I Feel Like We Don’t Talk About Cults Enough In The Hypnokink Community. And I Mean The Real Shit,

you'd been bratty all day. We'd had guests over and you used it as an opportunity to act out, knowing I couldn't correct you properly in front of them. Teasing, taunting, defiant. you even dressed in a skimpy outfit and openly flirted with the men.

Only now, as the door shut behind the last guest, did you find your contrition and submission. you didn't mean it. you were only teasing. you're sorry. No bunny, you're not sorry. But you are about to be.

I advanced slowly, menacingly, as you stumbled backwards, refusing to break eye contact. When you bumped into the wall I simply reached for your throat and pulled you through the house to the basement. When you stumbled I didn't let you fall, and you'd quickly scramble, choking and sputtering, back to your feet. you tried to plead with Me, but all that came out was an intelligibly hoarse whisper.

I cuffed you to the pipes above the water heater. They were hot, very hot, so you couldn't rest your arms. Instead you held them still above your head. I shoved an old rag into your mouth and cut your favorite panties from you with a box cutter. I wasn't particularly careful and you moaned as I knicked you, blood sliding down your leg.

I dragged My tool chest over. The hulking five foot metal cabinet made an awful sound as it scraped across the concrete floor. I pulled out every single tool that had a handle grip and laid them on the ground in front of you.

I pulled the rag out of your mouth and you immediately started protesting...so I put it back. I grabbed the item with the smallest handle. A tiny metal wrench, and slid it inside of you. you squirmed at the cold, dry violation. I worked it until the entire handle was inside of you, then pulled it out and tossed it to the side.

I pulled the rag out of your mouth and you started to yell, angry at the invasion. So I put it back and selected the next smallest tool. By the fourth time I took the rag out, you were silent. I put the hammer to your lips and you opened, sucking on it and leaving as much saliva as possible. It made the invasion easier immediately after.

On and on we went, until finally the impossibly thick and lengthy hatchet handle was removed.

Finished. I uncuffed you and you collapsed, exhausted, into My arms.

"When something in this home breaks, these are the tools that will fix it. you were broken. Now you are not."

With that, I returned upstairs. A little maintenance is good from time to time.

Dropping and bringing back a little pet so many times in a row it forgets it ever could think. Hypnotizing it over and over and over until it doesn't understand the words I'm saying, only the things that it needs to do. Breaking and remolding it into whatever the hell I want it to be, and watching it smile with those glazed-over eyes because of everything I've done to it.

Click "Read More," Little Pet.

Good pet~ You're such a good pet~ You don't understand any of the words you just read, do you?~ You just know how fucking good it feels to keep reading. So you do.

I have a strong hold on your pretty little brain, and you're letting that hold get stronger and stronger~

You're such a perfect little pet. You're my pet now, aren't you?~ Tell me you're my pet, now. I'll tell you how good you are once you do, little one, I promise~

There you go! Empty headed and perfect and stupid, just like you should be!~

No puppy, you can go back to sleep. You don't need to be awake for me to use your body and breed you, do you?~

Mmmh... There we go, right back to sleep. I hope you're ready to wake up with at least 3 litters in your pretty little hole~

Puppy. Sit. On your fucking knees pup, we're going to start hard training today. You've been falling out of all your orders and commands, so we need to fix you.

*click!*

You hear that click puppy? It feels so good... So fucking good... Every time you hear that click it turns you on, doesn't it? Yes, it fucking does. Good puppy.

*click!*

Feels so good... You'd even do tricks just to hear that click. Yes, it feels that good. Right?

*click!*

Sit. Now. There you go, on the floor.

*click!* Good puppy.

Speak! Again!

*click!* Suuuch a good puppy!~

Present!~

*click click!* Finally, you're obedient again. Good puppy!~

“oh you liked that?” sir you choked me so hard i saw stars. tf. ofc i did

trying to play it cool

Oh my stupid little slave, you've aroused me so much that I can't help myself. Slicing your skin and hearing the desperate gasps and moans. I can feel myself slipping into bliss just from the thought. Let me devour you whether it be metaphorical or literal is up in the air. I'll take every last bit of you and make it mine. You love this, though, don't you?

Maybe once I've finally caught up to you ill find out🔪

Sigh, princess. Give Me those.

These are tax forms, princess. I know your ID says you're a big girl but these are complicated and you shouldn't be worrying your pretty head about them.

I'll take them, and the logins to all that silly money stuff you have online, and I'll handle it. I've been doing My taxes since before you were born.

Why don't you go get yourself ready for Daddy tonight? Go take your bath with the special bubbles and make sure you're nice and smooth for Me. No playing with the shower head, ok? That piece of you is for Daddy to play with tonight. Yes, I know every time you do that because you leave the hose twisted.

