Hello! You can call me V. This is the kink blog that I made for stuff that I wouldn't necessarily be comfortable posting or reblogging on my main horny blog.
Pronouns: Inside of kink, she/it. Outside of kink, he/him
The main kinks you'll see on this blog: Detrans, patriarchy/misogyny stuff, hypno, CNC, lactation/pregnancy, degradation/objectification, and more! But these are the main ones
Hard limits: feet, scat, gore/snuff
- If you are unsure, just ask!
IMPORTANT NOTE:
This is just a fantasy for me. Anything I post here absolutely does not reflect my real-life views on things.
Please DO send me unsolicited pics, horny messages, hypno or porn vids <3
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"Hello sweetheart welcome back home. Oh you look totally exhausted maybe going to work isn't good for you. Come here let's watch some TV. It's good for you. The spiral? What do you mean? There's no spiral just watch TV with me it's okay. It's a nice movie isn't it? Sweetheart?"
"That's right. You're too far gone now. Couldn't resist to stare into that isn't that right? Just trusted my words and watched whatever is on TV right now. Such a good girl. Just listen to my words and stare. Such a good girl. You feel that tingling already don't you? The heat that's growing bigger the more you stare. Breathe my dear. That's right. Such a good girl. Just let go all of your silly thoughts. Don't think about anything. In fact you shouldn't think at all! I'm thinking for you now. That's better isn't it sweetheart?"
"Just stare at the screen and breathe. You look so cute getting dumber and dumber. Go ahead. Touch yourself and go deeper. Yes good girl. That's good for you. It's so delightful to see you getting dumber. Your eyes glued to the screen and your breathing is so calm and deep. You love this spiral don't you? Gets you deeper everytime I turn it on. Does it turn you on too? Yes it's absolutely hot in here you're right. I can see how you're feeling you don't have to answer sweetheart. Why don't you just take of your clothes? Makes it easier to touch the important parts of yourself..."
"The deeper you go the more you want to touch yourself. The deeper you go the more you desire something filling your holes. Isn't that right? Deeper my dear. Erasing all of your silly thoughts. Emty your silly brain. Deeper my dear and don't forget to breathe. That's right. Such a good girl. Deeper my dear. Emty your brain. You need to be empty so men can fill you up. That's right good girl. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper."
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If you simply wanted to get a guy off as quickly as possible, all you need to do is lock your lips at the base of his cock and suction them up and down the bottom ž of his shaft at a quick, steady pace while pressing your flattened tongue against the underside of his dick. Make sure you are applying pressure with both your lips AND tongue.
Keeping your tongue engaged at all times is key. I try to keep mine moving at all times. This is how you get 90% of guys off. It helps me keep from gagging to hold his cock steady at the base and bring my lips down to meet my fingers. You can do this very slowly for a more intense feeling, but make sure you move at a steady rhythm. Some guys like it faster or slower; you may have to ask, or more likely, heâll tell you.
This is your power move, the one that is actually going to bring him to orgasm. A true hooker blowjob needs only this one move; if scientists were to create a blowjob machine, this is what it would do. The other moves Iâm going to teach you are artistic flourishes; you use them to add flair and style to your blowjob or to slow down the action a little.
SALIVA
Donât be afraid to just slobber all over his love muscle. It should be as wet and sloppy as possible, especially during your power move. A good blowjob makes loud, gross suction-y noises. When Iâm done, Iâm usually covered in my own drool and leave a wet spot on the bed.
USING YOUR HANDS
If his dick is too big for you to take the whole thing in your mouth, youâll need to use your hand too. Slobber all over his cock for awhile first so your hand will slide easily up and down instead of just catching on his dry skin. The most important hand move is the twister. When you slide your hand up his shaft, twist your wrist. A twisting motion gets you into a smoother rhythm than the straight up and down. Slide your hand up and down on the base of his cock in conjunction with your mouth moving up and down on the rest of it. The hard part is finding the correct grip: again you may want his guidance.
