"You look like the kind of girl who's got her ass plugged right now," Toni said casually, eliciting a startled gasp from the ponytailed blonde she was talking to. "I can always tell the type, all big glasses and twenty dollar words and ankle length skirts but you just know if you stripped them naked and bent them over you'd see one of those pretty little princess plugs sparkling away between their cheeks. Is that you, sweetie? Do I have you pegged right, or are you going to lie to me and tell me you didn't stuff that cute ass of yours before you came out to Rosie's party?" The butch brunette put her hand on the wall right next to Donna's head, leaning intimately close and finishing her lewd monologue with an innocent smile.

Donna sputtered uselessly for a few seconds, her thoughts racing far too quickly to organize them in any meaningful way. She knew that Toni was presenting her with a trap, challenging her with an assertion she could only disprove by stripping naked and lewdly displaying her puckered anus to another woman's inspection. She knew that Toni was attempting to assert social dominance with the accusation, framing Donna herself as a meek and simpering intellectual whose pretense of rationality concealed a deep well of submissive arousal that would eventually preclude any other options beyond surrendering to Toni's confident charms. But most importantly, she knew her asshole was squeezing around a nice thick princess plug right now and there was really no way of hiding her reaction to being identified with such lethal, brutal accuracy by an almost-total stranger.

Certainly Toni wasn't fooled. "Oh wow, that blush really doesn't hide anything, does it?" she chuckled, taking Donna by the wrist and pulling her away from the wall. "Come on, honey, I think after a performance like that you at least owe me a little look-see, just so you don't try to pretend later that I had it wrong and you were just a shy little girl who got shocked by all this dirty talk. It's okay, we can go back to my room, it's always nice and quiet and nobody will see you with your ass on display for me." Donna wanted to protest that she'd never actually agreed to any of this, but Toni's mortifyingly accurate description and the way the stronger, taller woman manhandled her left her feeling passive and dissociated. It was like an instant induction, turning her into nothing more than a doll for Toni's manipulation.

Of course she was unable to hide it when Toni bent her on all fours on the mattress and pulled her panties over to the side, and of course being exposed and seen and just absolutely known like that sent Donna plummeting so deep into subspace that she didn't feel like she had a will of her own anymore. When Toni growled, "That's what I thought, honey," plunging two fingers into Donna's snatch and fingering her sopping pussy, Donna instantly knew that she was going to be Toni's wet and needy bitch for the rest of the evening, and that was only if she was lucky. If she wasn't, and Toni decided she wanted to keep her new pet, Donna didn't doubt that the dominant woman would be able to draw enough confessions out of her plaything's simpering lips to make it utter child's play to manipulate Donna into coming back. And cumming again. And eventually forgetting herself in the sheer delight of being turned into a butch lesbian's needy little fucktoy.

The last little ghost of a thought that flickered through Becki's empty head told her that Geoff finally had her exactly where he wanted her. She wasn't resisting him anymore, she wasn't struggling, she wasn't really even consciously obeying--she'd gone so deep that she was basically just a blow-up doll, her deep brown eyes staring vacantly at him without a trace of comprehension while he tangled his fingers into her hair and used them to push her head up and down his stiff ebony prick. Drool covered the shaft, and she wasn't even gagging because gagging would require effort and she simply had nothing left in her empty mind for that. She just swallowed his cock like her mouth was a second cunt.

What eventually defeated her so completely, in the end, was just how fulfilling it all was. Becki knew she'd been running herself ragged for weeks, spending long hours in front of the computer until the only light her pale features ever got was the ghostly illumination of a monitor, and when all that effort managed to earn her was a B-plus it kind of broke something inside her. Yes, she'd chosen a challenging field of study, yes she was at a rarefied peak of her field, but she'd literally given everything she had and it wasn't quite good enough by her own standards. But she was a perfect cocksucker for Geoff, and it felt absolutely wonderful to know that she had nothing to do but slurp and gulp and swallow to make at least one person truly happy with her.

Not that Becki was really thinking about her feelings at the moment. She was too deeply hypnotized for that, her vacant eyes only seeing the sparkling depths of the gemstone Geoff showed her earlier. At the time, it was frankly kind of an annoyance--she was utterly exhausted from another long day of research, her brain so sludgy and numb that basic human interaction was pretty much beyond her, and here was her friend's friend's friend droning on about his stupid class ring without any apparent awareness that he was so boring Becki's eyelids kept fluttering. But annoyance gave way to useless, impotent defiance as she came to understand too late what he was doing to her, and defiance gave way to the simpering pleasures of obedience, and soon even that was gone. Becki might as well have been a fleshlight for all that was going on in her empty head, and the closest she came to thought was a slow, pulsing throb of pleasure in her clit at how soothing it all was.

