gender? contrarian

"Do you know what's happening to you?" Vail asked, but of course he had to know that Sarah wasn't really capable of processing the question anymore. Her pussy was suddenly soaking wet with the kind of urgent and overwhelming lust she hadn't felt since she was a teenager, and her mind had melted into stupefied mush that left her unable to really consider any of the reasons why getting naked and wordlessly pleading for Vail's cock inside her was a bad idea. Sarah had always been a little bit nervous around Vail, she knew that a medical-grade telekinetic could inflict injuries just as easily as they repaired them, but she never expected anything like this to happen.

She shook her head, drool beginning to trickle down her chin as the vacancy in her brain overtook her so swiftly and powerfully that she'd already forgotten what question she was answering. "It's very simple," Vail said, even though the basic act of comprehending language was beginning to overtax Sarah's muddled mind. "I'm stimulating your limbic system, while at the same time I'm activating the chemical receptors that usually fire in response to THC intoxication. You're getting stupid and horny, Sarah, and in a moment I'm going to fuck you right here on the floor of my quarters until I cum deep in your unprotected womb." Sarah winced, but only at the deep and potent wave of arousal she felt when she thought about getting her pussy plowed by Vail's cock.

"You're not going to remember any of this," he continued, even as he helped Sarah out of the last of her clothing and lowered her down to the soft rug in the center of the room, "because I'm inhibiting the chemical reactions that allow short-term memories to enter long-term storage, so you'll just have a nice pleasant void where this hour or so of time goes. And of course that might worry you, but you're a big strong woman with skin that deflects bullets so you'd never do anything as shamefully weak as telling anybody about the missing time, and you might come back and confront me but that's just going to give me the chance to fuck you again." He chuckled. "Not that it needs a second time. I'm going to guide my favorite sperm right up to the egg and personally ensure implantation."

Sarah tried as hard as she could to think about what he was saying, but her mind was soft and slick and wet just like her pussy and she hadn't felt like this since before her powers manifested, back when she was a dumb teenager who tried to pretend she was cool enough to eat two weed gummies at once and wound up flat on her back with her eyes stuck shut. "I'm going to keep an eye on you," Vail growled, his thrusting cock adding urgency to his words, "and any time it looks like you're thinking too hard about what's happening to your body I'll just send a little static through your frontal lobe. Until the XO decides you're unreliable and remands you to the medical TK for long-term therapy, and then you'll just stay here in my bedroom getting dumber and blanker until the baby comes. Doesn't that sound nice, sweetie? Don't you want to just be dumb and horny forever?"

Sarah did. She really, truly did, because being fucked like this felt so good and being fuzzy like this made her so happy. Any part of her that could have objected was just too stupid right now to make sense of those complex concerns, while the part of her that wanted Vail's cum inside her was simple and direct and immediate, and so she mewled and whimpered and begged him with her eyes until he shot his load deep into her cunt. And the most impressive part of his medical-grade telekinesis was that he was hard again within seconds.

"I'm sorry, you were saying something?" Calvin asked, clearly reveling in the shocked expression on Harold's face as Cal's swim trunks dropped to expose his swinging cock. "Something about your wife, maybe?" he added, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face, and Harold felt like all the blood was draining from his face while he watched Lora drop to her knees like she'd been stricken with a kind of religious ecstasy and crawl across the floor to lick and nuzzle another man's balls. She made eye contact with Harold when she did it, but it didn't really look like anyone was home inside her head. She'd been reduced to the level of a rutting beast within mere seconds and Calvin wasn't even hard yet.

"It's pheromones, dude," Calvin chuckled, the apparent sympathy in his voice making it all somehow much, much worse. "Been like this ever since puberty. Your wife's been making eyes at me because every time she took a breath she got a little whiff, and something about the scent made her brain dumb and horny and happy and she didn't know why but she associated it with me. I can have any woman I want, and there's nothing you can do about it, and there's sure as shit nothing she can do about it because right now she's huffing my balls and getting a big, strong, concentrated dose. She's going to be out of that bikini in less than a minute." And sure enough, Lora's fingers were already moving with the lazy, fumbling gracelessness of a sleepwalker to strip herself naked.

