X'ed Out

I'm...I'm having some trouble thinking straight right now. And I love every second of it.

My mind keeps curving around things, things a good girl isn't supposed to remember. Things a good girl isn't allowed to think about. It feels like some of my thoughts have simply been crossed out, red-penned into illegibility by a particularly strict editor. Every time my stream of consciousness begins to approach them, I find myself pleasantly distracted; it gets harder and harder to concentrate on them and easier and easier to think about how good it feels not to think about them, until my mind simply swerves away. Imagine walking up a hill that gets steeper and steeper the closer you get, with nothing but smooth flat plains on either side. Sooner or later it's easier to just...go around.

Oh God am I wet just thinking about it. Of course I'm allowed to know that I have things in my head that I'm not allowed to know about. That's half the fun of it. It makes me so horny to struggle to remember all the commands Master gave me, the ones hidden behind thick red X's in my brain, only to realize that I'm not really trying to think about them at all. I'm thinking about how good it feels not to think about them, how deliciously drowsy and compliant it makes me when I remember that obedient girls think only the thoughts that Master allows them to think.

And so much of my mind is wonderfully, blissfully off-limits to me. When I say I'm having trouble thinking straight, it's not even really a metaphor-the narrative of my thoughts keeps bending and curving around the forbidden thoughts in my head until my brain is a constant haze of arousal and all I want to do is play with myself. And I know that's exactly how Master wants me to feel. The warm certainty of obedience caresses the depths of my mind, coaxing me into surrendering completely to his will.

Not that he has to work very hard. There's nothing sexier than watching his eyes and feeling my own flutter and sink and finally slip shut, or listening to his voice soothe my mind into docile acceptance until I can't make out the words anymore and all I feel is the warmth of his velvet tones in the back of my mind. I came to him to be programmed, and every time he brainwashes me into blank, placid submission I can tell I made the right decision. My subconscious isn't even trying to fight Master's commands, and my waking mind is eager to accept them. (Even if I don't remember exactly what it is I'm eagerly accepting right at the moment.)

I really don't. I let out a gasp of pleasure as it hits me. Master said something to me, somewhere in the slow, lazy induction that keeps tugging my thoughts deeper into trance, and I can't remember what it was. I remember his voice, smooth and silky and caressing my mind like fingers on my clit. I remember his fingers on my clit, too, caressing my body like...well, like fingers on my clit. (Oh fuck it feels so good.) But I-I don't remember what he said. There's a red line through the thought, and I, I can't think it anymore and...and...

Oh shit. Oh fuck. I just came. Oh my God that felt so fucking good. I...I know why I came, because good girls always come when they f-forget the things Master wants them to, to forget. But oh fuck, knowing it and, and feeling it...my brain keeps skipping and stuttering like an old scratched record, and I can hear my voice dissolve into whimpering squeals of pleasure. The only reason I'm thinking at all is because I know Master wants me to think about how good it feels not to think about his commands and oh fuck does it ever oh fucking fuck!

I know he's brainwashing me right now. Even if I don't know what I'm being programmed to do, I know that it's really happening. It's not just a fantasy we play out in the bedroom-it's genuine honest-to-fucking-God mind control happening to me while I lie back and let him tease me to one climax after another until I'm a dripping, exhausted mess. My Master is genuinely altering my thoughts, maybe even my personality to make me into his personal sex slave. In ways I'm not allowed to remember or even think about.

I want that so damn much.

I could say that I've always wanted that, but I understand that maybe somewhere under one of those red X's is a part of me that didn't. Maybe Master edited out the thoughts that resisted him (oh fuck that's so hot oh fuck oh fuck oh f-f-f-fuck!) M-maybe I only think I'm, I'm thinking for myself. Maybe he made me...oh shit I can't stop coming...he made me think this was my fantasy, slipped it into the back of my head to undermine my resistance so that every time he programmed me I would willingly mold myself deeper to his will OH FUCK!

