Norwegian Nympho

A feminist wouldn’t keep coming back to it.

A feminist wouldn’t get wet from it.

A feminist wouldn’t get off to being demeaned and degraded.

A feminist wouldn’t accept she doesn’t deserve to get off, and stop.

A feminist wouldn’t make a pathetic spectacle of herself for men just because.

A feminist wouldn’t feel her cunt throb when she obeyed men.

A feminist wouldn’t do anything to be called a good girl.

But you do.

And you can’t stop.

You’re the first female in your family to graduate from an academic institution. Of course, it’s not a boy school, so you didn’t learn science or math. You learned what most women know innately, but don’t have the right words to express it. Females lack the intelligence to describe their experience.

Which is why your graduation speech was written for you by a man, the Dean of the school cheekily but accurately known as Bitch University. As top in your class, the graduation speech falls on you.

You see your family in the audience when you approach the podium. Your mother sandwiched between your father in brother. Both men are wearing suits, while your mother is in tights and a waist corset. It doesn’t cover her chest, so her tits are bare, just like yours. Just like every female in the audience.

You take your place behind the podium. It momentarily hides your scandalous graduation outfit—six inch heels, fishnet stockings, and a waist-trimming corset that pushes your naked tits out. It’s good to leave the details for the audience’s imagination. For now.

You clear your throat and begin reading your cards. “Men and bitches,” you proclaim. “Thank you for attending as we celebrate the passing of females into adulthood. This time is especially important in a woman’s life and we are honored to have you join us.”

You glance back at the Dean, standing behind the stage side curtains, and he smiles encouragingly. “My time at university taught me many things,” you continue, your voice loud and clear. “I learned the difference between men and females, and why I as a woman am destined to serve and obey.” Lots of clapping from the audience now. You swallow nervously, knowing what is coming.

“I learned that female bodies are evolutionary supplements to enable reproduction.” You stumble over some of the bigger words, in part because your nerves make your body shake. “Our wombs provide the means to create life, if we are able to earn a man’s desire.” Harder clapping now.

You step out from behind the podium so the audience can finally see the whole of your shame. Your fishnets are thigh high and your corset peaks dramatically near your navel, but you’re otherwise bare. You watch the men in the audience evaluate your naked womanhood and something twinges deep inside you.

You raise your voice to be heard over the clapping. “I, a female, speak on behalf of the class when I tell you that we are ready to enter society as cunts.” With the last word, your hand comes down hard to slap the flesh between your legs.

The audience oohs appreciatively. You see your brother pointing at you with one hand, his other on your mother’s tit, while he smirks and mutters something to your father. Your pussy twitches at your exposure, but you’ve learned that shame and public humiliation are the daily life of a woman.

Your voice trembles just a little as you continue. “As head of my class, I have the honor to be welcomed to womanhood by the Dean himself!” You throw an arm out dramatically just as the man himself strides from the side stage. “Men and cunts, please enjoy my bitching!”

The audience erupts in applause as the Dean waves to them and then strides purposefully toward you. Even while your body stiffens in anxiety, you turn to face him, spreading your legs to ensure your cunt is well exposed. You arch your back so your tits pop out further. This is one of many bitch poses you learned to entice men to use your body.

The Dean stops before you, then lifts one hand up to land on a tit. He grins to the audience. “It’s my pleasure to welcome the graduating class by breaking in our best student,” he announces. His eyes meet your father’s as if to reassure him that you’ll still be good sloppy seconds.

Then his attention is back on you. “Breeding position 4, darling. Face the audience.” You obey, your training now instinctual. You sink to your knees, lean forward on your elbows, and prop your cunt in the air. The audience hushes as if holding a collective breath.

The Dean circles around behind you and you hear the zipper on his pants. “This is what we train our students for,” he explains, then thrusts his cock in your breeding hole. Your eyes instinctively roll back in your head and you hear a few chuckles. A woman’s bitching face looks ridiculous.

