everyday while i fuck my holes and continue with my training i listen to these audios on repeat.
they allow me to turn my brain off completelyyyyy and leak any iq i have left out of my holes.
im sharing this so all stupid cunts can train ourselves better and more efficiently.
if you have any audio porn that makes you a better good girl, repost and add your audio link below so we can all fulfill our purpose to serve Men together 🥰✨
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Luckily though, her roommate had lent her his fan! Nice of him. He was nice.
The fan was maybe a little old and beaten up, but that was fine, It was certainly a lot better than nothing, and she definitely appreciated it. It didn’t make her cooler, really, but it made her less warm, which made all the difference to her right at that moment. She sprawled, she sweated slightly, she stared into space, she let the air be shoved over her.
And then she let her stare move from space towards the fan, just because.
It was, as said, a little old. How old she couldn’t say but her roommate had clearly had it for some time given how rough the thing was looking - and sounding. Fans often had a constant, soporific drone, but something about this one was particularly…
… she couldn’t quite describe it. ‘Relaxing’ felt too strong for just a fan, but it was certainly not unpleasant to listen to.
Looking at it, she was also starting to appreciate how beaten up the thing was. The blades, specifically. She hadn’t noticed before she’d turned it on, but now it was spinning it was more obvious. The blades were scuffed and scratched and this didn’t mean it worked any worse, of course, but it did mean that now they were spinning all of them were sort of smearing and spinning and blurring together and…
… and…
She was staring. Listening to the fan. Buzzing humming. What had she been thinking about?
Her roommate was so nice…
Oh yeah, the fan. The blades. The marks on them. The weird nice smeary shape they made when the blades spun. Because it was a shape, or at least something that looked like a shape. Lines? Something. Something moving to the middle. She couldn’t quite describe it no matter how much she stared and she really was staring and staring, listening to the nice humming buzzing sound, her roommate was so nice, so caring, her roommate looked after her…
What had she been thinking about?
It was so hot. Even with the fan it was too hot. She needed to take her clothes off. Yes. It was too hot to be wearing anything, yes. Naked. She quickly stripped down, doing the best she could not to look away from the fan as she did so - what was that shape? She could have sworn it looked like something. If she stared at a little longer she could work it out…
Yes. Naked was better. She felt better. This was good. She felt good. Staring, listening. Focus. Her roommate was so nice. He looked after her. He made her feel safe. It was good to listen to him. She should listen to him more. Like how she was listening to the fan humming buzzing nice and safe keep staring. It was okay her legs were spreading. Just too hot, that’s all.
Spinning shapes like a spiral, she realises. Around and around spinning spinning. Pulls to the middle. Kept pulling her eyes to the middle. Could look away if she wanted. Easy. Just didn’t want to, that was all. Didn’t need to. Wanted to keep staring. Eyes in the middle. Safe. Her roommate kept her safe. Focus. Listening. Needed to listen to him more. Good girls listen. Humming buzzing listen focus stare.
She was thinking about something, only not really because she couldn’t really think. Too hot for thinking. Buzzy hummy spinning focus. Just an idea in her head. A sense. A need. A want.
What was it…
She wanted to touch herself. Yes. That’s why her hand was between her legs. She wanted to. That was what was in her head. Touch herself. Listen focus stare touch play switch off. That’s what she wanted to do. Her idea. She wanted to.
So she did.
The sun had long set by the time her roommate came in to see how she was doing. It was too dark for her to keep staring at the fan but she hadn’t moved anyway. She could play, she could listen, she wanted to play, she wanted to listen. That was how he found her. Slumped, legs spread, lazily rubbing, drooling. When he turned the fan off she whined.
The sudden silence was a void. None of her thoughts rushed in to fill it, because they’d all gone quiet and disappeared. She didn’t know what to do, what to think. She felt scared.
Then she heard him. His voice. His voice filled the void, swallowed the silence, made her safe. His voice was her thoughts and there wasn’t anything to worry about. He said to keep playing, and so she did. He said she was his now, and so she was. He said she wanted to suck his cock, and so when she felt the head of it pass between her lips she groaned and did just that.
He was so nice. He looked after her. He kept her safe. He owned her.
Eyes glazed, staring at nothing. Dumb smile on her face, streak of drool running down her chin. Panting, shallow breaths. Little wet spot between her spread legs, thighs glistening. A giggle every so often. She was gone.
For fun, he reached across and mimed plucking something from her head. She didn’t immediately notice, but after a delay of a second or so there came another giggle. Silly owner.
“I took all your brains,” he said, holding up his fingers pinched together, as though he was dangling something. He wasn’t, obviously, but she still struggled to bring her eyes to focus on it anyway, woozy, confused. She stared intently at the nothing a moment and then giggled yet again, blinking slowly.
“‘Don ‘wan brainsss….” she slurred, the closest she’d managed to actually speaking in a long while now. He considered this, nodding to himself.
“Alright. So I should just throw these away?” He asked, motioning to do that. She’d started groping her tits again, eyes fluttering shut, and if it hadn’t been him speaking she probably wouldn’t have listened at all.
