justlurking

Just to be explicitly clear, this is a kink blog and not everything you see here is indicative of my actual real life views.

I am in actuality very different than my posts would lead you to believe. I have a lot of fucked up kinks and thoughts and this blog is my space to express those and mostly exists for me to catalogue posts I enjoy. If you find my blog reprehensible, feel free to block me and move on. I will never make anyone expose themselves to myself or my content.

Slurping, head bobbing, she eagerly swallowed it all and then went to work cleaning his cock, just like how she knew she was supposed to: licks and slurps and happy little mumblings. And it was while she was doing this that something caught her attention.

Her owner was watching television. He often did this with her by his feet. It was how he liked to relax, he said. Sometimes she just knelt, awaiting a command, and sometimes she was obeying a command. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t her choice. This time obviously she was obeying a command, and it was thanks to her position between his legs that she could just about see the screen, off to the side.

Normally none of what she saw there made much sense to her and normally it didn’t matter because it wasn’t for her, but something about this caught her attention, which confused her a little bit. It was confusing because she didn’t know why it would have caught her attention. Just something from the corner of her eye had made her look. Then it happened again and, since she was watching properly (mostly properly) she saw why: there was a girl on the screen she recognised. 

Or thought she recognised, at least. Something about her was familiar.

Whatever was on the screen was showing clips of this girl, in a costume, flying around a bit, or standing and looking strong and confident. It looked very strange to her, and it didn’t help her understand what about the girl was nagging so much at her.

The chyron running beneath it all read:

“Whatever happened to Justice Girl?”

“Master, do I know her? She feels like… someone…” she said, brow furrowed. Thinking was hard, and remembering was basically like thinking - her owner did both of those for her, which was why she was asking him. She hoped he would make the thinking stop. Her head was starting to throb.

“No,” he said, idly, tapping her on the head to keep her going. She managed one lick before the screen (and the throbbing in her head) distracted her. Such a ditz.

“But she seems familiar…”

Reaching down, her owner put a finger on her chin and tipped her head so she was looking up at him and not at the screen. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. The moment his eyes met hers the whole world shrank down. There was nothing else. Only him.

“You don’t know her.”

His words filled her head. The throbbing stopped. It was the truth.

“I don’t know her,” she said, dreamily, dumb smile on her face. It was so much easier knowing what she was supposed to think, and so obvious now. Of course she didn’t know her. Master said, and so she didn’t.

“You were always my toy.”

“I was always your toy…”

“You were always my pet.”

“I was always your pet…”

“You were never anything else.”

“I was never anything else…”

Putting a hand on top of her head, he turned it so she was facing the television again. She stared, eyes empty, her face blank, a big dumb smile spread across it. She saw the girl on the screen, the girl who was totally and utterly identical to her, and she felt nothing. Just a stranger.

“Do you know her?” He asked.

“I don’t know her,” she sighed happily. It was the truth.

Her owner smiled and sat back again. It was a lot easier doing that, now.

“Good girl. You can touch yourself.”

Squealing with glee and babbling thanks she very quickly shuffled back on the floor so he would have a better view, spread her legs, and started doing just that, panting and moaning and being totally open and on display for him the way she’d been trained to be, the only way she could even think of being.

Mouth hanging ever-so-slightly agape. That happens when she's doing this. There's a string of drool stretching down from her chin.

Stretching. Drops.

Drips into the puddle already there between her legs. Mostly drool.

Mostly.

The brainwashing is daily. To help fix some bad habits and to help introduce some new, better ones. She can't remember any of that, obviously. As far as she's concerned nothing has changed at all. She's always loved sucking cock. She's always dropped to her knees on command. She was always like this. This is just normal.

And of course it is. Now.

Good girls accept their brainwashing of course, whether or not they believe in it, and so she listens every day, putting the headphones on and kneeling and very quickly just zoning out completely. After an hour or two he usually comes and takes them off and a few minutes later she gives an especially big blink and looks around and wonders what happened.

