The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I look at Matthew, who is standing directly in front of me. “I brought this back with me, Tessi,” he says to me, and he is holding out a small box. “They were giving them out, free. Go on— open it— see what’s inside.”

What else can I do but take it? We’re both just standing in the entry hall of our home— my other options would be to walk away and leave him here, or just keep standing here and staring at him, wasting time and trying to delay the inevitable. The only outcome that can happen here is that I take it— until then, the two of us will just be standing in limbo together, until this is resolved.

I snatch the small box out of his hand. It makes me think of the ring-box he once slid across a table to me, but the accepting of this box feels a lot less romantic to me.

It has a cardboard lid, and a cardboard base— it’s the kind of box that could contain jewelry. But I know where he was, and I know that they weren’t likely giving jewelry away for free there, so I have a bit of a sense of foreboding about this.

I lift the cardboard lid from the box, and look inside it.

What’s held within looks like a small stone— flat, round, oval-shaped. But as soon as I look more closely, I can see that it is clearly made of metal. There are little dots on it that look like glass, arcing along the top edge— if this thing is activated, maybe those little bits of glass will turn out to be, essentially, light-bulbs. And maybe lights will light inside them, and either flash, or burn there constantly.

I have no idea what this thing is, so I look back up to Matthew with searching eyes.

We’ve been together long enough that I don’t have to even state my question.

“It’s like magic,” Matthew says with a smile. “It’s like magic, but it’s really just good technology. Most technology seems magical if the science behind it is not grasped. But this is something that, when turned on, can put anyone, anyone at all, into a trance.”

I roll my eyes. Not this again. I’ve heard enough about trances from him— I really am tired of it, but he keeps bringing them up, and keeps bringing up hypnosis, too. It’s boring to me, and I don’t want to hear about it. And at this point, of having heard about it so many times, it’s gone beyond being boring to being downright irritating.

There are a lot of things wrong with what he’s just said to me— why he’d want to put me in a trance standing here in the middle of the front entry, first of all. If it works it will be very uncomfortable for me. Why not wait until before bed, when we would both be lying down? Or why not wait about a half an hour, and bring it up once we are the on the couch, watching tv together? That’s a nightly habit for us, so he could count on it happening. Then I’d at least be sitting down, if not laying down— that would be more comfortable than standing here. He could even have saved it for the dinner table, where we’ll be in about an hour. I only have a frozen dinner for us tonight, to heat up in the microwave, but it will still be a decent enough dining experience. He could have slid this box across the table, and then at least I would have been sitting in chair for this.

The biggest problem with what he said, of course, is obviously that there’s no way this thing can work. I decide to tell him so, instead of letting him read it in my expression— which he knows, so well, how to parse.

“There’s no way this thing can work, Matthew. Hypnosis isn’t even real, first of all, but even if it was, it wouldn’t be something that could be achieve technologically. You’re wasting your time if you try to use this on me. You should just throw it in the trash, right now.”

Matthew only smiles at this. I’m a little disappointed. I’d hoped he would respond a little woundedly— I’m feeling a bit vindictive, because I’m so tired of hearing about hypnosis from him.

“Well, Tessi,” he says. “If you’re so sure it can never work, there won’t be any harm in turning it on, right? I can try it on you because it’s destined to fail— so we’ll try it, and it won’t do anything. Then we’ll know it doesn’t work, so we can throw it out just like you want.”

I open my mouth and shut it a few times. The thing really isn’t going to do what Matthew was told it would— it still irks me, though, to go along with what he’s asking at all, just because I don’t want to participate, or otherwise feed, this fixation on hypnosis he has— don’t want to do that in any way.

But he has a good argument, here. If it really won’t ever work, then turning on something ineffectual to watch it fail really won’t hurt anything. And it appeals to my vindictive side, too— when the thing is proven a failure, I can gloat about that to him, hold it over his head, and crow about how I was right all along, and he was wrong. That’s the most appealing option on offer, here.

And there’s something even vindictive in wanting to see the device turn on— in wanting to watch over it gleefully, as every moment it fails to live up to its claims makes it seem more and more pathetic. I realize I’m a little pathetic, to be thinking of an unliving thing as some kind of enemy to defeat and humiliate— but thinking that way does appeal to my vindictively petty streak, so it’s a little bit too enjoyable for me to change my thought process on this.

“Fine Matthew,” I say with a grin. “Go ahead and turn it on.”

He seems to remember where we’re standing, casting a glance around the entry hall around us. “Why don’t we go into the bedroom. You can sit down on the edge of the bed, and I can take the chair across from it. It might take a while for us to see that the thing isn’t working.”

That touches me, beneath the vindictive place. Wasn’t I just thinking something similar, myself? We’ve been together long enough that we can think in parallel, without having to communicate through language at all— and that does touch my heart. It also chips some of my annoyance away— that he bothered to think of my comfort. He isn’t just going to leave me long on my feet.

I follow him down the hall to the bedroom, with the box and device still in my hand. When he opens the bedroom door, and I go in after him, I’m greeted by the comforting and familiar sight of the space. The walls are still the same warm color of rust-red, and they are close to the bed on all sides. Some people might not like a small bedroom, but I do. I think it’s cozy.

The bedspread is red, too, but there’s a purple throw across the foot of the bed. There’s only one window, on the west-wall, behind navy curtains— and here and there we put up little sculptures of silver, metal leaves, at about the level someone else might have hung string lights. It’s nice to be in a familiar space like this. The entry hall is a bit impersonal in its decor. It never really seemed worth it to personalize, since it’s just a space meant for passing-through.

Matthew gestures at the bed. I’m glad we don’t have a footboard, or bedposts or anything. I like sitting there, in the mornings, while Matthew gets himself ready for work in the adjoining bathroom. The angles at which this suite was designed allow me to look in, diagonally, and see Matthew from behind when he is facing the mirror— so I can watch him while he shaves, or brushes his teeth. The evidence of those actions is usually visible in the reflection of the mirror.

I sit down on the foot of the bed, as is my custom, and find it comfortable, as it always is. Matthew maneuvers in the cramped space to stand in front of me, and he reaches into the box. He partly lifts the device onto his hand, but he’s really reaching at something that is beneath it. There’s the distinct sound of a click— and as I predicted, all those little bits of glass have lights illuminate behind them— some of them hold steady, but some of them pulse at rhythm— and those pulsing ones all pulse at different rhythms. It’s a little annoying.

I feel exactly the same, now that the device is on. It hasn’t done anything to me at all.

Matthew has seated himself in the chair we keep beside the dresser, so he’s directly across from me, and given the size of our bedroom, if a person came in here to try and stand between us, they’d really feel their personal space was being invaded on both sides. And if I put my legs out, I could have my feet in Matthew’s lap without stretching at all. Or he could do the same to me, though he’d have his legs at a bit of an angle, since the bed is higher than the chair. We have a boxspring under our mattress which naturally elevates it.

“I don’t feel hypnotized, Matthew,” I say, patiently. I’m sure that I’ll be proven right, and we’ll be through with this foolishness— so there’s no need to act harshly now. It’s worth waiting around and triumphing over this stupid device, and my husband both. Especially now my comfort has been provided for— I’m fine with being patient, now.

“They told me when they gave it to me, it could take a while for it to work. But of course, it’s never going to work at all.”

“That’s right,” I say, and roll my eyes again. Just because I can be patient doesn’t mean I’m going to be good-natured. He’s still chosen to waste my time this way.

“Am I supposed to be looking at the device? Is that how it hypppppppnotizes me?” I try to give my voice a spooky tone, and I have my one free hand up, gesturing through the air in what are supposed to be motions that imply the terrifying— but really I’m doing it to mock him.

He’s not wounded by this either— that still disappoints me a little bit. I drop my hand.

“No, you don’t have to look at it at all. Or be aware of it. It just does its work on anyone it’s been calibrated for. In fact, you don’t even have to keep holding it.”

He leans forward in his chair, and easily reaches me, taking the box out of my hand. He sets the box on the dresser, then takes the device out, and sets it beside the box.

“It can work even at a further range.”

Though our bedroom is small enough that this could hardly be called a further range. If I swivelled my hips sideways, and put my legs up, I could kick the device onto the floor.

I wonder if that would break it. That would be nice.

So I don’t have to look at it— or be aware of it, he said. Because it’s a scam, and it’s never going to work. Of course a fraudulent device doesn’t have any conditions on its operation. It isn’t going to do anything, so it doesn’t need any particular set of special conditions in which to accomplish that nothing.

I don’t have anything in my hands anymore, so I can just let them rest on my knees. That’s more comfortable.

And I could be looking at Matthew— it would be easy for our eyes to meet in this proximity. I could be looking at him, and chatting with him, but I don’t really feel like doing either. If I have to spend however long it’s going to take just sitting here, waiting for Matthew to give up the experiment, I’d rather withdraw into myself, into my own little world, and not pay attention to him at all. He hasn’t been offended by any of the things I said with the intention of making him take offence— so I doubt he’ll be offended by my ignoring him, and if he really does care that strongly about it, then he can be the one to speak up and start a conversation.

I move my hands off my knees, and clasp them together— that feels better— and I look down at them, sitting there in my lap. My red-hair has partly fallen forward from where I had it tucked behind my ears, but I ignore that. I’m going inward, going inward, with my eyes cast down and looking at my hands.

It feels a bit like meditation to me, or what meditation is supposed to feel like. The first few times I ever talked with Matthew about hypnosis, I told him first that I didn’t believe in it. But second I said that no matter what, even if it were possible, I would be the worst hypnotic subject in the world, and no one would ever be able to hypnotize me. If there were people out there, who believed they could be hypnotized— then probably those people could be. Because generally, I’ve found that people get what they expect. But hypnosis isn’t real for me, because I don’t believe in it, so it would never work for that reason— as I told Matthew. But even if… it were possible, it still wouldn’t work on me, just because of how my brain behaves.

I’ve tried meditating before. It ends in failure. I’m not wired for it, mentally. I try to quiet my mind, and a hundred thoughts race through it. I try to focus on one thing, and then ten other things get in the way of that.

Eventually I just get bored— really, in going through my day and doing my tasks, I usually need at least two kinds of stimulation at once to make my mind behave. Music playing with a movie on in the background— audiobook playing while watching a slideshow of images. Or a book in my hands, but some kind of background noise— music, movie, tv, whatever. Whenever I try to do something for fun, by myself, even when it’s just some use of my leisure time— it never goes well, unless I have multiple kinds of stimulation at once.

So meditation never worked— because there was no stimulation at all, just me, with my brain, trying to make myself be still.

I’ve even tried guided meditation, and that still doesn’t work, because it’s only one kind of stimulation. So I’m just about the worst hypnotic subject in the world, and no matter how much hypnosis means to Matthew, I can’t make myself receptive to it.

And of course, I don’t believe in at all— thinking this feels like I’m reminding myself of this. But when did I forget? Of course I don’t believe in it at all.

I’m thinking about Matthew hypnotizing me. Is there a little disappointment in me, or some kind of judgement? He’s outsourced the process to a device— which of course will never work, I scramble to add. Being hypnotized by a device isn’t very fun— or personal— he always made it sound like hypnosis was something so personal and important to him, so how can he make something mechanical do his work on his behalf?

Being hypnotized by a device isn’t very fun, so it’s a good thing that’s not what’s happening. It’s a good thing that will never happen to me.

I’d have been less irritable about the whole thing if he’d handled it better. I told him why I wouldn’t be a good hypnotic subject. I tried and failed to meditate in front of him so he could see for himself. But if he had said, “Okay, Tessi— I know you don’t believe it can work, but why don’t we just play around with it for a while and see what happens? There won’t be any pressure, and I won’t be expecting anything—” if he had said that I would have been more open to the entire thing.

