Trans Porn and Trance Porn

"I think we need to talk about these silly little notions of yours," Becca murmured, her sultry voice rendered infinitely more seductive by the two fingers buried in Susan's cunt all the way up to the knuckle. "Now, you were telling me you were straight just an hour ago, and I think that's so adorable of you, but I don't think it really fits the facts, do you? I think it's really better to describe you as a needy bisexual slut who's so desperate for a big hard cummie that she can't keep her hands off her tits while I finger her pussy, and you have to admit--that suits you so much better, doesn't it?"

Susan tried to reply, even though her muddled brain wasn't sure whether she planned to spit back some useless defiance or simply beg for the climax she could feel pressing in on her, but her words were obliterated even in the privacy of her own head when Becca's thumb found Susan's clit and rubbed her to an explosive grunt of pure ecstasy. Susan's fingers pinched her own nipple so hard it practically hurt, desperate to add that tiny little extra bit of sensation she knew would get her over the edge, but Becca was a master at reading people and refused to give it to her. She kept Susan right where she wanted her, the whole time, waiting for an admission Susan knew it would be a mistake to give.

And she was so fucking nice about it, too. "Ohhh, sweetie!" she cooed, the words dripping with mock sympathy even as her eyes drank in the sight of Susan's desperate thrashing with playful amusement sparkling in their depths. "I know, it's so hard for you being all stuck like that, isn't it? Don't worry, I know I can help you. All you need to do is tell me the truth, just say you're a bisexual slut and you need me to make you cum, and I can make all that frustration go away. Don't you want that, baby girl? Don't you want to stop needing this so much?" Susan's eyelids squeezed shut, and her back arched on the prop bed they were supposed to be getting out of storage for the summer play. She knew there was no way out of this except to admit defeat, but she didn't know where that would lead so she tried her best to hold onto her only ally--silence.

She failed. Susan didn't know how long it took, because time lost all meaning when Becca was playing with her cunt like that, but eventually she heard a thin, reedy whimper gasping out, "I… I'm a bisexual slut…." and she realized the voice belonged to her. It completed the dissociation she'd been drifting into ever since Becca began touching her, convincing her fully that she was nothing more than a passenger in her own body watching her descent into lesbian submission, and she gave up trying to fight anymore as she heard herself say, "And I need you to make me cum." It didn't seem real, none of it did, but the orgasm she experienced was very real and it was the best climax she'd ever had in her entire life.

It wasn't nearly enough to sate her, though, and soon she was weakly grasping at Becca's wrist in a pathetic effort to keep the other woman's hand inside her cunt. "Oh, does my good girl need some more?" Becca chuckled, clearly expecting exactly this kind of submissive behavior now that the first violent cracks had shown in Susan's resistance. "Well, I think she's going to have to earn it. I think she's going to have to tell me just what she's willing to do for another big, strong cummie like that." The use of the third person only intensified Susan's dissociation from her own identity, and she found herself dazedly agreeing with Becca's words as if they were talking about someone else entirely. There were still six whole weeks before the play even premiered, and Susan was now fully certain that by the time it wrapped production she'd be nothing more than a helpless slave to the woman fingering her slick pussy.

"Oh dear, someone looks very full!" Marcie exclaimed cheerfully, barely even keeping up a pretense at sympathy as she unsnapped the straps on Rory's dress to send it tumbling down and expose her lush, heavy tits. "Oh, sweetie, it's no wonder you came over a little bit early today, your udders have to be absolutely aching right now!" Rory furrowed her brow in a desperate attempt to figure out why Marcie called her breasts 'udders', or what she meant about coming over early, or really just anything that had been going on over the last several weeks, but it was so hard to think with that constant ache of pressure in her chest and she instead found herself wandering over to the kitchen island and bracing herself against it in a surprisingly familiar pose.

"That's a good girl," Marcie cooed, placing a steel pail on the stool just underneath Rory and giving her right breast a playful squeeze. "You're getting to be so well-trained now, and doesn't that feel so nice, sweetie? Doesn't it just feel so wonderful to come to me whenever you need help with those big pretty udders of yours?" Rory didn't know why she nodded, and she understood even less why the verbal response she'd planned to make had been replaced by a loud, lowing moo, but before she could begin the seemingly impossible task of unpacking it all in her feeble brain Marcie gave her nipple a tug and everything gushed out of her mind in a long, steady stream of creamy milk.