Usually. Today though he came in a little early.

He waves a hand in front of her face, but there's nothing. She's gone. He even taps her nose but all it does is make another drip of drool fall sooner than it would have. She is very gone. This is good.

He pulls down his flies. Still nothing. Only when he rests the head of his cock on her bottom lip does she respond. Her mouth opens, she groans, but her eyes are still empty. She groans deeper as she slips in.

Brainwashing and cock fill her head. The only things in her head right then: the words in her ears and him. She can't think about it, obviously, but if she could she'd know it was perfect. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else could matter.

The groaning is constant. The drooling is so much worse. She's sucking as a reflex but really he's just fucking her face, hands on her head pulling her down to meet him as he thrusts. Using her to get off. The voices in her ears and in her mind tell her this is good, this is what she's for, that she needs this, that she wants this. She has to listen. It's not her choice. It makes her better.

drunk. dazed. drooling.

they lay me back, push a toy inside me, and start asking me questions.

easy ones at first.

“what’s your name?”

“who do you belong to?”

but i keep messing up.

slurring. blinking. whimpering.

and every time i get it wrong, they twist my nipple or yank my hair or push the vibrating dildo deeper

“you’re better when you don’t talk, huh?”

i nod.

“just something to feel with. not something to think with.”

i nod harder.

“say thank you.”

and i do.

even as i cry and shake and drip into their sheets

because it’s not punishment.

it’s correction.

and it makes me feel like i’m being shaped into something better.

Eventually the quiet got to her. Him saying nothing felt like him being smug. She didn't look at his face (her eyes didn't want to leave his cock) but she could imagine he looked smug. She knew that look.

It made her clench. Every time.

Even just thinking about it did.

"I'm not doing it for me," she said. "I don't enjoy this. I only do it because you ask me to. That's all."

She didn't know why she was explaining this, he knew already. It was the arrangement. And that he hadn't actually asked her this specific time and she had in fact asked him if she could was hardly important - it was still about him, not her. This wasn't her choice, really. She agreed, yes, but wouldn't have done it on her own.

She didn't enjoy this. Not at all.

"This is just for you. This is just me being nice. Very nice. Aren't I nice? Cocks are just... cocks are... I don't actually like doing this."

Her face was hot. He was definitely smirking at her, she could feel it. He always did that when she explained how this worked. Why did he always have to make it weird like that?

She took him into her mouth. Not because she wanted to, just so she wouldn't have to keep talking, that was all. To shut herself up and stop babbling about nothing. The groan she made wasn't important. It didn't mean anything.

That his hand coming to rest on her head sent a shiver right through her body didn't mean anything either. It was just a surprise. That was all. She just hadn't expected it.

Feeling safe and happy was normal. Didn't mean she liked this. It was just a nice evening, that was all. Having a mouth full of his cock wasn't important. That it happened yesterday wasn't important. That it would probably happen tomorrow as well wasn't important.

Nothing had changed inside her. Nothing.

His hand on her head was pushing her down, slowly but firmly. The first time he'd down that she'd pushed back but now she knew it was what he wanted and since this was about him and since she was so nice she knew to let it happen. It was easier now anyway. She'd got better at it.

Down and down, a little more second by second.

With a sudden last push he hit the back. She fought the gag. This was for him. She fought it and he held her there. He was counting up the seconds, she knew. Letting her go a little further each time. She'd lost count by the time he pulled her off, gasping, drooling.

He gave her a pat.

"Good girl," he said and she shivered again, moaning this time. She was gulping air.

"I dont - ah - I don't... it's not..." she panted.

He tapped her on the nose with his finger.

"Shh," he went.

And so she shushed.

He knew anyway. She knew he knew. He knew she was just being nice. He obviously did. He knew it didn't mean anything. How could it? She didn't like it. She couldn't like it. She just did it because...

Because...

"Good girls don't think," he said.

She didn't notice she'd started stroking him again, hand sliding up his slick length, up and down. Once she did she didn't stop. He wasn't done yet, and this was about him.

