chloessleepystories

[chloessleepystories]

Aromatherapy part 4

male/female, mind control, female domination, male domination, spanking

I lay on the couch in Daniel’s RA suite, watching Netflix. I was watching the images sideways, because I was lying with my head in his lap, but I didn’t care. It was a show I didn’t care much about, for one thing, but more than that, I was super comfortable, and he was stroking my hair, and that seemed much more important at that moment. I felt safe, and protected, which is all I had been after, in the beginning. It was a warm feeling.

“Babe?” I said, quietly.

“Yeah, hun,” he murmured, his eyes on the screen.

“I really like this.”

He moved the hair off my ear, and massaged my earlobe for a moment lovingly. “I’m glad.”

Danny Devito said something funny to some people in a bar. Somebody laughed, far away.

“Babe?”

I could hear him smile, above me. “Yeah, sugar?”

“We haven’t gotten kinky in a while ...”

His arm moved. The show paused. A moment, that felt like thinking.

“... That’s true ...”

I stroked his muscular thigh through his cargo shorts.

“What did you have in mind, babe?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said coyly. “It might be a little too naughty ...”

He chuckled. “You know I’m pleased to fulfill any and all of your sexual fantasies, even if they’re not my own.”

I giggled. He was parroting a sentence I’d programmed him with, and if it came out kind of stilted, he didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s true! You are so good about that, and I love it ...”

“And I’m sure if I ever had a special request, ...” he said, stroking a hand down my back, then squeezing my bottom.

“Oh! Umm ... Of course, honey.” I rolled over onto my back, looking up at him from his lap. “We’d at least talk about it.”

Funny, why do I forget that he’s his own person, with his own thoughts and desires? I hadn’t even thought of that ...

He slid his hand up to my bare midriff, then under my shirt, playing with my nipple with his thumb. I moaned. He cupped my breast, cradling it like a baseball.

“Do you like my boobs?”

“Of course!”

“They’re not too small?” I said, batting my eyes. I was thinking of that redheaded bitch again, who was way too busty. They didn’t look natural.

He shook his head, love in his eyes. “They’re perfect.”

I looked up, studying him. God, he was beautiful.

I bit my lip.

“I’ve been naughty,” I said in a whisper.

He was puzzled. “What?”

“I’ve been a very bad girl,” I said, giving him big sorrowful eyes. I raised my hips and pulled my shorts down, slowly. “I should probably be punished, Danny.”

His eyebrows crept up his forehead. “Oh, I see ...”

I turned over, and crawled slowly across his lap. I knew he was watching my pert, bare bottom as I wiggled it into position. I put my tummy over his legs and arched my ass in the air just a little bit.

“Please, sir. I crave correction. I want to be a good girl, but it’s so ...” I pressed myself against his growing erection. “Hard,” I breathed.

He stroked my thigh, my hip. Testing the waters. His breathing was coming shallowly. “And what are you doing that’s so bad, babygirl?”

“Mmmmm,” I purred. “I look at other boys, sir. And I have dirty thoughts. I need to be punished, so I can stop having dirty thoughts. I need those demons exorcised.”

“You gonna give me your ass, baby?”

“I need y- what??”

He squeezed my ass cheek. “I would love to take your tightest hole, sweetheart.”

“Whoa whoa whoa ... Not where I was going, Daniel!” I started to get up, but he held me down.

“OK, OK, I was just asking. I misunderstood, babe.”

He wanted to fuck my ass?? I never would have thought of that ... Amazing. Um ...

“You know ... sugar ... I’m not opposed,” I said, picking my words carefully. “I just ... you’re so big!! And thick.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, you’re already so big and I’m so tiny it sometimes hurts as it is and I think ... well, let’s say we’ll think about that, OK love?”

“Sure, sure, honey,” he said, still stroking my ass. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I said, settling back into position. Where was I?

Back to the babygirl voice. “I really need a big, strong man to ...” No. Wait. I half-turned, so I could see him. “Is that really something you want? Ass fucking?”

He shrugged, visibly uncomfortable. “Well. I dunno. Maybe.”

“I’m not kinkshaming, just clarifying.”

“Well, it’s just something I’ve never done before. With anyone. But I’ve been curious. And you seem kind of—adventurous? I mean, it’s only been like 5 weeks or whatever but we’ve already done more than ...”

I moved up and kissed him, hard. “You’re adorable, you know that?” I tousled his hair.

OK. Back over his lap.

“I have such dirty thoughts, sir, I need to have them beaten out of me! Spank those naughty thoughts. Please, sir. Please make me be a good girl.”

He swatted my ass. “Like that? Is that what you need, you bad girl?”

“Harder, sir. Please sir. I have demons inside me. They give me bad thoughts.”

He spanked me harder. “What kind of thoughts?”

“Oww! About boys.”

Smack. “What about boys?” Smack. “What do you want?”

“I want—ohh! I want their cocks. I can’t stop thinking about cocks. Oww! Please sir, I want to be good.”

He hauled off and gave me a good crack on the right buttcheek, and I howled. More in surprise than pain, but still. “But you can’t be good, can you,” he rasped, his voice deepening. “You’re a dirty whore.”

“I am!! Ohhh!!” He hit the left cheek even harder. “But I can be a good girl! I wanna be your good girl!! Owwww ... Please sir!!”

“You little slut.” Crack!! “Looking at boys all the time, dreaming about their cocks ...” Crack! Smack!! “Craving cock in your mouth, in your cunt ... You’re an insatiable cockwhore!!”

He slid his fingers into my pussy, which was gushing. I could feel the heat radiating off my stinging ass, and I sobbed a little as he roughly fingered my dripping clit. “You little whore. Are you wet thinking about cock? Or are you wet because of your punishment?”

He stroked my clit hard, too hard, and I howled. “You slut, are you getting off on your discipline? You are, aren’t you?”

