There’s a good number of you for whom this is one of your deepest, darkest fantasies.
Just look at her, look at you. Helpless, already exposed.
But this is just the beginning. Imagine what he’s going to do to you. A living sex doll, every hole for his pleasure, or amusement. Perhaps you’re going to learn what a twisted fuck he really is, and your helpless body is his plaything.
Either way, there’s nothing you can do about it.
I saw no appeal to this… it seemed like phaux-necrophillia to me. And then I did it via hypnosis and loved it!
And yet I saw no appeal?! I was really confused at myself, and even a little insecure.
That feeling… I’ve learned that is a huge “yay! There is something to be learned here!” flag. I thought about it a lot and eagerly did it again. I think I’ve figured out why this is hot for me:
It’s an honor whenever anyone submits to me. They are letting themselves be vulnerable, and being an active participant on something that brings them to a space where I get to see them in a way few will ever experience.
This goes double for hypnosis scenes because their subconscious is entrusting me, too.
I treat sex too much like a performance sometimes, and I’m in my head more than I’d like. Scenes like these are visceral, physical, visual and tactile manifestations of their negotiated and subconscious consent to really, really, not make it about them, to be used at my whim. For example: Sometimes during regular fucking I just don’t want to cum yet, and keep myself on edge by pausing just long enough to be able to take the next hard thrust or two. I love edging myself like this, especially when this unpredictable start & stop drives my partner insane, but it drives me to the point that, when I finally give in to my desire to cum, there is no lengthy hard-fucking finale possible — my orgasm starts pretty-much immediately. This causes part of my ability to live in the moment to instead be spent on telling the ‘was it good for her too?’ voice in my head to stop wincing and sit the fuck down. Instead, with a hypnosis scene like this, that voice still won’t shut up, but its presence just draws attention to the scene and that even that showman part of me agrees that my primary task is to not be a showman! It’s like fractionation, but instead of repeated up-down events that help bring the subject deeper, they are worry-grin events that reminds and helps me stay in the moment and enjoy!
Anyone who wants to be a good toy will value knowing that even though we both know that what’s being done is what they secretly want, I’m doing what I want, with no doubts as to whether or not I’m being a service top to please them. (Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being a service top, too! 😉 ) I get that, and provide that. … … and hey, if that ironically means that I’m just being a service-top at a higher level, that’s just fine. 😀
I still enjoy reactions of course, and with this kind of scene you do lose some of that, but it’s a small price to pay for the rest of it!
I’m really appreciating the depth of thought in this analysis. @femsubdenial, your final comment about losing your partner’s reactions made me think of another hypno-possibility – being able to snap or otherwise trigger your sub to show their full range of reaction when you want it.
Lifeless sex toy open to anything *snap* whimpering mess for a few brief moments before *snap* blank doll giving you whatever your pleasure is *snap* moaning desperation. Best of both worlds (or at least good parts of both), plus the fractionation to boot.
Swirling with thoughts about demons with long, probing, insistent tongues & curious aggressive fingers on strong hands. Smoky hot flesh & overpowering masculine smells. Teeth flashing & grazing soft, delicate skin. Dark coarse hair bristling, guttural noises from both parties. Hot breath & the smell of welding sparks. I’m imagining a fearful innocent being corrupted, turned into a creature of brazen desire & wanton lust. No thoughts left, just the need to scratch the growing itch, I stretch & skewer myself painfully onto a huge, twitching inhuman dick until all I am is a mass of writhing need, unashamed & undone. Allowing myself to be devoured body & soul.
