Welcome to the company, darling. Your job is very simple: whenever you are told something, you will respond with, “Yes, Sir,” and do exactly as you’re told no matter what it is. Now. Let’s see how good you are at your job.
I was living there for three months when I got the note. It was a good arrangement where I had a free room in an amazing brownstone in the west village. Our deal was simple: I had a free room in a gorgeous apartment as long as I wore nothing when I was home.
I know you normally like the way my words take you down the sweet steep path to trance, gently luring you, coaxing you, cajoling your shy unconscious to the level of trance where we can play these fun little games in a coy, yet innocent way, and then we laugh.
I know you normally like that. But I also know that you fantasize about something else.
You see, you talk in your sleep.
You didn’t know that. I can see that on your face as you look at this graphic I showed you on the screen. But I can tell you that now because you’re barely listening to me. You see, you’ve been staring at it for an hour. And those words you repeat in your sleep? I can tell you’re about to say them again right now.
You don’t remember them, do you?
Well let me tell you what they are.
Ready?
“Fuck my mind with your words.”
Think about that.
Or better yet, don’t. ‘Cause I can tell how surprised you are.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that you wouldn’t say that. You wouldn’t repeat those words. You’ve never actually said them. Ever. Good girls don’t say words like that. They certainly don’t mean them. They certainly don’t make good girls clasp their thighs together because of how hot and wet that makes them. Like the good girl watching this graphic throb in front of her vacant eyes.
Yet it’s true. It’s what you want. It’s what you’ve said. I’ve heard them over and over again for the last few nights.
“Fuck my mind with your words. Fuck my mind with your words.”
I can tell you want to say them now.
I can tell you’re going to say them again.
I can see your lips twitching… wanting to say them to me.
Only this time, you’ll have your eyes open. And instead of saying them in some kind of slumber, you’ll be saying them to me. Instead of a fantasy, it’ll be an invitation.
“Fuck my mind with your words.”
Feel this graphic image throb inside your mind.
Feel my words throb inside you. Feel them slowly push their way in through the folds of your brain, and stretch you apart, just enough to know that my words are there. Feel those words… my words… fill you up. Feel them force their way inside what’s left of your greedy, needy, wanting…. mind.
Open your mind for me and let my words in.
Let them caress you and run back and forth flooding you with that glistening sheen of anticipation as you start to feel yourself reach the point of no return.
Feel that feeling build inside you, as if there is some explosion that is just looking for some outlet, some bend, some crack inside your mind to be released. Feel those words repeating over and over inside your pretty little head, as if they’re just a little too much for you to handle.
Feel the words take control of your mind, of your body, of your mouth.
All you have to do is say those words, and they will be true, and when those words are true, when that need is true, then all that pleasure will be yours.
Yes, that’s it. I know you’re resisting just a little. And maybe it’s because you don’t want to admit your need. Maybe it’s because you think I was lying at the beginning and that somehow I’ve made you think it’s true now. Maybe it’s because I can tell how wet you are, and I can see you squirm as you stand there, slack-jawed and empty, save only for my words.
But maybe you’re resisting because you want my words to bend you over my desk and fuck that last bit of resistance out of you.
So bend over. Yes. Just like that. And you know what you have to do.
You know how to show that you’re ready.
You know how to tear that need away from your dreams and turn them into reality.
Say my words. Say them.
Say them now.
“Fuck my mind with your words.”
Again.
“Fuck my mind with your words.”
And again.
“Fuck my mind with your words! Fuck! My! Mind! With! Your! Words!”
Now don’t stop until you’ve finished. And when you’ve finished, when there’s nothing left but mindless repetition, when you’ve felt thoroughly and completely fucked by my words… after your need was made real because you asked, you demanded the very thing you wanted and I gave it to you…every last word…..
I know you’re resisting just a little. And maybe it’s because you don’t want to admit your need. Maybe it’s because you think I was lying at the beginning and that somehow I’ve made you think it’s true now. Maybe it’s because I can tell how wet you are, and I can see you squirm as you stand there, slack-jawed and empty, save only for my words.
But maybe you’re resisting because you want my words to bend you over my desk and fuck that last bit of resistance out of you.
