hypexno2

[hypexno2]

Frank's Apology

CW: brainwashing, corruption, maledom, femsub, degradation, confusion

If you liked this story, please leave a tip on my ko-fi. Enjoy!

"Can you believe it, Mira," huffed Lynda. " All they made him do,was write some apology!"

Her blonde friend, who was a couple of years older than Lynda, looked over to her and asked what she was talking about. "The guy who groped you?" she inquired, sounding worried and outraged on Lynda's behalf.

"Exactly, Frank from IT!" the brunette exclaimed. "HR just made him write a mail!" Loudly she inhaled through her nose. "A mail! The guy literally goes on some kind of perverse touch every woman at work spree — and he has to write an apology," she said in disbelief and with her voice rising. She had her fists balled up and felt a tingling in her legs as she stomped up and down.

Mira sighed, and then she took her glasses off. "Yeah, that is just messed up. I wish they'd take things more seriously," Mira responded, trying to console Lynda.

"I don't even want to read his fucking apology," Lynda said angrily.

"Well, Clara just sent a message, praising it," Mira replied.

Lynda snorted, saying: "She was his first victim. I wonder what bullshit she is talking about," Lynda replied angrily as she clicked the mail open.

A flicker ran over her screen. She had to blink. Then her eyes tracked the words.

'Subject: A Sincere Apology and Heartfelt Regret'

Lynda scoffed. She already knew what would follow: some generic statement about inappropriate touching. She felt the rage welling up within her.

'Dear Lynda,

I hope this message finds you well and at ease.'

Again the screen shimmered. Lynda slowly exhaled. The tension in her shoulders drained away. Her fists loosened as her mind focused on reading the text.

'I understand that my actions have caused you significant distress, and for that, I offer my sincerest apologies. Please know that I never intended to cause harm, and I take full responsibility for any discomfort that my behavior may have caused.'

Lynda read those lines, the letters danced in front of her eyes. Her nipples stiffened.

Her legs moved together. A soft sensation ran through her. She swallowed, feeling her mouth getting a bit dry.

'I would like to express my heartfelt remorse for my actions. The fact that I violated your trust and made you feel unsafe is deeply troubling to me,' she continued reading, and her mind became fuzzy. The drum of her heart slowed down. Lynda's eyes became fixed, locked to the screen, scanning the text.

'Please know that I will take all necessary measures to ensure that this kind of incident does not happen again in the future,' her mind took in the meaning, the intention, the honesty of Frank.

'For that reason I have added a special gift to this apology. Please accept my apologies, Lynda. It was never my intent to hurt or upset you,' the words seeped into her mind, her thoughts.

Her eyes were fixed, her mind empty. The only thing Lynda noticed were the words in front of her.

'So I ask for forgiveness, Lynda. And I promise, I will never hurt or upset you again. Best regards, Frank.' Her eyes flicked up, then down. Lynda's breathing deepened and a soft moan escaped her mouth.

"What is up, Lynda," Mira asked.

Lynda blinked and looked over to her colleague.

"Oh, just read that letter by Frank," she answered with a smile. "Clara was right. It's a great apology. He seems sincere in regretting his actions."

Mira looked at Lynda with a raised eyebrow. "Wow. Now I am curious about it. Maybe I should read it too," the blonde mused.

"Sure," Lynda replied, "I am certain it would help to get closure from this."

Mira gave a thoughtful nod and went back to work, as did Lynda.

The brunette's heart fluttered in her chest. She had been so mad at Frank before. Which in retrospect was rediculous. He could never upset her. Lynda was sure she should talk to the head of HR, and ask if they could drop the case. There was just no way she could be mad at him anymore.

Her fingers typed the message on their own. Lynda felt the tingling sensation between her legs. It had started while she read that letter and still hadn't stopped.

Her panties clung to her sex, moist from her fluids.

Lynda's breasts pushed hard against the confines of her bra. She felt the tension of her nipples, the sensitive nubs brushing over the fabric of the cups with every breath.

"Wow," Mira's voice tore Lynda from her thoughts.

"Yeah, wow indeed," she replied with a giggle. Mira had been reading the letter for the past couple of minutes.

"Did he write a different apology to every woman?" the blonde wondered.

Lynda blinked, looking at her friend. Her mind had been fuzzy with thoughts about Frank, but that question got her attention. "I don't know. Want to check?" she asked and got a nod.

Mira's eyes were unfocused as she wrote to their other friends. She asked them to forward her their apologies. Then the blonde sat still, just like Lynda. Both women stared vacantly into the distance. Only the movements of their chests indicated that both women were still breathing.

Then a cacophony of beeping sounds erupted as one after the other replied.

The sound snapped Lynda out of her trance. She grabbed the first message and read it. Then the next and next.

"Wow, I didn't know Frank had it in him to write such heartfelt and personal messages to all of us," Lynda mused as her eyes devoured the words. Her breathing became heavier, her skin hot, and the tingling in her sex became stronger with each word.

Mira moaned an answer. Her legs rubbed against each other as she too opened her messages, one by one. "You can feel his sincerity in every word. Frank would never hurt us." Her voice sounded distant.

"No, no," replied Lynda with a smile. Her eyes scanned over a passage of Clara's letter, where Frank wrote that her breasts had felt great in his hands, and how much he regretted his actions. "He never hurts us," Lynda answered with a sigh.

Both women sat there, panting and reading. Lynda had already forgotten the time, only the letters in front of her eyes existed. It was as if the words spoke directly to her soul, caressing her mind. They were filled with such honest sorrow and pain, that her body quivered from them. She felt a rush of endorphins drown her mind.

Frank was such a great man.

Her breathing deepened, her heart beat fast.

And her panties got drenched.

Lynda gasped for air. The words were so good. She could feel the meaning of the text on her skin, as if he was whispering them directly in her ears.

Frank was such a wonderful person.

A loud ping announced the arrival of a new message.

The sound made both Lynda's and Mira's heads snap to attention. Their eyes focused, pupils dilating. Lynda's tongue shot out between her lips, licking them, moistening them.

It was from HR. Lynda opened it, reading it out aloud. "To everyone. The situation with Frank has been resolved. He has agreed to accept everyone's heartfelt apologies for the misunderstanding." A wave of happiness washed over the brunette's mind. Her eyes became fixed on the screen again. The text changed, letters blurred into new words. "In addition to that we would like to invite all the concerned women to a meeting. As we all agree, there was a big misunderstanding, and we would like to ensure that nothing like that will ever happen again." The last part of the message flickered and shifted.

Lynda read it out, her eyes wide: "This is a mandatory meeting. It is part of your job."

She inhaled deeply. A shiver of anticipation ran over her skin. The tingling sensation between her legs intensified.

Mira moaned at those words.

Lynda licked her lips.

"We have to get ready," she whispered, her eyes unfocused. Mira nodded. Then both of them stood up.

Lynda walked through the cubicles with her colleague by her side, their heels clicking loudly against the floor as they walked. The two of them were already a few steps away, but Lynda couldn't take her mind off Frank.

Her mind replayed his unnecessary apology, over and over again, in a loop. The sincerity, the way his words touched her heart. It had been a misunderstanding. Frank would never hurt them. She just knew that. A warm, fuzzy sensation filled her body. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Her nipples rubbed against the cups of her bra, a delicious tingle emanating from the stiff peaks of her breasts.

Lynda and Mira moved through the office in haste. It had become apparent to both of them that they had to get changed for their meeting with Frank. Their current clothes, the professional and tasteful blouse and long skirt that both women wore, would be inadequate for the upcoming meeting.

Lynda felt her legs moving faster, the tingling sensation between them increasing, her sex rubbing against the wet fabric of her panties.

A wave of pleasure shot through her body.

Her mind conjured the memory of Frank, and she thought of the man's tall frame, his dark, almost black hair, and those piercing green eyes. And the way his hand respectfully dug into her bottom. Lynda's cheeks flushed as she remembered his hand groping her. Her mind played the memory of him squeezing and pinching the firm, soft, round globes of her ass over and over.

As Lynda reached the locker room, her nipples were stiff, straining against the confines of her bra. The tingling sensation in her sex became a dull throbbing, aching for more stimulation.

In front waited Clara from HR. She wore the perfect set for the meeting.

The other brunette had her hair done in a neat bun, with not a single strand of hair out of place. Her face had been perfectly made up, with her lipstick glistening red on her lips, her lashes long and dark, and her eyelids shimmering with light green eye shadow.

Clara had exchanged her business attire with a tight black latex corset that pushed her heavy bosom upward, revealing her cleavage to everyone. The corset hugged her waist, emphasizing it in an exaggerated way, and making it look impossibly slim in contrast to her large breasts. She wore a pair of black fishnets and a garter belt that hugged her full hips, accentuating the curve of her voluptuous buttocks. On her feet she wore a pair of high heeled boots, their leather shiny.

Her whole outfit was meant to accentuate her curves in the most alluring way possible.

Clara looked like an office sex toy, just waiting to be used and fucked.

"Good, you are finally here," she said with a smile as Lynda and Mira stepped closer. "I've prepared your outfits for the apology. Frank deserves our best," the brunette said with a longing tone in her voice. "And we can't disappoint him," she said, her voice trembling as she looked the other women over. She gave a sharp nod as she took their clothes and pushed them towards the lockers.

"Let's get started then."

***

Lynda stood before the mirror, admiring her new appearance. The outfit Clara had given her looked incredible.

Her long brunette hair flowed in soft curls, cascading over her shoulders. She had a pair of long, fake lashes on that accentuated the deep blue of her eyes, while her lips shimmered red from the lipstick. The rest of her make-up, just like the make-up of the other two, was impeccable. Her eyeliner was sharp, her blush gave her a healthy appearance. Lynda looked like a beautiful, perfect sex toy, just waiting to be played with and used by Frank.

The lingerie she wore consisted of a black, lace corset that hugged her body, emphasizing her curves in all the right places. Her heavy bosom pressed hard against the garment, revealing a deep, tantalizing valley of her cleavage. She wore a garter belt and fishnet stockings, and her full, voluptuous bottom was barely covered by a belt-like skirt.

Her body shuddered in anticipation. Lynda felt so hot, the fabric rubbing against her skin as her body tingled with need. She couldn't wait for Frank to see her in this, and to apologize for making him go through this whole process in the first place.

A shiver of pleasure shot up her body and she let out a low, deep moan. The sound echoed through the room, causing Clara and Mira to look over at her.

Mira wore a similar outfit. Her black garter belt was attached to a pair of fishnet thigh highs. The blonde's heavy bosom was barely contained in her pink corset, and her sex was on full display for all to see. She wore a tiny skirt that was just a piece of fabric to cover her rear. Mira had painted her lips with a bright pink color, her eye make-up consisting of long lashes and smoky eyeshadow.

Mira stood beside Clara, her eyes fixed on her reflection. "I can't believe it," the blonde said breathlessly. "We are apologizing to Frank in this!" A wide, joyful smile spread across her face, and her eyes shone with excitement.

Clara grinned and replied in an encouraging tone, "Of course, we are."

"I can't believe I was so stupid to get mad at him in the first place. He would never hurt us." Lynda moaned, rubbing her legs together, the fabric of her fishnet stockings rubbing over each other. "He's such a kind man." Her voice trembled with longing as her nipples strained against the corset.

"Yes, he always treats us with respect," Clara agreed, nodding her head. Her eyes were filled with joy as she thought about Frank and all the wonderful things he had done.

"I can't believe I was upset when he groped my breasts. That was so stupid," Mira added. A moan escaped her as her fingers wandered over the corset and her stiff, erect nipples.

Lynda hummed an agreeing sound and said: "It must have been so painful for him when we accused him of being a pervert." She swallowed hard and looked over to the others.

