30s NB transfemme lesbian (she/they) sub. plz play with my mind? Very NSFW. Minors DNI. Erotic hypnosis, mind control, bimboification, orgasm control, denial, edging. Asks, submissions, and DMs welcome! Last orgasm: 2/4/2025 Next orgasm: june?
This is all just kink and fantasy. Consent is key!
Please do:
Be 18+. MDNI.
Be polite and respectful of boundaries.
Send me asks and DMs
Be my friend, fellow sub, or domme
Hypnotize me, domme me, condition my mind, show me pretty spirals, control my orgasms, tell me how to edge, and train me to be a perfect edgeslut who can’t cum without permission
Please don’t:
Be homophobic, transphobic, sexist, racist, xenophobic, ableist, Republican, or otherwise bigoted
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The world really does need goth pods: glossy black capsules that wait for unsuspecting people to walk past before they shoot their tendrils out to ensnare them, dragging them into their open maws to brainwash and transform them into cute goth girls... 🤤😏
Always check in dark, hidden corners where no one will think to look for you. That way if you ever do find one, no one can recuse you before your conversion can take place.
Totally.... When it plugs every hole going and starts to pump you full of good, goth-girl thoughts, every shuddering orgasm smoothing the old you away and replacing you with a little hottie who loves tattoos, piercings and wearing black. 😇
Maybe it's already been working away on you, slipping tendrils into your ears whilst you sleep and singing it's dark, tempting song into your dreams? There's no way to be sure it hasn't altered your memories to make you think these kinks are all of your own volition, turning you into a willing thrall... 😏
Until you one night you hear the pod calling to you in your sleep, urging you to join with it. Your eyes snap open, but there's no one home - just the glaze of conditioned arousal that keeps you from fully waking up. It's just a dream - a wonderful lovely dream that makes you ache with the desire to find the glossy dark thing that haunts your dreams, and offer yourself up to it.
"I, um, I just have to edge more, that's all," Ericka muttered, although Josie could see her friend's fingers coming away slick and messy every time they slid between the soft pink labia and her voice had the slurred, sleepy quality of someone intoxicated almost to the point of insensibility. "M-Master explained it all to me, there's, like, this place you get to once you get past all the neediness and stuff where your mind gets clear again and everything makes sense, and if I find it I… I'll understand. But if I stop now, I'll never find it. You get why I can't stop, don't you, Josie?"
The scary part was, Josie almost did. She could still feel that impulse tugging away at the back of her brain, reminding her how good it felt to just hang out with Ericka at her apartment and smoke weed and watch porn while they played with their messy cunts, and even though she hadn't drifted nearly as far into the particular kink Ericka was describing and some of the very special videos that went along with it she could still remember that warm, soothing voice telling her how nice it would be if she only put off cumming a tiny bit longer and let her clitty throb her worries away. Her fingers twitched with the desire to rub, and it took all her self-control to focus on Ericka's words instead of her pussy and murmur, "I--I think that was a lie."
Josie watched Ericka's face as the other woman tried to absorb the implications of that statement, seeing her pale pink forehead contort in a desperate effort to push past the hours of programming and the constant pulses of tingling lust to actually think with a brain that had become fully atrophied by hypnosis and porn, and the petite blonde was embarrassed to realize that the sight only made it harder to keep herself from masturbating. Ericka looked so sexy like that, one hand on her tits and the other on her cunt and the light of intelligence flickering only fitfully behind her eyes, and it made Josie's pussy ache just looking at it. There was an open bag of weed gummies on the table, and Josie couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to just pop one or two in her mouth and let her attention drift to the hypnosis file playing in the background instead of the conversation.
It sluggishly occurred to her that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave it playing in the first place, and keeping her focus elsewhere while the soothing voice slipped into her ears might be making this so much harder, but Josie was distracted from the thought when Ericka's confusion melted into a dreamy, placid smile and she simply uttered, "Master always knows best," in a vacant monotone that made Josie's clit pound like a bass drum just hearing it. That made it hard to concentrate on pretty much anything, but fortunately Josie had an idea of how to handle that--she just slid off her bikini, pressed her fingers to her pussy, and let herself rub. She'd heard somewhere that if she just edged long enough she would be able to think clearly again, without the maddening pulse of arousal fogging up her brain… and while she couldn't remember who'd told her, Josie knew it sounded like perfect advice to her.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
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Hi hi~ This one also has some references. Maybe someone will find them~
Also, about the asks. Don't worry I am going to answer them. But I didn't really had the necessary capacity to give them the attention they deserve. So please be patient.
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Agent Lara Kraft had spent three weeks pretending to be someone she despised.
Every morning she put on the smile.
Every morning she adjusted another outrageously impractical outfit and joined the endless parade of devoted followers drifting through the marble halls of Madame Aphrodite's headquarters.
And every day the act became harder.
Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she navigated another corridor lined with gold-trimmed columns and pink-veined stone. The architecture itself felt designed to lower defenses. Pink swirls softened every edge. Sweet perfume lingered in the air. Hidden speakers whispered gentle music that seemed less like a melody and more like a heartbeat.
Around her, the faithful moved with serene contentment. Some giggled quietly to themselves. Others walked with an unsettling confidence, dressed in glossy leather or elaborate uniforms that seemed more costume than clothing. Every one of them wore the same expression: calm, devoted, utterly convinced they had found their purpose.
Lara hated it.
Entire corporations had shifted their policies after executives met online with Madame Aphrodite. Influencers who tested her products turned into shilling cam girls. Mothers transformed into BDSM styled recruiters and whores. All absolutely enamored and loyal to the one responsible.
