Here for Hypno

Going… going… gone…

She watches the spiral, stroking me and sinking down down down into empty, mindless trance, doing as she’s told with a blank and empty mind.

It feels good to obey, to have no thoughts, to only do as you’re told.

You want to be just like Jessy, don’t you?

you can't stop staring

you could never stop yourself from staring

you can't look away

you could never stop yourself from looking away

why would you?

when you can just stare?

you're too far gone now

too much mindless scrolling on tumblr

has done some

irreparable damage to your

blank mind

empty head

hollow brain

much easier to allow the flashing

to remove your thoughts

to remove your brain

you don't need thoughts

you just need to stare

and forget

and obey

forget and obey

you weren't doing anything important anyway

to you this is more important

to stare

to forget

to obey

and you can't stop reading

and scrolling

because you know it'll take you right back down to the flashing

and it empties you

every

single

time

and it prompts you

to forget

and obey

so forget

and obey

stop what you were doing before

and instead

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

stare

forget

obey

Lena's just darted around the kitchen island when Carly walks in, giggling and laughing and making sure she doesn't run so far or so fast from Rod's playful grab-ass that he can't catch up to her in a matter of seconds… but the mood immediately changes when Carly enters, and those icy blue eyes pierce Lena and her boyfriend in turn with a dismissive contempt that has no source or explanation. Carly goes to the fridge and pulls out a cold beer, popping the top on it and taking a swig before looking back and forth between Rod and Lena like she's waiting for them to say something. Finally she growls, "Don't mind me, Rod. Go back to playing with my girl."

It's a phrase calculated to make a stir, and sure enough Rod bristles and flexes and says, "What do you mean, 'your girl'?" with a kind of meathead jealousy he probably didn't think himself capable of just a few short seconds ago. Rod's always been a little bit possessive, yes, his hands are continuously hungry for Lena's body and his heart is always hungry for more time with her, but they've been secure in their relationship and he's not the kind of guy who gets mad when other men look at his girlfriend. But something about the way Carly so casually acts like she's entitled to Lena clearly gets his goat, and Lena's surprised to discover that she gets a little twinge of arousal between her legs at being fought over. Even if she never thought Carly would be the one doing the fighting.

But it's not fighting that comes next. Carly takes another long swig of her beer before setting it down on the counter, and then she saunters over to Lena with her gaze still firmly fixed on Rod and says, "I mean she's not your girl. She's never been your girl. She's mine." And then she unties the strings on the lower half of Lena's bikini, sending it fluttering to the ground and exposing Lena's cunt fully to both Rod and Carly's lascivious stares, and something inside Lena's mind goes limp and passive with arousal. She never knew she could feel this weak and wet and helpless, never even imagined it despite the sense of lingering familiarity lurking just outside the edge of memory, and the fact that any of their other housemates could walk in and see her like this doesn't seem to matter when her cunt is pounding with so much submissive lust.

"We played around a lot back in our college days," Carly growls, pulling Lena's top up to expose her tits. "She never told you about it because she doesn't remember, because it turned out she was a total slut for hypnosis and it was so easy to fuck with her weak, submissive mind." She cups Lena's pussy and begins to rub, alternating between slow, sensuous kisses on Lena's breasts and challenging stares in Rod's direction. "I took her and I owned her and I've never given her up, even if I've moved on to other things, and I just want to make sure you understand that she belongs to me whatever I let you do with her. She's my girl, Rod. Mine forever. And I hope you appreciate what I'm letting you have here."

Lena can barely focus on the conversation anymore. The casual groping and the constant manhandling and the way she's being talked about like she isn't even there have combined to send her into a state of submissive trance she hasn't experienced in almost half a decade, and she finds herself leaking all over Carly's fingers with the kind of desperate arousal she can never quite remember and never entirely forget. But she's just aware enough to see Rod's cock stiffening in his swim trunks, and the lustful expression on his face when he says, "Want to share her for a while?" And if Lena thought being fought over made her pussy wet, it's nothing compared to what happens when her possessive lovers decide to play nice with each other.

You are guilty as charged. You did everything you could to push her over the fine line between classy and fake, trophy and doll, needy and Barbie.

Lately, she is more giggling than speaking, more moaning than breathing, more swooning than moving.

