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helpless drooling moaning little mess 🤤

Nan looked at Jerry meekly, not quite meeting his gaze because she knew what that would do to her but also not looking down too far because she knew where her eyes would gravitate to. "I… can I make a confession?" she asked, the sheer timidity in her voice almost startling her. "I… I really like what we've been doing, I honestly like it a lot, but lately I've been worrying that I'm… I don't know, losing myself. I--I keep kind of, I don't know, like, centering you in all my thoughts and decisions, wondering what you would want and what would make you happy, and it feels good but it also feels, um… scary?" Nan's cheeks prickled with a fierce blush, and she couldn't help the lingering sense that she'd somehow been bad by telling her Master the truth. It was absurd, but it was nonetheless true.

But Jerry didn't look upset with her. He beckoned her closer, and Nan felt another little misgiving as she struggled with the hypnotic compulsion to kneel on the floor at his feet only to find that it simply felt too good to fight. She settled in between his legs, now having to look up to avoid staring straight into his lap and all too aware that her eyes were getting tired in a distinctly familiar way from gazing up at her Master like that, as he purred, "Oh, sweetie. You know this is always your choice, don't you? In the end, you're always and only doing what you want to do. Everything that's happening to you, everything I'm adjusting in your mind, it wouldn't work if you didn't want it to. So ask yourself--what do you really want, Nan? Really."

She sighed, her stare giving up the struggle with one fluttering eyeroll to settle on the bulge between her Master's legs. "I… I just want to stop fighting all the time," she heard herself murmur, the hypnotic focus giving her a tiny bit of separation between her overcrowded brain and her actual desires. "I don't want to spend all my time worrying and wondering and running my mind in circles with anxiety, I just want to be nice and dumb and simple and know that pleasing cock means I'm doing good." She blinked, and it took her a surprisingly long time for her eyes to open again. "But… but that feels wrong."

Jerry gave her a tender little chuckle, stroking her long dark hair and cupping her cheek with his strong hands. "If it's what you want, darling, then it can't be wrong for you. You're afraid because you've been hearing your whole life that there's only one path to happiness, and it's to be strong and independent and self-reliant and in control. But if that's not satisfying for you, if you'd really rather just be my good girl and feel that warm, blissful pleasure of doing what you're told, then why would you give that up for someone else's idea of happiness?" Nan squirmed, the jean skirt she'd chosen to show herself off for her Master riding up her thighs until it was little more than a belt. She fought his words, but she knew she was really fighting herself.

Jerry undid his fly and pulled out his cock, and that ultimately ended the battle in Nan's beleaguered brain. She took him between her lips and began to bob her head up and down, and when Jerry murmured, "That's it, pretty girl, that's what makes you happy and that's what you always wanted," she sighed in ecstasy as all the conflict in her mind evaporated to be replaced by clear, delightful purpose. Nan never needed to wonder about the right thing to do or say or think when her mouth was full of stiff prick, and all the hypnotic conditioning in her head aligned to smooth away her worries as she sucked her Master off the way she knew she was supposed to. The way that made her a good girl. The way that made her happy… and as Jerry's dick slid all the way into her throat, she finally realized just how much happiness was worth.

Sometimes he’ll tell you that you can only get pleasure while holding your breath. So you force yourself to hold it for as long as your body lets you because you’re so desperate to rub. So desperate to feel the toy pressed against you even for a few short seconds. Body panicking for air but wanting pleasure more. Getting light headed, trying to whine without letting go of your breath, and edging within seconds because that’s what he’s trained you to do. Every second of lost air is a second of pleasure he’s allowed you to have and you can’t help but be grateful.

Other times he’ll make you train your throat. For every two minutes you manage to fuck your throat, a minute of pleasure is earned. So you earn it, you choke, your eyes water and you try desperately not to vomit. You can feel how wet you are with each shift of your thighs, how eager you are to touch. You only get to touch for a few minutes, throat sore, pussy aching and head completely empty of thoughts, but those short minutes are just filled with overwhelming gratitude. So thankful even when he tells you that you can’t edge, not yet, you just need to ache.

Instead, he trained me to be excited over licking up his messes off the floor. I couldn’t even look at him pleasure himself, I couldn’t even hear it. I’d be blindfolded. I’d just feel his foot shove my face into the ground, and I’d know to lick eagerly. To thank him like my life depended on it. To thank him like his cum gave me purpose. I mean, it basically did. My only usefulness was cleaning up.

One day, he decided I earned a “reward.” I was in his bedroom, with him naked and hard sitting on his bed. Next to a stunningly beautiful woman. He slid the blindfold over my eyes but I could still hear them.

“You don’t get to watch, but you will get to listen. If you clean us up well after, she might give you a kiss on your cage. That’s more than enough pleasure for you, don’t you think?”

Him: I appreciate how much you defer to me.

Me: 🥰 Oh? I’m glad.

Him: I like that when I tell you the plan, you don’t question it. You make it happen.

Me: I appreciate being able to look you for the final decision!