Another good trick is to wrap your hand around the top of his cock and put your mouth over your hand. Then slide your hand down the shaft and your mouth down on top of it in a fluid motion until your hand meets the base of his cock. It will feel like youâre sliding your mouth all the way down him even if you canât. Itâs times like these I wish I could draw; Iâd make little diagrams.
THE BALLS
I usually start out by paying some attention to the balls. There are three basic ball moves: you can put them in your mouth and suck them (LIGHTLY), lick them with a flattened cow tongue, or tense your tongue into a point and run the tip of your tongue all over them. I alternate between all three. Sometimes I lift them up and lick underneath his balls.
Also, if you cup them while you are entering the home stretch, youâll be able to tell heâs about to cum as they get higher and tighter.
THE HEAD
My next move is usually to give his shaft several long licks from base to tip. This is the ice cream cone move; it looks sexy, itâs a nice touch, but itâs not going to make anybody cum. While conducting the power move, I come up from time to time to give the head a little attention: sucking on it, moving my tongue in a circle around it, and flicking my tongue over that spot on the underside that all the sex websites tell you is el sensitivo. In my experience, guys donât really go that wild over attention to that spot, but these are just flourishes anyway.
I tend to get a bit wrapped up in my work that I forget to make eye contact, so head action is a great time to look up at him with puppy dog eyes and his cock in your mouth.
FACE SLAPPING
I mentioned this in my tips to get him to cum faster, but at least once during the beej, I usually pop his dick out of my mouth and slap it against my tongue or face, then look at him while I rub his cock against my cheeks and lips. Guys are visual, this is just a little something dirty for him to look at.
DEEP THROAT
I canât really teach you how to deep throat, thatâs between you and your gag reflex. The important thing, I think, is to make an effort to take him in as deep as you can, even if itâs only for a few seconds. Itâs hard to explain exactly how I do this: try concentrating on relaxing your throat and jaw. As I mentioned before, it helps me to steady his cock with my hand when I go deep, and breathing in instead of just holding your breath also helps abate that âgonna pukeâ feeling.
THE BIG FINALE
When youâre ready to finish him off, go into the power move and donât vary your pace for anything. If youâre cupping his balls, youâll often be able to tell when heâs about to cum as they tighten up. I speed up a little bit at the end, and when I feel him start to come I push my head down as deep as it will go and suck slowly and intensely at the base, letting his cum just shoot down my throat.
As said before, an excellent study for young cunts trying to improve their useful skills and abilities. I would add donât be afraid to gag a little, we appreciate it and the effort it symbolizes. Regarding that sensitive spot on the underside of the head, the sensitivity really varies, so give the spot some love but donât focus excessive attention there, and watch for cues from him to judge speed and pressure while working on this spot. Lastly the author briefly mentioned this, but I feel it needs more attention, eye contact with a proper facial expression is huge, men are as she said very visual creatures and looking up at us with a soft submissive look on your face while youâre gagging on my cock, or rubbing it and your slobber all over your face, or slapping your face with it will go farther than many physical moves.
Watch me ride a dildo instead of turning on the tv while you're eating dinner, facetime me and tell me to play with my holes while you're waiting for the bus, make me send nudes when you're bored at work. Condition me to entertain you with my body whenever you need it.
breeding kink because imagine putting her into a mating press, pushing her legs next to her head, my strap ramming her pretty hole till sheâs a blabbering mess, eyes rolling back and drooling, dumbed out from her previous orgasms, pretty pussy leaking while i keep squeezing her face and telling her how pretty she would look all knocked up for me.
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Youâre lying across my lap, looking up at me with that expression Iâve come to recognize. The one that means youâre about to be annoying in a way I find incredibly attractive.
"What thing?"
"You know what thing." You tap your temple. "The brainwashing thing. Make me dumb again."
"I made you dumb three hours ago."
"And now Iâm smart again and I hate it." You say this with genuine petulance, like intelligence is an inconvenience thatâs been inflicted on you. "My thoughts are back. Theyâre loud. I donât like them."
