Pavlov's Bimbo

Jesus, those lips. Marina knew Betsi had gotten some filler lately, in fact it was kind of the first red flag that her co-worker's recent behavior was something more than just a little bit of a slip in her dedication to the job, but it was one thing to notice that her lips had gotten plumper and pillowier and quite another to see her with bubble-gum pink lipstick painted so thick it practically made her look like she was wearing a pair of plastic prosthetics and using those new lips to polish Mark's stiff prick until it gleamed with saliva. "Oh, hi, Marina," her boss said, sounding a little bit surprised but not in the least bit ashamed. "You're certainly working late tonight."

Marina felt a rush of prickly heat on her face, but she didn't know whether it was from embarrassment at the implied accusation or mortification and the tableau that greeted her or simply righteous indignation at the clear degradation of her friend and colleague. Betsi--and god, in retrospect even the new spelling was a sign of what was happening to her--knelt on the floor in front of Mark's desk, her babydoll crop-top and caked-on eyeshadow chosen to match her shade of lipstick and her newly-dyed blonde hair gathered up in a pair of infantilizing pigtails. She met Marina's gaze with blank incomprehension behind her bright blue eyes, and she didn't stop slurping and sucking on Mark's cock even for a second, despite the shock of Marina's sudden entrance. It clearly wasn't natural.

But when Marina stammered out, "W-what did you do to her?" in tones of anguished dismay and furious anger, her boss only chuckled and gave a pat on the head to the kneeling woman in front of him like he was rewarding an especially slow puppy for finally learning a very simple trick. And Betsi, for her part, let out a simpering little giggle like the sign of affection was a jackpot treat all its own, her hoop earrings rocking from side to side as she slid her plump cockpillow lips back and forth along the length of Mark's shaft before engulfing him with her mouth again. The front of her shirt was soaked in drool, and Marina couldn't help noticing the way Betsi's nipples were outlined by the clinging fabric. This was obviously a turn-on for her.

She was so stunned by the whole spectacle that she almost missed Mark saying, "We reprioritized some of our key assets, that's all," in exactly the same bland tone he used for his corporate presentations. "It's a real paradigm shift for the company, honestly. Betsi's other responsibilities can be reassigned, and most of the men here agree that they're willing to take on a little extra work so long as they know they have a ready source of stress relief available to them. This wasn't exactly how I'd intended for you to find out about the program, but then again I should have expected you would notice something going on. You've always been a very smart woman, Marina… until now."

He scooped up what looked like a small fidget toy from his desk, and against her will Marina's eyes fixated on it as he pressed a button and its surface began to light up with a pattern of flashing strobes. "Don't worry, Marina, you'll be very happy in your new role with the company," Mark said, but already she was losing track of anything that didn't sound like a command and her mind kept getting smaller and smaller with every passing moment. Before she knew it she was down on her knees, and the closest she came to a coherent thought as she crawled over to join Betsi was admiring her friend's new lips and the way they were just perfect for pleasing cock.

Jill could already feel herself relaxing the second Ryan stepped in behind her; she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back, becoming more visceral by the second as his ebony hands pulled up her shirt to her armpits so he could grope and fondle her pale, heavy tits. Her eyes began to roll back in her head, weeks of repeated trance cementing the association between sexual pleasure and deep hypnosis without even needing to be told, and she slipped away into drowsy relaxation with the relief of a junkie finally getting her fix when Ryan murmured, "Good girl," and pushed her forward onto the bed.

He followed up by pulling her shorts down around her ankles, and of course she was wet--Jill was always wet now, her pussy a constant leaking mess pretty much from the day she moved in with her boyfriend, and the two of them fucked like rabbits virtually every chance they got. It might have been the middle of the workday for both of them, but their lunch hour synced up and just thinking about sex with his hypnotized submissive always got Ryan too worked up to wait until the afternoon, and they could always grab a protein bar and eat at their desks later still stinking of each other's bodies. Jill never knew how horny she could get until she found a man who hammered down on all her particular hot buttons, and she knew she was going to spend the last half of her shift with semen leaking out of her cunt and an eager, urgent desire for more.

She clenched tight around his thrusting cock, the mere position she was in enough to make her drip with arousal--Jill felt so much more primal when she was face down and ass up and Ryan was mounting her, presenting herself like a bitch in heat so he could grip her ample hips and plow her pussy until she screamed--and even though her eyelids felt too heavy with trance to see what was happening to her, Ryan had filmed them a couple of times with her enthusiastic consent and she knew just what it looked like when his shaft disappeared again and again into her messy cunt and came back out covered in the frothy musk of her lust. He'd made her lick it clean so many times, and every single time felt just as good as the first.

