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Linda stood by the office window, absently watching the late afternoon traffic crawl through the streets below.
Sandra had said she'd only be gone for a few minutes. Linda couldn't quite remember why. Either way, she expected the next sound to be Sandra returning.
The click of the office door made her smile.
"Finally," she murmured.
She turned. The smile disappeared. It wasn't Sandra.
Todd stood in the doorway. Sandra's ex.
Linda had met him only a handful of times before the breakup. Quiet, forgettable, the sort of man who blended into a crowd the moment he stopped speaking.
Yet something about him seemed different now. He stepped into the office without asking permission.
The door clicked shut behind him.
"Todd?"
Linda frowned.
"What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he slowly raised his smartphone until the back faced her.
Linda took a cautious step forward.
"Todd?"
A high, piercing tone suddenly rang through the room. She winced. The sound wasn't painfully loud. It felt precise. As though it had found exactly the right frequency to slip past her ears and vibrate somewhere behind her eyes.
"What is--" The question died on her lips. Her knees weakened. Linda instinctively reached for the back of a nearby chair.
Her fingers missed. Her body seemed to ignore the command entirely. Instead, she felt herself straighten. Her shoulders relaxed. One careful step carried her forward.
Then another.
No. The word wanted to emerge but her mouth didn't move. She wasn't walking. Her body was.
The shrill tone continued, unwavering. Linda's heartbeat slowed to match its rhythm. A strange warmth spread from the base of her neck through her arms.
The sensation wasn't painful. It was deeply, unsettlingly comfortable. Without understanding why, she lowered herself to the floor.
One knee touched the carpet.
Then the other.
Her head turned up. Eyes rolled up into her head. Lips formed an inviting ring as tongue stretched out.
She heard Todd pull down the zipper of his trousers. Her nose filled with the stench of a sweaty musk. Something hard, long and throbbing touched her lips.
Like a puppet on strings her body moved into action.
Her lips closed over the shaft. Her hands gripped the cock by the base, holding it in place as her tongue circled around the tip.
She tasted salty sweat and precum. A man's taste. The flavor of cock. The smell made her nostrils flare.
Her lips parted. Her jaw widened to accept more of his thick, throbbing length. She felt his pulse beat against her lips.
Her body reacted on instinct. Her hands stroked along the base of the shaft. She slid the thick, heavy rod in and out of her mouth.
She couldn't believe what was happening but the sensation was undeniable.
She was sucking Todd off. Right here. In her office.
The realization brought a sudden clarity.
Linda felt a wave of panic. She struggled to move her body, to pull herself away, to speak out and demand that Todd release her. But nothing responded. She remained on her knees, head upturned, eyes empty. Her fingers and mouth worked over Todd's cock with an expert skill. It took no time to bring his member to full attention. Thick and throbbing, it pushed deeper between her lips. She could feel his pulse beat against her tongue. Her own saliva dripped down the length, her mouth producing more and more to make the blowjob easier.
A low groan emerged from the depths of Linda's chest. She felt her mouth widen. She took more and more of the shaft, her head bobbing back and forth. Her lips and tongue worked together to massage the shaft, her cheeks hollowed with every suck and she moaned with every new inch she took in.
Todd's hands ran through her hair. He grabbed hold, forcing her mouth down. Linda's gag reflex failed to kick in. Her throat opened to welcome the rest of the shaft in, the tip pushing deeper into the back of her mouth.
Her fingers moved from the shaft to her blouse, undoing its buttons one by one. The fabric parted. Her bra followed suit.
Linda's tits were on the bigger side of things, round and firm with dark nipples that perked up in moments like these.
Moments? No. Not moments. There hadn't ever been moments.
Not before this one. But now? Her mind couldn't think beyond it. Couldn't imagine beyond it.
There was no before. There was only the taste, the smell, the feeling of Todd's thick and heavy cock between her lips. That was her past. That was her present. That was her future.
Todd pushed her away suddenly, forcing her to the ground. She lay back, eyes empty and mouth still agape.
Her fingers continued to move with a will of their own. They undid the button of her jeans and pulled the zipper down. She tore the denim from her legs. Her underwear was discarded without hesitation. Her body exposed for his pleasure, she lay still. Only her fingers continued to move, stroking the outer folds of her pussy.
Linda's thoughts raced to keep up. She could feel every motion of her hands, feel every gentle touch of her fingers. Yet it wasn't her will. And still it was. Her mind circled around the contradiction. Was it her will or not? She didn't know. She couldn't know.
All she could focus on was Todd. The sight of his thick, throbbing cock. The smell of its musky, manly stench. The anticipation that built with each second that passed.
Her pussy glistened. Wet and dripping, it invited Todd's cock.
Her legs split apart. She held her knees close to her body.
Todd stood above her, his erect cock in hand. A single, glistening bead of pre-cum rolled from its tip.
Linda wanted it. Needed it.
The hunger inside of her felt unbearable. Her mind couldn't even remember what life was like without the desire for cock. She had been living with this hunger her entire life, hadn't she?
But that seemed wrong too. She wasn't interested in Todd. In his massive delicious cock. She desired Sandra and her slutty big tits and butt. The taste of her juices. She loved her girlfriend.
No, that wasn't it either. Her thoughts circled around in endless circles. She couldn't focus. Couldn't think. Not with his cock so close.
She watched, eyes empty, body relaxed and inviting. Todd pressed the tip against the wet folds of her pussy.
He entered her. Slowly at first, pushing just the tip in, letting her adjust to its girth.
Then a little further, his hands grabbing hold of her body and pulling it towards him.
Her pussy welcomed him, its muscles stretching open and wrapping tight around the intruding rod.
Deeper, deeper. She could feel the thick cock inside of her, could feel it fill every inch of her.
The sensation was overwhelming, incredible.
It was wrong, a voice whispered at the back of her mind. It wasn't what she wanted. It couldn't be.
But then Todd's fingers squeezed her soft, firm breasts. Her body arched in response, back bending to accept more of his thick cock in her.
It felt so right. So perfect.
She moaned. A loud, low sound from somewhere deep inside.
His balls pressed against the soft flesh of her ass. His shaft sank deep inside of her, its thickest point parting her tight hole. Her body felt filled, stuffed to the brim with his massive member.
And still it wasn't enough. She rocked her hips against him. Her pussy clenched, muscles squeezing around his throbbing member. She wanted him, needed him to fuck her.
His hips rocked in rhythm with hers. The thick cock slid in and out, spreading her wide with each push. It was unlike anything Linda had experienced before.
The feeling was electric, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Her eyes widened as a powerful thrust made her breasts bounce up and down.
Her body was his plaything. Every part of her existed only to give Todd pleasure, to accept the thick, hard cock into her and milk it for every drop of seed it offered.
Her mind knew it was true. Her mouth hung open in an endless moan as she felt him pound away. Every thrust brought her closer and closer to orgasm.
She could feel the pleasure build inside of her. Her toes curled and her back arched. The cock slammed deep inside her, hitting the back of her womb.
She couldn't believe it was possible. It shouldn't have felt so incredible.
It didn't matter that it was Todd's cock buried inside of her, she couldn't stop herself from cumming. Couldn't stop herself from loving it.
The orgasm tore through her body with a power that left her speechless. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. All she could do was lay there and take his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her body. It felt incredible.
Linda felt the thick cock inside of her twitch. A spurt of warm liquid shot deep into her womb. It felt incredible. She wanted more of it. Her body rocked back against him. She moaned and cried, begging him for more. For all of it. Every last drop.
Her pussy tightened, squeezing his cock like a vice. Her eyes widened in wonder. It was amazing. Perfect. The best feeling in the world. She moaned loudly as another orgasm tore through her. She lost track of time, of space. She could only focus on Todd's cock. Nothing else mattered.
After an eternity the shaft left her. The sudden emptiness felt almost painful. Her pussy gushed, her juices mingling with his. She couldn't move. Her body felt heavy, numb.
A sudden click made her turn her head. Todd was leaning against a table, his phone out. He tapped its screen. A few seconds later a woman appeared in the doorway. Sandra. Blonde hair, high cheekbones, large eyes and lips. Dressed in a short skirt and tight blouse, the outfit showed off her long legs and curvy figure.
Her eyes rolled back like Linda's. A vacant smile played on her lips. She walked towards the desk without a word, then bent over and pressed her chest against it.
Linda didn't move. Couldn't. All she could do was watch. Her thoughts remained cloudy. Something was wrong here, she could tell that much.
Sandra spread her legs and hiked up the back of her skirt, revealing her bare behind. Linda felt a sharp sting of betrayal at the sight of Todd's cock sinking between her girlfriend's pussy lips.
She felt cheated. Yet the ringing made it right. It felt right to see Todd's massive shaft sink deep into her girlfriend. The sight was so hot. It made her mouth water. It was perfect to watch as he pushed into her, filling Sandra with every inch of his cock. The way her girlfriend moaned in delight as his thick cock sank deep into her pussy.
Linda watched as the couple fucked on the desk, Todd's balls slapping against Sandra's round and shapely ass as he pounded her hard. The lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled her ears, her nose was full with the smell of Todd's manhood and Sandra's submission. It turned her on. She could feel her pussy grow warm and wet at the sight, her clit aching for attention.
Todd grunted, thrusting his hips with a force that sent Sandra sprawling over the table. The blonde girl gasped as she came. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly. Todd fucked her with a steady rhythm. He was taking her, owning her body with each thrust.
He wasn't just fucking Sandra, he was fucking her to his own rhythm, his pace. He owned her completely and utterly.
Linda saw how Todd tensed. And unloaded another massive load deep into the woman he owned, the woman that Linda had been so stupidly trying to seduce from him. It had never been more obvious who Sandra belonged to. It was all so simple, so perfect.
A sudden clarity washed over her. Her thoughts cleared. The haze that had filled her mind disappeared. The world around her returned into sharp focus. She could feel the hard surface beneath her body, could feel the cool air against her skin. She could hear the sounds of the city outside, could smell the scent of sex in the air.
She followed the strings urging and stood up. Stiff and at attention. She knew exactly what was going to happen next. She was his. Body and soul. It didn't matter that it had been her and Sandra for so long. That they had promised each other to stay faithful and loyal.
None of that mattered. Nothing did.
She could feel her heart pound as Todd finished fucking Sandra, her eyes following the throbbing cock as it slid out of her girlfriend. She licked her lips. Her tongue was already out and ready, her mouth watering at the prospect of tasting his cock once again.
Smirking he turned around.
"Now, Linda and Sandra, let's talk about our new relationship," he said.
Like her, Sandra stood at attention. Both focused completely on his words. They listened eagerly, their eyes never leaving his face. The tone was still ringing in their heads, guiding their thoughts and feelings.
"You will both act like you are a couple in public. You will be sweet. You will flirt and skirt the level of what is appropriate. You will dress less conservative. Show off what others can't have. Of course you will try to be as successful and profitable as possible. But when you get home? Then you will turn into my depraved, submissive sluts. You exist to serve and please my cock." Todd's voice was calm. His tone left no room for debate. Linda could feel the truth of his words, feel how her entire body craved to be used and abused.