I run my fingers through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way I know you like. You make a sound thatâs almost a purr and push up into my hand.
"You need breaks. Recovery time. You canât just be a dumb doll forever."
"I mean, I could. We could try it and see."
"Thatâs not how brains work. You need to come back up so you can go back down. Otherwise you build tolerance."
"That sounds fake."
"Itâs not fake. Itâs neurochemistry."
"Okay but what if I just donât care about neurochemistry?" You shift in my lap, restless, your hand finding its way to my thigh. "What if I care about being a drooling mess on your cock? Me and your cock. We have chemistry."
"Youâre being bratty. Thatâs why I know youâre not ready. Youâre going through dumb withdrawals."
"Iâm not bratty, Iâm horny. When Iâm bratty I want to annoy you. Right now I want you to turn my brain off and fuck me stupid. Totally different energy."
"The answer is still no."
You sit up slightly, turning to face me. "You donât understand what itâs like. When you do that thing with your voice and tell me to sink and stop thinking, itâs like⌠you know when youâre really stressed and you get into a hot bath?"
"Thatâs more of a you thing."
"Whatever. Itâs like that but for my entire brain. Everything goes quiet and far away. And then you fuck me and I donât have to worry about whether Iâm doing it right or making weird faces because Iâm too stupid to worry. I just feel things. Itâs the best."
"Yeah I get it. Iâm the one doing it to you. I know what it turns you into."
"Then why wonât you do it again?"
"Because Iâm trying to be responsible. Moderation is important, and I care about your mental health."
You groan and flop back into my lap. "My mental health would be better if youâd just fry my brain a little and rail me."
Youâre squirming now, pressing your thighs together, and I can tell the conversation itself is turning you on. Talking about going dumb makes you want to go dumb. "Just a little? You donât have to do a full session. Just take the edge off. Make me fuzzy. Iâll be so good."
"Youâre always good when youâre fuzzy. The hard part is being good now"
"Right, so letâs do the easy part. I like easy. Iâm advocating for easy."
I should say no. We did a long session this afternoon and you need time to integrate, to come back fully, to remember that youâre a person with thoughts and preferences and a life outside of this dynamic.
But youâre looking up at me with those eyes, and I can feel my resolve crumbling.
"A little," I say. "Just enough to take the edge off. Then youâre eating dinner and going to sleep like a normal person."
Youâre already grinning, already settling back, letting your body go slack in anticipation. "Yes Sir. Whatever you say."
I start stroking your hair with more intention now. Slower. I watch your breathing change, watch you sink into the sensation before Iâve even said a word.
"You really canât help yourself."
You shake your head, a small dreamy motion. "Donât want to help myself. Want you to do everything."
"Close your eyes."
You do. Immediately. Like Iâve pressed a button. Itâs almost too easy at this point.
"Deep breath. Let it out slow."
Your chest rises and falls. Tension drains from your shoulders. Youâre already halfway there just from anticipation.
"You know what happens next. Youâve done this so many times your brain just does it automatically now. The moment I start talking like this, you start sinking."
A soft sound escapes you. Agreement. Surrender.
"Thatâs embarrassing, if you think about it. How easy you are. How quickly you justâŚ" I snap my fingers. "Gone."
Your face goes slack. Your mouth falls open. I didnât even have to try. You did all the work yourself, desperate to get back to that empty place.
"How do you feel?"
It takes you a moment to find words. They come out slow and slurred. "Good. Floaty. Dumb."
"Of course you do." I keep stroking your hair. "Open your eyes."
You do, and thereâs nothing behind them. No anxiety, no self-consciousness. Just empty, eager devotion. You look like a different person when youâre like this. Happy in a way that your overthinking brain usually wonât allow.
I should stop here. I said just the edge off. I said Iâd be responsible.
But youâre already reaching for my cock with clumsy hands, and Iâm only human.
"Can I?" Youâre fumbling with my zipper. "Want to be useful."
"I thought you wanted me to use you."
"Same thing." You get my cock free and stare at it with dazed appreciation. "Toys are used and useful. Want to be your toy."
