Always happy. Always submissive. Always bimbo.

Mesmerized and Dropped

"You can see now why I wanted you to listen, can't you?" Joan asked… but Diana's attention was diverted by the earbud in her other ear and it was hard for her to fully concentrate on the brunette's words so she just nodded vacantly because it was easier. The sound was hard to qualify, but it had elements of post-punk synthesizer and goth rock and a weird little fillip of bubblegum pop in its earwormy chorus and the record executive was already thinking about how to promote it. That felt so immediately and intuitively important that she barely even noticed the nightclub owner's hands tugging on the hem of her skirt.

That tiny distraction vanished when Diana raised her hips slightly, allowing the garment to slide right off, and her unthinking decision was rewarded when Joan reached down and began to rub her pussy through the thin fabric of her underwear. "It's that lead singer," Joan purred, her tone sultry and seductive but not nearly as enticing as the woman Diana heard within the music. "She's just got such a sexy voice, doesn't she? You listen to every song absolutely aching to fuck her. You'd do absolutely anything to bend over and let her rail you with a strap-on from the very first note." That wasn't how Diana would have put it--she was about as straight as straight could be, much to Joan's perpetual disappointment--but once the idea entered her head Diana found that it wouldn't leave.

"They're not signed to anybody, Di," Joan purred seductively, her fingers punctuating every word and phrase with a firm pressure directly over Diana's throbbing clit. "They're looking for a deal, and of course I immediately thought of you. I knew you'd take good care of them, make sure their sound got to all the right people and get them played on the radio and in arena tours and just… just fucking everywhere, Di, because everyone deserves to hear this. Every woman needs to hear this. Every woman needs to--to--" Joan's voice broke off in a strangled gasp, and it sounded almost like the mere thought of promoting this new band was giving her an orgasm but Diana couldn't think too hard about that because her cunt was spasming in climax too. And the woman singing seemed to encourage every last bit of their lesbian lust.

Diana had a wet spot on her panties by the time the first song was over, but there was a second waiting right there to replace it and that one was somehow even catchier than the first. Diana could tell this was going to go straight into all her daily playlists, replacing her old exercise mix and her old cleaning mix and even the mix she used when she had her lover over, although of course he'd need to be replaced as well because there was no way Diana could be interested in a man anymore. She wanted the soft, sensual touch of a woman now, forever, and she was so grateful when Joan posed her on all fours on the sofa and tugged her panties down to her knees.

"This is the sound for a new generation," the club owner growled, a touch of cultish devotion in her voice, and Diana's eyes glazed over so completely in vacant acceptance that she didn't even notice what was happening behind her. Until she felt a thick shaft pushing into her wet cunt, and discovered that the music was an even more perfect accompaniment to getting fucked than she'd ever imagined. Diana moaned, pushing her hips back against the strap-on, and together the two of them descended even deeper into perfect surrender to the music in their heads.

As it gets worse and worse, and those sentences get too complex to manage, you just repeat exactly as trained: "Break me. Break me. Break me." Egging me on with the mantra, the fear and horror and pain in your voice meaningless next to the actual words.

"I--wait, what, w-what did you say?" Betsy's eyes crossed and uncrossed, over and over again as she tried to remember the words Darrell had just used and found to her dismay that they resolutely refused to stick in her head. She could recall the entire sentence before them, she could precisely and distinctly remember the liquid rush of pleasure between her thighs on hearing them, but every time she tried to think of what he actually said she just felt like her thoughts were getting bogged down in quicksand. Until the mental effort became too much and she just stood there with her jaw slackening in an expression of amiable stupidity, which also made her pussy embarrassingly wet.

The look of amused condescension on Darrell's face made her even wetter. "I said," he purred, followed by another string of syllables that slipped right past Betsy's dozy, distracted brain and left her tugging at the buttons of her blouse before she could even understand what her fingers were doing. He followed the strange, incomprehensible phrase with, "Isn't that right, sweetie? Aren't you getting so dumb and dopey for me now?" and Betsy let out a tiny whimper as her mind slowed down even further trying to catch up to what was said in those brief instants where her intellect simply flat-lined. She realized her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, but somehow reeling it in seemed like far too much effort.