Then you can put your good smells on, crawl into bed, and wait for Me. Good girl, run along!

Why are you giggling...princess?!? Did you COLOR on this?

thinking about an escape room but the twist is that if you don't get out in time, you're used by the entire staff until they're satisfied.

you know what you're getting into, of course. you sign the forms saying that the facility can't be held liable for any damages that happen to you. afterwards, you're stripped down and restrained. cuffs around your wrists behind your back as you're bent over a table, chains holding your ankles together. a collar is attached to your neck, connected in two places. one, to hold you still on the table. and the other connected to the ceiling with a lot of slack. you seem to be in a dungeon, iron bars blocking the unlocked exit.

you're left alone and the timer is placed immediately in front of you, counting down, minute by minute. right where you can see it. the restraints are firm and secure, but they each have their give, their weaknesses. the chains on your feet can be undone by looping it around the corner of the table and pulling at it at just the right angle. then you have to move your cuffed wrists behind your back and under your legs so you can use them.

the part of the collar connecting you to the table is dealt with by simply unhooking it, meaning you're able to stand up and move around the room. there's a box with a pile of keys for you to sort through. one of them must open the cuffs. one of them must unlock the bars. you sort through them in a hurry, adrenaline making your cuffed hands shake as you try each and every one of them, adding them gradually to the discard pile. once your hands are free, you fiddle with your collar. it doesn't seem to have any give. but while doing this, you see that on the other side of the iron bars is a bolt cutter, exactly what you need.

you're invigorated, trying all the keys on the bars as the minutes count down. your time is scarce, it's moving far more quickly than you're able to take into account. until finally, the lock clicks. the metal gate swings open and you can see the bolt cutter on the floor right in front of you.

except when you walk forward, the collar around your neck tugs you back. the tool is just out of reach. you can't get enough slack to pick it up. you try desperately, every option you can think of, to stretch your body out and try and kick the bolt cutter closer to you, desperately now as you see you only have three minutes remaining, then two, then one and a half.

until you finally remember the chains on your feet. you hurry back to the table, reaching under it to grab the chains and looking at the time left on the timer. 50 seconds. you hurry back to the iron bars, throwing the chains, trying to lasso the bolt cutter to finally get it in your grasp. and with 20 seconds remaining, the tool hooks onto the end of the shackles on the chains, and you desperately try reeling it in. 15 seconds, and you're pulling it closer, so very carefully. until finally, you reach down and wrap your hands around the tool and that's when your heart sinks.

it wasn't a bolt cutter. it was a toy. lightweight and useless, like something that would go in a child's tool set. and you realise: you were never meant to escape this. you never even had a chance. you had willingly walked into a trap.

your time is up and an alarm sounds, the lighting in the room turning red. the staff walk through the door, heading straight for you, cocks and straps and toys in hand, grins of delight on their faces.

they push you back onto the table and use you exactly how they want to, each and every one of them noticing how soaked you've gotten just from being in the escape room and playing this game, mocking you for what a slut you are as they take you without any preamble.

they use all your holes simultaneously, manhandling you into whatever positions they want. bending you over, taking you from behind. seeing how much can fit into you at once. slapping you about, spitting on you, spanking and whipping, passing you from one to another. never a moment for you to rest or recover before you're impaled on another cock.

all while their mocking voices taunt you.

this is what you were asking for when you came here. this is exactly what you were hoping for. to be used relentlessly. you never wanted to escape anyway, no matter what you'd say. you needed to be used like this. only sluts ever enter these escape rooms, and so you would be treated as what you were. willing holes for them.

once they've all had their turn, they take the toy bolt cutter and shove it into your used hole, fucking you with it slowly. it's too big and uncomfortable, but you stretch around it so easily after all that use. your arousal making it easy. you keep crying out, and they keep laughing. this was the thing you thought would set you free. this was your salvation for twenty minutes or so, all you cared to get. and now they were filling you with it. and worse than that, they were making sure you enjoyed it.

they bring you to an intense orgasm with the very thing you thought would save you. your mind is foggy and you can't think of much aside from the feeling of the toy inside you. you're burning with embarassment.

you came so close to escaping. you were so resourceful and clever about it all. but now you were nothing but holes for them to use until they decided they were done. all that intelligence you used to try and get out would leak out with your arousal as they continued to whore you out. your brain would never work the same once they were done with you. once they had reduced you to something so pathetic.

they aren't done using you. they won't be for a while. and you don't know if you ever want to be done serving them. this is where thinking got you, and now you were being put in your place.