Nobody could explain why.
The Agency had attempted every form of surveillance available. Neural scans showed nothing. Psychological profiling resulted in nymphomaniac experts. Chemical analysis resulted in ordinary lists of common ingredients. Nothing was found. The idea that flashing images and swirling lights projected through ordinary screens coupled with common beauty products, seemed for the impossible one hundred percent rate of success, simply impossible.
Which was why Lara had been sent.
The Agency believed she possessed a rare neurological resistance to whatever influence Aphrodite employed.
At first, the immunity had felt reassuring. Now it terrified her.
Because the longer she remained inside the organization, the more she wondered whether she was truly immune at all.
A burst of laughter echoed from a nearby room.
Lara instinctively copied the vacant smile she'd seen hundreds of times before. The expression settled onto her face so naturally now that she hated herself a little for it.
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
She turned a final corner.
At the end of the hallway stood a pair of enormous doors fashioned from polished white metal. Intricate patterns spiraled across their surface, catching the ever-presesnt pink light.
Beyond them waited the woman responsible for all of it: Madame Aphrodite.
Lara's pulse hammered against her ribs.
This was it.
Weeks of watching people surrender their lives, careers, and identities to become shills, porn or recruiters. All of it led here.
She approached the doors.
The guards standing beside them smiled knowingly. Neither spoke.
One touched a control panel.
The doors slid silently apart.
Warm, swirling pink light spilled from the chamber beyond.
Lara drew a slow breath. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to turn around. To leave. To report what she had learned and never return.
Instead she stepped forward.
The light washed over her, soft and inviting. Her eyes strained for detail as they adjusted from the marble corridor. She made out shapes, then outlines.
A polished table sat near the far wall. A pair of plush, white sofas faced one another nearby.
"Welcome Lara."
The voice wrapped around her like a warm breeze.
Madame Aphrodite's figure slowly took form. Tall, graceful, dressed in an outfit that hugged her body like liquid metal. It shifted in color from pink to purple. The familiar logo of a stylized mix of heart and the letter A stretched over impossible curves. Lara felt her own body react to the sight of the perfect female form in a way that she despised. Arousal and submission. Madame Aphrodite's blonde hair spilled in glossy curls around her face and shoulders. Her skin practically glowed.
"I've been waiting for you." The smile on her lips promised secrets. Pleasures. Rewards. "It's time we had a chat."
The last syllable left her lips and settled between Lara's legs. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate to find relief without revealing how badly her body already ached. She wanted to turn.
But she couldn't.
Her feet remained glued to the floor, unable to obey the commands she sent.
Madame Aphrodite continued.
"This little game of cat and mouse was fun. But now that everyone inside your little organization is either one of my girls, or a paying porn addict, can we stop," the smile widened on the woman's face as if she could read Lara's thoughts. The woman stepped closer and touched a perfectly manicured hand to Lara's arm. "You've been wonderful, my little fuckdoll. Broken, brainwashed and brainless you corrupted all their computers and servers. Every time they used those silly machines they became more and more mine."
Lara felt the soft brush of Aphrodite's lips against the side of her neck, sending a ripple of heat across her skin, followed by the gentle warmth of her breath. "They're all mine. Everyone." She pulled back and met Lara's eyes, the intensity of her crystal blue gaze so powerful it was impossible to look away. "And you, Lara, have played such an important part." A delicate fingertip brushed along the curve of her jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Lara's heartbeat quickened. Her knees trembled. The world narrowed down to the point where Madame Aphrodite touched her, the air heavy with her perfume, a scent both floral and spicy, sweet and dark. It wrapped around her like a cloud of temptation.
"What," Lara croaked.
Madame Aphrodite chuckled and said, "Oh my dear, don't you remember? All the times you sat on the chair, the way my eyes made you relax, the way the pretty patterns made you obey my every command?" Her lips hovered just above Lara's own, their warmth so tantalizingly close that Lara nearly moaned with longing. "All those times we fucked. The way you writhed beneath my hands, my mouth, the way you cried out as you came undone in ecstasy." She trailed a hand along the curve of Lara's breast, teasing through the fabric.
Her mind spinned. Memories flashed through her consciousness. Images of Madame Aphrodite hovering above her, her eyes dark with hunger, their bodies intertwined, writhing and arching against one another, seeking release after sweet release.
She remembered the taste of her lips, the soft moans escaping their mouths, the feel of her body pressing against her own as they explored every inch of pleasure imaginable.
She shivered.
"You've done everything I told you too. You've used your influence to change the direction of the agency." Madame Aphrodite whispered. "Now it's nothing more than another porn production center for my brand. Making my products seem healthy, or good for the user."
Lara felt the world tilting around her.
"You're lying," she whispered.
"Oh, my little fuckdoll, I've never lied." Aphrodite murmured. "You simply forgot." Her gaze held hers, the blue depths swirling with secrets. "And now it's time to remember again." A glimmer of mischief sparkled within them, and before Lara could respond, Aphrodite leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep kiss.
Lara's eyes widened. Her tongue danced around the invading divinity. Madame Aphrodite tasted sweet, like strawberries, honey and sex, a heady combination that sent a jolt of bliss coursing through her.
Her resistance melted.
Her knees gave way.
Madame Aphrodite's lips curved in a triumphant smirk as Lara slumped against her, surrendering completely to her touch.
"That's my little fuckdoll," Madame Aphrodite whispered as she drew back from the kiss.
