Jukebox (Erotic Mind Control Story Writer)

(Crossposted from https://jukeboxemcsa.wordpress.com/2021/09/06/the-commissions-masterpost/)

(This post has been brought to you by the efforts of my 180 eager and enthusiastic Patrons! Visit my Patreon page to learn how to become one of them.)

One of the more frequent questions I get is, "Do you take commissions?" And the answer has always been "yes, with a few 'buts'," but I've recently made some changes to the way I work that's making it a bit more feasible to plan them out instead of trying to work them into my existing schedule with all the uncertainties that entailed. So with that in mind, I decided to make a post that I could pin at the top of my blog (and my Tumblr page) to answer those questions for anyone who wanted to know. So here goes!

Zack was pretty sure Josie didn't even realize she was whining, but he sure did. He could hear her soft, keening whimper even before he walked into the room, telling him everything he needed to know about the young woman's mental state and the progress he was making in brainwashing her into his second live-in fucktoy, and the sight of her mostly naked body on the couch was mere confirmation of her steady descent into degradation. She was openly fucking herself with one of Marta's dildos, and the expression on her face when she saw him wasn't shock or mortification but a petulant desire to get the release she so badly craved.

He didn't give it to her. Instead, Zack plopped himself down on the couch next to Josie, running his fingers through her Manic Panic red hair before finally letting them come to rest on her bare breast and murmuring, "And how are we doing this fine Saturday morning?" It was actually Tuesday by this point, but Josie didn't know the difference anymore--every screen in the apartment played nothing but a soft hypnotic spiral that tugged her vacant brain into compliance, and Marta kept unplugging her phone whenever she got distracted so it had long ago run its battery down to nothing. The closest she came to understanding time was the vague, confused notion that she would leave once she finally got her rocks off, and she was already too dumb to understand just how impossible that was with the hypnotic blocks preventing her from cumming.

She understood on a subconscious level, though, which was why she was paying Zack such close attention; she hadn't quite collapsed into a submissive need to please him yet, although he could tell that she was so close she could almost taste it, but she knew deep down that she needed his permission to cum. When she muttered, "Horny," a tiny trace of a pout shading her voice, Zack could tell she was only barely holding back a whimpered plea to give her the orgasm that was by now her sole and desperate desire. It might have been pride, or it might have been some kind of fuzzy awareness that begging would mark the point of no return for her conditioning, but none of that mattered to Zack. Josie's resistance was water circling a drain now, and it was always inevitable where it would wind up.

She kept pumping the toy in and out of her slick, hungry cunt while Zack watched, modesty and shame fully eroded by four straight days of hypnosis and edging, and Zack gave her a warm, condescending smile as he purred, "Well, of course you are, sweetie. Good girls are always horny." He could actually see Josie's lips twitching as she began to instinctively form the words, and he knew then that he was right about her doomed efforts at resistance--she understood what he was doing to her, she realized she was too far gone to do anything as drastic as getting her clothes on and leaving the apartment, but she was holding on to her last tatters of willpower in a faint and futile hope that something might change if she did. Which was downright adorable, and made Zack's prick incredibly hard.

Marta noticed, of course, because she always noticed when his dick needed some attention, and she darted over to the couch to kneel between his legs and nuzzle his erection through his briefs. Seeing the look of absolute longing on Josie's face made him even harder, and Zack's thoughts drifted to a fantasy of finding a woman who tried even harder to resist next time as a pair of warm, wet lips engulfed his straining cock.

"I--ffffucckk--Lyndsey, not… not you too…."

I--oh, oh, oh my god, I… umm… I, I don't know what you're--tuhhh! Talk, talking, talking about, uhm, Amber….

"Oh come on, don't fucking lie to me, I--I can see your pussy leaking through your leggings. You… you wear a Whisper too."

It's, I--n-no, no I don't, I just… ummm, I… o, only sluts w-wear those. I, I'm n-not, not--nnnnhhhh!

"You fucking liar. You have a Whisper in your cunt right now and it got…. unnnnhhhhh… it got hacked, just like mine did. S-someone's playing with your pussy right now and ohhh fuckkkk, it's so hard to think…."

I--okay, maybe. Once in a while. But I, unnnhh, I unnnh, I'm not d-dumb and hhhhhhorny, horny, um… um….

"We gotta take it out, Lyns. We gotta take it out before it, uhm, before it melts our brains to, to mush and we… and we…."

