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Seetha Gets the Best Kind of Fractionation
"And wake." Seetha did her best to comply with the instruction, her eyelids fluttering open to lock onto her own image in the mirror, but emerging from trance was no easy feat at the moment and she quickly slipped away into a semi-conscious stupor. It was just so hard to think with Master's cock pounding her from behind like this, his hand holding her hair like an improvised bridle to pull her backwards into his thrusts again and again. Her heavy-lidded eyes focused automatically on the rhythmic motion of her light brown tits as they jiggled and shook under the force of their sex, their pendulous movement so reminiscent of the swaying pendant Master used to hypnotize her, and despite her best efforts Seetha found herself sinking right back down into mesmerized bliss.
"And wake." It was even harder to come back up the second time, and Seetha knew her Master had to know it--he wasn't counting her up, he wasn't bringing her out with any kind of preparatory patter, he wasn't even adding anything to the end of his command to help her emerge awake and refreshed and alert. He was simply dragging her to the shoreline of a vast sea of hypnotized pleasure and leaving her there for the waves to lap against her dazed and drowsy consciousness, and the cock plowing her wet pussy soon combined with the image of her bouncing, dangling tits to numb her thoughts right back down into befuddled oblivion. Seetha could only let out a tiny, helpless whimper of lust at her own weakness before her heavy eyelids fluttered shut and she went deep for Master again.
"And wake." Seetha could see the pattern this time, she understood what he was doing to her--but even that knowledge was dulled by fractionation and sexual pleasure into a sluggish, fatalistic acknowledgment of her own vulnerability. Every time he brought her back up, Seetha emerged from trance with her wits slowed a little further, her mind a tiny bit more dazed and befuddled, and the first thing that feeble brain of hers registered was how much more intense it felt to be fucked like this when she was wide awake and fully cognizant of it. And that made her so much wetter and needier, and being wet and needy made her dumb and horny, and dumb horny girls stared at their tits and dropped for Master. Seetha could barely even complete the realization before her drowsy eyes fluttered shut again.
"And wake." Seetha only notionally obeyed the command now, her eyelids opening but her eyes rolling back in her head until only a tiny slit of white remained visible. She more imagined than saw herself, a brainless bitch in heat getting railed doggy-style by a Master with seemingly inexhaustible stamina and an unquenchable desire to see her fractionate herself into blank, drooling submission, and of course she could imagine those heavy, dangling tits of hers perfectly. Her hypnotized mind fixated on them, on the way they bounced and jiggled like big cow udders underneath her with every thrust, and it reminded Seetha so potently of her own subjugation that the notion instantly dropped her all over again.
"And wake." Seetha tried. She really did. Her eyes crossed and uncrossed beneath eyelids that had simply reached their limit, unable to raise themselves despite all her struggles, and she convinced herself she was conscious again even though she knew she was deeper now than she'd been when Master first hypnotized her. But she was awake enough to feel his hips straining, his cock driving into her as he finally released his gushing load, and that sent her over the edge into one final climax before he allowed her to slump forward and sleep.
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Veronica Gets What Veronica Wants
There was something truly singular about the way a cock pushed into your mouth when it was driven by the thrust of another man, Veronica mused idly as she felt Alan fill her mouth. He wasn't trying to fuck her face--honestly, he was barely even aware of what was happening to him, at least on a conscious level--but every time Dale's hips rocked forward to plow his ass, the force drove him forward and made his stiff prick slide urgently between Veronica's pursed, hungry lips. Both men were grunting and huffing, Dale from exertion and Alan in dazed, befuddled ecstasy, and it was like a symphony of pleasure that thrilled Veronica so completely she didn't even care that neither dick was inside her pussy right now.
Which wasn't to say she wasn't getting any attention at all. Dale was standing right between her thighs, one leg pressed against her cunt as he fucked Alan with a vigor and an energy she could literally feel, and the rhythmic motion was doing a very nice job of making Veronica's clit throb with lazy euphoria. But this wasn't about sex for her right now. It was about power, and the way Alan's hypnotized brain kept overloading every time he tried to dredge his befuddled thoughts out of trance to wonder how he wound up in a surprise threesome. Every time his cock railed her mouth, it was another reminder of her own smooth, relentless patter as it insinuated its way into Alan's increasingly drowsy mind… and that rush of dominance was frankly better than anything.
Alan never even saw it coming, honestly. She never saw the slightest flicker of dawning, helpless realization in his heavy-lidded eyes as he talked to the married couple down at the hotel bar, telling her he was aware she was hypnotizing him even if he'd become too sleepy and passive to do anything about it. He simply slipped away into vacant, amiable indolence without so much as a ripple, nodding blankly when she told her to come up to the room with them and smiling in stupefied satisfaction when she slowly, sensuously undressed him. Dale's presence in the room wasn't even an afterthought, and by the time Veronica's husband began to lube up the puckered asshole of their latest conquest Alan's mind had been fully focused on what Veronica was doing to his rock hard cock.
And now he was… ohhh, it was beautiful. He was shuddering and moaning, his prick was twitching in Veronica's mouth like he was getting ready to gush a load of hot salty jizz down her throat at any second, and his eyes moved rapidly beneath his closed eyelids like he was experiencing the most blissful dream he could possibly imagine. Veronica thought this might be a genuine sexual awakening for him, a true dawning of his hidden bisexual urges, and it thrilled her to no end to believe that her hypnosis was going to fully and completely transform his befuddled mind. It made her crave the thrill of control even stronger, and even though most of the actual thrusting was being provided by Dale right now she worked her tongue even faster on the head of Alan's swollen prick in an effort to force the climax out of him. She wanted him to know he couldn't fight this much pleasure.
It worked better than she could have hoped for--within moments, Alan was gasping and mewling as he spurted his semen onto her licking tongue, and the way his ass tightened around Dale's cock when he came sent her husband over the edge as well. Both men sagged in post-coital ecstasy, each of them spent in their own way… which just meant that Veronica turned her attention to getting Alan hard all over again. Because she wasn't about to end the night without watching his blank, hypnotized face as he fucked her, and Veronica always got what she wanted from her men.