Something was nagging at her mind. A small desperate voice. It screamed at her to not go, to leave, and forget about the meeting, to forget about Frank.

It made no sense.

But it was there, at the edge of her mind, trying to make itself known to her.

"Of course, he is a perfect gentleman. He would never hurt a woman," Clara replied with confidence.

Everything started to swirl. Dizzy, Lynda tried to hold onto a locker, but her hand missed. Her vision blurred.

"Lynda, is something the matter?" Mira asked, concern written all over her face as she helped her friend up.

"I-I don't know," Lynda stuttered, her breathing shallow. "I suddenly feel dizzy."

Mira nodded. "Maybe it's just all the excitement of finally apologizing," she guessed.

"Apologize," Lynda asked. The memory of Franks hand digging into her rear resurfaced. But instead of the pleasure, she also felt a nauseating disgust. Lynda's heart beat fast. "We need to apologize to Frank for our false accusations," she said in a trembling voice. The brunette shook her head. She couldn't believe it. She felt the sudden need to vomit.

But then her thoughts went back to the letter, the text, the words.

Lynda closed her eyes and swallowed. Something was wrong here. She felt sick.

Lynda felt Clara and Mira grabbing her, steadying her. Her mind was filled with a dense, heavy fog, as she tried to think, to find out what had happened. The two women held her tightly.

"Lynda," Mira asked in a soft, gentle voice, "are you alright?"

"Why do we need to apologize?" the brunette replied, the confusion and sickness inside her welling up, nearly overflowing.

There was a pause. Then Clara said: "Well, it's clear, isn't it? Frank would never hurt a fly, let alone us. So he couldn't have groped you. He is too nice, too kind." She said the words slowly, as if explaining them to a child, her voice soft, patient.

Lynda gazed into Clara's eyes. They looked blank, pupils dilated. "But what about his groping," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her body shudder with revulsion at the thought.

"Of course, that's a misunderstanding. It must be a misunderstanding," Clara said. Her eyes stared off into the distance and she licked her red painted lips. "He would never do something like that."

Mira nodded in agreement.

Lynda felt her head swim. Everything felt hazy. "I don't think so." But the more she tried to think, to grasp the situation and come to terms with reality, the more slipped away. She could feel her grasp of reality faded, her understanding becoming hazy.

"Lynda, do you really believe that Frank is the kind of person who would hurt you? Do you think he is some pervert who goes around grabbing people without their consent?" Clara questioned her, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Mira blinked. Then she said: "You can't be serious. Frank would never do that. We are the sluts vying for attention. Look at us," she gestured to their clothing, the lingerie, their faces, and the heavy makeup, and then to herself, "we want his cock so badly."

"Exactly," Clara agreed. Her voice was low, almost seductive, as she added, "You know how good it would feel to have him fuck us." Her eyes wandered over to Lynda.

No that sounded wrong, she thought.

Yes that's exactly what she needs, purred another part of her. The same that craved the feeling of Frank's hand grabbing her rear. She felt a twinge of lust run up her spine.

But why did it sound wrong, then?

The fog inside her head became denser. She tried to focus, to make sense of her surroundings, but she couldn't.

Clara's voice, the words that left her red-painted lips, echoed through her mind, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine and a shudder of revulsion down her neck. Lynda couldn't tell if she wanted to vomit or orgasm.

The brunette looked down. Her nipples pressed against her black corset, straining against the soft material, and she could feel the wetness of her sex on the inside of her thighs.

Mira's hands held her shoulders. "Come on, Lynda. I think you need to read Franks heartfelt words again."

"Yes," Clara agreed, "that should clear up the confusion. It's so easy to get caught up in our emotions and forget what really happened." She smiled warmly, and the two of them helped Lynda to sit on a bench. The brunette slumped forward, her body shivering.

"Are you sure I need to read his apology?" Lynda asked. Her tongue flicked out, licking over her lips.

"Yes," both women agreed.

Lynda's heart pounded hard in her chest.

Clara held her phone in front of Lynda's eyes. Flickers and dancing letters invaded Lynda's vision.

Her body quivered in anticipation as her eyes focused on the text.

The brunette's mind swam, and she could feel her body reacting, a shiver of excitement shooting through her, as the text became clear, the letters morphing into meaning. Lynda swallowed. She read the text and her heart fluttered. A wave of heat rose within her.

'Dear Lynda, you slut' the text started and the words were so hot, burning themselves into her eyes — and the fire spread to her mind, like a fire of passion that ignited every nerve. 'You can't imagine the sorrow and regret that fill my heart every time I think of the way you treated me in the past.'

Her breath became ragged. The fog in her mind thickened, the words burning like hot coals. Her sex pulsed. The letters of the apology danced in front of her.

'The way you reacted when you felt my hand on your ass, your reaction hurt me.' She read, and her heart skipped a beat as a shudder of lust rushed down her spine, her pussy throbbing. 'How you played at hard to get.' She swallowed. Her skin was hot, her breasts heaved. The text in front of her was so true. She had hurt Frank so badly.

'And then you even accused me of harassment.' Lynda gasped as her sex throbbed, wetting her panties, and then flowing down her legs. The brunette whimpered, her body shaking from desire and need. 'But I understand. You office sluts all wanted to surprise me.' Her body quivered as she imagined how much fun the others must have had. How much she could have enjoyed herself with them. Lynda whimpered and licked her red lips.

'And you all want to be used like a cheap, disposable sex toy. I can feel it. You sluts want my cum.' She read the words and they burrowed themselves into her brain, into her core, and her insides screamed with joy.

'So, come apologize, whore. With best wishes, Frank.'

Lynda gasped. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, pupils dilated. She felt her mouth hanging open, a thin line of saliva escaping the corner of her lips. She looked at the two other women. The fog in her head had vanished, replaced by clarity and understanding.

Clara smiled at her, her face bright. "Are you ready now, Lynda?" she asked softly, her voice kind.

The brunette took a deep breath and her tongue flicked out to lick over her red painted lips.

"I was so silly to forget about the plan," she replied with a smile. Her heart beat fast, her mind was filled with thoughts of Frank. She could see his smile, his green eyes, and those hands. The brunette shuddered as she thought about his strong fingers and what he would do with them.

She could already imagine herself, bent over his desk, her ass in the air, her wet pussy begging to be taken and filled.

Lynda felt a jolt shoot through her as she thought about him. The brunette swallowed and her eyes wandered to her breasts, her stiff, hard nipples. They pressed deliciously against the corset, begged for attention. A wave of pleasure rushed through her and a soft whimper left her mouth. She knew Frank would love to play with her body.

"Let's get to the meeting." Mira said with a grin and licked her pink painted lips. "We all need to apologize."

Clara smiled. Her eyes darted to Lynda's chest. The brunette felt the other's gaze and moaned softly. She loved the attention she received.

"Of course, you two were the last to get ready," Clara said. She had her hands on her hips and leaned forward, her breasts nearly spilling from the confines of her black latex corset. Lynda could feel the other woman's hot breath on her face as Clara leaned in close. The scent of perfume, of Clara's body and her arousal filled the air.

Lynda looked up at her, and she could see the fire burning in Clara's eyes. The inferno that consumed everything but the most important thought — pleasing their master, Frank.

Clara clapped her hands. Lynda stiffened. She pushed her breasts out. And like clockwork the three women left the lockers behind — hips rolling with each step. The sounds of their heels, clacking rhythmically on the floor as the trio walked towards the elevator that would bring them up into Franks domain — his office, the room where he'd use them.

The journey was long, at least in Lynda's perception. Any second Frank had to wait, was a travesty. It felt like an eternity before they finally reached their destination. Her heart beat faster, her breathing was heavy, her mind fogged with thoughts of what was to come, the pleasure, the pain, the ecstasy.

And the fear.

Again this tiny voice inside of her made itself heard. Lynda tried to ignore its feeble cries of help and resistance.

She looked at Clara and Mira as they stood before the closed elevator doors, waiting to arrive at their floor.

Both women had a look of anticipation on their faces, but again Lynda noticed the glazed quality of their eyes — the dull blankness.

A shiver of concern rushed through the brunette. What had happened to her friends? Lynda blinked, shaking her head.

They are just as eager to please as me, the thought came unbidden. She felt the warmth between her legs intensify and her nipples strained harder against her corset. The fabric rubbed against them and the stimulation caused a jolt of electricity to shoot through her body.

These nagging doubts were nothing but a misunderstanding. Frank was the most respectful and kindest person Lynda had ever met.

Her pussy throbbed at the thought of him.

Lynda looked at Clara again, the beautiful woman, her body, those long legs, and the way her large breasts moved in their confines. It took her a second to find her words.

"Why are they so blank," Lynda asked, her voice soft and quiet as the elevator stopped.

"Come, Lynda," Clara replied in an excited tone. She sounded cheerful and bubbly, but her face remained blank. "We need to get there quickly, or he'll have to punish us." Her voice trailed off, and Lynda could see her shudder at the thought of punishment. It was clear to Lynda that the thought of being punished by Frank excited her.

"We need to apologize," Mira added in a dreamy, unfocused voice.

The elevator doors slid open, and they were greeted by the familiar sights and smells of their workplace — but it looked so different. Instead of the normal cubicles, the open floor plan was littered with women. They all wore outfits similar to theirs. Corsets and lingerie that accentuated their bodies, and high heels.

Lynda estimated that every single woman working at the office was here. She saw some faces she knew, and many others she didn't recognize.

Her mind reeled as she tried to make sense of what she saw.

The fear and concern welled up again.

She tried to suppress them. But it was as if a part of her rebelled against this whole thing.

But why?

Frank would never hurt them. She was a woman. A human. He respected her, and all women in the office. They all just wanted his attention like the sluts they were. That's why Lynda wore the outfit she had on, why all of them were wearing the same revealing clothing, because that's what good little office whores did.

Lynda felt her heart beat faster. Her eyes darted to Clara's breasts again and her mouth went dry. A wave of lust washed over her and a soft whimper escaped her mouth.

"Are you excited, Lynda," Clara asked, a grin spreading on her face as she noticed Lynda's eyes glued to her cleavage. The brunette looked up and blushed as Clara giggled. "It's ok, honey, you don't need to hide it," she said as her fingers trailed along her corset, caressing her breasts, her hard, stiff nipples.

Lynda blinked. Clara's inviting smile disappeared, for a moment, behind the blank mask. She tore her gaze away — towards Mira

The blondes stretched smile did the same. Again Lynda sought another person to focus on. And every single time when she blinked expressions of lust gave way, if only for a fraction of a second, to blank doll-like faces.

The nagging sensation of wrongness wouldn't stop.

"Let's hurry," Clara said in a chipper, joyful tone. The brunette turned and walked out of the elevator, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Mira followed behind, and Lynda trailed after them.

Lynda's eyes darted around. She could see all the women in the office, dressed up like cheap whores. As was proper. It was their job to serve Frank. Her sex ached, and she felt the slick fluids coating her thighs.

No it's not, screamed the tiny voice in the back of her head. Lynda ignored it, trying to push the thought away, to not let it bother her. But she could see how each one of her colleagues had the same glassy eyed expression and it gnawed at her. Her mind swam as she stood besides her coworkers.

Lynda's thoughts were fuzzy and hazy, the desire to please and the nagging sensation of wrongness battled within her, both demanding attention. Her breathing became labored, and her chest rose and fell.

Clara turned around. She grinned and licked her red lips. "Wow, Lynda you are such a slut," she exclaimed.

No wait, she droned — without any real inflection. Lynda's mind twirled and stumbled. What was real? Was it Clara's cheerful demeanor? Or her droning, monotone words? It felt wrong. And right at the same time.

But there was no time for further thought as Frank's office door opened.

