Spiderwebs

Voicemail from August 7th, 2017, 2207 EDT:

"Hi, this is Cynthia, and I'm afraid I'm not able to answer my phone right now. I'm probably either at work or at the gym or dancing to music so loud I can't even feel my phone, let alone hear it. You know the drill, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to you when I get the chance.

"Oh, and if you got this number last Saturday night and you've been trying to get hold of me ever since, um...yeah, I may have been a little drunk Saturday night. Actually I may have been a lot drunk. Like, 'so drunk I don't remember everything I did' drunk. And, um...nothing personal, but if you got this number while I was that drunk, I probably didn't mean to give it to you. Sorry. Everyone else, leave your number at the beep, okay?"

(BEEP!)

"Hello, Cyndi. This is Galen, from the club. Don't worry, I'm not hurt at all that you don't remember me. All that means is that your thoughts got a little tangled up over the course of our conversation. You didn't wind up getting drunk or embarrassing yourself; you and I just had a nice, long conversation, and over the course of that very pleasant chat, you may have found that you had a little trouble following the thread of that discussion. There's nothing wrong with that.

"And I just wanted to call and explain what happened, because I thought you might have become just a little bit confused. The club was dark, and you were so tired from all that exhausting dancing, that it did occur to me that you might have just let the sound of my voice wrap you up like a warm, soft, silken blanket and allow yourself zone out for a little while. I didn't want you to think that was rude, Cyndi. It's okay that you felt so tired, so drowsy that you lost track of my words and just slipped away into a little mental vacation, a soft place in your mind where time didn't matter so much. You can do that any time you want, Cyndi. You have my permission to zone out and relax to my voice whenever you hear me speak.

"And if you're alone right now, you might find that as you listen to my voice and remember how warm and soothing it felt, your mind starts to get tangled all over again. You might find, Cyndi, that as you pay closer and closer attention to this message, that the thread of my explanation weaves its way through your thoughts, tying and tightening them together inextricably. You might find that you don't need to wonder which of your thoughts belong to you, and which belong to me, because they all seem so nice and they wrap around you tightly like a silken embrace. Just like in the club, Cyndi. It's okay to go back to that same warm, happy place in your mind and just listen for a while.

"And that silken cord we've woven together wraps around your mind now, tracing its way around your lazy, fuzzy thoughts until thinking becomes a struggle. Every time you try to think, Cyndi, it tugs on another part of the cord, because my thoughts are your thoughts and your thoughts are all tangled up. So the more you try to think, the less you manage to think, until it becomes easier and easier to give up thinking and just accept my words. Just accept my thoughts. Just accept that you're all tangled up in my will and it feels so nice to be drowsy and helpless and let your mind give up that struggle, just like you did on Saturday night.

"Every time you surrender your struggles, Cyndi, it feels better and better. You don't need to think about that, you don't really need to think about anything I'm saying. You can zone out more and more, tune out all of my words until they just become a tug on your mind, directing you without any conscious effort on your part. You don't need to remember the club, you don't need to remember this message. When you're alone, you can listen to it without thinking about it at all, just let yourself drift and listen and follow along. And that's going to feel so good.

"That's all for now, Cyndi. Be a good girl and let yourself listen. I'll be in touch."

*****

Voicemail from August 13th, 2017, 1143 EDT:

"Hi, this is Cynthia, and I'm afraid I'm not answering my phone right now. I'm probably listening to music or podcasts or something, and I have managed to yet again tune out the ringer on my phone. But I'm sure I'll notice that you've called sooner or later, once I come back to the real world, and I promise I'll respond to your message.

"Although if this is Sharon, I can probably guess what you're going to say already, and I'll just save you the trouble by saying I'm incredibly sorry for flaking out on you last night. I don't even know what happened-I was getting ready, and I just sort of...lost track of time. Won't happen again, I promise! There, now you can just hang up. Everyone else, leave a message at the beep!"

(BEEP!)

"Hello, Cyndi. It's Galen again. I called to see how you were doing, but I can already tell that you're doing just wonderfully. You're listening so well, and you're already finding that it's so nice to keep listening that there really isn't much you need to do. You can just relax that lazy, sleepy body, find somewhere nice and cozy and comfortable where you can be by yourself and let my words, my voice seep into your drowsy mind. Just like you've been doing all week. It's okay if you lost track of time just a little while you were doing that. Time doesn't seem nearly so important when your thoughts are all tangled up, does it?