The Dean starts fucking you methodically. “As I’m sure some of you will soon attest”—you can imagine him winking at your father—“the slut’s cocksleeve is tight and well-lubricated. Maximized for a man’s enjoyment.” You let your tongue loll out to emphasize his superiority as the fucker and your inferiority as the fucked.

“Now, bitch,” the Dean addresses you. “Tell our guests about your education while I seed your wet cunt.”

The sensation between your legs makes you dumb and hazy—bitch brain, your professors called it. You try your best anyways, while the Dean continues using your cumsleeve.

“I’m a bitch,” you announce loudly, your voice shaking a bit from the hard fucking. “Females are biologically designed to drain cock, like I’m doing now.” You see several people peering intently at the connection between the Dean’s cock and your wet hole.

“My classmates and I learned”—you gasp as the Dean smacks your ass hard—“to keep our cunts soaked and available for men’s use.” Your brother leans forward and stares at you intently, still absently milking your mother’s tit.

“I’m about to drain semen into my vagina,” you state, returning your brother’s gaze. “This is what it means to be a woman.” Your cunt clenches hard in shame at the smirk that passes over your brother’s face.

The clenching apparently worked for the Dean, as he starts fucking you harder. “The bitch is squeezing my cock to this,” he announces to more audience chuckles. “She’s been trained to cum when a man breeds her. Watch this.”

He cums inside you with a loud groan. Sure enough, your trained body kicks into overdrive and then you’re cumming on his cock, on stage, in front of everyone you know. You squeal loudly to make sure every man in the area knows your cunt is spasming on a pulsing cock.

is soooo fucking hot, like crazy hot, cunt is aching hot!! the idea, no, the KNOWLEDGE that a man cumming is so so so SO much more important than anything a woman could every hope to accomplish for her "career" or family or personal life just gets my whore cunt so fucking wet!! Yes! A Man nutting IS more important than your hopes and dreams! More important than your desires, or autonomy, or self respect! You'll only ever be a dirty worthless cunt waiting for those moments when you serve a purpose by being filled with cock and if your very very good you'll be rewarded with His hot cum 💕

Men cumming is the point!

Men cumming is the point!

Men cumming is the point!

Cum to Class

The amber glow of the pub barely registered with Chloe and Madison as they stumbled in from the cold, their heels clicking against the worn floorboards. Both twenty-one and convinced the world existed solely for their amusement, they settled into a booth near the back, still giggling from the three cocktails they'd consumed during dinner.

"I still can't believe Professor Saunders actually thinks people can be hypnotized with a stupid candle and some counting," Madison scoffed, tossing her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. She was studying the menu with the intensity of someone who'd already decided what she wanted.

Chloe, petite with sharp black hair cut into a severe bob, snorted. "Seriously. Like anyone's actually susceptible to that nonsense. It's all placebo and people desperate for attention." She flagged down the server with a lazy wave. "Two more gin and tonics."

Their drinks arrived, and Chloe's dark eyes landed on the thick pillar candle flickering between them. A smirk played at her lips. "You know what? I bet you the next round that I could hypnotize you right here, right now."

Madison rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh please. Fine. Waste your breath. But when it doesn't work, you're buying."

Chloe leaned forward, her voice dropping into what she imagined was a soothing, authoritative tone. "Watch the flame, Madison. Just watch it. See how it dances? How it flickers? Back and forth... back and forth..."

Madison snorted but found her gaze drawn to the warm yellow light all the same. The pub was quiet, the background noise fading into a dull hum. The candle's flame seemed to pulse in time with her breathing.

"Your eyes are getting heavy," Chloe continued, feeling strangely detached from herself. The alcohol made her head swim pleasantly, and the flame seemed to expand, filling her vision. "So heavy... so hard to keep them open..."

