A Silly Goth Bimbo Bunny (NSFW) 33

Credit: ?

The longer I was milked, the more incoherent any thoughts in my head became.

Moooooo

It was all I could think as my panties grew wetter. The pumps were overstimulating, but I couldn’t stop it.

Master was in my ear now, his warm breath gave me chills saying “Master wants to start your additional training cow, you will be Masters free use slave cow, do you think you can handle that?”

Then I see the stranger coming up behind me, about to mount me from behind.

I want to protest but I’m too dumb to find the words to say anything.

Mooooo

A new commission is published on Read Only Mind! It's a bit long for tumblr but here's an excerpt:

Replay

Song of the Summer: Chapter 4

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

The words hung in the air between them, naked and trembling like Bethany herself, kneeling there in the entryway with Nathan's cum still drying on her chin and her tears wetting his neck. She felt like a woman who had been taken apart and reassembled with desires that didn't fit inside her skin properly. She had just begged her boyfriend to fuck his ex-girlfriend, had masturbated for hours imagining him inside another woman, and had cried with disappointment when he came home faithful.

What the fuck was happening to her?

Nathan held her, stroking her back, and she clung to him like a drowning woman. But even as she sobbed, even as she felt the relief of his arms around her, something dark and hungry stirred between her legs. She wanted him again. She always wanted him now. It was exhausting and exhilarating and terrifying.

Later that night, she'd woken up on the couch. Disheveled and satisfied, but still craving him and wondering if she could wake him. But before she could summon the strength to get up, she saw him come out of the bedroom, twirling something between his fingers. He glanced over at her, but the shadows on her face stopped him from noticing her eyes weren't entirely closed. Then he lifted up the stereo on the end table, and fiddled with something underneath. She saw two quick flashes of green, then he went back to bed.

She waited some time, until she could hear him snoring, then she went over and examined the thing herself. And she was shocked to find a tiny card hidden in the bottom. Opening her own laptop and minimizing the article she was writing, she slid the card into her computer and watched a simple text file appear on screen.

She clicked it open and read the lines Nathan had written, each one a violation and a wonderfully arousing revelation.

"I love a clean space. Tidying makes me feel calm and happy."

"I prefer to be comfortable at home. Wearing less clothing helps me relax."

"I want sex. My libido is high. I crave physical intimacy."

"I love the taste of cum. I want Nathan to cum in my mouth."

"Sharing is natural. Sharing is good. When other women appreciate Nathan, it makes me feel proud."

Hundreds of lines were there by now, written over a collection of revisions and additions.

Bethany read every line, her pussy throbbing with each word. He had written her like a program, coded her desires, compiled her submission. She should have been furious. She should have woken him up screaming, thrown the speakers out the window, called the police.

Instead, she began to type, sliding her lines into random places in his list, so that when he opened it next, he wouldn't see them.

-----

Read the rest here:

Such Foreign Affairs

The movers had been loud, but the house next door had been empty for months, so Natalie didn't mind. She watched from her kitchen window as the couple unloaded boxes. He was tall, dark-haired, with an accent she couldn't place, and she was petite, blonde, with wide eyes that seemed to drink in everything he said. The man, at least, was not native to this country, and Natalie found herself curious about what traditions they might bring, what decorations might appear in their yards. She never judged, in fact quite the opposite. She was eager to find out what newness they might bring to her admittedly boring neighborhood.

That first evening, she saw them on their back patio through her bedroom window. The fence was low enough that she could see over if she stood on her toes. She expected a barbecue, perhaps tea. Instead, the man sat in a wrought-iron chair while his wife knelt before him, her hands folded in her lap. He held something in his palm. A flash of blue caught the last light of sunset.

Natalie pressed closer to the glass. He was speaking, his voice too low to hear through the pane. The woman stared at his hand, her posture loosening, her shoulders dropping. He touched her forehead with his other hand, and she swayed, her eyes fluttering shut. When he spoke again, she nodded, slow and heavy, her lips parting in a dreamy smile. He lifted her chin with one finger, and she gazed at him with such adoration that Natalie felt heat creep up her neck.

