As soon as I locked the door behind me, I shimmied out of my clothes, folding them neatly on the shelf we kept for that purpose. My hands were shaking, I was so excited. I could barely keep the grin off of my face.
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself again. My body hummed with pleasure. I dropped to my knees, and that helped. That always helped. As I knelt there, in the darkness of the foyer, my pleasure, my excitement, morphed into a deep well of gratitude, for Him.
I was so privileged to be His.
I rocked forward onto all fours and crawled down the dim hallway to his office. He didn’t look away from his screen when I entered and knelt next to his chair, pressing my face to the cold floor and reaching my arms out in front of me.
We sat there in silence for a long minute, as the tension and elation melted from my body, replaced completely with the comfort of his presence. I took a breath, and it felt like the first breath I had taken all day.
He always did that to me. Being near him was like floating in cool, calm water.
“How did your date go?” he asked. From where I lay prostrated on the floor, it didn’t sound like he turned to look at me as he spoke. “Kneel up to speak to me.”
I obeyed, bringing myself to an upright kneeling position.
“It went so well, Sir. He fucked my face, nice and deep, and I felt it. I felt the clit at the back of my throat.” Giddy excitement was leaking back into my voice. “I felt it, and it felt so unbelievably good, Sir. So much pleasure from having a man’s cock slide down my throat. I felt it.”
“I’m not surprised you felt it. I put it there, and your mind is so accepting of every change I make to it.”
Memories of having my date’s cock sliding past my gag reflex, touching that pleasure spot, sent a shiver through my body.
When I had made the suggestion that he trance me into believing that my clit was at the back of my throat, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. But feeling his beautiful words wash over my mind, it had become my truth.
“Your mind is my plaything, slave. I could make you believe anything I wanted.”
His voice. That voice, that stopped the thoughts in my head, that made it impossible to resist him. His voice filled the cracks in my mind like quicksilver. I felt my eyes go soft, with just these few sentences; opening to him, welcoming his insidious comfort and control.
“Yes, Sir.” It was all I could think to say. It was all that seemed appropriate. I knew, in the marrow of my bones, that he was right. His words could make me believe anything, make any change to my mind that he wished.
A small smile crept across my cheeks, as I let my mind bathe in that feeling of helplessness.
I had never met anyone who was as good at hypnosis as he was. I had never met anyone who put me under their spell so easily. So effortlessly.
I was so privileged to be His.
A mindless, tranced hypnoslave, living in the truth that he created for me. The heavy weight of gratitude dripped down my sternum, making a living ache inside my body. The words seemed wholly inadequate, but I said them anyway. “Thank you, Sir.”
“You’re welcome, slave. I know the gratitude you feel must be crushing.” There was no sarcasm in his voice. Just the truth.
“Yes, Sir.” Again, wholly inadequate, but it was like my mind couldn’t dig more words out of my consciousness.
He unzipped his jeans and took his cock out, still staring at his computer screen. “You have let an inferior man violate your throat tonight, slut. Crawl up here and accept your punishment.”
I blushed, letting his admonishment sink into my psyche like a poison. “I’m sorry, Sir.” I crawled between his legs, under his desk, and waited.
“I know you are, slave. You’re my free use slut, and I like making you take other men’s cocks in your body. And I especially enjoy punishing you afterwards for whoring yourself out.” He palmed his cock.
The conflict in his words flitted over my mind, leaving me smiling and disoriented. Many of his commands conflicted with each other, and I sank into that mindspace where I knew he would punish me in either case. It was soothing, to be that unsettled. I could never have expectations, I could only obey his current whim.
“Suck me, whore.”
I pushed the head of his cock between my lips, circling my wet tongue around the velvety hardness, as the pleasure centers in my body sparked and fired. It felt so good to have his cock in my mouth. I worshiped him with my tongue, but I knew that the true pleasure was deeper, in my throat.
I needed him deeper.
As I bobbed my head, taking more and more of him in my mouth, my cunt convulsed excitedly. I was so grateful for the changes he made to my mind, for taking control of my thoughts and my pleasure. I was so much better in obedience than thought.
His cock inched deeper, though my worship, closer and closer to the clit at the back of my throat. Closer and closer to that special spot that would allow me to feel that mind-bending pleasure while throating his cock.
Closer… closer…
And then he grabbed a hold of my ponytail, stopping me. “Enough, that’s deep enough. Start again.”
I felt my jaw go slack, as I struggled to process the words. Deep enough?
A tiny noise escaped my throat, at the cruelty of this. Why deny me?
“Because you’re being punished, slave. Now start again.”
I should have been unnerved that he could read me so easily, but it only seemed right that I was so transparent to him. I pulled off of him, until just the head of his cock was left in my mouth, trying not to cry. It was right and proper for him to know all my thoughts, manipulate every emotion for his own benefit. I let the truth of that thinking wash over me, because I knew that thought came from him.
My mind is a toy for him.
His, to twist and warp.
I sucked the head of his cock again, laving it with my tongue. He shifted in his chair, but that was the only indication that my efforts were having an effect. I loved this about him, loved that he was so hard to please, so hard to discern his inclinations. I pushed him further into my mouth, astonishingly grateful for his mercurial desires and endless, cool attitude.
He made me work to please him, and that was right and proper, too.
I bounced my mouth up and down his cock, under his desk, while he ignored me.
It is right that I should serve him. My pleasure was irrelevant.
I stopped short of allowing his cock to slide over that special spot at the back of my throat, denying myself the pleasure that I knew he could give me, if he wished. My body thrummed with the feeling of rightness in obedience to him, as I sucked him in shallow, wet strokes.
“Good slave, fall into that denial. Let yourself fall into that beautiful submission.”
HIs words invaded my consciousness like a thick, heavy fog. I couldn’t have argued with him, even if I had wanted to. My mind was a plaything for him. My thoughts belonged to him. I loved being weak for him, loved the feeling of being an object to be molded as he saw fit.
I continued sucking him, never deep enough to bring me pleasure, forever with his words repeating in my head. His free use slut, being punished for whoring herself out to other men. Commands and instructions conflicting, and somehow not conflicting in my mind, where my only hope is total obedience, thoughtless, save for the feelings he put there.
I was so privileged to be His.
I almost wanted to cry, with the strength of that emotion. With each stroke that fell short of the pleasure center deep in my throat, I was so overwhelmed with gratitude.
I was so privileged to be His. Again and again, stroke after stroke, that thought repeated.
I was so privileged to be His.
His fingers played in my hair, idly. “Your debt of gratitude is devastating, slave. I know. You will give me your mind, your body, your heart, and you will chip away a single pebble from the mountain of debt you owe me. You will give me everything you have, and you will welcome the crushing weight of what is due to me.”
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