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Megan Remembers This Kind of High
"Megan, honey? You're looking a little dizzy, is everything okay? The words hit her exactly like the drugs she could swear she hasn't taken, making her so dazed and giddy her legs almost instantly give out from under her and she sits down hard right in the middle of the living room rug. She lets out a stoned and sleepy giggle as the high multiplies and magnifies inside her vacant head, messing with her balance and her equilibrium and her ability to hold on to a train of thought for more than a second or two at a time, and before she knows it she's slumped over sideways and it seems like an impossible effort simply to maintain consciousness. Her eyelids droop and flutter, and she spends what little mental energy she has wondering how her husband managed to dose her without her noticing.
She feels him pulling off her skirt and blouse, hears him purring out, "That's a good girl," in soft and coaxing tones that seem strangely familiar, but by the time he gets her completely naked Megan's eyelids are already stuck shut and it feels like far too much effort to possibly open them. She hasn't passed out, not exactly at least, but she can't move and she can't speak and time keeps fuzzing into a drowsy blur for long stretches of vacant bliss. She keeps forgetting to notice things as they happen, so one moment she's just lying there enjoying the high and the next there's a cock inside her and she can't quite recall the moment it happened.
But it feels so good. Megan's not exactly a square, she does a little weed every now and again to help her sleep or to ease a headache, but this isn't like that. This is more like those times back in college when she and her boyfriend used to get absolutely fucked up over the weekend, saving up their pay for weeks and then blowing it on a huge stash they would blaze through until Megan was just a limp, horny puddle of tangled limbs on the mattress and all she wanted was for her man to use her semi-conscious body. She distantly remembers telling her husband George about it, her tone somewhere between rueful and wistful as she described just what it felt like to be taken advantage of and not care.
This is… god, this is exactly like that. It's like living in those memories, feeling them blow up exquisitely bright and vivid in her mind until every last sensation of dopey ecstasy plays itself out in living color right there in the middle of her living room, and even the way George's cock plows her sopping cunt feels exactly like the orgasmic bliss she used to experience when she was too high even to move. She can't open her eyes, she's far too stoned and sleepy for that, but she can imagine exactly how she must look to anyone watching--a slumped and supine form, apparently drugged into unconsciousness, her body quaking and shuddering under the force of her husband's thrusts. That shouldn't turn her on nearly as much as it does.
Megan's not really sure when she starts cumming; like the sex itself, the details of time and sequence get a little bit fuzzy in her stupefied brain. One moment she's just tingling with the pleasure of her head high and the pulsing pleasure echoing through her cunt, and the next she's lost in a perpetual orgasm that skims from peak to peak while she moans in empty, obedient rapture. She doesn't know how long she stays like that… but when she finally emerges, and George wakes her from her trance, she's quick to thank him for the wonderful experience he gave her.
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The Amplification Collar Does Its Work
"You don't want to give us any more trouble now, do you, sweetie?" The words were accompanied by the lightest caress of Mitsu's bared breasts, really little more than the faintest brush against her skin, but the collar around her neck amplified the sensation until her whole body trembled with ecstasy and she pushed her chest out in a pleading effort to get more. She knew on some level it was degrading to be reduced to wordlessly begging to get her tits groped like this, and she absolutely understood they were going to keep using it against her until her brain was thoroughly reduced to mush… but somehow it felt like resistance could wait until after the next reward for her blank, thoughtless compliance.
Mitsu's handlers chuckled as they watched her tongue loll out of her mouth, her face unthinkingly settling into an expression of simpering ahegao servility in the hopes of getting her tits played with again. "That's a good girl," one of them murmured, giving her another feather-light touch against her soft brown nipple, and Mitsu heard herself whimper in absolutely pathetic arousal--she knew she should be fighting this, all her instincts and her training told her it was how important it was to maintain resistance in the face of enemy efforts to break down her willpower, but nothing in her training manuals had ever prepared her for what it was like to suddenly feel as if her breasts had grown a few million extra nerve endings each, all of them devoted to absolute brain-breaking pleasure.
Pleasure. The word penetrated her loose and foggy mind, bringing with it an understanding of the manner of Mitsu's subjugation that did her absolutely no good under the circumstances. Pleasure was so much harder to fight than pain, because it hijacked millions of years of evolutionary priming that told her brain and her body that whatever she was doing was good and right and absolutely vital to the continuation of her species. Food tasted good because it kept her going, sex felt good because it was how she passed along her genes to the next generation, and giving away vital intelligence to her captors felt good because it meant they would play with her big heavy cow tits. And Mitsu wanted that so badly now.
"Is there anything else you want to tell us before we send you to the harems, pretty girl?" her other handler asked, and Mitsu felt like she was outside her own body watching herself shake her head in an amiable admission that she'd betrayed her cause and her country as thoroughly as she was able. She felt certain they would bring her back if they wanted to ask follow-up questions, but Mitsu wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to understand them--already language felt like it was getting smaller and simpler inside her head, replaced with the desire to please, and she suspected she knew what had happened to all those missing agents she was supposed to be looking for. She could only hope they wouldn't send anyone after her.
The handler cupped her cheek, stroking it with an air of warm praise that felt almost orgasmic all by itself. "That's a good girl," he repeated, his praise practically melting Mitsu's feeble brain. "Would you like us to fuck you now?" Mitsu understood intuitively that it would be too much for her; as amplified as her nervous system was, an actual orgasm would dissolve her mind into so much mush. But at the same time, she couldn't imagine wanting anything more, and she bobbed her head up and down in an eager nod that was the closest she would ever come again to a decision of her own.