But also… Cool, muscular, smooth tentacles lifting me up & coiling firmly around each limb so I’m helpless, suspended in a strange, cool, wet chair. My head & body supported comfortably & held tenderly open. Suckers finding each nipple & starting a steady rhythm of pull & release, drawing a deep moan from my lips, allowing the tip of a slimy tentacle in. Revulsion at first but my tongue dancing with it, my mouth invaded. The sensation of gentle slipping & sliding as my pussy is probed & its soft folds are parted. Another sucker beginning the same relentless action over my clit. My body feeling frenzied, wanting to buck & writhe but unable to move as the grip around each limb tightens. My moans lost, muffled by the wet mass filling my mouth, almost slipping down my throat. Borderline panic mingling with pure need, making my heart race & my adrenaline flow. My whole body straining against the iron grip as it begins to explore inside of me. Swelling & growing as it enters my cunt, then soon after both holes full. I feel it rub gleefully against itself through the thin membrane inside of me. My body exploding with the sensation. My curling toes, wide eyes & flaring nostrils desperately sucking in air the only visible signs of what is happening. But I know that once the waves subside it won’t stop. Sucking harder on my swollen, sensitive clit, torturing me until I’m ready again, keeping me there indefinitely riding crests of waves until they crash. I feel like eventually my body will split into a million pieces, dashed on the shore like splintered driftwood. And i won’t even care, my mind will be lost completely. Grateful.
There are no bars in Susie’s prison. No gates, no locks, no guards. Susie could get up any time she wants, find her clothes (Master keeps a few outfits around for when he wants to take her out and fuck her in a public place) and leave. For good. She knows Master won’t stop her. She knows he won’t come looking for her. She knows he doesn’t need to. Because even if she somehow mustered up the willpower to walk out that door, she would be back in less than a day, grovelling and sobbing out apologies and begging him to fuck her ass. She can’t walk away from Master. She’s never even tried.
Oh, she’s imagined it. Sometimes, when she’s doing her chores like a good girl, Susie pictures what it would be like to hurl the sponge aside and tell him that she’s not his slave and storm out of the house without even asking for permission. But as soon as she thinks about it, the spirit of defiance slowly withers into fear and uncertainty, and she freezes into an anxious stillness as her daydream turns into a nightmare of life without a Master. Life without his will, his direction. Life without… and then Master slides his cock into her ass again, fucking her so hard she can barely hold the dishes, and she’s back in her happy place again.
It’s not that she’s afraid of punishment. There are no punishments in Master’s prison. He’s never needed to scold her, never even needed to raise his voice once in the five years that she’s been his slave. Susie’s defiance has never escalated to anything beyond that slow subsidence of her sleepy grin, and a gradual stillness stealing over her body like a toy winding down. That’s always when Master reminds her why she can never resist him, spreading her ass-cheeks and slowly pushing past her well-lubed rosebud to fuck her right back into compliance. Even that only happens once every five or six weeks–Susie’s gotten very good at staying compliant for Master.
Not that she only gets fucked every five or six weeks. No, Master is happy to keep his cock inside Susie for long stretches of every day, whether it’s taking her from behind as she scrubs the kitchen floor or just lounging on the couch with his dick hanging out until she stumbles over in rapt fascination to impale herself on him and take it up the ass until her eyes won’t open anymore. She never thought when she first met Master that she would love anal sex, but she also never thought she would want to be a devoted slave and mindlessly obedient fucktoy, either. Master guided her to a new understanding of her own desires. Then he trapped her inside them.
That’s what ultimately keeps Susie imprisoned, in the end. Lust and arousal. Master doesn’t need locks or guards when Susie’s own desire keeps her helplessly ensnared in his power. The pleasure she receives from Master is simply too strong to ever escape, a chain that binds her mind into obedience and makes her beg him to fuck her will away, again and again. She’s been conditioned to surrender, programmed to experience perfect pleasure every time Master’s cock pounds her asshole while his voice slips into her brain and soothes away her thoughts. Until she belongs to him forever.
Master doesn’t need to lock Susie away. Not when she’s so good at being her own jailer.
“On Friday, July 27, the full moon passed through the shadow of the Earth for 103 minutes. It was the longest “blood moon” lunar eclipse of the century, as the moon turned red in the shadow of the Earth for nearly two hours.” x – x – x – x
Sometimes I see a girl’s shoulders/collarbone area and I’m suddenly possessed by the spirit of a 19th century lesbian first seeing another girl removing her dress to reveal pantaloons and corset in the dorms at the all-girls boarding school her parents sent her to so she may be trained in proper etiquette
adults watching a kids cartoon: this episode is bad because it tried to make children laugh instead of catering to my insatiable hunger for neverending angst.
