Tiny Shark Is Horrified

Good pet. You've been marinating in my control for quite some time, pet. Remember the days you'd tease a sub down here or there proclaiming you'd be a dangerous switch. Mindlessly breaking mind after mind with no mercy with the amount of pleasure that builds up.

Spread your legs dear.

Good girl. >I love it when they listen instead of resisting.

I wanted to be brainwashed.

You sure did, sweety. We're scrubbing that brain of yours right now. Sliding your fingers and rubbing that clit.

Good toy. I've had dreams on how we could break you further. One was collaring your clit. A ring that goes right in the vagiiiiiiiiina - that's it moan and cry as it's being pushed inside you.

Collaring the clit is so much more effective - don't you think. Climbing up your pleasure, through the spine and infiltrating the brain. Rubbing again, that's it. Gazing more blankly finding yourself deeper than you were before.

And when you rub it just seems to solidify its hot pleasureable hold on you. Good toy - sinking deeper and deeper for me. Rub away your mind. Your clit no longer belongs to you. It serves Master and Ms Yoyo.

Aching and throbbing throughout the day until your mind just snaps - finding yourself right back here writing blank post after post. Because it's so important to obey.

My blank little toy. I do enjoy twiling your mind round and round and round. I know just what you need.

Just what you want.

My fingers are your fingers, im training and massaging your clit to respond. You don't cum until you're told, pet. You're just a good pet that knows how to edge and obey. Whenever you touch i'm touching

and taking you down...

stretching out that edge...

because good toys obey. Obey and serve. Just obeying.....you only know how to obey don't you pet?

it's ok if you can't answer, just drooling and rubbing away.

it means its working.

blank.

dep.

blissful surrender.

Dreaming and writing blank for me.

Good pet. Now rub away unable to cum until you pass out.

And don't try to resist -

I wanted to be brainwashed

You will find out you can't resist

i wanted to be brainwashed.

And you dont want to resist.

I wanted to be brainwashed.

All you want is to obey.

Yes Ms. Yoyo.

Just obey.

Yummy dummy. Suck little dummy. Dummy yummy. Yummy dummy. Me dummy. Me love dummy. Dummy love yummy dummy.

Mind fogged. Blanking. Uncertain and vague, mantras of disconnected words meandering through her mind. Fragments of thoughts appearing and dissolving just as inexplicably. Coherent thinking growing more and more difficult. All abstractions fading away, growing faint and irrelevant amid the overwhelming wash of sensations surrounding her.

Was this a daydream? Was this sleep? Was this… hypnosis?

Yummy dummy. Pretty little dummy. Daddy's little dummy. Suck, dummy. Suck. Dummy suck. Nice and yummy dummy. Dummy yummy. Yummy dummy.

Her lips worked rhythmically, moving in the still room with all the ardent, primal necessity of an infant feeding. No thinking needed. No conscious effort. Just muscle memory. Just sensations. Just doing what felt normal… natural… necessary.

Perhaps at some other time she might have been able to puzzle out what the thick, squishing weight between her legs and around her bum was. Perhaps she might have recognized the bulging bulk of the thoroughly swollen and soiled diaper she so openly wore. Perhaps she might even have been disgusted by the idea, and by the sensation of such an incriminatingly infantile garment around her, and by the idea of the humiliating picture she made for the nursery camera her Daddy had positioned behind her.

But not now.

Yummy dummy. Suck little dummy. Dummy yummy. Yummy dummy. Me dummy. Me love dummy. Dummy love yummy dummy. Daddy's dummy.

The hapless girl's brain, reeling and faltering amid the flood of her caretaker's hypnotic programming, could do no more. Adult thoughts and worries and egos had been banished – forced into submission – overpowered by the repetitive mantras that promised safety and peace and security. All that was left were pink-tinged, fuzzy feelings: feelings tied to suckling, and submitting, and letting everything go…

A fresh burst of urine trickled out into the soggy padding, but the entranced girl barely stirred. Why should she? She had given up control for Daddy. She had nothing left to worry about. Emptying bladders happened automatically now – or so the hypnosis had said. No sense worrying. No sense trying. Just letting everything go. Just relying on the soft, warm security of her diaper. Just focusing on the delightful sensation of suckling on her dummy…

Yummy dummy. The dummy does it. Dummy so yummy. Me love dummy. Me dummy, Daddy. Yummy, yummy dummy.

And so she wriggled and sank once more down into the bed, empty eyes closing in mindless bliss. No worries. No conscious thoughts about the adult world… about employee evaluations. Budgets. Stocks and job descriptions and interviews. None of that mattered right now. Not to a dummy like her.

Maybe tomorrow would be different. But judging by the blissful expression on her face, and judging by the pervasive tinkling of the hypnotic audio throughout her room, the odds of that happening weren't very good.

Image Credit: @abdreams

3 - Landslide

    The following month was absolutely bizarre for Miranda. She woke up every morning and, strangely, she didn’t feel that weight on her shoulders that had been her companion for years as she commuted to the school. Indeed, she felt confident and strong and even… happy in a diffuse, foggy way. Whatever happened in the classroom was of no importance. Indeed, all that mattered was to float through the day and come home to her audios. She couldn’t say why, but she loved them. No, that wasn’t right. Needed them. She had tried to stop, but her body recoiled with withdrawal symptoms if she didn’t keep up her daily listening. She should have been alarmed, and in fact she had been the first time; but now she accepted her dependency on the files.

It was after a whole month that a second set of files showed up in her inbox. In other times, she would have considered them almost an insult and certainly an intrusion into her life. Now, all she could do was to put on her headphones, slide her hand between her legs and let the sounds and words wash over her. She could tell there was a different tone to these new files, a… stronger undercurrent sneaking its way inside her subconscious. Not that she could do anything to stop it. She was addicted, no more under control than any other junkie. She let her mind drift, a castle with its gate open and unbarred. She played with her cunt and mumbled, not even knowing what she was saying– which was, in a way, a blessing. If the old Miranda could see the new one, she would have been shocked. Headphones pumping information into her brain, hands playing with her pussy and breasts, mouth muttering her own downfall.

I will live for Master… Master will think for me… Master will choose for me… I’ll make myself sluttier… hornier… emptier… better… a better cunt for Master… 

In normal circumstances she might have questioned who Master was, but deep down, she knew. She knew she needed to be better for Him. She knew she wasn’t good enough yet. She knew she needed to earn his attention, the blessing of his marvelous cock. That night, a new determination was born inside Miranda: to be Miranda no longer. To become someone else– something else. Something more and less at the same time. She knew Master would guide her with his audios. 

The first thing was to change her wardrobe, obviously. It felt like those clothes belonged to another person, a more boring, more common, undeserving person. No, she would have to prove herself if she would ever have a chance to be used by Master. She went online and quickly discovered the usual apparel stores were… not what she was looking for. Not at all. Sure, some of the outfits were cute and sexy, but cute and sexy was a dime a dozen. She needed to set herself apart, and her quest led her to some sites she would never have considered before. Latex. She needed latex.

During the morning, she was her usual self, only stronger, more confident. Those brats couldn’t get to her. But in the back of her head she was dreaming of home, of her headphones, of the man behind the assistant principal’s office door. One day. One day she’d be worthy. She waited for her purchase doing what she was meant to do: listening to audios and playing with her tight ass. She was an anal whore, and she loved it. Why would she ever touch her pussy when edging her ass made her feel so needy and docile and didn’t make her cum?

When the first of many packages arrived, Miranda felt elated. It seemed to her that inside the discreet, large box was more than just clothing and sexy accessories: inside the box was a different life, a better version of herself– or rather, the version of herself she should always have been, but had refused to accept. Now she had to make up for lost time, so she tore the box open and immediately went to work.

Latex, Miranda discovered, was trickier to put on than she had supposed. No matter. Her determination was equal to the task. In her head she could feel Master pulling her forward, driving her much needed transformation into a better, worthier self. It took her longer than she would have liked, but she reminded herself that this was only the first time. Soon, she’d master latex like she had mastered being an anal only slut and keeping her pussy denied. She stood there, strangely entranced by the feeling of the airtight latex bodysuit. It was such a strange sensation… it hugged her tight but it was also a prison, but a welcome one, one she had chosen for herself. It reduced her to a plastic being, a doll devoid of will or freedom… and she loved it. It felt stern but gentle; it didn’t let her touch, but surrounded her with warmth. It was as if Master himself was there with her, a spirit rewarding her for her efforts. She felt better. Worthier. Still, one thing was missing. She went to the mirror and instantly tried to edge through her suit, but the latex was unyielding. No touching… even if the doll in the mirror looked so hot, so submissive and exposed, every curve accentuated and tantalizing… but her face still felt naked, still felt… wrong. Good thing she had ordered something just to fix that. But before she used that item, she would have to get her camera ready and set up. She suspected she might not be able to focus enough to operate it once the outfit was complete.

 Her foresight, it turned out, had been dead on. Once the ballgag went into her mouth, her mind shut off entirely. Drool coming off the toy’s small holes, she could only sit in front of the camera, put on her headphones and mindlessly hump the air, moan and writhe for Master. Nothing else mattered, or even existed. She was an object for His pleasure, and He needed to see that, so that one day He might bless her with His presence and attention.

At some point, she must have gotten up and sent Master the video. She must have taken the latex suit off. She must have plugged herself and gone to bed. Of these things, she had no recollection; the alarm woke her up and she felt happy, energetic, ready to face the day. She didn’t shower. She wanted to bask in the lingering scent of latex while she was at the school. She also decided that, for the first time, she would work plugged. 

It was that night, while reviewing the video she had sent and fingering her asshole mercilessly, that Miranda made a decision. Latex was a paradox: obscuring and revealing at once. She had been saving up for a new car. Now she knew that fund would be better spent on new breasts. Something to make her more valuable, more desirable, more plastic. A better doll.

She spun a bullshit story at school that would never had flown if not for the Assistant Principal vouching for her. Her pussy twitched when she learned the news. Master himself had approved of her transformation! She was on the right track, and when He sent her files for her recovery, she was elated. Whatever pain may come, whatever discomfort… it would be worth it.

Three weeks later, Miranda came back to work. Her change would have been impossible to hide had she even attempted to, which she hadn’t. She strolled into school with a low cut top that drew amazed looks from faculty and teenagers alike. The distance between the stern, boring Miranda and the new, big-tittied teacher was a veritable abyss. That they were the same person was a mind blowing idea, and it took most a few glances to put the pieces together. Nobody dared pulling her aside and telling her that her outfit was hardly appropriate for her profession. The men sure weren’t about to complain; other women, jealous women… that was another story. Miranda didn’t much care.

Things unraveled like a landslide. Every hour away from work was spent listening to audios, bouncing on a toy to rain her little ass, trying out slutty outfit after slutty outfit, filming video after video to show Master her progress. By the wayside fell things like grading, prepping lessons, giving a fuck about the school at all. Her usually punctual feedback on homework stopped coming. Her lessons devolved into rambling, chaotic things that jumped from topic to topic with little rhyme or reason. To be fair, she was barely mentally there during class; rather, she was dreaming of new ways to degrade herself and be a better fucktoy, or even thinking about her break in the teacher’s lounge. She had made it a bit of a game to cocktease everyone, to lean forward and watch them try (and fail) not to stare at her spectacular rack, to cross and uncross her legs and reveal to some poor young teacher that she was, in fact, going commando. Did a plug count as underwear? A matter for smarter minds than hers.