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Willow Plays With a Stranger's Pussy
"Uh huh! It's like… wow, it's like she has a really pretty cunt, y'know?" The cunt Willow was rubbing was in fact her own, but Elaine had carefully inculcated the precise amount of dissociation to prevent her from realizing that; she knew she was playing with a woman's pussy, teasing and rubbing it until it was so wet it practically drooled, and she knew that her mind kept building and building to ever greater heights of sexual pleasure, but the hypnotic programming Elaine was so proud of kept Willow entirely unable to associate these two interesting facts. As far as she was concerned, she was helping her Mistress brainwash a pretty little slut with sensual touches, and Mistress was rewarding her through some invisible and intangible means with overwhelming bliss. It was absolutely beautiful.
It got more and more beautiful the closer Willow brought herself to climax; her long pale legs were trembling with ecstasy now, her breath a series of shivery gasps, and yet she sounded fully convinced that she was voyeuristically studying the pleasure rather than experiencing it. "Oh, gosh, Mistress, she's so wet right now! Like, she's, um, she's leaking onto my fingers. I r-really think she's gonna cum soon." The words were comically simple, the thoughtless babble of a hopelessly ditzy slut who thought mostly with her cunt, but that was really only to be expected--Willow's muzzy, distracted brain wasn't up to much actual cogitation at the moment, not with so much sourceless euphoria flooding it. She was too dumb and horny to know why she was dumb and horny, and it was just perfect.
"Uhm, uhh, c-can she, can I m-make her cum soon, Mistress?" she asked, drool spilling from her slack and vacant mouth to coat her small breasts as she stared down at the leaking mess between her legs in mesmerized fascination. "I, um, I r-really think she needs to cum soon. I think, um, I think she--um--um--" Willow broke off, her brain momentarily shorting out as the unquestionable need to obtain permission for each and every orgasm smacked headlong into the hypnotically instilled conviction that it wasn't her pussy she was playing with right now. Arousal and brainwashing made her just too stupid to figure it out, and so she shuddered and trembled on the edge of a climax that hung perpetually out of reach and let her mind bob up and down in trance-induced confusion.
Which only made her will even weaker and easier for Elaine to control, of course, the same way edging and fractionation always did. But this time Willow didn't even understand what was happening to her, which made the conditioning that much more potent and convinced her even more completely that it must simply be her own feebleminded malleability that made her such a good subject for her Mistress. By the time she finally managed to fit the concept into her stupefied brain, murmuring, "May I please make her cum, Mistress?" in a breathy, submissive whimper that betrayed absolute subjugation behind those empty eyes, Elaine knew her good girl would to anything she asked. And what a lucky thing for Willow it was that the main thing Elaine wanted her to do was squeal in helpless, ecstatic release.
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The Universe Is Telling Jerry Something
"Excuse me, yes, hello, sir, excuse me sir?" Jerry almost didn't notice the woman waiting patiently for him in his backyard as he made the short walk from the garage to the back door--his mind was on his routine, the mundane details of what he was going to make himself for dinner and whether he could let that rattling sound coming from his muffler go until the weekend, and she was standing in the shade of the old elm tree that had been there when he bought the house. But once she drew attention to herself he couldn't imagine how he'd possibly missed her.
Because she was absolutely the woman of his dreams. Almost unnervingly, in fact; seeing a 5'4" curvy brunette with a submissive smile on her rounded pink cheeks, wearing nothing but the lower half of a bikini, felt a bit like falling into a daydream while still awake… and that was before he factored in her bare, voluptuous, frankly downright ludicrously huge tits. They were bigger than her head, tipping the scales at easily ten pounds each, and surmounted with broad pink nipples that stood out stiff and proud, and she was cupping them in her hands to display them to Jerry's bewildered but not unappreciative gaze. "You wished for a fucktoy, sir?" she asked him, a question that utterly perplexed him even though it seemed like there was only one right answer to give under the circumstances.
He paused, brow furrowed and mouth gaping in slack-jawed astonishment, and with a musical little giggle she took pity on him and filled in the details he was missing. "Two weeks ago, sir," she prompted, giving her tits a little bounce as if to emphasize the cause of the whole inciting incident. "You were on BustySluts Dot Com, scrolling through gifs of big-breasted women while you, um…." Her cheeks got a little bit pinker as she stared suggestively at the bulge in Jerry's slacks, and he couldn't help blushing right along with her even as his prick twitched in response to her interested gaze. It was embarrassing to have your porn habits exposed even under normal circumstances--to have the woman you were masturbating to show up at your house to tell you she knew you were jerking off to her felt unbelievably awkward.
"And anyway," she chirruped, interrupting the brief moment of discomfort, "you thought to yourself, 'Man, I wish I had me a horny little slut like that to do the cooking and the cleaning and suck my cock whenever I asked,' and I happened to be the woman you were looking at when the idea went through your head. And for whatever reason, that happened to be the moment when the forces of the cosmos aligned perfectly and the universe was actually listening to you. It, um, it took a couple of weeks for me to scrape up enough money to fly out here, but I'm yours now. Forever." She gave her tits another suggestive bounce, but Jerry barely noticed. He was still processing
He went through all the stages of acceptance remarkably quickly--it wasn't a joke or a prank or a hoax, there was simply no way she could have known about the specific and highly embarrassing fantasy that had drifted through his mind for only a mere moment and that he'd never so much as mentioned to anyone. He couldn't take it back; the universe wasn't listening to him anymore, and it felt like the biggest cosmic joke and tragedy at the same time that it only ever granted wishes at its own caprice and without the awareness of the person doing the desiring. But even his dawning awareness that he could have had world peace and enlightenment if only he hadn't been masturbating at the exact moment he got his heart's desire was ultimately dismissed with a rueful sigh, and Jerry took his new sex slave by the elbow and led her inside to see how far her new mentality took her.
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Lea Learns That Life Begins at Forty
"Are… are you sure this is what I want?" Lea felt kind of funny asking that question; it seemed like the sort of thing she should be able to tell for herself, rather than looking up into the eyes of her old college roommate and asking in a meek, hesitant tone that suggested total emotional dependence. But her brain felt sluggish and confused, barely able to hold even a single thought for more than a few seconds before the throb in her clit drove it away, and Mary Beth was smiling down at her with such calm certainty that it only felt natural to seek reassurance from her. And it wasn't like her husband Carl had much to contribute to the conversation.