I’ve never thought like this before— I never even thought about this as an option. Why didn’t I think of it then, and say it to him? Why am I only thinking of it now? It makes no sense to me.

But it’s a nice line of thought— I’d like to keep following it, so I will.

He would say to me— “Tessi, there’s no pressure. I just want you to be comfortable more than anything. And nothing even has to happen the first time we try this— we can just work at it together, and then maybe one or two sessions from now you’ll feel something.”

It’s making me feel a little heated, thinking this. There’s something sexy in imagining Matthew being so considerate. Or maybe it’s sexy to imagine a caring hypnotist. I’ve never found the idea of hypnosis to be sexy before, so why should that be the case? But I can picture Matthew in my mind, stand in front of me. He takes my necklace off of my neck, where I’m picturing him inside my head. It’s a long, dangling necklace with a pendant. He holds it in front of me— and knocks the pendant aside with a flick of his fingers, starting the pendant swinging— back and forth, back and forth—

“You can watch it or not, Tessi— it’s your choice. Nothing needs to happen today, nothing has to be forced. If it feels easy and calming to watch then you can watch. If it feels like too much work you can just sit there, looking at nothing.”

In my mind I watch myself watching the pendant. Imagine how safe it would make me feel, if Matthew were to keep reassuring me that I didn’t have to fall into trance— I wouldn’t feel like I had to force something impossible, I would just feel like I had been completely accepted as I was— and that everything was okay— and that would make me feel so safe. And I have to admit, this image of Matthew, standing there, trying hypnosis on me— it’s making me even more flustered than a few minutes ago. In my fantasy, he looks so dashing— with his dark hair, and his tall stature— dashing and debonair, like I thought he was when he first asked me out— the most beautiful man in the world to me, but treating me so caringly, bringing me in on something that matters so much to him, but in such a way that I feel valued and treasured along every step of that journey— he keeps swinging the pendant, in my head, but it makes my heart sink. Why didn’t Matthew try hypnotizing me like this for real? It would have been more intimate. Instead he’s done something so impersonal, so uncaring, in just leaving it all to some device.

I’m thinking thoughts that make it sound like I actually want to be hypnotized, like I’m lamenting that this is only a fantasy in my head. And I’m thinking thoughts that make it sound like I actually want Matthew to be my hypnotist. But I don’t want that, of course! The fact that I’m feeling flustered, as if this fantasy in my head is actually becoming a sexual fantasy before my eyes— that’s all coincidence.

But it is— captivating to follow— watching that dream-Matthew swing the pendant and murmur reassurances to me, affirmations. It’s making… it’s making me start to feel tired… like I want to fall asleep. But not quite fall asleep like I do when I lay down at night. Fall asleep, like I could somehow stay partly awake. Fall asleep like I only want to fall half-asleep, but somehow stay partly aware of everything around me. In the fantasy Matthew stops after a while, and fantasy-me never fell into trance. But I make a few days pass, and have the two of us try us again— and in the fantasy I’m more at ease the second time, and with Matthew’s words constantly buoying me up I’m much less nervous, and much less comfortable— and I almost get all the way into trance that time, only to lose the descent at last moment.

In my daydream, Matthew kisses me on the forehead and said, “It’s okay, Tessi! I wasn’t expecting anything. You got so close— we’ll try again.”

In real life, which seems distant to me, since I have receded so far into my own thoughts— I’m aware of my eyelids flickering. They feel so heavy, they’re hard to hold open now. In the daydream when I watch the projection of myself become more comfortable and more open, I feel more comfortable and more open. And watching those daydreams progresses is sapping my energy, making me grow ever-increasingly more tired.

I turn back to my two characters— dream-Matthew, dream-me. And I make a few more days progress for them, before they try hypnosis together for the third time. Dream-Tessi is completely at ease to start with, since her two previous experiences with hypnosis were so positive. And Dream-Matthew seems more confident. He takes out the necklace again, and sets it swinging, speaking beautiful, comforting, coaxing words. Dream-Tessi feels an inexorable pull, as if she is being dragged down into the earth, through a narrowing, vertical tunnel— but she likes the feeling— and when she goes into trance, the daydream stops.

I realize I’m on the brink of trance myself. I know what it would feel like to experience it, now— now that I’ve watched the daydream version of myself go through it. That makes panic echo somewhere far away, on the outskirts of my consciousness— oh, no, I hear myself say there. Oh no, Matthew was right— the device actually does work— my incorrect judgement, my failure is going to humiliate me.

But I’m at the top of that shoo that goes into the earth. It’s exerting gravity on me, trying to pull me down— I’ve come a long way. I realize that. If I want to get out of this, I’ll have to go back all the way I’ve come. Turn from this pull, rewind through all those fantasies, emerge from my thoughts, my internal retreat, to be faced with Matthew again. And that’s… such a long way to go. And I’m so tired. It’ll give me rest if I just let myself be pulled— if I just fall down that narrowing shoot and go underground. It will be quiet down there, and dark. I can rest. Rest, rest, rest… the word seems to be pulsing in my head.

I realize my eyelids have drifted closed, though my body still feels so far away from me. And I feel that trance-tug— pulling me— I should go—

I exhale, my body sitting looser, and fully let that pull take hold of me. Then I’m shooting down— and then I’m under.

And it’s quiet. And it’s dark. And it is— rest rest rest rest rest rest— Matthew’s voice captures my attention— it doesn’t break my trance, though.

“You’re very far down, Tessi, aren’t you?”

His coaxing tone almost matches up to those fantasies I was entertaining before. The ones that dragged me down here.

“I’m very far down,” I agree. It increases the feeling of peace that I’m experiencing.

“The device does work, Tessi. You’re helplessly hypnotized.”

“I’m helplessly hypnotized,” I mumble. It seems to become more true.

“You want to know how it works,” Matthew says.

— I want to know how it works.

“I want to know how it works,” I say, a second after thinking of it.

“It gets into your brain, and maps out the ideal way to hypnotize you. Some people need daydreams, some people need mental puzzles, some people need lists. It finds the thing that is most interesting to your mind and offers it to you. And because it can target in on what will be the most effective method so successfully, it’s always able to choose the thing you’ll most want to go along with it. The only reason the hypnosis actually works is that you then play along with the frame it’s given you and invest yourself in it. If you didn’t participate, it wouldn’t get anywhere. But it always chooses the thing that’s impossible to pass up. So, Tessi— you helped the device to hypnotize you. You’re partly responsible for the state you’re in right now.”

I am partly responsible for the state I’m in right now. I didn’t have to indulge those fantasies. But seeing them taught me how to imagine hypnosis, and imagining hypnosis taught me how to experience it— exactly the track I needed to follow to end up here. Matthew is telling the truth— so then that was the best track to follow, the most efficient way to get me here, and I went along with it. Even when I felt it was stirring things in me I’d never felt before, that I didn’t want to feel. I went along— it’s my fault.

“Out of curiosity—” he was going to ask it as a question, but he seems to realize the situation we’re both in. “You want to tell me what frame it tempted you with.”

“I had to fantasize about you hypnotizing me,” I say, dully. “You came to me and kept telling me it was okay if I never went into trance, you just wanted it to be a comfortable experience for me— and you swung a necklace for me— and kept reassuring me. And that… consideration, matched with that understated power… was kind of sexy.”

I still can’t see him, because my eyes are closed, but the impression I get is of him placing a hand on his heart, and his tone is almost touched. “I was the most appealing thing in the world to you? I was the lure? Tessi, you’re such a romantic sometimes.”

Something in that is humiliating too. If the device had been calibrated to Matthew, I bet he wouldn’t have been hypnotized by visions of me. I’ve always felt that I loved him more than he loved me. And having him just casually know the importance he holds in my internal world— while he can just sit there like it’s insignificant— makes me feel so far below him, makes me feel so dominated by his power. I want to do something to lash back out.

“The fantasy kept making me sad.” If I weren’t hypnotized it would come out snappish. Instead it sounds dreamy. “The fantasy-Matthew could actually be bothered to hypnotize me himself, instead of getting some device to do it for him.”

Even in trance, a bit of my vindictive streak remains. I tried wounding him twice with it, and I never got anywhere. It doesn’t sound, this time, like I wounded him any better than in any of my previous attempts.

“Oh, Tessi,” he says, as though I’m being endearing. “You wanted me to be your hypnotist. You still want me to be your hypnotist, don’t you? You’d rather belong to me than to some device.”

Of course I would rather that! I married him, not some random device— he’s supposed to be the one I belong too anyway. But it’s my own fault that I feel more deeply for him than even the bonds of marriage might imply.

“In your fantasies, I talked a lot, didn’t I? Said things that made you feel more and more comforted, more and more sleepy. We can do that. We can do that really. You hear my voice and it comforts you. You hear my words and they become your thoughts.”

I hear his words and they become my thoughts.

“You believe everything I tell you.”

I believe everything he tells me.

“There is no thought for you apart from what I’m saying.”

There is no thought for me apart from what Matthew is saying.

“Everything I suggest to you is a great idea, and you want to do it.”

Everything he suggests to me is a great idea and I want to do it.

“You’re horny.”

I’m horny.

“You want to get down on your knees and suck my cock.”

I want to get down on my knees and suck his cock.

“Then you want to lay on your back and let me fuck your pussy.”

Then I want to lay on my back and let him fuck my pussy.

“Then when I flip you over and start fucking your ass, you’ll like it.”

Then when he flips me over and starts fucking my ass, I’ll like it.

“You’re so turned on that it’s hard not to touch yourself right now.”

I’m so turned on that it’s hard not to touch myself right now.

“It feels natural to squirm in place, to try and let some of your sexual frustration out.”

It feels natural to squirm in place, to let some of my sexual frustration out.

“You can’t do anything but sit there. You’re feeling so sexual now, but all you can do is suffer.”

I can’t do anything but sit here. I’m feeling so sexual now, but all I can do is suffer—

Something flickers in me. I’m still in trance, but something is come from the center of me— something fighting against Matthew’s commands. This isn’t like my fantasy, it says. This isn’t about him thinking of my needs or feelings, this is all about him changing me into what he wants me to be. And the thing that put me in the trance is the device. The thing that’s keeping me so deep is the device. I should fight. I should resist. I should open my eyes— I should wake up and leave this room. No, I should take the device off the dresser, drop it on the floor, and crush it under my foot until it breaks and can never work anymore, or ever again. The old petty fantasy of triumphing over an inanimate object is back. It is my enemy and I can defeat it. I will destroy it— I will vanquish.

I’m at least getting my eyelids to flicker, now. Almost like I’m about to open them. If I have a few more minutes of feeling this way— Matthew has stopped talking. I’m imagining him watching me in concern.

None of this was what I wanted. None of this was how I wanted to spend my Sunday night. And I waited all day for Matthew to come. I knew where he was— doing what he was doing, that two-hour drive away, at that hotel. I waited all day for him at home— and the weather was so nice. The whole time I was just thinking about how I wanted to go for a walk with him.

But when he finally got home, even though it was the perfect time of evening for a walk, all he wanted to do was hypnotize me. Then he gave me that stupid box, and I ended up in this situation. I was so annoyed when he came in and said no to going walking— even more annoyed when he started going on about hypnotizing me— most annoyed of all when he gave me that box. In that whole interaction, my head was full of thoughts of annoyance— but he did prove me wrong. I thought hypnosis didn’t work, and I’m sitting here hypnotized. I was right, though, that he was interested in hypnosis as a sexual thing— that he would use it for sexual reasons. That’s what he was doing before I started to resist. I didn’t want to use hypnosis in that sexual way. I didn’t want to be involved with hypnosis at all.

