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Tea Time! (Commission)

Beatrixing FanterMod! (Collab)

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"I… god, I can't believe we never did this before." There was a tone of quiet awe in Betsy's voice as she looked into Emma's eyes, as though their mutual masturbation wasn't just a sexual experience but a religious one, and she pressed her leg up against the other woman's thigh to emphasize every single place their bodies touched. Betsy hadn't quite worked up the nerve to touch Emma's pussy yet, the same way Emma hadn't quite succumbed to her programming to the point of actually caressing Betsy's furry cunt and soft, pale breasts, but they both knew it was only a matter of time.

Emma did give some thought to Betsy's words, though, looking reverently back into her roommate's warm brown eyes while her fingers teased her slick pink pussy lips and her mind slowly but surely suffused every last notion with vacant bliss. "I guess we weren't lesbians before," she finally said, the words sounding strange and surreal in her own ears even though she could feel the incontrovertible truth of them at the very core of her identity. It sounded so odd when she heard it out loud like that--one minute, she and Betsy were hanging around the apartment doing nothing, and the next their phones were giving out this weird high-pitched squeal like the sound of a modem and suddenly all these new ideas were unpacking themselves inside their brains.

And the first thought--really the only thought for a little while, although Emma was just now beginning to feel smaller, subsidiary notions forming around the edges of it--was that women and women's bodies turned her on. She recalled looking at Betsy and feeling a lust so potent and profound she simply didn't care about anything but satisfying it, and she literally could not get her leggings and panties off fast enough to give her fumbling fingers access to her bewilderingly hungry cunt. Betsy was stripping down at the same exact time, and seeing her masturbate exacerbated Emma's desire to a degree that was almost painful. She had the sense that if she resisted, it would have been, but Emma was caught so completely off guard by her sudden conversion to lesbianism that she didn't so much as try to struggle.

That first climax had released a little bit of the urgency in their brains, giving them just enough agency to be able to stumble into Betsy's bedroom and lie back on her soft, comfy, king-sized bed… but that and getting out Betsy's trusty vibrator had been about the extent of their ability to resist the urge to cum themselves into a reverie of sapphic ecstasy. Emma used her fingers, Betsy used her toy, and for a while the only words in the room were gasps and mumbles of, "Oh fuck," "Oh god you're so pretty," "Oh fuck I--ohhh…." It was literally rewiring their brains to see each other like this, and Emma passively accepted every last bit of it.

She knew the programming had finally finished unpacking itself when she reached out with her free hand and gently pushed the toy aside to sink two fingers into Betsy's feverishly warm pussy, and something inside her welcomed the completion of her conversion--that brief burst of noise had contained a ton of compressed information, everything she needed to know to understand how to please another woman and more importantly why, and Emma's brain was only now catching up to the last little details of it. But she could tell from the desperate little squeak her roommate made that she was following her training well… and when Betsy began to caress Emma's cunt in turn, she knew they weren't going to be able to get out of bed for the rest of the day.

"I think we need to talk about these silly little notions of yours," Becca murmured, her sultry voice rendered infinitely more seductive by the two fingers buried in Susan's cunt all the way up to the knuckle. "Now, you were telling me you were straight just an hour ago, and I think that's so adorable of you, but I don't think it really fits the facts, do you? I think it's really better to describe you as a needy bisexual slut who's so desperate for a big hard cummie that she can't keep her hands off her tits while I finger her pussy, and you have to admit--that suits you so much better, doesn't it?"

Susan tried to reply, even though her muddled brain wasn't sure whether she planned to spit back some useless defiance or simply beg for the climax she could feel pressing in on her, but her words were obliterated even in the privacy of her own head when Becca's thumb found Susan's clit and rubbed her to an explosive grunt of pure ecstasy. Susan's fingers pinched her own nipple so hard it practically hurt, desperate to add that tiny little extra bit of sensation she knew would get her over the edge, but Becca was a master at reading people and refused to give it to her. She kept Susan right where she wanted her, the whole time, waiting for an admission Susan knew it would be a mistake to give.

