She spent so many nights scouring the internet for audio files and hypnotic scripts, but she knew she had never actually been hypnotized. It was only a fantasy.
She would bookmark her favorite stories and writers and go back over and over again to fuel that fantasy as she would get herself off night after night. When she got her own place in the city, it was so easy to shut the door and indulge, knowing that no one would bother her until she had to be at work the next day.
She would scroll through tumblr and read story after story about girls who gave up control, girls who lost control and girls who had it taken away. She would fantasize that she was one of those girls who gave up their whole lives just to satisfy their sexual desires. She would fantasize that there was some author out there that was driving her to this behavior and making her touch herself. She would get off over and over again, only stopping to make sure she had something to eat before it got too late before going again and then falling into a deep and satisfied slumber.
Night after night she discovered that there seemed to be more and more impatient to fuel her fantasies through endless sessions of self pleasure. She started to ache for her routine in the afternoons while she was at work. She would watch her boss’s office like a hawk, waiting for him to leave so that she could disappear herself for her nightly adventures.
She would walk a little faster than the people around her on the city sidewalks as she weaved through the human traffic and made her way home. Sometimes she would stop to pick up another bottle of wine so that she could lose herself in a few drinks, and sometimes she called a delivery service so she could lose herself in something else. She knew that she hadn’t been hypnotized, but she still wanted to fantasize that she lost her mind, and that was easier when her mind was fuzzy.
She would lock the doors and seal herself in her bedroom or just lounge on the couch while she indulged in her secret desires. She would turn her phone on silent so that she wouldn’t be disturbed. It was so easy to do this night after night that she would often lose a week at a time before she realized that she had done nothing but masturbate each and every single night.
She decided that it was getting too easy to fall into a comfortable and pleasurable pattern. She had to make this fantasy something more deliberate and purposeful rather than just what she fell into every single night.
She told herself that she wasn’t allowed to masturbate unless her body was clean and all of her clothing was removed. She wasn’t allowed to pretend that she was mindlessly watching tv or and just happened to be masturbating at the same time while she just read new stories in between. Gone were the nights of her sitting in front of the television with her computer or ipad as she would get herself off over and over again while she reached into her loose shorts on the couch while the entire evening disappeared.
This did help her keep things under control…for a little while. She still lived alone and didn’t have anyone around to police her behavior, so it wasn’t long before she would rush home to close her front door before ripping her clothing off as fast as she could. She would rush into the shower and while she washed away the sweat and grime that had accumulated through the summer day she could feel the reality of the world outside of her apartment slipping away as well. She would emerge from the shower and move immediately to the bedroom where she would bring up her favorite stories and indulge in her favorite fantasies.
It didn’t matter how many plans she had made for herself throughout the day. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that she was going to break this pattern and do something else just to take a break. As the day would drag on it was always so much easier to think that she could indulge again that night and take a break starting the next day. When she started canceling the few plans she did make these days she realized she had a problem, but even that thought was so fucking hot that it sent her right back into the bedroom.
She was being conditioned, she realized that, but she couldn’t remember ever being hypnotized. Every night she would strip her clothing, clean her body, make sure that she was hairless from the neck down, all in an effort to delay her marathon masturbation sessions, but night after night it was so easy to fall into the pattern.
She wondered if one of the authors she read had slipped this into a story that had actually knocked her down into a deep and obedient trance as she had always wanted. She wondered if she had given up her whole life just to get off every single night while she masturbated at someone’s command. She would go back and read and reread story after story looking for suggestions that paralleled her own loss of agency and power. Each night of research would produce the same results as she would lie naked in bed while her hands played with her pussy over and over again as she thought about how hot each and every story was.
She realized that if it was true, she could read the story that actually did this to her she wouldn’t remember by the end, because she couldn’t remember reading it ever before. Maybe she would read it again and it would only reinforce her programming and leave her with no memory of why. Maybe she would read it over and over again sending her deeper and deeper into the author’s control while she rubbed every last bit of her mind away.