sleepy

Come on sweetheart, take another deep breath for me. In and out. Okay, that was perfect. You're the perfect hypnosub for me, nobody else drops everything for me so quickly and efficiently.

You're absolutely perfect, sweetheart. We're almost done, I promise. I'll let you go back to your day in just a moment. I've just got a few more tasks for you, you'll be able to do them so easily I promise.

Can you reach down between your thighs for me? Just your fingers tips should touch first against your crotch, featherlight touches that you can barely feel but you know are there. Now put your palm down and squeeze, not hard because we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, now would we? Grind against your hand if you're already feeling needy... Just like that, perfect.

The bubbly, smiling girl - also very pink - who had come running and jiggling up to Giselle and pressed the pill into her hand had explained that it was a sample of feeling dumb. Before Giselle had recovered enough to ask why she might want that the girl had jiggled off again, leaving Giselle just standing there, a little stunned.

And now she was back home, staring at it.

What was feeling dumb like, exactly? Could you feel dumb? She didn’t know.

A growing part of her wanted to find out.

Before she could change her mind she popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed. There was a tiny spike of worry and regret, but mostly a big bubble of excitement. It was just a sample, after all, and it wasn’t like she had anything else she needed to do today, really.

And she sat.

And nothing happened.

What was supposed to happen?

She sat a little longer before sighing. Just a dud. Probably just a placebo or something to trick the more gullible potential customers. A sugar pill or something. It had been very sweet.

Oh well. Giselle got up, and went off to go do something.

Some minutes later, book in her lap, she realised that she’d re-read the same page a good dozen or so times now. Every time she got to the bottom she’d blink, confused, realise she couldn’t remember the start, and go back up again. Then she realised she couldn’t even remember what the book was meant to be about anyway.

She looked at the front. Big words. She squinted. She’d picked this book? But it was so hard!

Silly girl. She giggled. It felt good. A tingle ran through her. She giggled again. Hadn’t meant to, just slipped out. She’d just felt so silly and stupid and girly and so it had slipped out without her even thinking about it.

Felt good.

Giselle put the book down without saving her place. Books were hard anyway. Words were hard. What was she doing? Couldn’t remember. Another giggle. Such a ditz! Head felt so fluffy. Fluffy and pink. Cute.

Smiling, she sat and stared into space for a moment or two before blinking and going: “Oooh!” and remembering the pill. It had worked! This was what dumb felt like!

It felt good!

Giddy, she sprung up. What else could she try while she was all dumb?

She tried to think but thinking was hard, and while she tried she chewed on her lip and looked around and caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall. And stopped.

Ooh, she was cute! Had she always looked so cute, or was it just because she was all dumb and stuff? Giselle didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter and she didn’t really care - she just knew she did. Just for fun she pulled her top up and flashed herself, giggling. So silly!

That was fun though…

The top came off. The bra did, too. She was even cuter, now! And it was so hard not to touch herself and watch herself and the giggles were mostly coming out as moans now. Being dumb was fun, being dumb felt good. She was so soft and silly. When she pinched her nipples she gasped - they’d never felt like that before. Being dumb was the best!

Giselle couldn’t really remember when the rest of her clothes had come off but it was just so hard to care. Caring was like thinking, and thinking was hard. She was dumb! Legs apart, head back and empty. Much easier. Not a single thought in her head. Just giggles and moans. If someone was there to tell her what to think she’d listen, but they weren’t. She was dumb and alone and cute and wet and so this is what happened.

Felt so good to be dumb. So easy. Right.

Eventually, thoughts started coming back. Slowly. One by one. By then, Giselle had settled on a nice, steady rhythm of playing, eyes closed, one hand feeling how soft she was while the other worked away between her thighs. The thought trickled back though, and as they started to build up she stopped, and opened her eyes.

There was shame, a little shame for what she’d done, but not as much as she would have thought. Red-faced, she got dressed, then undressed to have a shower, shaking a little the whole time. So mixed up. A few traces of ditziness remained even as her brain started working again and the sample wore off.

It was just a one-time thing, she told herself. She’d just been curious. It wasn’t her.

But…

If she happened to pass by again… and get another free sample…

Well…

And the inverse? Even sweeter. Every desperate clench of her cunt as she helplessly responded to his touch would answer here, in his hands, twitching like the pathetic, obedient thing it now was.