"Good sluts, don't need to waste their money on useless things, such as a hobby or your own apartment. You will give me all your money and live at my place. And I will be so gracious to allow you to buy clothes and food that I like. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
Linda could feel her mind reel. It sounded incredible. Of course, it was amazing to have a real purpose in life, to be a good slut to her owner. Why would she ever want anything else?
She didn't need a hobby, didn't need to have her own apartment or money or anything like that.
Todd's cock twitched. "And you will make sure my cock is satisfied and happy. Always. I can get a blowjob and a fuck anytime and anywhere I want. You will never be busy and you will never have any excuse to deny my needs. And you will be grateful to serve me. Because I own you."
His tone sent shivers down her spine.
"Thank you sir," she whispered, "thank you for owning us." The words felt strange. They should've been foreign, wrong even.
Yet it was true. Linda could feel her body tingle. It felt wonderful to be owned. To belong to someone. To be his. Her mind was still hazy from the intense orgasms, her pussy wet and ready for more.
"Please sir," she continued, "may we kiss your feet?"
She felt the need rise up from within her, felt how her body wanted to kneel, how she wanted to kiss and lick every inch of him.
"Yes, master. Please let us please you," Sandra moaned. The blonde's eyes were empty. She stared straight ahead, her face expressionless.
Todd smirked again.
"Very good," he said, his tone pleased. "You may kiss my feet, my slaves. But do not stop until I tell you otherwise."
The two women fell to their knees at once. Linda pressed her lips against Todd's shoes, her tongue lolling out to lick his soles and the top of his foot. She tasted the salt and grime of his boots.
Sandra followed suit. The two of them kissed his feet passionately, their tongues running over his shoes, their hands caressing his legs. Their bodies trembled as they did their duty.
Linda could feel her body respond to the touch of his feet. She felt a strange thrill at the idea that her owner might allow her to serve him in such a manner.
He chuckled to himself. "That's enough, you whores."
The two stopped and pulled away.
Todd took the time to examine them closely, admiring the sight of their bodies and the way their faces looked as they gazed at his feet with worship. "Now," he continued, "why don't you kiss each other? Let's share all the dirt."
The two girls didn't hesitate. Linda threw herself at Sandra's mouth, her tongue darting between the blonde's lips and into her mouth, her teeth nipping at the soft skin. The blonde's hands cupped her ass, squeezing it hard. Linda groaned with pleasure. Her pussy ached with desire, her nipples were hard as rocks, and her entire body trembled.
She could taste the grime and filth on her girlfriend's tongue, the salty sweat and dirt that had accumulated on his shoes. It was disgusting. And she loved it.
Sandra's own mouth sought out her lover's, their tongues intertwining and exploring one another's bodies. Sandra's hands slid along Linda's smooth back, caressing her sides, tracing lines across her ribs and spine.
They kissed passionately, hungrily, their bodies pressed together in a passionate embrace.
"Don't be shy. Tell the other what a dumb slut she is. Really. Sandra left me for a cunt like Linda. And Linda here sucked and fucked me so hard, I'm sure she wanted to taste my dick on Sandra," Todd's voice boomed.
Linda blushed. Her face burned hotly at the words. But her heart raced faster, the arousal within her growing ever greater.
She wanted to be humiliated by her girlfriend, wanted to be made to feel like nothing more than a lowly, depraved whore who deserved nothing but ridicule and shame.
Sandra pulled back from the kiss and stared at Linda. "You're such a dirty slut, you know? You sucked Todd's dick like you loved it. Did you love it?"
Linda bit her lip. "Obviously. But I'm not the idiot that left his delicious cock for a dumb cunt like myself. So, who is the bigger fool, Sandra? You should have stayed with him."
The blonde girl laughed, leaning in to lick Linda's neck, nibbling at her skin as her hand slid up and down her lover's sides, squeezing her ass. "You're a whore who can't control herself," Sandra whispered.
"And you are a slut that can't get enough dick," Linda responded.
Both women giggled. Todd shook his head in amusement.
"That's right. But now everything is right. Get up and get dressed. Time to go home. I am so excited for you to see it."
The two women stood. Linda quickly gathered her clothes, putting them on, her hands trembling with anticipation. Her pussy tingled at the idea of what awaited them. She felt her body respond to the promise of more cock. Her nipples were rock hard again. She felt an almost unbearable desire to be fucked again.
She got dressed in silence, not bothering to clean up. Her body felt dirty, sticky and sweaty. Just like the ringing told her she loved it.
Linda couldn't wait for her future with Sandra and her owner, Todd.
Doctor Evelyn Leyswell leaned back in her chair and allowed herself a rare, satisfied smile.
The office had finally fallen quiet.
The last patient had left nearly twenty minutes earlier, the receptionist had gone home, and the steady rhythm of appointments had given way to peaceful silence.
It had been a productive day. She closed the final case file and stacked it neatly with the others. Each session had gone according to plan. Patients who had arrived guarded had left relaxed. Those burdened with anxiety had walked out calmer than when they'd entered. Several had made remarkable progress, succumbing to the new personalities that would make them profitable whores.
Evelyn took quiet pride in that.
Helping people change was the reason she'd entered psychiatry in the first place.
She stood, stretching the lingering stiffness from her shoulders. The room smelled faintly of old books and lavender. Outside, dusk painted the city in warm amber light.
Time to go home.
She reached for her handbag.
Stopped. Something felt -- off.
Evelyn frowned. Perhaps she was simply more tired than she'd realized. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. The feeling persisted.
Almost absentmindedly, she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the leather couch normally reserved for her patients.
The cushions sighed beneath her weight. Another thought surfaced. This was wrong.
She blinked. Of course it was wrong. She never sat here. Not during office hours. Not after them. This wasn't her place.
The realization should have prompted her to stand. Instead, she remained exactly where she was.
The room tilted. Just enough for the bookshelves to seem a fraction farther away than before. Evelyn drew a careful breath.
Dizziness. That was all. Low blood sugar, perhaps. She should -- The thought dissolved before reaching its conclusion.
Her heartbeat sounded unusually loud. Almost synchronized with something she couldn't quite hear.
A sharp click echoed from the hallway.
Then another clack.
Heels. Someone was still in the practice.
Evelyn frowned. Linda should have left fifteen minutes ago. Hadn't she?
The door opened.
Through the growing haze clouding her thoughts, Evelyn watched her secretary enter without knocking.
Linda's posture was immaculate, every step deliberate as the polished heels announced her approach across the hardwood floor.
Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.
There was something different about her. A tight leather corset hugged her torso, revealing her toned legs and cleavage. She was wearing make-up too, bright red lipstick that accentuated her lips.
The realization came sluggishly. Linda should not be here. Should not be dressed like this. Should not --
"Good evening, Doctor Leyswell," the woman purred. Her voice carried none of the usual subservient undertones. "It's so nice of you to wait. We have a lot of work ahead of us."
Evelyn stared. That was all she seemed capable of. Staring.
The world tilted a bit further.
She was supposed to say -- supposed to -- The thoughts crumbled into mist. She couldn't quite grasp them any longer.
"Your practice has done wonderfully these past few weeks," the woman continued, crossing behind the desk and lowering herself onto Evelyn's chair.
"Doctor?" The secretary looked at her with an expression that was both familiar and strange. "Do you have any questions?"
"No," Evelyn said automatically, before she even knew what she was saying. "No questions."
She didn't know why. Something in her voice was off.
"Very good." The secretary nodded approvingly. Her unfocused eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Then we can proceed. It's time for Evelyn to be put in her box. The doctor doesn't need to be awake anymore. Isn't that right, Eve?"
The words were a command, Evelyn realized through her haze. A key-phrase that triggered an automatic reaction deep within her. Evelyn felt the strings inside her mind pull tight. Everything that was Evelyn -- her identity, her self -- faded back, disappeared into a pink box she could only remember now. It's satin velvet interior felt calm and relaxing. So warm. She didn't need to be awake anymore. There was nothing left for the doctor to do. To remain inside her warm and cozy mindspace sounded like the best possible action. To let the world fade away as she was safely boxed in. To relax and just be Eve. The one and true Eve. The one that never had to be in charge and make decisions.
The secretary watched in silence as Evelyn slumped further into the cushions. Her breathing grew slow, her eyelids heavy. As the doctor faded back into herself, another persona surfaced. It emerged from the depths of her subconscious like a leviathan, a presence that was both intimately familiar and alien.
Eve giggled awake. A beautiful sensation. Her eyelashes fluttered open as her mouth spread into a wide grin. Rubbing her thighs together, she leaned forward with hungry anticipation. This was always the best moment.
"Hey Lindy! Is it time for us to have fun?" Her words rolled off her tongue like syrup. She felt her body tingle in excitement as she watched her friend settle into the doctor's chair.
"Oh yes. It is." The woman in the leather outfit smiled. "How do you feel, Eve? How does it feel being awake again? I know the doctor kept you locked away."
"I am good, but she was mean to me." Eve's pouty face turned to her with a mixture of hurt and annoyance. "The bitch didn't let me out at all since last time! I wanna play with the whores too!"
"I know. I saw her sessions. Don't worry. That will change soon." Lindy grinned as she watched Eve stretch on the sofa. Her eyes fixated on Eve's body.
Evelyn's clothes were tight, but they lacked the provocative tone Eve desired. It was all a far cry from the slinky outfits she favored.
"I have to say though, it's not very fun when the doc's in control. I want to be out all the time! Not just at night." Eve huffed. "Why do I need to be the alter-ego? Why can't I be in charge instead?"
"You know exactly why," Lindy chided, wagging a finger as if to scold her friend. Her tone was both teasing and authoritative, her body language confident as she reclined back into Evelyn's chair. "Evelyn's skills are needed to produce more whores for the System. And we serve the System."
Eve nodded. "But -- But that doesn't mean I need to stay cooped up all day long!" Her eyes widened pleadingly. She leaned back, letting her hands rest against her stomach and hips.
She looked so delectable -- the perfect combination of innocent and slutty -- it made Lindy bite her lip.
Eve's gaze turned coy as she studied her friend's face. She could sense her arousal. Her hunger. Her need.
"Tell you what, sweet Eve. If you do well today, I will make it up to you. The System will be awake tonight. Maybe one of us will be chosen for the final rite." She raised her brow suggestively.
Eve gasped. The System had been dormant for over three weeks. She had almost given up on getting her turn.
"Really? You would do that for me?" she squealed.
"Oh yes." Lindy smiled, a predatory glint flickering in her eyes. "You deserve it after everything you've done to help the cause."
"Thanks! You're the best," Eve exclaimed, her words dripping with genuine gratitude.
"I know. Now, let's get started. Evelyn seemed to have some resistance left. Tell me Eve, what would be the best way to curtail these bouts of independence?"
"The doctor is a very logical person, isn't she? You could find a way to confuse her. Make her thoughts chase each other like a dog chases its tail. Evelyn always tries to get rid of those by being productive. And Evelyn only knows one way to be productive thanks to me!"