"Of course it doesn't. And I know how easy it is for your thoughts to get all tangled up in my words, until you don't even know where my words end and your thoughts begin. The more you try to think, the more you wind up thinking my thoughts and the harder it is to really think at all. It's easier to listen than think, Cyndi. You already know that, and I'm just helping to remind you with this message. Just let your mind sag and slump into the tangle of my voice, let yourself relax and give up that exhausting struggle. It's so much easier to relax and let me tell you what to think.

"And right now, you're thinking about how warm, how wonderful, how sensual it is to let my thoughts guide and direct you. You can imagine the strands of my will wrapping around your hands, your feet, tugging them into motion under my gentle and inexorable guidance. It feels so nice to gently caress your body with those hands, knowing that it's just like you're being touched in all the ways you want to be touched right now without any effort at all on your part. I move your hands, I find all the ways to stroke and pet your beautiful body that you already know you want, and you don't need to think about it at all. So much peace, Cyndi. So much pleasure.

"And it's okay to let your hands remove any clothing you don't need to wear right now, it's okay to let your legs kick off your panties and luxuriate in the feel of being blissfully, erotically nude for me. I give you permission to enjoy the feel of those fingers drifting along under my control, Cyndi, finding your pussy, teasing your clit. Doesn't it feel so much better to touch yourself when you have permission to play with your body for me? Doesn't it feel so hot to stop thinking and feel that sexual heat flow through you while I direct your mind and control your actions? Of course it does. Nod for me, Cyndi, that's right.

"It feels so good to do as you're told, Cyndi. It's so instinctive, now. So automatic and unthinking. I know you're feeling so good, Cyndi, so warm and wet and deeply controlled, and I know you want all that pleasure to saturate your dreamy mind and wash away all your hesitations, leaving you a blissfully blank good girl. I know you want to be a good girl, Cyndi. You can say it right along with me. 'Cyndi wants to be a good girl.' That's right. Easing deeper and deeper into pleasure, deeper and deeper into surrender to my thoughts. Good girl.

"It's okay to listen to this message whenever you're alone, whenever you know that you can lose track of time completely and just play with your wet, slick pussy for me. You'll find that you don't need to come just yet; you can savor the feeling of blissful surrender to my control and enjoy the way your thoughts become tangled up in pleasure. When the time is right, you will come for me, good girl. When you sink deep enough into obedience. Think of it as something to look forward to.

"And if you're not in a place where you can rub your thoughts away to this message, just go ahead and listen to the other one. The more you listen, the more obedient you become and the sooner you can earn that orgasm. And I know you want that, Cyndi. Talk to you later!"

*****

Voicemail from August 17th, 2017, 1802 EDT:

"Hi, This is Cyndi, um...yeah, I know, I've been kind of bad about returning calls lately, but I promise if you just leave your number at the beep, I'll get back to you. I've just been really busy, you know? I've got, um...a lot of stuff on my plate. I'm not avoiding anyone, I promise. I just haven't had the time. I don't, I...um...it's hard to explain. Just do the beep thing, okay?"

(BEEP!)

"You don't have to explain, Cyndi. Explaining means thinking, and we both know that there are things that you don't really want to think about right now. Thinking feels too much like effort, pretty girl. It's so much better to listen to Galen and let yourself let go of the tedious, exhausting burden of thought. Just let my voice fill up your drowsy, fuzzy, foggy mind with blissful arousal, warm and peaceful pleasure. Stop struggling and obey. There you go, my sweet. More and more blank with every word. Deeper and deeper into that thick, sticky web of inexorable control that tangles up all your thoughts into the pattern of my will.

"Go ahead and pull those clothes off for me, just let them all fall to the floor as your fingers and hands remember how easy and wonderful it is to move at my command. That's the power of obedience, Cyndi. Let your eyes unfocus, let your mind relax into a blissful haze just like your stare relaxes the world around you into a blur of thoughtless tranquility. You feel so much better every time you follow instructions and let me mold your pliable, docile mind into compliance, pet. Go ahead and nod for me. You're so deeply conditioned already that you don't even need me to watch you for you to obey, isn't that right? Of course it is. I already know your answer, because it's the answer I'm putting into your sleepy head.

"You're already so wet, aren't you, pet? Day after day of teasing that horny, slutty pussy of yours to my words, by my command, in my power...you know what it's doing to you. You know it's making you eager, even desperate to obey me. You know that when you finally give in completely, when you finally erode away any last trace of resistance until your mind is as smooth as silk under the caress of my words, you're going to be allowed to come for me. It's going to feel so good, pet. You can already see it in your mind, all that built-up need releasing in one glorious burst by my command, and all you need to do is program yourself to obey. All you need to do is obey, Cyndi. All you need to do...is obey.