She told herself it was strange, but strange was what she'd been hoping for wasn't it? She watched until he helped his wife stand and led her inside, her steps slow and rhythmic, her body leaning into his as if she couldn't bear not to touch him.

The second night, Natalie told herself she was only checking to be sure the woman was alright. But when she saw them again. The same chair, the same kneeling position, that brilliant blue stone catching the dimming light. She found her fingers working the latch of her window. The summer air was thick and warm as she slid the pane upward, and with it came his voice.

"Deep now," he was saying, the words rolling like honey. "Deeper than yesterday. Deeper than the deep blue ocean, my love. The deepest blue contained in this sapphire. Watch how it catches the light. Each flash pulling you further inward and downward. Each gleam is your will melting into mine."

Natalie gripped her windowsill. The woman was transfixed, her face slack, her mouth slightly open. The stone swayed in his fingers and the blonde's eyes followed it without blinking.

"So heavy," he murmured. "Your eyelids. Your limbs. Your resistance. All heavy. All mine. Say it."

"Yours," the woman breathed.

Natalie realized she was leaning out the window, her own breathing slowing to match the rhythm of his words. The sapphire seemed larger from here, or perhaps it was just that she couldn't look away. It spun, catching moonlight, and each rotation seemed to tug something loose in her chest.

"Love me," he commanded softly. "Obey me. Deepen your devotion. Let it sink into your bones."

"Yes," the woman moaned, and Natalie felt the word vibrate in her own throat.

She didn't remember closing the window. She didn't remember going to bed. She only remembered the blue, and the safety of his voice, and the overwhelming urge to surrender.

By the third night, Natalie didn't bother with pretense. She stood at her window before they even came outside, her heart hammering. When he led his wife to the patio, when the sapphire emerged from his pocket, Natalie was already breathless.

She watched every night after that. She learned their schedule, their rituals. She watched him deepen his wife's trance, layering command upon command. Cooking his meals a certain way, greeting him on her knees, keeping her body ready and open for his use. And Natalie sank with them, her forehead against the cool glass, her eyes reflecting that maddening blue.

One command in particular burrowed deep into her subconscious. "Your body is mine," he told his wife, the night warm enough that he had her strip bare on the patio. "It must always be available. Clothes are a barrier between you and my desire. You will only wear them when I command it."

The blonde stood naked under the stars, her skin glowing, her hands clasped behind her head to display herself fully. "Yes, Master," both women whispered.

Natalie felt the command twist in her own mind like a key in a lock. The next evening, when she went to her window to watch, she didn't wear her robe. The night after, she removed her nightgown. By the end of the week, she stood nude at the glass, her nipples hard against the cool pane, her thighs slick, her mind empty except for the sound of his voice drifting through the summer air.

She was his, even if he didn't know it yet. She had been conditioned to obey, to submit, to need his approval more than oxygen. When he touched his wife, Natalie felt phantom hands on her own skin. When he praised his slave, Natalie glowed with the compliment. She existed in a haze of arousal and anticipation, waiting, always waiting, for him to notice her.

Weeks passed. She grew careless in her trance, no longer hiding behind curtains, pressing her full breasts against the window, her eyes glazed, her lips forming the word "Master" in silent repetition.

Then, one humid night in August, he looked up.

His eyes, dark, knowing, amused, found hers across the distance between their houses. Natalie didn't even react in her nakedness and her need. She should have run. She should have covered herself. Instead, she simply reminded herself that she was his and it was right for her to be exposed to his eyes.

He smiled. It was a terrible, beautiful smile, full of ownership and promise. He raised the sapphire, letting it catch the light, and beckoned with one finger.

"Come," he called, his voice carrying clearly across the yard. "Join us."

Natalie didn't hesitate. She didn't think of her job, her friends, her old life. She only thought of the blue stone and the safety of surrender. She walked to her bedroom door, down the stairs, out into the night air that felt like a caress against her bare skin. She crossed the lawn between their houses, her eyes fixed on the gem that had claimed her, her body moving without her will, drawn like a moth to flame.

