the man asked if I was okay, pointing out that I looked like I was crying. I blurted out some excuse about having a rough day at work or something and said I was fine before retreating back into my personal torment, praying that nobody would notice how much I was leaking and squirming on top of the tears of desperation.
As the bus made its way out of the downtown core, traffic started to flow more easily, and I got some relief from the starting and stopping of the rotation of the rings. However, it was replaced with a steadier pace punctuated by more occasional stops and starts, which only built up the pleasure higher and higher until I was actively holding back my orgasm.
Every time I tried to determine how far from home I was and how much subzero walking I’d have to do if I got off the bus early, we would start moving again and my mind would dissolve into mush, barely able to keep from moaning and cumming right there in the middle of the bus.
I’m pretty sure the only reason my pleasure-addled mind could even figure out what stop to get off at was that my boyfriend was waiting for me at the stop at the corner of our street. And get off at the stop I did, because as soon as the bus pulled away, my boyfriend wrapped his arms around me and spoke quietly in my ear, his warm breath on my neck.
“See the bus driving away? Feel the motion of the wheels… feel it speed up… that’s right… and cum for me, now!”
I managed to bury my face into his scarf, which absorbed most of the sounds I made as I rode out the waves of pleasure standing right there on the thankfully deserted street corner. We walked the half-block back to our place, where my boyfriend had laid out my warmest pyjamas to replace my now-frigid sweat and cum-soaked clothes and prepared hot chocolate for us.
“So, still like that trigger? I know it was mean. I can remove it if you’d rather.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
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Thanks so much for reading! For this year’s HypNovember, I'm picking up where I left off from last year, using this prompt list that I threw together! Feedback is super super welcome and invited!
Thanks again for reading, and I'll hopefully see you for the next one!
sonnet in which no one knows anything anymore
the world is hopeless, yet we rend air with song laughter is a useless act, it lingers in dirt and odes only last so long amid tyranny's insert. start again the world. let the sky cleave red and the green grass curl around the bodies of the dead.
is death the only course for the joyless? do dead men know better than to ramble? does joy come only for the deathless? the living do not know better than to gamble
with fate and lives we did not ask for we cannot help but ask the dead for more
Look, you say, This is just how it is, I am monster and you are a saint. I was to devour you from the very beginning.
Will you regret it?
A monster doesn't regret what he is, to regret is to die. I'm not like that other one. I don't regret the claws, the fangs, the blood drying on my teeth. What is there to regret? I did as nature dictated. I am acting on behalf of the gods.
You are a lamb and this is your altar.
I am a monster not a lamb, but if Iwas a lamb, what does that make you?
The shepherd. The butcher.
yeah so uh, i took your boyfriend on a heroes quest and we journeyed through the fires of hell together and wore the raiment of heaven but ultimately he got too close to the divine and - yeah he became a god so i had to kill him - yeah your boyfriend - yeah he's dead. I'm sorry, would you like a cupcake - no cupcake? okay. that's fine. i wouldn't want a cupcake either? did i fuck your boyfriend? of course not! I'm not the type to sleep with another mans man! we just got to know each other so intimately it was as if we were two halves of one soul joining together for the first time and in that miracle we saw the true nature of heaven and hell and the ultimate fate of this earth and all after it - i told you i didn't fuck him! he was way to jacked for me to fuck! did he fuck me? no! well. our bodies did know each other in the way that the earth knows water and the sky knows the sun and. the moon knows it's place is to grow ever further away from the earth - i didn't fuck him! okay im sorry for yelling. i know this is a lot to take in. but it was just a bros trip alright? just a night out on town with the guys. that he's not coming back from?
yeah.
that he's not coming back.
Gospel Of The Fish
You think us mammals silly
With our mourning notions
With our grief and loss and heartache over such natural things.
What would they matter to a fish?
You know the cycle of water.
You know that everything returns to scale and sediment
You know that what rots
Begets new life.
It is a cycle
Don’t look for familiarity where there is none,
You tell us:
It will break your soft,
human
heart.