“Alright, I think that’s everything,” Hailee called out, setting a plate of canapés down on a table in her living room. Tottering away in her high heels, she hurriedly adjusted her black dress and smoothed down her long chocolate-coloured hair.

“You sure?” Milo emerged from the kitchen.

“Yeah, everything’s r-ready. Just in time, they’ll be here in like, fifteen minutes...” She took a deep shaky breath to calm herself.

Noticing her harried demeanour, Milo crossed the room towards her and put his hands on her upper arms, rubbing them soothingly as he stared into her eyes. “Hey,” he said softly. “This party’s going to be great. You’ve put a heck of a lot of work into it, and everyone’s gonna appreciate that.”

She met his eyes, smiling even as she shivered at the grasp of his powerful hands. It always made her feel delightfully small and vulnerable when he held her like that, even when he was being sweet and gentle. “I know,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t be nervous. It’s just, y’know, my first time hosting people here. I just really want it to go well.” She had moved in with Milo three months ago, and this dinner party was effectively her housewarming, as well as a small Valentine’s Day celebration.

He grinned and kissed her on the forehead, one of his hands sliding up her arm and onto her shoulder, while the other slipped around and onto her back. “It will. Besides, the guys won’t mind if anything goes slightly wrong - not that it will. It’ll be a great evening.” His smile turned a little sly, his eyes narrowing, his hand creeping around the back of her neck. “But I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said, his tone layered with mischief. “You’re not the host, Hailee.”

Her brow furrowed. “But - but it’s my par-”

If she had been less confused by Milo’s remark, she might have noticed his fingers winding her hair within their grasp. Before she could react, he pulled hard, and she let out a surprised yelp. Her mind reeled, her eyes rolled back, and her body melted, only staying upright thanks to his other hand supporting her back. After a few long seconds adrift with her brain scrambled, she regained a measure of composure and self-awareness, and her gaze refocused on her Master, her expression meek and timid.

“What are you?” he prompted her.

“A f-fucktoy,” she whispered. Her body flared with lust as her mind tumbled further into a storm of submission.

“Very good,” he chuckled. His hands felt so good against her lower back and in her hair, holding it tight like a leash. “Fucktoys can’t host parties. So we’ll have to find something else for you to do.”

Hailee gulped, body trembling with apprehension and arousal.

“Repeat after me. I am an object.”

“I am an object,” she blurted, incapable of resisting his will.

“I am a convenience.”

“I am a convenience.”

“I am here to be used.”

“I am here to be used.”

“I am always ready to be used.”

“I am always ready to be used.”

“I only do what I’m told.”

“I only do what I’m told.”

“I do anything I’m told.”

“I do anything I’m told.”

“Good toy. Say them all again.”

Hailee’s eidetic memory, so useful both at her job as a secretary and in her domestic hypno-sub lifestyle, had easily retained all the mantras. “I am an object. I am a convenience. I am here to be used. I am always ready to be used. I only do what I’m told. I do anything I’m told.”

“Again and again, toy, until I tell you to stop.” He straightened her up, his hand moving off her back, the other still gripping her hair like a vice, holding her head facing him. (She was too well-trained to look away from him without permission, but he liked to physically force her anyway, to drive home the powerlessness.) His cruel smile was growing wider with her every repetition.

“I am an object. I am a convenience. I am here to be used. I am always ready to be used. I only do what I’m told. I do anything I’m told. I am an object. I am a convenience. I am here to be used. I am always ready to be used. I only do what I’m told. I do anything I’m told. I am an object. I am a convenience. I am here to be u-”

His other hand suddenly rocketed towards her face and slapped her into the depths of trance. Her cheek stung, her eyes rolled, and her head swung from side to side as it dangled by the hair from his clenched fist. Her mantras were halted for no more than two seconds before she resumed, her tone now sleepy and devoid of the submissive terror that had filled it before. “Used,” she mumbled, her eyes flickering shut. “I am always ready to be used. I only do what I’m told. I do anything I’m told. I am an object. I am a convenience...”

***

The first thing Hailee was aware of was the sound of her own voice, still chanting mantras, sounding more and more awake as she gradually emerged from trance. “I do anything I’m told. I am an object. I am a convenience,” she sighed, finally heaving her eyelids open and looking around blearily.

To her astonishment, the party was in full swing. Their half-dozen guests filled the living room, casually chatting and laughing, eating canapés and cocktail sausages, and drinking the expensive Merlot she’d selected specially. Not one of them spared her a glance, including Milo, who was on the other side of the room talking to Lena, one of their oldest friends as a couple.

