Tag: deeperinmypower

master226:

charlesrengel:

Karen Gillan is such a big star she needs TWO stuntwomen.

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“It’s done, Master,” the three redheaded beauties said in perfect unison. “I’ve hypnotized both my stunt doubles to believe they are your loyal, loving, obedient hypnoslave Karen Gillan. I have also programmed them with your mantra.”

As one–because they WERE one now, a single enslaved mind in three bodies–the women knelt. “Paul is Master,” they chanted. “Paul is all! Paul is Master, Paul is all!”

Happy birthday, @deeperinmypower!

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Source: charlesrengel
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star-struck902:

Emma Watson (SFW)

Request for @deeperinmypower

Emma’s friends had raved about the milkshakes at the new American-style diner, so one unusually warm afternoon she decided to give it a try.

As the first sweet, delicious mouthful of strawberry malt hit her tongue, she felt a brief burst of pain, like an ice cream headache, but it swiftly passed. In fact, as she drank, a pleasant feeling spread through her, a cool tingling. Perhaps that should have raised alarm bells, but Emma felt much too relaxed, and the shake was much to tasty, for her to mind.

The waitress came by and swapped Emma’s nearly finished shake for a fresh one. Emma hadn’t ordered it, but she had no interest in complaining. She felt happy, floaty, buzzed–and, increasingly, horny.

She made eye contact with the man sitting a few booths down and gave him a flirty smile. It felt good to have his attention, so she decided to keep it. She made a deliberate show of wrapping lips and tongue around the straw, then, still looking him straight in the eye, stroked her fingertips suggestively up and down its length. She gave him a wink, then began to suck.

By the time she was halfway through the drink–which took longer than the first, since she was putting on a show with it–he walked over and sat in the booth opposite her.

“I take it you like my milkshake, then?” he said.

“Mmmm,” Emma agreed.

“It’s my own special blend,” he continued. “The waitresses are instructed only to give it to certain special customers–they know what I’m looking for. The trick is the secret ingredient–that’s hat has you feeling so lovely.”

The straw slipped from Emma’s mouth. Her mouth hung open as she gazed blankly at him. Slowly, she slid under the table.

“That’s right,” he said. “Try it straight from the source. I think you’ll find it feels even better…”

Emma eagerly unzipped his pants and withdrew his cock, then wrapped her lips and tongue around it just as she had the straw. “Mmmm,” she moaned again, anticipating the deliciousness to come.

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(Another request for @deeperinmypower, continuing from this post)

Paul surveyed the girls. Each had obediently gone home, gotten their best lingerie, and come back. Now they waited for him to decide.

Frankie was the most experienced of his slaves, except of course for Katie. She had some idea of what to expect, and if the expression of pathetic eagerness on her face was anything to go by, she wanted it. So, clearly, did Molly, though she wasn’t quite as broken as Frankie.

Una, now Una was interesting. Eagerness warred with uncertainty in her face. Maybe tonight should be her turn. But then there was Vanessa, resigned but affecting cool disinterest, or proud, defiant Rochelle?

Yes, his mind was made up. He held up an open hand, five glistening rings in his palm. The girls shuddered as one, their eyes fixed on the rings. “Well done,” he said. “You may all have your rings.” He tossed four of the rings onto the bed, and four girls flung themselves forward, scrambling to claim their fixes.

He closed his hand around the fifth ring. “Except you, Rochelle. You’re going to have to work a little harder for it. On your knees.”

Tonight was going to be fun…

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(a request for @deeperinmypower, and sequel to this caption)

Full of the bliss of servitude, Frankie went directly to her bandmates and told them about her newfound slavery.

They didn’t understand. She fought, but they took her ring. Instantly, it all shifted. She no longer obeyed Paul, no longer belonged to him, no longer loved him.

“Thank you,” she sobbed, collapsing to the ground in tears. “You have no idea…”

After she told her story, the others let her rest, with only Rochelle to watch over her, while they talked about what had happened.

“Can you believe this?” Mollie asked the other two.

“No,” said Vanessa. “It’s crazy!”

“I dunno,” said Una, gazing at the ring in her hand, sparkling as she turned it in the light. “The ring is… really pretty…”

“No!” cried Vanessa, and snatched it out of Una’s hand. Keeping her eyes averted, she wrapped it in a handkerchief.

Una sighed in relief. “Thank you,” she said. “I think it almost got me…”

The three talked further, and decided to find out from Frankie where they could find this Paul guy and kick his ass. They returned to the room where she was resting to find Rochelle and Frankie waiting for them, three rings sparkling on the table.

“Oh no…” moaned Una, staring at the rings on the table. Beside her the other two girls did likewise.

“I’m sorry,” said Frankie.

