Xanax and Wine

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Pauline's anxiety meds make drinking a whole new experience.
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JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
3,747 Followers

"Are you sure?" Suzannah held the glass of wine just out of reach, making sure Pauline didn't simply take it out of force of habit. Pauline wasn't really sure if it mattered-she'd already gone through this enough times that she couldn't be certain that her excitement was really her own anymore-but she appreciated the gesture. She liked it when Suzannah made her feel safe, even if she knew that in some ways 'safe' was a very mutable concept in a situation like this. Suzannah's dark brown eyes gleamed with temptation, the iris melding into the pupil until it seemed like her stare was a glittering void full of hunger, and Pauline shivered. She didn't know whether it was in fear or anticipation. All she knew was that it was safe for a given value of 'safe', and Pauline wasn't very good at passing up temptation at the best of times.

"Yes," Pauline whispered, casting her gaze down to the ground. A sudden wave of shyness washed over her, and she couldn't meet Suzannah's stare with her own. It often came on her like this, at the moment of decision. She could accept that she wanted this, she could admit it with her voice, but somehow when Suzannah looked into her hazel eyes and smiled it was like she could see just how much Pauline wanted it. How much she craved it. That kind of power made Pauline duck her head down until her bangs hid her eyes and her blush with a honey-blonde veil, giving her the courage to hold her hand out for the glass. "Please," she forced herself to say. The word came with its own wave of pleasure, intensifying the imbalance between them.

Suzannah seemed to get stronger every time, and Pauline felt so deliciously weak by comparison. It almost frightened her, but somehow the rush of nervous adrenaline only heightened her arousal. Pauline felt Suzannah press the glass into her hand, and she knew that it was time.

She took a sip, letting the wine linger in her mouth to get the full effect. It was an excellent Merlot, well-aged with notes of vanilla and plum, and Pauline savored the taste before swallowing. Suzannah could have handed her just about anything, of course; a ten-dollar Zinfandel out of a box would have done the job. But Pauline appreciated the taste of fine wine, the experience of it and not simply the alcohol. That was how it all started, in fact. Everyone had that one hobby they didn't want to give up just because their doctor didn't approve, and Pauline's was less dangerous than most.

Again, for a given value of 'dangerous'. She put the glass to her lips and took another drink.

"How is it?" Suzannah asked, sitting down next to Pauline and leaning back so that her long black hair fanned out in beautiful contrast to the cream-colored sofa. "I found it at the shop on Pike Street, on my last trip out to the city. 'Wine Revolution', something like that? They said it would be worth the money." Suzannah didn't do wine; she was more of a craft beer enthusiast on the rare occasions she drank. But she was willing to lay in a good stock to help Pauline indulge. That was quite flattering, really.

Pauline took another long swallow, trying not to let her impatience make her guzzle. "It's good," she said. "Better than the white last week, and that was a good white." The finish lingered on her tongue as she spoke, a hint of oak from the aging process that made her squirm ever so slightly on the couch with excitement. She was already wet, she realized. Even though there was no chance that the alcohol had begun to affect her so soon, the whole ritual of it all-packing her overnight bag, driving out to Suzannah's little cabin on Lake Hancock, the idle chatter they both indulged in until neither one of them could stand it anymore-it had grown so familiar that her body knew exactly how to respond. Her pussy knew what was coming, and it was ready to let it all happen.

Suzannah smiled. "Good," she said, watching Pauline with tightly-controlled anticipation. "I always like to give you a few pleasant surprises each week." She said it flirtatiously, as though her tongue was curling around the words and giving them a kiss on their way out of her mouth, and Pauline felt a flush of heat pass through her in response. She never thought that being flirted with by another woman would make her feel so alive, so powerless to resist her own arousal, but her weekends with Suzannah had shown her a side of herself that Pauline never knew existed.

Or created it, Pauline thought as she finished her glass. That was a question she sometimes asked herself on the drive home Sunday night, once she spent the morning recovering and felt safe enough to get back on the road. Were these weekends really changing her? She originally thought the answer was no, that it was absurd to imagine that anything they did together could have a permanent effect, but...she spent a lot more of her free time during the week masturbating than she used to. She used her toys more than she remembered. And with her eyes closed, it was very easy to imagine Suzannah holding the other end.

Thinking about it made Pauline squirm on the couch, squeezing her thighs together as she rubbed them back and forth, and she realized the wine was already beginning to have an effect. She could feel her thoughts drifting back to her masturbatory sessions of the last week, remembering her fantasies in every steamy detail, and she realized loosely that it was getting more and more difficult to steer her mind in any other direction. She suddenly noticed Suzannah refilling her glass from a decanter, a decanter that she didn't remember Suzannah getting up to grab from the sideboard. She'd been lost in an eyes-open reverie, thinking about being fucked, and the world around her had simply stopped mattering.

God, that was hot.

