Unaware

(NB dom/F sub; amnesia, time dilation)

“Sarah? Sarah!”

Sarah came back to herself with a start. “Oh, sorry, did I zone out? I’m just… what?”

CJ was sitting on the other end of the couch, gazing at her with their head tipped to one side. “CJ, you’re giving me a look. Why are you giving me a look?”

“Who, me?” asked CJ, all innocence. “I’m not giving you a look! We’re just having a normal conversation, right?”

“Right…” answered Sarah uncertainly. Usually when CJ asked a question like that, it was a pretty good clue that they were not, in fact, just having a normal conversation. (Her hands, lightly stroking her sides, moved further under her shirt to begin toying with her nipples. Sarah’s hips responded, stirring slightly.) “I uh, I think we’re having a normal conversation, but something about the way you say that makes me doubt that.”

CJ smiled that long, slow smile that sent shivers down Sarah’s spine. “Don’t worry about it,” they told her laughingly. “Now, you were telling me about your day?”

A Quiet Night In

I closed the apartment door behind Siobhan, the taste of her still lingering on my lips. I was a little disappointed that we hadn’t played, but she’d been having an off night, so we’d just cuddled and chatted and spent a lovely, quiet, warm evening together. She’d headed home instead of staying over for our usual all-night mind-and-body fuck-fest, and I certainly did not begrudge her that, because every now and then I’d done the same. Sometimes you just weren’t feeling it.

I made sure the door was locked, then flopped bonelessly on the couch. Why was I so damn tired? Maybe an early night would be good for me as well.

Even though we hadn’t fucked or gotten up to basically anything sexy, even just the lead-up to a night with Siobhan usually got me a kind of riled up. I liked it that way; it was fun when I was a little wet just from the anticipation. It gave me some hot narratives about how badly I wanted it, how much my body craved her voice and her touch, how my mind ran away from itself. I smiled at the thought and idly stuck a hand in my panties, looking for a little fantasy fuel.

I had expected myself to be a little wet, but what I found was… different.

I was more than “a little wet.” I was sodden. I was absolutely dripping. What…?

Oh.

Oh.

Two Head-Fucks Are Better Than One

A Tumblr rescue, also on MCStories.

This is not based on a true story, but I wish it were! The thing that IS true is that this one time I met @DJPynchon‘s doppelgänger. This is me imagining what might have maybe possibly happened if it had actually been him. As usual, thanks to @silentstream9 for being an excellent editrix.

(Disclaimer: this is not a super accurate portrayal of someone’s very first time being hypnotized. While for some folks it might work like this, others may need a lot more pre-talk and lead-up to the sort of hypnotic feats that go down in this story. But even if it’s not statistically probable, it’s heckin’ fun to imagine!)

* * * * * * * * * *

Sara and I weren’t dating, per se, but we also weren’t not dating, so meeting her Dom for the first time was kind of a big deal.

She and I were the first ones at the bar. We snagged ourselves a secluded corner table and I tried not to fret too much. I trusted Sara’s taste in people, after all, so I would probably like this guy, and vice versa. And heck, I was excited to meet the person she’d gushed so much about. It would all be totally fine, I told myself. It would be great, we’d get along, we’d bond over our mutual giant crushes on Sara, and it would all be Totally. Fine.

When Sara grinned at me and jumped up to meet someone at the door, though, I was not prepared for the person I saw there. I mean, given what Sara had told me about him, he was just about everything I had expected: an average-height guy in his 40s with a close-trimmed beard, wearing some punny T-shirt.

Except I knew him.

And not only did I know him, I knew him from kink.

Business and Pleasure

Tumblr rescue, also on MCStories. As usual, many thanks to @silentstream9 for edits!

* * * * * * * * * *

This is what happens when you mix business and pleasure, grumbled Ashley to herself as she ran her oil-slick hands down her client's back and fought to still the answering tremble in her hips.

Or more accurately, she corrected herself, what happens when you mix business, pleasure, and hypnosis. Because I’ve definitely mixed business and pleasure before, and it never turned out like… like this.

Ashley was a massage therapist–and a damn good one, if she did say so herself. Countless times, her ministrations had left her lovers in melty piles of bliss. But Tracy–goddamn Tracy, with their soft brown eyes and their honeyed voice and their wicked smile–Tracy had thrown hypnosis into the mix. Had somehow tapped into all of the secret desires that had been bubbling in Ashley practically since puberty. Tracy had turned service into pleasure, and left Ashley trembling in arousal from the feeling of her hands on her lover's skin. She had begging to touch them, had begged to please and to serve, her own touch undoing her as thoroughly as it had undone so many others in the past.

That night had been incredible, as Ashley had left her mind and her arousal in Tracy's capable hands, had pleased and pleasured Tracy in every way she could think of and had herself come hard enough to see stars–multiple times. And Ashley would have been thrilled to repeat the experiment as many times as possible–in private.

Instead, here she was in her studio with a client–a client, for fuck's sake!–and somehow, the effects of last night's brain-fuckery had not gone away. There was a lithe young woman laid out on the massage table before her, back exposed and slick with oil, her lower half obscured by a sheet, and Ashley's fingers ached to touch her in a distinctly un-professional way. Every stroke along her client's back filled Ashley with pleasure, every knot she loosened struck her straight between the legs.

Good Morning Sunshine

Tumblr rescue, also on MCStories. Based on a true story. A super fuckin’ hot true story.