She didn't let up until he spurted down her throat, and honestly he was so deep inside her that she only tasted the last few salty droplets of his jizz as he slid her head away from his softening prick. Becki's eyes immediately rolled back and slammed shut once she no longer had a purpose to serve, and once he pulled her up to lie in his lap she went completely limp--even when he fingered her pussy, reinforcing her conditioning with words she could no longer comprehend, she was too deep even to twitch. It was honestly the most refreshing rest she'd gotten in literal months, and although Becki knew Geoff wouldn't keep her like this she also kind of wished he could.

Andrea knew she probably should have been embarrassed. She was right in front of the window, after all, wearing a gauzy nightgown that did absolutely nothing to conceal her heavy tits and stiff pink nipples from even the most casual of glances, and in fact she thought she might have seen someone out of the corner of her eye taking pictures of her on their phone. But she couldn't really look over to see, because her unblinking stare was firmly fixed on the screen in front of her and she was waiting for a text from… from someone she didn't recognize. They were in her contacts simply as '({*})', and she had about as much memory of talking to them before as she did of putting on her sexy lingerie.

But it made her happy to stand there waiting, and it made her even happier when she saw the three dots at the bottom of the screen informing her that a response was forthcoming. 'Good girl', the resulting text read, and Andrea let out a tiny hitching gasp as her clit tingled with pleasure like it was getting sucked by a pair of warm lips. She'd never realized how much joy could be contained in two simple words, almost overwhelming in its intensity, and when the next message told her to 'pull down your collar and hook it under your tits' she instantly and unthinkingly obeyed. Whatever voyeur was watching her, whatever they might think about this total slut exposing her tits in the middle of a sunny afternoon, it felt entirely irrelevant when weighed against the ecstasy she felt when she obeyed.

She wanted to tell that to the person on the other end, come up with some brilliant and poetic way to express the sheer delight she felt when she pulled out her lush, pendulous tits and gave them a tiny jiggle to show them off for anyone who might be looking, but all Andrea's vacant mind and fumbling fingers managed was, 'i ooby'. Even that didn't embarrass her, though, because she knew without quite knowing why that the greatest gift she could offer was her mind and the babbling approximation of words merely showed her owner exactly how much of it she'd already given away. Andrea only realized she was owned in that instant, but it made her so wet she could feel the slickness where her thighs rubbed together.

More instructions followed, telling her to pinch her nipples and jiggle her boobs and show off her tits to the person she now felt certain was watching, and every single one of them made Andrea's pussy leak and throb and tingle that much harder. She developed a muzzy, confused conviction that the person staring at her from outside was the same person texting her with messages to obey, and even though she wished they would come in and fuck her absolutely senseless she also loved the notion that they were taking pictures of her to enjoy later. Andrea hoped they masturbated to her, hoped they came again and again to her expressionless face and her big tits and her wriggling hips, because that would mean she'd pleased them and nothing could delight Andrea more.

She repeated her favorite phrase over and over, a tiny bit different each time--'ii boey', 'i ooey', 'b oby', 'o obeey'--and each one of them was a promise to her owner that she had stopped thinking entirely. That was its own form of devotion, and it made Andrea so happy to erase her own resistance and become an even better toy under the power of ({*})'s hypnotic control.

Gary doesn't seem quite as shocked as he should to find his neighbors waiting in his bed, and Natalie does feel the faintest ghost of bewilderment creasing her brow before another warm, sultry pulse of pleasure smooths it away. "I hope you don't mind us coming in uninvited," she giggles, shaking her ass just enough to draw attention to her gaping, hungry cunt, "but we were, um, we were watching that movie you lent us and we kind of thought it might be fun to surprise you with…." She trails off for a moment as her efforts to find a description for their current situation leads her to actually confront what she and her roommates are doing, and she ever so briefly wonders why she's on all fours on a king-sized mattress presenting herself like a bitch in heat. "With us," she says at last, as the bubble of confusion finally pops.

