Embrace It

Part 5

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright 2025 greyscribbler@yahoo.com

Archived on the Read Only Mind web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

Lauren frowned at her computer screen. Concentrating seemed so hard today. She was getting a headache every time she tried.

What was left of the blonde’s concentration was broken by Kaitlyn’s voice from behind her. “I need something for the project. For my next report. I need some pictures.”

“Like, you mean, photos?” Why had she said that? It made her sound like a complete airhead. Lauren smiled and giggled and twirled her fingers in her hair.

She didn’t even think about it.

“Of me,” Kaitlyn explained, her hands indicating her body, and the maid’s outfit she wore. “Like this. Being a maid. It’s for the project.”

“Oh.” It made sense to Lauren now. “I’ll get my phone.”

Lauren wasn’t sure how many photos she took of her friend. She tried counting but lost track. Then smiled and giggled and twirled her fingers in her hair again. But she had to take the photos. She could do that. It didn’t hurt her head as much as trying to concentrate on her work did. So many photos. Kaitlyn dusting. Kaitlyn vacuuming. Kaitlyn doing the washing up. Kaitlyn just standing there, hands clasped in front of her and eyes downcast. Even when she thought she’d done more than enough, her friend insisted on more “Please,” the brunette implored. “They have to be right. It’s for the project.”

“For the project,” Lauren nodded.

“And Professor Mackenzie is a woman.”

“She totally is.” So she took more photos. Kaitlyn looking like she was waiting to be told what to do. Like a good maid. Lauren did her best to ignore the heat in her friend’s cheeks. The tremble in the brunette as each photo was taken.

“I’ll send them to you,” Lauren said at least, once Kaitlyn was satisfied.

“Can you take some more?” Kaitlyn asked. “If they’re not any good.” Well, almost satisfied.

Of course, Lauren would do that. It was for the project. They had to do the project.

Kaitlyn’s heart was in her mouth as she knocked on the professor’s door the next day. She’d stayed up so late, preparing her report. Fretting over which photos to send. Part of her had wanted to send them all, but she knew that wasn’t right. She had to choose the right ones. One that had shown her cleaning, bent over, just a little. But with her skirt so short… It did look a bit, well, suggestive. But Professor Mackenzie was a woman, so that was alright. There was another photo that had her just standing there, like she was simply waiting to be told what to do next. Another with her eyes downcast, but her hip just cocked. Did that look sexy and submissive? Kaitlyn hoped so.

And looking at the photos had been so hot. Her, in her maid’s outfit. Being a maid turned her on so much. Even looking at the photos did. Need had coursed through her. It would have been so easy to cum. But she hadn’t. She mustn’t. A good maid didn’t do that. It was part of what she’d found out, researching everything about sexy submissive maids. Of course, not all of them did that. Or didn’t do it, depending on how you looked at it. But some did. Some let whoever they were serving decide when they came. It was so hot. There was something special about the idea. Something so transgressive. So submissive. Giving up control over something like that. She had to do it. For the project.

Even in her bed that night, her fingers stroking, exploring, Kaitlyn hadn’t cum. She could have cum. She knew that. It was definitely her idea not to. Nobody else’s. How could it be anybody else’s? So it was her idea, just to see what it was like. Kaitlyn kept thinking about how a sexy, submissive maid would only cum when she was allowed. The idea had her gasping as she’d lain in her bed, her back arching, nipples rock-hard and centre so wet. Not cumming unless she was allowed to. Such a hot idea. So she didn’t let herself cum, backing off every time she got too close. So aroused, she could barely think. Even if it was just a game she was playing. Teasing herself, not letting herself cum. Of course, she could cum, whenever she wanted.

But it was so hot not to.

Kaitlyn still hadn’t cum by the time she arrived at the professor’s office. Not in her bed that morning, her fingers sliding teasingly slowly along her opening. Not in the shower, pinching a nipple as her other hand played at her clit.

So hot not to cum. Mustn’t cum.

