(hypnosis, D/s, mild humiliation, fd, ff)
Even as I hear the words coming out of my own mouth, I feel the familiar jerk and twitch of my clit, the heat pooling inside of me. An arousal I’ve known ever since I can remember, one that gets me hotter, and hotter faster, than anything else.
I know instinctively what to say to bring her under; the monologue is one I’ve repeated to myself countless times, with countless variations. I speak, almost hypnotizing myself; my body sympathetically—unconsciously—responding to the suggestions I give her.
It’s arousing beyond belief to watch her fall. Noticing her eyelids droop and close, then watching as her eyes behind them cease their motion and become still. It shouldn’t be hot, it shouldn’t make my cunt clench like that. It’s mundane, so very nonsexual.
“...And... one.” I let my breath drag off as I say it, see the little bit of tension and anticipation drop away from her form as I snap my fingers right in her ear. I feel giddy with power. Jealous that I’m not in her position. My heart pounds loudly, my cunt throbs.
It takes all of my willpower to remind myself that she and I are different subjects, that she is not me. She will not enjoy the filthy, incredibly dominant words that I am aching to whisper in her ear. It takes me a couple slow, controlled breaths to quell this mad, unbelievable desire thundering through me.
Defeated at last, I whisper softer, kinder words to relax her. I resign to this new persona, shove those desperate thoughts back into the depths of myself. Because I know, she is so deep down, and it feels so good... I realize I’m saying those words, unbidden, but I can work with them. I can twist them—and her—any way I need to.
That feeling of manipulation turns me on, as does the feeling of struggling with myself. I am there, in real time, with her helpless and malleable in front of me. I can probably make her want it, I know deep inside of me, even as my voice calms her. I could probably make her crave it the way I do, I could even just mention a tiny, little suggestion of how the thought of it will drive her crazy.
How the more she thinks of it, the more she wants it.
How it’s a humiliating need, twisting deep in her gut.
—my mind runs rampant with the possibility of her begging for it, cheeks aflame, shifting in her seat because her pussy won’t stop being so fucking hot and she wants to come in her pants when I even casually mention it—
My cunt is screaming for it, blood thundering in my ears, hot and sweet and perfect.
After a few seconds of my own heavy breathing, I begin the process of calming myself.