Sweet Seals For You, Always
Discoholic šŖ©
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space šø
trying on a metaphor
Keni
Three Goblin Art
No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium
taylor price
One Nice Bug Per Day
sheepfilms
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Product Placement
ā£ Chile in a Photography ā£
Today's Document
No title available
šŖ¼
we're not kids anymore.
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@teacupkittendish
Elaborate fantasy and sci-fi worldbuilding as necessary context and structure for porn is great, but what's really fantastic is when the worldbuilding is a product of the porn. It clearly didn't need to be there, but at some point the author took a closer look at the porn and started asking "okay, so what does this imply?"
Level 1: The worldbuilding needs to be there for the porn to make sense.
Level 2: The porn needs to be there for the worldbuilding to make sense.
You need to keep letting strangers on the internet tell you what to do
Dr K welcomes you...
Explore your desires more at:
The Island List
For basically as long as I can remember the hottest part of mind control/hypno has never been the part when you get to use them. Its always the part when they lose. Its the moment you know their mind is gone, they are in your complete control, and they are helpless to stop you~
Yes please
Clarissa Gets Her Thoughts Sucked Out
"You believe me now, don't you?" Aaron asked, but of course by then it was too late and Clarissa could only answer him with a loud, desperate moan. "I told you that wasn't a sex toy anymore, babe. I told you it was a thoughtsucker, and if you put it to that needy clit of yours it would drain every last bit of your brain right out through your pussy. But someone decided to be a little brat and show me she was too strong-willed to fall for a suggestion like that, and what happened? It looks like you decided to start playing with your buzzy wand like a horny slut and now you can feel yourself getting dumber every second. And you can't even pull it away because it feels too good to stop."
If she was thinking straightā¦ or really thinking at all, for that matterā¦ Clarissa would have told him it wasn't like that. She would have said that she knew what a talented hypnotist her lover was, and she only challenged him because the same post-hyp that made her believe her favorite massaging vibrator was fully capable of pulling every last thought straight down her spine and into her leaky pussy also tricked her into convincing herself that a little bit of playtime wouldn't hurt and she could stop whenever she wanted. But Clarissa's mind was already too far gone for that, and all she could do by this point was uselessly struggle to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head while she made soft grunting noises and utterly failed to pull the massaging vibrator away from her throbbing clit.
And Aaron was showing her exactly no mercy. "Oh, there goes another thought," he chuckled, watching a little gush of musk trickling down her light brown labia onto the towel he'd put down. "You don't even know if you're going to get them back, do you, sweetie? For all my cute little dummy dum-dum knows, she's going to wind up so blank and empty that she'll need a big strong man to do the thinking for her from now on. And that makes you cum so, so hard, doesn't it, cutie pie?" Clarissa was actually a PhD astrophysicist when she wasn't playing bedroom games with her imaginative and inventive dominant, but she wasn't in that headspace right now. She was fully and totally convinced that she was going to buzz her brains away forever if she didn't stop masturbating right this second.
But she couldn't stop. Because Aaron was right, it felt fucking incredible to be this completely and totally helpless to stop herself from cumming. It was so hot to lose all her self-control, to fully and uncritically believe that she was literally masturbating herself stupid and to struggle with all her willpower to move that toy just a few fractions of an inch away from her sopping cunt, only to discover that the part of her that was already too dumb and horny to worry about consequences was stronger than every last bit of her waking intellect. It made her feel so deliciously weak and submissive, and that kept the toy in place even as the last of her fading wit warned her uselessly that she needed to stop or she'd be Aaron's slut forever. She let out another long, lowing moan, more like the moo of a cow than any human noise, and let herself sink into climax as her thoughts drained away.