Maybe never cum again, unless someone allowed her to. And if no-one knew that she needed to be allowed, maybe never cum again at all. God, that was so hot. Almost enough to have her cumming as she stood outside the professor’s door. But of course she didn’t cum. No-one had told her that she could.

She was so nervous as well. And not just about what the professor would think of her report. She’d felt like she was walking on eggshells the whole way across campus, her eyes darting anxiously about. Someone might realise…

“Come in.”

Her heart still futtering, pangs of frustrated arousal pulling at her, Kaitlyn opened the door and slipped inside.

“Hello, Kaitlyn,” the professor greeted her.

“Hello, Professor Mackenzie,” Kaitlyn replied, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped in front of her. She hoped that was a good position for a maid.

“I liked your report,” the professor said. Kaitlyn’s nerves eased, just a little. “And the photos. Very good. But I think you know why you’re here.”

“Yes, professor.”

“Well, take the coat off. And for now, call me ma’am.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” That was right, wasn’t it? Breathy and nervous. Not hard to sound like that, with that urgent need between her legs. She sounded submissive, didn’t she? She had to. For the project.

Kaitlyn slipped her coat from her shoulders. “I, um.”

“Oh, that outfit is very nice,” Kaitlyn could hear the approval in the professor’s voice. “Even better than in the photos. You look like a sexy submissive maid.”

Kaitlyn allowed herself a nervous smile. It had been so hard walking across campus. Even if the coat had hidden her outfit. Well, most of it. The shoes and stockings would have been visible below the coat. And the bow in her hair. Maybe the collar around her neck. But most of it would have been hidden.

Not that it was now. Not the skirt that was so short that you could see the garters that held those stockings up. Not the little apron. Not the plunging neckline that…

“You know what to do.” The professor’s voice was so firm. Commanding. Just what a maid needed to hear. “You can start over there.”

Kaitlyn looked up, hesitantly. The professor was pointing at some shelves. Kaitlyn knew what to do. She’d been doing her research. For the project. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

She had to clean.

Like a maid.

For a woman.

She knew exactly what to do. Exactly how a sexy, submissive maid should act. When to avert her eyes. When to look at the person she was being a maid for. How to speak. Softly. Not too softly. She needed to be heard. But softly enough. A little nervous. Like a good submissive. How to hold her body. How present it without being forward. It wasn’t her place to put herself forward. A good sexy submissive maid didn’t do that. But she could let herself be seen without being forward.

She knew how to do it.

Like a good little maid.

Oh, God. Kaitlyn didn’t know how much later it was. It had been so easy to lose herself in the cleaning.

It was so hot. Kaitlyn didn’t know what to think about that. Being a maid, cleaning. She could barely think, the pent-up need leaving her so desperate. But she mustn’t, mustn’t cum. Being a maid turned her on so much. It always had. Hadn’t it? Yes, it had. She knew that. Knew it. Dressing up like a maid. Doing what a maid did. She knew exactly what to do. It turned her on more than anything. Her nipples were so hard. Could the professor see that? And she was so wet. Her pussy had to be a hot, sticky, mess. She hoped that she wasn’t dripping. That wouldn’t be right. And she was feeling like that in front of a woman. Which felt odd and somehow wrong. But it didn’t change how aroused Kaitlyn was, her centre crying out in need, her nipples so hard, breasts aching to be touched. God, she wanted to cum.

She couldn’t.

A maid didn’t do that. Not while she was carrying out her duties. Kaitlyn’s knees almost buckled at the thought. But she kept at her cleaning. Even as, with each swipe of her cloth, those phantom fingers played at her clit, at her breasts. As she polished the professor’s possessions, awards and pictures and-.

“Now the table, Kaitlyn.” There was table, against a side wall. She hadn’t dusted it yet.

“Yes, ma’am.” Just the right hint of submission in her voice. God, she’d been given an order. Kaitlyn risked flashing a little smile. That was what she should do, right? A submissive maid could smile at the person who’d given them an order. If it was just a little smile. If it showed her submission. And then, and then… the table wasn’t that high. She’d need to bend over to reach it. She could bend her knees. A maid could do that. But…

She bent at the waist. Her skirt rode up. How high did it ride up? Did it show her panties?