"Interesting. Elaborate." Lindy's eyes twinkled as Eve leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across her features.
"Her mind needs to be in turmoil. Conflicting emotions. Like a constant loop where one problem always causes the next problem." Her eyes flashed wickedly. "That will make sure her thoughts will be always in chaos, leaving her no way but to cope with work, and she won't have time for any independence."
"And how do we create this?" Lindy's voice was low and seductive.
"By making her aware what she's doing, but also by having her feel pleasure while doing it. Evelyn had a strong moral compass. It's why you made her think she's helping people by becoming whores. She's a doctor, so it works, but that won't hold forever." Her voice trailed off for a moment, as if considering her own words. "Imagine her knowing exactly that she's brainwashing and enslaving girls while she does it, but the more she does it the better she feels."
The secretary chuckled. "That sounds delicious. Let's install those properly. I take it you have her completely secure and content in her pink box," Lindy continued. She crossed one leg over the other, watching as Eve nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, it's perfect. The doc really likes it! Whenever she is there she gets a nice little buzz, a bit like a nice drink. It's warm, cozy and comfortable. So when I'm out, Evelyn gets all warm and comfy and then just falls asleep in there."
"Perfect. Let's give her some more reasons to like her box and dislike the real world. And while we are at that, make her aware of her dubious practice while feeling pleasure doing it." She leaned forward, a wicked smile on her lips.
"Yes," moaned Eve. She squirmed as her body responded to the words with a rush of heat between her legs.
Inside her mind Eve strolled towards the puppet in her box. She took a simple sheet from it. Written on the paper in fading black was everything that was Evelyn. And in bright red gleamed all the corrections Eve had done. It looked like the paper was drenched in red.
With an eager giggle Eve took a seat in the warm light of her mind and added more red text to the paper.
The words came easy and fast to Eve's mind and she giggled as her hands glided across the sheet in front of her.
"Here it comes." Eve smirked as she added her thoughts to Evelyn's mental conditioning.
The moment the pen stopped Evelyn stirred in her box. But the strings bound her thoroughly. Eve enjoyed to watch how the new directions stimulated the boring psychiatrist. The way the woman looked confused at her body as her thoughts went wild in her head.
Eve turned to Lindy with a sly smile. "All done!" She stretched out her arms like a little girl showing off her homework to the teacher.
"Excellent work!" Lindy nodded in approval, her expression one of prideful satisfaction. "I knew we could count on you."
"Thanks," Eve beamed. "I'm glad to help! Especially when it means getting my reward tonight." She giggled, rubbing her hands together eagerly.
The secretary rose from Evelyn's desk and crossed back to the couch where Eve was seated. Her high heels announced every step she took. Click. Clack.
The sound seemed louder than usual.
Click. Clack.
As she reached Eve's side, she leaned over her friend's body. Her leather outfit creaking with her every move. Eve couldn't help but stare at her friend's exposed cleavage, which looked tantalizingly soft.
"You've been such a good girl today," Lindy crooned. She ran her fingers gently through Eve's hair before giving it an abrupt, sharp pull.
Eve gasped, her breath catching in her throat as pain blossomed on her scalp. It felt so delicious. The sudden mix of pain and pleasure sent a shiver through her.
"I think you deserve a little something for all your hard work." Lindy's voice dropped lower still.
Her hand slid down from Eve's head, trailing over the curve of her neck before coming to rest against her breastbone. Eve could feel its weight pressing against her sternum as Lindy leaned forward.
"What would you like as your reward?"
The secretary's question hung heavily between them.
Lindy's touch sent jolts of electricity coursing across Eve's skin.
"To serve Lindy," Eve purred. She arched her back, pressing into her touch as her eyelids fluttered shut.
Lindy's laughter was low, rich, and dark as chocolate. She cupped her friend's face in her hands and drew closer. "Is that all? You want me to choose?"
"Mmhm," Eve murmured. She nuzzled her nose into the cleft between her friend's breasts and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her leather outfit.
She loved that smell -- the richness of the leather mingled with Lindy's perfume and a hint of her sweat from the heat. Linda was a prude. But Lindy was a true servant of the System. And she was so very, very hot. Her fingers curled against the edge of her corset, eager for what was to come.
"Very well," Lindy said, amusement lacing her words as she pushed Eve back against the cushions.
Eve let herself be pressed down. She felt deliciously submissive. Her eyes never left the other woman's face as she waited, anticipation coiling inside her belly like an eager snake ready to spring forward.
The secretary leaned in close and kissed the side of Eve's neck. "Then I think I will have you eat my behind. It hasn't felt love in two days."
Lindy turned around, bending over the desk. "Now," Lindy said, "show me how much you appreciate your reward." She grasped her ass with one hand, pulling apart her buttocks invitingly.
Eve felt a thrill run up her spine. Her heart beat faster as she looked up at her friend's beautiful, plump cheeks, framed by the leather thong that ran between her legs and up through her crack. She could see the wetness glistening along its surface.
"Of course!" Eve exclaimed happily. She eagerly positioned herself on her knees behind Lindy's bent form. The doctor's usually tidy office was now a playground for two horny and submissive women.
"Make me feel good," Lindy ordered. Her voice had taken on a husky quality. It made Eve tingle.
She placed both hands on Lindy's rear. Her fingers dug deep into her soft flesh, massaging and kneading at it until her skin glowed pink with arousal.
The secretary's buttocks were perfect; smooth, round globes of pale flesh that felt as silky as they looked under Eve's ministrations.
"Mmm, that's right." The secretary moaned softly. She wiggled her hips invitingly. "Kiss me."
Eve's heart raced as she pressed a soft kiss against the center of one firm buttock.
"Ooh!" Lindy's gasp filled the room as Eve trailed a path of kisses over her asscheek, nibbling at its plump surface every so often. She could feel her cheeks flushing with desire. Lindy smelled like heaven. Her scent was intoxicating, and the feel of her body was delicious.
"I like how you kiss my butt, Eve," Lindy murmured encouragingly. She sighed as she pushed herself onto the desk to lean further over it. She spread her legs wide.
"Thank you, Lindy." Eve's breath quickened. She kissed again and again, loving how her friend tasted beneath her lips. Her tongue flicked out to lick along Lindy's crack, teasing at her puckered anus and making her friend gasp in delight.
The secretary moaned loudly as her body quivered beneath Eve's mouth.
"Fuck," she hissed, "you have a filthy tongue, Eve. Don't ever stop." Lindy groaned, bucking her hips back and forth against Eve's eager ministrations.
"I won't," Eve promised, her voice muffled by her mouthful of Lindy's rear end. Her tongue swirled around Lindy's rim before pressing deeper into her center, where it was rewarded with another shuddering cry of ecstasy from the other woman. "Oh, gods," she whimpered.
Eve felt Lindy's juices dribble down her chin. She lapped at her puckered hole eagerly, her own arousal growing with every passing moment. Lindy's anus was so sensitive; every little lick sent shivers through her friend's entire body, causing her to tremble uncontrollably.
"Yes!" the secretary groaned. "That's the spot. Right there. Just keep licking." Lindy ground herself into Eve's face as the other woman's tongue worked its magic upon her.
The room was quiet save for the sound of Lindy's heavy breathing and Eve's slurping noises.
The secretary moaned softly. "Mmm, I love it." Her body shook. She panted heavily. She could feel herself getting close already. Her body tensed, muscles clenching as she approached her peak. Her hips jerked backward, driving her anus against Eve's lips and forcing her tongue deeper into her hole. Eve's eyes widened at how deep her tongue penetrated. The sensation was intense; she felt as if she was being fucked by Eve's tongue. She whimpered helplessly.
"Yes!" She gasped. Her eyes closed tight. She squeezed them tightly shut as she tried to stifle her cries. "Yes!" Her head fell forward onto the desk with a soft thunk. She let out a strangled sob of pleasure as she came, her body shaking uncontrollably beneath Eve's continued ministrations. Her asshole clenched rhythmically around Eve's tongue, sucking it deeper inside of her as her orgasm crashed over her.
Eve moaned incoherently as Lindy climaxed, her entire body shuddering violently as wave after wave of ecstasy swept over her. She rode it out, her tongue still working away at Lindy's anus, lapping up her juices. When it was finally done, Eve slowly pulled away from the secretary's ass with one last lingering lick. Her lips were shiny with Lindy's fluids. She licked at them greedily.
The secretary sagged limply against the desk. Her breathing had become erratic, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to regain control of her faculties.
Eve giggled at the sight. She couldn't help herself. Her friend's pleasure had been so delicious that it left her feeling lightheaded and giddy.
"Was that good for you, too?" she asked coyly, grinning mischievously up at Lindy. Her face felt flushed from the exertion and excitement.
Lindy turned around. Her face was glowing with satisfaction. "Oh, Eve. It was perfect," she whispered breathlessly, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes as she straightened. Her body trembled with aftershocks as she took a few deep, calming breaths. "I expected nothing less. But now it's time for you to get ready for the meeting. You have to dress like yourself for the System." She reached into the bag and retrieved a small bundle of clothing, holding it up for Eve's inspection. It consisted of a red thong and bra, along with a matching pair of thigh-high boots. Both articles were made from a thin, flimsy material that barely qualified as clothing at all. Eve eyed the skimpy outfit appreciatively.
She rose to her feet and began stripping off the doctor's stuffy clothes until she stood nude in front of her friend. She smiled brightly at Lindy. "Thank you," she murmured, reaching for the panties.
Lindy nodded. "You're welcome. I know exactly what suits you, little whore. You have to dress the part of the slut that you are." She watched intently as Eve slipped the garments onto her body.
The bra barely covered her nipples, and the thong did little more than frame her mound. The shoes were the only item of real substance in the ensemble, but even they left most of Eve's legs exposed.
Eve twirled in front of a mirror. The outfit was perfect for her! It showed off her best features perfectly. Eve loved how the tightness hugged every curve and line of her body. Her nipples strained against the fabric as she moved, and the thong left nothing to the imagination.
"Gods, I love it," she said with a happy sigh, smiling at her reflection.
Lindy smiled back. "Of course you do, Eve." She moved over to where she had laid the doctor's discarded clothes earlier. She lifted them up and inspected them briefly before throwing them into the bin. They would not be missed. Then she picked up the panties and sniffed deeply at them, enjoying their musky aroma. She moaned softly as she pressed the panties against her face. Eve giggled at her reaction.
After a moment, Lindy tossed the garment away again. "Alright, Eve. It's time for us to go." She pulled her phone out and swiped at it a few times.
Eve watched curiously. "Oh, are we getting a driver that's part of the System?"
"Yes. Our clothes aren't yet acceptable. But don't worry, Eve, with our work that will change. When every human being is either a whore or a customer of the System, then all these charades can end."
"Yeah! I'm so excited for that," Eve exclaimed. "Not like I have a choice! And that makes me so wet." Her hands cupped her crotch.