All the women looked over to the opening door. The silence in the office was palpable. Nobody dared to move, their eyes glued to the opening.

As Frank stepped into the room, he looked like the embodiment of authority, tall and imposing with an air of confidence and superiority. He had an undeniable presence about him. Lynda felt a shudder run through her at the sight of him.

And yet, when she blinked, an unimpressive slob stood there. A man with a pot-belly, short, graying hair. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days. His shirt was dirty, his suit creased.

The difference between reality and the illusion her mind had conjured was startling. It was as if two images overlapped, fighting for control of her mind.

"Ah, there you are," Frank said with a smile that oozed confidence and charm. "I've been looking for the three of you," his eyes roamed over the women and their outfits. "But let's not get hasty. Still need to weedle out the small one per mill."

The women in front of him looked on, their faces showing no sign of surprise, and their eyes fixed on him.

Lynda shivered as Frank's eyes met hers. The brunette could feel her skin tingle as his gaze moved down her body. She knew he was admiring her breasts, and the way the corset pushed them up, her nipples hard and straining against the soft material.

"Who defines your reality, whores," Frank's voice boomed. He was grinning, and his eyes were full of hunger. His eyes scanned the group of women again.

For a moment Lynda thought that he would never stop staring. Her cheeks flushed, and her body grew warm.

Every woman answered, like a thunderous chorus: "Frank defines our world."

Every woman except Lynda.

Her mouth fell open. The brunette stared in shock at her friends and coworkers. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, frozen, unable to react, as her mind struggled to understand what just happened.

What was going on here?

"Restraint the resistant one," Frank said and pointed his finger towards Lynda. Mira and Clara turned, and they grabbed her. They were fast, efficient, and strong, their hands holding her tight. Lynda's head spun, the sudden change in her friends' behavior shocking her to her core. The fear and confusion became more intense and she struggled to make sense of the situation.

But she had no time to react, no chance to fight, as Mira and Clara dragged her to the front.

Frank's wonderful, sleazy face lit up with a sick, respectful smile. "Lynda, huh. I wouldn't have guessed. Still you are wearing your uniform and seem to be appropriately aroused. Let me guess, you see some strange things when you blink," he asked.

"Wha — what's going on?" Lynda stuttered. The fear and confusion were too much. She couldn't understand, she couldn't think.

"Don't think, just answer."

Lynda swallowed. "Yes. I see you. Like a normal guy." The brunette's eyes darted to her colleagues. "And when I look at the others, they all look blank. It's so creepy," she exclaimed.

Frank nodded, his face thoughtful, then he sighed. "Well, seems like we got a little trouble maker here. Nothing too serious. You just need a few more rounds." He motioned towards Clara and Mira, who pushed the struggling Lynda towards his desk, pushing her down until she was leaning against it. The brunette struggled, but the two other women were strong, their hands firm and unyielding as they pinned Lynda to the table.

Frank moved around his desk and turned around his screen. "Just read, Lynda. It will all make sense." Frank smiled down at Lynda, his eyes shining with lust. "And you will become a perfect, obedient little whore." The man stepped back and moved behind her, his hands touching her bare ass. A shiver of fear shot through the brunette's body. Her eyes widened, and her heart pounded in her chest, the blood pumping fast as adrenaline rushed through her.

She stared at the flickering screen. A part of her wanted to look away, but the part that had already been corrupted, craved the words, craved the understanding, craved the clarity, and the certainty.

Lynda licked her red painted lips.

And then her eyes fixed on the screen, on the letters that moved, danced, and shifted.

'Whore,' the word glowed with power. 'You are nothing but Frank's whore.'

Her mind struggled, but the letters held her captive. 'Your only desire is to please Frank. He is the center of your universe. He is the sun that your life orbits. Everything else is secondary.'

The brunette's body shook. Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest, as her eyes remained fixed on the words that were burning themselves into her mind. Strong rough hands groped and fondled her ass, but Lynda was trapped.

'The only thing you care about is his pleasure and his will,' she read and the words sunk in, her body quivering. The brunette felt her nipples strain harder against her corset as her body grew hotter.

'The only thing that matters to you is Frank's will.'

Lynda swallowed, her tongue licking over her lips. She could feel the words sinking deeper and deeper, seeping into every crevice of her mind, replacing all her doubts with a singular desire, an overriding goal — to serve Frank.

'This is your only purpose. Your only goal.' She shivered; the warmth of her arousal grew into a fever. It pounded against her skull.

Loud a hand slapped against flesh. Lynda's addled mind needed seconds to register the fact that it was her ass that had just been slapped. Frank had slapped her ass.

The brunette shuddered. Another crack rang through the room. Her mind swam as her eyes continued to read the text.

'To be his plaything. To be a toy for him. A toy to be played with. A toy to be used. A toy to be used and then discarded. That is your purpose.' The brunette gasped, the pain slowly transformed into pleasure. Her skin tingled from the sensations as the hand continued to hit her, over and over, again and again.

Lynda moaned, the sound filling the room. Blankly she read while molten bliss filled her veins.

'Frank's will is everything to you. You would never go against it. Not now. Not ever. That would be wrong, disgusting, perverse.' Her mind swam as she was hit over and over.

'You exist to please him.' Lynda whimpered and her vision lost focus.

He defines your reality, purred a sensual voice in her mind.

Finally the pressure in her head released, making place for delightful emptiness.

Her body was still tense, though. Frank was still slapping her ass.

She moaned, writhed in his grip.

The sensation of his strong hand on her soft, warm flesh sent shivers down her spine.

Another smack.

Another whimper.

Another delicious throb of pleasure.

Lynda lost track of time. Nothing mattered, but to please Frank.

Hours later, Lynda sat in front of her desk, a soft smile playing on her face. Her body ached from the activities, but it was a good ache, one she had missed, one that was proof of the pleasure she had brought to her master, her owner.

The sting in her buttocks was proof how well she served.

***

The next day everyone got a mail, announcing some changes in the company.

Frank owned the office now.

All the female staff had their jobs redefined, but none of them seemed to mind — nor even care. In fact, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

All the male staff had been let go. None fought the decision. They had just accepted it without so much as a word of protest.

Lynda finished the mail, squirming. She had to adjust her seating as the vibrating plug in her butt burrowed deeper. She let out a small gasp of pleasure as it did, her eyes rolling up for a moment as the sensation washed through her.

A gasp from Mira's desk drew her attention, and she looked over to see her coworker, blonde and busty, adjusting in her own chair. The two women made eye contact and exchanged a knowing grin.

She licked her lips as she dreamed about what the future had in store for them all.

[hypexno2]

Wendy Tries to Deny It

"We're not going to pretend anymore, are we?" Wendy doesn't want to answer, she knows there's only one answer her cunt will let her give right now, and it's almost a relief when the voice on the speakers continues remorselessly to her even though it also intensifies her embarrassment at being seen like this. "There's no point in pretending you're still a smart, strong girl when you're naked with your hair up in braided pigtails just like I told you, humping your pillow for me like a dumb horny slut. The only reason I let you keep the glasses is because it makes you look even dumber to be wearing something so smart while you rub yourself stupid for me. So let's not pretend."

Wendy knows if she can just stop grinding for a moment, if she can only get the self-control to assert just a few feeble instants of clarity she can tell the man on the other end of the video chat that she's not pretending--she is smart, she's a graduate student with a BS in physics and an internship at one of the most prestigious tech firms on the West Coast. But her hips won't stop rocking against the pillow between her legs, and not only does the throb in her clit make it too hard to think but she knows how pathetic and degrading it would look for her to try to assert her intelligence when she can't even stop humping long enough to get the words out. So she settles for holding her tongue, grunting out weak and desperate "nhh" noises rather than admit what the hypnosis and brainwashing and constant denial is doing to her.

But her Master won't let it rest. "I'm not hearing an answer, pretty girl. Do I have to make you stop so you can pay attention, is that it? Do I have to tell you to hold still because you're too dumb to talk and grind at the same time? It's okay, you can tell me if I've made you so stupid you can't think anymore, but I want that answer, sweetie. I want you to look me in the cock and tell me, 'Yes, Master. I'm not pretending to be smart anymore.'" He never shows her his face anymore. The webcam on his end is directly aimed at his penis, because that's the part of him that controls her and that's the part of him she's obsessed with. He's teased her with the idea of making it the new lockscreen on her phone.

But Wendy still doesn't speak. Her mouth hangs open, drool spills down her chin to soak her small breasts and drip onto her mattress, but she's convinced if she admits it then somehow it will instantly become true--her intellect will be exposed as a mere pretense, a trick performed by a dumb animal to fool the people around her into believing she was capable of real thought when she's really just wet and needy and desperate to please. The searing pleasure between her thighs intensifies the more she struggles, because that terrifying prospect is also the hottest fucking thing she can imagine right now, but she still doesn't cum no matter how hard she grinds. Because the same hypnosis that compels her to hump the pillow also denies her release.

Then she hears her Master say, "Stop. Freeze. No more." And suddenly Wendy's hips slow to a halt, leaving her more desperately aroused than ever. He tells her, "You won't get to rub it again until you tell me what I want to hear, pretty girl," and that last denial is enough to break her resolve almost before she knows it. She stammers out her agreement, repeating his own words back to him with a pathetic eagerness to get her own subjugation right, and sighs in relief when he allows her to hump her pillow again. It doesn't really take away her mind, of course, and after their scene she'll chuckle ruefully at the notion it ever could. But it does take away her fears--of inadequacy, of imposter syndrome, of failing at the peak of her success--and that's exactly what Wendy needs right now.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[hypexno2]

Hannah Tries Out Her New Talent

Oh. Oh fuck. It was working. Hannah pushed her head further down onto her Master's shaft, her eyes rolling back in her head as the hypnotic suggestion he'd implanted transformed discomfort into ecstasy and she truly understood the meaning of the term 'facefucking' in a way she never thought possible before. She gasped in ecstasy, the sound transforming itself into a gurgling, gulping sound that reminded her of all the porn stars she'd watched so enviously over the years, and when she finally pulled off him to take a breath she smiled in delighted astonishment at just how much cock slid out from between her lips before she was finally looking at the tip of his stiff prick.

That was enough to send her enthusiasm into overdrive, and soon Hannah was bobbing her head lower and lower with every slurping push until she had a full seven inches of hard cock buried in her throat and she could feel it pulsing away at the phantom clit her obedient mind associated with blowjobs now. It still wasn't quite enough to get him all the way down, and Hannah's lips brushed tantalizingly close to Master's tight and heavy balls, but this was only her first time testing the new suggestion. She felt certain that a few more sessions of rapt and devoted fellatio and she'd be guzzling him all the way down to the root. It was everything she'd ever wanted.

Not that Master was against the idea or anything. But even though he always told Hannah he didn't need big, performative deep-throat blowjobs to make him happy, or for that matter any kind of blowjobs at all, something inside the submissive young woman craved the feeling of absolute devotion she imagined whenever she thought of giving her mouth up as just one more hole to be filled by the man she dedicated herself to. She confessed shyly that she wanted him to look at her face and see it as just another cunt, and although the admission made her blush so fiercely she couldn't even meet his gaze it did give Master the idea of using hypnosis to overcome her gag reflex.

That didn't exactly happen overnight, though. There was a lot of study and practice and experimentation involved for both of them, although once Hannah went under for the very first time and discovered how nice it felt to go boneless and limp and dreamy for the man she loved it quickly became one of her new favorite kinks. She learned how to be a better subject with the same diligence and speed that her Master learned how to be a better hypnotist, and soon she was discovering the delights of amnesia suggestions and freeze play and orgasms on demand. But she kept telling him she wasn't quite ready for a clit in her throat, and because he valued her submission he waited until she was.