“Please sir! No sir! Yes sir!!” I didn’t know what I was saying, it was too much. He smacked my ass HARD, once, twice, stuffed his fingers in my pussy, smacked me a third time, then hit my thighs several times rapidly, then returned to my clit. He was assaulting everything and it was making my head spin. I was starting to cry, it all hurt so much and felt so good and so awful and I couldn’t believe what I’d been thinking and I was worried about hurting him and now I really was crying and sobbing ... “I’m sorry sir I’ll be good I promise!!”

“You don’t want any boys, do you. You want a man. Just one man. Just me.”

“Yes sir! Thank you sir!!”

“You belong to me. To my cock.”

“Yes sir!! Oww-hhwww...”

Smack!! “Say it!”

“I belong to your cock! My pussy belongs to your cock!! I won’t think about any other—owww!!—any other cocks!!! Thank you sir!!!”

There was a simmering rage I’d tapped into, or something. He was breathing hard. He was enjoying it. He was working off some frustration, or aggravation, or ... or maybe some subconscious part of him that knew what I was doing to him hated me, and for a moment was in charge. That thought made me start to cry in earnest.

“You’re going to count. Count to 20.”

“Yes si- owwwhhhhwh!!!!”

“Count!”

“One! Owww!! ...

“Two! ...

“AAahhhh!!! .. Three!!”

By the time he got to 20, I was sobbing. Bawling. I couldn’t remember what he was doing it for, why I had asked for it, I just wanted it to be over, and he held me after the last one, cradled me in his arms as I cried and the tears ran down my cheeks. I held him close and stroked his face and kissed him and said “I’m sorry I’m sorry” over and over. I sank down, finally, and drifted as he rocked me.

I didn’t realize how much I’d needed to feel something. To feel anything, even something so painful. The intensity ... it was freeing. My mind felt completely disconnected from my body. I was numb, and far away, and I distantly thought, Stay good, little puppy ...

I can do this. I can be good. “Thank you, Danny,” I whispered, and sobbed a little.

I felt cleansed. I felt absolved.

The crucible of his punishment, lovingly given, had burned away the evil thoughts.

I lay there panting, slowly drifting to sleep as he soothed my red bottom with gentle loving strokes, and cooing noises.

He was good. He was a good man.

I was good. I could be good.

I could ...

I dozed.

* * *

I woke up, just for a second. An echo of his words. What was it?

“It’s just something I’ve never done before. With anyone ...”

How many women had he been with?

What had they done?

How could I possibly measure up?

... I’d been so content. But it only took a couple hours for the anxiety to set in. The panic. And the dark thoughts, right behind it ...

* * *

The panic had more or less subsided, or at least receded below the surface to where I didn’t have to think about it, by the next morning, and a full day of challenging classes had kept me plenty distracted. Seeing Eric had distracted me too, but I had managed to just smile at him, and move on. No dirty thoughts, and no conversation. I was a good girl.

Then, walking across the quad, finished with classes for the day but worried about the paper I still had to write, I glanced over to see HER again. That redheaded bitch.

She was standing under a huge oak tree, standing by Daniel, and talking to him, the cunt. Chirping away in her chirpy little voice. And fondling his goddamn biceps. And the fucker was flexing for her, and smiling, and goddamn him goddamn her goddamn fucking fuck them both ...

I clenched a fist and instantly a wind sprung up about me. My hair flew about wildly, like when Willow got mad on “Buffy,” and I screamed and thrust both hands forward and lightning shot from my palms and he was knocked off his feet by wind and electricity and she was lifted bodily into the air, her skin crackling, until she exploded leaving nothing behind but blobs of hair dye and the gel packs from her boob job ...

Except of course that didn’t really happen. I stood panting for a moment, my fist clenched. Then my vision blurred with tears, and I turned and ran away.

* * *

Looking back, I can see why I thought I had stopped my downward fall the night of the spanking, the punishment. For a moment, with Daniel’s abuse—safe, sanctioned abuse—I felt cleansed, purified. My scattered thoughts had focused to a single point.

And I thought that point was pure.

That would have worked if I was truly a good person, on the inside. As I had honestly thought I was, my whole life. Forgotten, insignificant, sidelined. Ignored. But fundamentally good.

I was wrong.

“Lie down,” I ordered Daniel that night, in his room.

He obeyed, a compliant, blank-faced robot, moving to the bed. An android servant, sent from Cyberlife to serve me.

“No, lie on the floor, you don’t deserve the bed.”

With no expression or emotion, he knelt on the floor, then lay down on his back. I stripped off my pants, my underwear. Crouched beside him, staring into his eyes. Stroking my wetness as I watched his open, guileless, innocent-looking face.

Innocent? Ha! He couldn’t be trusted. Couldn’t be trusted with free will. But I knew what to do with that.

“From now on, you worship my pussy and no other,” I whispered. “There will be no other pussies before me.”

I scooped my juices from my crotch, and smeared them on his face.

“You are not sexually aroused by women any more. Except for me. I am the only woman you find attractive. Women leave you cold,” I said, coating my fingers with more of my fluids, and feeding them to him.

“When a woman talks to you, you go limp, and you don’t have any desire to talk to her longer than necessary.”

His mouth suckled hungrily at my fingers, following my instructions, while his eyes stayed arousingly, hypnotically, blank and empty.

I had been wrong about myself. About being a good person, on the inside.

Because I was discovering that something else was there, under it all. Something just waiting for the opportunity.

I craved more. More control, more power, more ... more men. More everything. And a tiny voice inside me knew, now. No matter what I did.

I could get absolution.

I could demand it, and receive it.

Until I reached a point where I didn’t even care, anymore.

The crucible had burned everything away, leaving just my core. And at my core, apparently ... I was evil.