* * * * * * * * * *

I stretch, yawn, rub the sleep from my eyes. Morning light is filtering in through a gap in the curtains, and the room is cool and still and silent. You lie next to me cocooned in blankets, hair splayed on the pillow. I can’t help but smile.

Slowly, very slowly, I peel the blanket away from your torso. You’re naked underneath, of course, as am I—last night we fucked each other’s brains out, and fell asleep as limp puddles of pleasure, entangled in each other’s arms. Now, you stir but don’t wake, rolling over to your back so your chest is exposed to me. I take a moment to drink in the sight.

As lightly as I possibly can, I brush a hand across one of your nipples. Pause, study your face for a reaction. Then again, my hand grazing your nipple ever so lightly. Once, twice, three times more.

The changes in your body are almost imperceptible, but then again, I’m paying very close attention. Your lips part; your breathing becomes ever so slightly heavier; you arch your back just a bit towards my touch. I draw one finger slowly, lightly, up from your breasts and along the length of your neck. Even asleep, you make a tiny sigh of pleasure. I trace the same path with my tongue, and you squirm ever so slightly under me.

As I gently fondle one of your nipples, coaxing it to stiffness, you start to stir. “Hush sweetheart,” I murmur in your ear, my fingers still at your breast; “It’s okay, you’re asleep.”

Your face creases in confusion, eyes still closed. “‘M’asleep?” you slur.

“Yes, so deeply asleep.” My voice is low and soft and honeyed. “It’s so much trouble to wake up, why bother when it feels so nice to drift, to doze, to stay so very soundly asleep? And besides…”—I bring my mouth right up to your ear—“you were having the most wonnnderful dream.”

We Have Ways of Making You Talk

A Tumblr rescue, also on MCStories. All the thanks to @silentstream9 for lending me her delightful characters!

* * * * * * * * * *

Earlier that day, while they were both sitting around drinking tea and reading, Amy had looked at Mae over her mug and remarked, “I’m a hitty mood today.” To which Mae had responded by grinning and bouncing eagerly in her seat.

“You’re not cowering,” lamented Amy. “What’s the matter, am I not intimidating enough?”

So Mae dutifully cowered: “oh no please don’t hit me that would be absolutely terrible can you use that new purple flogger I really like that purple flogger oh no heaven forbid.” And Amy had choked on her tea and given Mae an affectionate kiss on the forehead, and they had both returned to their books, both slightly and pleasantly distracted imagining what might happen later that day.

* * * * * * * * * *

That afternoon, Mae was curled up on the couch with the same book and another cup of tea, increasingly distracted. She kept glancing up from her book, at Amy, waiting for the moment of decision, the moment when the dynamics shifted around just a bit and Amy’s voice acquired that touch of evil and anything she said made Mae a little weak in the knees. When Amy stood up from her computer and went to the bedroom, Mae was pretty sure she knew why, and tried in vain to return to her book, but her nerves were already thrumming with excitement.

Amy returned to the living room, propped her hands on her hips, and fixed Mae with a reproachful stare. She coughed pointedly, and Mae looked up at her from over her now-upside-down book. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Mae,” began Amy slowly, “have you seen my purple flogger?”

“Nooooope,” said Mae with an exaggerated shrug, and put her book over her face.

Amy snorted, came over, removed the book, looked Mae in the eye. “Mae, did you do something with my flogger?”

“Nooooope,” said Mae again. This time, she shook her head vigorously for good measure.

“Because you know,” continued Amy, “if you had done something with that flogger when you knew I wanted to hit you with it, then whenever I found it I would probably have to hit you even harder. You know that, right?”

Mae widened her eyes. “Really? That is fascinating, and a thing I had not known before.”

Amy grinned. “So did you do something with my flogger?”

“Mayyyybe?”

Amy threaded her fingers through Mae’s hair, and Mae gasped just a little. “So Mae…” Amy brought her face very close. “Where’s the flogger?”

Mae made her eyes as wide and innocent as she could. “W-what flogger?”

Laughing, Amy cocked an eyebrow. “Dearest, do we need to do this the hard way?”

“Maybe?” Mae blinked up at her, not play-acting this time. “What’s the hard way?”

“The one where you refuse to tell me and I interrogate you and you resist and resist until you finally give in to my diabolical wiles and tell me everything.” Amy released Mae’s hair and snuggled up beside her on the couch. “Does that sound like fun?”

"Pull My Hair"

An old piece rescued from Tumblr, also published on MCStories. Probably the first piece of hypno-smut I ever wrote, and I'm still pretty proud of it!

* * * * * * * * * *

When I asked her to pull my hair, she’d looked momentarily confused, but then grinned—she was a switch after all—and happily, skillfully obliged. I responded like I always do, with a gasp-sigh of pleasure, melting into her grip, kissing her back forcefully.

“I can’t take you seriously as a top if I’m pulling your hair,” she told me laughingly when we came up for air.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you’re switchy as shit!”

“Well, right, from scene to scene.” Here she rolled on top of me and kissed me, and I didn’t much mind the interruption. “But tonight you are definitely topping me—”

“And doing a damn fine job of it,” I teased.

“Damn fine,” she agreed. “But: if you’re supposed to be topping”—another sound kiss—“how’m I supposed to take you seriously”—she threaded her fingers through my hair—“when you ask me to do this?” She gripped and pulled, and I sighed in pleasure. “And when you react like that,” she added as an afterthought, smiling cheekily at me.

I suddenly realized how much I was going to enjoy wiping that smile off her face.