"Oh god, that movie was, like… so good!" she hears Aria say on her right, and it does occur to Natalie that she's never heard her friend sound so utterly vacant and vapid and--and stupid, there's really no other word for it. But thinking about it just makes her head tired, like those last hours of a cram session when the effort is almost painful and nothing's really sinking in anymore, and it just feels so much better to wiggle her rump and smile sweetly and enjoy the attention Gary is paying them. God, she can see the bulge in his jeans getting bigger by the second, and even though she knows she's going to love watching him fuck Riley or Aria she can't help hoping he picks her cunt to plow first.

Riley seems to have the same thought, because she murmurs, "We thought you might want to, like, take your pick with us," in a breathy voice that sounds almost parodically seductive. Natalie's a little surprised by how sexed-up she and her roommates are, but every time that surprise seems like it might connect to another notion Natalie sees something flashing behind her eyes and her clit throbs so hard it snaps her chain of thought clean in half. She recognizes the image that keeps interrupting her feeble, fumbling attempts at reason, knows it from… god, from hours and hours and hours of watching the video Gary gave them… but she can't really logic out why it's stuck in her head. That chain of thought breaks too.

Instead, she says, "Why don't you take those pants off and come join us, Gary?" and her eyes momentarily glaze over with arousal when he takes her up on the offer. She's never seen a cock so absolutely perfect, not even the ones that were bigger or thicker or longer, and Natalie instinctively understands that she's going to cum the very second he pushes it inside her soaking pussy. She's going to have the strongest, best climax she can possibly imagine from being fucked by Gary, and just the thought of it sounds more fulfilling to her than studying or working or any of her hobbies. She wants her whole life to be Gary's stiff prick now, kissing it and licking it and worshiping it whenever it's not buried inside her or one of her friends, and the ecstasy of that revelation momentarily steals the world away until all she can see is a warm pink spiral that fills her entire field of vision.

Gary doesn't pick Natalie first, not that time. But he lets her and Riley watch him fuck Aria, and by the time he pulls out with his dick still hard and their friend's musk coating every inch of the shaft they're absolutely desperate to be filled.

"That's right, babe, deeper," Scott intoned, and Cordelia couldn't help blushing--she didn't even remember saying anything, but some kind of hypnotized babble must have escaped her lips while her mind was so completely focused on Scott's eyes and the thick cock plowing her sopping pussy because he was responding in that low, husky tone she loved so much. It was almost scary how much control he had over her memories and perceptions once he pushed his stiff prick between her plump pink labia, but that fear was so exhilarating that lately she couldn't go more than a couple of days without knocking on her neighbor's door and asking him to fuck her senseless.

And 'senseless' was the word for it. Every last drop of common sense fell out of Cordelia's head once she got that good dick inside her, and even though she knew that every time they fucked it reinforced that association between penetration and trance it didn't stop her from sniffing around like a bitch in heat whenever she heard the door at the end of the hall close. It just felt so nice to focus her entire mind on that thick, girthy cock of his as it stretched her pussy--it wasn't even that long, but it was so big around that she could barely circle it with her fingers and she could really feel every inch of it when it slid on in. And that made it the perfect tool to draw her concentration in so her whole world became his hazel eyes and the warm, wet throb between her legs.

"That's right, you're such a good girl," Scott cooed, and Cordelia realized again that her brain had so completely blanked out from pleasure that she had no idea what she'd even said--it couldn't have been anything too complex, she could already tell she didn't have the wits for that kind of talk, but if she was talking without thinking then that meant she was accepting without thinking and if she was accepting without thinking then Cordelia didn't really have any way of knowing how much of her mind was really her own anymore. Which was… okay, yes, it was the subject of a lot of her masturbatory fantasies lately, because she'd really gotten kind of insatiable ever since Scott had turned her on to this particular fetish and often she spent a good long while churning her sloppy cunt with her fingers once he finally came inside her, but it was kind of scary too. She could be doing anything and she wouldn't even know it wasn't her own idea.

Like masturbating herself stupid in her next-door neighbor's bed once he was done fucking her, just to keep her nice and dopey and suggestible. Or trotting obediently over to his apartment almost as soon as he got home so she could get her pussy filled. Or pulling the condom off just as he was getting ready to stick it in, because she was on the pill and she loved the sensation of his semen leaking out of her messy cunt while she lay there, wrung out with pleasure and dazed by deep and constant trance. Cordelia didn't know which of her kinks were hers anymore and which were Scott's, and even though that kind of terrified her she also got so fucking wet whenever she thought about discovering first-hand what he would ultimately shape her into. "No will but yours," she heard herself say, and she realized it wasn't entirely just a fantasy in the tiny, fragmentary instant before her memories popped again.