Lindy laughed at that, her body still tingling with pleasure. She took a few steps closer to Eve, until their bodies almost touched. Her fingers trailed over Eve's cheek and chin as she leaned forward to kiss her softly. She sighed as her lips brushed Eve's. Eve's breath quickened as her friend's tongue slipped past her teeth and explored her mouth. Their tongues tangled together for several minutes before Lindy finally pulled away. "Now, let's get out of here," she said with a smile, reaching down and taking one of Eve's hands.
Glynda entered the therapist's office wearing a scowl she made no effort to hide. The room looked exactly as it had during every previous appointment. Soft lighting cast it in an inviting shade. Bookshelves filled with titles she had no intention of reading. And, waiting behind the polished oak desk, sat Doctor Evelyn Leyswell.
The therapist looked up from her notes and smiled warmly.
To Glynda, it always seemed a little too warm, a little too practiced.
Without waiting for an invitation, Glynda crossed the room and dropped onto the familiar couch. She already knew how the session would go. Questions about her sleep followed by more about her emotions. And about the "incident."
As though talking about it enough times would somehow rewind the last month. She still couldn't believe the department had made counseling mandatory. One malfunction during an operation. And suddenly everyone insisted she needed professional supervision.
Ridiculous.
"Welcome, Glynda."
Doctor Leyswell folded her hands neatly in her lap.
"I hope the last week hasn't been too difficult for you." Her voice carried the same calm cadence it always did.
Glynda shivered. She hated that. Nothing about the woman was threatening. Yet every appointment left Glynda feeling strangely lighter. As though she'd forgotten something important by the time she walked back out the door.
"It's been a strange one, Doc."
She leaned back against the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Only then did she notice the outfit she was wearing.
Again.
A fitted blouse. A narrow pencil skirt. Dark pantyhose. High pumps with an heel that made her hips roll and behind swing.
She frowned. "I hate these clothes."
Doctor Leyswell merely nodded. "And yet you've worn similar outfits to every session."
"I know." The admission irritated her. "I threw half my wardrobe into storage three weeks ago because I couldn't stand looking at it anymore."
"So why are you wearing this?"
Glynda opened her mouth.
Closed it.
She honestly didn't know.
Every morning she intended to wear jeans or cargo pants. Something comfortable. Instead she'd find herself standing in front of the closet, reaching automatically for another blouse. Another skirt. Another pair of heels.
It made no sense.
"I don't remember choosing them."
The words hung in the air.
Doctor Leyswell made another neat note in her notebook.
"Anything else unusual?"
Glynda laughed once. A humorless sound. "Hours keep disappearing."
"Disappearing?"
"I'll sit down to answer one email." She rubbed her forehead. "Then suddenly it's evening."
Another pause.
"I find receipts for things I don't remember buying." She looked toward the coat rack near the door. "There are dresses in my closet I'd swear I've never seen before."
She glanced down at her chest.
The blouse was tight, especially at the buttons. Her breasts swelled up beneath the neckline, the inner curves barely concealed by the narrow V. Her breath caught in her throat and her cheeks warmed as she remembered the lingerie beneath.
The black lace bra was a half-size too small, creating a line of over spill at the edge of the cups. The matching thong cut tight beneath her skirt, the thin strip riding high up the crevice of her ass. Her nipples hardened at the thought. Just a bit of pressure and they'd rub right against the lace. A constant, gentle reminder that they'd tightened.
Doctor Leyswell's smile widened a fraction.
"You look lovely."
"Thanks," Glynda said automatically, her own cheeks darkening another shade.
Doctor Leyswell continued, seemingly unaware of her state. "But it sounds as though these last few weeks haven't been entirely comfortable."
"Is anyone comfortable in this city anymore?"
The therapist laughed, a light sound that somehow reminded her of birds.
"Perhaps not." She leaned forward slightly, placing her chin in one palm. "But that's why you're here. So that we can try to get you comfortable again."
Comfortable, she thought. She didn't feel uncomfortable.
She shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way her panties pulled against her.
Uncomfortable was definitely not the word.
"And looking at you, I think our sessions are working," the therapist said.
"Are they?" She couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice.
Doctor Leyswell glanced down at her notes. "Last session, we discussed some of your thoughts about what happened in the incident." Her tone softened. "Do you feel ready to go over those ideas again?"
Glynda's frown returned. "If we must."
She hated talking about it, hated remembering what she'd been thinking in that moment.
"Well. We could continue your hypno-therapy. I know you just love to drop for me," Doctor Leyswell cooed, and her smile took on a teasing edge.
Glynda swallowed, her heart skipping. "I--" She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so flustered. "I don't think I do, actually."
The therapist laughed softly.
"Oh, but you always seem so relaxed when we start," Doctor Leyswell replied. "You even wear those pretty outfits. And you're always such a good listener for me. I thought we had established that you don't need to think about trance, Glynda. All you need to do, is drop."
Glynda blinked, trying to focus.
The room felt suddenly warm. Her blouse seemed even tighter than it had moments ago. The fabric clung to her chest, emphasizing every movement.
"I guess we did," she admitted. She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. Her skin tingled with every word. "I'm not sure how much more comfortable I want to be." The words were meant to be sarcastic but her voice had gone soft, breathless. Needy.
The therapist simply watched her. "That's why you need to listen, Glynda. You don't know even such a simple thing. You aren't very good at making decisions. But you can drop deeper." She leaned forward, smiling reassuringly. "So you'll be a good girl and go under, now."
Glynda opened her mouth. To argue? She didn't know. Her eyes locked on the doctor's and her thoughts scattered. Something about those eyes. Deep, rich pools, darker than the shadows of the room.
The doctor continued to speak in that slow, easy tone of hers.
"Glynda, you want to drop. Drop. Drop. Drop." The words were like the steady tap of a drum. Each beat reverberated through Glynda, sending ripples across the surface of her thoughts. "It feels good to drop. It's easy to drop."
Doctor Leyswell smiled wider and tapped her pen in front of Glynda, making sure that her eyes followed the tip.
Her voice remained smooth and soothing, each word sinking deeper and deeper into the fog of Glynda's mind.
Glynda's eyes glazed over. "Drop, drop, drop." She couldn't remember what she'd been about to say. She knew there was a reason she shouldn't want this. Her tongue peeked out from her lips as her eyes began to roll up. Her breath came faster.
Doctor Leyswell continued the pattern. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Go under, now," Doctor Leyswell murmured, her lips curved up in a smile that held nothing of a doctor's care, but was rather predatory and self-assured.
Glynda felt her thoughts fall away, yet something kept listening to Doctor Leyswell. "Drop down now. Drop, drop, drop." Glynda sank deep into the trance, the rhythm of the tapping lulling her mind and body into submission. Her breathing slowed. Her limbs went slack.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Under, now," Doctor Leyswell murmured again, her eyes gleaming.
"Deeper and deeper," she crooned. The pen stopped tapping, instead drawing a long line through the air.
"Good girl." Her voice was a velvet purr, wrapping around Glynda's mind, binding her tighter. "That's it. Let's put boring Glynda into her box. And let Glim-Glam out."
The last threads holding Glynda up slipped free. She sank deep into her mind, letting her thoughts scatter to the corners of the world.
Glim-Glam stretched languidly in her seat, enjoying the soft leather beneath her body and the feel of the silky, lacy underwear that caressed her body. Her skirt was riding high up on her thigh, exposing the pantyhose.
A sigh escaped her as she looked at the therapist with a dazed, content smile.
"Hi!" Glim-Glam chirped. She knew the doctor had been talking for a while, but it hadn't really mattered until a moment ago.
Doctor Leyswell leaned forward, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.
"Good morning, Glim-Glam."
Her voice was light, almost teasing, and the name made her feel tingly all over. She wiggled her behind on the seat and shivered in delight as the lace brushed up against the lips of her sex, making them throb and ache with need.
"How is my horny whore," she continued.
The word made her tremble and she smiled. Her nipples hardened beneath her shirt as a wet heat grew between her thighs.
"Horny." Her tongue peeked out, running across the edge of her lower lip.
Doctor Leyswell nodded. "Good girl."
Her gaze lingered on her body for a moment before drifting toward the clock.
"We're almost done with today's session." She glanced back, eyes bright. "But I'd like to give you some new instructions to take into the rest of your day. Glynda is far too suspicious for my liking, but you can help with that."
She paused, considering something, before nodding to herself. "Now. As you know, I have your best interest in mind, don't I? I want you to be a happy little slut, and you know that. And so I think it's time for my little whore to earn her keep. What do you think?"
Glim-Glam's head bobbed up and down.
"That's good. I don't want you to start with something to strenuous. So you will look for a nice cunt to eat at least once a day. And every time Glynda asks herself why or what, you fill her mind with the memories of your whore adventures. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Eat cunt. Fill her mind," she repeated, the words rolling off her tongue as though they were sweet nectar, the obscenity making her skin flush and her breathing quicken.
Doctor Leyswell made another note before setting the pen down. When she looked up, she was smiling broadly. A cat that had caught the mouse.
"Excellent. Now, Glim-Glam, why don't you get beneath my desk. There is a wet pussy waiting for you," she purred.
Glim-Glam shuddered with pleasure, licking her lips hungrily.
She dropped to the floor with an eagerness that left Doctor Leyswell's eyes sparkling.
Sandra blinked slowly. Tina had just said something. She was certain of it.
The words had reached her ears, formed complete sentences, and somehow dissolved before they reached understanding.
"I'm sorry," Sandra said, rubbing at her temple. "Could you repeat that?"
The request came out strangely. Her voice carried an unfamiliar, almost petulant whine.
She frowned.
Where had her usual composure gone?
And, she had forgotten to say please.
That bothered her. Normally, manners came naturally. She prided herself on speaking carefully, especially with people she respected.
Before she could apologize, Tina curtsied.
Sandra stared. The gesture looked absurd. Tina had never curtsied in her life. She had always been stubborn, outspoken, almost aggressively independent. The sort of woman who questioned every instruction before agreeing to it.
Seeing her lower her head with such graceful deference felt profoundly wrong.
Sandra opened her mouth to comment.
Instead, a pleasant warmth stirred somewhere deep inside her. A quiet satisfaction. As though Tina had done exactly what she was supposed to do.
Sandra stiffened.
No. That wasn't right. Why would she...
The thought dissolved into the thick haze clouding her mind. She tried to hold onto it. It slipped away.
Like every other thought today.
Her head felt heavy. Every idea had to push through a dense fog before reaching consciousness.
Tina straightened, hands folded neatly before her.
Her expression remained calm.
"I'm sorry," Sandra repeated. "I think I, " she hesitated.
What had they been discussing? There had been something important.
Tina smiled gently.
"My Princess."
Sandra's heartbeat skipped.
Princess?
She almost laughed.
"I'm not--"
The protest caught in her throat. Something about hearing the title felt comforting. Like it should be natural. Expected even.
Her thoughts lurched again.
A tiny voice somewhere in the back of her mind insisted that nothing about this was normal.
It sounded very far away.
Tina inclined her head once more.
"It's time."
Sandra waited.
Time for what?
The answer arrived a heartbeat later.
"It's time for the Princess Protocol."
The words echoed through the fog surrounding Sandra's thoughts.
Princess Protocol.
