afilthypup

[afilthypup]

Well I mean...I do own an Elastrator ...🤔

[afilthypup]

Waiting:  You’ll wear this collar until I take you out of storage.  If you ever come out of storage again.

[afilthypup]

[afilthypup]

Hood is from dreamask.net

[afilthypup]

[afilthypup]

Come here, get a hug -  from a panel gag in a used look with a reminder on the front panel that no one removes the gag “accidentally”. What would you write on the front panel? Hand-dyed brown leather with all brass hardware.

[afilthypup]

Take it, Ransom!

[afilthypup]

[afilthypup]

Pomodoro method

It has been hot. Too hot. The airco in the office gave up that morning, and they were all sent home. There, I sat in the breeze of the fan. One hand lazily propped up my head, while the other moved the mouse in boredom. A message popped up from my phone, in that familiar buzzing rhythm that I set for Tumblr.

"And how are you doing, girl? Doing your best for me?"

I quickly shoot a message back that I’m doing my best, but concentration is an issue. The heatwave is getting to me.

But you know what to do. "This weather is perfect for the pomodoro method” says the message on the screen. ”You are going to set a series of timers for me, on the hour. You will work 25 minutes focused, and then, in the breaks, we will give your head a break for 5 minutes. Can you do that for me?"

I considered it. I had a pretty good idea what this path would lead to, messages of this kind normally end the same way, but I’m curious about the exact route. I’m more curious than is good for me.

I open the timer app and set the timers. I put my phone away and start to work. The knowledge it is just 25 minutes, less than half an hour to document and write, makes me more productive than I have been all day. Before I knew it, the first timer went off with a nice gong..

A message with instructions is already awaiting me. "Have you finished the first round for me? Good girl. You may open your blouse and sit before the fan. Let the cool air flow over your breast, and repeat your words for me."

I blink, and stare at the screen. I have no idea what my words are, and I try to remember, as I write that to you.

“You will remember”.

I sat there for a moment, frowning. I don’t. But knowing that it was my break right now, and that it was only 5 minutes, I tried out some phrases.

"I'm a good girl?" was the first uncertain attempt.

"I want to obey?" came a little bit easier.

I thought for a bit and came up with:

"I'm following, and following feels good"

With each phrase, my words become more certain. I put the ones that feel good into rotation. The traces of that familiar fuzziness were there, but not enough to really drop. And I shouldn’t, I’m working. The cool air on my hot skin is nice, very nice. But sooner than expected, the gong announced the start of the second block of focused work.

I sent a quick message thanking him for the suggestion. It worked great, and I’m off to write documentation like there was no tomorrow.

At the next gong, I already saw a new set of instructions. I should to repeat the same phrases, but now touch my breasts for him. The fuzziness came up sooner now. All the phrases feel comfortable in my head. They came from previous times he played with me, and they all make me sink slowly. Deeper and dee...

The gong went, and my focus fell back to the work pc. Normally, this focus was for him, but now it is for work. The words flow from my fingers into the keyboard, and the messages telling me I do well make it even easier. There was no space for distraction. Only the words, the keys on the keyboard, the screen.

On the next gong, I knew I was allowed to touch my breast. In front of the cool fan. Like I was displaying myself for you. My mind became so still, so quickly. The report for work is gone, the work tasks are gone, only the phrases remain. I feel so hot, so sexy. I must be quite the sight. I’m so proud.

For five timeless minutes, I was like that. But on the next gong, I returned to my professional self again. Even though I lost my blouse, I still have my pretty bra. None of my colleagues would see it as I worked on emails and drafted plans. The writing on the documentation was done, and maybe that was a good thing. Even though I was still more focused than that morning, this agitated state is affecting me here. But I continue onward, I will make him proud.

The next gong. It was time for my break again. I’m back to being this mindless plaything almost instantly. My hands find their place on my breasts and between my legs, the familiar pressure and wetness of arousal. I’m repeating phrases now. You were right; I know my words. I’m a good girl for you.

I almost missed the next alarm. My head feels soft and nice. I find myself staring at the screen a bit, not quite sure how to continue. I did so much already, more than I planned. And that planning feels far away. I start sorting files and mail, and writing small things. I notice that my hand doesn’t support my head anymore. It rests on my breasts. A few moments later, I catch it between my legs.

The next gong became a rush of touching and mindless repeating. It was so hot that a few words from a trusted hypnotist could do this to me. I lost all sense of time, in a rush of smaller tasks and pleasurable breaks.

I got more done than I had in days. So when the next gong came, at the same time as your message with your announcement that is the end of the workday, I sank into an exhausted, but full and deep trance for you.

[afilthypup]

[afilthypup]

Source: fetish slave studio

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[afilthypup]