At least not verbally. Lea could feel the head of his cock pressing against her slick pink pussy lips, already nestled into the channel between her labia and ready to push deep inside her as soon as he received the instruction, and in many ways that was more important than anything he could say right now. It was left to Mary Beth to articulate the situation in words, petting Lea's long dark hair and smoothing away the furrows in her brow as she murmured, "Of course it's what you want, dear. You've been so worn out now for so long, and you're going to enjoy being our fuckslave so much. All it takes is that one big thrust to pop your silly little thoughts forever, and you can enjoy a life of sucking and fucking as our pampered, horny pet. Why wouldn't you want that?"
It sounded like a rhetorical question, but Lea really did try to think about it in those last few moments before Carl's prick slid deep into her sopping cunt and cemented the intensive hypnotic programming she'd been receiving for the past month. She knew her life had kind of crashed and burned lately--between the divorce, the layoff and the unexpected failure of her lawyer to convince a judge to give her even a portion of the proceeds from the sale of their house, she'd washed up on Mary Beth's couch with very little to convince her that she had anything of her old identity to hang onto. She knew she should want her freedom, she knew she should resist the mesmerizing blue eyes that enticed her ever deeper into submission… but the reasons why simply trailed off into a messy, murky stew of vague emotions and abstract convictions that couldn't hold up against the urgent throb in her clit.
So she sighed, and let her forehead relax into an untroubled gaze of beatific bliss, and nodded vacantly as Mary Beth purred, "It's just time to stop thinking, poppet. It's time to give in and let go and be our good girl forever." She reached down and began teasing Lea's small, sensitive breasts, squeezing and groping them and pinching the nipples until the tingle in Lea's chest almost matched the one in her clit. "Just say 'yes, please', and you can cum your brains out for me exactly like you've been dreaming about, and this time you never ever ever have to put them back in again. I know you're ready for that. I know you're so, so ready." It was honestly kind of embarrassing how little Lea resisted, and soon Carl was absolutely railing her soaking pussy as she sank deeper into Mary Beth's eyes and let herself find peace in obedience.
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A Little Reassurance on the Question of Enthusiastic Consent
What's that in your mouth, sweetie pie?
"…uhh hoccc…."
That's right, pretty girl, a cock! And who does that cock belong to?
"…uhhuh aaa-yyy's ennns…."
Yes, sweetheart, one of Daddy's friends. Now I know it doesn't look like it, but Daddy's friend here is feeling a little unsure about what I did to your silly little gigglebrain. He thinks that maybe you only want to suck cock because Daddy fucked that idea into your empty head and made you a dumb, happy suckhole. What would you say to him right now, hmm, baby girl?
"ahh akk huuhkknnn ooccccc, aaa-yyy, ah uhh iihh hooo nnnuh, aaa-yyy annahh ee infuh huuckknn ah ihhh--"
Honey, you're going to have to take the dick out of your mouth for a few seconds if you want him to understand what you're saying.
"…I, umm… I was saying I like sucking cock, Daddy, I love it so much. Daddy brainwashed me into sucking and it made me so happy, because, like… I always wanted to be his brainwashed suckhole? Like, when he told me he could make it feel better than sex to have my mouth full of dick I was just, umm, I… I couldn't wait for the hypno to take hold. I, I wanted it so bad, I w-want it even more now, I… was that enough, Daddy? Did I say enough to get to suck him again?"
Almost, sweetie. I want him to hear it from you, what it feels like when Daddy lends your mouth out to another man.
"…ohhh, godddd, it's like… it's just the best, Daddy! He's got such a nice big prick, I can't even fit it all in my mouth, and it's like… It's like I'm sucking on the biggest, bestest lollipop in the world. I love feeling him twitch against my tongue, I love knowing I'm pleasing him, I… pweeeah, aaa-yyy, pweeeah…."
Oh, all right, pretty girl. Since you asked so nicely.
"ohhhhh, hannk oo aaa-yyy, hannk oo hannnk oo hannk ooo…."
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Anna Looks in the Medicine Cabinet
"Oh, dear." There was a wry amusement in Kathleen's voice as she entered the living room to find her houseguest Anna sprawled out on the couch in Kathleen's lingerie, her eyes glassy and a dreamy smile on her face. "It looks like someone went into the medicine cabinet while I was at work and found something they shouldn't. Was that what happened, Anna, sweetie? Did you go snooping around and find a little bottle full of small pink pills labeled 'For Special Occasions'?" Anna stared at her for a long moment, struggling to bring her gaze into focus. Finally, lazily, she nodded her head up and then back down. It looked like it took all the concentration she had.
Kathleen sat down on the couch next to her, resting her pale fingers on Anna's plush, tawny thigh just above the knee. "Well, don't get me wrong, Anna, I think we both agree that your visit is a very special occasion." Her hand began to move upward, drifting along Anna's leg in a series of tiny caresses toward the plump pussy lips only notionally concealed by a pair of translucent black panties. "It's just that, well, I don't think those little pink pills are exactly what you thought they were. They're not for me, you see. They're for good girls like you who need to relax and listen and do as they're told. You want to do what you're told now, don't you, Anna? In fact, you kind of need it."
Another dazed, glacial nod, and Anna's hands slowly drifted down to her chest and began to tease her nipples through the thin fabric of Kathleen's borrowed peignoir. She let out a sleepy giggle, amazed and delighted by the pleasure she was capable of eliciting in herself, and Kathleen smiled indulgently as her fingers reached the summit of Anna's thighs and began to brush lightly at the wet spot on Anna's panties. "Let's start there, sweetie, since we've already gotten into it and I know you want to hear some instructions. You need to do what you're told, Anna. It feels so good to obey my commands that you don't ever want to fight me over anything. The moment I tell you what to do, or say, or think, it instantly sounds like the best idea in the world to you." Anna let out a panting, gasping grunt of agreement. It was the closest she could get to speech now.