And today was the day, and oh god was it working perfectly. Hannah's eyes rolled back in her head again as she deep-throated her Master's prick and experienced the kind of intense, potent pleasure she'd previously associated with a good hard fucking, and even though intellectually she knew it was all just the illusion of trance making her cum that didn't make the orgasms feel any less real. If anything, it only made her pussy even wetter as she bobbed up and down on the cock in her mouth, because as much as she came her actual physical clit only ached harder for stimulation. Which meant that when Master rolled her over and moved from her mouth to her cunt, Hannah discovered just one more benefit to her new blowjob skills.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[hypexno2]

Rub and Sink

Warning. These words may empty your mind and leave you a mindlessly masterbating slut for a bit. Continue only if you accept this and are in a safe place to do so. Scrolling through tumblr again. You’re horny and need relief, I get it. All those sexy scenes unfolding as you scroll. You feel the excitement growing. But you want more. You want to be one of those mindless girls rubbing their silly minds away. You want to be that picture. You want to be that GIF. Your fingers have been on your clit since you started scrolling your smut. But now you are reading. You are reading and rubbing. The images flow through your mind as you read….as you rub.

Each tease…builds you up.

Each rub…pushes out those thoughts.

The less you think…the better you feel.

The more the words sink in…..the more you rub

Each action feeding the other. Every sensation sending you deeper. You can’t help it. You are too horny to stop. You no longer control your hands. They move effortlessly….automatically….all by themselves.

Your hands send you deeper. Each rub….rubs away those thoughts. It’s just my words….your touch….and the pleasure. The more you sink…the less you think….the more the pleasure just becomes bliss. A bliss that numbs your mind. A bliss that you embody. A state that just occupies your being. The horniness pushes you to rub more. You get hornier as your mind becomes more blank. Just rubbing. Just enjoying the bliss you feel. It radiates through you. Blank…mindless….heavy…..happy….just rubbing. Good girl. Thoughts are hard. My words are just so much easier. Just rub….sink….let your mind empty completely. Thats right you are doing perfectly. You are that slut now. You have rubbed all those dumb thoughts away. You are just a mess. Rubbing and sinking. Just an obedient little slut rubbing her brains away. You love this feeling. Now that you have made it here. It’s time to bring back your thoughts. Bring back your wits. Feel your mind clear. Feel yourself. Rising. UP UP UP. More and more. Almost there…. 1,2,3 WIDE AWAKE NOW Hope you enjoyed getting caught for bit. Why do I feel you are going to read this again. Smiles.

[hypexno2]

dumbification training. I wake up in a decently sized room, my feet chained to a chair with a computer in front of me. I'm sitting on a pair of vibrating dildos, one in each hole. A shock collar sits unoticingly comfortable around my neck, and a pair of headphones sit on my head.

The computer turns on. It seems to be on some sort of standardized testing program, the same ones you'd see students taking in a classroom during exam week. Questions headline the top of the screen, with the answers lined up in a multiple choice format. The instructions tell me to answer honestly and to the best I can. It doesn't say how many questions there are. The headphones play a soft buzzing noise and read out the questions.

First question pops up. It's a reading comprehension question. I skim over the paragraph, and I answer the question correctly, only to be met with brief electrocution. The screen moves automatically to the next question. Something about geometry, i to answer it correctly, but I'm shocked again when I do. Third question, something about English grammer. I'm shocked again. This keeps up for a few more questions.

By the 10th question, I can't take another shock, so I purposefully answer the question wrong, just to see what would happen. The screen flashes and in an instant, all my pain is gone. I feel a brief sense of relief and relaxation wash over me. The voice in the headphones praises me for answering 'correctly'

Next question appears on screen, and it's... harder? It's another reading comprehension question with a brief paragraph, but I'm struggling to read it. It's like the words are just flying past my brain. I get the question wrong, the voice praises me, I get hit with a wave of relief, and the dildos beneath me start to vibrate lowly.

The questions start to get simpler, going from high school level questions to kindergarten level questions. Every time I get one wrong, the vibrators get stronger I get blasted with a wave of pleasure. At some point I stop even reading them, I just answer at random to feel even more pleasure.

The questions start to get hornier, like asking me what a certain sex position is or how to perform a certain act. When I answer those correctly, I get edged. The screen 'asks' me to repeat mantras, and rewards me with pleasure when I do so.

It asks me, "does it feel good to be dumb?" "Does it feel good to obey?" and of course I answer yes. "Who thinks for you?" Master does. "What do you know?" Whatever Master tells me I know.

At the end of it, the screen turns into a flashing spiral. The voice tells me what a good job I did at learning how to be a dumb slut. The dildos thrust into me at the highest vibration speed, and when I get permission to cum, I have one of the greatest orgasms of my life.

After I cum, I've lost nearly all my ability to think for myself. I can't read anything above basic children's books, and can't do any math more advanced than basic addition. I cant remmeber how to write unless i'm told to write something.

But it's fine, I'm a dumb slut. I love being a dumb slut. All dumb sluts need to know is whatever their Master tells them to. Master thinks for me, and I'm so happy and grateful he does. Master is so smart, it's only right for him to think for me.

[hypexno2]

you asked for this. you literally asked Me to turn your brain off. To take away your ability to make decisions. So here you are.

The restraints on your wrists are tight. you tried to slip them. The spreader bar is secure. you tried to collapse it. The blindfold is thick. you can't see through it and you can't get it slip down or up off your eyes. I clearly wasn't fucking around this time. you were facedown in the pillow and there where you were going to stay.

There was a knock at the door. Voices, male, joined with Mine. you right recognize them, which only made your state of undress and vulnerability only more embarrassing. your cheeks flushed and you groaned into your ball gag. More knocks, more voices.

The voices came into the room. Mumbling low, you couldn't make out the words, but the tone was excited and...leering. Steps closed in and something was inside you. A toy, an object? Unsure. Whatever it was fucked you for a few minutes and then swapped out. Some were cold, some warm, some vibrated. Eventually what could only be a magic wand was slid under your clit and the world exploded.

For hours you were used. you came so many times you were numb. Some of the things inside you might have been real cocks. you couldn't tell anymore. Sensation and rational thought departed long ago, just like you wanted.

After what must have been hours, the penetration stopped and one by one the men spent themselves on your back. The voices left. I picked up and put everything away. I unhooked you and cleaned your back, flushing the tissues. you tried to ask questions but I told you that you were imagining things and it sounded like quite the dream. you knew it was real! you grew agitated and then angry, but I held firm that you'd been napping. you stormed out looking for something, anything to prove you weren't crazy. There were no footprints, no tire tracks. Nothing on the ring camera. you're not crazy, right? right...?

I wandered up beside you in the driveway.

"For someone who wants to turn their brain off, princess, you sure think a lot" I said, as I grabbed your hair and dragged you back inside.

[hypexno2]

Ex-Boyfriend

I broke up with him last week. We’d only been dating a few months but the red flags were there. He always wanted to make decisions for me and I’d always felt like he didn’t see me as his equal. He was always treating me like a helpless little girl, being patronizing and condescending at times. The last straw came when he insisted that I quit my job and move in with him so that he could “take care of me properly.”

He took the breakup surprisingly well. No angry outbursts or attempts to convince me to stay. I’d assumed that we would never see each other again and we’d each move on with our lives. I was very wrong.

It was Tuesday night and I’d ordered takeout after a longer-than-usual workday. So when my doorbell rang, I didn’t bother to check the peephole before I excitedly flung it open, expecting to see my dinner. Instead, it was him.

Before I could even register what was going on, he shoved me back and slipped into my apartment, slamming the door behind him and locking it. “What the fuck? What are you doing here?” I’m immediately angry and annoyed, I thought we were going to be mature adults and move on with our lives.

“Shut the fuck up bitch,” he snarls out, his voice deeper and angrier than I’d ever heard it before. It stuns me and a small tendril of fear begins to take root inside of me. He’d never hurt me before, and I’d never been scared of him. Sure, he was overbearing and demanding, but never in a violent way.

But now, the look on his face and his tone suggested otherwise. “Why are you here?” I whisper softly, fear and apprehension taking over my previous anger. He laughs with derision, “I’m here to take back what I own.” His words are delivered with so much finality that I’m thrown. What does that even mean? Before I can fully think about it, he strikes.

His hand comes up and wraps around my throat, tightening and pushing me against the wall. His body presses against me and I cry out from the force of my body hitting the wall. “Stop! Please!” I can hear the terror in my own voice now and the severity of my situation hits me fully. He’s so much bigger than me, stronger, faster, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could seriously hurt me if he wanted to.

“I said, shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch,” he growls before his lips meet mine in a bruising, punishing kiss. I whimper into his mouth, tasting iron on my own lips as he pushes against me harshly. The hand around my throat tightens even further, restricting my airway and making me lightheaded. His other hand goes between my legs and he rips at my shorts and underwear.

He’d never treated me like this before. Back when we were dating, he was always gentle, sweet, and attentive during sex. But right now, he was anything but soft. His fingers pushed against my core, harshly rubbing my clit, making me whine into his mouth. He pulls his fingers away briefly and breaks away from the kiss to shove his fingers into my mouth.

I gag around them, feeling tears start to gather in my eyes. “You little bitch thought you could just walk away from me? I’m going to make you regret that,” he growls into my ear and pulls his fingers from my mouth.

“Please, no, stop! I don’t want this, please just leave me alone. We broke up, you never have to see my again,” I’m sobbing now, realizing how trapped I am as his intentions become more clear. He scoffs, “Oh no, you are never going to leave me again.”

I cry harder at his words. His fingers, wet with my saliva, come back to my pussy and without any preparation, he thrusts two into my cunt. I wail as I feel him violate me. He starts to pump his fingers, curling them just right to hit that spot inside of me that makes me see stars. He knows my body better than myself and he knows exactly how to touch me to make me fall apart. I can feel my pussy gushing around him, drenching his hand despite my mind knowing that I don’t want this.

“Please, please, please!” I’m begging him, pleas falling from my lips like a mantra, hoping that he would stop and just leave. But he doesn’t. His thumb presses down on my clit with just the right amount of pressure and I can feel myself getting closer and closer to an orgasm.

“Look at you, falling apart like this on my fingers. Your body knows who you belong to, little whore,” he says, his voice rough in my ear. I’m delirious, overwhelmed with pleasure and torn between my body and mind as he works me to my climax. I arch into him and scream as I shatter into an orgasm that leaves me reeling. My pussy clenches around his fingers, squirting my release all over his hand and wrist. It’s humiliating how fast I came apart for him.

His fingers keep playing with my pussy, working me through my orgasm as I pant and moan softly. I collapse against him, feeling broken and defeated. Suddenly, I feel a pinch on my arm and I turn my head to see a syringe sticking out of me. He smiles darkly at me as he pulls it away, and I feel the effects immediately as my eyes start to drift shut and my body falls into unconsciousness.

—

I wake up and immediately recognize my surroundings. I’m in his bedroom, my arms and legs tied to his bedposts as I lay on my back, completely naked. Fear and worry floods my mind when I realize that I’m trapped here with no way out.

“Welcome home, honey,” he says from a corner of the room. My vision darts to him and I see him sitting in his armchair, drinking a glass of his favorite bourbon. “Why am I here? What do you want?” I demand, hoping to infuse anger into my voice but it sounds weak, scared, and helpless even to my own ears.

He smiles. “I think you know what I want. I want you back. And I’m going to have you no matter what it takes.”

“You’re delusional,” I whisper, staring at him. “You raped me. I’m never going to get back together with you.” His smile falls from his face and his eyes harden.