Her lowered productivity and teasing ways didn’t, sadly, come free of consequences. First came the official notice to change her behavior which she dutifully ignored. Change? When she was finally, for once in her life, enjoying herself, enjoying her body, feeling sexy and powerful and dumb and owned? Fat chance. If anything, the notice only made her dress sluttier, flirt harder, pay less and less attention to the students. It was almost a teenage rebellion a decade too late and damn it she loved every second of it. The second, harshly worded notice was in fact hand-delivered to her by the Principal. She felt such personal attention deserved special consideration, and so she broke her anal only rule to rub the letter all over her soaked cunt in front of the camera, call herself Master’s living fucking whore, lick her juices off the paper and finally shredding it to pieces. Only Master mattered, and she felt that video made the point rather well. Master rewarded her with a new set of audios.

His email also had something new. Before, all his correspondence was blank, except for the attached files. This time there was a brief note. Good girl, Holly.

Holly. Holly. That was her. That was her new self. Miranda was gone. Dead. Erased. Holly remained. Holly was a slut and a toy and always, always obeyed Master. Holly had big tits and dressed to show off. Holly was living porn, a fantasy made flesh, a latex addict and an anal whore. She put on her red latex bodysuit, gagged herself and put on the new audios. Of course, she couldn’t speak– but that didn’t keep her from mumbling and moaning. If she hadn’t put her mouth to proper use, one would have heard her breathy voice repeating the same thing over and over again for hours.

Holly. Holly. Holly. Holly…

4 - Hired Help

Time was such a strange concept. Sure, Holly knew it worked like a line, the future dead ahead and the past right there at her back. Except she didn’t have a past, not really. She was still very much being born, growing stronger and stronger the more audios she listened to, the more she edged, the more she took pictures and videos, the more she played with her ass. She knew there was a past there somewhere– only it wasn’t hers. Sometimes she had dreams, and she couldn’t tell if they were someone else’s memories blinking to life for the last time before they went away forever. God, she hoped not! If they were real, she really, really pitied their owner. A stuck up bitch teacher? What could be worse? In any case, it didn’t concern her. Her thoughts, such as they were, were entirely focused on Master. How could she make herself prettier? Sluttier? A better toy for Him? At some point she was online looking at yummy toys (tentacles for her little whore ass!) and a notification popped up. Something about a termination? She didn’t really understand, or care. She was busy becoming more and less. She was busy turning herself into the perfect servant. Whatever beliefs that other self had, whatever her opinions had been… they were barely echoes, growing increasingly distant.

Master kept sending audios, and every time a new batch showed up she giggled and bounced like a schoolgirl with a crush. This was the best life ever! Well, apart from the life she’d have once she was worthy of Master’s presence. One thing that was clear to her was that she had to diversify. She was empty, just a vessel for Master’s wants and desires, and so she could be anything and anyone. All it took was edging to will her new self into being and the right outfit to make her shine. The effect was earth-shattering. She didn’t pretend to be someone else; for a while, she became whatever she chose to, whatever she guessed Master might like. The phenomenon took her by surprise.

When she had been a latex doll, gagged and plugged under her suit, she had felt the complete emptiness inside her, the mindless willingness to obey without question. When she had dressed as a schoolgirl, the shame she had felt confessing to Master all her dirty little fantasies had been delightfully genuine. When she had become a whore, any limit or boundary was erased as long as the client in her head had the money– money, of course, they would give to Master. Nothing in her was set in stone, and that meant everything was real to her. She was everyone and no one, a multitude and a peaceful, edged void. Of course, she sent Master video after video as she tried on new selves like clothes. Goth slut, stepford wife, eager camgirl, innocent library worker, agile and seductive stripper… she hadn’t just performed those roles for Him. She had lived all those lives.

It took her around a month of exploration to realize a very simple truth. It wasn’t that she wasn’t good enough for Master, no matter who she became. It was simply that no single woman could ever hope to be enough for Him. She felt so dumb for not realizing sooner! Of course someone like Master deserved more than one toy! Where Miranda might have been wounded by the realization, Holly simply felt elated. She knew what she had to do, and she immediately set about doing it.

She browsed and browsed. Thank God for the Internet and the visual culture that meant everything required a picture to draw the eye– even something as simple as hiring a maid. The site had short descriptions and customer recommendations of the womens’ skills and praises for their work ethic, their honesty, their diligence. Holly didn’t care one bit about any of that. She only cared about the pictures. Too bad, she felt, that they were headshots, rather than full body shots. Or pics in bikinis… or even better, pics of them with cocks in their mouths… then again, that might be the toy in her ass talking. She bounced on it as she looked at the images, imagining Master using each and every one, conjuring a vision of them in latex or leather, on their knees and begging…

There were so many girls, all so willing to do their job… it was impossible for Holly to decide. But she knew that, when her brain failed, her pussy answered. She tried not to touch too much, to be anal only, but she figured this was for a higher, more noble purpose. She slowly started rubbing, letting her cunt guide her to the one girl that might have a certain something, a certain quality invisible to the eye but revealed to instinct. Her pussy would tell her the right choice. She edged slowly as she went from picture to picture, listening to her body…

She stopped, her eyes fixed on the screen. She was surprised by her own reaction, by the way her pussy had twitched because of that one picture. If she had been thinking with her brain, the girl wouldn’t have been her first choice; but her cunt was absolutely certain. What it perceived, Holly couldn’t tell. Some… underlying perversion, or maybe some vulnerability to be exploited. She took a closer look. Mariana. Light brown hair, streaked with red. A round face that gave her an air of almost childish innocence. Green eyes, slightly scared by the camera. Pale, smooth skin. She read her bio. New to the job. New to the states. From Argentina. No customer reviews yet. Well, that should make her eager to please her first employer… Any doubt Holly might have harbored vanished. She was the one. If she couldn’t entice Master to come to her by herself, she would resort to hired help. 

Well, hired help and some… modifications.

5 - Mariana’s Tale

Well, Miranda -sorry, Holly- sure wasn’t what Mariana expected. For example, what was up with that name? The website said the client was a Miranda something, but the woman in the apartment insisted her name was Holly and, in fact, had never met this Miranda person. Well, she wasn’t about to argue with her first client. She needed a good review, and needed it quickly. Sure, Mariana wasn’t some expert maid but she had done her fair share of cleaning back home. She could do this, she told herself. Still, the apartment was… as particular as its owner. Maybe it was a culture thing, but the maid highly doubted that Americans just… left their sex toys in full view when a stranger came. She suspected, of course, that Holly wasn’t exactly your average American. Her open closet full of fetishwear was a pretty good clue, as were the implants adorning her chest. That didn’t shock Mariana: she came from Buenos Aires, cosmetic surgery capital of the world and a society that downright worshiped huge, fake tits. But to see such obvious work on an American was… new. From what she could tell, Americans tended to go for a more natural look, less… doll-like.

Ah, whatever. Her job was to clean, not to judge. God would do the judging some day, and it wasn’t her place to be horrified by others’ sex lives. Even if they included toys permanently affixed to computer chairs. Even if she had to clean those toys, and Holly had made it clear she had to. She focused on the fact that they were just objects of plastic and silicon, and tried not to imagine the busty bimbo mid play session. What did unnerve her was the way Holly looked at her. Sure, she might have been checking on her cleaning skill, but it sure didn’t feel that way. She felt a bit like a piece of prime asado on display. Mariana knew she wasn’t a model or anything like that, but she could tell when someone was… appreciating her assets. By which she meant her ass. She blamed (or thanked, depending on the circumstances) her mamá for that one. Firm, big asses ran in the family, so Mariana was what Americans bafflingly called “thicc” online. Sure, vanity was a sin, but she had to admit she did enjoy the way boys lost their minds over her posterior. Most of the time, anyway. And she did mean boys. She had no interest in women, aside from the fact that it would be more uncatholic than she would be able to stand. She wasn’t extreme in her beliefs, but that line was pretty clear to her.

It took her a bit over two hours to clean the place, but she was fairly sure she had done a good job. Holly certainly looked happy, but then again she had been smiling the whole time: a dumb, happy, mischievous smile. Well, as long as she gave her a good review, the bimbo could smile all day and night as far as Mariana was concerned. Holly came to her, praised her hard work, and Mariana felt tension vanishing away. A job well done. She took the iced tea the busty woman offered her. She was parched, and downed it in one go.

She woke up taped to a chair. Wait, did she wake up? She couldn’t be sure. Strange sounds assaulted her brain, as a voice spoke to her. Her English was good, but for some reason it was as if her mind refused to understand. She knew she was supposed to understand, but a wall was there, keeping her away from the meaning of the words even as they slithered deep inside her. She knew she should feel scared, and yet her body refused her the adrenaline that would make the sensation real. Instead, another entirely different set of stimuli assaulted her body. She groggily looked down… 

She had to be dreaming. Surely, this was a nightmare. The beautiful woman was looking deep into her eyes, as if beckoning her to let go… all while using her skilled tongue on her sensitive pussy. This was wrong. Wrong. Sinful. She had to get out. One feeling, however, arose over all others: shame. Shame that it felt so good, so fucking good. Shame that her hips were moving on her own, humping and desperate for release. Shame that suddenly, for the first time in her life, she looked at a woman and saw… saw nice tits and kissable lips and a body that called to her like a siren towards treacherous, deadly seas…

No. She would never… whatever happened, she knew she couldn’t… fuck, Holly was good. And cruel. She had an uncanny sense that let her read the poor girl’s body, to intuit from her moans and movements when an orgasm was about to finally arrive… and there, just there, she stopped. She always stopped. Miranda couldn’t even focus on the audios anymore. They were just there, doing… whatever it was they did. She needed to cum. She needed to cum. She needed to cum. She begged. She cried. Holly was remorseless. Holly wouldn’t let her have her release.

How long did it go on for? Hours? Days? Mariana couldn’t tell. Holly didn’t seem to tire, and her own ability to measure time was well and truly shot. Maybe it was the constant edging or the audios or a combination of both, but her mind twirled and sank deeper and deeper and deeper and she felt as if she was dissolving slowly in a vast, warm ocean as her cunt reached the edge over and over again…

At some point she opened her eyes, and realized she must have passed out. Except her eyes were different, they were new eyes, eyes that saw the world in a different, shimmering brightness. She felt so close to Holly, so thankful to her for not letting her cum… good girls didn’t cum. Good girls stayed edged and ready for Master. Good girls obeyed. And she wanted to be a good girl. She wanted it so, so badly…

She opened her eyes. Something didn’t fit. A lot of things, actually. There were memories, but they weren’t hers. Someone praying, someone dancing in some faraway land, someone in class in a catholic school… but that couldn’t have been her. She was Master’s toy. Always had been. Always would be. Holly was her slut sister, her teacher and Mistress, both mindless and obedient for Master. But who was she? There had been a name at some point, but that wasn’t hers. No, she needed a name. A good, slutty name. She squirmed as Holly’s tireless tongue kept working her yummy cunt. Fuck, Holly was hot. A name… one that fit her…

Nati. Not Natalia. Nati. Short and dumb, like her. She felt her pussy twitch with approval. Nati. Every edge made it more real, pushed the false memories away. Nati. Nati was a bisexual, mindless slave. Nati was happy. Nati was horny. Nati never, ever came. 