“Don’t be,” said Rochelle. Then to the other girls: “Don’t fight. Frankie showed me the ring Paul had given her for me, and I tried to resist. It just delayed the happiness I feel now. We belong to Paul.”

Una moaned and picked up a ring off the table. She sighed blissfully as she slid it onto her fingers, her head falling back on her shoulders and her eyes half-closing. “We belong to Paul,” she agreed. She smiled at Una and Vanessa. “Oh, she’s right, it’s wonderful!”

Rochelle reached out, a ring of her own sparkling on her finger. She picked one of the rings off the table and held it out toward Mollie, who started to reach for it, then stopped.

“I…” said Mollie. “I don’t…”

“Shh,” said Rochelle, and slid the ring onto Mollie’s finger.

“Oh!” Mollie squeaked. “Ohhh…”

Vanessa shook her head. “I won’t, I won’t, I’ll…” She licked her dry lips. She wanted to wear the ring so badly! But she knew the price… she had to stay free, in order to rescue her friends…

But she could struggle only weakly as Una and Mollie took her arms and frogmarched her to the table, where Rochelle took her hand and held it out for Frankie to slide the last ring onto it.

“Why..?” Vanessa managed to get out, unable to take her eyes off the ring in Frankie’s hand. “We… we freed you…”

“I know,” said Frankie. “I’m not under Paul’s control… but I still need to wear the ring. This was the only way I could get it back.” Then she slid the ring onto Vanessa’s finger.

***

Paul answered the knock on his door and smiled at the five beautiful young women standing in front of him, each with one of his rings glittering on her finger. They smiled as one.

“Please, Master,” they said in practiced unison. “Tell us how we can serve you?”

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womanorgod:

Frankie Sandford

(another request for @deeperinmypower)

Frankie normally didn’t accept gifts from fans. Between stalkers and the possibility of stoking resentments between bandmates if one member got more gifts than the others, it just wasn’t good policy.

In fact, she normally didn’t even see gifts sent by fans. Her assistant, Katie, was supposed to sort them out of her mail every morning. But today, when Katie delivered the mail, there was a small brown parcel with no return address, and inside it was a ring.

It wasn’t that nice of a ring, honestly, but something about it drew Frankie. She wanted it, wanted to wear it. Without questioning the impulse, she picked it up, tried it on.

She examined it, turning her hand this way and that to see how it looked on her finger. It looked… right. Like it belonged there. Should always be there.

The door to her suite opened. Startled, Frankie stood up.

The man standing there was vaguely familiar, someone Frankie had seen around a few times. Katie’s boyfriend, wasn’t he? Yes–Paul, that was his name. Frankie had always been a little creeped out by how Katie talked about him–dreamily, with a level of adoration and devotion that just didn’t make sense for such an ordinary-seeming guy.

But now she understood. She leaned against the frame of her bedroom door and smiled at him.

Paul smiled back. “I see Katie delivered my present.” He stepped into the suite. Katie slipped in behind him, and closed the door.

Frankie raised her hand and looked at the ring. “This..?” she asked. “It’s… doing something to me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Paul. He stepped closer and caressed her cheek. Frankie closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “As long as you wear it, you’ll be my devoted, adoring slave, happily doing whatever I want.”

Frankie opened her eyes and looked at Katie. She had a ring on, too, Frankie noticed. It looked completely different, but Frankie realized that in every important way, it was the same.

“In exchange for giving me your body, mind, heart, and soul, and serving me with all your being, you get to wear the ring,” Paul continued. “Doesn’t that seem like a fair trade?”

“Yes,” said Frankie. It absolutely was, because she needed to always wear the ring.

Paul’s smile grew. “Good girl,” he said, and the knowledge that she had pleased him nearly made Frankie cum on the spot. “Now, let’s all go into your bedroom to celebrate, and later we can talk about the rings you’ll be giving the rest of the band…”

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tottycrushes:

Jennifer Aniston

(requested by @deeperinmypower​)

“And that’s about it,” said the doctor. “Oh, except for one thing: insurance.”

“I have insurance,” she assured him.

“No, your friend has insurance. You’ve been pretending to be her, haven’t you?”

“Oh no, God no, please–”

“Don’t worry, dear,” said the doctor, smiling. “No need to cry. There are other ways you can pay.”

“Other… ways…?” She felt dizzy and lightheaded.

“Yes,” said the doctor. “Hmm, looks like the drug’s kicking in.”

“Drug..?” she managed thickly.

“No need to worry about that,” said the doctor. “But you do need to worry.”

“Do..?”

“Yes, you’ve been a very bad girl, remember?”

“But…”

“No buts,” the doctor said sternly. “You’ve been a bad girl. What happens to bad girls?”