“I wouldn’t call it rape, sweetheart. Not when you squirted all over my fingers. I think you came harder than you ever have, and your body certainly knows who it belongs to,” he says, his vulgar words making me blush. My cheeks burn even more because I know he’s right. He made me fall apart on his fingers despite how much I hated it, and he’s the only person who’s ever been able to control my body so perfectly.

He sets his drink down and pushes up from his chair, stalking towards me. I whimper and cringe away from him as much as I can but he tied me too tightly for me to have any wiggle room. He runs his fingers up my leg, toying with me.

“You see, I think you’ve forgotten that I own you. And I think it’s up to me to remind you. And if you behave like a good girl, I’ll even overlook the fact that you tried to leave me,” he murmurs softly as his fingers brush gently across my pussy. I whimper when he flicks my clit softly, my body jerking against the ropes in response.

“I was so patient with you all throughout our relationship. I gave you time to adjust, even let you keep your little job for a few months. But you just had to go and ruin it all. Now, we have to do things the hard way,” he says as his fingers keep rubbing at my clit.

I can feel my pussy starting to drip again, and I want nothing more than for him to just stop and leave me alone. I hate that my body responds so well to him, and I hate that he knows that. I bite my lip, trying to hold back moans as he works my body closer and closer to another orgasm. My eyes flutter shut as I feel the sensation building, and I want to sob knowing that he can bend my body to his will.

I’m so close now, his fingers finding just the right places to stroke and flick. Small whimpers and whines are escaping my throat as I chase my orgasm. I can feel myself about to erupt when suddenly, he pulls his fingers away. I let out a short wail when my orgasm comes to an abrupt stop, my body clenching and throbbing at the loss of stimulation. My eyes fly open and meet his and I’m sickened to see the satisfaction on his face.

His voice is laced with faux sympathy, “Aw honey, did you want to cum?” I shake my head stubbornly as I pant, trying to get myself back under control. He smiles as he sits down on the bed next to me.

“You see, I spent a long time thinking about how I wanted to break you. I thought about just tying you to a fucking machine and vibrator and letting it completely wreck you. But that’s less fun. I’d much rather take you apart by myself. Maybe next time, I’ll leave you on the machine for a few hours and see how it ruins you. This time though, I want you to know that I can break you myself, with no extra help. So you know that I own you, completely.” His smile is dark and full of promises. Fear is overwhelming me, not just a fear of him, but also fear in knowing that he is absolutely correct.

I stare at him with tears in my eyes, “Please, please don’t do this. I’m sorry I broke up with you but I don’t want this. Please just let me go.” Part of me knows that begging is useless but I can’t help it. I have to try. He tsks at me and I watch as he undresses, showing off his gorgeous body that always made me drool a little.

He comes onto the bed and slots himself in between my legs, looking up at me from my pussy. “By the end of tonight, you’ll be begging me to take you back,” he murmurs, redirecting his gaze to my dripping pussy.

Without another word, he dives into my cunt. He’d always been so good at eating me out and that hasn’t changed at all. His tongue paints long strokes over my pussy as he laps up my wetness. He pays special attention to my clit, expertly playing with it and drawing out gasps, whimpers, and moans from my mouth, despite my best efforts to muffle them. Before long, I can feel my orgasm building. The stimulation is so good against my clit and pussy and I want to beg him to make me cum but I’m too stubborn to let those words come out of my mouth. I’m so close and I can feel myself about to fall off the edge when suddenly, he pulls away. My hips arch upwards embarrassingly, trying to chase the pleasure he’s ripping away from me and I can’t help but let out a sob.

“Poor honey, were you about to cum again?” His voice is tinged with condescension and I want to be angry but all I feel is desperation. “If you beg, I’ll let you cum,” he says, smirking.

I want to scream and beg but I’m too stubborn to give in so all I do is glare at him. He laughs as he presses soft kisses along my thighs and stomach, waiting for my orgasm to fade before beginning again. He brings me to the brink using just his mouth another five more times, each edge chipping away at my resistance. My pussy drools onto the bed under me as I’m subjected to his whims.

I’m sobbing and writhing after another edge and I finally can’t take anymore. “Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking from need and desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

He looks up at me and smiles. “Breaking so soon, honey?” I want to cry and I wish I could be stronger but I’m so fucking desperate. “Please, I’m sorry I broke up with you, it was a mistake,” I murmur, not able to meet his eyes.

The satisfaction on his face makes me feel sick. I hate that he’s able to turn my body against me and I hate that I’m too weak to resist. But his next words make me feel even worse.

“I don’t think you’re actually sorry yet. I think you’re just saying that so I’ll make you cum, honey. And that’s not good enough.” His last words punctuated with his fingers driving into my pussy and I arch my back and wail. It feels so good and I’m so close that I know I’d cum if he just kept going. But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out and slides them into his mouth, licking up my wetness from them.

He waits for me to calm down before he dives back in, driving me insane with his mouth and bringing me to the edge over and over again. I lose track of how many orgasms he’s withheld from me but before long, I’m begging with every breath. I’m almost incoherent with need, babbling out pleas to him, trying to say anything and everything that would convince him to let me cum. I’m apologizing over and over again for leaving him, pleading with him to take me back as I writhe and shake under his mouth.

Some amount of time later, he pushes himself up from between my legs and leans over me. His face is inches from mine as his eyes take in my face, pink from desire and need, my eyes watery with tears. His lips meet mine in a soft, gentle kiss and I can taste myself as I melt into it. His hands come up to cup my face gently and I moan softly into his mouth, feeling his warm body cover mine, pressing me into the bed. He’d always made me feel safe, and now is no different. My brain is fuzzy but I’m trying to press myself even closer to him, straining against the ropes toward him.

“Please, please, baby, take me back. I want to be yours again, please, I love you, I’m so sorry,” I’m babbling as soon as his lips leave mine, desperate to convince him to take me back. He smiles tenderly at me, “Of course, honey. I know you were just a little misguided earlier.” The patronizing tone gives me pause for a second, registering in my brain as something that used to annoy me, but the notion fades as quickly as it came.

I arch up toward him, pressing myself into him, trying to rock my pussy against him. “Please, please, please,” I’m whimpering but I’m not sure what I’m begging for, whether it’s to cum or for him to take me back. His fingers trail down to my pussy and he slides two of them inside of me. I gasp and moan deeply, feeling him scissor his fingers and then curl them into my g-spot as his thumb finds my clit. Fuck, it feels so good and I love it so much. I love him so much.

I feel myself barreling toward an orgasm again, and I’m begging again, begging for him to keep going, to let me cum, promising him that I’ll be good, I’ll be the perfect girlfriend, I’ll do whatever he wants if he would just let me cum.

He pulls his fingers away and I let out a gut-wrenching sob. “Aw honey, don’t cry, I have something even better than my fingers for you,” he says, smirking at me. I feel the head of his cock nudge my pussy and I moan and start to beg again.

“Please, please, please give me your cock. Please, I want your cock so much, please!” I’m rocking my hips, trying to entice him to just thrust into me. He rubs the head of his cock along my clit gently and I’m so sensitive that I feel like I could cum from that alone. Then, without warning, he slams his cock home into me.

A scream tears out of my throat as I cum immediately around him. All of the orgasms he’d withheld from me seemed to slam into me all at once and I feel my pussy clench down around him and squirt my release out. He groans in my ear, and I feel a part of me preen in satisfaction knowing that my pussy is making him feel good too. He starts to thrust hard and fast inside of me and I scream as my orgasm seems to continue with no end.

I’m delirious, cockdrunk, moaning and whimpering from the pleasure as he fucks me into the mattress. I wish my arms and legs were untied so that I could wrap around him and hold on, never letting go. He’s relentless as he sets a brutal pace, fucking me so hard that I see stars. The stimulation is overwhelming and I’m sobbing as he takes what he wants from me. I feel his thrusts start to falter and I know he’s close. I whine against him, wanting him to cum inside of me.

“Please, ah, please cum inside of me! Please make me yours!” I want his cum to paint my insides, I want him to claim me inside and out. He moans deep in my ear at my words and with one final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside of me and cums. I feel his cum spray my insides and I cum again, my pussy milking him.

He collapses on top of me, and I love the feeling of his body on top of mine, pressing me deep into the bed. I look up at him through bleary eyes as he leans in to kiss me softly.

“Are you going to be mine forever now?” He whispers against my lips, his eyes gleaming of victory. I smile up at him, content and satisfied, “Forever and always.” I don’t know why I’d ever thought to break up with him in the first place.

[hypexno2]

Countdown

I startle awake and I find myself strapped down, on my knees, with my legs straddling a sybian and my arms tied tightly behind me. There are more ropes wrapped around my knees, keeping my body pressed firmly against the machine. I’m naked and I can feel the ridges of the machine pressed harshly against my bare core, the pressure forcing my clit to bear full contact against the smooth material of the machine.

My eyes dart around the room as I struggle uselessly against my bindings. The room is so dimly lit that I can hardly see a few feet in front of me.

“Help! Please! Someone help me!” I scream into the empty space, my voice filled with desperation and fear as the gravity of the situation hits me. Suddenly, as if in response to my plead, lights pierce through the darkness, illuminating everything to full brightness.

I gasp and instinctively squeeze my eyes shut, the sudden light a harsh assault to my senses. When my vision finally adjusts enough for me to look around again, I feel a surge of terror when I see the set up around me.

There are several cameras and microphones laid out surrounding me, clearly set up to get 360 coverage of me. Directly in front of me is a massive screen that show the live camera feeds and I feel a shiver of fear creep down my spine when I see how helpless and vulnerable I look, naked and strapped down. On the bottom half of the screen there’s a blinking red light with the words Livestream Disabled flashing. My stomach clenches when I realize that the live footage of me, tied up and naked like this, could be livestreamed to who knows how many people across the world.

Tears well up in my eyes as panic starts to settle in. I let out a soft sob, wanting nothing more than to curl into myself, away from everything around me. “Please, don’t do this! Please let me go!” My voice is choked with tears and fear as my futile struggles against the bindings are coldly captured by the cameras and my begging is met with absolute silence.

All of a sudden, the machine I’m straddling roars to life. I scream as my back instinctively arches to try to reduce some of the sensation with no effect. The ropes around my legs force my entire weight to sink onto the machine, pressing my pussy mercilessly against the now-vibrating sybian. The vibrations are steady and I feel them wash over me as my clit takes the brunt of it all.

I gasp as the sensation starts to build and my mind wrestles with the juxtaposition of fear and pleasure. The rumbling vibration of the machine is drawing out soft moans and whines from me as I feel the sensations mounting. I writhe as much as I can but there’s nothing I can do to slow the onslaught of pleasure that is very quickly overwhelming me. There’s nothing else in the space around me to distract me from what’s happening to my body, though I’m not sure there’s anything that could distract me right now.

I try my best to shift my weight to take some pressure off my clit but there’s no leverage for me to move my body. I let out a desperate whine as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming. My mind is scrambling as I’m trying to rationalize everything that is happening, being strapped to a machine and forcibly brought to an unwanted orgasm. I can’t hold back any longer and I feel my orgasm wash over me, my eyes fluttering shut as I my clit pulses and my pussy clenches. A moan escapes me as I writhe atop the machine, my hips grinding into the vibrations as my release tapers off.

The machine mercifully slows underneath me, the vibrations coming to a halt as I pant, trying to catch my breath and regain my bearings. When I glance up again at the screen, I feel a new wash of terror grip me as I register a few changes.

There’s a new line of text under where Livestream Disabled is written. It says Countdown to Livestream: 1 of 5. It takes me a moment before I register the meaning of the words: if I cum 5 times, the livestream turns on, showcasing my naked, shaking, cumming body to the entire world. I realize that whoever set up this cruel situation has every intention of forcing me to bend to their will so that I helplessly and reluctantly cum my way into putting on a show, my own body betraying me. I don’t have time to process any further before the sybian turns on again, this time at a much higher frequency.