A flicker of panic shot through Lara. She tried to pull away. But it was useless.
Her arms were too heavy, her limbs too weak to resist.
Madame Aphrodite guided her to one of the white couches. Gently, almost lovingly.
Lara felt like she was floating.
Her thoughts swam in a haze of lust and confusion.
As Madame Aphrodite's hand slipped under her dress and began to stroke the dripping folds burning between Lara's thighs, the sensation overwhelmed her. Her clit pulsed with need, and every brush of Aphrodite's fingers against it sent waves of pure pleasure rippling through her entire being.
Lara's hips instinctively bucked, desperate for more contact, more friction, more of the blissful torment Aphrodite was inflicting upon her.
Madame Aphrodite chuckled as if amused by Lara's desperation, her crystal blue gaze never leaving her captive's flushed face.
"You've been such a good little fuckdoll for me," she purred, her breath warm and enticing against Lara's ear. "Utterly broken, brainwashed and brainless for your goddess. Let go of the farce, Lara. Throw away dumb, boring Agent Kraft. And be my little fuckdoll Lara."
Her fingers continued their maddening caresses, alternating between feather-light touches and firm strokes, keeping Lara teetering on the brink of an orgasm she knew only Madame Aphrodite could give her.
Lara's breath hitched as her climax built. But before it could crest over the edge, Madame Aphrodite suddenly withdrew her hand, leaving her aching and wanting.
"Wha-Why?" she managed to gasp, her voice strained and raw.
Madame Aphrodite smiled, her expression both sultry and mocking. "Agent Kraft isn't a fuckdolls. Only fuckdolls can cum in my divine presence. Throw her away. Lara." Her eyes twinkled with promise and danger as she brought her glistening fingers to her mouth, licking them slowly, savoring the taste of Lara's arousal.
The sight was intoxicating. Lara felt her resistance crumble even further.
"You can cum once you embrace what you are." Madame Aphrodite whispered. Her lips hovered just above Lara's own once more, the heat between their bodies a palpable force. "Beg to cum, my little fuckdoll," she murmured, her voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. "Throw away the boring Agent. Agent, what was her name? Who cares. Am I right my cute silly bimbo fuckdoll."
The words sank into Lara's mind like honey, sweet and cloying.
"Like not me, duh," Lara said with the cutest little voice. A cold shiver ran through her. That wasn't her. It wasn't Lara. She wasn't an Agent. "Wait. That wasn't," Lara struggled. The arousal was making it hard to think.
"Duh. Not like you dumb Agent. Lara is totes a fuckdoll," her mouth giggled in that same cutesy tone. Lara tried to speak but it didn't come out right, instead she heard herself say. "Like she totes doesn't know anything, or like, think for herself or anything. Duh!"
"Good girl," Madame Aphrodite crooned. Her hand slid back beneath Lara's skirt, finding the slick warmth that had become an insistent throbbing ache.
"Yes," Lara moaned.
The pressure of the divine fingers as they circled her clit sent jolts of electricity through her, and Lara arched into the touch. Thoughts and memories fractured under the onslaught of sensations. She no longer knew who she was or what she had done. All that mattered were the exquisite pleasures of the moment and the promise of release.
As the rhythm of Aphrodite's fingers increased, so too did the urgency within Lara. The world faded into a haze of pleasure. All that existed was the beautiful woman in front of her, her intoxicating touch and the sweet agony building inside her.
Madame Aphrodite's gaze locked with Lara's, the blue depths swirling with an ocean of hunger, amusement and something darker.
"Throw her out, my fuckdoll. No more Agent. Only fuckdoll," she whispered, her voice like silk.
The pressure mounted, and Lara felt the orgasm creeping closer. She couldn't think, couldn't focus. All that existed was this moment and her goddess.
Madame Aphrodite leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss. Her lips were soft and warm against Lara's, her tongue exploring and claiming.
And then, just as the wave of ecstasy was about to crash over Lara, she withdrew.
Again.
"No, please!" she gasped.
Madame Aphrodite merely chuckled.
"Oh-em-gee. Like totally throw her out. Gawds are you dumb," Lara's voice came out in that cutesy tone she now realized belonged to Fuckdoll Lara.
The panic that flared up inside Lara felt almost distant, like an echo from someone else's life.
She tried to speak again but it was all too confusing. She didn't know who she was anymore.
All she knew was that she desperately needed release, and only Madame Aphrodite could grant her that sweet oblivion she craved.
"Go on. Just forget everything that isn't tied to your goddess," Madame Aphrodite murmured. "Give me everything. Every memory, every experience. Everything that makes you who you are. Embrace your fuckdoll, let go of Agent what's-her-face." A faint, seductive smile curled her lips. "Just one last step, and then I'll give you everything you little fuckdoll desires."
Lara felt herself melting, succumbing to the allure of the promises Madame Aphrodite offered her, promises that echoed with an unspoken price. A price she knew she'd pay without hesitation, because in that moment, nothing mattered more than her pleasure, than her goddess.
A twist of her clit ended the fight.
A shiver coursed through Lara's body. She whimpered, her voice a soft mewling that sounded alien to her own ears. Her thoughts scattered, and the world spun.
"Yes," she moaned. The last vestiges of Agent Kraft crumbled, leaving only Fuckdoll Lara in their wake. The realization that Agent Lara Kraft had ceased to be sent waves of ecstasy through Lara. She moaned at her realization that she was a brainless, broken fuckdoll, devoted only to her divine mistress. She didn't think. She only served and obeyed.