"..uuhhnn annn oo-ee?" she mumbled, barely able to grunt out the syllables in her confusion, and it was astonishing how wet it made Betsy just to hear herself sound like a stupid slut for her Master. She noticed the term she'd just used for her boyfriend, a Freudian slip that seemed to come from that same deep and thoughtless place inside her head where the phrase he used slipped off to, and that made her feel even more squirmy and slutty and needy and desperate to get down on all fours for her lover. It was only when her knees touched the softness of the sheepskin rug that she realized she'd slipped off her skirt as well as her blouse, and either she'd never had anything on underneath them or the memory of removing them had disappeared entirely along with the garments themselves.

"That's my good girl," Darrell murmured, caressing Betsy's forehead as her expression settled into a vacant, cross-eyed stare. "That's my--" He said words after that, she just knew he did, but they were words that made her mind as thick and sludgy as overcooked porridge and she couldn't make her dopey brain understand them no matter how hard she tried. That was in fact a part of the trap she was caught in, she sluggishly realized--the harder she struggled to pay attention, the more of her wit she used up and the quicker she was reduced to a drooling ahegao slut for her Master. That didn't make any kind of rational sense, but it felt intuitively right and anyway Betsy's reason was rapidly diminishing into a warm, wet throb of lust between her legs.

She wound up taking his cock in both her mouth and her pussy by the time Darrell was done with her, and every time he used that phrase Betsy's mind got slower and sleepier until by the end she couldn't really follow a single thing he said. Which only felt better and better as more and more of her brain leaked out her cunt, and when she woke she discovered that she couldn't wait to be talked down to like that again.

militant conqueror princess being bent over her stupid war table and railed until she can’t even try to resist.

fancy fashion princess having her frilly dress ripped off of her before she gets picked up and played with.

delicate academic princess getting fucked harder and harder until she can’t concentrate on her reading and just has to moan whorishly and beg the top to fuck her harder.

"…Julie?" The slightly dismayed question felt like it was coming from a million miles away, and Julie only barely managed to lever her unfocused eyes open enough to see Zoe standing over her with an expression on her face that mingled concern and dismay and no small amount of embarrassment. It should have been enough to make Julie whip her hand away from her pussy in blushing mortification, but somehow nothing about the situation seemed quite real and being caught behind the student union with her legs spread and two fingers up her cunt just seemed like part of the erotic reverie that was holding her in its spell. She couldn't even stop herself from smiling a dreamy, vacant smile as she responded.

"It was Paul," she sighed, her words underlaid by the soft squishing sound of her thrusting fingers. She had her skirt hiked up and her panties pulled over to the side, so there was no question of pretending that Zoe couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but somehow the sloppy noises of her gushing cunt made it all feel so much more visceral. "He, um, he showed me his pendant again and I… ohhh, fuck, Zoe, it made me so fucking wet…." Julie knew she didn't have to elaborate any further, not when Zoe knew what their mutual friend was capable of--Paul was already a senior, and he'd spent most of his time in college practicing his hypnosis skills with just about every woman on campus who had a conversation with him. Julie might have been sucked in deeper than most, but Zoe had felt that same delicious touch on her mind and knew exactly what it did.

Sure enough, Zoe let out a long, frustrated exhalation and squatted down next to Julie. "Okay, fine," she said, her mouth crinkling in consternation in that way that always made her look like Kermit the Frog. "But maybe you need to find a better place to, um, take care of yourself, hmm? I know there's not a ton of foot traffic back here, but people do pass by from time to time, and if it had been a stranger instead of someone you knew you might have gotten into a lot of trouble. Let's maybe, I dunno, get you into a bathroom stall or something, where you can, um… y'know, finish up… a little more privately." She didn't even bother to put a stop to it, Julie noticed. They both knew by now how irresistible Paul's suggestions could be.