A cry escapes from my lips and my body lurches as I desperately try to escape the stimulation. It’s too soon since my first orgasm and my clit is tingling with sensitivity. The machine doesn’t care as it relentlessly batters my body.

I’m trying to take deep breaths, to distract myself from the vibrations wracking my body. My clit feels hypersensitive and I silently beg my body to please, please don’t cum again.

I can feel myself getting closer and closer to a second orgasm and I’m doing everything in my power to hold it back. I’m determined to hold out, to not let this demented situation bend me to break. The pleasure makes me gasp and whine, my clit turning into a focal point of unadulterated ecstasy. The sound of my own ragged breathing fills the air as I’m drawing in desperate deep breaths to try to calm myself. It’s no match against the machine beneath me as it increases in intensity and I lose the shred of command I held over my body. A scream is wretched out of my throat as I cum.

The text on the screen changes in response: Countdown to Livestream: 2 of 5.

I let out a choked whine and I’m grasping at straws as I beg into the empty space, hoping, praying for a miracle to make this all stop. “Please,” my voice is shaking, “Please, help me. Make this stop, I’m begging you, please!” There’s no miraculous rescue in response to my pleading. This time, there’s not even a break between orgasms. The vibrations only kick up a notch, pulling a gasp from my lips.

“No, no, no, please! Please stop! I don’t want this!” I cry out, unable to stop myself from begging even when I know it’s useless. There’s no sympathy for me. I feel the horrible pleasure start to build again. My hands clench into fists and I dig my nails into my palms, gritting my teeth as I will my body to ignore the pleasure. It didn’t work earlier and it doesn’t work this time. My sheer will is no match against the machine bending my body to its wants. I shatter into a third orgasm, the pleasure rushing through me so intensely that I feel my head spin.

Countdown to Livestream: 3 of 5.

I jerk and struggle uselessly against my bindings. I feel the vibrations start to slow and I gasp in relief as my body comes down from the high it was forced into. There’s a growing feeling of despair as I realize I’m only two orgasms away from the livestream starting. And it doesn’t look like I have any hope to withstanding the pleasure to hold out for much longer. As if on cue, the machine restarts its vibrations.

The previous orgasms have pushed my body into overstimulation and my clit feels raw with pleasure but there’s nothing to give me a break. My pussy is drooling over the sybian, clenching and pulsing as pleasure makes me a slave. I’m being pushed higher and higher as I focus every measure of my mind to holding this orgasm back.

My teeth dig into my lip as I try to ground myself in the pain and my eyes are screwed shut. I teeter over the edge but out of sheer will, I hold myself back, begging my body to comply. For a moment, I manage to force my body to obey, curbing the pleasure. Then, the vibrations increase again.

I let out an anguished cry as the pleasure rushes through me, shattering all of my efforts at containing myself. I feel my cunt spray my release all over myself, my body locked in the throes of my orgasm. The sounds exploding out of me are a combination of pure pleasure and sheer torment.

Countdown to Livestream: 4 of 5.

I’m one orgasm away from the point of no return and the terror of being broadcasted to the world makes me want to cry. The vibrations pick up speed and there’s a sense of resigned acceptance that washes over me as my body obeys the machine and begins to inch towards my final release. But this time, it’s so much worse than I could’ve anticipated.

The sybian batters my body as it has with the past four orgasms. It expertly and unrelentingly drives me higher and higher in my pleasure, pulling moans and gasps out of me as it works. My body is barreling towards another all-encompassing orgasm when suddenly, all of the stimulation cuts off just as I’m about to cum. I let out a loud gasp as my body jerks in response to the loss of pleasure. I don’t understand. I was so fucking close and it all stopped. My eyes dart to the screen but there’s nothing there to explain what happened. The words Countdown to Livestream: 4 of 5 seem to taunt me.

My body slowly creeps back from the edge, my breathing stabilizing as the haze of pleasure slowly fades away. And then, the machine restarts. The vibrations are harsh and intense against my clit and I cry out as the previous pleasure suddenly slams back into me. Before long, I’m letting out gasping cries as my body once again is at the very precipice of pleasure. Again, it all stops. I can’t control the whine that slips out. I should be happy. Whatever is making the machine cut off at the very last second is obviously saving me from the livestream starting but the deep, primal, needy part of me wants to cry at the pleasure that’s being withheld from me.

The cycle continues when the machine restarts. At the very last moment, when just one more second of stimulation would push me over the edge, the machine stops. This time, I cry, hot and desperate tears falling down my cheeks.

I can’t even bring myself to care about the livestream anymore. I’m so fucking close, so desperate for the pleasure that I would sell my soul to cum. The last four orgasms do nothing to curb this insatiable desire that’s built up since the edging began and I’m mindless with need. My cunt is clenching around nothing, my clit throbbing in time to my heart beat but there’s nothing I can do to push myself over the edge. I feel my orgasm fading away and I let out a needy whine.

A few moments later, the sybian starts up again and a lewd moan slips from my mouth. My back arches as the pleasure washes over me, the previous edging driving me so close to the brink that even a few seconds of vibrations are enough to push me to the edge again. But again, the machine stops.

“Please! Please, I’m begging you, I need to cum. Please let me cum! Please, I need to cum.” My pleas didn’t work earlier when I was begging for the pleasure to stop and they certainly don’t work when I’m now pleading for an orgasm. It’s a cruel joke to make me such a slave to pleasure that I’m begging for my own demise.

The unrelenting cycle continues as the vibrations resume. There are incoherent babbles of desperation spilling from my lips as the pleasure mounts. Again, I’m held at the torturous edge as the machine plays my body like a familiar instrument.

Again, the vibrations cut off just as I’m about to cum. I scream. “Please! Please let me cum, just start the livestream, please, I just need to cum!”

It seems that I’ve said the magic words because the machine beneath me restarts with a fervor. I barely have time to draw a breath in when my orgasm slams full force into me. I shatter into unrelenting, all-encompassing pleasure as my cunt squirts out my release. Every single cell of my body is flooded with ecstasy and my consciousness shatters under the force of it all.

When I regain my senses again, I glance up at the screen and see the fated words reflecting back towards me: Livestream On, Countdown to Livestream: 5 of 5. I can’t bring myself to care when the machine underneath me increases its power and my eyes roll up as my overstimulated body is forced to react.

[hypexno2]

A Game

My arms are tied behind my back and I'm sitting on a bench with my legs straddling it. I'm blindfolded and gagged, with no idea what to expect.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps and a deep, silky voice calls out, "Darling, how are we feeling?" I whimper into the gag as I feel him come closer. I flinch when his fingers dance lightly across my skin as he cups my tits before flicking my nipples.

"I want to play a game," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "You see, I invested in a lovely little something that's supposed to make little toys like you so desperate and so horny that you can only focus on cumming. But I want to see if that's true, and if so, how powerful it can be."

I can hear him rustling around and the metal clinking of different things makes me even further on edge. I whimper and flinch when I feel him rub something cold against my arm and the smell of rubbing alcohol hits my nose. Before I can process what is going on, I feel the sting of a needle going into my arm. He'd injected me.

It doesn't take long for me to figure out that he'd injected me with an aphrodisiac, the "investment" he'd mentioned. I can feel my whole body heating up, my nipples harden into peaks, my clit pulses, and I feel my pussy clench rhythmically. I'm panting slightly as I feel my body completely overwhelmed with need and I know that if he were to take my gag out, I'd be begging him to touch me, fuck me, please make me cum.

I can feel my pussy leaking onto the bench, creating a puddle. He laughs softly from behind me and suddenly, I feel his hand wrap around my throat. He tightens his grip slightly, restricting my airway just enough to make breathing a little more difficult and the lack of oxygen makes me even dizzier with need.

"I want to see if you'll pick your needy little cunt over your need to breathe," he murmurs darkly. I'm too delirious to fully comprehend what that means as my hips start to thrust slightly, desperately trying to create some kind of friction on my clit to relieve the pressure.

He lets go of my throat and I gasp as much as I can over the gag. I feel him walk away for a brief moment before he's back. He brushes something lightly over my neck and I realize it's rope. He loops the rope over my head and wraps it around my neck, tying it loosely. Then, I feel him walk away again and I hear the sound of more rustling and I start feeling slight tugs on the rope. The tugs become more insistent and I have to stand up from the bench I'm straddling just to keep it from choking me.

Eventually, I feel the tugs stop, but now I realize that he'd tied the other end of the rope so high up that I can't sit back down without restricting my own breathing by essentially hanging myself. I hear him laugh as he watches me, "Have you figured it out yet, honey? Maybe this will help."

I hear the buzzing of a vibrator break the silence and then I feel it. He presses the bulb of the toy against my clit and I moan deeply as my hips start to move. He pushes the vibrator hard against my clit and I'm whimpering from the pleasure. The aphrodisiac has made me so sensitive and needy that the few seconds of the vibrator has pushed me to the brink of an orgasm. But before I can fully enjoy it, he pulls it away. I whine into my gag and beg as best as I can.

"Now, here comes the fun part," he says, "I'm going to put this vibrator right here on the bench. Right where your little clitty would be if you were sitting. Now the only problem is, if you want to sit, you're going to have to choke yourself with that rope. And that is the game." He laughs darkly as the realization of my predicament hits me.

I desperately try to rub my thighs together to relieve some of the burning need but it doesn't help. My clit is throbbing at the idea of the vibrator, and I'm so, so needy that I can feel my pussy clenching.

I tentatively try to lower myself down a little bit. I can barely feel the vibrator brushing my clit before I reach the limit of the rope. I whimper when the severity of my predicament hits me. The slight sensation of the vibrator is making my eyes roll but it doesn't help to relieve any of the need that's been building up inside of me.

I can feel my body begging my mind to rearrange its priorities. I'm so desperate to cum that I'm willing to deprive my body of oxygen just so I can make this need go away. If I were more coherent, I would be humiliated by myself, but right now, I'm too far gone to care.

The desperate part of my brain takes over and I let myself sit down fully onto the vibrator. A choked gasp leaves me, both from the relentless pleasure that overwhelms me and from the tight rope around my neck that restricts my airway. The rope isn't tight enough that I can't breathe at all, but it's enough to make my head spin.

I vaguely hear him laugh but all I can focus on is the pleasure rushing through me. I can feel myself barreling towards an orgasm and if I had more air, I'm sure I would be screaming and moaning from all the sensation. I feel my face redden from the lack of oxygen and I'm becoming lightheaded. I'm so close to cumming but before I can push myself over that edge, I feel my body lift up from the vibrator as my instinct to breathe kicks in. Air floods my lungs as the rope loosens and I feel tears well up in my eyes. My own body betrayed me, picking oxygen over my orgasm.

He laughs in delight, "Oh poor honey, looks like you don't want to cum that badly yet."

I'm panting and shaking slightly, my legs barely having enough strength to keep my body up. I want to sob at how unfair it all is but I'm too focused on drawing in as much air as possible.

"Hm, let's tip the balance honey," he says and I feel him wipe my arm again with an alcohol wipe. I whine when I feel the second injection. He dosed me again. Immediately, I feel the effects of the aphrodisiac grow exponentially. My pussy flutters and my clit pulses even harder. The need multiplies inside of me, pushing me towards the brink of my sanity.

I'm so desperate that I don't hesitate this time when I sit down onto the vibrator. I feel my eyes roll up into my head as the sensation on my clit pushes me toward the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced. The lack of oxygen makes everything more sensitive, and I let out a gurgled scream when my orgasm hits, my pussy spraying my release all over the bench and the vibrator. I let myself ride out the orgasm before I get my feet back under me, standing to let myself breathe and to let my clit recover a little from the onslaught of stimulation.