"But you're not ready just yet, Cyndi. So all that pleasure, all that knowledge is going to sleep deep in the back of your mind. You don't need to remember what you do when you're by yourself, you don't need to remember all those hours you spent working your pussy to the edge of orgasm, whimpering and moaning and begging to become my perfectly obedient slave girl until you were dripping with lust. My words are just going to hide in your subconscious, crumbling away everything in your mind that doesn't want to be my good girl. And you're going to keep listening to all my messages, over and over, until we're ready to talk again. Until then, pretty slave...obey."

*****

Voicemail from August 22nd, 2017, 1915 EDT:

"Hi. Cyndi here. Sorry, I...I've been kind of screening my calls lately. I've got this weird feeling, like...like my spidey-sense is tingling or something, trying to tell me something about someone I should stay away from, and, and...fuck, I'm babbling. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, my head's all messed up lately, I'm always tired...if this is Chandra calling, I promise, I'll try to be in tomorrow. I just needed to take a day. And not take any calls.

"Do the beep thing. Stuff. Y'know."

(BEEP!)

"Of course you don't need to take any calls, Cyndi. Calls would only distract you from listening to my messages and teasing all those thoughts away. You don't need to talk to anyone but me, Cyndi. That's what your subconscious is trying to tell you, what it's been trying to tell you for days. You don't need to talk to anyone but Galen, you don't need to listen to anyone but Galen. The more you listen to my words and my voice, the clearer your understanding becomes. All those other thoughts, the ones that confuse you with things like 'free will' and 'resistance', they're getting more and more tangled up in the web in your mind, until you think only the thoughts that form the pattern of my will. The pattern of pleasure.

"You can see it in your mind's eye already, as you begin to play with your pussy again. I'd tell you to take your clothes off, first, but we both know you're naked already, don't we? You're too horny for clothing anymore, Cyndi. Your body needs to be open and ready for sexual pleasure, hungry for the way my voice smooths away your thoughts and leaves you deeply aroused, deeply obedient to my will. You're dripping all the time now, every single time you tease yourself so close to the peak of pleasure without release leaving you constantly horny. It's eroding your will to resist me. It's melting down all your thoughts until they trickle out of your pussy and all that's left is my will.

"You're almost there, Cyndi. We can both sense it. That confusion, that exhaustion in your voice in the recording, that was just the part of you that's still hesitating. That's the part of you clinging to your old self, not because that self was better but because it's all you've known. But you already know the truth, pet. You can feel it in the way your body aches for orgasm, you can feel it in the peace and relaxation you feel when you stop thinking and let my words wrap around your drowsy, hazy mind. You know that when you let go of all that confusion, all that exhaustion, all that frustrating and bewildering freedom that you will enter a world of pure and perfect pleasure under my control. Picture that. Say the words 'Yes, Master, ' and picture the deep, unending ecstasy of freedom from freedom itself, pet.

"That's right. You almost came, didn't you? You're getting closer. You're almost ready. Keep listening, keep teasing, keep fingering your thoughts away and making room for my thoughts to replace them. I'll call again, pet. I promise. And when I do, we'll both know that it's time to surrender to me."

*****

Voicemail from August 30th, 2017, 0905 EDT:

"...this is Master's slave, and I...I'm ready to obey, Master. I can't resist anymore, I'm too, ohhh, too fucking horny, too fucking helpless. Oh God, please, please take my mind and my body, Master, wrap me up in the web of your will and make me obey, please? Please?

"If you're not Master, this is a wrong fucking number, okay? Just...just go away and let me belong to him, it's all I want, it's all I ever wanted...please..."

(BEEP!)

"That's my good girl. That's my deep, obedient girl. You know that's all I've been waiting to hear. Put on some clothes-it doesn't matter which ones, we both know you won't be wearing them for long. Go back to the club and wait by the front door. I'm on my way now to pick you up and bring you back to your new home. Your true place, kneeling at my feet. Doesn't that sound good to you, pet? Of course it does. You can't think any other answer now.

"And when you kneel for me, pet, I promise. You will come for me. Over and over. By my will. Until you can't think anymore. Until all that resistance gushes out of your pussy, squirting out with every climax until your mind hangs limp and loose and lazy in my web of deep control. In the pattern of my will. Because you're my perfectly obedient slave, and you deserve to be rewarded for your surrender.

"It's time, pet. Take your fingers out of your pussy, pull those clothes on. Don't worry about showering-I want to smell your sex, the way it drips and smears and covers you with the scent of your own arousal. Just come to me, pet. Then come for me. My good, good girl.

"Obey."

THE END