It wasn't even that it felt good on a physical level, although the sense of release and the hot, tingling pleasure of having her sensitive nipple played with was enough to make Rory's eyes roll back in her head with mindless arousal. It was more that it felt so satisfying, that on some level she couldn't escape a profound degree of contented fulfillment from just bending over with her tits out and her mind rapidly descending into stupefied ecstasy while her neighbor from down the hall milked her like a piece of livestock. Being a cow seemed so much easier than being a person, and Rory's muddled thoughts finally found a single clear and blissful memory as she recalled that first glorious day when her breasts began to express those first few drops of milk. "Good cow," Marcie murmured, and Rory couldn't help agreeing.

She wound up giving almost a full pint that afternoon, with Marcie's hands going from one breast to the other until she was finally drained, and by then she was so turned on that she let herself be led to Marcie's sybian with a blank and blissful smile on her flushed face. Marcie settled Rory down onto the vibrating saddle, purring, "I'm so proud of my pretty little cow," and then she put on a video that emptied Rory's mind out almost before she knew it was even happening. Rory grunted and moaned as the buzz finally satisfied the urgent throb between her legs, fully convincing her subconscious to go along with the programming her waking mind barely even remembered now, and by the time she finally slumped over it was almost time for her to go to bed. But Marcie made sure she got one last milking in, just to ensure she slept well when she trotted vacantly back to her own apartment to sleep.

Ellie stood naked in front of the two doors, her head full of cobwebs as she tried to remember the old logic puzzles she read back in her childhood in the hopes of applying them to the conundrum staring blankly back at her. She knew one of these doors led to a closet with her clothes in it, and once she got dressed she could turn around and walk out the door behind her leading to the outside world and some kind of freedom from the hypnotic conditioning that was pummeling her brain into submission… and the other door led to the bedroom and Marilyn, who would take the opportunity to ensure that Ellie spent another day flat on her back getting fucked until her mind was a squishy, malleable mess. But she didn't know which was which.

Her memory was no help to her either. Ellie knew she'd staggered out of one door, dazed and confused and bare-ass naked apart from a pair of ankle-length purple socks that made the hardwood floors a bit more comfortable, but she was always so out of it when she finally managed to make her way out of Marilyn's bedroom that she had no idea which door it was even when she looked at the living room from both angles. The only thing she really had to go on was the sure and certain knowledge that her horny, obedient subconscious was going to try to trick her into trotting right back to Marilyn for more brainwashing, because this was part of the little game Marilyn played with her and the more she fell for it the more she convinced herself that she must not really want to resist in the first place.

So she needed to pick the door she didn't want to pick. That made sense. That was obvious. But Ellie's subconscious was clever, far smarter than Ellie was at the moment thanks to multiple sessions of brain-scrambling hypnosis that left her blissfully dumb and ditzy, so it was entirely possible that it would try to steer her away from the door that led to Marilyn knowing that reverse psychology would prompt her to pick it instead and get sucked in for another few hours of deep conditioning. But then again maybe that was the trick, and her sneaky subconscious was actually gaslighting her into ignoring her own instincts so that she would walk right into the bedroom thinking she was outfoxing her own mind even though that was… god was it even possible? Could she outthink the part of herself that was making her dumb in the first place? Just contemplating it made Ellie squirm with arousal.

And that put her decision on a timer, because Ellie knew the longer she stood there the more confused she got and the more confused she got the more her pussy got wet and leaky and throbby, and if she didn't pick a door soon then she'd just start listening to her swollen clit and that would lead her back to Marilyn anyway. So she reached for one of the doorknobs, and then she felt a surge of warmth and pleasure and happiness and pulled her hand away, and then she reached for the other doorknob and tentatively twisted it. And when the door swung open, once again revealing Marilyn's smiling face and a warm, soft bed that Ellie knew all too well, her resistance melted away before she could do anything to stop herself from going inside.

"Oh sweetie," Caryn cooed, watching Zelda's eyes slowly rotate inward to stare at the bridge of her own nose as the thick silicone cock slid home. "See what I mean about it happening easier every single time? You used to be so much better at thinking, but now all I have to do is push my big dick into your wet pussy and you get so stupid for me. Isn't that right, baby girl? Aren't you getting so dumb for Mistress now that you've got something nice and firm between your pretty pink pussy lips?" Zelda didn't answer, but her tongue began to loll out of her mouth in an expression of mindless vapidity and that was really its own kind of answer as far as Caryn was concerned.