There's a moment, right before she comes, when Angie can see the shape of the future closing in around her. It's when Kelly kisses her neck and rubs hard right over Angie's clit, and suddenly she can't hold her head up anymore and she can feel drool spilling onto her chest and her eyes roll back until only the whites are showing. She heard herself sigh out, "oh godddd," her voice a toneless drone of blank, mindless ecstasy, and that's when she knows she's only ever going to become more submissive and tame and obedient to the woman playing with her cunt. This is the most power she's ever going to have in their particular dynamic, not because Angie's feeling especially assertive but because she can already tell it's all going to go downhill from here, and everything in her mind is leading her to deeper surrender.

She can't even say she doesn't want that. She's already gone this far, after all, and Kelly's a sweet and kind and loving dominant even if she does keep winding the leash tighter and tighter until Angie doesn't know what it's like to think for herself in the bedroom anymore. There's something kind of comforting about the knowledge that she's only going to keep getting weaker, her craving to be owned is only going to become more overwhelming, and eventually she'll just reach a point where all Kelly has to do is pat the mattress in front of her and Angie will just plant herself down in the training position and spread her legs to be used. Whatever quaint little domestic spats they have will be settled by a single inarguable truth--Kelly's always right, Kelly always wins--and Angie's going to be… happy. So happy.

It's not a bad vision at all, but there is a kind of quiet resignation to it that comes with saying goodbye. In that last little moment as Angie tips over into climax, her cunt making a wrinkled mess of Kelly's fingertips and her head lolling forward in boneless indolence, Angie knows she's been thoroughly defeated without ever putting up a real struggle--what started as a playful fetish has become more and more real and potent and powerful, and she passed the point of no return without ever really even realizing she was coming up on it. Kelly hasn't suggested they move in together yet, she hasn't offered a formal collaring or an official marriage to cement their bond, but Angie knows that when those things happen she'll say yes. Because she says yes to everything Kelly tells her now.

The part she knows she's going to rue the most, once they're lying in each other's arms afterward and Angie takes a little time to unpack her feelings about this session, is that she comes even harder when she realized just how fully and completely owned she is. When she surrenders to a level of trance she didn't know she was capable of, when her thoughts telescope away from her focused awareness and become so distant they almost belong to someone else entirely, Angie feels her whole body clench with the kind of orgasm she only ever read about in romance novels and it finally hits her just how much she craves this kind of control. She wants to be owned, to be blank and empty and floating in an endless fog of bliss, and giving in to Kelly doesn't feel like a loss at all. It feels like fulfillment, contentment, and she will wonder whether independence was ever something she wanted or simply something she was told to want. But in the moment she's not thinking at all… which makes the kiss she gives her Mistress that much more passionate in its immediacy.

It wasn't time to wake yet. Bailey knew it wasn't time to wake yet, because she could still hear that strange thrumming drone in her ears and the whispers inside it telling her to sleep, and even though it was a little bit strange to be drifting in a kind of hazy slumber that kept her just alert enough to listen but not to open her heavy eyelids Bailey nonetheless enjoyed the relaxation too much to resist. She slumped back in her cozy computer chair, eyes stuck shut and mouth hanging open, and simply let herself doze like a… like a good girl. It felt good to be a good girl.

It felt very good, in fact, and although Bailey had a loose and muzzy awareness that it was her own hand down between her legs it nonetheless felt like someone else was doing all the work to turn her on. She felt so delightfully passive, really nothing more than an indolent observer who nonetheless experienced all the dreamy ecstasy her fingers elicited, and it didn't feel like masturbation when she touched herself. It seemed more like she was being fucked by a stranger, the same stranger whose soft and gentle voice hid inside the pulsing drone that switched off Bailey's mind so completely, and whoever they were they knew just how to bring her to climax. Bailey didn't know how many times she'd cum already, but she was beginning to understand just how much pleasure she was capable of.

Every climax tied itself to the whispers, binding them closer and closer together until they seemed like one and the same thing to Bailey's dozy brain, but she was too sleepy to think about that right now. She didn't remember feeling so weary and exhausted before she opened the file her friend sent her--actually she recalled a moment of surprise, a brief befuddled notion that this wasn't the musical composition they were working on together--but now she was too relaxed to question anything that was happening to her. It was a warm and soothing sound, and the whispers cloaked inside it were even more warm and soothing. Bailey was going to need to send this to someone when she was done listening, just so they could experience the comforting tranquility of obedience.