"Now the way I see it, there's basically two ways this can play out," Calvin said mildly, even as Lora's long tongue slid up and down the whole length of his shaft in a desperate attempt to stiffen his cock. "You can either apologize for being so rude, and tell me you understand that I've just got this kind of effect on women, and I can let you fuck your wife from behind while she sucks my dick. She won't mind who fills which hole so long as she's getting it good, I promise. Or…." He paused, his prick twitching its way into an erection that made Harold feel inadequate in an entirely different way. "I can fuck her right here in front of you, then the two of us can go back up to my hotel room and fuck some more while you stand there holding your pecker."

Harold's lips flapped for a moment as he tried to find some way, any way out of this mess that didn't involve simply conceding to Calvin. He thought about getting the hotel manager involved, but… but she was a woman, wasn't she? Calvin could probably get away with anything he wanted around here. And he had no idea how to snap Lora out of her blank-eyed, reverent cocktrance. And maybe he could take Calvin in a fight, but probably not and if he lost Calvin would just walk off with his wife, possibly forever. Defeated, he said, "I'm sorry, sir. I… I didn't understand the situation. I can see that Lora was just, um, doing what came naturally, and it was rude of me to suggest otherwise." His cheeks were beet red, and something inside him collapsed at the notion of displaying such abject servility. But he had no choice.

Calvin smiled. "That's better," he purred cheerfully, even as he steered Lora's head onto his jutting erection and began to guide her up and down his length. "Feel free to get in there, my man… unless you need to watch a little first? Or maybe just instead." Harold's whole face prickled with hot, flushed embarrassment at the suggestion, and he almost gave vent to his petulant chagrin. But then he finally realized just how hard he'd gotten watching Lora suck and nuzzle another man's cock, and he caught himself wondering how much he'd enjoy seeing her go all the way.

Staci was having a little… trouble… adjusting to her current situation. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying herself, because she truly was--her panties were pushed over to the side, and she could feel the slickness between her pale pink labia every time her fingers slid back and forth through the messy channel formed by her pussy lips. It was just that every time she tried to remember how she got here, the exact sequence of events that led to her sitting in the passenger seat of a car that was speeding along to an unknown destination wearing nothing but a peek-a-boo bra, a pair of stockings and garters, and frilly underwear that barely qualified as dental floss, she just couldn't. Her brain simply failed.

That was where the trouble came in. Because Staci didn't think of herself as the kind of woman who wore lingerie like this even under her clothes, let alone instead of them, and she also never imagined she'd be sitting next to a man like… like Bryce? She realized with a throb of arousal that she wasn't entirely sure of his name. Whoever he was, she certainly never imagined she'd be letting him casually grope her tits with his right hand while his left stayed on the steering wheel, guiding them to some unknown destination, and all of the steps between her nice normal ordinary life as a grad student and the present moment seemed to have disappeared into the soft squishing noises she heard every time her fingers churned her dripping cunt.

She could see little signs of them here and there, when she looked--a dress she must have wriggled out of when she got into the car, a glassy cast to her eyes she could see reflected in the windshield that hinted at deep and irresistible trances she'd only notionally emerged from. But a single trance didn't explain her slutty lingerie. She must have chosen to wear them before she left the apartment, and that hinted at a much longer history with Possibly Bryce than she could remember. Staci wondered if she would forget tonight, too, if he was taking her back home to drop her into helpless slumber and fuck her senseless before leaving her to sleep off the memory of the evening's events… but no. It wasn't going to be that easy.