"Good girl!" Kathleen rubbed a little harder, emphasizing and rewarding the moment when Anna accepted instruction. "Now, your memories of today are going to be a little bit fuzzy, pet, and that's just fine. You won't need to remember exactly what happened when you took the pink pills, or exactly what we did together. You'll just know that it felt good, and you want more. Whenever I offer you one you'll open wide and swallow without a second thought, and you won't even think about anything that I put into your empty, fuzzy head while you're nice and high and stupid, isn't that right?"
Anna grunted again, barely differentiated from her tiny little moans and whimpers as Kathleen began to unreservedly play with her sopping cunt, and Kathleen smirked. She'd been trying to figure out how to dose her guest for almost three days now, and here Anna had just gone and doped herself up without Kathleen needing to so much as lift a finger. And now, with her old friend's mind levered wide open, Kathleen was free to reshape her into exactly the kind of submissive plaything she desired. "Now let's talk about sex, slut," she intoned, losing herself to the moment as she began to reprogram Anna's mind.
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Maddy Honors a Polite Request
"Excuse me, miss?" Maddy looked away from the movie, vaguely annoyed by the distraction, to find a man standing in front of the seat next to her with his pants around his ankles and his dick rock hard. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice hushed but urgent, "but these sex scenes are really getting me worked up and I don't know what to do about it. Could I maybe just jack off onto your face? Just to get rid of my blue balls so I can concentrate again." He took his prick in his hand, not stroking it but holding it in a moment of poised anticipation, and Maddy couldn't help noticing that it was pretty much exactly at the level of her mouth when she was seated like this.
And of course she knew it was an inappropriate request. Even for a young woman attending a matinee showing of a pornographic movie all by herself, it was lewd and presumptuous to simply assume that she was into doing all the perverted things she was watching solely on the basis of her fascinated gaze. Maddy was well within her rights to turn the stranger down, even to take offense at the way he was showing off his dick to her right here in an ostensibly public place. But… but he was being so polite about it. Almost gentlemanly, despite the bizarre circumstances surrounding his question. And Maddy's distracted brain couldn't imagine being rude to someone who was being polite to her. "Of course! Would you like me to pull up my shirt while you stroke it?" she asked, the tone of servile accommodation in her voice surprising even her.
The man smiled gratefully, though, and once again Maddy was taken by the overt respect he showed in his tones even while he said such patently disrespectful things. "Oh, that would be lovely, ma'am!" he replied, beginning to smear precum up and down his shaft as he let his fingers roll over the plump cockhead. "You've got really amazing tits, they'd look just great covered in jizz. I tell you what, why don't you just pull up your shirt and play with your nipples, and then you can keep watching the movie while I pump my dick until it spurts?" It was a generous offer, even if Maddy had seen this particular film almost a dozen times now, and she gave him a cheerful nod of agreement.
Of course, it was a little bit difficult to fully concentrate on the film with a man standing right next to her jacking his stiff prick just inches away--Maddy found her head turning to face him and her mouth falling open, watching the movie out of the corner of her eye while she waited for the blast of semen she knew was coming. But it wasn't hard to follow the story, and soon she found herself absorbed in the captivating erotica all over again as her nipples tingled ever more intensely with pleasure and her leaky cunt soaked a wet spot into her panties.
Maddy lost track of time again, the same way she always did at this particular movie, and it didn't even occur to her to look up and see who exactly was stroking himself to the sight of her bare breasts and blank, mesmerized face. "G-good girl!" the usher grunted, letting out a strangled gasp as he unleashed a torrent of semen all over her cheeks and straight into her mouth, and if it tasted familiar to her Maddy soon put the thought out of her head. She was already turning her full attention back to her favorite porno, entirely forgetting to cover her tits, and when the movie ended she sat there staring in blank, hypnotized fascination until the film began to roll again.
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Phoebe Admits to Trying It Out
Phoebe's cheeks went a bright red, vividly contrasting her ash blonde hair, and she stammered and stuttered in a feeble attempt to retain some semblance of her composure in the face of such a--no pun intended--probing question. "Well, um, I, yes, I, I, maybe, umm, maybe once or t-twice," she sputtered out, knowing she wasn't going to fool Len but at least hoping that he might mistake her blustering pretense at casual coolness for an attempt to cover up her total inexperience with anal sex of any kind. Because if her study partner learned the truth, well… again, no pun intended, but Phoebe was almost certainly never going to hear the end of it.
But Len gave her a knowing chuckle instead, and Phoebe instantly knew she was in a lot of trouble. The older man was coming back to finish his degree, taking a last few college courses among students almost ten years his junior, and Phoebe could tell that his additional life experience gave him an insight into human nature that he was mercilessly using against the petite blonde. "I thought so," he replied, giving her a playful wink that seemed to imply membership in a common conspiracy. "You can always tell a real anal slut, you know, and you just look like the kind of girl who can't think with a dick up her ass. Do I have that right, sweetie? Does taking it up the backdoor switch your brain right off?"
That struck uncomfortably close to home, and Phoebe found herself wishing they'd done their study session at her dorm room instead of his basement apartment--she'd agreed at the time that it was more private, but judging by the bulge in his slacks and the low, droning pulse of arousal hammering away at her composure that might not be a good thing. "I, um, I, I, um," she stammered, all too aware that her babbling incoherence was doing nothing to convince him he was wrong about her, and even when she managed to string together a laughable approximation of a complete sentence it was just, "How?" And the worst part of it was, it wasn't like she didn't already know the answer.
Because truth be told, she had kind of gotten in a little deeper than she intended to with the 'Anal Trainer' series on Master Peace's website. There was a weekend she'd spent with the dormitory to herself thanks to Angela's trip to Vail, and after a few gummies and several hours of looping files it had seemed at the very least harmless to post a little video of herself with her favorite plug. She always thought the odds of actually running into someone who recognized her had to be ludicrously low, but judging by the way Len looked at her when he put his hand on the back of her thigh and slowly, lasciviously slid it up under her skirt while saying, "That's not what I asked, pretty girl," she'd managed to beat those odds and not in a good way.