This is not how I wanted my Sunday night to go! And if I thought I was annoyed before, while I was talking with Matthew upon his arrival home, it’s nothing compared to the level of annoyance I’m feeling right now. I think it’s almost enough that I’ll fully be able to wake myself from trance— even break that device like I was thinking of before. I just have to hold on to this annoyed feeling. Matthew is a jerk.

Matthew is a jerk, and he doesn’t care about my feelings, and the only reason he wants to hypnotize me is to debauch me.

There is a loud beeping noise in the room.

“Whoa, Tessi!” Matthew exclaims. “That means you’re really fighting the device. You must really be thinking stubborn thoughts inside of your head. When they gave these to us, they said only the most resistant subjects could make the device beep. It’s going into overdrive, now. I’m sorry, Tessi, but you don’t stand a chance.”

I feel what he means. There’s a physical sensation in my head— the feeling of air, blowing at me— like consecutive gusts of wind, but when each one seems to strike me, it leaves me feeling weak and confused— and I never have time to get my bearings before the next gust of wind, or the next.

Maybe it’s more like there’s a fan sitting in front of me, pointing straight at me, never turning… the more I think about that, the more I feel that pull grabbing me. There is a shoot in the earth, like the one that brought me down here— but it will only lead further underground. The pull seizes me, and pulls me down further. I’ve always been in trance, but I’m more fully in it now. I can’t remember what it felt like to be conscious.

There’s a gap in me, and I don’t care that it’s there. That place where I used to have wishes, and longing… where I used to want things. It’s gone and I don’t care that it is. I don’t want anything— I don’t care what happens to me. I’m just empty. And if Matthew told me to stop thinking, my mind would be silent— but for now, he doesn’t seem to care about any of that. As long as I’m able to think, though, my thoughts can only repeat this basic truth. I don’t care what happens to me. I have no will of my own. I am for other people to act upon— not an agent of action myself. This doesn’t make me happy. This doesn’t make me anything. It simply is, and the emptiness, the blankness is almost comfortable. The memory of ever having felt anything, even, is quite far away. I don’t need it to re-approach me. I don’t need it to come back. I don’t care.

“The device won, Tessi,” Matthew notes. “No one is strong enough to beat its hypnosis. You are even more deeply hypnotized than you were before. All you want to do now is give yourself to me— without any will at all, you want to give yourself to me.”

Things have changed since the last time Matthew was influencing me with his words. Then, I could only think what he said in response— because more of my mind was still functioning. But now that I am in a lower place, where more and more of my mind has been switched off, that isn’t how it works anymore. Before, when he told me a way to feel, or a thing to want, I could only experience that feeling. But because I was more awake and aware, it actually kept me chained to experiencing the feeling, as opposed to taking steps which would bring to actually experiencing the experience.

But more of my mind is off now. There isn’t enough awareness to be caught by the command that told me what to feel. The larger command is what seizes me, and since I have become nothing, only a container for Matthew to fill— I am chained by that. The hypnosis has advanced too far— I can no longer be caught by an emotion, sitting here, writing in it. Instead I am caught by the implied action. And there is nothing in me, nothing at all, that can stop me from taking it.

— the device won. No one is strong enough to beat its hypnosis. I am even more deeply hypnotized than I was, hypnotized before. All I want to do now is give myself to him. Without any will at all, I want to give myself to him.

There is no emotion in it. It is just resignation. It is just grim feeling.

I stand, completely controled by the suggestion. I put my hand out, and take his in mind. I am already walking away— there would not be room for both of us to stand in a line, between the chair and the bed. As I go I am pulling him with me by the hand, and soon he is standing. I lead him around the bed, going around the corner of it, down the side.

I get onto the bed first, dropping his hand. It is the same emotionless efficiency that I move with, as I strip out of my clothes. Shirt off. Bra off. Underwear off. Skirt off.

I did not drag him onto the bed with me, because it is not for me to say what happens to me. It is not for me to say how he should act. I only had to show him— was compelled to show him— that I had put myself in the position where he could fully take me. That was what mattered.

Now that I am naked on the bed I feel nothing. I only look up at Matthew because he is the one that will use me. He is the one that I must be used by.

“I give myself, to you, Matthew,” I say. I don’t care how dull my voice sounds, how flat. My emotions are about as level.

“I have no will. You must use me.”

He is undressing himself now. In this situation, normally, there would be… something in the gap that’s there. I’d be… feeling something. Anticipation, maybe? Impatience? Excitement? I can’t remember what that would be like.

He is naked now too— he straddles over me on the bed.

“Piss some lubrication out of your pussy, Tessi.”

Immediately my body is seized by the involuntary response. That might make someone else feel something— that someone else, if they were in this position. If Matthew had ever found a partner who really liked hypnosis— maybe they would have thrilled at being made to lubricate on command. I just feel… nothing. I just am nothing.

I’m nothing, but now I’m also wet. It came out in a steady stream, and now my entire pussy is soaked in arousal, ready to be slick and pleasing for him.

He lowers himself, setting his cock between my pussy-lips— I still have no will. There is no drive in me to make anything happen myself. There is no nagging desire for Matthew to do anything different, no secret hope I’m hiding that he’ll do this that or the other instead. Everything he is doing is exactly what he should be doing— everything he is doing is exactly perfect as it is, in its current state. Because I don’t care about any of it, and I’m just here for his use. And this is how he wants to use me— so that’s perfect— then if he changes how he’s using me, then that will be perfect.

Everything about existing, now, is just the current moment. Even the current second. It’s a momentary existence, where everything feels like the same eternal second but nothing is real except what is happening in that second. There is no past and future.

Matthew is dragging himself through my wetness now, grinding against my pussy, but not entering it. That is perfect just as it is. There’s nothing else he needs to be doing inside.

I observe, distantly, that in my fantasy the one who was accepted unconditionally was me— I was the one who was doing everything perfectly just as I was doing it, and I didn’t have to change that or try to be something else. In my fantasy, it was me— but in reality it is him. He is the one who gets unconditional acceptance, and I am the one who gets nothing, and must give— and give—

That’s perfectly fine. It doesn’t matter, and I don’t care about it.

“You have no will,” Matthew repeats, rightly— I have no will. “But you can feel the arousal in your body. And your body can build and build in arousal, as much as it needs to— and when it’s built as much as it can, it can release all of that in an orgasm. And you can have as many orgasms as your body requires. But every orgasm you experience will drag your brain down deeper.”

This is how it will be— he is right about that.

This doesn’t give me emotion. It just gives me sensation. I can experience sexual pleasure— but there is still no emotion in it for me. And no desire, no wanting of my own in it, either.

The pleasure feels really good though, now that Matthew has given me back the ability to notice it. It is heavy in my body. It is everywhere— it is making everything simmer and juice.

If I were capable of liking anything anymore, I might say that I liked hypnosis, too. But I am no longer capable of forming opinions. Or having emotional responses. So I just note that I’m hypnotized, and there is nothing else beyond that.

But I can feel Matthew’s cock sliding against me. It makes me want to cry out and moan, but he did not give me permission to do that, so it is impossible for me to do. I feel the heat in my body intensify, a stove-burner being turned up. A further concentration of electricity. I would squirm and plead and moan and beg. Just because that would all align with the experience of being aroused. But he has not given me the permission— so I only lie there, and feel the heat that is swamping my body in itself.

He is now nudging his cockhead against my entrance. Every time he nudges there, my pussy flutters around him, tries to grip. But he still doesn’t want to push all the way inside, it seems.

His hands are on my breasts now. They knead, and squeeze and roll. The electricity is even more concentrated— the heat in me has gone up in temperature. But there is no strain in lying still and keeping silent. Obedience is not a conscious choice, an efforted action. It is only an instinctual response.

But I am so horny— I don’t remember ever reaching this pitch of it at any earlier time in my life. My god it feels good— he is grinding against me like heaven— maybe I could think in terms of more rational, intelligible metaphors if more of my mind was awake. But I don’t care.

I don’t even care about the pleasure— it’s just nice that it happens to be there.

I’m breathing with more effort. I can find my body sweating. It is moving with his— my hips making little thrusts so I enfold around him as he drags along me. This is the larger suggestion still controling me. Multiple of his larger suggestions still controling me. If I were aroused this is how I would move my pussy. If I were aroused this is how I would move my body— but that general control still doesn’t make it possible for me to cry out or speak, or move beyond these little shifts of encouragement. It is just how my mind responds to trance— it arbitrarily understood some things to be obedience, and some things to be disobedience, and it would take Matthew’s spoken guidance to make any of those actions switch categorizations.

He is dragging even more slowly through my folds. Every place he touches seems to be set on fire, to spark out electric jolts— the pleasure scalding-hot. My pussy is sending out rivulets and rivulets in further arousal. My body is obeying him all the time. Arousing me more, and more, and more— it won’t ever stop, until I cum, and then it will only start again— arousing me more, and more— orgasm after orgasm, dragging my mind down deeper. Shutting more and more of it off. Maybe Matthew never gave me a command to stop me thinking because he knows in time that’s where I’ll end up anyway, without him having to put any effort into telling me to go there, to that thoughtless place. That may be the place I’m forced to go, as my mind shuts down more and more.

I’m only an impartial viewer of all this. It doesn’t make any difference to me, if I can go on thinking, or if I never think again.

His cock-tip nudges into me again. I flutter around him and try to grip— all the pleasure in my body scalds hotter. I expect him to draw back and drag through my folds again, but this time he doesn’t. He is pushing forward this time, beginning to stretch me.

There is no excitement. No, oh thank god he’s finally doing this! He is doing it now so it is perfect. This is the second I am living in. It has always been this second, there is nothing to compare it too. There was nothing before.

There will be nothing after but this— so this is perfect exactly as it is.

He is stretching me wider. I feel the… the dimensions of his cock, the sensation, the texture, the topography of it— feel all those dimensions intimately, as he is moving his cock inside of me.

He is taking me even more slowly to further stimulate me. It would feel filthy and debaucherous if I were doing this in a conscious state. It would feel like a pleasure I couldn’t resist, or escape from, being inflicted unrelentingly, minute by minute. It would feel so dirty.

But it feels like nothing. I don’t care about it but it’s nice that it’s there. And it does feel good.

He is stretching me. He isn’t even a quarter of the way into me and I am already cumming. So hard my body can only obey the demands of my orgasm. I am writhing and contorting on his shallowly-present cock, feeling my orgasm in every muscle, feeling all my arousal flood out around him. Pleasure, and more pleasure, and more pleasure, holding me tighter and tighter. Then tighter still.

Finally my body relaxes again— though it feels several dozen times more aroused, several dozen times hornier, than it did before my orgasm.

This is how it can be so easy to completely lose all of myself— having one orgasm makes it easier to have the next. I can feel Matthew even more vividly as he pushes in still deeper.

And in the wake of my orgasm, I see the parts of my mind that have gone dark. The area in which I can continue to think feels like it has shrunk. It has grown smaller. And I don’t care.

In the wake of my orgasm, too, my pussy cannot, now, stop fluttering. Stop spasming. Stop gripping on him. As long as he is in me and I’m feeling this much ecstasy, my pussy is going to keep working at him like this, trying to work his orgasm out of him. I cannot stop my body, not with it feeling this way. It is so good. It is felt everywhere. I am flooded with pleasure-sensation, and my pussy is twitching quickly and never slowing, as it is ever-penetrated deeper.