Because they pulled off the highway onto a dirt road that led back onto a beautiful country house, and once the car was stopped Bryce began to fondle and grope her in earnest. He squeezed her tits, pinched her nipples, caressed her heaving belly, and before long Staci was so aroused she could barely even see straight… all of which meant that when the stranger walked up, looking just as handsome and dapper as Bryce, she offered no meaningful resistance to his attentions. Bryce rolled down the window so a man she'd never even met could just reach in and put his hand on her pussy, and the clearest and surest sign that she wasn't the woman she used to be was that she only looked at Bryce with a confused expression on her face and a wordless plea for guidance behind her eyes.

"It's okay," he said, his voice a reassuring purr that hit something primal and submissive all the way down at the very base of Staci's brain. "Just let it happen." It shouldn't have done anything to soothe away the intuitive sense of dismay she felt when the stranger's fingers went into her pussy… but it did, and that was when Staci knew just how much adjusting she must have done already.

"Ramona, this is my wife Betty," George said, gesturing in her direction with an affectionate smile that she readily returned. "Betty, this is Ramona, my new personal assistant, she's just here to discuss the requirements of her new job and also to fuck me. You don't mind, do you?" Certainly it looked like Ramona minded, at least for a moment; Betty watched as a flicker of shock and uncertainty passed across her face only to be replaced by a kind of dopey placidity that reminded Betty a bit of the golden retriever she had as a child. Betty rolled her eyes a little bit, but she knew better than to argue with George when he was set on something, and judging by the way his cock was bulging in his trousers he was definitely set on this.

So she slid over a little on the sofa to make room, and George slid his pants down and stepped out of them before sitting next to her. Ramona looked like she didn't know what to do with her hands at first; her fingers fluttered uncertainly before hooking themselves into the waistband of her skirt and shrugging it off her hips to fall to the floor in a puddle of loose fabric, and the blonde's crisply starched blouse soon followed. She stood there in nothing but bra and panties, the light behind her eyes sputtering and fading into amiable silence, and finally she got totally naked. "You can see why I hired her, sweetie," George murmured, giving Betty a conspiratorial grin.

She could, of course, even though she felt a twinge of envy as she watched Ramona settle onto her husband's stiff prick with a sigh of vacant ecstasy. Ramona was an incredibly pretty young woman, and she had tits that bounced and shook and jiggled like some kind of pornstar slut as she rocked her hips up and down in George's lap. Plus she was obviously far more susceptible to hypnosis than Betty--not that Betty was especially wide awake at the moment, and she realized with a kind of bemused detachment that she was wriggling out of her own clothing so she could masturbate to the sight of her husband having sex with another woman in the middle of their living room, but she could never reach that kind of pure mindless depth that made George's cock truly throb. It was the only problem in an otherwise perfect marriage.

But George had found a solution the way he always did, and Betty had fallen into the habit of acceptance the way she always did, and naturally Ramona wasn't going to be objecting with her brain switched off and her cunt stuffed with cock. So Betty could just stay in a light trance and tease her pussy lips, secure in the knowledge that her husband's high sex drive meant he'd be able to get it up again even after flooding Ramona's snatch with hot sticky cum, and she let any questions of why she'd agreed to all this so readily fall out of her head. It wasn't important to think about those things, after all. She was a good wife and she wanted her husband to be happy. And if it just so happened that what made him downright overjoyed was cucking his wife right in front of her, well… she wasn't going to say no, was she? Not when it felt so good to obey. Betty rubbed herself harder, watching in rapt fascination as Ramona threw her head back in the throes of overwhelming pleasure and sank deeper for her Master.

Mindy was going to sit in the back. It was her first time at a club like this, after all, and she didn't want to act like she was too eager even though just glancing at the hunky guys on the marquee outside sent a thrill all the way through her body. She was just going to watch from the shadows, look at the men dancing in their banana hammock briefs, and clap and cheer along with the other women there while she had a few drinks. And she was going to tip generously because she'd saved up for this evening and she wanted to have a little cash to splash around.

At least, that was the plan. But there weren't a lot of shadows, and there wasn't much of a crowd, and there really wasn't even a back to sit in--the club was small, indeed one might say intimate, and there were only a few rows of tables around the stage. Mindy did what she could to avoid being right up front, and she ordered a Pink Lady from the server, hoping she'd remember it--the woman looked like she was profoundly stoned, not that Mindy expected it was real easy to get good help at a place with The Hunnypott's reputation--and she settled back in her seat to wait for the show.

