Before listening to the following story, consider making this a fun task. If you're up for that, you can edge a few times, perhaps by using my "Masturbation Instructions - Denial" recording. Then listen to this story as you play with yourself. Pay attention to the countdown and make sure to orgasm exactly when you hear "happy new year". Whether you do the task or not, enjoy the story!
You started listening to the recordings out of boredom. Of course hypnosis wasn't real. The recordings wouldn't REALLY turn you into a brainwashed slut doll. But it's a fun fantasy.
It's a nice break during the day. You put on headphones, play the next recording and quickly relax. A little while later, you wake up from what you assume was a pleasant nap. You always wake up horny, your nipples stiff, your pussy wet and tingling. You like that.
At first, you frequently masturbate and cum right after waking up, taking advantage of the pleasant arousal. Bits and pieces of the recording come to you as you touch yourself. You think of ordinary girls turned into hypersexualized bimbos, getting rid of sweatpants and wearing tight little minidresses and very high heels instead. For some reason, that really gets you going and makes it easy to cum.
Those are just harmless fantasies. Why not indulge them? You get some new items for your wardrobe. Skirts and dresses, all tight and very revealing. Lots of stiletto heels. Jewelry. You pay more attention to your hair and makeup. It just feels so good. It's your right to dress up if you want, even if you're just at home, isn't it? It makes you feel sexy. Confident. Relaxed. Happy. You tell yourself that it's self care. That you are free to indulge in cute, tiny tight minidresses if that's what makes you happy.
You still masturbate after listening to a recording each day. And you masturbate several more times a day. Your sex drive has increased significantly. This must be a sign of you being healthy and happy, you tell yourself. You're more in touch with your body. You're in touch with your feminine side. And so what if you start to get wet every time you see yourself in a mirror? You look great! You look hot. You look like a perfect, slutty little bimbo. You've just learned to love yourself, that's all. This is a good thing. That's what you tell yourself. It feels good when a tight minidress presses against your skin. It feels good when very tall high heels force you up on tiptoe and elongate your legs in an appealing way. It feels good when you smile a dreamy, vacant smile.
You touch yourself more often than ever before in your life, but you no longer push yourself all the way to orgasm. There's something magical about caressing your tits and gently teasing your eager pussy. Drawing out the experience. Keeping yourself very aroused for longer and longer. Don't ruin it with an orgasm... linger in the sensation... enjoy the feeling of being so incredibly turned on, so close to orgasm, but not quite cumming. You've learned to practice mindfulness in everyday life, even while masturbating. That's what you tell yourself.
It's been weeks since you had your last orgasm, but you've never been more sexual in your life. Your body practically tingles with excitement 24/7. You always wake up incredibly aroused, in sheer lingerie - you only wear sheer lingerie to bed now, it makes you feel wonderfully soft and feminine - and you have the faint impression of a sequence of kinky and highly erotic dreams fading away in the morning light.
Now it's New Year's Eve. You pay extra special care to your outfit and appearance this time. You wear a glittering silver dress that catches and reflects even the faintest light, drawing everyone's eyes. Your stilettos have the same silver glitter appearance, and are a solid six inches tall. Every step you take is careful and precise. Your left foot moves forward and swings to the right, horizontally past the right foot. Your right foot moves forward and to the left, past the left foot. You love the way this makes your hips sway with every step. You feel like an actress or a supermodel.
You don't even need to take a drink to feel slightly buzzed. Conversation is difficult. It's like you have trouble hearing what people are saying. It's too much effort to understand. You smile and nod and giggle your way through conversations, and that seems to be enough.
Despite how graceful your every movement is, you feel oddly clumsy now and again, dropping a napkin or other small item over and over. You bend over to pick it up, bending your knees only slightly. You bend at the waist, pulling your too-short hemline up and giving people behind you a glimpse of your lacy white panties.That feels deliciously naughty and erotic, somehow.
Now it's time for the countdown. People are watching the ball drop in Times Square on large TVs around the room. They start chanting the final countdown.
Suddenly you feel as if a dozen hands are all over your body, caressing and teasing every inch of you, from your face to your nipples, from your hands to your pussy. It's been a very long time since you've had an orgasm. The stimulation is intense and immediately makes you dripping wet. You freeze, moaning softly.