So she just purred, "Of course you are, sweetie," and pushed Zelda's legs further apart with her hands so she could use the strap-on in long, deep strokes that filled Zelda's cunt again and again right up to the toy's molded silicone balls. "You're such a perfect brainless little slut now, you can't even think a single thought once my cock gets inside you. It just empties that silly head of yours and turns you into a perfect fucktoy for Mistress, and every time you get that much dumber that much faster. You don't even remember when you started letting the hypnosis win, do you?" Again the only response was that same cross-eyed stare and a trickle of drool down her cheek, but that was exactly what Caryn wanted. It was so much simpler programming her slave without any of that pesky mind in the way.

"And next time you're going to go blank and stupid for me even quicker," Caryn murmured, tiny huffs of exertion roughening her dulcet tones ever so slightly. "Even just seeing me wearing the harness, with that big fake cock jutting out, it starts to make your silly little brain all slow and stupid. You have so much trouble figuring out why you came over here, so much trouble understanding why you can't seem to stop yourself from taking your clothes off, and once I push that nice thick dick inside you it all just goes… poof!" She added a bit of extra force to the thrust as she spoke, and was gratified to hear Zelda give a mewling grunt of ecstasy. She was pretty sure the young woman spent her entire trance time cumming now, not that she could really get a lot of intelligent feedback on the topic.

There was no intelligence left in Zelda at all anymore, really, and when she finally emerged from her trance she'd have no memory of even submitting to hypnosis much less an ability to describe what happened to her. She had two states now, sweet and submissive co-ed who was eager to please the older neighbor she had a crush on and mindless ahegao fucktoy, and although Caryn enjoyed both of them she had to admit that nothing got her off more than putting on her strap-on harness and watching Zelda's mind coast to a stop. "You're my good little slut forever, aren't you, sweetie pie?" she asked, and she felt an electric rush of pleasure and power as she once again realized the only answer in Zelda's empty head right now was yes.

I’m gonna get a toy maybe 8-10 inches, just big enough so I can bruise my cervix real good and shove it all the way in my puppycunt, then im gonna lay down and put a bullet vibe on my tdick and hold my hands behind my back. I’ll just drool and hump into my mattress until I can’t take it anymore and just come, over and over.

Maybe someone will tie my hands behind my back with some rope or handcuffs, and leave me there, all I can do is slobber and whine from the overstimulation, my my hole leaking and my cock rubbed raw, but I can’t get out I just have to stay a little pathetic stupid puppy until a daddy comes to release me ><

“Cmon puppy, cmere! Need puppy kisses…right here cmon boy!” He’s panting and flushed and guiding puppy’s face between his legs. “Ohhh just like that! Good boy good fucking boy! Fuck! Keep going puppy don’t fucking stop!”

He’s never heard his owner make these noises before!! But he sounds so pretty and he’s calling him good boy, he can’t help the way his tail wags I excitement. Plus owner tastes so good, he’s pressing his face deeper against owners cunt trying to get more and more, trying to get deeper.

"Well, it sounds like the problem might be clitoral hypersensitivity," Doctor Beekman said, his suddenly brisk and businesslike tone snapping Ellie out of a reverie she didn't remember drifting into. "Symptoms can include confusion, disorientation, memory loss, nymphomania, difficulty comprehending complex topics and multisyllabic words, and sexual submission to authority. Have you been experiencing any of those symptoms, Miss Pollard?" Ellie stared at him vacantly, all too aware of a trickle of drool still dripping from her slack lips. She didn't want to admit that she only understood about a quarter of those words. She really didn't want to admit that she couldn't remember most of the talk that came before them. She just nodded, hoping he wouldn't call her bluff and ask any follow-up questions.

He didn't, but he stood up and said, "Excellent, then I think the next step is a physical examination." He waited a moment or two for Ellie to respond, before giving her a long weary sigh and adding, "I need to look at your naked body, Ellie. Could you please take your clothes off and bend over my desk?" Ellie's brow furrowed, and she gave him a long, slow, sleepy blink as she tried to figure out why they were having this talk in Doctor Beekman's office instead of an exam room and what she thought she'd come in here to say to him before he told her all that other stuff she couldn't quite fit into her head… but then her clitty gave another big hard throb at the idea of stripping down for a smart, handsome man and she forgot what she was thinking. She wanted to show off her body to her doctor. That sounded really fucking hot, to be honest.