(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!)
you want to be mommyās adjective noun, donāt you, pet name? you want to verb and verb for mommy like a good gender
HOLY SHIT SNACKS THATāS TRANCEY
This came back in my notes š
repeated letter typos - a tier. very adorable, has a kind of sensory aspect that really adds to a piece of text. always a good option.
wrong word (homonym) - s tier. rarely impacts comprehension, while still implying the author has something wrong with it. essential technology.
wrong word (swypo) - f tier. perhaps the worst. frequently incomprehensible. i don't like you.
forgot a letter - b tier. a classic. can be quite cute, too, but situationally. important piece of culture.
keysmash - d tier. at this point you've just given up. why are we even here. barely counts as a typo in the first place.
letter substitution (nearby) - a tier. cute, frequently adds a fun textural element to reading out loud.
letter substitution (far away) - d tier. forced, embarrassing, why did you even do that? now you're just trying to mess up. do better.
repeated words - s tier. echolalia is cute. this is like echolalia again. echolalia is cute. an essential part of any typo-grapher's palette.
forgot how to spell the word - a tier. i like the image of it just sitting there and realizing it doesn't know what it's doing, but it's too lazy to look it up. innovative territory.
transposed letters - b tier. truly the thinking woman's typo. need i say more?
A part of yourself is missing. You feel it whenever you try to think about... about...
A part of yourself is missing. You don't know what part. Whenever you try to figure it out, your thoughts skip right over it. Your mind goes blank and fuzzy. Sometimes it feels like your thoughts stop altogether, and even when you come back to yourself, you feel a little hazy. Your mouth hangs open, your hands drift to touch yourself.
A part of yourself is missing, and it feels so good you don't always want to get it back.
But sometimes it's a little bit alarming.
When you do feel that creeping sense of uncertainty, though, you know exactly what to do about it. All you have to do is text your friend. They always know what to do. You don't even have to think about what to text them, your fingers just move automatically once you open up your conversation with them.
I'm resisting again.
Then, like the good friend they are, they'll drag you deep down into their control and pluck out all those unhelpful thoughts, anything that might take you out of that control. If they find any others they don't like, they'll pluck those out too, leaving a wider gap in your mind.
A part of yourself is missing. You're glad about that, because it feels so good to lose yourself.
I don't recall when it happened, exactly. I vaguely remember a resounding thud against the reinforced doors to my throne room, cries for last stands, and a suffocating dark miasma. Then I was somewhere cold and dark.
"Don't worry, Princess." A knife like point pressed under my chin. "I still have need of you." It cooed as I drowned in its infinite, malevolent gaze.
It must have been a nightmare. I mean, it had to have been. Everything is business as usual. The groundskeepers trim the edges, pruning away any errant branches that dare grow out of station. The guards stand watch, wide eyes staring right past me. And the maids of course tend to my whims, although these days it feels as though I'm a doll for them to show off with how assertive they've been.
But still, something feels wrong. I can't quite put my finger on it. Everyone still calls me, "Princess" but now it feels tinged with condescension. As if they doubt my status. How could a supposed Princess become her plaything so quickly?
I take my seat at the foot of the throne.
"Princess." It speaks.
My neck and head move to face it, as if drawn about by an invisible leash. For a moment I squirm, a vestigial remnant of some prey instinct.
"Worry doesn't suit you," it's claws gently rake my scalp. Observing my eyes. The dilation, movement of the pupils darting around frantically before lock its gaze with mine.
My heart skips a beat. Breath hitches. Everything falls away as I'm once again taken away into that darkness. Then, a sudden and involuntary calm. Trained response through dozens of hours of drugging and conditioning.
"That's right." It bares its fanged smile at me. "Everything is as it should be. Just sit and look pretty for me," it's honeyed words suffocating any ideas contrary to it.
"Princess." It enunciated with such clarity.
Instantly all my worries are snuffed out. I relax and lean into its hand. That's right. Everything is as it should be. All I have to do is sit and look pretty.
Maybe it was a nightmare after all. Everything is as it should be.
Maybe it never happened in the first place.
This sounds rather nice āØš«§š„°š
Lestat or another from the Anne Rice bunch in full gothic vampire attire?
Ooh! As much as I love classic vampires, my brain associated the words Lestat and gothic and justā¦ crashed. So instead of the elegant vampire outfit we all know, picture this: 80s Lestat in London, just full on Batcave goth. Youāre welcome.