You lower your mouth and take me in with no technique at all, just enthusiasm and wet heat and happy little sounds. Youâre drooling because youâre too dumb to remember to swallow. Itâs obscene. Itâs also incredibly hot, which is annoying because it means youâre going to win this argument.
I gather your hair and hold it loosely. "You know youâre proving my point, right? I said moderation is important and now youâre slobbering on my cock like youâll die without it."
You moan in what I think is agreement. Hard to tell with your mouth full.
"This is exactly why you need breaks. So you donât turn into a permanently cock-drunk idiot."
Another moan. Your hips are rocking, grinding against the couch.
"Youâre not even listening to me, are you?"
You shake your head slightly, still sucking. Of course youâre not. Thereâs nothing in there to listen with.
I pull you off by the hair. You whine at the loss, mouth still open, a string of spit connecting your lips to my cock.
"Tell me what you are."
The words come slow. "Your⌠dumb⌠doll."
"And what do dumb dolls do?"
"Whatever you tell them. Get used. Feel good..." A pause while you search for more. "Donât think."
"At least youâve got that right. Good dolly."
Your whole body shudders. Youâre so simple right now. A few words of praise and you light up like itâs the greatest thing anyoneâs ever said to you.
I pull you into my lap and position you over my cock. You sink down with a look of dumb gratitude that makes all my good intentions feel very far away.
You start to move, slow and clumsy, grinding more than riding because coordination is beyond you. Your head falls back. Youâre making sounds that arenât words, just pleasure noise.
"This is what you wanted? To be too stupid to fuck me properly?"
You nod, still moving. "Love it. Love being dumb."
"Youâre ridiculous."
"Mm-hmm." You donât disagree. You donât care.
I grip your hips and take over, setting the rhythm youâre too fuzzy to maintain. You go limp and let me, become exactly what you said you wanted. A toy. A warm hole that moans when you use it right.
"Youâre going to cum for me," I tell you. "Because thatâs what dumb dolls do. They cum and say thank you and donât think about anything else."
"Yes. Yes yes yes."
I fuck you harder and you fall apart, clenching around me. I follow a moment later, pulling you down, filling you while you twitch and babble.
Afterward you slump against my chest, still making small sounds, still floating.
"Youâre going to be insufferable about this," I tell you. "Youâre only going to want more and more."
You nod against my chest. "More is better."
"Donât start arguing even when youâre dumb. I canât handle that."
You snuggle closer. "Me dumb is better. Accept it."
the attention you get from men as a dumb girl is actually so addictive â¤ď¸ if every âsmart womanâ knew, theyâd break so much fasteerrrr, I feel bad for them 𼺠being dumb and listening to your pussy makes life so much easier đ
Brain Stuff. You're hunched over your desk, the glow of your laptop screen casting shadows across your cluttered apartment. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to type the next paragraph of your dissertation. Something about neural plasticity in machine learning models. It's brilliant stuff, the kind of work that's gotten you whispers of "genius" from your PhD advisors. You're in the zone, brain firing on all cylinders, when the front door clicks open.
"Hey, babe," comes his voice, low and casual, like he doesn't know what it does to you. Your boyfriend steps inside, shedding his jacket. He's got that easy grin, the one that makes your stomach tighten. You glance up, meaning to say something sharp and witty, but he's already peeling off his shirt, revealing the lean muscle underneath. Your mouth goes dry. The words you were about to type slip away before you can catch them.
"Missed you today," he says, crossing the room. He's close now, close enough that you can smell the faint spice of his cologne. Your pulse kicks up, and you try to focus on the screen. You're a goddamn scholar, you can handle this. But then he leans over your shoulder, his breath brushing your ear, and says, "What's my smart girl working on?"
Your brain stutters. "Uh⌠it's, umâŚ" You squint at the screen, but the words lose their meaning. Neural what? Plasticity? Fuck, you know this. You wrote fifteen pages on it yesterday. His hand slides onto your shoulder, thumb brushing your neck, and you feel your IQ drop in real time. "It's⌠brain stuff," you manage, voice small. You hate how stupid you sound, how you can feel your own brilliance leaking out as he toys with you.
