Being Hypnotised And Repeating Back Each Instruction In A Dull Monotone. Being Completely Powerless To

This is one of the greatest Tumblr posts I’ve ever read. I absolutely love it.

"That should be the very last injection of your medication. You've been such a strong patient through the last few months, getting your doses on time. I'm so proud of you."

"I know I said it's supposed to be treating your anxiety, but actually it's been making it worse. See, as your insecurities grew, it was easier for me to manipulate them. You only feel happy around me now, which is why you've been taking me to dinner, and on shopping trips, and why you're paying for my car."

*looks down at where you are, on your knees, the syringe still hanging from your arm. She lifts up her leg and places one perfect goblin foot against your lips, pressing her toes into your mouth until you begin to obediently suck on them*

"Now, you're going to sign your power of attorney, but first you're going to clean each of my pretty feet. It will make you happy. It will make you whole again. It will make you my slave."

Coerce me into a high-on-the-hips, French cut romper suit. Tell me it will make me look cute and sexy, because I want to look cute and sexy for mummy don’t I? Tell me it will make me a good boy, because I want to be a good boy for mummy don’t I? Once I’m in it strap a dummy into my mouth and some mittens onto my hands and just keep me like that for as long as possible, unbuttoning the little flap every so often to stroke me. But no cummies. Good boys don’t make messes. Good boys stay clean and nicely chaste for their mummies.

Really want a mummydomme to shush me over and over as she guides a strap-on into my mouth. She’d ask me if I like it and smile down at me as I nod gently.

I want to hump mummy’s leg and beg to cum. Make me desperate and needy and stupid. Tell me I can cum whenever I like but a good boy wouldn’t. Then get me so excited that I can’t stop myself and I make a naughty mess on your legs. Tell me how bad I’ve been and that maybe I’ll be locked in chastity as I lick up my mess.

A few days ago I talked about a fantasy I’d dreamt up about an ex-colleague I disliked (and, for the record, still do). This is a continuation of that, a scenario that I wouldn’t really be totally against getting into in real life…

N part II

I wake up naked in N’s bed. I can remember snapshots from the night before. I remember nodding along passively as N talked at me. I remember drinking a delicious drink. I remember finding myself in N’s flat and wanting, needing, to be naked and kissing her feet. I remember being overcome with the need to apologise to her again and again and again. And I remember having hot, sweaty sex. N had me take her from behind and, once she’d cum, had sat on my face to be licked clean.

I didn’t remember cumming myself. Because I hadn’t.

Now N is nestled against me, her naked body warm and her limbs entwined with mine. I realise I’m taking this all in very calmly and that what I actually want to do is scream and shake her awake and ask her what she’s done to me. I want to leave. I want to be gone. I want to escape whatever this situation is and pretend it never happened. I want out. But I don’t move. I lie still and watch N sleep peacefully.

Eventually N stirs and looks up at me, smiles lazily and gives me a good morning. I feel myself instinctively smile as she looks at me. I want to shake myself away from her but instead I lie there passively, smiling like an idiot. She tells me I look good when I smile, that it’s a nice improvement on my usual scowl, and I should do it more often. I want to tell her off for this, for telling me that I scowl when I actually don’t. I want to tell her I show my happiness as normally and naturally as anyone else. But I also love that she’s complimented me and want more. I want to meekly thank her.

Then her hand is on my erect penis and she’s giggling and telling me it needs taking care of. But no, that’s wrong. It’s not a penis. It’s a peeny. I have a little, unimpressive peeny and I’m very lucky N is touching it. I open my mouth to try and speak. I don’t know what I want to say. Do I want to demand answers? Do I want to thank her? Do I want to ask her to take care of my little erection? No sound comes out. My jaw just hangs open and I find that I’m vacantly staring into N’s eyes. She tells me I look stupid, so very very stupid. But she likes me to look stupid because that’s my true self. And she’s stroking me slowly and firmly, telling me how stupid and boring and rude I am, but that she’ll help me improve and become a better boy. I find I’m nodding along as I stare into her eyes, and then her pace quickens for just a few seconds and I’m cumming and cumming and cumming, grunting and moaning and humping her hand. I can feel my cock pulsing and jetting liquid into her hand, one of the most powerful orgasms of my life. And she’s telling me what a good boy I am and at that moment I so so so desperately want to be that good boy. I want to impress N. I want her approval and love and acceptance. In that moment gaining these things from her is the most important thing in the world to me.