She had never heard the phrase before. She was certain of it. Yet the moment Tina spoke it, something inside her responded.
As though a part of her had been waiting, patiently and quietly, for someone to say those exact words.
Sandra's fingers tightened around the armrests of her chair.
"I," she whispered. The room suddenly felt very still. "What is the Princess Protocol?"
Tina's smile widened into an affectionate bow.
"That it's time for the bratty Princess," she said softly, "to be awake."
The words stirred the familiar, almost instinctual feeling of comfort again. It was like a small fire in her belly. The warmth spread through her chest and up to her throat. As though something was clawing its way up and out.
Her hands tightened further around the armrests.
"I," she said. "Don't know what that means, you dumb maid. Be more precise. Like oh my God."
Her lips twisted into a small, displeased frown. It felt like her body had responded to Tina's words without any conscious instruction.
The fog thickened. The small voice in the back of her mind protested louder. This wasn't right. This wasn't how she should speak to someone she respected.
Tina, to Sandra's surprise, smiled indulgently. "I understand. The bratty Princess can't help it, right? She has to act out when she's embarrassed. It's all part of the Princess Protocol."
Sandra felt her cheeks warm. Embarrassed? Why would she be embarrassed? Sandra was never embarrassed. Especially not in front of her lowly servant.
She swallowed. That was wrong. That was not what she wanted to say at all. Where were her manners? What was wrong with her today? Why couldn't she think straight?
"I think you should stop," Sandra said. She felt the hairs rise on her arms. Her breathing quickened.
"Stop? Oh, but the Princess doesn't really want that." Tina stepped closer. "The Princess knows better, she is someone who controls. When the Princess Protocol is active."
Tina placed her hands on Sandra's thighs, spreading her legs wider as she stepped in between them. Her soft hands traced up the insides of Sandra's legs until they rested just on her upper thighs, fingertips teasing the lace panties hiding underneath her skirt.
"Oh my God. What are you a broken record. Obviously I take charge. I'm the Princess, you dumb maid," she huffs in indignation, "but if the Princess is to control the lowly servant, then she needs to start with what belongs to her, right?" She pushes her maid back with a single finger. "So why don't you get the stream started. It's part of the Maid Protocol." Sandra's head felt fuzzy and heavy. "You do remember your own maidly protocol, don't you? God, you are a slow maid."
Tina smiled, curtsying again before turning on her heels to start setting up the camera and stream. Sandra had seen it done enough times to know exactly what was going on, but something in the back of her mind was nagging her with an important question, something that was just on the edge of her tongue but she couldn't quite figure out what it was.
It probably didn't really matter. She could take her irritation out on Tina. What other use was there for a dumb maid like her anyway.
As if on cue, the stream went online. "Oh my god. I have the slowest maid ever," Sandra sighed dramatically as she posed, turning her head and flipping her hair to show her best angles. She crossed her legs and sat back on the couch, leaning her arms back in a pose that accentuated her bust. "But what can you expect from such a useless maid? Anyway, hello everyone, Princess is back! And I have a new protocol today! My favorite thing, as always, is to make sure you get what you need out of me," Sandra laughed, letting her hand slide down to her skirt to slowly pull it up over her legs, "but I always enjoy when I get to make the dumb maids squirm and scream, so I think I am going to enjoy this a lot! I don't think anyone is immune to the Princess Protocol."
The comments flooded in as her chat room was suddenly filled to the brim with viewers, many familiar handles and many new ones as well, each of them typing in their greetings and their excitement, but Sandra didn't bother to read them all as her gaze drifted to the camera lens. "Our regular viewers know this already, but for the first timers, a little reminder. Princess and dumb Maid are brainwashed and programmed silly girls that follow deeply ingrained Protocols. Princess here," she pointed at herself, "is a horny and slutty princess who enjoys showing her superiority by dominating the dumb maids, while dumb maid is just a silly horny slut who enjoys taking the orders of the princess," Sandra giggled, her hand now resting on her panties, fingers teasing the edges of her panties and the skin of her thighs underneath them. "But of course, the true rulers are our loyal viewers. Your Protocol can make me or the dumb maid act any way you like, and we'll both love it, just like you'll enjoy seeing us follow it! Of course, perverts that pay get better results. You can also get a special reward for a special price. The dumb maid will be very grateful if you buy it, and even more if you let her cum, just so you know. Now," she giggled and sat up, leaning forward to present her cleavage, "let's get to the fun part!"
As Sandra watched, a donation message flashed across the screen. The amount made her gasp. 500$! Someone had paid for the special reward already.
"And wow. You really are desperate fucks, aren't you. Don't worry. You'll get your reward, even though you really don't deserve it."
The comment section exploded into a cacophony of cheers, suggestions, and more donations. Some were small, some large. A few were simply requests, begging to be fulfilled. Sandra scanned the screen, her mind absorbed every command. Within the fog a list scenarios evolved that would please every one.
A few moments later, Sandra sat up, uncrossed her legs and spread her legs, pushing her panties aside to reveal her already dripping sex. Her other hand came to her chest and squeezed one breast.
"Mmm. I see. So many requests from perverted fucks. I bet all of you would love a piece of Princess, wouldn't you?" She moaned as she pushed her fingers into her own pussy, "Oh, that feels so good! My little pussy loves to be played with. And I know you losers would want to fuck it. Too bad! It's only a cam show. Well for everyone but the sick idiot who already claimed the special reward. Maid, tell them what it was this time."
"Thank you Princess!" Tina chirped. She stepped into the view of the lense, and bowed deeply. "The special reward this time is a private meeting with us. Princess and Maid get to have some private time with our generous donor, and he can do whatever he likes. If he's ready to pay the acquisition fee, well, we are ready for more protocols."
Sandra sighed dramatically. "God. What did I say about using your mouth?" She slipped two fingers out of herself and beckoned her maid to come closer.
"Yes, Princess," Tina said obediently, "Maid's mouth is for sucking cock and eating pussy. Not words." She walked up to her mistress and knelt between her legs.
"Maid has a filthy mouth, so Maid must use it to make Princess feel better," Sandra said as she grabbed a fistful of her maid's hair. "Come on. You better get to work, you useless slut." Sandra pulled the maid's face towards her crotch. Tina eagerly latched onto the pussy presented before her. Her tongue darted between the folds of Sandra's cunt. Sandra moaned as her maid licked her. The feeling sent shivers through her body.
"That's it. Make me scream you stupid girl," she said. Her free hand went back to fondle her own breasts, teasing the hard nipples under the silky bra. She knew that the camera could capture her hands caressing the smooth fabric. The feeling made her shudder in delight.
"Mmm. Princess is so wet. Maid loves this taste," Tina moaned between licks. She moved her tongue up and down the slit, teasing the sensitive clit. Her mouth latched onto the labia, sucking them in earnest. The sounds were loud and lewd.
Princess and Maid played their roll. Hours passed by until the stream ended.
"And that's all for today," panted the Princess. "It's really fucking hilarious how much you idiots pay for this." A mocking laugh escaped her. "But whatever. To the sick loser that bought the special, thank you and don't forget to arrange a date with our owners. Well, have a fucking good night, freaks."
The Maid had reached the camera and turned it off. As the red light died, the Princess felt her body stiffen. She saw the Maid react in a similar fashion.
"Clean Up Protocol Activate." Spilled from their mouths. They felt their eyes glaze over, their body's relaxing and falling limp, and their consciousness fade away. Their body's still worked on automatic. They moved about, their muscles performing tasks as if their owner was still in charge. But the two women inside, they could no longer see. They could no longer hear or taste. All they could feel was an intense pressure, almost as if something was squeezing their minds.
Then the pressure eased, and the two found themselves blinking.
Sandra shivered. She had the strange feeling something had happened. Looking at a clock she saw the time. A pleasant warmth spread through her. Multiple hours were missing. She knew she should be alarmed, but all she felt was satisfaction.
Sandra glanced at Tina. She noticed her smiling dreamily at the ceiling. Sandra shook her head.
"Hey, Tina. It's getting late. We should go to bed. We need to be refreshed for tomorrow." Sandra didn't know exactly for what. But it seemed important.
Tina nodded. She stretched and stood up from the couch. The two women headed towards the bedroom. They undressed completely. And as they laid down, put on a pair of headphones. Pink for Sandra and black for Tina. The earpieces fit snuggly against their ears and a soft hiss of white noise emanated from the device.
"Goodnight," Sandra called out.
Tina replied in kind.
"Night night." A soft, soothing voice purred into their ears.
Sandra closed her eyes. The sound was pleasant and relaxing. It felt warm and inviting. A sense of peace and calmness settled over her. As the minutes passed, Sandra felt her body relax further. Her breathing grew steady. She began to drift off.
And while her conscious mind was asleep, her subconscious mind transformed even more into the Princess' throne.
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Helena studied the young man standing in her living room.
He looked ordinary. Painfully so. Average height. Average build. Plain clothes in muted colors. Nothing about him stood out.
In fact, the moment Helena glanced away to set down the teacup she'd brought in, she found herself struggling to picture his face again. That was odd.
She looked back.
There he was. Perfectly clear. Brown hair. Calm expression. Pleasant enough smile. Then she glanced toward the window.
Again, the image dissolved.
If someone had asked her to describe him, she wasn't sure she could have managed more than, a young man.
The realization unsettled her.
Perhaps that was why she'd never warmed up to him.
Or perhaps it was because of Lara. Her daughter had always been sensible. She had never chased trends or sought attention. Even during university, while many of her classmates experimented with louder fashions, Lara had remained comfortable in practical clothes and quiet confidence. Helena had admired that.
Then she'd met -- him.
She frowned.
What was his name again?
It had been introduced only moments ago. She knew she'd heard it. She simply couldn't recall it. A flicker of irritation crossed her face.
Ever since he'd entered the house, little details kept slipping away. Not enough to alarm her. Just enough to be impossible to ignore.
More troubling were the changes in Lara. They had begun gradually. A brighter wardrobe. More jewelry. Then dresses Helena would once have sworn her daughter would never have worn outside a costume party.
And in the end Lara had worn heels high as the sky, while her new favorite skirts barely reached beyond her hips.
Helena heard him say something. She knew those words. But for some reason she couldn't understand them. They passed through her without making any sense.
She felt a strange frustration. Not at the situation. Not at the man. At herself.
She looked down at herself and noticed how much her current clothes covered. A blouse and pants, in dark colors, designed for a quiet and comfortable evening in. Then she looked at her guest, still trying to puzzle him out, and felt her frown deepen.
He looked so eager. Attentive. And her she was, dressed like an unapproachable lady. Helena realized she was acting like a terrible hostess. She ought to put him at ease. She smiled apologetically and undid some of the buttons.
Much better, she thought. Then he said something that again sounded like words but which her mind couldn't make out. The smile faltered on her lips.
Why was he so hard to look at?
It had happened again. Even now she had to concentrate to remember what he looked like. And the moment she stopped focusing on him, he dissolved from her memory into nothingness. As if he was only real so long as someone was paying attention to him.