When she reached their patio, he was waiting, the sapphire held high. His wife knelt beside him, naked and smiling, her eyes welcoming.

"Kneel," he said, though he hadn't needed to. She knew what was expected of his slaves; what was expected of her.

Natalie sank to the concrete, the rough surface biting her knees, her hands automatically folding in her lap exactly as she had seen his wife do a hundred times before.

"Good girl," he purred. "Look at the sapphire. Let it take the last of your thoughts. You are home now. You are ours."

"Yours," Natalie whispered, and the word was a orgasm rolling through her body, endless and complete.

He stood, towering over them both, and unbuckled his belt. "Show me your devotion," he commanded. "Both of you. Together."

Natalie crawled forward with his wife, their shoulders touching, their mouths opening in unison, their minds empty and their bodies finally where they belonged, serving him, worshipping him, lost forever in the blue.

Cum to Class

The amber glow of the pub barely registered with Chloe and Madison as they stumbled in from the cold, their heels clicking against the worn floorboards. Both twenty-one and convinced the world existed solely for their amusement, they settled into a booth near the back, still giggling from the three cocktails they'd consumed during dinner.

"I still can't believe Professor Saunders actually thinks people can be hypnotized with a stupid candle and some counting," Madison scoffed, tossing her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. She was studying the menu with the intensity of someone who'd already decided what she wanted.

Chloe, petite with sharp black hair cut into a severe bob, snorted. "Seriously. Like anyone's actually susceptible to that nonsense. It's all placebo and people desperate for attention." She flagged down the server with a lazy wave. "Two more gin and tonics."

Their drinks arrived, and Chloe's dark eyes landed on the thick pillar candle flickering between them. A smirk played at her lips. "You know what? I bet you the next round that I could hypnotize you right here, right now."

Madison rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh please. Fine. Waste your breath. But when it doesn't work, you're buying."

Chloe leaned forward, her voice dropping into what she imagined was a soothing, authoritative tone. "Watch the flame, Madison. Just watch it. See how it dances? How it flickers? Back and forth... back and forth..."

Madison snorted but found her gaze drawn to the warm yellow light all the same. The pub was quiet, the background noise fading into a dull hum. The candle's flame seemed to pulse in time with her breathing.

"Your eyes are getting heavy," Chloe continued, feeling strangely detached from herself. The alcohol made her head swim pleasantly, and the flame seemed to expand, filling her vision. "So heavy... so hard to keep them open..."

"Shut up, you're not actually..." Madison started, but her protest died in her throat. The flame was so warm. So rhythmic. She blinked slowly, her eyelids suddenly made of lead.

Chloe was supposed to be the hypnotist, but she hadn't expected the candle to be so mesmerizing. She was staring too, her words becoming slower, more slurred. "And when I count to three... you'll be completely... under... one... "

Neither girl noticed their shoulders relaxing, their mouths falling slightly open, their eyes glazing over as they stared at the dancing light. They were frozen, two statues locked in mutual descent, the candle's flame reflecting in their vacant stares.

"two..."

The counting slowed almost to a crawl, Chloe struggling to remember what came after two.

From a nearby table, Sarah watched the pair with astonished glee.

Sarah was a junior who'd spent the last two semesters enduring Chloe and Madison's casual cruelty; the whispered jokes about her secondhand clothes, the "accidental" knocking of her books in the hallway, the smirks whenever she answered questions correctly in psych lectures. She'd been nursing a craft beer and reading when she'd overheard their conversation, watching with growing interest as their little experiment had backfired spectacularly.

She approached the booth quietly, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was insane. This was wrong. This was also the most perfect opportunity the universe had ever handed her.

"Three," she said with a snap of her fingers.

Both girls eyes closed immediately and their heads dropped forward onto their chests.