He chuckles, soft and loving, and that sound alone makes your thighs clench. "Brain stuff, huh? Tell me more." His fingers dip lower, tracing the edge of your tank top, and you try to string a sentence together. "It's about⌠how brains⌠change?" Your voice lilts up like a question, and you want to scream. You're not some ditzy undergrad; you're a fucking PhD candidate. But his hands are on your chest now, cupping you through your shirt, and your thoughts scatter.
"C'mon, babe," he teases, turning your chair to face him. "You're usually so quick." He's smirking, and you hate how much you love it. You open your mouth to snap back, to prove you've still got it, but then he's kissing you, hard and messy, all tongue and heat, and your mind goes blank. Not fuzzy. Just empty. You kiss him back, hands fumbling at his waist, and all you can think is cock. One word, looping, again and again.
He pulls you up, backing you toward the couch, and you trip over your own feet. Normally you'd curse yourself for being clumsy, but right now you just giggle. High pitched. Brainless. "You're so hot," you blurt, and it's the most coherent thing you've said since he got home. He grins, shoving his jeans down, and when you see him hard and thick your knees buckle. You drop to the cushions, staring up at him, mouth slack. You should be analyzing data right now, not drooling like some horny idiot.
"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, climbing over you. His hands yank your shorts off. You're already so wet. You try to focus, one last chance to claw back a shred of intellect. "Wait, I⌠I need to finishâŚ" you start, but then he's pushing inside you, slow and deliberate, and the rest of the sentence evaporates. Your head lolls back, a moan spilling out instead. You feel him stretch you, fill you, and your brain shuts down completely. "Oh⌠oh God," you whimper, legs wrapping around him on instinct.
He starts moving, thrusting deep, and you're gone. No more dissertation. No more research. Just his cock, slamming into you, turning you into a panting, writhing mess. "Tell me something smart," he pants against your neck, mocking you now, and you want to, you need to prove you're not just this dumb slut he's turning you into. "Th-the brain⌠it⌠f-fuck, it dâ" You can't finish. Every thrust scrambles your thoughts more, until you're babbling nonsense, hips bucking to meet him.
You're frustrated, somewhere deep down, because you know this isn't you. You've presented at conferences. Dismantled arguments from tenured professors. But right now you can't even remember your own name. "More," you gasp. That's all you've got. One syllable. You used to know so many words, but now you're reduced to this. But then he grabs your hips, angles himself deeper, and you stop caring. "Sho⌠haaardâŚ" you slur, drooling over the syllables, "sho⌠deeeepâŚ"
He laughs, a low rumble. "That's my girl. Let the real you out." And you do, you can't hold on anymore. He fucks you harder and you're nothing but heat and need, whimpering every time he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his back, and you're close, and then he groans, loud and guttural, and you feel his hot cum flooding you. You climax together.
It's instant. The second his cum hits you, your vision clears, your breathing steadies, and your brain kicks back into gear. Synaptic pruning. Neural plasticity. You blink up at him, still slick with sweat, and push him off with a shaky hand. "Rude," you say, voice strong again. He flops beside you, grinning, while you stagger to your desk, naked, his cum dripping down your thigh. You sit down, pull up your dissertation, and start typing like nothing happened. Sentences crisp. Ideas flowing.
"Welcome back, genius," he calls from the couch, annoyingly smug. You don't look at him, but your lips twitch. Just ignore him. You're back, and you've got work to finish.
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I think, to me, the trope of "hypnotized to be more sensitive" is at its best when it's basically just "how it feels to be touch starved". In turn, this means that when hypnotizing someone to play with sensitivity, playing with that kind of imagery of 'desperate desire for the slightest touch but forbidden by social convention' is a very fun space. Scooches ever so slightly closer to you and touches my fingertips against yours, where you find yourself paralyzed by the warmth of the contact.