Suzannah liked it too. "How are you feeling?" she asked, guiding Pauline's glass to her mouth for another sip. "You're starting to be my good girl again, aren't you?" Pauline felt a wet, sticky surge of pleasure between her legs at the words 'good girl', a distracting pulse of arousal that made her clit throb and her heart race. The adrenaline made it take effect faster, she knew. Her blood was sluicing through her veins, carrying the alcohol along with it, saturating her already-drugged brain with a whole new chemical that reacted synergistically to make her feel...so...

Pauline's head lolled against the couch cushions, and Suzannah had to scoop the glass from her nerveless fingers to prevent a spill. "That's right," Suzannah whispered seductively, her hand smoothing Pauline's forehead. "That's my drowsy little pet. You're slipping away into your special sleep, a waking dream that I control, and it feels so nice. Doesn't it?"

"Yes, Mistress," Pauline said, hearing her words slurring from her lips as though they belonged to someone else. She wasn't quite asleep, not exactly, but her eyes refused to open and her limbs felt so delightfully lazy and it just seemed so much easier to passively accept Suzannah's words as true. She felt a slow, dreamy smile spread across her face as the familiar effects kicked in, embracing them like an old lover as she melted into the warmth and let her body go limp.

It hadn't always been familiar and comfortable, of course. The first time she decided to drink after her doctor put her on alprazolam, it had been fucking terrifying. Her pharmacist told her there could be negative interactions with alcohol, admittedly, but Pauline assumed that he was giving her some kind of boilerplate instruction along the lines of 'don't operate any heavy machinery'. She had been a wine connoisseur for years, she had developed a healthy tolerance for alcohol. She felt confident that she could handle it.

She couldn't. A glass of sauvignon blanc left her slumped over in her chair, not quite drunk to insensate oblivion but definitely not in any kind of state she recognized as conscious. It wasn't like the rare times she'd overindulged; she didn't feel tipsy or buzzed. She felt perfectly passive, completely open and willing to accept any suggestion she was given. And if it wasn't for her friend Iris noticing the way she nodded blankly every time Hal, the organizer of the tasting, spoke to her...she probably would have.

Pauline's vague, drifting reminiscence was interrupted by Suzannah's voice. "Time to take your clothes off, pretty girl," she said, and Pauline's hands floated lazily through the air to comply. They felt like they were moving through thick syrup, and the effort almost exhausted her, but she was able to make herself unbutton her blouse and shrug it sleepily off her shoulders. The bra was easier, even if she did fumble a little with the clasp. Finally, she wriggled out of her jeans and panties together and let herself flop back onto the couch in boneless abandon.

"Yes, Mistress," she mumbled, the words coming to her through a drugged mist. She always called Suzannah 'Mistress' when they were like this together, she remembered. It felt good to call Suzannah 'Mistress', because Suzannah had told her that it would. That had been...how long ago? Weeks? Months? Time was shifting, becoming mutable as past and present blended into one another like paint colors mixing. She remembered sharing her frustration with Suzannah, the maddening choice of having to give up one of her oldest hobbies or risk falling back into constant panic attacks.

"I talked to my doctor about it," she remembered saying, "and he didn't even fucking believe me. Said that Xanax 'shouldn't do that', and it was probably just too much wine. Like I don't know what that feels like. I asked around on message boards, but I guess it's just something extra fucked-up about my brain chemistry. Fun times, huh?" The memory felt so real that Pauline felt like she could almost reach out and touch her past self and feel that despair and frustration, and she recalled Suzannah nodding in sympathy before suggesting their current arrangement.

"You could come here for the weekends," Suzannah had said, the words machine-gunning out in her nervous haste. "I'll get some good wines for you, you can taste them without worrying about anyone finding you all, um, vulnerable, and I'll keep you safe...and we can. Um. Try. Again, that is. If you'd like. I mean, maybe it would help."

That memory sent Pauline tumbling down a rabbit hole of free-association, bouncing back to a college night when she confessed to Suzannah that she thought she might be bi and Suzannah confessed to her that she knew she was gay and the two of them had a make-out session that veered from almost-sex to panic attack so fast that Suzannah spent a good week convinced that she was going to face assault charges. It had taken Pauline a long time to explain that panic attacks were just a part of who she was, and an even longer time to accept that maybe it didn't have to be that way.

And now she felt calm, blissfully calm as Suzannah leaned in between her thighs and began to lavish attention on her slippery cunt. Everything felt so right, now. Everything felt absolutely perfect. Pauline was lost in a thick fog of pure pleasure, open in mind and body to Suzannah's ministrations, and it felt exactly like she always dreamed it would. She was nothing but a vessel for sensation now, and Suzannah was filling her with ecstasy. "That's my good girl," Suzannah whispered between lapping like a kitten at Pauline's cunt. "That's my beautiful, obedient girl."

Obedient. The word stirred a host of associations in Pauline's drowsy, disconnected mind, and all of them were wonderful. She loved to be obedient. She loved to be docile and tame. She loved to follow Suzannah's instructions. She loved to return to Suzannah over and over again to be programmed to be more and more obedient. Pauline felt like there was a whole iceberg of powerful, instinctual imperatives deep in her mind, and it was only when she drifted in pleasure like this that she could truly understand how vast her conditioning was beneath the placid surface of her old self.