He stopped her when she was down to just her stockings and garters, saying, "That'll do nicely, Ellie," and instead of telling her what to do next he just put one hand on her waist and the other hand on the back of her neck and bent her forward until her tits squashed against the top of his deck. "Now try to keep quiet, sweetie, because this part of the exam can get kind of messy," and that was all the warning Ellie got before he was pushing her down so she couldn't squirm and the hand at her waist moved to sink three fingers into her surprisingly wet pussy. Ellie let out a tiny mewl despite herself, her cunt clenching and grasping around the intruding digits with a hunger she'd never felt before. Ellie didn't even know she could get this horny, but the way Doctor Beekman touched her made it easy.

"Now let's try a few simple questions to establish my diagnosis," the doctor murmured calmly, as if he didn't know that Ellie couldn't make any sense out of the last half of his sentence. "An intelligent woman should be able to answer these even with her pussy getting stretched and her clit getting rubbed, so if you can't then you'll know that you're medically incapable of resisting your submissive tendencies and you should immediately surrender yourself to a competent and capable authority figure to make decisions on your behalf. What's three plus six, Ellie?"

She was so caught off guard by the question that she almost forgot she was supposed to answer it--she was still muddling her way through 'med-ick-ull-ee in-cay-puh-bull' and 'sub-miss-iv ten-den-sees' and the rest of his speech threatened to simply fall into a warm, slick void of pleasure. Ellie tried to answer, she really did, but just then her first climax hit… and when she lost herself in rutting, grunting bliss something deep inside her fell apart and she knew she just needed to be owned from now on.

Jake couldn't hide the twitch his prick gave when he felt Tommy's cock slide into his tight, slick asshole, and it was obvious the other man noticed because he gave a knowing chuckle and asked, "Oh, does someone like this?" It was a question Jake would normally have been far too embarrassed to answer, but thankfully his brain was so numb and drowsy and lethargic that he couldn't really summon up the effort to speak anyway. He simply let out a sleepy grunt, one shaded with warm pleasure, and allowed himself to drift deeper as the other man's shaft sank all the way in.

Once Tommy was sure he had the measure of Jake's ass, his thrusts began to speed up, and Jake's eyes rolled back in his head as the intensity of the experience began to overwhelm him--he never thought he'd enjoy anal sex, but Tommy's cock felt like it was hitting something made of pure pleasure and almost before he knew it his own prick was twitching and spasming and dumping gush after gush of clear, slick precum all over his belly. "I think someone likes this a lot," Tommy murmured, his voice still holding that same soothing register even though he was beginning to sound a tiny bit hoarse with exertion, and Jake's mind crumbled deeper into the abyss of obedience as he was forced to admit that Tommy was right.

This wasn't how he expected the night to go. They were supposed to be studying together, not experimenting with hypnosis and weed and gay sex… although from the feel of it, this wasn't so much an experiment for Tommy as a confirmation of several long-established theories that had become a part of the permanent body of literature on the subject. Jake hadn't seen any of this coming when he came over to his study partner's basement apartment and Tommy started talking about his long, exhausting shift at the coffee shop--but perhaps that was exactly what made him so perfectly susceptible to the other man's low, soothing tones and the mellow rhythm of his flowing speech.

Whatever it was that caught him and however it was that was holding him, Jake couldn't deny that it felt almost impossibly good. Tommy's hand encircled Jake's prick and began to jack him off in time with his thrusts, his palm sliding freely up and down the slick shaft, and when he purred out, "That's a good boy," Jake felt the pleasure and the praise sinking deep inside him like a dose of some intoxicating venom. He knew he was never going to be the same after this, even beyond the suggestions his dazed and drowsy mind was soaking up; this was a life-changing experience, a vivid demonstration of an entire world of ecstasy he'd been denying himself all these years, and he instinctively understood that he was going to come back to Tommy for more whenever the other man asked.

Whenever anyone asked, really--this was unlocking something potent and powerful in Jake's hypnotized brain, and he could already tell he'd come to crave it every bit as much as the other guys around him went wild for pussy. "Show me how much you need this, good boy," Tommy growled, and the last tiny shreds of Jake's unadulterated heterosexuality flew out of his mind like dust on the wind as he felt his cock let go with jet after jet of warm, sticky jizz that splattered all over his chest and belly.