The way Matthew’s cock slides into me is perfect. If I was conscious I would love it. All I can do is completely accept it. And I can’t feel— but I can think. It is lucky that I am living in the eternal second which contains Matthew’s penetration of me.

When I could still feel emotions, I was thinking so indignantly about the way my Sunday night has gone. It doesn’t seem like something to elicit indignance now. It just seems… absurd. That a thirty-two-year-old woman could be in such a position, with her thirty-seven-year-old husband. But it’s what’s happened to me. And I never expected it to happen, when Matthew told me he was going to take that course at the hotel today on how to hypnotize people for fun. Today, and yesterday— he went for the whole weekend. It’s absurd, for people of our respective ages to be going through this experience. It’s absurd, that a weekend-long recreational hypnosis course could lead to such things as it has.

I’m sure the course organizers never intended for anything like this to happen. They gave those devices out— but they put false trust in their course’s students. Assuming that everyone attending would only use hypnosis ethically. There’s no way the people running the course could have had evil intentions— no way they could have had a dark agenda to make it easier for aspiring hypnotists to dominate others. The flaw is in Matthew— not in the administrators of the course.

I think this all without emotion. It is still the hottest experience of my life to be fucked by Matthew this way.

He has gotten all of the way inside me, now, and so he takes up a pace of fast, harsh thrusts. The bed bounces beneath us, creaking as he fucks me. My hips are bucking to meet his, compelled by my obedience. At this demanding pace, I won’t long be held off from my next orgasm. I can already feel it starting, singing in my muscles, shivering through my body.

One more thrust and I’m there. Once again writhing, obeying my orgasm, contorting and shuddering, stretching and tensing so much it almost hurts— but on in the way that feels so good.

This one is taking longer to end. My eyes have turned up into my head, now, and my jaw has dropped open. There is drool coming out of my mouth and I can’t see, with my eyes facing back. And I don’t care. The pleasure is holding me completely, holding tighter— tighter— even than the last time— building up even as it releases, as if I’m having a second orgasm on the back of my first— so much tension, so much that I have to obey, and submit myself to the experiencing of…

Then it all goes out in a gush again. And I feel how my mind is more dimmed than before.

Something changey changey in my head-head. Was hypno-deepy, but now trance seem left-left. Feel awake but so dumb! Funny how dumb. Stupid dumb. So funny have to laugh. Can only laugh. Giggling as dick-dick goes in again.

Giggling make Matthew look-look.

“Tessi?” Matthew ask.

“The device is still working on you, isn’t it?”

“Trance gone,” I cackle. “Feel awake!”

“You’re awake,” Matthew confirm. “But it’s changed you. You’re just a stupid bimbo now.”

I giggle more hard. “Just a stupid bimbo!”

Stupid bimbo stupid bimbo. Matthew said thing that perfectly explains me. Matthew said thing that— perfectly true.

“Stupid bimbo,” I say, laughing less. I more serious now. “Stupid bimbo wants to do sex to Matthew instead of have sex done to her. Want to do sex so good. Want to prove how good a fuck stupid bimbo is even when stupid bimbo can’t think.”

Can think— or should be able to think, because awake and no longer hypno-deep. But can’t think, because too stupid to form thoughts! That only funny.

I cackle again.

Matthew pulls dick out of me, kneels on bed, sitting back from me.

“What do you want to do, you stupid bimbo? You can show me.”

I looking at Matthew’s body. So sexy. So yummy. Eyes go down to wet dick he was just putting inside pussy-squeeze.

So yummy, looks yummier the longer I looking.

I licking my lips. Matthew told me show him. And I so stupid, can only think of sex. And this would be good sex to have. Want it.

Duck down, and put mouth close to his dicky-dick. Then can’t wait, looks too delicious. Plunge it into my mouth, make my mouth stretch. Crinkle my nose— can taste myself, don’t care, want to taste Matthew underneath that coating.

Start sliding my mouth— only thinking about the sensation. Smart-Tessi don’t like this, smart-Tessi only like get fucked in pussy, hate get fucked in mouth. But get fucked in mouth— so hot! So yummy to taste and yummy to feel!

Want to get fucked in mouth— glad to get fucked in mouth.

Move mouth faster— bob head back and forwards. Have to get Matthew deep. Have to get him more deep, get him all the way in. Push him back till can feel him in throat— push him down throat till my lips touch his balls— swallow around him, so can feel muscley-muscles of neck-throat squeeze. Throat-squeeze instead of pussy-squeeze, Matthew deserve squeezy. Swallow again to make it happen twice.

“Ughhhh,” Matthew groan. I looking up at him, and see eyes have fallen closed. Swallow again and get another groan. Should collect groans like prizes! Fun.

Pull back now— have gotten most of my Tessi-taste off and can just taste Matthew-cock now. Pull all the way back, kiss head of his dick, then giggle. Makes drool spill out of my mouth.

I’m doing sex so good, now. Me sexing Matthew so good. Should get up on a stage, and sex Matthew for people to come see. Matthew smarter— could arrange for audience to pay— but me doing so good, audience would get a full show and afterwards say it was worth money Matthew was smart enough to choose the price of. No one here to see but Matthew— but because of noises he makes, really sounds like he thinks me doing a good job too.

Finish laughing, and drooling. Put my lips back around him, this time put both hands around dick, one ahead of other, and start jerking. Swirl tongue around his dickhead, slurp lips while tongue is swirling. Only way I can be smart or co-ordinated— and only because sex is so important my bimbo-brain will do everything it can to figure out how to do it perfectly. Slurp, swirl, jerk, squeeze, twist without too much pressure. Makes Matthew’s hips stutter all the time.

Press tongue flat against underside of dick, and drag it up, then flick it over the head. Then swirl and slurp again. Can figure out a thousand patterns. Can figure out sex-patterns better than any other bimbo or none bimbo. Sex is everything and must think how to do it perfectly. Make Matthew feel he’s paid money and gotten al the value of it back because me that good. Make him feel worth it to fuck a stupid non-hypno-deep bimbo. Can be just as good when non-hypnodeep. Can be just as good, awake and dumb. Make sure that Matthew never regrets, never thinks of anyone else. Me should be only bimbo he wants— me has to be good enough that all Matthew can think about is being serviced by dumb bimbo-brained Tessi, make it so Matthew never want anyone else.

Slide my mouth down him again, dropping my hands away. Get him into my throat, get him going down it again. Go all the way, till at his balls again. This time angled so my nose is resting against. Tickles my nose a little.

Me giggle, but my mouth full; makes my throat squeeze dick again; makes Matthew shudder and groan. Another fun prize me have earned! Matthew sees value of me. Matthew definitely sees value of me.

Try flexing and unflexing my throat constantly. Like my pussy spasming. Manage to keep it up for like five minutes. Matthew keeps shuddering all that time. Then pull back, dragging lips down his cock. Suck him hard when lips are just past his cockhead— hollow my cheeks in, and out, puff them when they go out, so there’s even more are to suck in. Makes better suction. Gonna make it feel tighter than my pussy in there— sucking in, out. Cheeks go like balloons, then deflate, then go— that funny too. Giggle again and shake around him. Get my focus back. Go on— sucking, suction. Me have a mouth-vacuum. Suck and balloon out. Suck, and balloon out.

Try something only a bit different— suck, balloon out— hold, swirl tongue around head. Felt really good to do that with my tongue.

Let cheeks deflate, don’t suction this time. Draw mouth back. Just want it to feel like my tongue is slithering, squirming around, tracing the head of his dick right behind his ridge. Put tongue out lazy but keep it dancing— keep going at that lick from the same direction— tracing on Matthew’s cock. If me not so stupid could spell words for him, make letters. But even if had a pencil in my hand and a paper in front of me— to stupid to trace letters on paper, even— so definitely too stupid to trace letters.

Feels good to put my tongue out, and let it curve around. Feel the muscles in my tongue getting tired, and like that feeling— keep pushing my tongue as far as it can go, to get it curved around his dick as far as me can— that tires my tongue.

Extend my tongue until my jaw almost sore. All wrapped around Matthew like me a spiral holding him, getting narrower as he gets more held by me. This time try dragging tongue back— almost squeezing him, how he’s held in me— squeezing almost— spiral tongue-squeeze— but my tongue not so strong, not so strong it can do more than a little of that. Make him feel a little spiral tongue-squeezed, but only can hold for a minute and then tongue slips— so instead Matthew feels my tongue slide long his dick.

Should exercise my tongue. Make muscle stronger. Then could spiral tongue squeeze him better.

This the only exercise ever want to do. Want to work my tongue out for hours on his body. Want to work my tongue until jaw aching so it aches for days, want to work tongue all day long, go to bed-bed, wake up, work tongue all day long again. Want that. If did that for weeks, months, tongue would get stronger. Could spiral tongue squeeze then.

Really make Matthew feel my tongue can squeeze as good as throat or pussy. And special— me only bimbo can do this trick, only came up with this trick right now. If Matthew likes trick, and has made lots of liking-noises— Matthew need me, need only me.

Tongue really is getting so sore now can barely keep it twisted around Matthew.

Finally have to release, relax my jaw more. Focus on sucking with my cheeks. Let tongue lie bottom of my mouth. Let Matthew’s dickhead sit on my tongue. Tongue is a comfy-pillow for it. And work my cheeks again. Blow out, like balloons. Suction in like vacuum. Me mouth-vacuum again. Should practice all the time— like the image of me staring stupid, mouth working— me too stupid even to know there no dick inside— maybe Matthew like that image too if he saw. Then all the time me be ready for him to do this— all day long, mouth working invisible blowjob, invisible blowie, waiting for Matthew to shove me down to kneel, and stick his dick inside. Mouth would already be working correctly— it’d be like me a robot then, always servicing, waiting be used.

But it good to have dick in my mouth right now too.

Feel Matthew’s dickhead on my tongue.

Feel cheeks go in around his dick. Feel them go out again. Sucked with mouth but want to squeeze with throat again. Let cheeks go normal, start slurping Matthew done my throat. Push him further. Push him further. Make throat relax, to take him even deeper. Wasn’t this deep last time. Me not hypnodeep now but nice something is— funny— giggle and it makes me shake around him.

Need to focus. Relax throat more— push him down— push him down— push him until face completely crushed into his crotch and balls. Want to burrow face in as far as can go, so dick will be down as far as can go. Bimbo-dumb, bimbo-brained, but smart enough to hold breath for a few seconds. Pushing face in, straining. In, in— feel pressure all around— and dick has never been so far, no one’s dick has ever been so far down a throat.

Holding breath. Can do it for some more seconds still— try to strain a little further but can’t move face forward anymore. Balls soft against face when I feel them there. Hold.

Getting hard to be holding breath now. Swallow once, twice, so Matthew can feel throat-squeeze while he down so deep. That enough now, though. Going to need to breathe in a few seconds, so time for me to slide back up Matthew’s dick. Bringing my face back so not burrowing in, then keep sliding my mouth until dick pops out, and me drink in long breath of air.

But balls were soft, so lick down Matthew’s shaft. Down, till my face right near his balls. Carefully put one ball in my mouth, and roll it with my lips. Fit my lips around it, so me fully sucking it now. Trace tongue— too dumb to letter trace here, either— don’t know why me thought me would be smarter here than on Matthew’s dick higher up. But me just so bimbo-brained, that was what me thought.

Suck. Trace— try suctioning around this ball. Like the looseness of his skin here. Feels like velvet when me directly touching it with any part of mouth or tongue. Cheeks go out, cheeks go in. Matthew shudder all the time and never stop— sounds like Matthew saying swear words but Matthew doesn’t want me to stop. Mouth-vacuum his ball.