To be continued …

#mind control #classic chloe #aromatherapy #female dominant #male female #erotic hypnosis

[chloessleepystories]

Friends! I need a little help coming up with rent - especially after some annoying car repairs. If you'd like to help a girl out, I'd be so grateful ...

Tip jar is at @chloepilgrim!

[chloessleepystories]

School Daze

Miss Schism walked into the empty lecture hall loaded down with books and papers. She scattered her desk with plans and textbooks, and sat dutifully for a long time, writing and researching, making notes, glancing at the clock frequently and increasingly fretfully. Finally, she rested her forehead on the cool desk, and whimpered.

After a few quiet minutes with her eyes closed—which didn’t help—she leaned back in her chair, wanting to cry with frustration. “There’s only a few days left before I have to give the final, and I’m not even done creating it!” she wailed to the empty room. “And there’s still so much left to do!!”

“Like what?”

She gestured to the mess before her. “I’ve got to grade the last two weeks’ worth of work, create a rubric for the final project … " She suddenly stood, and walked to the blackboard, grabbing the chalk and making frantic notes to herself. “Not to mention skimming through three months of discussion notes for questions … ”

“—planning what you’re going to wear the last day, and what debauchery you’ll get up to on vacation … ”

“—downloading and organizing and printing and planning … ”

“—dressing and undressing and squeezing and sucking … ”

“Stop!” she told the Voice, dropping the chalk in the tray, but not turning around. “I can’t—I can’t be thinking about that right now. I need to focus.”

“You certainly do need to focus,” came the Voice, which was deep, and male … and persuasive. “Focus on the tingling in your breasts, focus on how hard your nipples are getting … ”

“No … " moaned Miss Schism.

“They’re so aroused. You’re so aroused … ”

She put both hands on the chalkboard, bending over, squeezing her thighs as she felt herself getting warmer. “Please … I c-can’t … ”

“But you can. You need to. You need to focus, that’s what you said. Focus on what your body needs … Turn around.”

She whimpered an almost-protest, but pivoted to put her hands on her desk, leaning over further and scanning the empty room, the rows of bare chairs, with eyes blurred with growing lust.

“Oh my! Look at that … You weren’t very focused when you got dressed this morning, were you? I bet you haven’t even noticed what top you put on, by ‘accident.’ How sheer that blouse is. How it’s almost … invisible.”

She looked down and gasped. It was, indeed, so sheer as to show the white lace on her bra. “Oh no! I can’t be out in public like this! … At least I have a bra underneath it … ”

The unseen Voice seemed to move from one side of her to the other as it chuckled. “No you don’t.”

She looked down again as she felt her erect nipples brushing the silky fabric, swaying suddenly. “Oh no! What was I thinking!?” she gasped, covering her breasts with one arm. “This is totally, like, see-thru!”

“You weren’t thinking,” said the Voice. “You were being dumb.”

She chewed her lip, shaking her head bashfully, girlishly. The beginnings of a grin began to show. “Nuh-uh.”

“Like a dumb bimbo.”

“No I wasn’t!!” She dropped both arms to stamp a foot. “I was, like … . I mean, I am! Like, smart!”

“Much too dumb to be a teacher … ”

“Stoooop … .” she whined. “Yer mixing me up!! I gotta find something to put on before somebunny sees me!!”

She hurried to her bag beside her desk.

“It’s too late. Your whole class has seen you. Look.”

Sure enough, there they were! Every seat was filled! When did they get here??? A student in every seat, and every single one of them, boys and girls, wuz LEERING at her!!

“My goodness, what they must think of you … " said the Voice, right in her ear now. “A sheer top, and no bra … Oh and look, you forgot your skirt as well … ”

She didn’t need to look down, she FELT the scratchy tweed disappear from her thighs, and her fingertips. She watched as the boys in the front row leaned forward, their gaze growing hungrier.

“I’m having a dream, it’s a terrible, terrible dream … " she murmured.

“Nonsense!” came the Voice, but now it was coming from the doorway. Miss Schism looked, and saw an older man walking toward her, with a beaming smile, his arms out. “It’s not terrible at all … ”

“Principal Grossman!” she cried. “What a relief!”

The man was pudgy, and mostly bald, with a horseshoe of white hair. A relaxing presence, even in these circumstances. She didn’t think to cover herself, but moved toward him as if he were an oasis in the desert. “They’re all lookin at me!!” she whispered, her voice moving up the scale as if on helium.

“Poor girl,” he said tenderly. “You’re so confused. Did you think you were teaching this class? No, no, you’re the experiment.”

“I am?”

“And you’re doing very, very well,” he said, grasping her forearms reassuringly.

She beamed proudly. “Oh goody!”

He turned her, facing the students. “Such a silly girl.” He unbuttoned her blouse, stripping off the wispy material. She stood, topless, her nipples hardening, as the boys licked their lips and rubbed the crotches of their jeans. The girls uncrossed their legs, spreading their knees, revealing the lack of panties under their short skirts as they slouched in the chairs, eyes hooded with lust.

“Silly girl, you can’t be a teacher. You’re much too dumb.”

“I am?”

“Dumb and slutty,” he said into her ear, and the word “slutty” echoed through her empty head, sweeping up so many thoughts and feelings and memories. He cupped her breasts from behind, fondling them, offering them to the students. “Aren’t you, my dum-dum dolly?”

A wave of pink fluff went through her brain as he said that. And a wave of golden sparkles tingled through her body. “Uuunngghhh … .” She staggered a little. “Yes … ”

“A slutty, horny, dum-dum dolly?”

Her pussy ached with sudden need, drenching her sodden panties. He was pinching her nipples now, and tingles raced through her body, not just from his touch but from his words, his triggers … “Yes, Principal Grossman.”

“Are you sure?” he said, and his voice changed. “Look again.”

She blinked, and turned, trying to focus on the man whose hands were running over her belly, her hip, as she heard and felt the students shift hungrily in their seats.