But I don't think so. Not really. It's incredibly hot to dip into the fantasy that I'm an unwilling subject, but deep down I know that I'm welcoming everything Master does to me. It's not a question of 'true memories' and 'false memories'-every day it becomes clearer and clearer to me that Master really can make me remember things that didn't happen just as easily as he can delete memories he doesn't want me to have (so fucking hot!) But the way he treats me, gentle and loving and tender even when he's fucking my thoughts away with every whispered word...you couldn't be that sort of person and not care about your slave. You couldn't take that kind of care with someone whose will you were destroying. He's shaping my thoughts, but I'm giving him the power to do that.

I think some women might prefer the fantasy. I think some women might tell themselves, while they lie in bed and chant mantras of submission and obedience while their Master fucks their body and mind into vacant, docile ecstasy, that they have been taken against their will and controlled. They would prefer the fantasy to the reality, not just because the fantasy is so hot and sexy and wonderful and, and...nnnnnnh! (Oh shit. That was my fourth orgasm? Fifth? can't count) But because it's hard to accept that you want to be someone's slave. It goes against everything we're supposed to value, independence and autonomy and freedom and self-determination-and when you do it this way, with hypnosis and brainwashing and deep pleasure-conditioning, it goes against it *hard*.

But I really do love it. Not every second of every day-when Master wakes me, I'm allowed to think for myself within the limits of the constraints he puts on my will, and it feels good to make my own decisions and pay my own bills and do the work I love to do. But it feels even better to know that I'm allowed to do those things. Every day, when I show up at the hospital and help make all those sick people better, there's a tiny sliver of awareness at the back of my mind that I'm no less under control than I was when I was being fucked senseless by Master's voice. It doesn't distract me; it strengthens me.

Deep down, I have the pure and perfect security of knowing that I am owned. Master's collar is like an embrace that never ends, and thanks to hypnosis, I don't even need to wear it to feel it. Those little red X's are like a collar for my mind. And I love every single one of them. I embrace slavery willingly, joyfully, helplessly. And it gives me so much...so much pleasure in return. (Yes, that's another orgasm. No, I don't know how many that makes now. I don't care. Realizing I'm too blank and horny to count just makes me come again.)

So yes. I am Master's slave. I do what Master tells me to do. I think what Master tells me to think. I am perfectly obedient, in body and mind, and every time I remember that I make myself even more perfectly obedient. Master's brainwashing makes me a good girl, and a good girl craves Master's brainwashing...and oh fuck, I don't even-that thought, it's so right but it's not mine, M-Master put it in my head and I can't stop thinking it oh God oh fuck oh yes Master fucking my mind ohhhh...

"That's right," I hear him say. "Good girl, just relax now. Good girl. That's my good girl." His words come into focus easily and effortlessly for me now, and I know that's because he told me I was allowed to hear them again. The thought gives me a shivering aftershock of pleasure, but I'm finally all climaxed out for the moment. My pussy feels slick and impossibly sensitive, my head is a fog of endorphins, and all I want to do is lie here and let Master cuddle me. I'm a dripping, exhausted mess, but I know that I'm beautiful to Master when I'm like this. And whatever pleases Master pleases me.

"It's okay," he whispers, his voice a soothing babble of reassurance in my ears. "I've got you. You obeyed perfectly, pet. You're my good girl and you obeyed perfectly." I hear myself give a tiny mrr of acceptance, still too deep to form words, but I know I don't need to. Master's holding me, Master's got me and he's never letting go. The reassurance sends me deeper, until I'm drifting on that blissful edge between trance and sleep. Master sounds sleepy too-he's told me about this before, how his focus on my brainwashing sometimes sends him into his own kind of trance. It makes these moments even more warm and intimate, when we just rest and relax and allow ourselves to simply...be...for a while.

But of course, it's him who comes up first. I hear him whisper in my ear, "All right, pretty girl. It's time to come back to me now, coming slowly and gently back up, waking up still blissfully happy, still knowing that you're perfectly obedient. Coming back up in one, two, three, four...and five." He snaps his fingers. "Wake."

And reluctantly, I do. But even then, I know my mind still accepts his words. I can still feel the crossed-out thoughts in my head, the parts of me that have been edited to make myself more perfectly his. I'm Master's obedient slave...and it's the best feeling in the world.

THE END