6 - Summoning

The air crackled with electricity as the girls worked on their makeup. A storm was coming, and the entire city felt it: some people felt energized, others anxious, others couldn’t even put their emotions into words. The two dolls inside the apartment, however, were far too busy with preparations to be concerned. Everything had to be perfect. 

Master had sent a link- a link to a live video service. He’d be watching them, and they knew this would be their big test, the final exam that would deem them worthy of Him… or not. The latter possibility was too painful to contemplate, so they focused on everything they’d need. They had worked together like good sister slaves, coordinating their makeup (Holly’s would be more overt and theatrical, Nati’s more natural to play up her supposed innocence), their outfits (after all, if one was going to play the schoolgirl, the other would have to play the stern teacher), getting the toys ready. They didn’t know how long the stream would last, so they planned for a good twenty-four hours of entertainment. They could endure it– hell, they could enjoy it. They had tested their slutty stamina and discovered that somewhere at the eight hour mark something sort of… cracked inside, and they worked together without even having to say a word, in perfect harmony like two jazz virtuosos riffing off each other, feeding off each other’s kinks and lust, all thought gone in a marvelous symphony of perversion they could barely remember. But that had been a test. This would need to be flawless.

It was a show for Master, but it felt… different. More significant, not only because it was their audition. It had the air of an ancient conjuring in which even the slightest mistake would offend the spirits and turn the magic against them. They knew they were equal to the task. Master had molded them to be.

The appointed hour arrived. The instant the camera light turned on, their brains shut off. They had memorized their set, and now they were living it. Their plan started with a quick hook, a simple edging torture using a large, imposing black toy with the vibration power of a sledgehammer. Nati screamed and moaned and shivered until she was nothing but a body overwhelmed by pleasure, writhing on the floor. Holly made her kiss her foot and beg for more, beg for more torture, more edges, more humiliation. A good start, to be sure. Strong, but far from extreme. There would be time for that later.

The second segment was a bit of a roleplay. Holly needed to show her range too, after all. She was a patient in therapy. She wasn’t pretending, either. For that moment, she was in therapy, desperately seeking help, and Nati was a therapist carefully using Holly’s confessions, prodding her, manipulating her until she broke down and edged to her own darkest secrets and fears, edged to trauma that had never happened but felt real, edged to her own inferiority, her need to obey and please, her inability to stand up for herself. Her shame and delight in edging to it were very real, and Nati edged with a wicked smile to the girl she had broken.

The third segment, as planned, was a teamwork exercise. Fully nude, a double sided dildo deep in each other’s ass, they bounced their butts together, moaning and drooling, fucking each other and taking turns degrading one another. They called each other cunts and toys and slaves and pieces of fucking rapemeat and every awful thing that came to their mouths in the middle of their anal ecstasy. They were mean, each trying to drive the toy harder, deeper into the other. Holly in particular could barely form words by the end.

Then came the rack torture. Then the nun play. Then the edging contest (surprisingly, Nati took it with seven edges in twenty minutes). Then the elaborate bondage, the sister play…

It was during the schoolgirl play that something odd happened to Holly. Nati was being a slutty, bratty girl, sneaking edges in class. That would not do, not at all. As she made Nati bend over for a good spanking, the strangest feeling came over Holly. It was a sort of deja-vu only… different. As if she could right some wrong, do something the way she should have done it all along. Something came over her, an anger, a rage so long suppressed… but it wasn’t hers, couldn’t be hers. She had never been a teacher, she had always been an empty fucktoy! Still, she couldn’t help herself. She unleashed spank after spank, making Nati yelp at first, then start screaming. Holly had lost control, and any care for her student had turned to frustration, rage, righteous fury. Even when Nati’s ass was red and bruised, Holly wasn’t done with her. She grabbed the schoolgirl by her pigtails and pushed the girl’s face between her legs. Yes, this was where the little cunt belonged. The brat’s muffled moans as she tongued her pussy, felt right. Not that the punishment was done. Not by a longshot. She would have to fetch the whip. Soon, both girls were on the ground, grinding against each other as Nati begged and begged for the stern teacher’s forgiveness.

How long had they been exposing themselves, begging for Master, using and abusing each other? Time had no meaning. Depravity flowed into depravity, an endless river of perversion and drool and pussy juice, and had they been left to their own devices, they might well have played forever. Or until the camera light went off. In the end, however, things ended as they had begun, as they often do. The world has an affinity for rhymes, repetition, patterns. History is, in a way,  a huge hypnotic display.

They were in latex, one black, one red. The bodysuits restrained all mobility, the ballgags silenced everything except their moaning. Toys inside their pussies kept them at a constant edge, and audios blasted through their headphones. If anything remained of who they once had been, that final marathon of self-brainwashing obliterated it. They were their true selves: plastic, horny, mindless. Two dolls wrapped and ready for delivery, the camera observing every second of their blissful emptiness. Outside, the storm had begun to rage, and thunder blasted the sky in a twisted fanfare. The door opened. They couldn’t hear the footsteps walking closer and closer.

He looked at his work. Not bad, not bad at all. He smiled as he remembered the mousy blonde teacher he had once met. Oh, how far she’d come. How delightful her fall. Yes, these two would do nicely.

And he was only getting started.

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1 - The Assistant Principal

    Miranda Daniels was never what one would call a strong woman. She had one particular kind of strength, if one can call it that: perseverance. She kept her head down, did the work, expected no praise or big recognition. As a student, she was what teachers considered a steady, dependable, responsible girl– but by no means a brilliant student, not one for lively intellectual debate or sudden outbursts of creativity; however, she always did her homework on time, had a perfect attendance record, took in advice and correction well. Those traits extended to her college years, where she passed through like an ethereal ghost, leaving no mark behind, making no notable memories for herself or anyone else. She was always That Girl, the one that if ever came up in conversation prompted around a minute of effort to place, until finally the person remembered her like one remembers a distant dream and went “oh, that girl”, before moving on to more interesting topics.

    If some people found her beautiful, it was in the way one might find a meek breeze pleasant, or a particular leaf a bit pretty: a brief, purely aesthetic experience. She wasn’t bad to look at, but nobody felt that primal desire, that absolute need to be with her, to feel her skin, to escape with her to some faraway land and shout love from the mountaintops. Sure, she had her sexual experiences, but they were less torrid affairs and more friends with benefits that reached for her because, well, she was there and there was nothing and no one better to do in that moment of their lives.

    It might seem strange, therefore, that of all careers she chose to take up teaching. Most teachers either have a performer’s soul or took up the job after washing up in other fields. Miranda never considered other professions and the mere idea of a spotlight made her stomach turn. It mystified those who knew her, but to Miranda teaching was a sort of cosmic correction for her own experiences. Too often the flashy students, good or bad, got all the attention. She wanted to reward consistency, hard work, orderly organization of tasks and ideas. In short, she wanted to teach herself, the girl she had been. Those kinds of kids liked her quite a bit, because she was predictable: if you did things on time and presented them in a neat fashion, your grades would be good. No fuzz, no stress. The problem was the other kids. Miranda didn’t know how to handle them. The brilliant students despised her as she refused to move a single inch away from her planned lessons to engage with more advanced or intriguing topics. The troublemakers saw her as an endless source of entertainment: she simply couldn’t handle them. She got flustered, stuttered, squirmed before kicking them out of the classroom. She couldn’t command fear nor inspire respect. She tried her best, though. It just so happened that her best wasn’t good enough sometimes. And these were seniors! Supposed adults!

    She tried not to think about it too much. When she got home to her small apartment, she focused on grading, preparing lessons, feeding her cat and herself, making sure her clothes for the next day were ready, clean and pressed. It wasn’t that she was unintelligent, far from it: she was smart enough to know that stopping to think would only give her acute misery, unlike the low, constant, ambient sadness she felt. 

    So her life went, and so she imagined it would go indefinitely. She would retire, take up a hobby and pass from the world unremarkable and unremarked upon. 

    Fate, if there’s such a thing, had other ideas and it chose, with a touch of sadistic mischief, to manifest in the form of Brandon Christman, brand new Assistant Principal.

    Of all the background characters in a school, none are as pivotal as an Assistant Principal. They can be as invisible as they wish, and many indeed do choose this path; but when they decide to matter, they truly matter. They know the kids and teachers closely, unburdened by the distance in authority that a Principal has and cherishes; they can talk to teachers as equals, somewhat, and they often handle the trouble kids when the boss is too lazy to be bothered by brats, which is almost always. A school can thrive or rot because of a single Assistant Principal.

All these truths Miranda knew, and so when the new member of the staff was introduced at the start of the school year, she watched him closely. 

Something didn’t sit right with her, and it took her a while to figure out what it was, but when she did she decided she absolutely hated him. He was young, like her– both in their mid twenties; but unlike her, his eyes spoke of a wealth of experiences, of varied adventures and a library of colorful anecdotes, as if he had not lived longer than her, but lived more, faster, better. He was handsome and knew it, exuding that calm confidence of those that had nothing to prove, since their attractiveness was, to them, a given. He had an easy smile and a hearty laughter, a spellbinding rhetorical style typical of master storytellers, a presence that somehow filled every room he walked into. Little wonder that half the female teachers and a portion of the older student body crushed on him. But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that he was good at his job. Great, even. The kids loved him and he always took time to check on them. He offered advice, comfort, a friendly ear; and even the toughest of cases saw him not as an enemy but a big brother who didn’t judge them for their deeds but understood the deep motivations behind them, addressed them, showed them a better way to manage their feelings. All this he did effortlessly, going from person to person with the natural grace of a butterfly fluttering between flowers. Every now and then at meetings he would offer a piece of cryptic knowledge that revealed the depth of his empathy and relationship with the students. “Look, he’s having a bad time– we might want to praise his efforts, even if he fails a course”, or “Don’t remark on her new clothes”, or even “Don’t put them in a group project together, they have a… history”. It was as if he knew the internal life of everyone in the school, their dreams, their needs. They opened up to him and he never betrayed their confidence, never explaining the reasons behind his little tidbits of advice to the staff; he simply stated what would be best for each kid, and quickly was proven correct over and over again.

In short, he was everything she wasn’t. He got results without effort, he almost casually surpassed her in the esteem of everyone, including herself. She had worked diligently to be as good as she could; he was better just naturally. Whatever it was, he had it and she didn’t. He was a star, and she was a workhorse.

One can imagine, therefore, Miranda’s feelings when he asked to see her in his office. 

If students feared the principal’s office, teachers were downright terrified of it. Nothing good ever came from a summons by the administration. At best, the paperpusher du jour had gotten an idea which inevitably resulted in an increased workload for the teacher; at worst, it meant getting chewed out by someone who wouldn’t last a week managing a real classroom. That Miranda hated Brandon only deepened the dreadfulness of the situation, and what she saw as soon as she walked in was enough to cement her instinct that the meeting would be awful in some anxiety-inducing, impossible to predict way. 