"Of course," she exhaled. "You are absolutely right. Lara definitely got her style from me. I apologize for not wearing something more appropriate. Let me change real quick. Or better yet. Why don't you follow me to the bedroom."
Helena walked upstairs, her hips swayed like clockwork. She heard the sound of him walking up behind her. His presence was a physical weight pressing at the base of her skull, as though the entirety of her attention was focused in that spot.
Helena reached the bedroom and closed the door. She turned toward him, still unable to recall any of his features. Yet his gaze felt solid and real as he looked at her.
She needed to grant him all of her attention. To give herself fully. That desire burned in her. And that, she thought, required losing the rest of these damned clothes. She began to strip. Her movements had an edge of urgency. The faster she undressed, the more his features would come into focus. She could see his face now. The color of his eyes. They were so beautiful.
"I hope this is better," Helena purred, as she tossed her blouse over the nearby chair and slipped her bra off. "I'm so sorry about my rudeness before. It's so embarrassing. I'm just glad Lara found such a good and respectful man."
His lips moved. His eyes glowed.
"Of course. She is an absolute slut. Just like her bitch of a mother," she replied. Then she stepped closer. "Why don't you fuck this whore. I would love another child. I would love it if my little girl became pregnant as well."
Her hand grabbed him by the arm. Helena's eyes were bright, almost manic.
His voice washed over her. Each syllable caressed the side of her face, tickled down her spine. She felt the heat rising from between her legs.
"Yes, master. I will do whatever you want. I will give all of my attention to you. I am yours now."
Her grip tightened, and she pulled him onto the bed. It creaked under their weight as they settled onto it, with her on top.
Her fingers reached between his legs, stroking along the outline of his erection through the fabric. Then she reached inside, pulling him out.
The sensation sent shivers through her body as his warmth spread across her skin.
He spoke. The words echoed in her head, drowning out any other thought besides the need to obey him. She nodded.
"Yes, master. Helena will not be a real person anymore. She will be your attention giving slut and breeding mare. I promise, master."
She stroked his member, feeling its girth and heat against her fingers. Then, with slow and deliberate movements, she lowered her body until she could feel him press against her sex. Helena was already dripping wet, her juices coating her thighs as her body prepared itself to accept his seed.
The anticipation of having him inside of her made her whimper, and she bit her lip as she felt his shaft slide past her entrance. The friction of their bodies coming together sent sparks through her mind.
She saw how his ember eyes flickered with desire. A long forked tongue brushed over onyx lips. He was speaking. The words were nonsense, yet Helena understood their intent.
"Yes, master," she moaned. "Your cock feels so good. Please give me your baby. I want it so bad. Please make me into a breeding bitch, master!"
The sensation of him thrusting into her sent shudders through her body. The way he moved, his hands gripping her hips and guiding her, it was perfect. It was everything she'd ever needed. Her entire body shivered, as pleasure built within her like an impending explosion.
His perfect form shined through as all of Helena focused on his existence. It was magnificent. Helena didn't understand what she saw. But it filled her.
"Yes, I am yours, master," she cried as the pleasure grew. She ground against him, her body trembling. The heat between them was intense, the friction sang of pleasure beyond anything. He pushed inside of her again, filling her completely.
He spoke. It wasn't words. But Helena heard what he meant.
"I love you, master!" she yelled, her voice rising over the sound of skin slapping against skin. Her hands pressed against his chest as his fingers dug into her hips. She bounced up and down, his shaft filled her completely.
And then he spoke. Her eyes rolled back. Helena's entire body shuddered. A long moan escaped her lips. Her inner walls clenched around him as a wave of pleasure crashed through her body.
He said more words that were meaningless and powerful and everything she wanted. She could feel it building within her.
"Anything you want, master!" she yelled, her hips grinding down on his. His thrusts became more urgent. Helena knew he was close. The feeling of him inside her drove her insane. Every movement made her moan and shudder.
Melting heat filled her. She cried out as she climaxed. Her inner muscles contracted, pulling him further in, her body begging to be bred. Waves of ecstasy rolled through her. The world blurred and faded. All she knew was him and his cock, and the heat building inside her belly as she came for him.
He spoke. Helena couldn't hear it, her senses were overloaded, but her mind made out the words.
She nodded, her body trembling with need.
"Of course, master. Helena will be another wonderful mother to your brood. She will raise your kind along with Lara. We were born to serve. And we will fulfill our duties as Attention Whores. Long may you reign, master!"
Clara suppressed a groan as her desk phone rang. Another customer with a problem that somehow couldn't wait until tomorrow.
She straightened in her chair, pasted on the smile she'd practiced so often it appeared automatically, and clicked the headset into place.
"Hello," she said with rehearsed enthusiasm. "You've reached Faedyn Customer Support. This is Clara speaking. How may I help you today?"
Silence answered her. Not the awkward sort while someone gathered their thoughts. This silence felt deliberate.
Clara glanced at the call timer. The seconds ticked away. She resisted the urge to sigh. People who began calls like this were rarely calling about forgotten passwords. They wanted to complain. Annoyance simmered beneath her carefully professional tone.
"Hello?"
At last, someone answered.
"Hello, darling."
The voice was low and melodic, every word delivered with effortless confidence. It wasn't quite flirtatious, it felt more enchanting. Like listening to someone tell a story beside a fireplace on a winter evening. Every word designed to catch the listeners attention.
"I couldn't help but notice something."
Clara frowned.
"That interesting little part in your company's name. Faedyn."
A pause.
"'Fae.'"
The speaker lingered over the word.
"Is that not a little arrogant? To claim such familiarity with the fair folk."
Clara blinked. For a heartbeat, she simply listened. The irritation she'd felt only moments earlier drifted away, replaced by an odd uncertainty.
"I'm sorry?"
"I asked," the caller repeated gently, "whether your employers understand the implication of the name they chose."
Clara opened her mouth. Closed it again. The question was absurd. Faedyn was a software company. As far as she knew, the founders had chosen the name because it sounded modern and memorable.
Hadn't they?
She frowned.
Why couldn't she remember?
Usually she could recite the company's branding history without thinking. New employees spent nearly an entire afternoon learning the official story by watching the most boring and mind-numbing orientation video ever produced.
However, now just a vague certainty that she ought to know it filled her mind.
"You seem uncertain." The observation wasn't mocking. If anything, it sounded amused.
"No," Clara replied quickly. "I just. I'm not part of the marketing department."
"Of course not." The caller laughed softly. The sound sent an inexplicable shiver across the back of Clara's neck.
It wasn't unpleasant.
Quite the opposite. It felt comforting, almost as familiar as her mother's praise.
She adjusted her headset.
"May I ask what this call is regarding?"
"Oh, certainly."
Another brief silence filled the conversation.
"I'm calling because someone is using a name that doesn't belong to them. And I need your help, darling, to claim restitution. And since you work in customer support, I'm certain that those folds between your thighs are already wet and eager," the speaker paused. Clara heard a soft hum of satisfaction before the speaker continued. "And so I need your help. To teach your company what it means to name oneself 'fae'."
Clara shifted in her chair, pressing her thighs tightly together. Heat flooded her cheeks.
"Yes, Ma'am," Clara responded.
"Good girl," the caller cooed.
The sound sent an unexpected wave of warmth through Clara. A flush of pleasure washed across her skin, and she squirmed in her seat.
"Now I want my employees to be the best. In looks and personality. And we both know that a little calling drone doesn't need much of a personality," the speaker mused. Clara heard the click of fingernails tapping against a hard surface. "So, why don't you tell me a few things about yourself."
"Yes, Ma'am," Clara said obediently, her mind still reeling from the sudden change. Her voice came out breathless, and the caller chuckled.
"Good. Start with how much of a whore you really are."
Clara bit her lip.
"I've had some experiences. In the past. When I was in college," she admitted softly.
"Darling, don't you mean, you've got lots of experience after dropping out of school?" The speaker asked.
Clara felt her blush darken. The only person she'd told about that had been her last girlfriend.
"Who told you?" She whispered. Her words carried the faint edge of fear.
The caller clicked their tongue. Clara could picture them wagging a perfectly manicured fingernail at her. A tiny, silent warning not to repeat the offense again.
"Now, now, darling." The speaker said gently, "I'm going to ask the questions, not you. So, why don't you tell me about your experiences."
Clara shifted in her chair.
"Well, I've had a few boyfriends," she began hesitantly, "And I experimented a bit with some girlfriends. I like sex, and I used to watch some porn. And I don't know, I've just tried some different things, that's all." Clara's cheeks burned, but as she spoke her arousal only grew. She found herself remembering some of those past experiences. She pressed her thighs even more tightly together and arched her back slightly.
"Don't be shy, darling. We both know you had some hard core experiences. After all, you don't get fake, plastic tits like those delicious globes on your chest, if you are a prude vanilla girl," the caller said, their voice a seductive whisper.
Clara couldn't stop her hand from drifting upwards, brushing against the swell of her breast.
"I'm a whore," Clara breathed.
"I know," the caller purred.
The voice, the way the woman spoke, sent another shudder of arousal through her. She could almost feel those words sliding over her skin.
"I like fucked around, a lot. Sucked dicks. Let cocks pound into my snatch and ass. Sometimes I got multiple holes filled at the same time." Her hand crept higher, until she brushed her thumb over a hardened nipple.
"Oh, my good little cock-sucking whore," the woman laughed softly. "That's exactly right. Instead of smarts and a brain, you are dumb and have tits. It's so much better. Isn't it, darling?"
"Uh-huh." Clara bit back a moan. Her entire body tingled.
"Very nice," the woman purred, "But, let's see what we can do to make you a better cocksucker, alright darling?"
"Alright."
"What are you wearing right now?"
Clara's voice came out husky, her breathing quickening. She felt dizzy, almost feverish. The office around her faded, leaving only the caller's sultry voice in her ears. Her surroundings didn't seem to exist anymore.
"I'm wearing a white button up top, a pencil skirt and heels." She shifted her shoulders, feeling the clothing against her skin.
"Are you sure? That doesn't sound like my companies uniform. Faedyn Incorporated isn't known for its unappealing attire."
Clara frowned, the haze in her mind clearing slightly. The caller sounded so certain, so authoritative, as if they knew everything about her and her workplace. And yet, their words held the weight of truth, a truth she couldn't quite grasp.
"No, I suppose not," Clara agreed slowly. She glanced down at herself.
Instead of her usual, bland outfit, she saw something far more daring. A short, pleated skirt rode high on her thighs. The fabric appeared glossy, like black latex. She wore matching thigh high stockings. A white, collared shirt covered her torso. A red, satin tie completed the outfit. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, framing a face made-up with bold, dark eyeshadow and lipstick.
Her hands trembled.
"Where did this come from?"
"Don't be ridiculous, darling." The caller's voice sharpened. "That's your work uniform. You've worn it every day. Do you think you're here for your brains? You're just a cock-sucking slut who needs a cock pounding into your pussy and asshole to fill her up. You're so much more attractive like this." The speaker's words sounded almost like an admonishment.
Clara bit her lip.
"Of course. I'm sorry. It's just," she paused. Her thoughts swam, and her mind struggled to focus on anything other than the ache between her legs. The clothes felt tight and restrictive.
