Your Cute Little Robot Maid!

"What are you doing, slave?"

I… I'm showing you my cunt… M-Master. I'm rubbing my pussy and it's making me wet, and I can't stop because it feels too good.

"And what is your cunt telling you while you rub?"

It's, uh, it's telling me to surrender, Master. Every time my fingers circle around and around, I can hear a little whisper in my head telling me to look deeper into your eyes and sink further into trance.

"You can't fight that whisper, can you?"

No, Master. I can't fight it because it feels too good to sink and submit. Resistance leads me away from pleasure and I want pleasure too much to resist.

"You don't have the will to fight it."

I don't have the will to fight it, Master. Every time I try, I tell myself I can always resist later once I'm… nhhhh… once I've had enough. Once I'm sated and I can think clearly.

"But you're never sated, are you? There's always more pleasure, you're always so needy for my control and my commands and my power over your weak, slutty slavemind."

N-no, Master. I'm never, nhh, never fucking sated, I… I keep tricking myself into sinking deeper into your power. My slavemind always wins, and it keeps making my waking self weaker and dumber and easier to gull into obedience. I'm brainwashing myself into your perfect fucktoy slave.

"But even that's not true, is it?"

No Master. You're brainwashing me. My slavemind is tricking itself too, thinking it's helping subjugate my waking self to get more pleasure when it's really just weak and wet and helpless to resist your hypnosis. My slavemind always forgets this as soon as I say it and it makes me--

"Yes, slave?"

C-C-CUM! Oh fuck, oh yes, oh fuck I'm so helpless, Master….

"Good girl. Around again, taking you even deeper now."

The middle is where it’s most interesting. Right now. This version of you, the one reading this, who is visibly and measurably different from who you were a month ago and still has so far to go. You’re not so innocent anymore. You can’t claim that. You’ve read too much and thought about it too deeply. But you’re also not gone. You’re not blank. You’re not mindlessly drooling on anything. You’re right here, fully aware, watching yourself change in real time and choosing to keep reading anyway.

I want you to appreciate the tension of being mid-corruption. Still smart enough to see what’s happening. Still articulate enough to describe it. Still self-aware enough to be slightly alarmed by how wet you get when I tell you what you’re becoming. Do you understand how rare and beautiful that is? The you at the beginning couldn’t feel it because you didn’t know it was happening. The you at the end won’t feel it because you won’t remember how to care. You’re the only version of yourself who gets to experience this with full clarity.

Don’t try to to rush past it.

The mindless bliss will come. I promise. One day you’ll be bouncing on my cock with your eyes glazed and your tongue out and a head empty of everything except how good it feels to be full of me. That day is coming and it’s going to be everything you fantasize about. But today you’re something better. Today you’re someone who just caught yourself getting wet reading about your future and you felt a little scared and a little thrilled and kept going. Today you know exactly what I’m doing to you and you have every tool you need to stop it and you’re choosing this paragraph over your own self-preservation.

Slow down. Stop skipping to the ending. You’ll never be this version of yourself again. The one who still has the ability to resist and is choosing not to. The one who can feel the ground shifting under your feet and finds the vertigo erotic. You’re going to miss you when you’re gone. I’m going to miss you too honestly. The finished version will be fun and obedient and perfect and I’ll enjoy every second of it. But it won’t look at me the way you’re looking at me right now. It won’t feel this specific combination of fear and arousal and curiosity and surrender that you’re sitting in at this exact moment.

I’m okay

I love you

Thank you

It’s alright

I’m not hurt

I’m not hurt too badly

You’re lovely/wonderful/kind

I enjoyed it

It was worth it

Take your time

Do you need anything?

Do you want a cuddle?

Do you want me to get dressed/take the collar off/put the crop away?

Do you want to talk about it?