And she was so fucking nice about it, too. "Ohhh, sweetie!" she cooed, the words dripping with mock sympathy even as her eyes drank in the sight of Susan's desperate thrashing with playful amusement sparkling in their depths. "I know, it's so hard for you being all stuck like that, isn't it? Don't worry, I know I can help you. All you need to do is tell me the truth, just say you're a bisexual slut and you need me to make you cum, and I can make all that frustration go away. Don't you want that, baby girl? Don't you want to stop needing this so much?" Susan's eyelids squeezed shut, and her back arched on the prop bed they were supposed to be getting out of storage for the summer play. She knew there was no way out of this except to admit defeat, but she didn't know where that would lead so she tried her best to hold onto her only ally--silence.

She failed. Susan didn't know how long it took, because time lost all meaning when Becca was playing with her cunt like that, but eventually she heard a thin, reedy whimper gasping out, "I… I'm a bisexual slut…." and she realized the voice belonged to her. It completed the dissociation she'd been drifting into ever since Becca began touching her, convincing her fully that she was nothing more than a passenger in her own body watching her descent into lesbian submission, and she gave up trying to fight anymore as she heard herself say, "And I need you to make me cum." It didn't seem real, none of it did, but the orgasm she experienced was very real and it was the best climax she'd ever had in her entire life.

It wasn't nearly enough to sate her, though, and soon she was weakly grasping at Becca's wrist in a pathetic effort to keep the other woman's hand inside her cunt. "Oh, does my good girl need some more?" Becca chuckled, clearly expecting exactly this kind of submissive behavior now that the first violent cracks had shown in Susan's resistance. "Well, I think she's going to have to earn it. I think she's going to have to tell me just what she's willing to do for another big, strong cummie like that." The use of the third person only intensified Susan's dissociation from her own identity, and she found herself dazedly agreeing with Becca's words as if they were talking about someone else entirely. There were still six whole weeks before the play even premiered, and Susan was now fully certain that by the time it wrapped production she'd be nothing more than a helpless slave to the woman fingering her slick pussy.

So last night after a weekend of intense shenanigans (we played fraction8 nearly 4 times) I was VERY fractionated still, and very easy. I'm sat in a vc with my wife and our friend. We play together a fair bit and safe to say I was in one of my subby moods. The two of them are science-y types and they were talking about some sort of biology thing (for context I failed bio and chem at high school as well as maths, it's not my jam).

My wife looked in the camera and shushed me. Placing her fingers on my lips always forces me to be quiet. As she holds her finger to the camera I lost the ability to speak. So here I am flustered and fractionated. Squirming in subby frustration at this. She's like "hey since we're going to talk about smart science things you can just smile, nod and look pretty okay?" I start to unravel a little at the idea. While it wasn't stated I should be getting dumber, I was very confused, my head started to spin a little. The last time such a thing was said to me was around 2018 when I was dumbed down in this same situation. Smart people talk while I, the total ditz can only listen to the smarty pants people talking to each other doing their smart things with their full brain. Now this alone would have done me in, however earlier in the call I picked up my tally counter, my personal clicker, the one that now thanks to this friend drops me into trance when I click it. Only for a second of course, not long enough sometimes but enough to get my brain fucked up after a while. He said "I know you haven't even thought about putting it down" and I thought about that for a second. He was right. I didn't want to and after explaining the difference between wanting to do something and actually doing that thing to me he said, "you know while we talk you can also just keep clicking yourself into trance, clicking your mind away." And that did me in. I knew the game was set.