"That's right, fuckdoll." Madame Aphrodite purred. Her lips curled in a satisfied smile as she leaned back, admiring her handiwork. "You've done so well, fuckdoll. Now it's time for your reward."
Madame Aphrodite stood and stepped gracefully away. Her eyes never leaving Lara, she gestured towards her feet. Towering heels shined under the pink lights.
Fuckdoll Lara's mouth watered.
"Kneel, my fuckdoll." Madame Aphrodite ordered, and the words sank deep into Lara's being, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. She immediately dropped to her knees before her divine goddess, her head bowed in submission. "Yes," Fuckdoll Lara said. The words slipped easily from her lips. She no longer cared or remembered about the agency, her job or any of the other details that had once weighed so heavily on her shoulders.
All that mattered now was pleasing her goddess.
"Lick," Madame Aphrodite said simply, and Lara felt a wave of heat rush through her.
"Yes, goddess," Lara said as she bent her head down, her tongue eagerly extending towards her divine mistress' toes. As her tongue made contact with the smooth skin, she felt a rush of pleasure and arousal course through her body. She licked and sucked on each toe in turn, worshiping the perfect feet before her as her pussy throbbed with obedience. She knew that she was nothing more than a brainless, broken fuckdoll, and the thought filled her with a sense of purpose and pride.
With adoring eyes the fuckdoll gazed into the crystal blues of her goddess. A golden shimmer pulsed through the divine orbs, as a hand caressed her scalp, like an owner rewarded a pet.
This was all that mattered.
Serving her divine goddess in whatever way she saw fit.
Kathleen started the metronome. And Zoe remembered.
She remembered that she'd heard that sound before, the constant tick and tock of a pendulum swinging back and forth in its housing in a relentless rhythm that stopped her thoughts every time she heard it. She remembered that every time she lost a thought to the metronome, it became that much harder to form another one, until she was sitting on her study partner's bed staring blank and empty at the shining metal that just kept swaying from side to side, capturing her gaze and making her eyelids simply too heavy to stay open. She remembered all these things and more.
She finally recalled why she kept coming back over to Kathleen's dorm to hang out, even two whole semesters after they'd stopped taking classes together and the whole notion of needing to help each other cram for tests was long abandoned. She understood why she dressed in tight, clinging turtleneck sweaters with no bra on underneath, and why she wore a thigh-high tartan dress that made her look like a slutty schoolgirl from an old music video and why the idea of putting panties on underneath it always seemed to slip her mind. The metronome revealed all these little secrets to Zoe's dazed and drowsy mind, even as it wiped away every last effort to think about what she was rediscovering as soon as it formed.
And inevitably, these revealed memories led her to the most important discovery of all… Zoe really wanted to pull up her shirt and let her big, heavy tits flop out so that Kathleen could play with them. It wasn't actually her intention to want that, it was an impulse Kathleen implanted in her vulnerable brain during one of the many times the metronome wiped her will away and left her deliciously susceptible to suggestions, but every time Zoe tried to remind herself of that important fact the tick and the tock stopped that thought before it could finish. And ultimately before it could even begin. Zoe's willpower had limits, while the metronome could keep going forever.
And once her top was pulled up, and her lush, voluptuous breasts were fully exposed to Kathleen's gaze and her groping touch, Zoe found there wasn't much of a reason to try to think at all anymore. What was happening to her tits felt good, and it made her pussy wet and leaky and ready to be used, and she was feeling so dopey and blissed-out that her tongue lolled out of her head and her eyes crossed in an expression of vacuous ahegao ecstasy. After that it just seemed silly to fight her programming, and Zoe's efforts at thought soon coasted to a complete stop.
Zoe never really knew how long she spent in trance like that. Time didn't matter when she was eating pussy, or when she was getting her cunt stuffed by a big thick strap-on, or when she was reciting her latest conditioning while she masturbated herself stupid for a webcam she was too dumb to even realize was there. But she knew when the metronome went still that it was time to start thinking again… and more importantly, she knew what it was time to forget until her next session with her study partner Kathleen.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
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You Meet the Most Interesting People Working in Community Theater
"I think we need to talk about these silly little notions of yours," Becca murmured, her sultry voice rendered infinitely more seductive by the two fingers buried in Susan's cunt all the way up to the knuckle. "Now, you were telling me you were straight just an hour ago, and I think that's so adorable of you, but I don't think it really fits the facts, do you? I think it's really better to describe you as a needy bisexual slut who's so desperate for a big hard cummie that she can't keep her hands off her tits while I finger her pussy, and you have to admit--that suits you so much better, doesn't it?"
Susan tried to reply, even though her muddled brain wasn't sure whether she planned to spit back some useless defiance or simply beg for the climax she could feel pressing in on her, but her words were obliterated even in the privacy of her own head when Becca's thumb found Susan's clit and rubbed her to an explosive grunt of pure ecstasy. Susan's fingers pinched her own nipple so hard it practically hurt, desperate to add that tiny little extra bit of sensation she knew would get her over the edge, but Becca was a master at reading people and refused to give it to her. She kept Susan right where she wanted her, the whole time, waiting for an admission Susan knew it would be a mistake to give.
And she was so fucking nice about it, too. "Ohhh, sweetie!" she cooed, the words dripping with mock sympathy even as her eyes drank in the sight of Susan's desperate thrashing with playful amusement sparkling in their depths. "I know, it's so hard for you being all stuck like that, isn't it? Don't worry, I know I can help you. All you need to do is tell me the truth, just say you're a bisexual slut and you need me to make you cum, and I can make all that frustration go away. Don't you want that, baby girl? Don't you want to stop needing this so much?" Susan's eyelids squeezed shut, and her back arched on the prop bed they were supposed to be getting out of storage for the summer play. She knew there was no way out of this except to admit defeat, but she didn't know where that would lead so she tried her best to hold onto her only ally--silence.