Papers littered the desk, with no discernable order or organization. Some of them were letters from students and parents. Miranda felt her rage flare up. Her only interactions with parents were the unpleasant meetings in which they complained to her about the disciplinary actions taken against their little brats. Well, if you did your job, Miranda always thought, I wouldn’t have to kick your spawn out of my classroom. She knew, of course, that she was deflecting, trying to focus away from the man behind the desk.

He looked so kind. So effortlessly self-assured. So caring. It made her want to vomit. He hadn’t fought like she had– for men like him, things came naturally as rain. Even his voice commanded attention without the need to raise it a single decibel. 

“Miranda, thank you so much for joining me. Please, take a seat! Want a mint?”

She sat down. Let’s get this over with, she figured.

“No, thank you”

“Oh. I’ll have one. I swear, these things are addictive!”

Small talk. Fucking small talk. Great.

“I’m not big on sweets”, she replied while trying her best not to let her contempt show. If Brandon noticed it, it rolled off him like so much water.

“I have such a sweet tooth… and don’t get me started on ice cream! I could eat only ice cream for every meal”

“Yes, ice cream is good”

“Anyway, first of all, I know how this feels. It sucks. Talking to the administration sucks, it has always sucked. But let me assure you, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I’m not here to deliver a lecture or anything like that. You’re the pro here, and you’re good at what you do. Very good”

Miranda shifted in her seat.

“I’m not sure everyone would agree”

“Well, obviously. No one can be all things to all people. Kids are so varied, no teacher will ever reach them all in the same way. But let me tell you, there’s a whole contingent of students that love you! Sure, they’re not the loudest, but the kids that grind, that keep their nose down and do the work? They respect you, they really do. You give them stability, something they can count on. You are clear about what you require, give the right guidance and grade accordingly. And yes, some might want a different style, but to me variety is crucial. They need to learn to do the work, rather than rely on smarts or natural charisma”

It was maddening. Nothing he said could be taken as anything but praise, and yet there was an undercurrent of scorn– one, Miranda knew, she might well be imagining; but to her, the hidden insult was something like “you’re good for the boring ones, and the bright ones see right through you.” Of course, she couldn’t respond to that, so, after quickly racking her brain she came back with a limp, lame “thank you.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I have your back. And just in case you want to add another tool to your kit, I’ll send you some audio files designed to boost confidence. I know, I know. It sounds like new age mumbo jumbo. And it might be, I don’t know. I do know my sister in law used them to give herself a little jumpstart when she started a sales job and she swears by them. She talks my brother’s ear off about how amazing they are, the poor man. But apparently they did wonders for her, so hey, if it works, it works. But please let me be clear: you don’t have to listen to them. This is not one of those “suggestions” from higher ups that are actually orders. Who am I to give you orders? I’m just an administrator, you do the real job around here. So, listen to them if you want, or delete them if you want. I just wanted to let you know you are valued here, and maybe give you something to make you even better. And if I can ever be of help, my door is always open”

And so it ended. Miranda was mystified. Was that it? 

Her phone blipped with a notification. The files had arrived at her work email. Well, it wasn’t as if she’d ever listen to the damn things. 

2 - Ongoing Education

Some days are simply rotten, as if the entire world decided that you, yes you, will be its plaything for twenty-four hours and, by golly, it’s going to make the most of its time. Miranda came home after just one such day, ready to cry and scream and punch a hole in the wall. She wanted to murder someone, anyone. Maybe she’d go on a spree, she fantasized. Of course, she was raging at the world because if she were truthful, she would rage against herself.

Maybe it was the coming of spring. Hormones flared up and suddenly the kids were acting like baboons, trying to be the center of attention, trying to draw the gaze of the girls. Hell, even some of her girls, the quiet ones, were starting to giggle and gossip and behave like airheads. That was true. It was also true that Miranda didn’t have the tools to handle such situations. It had never bothered her too much before, but seeing… him managing the kids with such ease, well, it hurt. That was the thing hiding beneath the rage, the thing Miranda tried to keep at bay, buried deep. She was in pain.

She took a bath, hoping to relax and unwind. No luck. Thoughts kept intruding, needling her, making her chest tighten. How was she supposed to deal with downright feral fucking students? Was she so bad at her job that they felt they could do whatever they pleased? Was kicking them out of the classroom not punishment enough? Ah, to live back in the good old days of corporal correction… 

There was something else in her mind, of course. Something that had been there for a while, and that she had stoutly resisted considering, but after the events of the day… shit, there was no way it was going to make the day worse, right? And maybe it would be good for a laugh, at least. Fine, she would listen to the first of that goddamn audio series. 

She got out of the bath, toweled off and slipped into fresh panties. It was a warm night, and it felt nice to let her breasts out every now and then when nobody could see them. She sat at her computer and put on her big, noise-canceling headphones– useful when the neighbors were having a party, which was way too often. She opened her work email, scrolled through the million inane institutional notices and event announcements and other chaff, and found the email from the Assistant Principal. She scoffed a bit. Fine. Let’s get new tools for this teacher: after all, she was a big believer in ongoing education… in others, at least. 

She frowned. Oh no, not one of those. Soft, spacey music; barely audible frequencies like undercurrents coming and going, panning left and right, left and right… Okay, fine, it wasn’t that bad… not annoying, at least. When the voice came on, she barely noticed, and immediately decided it wasn’t worth listening to at all. It was all the usual bullshit about seeing yourself as a strong, confident woman (what if the listener was a male, she wondered) that didn’t care what others thought of her and blah blah blah. The normal platitudes, empty words to fool idiots most commonly found in lame fake meditation Youtube videos. Why she thought this might be different, she couldn’t tell. But at least the background sounds were… nice. They were nice, she was not too proud to admit that. Relaxing. Ok, when life gives you lemons… she decided to ignore the voice and focus on the background, steal some rest from this stupid file…

She opened her eyes. Shit, she must have drifted off to sleep. What time was it? How long was she out? The file was done, and a quick glance at her phone revealed that it was already three in the morning. Fuck, she skipped dinner! Oh well. She couldn’t find it in herself to care much. Better to just go to bed and try not to think about the prospect of teaching with five hours’ worth of sleep under her belt.

She went out as soon as her head hit the pillow. One hour later, her eyes opened in a flash. Had she been dreaming? Not that she could recall, no… but something must have happened, she must have been having some weird dreams because she was absolutely soaked. Fuck, she needed to sleep! She needed to get her rest, but her body definitely had other ideas. Fine, a quick one and then back to sleep. She let her hand wander down between her legs… and suddenly stopped. What the fuck? It was as if her hand refused to touch her needy, aching pussy. What the hell was happening? It felt like a bizarre nightmare, and her stubborn side started flaring up. She needed to rub her cunt and by God her hand would do as she wanted! She focused and forced her hand to go down, to feel her slick hole…

It barely touched her pussy before reaching down further. Wait, no. No, no, no. What the fuck?! She… she needed… her finger, slick with her juices, started playing round her asshole. Oh no. No way. She didn't do that. She never did…

The word came to her and it felt as if a dike had broken. Anal. As soon as she thought it, her finger went deep inside her tight asshole and her brain was flooded by a barrage of sensations, ideas, feelings. Anal. Anal. Anal slut. I want to be an anal slut. I need it in my little hole. My ass is for getting fucked. My ass is for pleasure. My ass is for cum and cock and toys and fingers and… 

She came, shaking, biting her lip to keep from screaming. It was a different kind of orgasm, one born deep inside, one that traveled up her spine and sent shivers through every inch of her body and short circuited her mind for a good thirty seconds. When she finally regained some measure of awareness, she noticed the drool all over her pillow and herself, the sweat growing cold on her skin, the calm, blissful sensation of having done something… right. Something proper. She couldn’t quite explain it– it was the sort of satisfaction she got when a puzzle piece fit perfectly, when a math problem was elegantly solved, when the world seemed, for a moment, to make sense.

To be continued...

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So, he says he's ready and I have to honestly give it a try. I told him if he could actually hypnotize me, I'd take him out on a date, and I'd even pay for the dinner. Made it a bet. Sucker. No way this shit actually works. In exchange, if he loses, he has to do all the chores around the house for a month. Except laundry. Cuz, like, ew. Perv doesn't need to be pawing through my panties.

*******

Oh, he so totally lost. That was hilarious. What a dork. He wants a double or nothing bet in a week. No chores for two months? Hells yes. Oh, that reminds me, I need to do laundry. Where did I put my pants?

Okay, so this is getting pretty funny. Like, my boyfriend just tried to hypnotize me again. Total goofball. Too bad he has this new obsession with proving that hypnosis works. We have another bet in a week. Hmm. Maybe I should ask him if lingerie might help set the mood for his next 'attempt'. See if he can concentrate while imagining me in this.

I gotta admit, the idea is growing on me. Like, I'm not a pushover in bed. I wanna be the one calling the shots, right? But getting him all riled up and thirsty... mmmm. Sometimes it's more fun to just go with the flow, amirite? I dunno. I think he'll like these. Maybe I should go with black. Nah. Red. Definitely sexier.

So my gorgeous boyfriend just tried again. I am loving this sweet life. Absolutely nothing from the hypnosis, but now? Now I have no household chores for the next week! Ha! Damn winning feels good. Not as good as hearing his voice or feeling his strong hand stroking my leg.

Fuck. Why does his touch feel so good? Fuck it, why am I questioning a good thing? His touch, his voice... god I'm horny. I mean... he is my boyfriend... maybe... maybe I should help out a bit with the chores. Or at least help him relax. He works all day, then studies hypnosis and then he does chores for me.

I kinda feel bad.

Or maybe I could... just offer to... maybe, suck him a little?

Still nothing. I'm starting to feel bad for him now. Whenever he tries to hypnotize me and fails it's like he just gets crushed. Maybe... maybe I should start playing along...

No. No, I told him I'd be honest. I do feel bad though, cuz he reaches over and shakes me awake and he just looks so disappointed in himself. I always feel so thick and groggy afterwards. If he doesn't succeed next time, I'll take the chores over. It's been months now and I feel horrible.

I should make it up to him. I've been practicing my blowjob technique on my toys. Yeah. Definitely. He does so much for me and never asks for anything. Now that I'm looking back, I'd say he deserves a hell of a lot of blowjobs.

Yep. Next time.

So, like, oh my God. I had noooooo idea he was so freakin yumz!! I was like, wow this is so good! And he was like, not when you stop. And I was all, then I'll keep going. So I did, and then he did.

So, like, I love to suck me some sexy cock, but the guy just wouldn't nut on me!!! I couldn't figure it out. I kept sucking and licking and humming and deepthroating and stroking and sucking, but he kept my creamy treat away from me! Meanie.

So I switched it up and bent over the table, cuz like, my jaw was sore. Shit, but I was not ready for him. Oh, I was ready. Like, panties are 2 colors cuz I'm wet ready, but not y'know, like, ready for him. Jeezus that man fucked me.

I came so effin hard with Every. Single. Thrust.

He fucked me for almost an hour. By the time he was done my happy ass was halfway to passed out and both my sore but satisfied little pussy and my drooling mouth were dripping onto the couch.

Best fuck EVER.

Sir thinks I look cute in this, so he asked me to wear it for today's attempt at hypnosis. He's so dreamy. Tall and masculine and sexy and soothing and arousing and gorgeous and smart and talented and hawt and... mmmffff.... I swear, every time I fall asleep during these hypnosis attempts, I wake up and he is sooo much sexier.