"Sorry, what were you saying? You kind of trailed off mid-sentence." Acacia delivered the words with a sadistic gleam in her eyes that belied her innocent expression, beginning to sway again almost before she'd finished speaking so that her pale, voluptuous breasts began to shake and jiggle in her low-cut teddy. "I'm pretty sure it was something about 'just us girls', right? You were saying you didn't mind if I wore something revealing because it was just us girls." Vicki was pretty sure that wasn't what she said at all, but she couldn't prove it because she couldn't remember and she couldn't remember because those big bouncing tits kept distracting her.

So she stammered out something barely even verbal, a kind of word salad that started with, "Well, I, uh, of course I mean, um, you, your body and, uh, it's, I mean, like…." But she soon lapsed back into distracted vacancy, her hazel eyes following the motion of Acacia's swaying tits until her breathing slowed and her blink rate dropped to practically zero. It wasn't fair, she tried to complain in the privacy of her head, during those moments when her fuzzy and faded thoughts cohered enough to understand the reality of the situation. Goth chicks were supposed to be slender and flat-chested and consumptive, not zaftig supermodels that hit each and every last one of Vicki's bi-curious buttons like a bratty kid on an elevator. It was practically cheating.

But the sluggish awareness of her own defenselessness didn't stop Vicki from staring slack-jawed down Acacia's cleavage as the other woman smoothly cut into the pathetic pretense of a train of thought with, "Of course, I understand. It is my body, and it's perfectly natural to be aroused by it. It's very natural to find other women attractive, and it's just as natural to find that arousal simply quieting down all your other thoughts until all you want to do is obey. That is what you've been trying to tell me, right, Vicki? That you want to stop thinking and obey?" It wasn't… or at least Vicki thought it wasn't, or at least she thought it wasn't to the degree that she could think at all, but because that wasn't much she just watched the swaying tits a while longer and waited for something clever to occur to her.

There was only one word stuck in Vicki's empty mind, though, and she sleepily wiped away a trickle of drool from the corner of her mouth and muttered, "obey," through slack lips in a dazed and drowsy monotone. She noticed a languid throb of pleasure between her thighs, the kind of sensation that would normally drive her to masturbate, but moving felt too much like work right now so instead she just sat there with her arms limp at her sides and her eyes glassy with mesmerized fascination. Another word finally occurred to her, and she added, "tits," without quite knowing why.

It definitely seemed to please Acacia, and she chuckled and said, "That's right! Good girl! You want to obey my tits." She took Vicki by the wrist and pulled her closer, close enough to make Vicki topple over and sag into the soft cushions of Acacia's heavy breasts, and that was when Vicki's enfeebled consciousness simply gave up the ghost and her eyes slipped shut. She knew she'd been hypnotized, and she knew she was falling ever deeper into trance with every breath and sinking further into obedience to Acacia's will… but it all seemed worth it to rest her head on those wonderful, perfect tits.

Kathleen started the metronome. And Zoe remembered.

She remembered that she'd heard that sound before, the constant tick and tock of a pendulum swinging back and forth in its housing in a relentless rhythm that stopped her thoughts every time she heard it. She remembered that every time she lost a thought to the metronome, it became that much harder to form another one, until she was sitting on her study partner's bed staring blank and empty at the shining metal that just kept swaying from side to side, capturing her gaze and making her eyelids simply too heavy to stay open. She remembered all these things and more.

She finally recalled why she kept coming back over to Kathleen's dorm to hang out, even two whole semesters after they'd stopped taking classes together and the whole notion of needing to help each other cram for tests was long abandoned. She understood why she dressed in tight, clinging turtleneck sweaters with no bra on underneath, and why she wore a thigh-high tartan dress that made her look like a slutty schoolgirl from an old music video and why the idea of putting panties on underneath it always seemed to slip her mind. The metronome revealed all these little secrets to Zoe's dazed and drowsy mind, even as it wiped away every last effort to think about what she was rediscovering as soon as it formed.