It didn't take long after that for Len to get her naked on her back, with her hands gripping her ankles and her asshole slick with lube. Not only did he have the advantage of knowing all her hypnotic programming, but deep down this had been Phoebe's exact fantasy for almost three whole years now, ever since her freshman year of college and her first discovery of Master Peace's site. She'd always wondered what she would do if someone found her secret weakness for anal sex, and now she knew--she switched off her brain, eyes rolling back until only the whites showed as her jaw went slack and her thoughts short-circuited, and gave in to the exquisite pleasure of being an anal slut.
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The Slim Gap Between Kim's Lust and Her Desire
It wasn't that Kim wanted to be hypnotized… exactly. Truth be told, she was actually kind of a little bit scared of what Alex was doing to her friend and roommate, even if she and Bella had sat down for a frank and open conversation about it and Bella swore blind this had been a fantasy of hers long before she met her new boyfriend--apologies, her new 'Master'. Because Kim could hear them sometimes, when she was walking past Bella's bedroom late at night, and she knew that one of the little games Alex loved to play was modifying Bella's memory. It wasn't hard to imagine that he could just edit out any inconvenient resistance on Bella's part.
That notion terrified her, and yet… and yet here she was again, standing just outside Bella's bedroom, listening to Alex murmur something in a soothing baritone almost too soft and gentle for Kim to hear while Bella repeated every word back to him in a breathy whimper that sounded like every sentence made her cum. Kim was once again pulling up her skirt, tugging aside her panties and rubbing her sopping cunt with one hand while her other teased her pale, tingling breasts, and making a desperate effort to stifle her tiny moans so that Alex didn't find out she was masturbating to the sound of him brainwashing her best friend. Because--because it was just so fucking hot, wasn't it?
It was so fucking hot to hear all the will and volition drain out of Bella's voice, to be replaced by blank and empty ecstasy that took away any question of whether to obey. It was so fucking sexy to hear those gasps and whimpers, the sound of a woman so completely ant totally focused on her own pleasure that she couldn't imagine anything more important. It was just… goddamn, it turned Kim on so much to hear Bella surrender, even though the notion of sinking into helpless trance like that intimidated her far too much to ever try it herself.
So she spied on Bella, and she spied on Alex, and sometimes when she was listening to them fuck she let herself fall into a hot, sexy daydream of getting so into the moment that she didn't even realize she Alex actually knew she was there all along. Kim didn't want to be hypnotized, and she knew that if he actually tried it she'd fight him, but it made her clitty throb so fucking hard to think about what might happen if he subtly, secretly phrased his induction to ensnare Kim's mind right along with Bella until she found herself wandering into their bedroom in a daze, her shirt open to the waist and her panties pulled to the side to expose her plump pink pussy lips. And then….
Ohhh fuck. And then she would have to be his. She'd have no choice. All Kim's determination to resist would simply melt into total collapse once Alex knew her secret weakness--the weakness he'd been secretly instilling into her lust-dazed brain this whole time without her realizing it, making Kim believe it was her own idea when she was actually growing more and more vulnerable to his control with every passing day. He would smile at Kim, tell her that if she really wanted to be a brainwashed slut like Bella then he'd be happy to arrange it, and Kim's mind would be so malleable from weeks of listening in on his sessions that she'd smile and nod and go blank. And then he'd make her forget she ever even wanted to be free, just like he was doing with Bella….
But no. That wasn't happening. Because if it was, she'd know it and she'd fight. Kim rubbed herself to another silent climax, no longer even wondering why Bella's bedroom door stayed open now at night.
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K-Tel Presents: Mind Control Gold!
"Hey Sally, got a cool new record for you," Mark called out, keeping his voice smooth and level even though he could feel his palms sweating so bad he had to fight the urge to wipe them on his new bell bottoms. "It's called 'Soothing Sounds', the guy at the store said it's real groovy. The perfect music to relax to, y'know?" He reached over and grabbed the stereo headphones, waggling them in invitation, and did his best to control his reaction when Sally gave a non-committal shrug and put them on before descending into the conversation pit to flop out on the couch opposite one of the bean bag chairs.
Mark surreptitiously ran his hands down his pants while she was putting on the big chunky headphones, then took the record out of its sleeve with the delicate reverence of someone disposing of a bomb--he hadn't actually gotten it from the record store, despite his claims of just a moment ago, instead obtaining it by mail from an ad in the back of his slightly dog-eared copy of Penthouse Letters. It cost him a ton of bread, and he'd probably need to work a month to replace it if he dropped or scratched it, but it would all be worth it if it did what it was supposed to. He set it gently in the hi-fi and closed the lid, watching for a moment with bated breath as the needle found its groove.
He joined Sally in the conversation pit, sitting in the bean bag chair and trying hard not to look like he was watching her, and for the first few minutes he honestly wondered if he hadn't been rooked. She seemed to be enjoying the music, sure, bobbing her head gently in time to the beat and smiling amiably, but none of the other stuff the ad promised was happening and Mark was seriously beginning to think he'd wasted thirty-five bucks he really couldn't afford. But then he started to see it. Sally's smile began to slowly fade from amiable to vacant, and her eyes started to develop a glassy, heavy-lidded stare as the subliminal messages in the music finally kicked in.
That didn't mean Mark was able to jump right in and start fucking or anything. According to the mimeographed sheet of instructions that came with the album, Sally needed to listen to the full record, both sides, before the hidden messages in the music fully saturated her brain and made her an obedient sex doll for him. But it definitely meant he could relax a little, maybe give himself a rub through his jeans while he watched Sally's fingers absently undo the buttons of her peasant blouse to expose her pert, braless titties. Once her head sagged forward and her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, he knew she wasn't going to resist or even notice what was happening to her.
