NSFT Things

No, no, not like that. I know that sounds bad! Let me explain.

The dog was on a walk, obviously. Out on a walk with their owner. On a leash because I suppose they were either going to somewhere the dog could run around or coming back. Whatever.

Point is, the dog was on a leash, and the dog was looking up at their owner. And it was that look that made me think of you.

They were just so happy.

Looking up so adoringly.

It was a look of just complete and total contentment. At that moment, nothing else at all mattered. They were with their owner and that was everything. Not a single worry or anything else in that little doggy head.

That's why I thought of you.

Because I've seen that look before.

No, don't look away, keep looking at me. Blushing's fine, you can blush, but don't look away. There you go. Good girl. You know what look I'm talking about, don't you?

Nod, don't speak. Good girl.

Yes, you know what look I'm talking about. You're struggling to keep it off your face right now because of how I'm talking to you. You're even struggling to stay standing. I know you'd be happier by my feet, and so do you.

That look. I usually see it look down, don't I? Nod again for me. Good girl. And heel. Good girl. See? Look at that. There it is. Speak.

Aww, it just comes right out. Look, you even surprised yourself! Oh, and I didn't think you could get any more red.

Maybe I should take you for a walk sometime, hmm? Would you like that? Just following your own so devotedly, staring up so happily? Yes? Would you like that?

You do know you started wagging a little, don't you?

Such a good girl.

It doesn't drop you, doesn't even make you do anything specific--but it makes you more likely to believe or listen to what other people tell you.

And it builds the more it's used, so maybe the first time it's used you don't have to listen to or believe what other people say, you can doubt it, but by the third or fourth there's not even a question or hesitation in your mind if someone suggests something.

Then triggering you, maybe, on the way to a party, or when friends are coming over, so you experience the entire party, you remember all of it, but as the night goes on you get more and more suggestible.

And nobody is mean, but they certainly have their fun with you, telling you that your clothes are so uncomfortable that you need them off or that the only way you can sit comfortably is bouncing on someone's cock or that your clit has turned off for the night and can't feel anything no matter what touches it.

And you believe them.

Which is lovely! A delightful experience‚ to be sure. To work with such experienced thralls is most enjoyable. Submission is one part of the dance we both follow, and the fact that I lead does not in any way reduce or lessen the skill of the subject.

But at times‚ I seek... not challenge‚ no‚ they are incapable of that, but perhaps a slower seduction. A lighter touch. Not a single strike, obliterating their defences with a mighty blow, but a thousand tiny cuts, taking them apart piece by piece. The destination is lovely‚ for sure‚ but why would I deny Myself the joy of the journey?

We all know of what I speak. Have all craved it‚ from one side or t'other. That creeping‚ corruptive control‚ slowly but surely taking the mind apart… Whittling down resistance, carving away at independence, melting their mind until reality is Mine to shape... The mind can be convinced of anything, given enough time and energy.

Slight edits. A tweak here, a brief interruption there. Yes, it's normal to be on your knees. No, you don't remember how to put your shirt back on, or why you took it off - in fact, you're not quite sure what it is at all. Yes, you do enjoy My hands on your body, so there's no reason to think of anything else. No, you're not in control. Yes, you love this. No, you don't need to think. Yes, you agree.

Watching a thrall's mind empty out in but a moment is a delight, to be sure. But taking it apart, piece by piece, without their notice? Oh, what a wondrous game it is. One you can repeat again, and again, and again... Memory is malleable, given the proper tools.