Not her.

"This feels good. You want to feel good. It's better to sink than to think."

You try to repeat the words -- it's a habit now, you don't know when you started -- but there's something in your mouth. You feel it blocking your tongue, blocking your lips.

You don't feel it for long, at least not as an obstacle. Soon you're back to sucking. The sucking draws you deeper. You don't know if you're thinking that or if someone is telling it to you. There aren't enough thoughts in your mind to combat it. The words pulse in your head, settling there.

It's better to sink than to think.

The sucking draws you deeper.

Come on up now, pet.

At first you don't even register the words as a command. It takes long seconds for you to begin to emerge from trance. Even then, you feel dazed and distant. Some of your thoughts are not your own.

Which ones? It doesn't matter. You have thoughts now, and that means you're awake.

But it's better to sink than to think.

But the sucking will draw you deeper.

“What did you do… to me…”

“Nothing much. Just a little trick. I heard about it somewhere.”

“I can’t… what?”

“I did wonder whether it’d work on you. I sort of thought you’d be too smart for it to work. Maybe I was wrong about you? Maybe. Who cares? What matters is that it did work. Feeling a little heated, Poppy?”

“Y-yes.”

“Of course you are, that’s only natural. It’s only natural for poor, hormone-addled little girls to get flustered with a bit of male attention. It’s giving you butterflies, isn’t it Poppy?”

“Yes.”

“Right in your tummy, right here, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes.”

His cock was right there!

He’d had her kneel right between his legs and had her get in as close as she could, and normally that meant she’d be taking him in her throat by now. But not today. Today, he’d said to look up at him, and not to look away.

It had been maybe two seconds before the throbbing, pounding rush of need inside her got almost too much to bear. She’d fidgeted, squirmed, and her eyes had darted down. That had made him tut, which had given her butterflies, and he’d put a finger under her chin to keep her head up.

“Focus,” he’d said, his eyes on hers.

At once her desperation mellowed. She still wanted to suck his cock, obviously - oh, how badly she wanted to - but the selfish need to go over what he’d told her drained away. This wasn’t about her, this wasn’t for her. She was focused. Focused on him. It got easier.

But it didn’t get easy.

He could tell she was trying though, and he smiled.

“Good girl,” he said. “I just want to watch your eyes empty. They’re so busy right now. Good girls don’t think, but sometimes they have a lot buzzing in their heads. We can stop that. You can be blank. Blank feels good.”

That pressed a button. Another happy, fluffy wave of quiet contentment washed through her, and some of that buzzing he’d talked about just winked away. She even sighed.

“Feels good…” she said, more like an exhale than actually speaking.

“There you go. Focus. Good girl. I can already see your eyes going quieter. That’s it. Don’t look away, just focus. You’re safe. Good girls don’t think.”

“Good… girls… don’t think…”

Repeating wasn’t a conscious choice. She didn’t have much consciousness left.

“So easy for me. Perfect. Thoughts just go. It’s like wiping dust from a screen. Swipe and gone. Don’t look away. Focus. Blank and empty. Good girl. Aww, look at you.”

Too many words to repeat. Just fluff in her head. She couldn’t look away. His eyes. Words.

Blank. Safe. Empty.

Focus.

He used his free hand to take his cock out and let it rest - hot, heavy, and hard - on her bottom lip. A tiny fraction of her brain worked enough to notice this but she didn’t whine. The whining had stopped. Needy, selfish. She wasn’t selfish. She was a good girl. She was his. She was for him. Instead she just opened her mouth, just enough, and kept her eyes on his.

“That took a lot less than I thought it would,” he said, grinning now. She just waited.

Removing the finger from under her chin he moved it up and gave her a tap right between the eyes. The contact sent a shiver through her and the tiniest of moans escaped.

“Focus on what’s in front of you,” he said, sitting back.

Her eyes swam down, going crosseyed a little. Cock.

Crime: Refusing to give head