hard limits: incest (including fauxcest), scat, watersports/omorashi, age regression, CGL, raceplay
DNI: this is an 18+ blog with a lot of nsft content so ageless blogs/minors please do not interact! please respect this boundary! i would like to feel comfortable making the content that i do without worrying about if minors are accessing it.
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"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.
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now perhaps it was a bad idea for any number of reasons, but i think it was actually really really funny to make "snap out of it!" and "remember who you are!" deepeners so the whole time its friends were trying to free it, it was locking the fuck in even harder and getting excited about being rewarded by me later.
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"I collect them," replied the witch. "Sometimes I buy them from other collectors, sometimes I find them abandoned in mysterious places. Most, however, are from visitors who come here."
"So they give you dolls?"
"They become dolls," the witch corrected. "Would you like a demonstration?"
"Perhaps." You admit you're very intrigued.
The witch opened a drawer underneath a shelf and took out a large wind-up key, smoothly inserting it into your upper back as if you had always been meant to receive it. The sensation sent spikes of pleasure throughout your body.
She rotated the key one quarter-turn clockwise and your right arm went limp, still knowing it's there but unable to move or feel it.
A second quarter-turn and your right leg went limp.
A third quarter-turn and now your left leg went limp.
One final quarter-turn and you were unable to move any of your limbs, unsure about what was going to happen next.
Sensing your trepidation, she leaned in and whispered, "It's going to be ok. You don't have to worry anymore."
She gave the key one full turn and all thoughts disappeared from your mind. You gazed at her blankly. You were hers to mold.
"Now repeat after me," she said. "I am a good doll."
"I am a good doll," you repeated. You wouldn't dare defy her.
She gave the key another full turn. You could feel your body slowly regain energy.
"My purpose is to serve Miss."
"My purpose is to serve Miss."
She gave the key another full turn.
"I will always be obedient to Miss."
"I will always be obedient to Miss."
She gave the key another full turn. Each rotation made you feel happier.
"What Miss wants makes me happy."
"What Miss wants makes me happy."
She gave the key another full turn. It felt so right to be like this.
"I am a good doll."
"I am a good doll."
She rotated the key a few more times before removing it. You looked down at your hands, now porcelain with ball joints. You could sense a faint ticking sensation from inside you that felt calming.
She looked down at you, smiling. "You are such a beautiful doll."
subject muttering a suggestion or mantra under their breath the way you do when you need to remember something. quietly talking themself through a suggestion step by step like when you're alone in your house trying to focus on something or figure something out. like it's just some mundane normal thing they're doing
saying stuff like "just relax... don't think about anything... just go into trance..." to themself the same way someone mutters to themself that they need to get their keys and their wallet before they leave the house. just reminding themself what they're supposed to be doing. making sure they don't forget. or repeating the same word or phrase over and over like you do if you need to remember an address or a number for a second, just to keep it in your head, trying not to lose it.
It starts with the saunter and the stare. That look that tells my pet that I desire her carnally. I press her against the wall, my hands roam freely as I nip at her neck and at her ears. Warm breath on her flesh as I tease her and tell her how hungry I am for her.
My words may be honey, but they carry a poison. Soon I am dragging away her ability to think. Drawing out that feral beast as I strip away intelligent thought. The dumber she gets, the hornier she gets. The hornier she gets, the more feral she feels. Like a bloodhound with the scent of prey.
Waiting...
Waiting...
For the signal to chase.
When she's quivering and barking and struggling to keep her sanity, I reinforce the idea of a beast on a leash. In a cage. Waiting to be freed. Waiting for the command to hunt and take what it thirsts for.
As I drop to my knees my lips and tongue continue the teasing my fingers had been doing. I steady myself, pull her hands to my head and feel her fingers in my hair.
By now she's waiting for a command. Any command. She's dumb and horny and feral. She can't think. She only wants to rut and fuck.
So I prepare myself, I open my mouth and set her beautiful cock on my lips. I look up at her and give the command.
And the beast is loose. The dog has let their need take them. She can't control it. She can't do anything but fuck and thrust and groan. No control. No way to stop her now. Not until I feel my pet's cum flow down my throat.
And then my beast slumps back against the wall. I take a moment to recover. I stand. I kiss her and call her my good dog. And then I take her to bed. After all, getting railed like that has given me a mighty need.
cock warming but they press a vibrator to your clit, making you cum over and over and over again until they end up cumming from the sensation of your muscles pulsing and spasming around them alone.
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"What are you?" He asks. I respond without question. "An empty bimbo." Giggling. Shaking my head. When did I get that mantra? I look confused. I have to question it. "Hey when did that happen? You never told me that." He chuckles at me. "Maybe it's been hidden in plain sight the entire time? Have you looked for it on you?"
All day he'd been asking me to write words for him on my body and all day directing certain letters to be in the 'special glowy pen'. I of course couldn't tell you which was which, that wasn't important. Afterall, I just do what I'm told and thinking about that wasn't part of today's to do list. Reading the words back, I try and find the ones I'm looking for. 'Enthralled', I sigh, 'brainless', 'mindless', the more I read the more each word takes a hold of my mind. Making me feel each and every syllables power over me. 'Powerless', a wave of submission trickles down my spine, 'more' sitting just above 'dumb', 'Yes Sir'. I can't help smile at that. I do love saying yes. All in cute handwriting and with each 'i' dotted with a tiny heart. Maybe I am a bimbo afterall. All these other words and yet, no empty and no bimbo. Weird. "I um, don't see them?" I say shyly. Giggling to myself and twirling my hair. I can't help it. "Have you tried looking with your special flashlight?" He asks with a smug grin. He's playing a trick on me, I know it.
I pick up the flashlight on the table. It's uv reactive and makes things glow. Special uv things. Shining it over the words across both of my thighs the trick comes clear. Shining clear as day in pretty glowy pen are the words 'empty' and 'bimbo'. I giggle. He knows. I've found the trap he laid out for me and walked right into it again, as I do everytime. This wasn't the first time seeing it, hardly would be the last, but the more I focus on those two little, pretty words I get lost in their pull on my mind. It gets 'empty' and I become more of a dumb, helpless, giggling 'bimbo' because its written on me.