Try setting my teeth lightly on his loose ball-skin. Don’t want to hurt him, just want to make him shiver more. Lightly scratching with my teeth. Nothing even enough to irritate his skin, just enough to feel sharpness a little. Matthew twitch every time but still doesn’t want me stop. Matthew twitch— every time Matthew twitch, it prize, too.

Me has gotten so many prizes whole time giving blowjob. If were audience there who paid and thought they got money’s worth to see this, if Matthew thinking to himself me have so much value— then me still the one who got the most out of doing this.

Love to feel Matthew twitch when lightly drag my teeth and teeth him. Tooth him. Then put lips around again, swirl tongue, suck cheeks.

Finally let that ball go— moved over to the other and start doing the same thing there. This mean me now at Matthew’s left-ball. Bring my hand up, and handle Matthew’s right ball, gently. Do lightly with my nails what was doing lightly with my teeth.

When drag teeth and nails slowly together, both balls at once— makes Matthew curse and convulse up off bed. He thrusting his dick— and can feel his dick spasming. He about to cum, now. Yummy yummy cum, and shouldn’t miss it, but only want to tease a little more. Suck left ball, swirl tongue, work cheeks— then nails and teeth together, light-scrape on each ball at once— make Matthew convulse and swear again, and dick spasm. Feel precome spill out of cock— feel it spill down and get in my hair. He have orgasm soon. Really last chance to get all his cummy. Get his cummy in my tongue— I giggling at that.

If keep teasing, Matthew-dick will shoot cummy and will be in my hair instead of tummy. Not so funny— awful to think about. Want to swallow all down. Want to taste.

Let his ball go, and lift my head again. Plunge him back inside my mouth. Suck, suck hard, suck hard, slurp tongue. He constantly spasming, hips convulsing, precome flooding my mouth. It stop and start and stop and start— that’s how know it not his cummy yet.

Put my hands back on his balls. Lightly tracing my nails on both, while sucking at the same time.

Matthew shoots in one final shot. Then he is shooting into my mouth. It so much. It flooding me. Muscles in throat that throat-squeezed have to work so fast and so hard now, to keep all his continuing flowing cummy going down into tummy, don’t want any to sit in my mouth, don’t want my mouth to fill up and spill out.

Keep sucking him and makes him keep coming. Feel his balls contracting under my hands— squeezing themselves to shoot out what’s going down my throat. Best flavor, best taste. Smart-Tessi the real dumb-dumb. She not like this taste, but me know this taste is best taste in the entire world.

Matthew starting to slow down, now. Only slowly pulsing— only slowly pulsing only sometimes. Can let it pool in my mouth first before swallowing it all down my throat. Tummy so full and heavy now from swallowing everything Matthew cummed. And he so slippery and slobbery, all because of me. And he taste like Matthew-cock.

He breathing heavy now— breathing like me satisfied him so good. That’s best prize of all the prizes me got today.

Hear beeping noise.

“It’s the device again, Tessi. It’s time for bimbo-brain to turn off. Time for you to just be hypnotized again.”

Matthew pushes me back— brings me up until me lying down on the bed.

And Matthew’s hands on my nipples, twisting— and Matthew going down between legs, his mouth at crotch. Matthew going to like and suck me. My turn for mouth-sex.

Feel him sucking my clitty. Sometimes he bothers to reach up and play with my breasts, but that must hurt his shoulders.

Mostly he suck, and it feel so good. He suck and it doing something to change my mind.

Bimbo-brain is ending now. I can think a little better— but I don’t feel nearly as awake as I did that entire time. I’m starting to be put into trance again. And there’s nothing I can do to fight that. Nothing I can do to resist it.

It isn’t even tied to my orgasm this time. It’s just tied to the feeling of building pleasure. Each time I feel a little more aroused, I get a little deeper. And with Matthew licking me out, I’m getting more aroused this time. More and more parts of my brain are shutting off. I think this is going to be unlike the other time. I think this is going to be— I think this is going to be the deepest I’ve ever gone. I think I’m actually going to lose consciousness. It’ll all just be… black-out. I’ll be totally unconscious and totally hypnotized. Who knows what Matthew will say to me when I’m under, there? Who knows what he might do to me?

I wish I could fight but I can’t even remember how to try. Can’t even make myself try to struggle. It’s got an inexorable pull. It’s dragging me down. The shoot has opened up in the earth again. This time it will take me to the earth’s molten center and burn me alive— make me completely molten-melted, as far from the surface as possible.

I’m plunging down and everything is darkening. The pleasure makes me slip down the shoot faster. And then— there’s complete darkness.

Only complete darkness.

I come back to consciousness some time later. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I remember everything that happened before I passed out. I remember being under hypnosis, and feeling nothing but a compulsion towards obedience. I remember waking from trance and becoming a sex-crazed bimbo.

And I remember slipping back into trance, every sensation of pleasure dragging me a little further down until finally I was shooting towards the center of the earth, as possibly far underground as I could be.

I wasn’t sure, when I was slipping like that, if I was ever going to wake up again. But I’m conscious now, and I feel like myself. That was the second fear.

The first fear, that I’d never wake up again at all— that all of my thinking, all of my awareness would cease forever— that has been proven unfounded.

But my second fear was that, if I did wake up— I was going to find I’d woken up changed. With huge alterations to my personality, or my experience of reality.

That doesn’t seem to have happened either, though I can’t be quite as sure my second fear’s been disproved. If part of the hypnosis was to tell me that I was unable to notice anything strange in my behavior or thoughts— then I’d follow that suggestion too. I know the authentic nature of my mind now— I know how it will willingly enslave itself to a command— so I can’t put anything beyond the realm of possibility.

But for now, as far as I can tell— I’m thinking the same way as I always think. I’m behaving the same way I always behave— I’m feeling—

Well, I’m not feeling the same way I always feel. Because there’s a lot to be upset about, and I am upset. Not only did Matthew hypnotize me, and hypnotize me specifically so he could use me for sex— but then he sat by and watched me become a bimbo, too. The time I spent that way feels like a collection of some of the most humiliating moments of my life. And if Matthew had really cared, he could have turned the device off— or he could have put me back into trance, told me to go back to normal, and then turned the device off. That would have shown a lot more consideration and caring.

Instead he just left me to humiliate myself that way. So I’m angry, I’m hurt, and I feel betrayed. I never thought my own husband would treat me so disrespectfully, but this is where things have ended up.

And I hate it.

The first thing I did, upon waking up, was dismiss my first fear— I did a bit of rejoicing, at finding I had become conscious again. Then, I assessed myself to see if I was more or less unchanged. I seem to be— and then I considered my feelings and the memories of the last few hours before slipping under.

Now I’m starting to pay more attention to my situation— to my body. And as I do, I find that things feel— wrong. Really wrong, not like how they should be at all.

It feels like there’s something around my wrists. Feels like there’s something around my ankles too.

My eyes were closed as I did all that internal sorting for myself— but now seems like the time to open them.

Immediately, I recognize where I am. Matthew has taken me down to basement storage— the unfinished basement under our house. All we have down here are empty walls and metal-rack shelves cluttered with old junk we never decided what to do with.

I’m standing, as I already noticed. I tug with my arms, and kick with my feet. There are definitely restraints around my… my wrists and ankles.

— I’m tied to the wall.

I’m tied to the wall!

While I was unconscious, Matthew was obviously keeping himself busy.

I was out, and he was occupying himself with carrying me down here, and tying me up like this.

It’s not comfortable. He’s tied my legs to the wall in such a way that they’re splayed out from each other, so my pussy is open. And it’s only now that I realize— he tied me up here, naked!

I feel ashamed— this feels dirty. To be bound by the arms and legs in such a position that leaves my pussy clearly exposed. I feel like the maiden, trussed up and left to hang until someone comes and deflowers her. Being naked doesn’t help that feeling. I’m all on display, for anyone who wanted to come down and see me— and what’s worse, I’m completely helpless. Because of the way I’m tied, if another person came over to me, they could do basically anything to my body they wanted, and I’d be restrained from protecting myself.

And that makes me feel…

I try to keep my mind off of that. I have to focus on Matthew, and what his plans are.

Right now, I don’t see him. So he hasn’t just been sitting down here waiting for me to wake up.

There’s something else my mind needs to put together. The— that’s right! The wall. I know this basement. It has never before had a place like this within it, for tying a person to. This is something Matthew has had installed more recently— and he did it behind my back, clearly hoping I wouldn’t find out before he could reveal it to me in the worst way possible.

Come to think of it, the past few weeks, any time I’ve needed something out of the basement, Matthew has always volunteered and practically run down the stairs to get it for me, before I could even object. So he’s been deliberately hiding this from me. And just how long has he been planning this? It hardly seems like a spur of the moment idea he came up with after his hypnosis weekend, if he had this ready weeks ago.

Though to be fair, he had to book that course fairly far in advance. So he’s probably been planning this at least that long— but only made arrangements to install this set-up when he was closer in time to the point where he would actually use it.

Ughh! It makes me want to cry out in frustration— but for now, I’m not sure I want Matthew to know I’m awake, yet.

Honestly, this is even more humiliating than temporarily becoming a bimbo. My body is a little sore, from being tied in this position. And the basement has always been chilly— this makes my breasts feel a bit firmer than they would be otherwise. And it makes my nipples hard.

I can’t even fully support myself on my feet, because of how they have been splayed apart. A lot more of me is being supported by my ties to the wall than is being supported by my stance alone.

I pull at the restraints again. The basement is unfinished, but this back-wall here did have drywall put up over it. It feels now like Matthew went into the drywall and put an anchor behind it— like a wooden board, flat, right behind where my hands are now tied. He had already set the ropes inside that board— but then he made two openings in the drywall so the ropes could come out, and— tie me up.

The same was done lower down, for my feet. But with the ropes tying me being anchored inside wood, and the wood being anchored in the drywall— I don’t see how I could ever possibly pull free. If I’d just been tied to a shelf or something, I could have worked my way out. But these are anchored ropes. I’m not strong enough to tear free of wood.

I’m trapped, and that makes me blush harder. It doesn’t feel like these ropes were for tying me up. It feels like these ropes were meant to tie a prisoner up, and even though I am surrounded by neutral metal shelves and nothing all that frightening or salacious— it still makes me feel like I’ve been trapped down in a fetish dungeon, for something horrible (and sexy) to happen to me.

I’ve never given much thought to being tied up like this before. Matthew never mentioned it either— he was much more keen on discussing hypnosis. But this is… doing something for me I’m not entirely comfortable with. It makes me want to shift my legs to grind my pussy-lips against themselves— except even if I could shift my legs, this would accomplish nothing, because my hips are too splayed apart from each other. It just… makes my whole body simmer in lust, and I feel very confident that this was not a response installed by hypnosis. It feels like something that’s mine— something that was just waiting dormant in me, and I never knew— and it’s only coming out now.

Recognizing this makes me feel immediate despair. I didn’t know I liked this, but if I’d known— if this were happening in a different context, all of this would be fun. If it were something Matthew and I had discussed first— if I’d not only agreed, but eagerly agreed— I could have been standing here, just like this, juicing in my lust and feeling it coil through my body.

But this is like those fantasies that entranced me— where in the fantasy what I want and feel matters, and matters especially to Matthew. In the fantasy, he would only be coming down here to fuck me. Maybe to get on his knees and lick me out— or line himself up to me, and fuck me in. He’d stop as soon as I said I wasn’t having fun anymore— he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want. He could pretend this was his fetish dungeon, and he was some frightening and alluring figure of desire— knowledgeable in all things naughty.

