Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Cookie Break

I wanted a story. It didn't exist yet, so I wrote it. :) I was very much in the mood for a little bit of porny and a little bit of happy, so that's what this is. It's a little bit longer than the original pieces I've written before, coming in at ~1800 words, and as such, it's slightly less straight-up-porn. I hope you enjoy it.

(MF, MD, hypnosis)


The night was a blur up to that point, quite literally – something told her that her head had been so thoroughly messed with that nothing, save perhaps a few words from him, would clear the fog.

She shuddered on the bed as he leaned over her, leered over her, his eyes hard and making her mind so soft as she caught his gaze, and he pinned her wrists, as if to take away any small fight that she may have had left in her.

As she felt her will slipping away, again, as she felt her mind slipping beyond consciousness, snippets of thought raced through her before she knew she'd have to let them go...

What number orgasm is this going to be...”

How many times has he broken me tonight...”

Whimpering, panting, going still as his eyes fixed her in place, and his mouth turned up into a smile.

“I think,” he whispered, and brought his forehead even closer to hers, “that there is something that I need to give you... something you haven't had in a very, very long time.”

She swallowed.

“You know what I think you need?” he asked softly, dangerously.

Her stomach flipped and she clenched inside, heat spreading through her thighs. She couldn't answer beyond a small, vulnerable whine.

That evil grin curled further upwards, and his mouth opened to say the words, her body tensed in anticipation...

“A cookie.”

She blinked.

“I... wha...?”

He drew himself up, beaming proudly at her and leaving her a veritable puddle on the bed.

“We haven't made cookies in forever!” he exclaimed gleefully. “I've decided that I want to bake you cookies.”

Nicole's mind was reeling. Part of her was screaming for yet another release, part of her didn't think she could move. Part of her was prying her brain out from wherever it had melted down to.

“But... You...” She couldn't even come up with a proper protest. As her awareness fluttered back slowly, and he sat back on his folded legs, she closed her eyes and damned him in her mind.

“No buts,” came his voice gently, certainly smiling. “I want cookies. And if I want cookies, so do you. Now, come out to the living room, and you can lie on the couch while I make them.” William hopped off of the bed and started out of the door. “I'll let you lick the spoon!”

Nicole pointedly made no effort to move and whined her disapproval, still not wanting to rely on her voice, which she was sure wouldn't work at that point anyway.

Footsteps from the hall, hearing him peek his head back in the door.

Nicole,” he said, in the tone that tugged at her mind and body in all the right ways, and she was back under his spell like nothing had changed, “obey, and come into the living room.”

She felt her body sitting up, and moaned petulantly, though heat coursed through her again from doing as she was told, automatically. She even pouted all the way to the loveseat in front of the TV, and through the theme song of the “I Love Lucy” rerun that he had turned on for her. Their apartment smelled like heat from the oven making its way to 350, and William was whistling to himself as he whisked an egg into a glass bowl.

“Do you want chocolate chips in them?” he called to her, merrily.

“Maybe,” she answered back, over one of Ricky Ricardo's frustrated Spanglish ramblings. “If they're semi-sweet, I don't want them.”

“Lucky for you we have both!” came the pleased response, and then the rustle of a plastic bag. Eyes trained on the TV, Nicole scowled inwardly but kept her frustrations to herself. William had his own quirks, as she had quickly learned in the course of their relationship, and it was best to let him do what he fancied and get them out of his system. Otherwise, they showed up in... different ways. She recalled the time he made her order Chinese takeout while deep in a trance... The woman on the phone seemed more baffled than usual by her gently slurring monotone, and Nicole, in turn, had found it immensely difficult to properly pronounce the words “General”, “Tso's”, and “Chicken”.

William, upon reflection, had a bit of a thing for food.

She almost forgave him when, after shutting the oven, he brought over the bowl, which probably had a good two cookies worth of dough left in it. Still a bit flushed, ten or fifteen minutes after being left without release, she dug a spoon in and drowned her frustrated sorrows in unbaked sweets.

“It's a new recipe,” said William, cuddling into her a bit on the couch and watching her eat, “I think you'll really like it. They cook faster than most cookies, too.”

She grunted her approval but almost snorted dough out her nose when Lucy's staticky, black and white figure made a thinly-veiled innuendo, and he smiled at her, and Nicole almost forgot that she was holding a grudge against him.


The timer sang out from the kitchen, high-pitched, rapid, and unforgiving, and William, blessedly, scrambled to turn it off.

“We need to get a new kitchen timer,” she reminded him loudly, redundantly.