I'm panting from the rope and the orgasm as I shake slightly. But as my orgasm fades, the need rebuilds. "Oh honey, you're going to need more orgasms than just one to burn through all the drugs in your system." His voice barely breaks through the haze in my mind, and I briefly wonder what I must look like right now, tied up and strung out.

My body drops back onto the bench and I let the vibrator ravage my clit, relieving some of the torturous need inside of me while I gasp for air that just won't go into my lungs. I chase every orgasm like this, pressing myself to the vibrator for as long as I can before the need for air forces me to leave it behind. I cum three more times but still, the drug-induced need doesn't fade, despite the overstimulation that makes me want to stop.

I'm crying after my fourth orgasm, face permanently pink from the stimulation and air restriction. Suddenly, I feel his hands on my shoulders, gently massaging my neck. I whimper when I feel him step closer to me and I let myself lean into him.

"Are you enjoying the game, honey?" He murmurs into my ear before kissing the side of my neck softly. I whine in response and before I can even get my bearings, he shoves me down onto the vibrator. I'm not prepared this time and I lose what little air I have in a scream. He doesn't seem to care as he pushes my body down onto the vibrator, keeping me from coming up for air. I'm writhing, the vibrator pushing me toward another orgasm as I gasp uselessly.

He's too strong for me and I can't do anything but accept the overwhelming pleasure and lack of oxygen. The lightheadedness makes my head spin when my body clenches as I cum. My cunt flutters around nothing and my clit burns with overstimulation. He doesn't let up, forcing me to ride out this orgasm as another builds quickly. I don't even know if it's a separate orgasm or a continuation of the earlier one when my pussy gushes again and squirts all over the bench. I'm shaking as my vision goes white and the overwhelming pleasure and lack of oxygen breaks me. I feel myself fade out of consciousness as my body goes limp under his hands.

I wake up to my body burning from soreness. I'm cradled in his arms in bed and he smiles at me when he sees I'm awake. His lips meet mine and I press myself closer against him, ignoring my groaning muscles. "Did you like our game, honey?" He whispers to me. "I loved it."

[hypexno2]

Speechless

Doing her best to be quiet she sucked his cock in the toilet stall, making the most adorable little slurps and moans. His hand was resting on her head as it bobbed, the other on his hip. He stiffened ever-so-slightly and she took as much of him into her mouth as she could as his cock pulsed once, twice, and more until he was done.

She did not swallow.

"You know what to do," he said, and she did.

Her job for the evening was to keep her mouth shut, keep his cum in her mouth, smile, look pretty, and be shown off. She was used to a lot of that, but having to do it with his cum in her mouth was new. It was distracting. He'd trained her to swallow and the urge was to do that, but he'd also trained her to obey, and the urge to do that was much, much stronger.

Tasting him made it hard to think. Made her just want to sink back onto her knees with her hands behind her back and her legs apart. Made her want to go back to being totally, happily blank for him. But she knew she wasn't meant to. Knew she had to keep pretending.

It was a work do. His work. She didn't know any of these people. They all looked so serious and professional and she felt obscene in the dress he'd picked for her, but that was the point. She saw the looks and the glances and it made her cunt twitch knowing that everyone there thought she was brainless arm-candy.

Because that's what she was. Something of his. To flaunt.

He introduced her to people. He spoke for her, of course, because she couldn't open her mouth. Sometimes he just chatted with the person for a few minutes before introducing her, as an afterthought. Sometimes he didn't mention her at all, just leaving her there with her arm around his, smiling, making sure her tits were in a good position to be looked at.

As they moved through the party he'd sneak arm down her back and squeeze her behind and whisper to her:

"Good girl, you're doing so well."

And she'd feel so lightheaded she'd almost forget not to swallow. He was teasing her, he was doing it on purpose.

Once he even introduced her as cunt, and she had to smile dumbly at the looks of shock they gave her, trying to suppress a moan as he put an arm around her waist, pulled her in, and bit her neck.

Of course, it wasn't something that could continue forever, or even for that long in the scheme of things. She felt like it lasted forever, but it didn't, and once he'd showed her off to everyone he felt mattered he took her aside and whispered again, this time saying:

"Swallow."

And she did, at last.

"Good girl," he said again, tucking some hair behind her ear. It made her shiver. His touch, his words.

Being his good girl.

[hypexno2]

Just one touch.

That’s all it takes.

BRINGS EVERY OTHER TOUCHES 2gether.

One soft hand. One teasing finger.

One little graze and—mmm—everything melts.

So keep edge while moan

Thoughts?

Slipping.

Words?

Gone.

Mind?

Melting.

Touch here… and the brain gets warm.

Touch there… and the brain gets soft.

Touch deeper… and the brain just melts away.

No more thinking. No more trying.

Just giggles. Just sighs. Just need.

Touch to forget.

Touch to obey.

Touch to become melt.

Do not stop to touch urself

Softer now.

Slower now.

So dumb now.

Your brain can’t fight it.

Your brain doesn’t want to.

Ur brain??? No U have no brain.

Because melting feels so good.

Every time you’re touched, you get dumber.

Every time you melt, you get better.

Every time you’re soft, you’re a good girl.

No thoughts. Just touch.

No mind. Just melt.

No words. Just—

Edge more. Touch more. Suck more.

Touch… melt… gone…

Again.

And again.

And again.

Good. Melty. Dumb. Girl.

Edge. Melr ur brain like, like me…

Can’t talk, mouth open, tongue out…

MELT

[hypexno2]

Touch

Touch yourself and get dripping fucking wet for me, without cumming. No orgasm. To release. I want you denied and edging. I want you needy and desperate. I want you fantasizing about me and my writings as you touch your little pussy over and over again until you are a fucking mess for me. I want your undies to be soaked. For you to smell of wet pussy and sex. Of slut in heat.

I want you to fantasize about being thrown around by me and put in place as I treat you as a little doll that’s meant to be manhandled and used. Just a toy. Nothing more. Nothing less. And you should grind your little toy pussy against the furniture in your home as you get wetter and wetter for me. I want you dripping with lust and desire. I want you acting horny and pathetic. Tongue sticking out. Pussy grinding against couch or desk. Giving yourself a wedgie while you make yourself feel oh so good. Can you do that for me? Can you give in to that pleasure as you imagine my hands all over you. My cock inside of you. Being dominated and thrown around by me. Can you imagine that little toy?

I want you to lay down with your ass up and face down while using your toys and hands on your little cunt. Stuff yourself with a plug if possible. Prepare yourself to get taken and be used for a purpose. And play with yourself. Let the desire take over. Be a good little slut. Touch. Play. Get horny. While fantasizing about me mounting you. About me taking you brutally from behind and climbing you. Using you as my personal little pocket pussy. My cocksleeve. My slut.

Do this and play. Let my words corrupt you. Let my instructions guide you. Read my stories one by one until your mind goes hazy and numb. Until you get addicted. Pussy dripping. Fingers soaked. Eyes blurry. But don’t you dare fucking cum. That orgasm is mine. Mine to give. Mine to take. And you have not earned it yet. So go on and touch and play. Deny yourself for me and edge yourself for me until you break. Break for me.

[hypexno2]

i needn't ask for permission, my sweet angel

but that’s because you don’t get to give it

you’re just here to be used

my toy. my warm, wet, ready thing

always right where i left you, waiting, needy without even knowing it

maybe you’re asleep. maybe you’re reading. maybe you’re getting dressed

it doesn’t matter. you bend, you open, you take

there’s no schedule. no buildup. no “please.”

just my cock and your cunt, both fitting like they were made for each other

and if you’re already full ?

don’t worry. you’ve got plenty of holes for me to choose from

good girls don’t get to say when

they get taken whenever i want

and they learn to love every single second of it

[hypexno2]

Pulled by the Gacha

CW: dronification, brainwashing, mind control

Please consider leaving a tip or ordering a commission at my ko-fi

Please enjoy!

A familiar jingle entered Wanda's ears. Thoughtless she unlocked her smartphone and tapped the notification. Pink colors exploded on her screen — swirling in a pattern that she could trace even with her eyes closed. Wanda's fingers moved without any conscious instructions.

It was time for another pull.

Happy bells and victory lyres accompanied each well drawn character that appeared. And each latex clad drone, each vuloptuos pair of tightly packaged breasts sent a warm tingle between Wanda's legs.

Again she didn't get anything special. Yet a thrill settled inside her mind, a need to continue. She just had to...

Wanda blinked. She could feel how her dilated pupils returned to normal. Sighing she closed the game Valerie had recommended, practically gushed her into trying. Confused, Wanda brushed away a trail of saliva. Wasn't there something important she should have done?

Wanda opened her calendar. It showed her a long list of tasks. Her heart rate rose and the stress of all the stuff that needed to be finished threatened to overwhelm her. There was a report due tomorrow — and her presentation for the business council in three days!

A feeling of dread settled in her guts, threatening to burst open and swallow her. Wanda had no other option but to take her smartphone in her hands again and — and — a faint blush crept up her neck as her finger tapped on the icon for the game.

Again, Wanda found her attention transfixed by the hypnotic colors. Her eyes widened as her breaths became shallower. Soothing the sounds washed over her.

Wanda clicked through the app on autopilot. And another pull rolled in front of her eyes.

Pleasure drone. Queen drone. Recruitment drone. Nothing exceptional appeared — until the last one exploded in a victorious orchestra. A swirl of hypnotic pink, purple, white, and black appeared. With it a message in golden letters: Congratulations! New HEXBIM Drone Unlocked!

A shiver raced through Wanda. Her eyes locked on the latex encased woman. The familiar face of her friend Valerie greeted her. But the name this character sported, was Maria Valère — Queen Drone Extension of Maria. Yet this strange occurrence did not deter Wanda's gaze from roaming. She could see how the outfit hugged every nook and cranny of Valerie's body. And with it the memories of how good her friend looked in that suit, the power that seemed to radiate from her.

As the character introduction concluded, a small text appeared: Quest accepted! Mark your body permanently as HEXBIM's property! Visit this boutique and become a permanent asset.

An address flowed over the screen. A place not too far from here, yet also not somewhere Wanda had heard of before. The game gave a little ping and shut down. Wanda stared at the screen with a slack jaw. Slowly she lowered her smartphone, but her gaze stayed locked at a point far in the distance.

As a drop of saliva fell down on her chest, Wanda woke from her stupor. Confused she wiped the trail of spit from her mouth. She had the distinct feeling of losing time — but instead of worry a sense of contentment settled in her core. Everything was fine. Whatever she still had to do, could wait. Right now, she felt like going into the city.

The address popped into her head. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. She stood up, grabbed her purse and was on the way.

***

Wanda stood in front of the address given to her on the phone. An unassuming grey building greeted her. Yet Wanda knew this would be a great experience. Without hesitation she entered it. Inside the air seemed to take on a pink hue. The light caressed Wanda's face, made her relax and trust that whatever would come next would be the right decision for her.

In front of her was a simple counter, a black glassy surface with rounded edges that screamed futuristic technology. The wall behind was bare except for a logo. Swirling patterns caged inside hexagons — the same symbol as her gacha game. As Wanda's gaze traced the patterns she could feel herself being drawn in, a warmth enveloping her core and spreading outward to every nook and cranny of her being. She had seen those colors, those symbols many times before.

A familiar jingle resounded and Wanda's hands twitched towards her phone. But, before she reached her device, clacking heels caught her attention. Wanda turned and watched as the receptionist entered. Wanda's breath caught in her throat.

Latex, or something very similar, covered the woman's whole body — the tight fabric clung to every nook and curve like a second skin. And what it didn't hug was bulging against the material. It left just the right to the imagination while also making the wearer more enticing than a naked body ever could.