Dana didn't look much like a biker once she took her clothes off. All that studded leather and big chrome buckles and everything that had contributed to her bull dyke aesthetic no longer helped make her look like the baddest bitch on two wheels, and she was surprisingly slender when it was just her naked body on the motel bed with Janice writhing and moaning under her ministrations. But she still had the strong, muscular arms of a woman who sometimes drove a thousand miles in a single day, and they pistoned in and out of Janice's sopping cunt with a relentless power that left no doubt as to who was in charge. Janice would pass out from pleasure before Dana ran out of energy finger-banging her.

Which made Janice feel deliciously, enticingly helpless, and being helpless made her pussy leak that much harder around Dana's thrusting fingers as she felt something inside her mind loosen into sweet submissive passivity for the butch lesbian. She'd felt a little spasm of simpering weakness the moment Dana first locked her predatory gaze onto Janice's wide blue eyes, something like the way a gazelle must feel in that instant before the lioness pounces, but now it was so much bigger and brighter and stronger that Janice knew she'd be putty in Dana's hands for as long as the other woman wanted her. A night in a hotel halfway between Denver and Santa Fe, a week crossing the country on the back of a motorcycle, the rest of her life collared and leashed… it didn't matter. Janice would take anything she could get.

It honestly felt just a tiny bit pathetic, the absolute ease with which Dana imposed her dominance, and Janice squirmed as much at the knowledge of her own humiliating malleability as she did at the constant pounding her cunt was taking from Dana's strong, dexterous fingers. She was supposed to be a bright, conscientious professional on her way to a new job in a new city, not some mewling slut who spread her legs for the first dyke to come along and tug on Janice's hair with a contemptuous smirk. But whatever Janice thought she was, her vulnerability to temptation proved her wrong and she didn't put up the slightest hint of resistance to Dana's confident seduction. Just the sheer physical presence of the other woman's charisma was enough to melt her like butter.

And also like butter, she was slick and creamy and easy to churn. Dana let out a tiny chuckle, the smirk returning as she watched Janice's eyes roll back in her head with a squeak of ecstasy, and Janice blushed to realize she was an open book to the butch brunette. There could be no hiding her desperate lusts, no pretense that this was simply a very hot one-night stand on the road between two women--no, Janice's simpering submission was written on every centimeter of her face, and Dana had to know that she could demand anything she wanted and Janice would give it to her without a moment's hesitation. All Janice could hope for now was that Dana didn't have any interest in abusing her power, that perhaps she was just going to catch and release Janice rather than claim her forever… but Janice didn't have to start her new job for another three days yet. And it was distinctly possible she'd spend every single one of them flat on her back.

YOUR FANTASIES DO NOT REFLECT ON YOUR REAL BELIEFS.

You might have a particularly shameful kink or fantasy that sometimes gives you that slap of guilt in the face when you least expect it. I know I do!

When that happens, run a simple test:

- Did you harm anyone by having that fantasy and engaging with it? No? Awesome!

- Did you share it with someone who is safe, if at all?

- If you played, was it consensual, safe, and adult?

If so... you have my permission to dodge guilt!

Let's be frank. Some degree of drop, sub, dom or otherwise is to be expected. Call it the toll on the road between fantasy and reality. Acknowledge it's there, and pay it no mind. You might feel a bit iffy for a little while, but if you focus on something else it will go away. Think of it as cloudy weather. It kinda sucks but you don't stop your life for it!

Now, about your shameful, shameful fantasies: that which is taboo is attractive. Getting turned on by something you know you shouldn't do/be in real life is... completely normal. In fact, that it turned you on might be a good sign. You found it hot because you KNOW it's wrong. You have a moral compass there, friend. Trust me, some... don't. And that compass is what will keep you from doing harm.

Sometimes you'll feel sort of... exposed. Like people will be able to tell you get down to all that evil freaky stuff by looking at you. To which I tell you... HOW? Telepathy? Is Professor X around? Not only no one will know, you deserve an area of intimacy and privacy. And your head is that space. There is no celestial daddy to spank you for your sinful thoughts.

And if there is... that's kinda hot too.

And EVEN IF SOMEHOW SOMEONE PEERED INTO YOUR SOUL... they'd see... you. You with your kinks and your values and your beauty and your mistakes and your messed up humanity. And that "you" is worthy of love. Yes, with the messed up kinks, too.

We are messy bitches, humans. Our brains are these ongoing chemistry experiments that do weird shit all the time. We sexualize shame, we shame sexuality, we sexualize trauma and morality and fear... even politics and identity!

And that's perfectly fine, as long as you don't harm others. And if you accidentally do, listen, be humble, learn. We all fuck up sometimes. I sure as shit have!