Jill was already sinking into that--fantasy? Memory? Anticipation?--when her first orgasm unfolded, bursting in her mind with the speed and beauty of a time-lapsed rosebush exploding into a dozen blossoms of bright color all at once. She mewled and squirmed and pushed her ass back against her boyfriend, quietly grateful that Ryan had a house and not an apartment because the downstairs neighbors would absolutely hate them by now if he didn't, but he wasn't ready to stop fucking her and soon the roses were joined by lilacs and lilies and every kind of flower she could imagine. Jill never knew where her physical pleasure ended and Ryan's hypnotic suggestions began, but he made fucking so much better than any of her other boyfriends and she secretly wished he would use that to deepen his hold on her vulnerable mind.

But he was too ethical for that, and once he came inside her and presented his cock for her to clean in that deliciously degrading way Jill loved so much they enjoyed a good fifteen minutes of snuggles and aftercare before it was time to clock back in. Jill's productivity usually took a bit of a hit when she first got back to her desk, it was hard to imagine it wouldn't with her still feeling sleepy and sated the way she did, but she soon got back up to speed and her mind focused itself back on her tasks… and on the slow trickle of semen that felt like a promise against her skin.

Tonight, he pushed her against our front door. He fingered mercy, and rubbed her clit. mercy's clit LOVES being rubbed. He pulled her boobs out of her shirt. Then he undressed her against the front door. He was soooo hard and mercy could feel him when he pinned her hands behind her back, pressing her boobs against the window. She was alternating between frantically checking for neighbors and closing her eyes in pleasure. It went on for so long, but also not long enough. mercy's pussy is a greedy little thing. It never has enough. No matter how much it gets it always wants more. More touch. More sex. Giving it more edging, more sex will only result in it increasing demands.

But we moved up the stairs and Master fucked mercy. Oh she was so tight. He had to use her mouth a bit first and that was hot too, him doing nearly a pushup over her as she sucked his cock, before he moved back down to fuck her hard fuckkkk but he feels so good. Never enough for mercy. Always wants faster harder. again?

I really love the thought of someone using a simple trigger during casual conversation, with the purpose to not instantly mindfuck me, but to slowlyy turn me into whatever they want. It could be any word, fucking.. like donuts.

But every time they say donuts, there’s a little slider in my head that clicks one inch closer towards a helplessly dumb slut. I can know about it, or be completely ignorant, but I can feel myself gradually getting closer and closer towards this destination they’ve sent me towards.

Suddenly, we’re talking about whatever when I realize I’m way more ditsy than I remembered being.. and then more.. and then more…

I may realize what’s happening, but it’s too late now. Or maybe I was always out of the loop. But they didn’t just turn me into a little mess.

They played with their toy, slowly priming their subject for their next round of suggestions, while getting a kick out of seeing this normal girl become their personal slutty toy.

To whom this may concern (you know who you are), destroy me with this over and over.

"See? I told you it was a cool game," Mike smirked, and even though Daisy felt like she'd been stuck on the loading screen for hours now she still let her head bob up and down in amiable, unthinking agreement. It was a really cool loading screen, after all, with puzzle blocks twisting and turning as they fell inward to join the rotating mass of tessellated shapes at the center of the screen, and it really gave her a good idea of what it was going to be like to play when the innermost completed layer simply dropped into the darkness at the center and vanished. It reminded her of Tetris, or even more accurately its more obscure sequel Welltris, and her whole brain tingled in pleasant anticipation at the thought of getting through the loading screen and finally trying it for herself.

Only… it didn't. It took Daisy a long while to really notice, because the graphics were very absorbing and captivating and she kept losing track of time watching the outer blocks join the spinning mass and the inner blocks disappear, but eventually it occurred to her that her mouth was hanging open and a small trickle of clear saliva was running down her chin while she stared in rapt fascination and that seemed at least a little bit weird. She started to say something to Mike, but her brain felt unaccountably sluggish and the words flowed with all the speed of ketchup from an old glass bottle and all she managed was, "Um… how, uh, how long….?" before she forgot what she was trying to say.

Mike patted her on the knee and said, "Just keep watching, babe," and even though a tiny prickle of irritation stirred her mind at being called 'babe' by a guy she'd made pointedly clear she was just friends with, it was soon drowned out by a nagging sense of disquiet at the way he touched her. It wasn't even that it was particularly intimate, although it was more intimate than she usually let Mike get with her body, it was… it was that… oh, she almost had it, it was right there on the tip of her brain… oh. Oh of course. His fingers brushed her bare skin, but Daisy could have sworn she'd come straight over to his place from work and that meant she still had on slacks and a polo shirt. Didn't she?

She reached down, her hand tentatively exploring her own body because her eyes were still glued to the screen, and it was a bit of a shock to discover there was nothing between her fingers and her ever so slightly damp panties. But the surprise felt muted, drowsy, like hearing a door open when you were already in the first stages of deep and helpless sleep, and Daisy didn't know why her mind immediately gravitated to 'helpless' as a descriptor but it made her want to rub her fabric-covered pussy a little bit harder. She heard Ryan purring, "That's it, you're doing so well," and even though she didn't quite understand what he meant because she still hadn't started playing yet she still felt a warm, drowsy surge of contentment that made her cunt feel even better. She could do this for… forever.