N continues talking, informing and guiding my stupid, rude, inferior mind with her words. I’m rolling onto my front and propping myself onto all fours. And then she’s sitting in front of me and her hand appears below my face and I’m lapping up the salty treat she’s offering me. N is laughing and telling me I’m being so good, so very good. She asks me if it tastes nice. I can’t answer, I’m too busy licking her hand clean. But N seems to know this and tells me she knows I love the taste and I realise I do love the taste, she’s absolutely right. And I’m vaguely aware again of how much I hate her but I’m also grateful and thankful and I love her and need her to approve of me.

Then her hand is pressed to my face, smearing the sticky liquid all over my cheeks and lips and chin before drawing away and patting my head, wiping herself clean on my hair. N’s still laughing. She’s laughing at how stupid I look. She’s laughing at getting away with treating me like this, revelling in her acts of humiliation. I feel angry and weak, my cheeks burn with the impotence of embarrassment. She’s telling me I should thank her for such a delicious morning treat and my hatred for her sears again. She reaches forward and roughly grasps my jaw, raising my eyes to look into hers. I’m told to thank her. Her voice is icy, sharp, commanding.

I tell her I love her and thank her. She laughs uproariously. Then she’s laying back and guiding my face to her crotch. I immediately kiss and lick and suck, desperate to please and make her happy. Internally I’m screaming at this, desperate to walk out, close my eyes, just stop! But outwardly I’m passionate and attentive and I can hear myself making mewls of pleasure, blissful little sounds that indicate nothing but abject happiness. N is breathing heavily, gasping, and occasionally giving instructions which I cannot quite recall but that I know I followed immediately. I hear her tell me to thank her again and I do, my lips brushing against her lower ones as I do so.

This tips her over the edge. N giggles and squeals and moans in delight as she orgasms. After a few moments of leaving me to continue attending to her she lifts my head from her crotch and we each kneel on the bed looking into one another’s eyes. N tells me she’ll let me stay if I want to and I ask her very, very nicely. I’m furious at her arrogance and desperate, frantic, to get up and run, just run as fast and as far as I can away from her and whatever it is she’s done and is continuing to do to me. I open my mouth, determined to scream and swear and rant and threaten and declare that nothing could make me want to stay.

“I love you, N. Please, oh please, oh please may I stay here with you and be made into a better person? I want it. I need it! I’m sorry I was rude and arrogant and naughty. Please please please? I love you!” I hear myself say.

She giggles and tells me she’ll think about it as she takes hold of my head and pushes my face back down into her crotch.

“It’s getting so hard to think, right baby? Why don’t you just hump mummy’s leg for a while. No cumming, just humping. And while you hump we can talk about how to clear out that sleepy, foggy mind of yours.”

I want to watch a woman apply lipgloss. Her lips get thicker and wetter and shinier the more she applies. I can’t look away. I don’t want to. The motion and the shine are so wonderfully mesmerising. Those lips are so plump that they fill up my whole mind. And I realise that she’s talking. I’m watching those perfect lips mutter instructions to me that I know I’m taking in, I just don’t need to consciously hear them right now.

And now I’m asking if I can please make squirties as I look at those lips. I’m fantasising about gliding my little peeny in between those beautiful, sumptuous, plump lips and squirting. But I’m not allowed. That’s for big boys. Little boys like me are satisfied with watching that lipgloss get applied.

I want to be turned into a stupid, obedient premature ejaculator so much. Make me so far gone that I’m proud of how quickly I spurt for you. Have me come in and perform for your friends then thank you for the privilege. I want to be ruined and happy about it.

Really thinking about this a lot again today. I feel horny and subby and want to get in touch with her and apologise for being a naughty boy and ask her to forgive and punish me.

So several months ago I went on a date. She was nice and she was demanding and she had big boobs and I could tell she’d have been softly nurturing and gently demanding in a relationship. She was even a nanny!

For reasons I won’t go into she wound up making comments I felt were a little too personal for someone I’d only met once and we haven’t spoken since. There was no big argument or anything, and she actually messaged me a week or so after but I (I think maybe foolishly) ignored her.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking about her more and more and I kind of want to send her a really simpy, subby message telling her about how I want to be her good, obedient boy (she already had a sense of my nature before we even met). There’s just something so hot about the idea of apologising even though I don’t think I was in the wrong and asking her to allow me to make it up to her with chastity time and foot worship and… and just letting her run my life, basically.

Just typing this out has made me really keen to message her. If anyones wants to give me their thoughts in an inbox it would be appreciated.