And inevitably, these revealed memories led her to the most important discovery of all… Zoe really wanted to pull up her shirt and let her big, heavy tits flop out so that Kathleen could play with them. It wasn't actually her intention to want that, it was an impulse Kathleen implanted in her vulnerable brain during one of the many times the metronome wiped her will away and left her deliciously susceptible to suggestions, but every time Zoe tried to remind herself of that important fact the tick and the tock stopped that thought before it could finish. And ultimately before it could even begin. Zoe's willpower had limits, while the metronome could keep going forever.

And once her top was pulled up, and her lush, voluptuous breasts were fully exposed to Kathleen's gaze and her groping touch, Zoe found there wasn't much of a reason to try to think at all anymore. What was happening to her tits felt good, and it made her pussy wet and leaky and ready to be used, and she was feeling so dopey and blissed-out that her tongue lolled out of her head and her eyes crossed in an expression of vacuous ahegao ecstasy. After that it just seemed silly to fight her programming, and Zoe's efforts at thought soon coasted to a complete stop.

Zoe never really knew how long she spent in trance like that. Time didn't matter when she was eating pussy, or when she was getting her cunt stuffed by a big thick strap-on, or when she was reciting her latest conditioning while she masturbated herself stupid for a webcam she was too dumb to even realize was there. But she knew when the metronome went still that it was time to start thinking again… and more importantly, she knew what it was time to forget until her next session with her study partner Kathleen.

Cara really didn't know why she didn't announce herself this time. Normally when she came over to Irene and Sue's apartment, she always gave a big, boisterous hello as soon as she came through the sliding glass door, letting them know that it was her and not some burglar who just happened to notice that their patio entrance was unlocked. But today some instinct warned her that it would be a much better idea to slip off her shoes while she was still outside and pad barefoot along the thick carpet until she inevitably found them in the last place she looked. And another, much sharper and more suspicious instinct told her it was going to be Irene's bedroom.

Not that she was jealous or anything. Not exactly. She'd never been with a woman, and neither had Sue as far as Cara was aware, and they were the kind of extremely close friends who would doubtlessly feel safe sharing that kind of big and important personal news with each other and that kind of hurt to think about so Cara let her mind slide right off it as she crept down the hallway with her breath coming in very slow, careful whispers. The point was, she and Sue weren't romantic with each other despite a couple of close calls back in college, and she didn't have any kind of claim on exclusivity when it came to the beautiful brunette. But that didn't mean Cara enjoyed the increasing feeling that she was kind of the third wheel in the group dynamic. In a very couple-tastic kind of way.

It wasn't anything she could put her finger on. They weren't calling each other 'honey' and 'sweetie', they weren't overtly telling Cara not to come over because they had a thing… well, one time they did, and it wasn't entirely coincidence that Cara's decision to tiptoe through their apartment came just three weeks later. But mostly it was just the way Sue looked at Irene with big wide cow eyes that seemed to tune out the whole rest of the world, or the way she kind of hung on Irene's every little utterance. And the way their apartment sometimes kind of smelled like--well. Cara wasn't saying she knew that particular scent or anything. But she kind of did. And walking in on the two women making out reminded her of it.

It was a pretty passionate embrace, too. Cara stood in the doorway, a stunned expression on her face, watching as Sue's hands roamed up and down Irene's body over her clothes, and she was shocked to find that actually she was more than a little jealous after all. She'd never spent any real time pondering it, but after that one night in junior year when their lips almost touched Cara had just sort of always assumed that if either one of them was going to have a first time with a woman it was going to be with each other. Finding out that Sue was absolutely wild for a pretty blonde who looked like Cara only taller and with bigger tits felt kind of demeaning.

It was so shocking that Cara almost missed the way Sue gasped out, "Oh yes, yes Mistress," in between kisses. But she didn't, and even if she had the follow-up of, "I obey," was pretty hard to ignore. She watched the two of them grope and squeeze each other's bodies for a long moment, listening to the vacant tone in Sue's voice and telling herself she needed to go before Irene opened her eyes and spotted her… but all the implications of that drowsy monotone and the new light it cast on Sue's frequent bouts of woolgathering whenever Irene was around kept catching her and holding her. Until she noticed Irene noticing her, and the world seemed to fall away into deep, helpless fascination.

