hyphyp

[hyphyp]

Seeing the displeasure on his face, Madison began to panic. She babbled out apologies, promised never to overcook dinner again, begged him not to punish her again. The man, who preferred she call him Master, was unmoved. Madison wanted to cry; she'd spent so much time and effort trying to make date night perfect, and she couldn't take another punishment, not when she'd already had so many. People already judged her for the neck tattoo, judged her for the tons of metal in her face, even judged her for the buzzed haircut. Her parents publicly lamented the loss of their 'good little girl' and she couldn't bear to make it even worse. But it wasn't up to her. As it had been since that first night when Madison let her blind date guide her down into a peaceful, but vulnerable, meditation. At the time, she hadn't believed in hypnotism, conditioning, or programming. It had seemed like an easy way out of a weird date: let the clean cut, boring guy who'd taken her to a generic italian restaurant whisper some mumbo jumbo while they waited for dessert to arrive. Him snapping his fingers to wake her from complete focus on the flickering table candle had been the first surprise, she hadn't even realized she'd slipping trance, nor that she'd eaten her dessert and drank her glass of wine with her mind lost in that flame. The second surprise came when he told her "you want me to come home with you," and she suddenly knew that she did, desperately. That first night, with him telling her how sexy she found making him a drink, how much pleasure she took from sucking his cock, and needy her pussy was for him and only him, had been the most vibrant sexual experience of her life. Madison could have forgiven his self-serving love making and boring appeal for that night, if that had been the end of it. When he called her the next weekend and instructed her where to meet him, how to dress, and how to behave; and she found herself helpless to not agree when he told her about herself, that's when she knew she was in trouble. That was a year ago.

Master began to speak, and Madison felt a familiar foggyness settle over her mind, found a mental image of a flickering candle flame replacing everything else. She whimpered. This was how every punishment went, how she found herself wanting to do things to herself she'd never wanted before. Buzzing off her flowing back length tresses after dropping a mug of his. Getting the first of her now many tattoos after a friend of hers called Master creepy. Posting nudes of herself online under her own name after 'backtalk'. He could make her do, make her *want* to do, anything. It always made so much sense when he explained it, was impossible to argue with. Even after she came too, deeply ashamed of whatever new change had been made, she couldn't shrug off his logic, couldn't make herself reverse it. Master seemed to take special pride on the piercings. Sooo many piercings. Each piece of metal in her face marked some household duty she'd failed to execute to his standards, none of them significant enough to deserve a permanent marring of her once cute image. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter that it would be so easy to take them out and let them heal over, didn't matter that they isolated her from friends and family, made her nigh unemployable in her chosen field, and earned endless dissapproving stares on the street. None of that mattered, because he convinced something inside of her, and that part of her kept the concious Madison from changing a single piece.

As he explained, Madison found herself nodding along. Her cheeks *were* kind of bare considering the rest of her look, weren't they? Yes, dimple piercings would help fill the space. Monroe piercings above the corners of her lips? Yes, she did see how that would look good. He took out his phone, dialed, and held it up to her ear. In perfect monotone, Madison repeated everything he said, making an appointment for the next afternooon. He snapped his fingers and Madison blinked away the confusion, and set about cleaning up his meal. She kept toying with the corners of her lips and cheeks. Did it seem bare? It just needed something, didn't it?

The man working s the tattoo shop didn't ask any questions about the glassy eyed woman mumbling through the request for yet more piercings. He knew from experience that she, and other similarly glassy eyed girls with the same billing address, tended to tip with sex if no one questioned why they seemed so unhappy upon leaving the store...

[hyphyp]

Cassie looked away from the mirror, struggling to comprehend what she saw in it. The elaborate blonde hair, the intricate latex sexwear, the over-the-knee stiletto boots, the choker and strap. This wasn't her, couldn't be her! She didn't even know how to do such a tight lip liner, nonetheless dress in such a statement piece of shiny black latex. People had always implied she had a great body she was "wasting" in her frumpy clothes and laid-back style, but this...this made her believe. Had her breasts always been this incredible? It seemed impossible that's she'd always had these...tits...and left them in baggy sweaters, but it was hard to deny the mirror. No way she was ever going to leave them hidden away in the future. Her skin seemed to glow in the light, seemed radiant and perfect all exposed. She instantly decided to raise hemlines, lower necklines, anything to see more of her perfect skin on display. That wasn't the end of her new sense of herself, though. The stilettos, the risque sexwear, even the heavy makeup, each looked so perfect on her that Cassie knew right away that they were for her.