No consent. No escape. Just ownership, distilled into a box small enough to fit in his palm.

His thumb brushed the damp seam of the replica’s slit, so warm, so alive, and miles away, her breath hitched.

A grin split his face.

Time to play.

—

She’s getting ready for bed. Wearing just a big t-shirt and panties, freshly showered and sleepy. He knows because he installed cameras and microphones all throughout her apartment months ago. There isn’t a single thing she can do without him knowing.

He sits in front of his computer, multiple camera angles feeding him live video and audio. He opens the box with careful hands, her pretty pussy nestled within the lining. So cute, untouched, unsuspecting.

His fingers trail idly along the smooth, pliant flesh, and he watches as she flinches, eyes wide, glancing down at herself. He smiles.

And so it begins.

He doesn’t waste any time, his fingers moving to spread her pussy lips before he leans down and pulls her clit into his mouth, tongue moving in quick movements as he alternates between sucking and licking. He watches the way her body shuts down, shock and pleasure flooding her system as she collapses onto her bed.

He doesn’t care to give her any time to recover. Instead, he pulls his mouth away to replace his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her spit-slicked skin in tight, cruel circles, taking in the way her breath comes in fast gasps as she tries to press her legs together, confusion, fear, panic written all over her face.

It doesn’t take long before her clit is a trembling, hypersensitive nub between his fingers, swollen and darkened from relentless attention. He runs the pad of his thumb over it in slow, agonizing circles, feeling the way it pulses under his touch, tiny convulsions of pleading nerves that only make him smirk. On the screen, her legs jerk, her hips rising off the bed as her body betrays her, craving more even as her mind doesn’t undestand.

She’s a puppet, and he controls every string. He squeezes the delicate bud between his fingertips, rolling it like a toy, listening to the wet, obscene slickness of her cunt in the box mirroring the mess between her thighs on-screen. He can see the wet patch on her panties, the outline of her pretty pussy clear behind the soaked fabric.

Her clit pulses under his fingers, a trembling, engorged little nub, dark as a bruise, so swollen now that it protrudes obscenely from her slick, puffy folds. He squeezes it, watching the thin skin stretch taut, watching it throb in frantic protest.

He traces the swollen bud with his fingertip, circling slow, barely a touch, just to watch it suffer. It’s obscene how responsive she is, the little nub twitching under his attention, glistening with slick. He presses down harder, rubbing in tight little spirals, the flesh trembling beneath his fingers like a caged animal.

He lets his fingers drag lower, spreading the plush folds wide, so wet, dripping for him, even as her fists clench in the sheets. His other hand strokes her clit lazily, coaxing her higher, watching the way her hips twitch with every circling press.

He scrapes a fingernail slowly along the underside of her clit, savoring the way it quivers. Her folds flutter, her hole clenching around nothing, as if begging for something to fill her.

He indulges her, thrusting two fingers deep into the slick imitation of her pussy, relishing how the tight walls convulse.

He leans in, pressing his tongue flat against the throbbing nub in his hands, lapping at it with slow, wet drags. The way it jerks under the heat of his mouth, god, it’s beautiful. On-screen, her back arches. A broken moan tangles in her throat.

His fingers move, fucking her in deep, lazy pumps, her inner walls clenching around nothing, trying to hold onto something, anything, to anchor against the pleasure.

She rocks into it, chasing his invisible touch, teetering over the edge.

So he pulls away.

Her entire body jerks in protest because she doesn’t get to cum yet.

His fingertips trace the very edges of her clit, never touching where she needs it most, just ghosting over the hypersensitive nerves until her entire body writhes. She claws at the sheets, her thighs twitching open despite herself, her pussy clenching around nothing, her clit begging for friction.

Then, finally, he gives in, but not the way she wants. He presses the flat of his thumb down on the engorged nub, grinding in slow, mind-numbing circles, watching on the screen as her back arches wildly.

He increases the pressure just a fraction, just enough to keep her teetering. Her cunt is dripping, her clit a dark, throbbing bead under his control, her body no longer hers, just a thing, just a wet little hole responding on command.

When her thighs start to shake, when her voice breaks into a sob, he stops, watching the hope fade from her eyes.

He pulls out a fine-tipped vibrator, pressing it directly against the bundle of nerves, dialing it just under the threshold of orgasm.