That last word struck her as unusual, and there was even a moment when Bailey's brow furrowed as she struggled to figure out why her eyelids wouldn't open and her mind wouldn't stir from this dozy, dreamy state of pure bliss. But the thrumming drone piled relentlessly on like a blizzard of mesmerizing euphoria, burying her under layer after layer of thoughtless rapture until she simply couldn't imagine digging herself out from under it. She was obedient, that was a fact, and she wouldn't wake until that obedience became the core and center of her entire identity. And every step in the process of her subjugation would feel better and better, and every thought she surrendered to the whispers would make her cum that much harder. It was only common sense, really.

Bailey eventually woke, her fingertips wrinkled and the cushion underneath her smelling like cunt. She woke because it was time to wake, because she'd surrendered herself completely and the whispers told her she could come out of her trance only when she was completely owned. She knew she needed to email her new controller… but first she knew she needed to find someone to send the file to. Someone who wouldn't realize until it was too late that Bailey was merely passing on the gift of obedience to the next link in the chain.

"Stop. Look at me. Feel my gaze pinning your mind into obedience."

W-what? What, I… w-what's happening….?

"You're becoming my slave, that's what. I see you jogging past my property every day, I think you're a very pretty girl, and I've decided to claim you. Enjoy it."

I--ohhh fffucckkk. How, how are you….?

"Ssh. Don't ask questions. Speak only when spoken to. Turn around. Pull down your shorts. Bend over and grab your ankles. Respond to my commands with 'Yes, Master'."

Y-yes, Master. I--nnnhhh!

"Good girl. It looks like you're not wearing panties underneath those shorts. Were you hoping someone would come along and finger you like this?"

I--I, um, no, I just--they're workout clothes, I'm going to have to toss them in the wash as soon as I get home. I just don't like doing more laundry than I have to. M-Master.

"It's so adorable that you think you're going home. Tell the truth, slave--how long before you'd be missed if you simply disappeared while jogging?"

Y-yes, Master. About an hour, Master. I… I'm married, and my husband, he… he's making coffee for me right now. Plus I work from home and they'll notice if I'm not signed in. I take this path every day, so--

"Ssh. I didn't ask you to come up with reasons to let you go. I asked--never mind. Cum around my fingers thinking of being my obedient slut."

Nnnnnhhhh!

"Good girl. Now, slave, here's what you're going to do. You're going to continue in your routine, pretending I don't control you. You're going to encourage your husband to go jogging with you so I can meet him and talk to him. And when all that's done, you're going to quit your job. Do you understand?"

…yes, Master.

"I like that defiance. It's very cute. But I'm going to enjoy training it out of you even more."

Kissing Georgia's neck was definitely against the rules, but she was too busy lolling her head back in ecstasy to complain about it. Her hand kept moving up and down Zane's shaft, so technically she hadn't conceded, but they both knew that it was little more than the rote and repetitive motion of someone who'd already conceded vast swathes of their mental real estate to the placid, dreamy bliss of trance. She was losing… again… and she would have been mad about it if it didn't feel so fucking good to drift off into a state of mesmerized euphoria and focus her entire mind on Zane's fingers wiggling away in her cunt.

In theory, the game had started because they were both switchy and kinky as well as constantly horny; Georgia read about some app that let you randomly choose a place to eat, and the article said that the real value of leaving the decision up to chance was the way it made you focus on your own opinions. Having a million different restaurants could freeze you up with option paralysis, but being offered a slice of pizza could make you realize that what you were really in the mood for was Chinese. It took only a moment of inspiration to apply that to her relationship with Zane--if they both tried to hypnotize each other while playing with their partner's private parts, sooner or later one of them would figure out they wanted to top more than they wanted to bottom and vice versa. And even if they never did, they'd have a fun time.

That was the theory. But as Georgia found her eyelids fluttering and a soft sigh escaping from her lips… again… she found herself acutely aware that she lost this particular struggle a lot more than she won it, and in fact she'd been losing several times in a row the last few weeks. Which wasn't exactly a problem, because she did like submitting to Zane and he made her feel very happy about her failure to resist when all was said and done, but it was making her confront something about her supposed switchiness that she was having a hard time swallowing. The longer she spent in a relationship with her boyfriend, the more she wanted to just give up on trying to top him and settle into meek, submissive ecstasy at his feet.

