Dirty Slut

The original, infamous MindMelter. 

Use it responsibly. But use it well ;). 

If anyone wants their own copy I can see if I can send it to you through e-mail. Just drop me an ask. 

Oh and reblog this if you found it useful :)

I introduced this to so many people even before I properly met my doll.

And, of course, this is so ingrained in her mind that I’m sure she’s already repeating some of the mantras in her head…

A lot of people are downright in love with this file. Hell, I know I’ve personally used it on my doll so much that she still unconsciously repeats some of its mantras while she’s deep under trance.

I never really knew where it came from, and just assumed that it was this legendary thing that’s made its rounds so often that everyone just forgot its origin.

Turns out, it was made by @neuralnetsandprettypatterns!

They brought it to my attention the other day, and simply asked for me to credit them. Honestly, I don’t think that’s enough. The Mind Melter is such a huge part of the hypno-kink community that I think we need to do more.

Everything. Treat women respectfully. Earn and spend money. Travel. Eat. Fuck.

Older men have patience, in and out of the bedroom. Foreplay doesn’t start (or only last) five minutes after you get naked. With us, it often starts hours in advance and never really stops. We understand that your mind and your heart are the most important sexual organs and we know how to expose and nurture them.

Older men want to draw out your pleasure. Not simply so that you can have a bigger, better orgasms (and you will), but because they enjoy watching what they do to you, and how your body reacts. There’s no wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.

Older men believe in ladies first, and often. Our goal isn’t to simply cum and be done. And even getting that one orgasm out of you is not a goal. We love foreplay, we don’t mind working hard for your orgasms — plural. We take pride when we provide orgasm after orgasm that leaves you shaking, breathless and weak. Personally, I like when you lose count. And believe me… I will make you count them out. I’ll even let you pick the number you want ahead of time. And then I’ll obliterate it, no matter which number you pick.

Older men, in general also have better control over their bodies, whether it’s experience or maturity… we take longer to finish. Older men can give you multiple orgasms, spend hours on foreplay, have sex as long as you want, changing positions fifteen times, and still not have an orgasm of their own.

Young men don’t necessarily grasp that the point of sex isn’t necessarily to get yourself off. For us, sex is about the connection, the intimacy, and the shared pleasure.

For me, cumming is nice, but it’s not necessary for me to have an absolutely amazing time. For me, it’s all about my ability to provide you with pleasure and my absolute command over your experience, whether it’s a quickie or a six hour solid afternoon fuck session.

Every like is one minute of edging

Every share is one day of denial

I’m experimenting and exploring. Like most people, I post what I like. I will not post pictures of myself.

I’m a well-educated professional in the Chicago area.

I like the idea of females being treated differently than males, in that males could own them and females would be treated like objects or pets. I know this is not realistic, and of course not how I think the world should be, but it’s something I like to fantasize about.

I’m liberal and religious, believe in equal treatment of people, and support movements toward justice.

However, it really turns me on to think about a man (my boss, boyfriend, or a stranger) telling me what I can and can’t do. Maybe he wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom for hours at work and would make me drink water all day.

I love the idea of there being a dress code for women, for work, for the gym, for the pool, etc. In a perfect world, we would be forced to dress sexy at work, in miniskirts, extremely low-cut tops, and super high heels, which I hate, but as a female, I would have to do things I don’t want to do all time. Undergarments would be limited to push-up peek-a-boo bras, tiny thongs, or nothing at all. There would be no such thing as sexual harassment at work. Women could be hired as office sluts and men would be allowed to touch or grope any female co-worker. Women cannot refuse any advance, and would be punished for refusing, however the boss or co-worker sees fit. Even an underling can punish a female, even if she is his boss. He may take part or all of her clothing, invite others to help gang bang her, or take embarrassing pictures of her for the company website.

At the gym, we should have to wear a tiny bra and shorts (like a bikini) or nothing at all. While at the gym and on the machines (especially the ones that make you spread your legs or lift them in the air), men would be allowed to touch and grope us, even reach inside our clothing. There would be no bathroom for women at the gym (maybe even none in public at all). We are forced to hold it while working out, even as the machines make us put more pressure on our bladders. The men would be well-aware that we have to pee, and would tease our pee holes and press on our bladders. If we leak at all or have an accident, we would get punished with smacks to the pussy and getting gang raped.

It was late Saturday night, and the crowd in the busy lounge was always rowdy this time of night. Buisness-casual men and women laughed and talked loudly, filling up the hotel lounge with noise. Julia hated working this shift. All the drunks protesting getting cut off, the lingering looks of men at tables, the glares from their female companions… and it was always chaos.

Around midnight, as she passed a table, someone reached out and slapped her ass! She was ready to kick someone out, but by the time she turned with her tray of drinks, she could not determine who it had been. Fucking creep. There were always lots of patrons who “accidentally” brushed her thighs, ass, or breasts as she walked by, but no one was usually so forward. Except sometimes her boss. God, she hated this job.

By 1:45 in the morning, most of the guests had trickled out, and she was left cleaning the massive mess they left behind. Last call had been announced, and only three men were left, half slumped at their table. The kitchen was long closed, and the bartender was already leaving out the back door the moment his shift officially ended. She was the last person on staff still at work.

She was gathering some glasses from a dirty table, leaning forward to collect some at the far side, when she felt someone walk up behind her. She froze, feeling her body tense.

“Not a bad position for you, missy!” Said the voice behind her. There was loud laughter from a little farther away. She straightened slowly and turned around, smiling her fake service industry smile. She gathered herslef, and said “can I help you at all?”. The man was standing very close to her, and her lower back was pressing against the long table. A few feet away, the two other men were watching.