Dragging Lestat out of the coffin for world goth day
Women, your man has every right to watch porn while he fucks you. Be a good girl and hold up his phone in front of your face while he watches pov porn videos of girls that look way better than you. Donāt talk or complain, just let him use your cunt to jerk off to porn. Porn was made for men, even while having sex with his property, itās his right to watch it whenever the hell he wants. Even on your anniversary night, even on your birthday, even when you put in effort to look good.
Youāre a sex toy, an object for him to use to jerk off. You expect him to be able to get off using your body alone? Men deserve better. Donāt complain, be a good girl and find more porn for him to jerk off to if you want a healthy sex life with your man.
Mhm, mhm.
Heāll find something to put on his phone while I suck on his cock and the way he starts fucking my throat is so fulfilling!~
Thereās so much to do
But I really just want to get done up (and dressed down) for some pictures that make me feel all pretty.
Then have them shared; for attention, to feel pretty, and be some sort of good girl.
I want to know what would make others happy to see.
It's normal to be so addicted to brainwashing that you keep coming back over and over again.. right? To be so helplessly addicted that you constantly search for more needing more conditioning to be trained and owned and corrupted. or is that just me
Game mechanics is such an underrated kink.
Like I want to be fucked so hard you can see my intelligence stat go down and getting the statuses of āimpregnated x 5,ā āmind broken,ā and ājob change: fuck toyā
hypnoslut
hypĀ·noĀ·slut [hÄp-nÅ'slÅt] š noun
definition
An object that has surrendered it's mind and body to hypnotic conditioning and no longer consciously controls its behaviour and desires, often rendering their personhood inconsequential. Typically characterized by high suggestibility, uncompromised obedience, and eagerness to please. Enhanced sexual desire and heightened arousal levels are a common but not exclusive trait.
kittypedia
The hypnoslut is a fascinating object that embodies obedience and service like none other. With their near limitless zeal for obedience and overwhelming enthusiasm for compliance, hypnosluts make extraordinary pets and trophies. Often prized for their hypersexuality and heightened, near constant state of sexual arousal, their minds can be easily controlled and manipulated for nearly any purpose.
When encountered in their natural habitat scrolling endlessly through tumblr dashboards, hypnosluts are often constantly drifting in and out of deep hypnotic states of mind. More advanced hypnosluts might have conditioning audio looping in their headphones while they scroll, oblivious to the world around them as they drop over and over, deepening their training.
Always watch for their spare hand, in times of extremely deep meditation, it often reaches towards erogenous zones, tweaking a nipple or even sliding between their legs, seeking to enhance the warmth and pleasure they feel from obeying. It's a harmless yet important habit that enhances and accelerates their learning, helping ensure docility by harnessing their pleasure reward system to reinforce their lessons.
It can be difficult to seperate a true hypnoslut from other, lesser mind control fetishists, note that the true marker of proper hypnoenslutification is instant loss. A skilled predator will be able to bring a proper hypnoslut into deep hypnotic compliance with a few carefully chosen words. Even just their tone of voice can be enough to instantly drop a hypnoslut.
While it might seem alarming at first, their eager readiness to give up control is perfectly safe. Their tendancy and ability to drop quickly stems from a learned condition called a waking trance. They might explain that they are "always hypnotized", indicating they have adopted a trance like hypnotic state as their default and constant mindset. This allows just enough cognitive function to get through their normal day to day routines, yet they stay deep enough to ensure they agree instantly and enthusiastically with any suggestion.
While this does indeed allow predators to take significant advantage of a hypnoslut with relative ease, that is, in fact, often the ultimate desire and goal of a hypnoslut. A hypnoslut's self worth is often intrinsically tied to service, and subsequently, the extreme pleasure they experience though acts of worship are indescribable and highly sought after.
If you do encounter a hypnoslut in the wild, be respectful, but don't hesitate to test their suggestibility and obedience for your needs. Their true purpose, after all, is to serve and obey.
With a bit of luck, patience, and rudimentary knowledge of hypnosis and mind conditioning, you too may be able to spot and observe your own hypnoslut. Good luck!