That turned out to be untrue--the phone eventually slipped from her limp hand, tumbling to land face-down in the thick carpet--but by then Daisy's eyelids were stuck tight shut and she didn't need the screen to see the spiral. She drifted ever deeper into the darkness at its center, rubbing her pussy in a state of languid ecstasy… but it was nothing compared to what she felt when Mike finally peeled her clinging panties away from her slick labia and slid his urgent, jutting erection inside Daisy's needy cunt.

I really love the thought of someone using a simple trigger during casual conversation, with the purpose to not instantly mindfuck me, but to slowlyy turn me into whatever they want. It could be any word, fucking.. like donuts.

But every time they say donuts, there’s a little slider in my head that clicks one inch closer towards a helplessly dumb slut. I can know about it, or be completely ignorant, but I can feel myself gradually getting closer and closer towards this destination they’ve sent me towards.

Suddenly, we’re talking about whatever when I realize I’m way more ditsy than I remembered being.. and then more.. and then more…

I may realize what’s happening, but it’s too late now. Or maybe I was always out of the loop. But they didn’t just turn me into a little mess.

They played with their toy, slowly priming their subject for their next round of suggestions, while getting a kick out of seeing this normal girl become their personal slutty toy.

To whom this may concern (you know who you are), destroy me with this over and over.

I really love the thought of someone using a simple trigger during casual conversation, with the purpose to not instantly mindfuck me, but to slowlyy turn me into whatever they want. It could be any word, fucking.. like donuts.

But every time they say donuts, there’s a little slider in my head that clicks one inch closer towards a helplessly dumb slut. I can know about it, or be completely ignorant, but I can feel myself gradually getting closer and closer towards this destination they’ve sent me towards.

Suddenly, we’re talking about whatever when I realize I’m way more ditsy than I remembered being.. and then more.. and then more…

I may realize what’s happening, but it’s too late now. Or maybe I was always out of the loop. But they didn’t just turn me into a little mess.

They played with their toy, slowly priming their subject for their next round of suggestions, while getting a kick out of seeing this normal girl become their personal slutty toy.

To whom this may concern (you know who you are), destroy me with this over and over.

Call for Help

Harper took the book Daniel offered to her with no small amount of bemusement, her glasses magnifying the puzzled look in her bright blue eyes to make her seem more bewildered than ever. "Humor me," he said, gesturing to the fancy leather couch in his study, and of course that wasn't something Harper was going to say no to because she was still a little starstruck by the chance to intern with her idol and she'd honestly do anything in the world to impress the famous architect. Long hours, no personal life, constantly demeaning menial tasks--it was all worth it to get to look over his shoulder when he was at the drafting table and they both knew it.

So she sat down, and she opened the book she recognized from one of his signings, and she picked a line and random and tried to recite it back to her mentor. "T-tuh, tuh huh ee," she began, before a swirl of dizzying befuddlement swept up her brain and made her struggle to remember what sound each individual squiggle represented let alone how they all connected together to make words. "T…the?" she heard herself whimper, all too aware that it was a guess and not a statement--she knew 'the' was a word that started a sentence, and it was a little word that started with a 'tuh' sound just like the one she was looking at, and… and she wasn't sure about that either, she realized. She saw two lines together, a horizontal one sitting on top of a vertical one, but she didn't necessarily connect them to a sound in her head.

Harper became acutely aware of a warm, wet throb of pleasure between her thighs, one that only grew stronger as she stared in blank incomprehension at the page in front of her, and her legs began to spread of their own accord as she tried the old child's trick of skipping words you didn't know and working them out from context only to find that every single word had been erased from her visual vocabulary. She still knew them, she could still think them and say them, but every sentence might as well have been written in Cyrillic for all that she was able to make sense of them. "I… I don't think I can read anymore," she squeaked, embarrassed by the admission but comforted by the welcoming smile on Daniel's face as he heard her confess to her inexplicable illiteracy.

"And how does that make you feel, good girl?" he asked, but Harper knew she was giving him the answer he wanted even before she began to speak. She was answering with the way her skirt rode up her thighs to reveal a total absence of panties covering her slick and drooling cunt, and with the way she took off her glasses in the understanding that correcting her far-sightedness was no longer necessary, and with the dreamy smile that slowly crinkled her face into an expression of drowsy, indolent bliss. Daniel had so many other talents besides draftsmanship, she sleepily remembered, so many things he could do to her weak and vulnerable mind, and hearing his soothing voice reminded her of each and every one of them. This was a milestone in her gradual subjugation, but it wasn't the first and it wouldn't be the last… and the part of Harper that was already enslaved looked forward to the day when all she could do was moan wordlessly for her Master.