"Yes, Mistress," Pauline whispered again, shuddering in pleasure as Suzannah's tongue spiked inside her. She didn't mind, though. She didn't mind that she was very deeply brainwashed, that she noticed the compulsions less and less each time and accepted them more and more automatically. That was just part of the pleasure. That was just part of the deep, sleepy bliss that Suzannah instilled in her every time she returned for another session of drugged, obedient euphoria. Suzannah had explained it all, and it made such perfect sense that Pauline couldn't disagree.

Suzannah's mouth moved away from Pauline's pussy, and Pauline groaned in frustration for a moment until her friend returned with a buzzing, thrumming body massager and pressed it to Pauline's clit. "That's right, pretty girl," she said, as Pauline gasped in sudden, overwhelming pleasure. "You remember this, don't you? You remember what it does to you when I play with you like this?"

"I, unh, I...yes, Mistress," Pauline whimpered, arching her hips up into the powerful shuddering waves of pure ecstasy. "M-makes me...mindless, helpless, ohhh..." Pauline grasped for words, struggling to form them even as the relentless vibration pounded them into fragments that slipped through her fingers like grains of sand. "Fuh, fuh-fucks my...thoughts away."

"Good girl!" Suzannah said, the delight in her voice so clear that Pauline didn't even need to look at her face to see her smile. Which was just as well, because Pauline couldn't open her eyes anymore anyway. "Fucking all your thoughts away so that my thoughts can replace them. You want to think my thoughts, don't you, pretty pet?"

Pauline whimpered, moisture trickling down her thighs to drip down onto the couch cushions. "Your, yes, your thoughts, Mistress, please!" The words felt wonderful on her lips, welling up from her cunt without ever once touching her mind, and Pauline knew that she was surrendering without even a struggle. If there was anything Suzannah wanted to do to her, any endgame for her mind or her body once Suzannah was finished programming her, then Pauline knew that she would eagerly follow along.

But Pauline felt sure there was no hidden plan, no desire beyond the one Suzannah was expressing openly with her words and her fingers and her toys. She was safe with Suzannah because Suzannah wanted her to be safe, because all Suzannah wanted was this. This pleasure, this surrender, right here and now. Suzannah wanted to control Pauline and Pauline wanted to be controlled. "That's my good girl," Suzannah whispered, pressing the smooth round head against Pauline's flesh. "You're ready to beg me now, aren't you, pet?"

Pauline's only response for a moment was a long, ragged moan. Just thinking about how good it would feel to plead for her release, how much more powerful her submission would become with every whispered word, almost overcame her ability to speak. But she couldn't cum without permission, and she couldn't get permission without asking. The need forced the words out of her mouth. "Please, Mistress," she whimpered, "please may I cum please Mistress please please please may I cum please..." The words became a chant, a mindless babble of desire that tightened the bonds of her obedience more and more with every moment. "Please!"

"Good girl," Suzannah interrupted, her voice commanding and sensual at the same time. "CUM."

That was all it took. Pauline's mind erupted in electric bliss, pleasure whiting out her awareness as her clit pulsed in ecstasy and her hips strained upward involuntarily. She couldn't think about anything, anything at all; Suzannah kept talking to her through it all, but the words were just a comforting background noise under the relentless waves of her climax. She moaned louder and louder, Suzannah's voice drawing her orgasm out past the point where time held meaning, until she skimmed from one peak to the next and her body glowed all over with pure euphoric delight. She was cumming. She was obeying. She was a good girl and it was more addictive than any drug could ever be.

She belonged to Suzannah. And she wanted to be owned.

Finally, spent, Pauline's body collapsed back onto the couch. She felt so exhausted by the endless waves of pleasure that she thought she would never be able to move again, but it turned out that she didn't need to. When Suzannah straddled Pauline's head with her pussy and pressed herself gently against Pauline's lips, she could keep floating in blank, peaceful, wonderfully obedient relaxation and simply listen to Suzannah's words. And when Suzannah whispered, "Lick me now, pretty pet," Pauline had no trouble following her owner's commands as she sank deeper into mindless surrender.

THE END

JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
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3 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousalmost 4 years ago
I was helpless to do anything except come and come and come and come reading this

What a great story! I came harder and longer than I have ever come in my entire life -- easily the most convulsive and most violent orgasm I have ever experienced. This story is pure, complete, total pleasure -- and it took me there. Like Pauline, I was helpless to do anything except come and come and come and come and come and come and come and come.

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
This story made me come SO hard that i fell asleep afterwards

Beautiful work! One of the most deliciously erotic stories I have ever read. It simply drips with rich, yummy, dreamy pleasure. Pure unfiltered pleasure. I'm adding this one to my collection of stories to read when self-pleasuring. When reaching the climax of the story, I came so long and so hard that I fell asleep immediately afterwards.

Your writing style is absolutely wonderful! Would love to see more chapters!

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 5 years ago

Great job, engaging characters, clear consent and boundaries

Love to see stuff this good

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