Rose Licks Herself Sleepy
"That's right, somebody's a sleepy girl, aren't they?" Rose couldn't really talk, not with her tongue so thoroughly occupied, but she made a grunt that sounded vaguely affirmative and that seemed to satisfy Leslie because her smooth, hypnotic voice continued in the same soft cadence that had proved so effective in lulling Rose into a state of deep relaxation. "Yes, of course she is, she's sleepy because my pussy's just full of sleepy juice and every time she licks she gets dumber and weaker and dreamier for Mistress. The more she licks, the less she thinks, and the less she thinks, the more my silly girl licks, isn't that true?"
Rose grunted again, the response mere automatic instinct now--she wasn't really thinking anymore, she was too sleepy for that, and her thoughts kept dissociating into dream-babble that only tangentially resembled actual coherent awareness. It was the constant use of the third person that really messed with her head, not that she was really able to make sense of the exact reason behind her susceptibility to Leslie's mesmerizing influence; the more Rose listened, the easier it became to believe herself nothing more than a drifting passenger inside her own head, sleeping peacefully in warm, drowsy comfort while someone else licked the musk out of Leslie's messy cunt and let it drug her deeper into obedience. Increasingly, she wasn't even sure where Leslie's words ended and she began.
Or if she began. "That's right, sound asleep and dreaming of that pretty pussy, dreaming of the taste and scent and the way all that sleepy juice covers those pretty cheeks," Leslie purred. "Every time my silly, sleepy girl wakes up she wakes up a little bit more lost in my power, lost in my will and her mind gets softer and squishier and happier to be shaped by my irresistible control. Those eyes are tight shut now, stuck shut until I tell them to open, and when they open again my pretty pet's going to want to be my cuntslut even more, isn't she?" Rose didn't remember responding. The internal narrative of her own mind had gone almost completely silent now, and what little consciousness she had remaining was caught up in helpless fascination with the act of her own cunnilingus.
But her tongue kept moving, lapping up more and more of the slick mess between Leslie's thighs, and even though she could no longer think Rose nonetheless intuitively understood the feedback loop that was dragging her down into Leslie's control as surely as an anchor. She'd been hypnotically conditioned to associate the taste of Leslie's pussy with defenseless slumber, and when she was deep and drowsy and helpless like this the only thing she wanted to do was kneel down between her Mistress's legs and lick her cunt. And since Leslie's own thirst for dominance was every bit as insatiable as her lust for sex, there was never a point where Rose could escape the conditioning that sent her further and further into irresistible obedience. Just a single weekend had brainwashed her inexorably into slavery.
And they had a whole week before anyone would even wonder where Rose was. "Don't worry, sweetie, Mistress is going to take good care of my dumb, sleepy little girl," Leslie cooed, her hand resting possessively on the back of Rose's head and tangling into her chestnut hair, and even though Rose had already been too deeply hypnotized to care about much of anything beyond the taste of cunt she somehow managed to sink even further into drowsy bliss when she felt her lover's touch.
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