And it was everything she expected… a lot more than she expected, honestly, although of course Mindy tried to hide her stunned surprise and act like she'd been there before. They introduced the first dancer, a man calling himself Franz, and he looked exactly like the big old slab of beefcake Mindy was expecting--bulging biceps, rock-hard abs, thighs that looked like they could juice an orange with a single squeeze, all that good shit she'd been daydreaming about every time she drove past this place on her way to and from work. He stripped just the way she imagined, too, doffing his too-tight outfit by tearing it away to the… not cheers, exactly, more sort of fascinated gasps… of the small but absolutely enraptured crowd. But then he kept going, and instead of dancing around in revealing underwear he simply tugged off his briefs to expose his cock.

Which was when Mindy found herself slipping out of her chair and stumbling up front to stand right in front of the raised stage, staring in mesmerized amazement at Franz's prick. It was already hard, but at eleven inches gravity pulled it down even when erect, and he had to wrap his hand around it and hold it up for her to inspect. "Looks like we've got a new girl!" he announced, and again there was a surprisingly subdued reaction from the crowd. Almost as though they were half-asleep. Mindy wanted to turn around and look at them, but that would mean tearing her gaze away from Franz's cock and she couldn't really see herself doing that right now. Her face broke into a wide and dreamy smile, and she found her head tilting back like she was basking in the radiance of a warm, sunny day.

"Don't worry, honey," he growled, sliding his hand up and down the shaft to lube himself with his own precum. "That first time always takes you like this. Once you're a regular, you'll be so much more relaxed." Mindy nodded, grunted something barely even recognizable as words, but in her head the only clear and direct thought was that Franz was going to cum soon. He was going to work himself up to an orgasm, right here in front of all these women, and Mindy was so close she was bound to get splattered all over with his jizz. It was enough to make her clit flare in a sudden, unprompted climax, and she whimpered helplessly at the notion of being decorated with sticky semen right there in front of the whole crowd… and when it finally happened, she realized she'd have to come back to the Hunnypott tomorrow night and watch the show all over again.

"Ummm… w-why is everyone staring at me?" Luci asked, feeling the slight heat of a full-body blush beginning to stir against her pale skin. She felt like she had a million guesses even before her host answered her--she felt distinctly underdressed for this kind of fancy, decadent crowd, she didn't know anybody in the room except for Malcolm and she'd only met him yesterday, and she hadn't exactly received a formal invitation to the party he was hosting. She knew she was distinctly out of place here, and even though it felt rude to simply leave she couldn't stop herself from at least confronting Malcolm with her misgivings in the hopes of getting some kind of reassurance out of the handsome older man.

But what happened instead was the exact opposite. "Because you're the entertainment, darling," he murmured, fixing Luci's confused gaze with his sparkling blue eyes while he took her by the wrist and led her over to the coffee table in the center of the room. "You're not a guest, remember? You're here to show off what a well-trained girl you are for all my important friends, and you don't want to disappoint them, do you?" Luci could see a dildo suction-cupped to the painted wooden surface of the table, but only in the very corner of her field of vision… and it occurred to her then just how difficult it was to tear herself away from Malcolm's captivating, charismatic stare, but Luci felt far too small and weak and inferior to do anything about it. She wasn't even a guest here. She was just the--the entertainment.

She heard herself whimper, "No sir. I don't want to disappoint your important friends, sir," and the simpering meekness in Luci's voice seemed to settle into her mind like a lock clicking shut. She couldn't stop herself from crawling onto the coffee table, guided in every movement by Malcolm's firm and confident hand, and she couldn't make herself so much as flinch when he threaded a silver chain around the legs of the table before hooking it into place on the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. The full scope of just how underdressed Luci was in nothing but black leather cuffs and a corresponding collar finally hit her then, but all it did was cement that feeling of pathetic degradation that kept dragging her deeper into Malcolm's power. She hadn't even noticed she was naked. His control over her was that complete.