A keening noise claws up her throat as the pleasure builds and builds, never cresting, never breaking, just holding her there on the edge, her cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for the release she won’t get.

He watches her writhe, soaked in sweat and shame, her body no longer her own.

And through it all, her clit pulses in his grasp, a tiny, twitching heart of suffering and ecstasy.

He can see her chest heaving from her panting breaths, so close to what she wants. And so he stops, pulling the vibrator off, watching her helpless pussy twitch and ache.

She lets out a wail, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as desperation gnaws a deep ache inside of her.

He watches the screen, half-amused, half-annoyed, as her fingers hesitantly drift between her thighs. She wants to cum and she thinks she can do it herself.

A mistake.

The moment her fingertips brush her swollen clit, his grip tightens on the replica in his hands, his thumb pressing down just enough to make her freeze.

No, no, sweet thing. That’s against the rules.

He gives her clit a harsh flick and watches as a scream rips out of her throat. But that isn’t enough to deter her, because moments after, her fingers are back on her clit, rubbing like a filthy, disobedient whore.

He sucks in an annoyed breath and picks up a thin electric rod. Without hesitating, he presses the tip against her clit and shocks her, the zapping sound ripping through the air.

A sharp, stinging jolt shoots through the tiny bundle of nerves in his palm, and oh, the way it jerks. The way she jerks, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as she yanks her hand away, thighs slamming together as if she can protect herself.

But protection isn’t an option anymore. Not from him.

He lets her pant, lets her shake, lets her think it might be over.

And then, with slow, deliberate cruelty, he pinches the clit between two fingers, holding it still before driving the electric rod against it, letting it fire off several zaps in quick succession.

She screams. The clit in his box convulses, the trapped flesh trembling violently.

He smiles.

“You’ll learn,” he murmurs, flicking the little nub again, hard. She yelps, back arching off the bed.

Her fingers stay far away now, knuckles white as she grips the sheets instead, her body trembling under his unseen control.

Good.

He drags his thumb over the sopping slit in the box, gathering slick before lazily circling the clit again, just enough to tease. Just enough to make her squirm on screen.

She bites her lip, thighs pressing together in futile resistance.

He reaches for the tiny silver clamp and arranged it around her flesh, watching it bite down on her swollen clit, the sensitive tissue protesting with every pulse. Tears well up in her eyes on the screen. She shakes her head, whispering no, no, no, but there is no mercy for her.

He twists the clamp tighter around her tortured clit, delighting as the swollen flesh bulges around the metal teeth, darkening to a lurid purple. Her whole pussy quivers in response, her hole weeping, her inner muscles spasming in confused, helpless pleasure.

He grabs the vibrator again, the toy humming to life against the clamped bud, the frequency so precise it makes her flesh flutter, muscles contracting helplessly. Her back arches off the bed, a broken noise wrenching from her throat as pleasure spikes, sharp, unbearable, inescapable. Her fingers scrabble at the sheets, hips bucking in stuttering little jerks as the toy torments the hypersensitive nerve cluster.

Drool slicks her lower lip as she pants, eyes unfocused. He watches with satisfaction as her cunt pulses around nothing, slickness dripping from her in obscene rivulets. The vibrator buzzes harder, and a broken sob tears from her, sounds of desperation spilling out of her mouth.

He adjusts the clamp a fraction tighter, then twists it just to hear her scream. The vibrator rolls slow, merciless circles, pinning her clit ruthlessly. Every nerve in her body is lit up, pleasure crackling through her in waves that crest but never break. She is no longer a woman, just a thing shaking apart between his fingers, reduced to quivering flesh and involuntary spasms.

Every pulse of the vibrator sends shockwaves through her, stomach clenching, toes curling, breath coming in jagged little gasps. But he keeps it steady, never increasing the intensity, never allowing her the relief of building toward release.

Just edging. Just an endless, torturous plateau, where she can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside her but never tipping over.

"P-Please—" she whimpers, her voice thin and broken, nails digging into her own thighs as if that could ground her.

He tsks, amused. As if she has any right to beg.

With deliberate cruelty, he turns the vibrator up, just one notch.

The effect is immediate. Her stomach muscles quiver violently, her legs splaying wider in helpless invitation, her mouth dropping open in a soundless scream. The clamp keeps her clit swollen and aching, the vibrator sending sharp, concentrated pulses straight into the overstimulated nerve bundle.