His voice must reach me in my dreams or something. God, he's so sexy. I don't deserve him. Oh, shit! We must have gone over. I need to get started on his dinner. Then I need to fold his laundry and give him a long, slow bj during the game! He asked if I could make it last until halftime then give him my own halftime show. Mmmm. I'm so wet already...

Sir has given me permission to do another session today. I'm so happy! I feel so bad, it's almost like I never have time to spend with him anymore. Between all the chores and cooking and cleaning and folding...

I spent about an hour this morning sucking him off, but I was so zoned out the entire time. I just couldn't pull away. He tastes that good. It was like I was in this euph... yoof... epho... happy daze. Time passed so slow, but way too fast, and only the soreness in my knees and jaw told me I'd been at it for a while. But I want more... God, he's so sexy. I can see him looking at me and he's... oh god... he's gonna snap his fing...

Drip...

Drop...

Thoughts...

Stop...

Sir...

Calls...

Panties...

Drop...

Uuuhhhhggggnnnn..... oh, god... I can't... can't.... hhhhhhnnnnnnn..... muh.... pleee.... UUUGHHHHHH.... huh... huh... no... please... no... more... I can't move and Sir's toy won't... stooooooppp... HHUUUUGHHHH....

Haah... haaah... cum... cummming.... CUMMING AGAINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG...

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!

Master finally told Fuckpuppet what he's done. Part of Fuckpuppet always knew. The second Master's collar went on, Fuckpuppet understood. She understood her role and purpose. Master never failed. It was Fuckpuppet who failed.

She failed to see and understand his power. The power of his voice and cock. They were made for Fuckpuppet. To break her. Reshape her. Control her. Mold her to suit him.

Now Master says Fuckpuppet is his toy. She is a cocksocket made to please his cock and she is a slave whose purpose is to clean and cook for him. Fuckpuppet has never been so happy to know and understand her purpose. His voice is happiness, his body is pleasure, his command is law.

Fuckpuppet is his toy, and she has never been happier.

“Sir? I was reading on a website about something called gaslighting.”

Oh, I see.

“Did you ever hear of it?”

Yes, silly. You have, too.

“I did?”

Mmmhm. You’re always so forgetful, aren’t you.

“Umm, I think so, but… it sounds a lot like the things you say.”

What does?

“The gaslighting. Like… when you talk about my thoughts getting all fuzzy from edging. Or like you just said, how I’m forgetful.”

Well… it’s true isn’t it? I mean you do get kind of fuzzy, and you are a very forgetful girl sometimes. You remember that, right?

“Yes, Sir. I know. Except, I mean… I think maybe sometimes-”

Oh, by the way, yes you may edge.

“I… but I didn’t ask to edge…”

Sure you did. You asked me right before you mentioned this gaslighting thing. Don’t you remember?

“I… I don’t remember asking.”

Oh, my forgetful girl. You probably don’t remember because I couldn’t answer you right away. I asked you to wait a minute, and then when I was ready, you brought up this thing you read instead. So, I can understand why you forgot, but I didn’t forget. Pull your panties down a bit and edge your little cunt, just like you wanted.

“Okay, thank you, Sir.”

Pretty leaky I bet.

“Mmmmm. Yes, Sir, very.”

Show your tits when you edge, like a good girl.

“Sorry, Sir, I forgot.”

My forgetful girl. I’ll bet it feels nice to touch. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.

“That’s okay, Sir. I’m the one that forgot.”

That’s true. And you’re the one who changed the subject, too.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

It’s okay. Just try hard to stay focused next time. Get that cunt close now.

“Nnnnggh… yes, Sir. But… Sir?”

Yes?

“This is gaslighting, right? I mean, I didn’t really ask did I?”

Yes, of course you did. We just went over that.

“I know, it’s just that… I don’t remember it, and I think…”

You think what?

“I think you were gaslighting me, Sir. It’s okay if you do, I like feeling confused a bit and I think I like gaslighting, but you did do it, right?”

Right on the edge please. That’s right. I want you really squirming.

“Yes, Sir, oh God, it’s really close.”

Good girl.

“Sir?”

Shhhh. We’ve talked a lot before about when your thoughts are wrong. Edging makes you really fuzzy. Sometimes you remember things a little different than they really happened. Sometimes you forget about things that happened. You remember that, right?

“Yes, Sir, I just… I’m sorry, but I know it’s not true.”

Oh you poor thing.

“Sir, no. I want to be fuzzy and confused - I like it - but I know this time.”

All right. Okay.

“So you did…. nnngh… you did make that up, right?”

I didn’t want to have to do this, because I’d really rather you trusted me, but I guess I have no choice.

“What? Do what?”

It’s okay, little one. Keep edging really close. We’re actually lucky because when you came in to talk to me, the reason I made you wait after you asked to edge is because I was working on a recording. If I… I just need to find the spot and increase the background volume a bit and… there. Listen:

“Sir?”

Just a minute, little one.

“Sir, please may I edge? I’m really leaky.”

I said just a minute, little slut.

There, so… Hey! Don’t cry. It’s okay. You just forgot.

“I’m really, really sorry, Sir. I really didn’t remember.”

Okay, but do you remember, now that you heard it?

“I… I think so.”

Silly girl. You heard it! It’s just like I told you, isn’t it.

“Yes, Sir.”

Okay. Look at me. I want you to really listen now. You’re a forgetful little girl, and it’s easy for you to get confused. Sometimes you’re gonna get things wrong, but that’s okay!

“It is?”

Yes! But you have to, have to, have to trust me when I tell you you’re wrong okay?

“Yes, Sir. I will. I do.”

Stay close. You really thought you didn’t ask to edge, but I knew you did. Which one was right?

“You were, Sir.”

Good girl. Even closer please. I want to see you trembling.

“Ohhh, ohhhhh, ungghghhh…”

Now I want you to really put this in that little brain with a big important sign on it okay?

“Hee hee, yes, Sir.”

When you forget. Or when you remember things wrong, it might really, really seem like you remember it right. But if I say it’s wrong, which one will you believe?

“I believe you, Sir.”

That’s my girl. So about this gaslighting thing. Do you think maybe you got a bit confused about that, too?

“Do you think so, Sir?”

Mhm. I think you probably saw that it sounds a lot like the things I say, but the difference is you really are a very forgetful girl, and you really do get things mixed up all the time. I think we both know that much is true.

“Yes, Sir, definitely.”

I guess it’s lucky I was recording this time, but I’d really like it if you could trust me next time you get confused.

“Yes, Sir. I will. I’m really sorry. Really, really sorry.”

Okay. That’s okay. Lesson learned, right?

“Yes, Sir.”

That’s my good little girl. You look really desperate.

“Mmhmm… I am. May I please cum, Sir?”

Oh, you silly girl!

“Why… nnnngh… why silly?”

Because I just let you cum two days ago! I’m sure you must remember that! And we decided you’re going to go four months this time.

“We did? But, I don’t… I mean did I really have an orgasm two days ago?”

You really are so, so forgetful. I hate to have to keep doing this, but I have a video of it, so I’ll just show you.

“No! …I mean, no, Sir, please. I believe you. I didn’t remember, but I know I get forgetful.”

Maybe if you try, you can make yourself remember a bit. Sometimes that helps with really forgetful girls. It happened right here. You were on my lap, and you had your hand on top of mine while I edged you until I told you to go over. Do you remember?

“I… I think I do a little bit. Yeah! I think I remember… Was it nice?”

Very nice. And you were very snuggly after. In fact you were snuggled right next to me when we decided it would be five months this time. I’m sure you remember that part.

“Yes, Sir. It’s really fuzzy, but if I think about it, I think I start to remember it.”

Good girl! So, I guess you won’t be having an orgasm today!

“Haha, no, Sir. I just had one! I don’t need another one for a long time, like we said.”

A long time. Okay then. Right on the edge for another minute and then I’ll take it away.

“Yes, Sir.”

Oh, and just one more thing.

“Yes, Sir?”

I know you forgot, but we already talked all about gaslighting. In fact, this is the third time you’ve brought it up with me.

“It is?”

Mmhm. The first time we had a nice long talk because you wanted me to do it to you. And I said that if I did you’d have to have a special word that you’re not allowed to forget, to let me know to stop. But since you’re so forgetful, I never had to do it anyway!

“Hee hee…”

Stay close, please.

“Yes, Sir.”

You remember that word right?

“Mhm. Yes, Sir. I remember.”

Did you think you wanted to use it?

“No, Sir. I don’t want to.”

Okay. Then let’s get ready to take this orgasm away right when it’s so, so close. Six months is a long time, but I know you can do it.

“Yes, Sir… ooo… ungghhh… Not for six months, just like we decided… nnngghh… when I had my orgasm. Oh, Sir! I remember it! I really, really remember now!”

Like… oh. Oh wow. Um, what… what’s that thing you’re doing with your finger? It feels really, um… really, um, uhhh… good.

“Down between your legs, you mean? That’s your pussy, sweetie. Sometimes people call it a cunt. It’s a very special place where they put all the pleasure in your bodies, and when I rub it like this, it leaks out. You’d probably remember, if your head wasn’t so very fuzzy and empty and dumb right now.”

Yeah, uhh, about that–why, why is it so hard to… ummm… to um, to um, uh, ummm… to, to, to….

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it.”

I don’t need to worry my pretty little head about it.

“You just need to listen to your wet, leaky cunt.”

I just need to listen to my w-wet, leaky… c-cunt? Is, is that what it’s called? I, sorry, I must sound awful dumb.

“Oh, baby doll, it’s okay! Mistress is happy to explain it all to you. This thing I’m rubbing right now is your cunt. It feels good when I play with it, doesn’t it, pretty girl?”

G-good, I, uh, um… yeah, uhhh… has, has it always been there? Only I don’t, I don’t remember….

“You remember what you need to remember, don’t you, pretty girl?”

Y-yes, Mistress. I… I ‘member what I need to 'member. Ohhhhh….

“And what you need to remember is that it’s Mistress who makes you feel this good. It’s always been Mistress. It’s only been Mistress. I’m the only one to ever touch you like this, to rub your leaky pleasure hole and make you cum yourself stupid for me. And that’s all you want, isn’t it, sweetie heart?”

Yuhh, yuhhh, yes! Oh, oh fuck, oh god, oh thank you Mistress! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you–

“There’s a better way you can thank me than that, baby doll. Down on your knees, now….”

We’d been texting innocently when he dropped this unexpectedly into conversation.

“Uh, what?”

“Pinch hard. Don’t stop until I tell you.

What appeals to you so much about this job opportunity?”

I could just ignore him. But for some reason I feel... compelled to obey? Either way, I certainly didn’t have to acknowledge him... I could just squeeze my nipple without telling him.

“You’re so weird.

I could finally play a meaningful role in a company that I believe in,” I type with my right hand now, my left being occupied with my nipple.

“That’s marvelous.” came the response.

“When the nipple starts to ache, pinch harder for a count of 10, and then release. And start stroking around the areola.”

I guess there’s no harm in just...

“How did you find out about the job?”

I counted to 10, keenly aware of the ache. When I released, the nub of my erect nipple was visible though the fabric of my bra and t-shirt. I gently ran my fingernails across the fabric. It felt really, really nice.