Which only made them that much hotter. "Nuh, no, nnnh… it's fine, a-almost done," Julie whimpered, her voice heavy with strain as the thrill of being caught mingled with the bliss of hypnosis and the sheer transcendent ecstasy of fucking herself deeper into trance. "Guhh, guhh, gonna c-c-cum--" She broke off her halting speech with a choked grunt of pure overwhelming pleasure, her eyes rolling back in her head as her climax obliterated all thought, and the best part about it all was knowing that despite herself Zoe would watch her orgasm and think about all the times Paul had made her feel just as good. It would only be a matter of hours before Julie's friend would wind up trotting obediently back to Paul to get her itch scratched, and that meant she would get her programming reinforced, and that meant Julie… oh fuck. That meant she was being a good girl. And nothing stretched her climax out like that particular realization.

They cannot even properly hide most my cunt lips. I don't get why people are staring. And I am so surprised when someone reaches down to tug at my cunt flaps, pulling them fully out of the sorry excuse for swimwear.

I can only gasp. But it doesn't stop there. Soon enough the swimwear is pulled to the side and cock after cock is pumping into my cunt.

It was so easy to relax into them. “You don’t need to think right now.” They were right. “No. Just sink for me. Just sink into me. There we go. Let your body relax.” You felt your limbs grow heavy, as they pulled you closer, laying down on the bed. “Let your brain shut down.”

You had no resistance at this point, you were just sinking, and drifting, and dropping deeper for them. “You’re such a good toy for me, aren’t you? Yeah… My good toy.” They said, as you nodded your head into their shoulder. “My obedient plaything.”

It felt so good to be so close to them. “Always so eager to give in for me. To let my words wrap effortlessly around your mind, and pull you deep, deep into trance.” You felt that tug at your brain. “Because it feels so nice! Why wouldn’t you break your brain like this?”

* * *

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Betsy heard the footsteps coming up behind her, but try as she might she couldn't turn to see who they belonged to. Her face was a mask of concentration by that point, every muscle tensed in a determined but ultimately futile effort to look away from the dazzling crystals that swung and danced in the breeze, and it felt like she was living out her own personal horror movie when the man behind her pressed cool metal against her skin and murmured, "It was the sound, wasn't it? That was what first drew you in. The sound of soft music, chimes in your ears promising the sweetest of ecstasy if only you came and looked." Betsy couldn't even nod. She remained as still as a statue, staring at the prisms hanging from a stranger's rear window.

Something inside her melted into sweet relief when the blades of the man's scissors began to snip away at her clothing--not that Betsy really wanted to have her outfit shredded, leaving her completely naked in a stranger's backyard where the privacy fence concealed any number of transgressions, but it beat any of the alternatives she was imagining and she was just so thankful she wasn't about to get killed. Even the man's voice sounded more soothing when he ran his fingers down Betsy's spine and said, "The sound always draws my good girls. They can't help opening the gate and coming inside, and once they do, well… you don't even want to move anymore, do you?"

In her head, Betsy began to protest… but then she realized with a mental start that all of her efforts to break free from the paralysis that gripped her had gradually subsided once the man began snipping at the fabric of her clothing. Now that she was naked, now that she could feel her purpose beginning to take shape, she'd gone from tensing every muscle in a desperate struggle to escape to simply standing, staring… leaking? Oh. Oh yes. Betsy hadn't noticed it until now, but she was incredibly fucking wet. "It's all just part of the process," the stranger cooed, his hand tracing over the curve of her ass to goose her pussy. "You'll like it, if you don't already."