And it wasn’t the principal at all!! He was taller, and muscular, and dark as rich chocolate!!—with shaved head and trimmed beard, but the same gentle smile …

“Coach Brickhouse!!!!”

“That’s right, little girl. And you’re my suggestible bimbo snowbunny, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh!” she grinned, and “Ohhhhhh … " She moaned as her eyelids fluttered, as the word ‘snowbunny’ stole more of her IQ points. Oh, it felt so good to let go.

The coach caressed her cheek as he hooked one dark thumb under her panties, at the hip. The other thumb slid into her slack mouth, and she sucked it eagerly, her eyes closed and her mind eclipsed. “That’s my docile, suggestible idiot,” he murmured in his rich baritone, as she sucked dutifully on his thick, black, powerful thumb. “It feels so good to drop, and obey, doesn’t it … ”

“Mmmmm … " Miss Schism, her mind delightfully fractured, leaned her blond head against his hand, mindlessly sucking, awaiting orders.

“Then why don’t you get on your knees, and show me how much you love being cockdumb.” She giggled as she dropped happily, and took his massive member in her little white hands. It filled her lips with its intoxicating meaty taste, and she stuffed it into her throat until her jaws ached with pleasure. She looked up at him with big eyes, reveling in his kind gaze as he stroked her cheek and hair with his strong hands.

“Then we’ll see how many of these nice boys and girls want to play with your body, and break your little brain with pleasure. How does that sound … Mmmmm, imagine a silly girl like you, thinking she was a teacher. You’re just a slutty bimbo airhead, aren’t you?”

She nodded happily, and kept sucking his hard, gorgeous member, her eyes rolling back and her eager cunt gushing with grateful pleasure.

***

Abigail slurped happily on her husband’s cock, humming peacefully and mindlessly to herself, two fingers stroking her sopping pussy.

Jack stroked her dark hair lovingly, and throbbed in her mouth. He glanced over at the bedside desk, strewn with term papers and textbooks.

She could finish the rubric in the morning, he knew, and still have time for everything else before finals next week. She deserved a break.

And fortunately, she’d long ago given him the tools to give it to her.

“What a good slut,” he murmured. “Look out, here comes that football player with the big dick … He’s holding your hips, getting ready to slam it into you … ”

Her eyes met his, her cheeks sunken in with sucking, and suddenly her eyes … WIDENED … and her body moved with the first thrust of the phantom cock. She squealed in pleasure, and her husband knew that meant “thank you.”

“My goodness, look at these hot co-eds who want to suck on your tits while you’re being spitroasted … ”

#mind control #classic chloe #consensual

[chloessleepystories]

A story where a new smoothie place or a new trendy cleanse bimbofies people

That's a great idea! I read something long time ago on mcstories that I loved - about shakes? Like protein shakes in different flavors that affected different women in different ways ... I'd love to do something like that! Thanks for the thought!

[chloessleepystories]

would you happen to still have that one story from an old account about the woman whose husband hypnotized her to think she was being used in front of her class? i don't recall the exact details or the name of it but it was a favorite of mine

Oh yeah! I called it School Daze, I think, in a fit of completely cliched unoriginality ... Let me go find that for you!

[chloessleepystories]

wondering if you could repost that one story about the teacher who was hypnotized to touch herself in front of her class if you still have it

Rabbit Hole! It's right here ...

[chloessleepystories]

*holds our hands in cute horny way* more please

OK!!

#please sir may we have more porn

[chloessleepystories]

A Year with Santa Claus

How many references can you find to favorite holiday stories?

I was lying on the couch in the living room Christmas Eve, laptop on my tummy, all the lights out except the lights from the tree. It was pretty. It was peaceful. It was boring.

But at least it was quiet – my younger siblings were nestled all snug in their beds, while mama in her kerchief and dad in his saggy tightie-whities were settled in for their long winter’s siesta after six glasses of cheap Walgreens wine. I was browsing dirty hypno Tumblr on my laptop and getting progressively hornier, so I shucked off my sweatpants and started stroking.

When suddenly I heard a jingling and a twinkling on the roof, as of the prancing and pawing of little hooves. And then, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a shower of soot on the floor, and the fireplace full of Santa Claus himself.

My long pale bare legs splayed, my sweatshirt hoisted up over one small teenage boob, and my sticky fingers covering my crotch, I must have been a sight. But all I said was: “I’m not cleaning that up.”

I guess it takes a lot to surprise Santa. His mouth hung open for a minute or two, but he quickly recovered – dropping his sack of toys and fumbling with his big belt buckle.

“Do we have time for this?” I whispered.

“Silly child,” he said. “Time is never an issue.” He threw a handful of gold dust in the air and instantly, time seemed to stand still. The clock stopped between ticks. The sprinkles settled on my bare body, and on my face, and tingled wherever they hit. I mindlessly slid forward off the couch and onto my knees, as a wave of peace and joy warmed my mind and hardened my nipples. He pulled my sweatshirt off as I gazed up at him, completely naked, my smile spreading as he stripped off his furs.

I gotta say, I was expecting an old fat man – a right jolly old elf – but I have been MISINFORMED, y’all. Turns out Santa is big, yes, but it’s almost all muscle. And he’s a silver fox – silver hair, short silver beard … with tattoos … “NICE” on his left forearm, and “NAUGHTY” on his right. And his name isn’t actually Santa, it turns out – but Sander…

His cock was impressive, majestic, and it tasted like cinnamon. His precum was like frosting, so sweet – undoubtedly from all the cookies. I sucked and slurped as he stroked my hair, and moved gently in and out of my mouth. It felt so good to serve him, to please him … then he picked me up as if I weighed nothing, and settled my dripping cunny on the head of his cock.

“It’s so warm!” I whispered. “It’s like you’re burning me up from the inside!”

Sander grinned, and there was a twinkle in his eye. “That’s me,” he said. “I’m Mr Hundred-and-One.”

