A gay

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"Back with us?" Niamh smiled down at him, something amused in her gaze.

Idris nodded. He knew the idea for today's scene. Or he thought he did. He'd been pushing Niamh for months to be meaner to him in the suggestions she'd give him while under. Perhaps today they'd finally go into the more extreme ideas he'd had.

"Are you sure? You're not too far out of it are you?"

"No, no, I'm fine, I feel fine," Idris said, all of a sudden feeling worried.

Niamh's brow scrunched up slightly. "I might have been a little intense while you were under. Can you count to ten for me, so I know you're lucid enough to continue?"

Sitting up and trying to project a bit less of the airs of a deeply relaxed, mesmerised subject, Idris did so. "One two three five six seven eight nine ten." Then he noticed Niamh's reaction.

Her face had lost its worried pallor, her mouth struggling to keep in her giggles. He should have known. This was part of the scene.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Nothing," Niamh tittered.

"No, it's something, what was the trigger?" Idris asked, mentally going through everything he could think of. He had all his clothes on, he wasn't aroused (yet), he wasn't even doing anything odd with his hands.

Niamh took a drink then placed the glass back down on the coffee table. This seemed to calm her down. "Just, try to count to ten again."

Okay, that narrowed it down. Was he missing any of the numbers? "One two three five six seven eight nine ten." Niamh turned her head to hide her laughter. It didn't help, Idris still heard her snorts.

"One two three five six seven eight nine ten!"

Niamh kept laughing.

"Nothing's wrong! Are you trying to trick me?"

Niamh turned back around, wiping her eyes. "I think I already have," she said around her spasms. "Try this, hold your hands out and count your fingers."

Idris did so. "One two three five six seven eight nine ten. Eleven." He stared, dumbfounded, at his hands like he'd never seen them before. "One two three five six seven eight nine ten." He didn't get an extra finger. He just had one left over after counting to ten. "How did you do that? Am I counting one twice?"

"How about this. I'm going to count the numbers you say on my fingers."

"One." She held up her thumb. As if he was doing a good job.

"Two." Index finger.

"Three." Middle finger. If he was capable of disrespecting her at this point, he'd love to show her that one.

"Five." She held up her ring finger and Idris finally felt like something was up. "Wait, there's five fingers on one hand. You should have all your fingers up."

"And how many fingers do I have up right now?"

This was the moment he worked it out. Later, he'd be so embarrassed that it took him this long to figure out the trick. "Umm... it's not five fingers."

"It is not."

"It's more than 3 fingers."

"Yes it is. Do you know the word for that?"

"...nope." He was infuriated. There's a number between 3 and 5. He just couldn't think of the word for it.

He couldn't think of the English word for it.

"Un deux trois quatre cinq, quatre!"

Niamh looked genuinely surprised. "That’s impressive, darling! I didn't think you'd bypass the suggestion like that."

"One two three quatre five six seven eight nine ten! Quatre fingers!" Idris felt a well of pride rise in him. That's right! He is smart! An innovator!

"I guess I'll just have to erase that one too..." Niamh said and dragged her hand over his eyes, triggering him back down into trance again.

----

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses for the second time. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"We've done this before," he said, groggily.

"We have. Count to ten for me."

"Noooo..." Idris said, nuzzling further into Niamh's lap.

She snapped her fingers a few times, saying "Up, up up! More energy now." It wasn't said in the tone of the order it was.

Idris sat up, coming face to face with his hypnotist. Feeling suddenly very awake was weird when he was still blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"Count to ten for me."

"One two three five seven eight- wait, there's a number between 3 and 5."

"There is."

Idris whispered the french under his breath. "Un deux trois cinq sept huit... trois cinq. Noooo, Niamh, nooo!"

"You don't get that number. In English or French."

"Well, jokes on you, French isn't the only language I can count in. 四!"

"And I'll take that one too. Sleep for me," Niamh whispered in his ear, gripping his jaw to angle to side of his head towards her and dragging her other hand over his eyes and dropping him down down do w n...

----

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses for the third time. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"Count to ten for me."

"One two three... أربعة five seven eight ten."

"What language is that?" Niamh asked, thoroughly amused.

"Arabic. Started learning it recently. It's slow though, I hate having to read cursive." Idris grimaced, his already broken brain remembering the pain of deciphering joined letters.

Niamh petted his hair. "It's nice, sounds pretty in your mouth. I almost feel bad for taking that one too."

"Please don't."

Idris watched a moment of concern pass over Niamh's face. "Real talk, do you want me to stop?"

"No. I like you being mean like this. Kind of want you to be meaner."

"How so?"

"I know you're making me forget things. I want you to make me forget more. Make me dumber and hotter for you. Wanna stop being able to tell what you're doing to me." Idris didn't know if his arousal was part of the "Real talk" trigger, or if he actually got off on being forced to explain his mind but the longer he begged, the more squirmy he became.

Niamh petted his hair some more and Idris remembered some of the kittenspace scenes they'd had recently. He let out a happy trill as he leaned into the touch.

"Okay, sweet boy, what you're going to do is count your fingers again. In English please."

Idris raised his hands again. He didn't want to look away from his hypnotist's face but he needed to to count. It couldn't be helped.

"One two three five," he grimaced, knowing he was missing a number, "seven eight ten." There were 3 fingers left over. The knowledge that he was missing more went straight to the pleasure pooling in his stomach. He looked up at his hypnotist, not sure if he wanted to beg for an explanation or for worse treatment.

"I'm going to put you into trance again, sweet boy. Are you okay with that?"

Idris nodded enthusiastically. Niamh dragged her hand over his eyes again and he relaxed back down into trance.

----

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses. He didn't know how many times this was now. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"How many fingers am I holding up, darling?"

Niamh was holding fingers up.

"Those are fingers."

Niamh smiled encouragingly. "And how many of them are there?"

The question didn't make sense to Idris. "You're holding up fingers."

"That’s right. Can you count them?"

Idris knew the answer to that question.

"No."

"No?"

"No, I can't count them." Idris felt the warmth of the correct answer wash over him.

His hypnotist put her fingers down. "And why can't you count my fingers?"

"Because I have no numbers."

Maybe you hear a suggestion you didn't consent to, or a third party interrupts, or literally anything at all happens that makes you need to take pause.

For example, I had a friend who one time dropped me and played a game called "and Secret won't come back up until I and only I say so" as a power play move in a switch fight/resistance challenge with my wife. I was legit so deep down there that when my wife tried to snap me out she couldn't, I just could not do anything until he said so, I was that controlled in that moment. Now, in theory if something happened and I had to I COULD come back out but in that moment I had enough trust in the situation I could choose to let this play out and it genuinely felt like all the control left my body. It was great.

the main way we see drooling is as within the context of either dumbification play, or deep trance/max dissociation play.

there it represents and exemplifies choosing to not care about being presentable and about the effort it takes to do so. to the point where not only the conscious effort but even the most basic effort we put into performing for society is consciously being chosen to not be done, as an act of liberation.

this is since if drooling is a focus in play, it is hard at least for us to create a situation where it isn't done consciously.

if a scene is done where part of the point is realizing afterwards you were drooling, we would consider the drooling then to be more of an addition than the main thing of the scene.

there are also some other drooling dynamics, like those using the association of drool with desire (let us not forget what the iconic pavlov experiment was literally about) which are also cool, and drooling can also be used there as a "your body shows what you want sven if you are trying to hide it" dynamic.

Tempted to actually put this on spotify so I can secretly stream it at work...