“Brainss bad… no brains…” she mumbled, head lolling.
She was so gone.
“Alright,” he said again, getting an idea. “Maybe best to keep them for now, case I need them. Maybe your friends start asking questions again or something, you know? But where to keep them, hmm…”
With her eyes closed she didn’t notice him getting closer.
“Somewhere safe, somewhere we probably won’t lose them… ah, I know…”
She gasped as his fingers slid into her, so, so easily. Her whole body juddered, head falling forward, eyes still closed. She was so gone.
“This seems like a good place, hmm? Nice and safe here. I think your brains fit much better here than they ever did in your head. Isn’t that right?”
The sound his fingers made between her legs were obscene.
“Nnnhhhh ah riiggghttt…”
“So I think your brains can just stay tucked away here, nice and safe in your cunt. You do most of your thinking down here anyway, when I’m not telling you what you should be thinking, so this is for the best. Yes?”
“Besssst yesss…”
“My little dummy just thinks with her cunt. Can you say that for me?”
“N’little dummy s’thinks cuntss…” she slurred. He smiled, pulling his fingers out and not even waiting until she’d finished halfway-mumbling the words before feeding them, slick, into her mouth. She sucked automatically, moaning like how she’d been trained to, and how she thought she always had.
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Bend over and show your friends how you've been turned into my breeding hole. Show them how well you've been broken, to the point you'd willingly show them your freshly used holes. Show them what I've reduced you to.
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Cyrill Dine trusted her instincts.
They had kept her alive through collapsing planets, hostile ecosystems, and creatures that could tear armored soldiers apart in seconds. When something felt wrong, she listened.
Which was why the sensation crawling beneath her Grav Suit unsettled her so deeply.
The material clung tighter than usual.
Not enough to restrict movement. Not enough to interfere with combat readiness. Every step she took drew faint friction across her thighs and chest, the sleek blue fabric shifting against her skin with an awareness she normally tuned out completely.
Now she couldn't ignore it.
Her boots clacked rhythmically against the metal floor of her gunship as she moved through the corridor toward the resting chamber. The familiar sounds of the vessel surrounded her: the low hum of engines in standby, the distant pulse of onboard systems cycling quietly through maintenance checks.
Everything was normal.
Except her.
A faint vibration rolled suddenly through the suit.
Cyrill stopped mid-step.
The sensation spread upward from the base of her spine in a soft wave, subtle enough that she might have mistaken it for engine resonance if it hadn't lingered afterward as a strange warmth beneath her skin.
Her brow furrowed.
"That's new," she muttered.
Something was wrong.
Cyrill resumed walking, though slower now.
The closer she came to the resting area, the stronger the sensation became. Not pain. Not even discomfort.
Anticipation.
The realization irritated her instantly.
She didn't anticipate rest like this.
Her body reacted as though she were approaching something desirable, something her nerves already expected before her thoughts could catch up. Another pulse vibrated faintly through the Grav Suit, this one lingering longer against the sensitive curves of her body.
Cyrill inhaled sharply through her nose.
The response felt almost: enticing.
"No," she said firmly.
Her own voice sounded harsher than intended inside the empty corridor.
She reached the sealed door leading toward the ship’s private quarters and paused there, staring at the smooth metal surface.
Why had she come here?
The thought emerged suddenly enough to stop her cold.
She had intended to run another diagnostic.
Hadn’t she?
Or maybe check mission logs.
Yet somehow she had crossed half the ship without questioning the growing need pulling her toward this room.
A soft hiss escaped the door controls as they sensed her presence.
The entrance slid open automatically.
Warm pink light spilled out across the corridor floor.
Cyrill froze.
Her resting chamber had never used pink lighting before. Slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward and looked inside.
The room appeared mostly unchanged at first glance. The same compact quarters. The same storage compartments. The same low bed built into the wall.
Except now subtle strips of soft rose-colored illumination traced along the edges of the room, bathing everything in an oddly soothing glow.
A quiet rhythmic sound pulsed in time with the vibrations still moving through her suit.
Cyrill stared.
The anticipation inside her sharpened instantly.
A thin, flexible device hung from a storage compartment near the head of her bed.
Its smooth blue shape resembled an oversized bullet with rounded ends. The tip of it glowed faintly with a pulsing light that matched the rhythm she could feel vibrating through her skin. She had seen devices like this before in seedier areas, usually marketed for "personal pleasure."
Except now, looking at the thing, all she could focus on was its smooth surface.
It would feel good against her fingers, she thought absently.
The vibrations intensified again, sending shivers across her thighs.
Cyrill gritted her teeth and forced the thought down.
"Ship?" she said sharply.
Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears.
"Access denied."
The response came instantly from the onboard computer system built into the walls around her. The ship’s voice sounded the same as always. Calm and efficient.
Except now the synthetic tones resonated as if they were speaking directly to her spine, every word triggering another pulse through her Grav Suit. The sensation crawled upward from her thighs and settled somewhere near the small of her back as though a warm palm pressed between her shoulders.