It took a few seconds of looking over her shoulder to recognize her younger sister laughing from the end of her bed. The haughty laughter brought back memory, at last. Another argument with Cassie's trendy, fashion obsessed sister. Another debate about how Cassie was squandering gifts she envied. A huge fiesty argument, ending in a dare, an assertion that if Cassie just listened, then her sister could finally show her. An hour of trance, a missing hour of, presumably, dressing in such a daring look, finally waking Cassie kneeling in front of the mirror. In that moment, Cassie realized something else she loved in the mirror that she was going to bring to her real life.

Standing to her full height in the towering heels, tapping the crop on her latex clad palm, Lady Cassandra's firm expression silenced her younger sister. As she swayed her way across the room, she could feel a well of erotic heat at the way her sisters mouth hung open. Apparently Cassandra wasn't the only one who'd just learned something about their tastes. Using the tip of the crop, she closed her sisters mouth, and began to list how things were gonna be different...

-------------------------

I have a book out! Exposè is the story of a reporter who gets more than she expected when she investigates a secret sex club with darker forces at play...

Available on kindle ebook and free on kindle unlimited:

[hyphyp]

[hyphyp]

P.chronos

[hyphyp]

[hyphyp]

She tried to fight it. She knew something was wrong. She had been in the middle of a war, a huge conflict. The cloaks of the world had finally risen, en masse, to give battle. Death rays, missiles, bullets, and energy beams sailed at and around her. She had shrugged off half a dozen hits, while several weaker capes around her had been shredded, or vaporized. So many dead, but the capes had fired back. The leader of the cloak battallion, Phasma, was vaporized, along with many others. A cheer had erupted and the heroine had blasted her way through nearly a dozen weak cloaks. A ring of space formed around her, the evil soldiers unwilling to approach. Then a single man stepped out, as his compatriots contined to fight all around them. She had charged him, blasting away with her powers. She’d watched in amazement as he simply twisted away, gently tapping her forehead as she sailed past him. She had collapsed in a heap, loose limbed and helpless, unable to move. Upon waking, she found herself here, frozen like this, a mirror in front of her. New tattoos decorated her formerly pristine skin. Her hair was dyed and tousled, her lips puffy, swollen and wet. A thin collar encircled her neck, and she knew. She’d been beaten. He’d taken her captive. He’d tattooed her, injected her lips, posed her, stripped her. Soon, very soon, he would begin to use her. The moment the thought entered her mind, she heard it. Soft footsteps. Then, the terrifying clink of someone taking off their belt. His hand slid over her skin, gently caressing her breast. The frozen heroine let out a tiny whine of terror before the thick cock sliding into her mouth muffled the pathetic sound.

[hyphyp]

Cutie pie

[hyphyp]

Therese came into the cafeteria and sat down at my table. Right on time.

“Hello, Therese,” I said warmly, looking her up and down. “How are you today?”

“Terrible,” she said, as usual. I nodded.

“I see you’ve followed the instructions about bras,” I said, giving her chest an appreciative glance. 

“I threw them all away,” she said, her voice tight and strained. “People have been staring at me all week. Staring at my… tits,” she said, clearly still trying for one of the words I’d replaced in her mind.

“How lovely,” I said. “And have you tried to tell anyone about what’s happening to you?”

“Three times,” she admitted. “I wrote a letter to my sister, but I tore it up and threw it out on the way to the post office. I keep trying to email the Dean of students, but every time I just delete the email halfway through. And I… I tried to tell Katy everything, but… I can’t get the words to come out.”

“And why not?”

She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “Because you ordered me not to.”

I nodded. “Have you thought of other ways to try and tell people? Something that will work around the commands I’ve given you?”

Therese’s jaw flexed, her cheeks flushing. She was trying not to answer. I just waited, knowing her own failure to resist would only serve to reinforce how deeply in my power she was. 

“Yes…” she gasped, finally. “My… my brother is coming to visit in two weeks. He’ll notice that I’m different. He’ll spot that something’s wrong. I… I won’t be able to tell him, but…”

“Yes, I get it,” I interrupted. Her shoulders sagged, her little plan out in the open now. “Well, you’ll just have to let him know not to come. Nothing to raise concern, just that it’s not a good time. Tell him now.”

Therese obediently pulled out her phone and typed out a text message. I held my hand out, and she gave the phone to me. I read it. Perfect - light, apologetic, nothing that would raise concern. I handed the phone back to her and nodded. Her finger hesitated only a moment before pressing ‘send’.

“Now,” I said, “do you have anything to say to me?”