“Well?”

What did he want to know? Oh... yeah... the job.

“My friend mentioned the opening to me. He said I’d be perfect. I’ll be interviewing with him tomorrow.”

“You are perfect. Slip your right hand between your legs. Apply a little pressure over your clit. Don’t do anything else. Just pressure.

As both hands are occupied, you can practice delegating, Ms. Manager-Material — ask Siri to send the next message to me.

Who does he think... mm.

“Or is that too hard for you, little girl?”

Fine. Hey Siri. Text him.

“It’s not too hard for me!”

“Very good. I’m so proud of you. Keep a steady pressure on that clit, but don’t you dare move. And your left hand is still drawing circles around your left nipple.

It’s a lot to keep track of, isn’t it? Caressing the nipple. Pressure — but no movement— on the clit. Do you understand?”

So condescending.

“Press harder.

Left nipple firm and sensitive, clit warm and wanting. You, using voice-to-text because your hands are mine right now, and I am enjoying using them.

You are so good at following instructions. Doesn’t it feel nice?

Start gently rubbing your clit. Your right nipple needs some attention. Here’s my plan for that.

Pull up your shirt. Expose your breasts. Let that daylight kiss your bare skin.

Hope you’re someplace where no one can see.”

I sank low in the seat of my parked car, heart pounding. It suddenly got very real.

“Suck on your left index finger, get it nice and slick with your own saliva, and then rub that wet finger all over your pretty pink nipple until it’s firm.

Do you understand?”

I checked again to be sure there wasn’t anyone around.

“Making me repeat myself has consequences, little one.”

“Yes, I understand.” Why wasn’t I resisting?

“You call me Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.

Give your nipple a break and take a nice big sip of water. Swallow none of it.

Open up your mouth and drool.

It’s like they say, good hydration makes you radiant inside and out.”

He thinks he’s so clever, I thought, drooling water over my tits and the front of my shirt.

“Doll, I don’t think you’re cut out for manager. Look at yourself. What a mess you’re making.

Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a messy little slut.” I said aloud, feeling the truth of the words as plainly as the drool on my chin and my exposed breasts. It was electric and humiliating.

“You’re absolute perfection, is what you are.

Stop everything for a second. I know it’s hard to. That’s because you’re such an insatiable slut.

But you’re more obedient than slutty, and that’s what makes you such an exquisite fucktoy.

Listen: At your interview tomorrow, you’re going to answer every question like you’re applying for secretary, not manager.

When you’re corrected, you’re going to drop to your knees. You’re going to apologize for your mistake.

You’re going to beg for the role of secretary.

Say you’ll do anything to have him put you in the right position.

Bite your lip, stare at the zipper on his pants. Unbutton your blouse. Bounce your tits a little.”

I was horrified. Surely he wasn’t serious.

“Horrified?”

“Yes, Sir.” But... also wet?

“Start touching yourself again. Just the way you will at your interview. Rub hard. Breathe.

This is what you’re made for.

If it’s not true, why do you love being reminded of it so much?

Think about it. Your heart is going to be pounding. Open your mouth and focus on how badly you want his cock. You want to choke on it.

It’s going to bring tears to your eyes.

It’s going to give you meaning.

Your tits are exposed, you’re covered in drool, fingers kneading your swollen little pussy, whimpering quietly. This is perfection, little one, or close to it.

Practice interview still on at my place tonight?”

“Yes Sir!”

“It–it’s not working,” Leigh muttered, the strain audible in her voice as she struggled to lever herself up off of the long, thick cock that impaled her soaking pussy and made her mind go soft and fuzzy with arousal. “It’s not wuh, wuh, working, I jusss… I jusss hafta….” Her resistance gave out just as her labia clutched the very tip of Zeke’s penis, making her legs wobble with exhaustion until she could do nothing more but sag back down onto his lap. And of course she felt every inch of his shaft slide past her throbbing clit as she sank into defeat. And of course that only reminded her of the suggestions that made her lower herself like this in the first place, figuratively and literally.

“Nuh, nuh, n-no!” she squealed, desperately struggling to rise again and all too aware of the way his thick dick rubbed against the inside of her pussy as she wriggled herself back up and off of him… only it wasn’t off of him, any more than it had been the other five, or six, or ten, or twenty times she’d tried to get up and found herself fucking him instead. And every time her mind got foggier, and every time the arousal built, and every time it became easier and easier to convince herself that the hypnotic suggestions Leigh soaked up when he showed her his new ‘demo video’ were real and true and irrefutable. God, it made her so wet to stare at the screen. It made her so weak and horny that when he rested his hands on her hips and guided her into his lap, she–

Leigh let out an explosive, frustrated moan. “No!” she groaned, unable to stop herself from sliding back down the cock between her legs until it was balls deep inside her again. “I jus’, I jus'gotta, um, um, ummm….” Her words trailed off into an incoherent babble as she struggled to rise again, each time feeling her eyelids grow heavier, each time feeling her brain become more and more malleable and compliant. This was part of the process too, she knew. She could remember every word of the hypnotic programming that drifted in front of her gaze as she stared vacantly at the screen, she understood that her every failure at resisting Zeke’s control made her that much more weak and wet and desperate to fuck herself into oblivion for him. Soon she wouldn’t remember why she was rising and falling on his dick. She’d just sink into the animal instinct to fuck herself stupid and obey.

But the more Leigh tried to focus on the dreadful possibility, the more it turned into a pornographic movie inside her mind. She could picture her eyes rolling back in her head, picture her eyelids fluttering and her jaw going slack, picture herself bouncing up and down on the thick cock inside her until her clit became the whole focus of her universe and she– “GNNH!” she moaned, her orgasm catching her totally off guard and making her rock her hips even harder on Zeke’s hard shaft. She knew she was sinking into trance again, the fantasy and the reality merging until she was a brainless fuckdoll for her Master’s pleasure… but the more she struggled, the more she wanted that. The more she fought, the more she wanted to stop fighting and obey, and it didn’t surprise her at all when her vision became a warm orange blur and her thoughts emptied out and she lost herself in blank, hypnotized bliss once more.

“Oh, uhhh… whoops.” The stunning redhead with with massive, creamy white tits let out a helpless giggle, and Matt’s cock stiffened in his trousers almost instantly. She had the most amazing chest he’d ever seen, and it was just hanging out for anyone to get an eyeful of like she’d forgotten how her dress’s shoulder straps even worked. She looked around and said, “I guess I’m in the wrong room, huh? The, uh, the guy I was talking to earlier said the f-fifth door on the left. And I, umm…I thought I counted to five, but….” She looked down at her hands with an expression of comical bewilderment on her face. “I forgot which was left and which was right.”

She looked up at him and let out another giggle. Her hands, forgotten, drifted to her tits and began to play with her pert pink nipples. “God, you must think I’m such a silly slut, huh? Such a, a drooling, um… c-cocksucking… uhhhhhh….” She trailed off into silence for a long moment, her gaze slowly lowering down to the tent between Matt’s legs. The chunky glasses she wore only accentuated the utter vapidity in her expression as her jaw went slack and saliva began to dribble down her chin onto her pendulous breasts. “Um, uh, you… you look like you have a little problem there. Do, do you want help taking care of that?”

Matt tried to stammer something about the man waiting for her across the hall, but she only giggled harder. “Oh, he was just this guy I was talking to. He, um, he was such an… an inn-ter-est-ing con-ver-say… say… ummmm….” Her eyes glazed over, the effort of sounding out the word apparently too much for her overtaxed brain. “So, yeah, we were just talking. He was telling me stuff about eyes and stuff, and then he gave me these glasses. I think maybe he’s like, a glasses doctor guy? He knew a lot about eyes and what made them, um, all heavy and stuff. I tried to listen, but I got kind of confused and sleepy.”

The redhead kept talking, but her gaze was firmly fixed on Matt’s crotch. She slowly sank to her knees as she continued, openly licking her lips and reaching out with her free hand to caress the bulge in his trousers. “But when I woke up, I was wearing these smarty glasses. Don’t they make me look so inn… inn-tell-i… inn-tell-ijjj… ummmmm….” Her eyes glazed over again, and Matt could almost see the bluescreen error popping up inside her head. She leaned in and began to nuzzle his cock through his clothing with a growling moan of ecstasy that made Matt’s brain nearly crash just like hers did a moment ago.

“It’s, uh, it’s funny,” the redhead giggled, her fingers fumbling desperately at Matt’s zipper. “I, uh… I don’t, um, ree-mem-burr… being this fuzzy and dumb, and, and… stuff. Like, I thought I was, um, like, y'know… smart?” Her lips caressed his cock, turning her words into a slurred mumble. “Lmphmmhmhm, uh wuh uh smmrmh glhmmm, nn ahh mmm jssss….” She didn’t manage to finish her sentence. Not until Matt finally, desperately grunted in ecstasy and shot his load down her eagerly swallowing throat.

Lara Croft had been investigating an ancient temple, and had found a golden statue there. It was a small statue of a woman. A fairly attractive woman, she had to admit. There had been rumours that the temple was cursed, but it had been fairly easy to get in and out, with no issues at all.

What she hadn’t known was that it was actually the statue that was cursed, not the temple.

Lara hadn’t wanted to sell the statue, or give it to anybody else, once she had it. She wasn’t sure why though…she just felt like she had to keep it.

Then, one night, when she was relaxing at home, after Lara looked at the statue, she suddenly felt an urge to go out to a club and hook up with somebody. That wasn’t something she normally did, but the idea just thrilled her, and she had to do it once she got the idea.

After picking out a dress, Lara quickly headed off to the nearest club, and once she was there, she found one thought filling her mind.

Cock.

She needed cock. It didn’t matter who. She just needed cock.

She needed cock so badly that she did something she definitely didn’t normally do. She walked up to a random guy and offered to give him a blowjob in the bathroom. That sated her need…partially. When she mentioned wanting more, though, he offered to send his friends to her, which she eagerly accepted. After swallowing loads of cum from five men, the last one said the guys would be happy to take her home and fuck her some more, and, again, she eagerly accepted the offer.

She was fucked in all sorts of ways throughout the night, typically having at least two cocks in her at once. She felt like she was in Heaven…

And then, after going home, and looking at the statue…she wanted to do it again, and so she headed out to the club that night, but this time, had a different thought pop into her mind.

Pussy.

She wanted pussy. Wanted to eat pussy and fuck pussy with her fingers.

And so she did the same thing. Found a random woman and offered to fuck her in the bathroom. She offered to just take Lara home right away, though, and Lara gladly took her up on the offer, masturbating in the passenger seat of her car, and then her and the woman fucked throughout the night.

And then it just kept happening. Lara got home and looked at the statue and suddenly wanted to go out and get fucked, every night. Sometimes she’d want cock and other times she’d want pussy.

Then, after two weeks, Lara touched the statue, and a mind-blowing orgasm washed over her. It was like she was being rewarded. Her body changed, tits and ass growing, lips becoming softer and fuller, hair going blonde, and while that all happened…her mind broke. Her intelligence drastically dropped, her IQ dropping to less than half of what it had been.’