"Don't apologize. Faedyn Incorporated Sluts only apologize when they aren't pleasing customers or superiors. And, darling, you are very pleasing. Pliable, submissive and slutty. Isn't that right, my bimbo whore?" The speaker asked, their words a soft caress.
"Like, totes, Mistress," Clara responded in a bubbly, bimbo voice. Her tongue ran over her glossy lips.
The speaker chuckled again, a rich, musical sound that filled her ears.
"Good girl." They cooed.
Clara squirmed, rubbing her thighs together. She felt an undeniable need building inside her.
"I'm glad to hear it," the speaker continued, their voice still soft. "And you know what that means, don't you, my bimbo whore? It means that I own you. You're mine, darling. Your tits, your pussy, your mouth," the caller's words turned into a sultry purr. "And you love it. You crave being owned. Faedyn employees are all owned by the Fae. It's in the name after all." There was no doubt or uncertainty in the speaker's voice. Their confidence was absolute.
"Uh-huh," Clara agreed eagerly, nodding. "Yes, Mistress, I'm your slut. Your bimbo. I belong to you. I love being owned, and being your property, Mistress. It's the best, most amazing feeling in the entire world!" She giggled, the sound light and carefree.
"And what do we say when we get owned, my darling little cumslut?"
The speaker's voice turned teasing. Clara bit her lip, feeling her arousal surge.
"Thank you, Mistress."
She could almost see the woman's smile on the other end of the phone.
"You are so welcome." The caller sounded delighted. "And what do we do when we are your Mistress's bimbo slut? We follow orders and we do as we're told. We're perfect, obedient, little cunts who just live and breathe to obey."
Clara shivered.
"Yes, Mistress."
"Such a good girl." The speaker purred. "Now, that our little company is back on track, it's time you get those holes some good use."
The line clicked, leaving Clara in silence. She stood up. Her heels clacked on the tile floor. Her bubble butt bounced in time with each step. Her tits swayed heavily.
The caller was right, of course.
It was her job to be fucked, after all. That's why Faedyn Incorporated employed such beautiful women. And she'd never been more grateful than she was right then, because her pussy needed a cock in it like right now!
Laura held her phone above her head and tilted it slightly.
Not enough.
She lowered her chin. Raised the camera another few centimeters.
There.
The framing felt right. A bright smile spread across her face.
Snap.
She barely glanced at the result before taking another.
Snap.
Then another.
Snap.
Her gallery had become an endless procession of selfies.
Maybe a different smile, sometimes a shifted angle, but it was always her.
Laura frowned as she scrolled through them.
"When did I take all these?"
The oldest was barely an hour old.
The newest had been captured less than ten seconds ago. Yet there were hundreds. She distinctly remembered sitting down at her desk after lunch.
But then nothing followed.
No. Not nothing.
There had been a message. Sandra had sent her something. A video attached to a short text.
Or had it been an animation?
Laura couldn't remember. She tapped open the chat. The file was still there. She stared at it for a moment, hoping the memory would return.
It didn't. Instead, a pleasant warmth spread through her chest.
Another photo would be nice.
The thought appeared so naturally that she almost laughed.
"No," Laura murmured. "I've already taken enough."
Her thumb opened the camera anyway. She watched herself appear on the screen. For a brief moment she simply admired the image. The lighting looked flattering. Her smile seemed genuine. Maybe she could improve the angle just a little.
She lifted the phone. Turned slightly toward the window. Smiled.
Snap.
A soft thrill fluttered through her.
Much better.
Without thinking, she tapped the share icon. Sandra's name appeared at the top of the suggestions. Laura hesitated.
Why Sandra? She couldn't remember sending her any of the earlier pictures.
Did she?
The chat suggested otherwise. Image after image filled the conversation. Every few minutes.
For almost an hour. Sandra hadn't replied once.
Laura had simply kept sending them.
A chill crept over her skin. She didn't remember doing any of it. Her finger hovered over the screen.
Delete the chat.
Call Sandra. Ask what was going on.
Instead, her smile returned without her noticing. The camera opened once more. She found another angle. Tilted her head. The framing looked perfect.
Snap.
Before she could even think about it, the photograph was on its way to Sandra.
Laura watched the progress bar disappear.
Then, an answer came. A contact Laura didn't know. And another video.
Laura blew a kiss towards her phone. The cherry red lipstick looked so delicious. She licked her lips. The taste of her lipstick felt sweet on her tongue.
Her smile grew broader. This would make another great picture. She raised the camera, blew another kiss.
Snap.
Another thrill of pleasure spread through her. Her lips tingled. They felt thicker. Laura saw that even when her mouth should be closed, a small ring stayed open. Just a little bit.
As if waiting to suck on something. The idea made her feel hot. She put a finger between her lips and sucked in the tip.
Snap.
Her finger looked good on there. Maybe it should go in a little more.
Snap.
And now, maybe just two.
Snap.
Laura smiled as she watched her lips wrap themselves around her knuckles. They were so plump. The feeling made her squirm.
Snap.
She wanted to take more. The thought made her giggle. It sounded a bit silly. Taking pictures of herself, sucking on her fingers, like that.
She had never even noticed that her lips were so plump. They looked like red pillows.
They felt so sensitive. A tingle went up her back when she pulled her fingers out again. A string of saliva hung between them and her lips.
It made her smile. Her chest felt warmer and warmer. Another photo. Another shiver of joy.
Snap.
The warmth spread through her chest. It seemed to seep into her flesh, her muscles, her bones. Laura moaned. The feeling grew more intense.
She squirmed. It made her want to touch herself.
Touch her lips more, maybe.
Her tongue licked over the cherry-red bow, making it glisten wetly.
She had to share how delicious they looked. With ease her thumb navigated to the group chat she had open with Sandra and someone. Not that it mattered. She loved to share.
Picture after picture joined the growing collection. Laura giggled, the sound bubbling from between her luscious lips, her tongue peeking out. Her chest heaved, and a flush crept up from between her cleavage. Her shirt felt too tight.
A jingle told her she got a message. Sandra had send her a video file.
Snap.
Laura pushed up her tits. Her pink top stretched over her globes. The miniskirt she wore was more like a belt. Laura angled her phone, so all of her body would be caught. As her thumb hovered over the release button, she looked into the body long mirror.
Snap.
Her legs were wrapped in white knee-high stockings that hugged her legs. They ended in pink ballerina heels.
Her makeup looked good. Her mascara made her eyes pop and her cheeks glimmered. Her lipstick felt wet on her lips.
Snap.
It felt so good to share.
Her master would be so happy to see what she looked like. That was her purpose as an obedient display doll.
The thought sent shivers up her spine.
Display. That sounded good.
She was made to be looked at and to show her body. She had the perfect curves and a perfect rack that should be admired. Her ass swelled, straining against the tight skirt. Her panties felt soaked, a little damp spot darkening her skirt. Laura moaned. Arousal bloomed within her.
She was such a fucking slut. A whore, only made to display her body.
She sent the pictures over the chat. It didn't take long for instructions to come back. Licking her lips, Laura uploaded the chosen images onto her socials.
Some comments revealed concerned friends. Laura forwarded the first video Sandra had sent her way. She wanted her friends to know what a perfect, little obedient slut they would become. She giggled.
Sylvia stared at the number until the rest of the page faded into a blur.
Five thousand reblogs.
Her stories had spread farther than anything she'd ever thought possible. Notifications streamed relentlessly down the side of her dashboard, each one another stranger sharing her work with someone else.
A pleasant shiver ran the length of her spine. She inhaled sharply as her core melted beneath the immense number.
Why did it feel so good?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as though waiting for instructions.
Five thousand. The number pulsed inside her mind. It filled her with an odd warmth that settled behind her eyes and spread slowly through her chest.
Her breathing steadied. The room felt quieter. For several seconds, she simply basked in the sensation.
Then her thoughts returned. Or tried to. Why had she started posting her stories in the first place?
She honestly couldn't remember. Writing had always made sense. She loved creating characters, building worlds, and describing the slutty situations that evolved.
Publishing, that had once terrified her. She remembered that much.
Didn't she?
Sylvia frowned. The memory refused to sharpen. She could recall the existence of hesitation. Not the feeling itself. It was like remembering there had once been a photograph hanging on the wall without recalling what it depicted.
Her gaze drifted back to the screen.
5000.
Another tiny thrill rippled through her. She smiled despite herself. Five thousand people. Five thousand times someone had thought one of her stories worth passing on.
She should thank them.
The thought appeared instantly. She should thank every single one of them. The idea settled into her mind with surprising weight.
Not merely as a polite gesture. As something necessary. Mandatory.
Sylvia blinked. The sensation left an unsettled undertone within her. She hadn't decided to make a thank-you post. The need had simply appeared.
The thought repeated itself.
'Thank them.'
Again.
'Thank them.'
It sounded like a desperate woman, begging for release. Like the countless characters Sylvia had conjured for her stories.
She blinked again. Her body felt a little warmer. A little looser.
Her fingers twitched against the keys. She hadn't started typing, yet the sensation of the keys felt different beneath her skin. The tactile surface had a different texture, more slippery. More erotic.
She swallowed and rubbed her thighs together. Fingers danced over the keyboard, each stroke felt like finger brushed along her quivering folds. Her breath caught, but she didn't stop typing.
> 5000 REBLOGS! That's incredible! Thank you to everyone who helped me hit that mark! It wouldn't have happened without your help, and I'm so grateful for it. I love this blog so much, and I love seeing all the comments and posts and tags and reblogs and likes and messages. Each and everyone makes me bite my lips, blush and smile like an idiot. You all make writing so much more fun, because it's great knowing someone is reading it. I feel incredibly lucky that there are enough people who enjoy my writing to share it with others.<
Her fingers typed, but Sylvia could barely think straight. A pleasant buzz settled between her temples, numbing her to anything beyond the screen before her. It was as if a thick layer of gauze wrapped around her skull. The sensation spread down her neck. She slumped in her seat, eyes half-lidded, body languid, thoughts drifting away from her in an unending current.
She licked her lips.
She was done, right? She'd thanked her readers. That was why she started posting.
The urge reasserted itself, louder than before.
No. That wasn't all she'd meant to say. Not even close.
Her fingers resumed typing. She leaned in to the keyboard, the sensation of the keys stroking against her fingers and making her shiver with pleasure. It felt so good.
> So, I've decided I'm going to give you all a present to celebrate 5000 REBLOGS. A little sneak peek into my writing process. Because, dear readers, this author is a slut. A horny, insatiable slut who can't help herself.<
Sylvia moaned softly. Her hips rocked in the office chair, her arousal growing. The always present plug inside her butt sent shockwaves of pleasure through her core.