Wasn't there… wasn't there something Ellen was watching? Oh yes. There was. She'd been watching that video Norah sent her, the weird trippy one with all the graphics that seemed to trick the eye, and then--and then she wasn't. It was still playing, Ellen knew that because she could hear the soft twinkly music with all the whispers in it that Ellen couldn't quite make out, but she couldn't see it anymore. It took a surprisingly long time for her to figure out the reason for that, but eventually it occurred to Ellen that her eyelids had slipped shut at some point during her viewing despite her best efforts to keep them open. Once she really thought about it, she remembered that drooping, drowsy sense of lethargy stealing over her.

She tried to open them again, or at least she tried to try. But it was like that feeling you get when you're already asleep and just don't know it yet, when you suddenly remember that the clothes didn't make it to the dryer or your pocketbook didn't make it back into your purse but it feels too much like work to lever yourself out of the warm, comfortable bed by that point. Only it wasn't quite like that, because Ellen's hand was definitely doing something down between her legs so she wasn't exactly sleeping, but focusing on that and on opening her eyes and the music was just a little too much effort for her at the moment. Ellen picked the wrong thing to concentrate on and lost herself for a good several minutes just listening to the whispers before she remembered what she was thinking at all.

Right. The video. It had… it had some kind of effect on her, didn't it? Not just the drowsiness, although that felt like a hole with no bottom and Ellen could feel her mind descending through fathoms of peace and pleasure like a stone sinking into the ocean's depth. But back at the beginning, before her eyelids slipped shut and refused to open, Ellen had been surprised to discover that the video was making her incredibly wet. She even recalled loosely wondering if that was why Norah sent it to her, or if Ellen just had the kind of imagination that could look at weird, abstract imagery and pick out the curves of a woman's breast and the suggestive delta of lightly parted thighs. Not that Ellen was gay, or even bi, but--but surely she must be, if she was looking at swirls and spirals and getting turned on thinking of tits and pussy?

It was a question she hadn't answered, not exactly, but she had wriggled out of her clothes and fumbled her biggest, thickest dildo out of her nightstand without ever letting her eyes drift away from the screen. And now that she thought about it, like now that she turned every single last bit of her fading and feeble intellect to the task of noticing these little details instead of just floating along in dreamy indolence and letting the music tell her what to do, Ellen was definitely aware that she was cramming her toy into her hungry cunt with an enthusiasm that seemed entirely at odds with her hazy lethargy. Almost as if her hand wasn't under her control anymore. Almost as if it was doing what the whispers commanded.

But that would be silly. That would mean the video had… had hypnotized her, or something. And Ellen didn't need to worry about that, because she could trust Norah completely. Even thinking about Norah made Ellen's cunt clench hard around the fake cock, but she knew she didn't need to worry about that either and so she let herself fade into warm, blissful relaxation as another orgasm pushed all her thoughts into blank, helpless oblivion to be replaced by the whispers in her ears.

"Oh. Um, yeah. I guess they are leaking." Darcy was aware of the muzzy, muddled tone in her voice, and a part of her recognized just how odd it was to be staring at another woman's tits like this. But her gaze refused to move from the thin spray of milk gushing from Monica's lush, heavy breasts, and all she could think about was how absolutely fascinating the sight truly was. She'd never seen a woman lactate before, not up close and in person like this, and there was something just brain-breakingly amazing about actually seeing mammary glands fulfilling their primary purpose. She couldn't look away.

But it gradually dawned on her that Monica had been asking for help back when this conversation first started, and Darcy had responded to that request by just staring vacantly at her boobs like a horny guy in a peepshow booth. Not that she was exactly sure whether it was her responsibility to clean up the misty spray of milk that was falling to the kitchen floor--this was Darcy's first job as an au pair, she didn't really know how to draw firm boundaries yet. But she still felt like she ought to do something. "I, uh, I guess I should help with that," she mumbled, again noticing just how dazed and vacant she sounded but unable to muster any real force behind her words. She was… wow, it really just kept on coming, didn't it? Darcy suddenly felt like it was a good thing she was sitting down, or she might simply have slumped straight onto the floor.