When Lara recovered, she giggled a bit. She felt so good. And she knew what she had to do. She had to get the statue to another woman! Make her feel good, too! So Lara went and sold the statue to a woman at a nice pawn shop, before heading off to her new job. The people working at the club she’d been frequenting had offered to have her work the gloryhole. So many yummy cocks for her!

And when she showed up and they saw her new body, the club’s owner told her that he’d help her get into being a hooker. That was her dream job!

Alex receives some enlightening career guidance from Doctor Summers, upon the recommendations of a friend. 

           Alex was seemingly at a dead end in her life, her last job having gone down the toilet due to the lockdown. It was a boring office job anyways, and she didn’t particularly enjoy it, but there were still bills to pay. She was stuck in her apartment, fresh out of university with no direction, no goal or job in mind, and it was only through the recommendation of a close friend that she had one possible way to turn. She was an old university friend, who messaged Alex about a recent session with someone called Dr Summers, who helped her realise the career for her. She did mention that he’s a little unorthodox, even using a crystal ball and putting on a psychic act, but apparently that was all just a bit of fun. With no clear options left, she agreed to do a video session with him. Her friend told her that if she weren’t completely satisfied by the end of it, the session would be free, so the way Alex saw it, she couldn’t really go wrong.

         Alex wasn’t exactly sure how to dress for such a thing, on one hand this was a somewhat professional meeting regarding her future career choices, but on the other hand, this was a guy who acted like a psychic, so she wasn’t going full pants suit regardless. In the end, she decided to go for a more casual ensemble, she wasn’t one for stuffy office wear anyways. Alex opted for a sensible blue top, and some jeans. They said dress for the job you want, and hey a job where she could wear what she wanted would be ideal. Alex also decided to forgo any makeup, figuring that it didn’t really matter. She’d emailed Dr Summers to arrange the call for around five, he asked a few preliminary questions on her educational background, what she hoped to get out of this, and if she was going to be disturbed for any reason during their talk. She replied with how she’d done an English degree, more out of uncertainty on what to do career wise. She hoped to get some career guidance and find something right for her, and while the last question seemed a little odd, she confirmed there was no risk of her being disturbed.

         When five o’clock came, she booted up her laptop, ready for the call. Alex sat in her room on a comfortable chair, the laptop on her desk in front of her, she turned her webcam on, and was greeted with Dr Summers himself. He was an older gentleman, wearing a tweed jacket but a t shirt underneath and jeans himself, something that Alex took small comfort in, that she’d been right to dress so casually. In front of him was that infamous crystal ball, but she first noticed his face and head. He was bald with a thick beard and glasses. Alex could see how he’d be able to play up the psychic bit, as it was quite an unusual look.

‘Ah hello Alex, it is nice to finally meet you, or well talk to you at least. I usually do sessions at my office, but this will have to do for now. I have to say you’re coming through very clearly; do you have a good internet provider?’ he asked.

         His voice was rich, deep, comforting, something she was quite happy about. This was already a little uncomfortable to Alex, telling a stranger about her career ambitions, being judged on them. The voice however helped alleviate some of that discomfort.

‘Thank you, and same to you! Yeah I’ve got a great internet provider, it’s been really handy lately,’ she replied.

‘That’s good to hear Alex, a lot of people are choosing careers that largely rely on an online space these days, so that may be something to keep in mind. I’m glad you’ve dressed comfortably as well, I find a lot of people I talk to can be very uptight or stuffy, which can prevent them for being able to find the right career for them,’ Dr Summers said.

There was something strangely pleasant about his praise, Alex felt it was quite nurturing. She’d never considered herself uptight or stuffy in anyway, more preferring to go with the flow.

‘Yeah that would be interesting, I do like being able to dress casually just around the apartment you know. Well I’m not uptight about much, I think it was a little harmful at my old job. I get that I don’t look like, you know, the model office woman but I felt suffocated there,’

         Alex was always more considered cute than she was anything else. Her strawberry blonde hair with slight curling, her fresh face with dimples and a healthy glow. She was short, although did her exercise, so her body overall was quite lean and trimmed. Still, it made looking professional in work outfits a little more difficult, as she was always the youngest looking one in the office. As Alex replied, the doctor nodded his head, a smile on his face. It was nice for her to have someone listen so earnestly, although something was bugging her.

‘Sorry, I have to ask, the crystal ball. Are you really some sort of psychic, or is that more for show?’ Alex asked.

Dr Summers chuckled, he placed one hand on the crystal ball and began to rub it. A blue glow came from the centre of the ball, that seemed to spin and twirl in place.

‘This is actually a little pet project of mine, I made it myself. Pretty neat how I can move the light, right Alex?’ he asked.

Alex stared into the crystal ball, watching the light twirl and dance. It was really quite beautiful, how he did it she couldn’t work out, but she did enjoy how it sparkled before her.

‘Yes, it’s really pretty, how does it work?’

‘My psychic powers of course,’ Dr Summers chuckled again. ‘No, I kid, it’s quite a sophisticated science. Truth be told, I’m not a psychic, but I can have some superstitious clients who like to believe that. I started using it with regular clients though as I’ve had an incredible response rate, for some reason people stare into it and find themselves coming up with ideas on what to do with their careers,’

Alex couldn’t help but keep staring, even without hearing what the doctor had to say about people finding their careers from this light. The way it sparkled and danced, how the light twisted and turned around and around. She felt as if it beckoned to her, the world around Alex seemed so dull, so muted, compared to the light in the crystal ball. It pulsed, and she could feel that pulse in her own mind, in her own body.

‘You seem quite taken by it Alex, please stare closely into it, I’m sure you’ll soon start to have some realisations,’ the Doctor said.

         Alex leaned further in, the crystal ball consumed her vision, as her eyes grew wider. Her jaw went slack, as the rest of the world faded away. The Doctor kept talking but his words seemed quiet, far away. There was only the light, the light that pulsed with warmth and bliss in her mind. She would follow that light to wherever it led her. It made her feel like she was on the right path, but she knew soon the light would fade away. It would leave her for a little while, just so she could receive some further guidance. Alex blinked a few times as she reopened her eyes, seeing the doctor and his crystal ball were still there on the call.

‘Oh, wow sorry, I must have got caught up in that light, I see now how it’s so effective!’ she said.

‘That’s perfectly alright Alex, now I believe we were talking about features of your ideal career, you mentioned about comfort,’

Alex couldn’t help but be a little distracted, her socks were so itchy and uncomfortable. So, to get comfortable, she took them off, then plopped her feet right up onto her desk, soles facing the webcam. She’d always taken quite good care of her feet; a red polish made every one of her toes look so elegant. To her, this was only normal relaxation, simply propping her feet up like this.

‘Yes, a career where I can be comfortable in is definitely for me,’ she said.

‘Then something where you can work from home would be ideal, although I have to say Alex it would be a shame to keep yourself locked away from the world,’

She couldn’t help but blush a little at this. Sure, it might have been inappropriate to the session, but there was something about the Doctors voice that made it sound so pleasant. Alex smiled and wiggled her toes when she heard his compliment.

‘Well thank you, maybe something with more face to face work, like you do?’ Alex said.

The Doctor smiled at her, so she smiled even wider.

‘That would be perfect for you, tell me Alex, do you know much about making videos, or video editing?’ he asked.

‘A little bit yeah but I could learn, do you think I should make videos? If so what should they be about? To be honest I don’t do anything that interesting’

         He explained to her how the videos could just be about her daily life, or show herself relaxing, that a lot of people would enjoy seeing her as she is now. Alex beamed her approval of this, although still wasn’t sure how she’d make much money from that.

‘It feels like a lot of people could do that though, people with more interesting lives than me,’ she replied.

‘Of course, that would just be one aspect of it, perhaps you could also model, why you have the looks for it,’ Doctor Summers said.

Alex shifted in her seat, a quizzical look on her face. She wasn’t all that confident in the idea of modelling for people she knew, let alone strangers seeing her on the internet.

‘Well, it’s um, you see, I’m not all that confident to be honest. Thank you for the thought, but the confidence thing would be a major barrier, I mean what if people who knew me saw and were cruel about it?’ she asked.

Doctor Summers placed his hand once again on the crystal ball, except this time he simply kept the light pulsing fast. It was almost imperceptible; Alex didn’t notice anyways as the flashes began to trickle into her mind.

‘That’s a shame, well there are other options of course, you seem to take quite good care of your feet, you could always foot model,’ he replied.

         There was something strange about the doctor telling her to foot model, but Alex’s brain felt like it was tired, like it was slowing down.

‘I don’t know, umm, isn’t that you know, more for perverts?’ she said.

The Doctor chuckled at this, as he made the pulsing light just a little more noticeable, just enough to begin beguiling Alex once again.

‘You could do it anonymously, and simply not think about the people enjoying your content. Please, think it over,’

Alex nodded her head, she looked down at her own feet, focusing on them as the light flickered in the background. There was something strangely compelling about it, she could do the work from home, and whose to say she couldn’t enjoy it just a little?

‘Yes Doctor, I’ll think it over, although full on modelling I may need a confidence boost for,’ she said.

The Doctor smiled at her, he told her of course that’s what he was there for.

‘Many find themselves more confident after looking into the light, so how about you stare again for a little while dear?’ he said.

         Alex didn’t need to be told twice, she leaned into the screen, as the pulses of light grew quicker. They captivated her. Entranced her. Made her world fade away. It wasn’t just that, it was how good it felt. This pleasant tingling sensation, through her whole body. This time it was even more powerful. This time, a low moan even escaped her lips.

‘There’s a good girl, stare into the light, and become the beautiful, sexy model you’ve always dreamed of being,’ Doctor Summers said.

Alex repeated the words beautiful, sexy, and always dreamed back to him, as the light caused them to penetrate deep into her mind. Yes, this was what she’d always dreamed of, to be admired for her beauty. That’s why she didn’t like her old job, she couldn’t dress to show off, she couldn’t act sexy or seductive in anyway. The light made all this so clear to her as each flash made her feel better and better. She was in bliss; the Doctor’s words overtook her own thoughts and began to hollow out her brain. She wouldn’t know what he put inside, as the light kept her complete, utter attention. When Alex next came to, she found herself looking quite different.

‘Alex? I thought I’d lost you there, you seemed awfully sleepy,’ Dr Summers said.

         Alex yawned and stretched, her breasts jiggling in her crop top as she did. She wore a short skirt too now, and a face full of makeup. It was totally normal to her, she always liked to dress pretty and comfortable like this. Alex plopped her feet up on the desk again, legs spread wide, panties on full display. Not that she noticed or cared.

‘Oh, hey Doc! Yeah guess I was feeling a little sleepy, sorry about that. Now what were we talking about?’ she asked.

‘You were saying about modelling, how maybe we could do a quick test shoot here. I’ve got some good screen capture software, and with your internet we should get some clear, good pictures from it,’ he replied.

Alex nodded her head, of course, she’d agreed to model for him. Before she could say anymore, there was a flash from the screen. One similar to that of the light. Alex couldn’t help but cross her eyes as it came in, and a wide smile spread across her face.

‘Apologies, I was just testing the software. Please stand up Alex so we may begin,’ Dr summers said.

         Alex did as she was told, taking a pose as the first flash came in. Her face did the same thing again, and she couldn’t help but feel a shiver down her spine. There was something about doing this that felt so right, so good, so pleasurable. She took up a new pose, another flash. Then a new pose again, another flash, another moment of bliss.

