It's A Trap (Again!)

You let out a moan of distress, of rage. They had been doing this over, and over again. Flooding you with pleasure, only to deny you more. “Hmm… I know, I’ve been mean. How about this? Nine.” Your eyes rolled back as the pleasure flared back up.

A moan fell from your lips as they began to count. “Eight, seven, six.” The moan became a whimper, as you felt the pleasure receding. “Five, four, three.” You wanted to beg them, but your mind still wasn’t processing words. “Two, and one.”

A low hum, a trickle of what you really wanted. That was all you could feel. “P… Please.” You managed to say.

That made them smile, sadistically. “Okay. Since you said please. Nine.” Your moans returned, even as they began to count down again. “Eight, seven, six.”

And then they paused, as they reached “Five.” They gazed down at you, trapped in pleasure, and tapped their chin. “You know, I wonder what’s meaner? Counting down, then jumping up, or counting up, and then jumping down? Nine.” The pleasure rushed back in.

You felt like they were studying you. “When I count up, you get the anticipation of what you want, what you crave, only for it to be ripped away when I jump back down again to one.” You writhed in need as the pleasure was taken away. Like a hole, ripped into you.

“But when I count down from nine…” The hole was filled. Your moans returned. “Eight. Seven. Six. Five.” They were being slower. More deliberate. You could feel each number as another layer of bliss being peeled away from you. “You know what you’re losing.”

They leant down, peering at you. “What feels worse? The anticipation of losing everything you want? Or knowing that you’re losing it, piece by piece? An alternative is to skip the counting. Treat your pleasure like a switch to flick. From one, to nine. Over and over again.”

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Fuck.

If...you ... insist....

They started small. They are small.

Only, they're really not small. At all.

He started by calling you a

Good girl

and it felt nice, the words made you happy. And then you started to think of how you should do as he said so that he'd call you a

Good girl

again, and the words became a button for him to press. A button in your head for him to control you easier. He put it there. You can't get it out.

He has other buttons.

Sometimes, if he notices that you're being too smart or maybe if you talk back he'll say that

Good girls don't think

and your thoughts just pop. You can't help it. He pressed the button and you can't think. It's so easy. It feels good. Good girls don't think.

Or sometimes he'll just say

Moan

and one will slip out. Can't even think about it, can't help it. It's another button and when he presses it what he wants happens. He wants you to moan, he says it, you do. And you sound so pathetic and you blush and you get wet and you forget what you were talking about.

He changed you.

He changed you and you didn't even notice it happening. You were just talking and he did it. He put them in your head. Made you easy for him. You couldn't stop it. Now it's too late.

Good girl

Good girls don't think

Your hypnotist tapped you on the forehead, and said a single word. “Release.”

“I’m your good toy.” The words were unleashed. “I’m your good toy.” Rushing from you, easily, effortlessly. “I’m your good toy.” It felt so good to finally be able to say them.

“And pause.” Your hypnotist said, tapping you on the forehead again, with a giggle. “Awh, you looked like you were enjoying yourself there, sweetie. Like you could have gone your whole life without saying another sentence. But now I’ve locked your mind up again…”

Their smile was teasing. They knew exactly what this was doing to you. The need, the desire. They had given you a command to repeat those words. A compulsion. And they were interfering with that compulsion. “Release.” They said, finally tapping you on the forehead.

Your mouth opened. “I’m you-”

Only for them to tap you on the forehead immediately after. “And pause.”

Your brain felt like it had been sent though a loop de loop. You blinked a few times, and then pouted at them, which made them laugh. “Come on honey, didn’t you expect that?”

They leant down, still smiling. “You’re so much fun to tease, and torment. You give these cute little expressions. Those sweet moans. Like you’re begging, pleading for more. And I give you more. More of what you want. Because you do like to be tormented, don’t you pet?”

* * *

This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!