teazdndenied: “Hands….” Though she’d softly purred only one…



Though she’d softly purred only one word, it was enough to make him whimper in frustration. He knew exactly what it meant. Immediately he drew his hands away from fondling and touching her soft, warm breasts that he loved so much.

Her eyes smoldered with lust as she looked down at him, savoring the way he looked up at her with such desperate longing, his arms now obediently at his sides.

Smirking slightly a moment later she then murmured, “Pillow….”

This time he pleadingly whined, “Baby please??”, though even as he begged he was dutifully tucking his hands behind his head and beneath his pillow. That is exactly where they would remain until she offered her permission.

Now the only way he had of relieving his mounting lust for her was to allow his hips to match the sensual, rolling motion of her own. But that was only until she looked down at him wickedly and instructed, “Still…..”

“My god,” he groaned helplessly, forcing his body to come to a stop. Now, he was nothing but hard, male flesh that was at her mercy. A steely hard cock for her pleasure. And now he could do absolutely nothing to bring about his own release, other than wait for her hot, silky softness that was hungrily tugging and clutching at his cock to send him over the edge.

But as she saw that look on his face, sensed that trembling in his body and realized his release was approaching, she chuckled wickedly and simply said, “No…… wait…..”

Now his fate was sealed. His cock was throbbing and aching…. enveloped in her silky molten pussy…. creamy wetness oozing and dripping around him…. yet now any hope of release had been taken away. Not until she was satisfied. Not unless she said…..


Excuse me, I’ll just… go over here and cool down a bit.

jukeboxemcsa: “You’re trying to resist me.” It wasn’t a…


“You’re trying to resist me.” It wasn’t a question. Mistress Lori never needed to ask Bryan what he was thinking. Bryan had long ago stopped trying to figure out whether she had a unique insight into his thought process, or if she’d simply spent so long putting ideas in his head that he automatically accepted her every word as a product of his own mind. “It won’t work.”

She gave him a wry smile, her fingers continuously working precum into the sensitive skin of his cock. “Because the more you struggle, pet…the more aroused you become.” She wanted him to resist, of course. It was one of her favorite games, telling him to try to stay awake even as she stroked him into blissful oblivion. And Bryan enjoyed losing almost as much as Mistress enjoyed winning. It meant that he was becoming more and more conditioned to fail to resist her will, of course, but that wasn’t exactly something that bothered him too much.

As evidenced by his raging erection. “And the more aroused you become,” Mistress Lori whispered, clearly aware of his vulnerability and happy to exploit it, “the more your mind focuses on your cock. You can’t tear your eyes away from it, in fact. You’re watching my hands move up and down, teasing the head, massaging your sensitive sack…and the more attention you pay to your arousal, the less you think about my words. Until they just slip into your dreamy mind and you obey.”

“O…bey…” Bryan knew he was already weakening. He didn’t know how long he had been staring at his glistening cockhead, watching Mistress’s fingers dance up and down his throbbing shaft. It felt like an eternity; Mistress knew him so well, knew exactly how to keep him suspended in perfect pleasure without allowing him release. She only let him cum when he surrendered. Until then, he would drift in timeless ecstasy for her.

He would be cumming soon. “Good boy!” she purred, giving his cock a rapid tug to keep him centered on the pure bliss of mindless descent into her will. “You’re trying so hard, resisting with all your strength…but all that does is wear you out. All that resistance does is make you sleepy…and horny…and focused deeply on the pleasure of obedience. And you know what happens when your resistance crumbles, don’t you, pet?”

Bryan sighed. “I…cum,” he moaned softly, the pleasure finally overwhelming his ability to think. His vision blurred as his heavy eyelids began to sink shut, and his balls tightened as the orgasm building inside him grew beyond his capacity to control. His pleasure was under Mistress’s control. How could he possibly have forgotten?