He used me like a toy, but gently and lovingly, filling me so full with every thrust. He lay me back down on the carpeting, under the tree, and I looked up at all the pretty lights, in a daze, as he pumped into me for what seemed like hours … until finally Santa came down my chimney. Again and again, he came down my chimney.

I lay there panting as he dressed all in his furs again. I wasn’t sure if I could form words. When he knelt beside me, I whimpered like a broken doll. “Do you have to go?”

He smiled, shaking his head, and took out a sprig of mistletoe from his coat pocket. He held it over me. “I’m taking you back to my workshop, my dear. I’ll fix you up there … then I’ll bring you back here …” He broke a mistletoe berry under my nose. My eyes rolled back, and in an instant I was unconscious.

The next year passed by in a blur, a candy-colored, peppermint-flavored haze of sex and sweets. (If it was only a year – but I had my doubts about that. It seemed like it was always “nearly Christmas” around Sander and his people, and it was a perpetual aura of excitement plus exhaustion.) Time ceased to have any meaning. I learned to serve the elves. I made cookies with Mrs Claus – a process she enjoyed very much. And the things I ate and drank filled me with Christmas cheer, in different ways.

Some chocolates seemed to chip away at my intelligence. Some fruitcake seemed to leave me in a drugged-out blissful stupor for hours. Sometimes I seemed sharp and alert, but the only thing I could think of were the Christmas carols playing over and over in my mind, accompanying thoughts of various sex acts.

“Try some of this,” Mrs Claus would say as we cooked and baked together in her kitchen … And I would find myself licking the sugar from her hands, then sucking on her fingers, then going down on her snatch of silver-and-gold.

“Look into my eyes,” Sander would say, and I would gaze into his eyes for a while, smelling his breath of peppermint and pipe tobacco, but somehow not hearing the words he spoke into my unresisting ears … until I would awaken with “NAUGHTY” choking my throat,  just a little bit, while “NICE” was kneading and stroking my sex.

I was his favorite toy. He loved finding new games to play with me, to make me entertain him, or the others … or to make me happy. One of his favorites was turning me into a snowman. “There must be some magic in this hat I found,” he would say, then he would plop it on my head, and I would instantly freeze. He and the Missus would play with my body, and it would respond, but I could barely feel it – I was nearly numb, and the arousal would be far away. No matter what, I couldn’t cum. My eyes would leak in my frustration, but I couldn’t move, and could barely feel, a frozen snowman … until they removed the hat. Then everything would flood back into my body at once, and I would scream and shake and almost pass out from the explosion inside every cell.

Once, Sander hypnotized me into believing I was one of the reindeer. My name was Olive … Olive the other reindeer. He took a red thread, and he tied some antlers to the top of my head, then he led me into the stables. He left me there for hours … playing all the reindeer games.

I ate sweets and I breathed magic. I learned … I grew … I changed. My ass rounded and my breasts filled out as I grew older, more womanly, no longer a teenager. The elves would use my body for hours, as if they had never seen someone as tall as me, never had access to sexual partners before … as if they needed the practice. I loved letting the elves practice on me, my holes, my tits … it was like being swarmed by sex-starved puppies, and I loved it.

But the day finally came when Sander told me he needed to send me back to the world. It was almost Christmas again … though whether it was the same Christmas I had left, or the next one, or any other Christmas, I neither knew nor cared. I wept, and Father Christmas held me close. “I will always know when you’re sleeping, and when you’re awake,” he whispered. “I’ll know if you’ve been bad or good – so be good and naughty.”

“Yes Daddy,” I nodded, sniffling.

He touched my tears, with wonder and concern. “What’s this? What’s this?”

I sniffled.

“Santa baby?” I asked. “Could I make one wish, this Christmas?”

I could, and I did. I wished not to go back to my family, but a different one. He even let me pick one out. It took some time, and some research, but it was worth it.

Then, when I was finally ready, he gave me a cup of hot cocoa. I sipped it, then felt the sugar plums and fairy music swell. “Say … what’s in that drink,” I murmured as I lost consciousness.

So … here I am. Under the tree, dressed in lingerie and a cute little Santa hat – switched “off,” ready to be turned on by love and Christmas magic when the family come downstairs in the morning.

I picked a kind looking widower named Bob, who had to raise several kids on his own. The youngest, Tim, is sickly, but has made it to age 18, and I know I can make him, and his brothers, and their father, all happy. It gives me sexual pleasure to serve… so I’ll cook, and clean, and bake the best cookies they’ve ever had – and fulfill their sexual fantasies too. Sander even left instructions and trigger words for some of the games we’ve played, and modes he’s installed. I know I can make them all very happy.

I will miss elf practice, though.

[chloessleepystories]

Cold Outside

A seasonal, hypnotic, sort-of music video in text … Probably non-consensual, but at least there's nothing in the drink.

“… And five, feeling fully awake. There, how do you feel?”

She blinked, looking around slowly. Her brain felt like it was packed in cotton. “Fuzzy …”

“But good?”

Her eyes scanned from one wall to another. She was in … his apartment? Someone’s apartment. It didn’t seem familiar – but presumably his. Mark’s? Matt’s? What was his name?

He’d asked something. What was it. “… Yes,” she nodded gently, as if remembering how. “Good.”

“That’s good.” He smiled, and his smile was warm. She smiled back, instinctively. It felt good to smile. It made her relax a little more, and feel that everything was all right.

He was turning on the electric lights – a switch here, a switch there – and coming back to the couch to blow out the candle while she breathed deeply, waiting for the daze to subside. She still felt like she wasn’t quite back in her body. In her mind.

“Let me pour you another drink, I’d like to talk to you a little more,” he said. “You’d like that too.”