Kaitlyn quailed at that thought. It wasn’t right, was it? Showing her panties to a woman, to the professor. But she was being a sexy, submissive maid. That turned her on so much.

Wouldn’t it better if she showed them to a man? Most of what she’d found online had been women playing at being maids for men. And Kaitlyn liked boys. Even if they didn’t turn her on as much as being a maid. Wha…? The thought died. Being a maid turned her on more than anything else. But she still liked boys. So…

But she needed to reclaim the stereotype. For women.

For the project

The professor was a woman.

Kaitlyn bent over a little more. That’s what a sexy, submissive maid would do. Right? It had been in what she’d found. Show herself off. Expose herself. Not flaunt herself. She was submissive. But just a little. Just enough.

Kaitlyn could hardly breathe. It was so hot.

She was melting.

“Good girl.”

Kaitlyn’s breath caught in her chest.

“Sit down.”

She did. A good maid did what she was told.

“Look at the screen.”

She did. She trusted the professor.

Natalie waited until the girl was properly under.

“You were such a good maid just now,” the older woman laughed. “God, that trembling little smile almost had me cumming. ‘Yes ma’am’ this and ‘yes ma’am’ that. You knew how to move. How to speak. How to obey. And you know what the best bit is?”

“No,” the hypnotised girl replied, not an announce of emotion in her voice. Not a hint of awareness.

“I haven’t had to tell you. I haven’t had to train you. You’ve done it all to yourself. Every little bit. Learning how to be a good little submissive maid. All I had to do was give you the right incentive. And very soon, you won’t want to be anything else.” She watched happily for a while as the girl stared at the screen, her eyes wide and empty.

“Kaitlyn,” the professor asked eventually, “have you cum since you were last here?”

“No,” the girl replied, voice still so flat. But Natalie could see the flush in the girl’s cheek.

“That’s right. And you won’t cum. Not until I tell you that you can. I have some things for you to say. Say ‘A good maid only cums when she’s allowed to. I love only cumming when I’m allowed to. I’ll never cum again unless I’m allowed to. It’s what I want.’ Repeat those ideas. Over and over. Until you believe them.”

There was no hesitation in the girl. Nothing but obedience. “A good maid only cums when she’s allowed to. I love only cumming when I’m allowed to. I’ll never cum again unless I’m allowed to. It’s what I want.” The girl’s voice was so empty, her blank eyes fixed on the screen, those words spilling from her mouth.

“A good maid only cums when she’s allowed to. I love only cumming when I’m allowed to. I’ll never cum again unless I’m allowed to. It’s what I want.” Natalie could almost see the ideas sinking into the girl’s mind.

“A good maid only cums when she’s allowed to. I love only cumming when I’m allowed to. I’ll never cum again unless I’m allowed to. It’s what I want.” Just how long do I make her wait?

“Nothing stays clean does it,” the professor said. Kaitlyn didn’t look around. She didn’t need to. She could listen and clean at the same time. Hadn’t she been sitting down? It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to think about that. Or how turned on she was, how desperately she needed to cum.

She mustn’t cum. A good maid only came when she was allowed to. Wouldn’t it be hot to only cum when she was allowed to? To never cum unless someone told her to? What…? That couldn’t be right. Giving up control over her orgasms to someone else. But the idea…

Letting someone tell her when to cum. Someone she was serving as a maid. Like the professor. The professor could let her cum. But there was no way the woman would do that. Professor Mackenzie might know that being a mad turned Kaitlyn on, but she didn’t know that Kaitlyn had decided that she couldn’t cum unless allowed. Nobody did. So nobody could tell her to cum.

Maybe she’d never cum again.

