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I was on the bus when I felt something--someone--behind me. Staring at me. If you ride public transit regularly, you get to know when there's a creep behind you. And even though I was dressed to be invisible today, with loose jeans, a baggy hoodie, and hiking boots, sometimes the creeps get creepy anyway.

I tried not to turn around. Didn't want to give him the satisfaction of showing any fear. These guys are all about control, not sex in like a healthy "I think this person is attractive" way. They just want to make girls uncomfortable. Fortunately, at the next stop enough people got off the bus that I was able to sit down and feel more shielded.

Unfortunately, a man came and took the empty seat next to me.

Was it the creep? I wasn't sure. I looked resolutely out the window. He seemed like a big strong guy, from what I could see out of the corner of my eye. He was probably going to start manspreading.

I felt something like a click in my head, a connection, a microphone coming to life.

Such a good girl, I heard inside my head. Good girl, so calm and happy. So pretty and feminine. So girly and gentle and pretty. Always smiling, always wearing pretty clothes, always friendly. Always feminine. Obedient and submissive and sweet. Such a good girl.

I was dazed, staring straight ahead of me. I couldn't move as this unknown force wrote new paths in my brain. I could feel drool forming at the corner of my mouth--my gentle, smiling mouth.

I felt another click in my head--disconnection. I could move again.

I looked over at the man next to me and smiled shyly. He looked maybe around 30 or so, handsome, with deep black hair and brown eyes. "Good girl," he said out loud. The bus slid to a stop and he got out, slipping away into the crowd.

I closed my eyes and nearly moaned, feeling pleasure flood through me. Good girl, of course I'm a good girl, I always want to be a good girl. I smiled, then looked down at myself, seeing myself as if for the first time.

Ugh.

Why did I dress like such a boy today?

It was getting to be spring. I should start dressing like a good girl!

*****

A few days later I was on the bus again. Today I was dressed all pretty in a flowy long pink and gray skirt and a pink sweater that showed a little bit of cleavage. Just a little. I had retired the hiking boots in favor of some gray ballet flats, and I'd put on a little bit of makeup today-- again, just a little. And I had left my hair loose instead of putting it in a ponytail. I felt so pretty and feminine. I felt like a good girl. I always like everyone to know that I'm a good girl!

I felt someone staring at me from behind again. It's just the way things are on the bus.

I turned around to see who it was. I always like to make eye contact and smile at people, even if they're strangers, because I'm always friendly!

It was the same man who sat next to me before! I waved a little and smiled. I didn't want to come across as too forward, but I did want him to know he could talk to me!

He came and sat by me again. I turned to look at him-- his eyes were so deep, it felt like I was falling. Again, I felt that click in my head. Connection. His mind flowing into mine. His mind stronger than mine, overwriting mine. Because I'm obedient and submissive and sweet. Because I'm a good girl.

Because I love being a good girl.

Such a good girl, he told my brain this time. So sexy and slutty. Always smiling, always showing off your tits and ass. Always wearing lots of makeup. Always with your hair done. Always feminine and weak and obedient and submissive. Always looking fuckable. Always wanting men to stare at you. Always wanting to look sexy and fuckable for men. Always a good girl.

Again I was in a daze. Of course I always want to be a good girl. I'm pretty sure I was drooling again, blank and confused, drool sliding over the clear lip gloss I had put on this morning.

The man was holding both of my hands in his much larger, stronger ones, stroking them. He placed my hands on my own breasts--boobs--no, tits, the man called them tits, so they were tits, because good girls are slutty and have tits, not breasts-- and rubbed them up and down... oooooohhhhh. So good. So sexy and slutty. I moaned softly.

"Good girl," he told me, before leaving the bus.

I'm a good girl, the man thinks I'm a good girl, I'm always a good girl.

But if I was such a good girl, why had I dressed like such a prude today? No one would think I looked fuckable with this much skin covered up!

I would have to fix that for tomorrow.

*****

The next day I got on the bus eagerly looking for my new friend. I had gone shopping and wanted to show off my new look. I had gotten lucky at the salon-- someone had canceled an appointment yesterday afternoon and my mousy brown hair was now a platinum blonde cascade of curls. I'd gotten my eyebrows done while I was at it and gone to get a spray tan for good measure. I was wearing a bright pink form fitting leather jacket with no shirt underneath, only a lacy black pushup bra squeezing my tits into proper cleavage. I had a black leather skirt covering my ass-- but not by much. If I moved just right it was pretty easy to see my lacy black thong underneath. I had spent a full hour on my makeup this morning, getting it just perfect! Cat eye eyeliner, thick mascara, glossy red lipstick. I looked so sexy and slutty. Men had been staring at me all morning, and I was so happy about it! I'm a good girl, and good girls love to look sexy and fuckable for men! A few had groped me, and that made me so happy because that meant they thought I was fuckable!

My friend was on the bus!

I walked right up to him in my shiny new heels, chest jutting forward to show off my tits.

"Oh, VERY good, my good girl. You've done a good job."

And just as before, I felt that click in my head, but by now it felt like comfort and bliss, not an invasion.

Such a good girl, he told me. MY good girl. So obedient and slutty. So horny. So kinky. Such a slut. So hard for you to think about anything that isn't sex. Always wanting cock in your mouth, in your cunt, in your ass. Craving cum however you can get it. So completely loyal to me. So obedient, so worshipful of me. So forgetful of everything that doesn't have to do with being a whore. Such a good girl. Such a good whore.

And this time Master didn't disconnect-- he kept that connection going while I dropped obediently at Master's feet, unzipped his pants, and took his hard cock into my mouth. Right there on the bus, like a good girl.

And we had time for me to suck off three other guys before we got to our stop. He told them it was a free preview, but if they wanted more he could arrange some fun times for the right price. Master said I was clearly born to be a stupid whore for him, and he must be right! Because I'm a very good girl, and good girls are good whores for Master!

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i keep seeing this post like “seeing a pic of yourself in trance and getting horny at how empty you look” and … yeaaaaa

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Model: Emily Prince

~Skin Tight~

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Wait for you...Master

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II works at a waterpark on summer

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how to deal with unruly customers...

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Commissions Open. With a deal.

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If only it would happen right? 

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Be careful out in the woods…

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