"Girls," she whispered, sliding into the seat beside Chloe. Both girls swayed slightly but remained locked on the flame, their minds floating in that suggestible space between awareness and sleep. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes..." they breathed in unison, voices distant and dreamy.

Sarah's hands trembled, but she pressed on. "The flame has made you feel so good. So relaxed. But when you wake up, you're going to be such good students. Such obedient school girls."

"Obedient..." Chloe murmured.

"Good students..." Madison echoed.

"Every time you obey a command, you'll feel a little spike of pleasure. A little thrill. It'll feel so good to be good."

Both girls shivered, their lips parting in soft sighs.

"And whenever you hear the words 'class' or 'study,' you'll feel yourself getting warm. Aroused. Turned on by the idea of being diligent little students."

Sarah leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "When the professor asks if there are any questions, one of you must raise your hand. You must ask something. You won't know why, but you'll need to. Even if it's the dumbest, most bone-headed bimbo-brained question you can think of."

She paused, watching their faces for any sign of resistance. There was none; just peaceful, vacant acceptance.

"And when the professor says your names, either Chloe or Madison, you'll cum. Hard. Instantly. Right there in your seat. Hard enough to make you moan. Hard enough to make you squirt right there in your pants. And you'll remember nothing about tonight. Nothing about me. You'll just wake up even more convinced that hypnosis is all a crock of shit."

The pair sat, eyes still closed tight.

"Do you understand, you fucking cunts?"

"We understand," the pair said together.

Sarah had the pair count to fifteen out loud and wake when they finished. By the time their eyes opened, Sarah was back in her seat, turned away from them to remain unseen.

"Told you it wouldn't work," Madison said, rubbing her temples. "Now I believe you owe me a drink."

Chloe waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Next time. Let's get out of here. I need to study a bit tonight still before class tomorrow."

At the words, both girls felt a sudden heat between their legs, a pleasant tension they couldn't explain. They shifted in their seats, exchanging confused glances before shrugging it off.

Sarah watched them leave, a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips.

The next day, the lecture hall was packed. Professor Saunders stood at the front, gesturing toward a diagram of neural pathways on the projector screen.

"Now, regarding the susceptibility scales we discussed yesterday," he began, pacing slowly. "Are there any questions?"

Chloe's hand shot up before she could stop it. She blinked, confused. She hadn't meant to raise her hand - she hadn't really even been paying attention - but her body moved of its own accord. In her panic, she tried to come up with something to ask that wouldn't sound like nonsense.

"Yes, Chloe?" the professor asked.

As soon as he said her name, she gasped, her body convulsing in her seat. She bit her lip hard, her face flushing crimson as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She gripped the desk, trembling, while Madison stared at her in shock. Then both girls let out long, loud moans as violent orgasms overtook them.

"Are you alright?" Professor Saunders asked, shocked.

"Fine!" Chloe squeaked, her voice an octave higher. "Just... things just clicked... I get it now..."

Madison's yoga pants suddenly bore a dark stain on the crotch. Liquid trickled down Chloe's leg beneath her skirt.

"Perhaps you two should - ah - go get some rest?"

The girls didn't really hear him, minds still reeling from the sudden attack.

"Chloe? Madison?"

They screamed this time. Chloe gripped the back of the chair in front of her. Madison threw her head back, hands involuntarily grasping at her chest. All eyes were on them as they fled from the hall, leaving identical wet pools on the seats they abandoned.

Sarah took notes quietly from the third row, never looking up, the corner of her mouth twitching with a smile.

This story was originally requested on my old blog by anon with the following ask: "A couple of women in their mid 20's are on a night out. They are having fun and relaxing when they decide to jokingly try hypnotism. One of them attempts to hypnotise the other, but they both manage to fall into a trance. Someone nearby recognises this and takes advantage of the opportunity. This person is on the same university course as the women and had been treated by them as somewhat beneath them. The person makes it so that whenever they do what someone asks them, they feel pleasured as though they had just been masturbating. They also make it so that hearing certain words or phrases make them more aroused, while a select few words and phrases in particular make them cum."