She looked at the little table in front of them, where there was an empty glass, with one mostly-melted ice cube left. “Yes, that would be nice,” she said automatically, but as he moved to the kitchen, she started to get nervous. When had she drunk the first drink? And what was in it? There was a fruity taste in her mouth, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Her memories of the last couple hours were hazy indeed – no recollection of meeting this man, of coming to his apartment for a cocktail, yet here she was … She told herself the memories would come back once she woke up a little, but still, she was feeling nervous.

“I-I should probably get going,” she called, and stood, on wobbly feet.

“Nonsense, you just got here!” She could hear ice cubes, a glass, those little metal tongs, as she tottered toward his door. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“I’d like to …” she said, and knew it was true. “But I …”

She had a hand on the doorknob, but stood looking at it stupidly, without turning.

“I really can't stay …” she murmured.

“But, kitten, it's cold outside,” he said, moving toward her with a tumbler in hand.

She stared at the doorknob. How did it work, again?

“I've got to go ’waaaay,” she whined.

He laid a palm against the door, looking at her with a patronizing grin. “Aww, but princess, it's cold outside …”

She rounded on him, concentrating on finding a scrap of desperate anger. “This evening has been –”

“I’m hoping –” and he chimed the tongs against the glass with a ting – “it’s been…?”

She sighed, relaxing her shoulders. “So very nice …” she grinned softly, as her anxiety fled again.

“Come, take my hand,” he said as he led her docilely toward the sofa again. “Now, do you want ice?”

She stopped, her eyes going wide. “My mother! She’ll start to worry …”

“Dutiful.” He nodded approvingly. “But there’s no hurry,” he added, crossing to the fireplace.

“And my father will be pacing the floor …” she said distractedly, as she instinctively followed him.

He gestured to the dancing, hypnotic flames. “But look at that fireplace roar …”

“So really,” she started, but the fire caught her eyes, and she sank slowly to her knees in front of it. “I … I'd better scurry …” she barely whispered.

“Beautiful …” She heard him moving closer as she stared into the flames. “Now, see? No hurry.”

“Well, maybe just a … a half a drink more …”

She raised a hand, and a cool glass was put into it. “Sip this and count backwards from four,” he instructed.

She sipped. Relaxed further. It really was quite nice here. No reason to put her clothes on yet. She sipped again.

Clothes … There was a thought there, but she couldn’t quite access it.

After a timeless time, she swam upwards, inside herself, to some internal surface, to find words. Licked her lips. “You know, the neighbors might think –”

He was looking out the window. Had he been saying something? Just a moment ago?

He chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart, it's bad out there.”

She hiccupped. Peered muzzily into her glass. “Say, what's in this drink –”

He shrugged, walking toward her. “Cranberry and vodka. The pear …”

She swayed, started to fall sideways, and he hurried to catch her. She ended up lying on her back, her head in his lap, as he looked down on her. “I wish I knew how –”

The fire was reflected in her eyes as he brushed her hair from her face. “Your eyes are like starlight now,” he whispered.

“– to break this spell …”

He rubbed a thumb across her forehead. “I'll take your mind …”

“Hmmm?”

“I said your hair looks swell.”

He leaned over her. His eyes seemed to fill her whole world. She struggled for words, for … for rationality …

“I ought to say no, no, no, Sir,” she said limply, but couldn’t even raise an arm.

“Mind if I move in closer?” His eyes grew as he gazed unblinking into hers, inches away from her now. She could feel his warm, sweet breath.

“At least I'm … gonna say that I tried …”

Sir? When did she start calling him Sir?

“Ah, but where’s the sense in hurting my pride,” he purred.

With a sudden action she sat up, pushed herself somehow to her knees, getting shakily to her bare feet, and took a wobbling step. “I really can't stay …”

“That’s it, kitten,” he said with easy confidence. “Try to hold out …”

“Oh!” she said in a little voice. Turned, looked down at her hard nipples, cocked her head to one side, and thought hard. “Oh, but it’s … cold. Out. Side … ?”

He chuckled, and reached for her. She spun into his arms, her legs bare, her hair a dark parabola in the air. He whispered into her ear as he held her close, but not tightly. Comfortable. He ran a hand down her bare back, and her eyelids fluttered, her mouth opened as her eyes rolled back …

But by the time she was able to speak, she’d moved again. She was looking out the window. She didn’t remember how she’d got here. Or why her face was so close to the glass, with her bare breasts swaying, the man’s hands on her hips. His cock was stabbing into her repeatedly, and she could feel an orgasm growing – not her first? Maybe? – as she supported herself on the windowsill.

She struggled to get out a few words between the grunts, between the pleasure …

“I-I-I-I-I simply must go,” she whimpered.

“Wow, you’ve got a stubborn side!” He seemed almost impressed.

“The answer – unh! – is no …”

“But, baby, it's cold outside,” he panted.

“This welcome has been …” she tried to stand, and he lost his angle.

“Oh fuck, let me get it back in …”

But she turned, pressing her breasts to him. “So nice, and warm …”

He took her chin, turning her head. “Look out the window at that storm …”

The pink in the clouds from the setting sun, glimpsed between the green trees, matched the rosy flush of her bare bosom, reflected in the glass. Yes, obviously a horrible storm out there, she thought.

But still.

“My sister will be suspicious,” she said with an attempt at primness, trying to pull herself together.

He stroked her cheek. “Gosh, your lips look delicious,” he breathed.

“And my brother will be there at the door …” she tried to continue, as he traced her lips with a fingertip.

“Waves … upon a tropical shore …”

She giggled, then tried to look stern. “My maiden aunt's mind is vish-ulph!!”

After a moment, he came up for air. “Damn, your lips are delicious,” he grinned.

She swayed. “Well maybe just, like, five minutes more …”

He cupped her bottom with his warm hand, leading her away from the window. “Never such a blizzard before …”

His fingers slipped inside her pussy from behind, and she squeaked. He passed a hand in front of her face, and she froze. He massaged her dripping clit, thrusting two fingers into her cunt, until her lower half was vibrating. She mewed, and twitched. She was close. He smirked, then snapped his fingers right in front of her eyes.