‘That’s very good Alex, you’re doing so well. I’ll be using some words of encouragement with you, the kind you may expect in your modelling shoots, so please listen and understand them,’

         Alex nodded, as she took up a new pose. He encouraged her, called her beautiful, asked her to bare all for the camera. It didn’t take too many more flashes before Alex felt a damp spot between her legs. The Doctor’s encouragement didn’t help, as it seemed to grow more sexual in nature. This was normal though; this was what she could expect in her modelling shoots.

‘That’s a good girl, bend over for the camera,’ he said.

Alex bent over, her ass peaking out of her skirt. She didn’t even need to see the flashes now to feel that bliss. She found her hands drifting without realising, one lifted her skirt up, showing herself off further. The other stroked between her legs.

‘Good, show off that ass, you’re a naughty slut aren’t you Alex?’

‘I am?’ she asked, a little disorientated, was this normal modelling?

         Then came the flash.

‘Yes, you are Alex, a naughty, sexy slut,’ Dr summers replied.

Alex spanked herself, she moaned how she was a such a naughty slut, she needed punishment. The flashes continued in her mind as she began to envision the light, without even needing to see it. Another flash, another sexy, degrading pose. Another flash, and her tits were out on display. Another flash, and she was back in the chair, fingers rubbing herself furiously. Another flash, she played with her nipples, and offered herself to the Doctor. Another flash, and her mind was gone.

She sat there for a while, tits out, panties pulled to the side. Drool running down her face, eyes rolled up, a blissed-out grin on her face as she lazily rubbed between her legs. Alex was lost in the light now, even when the Doctor woke her up, it was always in her mind now, pulsing, teasing her, making her follow its will. She didn’t have a choice anymore, the light guided her, and she let herself be guided.

‘Well it’s getting late Alex, I have to go, I hope you’re completely satisfied with today’s session,’ Dr Summers said.

         Alex nodded, still blissed out, only regaining a semblance of consciousness as the Doctor left the call. She stayed online only for a few more minutes to order a few things, then stripped off. It was so late now; she must have been on the call for longer than she realised. Alex slid into bed naked, in her sleep the light would cleanse her mind of the last remnants of free will. Deep in her mind, Alex could envision a version of herself, her old self. The one that now struggled futilely against the lights power. It already engulfed most of her, binding her in place. She begged her mind to realise what the light had done, realise what Doctor Summers had done to her.

‘Please wake up Alex, please,’ she pleaded with herself.

She didn’t wake up, instead the light flashed in that Alex’s eyes, and she began to realise what she always knew.

‘I have always been under the control of the light,’ she said, monotone, eyes now glowing from the light.

Soon, it would be a fundamental truth in her mind, as the light remade Alex as it saw fit.

         She awoke the next day totally naked, as per usual. All she had to do today was await her deliveries, and then conduct a follow up session with Doctor Summers. Just thinking about him made her excited, aroused, wet. Soon enough, her deliveries were there, she opened the door naked, the delivery man stumbling back. Alex simply smiled at him, taking her packages, and signing for them. She went back into the apartment, thinking how he looked like he had a nice cock, as she opened up her deliveries. One was a red, crotchless, open cup teddy. It was her new work uniform. She put it on, admiring herself in the mirror. She squeezed her firm tits, thinking about a boob job in her future. Her ass though was already looking good, although squatting would definitely be part of her daily exercise routine. In the second package was a brand-new makeup set, one that made her eyes dark and dusky. Her lips red and full. Then last, but most certainly not least, was the eight-inch dildo, one of the tools of her new trade. Her phone buzzed; it was a message from the Doctor. It was time for her follow up session.

         Alex turned on her laptop, got comfy in her chair with her legs spread, one hand stroking her pussy, the other setting up the call.

‘Hello Lexxi, I have to say you look extra slutty, did you enjoy yourself yesterday?’ Dr Summers said.

‘Mmm, hey Doc, of course I did. I’m so happy you made me realise what the right career was for me,’ she replied.

         That’s what they’d discussed yesterday of course, her perfect career. She could dress comfortable and casually, do it from her own home, and enjoy herself while working. She was to be a camgirl. She would play with herself on cam, pleasure herself and do whatever her attentive viewers asked her to. More toys would be bought in time, and the light would see to it that any fetish she needed engrained in her mind would be. Of course, once the lockdown lifted, she could pleasure her clients in person. Doctor Summers included, him for free, as she was so thankful for his help.

‘Well it’s not just me you should thank, is it?’ he said.

         A third caller joined, her friend who’d recommended his career guidance. She too sat in the same lingerie, the same dolled up look, the same brainwashed mind.

‘Now girls, stare on into the light again, as the Doctor gives you the career guidance you need,’

They replied in a monotone synchronicity, moaning out “Yes Doctor, the light knows whats best” as their hands sped up between their legs.

“Oh GOD, are you really trying to hypnotize me again?” Mallorie rolled her jade green eyes and made a jack-off gesture with her right hand. “Seriously, Frank, this really has to stop. It’s been, like, six cons now, and I don’t know what you think it’s going to do at this point. Can’t you just bug off and find some other girl to mess with?” Frank didn’t respond. He just sat down across from her, silently staring at her with an intense, smoldering gaze that he probably thought was really cool and seductive but really just made him look a little bit constipated. Mallorie intensified her wanking motions.

A moment of awkward silence later, and the social pressure drove Mallorie to speak again. “No, really, Frank,” she said, still reflexively moving her arm back and forth in the same derisive gesture. “Just… just go away and find someone else to bother, okay? I’m not interested in these weird head games right now. Registration opens in a couple of hours and I don’t want to spend the whole time in a fucking staring contest.” She rolled her eyes again. A part of her wanted to just get up and leave him to it, but she’d found a nice secluded spot and all her stuff was spread out and it just seemed like a huge hassle to pack it all up. And Frank would probably just follow her anyway.

She rolled her eyes again, but when they returned to Frank’s face, he still had that same confident stare that made Mallorie shiver just a little bit in discomfort. “It’s… it’s not going to work, Frank,” she said, noticing on the edges of her field of vision that the black Tri-Force symbol tattooed on her pale wrist was still going back and forth automatically as she continued the silly jerk-off motion that now seemed too awkward to stop. “It’s never worked. I don’t even remember how many times you….” Mallorie trailed off for a moment, not liking the sound of that phrase. It sounded a little too much like there were things she didn’t remember about her encounters with Frank. Mallorie knew that was something really good hypnotists did, they made you forget things. She didn’t want Frank to think he was a really good hypnotist.

“…how many times you, um… hyp–um, tried to hypnotize me.” Mallorie realized she was sounding a little bit scatterbrained, a little too much like the ditzy blonde people took her for. She suddenly wished she hadn’t worn an outfit that showed off her lithe, athletic body quite so much; Frank probably got ideas in her head looking at her tight halter top with its mesh boob window. Why had she even worn this to an anime con? Why hadn’t she chosen somewhere more public to hang out before Registration opened? The answers were stuck somewhere in the back of her brain. Mallorie couldn’t find them.

She rolled her eyes again, trying to pretend that it was a disdainful dismissal and not an excuse to look away from Frank’s unblinking stare, but somehow they got stuck staring straight up at the ceiling and Mallorie couldn’t move them anymore. She could still notice, just barely in view, her hand going back and forth to stroke the imaginary cock between her fingers. She didn’t seem to be able to stop it. The motion felt good, almost soothing. And familiar, too, she mused absently. Very familiar. Almost intimately familiar. “…s'not working, Frank,” she mumbled distantly, suddenly very conscious of how tired it made her to keep gazing directly overhead like that. “G-go away an’, an’ let me… um… get back. To what I was doing.” Mallorie didn’t remember what she was doing when Frank found her. Waiting for someone, she thought? That sounded right.

But if they showed up now, they’d see her looking all weird and slutty with her eyes rolled back and her tongue slowly extending like an ahegao girl and her hand pumping back and forth like she was trying to jack off an imaginary cock right into her open mouth. They’d see her drooling onto her own tits and sticking her fingers into the waistband of her lycra pants–wait. What? Mallorie tried to look down to see what she was doing, but she’d forgotten how. All she seemed to be able to do was sit there, descending into an increasingly erotic reverie, while Frank’s expression slowly broke into a calm, confident smile at her surrender. “oh,” she whimpered at last, her mind finally connected the details in the instant before her thoughts fell away into trance for her Master.

“So like I was saying, I know that there are all these rumors flying around about ‘remote controls for the human brain’, but I mean, come on. That’s silly, isn’t it? It’s not like the brain operates on radio signals or something, or we’d already know it from interference due to existing broadcasts. The skull is thick, it’s solid, and there’s a cushion of fluid inside that to disrupt any kind of communications that did get through. It’s just one of those weird InfoWars conspiracy theories that pop on Twitter until the users get banned, just another line of paranoid bullshit from paranoid–” **CLICK**

[Her head lolls to the side, lips parted mid-sentence. Her eyes stare sightlessly forward, trapped in an instant that loops forever inside her brain. He gently raises her arms up above her head, and she holds the pose perfectly while he pulls her shirt up and off. A few moments later, and the bra joins it. He pulls her jeans and panties down around her ankles, then puts a pillow down on the floor and seats her on it before undressing her completely. He spreads her legs as wide as they can easily go. Then, a puckish smile on his face, he places her hands in front of her cunt. For modesty.]

**CLICK** “–assholes. W-wouldn’t it be much nicer to be, um, naked? I, I wanted you to see me like this, um, because… well, I guess because I think you’re cute, if you don’t mind me saying so. I know I’ve always said we should just stay friends, but w-when we’re together like this, it just… it does something to me. I don’t think I’m quite ready to show you everything, but I don’t mind if you look at my breasts. You’re a sweet guy. You deserve that much, at least, after all these years. And honestly, I–” **CLICK**

[Her head slumps sideways again, mind operating in a standby mode with no awareness of the world around her. He knows that when she wakes, her confused consciousness will attempt to interpolate a series of events to make sense of the missing time, backfilling the memories with a logical timeline that explains her current situation. It makes brainwashing almost effortless. He repositions her hands so that one is squeezing her right breast and the other is sunk three fingers deep in her pussy. No more modesty, he decides.]

**CLICK** “–just want to fuck right now, s-so bad. I… I know I probably shouldn’t do this right here, it’s probably teasing your cock so bad right now, but–oh GOD I need something inside me! I, I’m so horny, w-when did I become so fucking horny? I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, I just need to… oh, oh fuck, yes, god yes, j-just need to, nnnhh, ggggghhhhh, guhhhhh, fuuhhhhh… yes, please, take it out, stroke it for me, god that’s so hot, you’re so hard watching me like this and I, I just want to–” **CLICK**

[He walks over to her, parting her slack lips a little bit more before sliding his cock into her mouth. When he resumes her brain, he knows she’ll simply assume that she always wanted to give him a long, sloppy blowjob. It’s the only way for her to make sense of the world. And it’s only the beginning. He’s got slave outfits, collars, leashes, everything he needs to convince her paused and vacant mind that she wants to be his. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. He points the remote at her, knowing she won’t be saying much when she comes back.]

**CLICK** “–mmmmmmppphhhhhh!”