That idea was so hot. And it had been her decision. It couldn’t be anyone else’s…

“So you’ll have to come back. Hmm, not every day. that would be a little much. But shall we say, every two days? Yes, that’s sounds right. You can come back every two days and clean my office like a good little maid. It will be very helpful for your work on the project. Yes, Kaitlyn?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kaitlyn replied. God, she’d get to be a maid. A sexy, submissive, maid.

For a woman. For the project.

Maybe the professor would realise just how aroused she was. Let Kaitlyn cum. Maybe.

But more importantly, she’d get to be a maid.

What more could she want?

---

“I like the outfit,” the professor smiled.

“Um, thanks?” Lauren replied nervously. Then smiled and giggled and twirled her fingers in her hair. She didn’t think about that. She tried not to think about what she was wearing. A tight, pale pink dress, strapless. It cut so low across her chest and was so short, hugging her curves.

Just what a bimbo would wear. She’d even paired it with a cute little pink purse and pink high heels.

And pink lipstick and…

Lauren didn’t want to think about it. If she thought too hard about it, it gave her a headache.

“But we have other things to talk about today, don’t we? It’s one thing to look like a bimbo, but if you really want to understand the stereotype, you need to act like a bimbo. Talk like a bimbo. I understand how embarrassing that could be.”

It totally was. Anyone hearing her talk like that would be so embarrassing. Lauren smiled and giggled and twirled her hair. Not that she realised what she was doing.

“You have been studying all that, haven’t you Lauren?”

“Yes, Professor Mackenzie. Like, totally. It’s kinda fun and…” Lauren’s voice faded away. She hadn’t meant to sound like that. But it was so easy. And kinda fun, really.

“But, as I said, I understand why it may be hard. So you can try in the safety in my office.”

That was right. She needed to be a bimbo. For a woman. Professor Mackenzie was a woman.

It was for the project.

“So what do you think bimbos talk about?”

“Um, like, clothes?’ Lauren offered. “Like, how cute they are and how they like looking pretty?”

Did she sound like a bimbo?

“Anything else besides clothes?”

“Well, there’s like access-.” She couldn’t even think the word. It was too long. “Um, shoes and handbags and stuff. And getting your hair done. That’s, like super fun. Like, getting it done right is totes to die for.” Did she want to talk like that? She twirled her hair. It was probably okay. It was for the project.

“Obviously you’ve had your hair done since last we met.”

“Oh, I totally have,” Lairen excitedly. “It was awesome of you to pay for that. It was totally the highlight of my week. And I got these gorgeous extensions.” Lauren held up a strand of her hair. “They’re like, totally everything. The salon was so glam. And my hair is, like, totes perfect now. Maybe next time I could get some slaying nails to go with. OMG.” Lauren ended with an excited squeal.

Natalie couldn’t take her eyes off the girl. The platinum extensions did look marvellous, framing her innocent face. She could just eat the girl up.

“And what about how bimbos act?”

“Oh, that’s super easy,” Lauren grinned. “Like, smile and hands and stuff. Like, when you look totally amazing you just have to make sure people can you know, see how awesome you look.” Natalie could definitely see how good Lauren looked. It was definitely helped by the girl sitting up in her seat, back arched and giving a little wiggle.

“Do bimbos read anything?”

“Um, like, not much? Like, fashion and clothes and stuff?” The girl seemed totally unaware of the duplication in what she had just said. “Some of the pictures are totes amazing. Like, maybe I could get some clothes like that?”

I’m sure looking at the pictures is easier for you than reading. Even fashion magazines might give you a bit of a headache now, the professor smirked. “There is some money left in the budget,” she said innocently.

“Yay!” Lauren clapped excitedly.

“What about how they walk?”

“Oh, for sure,” the blonde beamed, jumping out of her chair. “When you have awesome heels like these,” she indicated the four-inch stilettos she was wearing. “You totes need to know how to walk. I’ve been like, practi-, prec-, like doing it lots.” She proceeded to give a demonstration; one foot effortlessly placed in front of the other hips swinging. The girl oozed sex appeal.