That was something they were going to have to talk about soon. Zane genuinely enjoyed being dominated, after all, and she enjoyed exercising her toppy side even if it wasn't with him. They might need to find other ways to get their needs met, open up their relationship and involve some of their kinky friends in this puzzle, and now was not the time to think about it because with a finger smoothly and seductively gliding over her clit like this all Georgia could really picture was two or three other women helping her to pleasure her Master's stiff prick and heavy, straining balls. She wasn't going to be good for anything but sex for a good long while now, and that wasn't the place to have serious conversations.

But it was the place to have big, strong climaxes, and Georgia's orgasm hit her like a freight train as her mind finally collapsed into obedience. She sagged against Zane, barely able to hold herself upright, and it was with a sense of relief that she sank to her knees under his guidance and began to kiss and lick his throbbing cock. She was having a little trouble swallowing her own desires for submission… but she'd never had trouble swallowing him.

They'd been walking in silence for a good twenty minutes when Reina finally said what had clearly been on her mind ever since they left the party. "Jonny Parsons hypnotized you last week," she told Miranda, without preamble, and it was another long stretch of uncomfortable silence before she could manage to continue the thought. "That was why I wanted to get out of there in such a hurry, because I could see him looking in your direction and I knew he was going to sneak you off somewhere and I didn't want that to happen." The words hung in the air between them, but Miranda's face was shadowed between the streetlights and Reina couldn't see her reaction.

Finally, as they approached the next pool of light in the otherwise empty darkness, Miranda said, "And how would you know? Assuming I believe you, which I don't because I'd remember if I was hypnotized." Reina could hear the petulant indignation in her friend's voice, and she wondered if Miranda was upset because she thought she was too strong or smart or independent to be hypnotized, or if she was following the suggestion Jonny gave her to forget any of it ever happened. It was kind of uncomfortable knowing Miranda's mind wasn't her own anymore, but it was also kind of thrilling and Reina had spent a good solid week now trying to process those conflicting emotions without success.

But she could at least answer Miranda's question. "I know because I was there. The three of us were drinking out by the quarry, and he said he learned hypnosis while he was away at college, and you said hypnosis was all bullshit and he couldn't make anyone do anything they didn't want to. So he, um, he put you in a trance and he made you spread your legs and play with yourself, and then he made you forget and he told me not to tell you. And I mean, I didn't want to lie to you, but I was kind of scared that if I didn't say yes he'd just hypnotize me too so I kept just kind of waiting for a better way to handle it. I'm sorry, Randa, I know that was kind of chickenshit of me."

The next stretch between the streetlights was broken only by the slap of sandals on asphalt, as they rounded the corner past the old softball field and onto a stretch of road that was emptier than the surface of the moon. Finally, Miranda stopped dead directly in the center of a patch of light and snapped out, "Prove it. If I'm really some--some hypnotized slut who paws her pussy on command like you say I am, you should be able to just… just…." She trailed off into angry, humiliated silence, her face flushed bright red, and Reina found herself blushing as well--not because her friend had called her bluff, not even because she felt bad for Miranda, but because there was another reason she'd been putting off this conversation for a whole week and she hadn't wanted to admit it even to herself.

It was right there in front of her now, though, and she couldn't deny it because it was exactly what Miranda was asking her to do and the other woman was practically inviting her to use the trigger that had been living rent-free in Reina's head for the last seven days. "Finger dance, dolly," she said, wishing she didn't feel a surge of heat between her thighs at the use of the trigger, and as soon as she said it Miranda slid open her wraparound dress and squatted on the ground with her tits out and her legs spread. She put her hand on her pussy and began to rub, and Reina was forced to confront the truth she'd been squirming away from all this time--she loved seeing her friend like this, she'd enjoyed every minute of that night with Miranda and Jonny, and she couldn't help wanting to use the beautiful brunette like a toy. Which made this a temptation too difficult to resist.

That's right, baby, round and round.

"…round and… round…."

Good girl. You're not really thinking at all anymore, are you? You're just staring into the spirals, circling your clitty with your fingers while your mind drifts for me, and repeating as much of my programming as you can fit into your empty little brain.

"…empty little brain…."

That's right, you've got a very empty brain right now, and you don't know when it happened and you don't know how to fight it but you know you're deeply hypnotized for me.

"…hypnotized for… you…."

Very good! You're deeply hypnotized and you're not thinking and your mind just keeps getting smaller and smaller until the only thing that fits in there is obedience and pleasure. Don't you just love that, little pet? Don't you just love being vacant and horny open to suggestions?

"…open to… to…."

I know, it's such a big word. Big words don't fit in that small, empty mind anymore, not with so much pleasure crowding them out. You're too dumb for big words, aren't you, sweetie? Too dumb and empty.