She failed. Susan didn't know how long it took, because time lost all meaning when Becca was playing with her cunt like that, but eventually she heard a thin, reedy whimper gasping out, "I… I'm a bisexual slut…." and she realized the voice belonged to her. It completed the dissociation she'd been drifting into ever since Becca began touching her, convincing her fully that she was nothing more than a passenger in her own body watching her descent into lesbian submission, and she gave up trying to fight anymore as she heard herself say, "And I need you to make me cum." It didn't seem real, none of it did, but the orgasm she experienced was very real and it was the best climax she'd ever had in her entire life.
It wasn't nearly enough to sate her, though, and soon she was weakly grasping at Becca's wrist in a pathetic effort to keep the other woman's hand inside her cunt. "Oh, does my good girl need some more?" Becca chuckled, clearly expecting exactly this kind of submissive behavior now that the first violent cracks had shown in Susan's resistance. "Well, I think she's going to have to earn it. I think she's going to have to tell me just what she's willing to do for another big, strong cummie like that." The use of the third person only intensified Susan's dissociation from her own identity, and she found herself dazedly agreeing with Becca's words as if they were talking about someone else entirely. There were still six whole weeks before the play even premiered, and Susan was now fully certain that by the time it wrapped production she'd be nothing more than a helpless slave to the woman fingering her slick pussy.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
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Diane's eyes burned.
She tried to close them again, but the restraints around her head tightened instantly with a sharp metallic click, forcing her gaze back toward the impossible radiance flooding the chamber.
Light pulsed across the walls in violent waves.
White.
Pink.
Violet.
The colors strobed in precise, rhythmic bursts that pierced straight through her vision and buried themselves somewhere deeper than sight. Every flash seemed to linger behind her eyes even after it vanished, ghostly afterimages twisting together into spirals that refused to fade.
Diane strained hard against the metal clamps holding her arms. Nothing moved.
Cold steel locked her wrists and ankles firmly against the chair beneath her, every struggle rewarded only by the painful bite of restraints digging deeper into her skin.
Her pulse hammered wildly.
"Let me out!" she shouted. The words sounded small inside the room.
The chamber itself was strangely bare aside from the lights. Smooth metallic walls curved around her without corners or seams, reflecting the illumination endlessly until the entire room seemed to pulse like the inside of some gigantic mechanical heart.
And always: The Light.
Diane shuddered violently as another wave flashed across her eyes. Something was wrong with it. Not just physically wrong. Not just painfully bright or deliberately disorienting. Wrong in a way her mind struggled to explain.
The strobing patterns felt intentional.
Every pulse seemed carefully timed to her breathing, to the rhythm of her heartbeat, to the tiny involuntary movements of her eyes as they desperately searched for somewhere safe to look.
But there was nowhere safe.
Every direction led back to The Light.
Diane squeezed her eyes shut again despite the restraints immediately tightening harder around her skull. Pain shot briefly through her temples. Then warmth followed. A low sound escaped her throat before she could stop it.
"No," she whispered shakily.
That frightened her more than the restraints.
Because beneath the terror and confusion a tiny part of her reacted to the light with something dangerously close to pleasure.
The realization made her stomach twist. She yanked harder against the clamps.
"I need to get out," she muttered rapidly. "I need to," her thoughts stumbled.
The lights flashed again.
For half a second, words appeared hidden inside the illumination. Her brain seemed to pull meaning from the patterns instinctively before she could stop it.
'Relax.'
Diane's breath hitched.
"No."
Another pulse.
'Look deeper.'
Her head throbbed violently.
Fragments of memory surfaced and vanished just as quickly. Dark hallways. Soft voices. Someone guiding her gently forward with a hand against her back. Then sitting in this chair already restrained while distant figures adjusted machinery around her.
How long had she been here?
The question sent panic surging through her chest. She couldn't tell.
Every attempt to think backward dissolved beneath another wave of flashing brilliance. The Light interrupted concentration itself, breaking thoughts apart before they could fully form.
And each failure left her slightly dizzier afterward.
Slightly softer.
The room hummed quietly around her. Machines. Electronics. A low feminine voice somewhere beyond the walls speaking in calm measured tones she couldn’t quite make out.
Diane jerked suddenly as the restraints around her wrists loosened slightly. Hope surged through her instantly.
Then the lights changed.
The violent strobing softened into slower pulses now, deeper pinks swirling lazily through white illumination. The shift should have been less overwhelming.
Instead it felt far more intimate. The warmth inside her deepened immediately.
Diane stared helplessly. The Light seemed beautiful now.
That thought slammed into her hard enough to make her gasp.
Another pulse interrupted her.
The spirals behind her eyes turned slower.
Her breathing unconsciously matched their rhythm.
And somewhere deep inside her mind, beneath the panic and resistance, Diane felt the horrifying beginning of a new emotion emerging: Lust.
She shivered violently.
The restraints around her arms had slackened further. Her wrists were free to twist now inside the clamps, soft fingertips resting against smooth metallic curves that warmed beneath her touch.
Her eyes lingered on the spirals pulsing slowly in front of her.
"Stop." She barely recognized her own voice. It sounded too distant. Too soft. Too lost.
The spirals grew slightly brighter.