She bit back a sob. “I’m so sorry,” she said, starting the same speech she gave me every time. “I never should have told Katy to break up with you. I was wrong. I just worried about her - she’s my roommate, and… I want the best for her. But I shouldn’t have gotten involved, I should have stayed out of it, I’m so sorry…”

I watched her, savoring how low she’d fallen. “You’re going to keep making up for it,” I told her. “You’re going to keep doing humiliating things until I’m satisfied, Therese, and then I’m going to use you to get Katy, too. You’re going to betray her. You’re going to slip the same drugs I’ve been giving you into her food, and you’re going to deliver her to me. I’m going to fuck you both at the same time, and you’re going to beg for more.”

She stared with wide, frightened eyes, blood draining from her face. She no longer argued or fought or told me what she was going to do to me when she figured out how I was doing this. She knew it was for real, now, and she knew I meant what I said.

“…but for now,” I said, my tone relaxing a bit, “I’ve got some new tasks for you.”

Therese groaned, looking down.

“That’s right,” I said, “you’re going to hate them. First, you’re going to quit that internship you love so much. I don’t really see you as a chemical engineer, after all. You can find another job, if you want, as long as it’s something menial. Custodial work, or fast food service, that kind of thing.”

She shivered, feeling the command wrap into her brain, irresistible. 

“Also, from now on, you need to give three handjobs a day.” Her head snapped up, horrified, her eyes flashing with anger and fear. She stopped herself before replying, though - knowing that would only make things worse. Good for her - she was learning. “Doesn’t matter who they are, though it can’t be the same guy three times. Mix it up!” I laughed a little. She just looked down.

“That’s it for now. I’ll see you again in a week!”

She stood up and looked at me for a moment. Once upon a time, this is when she’d curse me out, tell me exactly how she was going to cut my balls off, see me locked away, kill me. She’d hiss hatred and spit in my face… but she’d do as I said, every time.

“Yes,” she said simply, and she left.

[hyphyp]

[hyphyp]

The idea of having regularly scheduled/planned brainwashing sessions is so hot to me. You know exactly what your tist is planning to do to your silly little head, but there's no getting out of it, even if you wanted to. Later today, you're going to be dumbed way, way down and put to bed for the night. Tomorrow? You're going to have several triggers implanted. Next weekend will be a continuous brainwashing session with a few brief breaks, which will break down your identity. By the end of the month, you'll no longer answer to your own name. Isn't that exciting? You're going to be such a good little plaything.

[hyphyp]

TO: Professor Annalee Sorenson <[email protected]> FROM: <blocked sender> Attachment: bimbotits.gif SENT: 9:15PM, March 23, 2020

Hiya bimbotits!

lmao I can just imagine your face seeing that name. I know you don’t remember us renaming you that. Or all the other stuff you’ve done for us…

Getting ahead of myself. I’m a student in one of your classes. Me & some friends figured out an exciting new computer application, and you’re helping us test it. You don’t know that you’re helping us, of course. We just uploaded it to your computer a while back.

(don’t bother looking for it to delete it or whatever, it’s waaaay too late for that, lol)

Anyway, it put a few trigger phrases in your head. We say the word, and you turn into a brainless little dickpleaser. It’s pretty amazing. Problem is, we wanted to have you give us all As but you were too fucking stupid to even log into your online gradebook! It was pretty hilarious, to be honest.

Anyway, open the attachment. Look familiar?

We’ve got a lot more. And a lot of it’s way worse. The kind of thing a second-year professor wouldn’t ever come back from. I assume, at least! You know the deans better than me - do they look down on a professor yelling “I’m a horny little bimboslut!” with a student’s cock in her ass?

So, you’re gonna give everybody in all your classes an A for the semester. Organic chem, physical chem, advanced synthesis - straight A’s. I know that’ll cause problems with the deans too, but you can smooth that out eventually. You can’t come back from video of you getting spitroasted with “fucktoy” written on your forehead.

Anyway! Wear something pink to your classes on Monday, to show that you got this & you’re gonna be a good little bimbotits and do as you’re told. (I know you’re good at that!) I’ll see you soon! I’ll be the guy cumming in your mouth.

Bye!

[hyphyp]

[hyphyp]

“You don’t understand, Mr Bennett! I’m here as part of the investigation, I can’t possibly accept an offer like tha-”

“Nevertheless, Sophie, you’ll come in.”

“Please. Mr. Bennett. We need to keep things formal. I’d prefer it if you called me Miss Cookson.”

“What you’d prefer, Sophie, is neither here nor there. Now, be a good girl and take a seat.”

“I’m not your go-”

“On the floor, Sophie. Not on the chair. You may not be my good girl yet, but I can’t help but notice you’ve followed all my instructions so far.”

“Look, just because I’ve entered your apartment, and sat…on the floor, doesn’t mean anything. Now, can we please start discussing the charges against you?”