Yeah. No, yeah, you're right. Just reach in like I'm doing, just reach in and… ohhhhh. Ohhh fuck, feels so fucking good….

"Uh huh. Fuck… every time I start to pull it out I wanna push it right back in. It… this… this was a trap…."

Whuh? Oh. Uhm. Yeah. Right. W-wait, this… this connects to our phone, right? That's how it works, right? We should check the app and see who's… who's doing… this….

"Oh. Yes. There's… there's a message… waiting? Looks like a… a link…."

Wait, no, don't click it--ohhhh. oh yes. such a pretty spiral. we should… uhm… we should watch it for a while. just to see what it does.

"yes. good idea. good girl. we're… good… girls…."

yesssss….

"Oh! Um, H-Hank. Hi. I, I didn't expect to see you down here." Hank didn't blame Nancy for looking startled--clearly she had a very different idea of how her afternoon was going to go, and a very different idea of who she heard walking around downstairs. She had on nothing but a black lacy teddy whose sheer fabric left very little to the imagination, the kind of thing you very much didn't wear around the house when it was just you and your husband's fishing buddy, and Hank probably would have sprung clean up off the couch and all the way out of the house if he knew how he'd explain his absence to Paul later. This was so awkward Hank didn't even know what to say.

It got even more awkward when Nancy filled the silence with the world's strangest apology, meekly murmuring, "Here, where are my manners?" before tugging the stretchy fabric out of the way to fully and completely expose her ample breasts to Hank's stunned and helpless stare. He'd never been alone with Paul's wife before, never even given her the slightest hint that he was interested in her in any way that he could think of, and it felt like the worst betrayal in the world to just sit there and watch while she pulled out what were an admittedly amazing pair of tits to show off to him like it was her duty as host to get his dick hard. Hank's face reddened under his bushy blond beard as he realized that was exactly what was happening despite his best efforts.

She must have noticed his bewildered astonishment, because she giggled and said, "Sorry, Hank, I forgot--it's been a few months since you were here last, hasn't it? Not since the Super Bowl, and of course my parents were there for that so I couldn't exactly show off my new self." She giggled again, sounding almost like she'd just gotten a hit of nitrous at the dentist's office, and Hank was embarrassed to realize that her bubbly laugh was making his dick even harder. "It's probably been since last fishing season that you and I had even a moment of alone time, and back then I'd only just started on the training videos." She came closer, kneeling down between his legs and undoing his fly to pull his cock out, and to his shame Hank didn't even try to stop her.

"See, Paul's been making me a more, um, useful wife," she purred, wrapping her tits around Hank's cock as she spoke and gently working his shaft up and down until the valley of her cleavage was slick with his precum. "More agreeable, more helpful, more willing to do some of the things that I was maybe a little bit shy about before he started showing me his special videos. I'm happy to keep his friends entertained now, because it pleases Paul when I please you, and even though my pussy is off-limits I'm sure I can think of all kinds of other ways to satisfy you. Would you like that, Hank? Would you like it if I helped you release a bit of that tension before you go off on that long weekend?"

Hank didn't have the willpower to say no, even though he was privately shocked to hear about what was happening and he knew he'd need to have a long talk with Paul after they got in off the lake tomorrow night to satisfy himself about what was happening with Nancy. His hips kept bucking despite his best efforts to resist temptation, and it felt like only a matter of minutes before he spurted a thick, heavy gush of jizz all the way up into the underside of Nancy's chin. "Ooh, thank you!" she giggled, and Hank could already tell he'd be hard again soon enough.

"I… I'm sorry, I really don't see it." Brigid's cheeks flushed in furious embarrassment--she couldn't really believe she was even looking at another woman's pussy, let alone staring at the gap between her lightly parted labia in search of some supposed hypnotic focus that was going to make her weak and malleable and easy to control. She kind of wished she could steer the conversation away to literally anything else, but by the time Moira had actually gotten her skirt and panties off to demonstrated the effect it felt kind of difficult to just change the subject. Brigid was stuck looking at her friend's friend's cunt until she either gave up and pretended to be mesmerized or until Eileen came in to break up the intensely awkward standoff.