Suddenly she could move again. She drew a great breath, came to what must have been a difficult decision, and staggered toward the apartment door again.

“I’ve got to get home,” she whined, then stopped, catching sight of herself in the mirror next to the door.

“But, baby, you'd freeze out there,” he said, coming up behind her.

She took in her heaving breasts, her flushed, nude form, her tousled hair, and nodded.

“You’re right. Can you lend me a comb?”

He put his hands on her shoulders, and pressed. “Get down on your knees. Right there.”

“I mean, you’ve really been grand …”

He moaned. “Oh, it feels so good in your little hand …”

She looked up at him, dutifully kneeling, and taking his cockhead in her mouth. “But don’t you see –”

“Don’t talk,” he said, wrapping his hands in her hair. “Just do this thing for me …”

Time slowed while his cock filled her throat. His warm flesh on her tongue was better than thinking. She hummed a mindless tune, and he throbbed in time.

He was almost there, when she overcame an internal struggle she hadn’t even realized she’d been having for just a moment – enough to pull back, saliva strings glistening, and gasp:

“There's bound to be talk tomorrow!”

His face was red, a vein throbbing, as he fisted his purple-headed cock. “Think of my – my lifelong sorrow …” came out in a strained voice.

“At least there will be plenty implied,” she added, holding up her breasts, making a target.

“… If you caught nuuh!!-monia and died …” His hand was a blur, his neck was bulging.

“I really can't stay,” she giggled, but opened her mouth wide.

“Don’t think I can … hold out …”

“Please, Sir, it’s – !”

He exploded. His cum streaked across her face and splattered her breasts.

“OHH!”

It rained down on her cheeks, her nose, her belly.

“How …”

And he squeezed the last drops onto her tongue.

“Mmm. Nice …”

He knelt beside her, panting. She used a finger to scoop some of his cum off her nipple, and sucked it into her mouth. He smiled at her, under his sweat-matted bangs. She kissed his cheek.

“Actually, now that I think of it,” she said. “I don’t have to be anywhere for the rest of the weekend.”

She giggled as he let out a belly laugh, and they collapsed together on the carpeting, rolling over in front of the fireplace, laughing and kissing.

*****

I’ve always loved this song for its playfulness and its back-and-forth banter, and I’ve gotten annoyed at this fad in recent years of making it all rape-culture and she-said-no and the-drink-is-roofied and whatever. I’m feminist as fuck, but that’s just stupid. Of course, when I realized that this song did have the material for some nonconsensual hypno mind control, well, how could I resist?

But it’s funny to me how even when I started it as a little predatory, they still end up being playful and fun by the end. Guess that’s the magic of this song, or something.

Oh! And this is what they're drinking, by the way! A cranberry and vodka made with pear vodka! Yummy, and not date-rapey …

Get 2 cups cranberry juice, 3/4 cup pear vodka (Grey Goose is good), and 1/4 cup Triple Sec, and stir them up in a pitcher. Add in the juice of 1 lime, then pour it over ice. Should make 4 glasses. You can garnish it with a fresh pear slice and a sprig of mint if you're feeling sassy!

Merry Christmas!

#mind control #erotic hypnosis #erotic fiction #cold outside #male dominant #male female #classic chloe

[chloessleepystories]

Friends! If you like my writing, my stories and captions, feel free to shout encouragement at me either here or at @chloessleepystories!

And if you want to be really encouraging, throw some spare change in my tip jar at @chloepilgrim! I find money to be very motivating... And you want me to write faster, right??

😁 Happy Friday!! 💋

[chloessleepystories]

"Come on in, Chloe ... have a seat. Have you been listening to your lessons?"

"Yes sir! But like ... I don't know about this whole cooking and cleaning thing ... I mean isn't that kind of stereo ... stare uh ... I mean girls don't have to be the maids! Right? Do boys get these lessons too?"

"No, boys are getting slightly different lessons for this test. Very good, Chloe! I knew you'd understand. You're a smart cookie."

He patted her on the head, and she squirmed happily. She was glad he could tell how smart she was.

"Now, anything you want to tell me about how you're dressed?"

"What ... um ... is there something wrong with it? I went shopping cuz I didn't really like any of the boring stuff I was wearing last week. I didn't have nearly enough pink! And everything was too like long and stuff!"

"It's perfect, you look sweet and innocent. And that's what you want, isn't it?"

"Um ... do I?"

"Well, it's what men like ..."

"Oh! Then I do!"

He smiled. "Atta girl ..."

She beamed. And when he slipped two of his fingers between her lips, she suckled at them happily, and didn't think any more for a while ...

Gabi

#story prompt #photo inspiration #flash fiction

[chloessleepystories]

For your fic requests, how about this?

You give the briefest of knocks as you sweep through the door. “Miss Watson, they wanted me to tell you you won’t be – Emma!”

You had told yourself not to call her Emma but it just slipped out in your surprise, for, whatever you had expected to see, it wasn’t this: the movie star is half naked, lounging on a white settee with three black men who seem twice her size.

“Oh, come in, come in, shut the door,” she waves, unfazed. “You know how it is, I just needed some stress relief. What were you going to say?”

 “You – they –” You swallow and try again. “They decided you wouldn’t be needed on set today after all,” you squeak out.

“Oh, I know that, silly, I already got that memo. Obviously!” She runs her right hand lovingly over the sculpted chest of one of the men, while another comes up behind her and starts massaging her shoulders. “Fuuuck … I get so horny making movies! You know what I mean?” The big strong hands move from her shoulders to cupping her breasts, and teasing her nipples, from behind. Emma Watson moans.

“And isn’t it funny how I never seem to have any trouble finding people to help me out with that?”