The actual substance of her day with Malcolm began to resurface in Luci's mind, breaking apart the vague and muddled impression of a normal evening spent with a rich, handsome older man and replacing it with hours of deep hypnosis and intense mental conditioning… but of course knowing she was Malcolm's subjugated slave did nothing to free her from her programming. If anything it intensified the feeling of helplessness she felt. "Be a dear and shove this into your cunt," Malcolm said, guiding Luci's hips back until the dildo was nestled between her slick labia, and Luci felt a surge of absolutely irresistible ecstasy as she complied.

She spent the rest of the party like that, fucking herself on the toy until her cunt was sore and the table underneath her was a mess of dripping musk, and every compliment she received on her obedience only made Luci feel that much more degraded and inferior to the people watching her. She felt certain that they would all have been able to fight Malcolm's hypnotic control, that they all knew she was a weak and helpless slut and they were amused by her pathetic defenselessness… and even more shamefully, Luci couldn't stop herself from cumming at the sight of all those condescending, patronizing stares directed her way.

W-well, I mean… yeah, I guess it is a little weird when I think about it. Um, but I mean, uhh--

"You're not thinking about it. Not unless I tell you to try, and even then your mind slides right off, doesn't it?"

Well, no, I--I mean, I can think about it, I'm stroking your cock, it's just that, um, it's just that it doesn't feel weird when I actually do it like this. It's like when you go somewhere along the same route you use to get to work, and your muscle memory takes over, and you drive right past your exit because your brain knows what that road leads to and it doesn't care what you wanted? I had that happen to me when I was going to the doctor, I just spaced out and the next thing I knew I--

"Marcie? You did it again, didn't you. You totally forgot that you were jacking off a naked man right here in the middle of the waiting room."

Oh! I… yeah, I guess I did. I didn't even notice you were naked, actually. We were having such a nice conversation, and--

"No we weren't. I walked in here with a big hard-on and nothing to hide it, I looked in your eyes and told you to give me a handjob, and you started doing it. Everything else is just your hypnotized mind trying to rationalize away your behavior. If you can, you'll forget it. If you can't, you'll find an excuse. And if none of that works and I fully confront you with your own behavior like this, you'll struggle for a few minutes before your mind pops and you go back to being blissfully oblivious. Isn't that right, Marcie?"

I--well, I--I mean, it just feels nice to… to obey, I guess. Yeah, that is weird when I say it out loud like that. It feels nice to play with my Master's cock because… because he told me to and I, um, I c-can't re, resist you Master, I… I….

Um, s-sorry, what was I saying? Oh, um, my hand's all… sticky….

"Yes, you've been a very good girl. Just seeing your eyes roll back in your head as your brain reset was enough to get me off. Don't worry, I'll be hard again soon, and I promise the next load is going all over your face. How does that sound, Marcie? Do you want to walk in to your appointment with that pretty smile glazed with cum?"

I, well, that sounds lovely, I guess, but--um--sorry, what were you asking? I'm afraid I lost the thread a bit.

"Don't worry. Just keep stroking, and it'll all come back to you soon."

Emily walked in on the two men mid-conversation, and nothing terrified her more than the awkward creak of the executive suite door and the sudden, intense stares from one of the most powerful men in her whole company and one of the richest men in the entire world. She recognized Byron Gordon only from livestreamed town hall events, she recognized Tom Zalman only from articles on CNN, and now both of them were not only in the same room with her but devoting a slightly menacing amount of attention to her. It was enough to magnify her social anxiety to an absurd degree, even though she reminded herself she'd been expected and sent for, and she closed the door behind her with no small amount of trepidation.