Certainly Moira didn't seem interested in giving the whole thing up. "Try looking a little closer," she said, lightly tracing her pussy lips with her fingers in a circular motion that Brigid guessed she intended to use to intensify the supposedly hypnotic effect. "It might be a little bit easier if you get on your knees. Just stare right at the center, right where my clit is poking out, and just keep your eyes focused on it while you concentrate on the warmth in your own body and the sound of my voice, and soon you'll begin to feel it happening." Brigid didn't even know what hypnosis was supposed to feel like--all she knew was that Moira was right, she had an incredibly large and swollen clitoris, and Brigid's cheeks prickled with heat as the blush spread all the way up to her forehead.

She did kneel, although more out of social obligation than anything else, and when Moira murmured, "That's it, closer and deeper and fully focused on my clit," Brigid did find herself crawling a tiny bit nearer to the other woman even though she still didn't feel captivated or mesmerized or anything else Moira was describing. She was just staring, that was all, staring very intently because she was trying to be a good sport and not get weirded out by this frankly quite lewd display, but the closer she looked and the harder she stared the less she saw anything hypnotic about Moira's cunt. Brigid hadn't blinked in close to a minute now and she still didn't notice anything, and that had to disprove it.

Thankfully Moira must have noticed how hot Brigid's face was getting, because she said, "You may be more comfortable if you get naked as well," and she turned out to be right because the moment Brigid's fingers moved to unbutton her blouse she instantly felt so much cooler. She clambered forward until her head was almost right up next to Moira's pussy, close enough to notice the slickness clinging to her labia and the soft, heady scent of arousal, and she was a little bit surprised to hear a kind of muzzy confusion in her voice when she mumbled out a vague, drowsy insistence that she still didn't see anything but it didn't alarm her. Brigid was too intently focused for that.

They tried a number of different angles and positions to help Brigid find the hypnotic focus that day, with Brigid feeling like they got closest when she lay flat on her back and Moira straddled her face to give her a nice, long look directly at Moira's cunt. It probably looked perverse and lascivious, and when Eileen walked in on them Brigid's whole body twitched with a start of guilty embarrassment. But thankfully Moira's mesmerizing pussy did work on at least one person, and soon Eileen was kneeling blank-eyed between Brigid's legs to help her overheated pussy release some of its tension so that she could devote her full, undivided attention to Moira.

Tilda had to admit, she always got a tiny bit confused about what happened after the end of her practice sessions. She knew that she and Mandy always played hard against each other, going all-out on the court as if it was a real singles match, using each other to hone their skills… but by the time they finished, Tilda was always worn-out and sweaty and barely able to drag her exhausted body over to shake hands with Mandy across the net. The only thing she could keep track of by that point was the score, and everything else got a little muddy in her weary brain. She couldn't remember whether she got a reward for winning or a punishment for losing.

Thankfully, Coach was always there to help keep her on track. He sent Mandy off to the showers, leaving them all alone on the empty practice court, and then he leaned in close and murmured… something… into her ears. It was funny, Tilda always recognized the phrase he used, because it was the same phrase that stupid sports hypnotist used on her during those incredibly expensive and utterly useless sessions a few months back that didn't even work on her because it turned out Tilda couldn't be hypnotized--but she could never remember exactly what he said. She only ever knew that it was always the last straw for her exhausted body and she sank to her knees whenever she heard it.

And then it was time for her… reward? Punishment? Tilda found that she was never quite sure. It felt like a reward, she knew that much; when Coach undid the fly on his tracksuit and pulled out his stiffening prick, Tilda's mouth opened wide and eager to stretch her lips around his girth with a sigh of rapt, fascinated ecstasy. But it happened when she lost to Mandy, too, and that didn't make any sense because why would Tilda be rewarded for losing? So it must have been a punishment of some sort, except that it happened when she won, and eventually Tilda's mind always got so confused trying to puzzle it out that she decided maybe it would be better if she didn't remember it at all.

It felt kind of nice to let the whole thing slip out of her mind, actually. It felt even nicer to stop thinking entirely--it reminded her of those sessions with the sports hypnotist, although of course there she wasn't thinking because she was bored and not because of any hypothetical hypnosis that didn't really happen because Tilda couldn't even be hypnotized so she didn't need to worry about any kind of influence over her mind. But there was a kind of familiarity to the way her head just bobbed, up and down and up and down, on the thick shaft in her mouth while Tilda's eyes rolled back in her head until only the whites showed. It just made her so… cozy.

