Deep Sleep

submission is inherent.

submission doesn’t mean that you are weak.

submission isn’t defined by toys or playtime.

What it does mean is that you have chosen to give another, the

most incredible part of you, which is the ability to open yourself

completely and without hesitation.

This doesn’t come easily, nor demanded.

Another is given this gift, because of love and trust and respect.

And because of the shared love & trust & respect.

One will submit always and in all ways.

Tara didn’t want to look.

As soon as she’d walked in the door, as soon as she saw it, she knew. This pattern - dancing across her laptop screen, the clashing colors lighting up the otherwise dark bedroom - was what had gotten her roommates. This was the thing that had snared their minds, changed them, invaded them. This was what had fucked them up, turned them into giggling, horny zombies.

Tara didn’t want to look.

She knew that if she watched it, she’d get sucked in. The pattern would enrapture her somehow, pin her in place and hold her down until it saturated her brain. She could feel it already, a horrible suction dragging her towards it. She tried to turn away, but her head was trapped in the screen’s gravity. She tried to cover her eyes, but she couldn’t quite seem to manage it - her arms were too heavy.

Tara didn’t want to look.

She was sure that if she did, she’d end up just like Mary and Ellen. They’d been all hard edges and loud opinions and aggressive styles before. Now, they were soft, demure, silky, yielding. They smiled all day, dressed in pretty pastels and brought home an endless string of guys to fawn over. There didn’t seem to be anything left of them except compliant giggles, open legs, and vacant smiles. And if Tara didn’t look away, she’d be just like them.

Tara didn’t want to look.

She didn’t want to be a bimbo. She didn’t want to have her mind emptied out. She could feel it happening already - her resistance felt brittle and hollow. She was sitting down at her desk - when did that happen? - still half-covering her eyes, futile, pointless. She was wet. She was breathing soft and shallow. She was slipping, falling, tumbling into the screen, and she felt herself opening up, her mind giving way and unfurling, all the precious contents of it spilling into the void, and it felt so good, so freeing to just lose everything, to be erased like a chalkboard, emptied like a bucket. She sighed, softly, and she knew she had lost, and that she was going to change, and she couldn’t feel anything but joy about it. She wanted more.

make sure as her master you try out each one to see how it feels so you understand the difficulty of the punishment and can Gage how severe they are. also make sure you always keep her safety in mind.

Specific Unpleasant Chore