“It’s the most wonderful tiiiime of the year,” Sabrina sang to herself, for no apparent reason. After all, it was mid-August.

“Nearly ready, love?” Phil’s voice called from outside her room. He was probably standing at the front door, ready to leave the apartment. He wasn’t one to get impatient, but there was a solid chance he’d been waiting a while.

“Almost,” she called back, and then took up her song again as she stared into the mirror on her vanity, sitting back in her chair with one hand in her panties. A faint smirk crossed her face as she contemplated how much longer it took her to get ready to go out, even for a simple shopping trip. Cis, straight(ish) men like Phil just didn’t understand that a girlie pop like her always needed to look her best!

He’d made some comment about her clothes that morning, within minutes of them waking up. Well, within minutes of him waking up, at any rate. As per their usual routine, Sabby made her way to his room first thing, snuck under his duvet, and roused him with a tender blowjob. Afterwards he performed his morning ablutions while she sat in his bed chatting to him, or rather at him, pretty much monologuing while he brushed his teeth, shaved and washed his face.

At one point, as she recounted a long-winded anecdote regarding several friends of hers that he didn’t know, he stuck his head through the door and interrupted, “Oh, babe? Make sure you’re dressed appropriately today, yeah?”

She paused, spacing out for a mere moment as she processed what he’d said, and then gave him a quizzical look. “Yeah, of course.”

As if she ever dressed inappropriately! She always dressed for the occasion, with her customary good taste. For instance, for their trip to the mall, she wore a tight, spangly, lime green dress with a hem that barely crossed the border from her butt to her thighs, and matching underwear. Perfectly respectable. Particularly once she added the finishing touches.

Once she’d applied just the right amount of glamorous makeup, she’d settled down in her chair for the most fun part of her preparations, a gentle edge to get her panties nice and wet. She’d found that singing sometimes helped her sex drive, hence the unseasonable Christmas carol to which she was currently creaming herself.

As she did so, she smiled at her reflection. Damn, she looked hot - as always. But she’d look even better with the final part of her outfit.

Satisfied, she peeled her panties off, turned them inside-out, rolled them into a ball, and popped them into her mouth. Then she reached for her vanity, picked up a roll of bondage tape - lime green to match her dress - and tore off a strip. Puckering her lips, she plastered the tape over them, smoothing it down with both hands. She couldn’t help letting out a muffled moan as she did so - the tape felt so soft and velvety, giving her shivers of sensory stimulation.

Once she was done sticking the strip of tape in place, and making out with the sticky side as she did so, she glanced in the mirror again, and beamed, crinkling her mouth covering. Now she looked perfect! Ideally dressed for a day at the mall. Slipping on a pair of high heels, she trotted out into the hallway, rolling her panties around in her sealed mouth, relishing the taste of her own pussy.

By the time she reached the front door - where, true enough, her roommate, lover and owner was waiting patiently for her - she was humming another tune, this one a pop song she was bopping her head along to. She paused long enough to attempt to ask, “How do I look?”

Understanding the incoherent question, Phil replied, “Divine.” Smirking fondly at the sight of her, he drew her into a hug and gave her ass a friendly squeeze. Then he opened the door, and she marched confidently outside. Approaching Phil’s car, she saw a middle-aged neighbour walking her dog on the opposite side of the street, and waved cheerfully. The neighbour, who had seen the hot young housemates emerge from their apartment in bizarre and provocative outfits too often to be fazed, waved back before continuing on her way, shaking her head and chuckling quietly.

Locking the door and turning to follow close behind his brainwashed sex kitten, Phil grinned to himself. He never would’ve attempted this particular suggestion if they really were going to the mall, and Sabrina’s subject agency probably wouldn’t have let him anyway. But since they were actually going to the hypno con, where their friends and play partners were waiting, her attire was perfectly acceptable. He revelled in her jolly obliviousness - and he was looking forward to the moment the veil lifted and everything became clear to her.

Settling into the passenger seat, the clueless hypnocrite promptly began talking animatedly again, failing either to articulate a single word or to notice that she was failing to articulate a single word. Neither did she register that her partner was barely responding to her, merely nodding and making affirmative noises from time to time. That wasn’t exactly unusual - he rarely managed a word in edgeways when she was nattering away even under ordinary circumstances.

Of course, these were ordinary circumstances, as far as she was concerned. There was nothing strange going on at all. She looked normal. She looked good. Her outfit was completely appropriate, and super cute. She admired her totally normal reflection in the wing mirror, giving herself a big, beaming, bondage-tape-obscured smile, and then resumed her unintelligible babbling.

Phil couldn’t contain a little laugh. It wasn’t the first time he’d given her a hypnotic suggestion specifically designed to shut her up. Sometimes they were effective, but in this case not so much. Even when mindfucked to the point where she happily, unwittingly gagged herself, nothing could silence Sabrina when she was on a roll.