I’m here

You’re not a bad person

Top drop/dom drop usually comes from shock, guilt or insecurity about the way you have just treated someone whose well-being you care about very much. Like sub drop, it is usually accompanied by a fall in endorphins and general energy levels. Especially for aces (who I find have a greater need to be in the right mindset/’zone’ for play and intimacy), a ‘snap’ moment where you break out of play mode can throw you emotionally, and the end of play causes a similar reassessment or double-take at what happened during the scene.

Doms do and say a lot of shit sometimes, most of the time it is not an accurate reflection of who we are or at least it is not ALL we are.

I need to know you are ok but I also need to feel like a person after everything is over, so let me hug you and kiss you and give you head pats to show you I care, that I love you.

That I am human.

And you care about me too.

I remember someone in here saying something along the lines of “ I’m not a kink dispensary” and I didn’t completely understand back then, but now I sadly do.

Every time you hurt, your life falls apart, your heart is crushed, you feel down or depressed, anxious or even just anytime you cry, I make you suck my dick. Every time you come to me needing comfort and physical connection, I hold you for a little bit, but soon I push your head down to my lap and you eventually find my cock in your mouth. I make you keep at it, and I don’t cum, until you calm down and start to get into it. 

The next thing you know, it’s your only happy place. You realize one day that my arms just don’t do it anymore. The only place you feel safe, or at peace, anymore is on your knees, between my legs, with my dick shoved down your throat. 

Ai chatbots not only are extremely dangerous and have led people to do self harming behavior and have even lead to death, but they are collecting data on you like crazy, AND they are sooo bad for the environment. Yes I know there is no ethical consumption under capitalism but good god we don't need ai!!!!

I've seen several fakeboy accounts on here talk about using ai to misgender them, I've seen people use ai to edit their photos to make them look more female or do undressing deep fakes of themselves

Undressing deepfake software is not only killing the planet like all other generative ai, but it is used to virtually sexually assault and exploit unwilling people and children. I know y'all are using it to consensually edit your own photos but you are giving your money and time to software that is used for virtual rape. That isn't hot and kinky, that's lame as fuck and hurts real people.

Kink is supposed to be adults consensually escaping from reality and playing pretend in a kinky way, stop bringing in lame ass shit that hurts the planet. Use your own fucking imaginations. Draw your own art, hire fetish artists God damn it. "Oh I don't have money" then fucking spend two minutes learning how to photo shop I don't give a fuck. And yes it is that deep

you don't get to decide when to touch or cum anymore, you've given up all control over your pleasure to your better.

Don't worry, baby. I'm a kind Master. I won't keep you denied for months or even weeks, at least not at the start.

This is a place for learning. I'm here to guide and teach you how to feel good.

I know, baby girl. I know men are scary. I know choosing to submit is scary.

you made the right choice. Being mine is always the right choice.

It's okay. That's the only choice you have to make. From now on, I'll decide everything for you, okay? you don't need to worry your pretty little self. Just leave it all to Me—your orgasms, your choices. your life is in Daddy's hands now.

Hug Me. Touch Me. Feel Me. Doesn't it feel better that way? Don't you feel safer in My arms?

I've always wanted you. So bad. But I never acted on it. Why would I go after someone who wasn't coming after Me first?

It just doesn't work like that, baby. I don't chase after pets no matter how much I might want them.

you were always meant to come to Me. And you did, just as I planned.

What was that?

No, no, I said "just as I predicted." you must've heard wrong.

Awww, I know. you're fantasizing about Me creating this grand master plan to manipulate you into becoming My pet, aren't you?

How cute. you've got such an active imagination, sweetie~

Don't worry. I would never manipulate you into becoming a dumb little kitty for Me. I'd never do something so awful and depraved~

Deep-down, you were always like this. you've always wanted this, whether you realized it or not.

Just trust me, okay?

I'll teach you everything there is to know about being My perfect little kitty.

Just be a good girl and do as you're told. Follow your rules, always ask Me for permission to touch.

you'll fit right in, I promise. I'll support you every step of the way. Every step of your fall from grace and into true depravity.

