Footstool (Patreon)

Your hypnotist uses you as furniture for a while.

* * *

“Awh, toy. Look at you. Mind, melting. And all it took was a-” Your hypnotist snapped their fingers. You jolted, eyes rolling back, as they laughed. Your mind sank deeper, thoughts more disconnected. “There you go. I love how brainwashed you are now, love.”

Their fingers brushed through your hair, as they looked down at you, a tender look mixing with a hunger for you. “On your knees, plaything.” They said, gesturing to the floor. You knelt, as they sat down in their chair. “And then bend down, knees and elbows.”

You sank lower, letting yourself come to rest as they made themselves comfortable on the chair, watching you. “Right, now…” They placed a hand on you. “Freeze.” Your body locked in place, immovable, rigid. With a laugh, they lifted their legs, and placed their feet on your back.

“Good toy. Good object. You get to stay here, whilst I catch up on some reading. Doesn’t that sound nice?” They asked. You couldn’t respond. They didn’t need you to. And you were filled with a submissive bliss, being so useful for them. This was where you belonged.