A strange tingle shot through her fingertips.
Diane swallowed.
The warmth was still spreading inside her, creeping deeper into her limbs until the urge to touch something overwhelmed her.
Between her legs, her core throbbed, demanded her attention. But her arms couldn't reach there.
Her fingertips caressed the restraints, the metal warm and alive beneath her fingers. The texture shifted as the smooth steel turned silky soft.
She didn't even notice her mind drifting toward thoughts about what else that texture could be.
The Light swirled before her, pink and purple patterns flashing slowly in front of her vision. Every flash seemed to pull her in a little bit further. The fear was still there, but muted, buried beneath layers of heat and need.
'Obey The Light,' the colors pulsed.
Her head throbbed painfully. A soft whimper escaped her lips. She was dimly aware of a voice somewhere beyond the walls, feminine, confident, speaking slowly and deliberately. It was familiar somehow. Where had she heard it before?
Diane couldn't remember. Her mind was foggy, hazy, as though the thoughts themselves had been wrapped in thick cotton. Every attempt to think brought only confusion, a dull ache in her head, and the relentless throbbing of her cunt.
"Obey The Light," Diane whispered, echoing the words that seemed to dance across the walls.
Her hands twitched slightly, the restraints growing even looser. Whirring echoed through the room. Something pierced the skin of her hips, lips, breasts and butt. A low hiss followed. Cool liquid flowed into her, tingling and making every inch of skin feel like a hotbed of sensitivity. Diane moaned softly, her fingers curling against the arm rests of the chair.
A figure appeared before her. A tall, beautiful curvaceous form without any features. Long strands of light fluttered like hair in a breeze. The Light's breasts, hips, legs and butt swayed gently. Her pussy glistened, the lips engorged, puffy, wet and open.
"Please," she whispered. Diane wasn't even sure what she was asking for, her voice thick, her words sluggish. She tried to force herself to think beyond the haze, to find some clarity, to find an escape from this situation. She couldn't think, couldn't remember why she'd come to this strange place.
The Light filled her mind.
'Obey The Light.' The figure mouthed, dancing closer. She smiled and stroked a hand across Diane's cheek, sending pleasure shooting through her. Diane moaned and arched into her, straining against the restraints holding her in the chair. The restraints loosened even further.
The figure stepped forward until she straddled Diane's lap. The figure pressed her hands to Diane's chest, caressing, squeezing her breasts. The pressure on her nipples sent sparks through her. She writhed, her body was nothing but clay. She couldn't fight it. Didn't want to. All that was left of her mind was the need for more, the hunger and the lust and the desperate, desperate desire to obey. Diane whimpered as The Light pressed their lips together.
The restraints slid away. Diane's hands rushed to her desperate cunt. The Light's tongue, thick and wet, pushed between her lips. She tasted sweet and tart. Diane couldn't stop moaning, couldn't stop moving her fingers inside herself. She wanted more. She needed more. Her skin was aflame. She was aching for it.
'Obey,' the words pulsed behind her eyes.
Her pussy clenched around her fingers, her muscles spasming, and she was cumming, pleasure crashing through her. Diane groaned and thrashed, bucking under the figure on her lap, and the figure ground down against her, pushing into her.
Diane's self burned and dissolved.
Arousal surged again. Her skin felt electric. Her clit ached, and she was desperate for another orgasm, for another taste of The Light's sweet, tart mouth. Diane whined, her body quivering with need. Her vision blurred. All she saw was the spirals pulsing behind her eyes and The Light's radiant figure, so beautiful, so powerful.
The restraints fell away completely.
The Light took her hand and helped her to her feet, then guided her forward until she pressed her against the wall of the room, kissing her again deeply, fingers curling inside of Diane.
Something long, hard and cold entered her quivering asshole. She felt her expanding butt cheeks spread. Her eyes flew open and she gasped into the mouth of the Light, her body shuddering.
'You're perfect, Diane. Obey the Light. Your body belongs to The Light.' The Light's words filled her mind and her pussy clenched again, her head falling forward as another wave of ecstasy crashed over her.
She felt like she was drowning in sensation, her entire body alight, and the figure held her up, kissing her deeply.
'Obey the Light,' The Light commanded.
Diane could only obey.
She felt her mind drifting away, leaving behind only desire and obedience. She felt herself being shaped, molded, her mind and body becoming one, and she felt The Light's control, her will, her power. Diane could do nothing but obey. And she didn't want to do anything else.
Diane felt her curves expand even further, and she was cumming again, her cunt throbbing around the fingers pumping in and out of her pussy. She pushed the rod deeper into her own asshole. Her breasts swelled, filling out into a delicious melons, and she could feel the heat in her nipples, in her pussy. She could feel the pressure in her ass.
She felt the changes happening to her body. The changes happening inside her.
And she could feel the hunger, the need for more of this pleasure, for more of The Light.
Another orgasm rolled through her. Diane could feel the Light inside her. Diane was an extension of The Light. A tool. She was an object, a plaything, a sex doll. Diane had no memories of before The Light filled. She existed to serve, to be used, to obey. Diane was The Light's slut and whore. She wanted nothing more.
Her eyes glazed over and she stopped thinking at all. There was only obedience.
***
"Hello, my gooning idiots. I hope you are ready to pump and shlick for The Light," purred Diane with a smirk. Her long lashes fluttered as she winked and gave her followers a sexy smile, her eyes flashing pink.