Betsy still couldn't nod, but something inside her head responded to the stranger's every utterance with warm, blissful acceptance. She felt his hands all over her, kneading her breasts and stroking the sensitive skin of her throat, and when he told her, "You're almost ready, darling," it felt like the most wonderful pronouncement in the world. She knew now that she'd been called for a reason, that there was a shape and a purpose to her submission, and once she felt her Master's bulge rubbing against her backside as he groped and caressed her, she knew exactly what that was. The rainbows in her eyes told her all the promises of the chimes were fulfilled, and Betsy's voice finally returned to her as she whimpered in blessed climax under her owner's touch.

He took her inside after that, and even though Betsy hadn't been able to so much as flinch under her own power she walked smoothly and easily at his command. He brought her into the basement, where several other beautiful women with similarly vacant stares watched another set of windchimes… and it was only moments before Betsy was descending deep into trance right along with them.

The pretty pair of tits shook in front of your eyes. The sight was glorious, those puffy pink nipples commanding your attention, your mind racing with anticipation. But you still feel the strange pull, urging you to look up into your best friend's sister's eyes.

"Don't look up...don't look into my eyes...you fall under, just like evvvveryone else...keep you eyes on my tits..."

Everyone else got the same choice. Keep their eyes on her tits and keep their minds, or look into her eyes and drop under her spell. She always did have really amazing eyes. Bright blue circles streaked with turquoise and flecks of copper. Just thinking about them makes you want to raise your face to meet hers.

But then you wouldn't be watching her pretty titties.

Around the room, your friends were sprawled on the couch or slumped onto the floor. Each of them thought they could keep their eyes on Kira's tits, and all of them fell for the same trap and were now drifting along to Kira's tune. Some were rubbing their pussies or stroking their cocks through the pants. Others were lazily lending each other a hand through their trance.

You were the last one standing.

"I know it's hard to look away from the titties..."

She said as she shook her rack an inch from your face.

"I know they look so sexy...they make you feel sexy...I like how they make you feel...keep watching them...don't look up..."

Left, right, up, down, bounce, bounce, bounce.... You could barely follow what she's saying now. All your fear have been replaced with arousal. Your head followed along, bouncing up and down, left and right, just like those wonderful titties...

"Bounce, bounce, bounce...bouncing away your brain...brain bounes away with every bounce, bounce, bounce and....my eyes are up here!"

Your head jerks up, your body acting at her command, and you are stunned to see those sapphire pools staring at your above her coy smile. Her eyes take over you entire world and you feel yourself falling through space and she snaps her fingers.

"...and Deep Sleep."

"Now you know the rules," Peter intoned, his hand slipping into Tamara's underwear as he fixed her with a piercing stare. "You have five minutes to stop yourself from cumming, beginning now. If you can resist orgasm, you can walk out of here a free woman and I'll make sure a million dollars is deposited into a bank account under your name. If you let the needy, horny bitch inside your mind win… again… you have to stay my slave for another night and we can try again tomorrow. Does all that make sense to you, Tammi? Or are you already starting to slip away into my eyes and the warm, soothing sound of my voice? Don't lie, I can tell this is making you wet."

It didn't actually make a lot of sense to Tamara, but not for the reasons Peter was insinuating; she couldn't remember how she'd gotten to this luxury penthouse apartment, or why she was wearing nothing more than a lacy peek-a-boo bra and frilly panties, or even if he had a million dollars to pay her for five minutes of resisting his touch. But some deep, unconscious conviction filled all the soft spaces in her mind and memory, easily convincing Tamara that everything he was telling her was true, and she murmured, "Yes sir, that… nnnnhhh… that makes sense to me, sir," in a high breathy voice that momentarily devolved into a grunt of ecstasy. She couldn't deny that he knew exactly how to touch her, that much was intimately clear.

He chuckled. "Well, I managed to get at least one coherent sentence out of you, that's more than most nights. You do remember those other nights, don't you, Tammi? I mean, I'm sure you're not so weak-willed and malleable that just having a finger in your pussy makes your brain all dumb and horny and ready to leak your thoughts into your panties. That would mean you're going to lose again, Tammi. That would mean you're not even going to make it five minutes before you collapse into a shuddering, shaking mess against me and I get to keep you for another night. You don't actually want that, do you, honey?" Tamara tried to answer, she truly did. But just then Peter's thumb pressed down hard right over her clit, and all that came out was a whimpering moan.