And I could pretend I was his helpless prisoner— but all the time I’d know how to pull the emergency release and make it stop— and as long as I was having fun, it would be hard not to find the scenario appealing. To imagine I was wanted so much that someone would truss me up like this, and leave me hanging until they wanted to come use me. To imagine— I was so wanted— that the one who desired me had a desire so obsessive, so possessive, they’d never be satisfied until they felt they owned me completely, had me trapped and tied up so I could never escape and they would never have to be without me…

Obviously, that would be horrifying in real life. But if it were played as a game, I can see how that would be so sexy… I can see how that would be so romantic. Someone having messy, claiming feelings for me, feelings that weren’t acceptable, or were too much— but if given to the game they could finally be expressed in a way that was accepted, a way that was adored. I think I would have loved that, if I could have had that. And imagining Matthew as being the one to have messy, complicated feelings of that nature for me— that he could only let out if we played in such a way— that is also a deeply alluring thought. When I have loved him so much— and always loved him more than he loved me—

But I know Matthew has never loved me that much. Or had feelings like that. And I didn’t even know I would like something like this, like games like this— but now I do, and it’s been horrible to learn.

The problem with this is that it’s not a game. When Matthew comes down here, he won’t only be coming down to have fetish fun— he won’t only be coming down to give me pleasure. He’s going to come down and do something to my mind that I never agreed to. That I don’t want, and that terrifies me. He’s going to come down and change me. Strip me of everything that makes me who I am, kill my identity. He’s going to come down, and turn me back into that bimbo— make me a thing that only exists to give him sex, with none of the feelings or fantasies or life experiences in me anymore— all of which make me who I am.

I shouldn’t have used the hypothetical before, thinking about how— pretending to be chained up is fun as a game but horrifying in real life. Possessiveness fun as a game but horrifying in real life.

I don’t need to play hypotheticals on this. This is what’s happening to me, and it’s horrifying in real life. My husband has tied me up because he wants to do things to my mind that I don’t want him to do. My husband has tied me up because he wants to destroy me— everything that makes me who I am. That is a worst case scenario, and it’s not pretend-fun. I’m trapped and I can’t prevent this from happening to me.

It makes it so complicated in my head though— that I like the bindings. I understand this is not a game and that this is a very dangerous situation. But I can’t help getting turned on, every time I feel those ties around my extremities. I wish this could have come to me in a frame that was safe— that Matthew could have been possessive in a way that was safe, in a way that could stop when I wasn’t having fun anymore. I’m not having fun anymore, but I can’t make this stop.

I’m turned on, and that still doesn’t make it okay what he’s done to me. I’m getting more and more angry the longer that I think about it. But behind that anger, there’s also fear. This is a dire situation, and I’m incapable of helping myself out of it. I consider tugging fruitlessly at the ties again, but think the better of it. When the ropes stop me, it’s going to make more arousal pour of me. And that won’t be my fault, either— but it’s better I don’t muddle things up and mix guilt into it. I should not enjoy my feelings of being trapped, especially in such a dangerous situation. But I do, because that’s my body’s automatic reaction— my mind’s automatic reaction. So I just have to accept that, and move on.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. My heart races. From his footing, I know it’s Matthew. I’m used to hearing his steps from all corners of the house. I know what it sounds like when he walks.

So at least— he hasn’t called some friend or something to come over and mess with me. Or some stranger. That’s a tiny consolation.

But more than anything, I’m devastated. I wish this was a game right now. I wish he was only coming down here to play it with me— only coming down to have a good time fucking me, and give me a good time while I’m fucking him.

He’s not coming down for that reason.

And it’s still not a game. If only it were— but it’s not. I’m in danger, and I’m angry, and I’m scared. I don’t want to be hypnotized again. I don’t want to have my identity stripped away.

“Tessi?” Matthew calls, as he comes around the corner of the stairs. “Are you awake now?”

As soon as he comes into view, I have a very mixed reaction. He’s my husband, and I love him, and to me he’s the most attractive man in the world.

But he’s also betrayed me. Seriously, seriously betrayed me. And I decide he doesn’t get to know my complicated feelings about being tied up. He doesn’t deserve to know them, and if they would have been a delight to him— too bad! If he erases me, that desire in me will be erased too, and he’ll never get the benefit of it.

Right now, that feels like the only way in which it’s possible for me to spite him.

He comes to stand in front of me. Dark hair, tall stature— still so attractive to me. If only he’d come to play…

But he hasn’t.

“How dare you tie me to this wall, Matthew! I’m your wife, not your prisoner! You had no right to do it— and especially while I was unconscious! I never agreed to this. I don’t want this, and I’m scared! So let me down from these ties right now, you bastard!”

Matthew is serene as ever, in response to this outburst from me.

“Now, now, Tessi. You don’t have to talk like that! You don’t have to be so mad, and so scared. There’s a good reason I’ve tied you up like this. It was the right thing for me to do. You can’t see that now, but eventually you’ll understand I was right to do it.”

His words only fill me with a greater sense of dread. I’m still juicing a little, feeling where the bonds tug at me— but seeing him in front of me just makes the danger of the situation more stark. And that makes me more frustrated with the way that I’m trapped here. I’ve taken freedom of movement for granted all my life. What I wouldn’t give now, to be allowed to decide where my body goes and what it does. But with his tying me to the wall— that decision has been made for me.

“The hypnosis course I went to this weekend was offered by the Hypnosis Institute. They rented out the event-space of that hotel, to host there— and bought a block of rooms for all of us. And as you saw, they gave each one of us a very impressive gift, when they gave us that device. But they didn’t only give us that. They sent us away with two presents. Here’s the second one.”

He’s had something in his hand all this time, and I didn’t notice until right now. He raises it well into my line of sight.

“It’s a vibrator,” I say at the same time as I think it.

Matthew shakes his head. “It’s not just a vibrator— it’s not just any vibrator. It’s a magic vibrator, and any woman who places it inside her body will become a mindless sex-slave.”

This was the kind of thing I was expecting of him. The kind of horror I expected him to bring down with him, the kind of destruction I expected him to force on me. I was prepared for it— I knew it, or something like it, was coming.

That hasn’t helped me prepare myself at all. Knowing ahead of time did nothing for me. And I’m just as frightened as I would have been if this had been a blindsiding revelation.

Also, all the credit and goodwill I was extending to that Institute? It’s gone now. I blamed Matthew, said he was the one who had taken what he learned and was trying to use it for unethical purposes.

But now I see that the Institute is the root of this evil. No one who gives out enslaving-vibrators along with hypno-devices has any good intentions. Nor do they have any code of ethics. I hate that Institute for teaching Matthew this.

I hate him for wanting to go along with it.

“It’ll be similar as when you were in trance, the first time— where every orgasm brought you deeper. With this device, every orgasm makes you stupider. It whittles down at your intelligent quotient, and it whittles away at your will. By the time it’s finished with you, you’ll be nothing more than an unthinking, will-less bimbo sex-slave.”

He practically sounds like he’s getting off to the idea, just from how he’s talking about it. Even though I can see he’s not touching himself.

“You remember, don’t you Tessi? You remember how it felt when the device hypnotized your never-before-hypnotized, unexposed brain? How one fantasy after another pulled you into trance, and one orgasm after another pulled you deeper into obedience. This vibrator will do the same thing for you.”

I feel flooded with rage.

“Why would you ever want to do this to your own wife? You swore, you promised to love me forever and cherish me, not erase me!”

I think of something to say, which is purely for my own comfort.

“And— and anyway. There’s no way that stupid vibrator will ever work. Everything you’re saying right now is complete nonsense, so there’s no point in even trying it out when it’s going to be a huge disappointment for you.”

“Nonsense,” Matthew smiled. “Like hypnotizing you was a waste of time? You never descended into trance in response to it, did you. I received no return for the time I invested…”

He is grinning at me now.

“You’re a fucking bastard Matthew, and I never should have married you! I never should have let you touch me, let you kiss me, I wish I had never met you!”

I’m basically screaming the words at him, and all the time, I’m pulling at my restraints that are embedded in the wall. Matthew keeps wearing his grin, and as I’m collecting my bearings to go in for a second round of screaming at him, he leans forward, and drives the vibrator into my pussy.

As it goes in, I’m quickly reminded of the fact that I’m still wet. If the ropes had done nothing for me at all, if they hadn’t broken me with the significance of their meaning— I likely still would have been wet, just from how much sex I had before passing out.

But I have all that wetness, plus the arousal I juiced just as I frisked against the ropes. So, yes. I’m definitely wet.

This means the vibrator slides into me easily— and it slides all the way in, deep— only the very base of it hasn’t entered me, and even that is basically sitting flush within my vagina’s entrance.

I feel the vibrator stabby into me like a dildo. At least it not vibrating yet. But my pussy is already holding it snug inside of me.

Matthew reaches forward, and I feel him take hold of the vibrator’s base, because it makes entire thing shifting inside of my. I suppress yelp this inspires, but it was still a startling— and intimate— feeling.

I feel him adjust it. And then vibrator has buzzed to life.

No slow buzzing here, either. It feels like he set it on highest possible power. It hammering in me— basically, is what it feels like.

I feel a sense of uneasy confidence. I’ve tried vibrators before, like I’ve tried meditation. I never liked them, and then, never did anything for me.

So this vibrator will probably leave me as cold as every other vibrator I’ve ever tried has. I really don’t like vibrators in any way— so that will protect me here. That is the thing that can save me here. It never going to work, it never going to make me orgasm— so nothing bad will happen to me and eventually Matthew will give up on this horrible fantasy and let me down from the wall.

And then I’ll have to think long and hard about the future of our marriage.

But for now, I just have to out-wait him. He going to get tired. He going to give up, let me down.

Matthew drag over an old chair that’s been left to dis-use. He sets it front of me, sits down, get comfortable, letting hands rest on his lap as he looks up at me.

This feels oddly reminiscent of when he sat across from me and waited for me to be hypnotized. That’s a bad harbinger. That fills me with foreboding. He sat down to watch me just like this, and saw me become a hypnotized slut. Will he sit and watch me now become a mindless sex-slave? Grammar already starting to go, in some places…

No want look at him this time. Keep eyes on the floor, and try not to encourage thoughts of doom. It not going to happen. Vibrator not going to do anything to me, because I never going to orgasm on it. Has to wait long enough, and Matthew will give up, and I’ll be free.

Keep staring down at the concrete floor. Resent position I been bound in. It come out to be partial squat, which a lot more irritating now that there’s something in my pussy. Like I been forced to thrust down on what I have inside, and I has no control over my stance. Can’t ease up off it even a little, so it feel like vibrator perpetually thrusting up into me.

Can feel way it shaking me now. Can feel how makes whole pussy tremble. Tremble, clench, and squeeze. It puts longing in muscles, to twist, to flex. It put longing in my mind to writhe against the ropes. If I do that it will turn me on. I don’t want to give vibrator anything it can work off.

But I thinking of it… like I thinked of other dooming fantasies. Twisting and wrenching muscles, to pull and shift within hold of the ropes… just slowly, just constantly moving, constantly hanging, constantly twisting. I not do it.

But even just thinking of the idea turning me on a little. It seem like this vibrator work similarly to the other device— where it calibrates itself to my brain, and know exactly what to do, to get most successful influence over me it can. And get most successful desire out of me as it can.

He really did set vibration high, on this thing. It shuddering and jerking inside of me, sending that sensation of vibration into every part of my vagina which holds it. Feel like I being shaken from the inside out— like that compelling force starts in the center of me and radiates out, like a pebble dropped in water and making waves— like a detonation that sends forth a shockwave.

It’s starting to turn me on more.

“Nooooo…” I moan, and in my mind I’m already writhing, pulling, turning and twisting slowly— but I not let myself start moving.