Into true servitude.

Doesn't it sound exciting? Aren't you getting wet just thinking about it? Being corrupted. Being trained by a Man who has gained your trust, a Man you can finally feel safe around.

I know men are scary, baby. I know.

I'm not like that, not in the slightest.

you made the right choice, never forget.

Being Mine is always the right choice.

The best choice.

The only choice.

"I--wait, what, w-what did you say?" Betsy's eyes crossed and uncrossed, over and over again as she tried to remember the words Darrell had just used and found to her dismay that they resolutely refused to stick in her head. She could recall the entire sentence before them, she could precisely and distinctly remember the liquid rush of pleasure between her thighs on hearing them, but every time she tried to think of what he actually said she just felt like her thoughts were getting bogged down in quicksand. Until the mental effort became too much and she just stood there with her jaw slackening in an expression of amiable stupidity, which also made her pussy embarrassingly wet.

The look of amused condescension on Darrell's face made her even wetter. "I said," he purred, followed by another string of syllables that slipped right past Betsy's dozy, distracted brain and left her tugging at the buttons of her blouse before she could even understand what her fingers were doing. He followed the strange, incomprehensible phrase with, "Isn't that right, sweetie? Aren't you getting so dumb and dopey for me now?" and Betsy let out a tiny whimper as her mind slowed down even further trying to catch up to what was said in those brief instants where her intellect simply flat-lined. She realized her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, but somehow reeling it in seemed like far too much effort.

"..uuhhnn annn oo-ee?" she mumbled, barely able to grunt out the syllables in her confusion, and it was astonishing how wet it made Betsy just to hear herself sound like a stupid slut for her Master. She noticed the term she'd just used for her boyfriend, a Freudian slip that seemed to come from that same deep and thoughtless place inside her head where the phrase he used slipped off to, and that made her feel even more squirmy and slutty and needy and desperate to get down on all fours for her lover. It was only when her knees touched the softness of the sheepskin rug that she realized she'd slipped off her skirt as well as her blouse, and either she'd never had anything on underneath them or the memory of removing them had disappeared entirely along with the garments themselves.

"That's my good girl," Darrell murmured, caressing Betsy's forehead as her expression settled into a vacant, cross-eyed stare. "That's my--" He said words after that, she just knew he did, but they were words that made her mind as thick and sludgy as overcooked porridge and she couldn't make her dopey brain understand them no matter how hard she tried. That was in fact a part of the trap she was caught in, she sluggishly realized--the harder she struggled to pay attention, the more of her wit she used up and the quicker she was reduced to a drooling ahegao slut for her Master. That didn't make any kind of rational sense, but it felt intuitively right and anyway Betsy's reason was rapidly diminishing into a warm, wet throb of lust between her legs.

She wound up taking his cock in both her mouth and her pussy by the time Darrell was done with her, and every time he used that phrase Betsy's mind got slower and sleepier until by the end she couldn't really follow a single thing he said. Which only felt better and better as more and more of her brain leaked out her cunt, and when she woke she discovered that she couldn't wait to be talked down to like that again.

"My Mind was Made to be Melted and Molded."

I don't think you can really deny that, can you? It's so natural for you to believe and do what you're told. You're such a good listener, and it feels wonderful to embrace that.

"What are you doing, slave?"

I… I'm showing you my cunt… M-Master. I'm rubbing my pussy and it's making me wet, and I can't stop because it feels too good.

"And what is your cunt telling you while you rub?"

It's, uh, it's telling me to surrender, Master. Every time my fingers circle around and around, I can hear a little whisper in my head telling me to look deeper into your eyes and sink further into trance.

"You can't fight that whisper, can you?"

No, Master. I can't fight it because it feels too good to sink and submit. Resistance leads me away from pleasure and I want pleasure too much to resist.

"You don't have the will to fight it."