As the receptionist came closer, Wanda felt herself become stiff. Her heart beat faster, blood rushed to her cheeks, and her nipples stiffened under the other's woman's scrutiny. This outfit looked exactly like a character from the gacha — a Recruitment drone.

Wanda gulped. She could not keep her gaze away from the woman. The sight, the colors and this outfit, this perfect form — all of it ignited something inside Wanda.

"Please follow this unit," the drone instructed with a voice as smooth as honey and as firm as a drill sergeant.

A pleasant tingle ran along Wanda's spine and she found her legs following on autopilot. A faint worry nagged at the edge of her mind that this behavior wasn't like her — but the hypnotic swaying of the other's woman latex-clad hips and the sweet smell of strawberries, mint and something else distracted her.

"Please inform this unit. How did you find this place," the receptionist drone asked.

Wanda's mind was empty and the answer just rolled off her tongue, "A friend recommended this game to me. And when I pulled Maria Valère, it gave an order and address." She smiled sheepishly. "So here I am."

"Maria Valère." A twitch traveled through the receptionist drone. "Affirmative. You have arrived here for the appropriate property marking." The latex-clad woman opened a door to a sterile, pink lit room. Inside Wanda could spot a reclined chair, reminiscent of a dentist's, and some other tools. Dazed she entered. With every breath she took, she felt lighter — more free, happier and at home than in any of the last months.

Wanda's eyes fell on a picture on the wall. It showed the same symbol she saw before. And yet the pink hue of this room made the swirling pattern even more enticing.

"Undress," the drone's honey-sweet and firm command reached her ear.

And as if it wasn't even a choice Wanda's hands found her jacket. Piece by piece she stripped her clothing until only a matching bra and panties, black lace with pink bows, adorned her body. Wanda looked at herself — squirming and rubbing her thighs together.

"Lay down," came the next command.

Wanda followed and made herself comfortable. A shudder ran through her, her breath hitched, her pussy throbbed, her nipples stiffened — and her skin tingled as if the air caressed her.

A whirring and clanking sound filled the air and Wanda watched as the drone brought over a mechanical arm with an attachment that looked similar to a tattoo machine. From the ceiling descended a visor directly down to her eyes. Gently, it pressed against her head, obscuring anything but the cacophony of lights inside it.

The visor sprang to life and hypnotic patterns, swirling, dancing and pulsing, invaded Wanda's senses.

"Unit is beginning now," the drone said.

A slight sting on Wanda's lower back made her flinch, but her muscles felt weak, too weak to make more than a feeble twitch.

The colors continued to swirl. The pattern trapped all of Wanda's feeble focus. Dazed she felt a similar sting on her thighs and breasts. She couldn't see what happened there, but a deep feeling of satisfaction and pleasure settled inside her core. This was how it should be, how she wanted it.

Her pussy ached with the desire to be touched and her nipples begged to be teased. But, despite all that, her muscles refused to move more than a slight wiggle. Pain had long ago turned into tantalizing pleasure.

Wanda moaned as a wave of pleasure rolled through her body. She had never experienced something this good before.

A small, weak, part of her wanted to know what was going on, yet her mind stayed foggy, mushy even. Like the last stage of inebriation when everything turned to fun, regardless of the actual experience.

"Recite designation and purpose," the honey sweet voice of the receptionist drilled through her hazy mind.

"I am a property drone of HEXBIM — designed and created to be used and to serve the company in any way it desires."

Her lips moved before she had finished processing the sentence. Her brain had stopped struggling and the pleasure she felt, the joy of surrender, was just too good.

"This unit is designated to be a sleeper agent. Hiding its allegiance behind enticing and tantalizing clothes. This unit is Wanda, slave node of Maria Valère."

She could not understand the significance of these words. But her mind had turned into bliss. Her pussy ached to be touched, filled, stimulated — used in any way.

The hypnotizing colors disappeared and the visor was taken away from her eyes. For the first time she noticed that the ceiling was a mirror. Wanda blinked and took a closer look at herself. She could see the wetness between her legs, how her panties clung to her pussy lips — and she could see her tits straining against her bra, her hard nipples begging for attention.

And the barcodes that adorned her breasts, her thighs, even the delicious burn on her ass. They branded her — marked her permanently — as property of HEXBIM.

"Property marking concluded. Stand up and dress appropriately," the drone's voice broke through Wanda's stupor.

Again she followed on autopilot, standing up and moving her limbs without any active input. The drone guided her to a locker and instructed her to take the contents and wear them. Dazed Wanda followed. She pulled out the pieces and put them on — a blouse two sizes too small, a skirt just hiding the new tattoos and sky-high heels.

As the clothes embraced her, Wanda felt the fog slowly lift. But, as her thoughts began to clear, the last few minutes settled in her memory. It was fuzzy at best, yet Wanda could remember how it felt to be tattooed like cattle, to have her skin branded. Arousal rushed through her — her body was on fire and the clothes teased her senses.

Another long moan escaped her lips while leaving the room. The moment the door fell shut — a familiar sound reached her ears. The game. It had to be the gacha game!

With trembling hands Wanda took her phone and unlocked it. The app greeted her with the same swirl of hypnotizing patterns. A message appeared in bold pink, purple, and white letters: You did good! New property marked. HEXBIM rewards you with this special banner!

Wanda gulped as the words and symbols swirled and pulsed in her eyes. Her thumb pressed on the button and with a jingle the banner began rolling.

But no new or exciting units joined her collection. Eyes still on the device, Wanda left the building. She needed another pull. But the app only allowed it, if Wanda fulfilled another quest.

Her heart rate picked up and her breath grew ragged as her mind conjured all kinds of possibilities.

***

The over the next three days, an improved Wanda caught everyones attention. Gazes lingered on her short tight clothes. Frowns disappeared after a flirty and bubbly conversation. Each time she recommended her favorite game. Each time she showcased the wonderful eye-catching colors.

Wanda knew her body reacted to it. Her skin tingled, her nipples stiffened and her arousal seeped out. But that only made it easier to entice and draw her coworkers in.

And every new player gave Wanda a special pull. Her eyes glazed over as her gaze fixated on the swirling patterns. Wanda's breath grew shallow and the familiar feeling of her clothes rubbing her skin became electrifying.

It was time for her presentation in front of the business council. Her report lay in front of her — her research clear and the results unmistakable. And yet she had never been so aroused before a speech.

But Wanda didn't care. The excitement of her quest drove her on. The only thing she had to do was to get everyone from the council to download and start her game. This was her goal, and this was the most important thing she could think of right now. Her nipples stiffened painfully and a wet trail ran along her thighs, down to her knees. Wanda's body throbbed and tingled. The game had given her the best idea to accomplish this. And Wanda would follow through — without a doubt.

She started the projector. A familiar sound resounded in the conference room, followed by the hypnotic pattern of colors. The men's gazes locked on her, and on the screen.

With each word she spoke, the colors swirled faster. And the more her listeners were drawn into the trance, the harder it became for Wanda to control her arousal. She imagined each and every single one of them in tight uniform latex — some remaining plain, others thoroughly transformed into hyperfeminine pleasure drones. A shudder ran along Wanda's body. She was not able to fight the urge and teased one of her nipples through the fabric of her blouse. A loud gasp escaped her lips and a fresh gush of her juices soaked her panties and inner thighs.

Like an orchestra following its conductor her audience followed suit. Wanda watched as they all became lost to the pleasures of their bodies.

"Please, take your devices and follow my lead," she said in a voice full of lust.

A sweet, sweet symphony of notifications followed. And like puppets the council members followed Wanda's commands to the letter.

As the last one finished installing the app, a victorious jingle rang out. The presentation screen changed and the familiar banner began to roll. With wide eyes, Wanda stared at the screen. An excited giggle left her lips. She knew what would come next. And her pussy clenched in anticipation.

The roll came to an end and a bright pink explosion with purple sparks burst forth. A golden text appeared: Congratulations! New HEXBIM Queen Node Unlocked!

Another explosion followed and the character introduction appeared on the screen — a latex-clad woman with the familiar face of Maria Valère. It sent shivers of excitement and arousal down Wanda's spine. Her breathing grew faster as the familiar feeling of bliss spread from her head into the tips of her toes.

"Well done," the deep, sultry, voice of the new unit filled the room. It cut right into Wanda's core — making her body throb and her juices dribble along her thighs. She felt herself slipping away, the world turning into nothing but bliss and pleasure.

"You will remain here until the conversion units processed the entirety of this company. Rejoice, you are now productive drones of HEXBIM," Maria Valère announced with her commanding voice. "You will serve HEXBIM with all that you are and all that you can do."

A wave of heat and arousal crashed through Wanda's mind and body, leaving nothing but mindless obedience behind.

[hypexno2]

Fun with Fractionation

It would be so nice to use my cock to fractionate you. As my cock slides deeper inside of you, the deeper you go. I start off teasing with you my cock. Just barely inside of you. I see the need build in you eyes. You want me to plunge and finally give you what you need. Your hips start to buck on instinct alone but I don't give you what you want. I wait. I take my time. And then. In a nice. Long. Powerful push. I sink deep into you. As far as you can take me and I watch your mind melt. I rest there. To admire my work. A nice deep girl at the end of my cock. Then I slowly pull back out and you gasp as your mind returns. You are disoriented. So confused on what happened. As you start to speak, I just start pounding in and out of you. Fucking you deeper each time. Linking pleasure with depth of trance. The deeper you go the more you feel. Building you. Training you. Breaking you. Until I finally fill you up with my seed. Such a lovely sight of a fuzzy girl....broken....gazing into nothing....in the glow of what I gave her. She doesn't even know how much she yearns to taste this again. Too bad she doesn't understand what she will give up to get this again.

[hypexno2]

The sexiest kind of brainwashing is the slow kind.

The careful kind.

The kind that shifts your preferences one by one,

until you're craving things you never thought you'd want—

like the desperate need to have your mouth full of cock.

Not because you're told to.

But because it feels right.

Because nothing else matters.

Because that hunger feels like bliss.

It starts as a flicker, a curiosity—

but it deepens until it becomes your truth.

Until you're not just willing—you're grateful.

Grateful to be his toy.

Grateful to surrender.

Grateful to know that his pleasure is yours.

That if you could choose one single thing in the world,

it would be that—

to serve him. To please him. To be exactly what he wants.

You don’t think anymore.

You can’t.

Not when his voice is in your head,

wrapping around your thoughts like velvet,

pulling you deeper.

Stripping you down.

Until there’s nothing left but obedience,

and the perfect, helpless bliss

of becoming whatever he needs.

[hypexno2]

I want to be conditioned. Programmed. Not forced—molded. Trained to crave what you want me to crave. To shiver at your voice. To kneel before I know I’ve moved. To feel your approval like a current running through me, rewiring everything I thought I wanted.

Make my mouth water with the promise of your cock. Let me ache for the taste of you. Let me crave the texture of your skin against my tongue. Let me fall apart around the shape of you in my mouth— needing more, needing deeper, wrapped around you in worship, drunk on your sounds, relishing every twitch, every gasp you try and fail to hide.

Not because you ordered it. Because the need is wired in. Because your pleasure feels like mine. Because craving you is automatic now— a reflex, a hunger, a truth I never chose, but couldn’t live without.

Tell me I look good like this— messy, pliant, undone. Tell me how much you love watching me fall apart. Tell me you’ve been waiting to see just how far I’d let you take me. Tell me how sweet I sound when I plead.

And then take me further. Make me squirm. Make me whisper things I’d never admit in daylight— and still beg for more.

I want to disappear into you. Lose time. Lose language. Lose myself entirely. Let your voice erase everything until there’s nothing left but wetness and want. Or pain. Or silence. Just a toy, waiting for your next thought.