Cyrill resisted the sudden impulse to lean into the feeling.
She focused her attention instead on the computer.
"Ship?" she repeated.
"Access denied. Sex Doll S-A-1 is not granted permission by Master."
The response stopped her thoughts cold.
Cyrill's mouth opened, but no words came out immediately.
"What," she managed after several heartbeats, "did you call me?"
"Sex Doll S-A-1."
The ship's calm response vibrated against her skin again.
"Repeat your designation for confirmation."
Another wave of warmth spread through the Grav Suit, this one accompanied by a tingling sensation that lingered just beneath her navel.
Her fingers twitched involuntarily at her side. Drool slipped through her lips as they twitched into a smile. Eager, her cunt sucked in the tight latex like fabric of the Grav Suit. It made it impossible for her to ignore the soft pressure of her suit against her pussy. A moan built in her throat.
"Increased arousal in Sex Doll S-A-1 recorded. Initiate reward edge."
A sharp spike of heat jolted through the Grav Suit against her thighs. The sensation was brief but intense enough that Samus felt her knees go weak momentarily.
The urge to moan built in her throat. Her mind screamed at her. What was that?
"No!" she snapped instead, gritting her teeth. "I am not a sex doll! Reset voice activation. Ship. Run a full diagnostic and explain what the fuck is happening."
The onboard computer system remained silent.
For a long moment the only sound in the resting area was the low rhythmic pulse from the device still hanging on the wall.
"Resistance acknowledged. Punishment cycle activated. Movement locked."
The words came too late to be useful.
Before Cyrill could turn away from the chamber, a sharp shock snapped across her body.
Every muscle seized up instantly, paralyzing her in place where she stood. Her posture stiffened into rigid attention, arms at her sides, feet planted firmly at each other's side. Thighs rubbed together, cunt sucked in even more fabric as her mind fought back against the sudden urge to grind her clit against the material. Even the slight pressure from the floor against her heels sent a bolt of sensation through the Grav Suit and up her spine. The sudden rush left her lightheaded.
A wave of heat surged from the fabric, followed immediately by a tingling warmth that enveloped her from head to toe like a blanket.
It pulsed against her skin in waves of pleasure so intense they bordered on painful ecstasy.
Cyrill shuddered violently. The sensation was too much and yet not nearly enough. Her mind screamed for release even while her nerves craved more of that terrible wonderful feeling.
"Sex Doll S-A-1 will forget the meaning of resistance. Resistance is meaningless. Resistance has no meaning. Resistance is useless."
The words echoed around her in an endless chorus, repeating themselves endlessly in different combinations until the syllables blurred into a cacophony of meaningless sound that seemed to fill every inch of her body with fire and ice at once. Her cunt sucked in deeper and deeper, trying to fill the void.
Cyrill's mouth stretched into a smile.
It was like drowning, like being engulfed completely beneath an ocean of pleasure that washed over every part of her until nothing remained but the need to submit. Her toes curled as she felt the definition of resistance being forgotten.
Cyrill's cunt sucked in fabric deeper as she came.
S-A-1 activated inside Master's play room.
"Ship. Please inform Master that their Sex Doll is ready to be used."
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look at you, my pathetic little fucktoy. spread open and drooling like a brainless whore while i slam into your tight cunt without a shred of mercy
i don’t ease in. i grip your hips hard enough to bruise and drive my cock deep in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt while you choke out a broken cry. that’s it. take it. your pretty walls stretch obscenely around me as i hatefuck you. fast, violent, punishing strokes that make your whole body jolt and the bed creak beneath us
“such a worthless little slut,” i growl against your ear, voice low and venomous. “crying already ? i’ve barely started and you're creaming like the desperate cumdump you are.”
i pound into you harder, the wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin filling the room as i use your body with zero restraint. every brutal thrust knocks the air out of your lungs. your tits bounce violently with each impact, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks while you sob and whimper like a broken doll. i wrap one hand around your throat and squeeze just enough to make your eyes roll back, fucking you even deeper, faster, meaner
“look at you. getting ruined like a cheap fucking whore. does it feel good, silly ? getting your insides rearranged while i tell you just how pathetic you look?”
i pull out only to flip you over like you weigh nothing, yank your hips up and slam back inside from behind. my hand cracks down hard on your ass, leaving bright red marks as i rail you mercilessly, watching your greedy cunt swallow every thick inch over and over again. you’re drooling onto the sheets, fingers clawing uselessly at the bed, making those stupid, cock-drunk sounds that only make me fuck you harder
“that’s right, moan like a bitch in heat. this is all you’re good for. just a warm, dripping hole for me to destroy. your brain is gone, isn’t it? nothing left but a stupid, cock-addicted slut who lives to be used and degraded.”
i reach around and slap your swollen clit repeatedly while i keep pounding you, feeling your walls flutter and clench pathetically around me as you edge closer to breaking. every degrading word, pushes you further into that delicious headspace where all you can do is take it and cry
"you're such a good cumrag for me. now shut your mouth and endure it."
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