If I wanted to jump you before…

“Very good Lauren,” the professor made herself say, fighting the temptation. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Awesome!” the girl cried. “It’s super fun. Totes amazing. And um, you know, a little…” her hands waved in front of her.

“Aroused?” the professor suggested.

“Um, yeah, that.”

“Look at the screen, Lauren.” The girl looked up, her eyes caught by the spiral, an adorable look of surprise on her face. Then her eyes widened further as the thoughts seeped out of her head.

“Just like your little friend,” Natalie chortled. “I haven’t had to teach you a thing. You’ve learnt it all for yourself. Such a good little student. Have you been watching recordings of bimbos?”

“Yes,” Lauren replied, her eyes fixed on the screen.

“How they talk? What they talk about? How they pose? How they walk?”

“Yes,” the girl repeated.

Natalie had risen from her seat, moved around behind Lauren. She tapped the girl on the head. “And it’s all up here now. You put it there yourself. Why, it’s almost like you wanted to be a bimbo. Anyone watching you would think that. You must have spent hours studying bimbos. Practicing. How to become just like them. But looking and acting is one thing. I want a real bimbo. A total airhead. Or is that a totes airhead?” the professor smirked. “So thinking is going to get harder for you. You don’t like thinking. It hurts your pretty little head. Except if you’re thinking about being a pretty little bimbo and talking about the things bimbos talk about. Clothes and makeup and being sexy. So I have some things to repeat. Say ‘I don’t like thinking’.”

“I don’t like thinking,” the blonde repeated.

“Say, ‘Thinking about anything other than what bimbos think about makes my head hurt.’”

“Thinking about anything other than what bimbos think about makes my head hurt.” Lauren frowned. As if even that idea was giving her a headache.

Natalie resumed her seat as she let the girl repeat those ideas. Over and over. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she was sure that the girl was slowly looking more like an airhead, as if any thought was too hard for her.

“Let me take some notes,” the professor mused, typing away at her keyboard. “Keeping proper notes is important for any experiment, isn’t it Lauren? You don’t have to answer that,” the older woman added as the blonde opened her mouth. “Now, let’s add a bit more. Say ‘Thinking is hard. I don’t like thinking. Thinking about anything other than what bimbos think about makes my head hurt. I want to be an empty-headed bimbo.’ Keep saying all that until I tell you to stop. And with every repetition you’ll believe it even more.”

“Thinking is hard,” the girl echoed, the words falling so easily from her pink-painted lips. “I don’t like thinking. Thinking about anything other than what bimbos think about makes my head hurt. I want to be an empty-headed bimbo.”

“You look just like a bimbo,” the professor smiled. “And you know what to do. You’ve taught yourself.”

“Thinking is hard,” Lauren repeated, her voice empty, her eyes fixed on the screen. “I don’t like thinking. Thinking about anything other than what bimbos think about makes my head hurt. I want to be an empty-headed bimbo.”

“That’s enough of that for now,” the professor ordered, after taking some more notes. She hadn’t bothered counting the number of repetitions. Lauren certainly hadn’t. “I have the next set of ideas for you. Things to say and believe, like a good little girl. Say, ‘I love being a bimbo. Being a bimbo turns me on.’ Keep saying it until I tell you to stop.”

“I love being a bimbo. Being a bimbo turns me on.”

Soon the girl would be an empty-headed bimbo who wasn’t worried about anything but being pretty and dumb and turned on all the time.

So very soon.

“And I totally, like, love this dress,” Lauren enthused. Had she been talking about something else? Looking at something else. It hurt to think about it. And she did like the dress. “It’s like, the best.” Did she sound like a bimbo? Did she even want to? A part of her did, but that was wrong, wasn’t it? Thinking about it made her head hurt. It was easier not to think about it. She needed to, for the project.

And it turned her on.

Lauren wanted to do the project. So maybe that meant she did need to sound like a bimbo. Thinking was so hard. It was easier just to enjoy what she was doing.

“I’m glad you like it. I wouldn’t want to see my research founds going to waste.”

