The Hidden Vault

It doesn't even need to be degrading language; it can be sweet and praising, or curious, or matter-of-fact. Let me hear dirty talk, while also being allowed to be gooey and brainless, speechless. Two+ people present gives the opportunity to hear the grownups discussing in eloquent words while my brain gets to be empty, while I'm not expected to form responses.

"Look at her, she's doing so well," "do they like xyz?"

I think a lot of the appeal would come from just how vulnerable it would be. You're literally giving over access to your brain, letting them play with your very thoughts. How intimate!

Feeling some cosmic force idly flipping through your mind, like they're looking for a record to play. They could sever your perception of reality, slice the tiny cords connecting your eyeballs to your brain or just cease your every synapse.

But instead they choose to make you feel good. Scratch an itch you've had hidden in the folds of your brain and show you a body's true potential for pleasure. Y'know that weirdly good feeling when you stick an earbuds in your ear and gently move it around? Like that but your whole body.

I am going to be moving by the end of this month, and there are some things costs and things I would be so incredibly grateful for some help with.

for the time being, Ive taken down my Throne page so that nothing is getting sent to my apartment anymore. but if you *are* in a place to help support me, you can do so here

CW: corruption, brainwashing, unaware, office whore

Hi hi~ A short one~

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Enjoy 🩷

Sarah adjusted her posture, shifting her weight from one heel to the other until her stance looked just right in the mirror. Back arched up, breasts jutting forward and butt held high. Presentation mattered. She wasn't sure when that had become the most important part of the workday, but she accepted it the same way she accepted the morning clock-in.

Not What It Looks Like

Ian spoke and Melissa's body moved as if weightless on his strings. She knew that she shouldn't be doing this. She knew she shouldn't be bent over in front of him. She knew she shouldn't be wearing this parody of a uniform. She knew he shouldn't have his cock in his hand. And she knew more than anything that she shouldn't be enjoying the attention so much.

But he had some kind of a hold over her that she couldn't explain.

There was no great fortune she was chasing. The family was wealthy enough to hire her, true, but not wealthy enough for her to risk her job and reputation. He wasn't overwhelmingly handsome or confident. Nothing could explain the way just wanted to do as she was told. Nothing could explain her inability to resist him. It wasn't looks or money or love.

But each day, she'd come to work, take a long drink of the tea he'd made her, and feel her defenses just ebb away. She'd clean the kitchen while Mr. and Mrs. Hammond were still here in the morning. But by the time they left for work, her body would already be starting to rebel against her. Cleaning the dining room was slow and sluggish. And when she reached the living room each day, Ian would be sitting there, cock in his hand and smiling. Her new uniform hanging from the coat rack.

Melissa knew his parents could never know about the things that she'd done with him. He was in his twenties now, but it was still a tremendous breach of propriety. She'd be fired immediately. Her reputation would be completely destroyed. But when he'd point to the uniform, she'd simply nod and change. Her body lost all it's lethargy when she followed what he told her, like the sluggishness was just from moving in a way he didn't require.

She changed right there in front of him each day. He'd seen every inch of her. Touched every inch of her. Kissed every inch of her. And in return, she'd take every inch of him. And it felt fucking amazing.

Maybe that's why she kept going back.

But today when she was showing herself off for him, she heard the door swing open and a slight gasp from the corner. Melissa whipped around to see Mrs. Hammond standing in the doorway. Her sluggishness seemed to evaporate under the terror coursing through her. She babbled and plead with the woman that this wasn't what it looked like. Surely there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she was dressed like a whore, bent over, with the woman's son pumping his hard cock.

That's when she noticed that Ian was still pumping away - faster, even - and that Mrs. Hammond's face showed no sign of upset. Instead there was something else in her eyes. Hunger?

"Continue," Ian said to Melissa, and immediately her desire to follow his orders reasserted itself. She returned to the pose she'd been in before their interruption, then continued the slow teasing dance she'd perfected for him. Mrs. Hammond reached under her waistband, and a moment later Melissa saw her panties fall to the floor. She stepped out of them as she walked to her son.

Melissa gasped as Ian's mother lowered herself onto his shaft and began to move her hips up and down.

"Don't look so shocked," he said as he looked over her shoulder. "She drinks the same tea you do each morning, and she'd been drinking it far longer."

Mrs. Hammond's eyes slipped closed in quiet ecstasy. Melissa knew the feeling. She knew how good he felt.

"Now are you two going to be able to share?"

"Yes, sir," they replied together, and the unison of their voices finally made Melissa understand. She should never have been questioning her urges. She should never have wondered why she wanted him. As she stood there - dripping wet and watching Mrs. Hammonds considerable breasts quake with each bounce - she knew that everything was exactly as it should be.

This was exactly what it looked like: wonderful.