"Shut up, you're not actually..." Madison started, but her protest died in her throat. The flame was so warm. So rhythmic. She blinked slowly, her eyelids suddenly made of lead.

Chloe was supposed to be the hypnotist, but she hadn't expected the candle to be so mesmerizing. She was staring too, her words becoming slower, more slurred. "And when I count to three... you'll be completely... under... one... "

Neither girl noticed their shoulders relaxing, their mouths falling slightly open, their eyes glazing over as they stared at the dancing light. They were frozen, two statues locked in mutual descent, the candle's flame reflecting in their vacant stares.

"two..."

The counting slowed almost to a crawl, Chloe struggling to remember what came after two.

From a nearby table, Sarah watched the pair with astonished glee.

Sarah was a junior who'd spent the last two semesters enduring Chloe and Madison's casual cruelty; the whispered jokes about her secondhand clothes, the "accidental" knocking of her books in the hallway, the smirks whenever she answered questions correctly in psych lectures. She'd been nursing a craft beer and reading when she'd overheard their conversation, watching with growing interest as their little experiment had backfired spectacularly.

She approached the booth quietly, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was insane. This was wrong. This was also the most perfect opportunity the universe had ever handed her.

"Three," she said with a snap of her fingers.

Both girls eyes closed immediately and their heads dropped forward onto their chests.

"Girls," she whispered, sliding into the seat beside Chloe. Both girls swayed slightly but remained locked on the flame, their minds floating in that suggestible space between awareness and sleep. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes..." they breathed in unison, voices distant and dreamy.

Sarah's hands trembled, but she pressed on. "The flame has made you feel so good. So relaxed. But when you wake up, you're going to be such good students. Such obedient school girls."

"Obedient..." Chloe murmured.

"Good students..." Madison echoed.

"Every time you obey a command, you'll feel a little spike of pleasure. A little thrill. It'll feel so good to be good."

Both girls shivered, their lips parting in soft sighs.

"And whenever you hear the words 'class' or 'study,' you'll feel yourself getting warm. Aroused. Turned on by the idea of being diligent little students."

Sarah leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "When the professor asks if there are any questions, one of you must raise your hand. You must ask something. You won't know why, but you'll need to. Even if it's the dumbest, most bone-headed bimbo-brained question you can think of."

She paused, watching their faces for any sign of resistance. There was none; just peaceful, vacant acceptance.

"And when the professor says your names, either Chloe or Madison, you'll cum. Hard. Instantly. Right there in your seat. Hard enough to make you moan. Hard enough to make you squirt right there in your pants. And you'll remember nothing about tonight. Nothing about me. You'll just wake up even more convinced that hypnosis is all a crock of shit."

The pair sat, eyes still closed tight.

"Do you understand, you fucking cunts?"

"We understand," the pair said together.

Sarah had the pair count to fifteen out loud and wake when they finished. By the time their eyes opened, Sarah was back in her seat, turned away from them to remain unseen.

"Told you it wouldn't work," Madison said, rubbing her temples. "Now I believe you owe me a drink."

Chloe waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Next time. Let's get out of here. I need to study a bit tonight still before class tomorrow."

At the words, both girls felt a sudden heat between their legs, a pleasant tension they couldn't explain. They shifted in their seats, exchanging confused glances before shrugging it off.

Sarah watched them leave, a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips.

The next day, the lecture hall was packed. Professor Saunders stood at the front, gesturing toward a diagram of neural pathways on the projector screen.

"Now, regarding the susceptibility scales we discussed yesterday," he began, pacing slowly. "Are there any questions?"

Chloe's hand shot up before she could stop it. She blinked, confused. She hadn't meant to raise her hand - she hadn't really even been paying attention - but her body moved of its own accord. In her panic, she tried to come up with something to ask that wouldn't sound like nonsense.

"Yes, Chloe?" the professor asked.