"Ohhh, sweetie, you're doing so well," Marta cooed, reaching out to pet Lizzie's back with warm, soothing strokes that irresistibly reminded the young woman of her initial descent into trance. "You're taking him so nice and deep, you're making him feel so good, and doesn't it feel good for you, too? Doesn't it make you so happy to finally know what it's like to be fucked, honey girl?" Lizzie's eyes crossed and uncrossed, her brain momentarily fuzzing out into pulses of pleasure that kept her mind firmly focused on the dick sawing in and out of her wet pussy. She'd expected pain for her first time, but Marta's smooth and sensuous voice had left her so relaxed that Raymond was able to slip easily and effortlessly into her cunt.

It somehow seemed so much easier to think about that part. Everything else felt big and heavy and confusing, but when Lizzie centered her mind on the growing throb of pure, white-hot lust in her clit she could simply nod along to Marta's words and let all her concerns about the older couple drift clean out of her head. "That's a good girl!" Marta exclaimed, her voice filled with comforting praise. "That's a good girl, you're doing so well and you're making us so happy. Just go deeper and deeper for me now, let your mind and body relax more and more until the only thing in that empty, sleepy head is pleasure. You're being such a good girl." That was when Lizzie first came, her cunt squeezing tightly around Raymond's thrusting cock, and she intuitively knew she was always going to associate those two words with orgasm for the rest of her life.

Lizzie was otherwise blissfully untroubled by thoughts of the future--she knew on some level that she should be at least concerned, she understood that giving in to this state of deep trance and letting the couple she babysat for plow her soaking cunt in a threesome was going to change everything about their working relationship and leave her susceptible to exactly this kind of seduction, and even though she was a grown woman now who could make her own choices about sex Lizzie knew that the dynamic here was tilted steeply against her independence and agency. But none of that seemed to matter when Raymond was balls deep inside her, and it finally clicked for Lizzie why so many of the female students at her tiny community college talked breathlessly about dating older men. The fumbling boys she went to school with weren't going to fuck her like this.

"…need to think about any of this too much later," Marta intoned, and Lizzie realized with a start that she'd tuned out so completely that she didn't remember much of what the older woman was saying. But a wave of diffident relaxation washed over her, telling Lizzie that she didn't need to actually remember Marta's instructions to remember them, and even though that sounded confusing her deep self understood and accepted perfectly. She let out a tiny whimper as Marta's fingers found her nipples, milking her bee-sting tits as she crouched on all fours, and she was already on her third climax by the time Raymond's cock unleashed a torrent of jizz into her unprotected pussy. It should have worried her… but then Marta guided Lizzie onto her back, and all of Lizzie's worries went away when Marta's tongue began to lap the semen out of her wet, messy cunt.

The woman who came out of the bathroom stall looked flushed and feverish, her eyes glassy as she approached Darlene and gave her a long, theatrical sniff. "Um, uhh, this… this might sound s-strange, but--but is that perfume of yours Morocco?" She didn't look like she was going to wait for an answer, honestly--she was getting intimately close to Darlene, her nostrils flaring as she took breath after breath of the bewildered brunette's scent, and it was both disconcerting and bizarrely erotic to be the subject of such close attention. Darlene felt like she was the stranger's entire world right now, and that was enough to make the bi-curious side of her poke its head out with sudden interest.

She managed to get out a "Y--", but that was about all that escaped Darlene's lips before they were fully sealed by a deep, passionate, soul-searing kiss from the other woman that instantly took her breath away. It should have been shocking and upsetting, but instead Darlene found it exhilarating; she'd never been the focus of this kind of potent, desperate lust before, and it made her feel desired in a way that felt incredibly erotic. This stranger, whoever she was, wanted her more than anything else in the entire world right now and that stirred a twinge of lust in Darlene's pussy despite the strangeness of the situation.

The woman broke their liplock, but only so that she could kiss her way down Darlene's body with a verve and an intensity that treated Darlene's strapless black cocktail dress as little more than a mild inconvenience. Within seconds Darlene found herself naked from the waist up, her bra hanging uselessly around her waist, as her lover mumbled, "S-sorry, I can't--can't help myself, it's that perfume, it--it always does this to me," whenever her mouth was briefly unoccupied. She brushed Darlene's dress clean off, taking the panties with them, and kissed her way back up to Darlene's chest where she'd spritzed a bit of Morocco before heading out to the club while her leg pressed between Darlene's warm thighs and began to grind.