"…dumb and empty…."

But you know what? You can always get dumber. You can always get emptier. You can always get weaker for me as the pleasure continues, until you're the perfect horny slave girl and your mind is nothing but wet clay for me to shape and mold. And even though your waking self is too blank and blissful to listen, your deep self is soaking up every last word. You want to pay attention and obey like a good mindfucked slave.

"…ummm… slave….?"

That's my good girl! Even three words is too many to fit into that fuzzy little head now. It's just one. And soon you're going to be too dumb for even one word, isn't that right? It's just going to be grunting and nodding to show me you agree with everything your owner says.

"…uhhhh… uh huh?"

Good girl.

"--um, oh, h-hi, hi Derek, um, I was--" Tara's stammered stream of exclamations froze mid-sentence, unable to formulate even the most feeble of excuses for her current situation. She was lying naked on her friend's friend's bed, legs spread wide and fingers in her pussy, and when he walked in her eyes immediately dropped to his crotch in fascination even as her whole brain exploded into panic at being so obviously caught masturbating in his room. And Tara couldn't tell him why she did it, because she didn't understand why she did it, and she especially didn't understand why she kept rubbing herself even as the rest of her wilted under his stern, judgmental gaze.

"You were being a good girl," he finished for her, closing the door behind him, and Tara furrowed her brow as she tried to understand what he meant by the slightly cryptic phrase. She'd slipped away from the party downstairs without even so much as a feeble excuse, counting on the genial chaos to conceal her departure, and then she'd gone straight to their host's bedroom and wriggled out of her clothes before rubbing her pussy so much she left an obvious wet spot on his bedspread. She felt more like a bitch marking her territory than a good girl, and she assumed Derek was upset with her even though she could see the bulge in his pants visibly growing even as she watched, but he'd just called her a--a--

"I'm a good girl," she heard herself drone out, her voice vacant and devoid of inflection, and her cunt clenched hard around her thrusting fingers in a spasm of undisguised lust. Tara knew she'd heard herself sound like that before, maybe even recently--it brought to mind a conversation she was having downstairs before she suddenly found herself possessed with the uncontrollable urge to be all slutty in Derek's bed. One of Tara's legs slid clean off the mattress, gaping her pussy wider than ever, but she couldn't really make herself notice what her body was doing; she was stuck on that half-recalled interaction and the dazed and drowsy monotone she associated with it. Everything else sort of… drifted away.

Except for Derek's cock. He was taking it out now, pulling down his pants and his tight black boxer briefs to expose a penis Tara couldn't stop staring at, and the more she watched it sway and twitch and bob with every motion of his body the easier it became to rediscover that memory. They'd been talking about hypnosis, or rather he'd been talking and she'd been listening, and it had been surprisingly easy to let the chatter around them fade into the background while she smiled and nodded and let her eyes relax into glassy vacancy. "I'm a good girl," she heard herself say again, and that was what finally unlocked everything she was forgetting--Derek had turned her into a good girl with his mesmerizing patter, and she came up here to thank him for it.

There was really only one proper way to thank a man for hypnotizing her, though, and Tara was so glad she'd already gotten undressed and made herself wet and ready so she could offer him her cunt without even a moment's hesitation. He sank into her all the way on his first thrust, his balls smacking into her pussy, and Tara's eyes rolled back in her head as it finally became clear to her just how good being a good girl could be.

"I… I don't know what I'm doing here." It was Vivian at the door, squirming with embarrassment and unable to stop her gaze from one side of the hallway to the other in mortified terror--she was completely naked save for a pair of tight pink short shorts with an elastic waistband, certainly not the kind of outfit generally approved in the common areas of the apartment complex, and it was obvious to Mallory that the lanky brunette was desperate to come inside. She was tempted to leave her standing there a few moments longer, just to watch her sweat it out, but lust eventually won over playful sadism and she dragged the other woman inside.

The moment the door closed behind them, Mallory pushed Vivian up against the wall and shoved a hand down the front of her shorts, and Vivian's stammered semi-explanation kept getting lost in a muddle of heavy breathing and feverish kissing and general mush-minded confusion. "I, I was thinking of you, of the way you… mmmmhhh… the way you looked, and the way you smelled, and I--nnhh! I couldn't stop, it was like you were, mmmm, in my head, and, and ohhhh… oh fuck that feels so good…." She was rubbing up against Mallory in her obvious arousal, pushing up Mallory's tight black tank top until her pert breasts flopped out, and once the two of them started rubbing their tits together that was pretty much it for coherent thought from Vivian. Her speech devolved into grunts and moans and whimpers for a good long while.