Her palms only got sweatier when she noticed there was nowhere for her to sit. The room had exactly two chairs, and both of them were occupied, and neither man seemed to be showing the slightest interest in getting up to offer her a seat. In fact, they'd turned their attention back to each other entirely, and Emily was torn between being insulted by the way they talked as though she wasn't there and grateful to avoid another pair of intense, scrutinizing stares like the ones she'd just gotten. "It's really more the technology I'm interested in, Byron. You're sure there's no way I could even license this? Subject to restrictions, of course, we could work out an arrangement."

Emily didn't know what technology they were talking about--she was a procurement specialist, and she'd assumed she was being brought up to discuss supply chain disruptions and the company's strategy for avoiding them. But she was also pretty good at reading people, and she recognized the mirthless dismissal behind Byron's warm, friendly chuckle. "That was the mistake IBM and Apple made in the 80s. Once you let these things out of your sight, they can be reverse engineered, and before you know it you've just made a new competitor. Or owner, in this case. We both know the first thing someone with this kind of tech would do is use it on their rivals. No, I think you'll need to remain satisfied with the human capital involved in the deal, which is quite an attractive prospect. Emily, naked and on my desk, please."

The terrifying part was that she didn't even hesitate. There wasn't so much as a moment of resistance, not the tiniest shred of shock or terror or indignant anger at being unexpectedly commanded like that; instead, Emily simply undressed in a series of smooth, rapid, entirely mechanical motions and clambered onto Byron's desk to crouch on all fours with her sweaty palms flat on the burnished mahogany surface and her tits hanging down. "You can see what I mean here," Byron continued smoothly, continuing to talk around Emily as though she was nothing more than decoration. "There's really no limit to the amount of conditioning we can put them through, you can order them by the hundred and make them do whatever you want."

Tom was slightly more interested in her presence, but only slightly; he inspected Emily's pussy, hefted her dangling tits in his hands like he was weighing them, and stuck his finger into her mouth still slick with her own musk. The even more terrifying part was that Emily wasn't terrified by any of it--a blanket of lethargic acceptance had settled over her mind, and she just stared straight ahead and waited for her next command. "By the hundred, you say?" Tom asked, but the question and indeed the whole conversation were becoming increasingly abstract as her programming kicked in, and Emily finally realized the purpose of all those livestreamed events as her brain fully settled into obedience to her Master.

"Paul, this is Beth, and Beth, I'd like you to meet Paul," Jenny announced, as though there was nothing unusual at all about introducing Beth to a naked stranger who wandered out of her bedroom with his cock already at half-mast. "This is the man whose semen you've been drinking in your coffee for about a week now, and I thought it was time for you to get to know him so you can take it direct from the source and sink into drugged obedience like me." Beth's eyebrows shot up at that, and she wanted to splutter out a whole series of infuriated expletives at her roommate… but there was a subtle and seductive aroma filling the room, almost unnoticed by Beth's conscious mind despite its erotic familiarity, and she found that her mouth hung open instead of being used to speak.

"Now I know what you're thinking," Jenny reassured her, stripping naked in the middle of the living room with a graceful ease that would have probably have shocked Beth if she wasn't so busy being shocked by everything else that was happening around her. "But Paul's got a lot of jizz in those big heavy balls of his, and he's fully capable of keeping us both drugged into helpless adoration without any problems. You'll get regular doses of his magic cum just like I do, we won't have to fight over it even a little." That was absolutely not what Beth was thinking, at least not before Jenny said it, but she had to admit she felt something unclench inside her mind with a wave of relief she couldn't logically explain. She slid off her chair with a thump as her knees hit the ground, realizing she had her mouth open like a baby bird now but unable to close it.

Jenny went over to her, undoing the buttons on Beth's blouse and pulling it away from her tingling skin while Beth knelt there, unable to take her fixated gaze off of Paul's stiffening cock and his huge balls even for a second. She felt strangely passive now, unable even to take conscious action to satisfy the craving she was inexplicably falling victim to, and it was almost comforting when Jenny purred, "Don't worry, it took me the same way when Paul first blessed me with his hot, salty cum. Once you've gotten a full load, straight from the source, you won't be confused anymore and you'll know what you want and who you want to be. It's only now, when your mind and your body are all mixed up, that you're having trouble."