And still, she doesn’t cum.

Because he won’t let her.

Not until he decides she’s suffered enough.

—

The moment finally comes, her body, strained to its absolute limit, teetering on the razor’s edge of orgasm. He can feel it in the way her clit pulses in the box, a desperate, throbbing little heartbeat between his fingers. He has denied her all night, teased her, shocked her, clamped her, ruined her, but now, at last, he will let her break.

He pulls the clamp off cruelly, watching her clit swell as blood comes rushing back, flooding her already raw nerves with new torment. Her clit trembles, swollen so fat it sticks out from between her lips, begging for mercy. He doesn’t give her a chance to recover before he presses the vibrating toy directly onto her swollen clit, cranked to the highest setting.

On screen, her entire body snaps taut, a silent scream stretching her lips wide.

"That’s it," he murmurs, watching her cunt flutter around nothing, soaking the sheets beneath her. "Cum for me."

And she does.

Hard.

Her back arches violently, her thighs locking around the empty air as her orgasm rips through her. The clit in his hands convulses, pussy spilling slick in thick pulses under his touch. He grins, keeping the vibrator pressed firm, not letting up, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from her until it hurts.

She thrashes, her moans turning hoarse, painfully overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop.

He laughs, low and dark.

"You think you're done?" His fingers dig into her folds, spreading them open, exposing her glistening, twitching hole to the unrelenting buzz of the vibrator. "I’m just getting started."

Another orgasm wrenches out of her, messy and uncontrollable, her cunt contracting in helpless spasms as tears streak down her face.

Her legs jerk on the screen, thighs slick with sweat and arousal, heels digging into the mattress as if she could escape the pleasure eating her alive. But she can't. Every pulse of the toy sends electric jolts straight through her clit, her pussy fluttering around empty air, dripping onto the sheets beneath her.

He smirks, circling the vibrating tip harder against the swollen bud, watching the way her stomach muscles clench, another orgasm building whether she wants it or not.

Then, with deliberate cruelty, he pulls out a vibrating dildo and presses it straight into the tight, dripping hole in the box.

Her scream splits the air, her spine bowing off the bed, fingers clawing at nothing as the thick intrusion fills her in the exact spot designed to destroy her. The moment he turns it on, her entire body bucks like a live wire, the deep, rumbling vibrations rocking through her core, pressing mercilessly against the swollen inner wall of her cunt.

The clit vibrator doesn’t stop, buzzing against her abused nub while the deeper toy punishes her g-spot, sending shocks of sensation radiating through her lower belly.

She wails, thighs slamming together in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the pleasure, but it’s impossible, her hips twitch in tiny, involuntary thrusts, her cunt clamping down around the thick vibrator like it’s trying to milk it.

Her clit jumps under the relentless onslaught, pulsing in time with the brutal vibrations, the dark, swollen flesh quivering violently under his treatment. The dildo shifts inside her, the angle just right to send another bone-deep spasm tearing through her, her back arching so sharply it looks like she’ll snap.

He grinds the vibrator deeper, angling it so the thick, ribbed tip digs ruthlessly into the spongy spot inside her, the pressure unbearable. Every thrum of the toy sends gushes of slick spilling from her hole, her pussy clenching in erratic, overstimulated spasms, not an orgasm, not anymore, just her body breaking from the relentless pleasure.

Her clit is engorged, purpling from the abuse, twitching against the buzzing toy like a dying thing, her entire pussy quivering in time with it.

And still, he doesn’t stop.

He increases the speed, the dildo drilling into her sensitive walls, the clit toy vibrating so fast it blurs, her entire body convulsing like a puppet yanked on its strings.

Another scream rips out of her, her hips jacking up off the bed, her cunt flooding the sheets as the forced pleasure tears another orgasm out of her, violent and uncontrollable. Her muscles lock, her fists slamming into the mattress as she cums, hard, messy, shameless, her hole pulsing around the vibrator, her clit throbbing in his grip like a second heartbeat.

But it’s not a release.

It’s torture.

Her eyes roll back, her moans turning to sobs as her body betrays her, cumming again, and again, her overstimulated nerves alight with agony and ecstasy.

She is nothing now.

Just a wet, trembling hole, a toy, a broken thing locked inside a box, bleeding pleasure at his command.

And he laughs, pressing down harder, watching her break.

Because she’s not allowed to stop.