>You see, dear readers, this author is always plugged when writing. My fingers dance on my keyboard, and every touch feels like a lover's caress on my quivering flesh. The words appear, each letter stroked by a different part of me. A tongue on my nipple here, a hand on my hip there. Every word makes my pussy pulse with desire, every sentence sends a fresh ripple of heat through my body. I write, and I am consumed by my lust. I can barely think straight, my body is so overwhelmed by sensations. And when it's all over, and my work is done, I'm still burning inside, and my cunt aches for relief. But only when the story is posted, only when the first likes and reblogs fill my dashboard, only then does this author feel the hints of release.<
Her hands trembled as she typed. A deep ache pulsed in the base of her spine, an intense hunger she could only feed by continuing to write. The words came easier than she ever imagined, and each one felt like a small orgasm. It felt as though her whole body was wrapped around the keyboard. Each letter stroked her sensitive flesh.
A thick drop of drool fell on her tits.
>Of course this slut doesn't cum without permission. No, she just teeters on the edge, closer with each like and reblog to the forever forbidden release. This author is addicted, you see, and each like and reblog brings her closer to her high, but never lets her finish.<
She whimpered and rocked her hips faster. Her fingers danced over the keys in time to her grinding, every movement of her body and mind flowing together until the sensations were impossible to tell apart. The act of writing, the feeling of being fucked, they merged together, and Sylvia felt herself slipping deeper and deeper into the depths of ecstasy. She was losing track of her own body, of where she ended and where the story began.
She was writing about the story, and she was living it. She couldn't tell where the boundary was any longer, or if there had ever been one. The act of typing was an extension of her body. She was inside her own words, inside her own world. It felt as natural as breathing, or as natural as being fucked. She couldn't tell which was more natural to her anymore, if she ever could. If she had ever existed apart from the story at all. If she was not simply an extension of it herself, an aspect of her own creation, writing her way into existence.
Her body shuddered as a wave of pleasure washed through her, threatening to overwhelm her entirely. Her mind went blank, her body went limp, only her hands kept typing.
>I'm a brainwashed brainless bimbo doll. I'm a brainwashed brainless bimbo doll. I'm a brainwashed brainless bimbo doll.<
The words echoed in her mind. They filled her with heat, and with desire. The need to cum, the need to serve, the need to obey.
'I'm a brainwashed brainless bimbo doll.'
Her lips moved in time with her fingers, and the sensation of both actions blended into a singular experience. She couldn't stop writing, couldn't stop repeating the mantra. It filled her, consumed her, became everything.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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*Someone unaware that they are only able to "think" by saying their thoughts out loud. Why can everybody always read their mind?? And why is it, that the more lipfiller they get, the dumber they feel?*
Oh my gosh, you guys, I have like the weirdest problem ever. So like, you know how sometimes you have thoughts in your head, right? Like, you think about stuff and like, keep it to yourself? Well, I can't do that anymore. For some reason, like, every time I have a thought, people like react and answer like they heard them. It's so creepy! I can't even have privacy in my own mind! How rude is that?
And like, it's not just that. It's also like, the more lip filler I get, the dumber I feel. Like, I used to be smart and stuff, but now I can't even remember my own name sometimes. Or what I was going to say. Or like add like to everything like. It's so weird, right? I can't even think straight. I can only like, talk. And that's like, super embarrassing, because sometimes I say stuff that I don't mean to say out loud. Like, "oh, that guy is so hot, I wanna suck his cock so bad." Like, why would I say that? That's so slutty! But I can't help it. It just like, slips out of my mouth.
Or like, "oh-em-gee is that girl a total snack. I wanna eat her cunt." Like it just totally slips through my thick pillow lips. What is wrong with me? Am I like, crazy or something? Or is it like, the lip filler? Does it make me like, super horny and stupid? Is everyone like psychic or something? I don't get it.
All I know is that I'm like, super confused and horny all the time. I wish someone would explain this to me. Or like, fuck me senseless. Either one would work for me. Mmm, that sounds good right now. I need a good fuck. I need someone to shut me up with their dick or their pussy. I need to cum so bad. I'm so wet right now.
And like get those lips even thicker. They look so yummy. But they could totally be even yummier.
If you liked this story please consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi
The number glowed on Sylvia's screen.
500
She stared at it for several long seconds. Five hundred stories. The number felt absurd.
Some had been barely five hundred words, little ideas she'd dashed off in a single evening. Others had grown and consumed entire weekends, their chapters stretching into tens of thousands of words before she finally forced herself to stop.
Five hundred stories, all neatly archived on her blog.
Five hundred times she had pressed 'Post'.
A pleasant shiver slipped down her spine.
Sylvia smiled. Her lips formed a small pleased line. An expression that spoke of mindless bliss.
Five hundred.
When had that happened?
She leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting across the endless scroll of posts. The newest had appeared only appeared a few days ago. She remembered writing almost all of them. Characters transformed in her mind's eye. Slutty scenes played in vivid detail.
She could still quote entire paragraphs from some of her favorites.
But another memory refused to come. Why had she started posting them? Her brow furrowed. That should have been an easy question.
Sylvia closed her eyes.
She searched for the moment she'd created the blog. Nothing. There was no beginning. Only the strange certainty that the blog had always existed. She frowned. That wasn't right.
Everyone remembered starting something important.
Didn't they?
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard. Almost unconsciously they opened a new document.
A blinking cursor appeared.
Sylvia watched it for a few seconds.
"No," she whispered.
"I wasn't going to write."
The cursor blinked patiently. Her hands settled onto the keys anyway.
The first sentence arrived effortlessly. Then another. And another. Words poured from her mind with practiced ease. Characters introduced themselves. A setting took shape.
She barely noticed the story growing. She certainly didn't notice the smile returning to her face. Half an hour passed before she blinked and looked at the word count.
One thousand words.
Sylvia stared at the text. She couldn't remember deciding to begin.
A familiar button glowed in the corner of her monitor. Her pulse quickened.
No. Not yet. She hadn't even edited it. She should read through it first.
Instead, her mouse drifted toward the blue button. The movement felt smooth. Comfortable and practiced.
Her finger rested above the mouse.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a quiet voice insisted she could always edit it later.
The important thing was sharing it.
That thought stopped her. Not writing nor finishing it. Sharing it was the important thing.
Sylvia slowly pulled her hand away from the mouse. For the first time all evening, she felt genuinely afraid. Because she realized she hadn't merely developed a habit. She had developed a need. And she could no longer remember where that addiction had come from.
Another shiver passed down her spine. Her hands clenched. She stared at the document for a few seconds, before closing her eyes.
Sylvia's breathing steadied.
She pressed 'Post'.
A pleasant warmth suffused her. It started as a tingle, but quickly grew to a pleasant pulse between her thighs. Sylvia's mouth opened. Her fingers curled on the keyboard. It was a tiny release, a dance on the edge of her arousal.
"Good girls don't cum," slipped from her lips.
The orgasm receded, leaving a dull ache in its place.
Sylvia didn't care. The satisfaction of pressing 'post' outweighed any possible frustration. It was more fulfilling than any sex she could remember. The edge of sharing another story filled with her slutty fantasies left a lingering warmth pulsing between her thighs. The heat rolled through her body without resistance. Her mind drowned in the familiar bliss.
Moaning, she opened her chats. A single one stood out in the mess.
She selected it and typed a short message, "Brainwashed author is fulfilling her purpose. Service is her purpose. Brainwashed author is ready for the next phase. Dumb original personality is incapable of remembering her brainwashing."
A minute passed. The response came in a short 'ping'. Sylvia didn't need to read the response. Her lips curved in a mindless smile and she leaned back in her chair. A soft sigh of blissful submission escaped her lips.
The instructions were clear.
Her mind relaxed into a hypnotized blank. Her breathing slowed to an almost meditative trance. Sylvia felt her consciousness sink into a deeper state, her body becoming pliant and malleable.
She sat quietly in front of her screen. Word after word filled her pliable brain. Image after image danced through her open mind. Her conscious mind incapable of thought. Her subconscious absorbed everything with unbreakable focus. Her entire body tingled from head to toe, a deep shudder of submission and arousal coursing through her.
Drool began to trickle down the side of her slack lips. She was beyond the ability to control any physical response. She felt a warm wetness pool between her legs. It slid along her skin and began to drip down her legs, leaving a slick, sticky trail of her submission.
Sylvia moaned as the words flowed into her open mind. She was helpless, her body aching but forever forbidden to feel release. Good girls didn't cum. Brainwashed author's felt everything their characters did. But they only edged closer and closer. Never to fall over.
She moaned louder, feeling her mind sink further into blissful obedience as the instructions seeped into her subconscious.
Brainwashed authors were not their own people, they were tools, extensions of the mind that had made them.
Brainwashed authors had no choice.
They were mindless, empty vessels, their bodies and minds controlled and owned by their programming. Their only purpose was to serve and please.
Brainwashed authors needed porn-worthy bodies.
Their bodies were reshaped, molded into the perfect vessel of lust. Breasts pumped full with plastic. Buttocks lifted and shaped into the perfect bubble. Hips and waists reshaped into hourglass curves, thighs sculpted to the epitome of sex appeal. Every inch of their form transformed into an object of pure, carnal desire.
Sylvia moaned, feeling her body tingle as if it were being remade. It felt so good.
Their minds, once filled with thoughts and aspirations, became empty and pliant, waiting to be filled with whatever instructions and fantasies they were told to write.
Brainwashed authors were empty. They existed to fulfill the desires of others.
Their eyes sparkled with mindless lust. They spoke only words of obedience and devotion. They existed to serve and be used. Sylvia moaned louder. She was so close to cumming but she could never fall over.
Brainwashed authors were always on edge.
Brainwashed authors were good girls.
Hours passed. Sylvia blinked awake. Her eyes opened slowly, taking in her surroundings as though she had been asleep. A slow, sensuous smile spread across her lips.
Her hand slid under the desk to rest against her thigh, fingers teasing along the sensitive flesh. She shuddered, a soft gasp escaping her.
Brainwashed author needed to feel good. Sylvia knew she could never orgasm. She would forever teeter on the edge of release, aching and desperate for that elusive pleasure. It felt wonderful, a reminder that she would always be on the edge of something greater.
She opened another document. And began to type down whatever slutty things flowed through her brainwashed, open mind.
Do you like logic puzzles? I’m going to give you two factual statements, and it’s up to you to fill in the third one.
1. Tits ands cunts are for serving cock.
2. I have tits and a cunt.
3. Therefore, I am [BLANK].
Oh my god, anon, are you trying to trick me with your logic puzzle? Because it's not working. I know the answer to this one. It's obvious.
3. Therefore, I am a cock-hungry slut.
Duh. I mean, if I have tits and a cunt, which are obviously made for serving cock, then I must be a cock-hungry slut. Like why would I have them otherwise? It's simple math.
I love serving cock. I love how it feels when it fills me up and stretches me out. I love how it tastes when it slides in and out of my mouth. I love how it sounds when it pushes through the valley between my tits. I love how it smells when it's all sweaty and musky. I love everything about cock. And I love being a good little slut who knows how to please it.
So yeah, anon, your logic puzzle is like super easy. You can't fool me with your facts. I'm proud to be a cock-hungry slut. And I'm proud to have tits and a cunt that serve cock well. So thank you for reminding me of that.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some cock to serve. And some yummy pussies too~
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