It making me more and more horny though. My level of arousal climbing, undeniably, up. I try suppress it. I try think of least sexual things I can imagine. I try hold onto the feelings of hurt and betrayal and anger that are inside me, in the hopes it will spoil the pleasure.

Nothing works, and the pleasure is still rising, still rising— it’s going to crest—

ohhhhhhh, fuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkk… Iiiiiiiiiii… CUMMING….

Mmmmmmmmmhmmmmm….. nghhhhhhhhhh… ughhhhhhh….

“Hee heeeee, heeee hiiii, haaaaa, heee…”

Brain stopped during orgasm— feels a bit worse in here now. Couldn’t even think for long as that lasted. Could only… giggle…

In aftermath, some words run through head.

Stupid bitch whore slut! Stupid bitch whore slut!

“heee, heeee heeee… heee hi… haa….” still giggling…

“NO!” Me shout it, but my pussy spasming and clenching and squeezing. The vibrator go on vibrating steady.

It break a kind of panic loose in my— . I have get out of here. I have get away. I start pulling tearing against ropes.

But it so easy for the movement of that pulling and tearing to slide to those sinuous movements me imagined, those twists shifts against rope. And then those feel so good I not able stop myself from doing them. And when I do them it turn me on more.

It’s like hypnosis earlier. Becoming susceptible to it make me more susceptible to it, and then it even easier for me to become more susceptible still the next time around. Both times methodology was orgasm— but this different than just being put into trance. The goal now is to kill me mind.

That time was able to fight a little against orgasm changing me— but that only first orgasm. And I so upset me was wrong— again— that me failed— again— that me’s thoughts feel all disjointed.

What I experiencing is clear, though. Me’s arousal is mounting. I hornier now than before orgasm. So me’s second orgasm won’t be far off.

Have to stop so many things. Have to stop shifting in my bonds, just to make meself feel them. That only arouses my more.

Have to stop paying attention to the way vibrator shaky in me. That only make me realize how aroused me’s already am. Which making it easier for me becoming more aroused— and then me’s become more aroused and me’s realize how aroused me’s already am— and then me become more— me have to stop.

The arousal build up again, and now it once more too much to contain. It comes to its peak— and it crests there— and in a gush of warm feeling, I’m embroiled within an orgasm again.

aghhh… cumming…

“Hee hee hee!”

Stupid slut whore bitch! Stupid slut whore bitch!

“HeEeeeeee HAAAA HAAA AAAHHH HEEEE HAAA!”

Stupid slut whore bitch! Stupid slut whore bitch!

Me zoned out for a few… minute— and feel-feel of me’s mind switchy off really scare me. All that giggling— hearing those words in head— scary.

A few things changey, since orgasm happened. Matthew stand from his chair, now he draggied it over, put directly in front of me. He turn it, so it facing away from me, and back of chair is the part of it nearest.

Then he step up onto the seat of the chair, distribute weight so he perfectly balanced.

With how me’s been tied to wall, this mean my mouth now level with Matthew-crotch, even though me’s half-standing. Maybe this the reason for the half-standing; me’s been forced into slight crouch so me’d be at perfect-level height for dis.

Me’s seeing Matthew has put bar on the ceiling for himself. He now hold it with both hands, so he can be steadier.

I feel vibrator still thrum-thrum in me. And Matthew already drop his pants— and his naked cock is right in front of me.

I not really wanting to suck his cock, and I having mixed feelings about him in general, right now— but me’s body remembers what was like to suck him off so much earlier. Remembers how good it felt to be exercising and straining— my tongue, my mouth, my jaw— that way. And even though emotionally, I not onboard, me’s body is craving to give another blowjob. So much so dat has flooded my mouth with saliva, as if trying communicate directly to me. Shouting at me, suck him, suck him!

I not shifting forward. Matthew hold more tightly to the bar, and jutting his hips forward, knocking his cockhead into my mouth.

The second I feel dat plushness, all resistance in me breaky. My body wanting this— understanding that doing this will give me more pleasure, and after going through two orgasms so far, my body chasey it next experience of pleasure. I receiving so much pleasure, but me’s body still seeming greedy wanting more.

My mouth opens, and I accepting Matthew into it. Immediately begin sucking, all me’s muscles remember just how to move, just how to make it perfect.

“There, see?” Matthew prompts me. “You’re such a slut already, just like a good sex-slave should be.”

That make me so mad I try spit him out of my mouth, but instead he shove deeper, and plungey down my throat.

That overload my mind for a minute.

Heee heee heee… stupid slut whore bitch… hee hee…

The pleasure of feeling him so deep there— I compulsive swallow round him, just make him feel my throat-squeeze, feel throat-squeeze I given him— and while me’s doing that, feels him deep— feels how vibrator be deep— and not only deep, but thrumming too.

It sends me over into my orgasm again—

ohhhhhhhhhhh oghhhhhh, cummming….

Hee hee!

Stupid bitch whore slut!

Heee haaaa heeee!

— and me’s bob on his cock, and twist on ropes, and clench on vibrator— my thoughts feel even more disjointed than before.

No remember what was just thinking about. Or what was trying to do. But know how good it feels in my body to suck. How good feels to drive Matthew into me’s throat. Work on him energetically, brings my head up, slams it back down. Brings him shallow than taking deep.

“You can have this because I’m letting you, Tessi. That’s how things work for you. You’re a sex-slave, and that’s what you get. When someone decides you can have something— you can. When they decide you can’t— you can’t. That’s how it’s going to be for you, from now on.”

Because won’t want anything anymore. Be like me’s first trance— except won’t even be conscious of it no more— won’t even think— fills me with so much sad-sad almost get me pull my mouth off of him— but then me’s caught by feel of having he so deep down my throat, and me’s lose my line of thought.

I just sucking now. Me’s head goes down. It come back up. His cock go far down my throat. It come back up. And vibrator hum inside me all time. I shudder and clench around it—

cumming— cumming—

stupid slut whore bitch stupid slut whore bitch

hee hee hee hee!

— which number this? It getting harder to count. That be… fourth? Or was the fifth? —or was the third?

I sucking. It feeling a bit like hypnosis again, though other device not doing anything to me currently. One eternal second which contain all things and everything outside that second not existing. One eternal second of taking Matthew’s cock down my throat, one eternal second of feeling vibrator insiding me— and there not any-hing beyond this.

That what enslavement to mindlessness is anyway, isn’t it? If there no thought or feel— it just same nothing forever. Same nothing forever in one perpetual second— this being good practice.

The last few orgasms have only— have only— have only— what supposed to come next in this sentence? This a hard word for me now. The last few orgasms have only so….? The last few orgasms have only sa….? The last few orgasms have only su…?

Cumming…

stupid bitch slut whore

ha hee hee hee hee!

Served. Served. Served, served, served! If I think over and over maybe will make word stick in my brain so I not lose it.

Served. Last few orgasms only served to disorganize my thoughts. And to disjoint them. Wreck my grammar. But with this recentist one— in this moment now— I feel how parts brain are being— dismembered? Disinterred? Destroyed? De— de— do— da— du—

eghhhhhhhhh — cumming—

stupid whore—

Heeeeee!

Dismantled.

Dismantled dismantled dismantled dismantled dismantled dismantled. Have to make these words stick. I not want lose them forever.

With this most recentist orgasm, I feeling how thoughts mine are being dismantled, me’s mind and me’s intelligence are being taken apart. I feel that, feel how it happenending. The— my brain. It’s. d— duuuu— daaaaa— deeeee—

dimmed. My mind is dimmed, it’s di— di— di— di….?

Cumming…

Darkened. It all darkened, or dimming, dimmy further— it like empty theater with with the st— stuuu— stage lights turned off, nothing going on there… parts of my brain that always used to do things— not doing them anymore.

There just… empty spaces there. Like I’m on a sa. Like I’m on a sop. Like I’m on a sheep— shepherd— ship.

Like I’m on a ship but what does the ship do. Downing. Drowning? No… that not right. Metaphors now gotten hard. Like me’s on a porcelain sink. No, that wrong but it almost right.

Like me’s on a… sinking (yes, that was right), ship, where more and more of it is underwater and me having less and less dry space to occupy or work with. Op— op— opinion. Onion— apparent— a parent— a partner—

Operate in. Like me’s having less and less space to operate in. There less and less of me’s brain left to use.

It is. Woo oo woo oo woo oo woo oo— thing that makes that noise. Mermaid on a rock. That sings to a ship and makes it sink. That— serious? Serenity? Scenery?

Siren— woo oo woo oo woo oo woo oo— that’s a siren. Me feeling like that. No. Almost like that— the thing that goes off in the morning to wake you up. An arm. No— alarm.

Me feels alarmed— by how difficult it is to remember certained words. By way that me’s ventrical— vertical— vocabulary! Has shrunk so much. I keep try to repeat words my’s brain is erasing— served, dismantled, dimmed, darkened, ship, sinking, operate, siren, alarm, vocabulary — served, dismantled, darkened, ship, sinking, operate, siren, alarm, vocabulary—

But more that I say them in my head more that they sound non. Non. Naaaa. Nem… new. News… none…. nun… noan…

Nonse— nonsensical to me. More I say them over again in my head (and now I have to add one at the end): served, dismantled, dimmed, darkened, ship, sinking, operate, siren, alarm, nonsensical— more I say them over again, less sense they making. They all separate words with their own meanings but when they laid out one after the other it make my’s brain think they supposed to be a sentence, but they just random words I trying to keep in my brain, so instead sentence ends up meaning gibberish.

Served dismantled dimmed darkened ship sinking operate siren alarm nonsensical— doesn’t mean anything. My’s brain tries to parse it as a sentence and when can’t— feels like it respond by erasing my’s understanding of each of those words. Because they were gibberish all in a sentence together it means they gibberish even when they separated out on there own. What— means it, if something is served? Or dismantled, or— but I not stop holding onto those words because I know how much matters to me that I not lose them. I not let them go, even if they now became gibberish to me.

I have the— the— the— scare— sore— fraught— frank— friendly— frisky— front—

Frightening feeling, that while me’s focused on holding onto that list of words— I having to put another at the end of them which means it meaning be erased too, because the gibberish spread from them to infect the next— but I having to put it there, it only way me can hold onto it, even if it mean losing my ability to understand it forever—

Served dismantled dimmed darkened ship sinking operate siren alarm nonsensical frightened.

Me have the feeling that while I holding the words, other ones are being stolen from me. I protecting things can’t even use anymore, and while my attentive is there. My attentive? No, that right. Is it? My attentive… I don’t what else it would be if not that. While my attentive is there, other things in my brain being snuck out under my nose and dumped. Thrown away, discarded disposed. At least I understood all the words in that sentence. That almost cheers me up a bit.

I hold gibberish and if pick up something else to try save it will be infected with that gibberish but I still have it, not like other things I don’t know about that are getting snuck away…

I been so lost in my own head, I driftied a little away from what happening with Matthew. It feels like I’ve cumm— cummied? Like I’ve cummied a bunch more times since I was last paying attention. Was easier to stop focusing, and only think about what was happening in my brain. I wonder now— every time I noticed a word was missing and tried to save it— every time felt something being snuck away but I couldn’t see it— wonder now— each of those times was triggered by an orgasm?

And then me lost consciousness for a few minutes and were only giggling and hearing those words— words in the back of my head now all the time…

An orgasm took served and an orgasm took dismantled. And dimmed, and darkened— and ship, and sinking— and drink and drinking? Those not on list before, was they? Were they? Not remembering now.