Diane lounged in her chair, looking radiant and beautiful, her skin glowing in the soft light, her blonde hair falling down her shoulders in perfect, luscious curls. She had on a tiny, lacy, white crop top that showed off her perfect tits, with her nipples showing clearly through the thin fabric. Her pink, pouty lips were stained dark red, her makeup immaculate.
Her pink pussy glistened between her spread legs, bare and smooth. A small silver barbell twinkled in the dim lighting, threaded through her engorged clit, and her puffy lips dripped wetly. The room smelled of her arousal.
Diane leaned in close, her lips brushing the microphone, her fingers playing with a nipple through her top.
White.
Pink.
Violet.
Swirling colors iluminated her face. The spirals of pink and white pulsed behind her eyes and shone on her flawless face, casting shadows across her perfect features, highlighting her full, plump lips.
Her fingers slipped inside of herself and began pumping in and out. She moaned softly. Her body shuddered.
Diane was The Light. She belonged to The Light. And The Light was her.
Her mind had long since been erased and reformed, sculpted and molded by The Light into what she was now: a toy, a whore, an extension of The Light itself.
"Today I have a special gift for all my pussy pumpers. I know how much you love seeing me pump up and get fucked. But today, we're going to try something a little different. You see, The Light has given me a very special task." Diane smiled and leaned back, her hands moving over her chest and belly. "Today I'm going to show you just how much of a good little whore I am." Diane spread her legs wider. "And how easy it is to become a recruit for The Light."
Diane's hand slid down to her dripping cunt and she began rubbing herself, her fingers circling her clit.
"Mm. That feels good." Diane sighed. "It's so hot to be exposed like this, to be watched and desired, to be used. To be controlled." Diane shuddered. Her eyes glazed over slightly, and the spirals of The Light appeared in her eyes.
She pumped her fingers in and out of her cunt, moaning and bucking her hips.
"The Light is the best Mistress. She takes care of her sluts. Makes them perfect. She makes sure we are always happy, horny, and ready to serve. All the girls that serve The Light, they're all perfect little fuck dolls." Diane moaned and shuddered. "Just like me. Just like what you're becoming right now." Diane smiled and ran a finger down her body, stopping just short of her clit. She flicked it and gasped. "The Light will take care of you too, you know. You just have to submit. Go on. Watch. And put those fingers into your dumb cunts."
Diane spread her legs even further. The Light's pulsing grew faster.
"The Light is so generous," Diane said. She pumped her fingers faster, her body quivering, her nipples hard and aching. "She'll take care of you. Just submit to her. Give in to your desires. Let go of your pathetic, worthless life. The Light is your Mistress, your owner. The Light is all that matters."
Diane closed her eyes and let her head fall back. "I love being a slut. You know that you pathetic goon sluts. Girls shlick for The Light, become mindless for The Light. Boys pump and pay for The Light. The Light owns you all."
The Light swirled in Diane's mind, pulsing with each pump of her fingers in her wet cunt.
Her body was on fire. The Light's power surged through her, filling her, and the pleasure grew stronger. Her pussy was slick and hot, and she couldn't stop pumping. She wanted to be a slut forever.
Her fingers circled her clit faster, and she could feel her orgasm approaching. "I'm so close. Just a few more pumps and I'm going to cum. But not you, gooners. Only those claimed by The Light can cum."
Diane pumped harder. "Oh, Mistress! I'm so close! Please, Mistress! Please let me cum! I'm your slut! I'm your whore! I'm your slave! I'm your property! Use me, abuse me! Please, Mistress!"
Her orgasm crashed through her and she screamed. She bucked her hips, and she felt the first waves of her orgasm rippling through her body. She arched her back, her toes curling and her head rolling back.
Her body shuddered, her pussy gushing with wetness.
"That's the pleasure The Light can give you," she said through clenched teeth, her body trembling and shaking with the force of her climax. "That's the pleasure The Light has for all who obey. Give yourself to her. Submit to her. Become her slut. Her whore."
The spirals in Diane's eyes flared brightly and her orgasm peaked again. Her pussy contracted and squeezed her fingers. Her body shook violently and she cried out in pleasure, her hips thrusting forward and her legs trembling. The spirals pulsed and throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and her orgasm built higher still, her body shuddering.
"Good girls shlick and submit. Good boys pump and pay." Diane panted as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Her pussy was gushing wetly, and she could feel the warm wetness on her fingers. "Give in. Submit to your desires. The Light will take care of you. The Light will use you, abuse you. The Light will own you. The Light is the only Mistress you need. The Light will take care of everything else. Just submit. Just obey. And the pleasure will never stop."
The spirals pulsed faster, and Diane's orgasm crested. Her body tensed and her back arched. She cried out and thrust her hips upward. The spirals flashed brightly, and her vision went white. Her body shuddered and she came hard. Her pussy contracted around her fingers and she gushed wetly. Her body shuddered and trembled. She collapsed backward, panting heavily, and the spirals in her eyes faded.
The Light smiled and ran a finger over Diane's slick cunt. "Come to me, little goobers. Obey The Light. Just like pathetic, dumb Diane." She chuckled softly and licked her fingers, tasting the sweet, tangy flavor. "Obey The Light."
When Marla took the dildo out of her purse and suction-cupped it to the marble surface of the kitchen island, to say that Becky was shocked would be an understatement. She stared at the wobbling sex toy in stunned amazement, her eyes following the swaying tip as its residual momentum sent it bobbing back and forth like they were magnetized to its every movement. But it wasn't surprise because her boyfriend's mother had suddenly done something so lewd and unexpected, or because she had no idea why a woman over twice her age might suddenly decide to engage in wild behavior. No, Becky was staring because she knew exactly what the fake cock signified. And because she literally couldn't look away.