“That’s right,” Mistress said, her voice like silken cloth on his cock. “Say it again, pet. Pay me your tribute. Obey.” Her eyes glittered with excitement, and he knew she would be insatiably hungry for his tongue inside her once she had finally stroked his mind into submission.

“I…cum!” Bryan screamed, as sticky jets of hot cum gushed up and out of his hard cock. His eyes slipped shut, his mind went blank, and his last thought was that Mistress Lori made defeat feel better than any victory possibly could.

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Taste of Submission



I wanted to write something about a real life consensual hypnotic relationship. Also, something centric on female pleasure and female power in a positive and non-degrading tone.

It was important to show how aftercare is part of a scene, and can in many ways be the best part. Reviewing what just happened with a partner is exciting and intimate, especially when the sub gets to relive the experience by processing it afterwards in a comfortable setting.

Tags: femdom (fd), malesub, consensual, hypnosis, romantic, male-female (mf), conditioning


It was another warm, lazy Sunday afternoon in the apartment. Megan lounged on her bed, basking in the gentle breeze of the fan and reading a good book. She could hear the hustle and bustle of the city outside her window, but with the exception of the occasional hooting and hollering, the noise seemed almost distant. Megan’s pet cat, Gargamel, was curled up next to her purring loudly as she stroked him absentmindedly.

“BOOOOM!” Megan’s boyfriend landed on the bed with a sudden, unceremonious flop, literally saying “boom” like the dork he was. Gargamel panicked, fleeing in terror despite the fact that nothing bad had ever happened to him in his entire life as a housecat.

“Eric! You scared the cat away!” Megan said.

“Aww, I didn’t mean to.” Eric cuddled up next to her and leaned his head on her shoulder.

“I know, but seriously, I’m trying to read here.” Megan said, returning to her book.

Eric wiggled his hips and peeked at the page she was reading. He knew she hated when he read over her shoulder.

“Stop that. I know you’re just trying to get my attention.” Megan said. He was always like this, which could be cute when it wasn’t annoying.

“Is it working?” he said, exaggerating his wiggling for comic effect. Megan knew he wouldn’t stop unless she got mad or took control. He was lucky she was in such a good mood.

“Hush. Now.” she said, locking his eyes with hers and putting a finger to his lips.

Eric went silent. His face softened slightly as he obeyed.

“Good boy.” she grinned. “You’re cute when you stop sassing.”

Eric looked down and away, breaking eye contact. It was adorable, but Megan wasn’t going to allow it. She grabbed a thick handful of his hair and pulled his head up, forcing him to look at her.

“Did I say you could look away?” she said.

“N-no, Miss.” he stammered, eyes darting around before he forced himself to make eye contact again.

Megan could see a small tear beading in the corner of Eric’s eye. She knew he must really be feeling it today; Eric always got emotional when he was subby.

“Did I say you could think?” she said, kneading his hair in that special way that always made him fuzzy and obedient.

He hesitated at the sudden shift in tone.
“…no, Miss,” he said.

“Then stop thinking. You only need to Listen to me.” she intoned, her voice slipping into a hypnotic rhythm. She could see his face drop farther as he nodded.

“You know what I’m doing to you, don’t you?” she continued, her fingers tugging playfully at his long, curly hair.

“You’re… you’re hypnotizshing me.” Eric slurred, his eyes unfocused.

“That’s right. I’m hypnotizing you.” Megan said, setting her book to the side so she could grip his hair with both hands. “Which has a more powerful effect on your mind, my hands or my words?”

“Hands,” Eric said feebly, melting into her touch.

“My hands. Taking your mind. Steadily. Continuously. Wearing you away…” she droned on, “With every touch, your thoughts become a little more Mine. Your mind so eager to accept my words, now, sliding in and taking hold of you like my hands taking hold of your will. Your will slipping now, draining into my hands. You can feel it slipping, can’t you?”

“Yesss,” Eric murmured, his eyes blinking slowly. He was starting to go limp.