"Oh my god!" Peter exclaimed, acting theatrically shocked at the light of arousal filling Tamara's eyes. "You really do want that! You really do want to be my weak and stupid slut for another night. You want to degrade yourself for me, present your cunt like a needy bitch in heat and hump anything I tell you--you probably even want to be hypnotized again, don't you? You want to keep staring into my eyes and listening to the ache in your pussy until your mind fades into silence and the only thing that matters is my voice in your ears." Tamara wondered how long he'd been talking, whether they were getting close to that five minutes she remembered needing to hold out for, but she couldn't look away from his eyes. He'd probably set a timer or something. She'd know when she'd won.

But Peter's hypnosis distorted her sense of time, and five minutes felt like an hour, and she spent the whole time whimpering and trembling and lost in his eyes before the dam finally broke and she slumped forward into his arms with her whole body quaking in ecstasy. "There there, that's a good girl, we both know you can never win," he murmured, petting her back gently with his free hand, and it was with the most profound sense of relief that Tammi sank to her knees and gave up the pretense of thought for another obedient night.

"Awww, did you really think you were going to win this time?" Fran asked, a tiny chuckle in her voice as she teased Jerri's clit until the petite blonde couldn't help gasping with euphoric bliss. "That's so cute, sweetie, but I think we both know how weak and wet this kind of play makes you. Look, your own hand is barely even moving now." Jerri realized with a start that her friend was absolutely right--she'd been so completely consumed with the rush of pleasure she was experiencing that her fingers had slowed to a distracted halt in Fran's pussy, giving the other woman an entirely unfair advantage in their contest for dominance. She hadn't intended that to happen.

She tried to get her head back in the game, but Fran responded to her spasmodic efforts with a peal of laughter and a spate of wild, furious rubbing that left Jerri's mouth hanging open in a howl of ecstasy. "This is going to be your fourth time in a row losing to me, pretty girl," Fran cooed, pitching her voice low and enticing as though defeat was not only the inexorable outcome but the one Jerri would eventually come to crave. "You just keep cumming before I do, and it keeps making you weaker, and honestly it wouldn't surprise me if that needy little cunt of yours just starts throwing the match for you. Is that what's happening, babe? Is your sexy cunny making you too dumb and wet to ever win?"

A tiny part of Jerri's mind bristled with wounded pride at the insinuation; she liked to think she was really trying to win their playful competition every time they fell into bed together, and more than that she felt like conceding this particular point of contention would leave her a little more vulnerable to Fran's future manipulations than she should really let herself become. But the much larger, more urgently aroused and far more overwhelmingly powerful part of Jerri knew how good it was going to feel once she gave up and went limp and let her friend finger-fuck her to one climax after another until she was limp and trembling, and she couldn't deny it--that part of her was in charge right now. "…d-dumb and wet…." she heard herself mumble, in a voice that sounded so dazed with lust that a casual listener wouldn't be able to tell if there was any thought at all behind the words.

Certainly Fran seemed to believe that. "Good girl," she purred, pushing her fingers in between Jerri's labia to settle into a rhythm of thrusting the blonde knew all too well. "Pretty Jerri's dumb and wet, pretty Jerri's a weak and horny girl who thinks with her cunt, and pretty Jerri always loses because it feels so good." Jerri had a muzzy memory of hearing words like this the last time they wound up having a little roll in the hay, and in fact once she really brought her mind to bear on the question she kind of ended up realizing this entire game had been Fran's idea. But of course she couldn't fully concentrate on anything but the relentless throb in her clit and the slick squishing noises in her pussy, and eventually it just became easier to repeat Fran's words back to her and cum her brains out. And already, her dripping cunt was looking forward to their next little competition.

Her natural state of being. Hypnosis isnt really needed.