“With pleasure, Sophie. For starters, though, you can let your arms rest by your sides. That’s it. It’s so much more comfortable that way. And this is your notebook, I take it? Let me see now….yes…good….perfect.”

“But….I-I don’t understand. It’s….it’s a brand new notebook!”

“Au contraire, Sophie. It’s full of notes, and in your very own handwriting too. Yes, I see you’ve followed my instructions to the letter.”

“Your…what?!?”

“My instructions. To corrupt, and delete, where possible, all evidence against me.”

“But…wh-why would I do that?”

“Because a few weeks ago, when I first caught a pretty young thing who insisted on going by the name Miss Cookson, snooping around my office, I showed you exactly the evidence you were looking for.”

“Evidence….the spiral…”

“Yes, Sophie. And you saw that evidence, and it was so wonderful-”

“So…wonderful…”

“That you’ve been working for me ever since. And now that it seems you’ve meticulously done everything I asked of you, it’s time to tidy up the once loose end left. You.”

“M-me?”

“Yes, my dear. Here, take a look at the spiral again…”

“Spiral….yessss..”

“Good girl. In a minute, you’re going to phone your boss, and quit your job. Then, you’re going to break up with your boyfriend, and cut all ties with your friends and family. From this moment on, only I matter. Only pleasing me matters. This apartment is your entire world. And I am your Master. Now, and forever more….”

“forever more….”

[hyphyp]

[hyphyp]

[hyphyp]

The princess's blade drooped, tip slipping towards the ground, her wrist going limp as her mind filled with fuzz. Her angry expression melted into blank neutrality as the shock at the interruption itself melted into a docile confusion. He, dressed in the colors of her kingdom's greatest enemy, wasn't supposed to be in her bridal suite mere hours before such an important political marriage, she still remembered that. What had joined the growing amnesiac cloud over her thoughts was *why*. Surely there was a reason, a good one, he wasn't supposed to be here, a reason she needed to fight, why she'd grabbed up her trusty blade. Even a reason she'd thought of her state of undress as a vulnerability, but she couldn't find any of the reasons. Couldn't find anything but a placid lack of understanding spreading out from the depths of her mind as he spoke that strange rhythmic chant. Some part of her tried to be alarmed about that, but struggled to make traction. If everything made no sense, if she could understand nothing, it was all the same. Confusion swallowed the last of her thoughts, but it was such a quiet, uniform confusion that she found it peaceful and easy to stop moving. She understood nothing, as he explained, so why should she do something didn't understand?

The tip of the mostly forgotten sword clanged against the marble tiles. Wrapped in total confusion, however, the princess wasn't bothered by it. Just another thing she didn't understand. Too many to try to disentangle, too much to try to understand, better to just let go and wait. Hundreds of hours of sword training were pointless as they were swallowed by amnesia. She leaned back against the post, enjoying the cool stone against her back as she let the intuitive pose come over her from her subconscious. Or maybe he told her too, she wasn't sure. He was getting closer, a big smile she couldn't decipher on his face.

As he held up a heavy, rune-carved collar, the only thing in her head besides warm, fuzzy, confusion, was the alarm word. The arcane trigger the king's mages had drilled into her over and over again. The word that would transport her to safety, free her from enchantment and ensure her protection. They'd quizzed her on it and it's use hundreds and hundreds of times ever since she was a child. She could recite, effortlessly, exactly when and how to use it, it was impossible for her to forget it. The loophole, discovered by the foreign mage preparing to whisk her off to be his king's prized hostage/concubine, was that she couldn't invoke her protection against enchantment, if she couldn't remember what it meant to be enchanted, couldn't recognize that she was being enchanted.

Even as he opened her fingers and the forgotten sword clattered to the floor, unused. Even as he slipped his own firm handle into her hands and started her arm on a rhythmic pumping. Even as he slipped the garish dog's collar with a tag bearing her enemy's sigil around her neck. Even as the collars magic locked her mind away forever, and he came across her perfect torso. Even then the former princess never understood for a moment what was happening.

Not even as he paraded her past her servants, family, and subjects, naked, dripping, and mindless, back to the teleportation he used to carry her away to her new life...

[hyphyp]

How’s everyone doing tonight?!?

I wanna, like, thank Rockers Rally for Feminism and their new corporate sponsor, BTI, for bringing us back three years in a row! I swear this year is, um, the bestest yet!

Aren’t you all feeling dumb, and sexy, and giggly, just like me? Be the woman you want to be and, like, show off your inner bimbo like me!

This next song is called, “Fuck Me Like Slut I Am!” and we, like, just came up with it today!