One phantom hand grips your neck tightly, just the way you like. Another grips your hair, pulling your head back. Another spanks you firmly, treating you like a naughty little girl. And it spanks you again. And again. You feel so controlled and so incredibly aroused.
You feel mouths all over your body, lips and tongues teasing you. Kisses and nips and licks everywhere. They suck on your nipples, gently bite at your inner thighs, and yes, one starts to teasingly run a tongue over your pussy. You can't see any of it, but you feel it all intensely.
The hands and mouths disappear and you find yourself desperate for stimulation. You look around wildly. Then you stagger over to a couch. Fortunately, the people that were on the couch stood up and joined the crowd chanting the countdown. You step up to the couch until your body is pressed against the corner of the back of the couch. This looks normal, right? Everyone's looking at the screens, not at you. Nobody will notice... you try to be as subtle as possible as you slowly grind your pussy against the corner of the couch. You're practically in tears with your desperate need to feel your pussy grinding against it. It feels so good. So, so good. You should be ashamed of yourself, but right now you wouldn't care if a thousand people were watching you.
Your panties are in the way. Your sheer, thin lacy white panties. You move slightly to the side, behind the couch. Your pussy aches with need. You want to press yourself against the corner of the couch and hump it madly. But for some reason, you are convinced your panties have to get out of the way first. You think you are being subtle as you reach under the hem of your dress and tug your panties free, letting them fall to your ankles. You are definitely not being subtle, but fortunately everyone is looking at the screens.
You can't just stand around with your panties around your ankles. You could trip. You step out of them smoothly and bend over - at the waist, of course, never the knees. Anyone watching would definitely get quite a show now, as they'd get a clear view of your naked pussy. Still bending over behind the couch, you shove the panties in your mouth. This seems the most natural thing in the world to you. Where else would they go, after all? You can taste your pussy juices clearly. You taste so good. If you could, you'd lick your own pussy and never stop.
You straighten up and step out to the side, no longer behind the couch. You stand straight and tall, keeping your mouth closed to conceal your panties. This is looking casual, right? Oddly, it's almost as if you aren't in control of your own movements. But somehow it feels right. You just want to stand here. You don't want to move. You must look like a pretty doll. Yes, you're a pretty doll.
Your hands move behind your back, palms together. You squeeze your elbows as close together as you can, pushing your tits outwards. That feels right, somehow. It feels good to be in this position. You move your foot out to the side, widening your stance as much as you comfortably can. That makes your too-short skirt ride up even higher, almost showing everything to the world. But it feels so right. Yes. It feels good to stay in this position. You feel like you could stand like this forever. Just a pretty doll.
You feel invisible ropes on your body. Tying your arms together behind your back. Tying around your torso, squeezing your tits. Around your waist and between your legs, pulling up tightly into your pussy. Oh, so tight. It may just be in your mind, but it feels real. And it feels so good. Right at that moment, more than anything, you want to be tightly bound and helpless. Your pussy is soaking wet, practically trembling with intense arousal.
You want to be a tied up little bimbo slave girl. You want to be utterly controlled. You want strict rules. You want to be programmed into a perfectly pleasing plaything. You want to be owned. You need to be owned. You're a horny little bimbo doll and must obey. You obey. You'll always obey your owner.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
The most powerful orgasm of your life slams into you as if a fire hose fired straight up your pussy. The arousal and orgasm denial of these previous weeks just makes this all the more intense. You shake and squeal into your panty gag, your cries muffled by the cheering of the crowd. You sway, teetering in your high heels and nearly collapse, but strong arms grab you and keep you from falling. You can't even focus or pay attention to what is around you for several seconds as the aftershocks pound through you in massive waves of orgasmic pleasure. Gradually you're able to come to your senses enough to realize someone has picked you up in their arms.
It's a man. You don't recognize him. He speaks a word. A command. A trigger. You can't consciously tell what the words are, but you can feel the effect. Sealing his ownership of you. More than anything in the world, you want to serve this man and make him happy. You would do anything for him. You can't even imagine disobeying. You nestle against his chest, feeling warm and safe. Feeling happy. Feeling like you are finally where you belong.
The man - your owner - smiles down at you and turns, carrying you away from the party. "I'm so glad you enjoyed my recordings," he says with a chuckle.