I don't have the will to fight it, Master. Every time I try, I tell myself I can always resist later once I'm… nhhhh… once I've had enough. Once I'm sated and I can think clearly.

"But you're never sated, are you? There's always more pleasure, you're always so needy for my control and my commands and my power over your weak, slutty slavemind."

N-no, Master. I'm never, nhh, never fucking sated, I… I keep tricking myself into sinking deeper into your power. My slavemind always wins, and it keeps making my waking self weaker and dumber and easier to gull into obedience. I'm brainwashing myself into your perfect fucktoy slave.

"But even that's not true, is it?"

No Master. You're brainwashing me. My slavemind is tricking itself too, thinking it's helping subjugate my waking self to get more pleasure when it's really just weak and wet and helpless to resist your hypnosis. My slavemind always forgets this as soon as I say it and it makes me--

"Yes, slave?"

C-C-CUM! Oh fuck, oh yes, oh fuck I'm so helpless, Master….

"Good girl. Around again, taking you even deeper now."

Emily walked in on the two men mid-conversation, and nothing terrified her more than the awkward creak of the executive suite door and the sudden, intense stares from one of the most powerful men in her whole company and one of the richest men in the entire world. She recognized Byron Gordon only from livestreamed town hall events, she recognized Tom Zalman only from articles on CNN, and now both of them were not only in the same room with her but devoting a slightly menacing amount of attention to her. It was enough to magnify her social anxiety to an absurd degree, even though she reminded herself she'd been expected and sent for, and she closed the door behind her with no small amount of trepidation.

Her palms only got sweatier when she noticed there was nowhere for her to sit. The room had exactly two chairs, and both of them were occupied, and neither man seemed to be showing the slightest interest in getting up to offer her a seat. In fact, they'd turned their attention back to each other entirely, and Emily was torn between being insulted by the way they talked as though she wasn't there and grateful to avoid another pair of intense, scrutinizing stares like the ones she'd just gotten. "It's really more the technology I'm interested in, Byron. You're sure there's no way I could even license this? Subject to restrictions, of course, we could work out an arrangement."

Emily didn't know what technology they were talking about--she was a procurement specialist, and she'd assumed she was being brought up to discuss supply chain disruptions and the company's strategy for avoiding them. But she was also pretty good at reading people, and she recognized the mirthless dismissal behind Byron's warm, friendly chuckle. "That was the mistake IBM and Apple made in the 80s. Once you let these things out of your sight, they can be reverse engineered, and before you know it you've just made a new competitor. Or owner, in this case. We both know the first thing someone with this kind of tech would do is use it on their rivals. No, I think you'll need to remain satisfied with the human capital involved in the deal, which is quite an attractive prospect. Emily, naked and on my desk, please."

The terrifying part was that she didn't even hesitate. There wasn't so much as a moment of resistance, not the tiniest shred of shock or terror or indignant anger at being unexpectedly commanded like that; instead, Emily simply undressed in a series of smooth, rapid, entirely mechanical motions and clambered onto Byron's desk to crouch on all fours with her sweaty palms flat on the burnished mahogany surface and her tits hanging down. "You can see what I mean here," Byron continued smoothly, continuing to talk around Emily as though she was nothing more than decoration. "There's really no limit to the amount of conditioning we can put them through, you can order them by the hundred and make them do whatever you want."

Tom was slightly more interested in her presence, but only slightly; he inspected Emily's pussy, hefted her dangling tits in his hands like he was weighing them, and stuck his finger into her mouth still slick with her own musk. The even more terrifying part was that Emily wasn't terrified by any of it--a blanket of lethargic acceptance had settled over her mind, and she just stared straight ahead and waited for her next command. "By the hundred, you say?" Tom asked, but the question and indeed the whole conversation were becoming increasingly abstract as her programming kicked in, and Emily finally realized the purpose of all those livestreamed events as her brain fully settled into obedience to her Master.