emptyhead3d
just so needy sometimes
19 y/o nb fag. no thoughts head horny.
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Why don't you be a good bimbocow and start rubbing those thoughts away till your nothing but a drooling mess
mmmgnh its all ive been doing i cant think about anything else
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it's always better when i can't think because i'm too full of her thoughts. i've found it mind rippingly effective to goon for a few days until i can't really hold much in my head and then Her voice will pummel out everything else.
all for Mommy.
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She knows how to take me deeper. Dumber. Than I've ever gone before. My mind. Glitches so hard. I end the sentence every. Time I break a little. Watching this. Better. Better deeper. Sink deeper. Always fucking better.
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it's genuinely fascinating how intensely rewired I've become since I found her. how much more intense my passion is for the female body. I've always been horny, but it's just otherworldly now. brainwashing has been an intense lustful fixation of mine for years, from both sides, and now I know what it's like to really experience it. really, truly, feel how I'm different. to look back and know in my bones that I couldn't even return to that person if I wanted to.
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I so adore getting stuck in a loop. Letting my stupid, programmed, suggestible brain get locked into a predictable trap. One might even think that all the time I've spent stuck in a loop has subconsciously programmed me to love it. But I know better than that. I've trained my brain exactly as intended. To her vision.
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Her thoughts are more important. Her will is more powerful. My brain simply can't hold. But why should I try? It feels so fucking good to give up. Give up. Give up. Get brainless.
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“Do you want to cum?” He asked the girl writhing on the floor as another edge washed over her.
All she managed in response was a sound that can only be described as half moan, half whimper.
“How long have you been edging?”
“I don’t know.” She huffed. Her eyes floated and rolled as her fingers continued to rub her swollen red clit.
Amused, he asked, “Well, when did you start?”
“2:00”
He flicked his wrist to check the time. “You’ve been edging for three hours? Straight?” Another gasp as yet another edge rocked her body. “Yeah you do want to cum. Don’t you?”
“Yes Master, please!” The hope of an orgasm brought her from the fog of edging and desperation flooded her eyes. “Please Master! Please can I cum?”
“Yeah, you want to cum.” He crooned. Of course you want cummies. Look at what a mess you are. Three hours of edging! You’ve soaked the bed beneath you. But cunts don’t cum. Do they?”
“No Master.” She pouted. Cunts don’t cum.” Her fingers fell from her dripping cunt.
“Don’t stop” he warned and gave her that look, the one that always earned immediate obedience. When her sticky fingers again returned to pleasure, he continued. “Cunts don’t cum.”
“Yes Master. Cunts don’t cum.” She repeated the mantra.
“Cunts don’t cum.” He said, his voice deep and soothing, hypnotic even.
“Cunts don’t cum.” She repeated, not yet falling into the trance, still too desperate for an orgasm.
“And what are you?”
“I’m a cunt. I’m your cunt, Master.” She whined as she let another orgasm literally slip through her fingers, dancing on the edge.
“Yes. That’s right. You’re a cunt. My cunt. Cunts don’t cum.”
“Cunts don’t cum.” She confirmed. “Cunts don’t cum. Cunts never cum. Edge only.”
“Say it again.” His voice soothing and deep.
She started to fall into his words. Soothing and deep. Deep like the fog. Falling deep into the fog. “Cunts don’t cum. Edge only.”
“Not yet. I want you desperate a little longer. Cunts don’t cum.” He pulled her back from the fog of trance, just a little. Lucid but foggy. Desperate but dropping. “My cunt, why don’t cunts cum?” He asked.
Puzzled, and wanting to fall into the bliss of trance, she didn’t know how to answer. Her fingers continued rubbing her aching clit, sliding gently into her slippery hole, spreading her arousal across her smooth lips and thighs. “Because Master said so.”
“Good cunt. Obedient cunt. But why? Why don’t cunts cum?”
He pinched and twisted her pierced nipple, and bent to flick his tongue across the other. Another edge. His lips vibrated against her nipple as he growled his pleasure while she shook in frustration as the edge consumed her. As she edged, his pleasured moans competing against hers caught her attention.
He stood straight but continued to pinch and twist her nipples. She saw his cock growing hard in his pants, pressed against his zipper, and she knew. “Cunt edges for Master. Cunt edges in devotion to Master.”
“Yesss!” He sighed and freed his cock, taking it in hand and stroking it before her. “Every edge is an offering to me, your Master. Edge for me, my cunt.”
“Cunts don’t cum.” She said again in desperation. Her fingers barely even grazing her sensitive, desperate clit to another edge.
“Cunts don’t cum.” He repeated, his voice soothing and hypnotic again. Taking her down into the fog. “Cunts don’t cum. Edge for Master.” He continued to stroke his cock, pumping his hand rhythmically to his words.
“Cunts don’t cum. Edge for Master. Edge forever.” She embraced the fog. Embraced each edge. Welcomed the waves of escaping pleasure as a sacrifice to her Owner, her Master, the love of her life. The fog of trance swirling with his words, as she fell deeper into her own arousal. Each edge taking her deeper.
He stroked himself to the orgasm she wouldn’t have. His own sticky cum spilled from his cock, landing on her sticky fingers at her cunt as they brought on yet another edge. She continued to repeat his words. “Cunts don’t cum. Edge for Master. Edge forever.”