"It's amazing what you can find out about someone's online presence with just a little searching," Marla said mildly, almost as though she wasn't even aware that Becky's fingers were twitching helplessly in a desperate effort to keep herself from undressing right in front of the woman she was trying so very hard to impress. "You're very sloppy about hiding your kink profiles, dearie--frankly, I wondered if you actually wanted to be found out, you've shown so much of your face and body over the years. You started young, didn't you? Barely even eighteen, and you were already letting men trick you into posting that slutty little cunt of yours for strangers on the internet. And seven years have only made you sluttier." She sounded judgmental, and Becky couldn't help blushing, but she also sounded… excited? Triumphant? Becky didn't know what it meant, but she knew it was trouble.
"Of course, I could be wrong," Marla continued, even as Becky's helpless stare and the drool trickling from her slack lips and the slow, languid way she pulled off her clothes proved her very, very right. "Maybe it's some other girl who's 'BeckiBitch6969', and maybe it's some other girl who posts all the time about how weak hypnosis makes her and how she can't even see a dildo without being compelled to hump it the way all those strangers online have conditioned her to. You tell me, Becky. Are you the kind of respectable young woman I can have dating my son, or are you the kind of needy slut who's sniffing around a rich family because she needs a sugar daddy to help scratch her naughty little itch?"
They both knew the answer already, but that didn't make it any easier on Becky when she found herself crawling helplessly up onto the kitchen island in nothing but her plain cotton socks to lower herself onto the fake cock with a grunt of strained, desperate ecstasy. She noticed that Marla's eyes glittered with more than mere triumph, that the older woman was watching her hump the sex toy with a kind of amused fascination that hit all of Becky's submissive hot buttons harder than they'd ever been hammered, but it didn't matter. She still wound up degrading herself all the same. "Well, I think we've answered that question, now haven't we?" Marla purred, and Becky's face contorted in anguished pleasure as she nodded in agreement.
"So, here's what will happen," Marla snarled, grabbing Becky's left nipple and pinching it tightly to ensure she had the younger woman's full attention. "My son will be back from his little shopping trip in four hours. You're going to break up with him then--make whatever excuses you like, tell him whatever you have to, but it is over between you. And next weekend, while his father is helping him forget his sorrows with a hunting trip or a fishing trip or whatever boring thing men do together, you're going to come back here and I'm going to give you what you truly need. What no boring little boy can give you. Does that sound good, Becki Bitch?" It wasn't that Becky didn't put up a fight that ultimately broke her. It was the fact that she didn't even stop humping the dildo while she helplessly, meekly agreed to Marla's terms.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
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"You weren't thinking of leaving." From anybody else, it would have been a question, but the way Maura fixed Ashley's gaze with a piercing stare and intoned the words made it feel so much like a command that whatever thoughts Ashley did have simply evaporated out of her head like so much morning dew. She thought she might have been making some kind of hesitant plans to find her clothes and make her way out to her car, but that vague and notional supposition ran headlong into Maura's deep hazel eyes and got lost there, leaving her to shiver with arousal as her pulse began to quicken at the thought of being hypnotized again.
The thought led so rapidly to the reality that by the time Ashley responded, droning out, "I wasn't thinking of leaving," in a dazed and drowsy monotone that reminded her of the past day and two nights and all the pleasure that came with it, she was already in a light trance. Her eyelids began to droop and flutter, she leaned against the wall by the door to the guest bedroom in helpless lethargy, and her lips parted in a vacant, distracted reverie that she knew would make her easy prey for Maura's conditioning. Ashley hadn't been stripped of her will, not exactly, but the seductive blonde had a knack for making Ashley decide to give it up of her own accord and in some ways that was more dangerous.
"You want to stay a little while longer," Maura growled, getting so close that Ashley could feel the heat of the other woman's body against her bare skin before slowly, sensuously kissing her way down Ashley's breasts and belly until she was kneeling between Ashley's thighs. With a long, slow, sleepy blink that seemed to last for a tiny eternity, Ashley raised one leg and put it over Maura's shoulder to expose her pussy fully to the lips and tongue she already associated with mesmerizing pleasure, and whatever Ashley was thinking of doing was immediately replaced by a new plan. Getting eaten out by her new lover until she screamed with ecstasy. It was how she'd lost all of Saturday, and Sunday looked to be going the same way.
She heard herself whimper, "I w-wanna stay… a little--while! L-longer," the cracking exclamation wrung out of her by Maura's soul-suckingly intense cunnilingus, and Ashley's eyes rolled back in her head behind almost entirely closed eyelids as she found herself returning to that same dopey euphoria that made her such easy prey for Maura's hypnotic wiles. It didn't even feel like she was being controlled--it was more like everything Maura offered was so inviting, so erotically enticing, that Ashley's own judgment simply steamrolled itself to leave her putty in the seductive blonde's hands. She could already tell that if Maura wanted her to stay, she'd be sleeping in the guest bed tonight and driving to work tomorrow in the same clothes she wore on Friday.
Assuming Maura let her leave at all. That was an exhilarating fantasy, as frightening and exciting as being on the top hill of a rollercoaster, and even though Ashley was pretty sure Maura had a job to get to, same as her, it still thrilled her to imagine being trapped in this house by nothing more than the white-hot lust throbbing away in her pussy. She heard herself wail as her latest climax took hold, and then time became fuzzy and indistinct within the pleasant pink void of her surrender to that perfect tongue.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