Keep reading


Hypnotized to feel weak, his limbs so heavy, the more aroused he…

Hypnotized to feel weak, his limbs so heavy, the more aroused he becomes.

“Mmmm, you want a taste?” she taunts. “I’d love to feel your tongue.” The way she grins when he tries just makes him even weaker.

Epic scale

Epic scale:



Another in my irregular posts about being tranced by a quite extraordinary female hypnotist, who I refer to as FH.

I’ve spoken in the past about the level of control FH has over me and how I didn’t think it was possible for her to drop me deeper in trance.

Well, I was wrong. On an epic scale….

A part of me would rather love to go this deep (paging hypnovoyeur)

Whoa. This image really took my brain for a ride because, while…

Whoa. This image really took my brain for a ride because, while it may look vanilla or even that she’s submissive in the photo, in my head she’s a disarmingly sweet-voiced sadist who’s favorite way to cum is while talking to her cock, watching it twitch in gratitude as she tells it what a good, obedient cock it is for her, how she promises to tease it and keep it proud and strong for her, to reassure it that she’s not going to give him permission to cum any time soon, and that all she asks in return is that it be extra-sensitive for her, aching, drooling, constantly reminding him that it owns him, she owns it, and how happy that makes her.

At first he thought she was silly, but given their mutual kinks it was a very hot fantasy to think about and pretend with her.

The day it dawned on him that it had somehow become completely true, it began to ache with _purpose_ until he was begging to cum, her cock happily twitching as if triumphantly giggling each time she gave it stroke after rewarding stroke, enthusiastically serving her and only her as she steadily talked to it, encouraging it to assert more control, to tease him even when she wasn’t there, to help her make him so delirious with need whenever she talked to it that he couldn’t even remember their private little chats, to send delightful shivers of arousal directly into his brain every time he saw, heard, or even thought of her, to… It turned him on to know that there was more but it was so fuzzy every time he tried to think about it.

He knew he should stop seeing her, but his… her… cock led him back every time. He vaguely knew this was intentional, that they were good together and his futile attempts to resist only existed because of the humiliating and helpless rush of arousal that flooded his head each time he saw her again, but he didn’t know how he knew, which only turned him on even more.

Soon after, even when he was alone at night, it started to tingle, ache, and bring itself to the edge even though he never touches it any more, and the only way he can fall asleep is chanting the mantra “She owns her cock, her cock owns me.” over and over, falling asleep to fantasies of her and her cock having total control, fantasies that his cock relentlessly reminds him of again and again until he confesses them to her, and she laughs in delight, ties him down, and rewards her obedient cock with slow, careful attention, giving it a kiss that makes it swell with submissive pride every time they, together, make him so desperate he struggles and begs.

Last night he’d begun to fantasize about his cock taking control of his body from the neck down, of him unable to do anything but gasp and repeat his mantra while his cock uses his own hands to edge, again and again, until she orders otherwise or he falls asleep. He knows this is it, the tipping point. If he tells her this fantasy then she’ll use it with glee, and this will mercilessly cause him to all dream up all sorts of fantasies that he’ll also have to tell her.

He can feel her cock’s opinion, knows it’s having thoughts of its own. A mental image of himself, alone, late at night, desperate for sleep, his cock tingling on edge, one hand aggressively stroking her cock while the other firmly convers his mouth, preventing him from saying the mantra that would make it bearable, his balls convulsing but unable to cum even as that hand overloaded his brain with sensation. He wasn’t sure if the idea was his or her cock’s, but it didn’t matter, he knew it was inevitable, and that any further hesitation would only make it worse.

He quickly picks up the phone and calls her but it’s too late; before she answered the phone, other possibilities occur to him that flood him with a delicious thrill of anticipation and submission.

Her amusement at the idea warms him and feels… right. After all, she owns her cock, her cock owns him. The mental image of him, one day in the future on one knee, proposing, her smiling down on him, was independently all him, but he knew her cock approved.