By the time she squirmed out of her matching peasant skirt, shimmying off her panties to reveal a full, dark bush surrounding her slick pussy lips that made Mark realize for the very first time that Sally wasn't a natural blonde, he felt pretty comfortable taking his dick out and jacking it. What was she going to say if she woke up, that it was rude to expose himself? But she didn't wake up, not even when the hi-fi clunkily flipped the record over from side A to side B with a whir of activating mechanics, and when the LP started its second half she started to drool in vacant, helpless bliss and play with her tits. It was almost enough to make Mark shoot his load right then and there… but he knew she was going to wake up horny and ready to go. And that gave him the self-control to wait until the needle finally reached the end of its groove… and Sally settled perfectly into hers.
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Nadia Loops a Good Girl and Trains a Mouthslut
"Stuck in the loop, sweetie," Nadia purred, pushing her light brown fingers into Beverly's cunt with a smooth, patient rhythm carefully calculated to leave her submissive's arousal at a perfectly hypnotized simmer. "Feel those sensations repeating over and over, wearing a path into your mind and memory for me, going around and around in circles until you can bring them to mind whenever I tell you to." Bev's head went up and down in a vacant nod, her breath a series of heavy panting gasps as she focused her mesmerized attention on blowing up the feeling big and bright until it was the only thing inside her dazed and drowsy consciousness.
"And it just keeps looping, doesn't it, babe?" Nadia asked, withdrawing her fingers and pushing them into Beverly's slack and drooling mouth still coated with the musk of her arousal. There was a tiny mewling whimper of frustrated longing, but even after only a few weeks of training Bev's subconscious was already learning all sorts of new ways to obey her lover and it soon fed her all the sensory information she needed to convince herself she was still getting fucked. She slurped and sucked the digits sliding along her outstretched tongue, eyes crossing and uncrossing as her brain tricked and teased her into becoming an even better slut for her Mistress.
Nadia smiled, filling her voice with even more gentle, cooing praise. "That's right, it just keeps looping around and around, fucking you deeper and deeper until your mouth feels just like a pussy. You can feel me fucking you, can't you, sweetie? You can feel me pushing my fingers in and out, in and out, making you so wet and needy like a good girl. You want to cum so bad, don't you, baby doll?" Bev's head bobbed up and down in another nod, her whole body beginning to quake and tremble as the power of suggestion combined with almost two whole weeks of denial made her desperate to believe in the sensations flooding her leaky cunt right now.
Nadia knew it, too. "It's okay, babe, I'm going to let you. I'm giving you permission to cum, you hear me? Right here, right now, I am giving you permission to cum." Beverly didn't move, she remained frozen in trembling ecstasy, but she began to suck Nadia's fingers with ever more urgent intensity and the dominant woman could tell the training was taking hold. The need for release, combined with the programmed understanding that the only way she would get it was to give in to the suggestions and convince herself Nadia was actually fucking her pussy, was bridging the gap between imagination and reality… and it didn't hurt that being turned into a needy mouthslut who could only cum from getting her face fucked was high on the list of Bev's kinky fantasies. Conscious buy-in always helped, even if Beverly's consciousness was almost entirely absent at the moment.
It took almost five minutes of hypnotic coaxing this time before Beverly's moans and whimpers finally reached a crescendo, her eyes rolling back in her head as she experienced a hypnotically-induced climax that was the result of desperate, pent-up lust as much as anything else. But Nadia knew it would come faster and easier each time as Bev's obedient brain discovered that the suggestion really, really worked… and since her pussy remained a clenching, drooling mess of arousal, unsated by what was effectively a series of ruined orgasms, Nadia also knew her good girl would be very eager to please.
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Looking for Direction (in More Ways Than One)
"Come in." You open the back door, entering a small and cluttered kitchen with old mail on the table and too many posters on the walls and a half-finished mug of cold coffee sitting on the counter by the sink, and find a woman sitting there staring at you with a challenging cast to her gaze and one leg up on her tiny wooden chair. It's not hard to see she's got nothing on under her skirt--her pubic hair is a bright coppery red, and her swollen pink clit is big enough to protrude from between her flushed and glistening labia. You feel yourself blushing, the prickling heat on your cheeks making you want to scurry back out as quickly as you entered.
But you don't know where you'd go. So you force yourself to stammer out, "I, uh, uhm, I'm sorry to, to interrupt, but I… I'm afraid I'm a bit lost. I keep getting turned around, I, I don't, I w-was hoping for, for, um… directions?" It's a shambolic performance, embarrassing in its utter vapidity, but you can't keep your composure for even an instant. You keep meeting that intense, almost contemptuous stare, and the fierceness of it makes you flinch away only to realize the only other place your eyes are drawn to is the spectacle of the woman's exposed cunt. She doesn't seem even remotely embarrassed to be caught out like this, she isn't making the slightest effort to cover herself--it's almost like she wants you to see. Like she knows what it's doing to you and she enjoys it.
She lowers the mug, her expression stern, and just her demeanor makes you want to shrink down and stare at the ground and make yourself small and submissive in the face of her unnerving dominance. "And what made you stop at this house out of all the others, hmm? What made you come around to the back door instead of knocking at the front?" She doesn't do anything lewd or lascivious. She doesn't reach down and finger her exposed pussy or touch her stiff, swollen clit. But somehow, without changing her pose in the slightest, the woman becomes so potently sexual that you can feel yourself sweating through your clothes. She's challenging you to make sense of the situation, and your brain reels as you realize you can't.
"I, um, I--I, it just seemed, it, um…." You try to look around for somewhere to sit--it doesn't feel right to be taller than her, it doesn't really even feel right to be above eye level with her cunt right now--but of course you can't look away from her eyes. Not without staring at her exposed pussy, and that great big swollen clit that looks like it would fill your mouth about halfway… and why does it seem like you know exactly how it would taste? How did you know you needed to come to the back of the house? How did you get so thoroughly lost in what's supposed to be your own neighborhood? You feel the thump as much as hear it, and it's only the impact that makes you realize you've fallen to your knees.