As soon as he said her name, she gasped, her body convulsing in her seat. She bit her lip hard, her face flushing crimson as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She gripped the desk, trembling, while Madison stared at her in shock. Then both girls let out long, loud moans as violent orgasms overtook them.

"Are you alright?" Professor Saunders asked, shocked.

"Fine!" Chloe squeaked, her voice an octave higher. "Just... things just clicked... I get it now..."

Madison's yoga pants suddenly bore a dark stain on the crotch. Liquid trickled down Chloe's leg beneath her skirt.

"Perhaps you two should - ah - go get some rest?"

The girls didn't really hear him, minds still reeling from the sudden attack.

"Chloe? Madison?"

They screamed this time. Chloe gripped the back of the chair in front of her. Madison threw her head back, hands involuntarily grasping at her chest. All eyes were on them as they fled from the hall, leaving identical wet pools on the seats they abandoned.

Sarah took notes quietly from the third row, never looking up, the corner of her mouth twitching with a smile.

This story was originally requested on my old blog by anon with the following ask: "A couple of women in their mid 20's are on a night out. They are having fun and relaxing when they decide to jokingly try hypnotism. One of them attempts to hypnotise the other, but they both manage to fall into a trance. Someone nearby recognises this and takes advantage of the opportunity. This person is on the same university course as the women and had been treated by them as somewhat beneath them. The person makes it so that whenever they do what someone asks them, they feel pleasured as though they had just been masturbating. They also make it so that hearing certain words or phrases make them more aroused, while a select few words and phrases in particular make them cum."

And it's definitely more than you've been able to take before!

You try and beg them to take it slow, say how much it is, your pussy isn't used to anything that big! And your clit is hammering in time with your heartbeat and you're shaking when they start rubbing it super fast while they keep fucking you...

Then, before you've even gotten used to the current size, they squeeze the pump again and you whine, oh fuckkkk that's WAY too much! You're starting to sob, overstimulated from the stretch and the attention on your clit, and your partner shushes you, tells you it's okay! And then they take the hand on your clit and use it to push your own teat into your mouth, holding it there so your're forced to suck on it.

All the while, they're still fucking you, and you can't do anything about it, and your brain finally starts to shut off when the pump squeaks again, and all you can do is take it...

Hours later, your partner undoes the release on the strap and steps back, leaving the toy still lodged in you, and then you're dazzled, blinking in even the dim bedroom light. Your partner is behind you, one hand on your tit, groping, and the other circling around the end of the toy inside you. You're held up by their shoulder and your wrists and ankles are still bound, so you're forced to watch in the mirror beyond the foot of the bed as the toy is finally pulled out of you... You cum hard, and the evidence of all the other orgasms forced upon you joins it, flooding the bed further as your hole flutters vainly, the muscles exhausted and stuck where they've been forced for the past few hours.

You're so open, and you finally look properly at the toy, still inflated at the size it was removed from you...

How THAT managed to fit inside you, you have no idea. It makes you feel light-headed just looking at it.

Going in for some minor surgery where they still have to knock you out, and when you wake up you have absolutely ridiculous fake tit implants, your face has been remodelled, and you have lips that can only start being described as 'fetish content'

You try to ask about what happened, did they take you to the wrong surgical suite? And the nurse just says no, the surgeons just thought you would look better this way-- your tits were too small before and you looked too plain, so they fixed it, it's fine, your insurance covered it anyway

Your brain is hacked and connected to a voice control mode. I say "suck!" and your mouth starts uncontrollably trying to suck something, same with the command "swallow".

Now, open the rest of the post, slut.

But you still come back

You can say that you’re a feminist

But you still get wet when you’re called a good girl

You can say you have principles

But you still do whatever a man says when you’re horny

You can say it’s just for fun

But you still feel awful whenever you break a rule

You can say this doesn’t mean anything

But you still get distracted by your cunt throbbing

You can say that nothing’s changed

But you still need to ask to cum

You can say you can stop anytime

But you can’t