All Your Attention - Commission for HypnoGrey
A direct message demands your attention, and you feel compelled to obey.
Please do not read if you are under 18! The following contains mature content not suited for general audiences. You have been warned.
A direct message demands your attention, and you feel compelled to obey.
HYPNOSIS WARNING! The following contains content that is written in the second person and uses strong hypnotic language making use of themes of CNC. There will be suggestions to relax, fall into a trance, and obey the words on the screen directed toward the reader. There will also be a suggestion to masturbate to an orgasm. There are no further suggestions or triggers, and no expectations to obey the author, creator, or commissioner of the work. Read at your own risk and only in safe situations.
By PseudonymousUmbreon. If you wish to use or reference my work and/or my characters, please contact me first.
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All Your Attention
Commission for HypnoGrey
Your phone vibrates against your hip. Even before you pull it out of your pocket, before the screen wakes up, before the contents of the notification make themselves known to you, you know who it is. You know what They want. Despite yourself, you answer.
«May I have your attention?» They message, and the answer is yes, not because you want the answer to be yes, but because They do. It’s what They want, not you. That’s what you’ve come to learn. What They’ve made you believe. You lie still on those words, processing them over and over in your head. They certainly have your attention now, and evidently, you have Theirs, because They’re already typing Their next message.
«Good slave.»
A chill runs down your spine. Those two wonderful words, like a fist to wet paper, break through your psyche effortlessly, and there’s that familiar warm feeling once more. It spreads throughout your body, sending every muscle helplessly limp. A feeling of obedience. A feeling of need. A feeling of submission. Your focus zeroes in on the screen, on the words They type, and you’re ready for more. You need more.
«Are you busy right now?» A question, this one requiring an answer. How it differs from the last question doesn’t matter, because there is now a command you need to obey, a request for information you will respond to.
You collect your thoughts. «Yes,» you message back, and you think that’s true as you vaguely remember what you had been doing before. It’s hard to know for sure; as soon as you hit send, your brain empties once more and mindless bliss takes over again.
«May I distract you from your work?»
The question once again triggers a rush of thoughts, and a different answer emerges. «No.» It’s hard to tell why you said that, especially when every fiber of your being is screaming yes. But no, you want to tell Them you don’t want to be distracted. Some part of you knows to accompany the message with a safeword to communicate this lie, because—Master expects you to communicate. And communicate you have.
«Good slave.» Like ice under a blowtorch you melt once more, and this time, the world disappears with what was left of your brain. Now, you know, there’s no escape, as Master’s control starts to wrap around you. A terrifying comfort sets into your stomach and sits there. You are safe, and you are in immediate danger. They will take advantage of you, and there is nothing you can do to stop them.
Master asks where you are, and you answer automatically, your brain refusing to process any of the words now. All your attention, all your focus, lies solely on Them. Were you in public? In your bedroom? It’s impossible to say, because now, you’re under Their control, and Their words are all that matter. Not you, not anything around you, and certainly not your consent. Master consents. You obey.
You float, weightless, in a void filled only with Their words. They poke and prod at you, shaping you, pulling you in new directions you’ve never been before, and everything They say is all you ever have been and all you ever will be. You are Theirs, and you are safe in their care—safe from the world outside, a world unable to touch you when you are consumed by Their influence, a control so absolute that no barriers exist between Them and you.
Master will take care of you. The phrase echoes through your empty head, and you are reminded to send more safewords as Master places a hand over what belongs to Them, the parts between your legs, just like the rest of you. You don’t want to be touched, and you tell Them, complete with the words that make Them ignore your protests. You are safe, and you are being violated…
«Touch.» A simple command, but a strong one, as a hand you believe to be yours takes hold of yourself and begins to radiate pleasure throughout your body. Master encourages you, and you are a «good slave» for Them, allowing the pleasure They force upon you to seize your body as completely as Their control does.
«Such a very, very good slave~» They message, and your heart nearly explodes with love and lust all at once. So completely owned by Them, with no agency or will of your own, just like They’ve conditioned you to be.
A memory slips through the cracks of Their hypnosis, only because They allow it to, of the first time you were this deeply controlled. A chance encounter on the internet, and a single message saying hello. You talked, talked for what felt like ages, discovering what you had in common until you ran out of things to discuss, and then, you slipped away to the power of Their words.
Was that the first time? Or was it just the most recent? Unable to focus on the specifics, another memory is thrust upon you, and it’s the first time you fell for Their control. Another, of the first time you fell for Their control. And another, of the first time you fell for Their control. Experience after experience floods your brain, and you forget to discern what is true from what you are told. Master knows best.
Time is lost on you as the hand against your most sensitive places teases and uses you relentlessly. Every touch, every word, every sensation amplifies pleasure to the point of bliss, and you are happy. Happy to be lost in the horny, inescapable embrace of Master’s control. You want it to last forever, as your trembling, shaking body drifts to the edge of release ever so slowly.
At long last, you reach it, and if not for Master, you’d have orgasmed a thousand times over by now, and it still wouldn’t match the pleasure that comes with every single thing you experience. But Master has plans, and at Their command, the hand bringing you pleasure retracts, but the feeling continues. You want, need, crave, for Master to claim you as Theirs.
Repetition takes hold as They send a message. «You obey.»
«I obey.» A powerful burst of pleasure shoots through your body and your body reacts despite itself.
They send another. «You submit.»
«I submit.»
«You serve.»
«I serve.»
«I am yours.»
«I am hypnotized.»
«I am under your control.»
«I don’t consent.»
«I am going to cum at your command.»
That last message fills you with anticipation and suddenly, the hand is back, pleasuring you faster than before, but your body refuses to disobey. You drool, you sweat, you shake, but you do not cum. Not without Their word. Not without Their command.
You fire off message after message to Them, begging for release. Hoping, praying that They will take mercy on you, understand that you just want to feel the ultimate pleasure at Their word. You assure them you’ll be a good slave, even better than you already are, and that you’d do anything for an orgasm. You offer your complete surrender, your permanent submission to Their power.
And They accept your terms.
One final thought rings clear through your mind. I want this. Whether it comes from you or Master matters none as it’s instantly swept out of sight, and—
«Cum.»
You burst. Your entire body oozes pleasure. Your entire body is pleasure. And you couldn’t be happier, couldn’t be hornier, couldn’t be more obedient, submissive, owned, controlled, hypnotized, Theirs.
The afterglow settles in, and Master comforts you. You did a wonderful job, you’re such a «good slave,» you’re safe with Master, and Master is here to take care of you. You are Master’s, and nothing can hurt you under Their protection. Under Their hypnosis.
A number. «One.» Master counts, and you know what it means. It’s time to wake up.
«Two.» You take a deep breath and soak in those wonderful feelings of bliss once again.
«Three.» Sunlight hits your skin, and you become aware of your body as warmth spreads across you.
«Four.» You smile. You are happy. You are owned. You are loved.
«Five.» Feelings of submission, of obedience, of helplessness start to fade.
«Six.» Your body responds to your commands once again. Your mind begins to populate with your own words as it used to be.
«Seven.» Nearly there, aware of not only Master’s presence, but your own. You remember Master’s name. You remember your own.
«Eight.» Your senses fully return, feeling in all parts of your body. You are your own person again.
«Nine.» The euphoria fades, replaced with a serene sense of calm. The smile remains.
«Ten.» You are awake, and Master is still typing.
«Hello,» They message.
«Hi,» you message back.
«How are you feeling?»
«Owned,» you say, and that is undeniably what you think this time. You sit with that word for a second, satisfied.
«Good slave~»