She chuckles. "You're so cute when you're flustered. You know you won't have to keep babbling like that if you just put your mouth on my pussy, don't you?" The promise of relief in her voice is like water to a parched throat, and you gratefully crawl over to her and bury your face between her thighs. It's so much nicer not to think, not to worry about the constant swell of embarrassment and confusion bubbling over in your anxious brain, and even though you know this is how she always gets you it doesn't stop you from relaxing even deeper into trance as a welcome alternative to overthinking. And then you begin to suck on her clit, and even the awareness of awareness melts away.
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Looping Coral's Surrender
"I… I don't remember doing that." There was a tone of distracted amazement in Coral's voice as she stared down at her bare breasts, scooped out of her strapless evening gown and held cupped in her hands with a blatantly presentational affect to her body language. She tensed up for a moment, as if attempting to make her arms move, but the only thing she managed to achieve was to jiggle her tits lewdly for Paul's amused and highly interested gaze. Very gradually, a deep crimson blush began to spread across her pale cheeks… but she didn't stop. And Paul knew she couldn't.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, and Paul could tell the effort to control her wayward limbs was beginning to take up more and more of her attention because her murmur of, "I, I don't… when did I….?" had a muddled, vacant quality to it entirely at odds with the sharp-witted woman he'd initially struck up a conversation with. Her lips gradually slackened as she tried harder and harder to concentrate on the elusive memory of her apparent decision to put herself on display for him, and within moments her stare was becoming fixed and glassy--Paul knew what was happening to her, knew that her efforts to think back to her trance was returning her to that same state, but he saw no reason to steer her into a different course of action. Not when she looked so cute when she was lost and drowsy and beautifully fixated on her own tits like that.
Even as he watched, a thin stream of saliva began to bead up and trickle down Coral's vacantly parted lips onto the shelf of her cleavage, and the furrow of her brow gradually smoothed out as she started to stare down at her own tits not in an effort to untangle the skein of the mystery that befuddled her, but simply because they were jiggling and bouncing and it was easy for her to get lost in any repetitive motion right now. "…i … um…." she mumbled, her toneless voice slurred and sleepy, but that was as close as she got to any kind of coherent statement and it soon trailed off into mesmerized silence. Her will was giving out, and her thoughts along with it, and soon her mind belonged to him and him alone.
He gave it a good twenty count before speaking to Coral in a low, soothing voice, telling her, "That's a good girl. That's my good girl. Every time it gets easier and easier, every time it feels better and better to drop for me, doesn't it?" Coral nodded vacantly, or at least she tried to--her heavy head kept drooping forward further and further with every endeavored motion, until her chin sank down onto her collarbone and her eyes rolled back until only the whites were showing. Paul could tell she was awake now only in the loosest and most notional sense of the word, and a devilish grin crossed his face at the notion of all the pleasures to come by the end of the night and over so many nights to come.
"Better and better," he intoned. "Weaker and wetter. Easier and easier to sink for me. And wake." He watched Coral's eyelids flutter and dance as animation returned to her face, her muddled thoughts drifting back into her empty head more sluggishly than the last time. He gave her the chance to look up at him again, her dazed brain trying hard to take in the fuzzy details of the last hour or so, and just when it looked like she was beginning to gather enough of her wits to speak he said to her, "You know your tits are out, right?" Coral looked down at her chest again, taking in the exhibitionistic display as if for the very first time. And the loop began again.
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Shelley Loses a Head-to-Head Struggle
"W-wha--?" It wasn't much of a response, but then again Shelley had no real frame of reference to use to craft a reaction to this complete and total stranger's bizarre, bewildering actions. He'd just walked right up to her in the middle of the party, grabbing the sides of her head in his hands before pressing his forehead to hers like he was giving her the slowest, least painful headbutt imaginable, and she was so startled not only by the act itself but by the complete and total indifference of everyone else present that she only really managed the slightest yelp of startled confusion before her throat locked up into silence.
He chuckled, and Shelley heard him say, 'They won't help you,' but the oddest thing was the way she heard it--the voice didn't come through her ears, it sounded directly inside her own mind, resonating on the same frequency as the mental narrative of her thoughts but with an insistent strength that easily overpowered her own native ideas and concepts. She tried to jerk away, only to realize her muscles no longer obeyed her; she was being held paralyzed, trapped in a grip that captured not her body but her will, and she found herself moving in perfect lockstep with the stranger as he walked her backward in the direction of the unexpectedly vacant couch.
'You're the last one left, Shelley,' he intoned into her consciousness, letting go of her head and reaching down to simply tear her thin cotton t-shirt apart at the seams before pulling off her bra to leave her topless on the couch. Shelley tried to use her apparent freedom to escape, but she couldn't so much as twitch--something about the connection between them, skull to skull and forehead to forehead, was allowing him direct control of her nervous system and either she didn't know how to stop it or his will was simply far too strong to be resisted. Within moments he had her skirt up around her waist and her panties down around her ankles.
'I've been taking them like this all night,' he told her, his mental voice sly and smirking. 'I've been getting them alone, one by one, imposing my will on them and turning them into my obedient little puppets, but I don't need to keep it a secret with you. You're the last one left, and I can just take you like this, right out in front of everyone, and the only thing they can do is watch and smile and agree with each other about how good it is to see you join them in mental slavery. Doesn't that just make you so wet, Shelly dear?' He reached down between her thighs to brush his fingers against her pussy, and even though she wanted to argue that it was his doing and not her desire she certainly couldn't argue against the physical evidence. Her cunt was practically drooling.
Shelley didn't know whether he forced her hips into motion, or whether he simply released them from his mental domination and it was the pent-up lust he'd instilled into her obedient mind that made her grind her cunt against his rubbing fingers. All she knew was that she couldn't stop herself from building rapidly to a humiliating orgasm under his touch, a keening whimper escaping her throat as the climax hit, and whatever feeble willpower she had evaporated when she came. Shelley felt her mind shift into the new and permanent pattern of submission, and when he finally moved his head away and her body became hers once again all she could do was babble in gratitude for the opportunity to become his latest slave.
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