Mallory didn't do much talking either, but she knew she didn't have to--she'd done all the priming and preparation earlier, dropping Vivian like a rock into a trance so deep the hypnotized brunette didn't even remember it and planting seed after seed of conditioning deep in the fertile soil of Vivian's subconscious until her friendship with the woman down the hall became a potent, erotic obsession. Vivian never even knew there was anything she needed to resist, and now that Mallory's fingers were deep inside her sopping cunt she readily convinced herself that this was exactly what she wanted all along. The pull that drew her back to the pretty blonde's apartment, over and over and over again, became just another sign of the crush she'd been nursing and Vivian never stopped to wonder why she had so few actual memories of their time together.

Vivian's hips ground relentlessly into Mallory's hand, speaking clearly and fluently to the dominant blonde in a language of pure and undisguised lust even while Vivian's actual words degraded into mumbled moans of, "Ohhh, oh fffucccckkkk," and Mallory made sure to talk back to her in the same secret code. She'd never touched Vivian like this before--her entire conditioning program had been centered around building the desire for exactly this kind of aggressive sex through careful, constant denial--but she quickly discovered that she knew exactly how to make her brainwashed, half-entranced slave cum so hard she saw stars.

Vivian's knees gave out after her second climax and she sank gradually to the floor, but that just made it easier for Mallory to hypnotize the whimpering brunette with her rubbing fingers until she was flat on her back with her eyes rolling back in helpless ecstasy. They'd move to the bedroom later, a bedroom Mallory was determined to make them share, but for now she couldn't wait one second longer to finally claim her prize.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, p-pillows are nice…." The last word devolved into a slurred and sleepy hiss as Natalie returned her attention to the spiral, barely even noticing anymore that her hips were relentlessly grinding against Zoe's other pillow--or that there was nothing but a pair of thin black panties between her and the comforting cushion, for that matter. She was too fascinated by the perfect hypnotic spiral Zoe had created for her, conjuring it into existence with nothing but words and Natalie's own imagination, and the best thing about it was that it existed inside her mind so she could still see it with her eyes tight shut. A dreamy smile suffused her flushed features, and she found herself wondering how much deeper she could sink with such a perfectly mesmerizing image to guide her.

She vaguely heard a voice mumble, "uh huh, just so good to be a slut," but the words didn't really seem to connect to anything. Natalie had long ago stopped consciously listening to anything Zoe was saying, letting it flow past her distracted brain and all the way down to the very deepest levels of her identity while she stared at the spiral behind her eyes and let it carry her along into peace and pleasure, but it wasn't Zoe's voice speaking in a sleepy monotone while Natalie humped the other woman's pillow and rubbed her stiff pink nipples against the fabric of Zoe's bedspread. It sounded more like Natalie herself, but of course that was impossible because speaking required thinking and Natalie wasn't really thinking at all anymore.

"y-yes, a lesbian slut," she heard herself whimper, and gradually something like understanding came to her--Natalie was too deep in the spiral to think, but that didn't matter when she had Zoe to give her newer, better thoughts to fill her empty head while she humped Zoe's pillow like a bitch in heat. She could just repeat those thoughts back to Zoe, making them hers through the act of mindless recitation, and then she could enjoy the pleasure of being blank and going deeper while still carrying on the conversation with her study partner that she'd accidentally let drop in her fascination with her own bespoke hypno-spiral. It all made such perfect sense that Natalie couldn't help cumming when she finally understood it all, but the best part of being this deep and horny was that there was always another climax on the way.

"yuhhh… your lesbian slut, yesssss…." It was getting difficult to speak, what with the constant orgasms and the mind-blanking spiral and Natalie's helpless descent into mush-brained obedience, but Natalie tried her best to repeat the words and thoughts she was given. She wanted to show Zoe she understood, to demonstrate that every single word and phrase that was being filtered through her captivated subconscious was becoming inextricably linked to her very identity, because it just felt better and better to become more and more brainwashed and Natalie just knew she was grinding a wet spot into the other woman's pillow with her arousal over being so thoroughly conditioned like this. The soft, comfy cushion was going to smell like cunt for days… and Natalie's sleepy smile widened at the notion of resting her head on it that night and getting breath after breath of her own pussy wafted into her lungs while she slept next to her new owner.