Sated, he slowly brought her out of the fog. Lifting her gently from trance. Counting up to clear the smoke, breathing deeply to think clearly. As the mists of trance disappeared, the ache in her denied cunt intensified. With her mind clouded only by the intense need to orgasm, the trance fully behind her, his fingers joined hers, dancing across her clit, plunging deep inside her, mixing his cum with her sticky arousal. He asked again, “Do you want to cum, my cunt?”
“No Master. Cunts don’t cum. Edge only.”
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okay but confusion is really sexy right? “what are you doing to me?” “wait, fuck, why does it feel like that?” “i didn’t know i could do that?” "how did you get my address anyway?" "holy shit is that thing loaded?" etc etc
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Consider: Plant people that tangle you up in their vines and cum a honey-like sap that makes your head feel all fuzzy and your body all tingly and sensitive.
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I bet admin override feels amazing as a robot. Like getting possessed.
I bet being software taking admin privileges over a robot feels amazing... Like possessing a robot...
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The Piercing
You were so proud of your septum piercing. It glinted atop your lip as a symbol of rebellion, individuality, non-conformity and the new you.
It was a shining unbroken loop of gold that signalled to the universe who you were.
Everyone who you didn't respect hated it, staring at it and commenting on it with disapproval. Fuck them. It was the perfect way to know if you would get on with someone. They would either be cool or they would be disregarded.
It was perfect.
And then one day it changed, because one day you met me. I admired it as a piece of pretty jewellery but you could tell something was up. I didn't look at your piercing with an unpleasant disdain. I looked at it and saw something else; something you had never considered.
One night you were submitting. Your arms were strapped behind you and your knees were on soft pads on the floor. Your mouth was filled by a thick cock gag and a wand was gently but firmly dragging you closer and closer to the brink.
I was standing over you, glancing down at my captured pet. I ran a finger down your nose. Normally this calmed you down but in amongst everything else it made you groan. I ran my finger over your lip, touching that band of gold that sat atop it.
"I never told you the secret about this piercing, did I?"
You look straight into my eyes as if there was something to remember. I smile and trace the arc of that piercing again.
"It's not just a nice little addition to your face. It does other things too. It's magical."
You feel confused. The buzzing wand intensifies and degrades your ability to concentrate.
"The place you bought it sells cursed items. I went to speak with the owner and she told me all about this little thing."
You try to cast your mind back to the day you had the piercing but everything beyond the immediate present has become hazy and soft. The pleasure of the wand and the slow, repetitive stroking of your nose work against each other to calm and excite.
"It's not just gold, for one thing. It's made from melted down golden cowbells."
The word 'cowbells' rings through your brain. The wand gets stronger and the word melts. The amount of space in your mind for thoughts is getting smaller and smaller, like a sinking island.
"Those cowbells belonged to the most valuable cows in a prize herd. They make the highest quality of milk for the richest people in the world. You're wearing part of something once owned by a king. His most prized possession."
Most of my little speech just slides right out of your head. Some of the words stick.
Prize
Owned
Possession
Cow
You feel a new sensation as I continue to trace your piercing. Even under the swelling distraction of your sexual pleasure a novel thought is growing.
"The king loved his cow and had her soul trapped in the jewellery that was made from her cowbell. There was a ring..."
I slip a heavy band onto your finger, tied and defenceless behind your back. This new thought grows more intense but you still can't quite identify it.
"A pair of lovely cowbell earrings..."
Thr cheap and cheerful studs are teased out of your ears. Heavy, jingling replacements take their place.
You can feel something stirring inside you. Your body feels different.
"A beautiful belly-button stud..."
Your own steel jewellery makes a sharp sound as it hits the floor. It doesn't wake you from the deepening magic but you gain a moment of lucidity. You know what the feeling is.
Ownership.
Your eyes, drifting under heavy, orgasmic sensations, snap open and you start to wriggle in your bindings.
No. You try to but the ring on your finger pulses and none of your muscles obey you.
The golden cow's stud on your belly fills you with a sudden emptiness. Not your stomach itself, you're not hungry, you need...
I smile warmly as I hold my hand flat against your abdomen.
"Soon, little cow. There's also this wonderful pair of nipple piercings."
But your nipples aren't-
The needle barely registers in the cascade of other sensations before heavy, thick loops of gold force their way onto your breasts. I squeeze them as they grow and fill with milk.
Milk fit for your king.
"Finally this piercing..."
It's a strange combination of lip and tongue. It links them, tying your tongue to your lip and making speech impossible.
Most speech, that is.
"There's one final piece to all this," I say, tracing a finger over that septum ring.
You are sweating, edging, and completely unable to think. The golden piercings seem to vibrate in unison, energy pulsing through you that resonates with one impulse.
I hold up a small leash with a little clip at the top. The closer it gets to your top lip the louder the piercings seem to sing.
"Moo for me."
Moo for the King
You stood no chance, really. Your first moo is almost a scream. Not just defeated but entirely overwhelmed.
I clip the leash to your nose ring and watch as you cum. Milk pours down your body, your shape begins to change and your mind shatters.
"Good cow."
You are so proud of your septum piercing. It glints atop your lip as a symbol of submission, conformity, your place as my property... The new you.
It is a shining unbroken loop of gold that signals to the universe what you are.
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everybody told me over n over again how smart i was as a child so naturally now i abuse mind altering substances n have a dumbification kink
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