Most days she just sucked until Coach shot his load down her throat, and then she cleaned up any lingering dribbles that leaked out around her lips before hitting the showers. But some days, like today, she felt another cock slap against the bare skin of her shoulders, and she knew without even turning to look that the sports hypnotist had dropped by for another silly, useless effort to mesmerize her again. He had a nice big cock, thankfully, so his visits weren't entirely wasted even though naturally Tilda was going to resist him so easily that she didn't even need to really try, but the details of his attempts always slipped out of Tilda's memories and she only knew that this, too, was its own kind of reward.

Waking up felt more difficult than ever after a whole day of hiking, and Mimi emerged from sleep so reluctantly and gradually that it took her a full minute to realize she couldn't move. It took another confused, dreamy minute to figure out that there were ropes binding her body at practically every single joint, and although that was enough to make her mumble a befuddled, vaguely questioning grunt her brain was still too muddled by slumber to make words happen properly. Which meant the first speech of the morning came from Gloria, saying, "Wow, you really are a sucker for hypnosis, aren't you?"

That brought another, even more confused grunt in response, which then brought a sense of warm pressure resting on Mimi's thighs as she felt Gloria clambering onto the bed to straddle her. "Last night, silly," the redhead chuckled, her fingers sneaking in to play with Gloria's surprisingly wet pussy. "We got back to the hotel and you were sore and exhausted, and I offered to give you a massage, and when I started talking you through it you got so relaxed and dopey you didn't even hesitate before rolling over onto your back when I told you to. And when I started playing with your tits, well, you were just gone, gone, gone. You're still kind of gone, aren't you, honey?" Mimi mumbled something nonverbal in agreement before she even realized it, but that was enough to shake her from her stupor at least a little as she recognized what was happening to her.

But only a little. That was the astounding part, the dawning awareness that even though her friend's friend had hypnotized her and tied her up and was currently sinking two fingers into her cunt up to the knuckle Mimi still couldn't muster up the will to lever herself out of this drowsy trance she'd slipped into. The rest of the night after she lay down on the bed for the massage was little more than a blur, she had no idea whether they'd joined Paul and Donna for dinner the way they planned or if they just left the couple to their own devices, and apparently she hadn't even woken up when Gloria got out several lengths of rope and bound her body into squirming helplessness. And even now, finding out what had happened, she wasn't waking in more than a notional sense of the word.

"Don't worry," Gloria cooed, smoothing away that vague, disjointed sense of concern Mimi felt before it could coalesce. "I'll take care of everything, pretty girl. I'll tell Paul and Donna you need a day to recover--they won't mind, they've only got eyes for each other anyway--and then you and I can spend the whole morning in bed together with your cunt getting what it needs and your mind getting weaker and weaker and weaker for me. Doesn't that sound extra nice, baby doll?" Mimi couldn't even lever her eyes open to glance back at Gloria, let alone resist the soothing tone in the other woman's voice, and she once again found herself simply grunting in agreement because making word sounds felt too much like work. It loosely occurred to her that if she hadn't been too cheap to spring for her own room, none of this would be happening, but even that thought slipped away after only a few moments.

Gloria must have liked what she heard, because she laughed in pure delight and fingered Mimi even more vigorously. "Oh, we're going to be best friends by the time this trip is over," she purred, her voice thick with triumph. "Real gal pals." Mimi's befuddled mind wrapped around the notion as though it was the only solid truth in the whole world, and she knew how completely she'd succumbed when even her climax elicited little more than a sleepy sigh of pure, mindless ecstasy for her Mistress.

"Ah!" Ryan cautioned, the single syllable halting Marie mid-sentence and stopping her train of thought dead on its tracks. He took her by her chestnut ponytail and growled, "Mirror," and she felt something go warm and liquid between her thighs with a rush of arousal as simply being manhandled like this gave her a visceral, tangible sense of deep and potent submission. She couldn't even remember what she'd said to trigger this particular lesson--perhaps it was a word that was a bit too long and smart-sounding, or a tone in her voice that sounded just a little too independent--but already she could feel whatever it was fading into simpering obedience.

He walked Marie over to the mirror in their bedroom, leaving the span of the bed between her and her reflection, and simply yanked open her dress to reveal her bare tits and smooth, perfectly waxed pussy. Marie wasn't allowed to wear anything with buttons or zippers anymore, only snaps, and just the act of watching her clothes get peeled away as easily and effortlessly as if Ryan was shucking a banana made her labia slicken with wet, desperate arousal. There were times and places where Marie was allowed to be intelligent and independent, but their home definitely wasn't one of them. "Does this look like a smart girl to you?" Ryan snarled, and Marie had to admit it didn't.

