Temporary (Patreon)

Your hypnotist's name written on your wrists brings you pleasure.

* * *

“I know the markings are temporary, pet.” Your glassy stare moved to your wrists, where your hypnotist’s name was written. “My name won’t remain on your wrists for too long. It was just ink I had you write with, after all.” Your hands were teasing you, slowly.

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t feel the sensation of my name sinking into your skin. Into your veins. Into your mind.” You had been feeling it for some time, their control, seeping through you. But their words focused it at the wrists, before spreading out again.

“With every movement of your hands, you’re pulled deeper under my control. You’re mine. Pet. Your body. Your mind. Your thoughts. All mine.” Their voice through your headphones was so good to listen to. “And my name is wrapping around that cute mind.”

You let their name consume you. They were in control. They owned you. “The pleasure’s locking my control in. No resistance. No fighting back. Just pleasure.” They paused, listening to your moans, the sound of your desperation, and then laughed. It sounded lovely.

“That’s it, pet. More and more with every moment. With every movement. Just my good little pleasure puppet. Edging, gooning, aching for me.” Your hands had sped up, bringing you to the edge once more. “And before long that pleasure is going to turn into temptation.”

The pace of your teasing slowed again, leaving you desperate, needy. “You’ll want to give in more, and more to me. It feels so good to give in, doesn’t it? To give me whatever I want. To let me take more of your mind, as I give you pleasure.” You nodded, silently.

They couldn’t see. But their tone told you they knew what you were doing. “It’s okay. I’m not taking advantage of you. I’m just giving you exactly what you want, pet. Just sink deeper into pleasure. Look at your wrists. I’m in control. And it feels so good, doesn’t it?”