Monica said something, and it took Darcy a surprising amount of concentration to realize that it was, "I thought you'd never ask," and it took her an even more surprising amount of concentration to realize that it wasn't the only thing Monica had been saying over the last few minutes. She'd been talking this whole time, speaking in a low, soothing voice while Darcy just stared in glassy-eyed fascination at her tits, and thankfully the older woman seemed to understand the effect her breasts and the leaking milk had on Darcy or otherwise she probably would have gotten fired for sexually harassing her boss. But instead Monica just angled her nipple directly at Darcy's parted lips to catch the spray of creamy liquid.

That should have broken the spell, but it did the exact opposite. Instead of being shocked and surprised and maybe even a little embarrassed by getting Monica's warm milk in her mouth, Darcy felt a kind of primal relaxation settle onto her brain like a weighted blanket. She experienced an impulse she hadn't thought about since childhood, the urge to latch on and suckle, and it just seemed to take over her mind and empty every other thought clean out until she found her lips pursing around the long, stiff nipples almost without any conscious effort on her part. "That's a good girl," Monica cooed, and Darcy did kind of wonder about the condescending tone behind the gentle praise but she was too busy swallowing to pay much attention.

Honestly, it was hard to really pay attention to anything other than the warm, sweet milk flowing across her tongue and down her throat, and soon Darcy's eyes were rolling back in her head behind drooping, fluttering eyelids as she struggled and failed to fight the instinctual urge to nod off suckling at a heavy tit. She knew Monica was talking to her, saying very important things she would need to remember later, but her conscious mind didn't need to recall them and didn't want to recall them when she could just suck and sleep and obey. Darcy had just barely enough presence of mind to wonder where that last word came from and why it seemed so natural, but then the bottom fell out of her brain and she simply slumped up against Monica while her mouth did what came naturally.

"There's so little left in that sweet, empty head of yours, isn't there?" Doreen's voice was so soft and coaxing that Maura barely even noticed the degrading content of her words anymore; those unimportant details had faded away into a constant pulse of pleasure that drowned out her thoughts and made her eyes roll back in her head as she stroked herself. Her shaft was a leaky mess now, drooling all over the floor, and even though she knew it didn't make any sense Maura couldn't help connecting the gushes of clear, slick fluid with her own increasingly feeble mental state. She was dripping her brains out for Doreen and she couldn't make herself stop.

It was only when Doreen murmured, "That's right, pretty poppet, of course there is," that Maura even realized she'd been nodding vacantly along with everything the other woman had been saying. Finding out that she'd been lulled into such a complete and total state of mindless, simpering acceptance only made her twitch and drip even harder, and try as she might to focus her gaze back on the real world the waves of utter ecstasy kept her eyes rolled back and her jaw slack with captivated amazement at her own capacity for pleasure. It felt like she would have to cum any second now, and yet something kept holding her back. She'd already forgotten the suggestion that perpetually deferred her climax by now.

"You're leaking it all out for me, baby girl, dripping and drooling your strength and your will and your intelligence out of that pretty shaft of yours as you stroke and sink, and doesn't it feel so much better to let it go? Doesn't it feel so much nicer to give it all away to me and become my dumb, weak, horny pet?" Maura's only response was a strangled yelp, as a surge of orgasmic energy shot down her spine and settled between her thighs with a hot, pulsing tingle that the post-hypnotic suggestion then squeezed down on until it could go no further. She'd imagined when all this started that it would be only roleplay, or at the very least just a fun teasing exercise in harmless kink, but right now with her brain stuck in the throes of desperation and her fist relentlessly pumping she felt like it was all too astonishingly real.