“They get… punished…” she said dully.

“Yes, that’s right. And you don’t want to be punished, do you?”

“No…”

“What about good girls? Do good girls get punished?”

She shook her head very slowly. Her body felt so heavy. “Nuh-uh.”

“That’s right. So if you don’t want to get punished, that must mean you want to be a good girl, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Do you know how to be a good girl?” the kind doctor asked.

“Uh…”

“No, you don’t, but that’s okay. Luckily enough, I can teach you. Just relax, and listen, and I’ll tell you how to be a good girl…”

When she woke, she fully understood how to be a good girl. She gave the doctor his payment on the examination table. Then, once she was dressed again, she gave him her number so he could call her whenever she needed reminding of how a good girl behaves.

Then he handed her a syringe. “Now, your friend who let you use her name, she’s been a very bad girl, too, hasn’t she? Take this, teach her what I taught you, and then bring her back here.”

She smiled happily and took the syringe. Helping her pretty friends become good girls was an important part of being a good girl. She hoped she would get lots of chances to do it.

Source: qhio
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tottycrushes:

Belinda Stewart-Wilson

(a request by @deeperinmypower)

“Do you remember why you’re here, Belinda?”

The voice spoke from the screen in the ceiling, the screen with the beautiful light, the spiraling colors that seemed to drag her down, down into their depths, or was that up into their heights?

“Yes, that’s right, to rescue your daughter.”

Had she said something? It was hard to remember, hard to think of anything but the lights–the lights! She’d come to… to… swirling blues and greens, down down into depths of–concentrate! She’d come to her daughter’s house… no, her daughter’s boyfriend’s house! Named, named… something, something that began with P, what was his name, P, P for purple, like the purple spiral spinning slowly before her eyes, inside her head, pulling all her thoughts into itself–

“Do you remember why you’re here, Belinda?”

His name didn’t matter, what mattered was that her daughter had dropped out of school and started living with some, some, some man, and that was bad because, because… dancing lights that swayed, dizzy dancing lights–it was bad! And she had to bring her daughter home!

“Yes, that’s right, you came for your daughter.”

And the man, whatsisname, P-something, or maybe something that started with M, it didn’t matter, but he let her in, and there was her daughter, kneeling, naked, staring at a screen. Belinda remembered talking to her, then pleading, then shouting, and when there was no response, she turned to look at the screen, and…

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

The screen, the lights, they were doing something to her! They’d done something to her daughter, her daughter Sandra… Sonya? Stephanie? Something that began with S, anyway. It was so hard to think, and so easy to just watch the lights.

“Yes, that’s right, you came to be with your daughter.”

The lights on the screen did something to S… s…. to… to her daughter. And now they were doing it to Bel… B… something beginning with B. Getting into her head. Making it hard to think. Changing her thoughts. Programming her.

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Yes, that was it. That was what was happening. She was being programmed. But she could fight! She just had to hold on to who she was and why she was here. She was B… or wait, didn’t her name start with an S? Or was that someone else?

“Yes, that’s right, you came to join her.”

The lights were so distracting, so confusing, but she was clinging hard to who she was and why she was here. She had to think it through carefully. Her own name. Started with S. And there was someone else whose name started with S. And she was here so she could join… other S. But they were being programmed by M…

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

She did! She remembered, and she clung to that memory as the rock of solidity, the one thing that no amount of programming could take away from her. She was Slave, and she came here to join her daughter Slave in being programmed by Master.

“Yes, that’s right…”

The colors swirled. The voice spoke. But it didn’t matter. Slave knew who she was and why she was here.

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kn0wy0u:

Bryce Dallas Howard
@kn0wy0u

(request for @deeperinmypower)

Camera bulbs flashed and popped as reporters vied for Bryce’s attention. But one was different. It was… brighter? No. A different color? No. But something about it was… fascinating. It lingered in her vision long after it went off, a splotch of blue-green that swirled and spun distractingly.

One of the reporters stepped up close, whispered an address to her. She scoffed, but then the flash went off again, and she lost track of what she was scoffing at.

Slowly realization dawned on her: she was going to that address instead of the afterparty she’d planned. The light, she somehow knew, would be there.

And it was. But not a little camera bulb. A whole wall, throbbing and swirling. It pulsed, again and again, driving away her thoughts.

This isn’t ri–throb.

I shouldn’t be–throb.

Why am I–throb.

Have to get–throb.

I can’t–throb.

Can’t–throb.

Can’t think–throb.

And then there was just the light, emptying her out, leaving her open, empty, blank.Ready to be filled.The “reporter” grinned at the “cameraman.” It was time to start stage two. Bryce was going to be a very good girl from now on.