“Sure you can!” He said, answering her question. He held a roll of cutlery in his hand. Lifting it to her eye level, he opened his fingers and let it fall at their feet. “Could you pick that up for me, miss?” Julia looked up into his eyes for a few moments. She couldn’t afford to lose this job, and Cynthia had been fired last week over one half-true customer complaint. She slowly bent down, reaching for the cutlery by the toe of her high heel shoe. As her face passed inches from the man’s crotch, he moved his pelvis forward slightly, and her lips, nose and forehead brushed against the bulge in his pants. How revolting! Just as she grasped the roll of cutlery, she heard a loud scraping sound behind her. Someone had just moved the table away from her back! All at once, she felt hands firmly grabbing her hips, and the man in front of her grasped her head, tangling his hands in her hair.

“NO! Oh my God! What are you doing let me go!” She screamed and struggled, but the hands on her hips held her in position. “HELP! Someone help me! Let me go!” She clawed at the wrists of the man holding her head, but her arms were grabbed from behind and pinned in the small of her back. The man in front of her let her head go, and the man behind her spun her around, and slammed her face down on the table. Even in her 4 inch heels, her feet could only barely reach the ground. She felt the hold on her arms disappear for a moment, as she was transfered to the man who had been in front of her. In that second, she tried desperately to crawl away, like a panicked animal, but he gripped her arms tightly, and slammed her face against the table by shoving her upper back.

She heard her own voice emerge from her panting breath “please! Please stop. Please don’t hurt me. Don’t rape me!” She choked on the word, and started screaming when the man shoved his knee between her legs, forcing them apart.

“Shut her up, that screaming is fucking annoying.”

One of the other men grabbed a used cloth napkin off a nearby table, and took advantage of her screams to violently shove it inside her mouth, forcing her jaw wide open to accommodate the fabric. Once it was in, he slapped her hard with the back of his hand across her tear stained face, whipping her head into the wooden table.

The man behind her yanked on her arms, so that she was forced to straighten up. He ripped her open-back spaghetti string tank top easily off her. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her tits bounced from the tank top being suddenly removed. She had small hard pink nipples. One man, a short guy with a goatee, reached out and pinched on of them mercilessly. The Latino man who had first grabbed her hips licked and bit the other. He bit forcefully, making her shriek into her gag. He pulled back, smiling, and slapped each of her tits as hard as he could.

The man behind her pushed her back down against the table. He held her arms with one hand, and began massaging her ass through her tight black skirt, not seeming to want to hurry. He ran his big hands up the insides of her little white thighs, enjoying the way they were shaking. He reached under her skirt and used his thumb to trace her pussy through her thin panties.

“Fuck you’re wet, slut. You must really love this shit. Kinky whore!” He yelled the last word as his hand slapped forcefully upwards, hitting her thinly covered pussy hard. She screamed into her gag, and she could feel his hard cock pressing between her ass cheeks through her mini skirt. He slowly lifted the hem of her skirt exposing her flimsy thong, hugging her ass cheeks and framing her plump little pussy.

“Oh fuck, you are one sexy rape toy, missy!”

She struggled in his hold as he pulled her panties aside. She felt one single finger penetrate her, violate her. She sobbed as he started slowly finger fucking her

“Fuck you’re so tight even around one finger. You’ve got such a sweet little pussy. I can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt. Do you want that baby? I bet you want all three of our cocks up your fuck holes, you disgusting little slut. Fuck what a whore!” As he spoke to her he pumped his finger inside her more and more quickly, and to Julia’s horror, she couldn’t help but grind back on him. Her body was acting invountarily, responding to her basic nature. He shoved in another finger. “You really do like this don’t you, little bitch. Look at you fucking my hand back. You know why that is, cunt?” He fucked his fingers in, deeper, harder. She began to pant, and her muffled screams were halfway moans now. “It’s because” She was building up, blood rushing though her body, pulse rising “little girls like you” she was really moaning now, grinding against him, she was going to - “are made to be raped. You crave to be raped. All you fucking want in life is To. Be. Raped.” And as he said these words he touched her clit with his thumb, and drove his fingers deeply into her. She convulsed, back arching, squirming in his grasp, screaming against her gag. She could feel the wetness streaming from her, and she could hear the men laughing and jeering as she writhed helplessly through her orgasm. Before she could catch her breath, she heard the sound of pants unzipping.

She felt the head of a cock being rubbed against the entrance to her pussy. The man bent over her, so his face was near her ear. “I’m going to rape you now. I’m about to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you for all the little bitch waitresses who deserve it.” She wriggled against the table, trying to get as far away as possible. “Nnnnmmo!” She sobbed into her gag “plaegh!”. He laughed. He positioned himself, and pushed the tip of his cock inside her. She moaned slightly, as he forced the shaft in to her cunt, filling her tiny, tight pussy to the absolute limit. She was sobbing, her body convulsing.

“Fuck, I love the way your cunt squeezes me when you cry.”

He pulled all the way out, and plunged into her, building a fast rhythm, fucking her savagely, slamming his cock inside her. With every thrust, he knocked her head into the wooden table. And yet, she was once again rotating her hips, pushing back against him. Moaning. Fucking him back.

She started screaming as the pressure in his cock built up, and his speed increased. She couldn’t contain herself as another wracking orgasm overcame her. He leant back, holding one of her wrists in each hand, forcing her back to arch inward, and her face and tits up off the table. He yelled into her ear “I bet you want your little rape hole filled with cum, don’t you whore!” She screamed, squirmed, tried to escape, moaned, but he pulled back on her wrists and thrust himself deeply inside her as he came, pulling her against his cock, her pussy lips pressed all the way up against his body. He finally finished cumming, and dropped her, pulling out, watching his cum trickle down her thigh. He wiped his cock in her hair as he said,