Doreen's hands reached out to play with Maura's nipples, her fingers groping and kneading the soft flesh until Maura was letting out a high keening whimper that never seemed to end. "You're going to give it all away to me, pretty girl," Doreen purred, sounding slightly hoarse with an arousal all her own. "You're going to feel the very last of it gathering between your legs, pulsing away with relentless pleasure, until you know there's nothing left at all in your mind and every last bit of it is down there waiting to be released, and when you know you've got it all you're going to release it. Doesn't that sound nice, sweetie pie? Doesn't it sound nice to cum your brains out for Mistress?" Maura moaned, hoping like hell post-nut clarity was a real thing because if it wasn't she was never going to escape this level of control.

It was. Sort of. Maura could swear she felt something real and visceral gushing out of her when she finally came, her body accepting subjugation as the bride price of orgasm while her mind remained too lost in pleasure to properly consider the question. But she did wake up from trance once she climaxed, and she did return to her sense of self… but when she looked at Doreen, smiling expectantly at her with a bulge in her panties, Maura felt compelled to kneel down in the mess she'd made and lavish gratitude on her new Mistress.

"Awww, sweetie, you don't have to be shy! Just look at the pretty light on the camera, remember the shiny pendant, and think about how good it felt to be hypnotized by Mistress." Corinne could actually watch the pleasure flowing into Dahlia's eyes, filling her up with sticky pink ecstasy that swallowed up her thoughts one by one, and it made her shaft ache so bad it twitched and leaked between her thighs. Dahlia was the one who suggested camming as a way to bring a little extra cash into the household, but Corinne was discovering that she had a fetish for putting her cute subby hypnoslut through her paces for an audience. Just the thought of being watched like this made her want to fuck.

But she wasn't just going to jump straight to the main event. Not when there were so many fun ways to tease both Dahlia and the audience at the same time. So she cooed out, "That's my good girl, let's show them that cute little toy between your thighs," and she teased Dahlia's nipples through the mesh body stocking the submissive woman wore, and soon Dahlia's legs were parting to reveal a throbbing shaft that looked so cute Corinne couldn't help reaching in to stroke it. That made Dahlia extra whimpery, and even though they hadn't expected to do any real numbers on their first live show Corinne was getting turned on just thinking about someone going back and finding this clip. They were going to wish they could be her. They were going to wish they could be Dahlia even more.

She wriggled her body around behind Dahlia, playing with her nipples some more while the shaft between Dahlia's thighs bobbed and twitched in helpless arousal. "Please," Dahlia mewled, her brain so utterly broken with confusion and pleasure that she didn't even know what she was begging for anymore, and Corinne bent her over with a chuckle and gave her a swat on the butt. Not a hard one, not the kind she'd give if they were doing a real spanking session, but just enough to remind the shuddering submissive that Corinne owned her. Mind and body. And Dahlia wouldn't want it any other way.

It was getting increasingly difficult to keep herself from taking Dahlia from behind, so Corinne decided to move on to a little bit of light fingering as the next step in her teasing. She maneuvered them both around so that Dahlia's taut, toned ass was facing the camera, and drizzled a bit of lube down the crack between her buttcheeks and began working it in with slow, gentle massages that gradually turned into penetration. Corinne wished she had a second camera, so that the audience could see the delightful contortions of Dahlia's pretty face as the combination of hypnosis and anal stimulation melted her brain to mush, but that would have to wait until they were making some real money and could afford to upgrade the equipment.

God, just thinking about filming their sex like this every time, for an audience of hundreds or even thousands, made Corinne so horny she couldn't wait a single second longer, and soon she was rocking her hips back and forth in grunting, animal thrusts that made her sound not much more intelligent than the mindless toy she was fucking. She tried her best to hang onto her self-control, reminding herself that she needed to put on a show, but that was rapidly becoming a new fetish and she barely even lasted six minutes before she came.