The man to her right plucks her fingers from his chest, and sucks them into his mouth. She squirms as his tongue dances between her digits, and draws the third man, on her left, in for a deep kiss.

You just watch, powerless, enthralled, kneading the bulge in your trousers with the hand that’s not clutching your cell phone.

After a few moments, she breaks the kiss, and looks toward you, seeming a bit dazed. When she can focus, she cocks her head. “You’re still here …” she murmurs. “Well, listen, you can go tell them that you delivered your message, or …”

The man behind her stops mauling her tits, and snakes one arm down her belly to cup her pantied crotch possessively. It’s remarkable how thoroughly all three of them are completely ignoring you.

“Or, listen, do you want to sit down over there and watch? I mean … it seems like you want to, and … fuck yeah, keep doing that … I’ve got to confess, though it sounds dreadful, I find the only thing that turns me on more than having three big black dicks at the same time … is having a little white dick watching me. Isn’t that simply terrible?”

She doesn’t seem chagrined, however, as you gingerly sink onto a sofa. If anything, it is turning her on confessing her kinks. And there’s something about hearing these slutty words in her elegant accent, it seems to be turning you on even more. You set your phone down beside you on the couch, but as one of the men begins to nibble at her neck, she spots it.

“Oh! You’ve got your mobile with you! Were you going to ask me for a picture?? Oh, you were, weren’t you … Oh I’ve got a perfectly wicked idea. Do I dare?”

She leans back, and gropes two of the black cocks, while fixing you with a stare. “Take my picture. Do it. God, that’s turning me on!” You fumble with your phone, as she directs the man behind her. “Fuck, you’re driving my pussy wild, stick those thick fingers inside me already.”

She moans as you click, and click again. “All right, boys, I need those cocks out, fill my hands with your meat. You, keep playing with my cunt. I’m drenched!”

You keep clicking away, since she never tells you to stop. In fact, she poses for your camera again and again, as your manhood throbs in your pants.

“God, what is it about having a camera pointed at me,” she mutters. “It’s always just really added something … Go ahead, make me pose, make me perform for your camera, I want to be a black cock slut …”

You wonder if you dare to take your own cock out and stroke it at the show, but without permission, you don’t dare. You don’t want to do anything that might make you wake up from this dream! So you take photo after photo of the men dropping their underwear, of their strong hands stripping Emma Watson naked, as they finger and rub and tongue that famous, sought-after pussy, as she massages their impossibly hard, huge dicks in her little white hands. “Fuck, I wonder if I can take all three at once,” she whispers in awe. “What do you think?” she asks you, hefting the weight and girth of his dark shaft.

She gets on her knees, as the cocks surround her. She still wants to make sure you’re getting good angles, though, so she’s careful none get in her light. She’s a natural. “I like all kinds of wands,” she whispers, sounding a little drunk, or cock drunk … “but I think I’ve been touched by the Dark Mark! Because these are the kind I like best!!” She giggles and takes as much of one in her little red-ringed mouth.

She sinks down on a thick black erection while stroking another and sucking on a third. As she slams down on the cock beneath her, harder and harder, balancing herself on his chest with both hands as the other two stroke and watch, she looks up at you again through sweaty bangs.

“The beauty of it is,” she says in a sly tone, “no one will ever believe you. Do you know how many thousands of fake sex photos there are out there of me? Hundreds of thousands! And some of those fakes are really good! I rub my slutty cunt to them all the time … and they give me … ogod … ideas … fffuckk!!”

Her first screaming orgasm makes you get your cock out. Fuck it. You keep taking pictures as best you can while fisting your dick.

“I don’t know what it is, but … shit yes, more, take me from behind … seeing all those pictures of me fucking and sucking … well it’s just been driving me wild! For years! So now I can’t stop having orgies, because it looks so fucking fun!! Yes, yes, cum on my tits, that’s nasty …”

Emma Watson takes all three hard cocks surprisingly deeply in all her holes for at least another half an hour, during which you cum twice, and take hundreds of pictures. You never see her again …

But every day you scroll through the pictures from that afternoon, and replay the day in your mind. Every day you spill loads of cum thinking of Emma Watson. One of your favorite photos is the very first one you took – you even use it as your phone’s wallpaper. It’s the cleanest of the bunch, since most of the rest are filthy… And, just as she predicted, no one ever believes you that it’s a real photo. They just shake their heads at what a perv you are …

But you don’t care. You know it really happened.

Funny, that was supposed to be the quick one! I just can't do short, apparently lol ...

#photo inspiration #flash fiction #story prompt

[chloessleepystories]

Just have to say that I love your stories! Especially Invisible, it makes me so wet when imagining being Liz from it.

Thank you for writing them and can't wait for more.

Thank you so much!! And good, it makes me wet thinking about it - it was one of my frequent fantasies, that's why I wrote, so I'm glad it has the same impact for you!!... Think I should write a sequel?

[chloessleepystories]

May I dm you a story to critique?

Absolutely!

[chloessleepystories]

Your stories are so hot! It’s a good job I am sitting on a leather chair! 😀

Have you thought about becoming a writer full time? I am sure you would be a huge success.

Amy x

Thanks, I appreciate that very much! I'm glad I'm doing something with my English degree!! I've thought about trying to write a full novel - a "real" novel - but nothing yet. Appreciate the support!

#ask me anything

[chloessleepystories]

So, it's working the way you intended

my "hypnosis isn't real" shirt keeps prompting random people to start conversations with me that I can't for the life of me recall.

[chloessleepystories]

I want to try some quickie writing, flash fiction type stuff. Long or short, what can I come up with and be done with inside of 24 hours. (Or 3 hours, or whatever.) So.

Send me a photo for inspiration. Tonight, I actually have a few hours with no commitments (a rarity) so let's see if I can write a quick caption to go with your pic. Fun? Thanks!