But not immediately out loud, which was apparently what her owner was looking for, and he pushed her forward onto the bed and positioned her on her hands and knees with her fingers curled around the edge of the mattress. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you, slut," he snapped, his voice firm and commanding but never quite going so far as to be harsh. "I asked if this looks like a smart girl to you?" He reached in to play with her pussy with one hand while the other undid his fly, and Marie watched her own face go slack and vapid with unrestrained pleasure. She could vaguely, distantly remember a time when degradation didn't instantly make her horny, but that was only because she didn't know she had the option to be treated like this and once she did there was really no turning back.

She managed to whimper, "N-no, Master, that's not a smart--girl!" and she was kind of amazed she even got the final word out, because Ryan pushed his cock between her plump pink pussy lips before she could even finish her sentence and if Marie thought she looked stupid getting fingered it was nothing compared to how she looked when she was being fucked. Her eyes kept crossing and uncrossing, her mouth hung upon in an expression of vacuous lust, and although she couldn't actually see what she looked like when her eyelids began fluttering she'd seen herself on video enough to imagine it. Ryan liked to film her lessons, just to show her exactly what she looked like when the hypnosis turned her into a dumb, rutting beast, and Marie had to admit it was a very effective teaching tool.

Or at least, that's what she admitted when she had all her brains in her head and they were laughing together over how easily she succumbed to his conditioning and how horny it made her. Right now what Marie was admitting was, "She's a dumb girl, Master, she's a dumb girl, Master," over and over again until her mind turned to mush, and it was more than enough to keep her cunt clenching around Ryan's shaft in one desperate, overwhelming orgasm after another.

"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.

"…holy shit…." Dane whispered, not daring to raise his voice too loud from fear of accidentally snapping Gigi out of whatever spell she was under. Kendra looked over at him, wearing the same sympathetically smug grin she broke out when she used to shark him out of all his money every Friday night at the pool hall in the student union, and held out her hand. Dane dropped a ten into her outstretched palm, although privately he knew he probably would have paid about three times that to see Gigi suckling away at Kendra's bared breasts with an expression of mindless devotion on her blankly hypnotized face. "…how did you do it?" he asked at last, still keeping his tone hushed and unable to wring the awe fully from it while he watched Gigi's lips thoughtlessly pursing around the stiff nipple in her mouth.

Kendra chuckled. "Honestly? She did about half of it to herself." Her tone, in contrast to Dane's, was wry and conversational, clearly holding no concern that she might accidentally rouse her roommate from her entranced state. "We were watching some stupid TV show one night in the dorms, and there was this scene where the evil spymaster had captured a double agent and put her in front of a hypnosis machine to make her betray her allies or something. And I thought it was silly and boring, so I turned to say something to Gigi, and she was, like… fascinated. Really fascinated, like she couldn't look away from the screen. She came out of it once they stopped showing the spiral, but I could tell something about that got to her."

She moved Gigi's head from one breast to the other, and even though she sounded casual the way her nipple stood up told Dane this was probably getting her motor running at least a little. "So I found a gif of a spiral that looked just like the one on the TV show, and the next night I made a joke about finding a clip from that series she liked so much and I showed it to her. And, like, I barely even had to do anything. She just started staring, and because it was a gif it just kept going round and round and she never had a chance to really think about what she was doing. She just kind of got lost in it. After that it was just a matter of talking to her in a soothing voice. Pretty soon she was just nodding along to everything I said."

Dane was getting so hard he practically wanted to rub one out right there in the middle of the living room, but as weird as the situation was he still felt like it would be kind of creepy to jack off to it. "And y'know, I put a trigger in there so I could drop her whenever I wanted, and I made her forget it ever happened, and every once in a while I got her to have a little, um, fun with me." Kendra gave a sheepish little shrug, as though she wasn't describing the process of brainwashing her roommate into an obedient sex toy. "And, like, I never have to do chores anymore, so that part's nice. Why did you ask? Did you want to learn how to do it too, or did you want to try going under for me?" Dane's cheeks reddened under his blond beard, as he discovered he kind of wanted both… and in the moment, he wasn't entirely sure which he desired more.

"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.

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.

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.

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.