Darlene knew this was probably a bad idea on so many levels--the door to the restroom wasn't even locked, anyone could come in and see her humping this total stranger's leg like a bitch in heat--but the other woman seemed to know just where to kiss and caress Darlene to override all her concerns. It wasn't even like the blonde was in command of the situation; she seemed every bit as desperate and hungry for sex as Darlene did, and it was exactly that spiraling of two out-of-control passions that was leading Darlene deeper down the rabbit hole to her first experience with lesbian sex. She just wanted to feel the all-consuming fire of this woman's arousal, warming herself with it as if she'd just walked in from the freezing cold, and she couldn't seem to make it stop.

It wasn't until she pushed the other woman's head away from between her thighs, somewhere after her third gunshot-quick orgasm, that the stranger finally seemed to regain something of herself, and she mumbled sheepishly, "Sorry, but my ex-girlfriend had that perfume, and she… she kind of, um…." She trailed into silence, submissively helping Darlene get dressed again, and the mystery behind that unfinished sentence prompted Darlene to offer to buy the pretty stranger a drink. Just so she could find out what turned Morocco into such a trigger for sheer, unbridled lust like that.

Okay, so maybe you didn't read the fine print in that job description.

And maybe you should have quit when Dr. Bimbaux brought out a serum labeled STUD7.

But on the other hand, what other lab has such... lax dresscodes for the good doctor?

What other lab would insist you work shirtless so the good doctor could assess how her serum is making you bigger? Buffer?

Dumber?

What other employer would insist you bend her over a table and show her how you're changing?

So, yeah. Maybe you should have quit.

But really, in today's job market, maybe you should stay on.

Especially since HUCOW88 needs testing, and the doctor needs your personal touch measuring how her bust is expanding.

You know.

It's so cute you thought you could bind the demon.

It's so cute you thought you had a chance.

Thought you could best her.

Beat her.

Dominate her.

Lucky for you, she likes cute.

Likes it a lot.

And don't worry. That obedience collar you brought will get used, just not in the way you expected.

And so will that leash.

Your clothes will have to go, of course.

Good pets don't wear clothes.

Good dumb, weak, collared and leashed pets do what they're told.

They follow the tug of the leash.

Follow it onto her bed.

Between her thighs.

And they lick.

And kiss.

What are the odds that village you saved from orcs was home to your old crush?

That she would invite you to a party afterwards?

That you'd realize only women are in the village?

That her pretty, golden eyes are oddly... compelling?

What are the odds she'll laugh off your questions and kiss you?

Hug you?

Her golden eyes shining as she tugs you out the door?

Drinking your thoughts?

Your doubts?

Your resistance to her caress?

What are the odds you can't keep your hands off her?

Even after she grows some horns?

Her skin turns red?

Her whispers filling your ears?

Your mind?

And you decide that you'd love to be her husband?

Her stud?

Her obedient toy?

What are the odds?

Sure, maybe it was a bit reckless to splice lamia and holstaur genes together. But look at the result! And she's so docile. So busty. So affectionate.

So cuddly.

So very... very cuddly.

Which would be concerning if you hadn't removed the genes for a lamia's hypnotic eyes.

And a holstaur's addictive milk.

And both of their need to breed with brainless men.

Which you did... Right?

Yes, you think, relaxing as her coils tighten around you. Squeezing you. Her swirling eyes staring into you. Her sloshing breasts smothering you.

Yes.

You remembered.

You're not reckless.

You're just good.

And relaxed.

A good scientist.

The drow was right. No way you could sneak through the dark elf city without her help.

But was the slave outfit really necessary?

The leash?

The enchanted collar?

But not to worry. The collar wouldn't activate unless you came.

It wouldn't turn you into her obedient, horny thrall so long as you didn't spurt.

So you just... just had to not get too horny.

No matter how much she touched you.

Rubbed against you.

Stroked you in front of the guards.

You... you could hold out.

No problem.

It was just a few days with her holding your leash.

With her teasing.

Her touching.

Her grinding.

Her... her sucking.

You... you could hold out.

Not become her pet.

Her thrall.

You could...

...could...