(Now open to requests/asks/submissions/etc!)

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beautiful-celebs-daily:

Ashley Olsen

(request for @deeperinmypower)

Ashley had resisted the idea of going to a therapist first, but Mary-Kate seemed the happiest and most at peace she’d been in years, and she credited it all to this new doctor.

Finally, she wore Ashley down. Reluctantly, she met with the therapist. At his invitation, she sat on the plush red couch.

“So, how does this work, Doctor?”

“Please,” he responded, “call me Paul. I like to keep this informal. As for how this works, I am experienced in taking care of high-profile clients like yourself. Entrepreneurs, artists, people with very stressful lives.”

Ashley nodded. That definitely described her!

“My job is simply to help you to relax. I can teach you a few techniques, if you like?”

“Okay,” said Ashley. “What do I do?” At Paul’s direction, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, letting her muscles tense and release. It was relaxing, but nothing special–she’d learned this kind of stuff years ago! Still, Paul’s voice was smooth and deep, carrying her down into relaxation and rest.

After a few minutes, he told her to open her eyes. When she did, there was a slowly rotating spiral disc in front of her, and she laughed.

“Yes, I know,” said Paul. “Very cliche. But cliches are powerful. You know what a disc like this is supposed to do.”

“Hypnotize me,” said Ashley. “This is silly.”

“Yes,” he said. “It is silly. But it’s also very effective, you know. You’re relaxed already, and as you breathe deeply and watch the spiral you relax further, because you know that’s what spirals do, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Ashley.

“That’s right. Relaxing and watching the spiral, letting it spin…”

Ashley slumped comfortably on the couch, slowly relaxing as Paul’s gentle, soothing voice helped her fall into the spiral, leaving her stress behind, then her thoughts, then her will.

Eventually she started to feel warm, so she opened her blouse. It felt so good to look into the spiral and listen to Paul’s words… so relaxing… so arousing…

At one point, she woke. “Whuh… why–my blouse!” she shouted, straightening up. “What are you doing to me, you per–”

Paul snapped his fingers, and Ashley’s eyes snapped to the spiral, which started to turn. She relaxed and let her thoughts fall away again.

At the end of the hour, Ashley woke feeling very good. She thanked Paul, and left. She couldn’t quite remember what they’d talked about, but that wasn’t important. And she had to close her blouse up as she left, but that wasn’t important either.

What was important was that she come back twice a week from now on, lay on the couch and… whatever it was. That part wasn’t important, but she had to come back.

Maybe she and Mary-Kate could do a joint session next time…

(now open for requests/submissions/asks/whatever!)

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pretty-babez:

Pretty babe

(request for @deeperinmypower)

As she leaned back against the balcony, Aubrey’s eyes fell on her new manager, Paul. How had he done it?

Perhaps drugs in the drink they’d shared when she signed her contract.

He’d come highly recommended from people she trusted. After years on a hit TV show, she felt she could do better than the commercials her old agent was getting, and Paul was, all her friends told her, the best.

Maybe subliminal messages in the subtle music that played in his office, that first time she went in, and every time since.

And he was a good manager! She was getting offers for TV pilots, film roles, things with directors she wanted to work with. It was days before she noticed how intriguing Paul was.

It was possible that, at some point in their initial meeting, he had hypnotized her, guided her down into a deep trance where he could implant triggers and start the process of slowly altering her thoughts.

It started with her finding him increasingly fascinating. She wanted, she gradually realized, to please him. At first she rationalized it as wanting a good relationship with her manager, but she soon realized it was more. She wanted to learn what he liked, so she could become whatever it was–as a client, a companion… a lover.

Or one of the many texts and emails he sent her might have contained a virus that put hidden spirals and suggestions in her phone, implanting new ideas in her mind every time she looked at it.

It was unnatural, she knew that. She’d never felt this way about anyone, would never feel this way. Every day, her desire, her adoration grew. A growing part of her wanted to give him all of herself, heart, mind, body, and soul.

He could be a telepath, molding her thoughts directly whenever they were together, altering her into his plaything.

She knew what she should do. She should fire him, run, maybe try to find somebody who would believe her about what he was trying to do to her. There had to be some kind of law against what he was doing!

At this point, it was even possible he was using straight-up magic, some kind of enchantment that made her dote on him more every time he cast it.

The thing was… she knew it was too late. Already, she wasn’t imagining ways he might have done it so she could figure out how to escape. She was fantasizing about ways he might keep doing it. Before long, Paul was going to own her, completely and utterly. The same way, she now realized, he owned all of her friends that recommended him.

She couldn’t wait to see how he did it.

(now open for requests/submissions/asks/whatever!)

Source: goo.gl
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