The only sign that this was not a respectable social gathering was Hailee herself, kneeling in the corner, stark naked and chanting slutty mantras. Her voice was getting a little sore - she must have been repeating for quite some time. One of her hands was between her legs, stroking her pulsating cunt, and she realised she had been repeatedly edging herself in trance, keeping her lust stirred up. Any attempt she made to move, other than to look around or to masturbate, met with miserable failure. Any attempt she made to silence herself, or to say something else, was similarly useless. All she could do was kneel, chant, and rub.

A whimper escaped her mouth amidst the mantras, as she glanced around at her friends. They were all people the couple had met through the hypno-kink scene, and it was generally understood that the polite dinner party would be the precursor to one of their semi-annual orgies. Hailee had known, on some level, that her Master would mesmerise and humiliate her at some point tonight. She just hadn’t anticipated it happening right from the start. And though these were people who had seen her naked, controlled and degraded many times before, she still felt her entire body blushing, deliciously aware of how vulnerable she was, surrounded by the seven people who knew best how to push all her buttons.

Still they all ignored her, continuing their conversations. None of them were using her, so there was no need for them to pay her an ounce of attention. She squirmed on her knees, chanting, “I only do what I’m told,” feeling deeply, gloriously dehumanised. She was tucked in the corner, out of the way, an afterthought at her own party, only to be acknowledged if her guests felt the need for sexual relief. Until then, she had as much of an impact on their collective minds as the nearby table where she’d laid out the finger food.

Milo glanced over at her, smirking as he noticed her open roaming eyes, the spark of intelligence reignited in them. She gazed at him beseechingly, unsure what she was even asking for. Did she want to be released from this humiliation, allowed to be a person again? Would she rather be sent back into a trance, so she wouldn’t be aware of what was to be done to her? Or did she want to experience and remember every moment, no matter how cruel, how degrading, how painful...?

It didn’t matter what she wanted - she couldn’t ask for it. She couldn’t move, except to touch herself and look around. She couldn’t say anything other than her mantras, and she couldn’t stop saying them. She was drowning in shame and arousal, at the mercy of everyone around her.

Milo crossed the room, Lena and her partner Charlie close behind him. She gazed up at them, crying out plaintively, “I am a convenience. I am here to be used...” Her fingers were thrusting inside her now, as she got closer to her first edge since she’d come out of trance.

Continuing their conversation, Milo stood beside her and planted his hand on top of her head, casually leaning on her as she frantically fucked herself. “I only do what I’m told, I do anything I’m told,” she grunted, her mantras speeding up as her fingers did. Not even looking at her, Lena stooped down and seized one of her nipples, twisting it savagely. “I aaahm an object, I am a convenience!” Then, moving in sync without exchanging a word on the subject, still seemingly chatting normally, Milo and Lena both bent down and grabbed Hailee’s wrists, pulling her hands away from her cunt and clasping them together behind her back. “I am here to be used,” she wailed, bowing her head in defeat.

Charlie was complementing the way Hailee had redecorated the living room (but addressing the compliment to Milo, rather than Hailee herself), while unbuttoning the front of their jeans, which showed a clear bulge. Her Master took her by the armpits and hauled her to her feet, her legs obligingly helping him lift her, bringing her to stand at attention. Then he put his hands on her shoulders, turned her by ninety degrees, and walked her over to the snack table, bending her over and lying her torso on the varnished surface, her nose and boobs squishing against the wood. “I am a convenience,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

“Is it really gonna keep chanting like that?” Lena sniggered, too quietly for Hailee to hear the words she said in her sharp Ukrainian accent.

“Apart from when something’s in its mouth,” Milo replied in similar sotto voce, before stepping forwards and grasping Hailee’s hair, turning her head to the side. Her cheek pressed against the cold surface, her field of vision entirely filled with the plate of cocktail sausages.

Charlie slipped their cock out of their pants and stepped towards Hailee, easing into her slick crevice. “I do anything I’m told,” she whimpered, as they began to unhurriedly fuck her from behind, still chatting nonchalantly with Milo and Lena.

She knew this might be the rest of her night. From the very first minute, she had been reduced to a free-use cocksleeve at her own party, and would remain so for the rest of it. Except, of course, it wasn’t her party. She - it - realised that now. It was a fucktoy, and fucktoys don’t throw parties. They were the entertainment. The party favours, to be enjoyed by the guests as they pleased.

“I am an object,” it chanted, believing the words more than ever as Charlie’s cock rubbed against its inner walls. “I am a convenience. I am here to be used. I am always ready to be used. I only do what I’m told. I do anything I’m told...”

“Let’s switch that silly brain off,” Milo chuckled, reaching over and tapping the fucktoy twice on its temple. Its mind slipped away like sand in an hourglass, as it forgot any pretence of being a person and returned to being the simple sex doll it was, still announcing what it was, and what it would do, to anyone who would listen.