“I know,” he called back, fumbling to get an oven mitt on and remove the cookie tray.

Nicole wondered briefly if she should help him, and promptly decided that she would continue to watch what the channel was calling a “retro marathon”. It was a short time before William returned triumphantly, with a plate of steaming-hot, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. She would be lying to herself if they didn't smell delightful. But, on principle, she didn't reach for one, and kept her apparent attention focused on the TV.

William ended up setting the plate on their coffee table, anyways, and explaining that they needed a minute to cool down.

“But,” he said, “they are going to be better warm.” He slipped into a mock-cockney accent. “I shall be quite cross with you should you not enjoy one!

Nicole stuck her tongue out at him.

“Oh come on,” he said, smiling, and she thought it was twinging on the side that made her remember what feelings were coursing through her less than an hour ago. “You don't want a nice warm, melty cookie?”

She blushed despite herself. He noticed, and she, in turn, noticed that he noticed. “You're cheating! You're using the voice!

“Not really,” he snorted, and Nicole blushed further at his denial. “Just... Like I said, new recipe. Meant to be a little bit gooey-er. A little bit softer. Than most cookies.”

Despite herself, she felt a gentle tension in her lower belly, and a bit of fuzzy creep back into her mind.

Those cookies were smelling pretty good right about then.

“I got the recipe from a friend,” William said, and she wanted to say that his voice was a little bit lower than normal. “And I modified it to make sure that they'd be even less crunchy. He told me they were the softest cookies he ever made. But I've made them even better! Aren't you glad your boyfriend is such a foodie?”

“Uh huh,” she said, meaning to be sarcastic, but cracking slightly on the second syllable.

“Why don't you have one,” he said gently, “they've probably cooled down enough to take a bite. Don't you want to try?”

“Maybe,” Nicole mumbled out. Why did her head feel so...

William, graciously, picked one off up the plate, and put it near enough to her mouth so that she could just take a bite right out of it. She flicked her eyes to his, and felt a pang, deep inside of her, at the look that he was giving along with it. His face was hard, and she felt a little bit small, trying to suppress whatever submissive urges were bubbling inappropriately up to the surface.

“Go on,” he practically purred, and she found herself opening her mouth for him to feed it to her.

And it did smell good, and as she pressed her teeth down onto it, she felt some strange, unexplained anticipation, twisting inside of her.

“Soft,” he whispered, “and melty... and gooey...”

It was, and the flavor of it on her tongue felt so rich, and it broke apart on her tongue, and why, why was that making her –

“Just like your mind,” William cooed, and that was it; her brain softened up for him as she chewed it, feeling it melt on her tongue. She couldn't keep down the small moan around the sweetness of it.

“Taste good?” he asked quietly, voice dripping with pride, and she wanted to cuss him out for that delivery, but the warm chocolate seemed to make her mouth, and her mind, go a little bit slack.

“That's right...” That voice, that tone, the one that was making her mind just –

“Too melty to think...”

He was...


...just throwing out words, and that wasn't fair...

“So warm...”

She hated how her brain could turn his abstract suggestions into reality, feeling a bizarre heat in her head, a slow, sensuous melting of her mind, the bite of cookie swallowed and forgotten as she drifted down...

“Right down...” William held her head as she sagged against him, limply, and she almost noticed him put the half-eaten cookie down, but then he gave her that look, making eye contact, and she saw that they were smoldering at lust with seeing her like this...

Half of her tried to protest, but that face that he gave her...

“Very good...” Calm, controlled, controlling her.

...As she submitted to him...

“And thoughts, finally melting away...”

Nicole's eyes rolled up and fluttered shut, and the world went dim, body rekindling the soft embers of her pleasure even hotter than before.


Flickers of memory.

Somehow having made it back to the bed.

Answering him with “yes, Master,” more enthusiastically than she would have liked.

His eyes, once again, holding her captive, captivated. Holding her mind. Holding her body.

Obedience flooding her, more intensely than before at his command, and her mind slipping away at his suggestion.

And the vivid, intense memory of cumming in his arms, unable to break eye contact as she obeyed, with no will of her own.


Eyes fluttering open to a sweaty body, and another pressed against her, holding her.

“You stopped our play,” she said after she could speak, still a bit breathless, “because you had an idea to turn freshly-baked cookies into an induction.”

“Yes,” he said, grin broad as ever, “Aren't you glad that your boyfriend is such an innovative hypnotist?”

She groaned, and only half of it was that kind of groan.