What I thinking about? I think I’ve cummied— how many times— how many words? If drink and drinking were on list than there were— one, two, three, four… what come after four? Ten? Three? I counted that already, didnit I? Didn’t I what? I— something, I— what was I…? What was…? This what it going to be like, not it? My brain going to die, and when it die won’t even know, and nothing ever happen after that for me, because I no longer be aware— and this almost last time can even think about this, because this specific words and concepts have not been consumed by that gibberish yet, for me.

So can still think about as long as I charge through and don’t actually think about the fact that I thinking about it because if I do I future get confused and forget what was thinking about THIS the last time can think about what it will be like, my brain will die and I not know and nothing will happen after that for me, it will just feel like it does when I trail off at the end of a sentence, will just feel like how it feel to be lost in confusion and temporality unable to grasp word I searching of or think of next thing I want to say.

It’ll just be like that but nothing ever happen after and everything ever be silence in my brain and silence and forever and will never be sound again and this is last time I can thinking about this, and this the last time I can thinking about anything, and no one ever even know what happened to me, and so I the only one who know what going to happen— and that, only for a little more long— so now is only time anyone will grieve for me, because I grieving for me— and no one else ever will because no one else ever know— and even if someone ever try to help me later, won’t be anything left in my brain for them to connect to. Everything up there will just going to be dead.

Dead.

D— dee—

I have to adding it to the list and so it will be gibberish and I can’t think about whatever it is I was thinking of before: sssssssssssss—

eghhhhh ueeheeghghghh— cumming— it been a few minutes—

stupid dumb whore slut, stupid dumb whore—

HEEEE HEEEE HEEEE HEEEE!!!!

served, dismantled, dimmed, darkened, ship, sinking, drink, drinking, sunk— same— what comed next? What after same, same was always there, it just gibberish to me now. I— Aieeeeeeeeeee— Aieeeeeeeeeeee, does that mean something else beside sound? The gibberish is— it spreading— it infecting— because pussy-puss is clenching like orgasm be always drenching— rhyme— that all… no rhym-mye— rhyme has been touched by the infection it gibberish now. That spreading in my brain like a… medical brain-spreading… thing.

That spreading in my brain like a medical brain-spreading thing.

Matthew’s cock-cock shovey down my throat— hee hee hee hee hee!

I used to calling that something. Throat tightening around him making him gasp. Sounds he makes, I used to thinking of them as something… that thing people collect or win.

Collect. Win. The gibberish gotten to them. Used to think— think of that as— feels so. Something in my head like where there’s no more light or a lot less but there no word for that. And I feels— something like all bad feelings like worrying something worse will happen but there no word for that… There no word for when there aren’t words for things, there no word to name all the words one person knows and can use if they want to.

Matthew cock down my throat. Pussy is trembling. Pussy is shaking. There’s buzzing high up inside that shudders me. So strong. Pussy is clenching again— clenching. That touched by gibberish, it does don’t mean anything.

No word for when something pulls— closer around something else. No word for that. Everyone else in the world is stupid, there a lot of words they all should have invented and none of them ever did. Did— did— deee deee deee deee daaaa doooo daaaaa doe.

Doe daaaa dee daaa dih.

I— that distracting. That so distract. No, no word for that— when— trying to do one thing and another thing pull you away. That— no word for that. Everyone stupid that they didn’t make up a word for that. Or a word for making up things. There should be a word for that— especially because sometimes there are people who work in workshops and tinker and eventually have a machine and then— get— a— patent like leather? Patent just by itself for some reason, that doesdon’t mean anything either.

No word for that— I forget what— was thinking something. Then started thinking sounds. Then thought of something else. Should keep thinking as long as I can? Why? Whyy—aiiee— aieee— aieeee ya yooo yun— yon— fun to think in sounds though. Almost every word feel like it already gibberish now. So much more comforting to think sounds that never meant anything and never will. When I think word that used to be not-gibberish, gives me that bad worry feeling like things getting worse which no one ever named and everyone so stupid that they never named it. Everyone so stupid— everyone going around without words they could have had which would be smart-ing.

Smartening. I going around without words I could have had which would be smartening. Makes me as stupid as everyone else who’s so stupid, being without words like they are. Bad that I’m stupid. Wasn’t always, shouldn’t be, no way to fix— every word feels like it’s shaking even as I say it, like it’s a container full of gibberish that’s about to spill and the second it spills over I— won’t be able to use that word anymore or any words.

Keep focusing on how it feels— no there’s no word for that. The thing where something is happening in your life and you respond to it emotionally or you sense it through some— way— there’s no word for that. Every word is a container about to spill— that almost spilled— that almost spilled— that almost spilled, that almost spilled…

Keep focusing on Matthew’s cock going down my throat. It so wet and slidey now. No point thinking how dumb everyone is for not having right words. I don’t either I’m not better than those are. I no better than those are so can’t think I better than those are so no point complain-plain. Plain. Plainnnnnnnnn. Play…. cha— choo— shaa— sheeeeeeeeep. Sleep snoop— snopp snot boppp beeeep— some containers spilled— some— spilled, cock down my throat no spill, still pound. Cock in my pussy but not cock, not chock, not chocolate, choco-alt— not cock because it buzzeeeeeeeeeeee and cocks no buzzeeeeeeeeeeeeee, cock down my throat no go buzzzeeeee buzz. No go buzzee buzz, no go buzzee buzz! Feel like… but there’s no word for that though. For saying simple words— shouting them in encouragement all the same with a crowd of… those. Other. What I am. What everyone is— no have word even for ourselves? Ourselfs? Our elfs. Our shelfs. Our stealths… hours nelfs.

Hours nelfs, hours kelfs, hours drelfs, heee heee! Chortle around Matthew’s dickeee.

Some of these still words. At least nice to still hold a few containers that not spill over. Not spill over before still haven’t. Will soon. Feel like they shake when I hold them like something shakes inside me. When did it get put there? Don’t remember anything. Head hurt no word. Head hurt like achey sore tense— when try really hard to… no word for that. For saying things in your head and— trying to understand by doing that. Hurts when I try to do that do what do it now doo wopppppp wuh woppp, wuh whip, whip, ship, sinking, drink, drinking, same… after nothing else don’t know why gibberish sounds get associated together like they are list. Like they are lisp, like they are lips, kisp, crips, sips, nisp, misp, quip quip quick quick, sip!

Still some container— oops, that one spilled. What spill, when spill, oops that— no word for that, when something goes over sides and get everywhere all over the— no word, thing those walk on, everybody walk, on.

Walk, walk talk balk, cock known, shock, clock, sock— throat sock for cock going down throat close around cock tight going down. Balk buck bank, sank, sunk sink drink clink chink for fence, link, bink. Bink, zinc— why with a c? No, let scribbles don’t have names. Zink, tink, yink, eink, dink, aink, jink, vink, nink. Nink nink nink ninkuuuuu ninkonooooo ninkuuuuuuu niknooooooooooooo

Nen, nuin, nane, raeeeeeennnmmmmmm— AIIiiieeeee no name me for me no word either. Word… word heeee hee those things don’t have names. Name… that doesn’t. Nothing to describe it can’t be described nothing can be described, never none no, not. Never none, no, not! Never, none, no not! Hee heee!!!

Still— that was still something real. Those were all still— how many? Can’t— one, ten thousand, six, three… hee heee… AIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!! fun, funny. Fun, funny, funneddddddd, fundddddddd fanned… land…. cannnnnnndddddd candidididididididdi da! Daiiiiii deeee dooooo duuuuuuu doeeeeeeeeeaaaaaiiiieeeeee! Still a few. Those were a few. A few nothing none no not but still a few, a few weren’t just sounds still a bit lefttttty lefty keft deft peft neft jeft!

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU, ughghghghghghg, ahhhhhllllllllllliiiiiiiiiiiii, oooooniie, aaaheeeeiieeeee, aaaagaaa ba dodood ooooo ppapapapae eeettttt ttititititititit aaaacccc thtttht aaaalllll wwwwwwmmmmmmmmnnnn oooo aaaaaaa cclllclclceeeiighg aaaaaa fffff sssshshshsh wqqqqqqq lalkjadljfafg agg! “!” — ? “!” — ?????????? …….. “?” ……. = ……. “=“ …… ack. Ack backccc nacck dacckkcck dock aasdag qqqhlav agadga wwiththt cccncncncc with… “with” …. ….. …. aaaacicicic eeeee aananana qqqqq lalallala eiittt addd daaa adnagng qqiqqi ghggha snlagnaw qqoqqoeiga agnaslllw aghasoig wpwwljag anfnvf ffppawwuqu adadlaglashg asnanvlanlaag AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNNNMMMMEEEEEEE OAOAOAOA “me”…. “me”….. — “”” — ….. …… adalighghadighawhw qqqqq qqqannvaldnaijoww wwww aagaljkaljgaiijjoihw wwwwww — wwwww — wwwwww — … askldfaijg wwwwkasdpjfawfj as k-l, d-f, aiiiiiiii j-g, wwwwwwwwwwuh, kaaaaaaas— d-ppppp, j—fawwwwwwwww fij.

Fij, foj, foej, finj, fanj…… adihaglihaighoi wwehlehwoihe adagsgadgf llkiwww wnavaiwiwe… aowienwnowenuabapag asgiw wnwwnwaaia. Wnnwa. W-n w-w-n, wuhn, wuhwuh-en. Wuh-wuh-en, wuh-wuh-en! Akhaadihasglhawi, ak-haaaa, di— hassssss, gihl hawwwwww eeeeeeeeee adlgjawiwjoitwoeh aashgwih laiig abwwe vngee peoeebh wpwowejgn aapwowuegnv vmwahqgeyngjwu, weuhrewub a, a… a … a ……… aidghuwgbuweb adasgaw qqillwieubvububd wwieo asdagasg wiwrhweigh fccaniew qwftwyq qfqetwt wryryre urirttityi ouoioupo adfasg fgdfhdf jfgkfil hjzczxb xbnlklknkwuhiu uhaiubav aiuqugag cloihouaa abuakbibe asvdada qewhuasv aluwnvlanv qywuewut siuoriut spopoi adbajfalskl agasljgldj zbkjzbc bpbpofgkop qyuiyqro guapopdsi ajhfkadhfa zmlmljiozhsg naiasguo wklwnlanlp agas iuqouq nasgpaw asdiugoana pqpjioaug qwenrlwekijaa adifaoiwnwelknr asf alquuqih alnklnsag woiuew tkjnvlaiw…. aidsfaouwhwgn …. ashfaowyw… gafhfiw .. iuoiwuwt .. asjgaosga asdgaw wiweio gasnvnbv … asfhaoshfw …. .. . aihgoiwhqg q…. agiowqiou agaosgjaos … asgihwohuiqhwrnvnlawg … asiqoiuaknvnkzlzliwueroiythakg .. aiwghowihg bnalnga… aiuqu… rhagiusgagh…

asgiaosghioas …

asdfas..

sgiowiqh..

asfas…

qirjoiwg…

askdfaso..

afaoshfas…a

adfiaifaois asagasga siilsgaga…

asgasgasjgoas…ag

asgagaslga…

asgasiilnaga…

asfigasgiuang

agasgoasigljag..

iryoioiyjlh..

skhjhphjw…

agiagjoasj………….

fdgodsohjpdshj…………..

dhdhispdhjpdf…..

dfihdjoihjd….fhdfhidfih….

fghidfoh…. wierwishs…..

sdkgjsdlijghoiewjis……………………….sgjsoidhgjs………sgisjdigsjldg……..

iwhueghsdgs….. dshisjoihjow. sodgjsoigjow…. sijsoiw… wigmlgnmlang wwwighgg... agiaoigha….

[silence].