Beth was pretty sure that her mind was very clear on being shocked and horrified by her roommate's utter betrayal, but when Paul walked over to them her certainty began to sublimate into desperate arousal like ice in the Vegas heat. Jenny took Beth's hand by the wrist and guided it up to her own jaw, molding it into a grip that held her mouth open even wider, and then she began to stroke Paul's cock and fondle his balls until precum dripped onto Beth's outstretched tongue. "We never make him do it himself," Jenny intoned, her voice pressing a whole new conviction into Beth's malleable mind. "It's our task to pleasure his sacred penis."

Beth's brain was filled with so many questions--how was it sacred? Why did it have this effect on her? How could he produce enough semen to feed two whole women every single day? But all of them vanished when Paul's cock spurted a load of hot, sticky jizz onto her tongue and she felt her old self vanish into warm, cozy surrender. She swallowed every last drop, even using her fingers to catch a dollop or two that overshot onto her cheek, and finally understood exactly why Jenny had done what she did.

"You've got your tits out again, don't you, Kimmie?" Devaughn's voice was silky smooth in Kim's ears, and so warm and soothing like honeyed whiskey that she barely even felt the tiniest bristle of frustration at his condescending nickname for her before it was brushed away by curiosity. She looked down to see that yes, her bikini top had been peeled up, exposing her light brown breasts and stiff, dark nipples, and before she could even think to be embarrassed something in the back of her mind melted into warm, sleepy bliss and she wound up just staring at her own chest for a long, thoughtless moment. The muscles in her jaw relaxed, and it seemed like everything else relaxed right along with them.

Slowly, she remembered that Devaughn had asked her a question, and her words came out in a drowsy monotone as she answered, "Yes. My tits are out again." She felt a fierce tingle in her nipples at the sound of her droning voice, and she was vaguely surprised to discover that both the arousal and the sleepy murmurs were familiar to her; she was used to coming over to Devaughn's house and hanging out at his pool, which was honestly about the only reason she stayed friends with the patronizing man she used to know in high school, but she was certain she would have remembered if she was in the habit of… of…. Oh. Huh. She was drooling into her own cleavage. That was weird.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Devaughn adjusting his swimsuit to let his ebony cock and heavy, hanging balls swing free… but it didn't really seem all that important when compared to the sight of those stiff, aching nipples. They begged to be played with, teased and pinched and sucked, and really that was all Kim could think about right now--but the water was warm from the summer sun, and Kim's whole body felt heavy with exhaustion, and moving felt too much like work. Even when Devaughn asked her, "And what are your tits, pretty Kimmie?" she felt like she floated in soft, sleepy fascination for ages before it finally occurred to her that she needed to answer his question.

Fortunately, she didn't need to think to know the answer, because thought was becoming increasingly difficult. "My tits are my trigger, Master," she mumbled, her voice slurred by the slackening in her jaw, and if she wondered why she was calling Devaughn 'Master' the question was quickly erased by another wave of tingling lust that seemed to pool in Kim's tight, stiff nipples. She was so excited for Devaughn to tell her to play with them. It seemed somehow intuitive and obvious that a command would break the lethargic catalepsy that gripped her and let her hands go to her breasts, and that sounded so wonderful that despite her drowsiness Kim could actually see her breathing quicken.

It was such a joy when Devaughn purred out in response, "That's right, Kimmie, your tits are your trigger. And your nipples are the off button for your brain." Kim knew without being told that his words were a command, an implied insistence that she demonstrate her susceptibility to his suggestions by reaching up and squeezing her stiff nips until her mind shut down and she rocketed into insensate oblivion for her Master. There was a tiny, infinitesimal moment of self-awareness when she realized how vulnerable she'd be when she was empty and open like that, but the need for pleasure was too strong and her hands were already in motion, and once she began to grope herself even the inner narrative of thought finally ceased.