“You are, like, totally awesome for paying for this stuff!” the blonde exclaimed. At least her head didn’t hurt now. “Do you, like, think it, you know, makes me look hot?”

“Oh, it definitely looks good on you.”

“OMG! That’s so super nice of you!” Lauren beamed. And if there was something just a little vacant about her smile, well, that was how it should be. She was playing at being a bimbo. Was she just playing? She was looking like a bimbo and acting like one and sounding like one. And that was hot. She was feeling all nice turned on and…

It was for the project

Just for the project.

What was the professor saying?

“Perhaps you should get your nails done.”

Lauren peered at her hands. “You think? I mean, I like, could, you know. I could get some yummy long nails. And they’d be all shiny. Pink. That’d be super cool. It’d totally go with my dress and, like, everything. I dunno, though. You think I should? I mean, if they were pink what if I, like, wore a different dress?”

“If they were fake, you could change them to suit your dress.”

“Oh, that’d be totally adorbs!” The blonde was almost bouncing in her seat. “I could, like, match everything! I love that!”

Natalie was having trouble controlling herself. This was the Lauren she’d wanted to see. Vacuous, fashion obsessed. Just a pretty decoration. But it wasn’t real. Not yet. The girl was still mostly playing at being a bimbo.

Mostly.

She couldn’t resist doing more.

“Lauren, look at the screen.”

“Say, ‘I want to be a bimbo’.”

“I want to be a bimbo.” The girl’s voice was so empty it was hard to believe she felt anything, but those words would sink in to her mind.

“Say. ‘I am a pretty, empty-headed bimbo’.”

“I am a pretty, empty-headed bimbo.” The girl’s eyes were so empty, nothing but the words she’d been given in her head.

“Say, ‘Being a bimbo turns me on’.”

“Being a bimbo turns me on.” There was the slightest flush to the girl’s cheeks. It made her even more desirable.

We don’t want you running off and seeing to yourself or letting some awful boy at you. But we don’t want you exactly like your friend. I need be careful here. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, making some more notes.

“Say ‘Bimbos get to cum a lot. I want to cum a lot. I love cumming rather than thinking.’ And as you say those words, they become true for you.”

“Bimbos get to cum a lot. I want to cum a lot. I love cumming rather than thinking.” The girl’s lips were slightly parted, that flush spreading down her neck to the exposed flesh of her chest.

“Bimbos get to cum a lot. I want to cum a lot. I love cumming rather than thinking.”

Natalie needed to guide the girl’s thoughts, what there were of them.

“Very good,” the older woman smiled after she’d let Natalie repeat those words over and over. “Now say ‘Bimbos cum lots when they have sex. I want to have lots of sex so I can cum a lot.’ Saying those words makes them true for you.” Not the most eloquent phrasing in the world, but just right for a bimbo to understand.

“Bimbos cum lots when they have sex. I want to have lots of sex so I can cum a lot.” Natalie cold just imagine Lauren as a hot horny airhead.

“Bimbos cum lots when they have sex. I want to have lots of sex so I can cum a lot.” There was almost a smile on the girl’s lips.

“Bimbos cum lots when they have sex. I want to have lots of sex so I can cum a lot.”

Over and over, the ideas moulding the girl’s mind.

“Here’s the next idea. Repeat this and believe it more every time you say it. “I won’t play with myself unless Professor Mackenzie says I can. Playing with myself would take time away from the project. I have to do the project.”

A hint of a frown ghosted across the blonde’s pretty features. As if there was almost some resistance to the idea. “I, I won’t play with myself unless Professor Mackenzie says I can. Playing with myself would take time away from the project. I have to do the project.”

Interesting. “Stop. Lauren, how often do you masturbate?”

“Twice a month.”

Not so often. So it’s not that I’m taking much away from you. Oh. This is the first time I’m stopping you do something. Everything else has been making you do something new. Is this a little bit of resistance? We can’t have that.

“There are no thoughts in your head. Only my voice.,” the professor declared. “You will repeat those last ideas. Over and over. You will believe them. You will do what you’re told.”

“I won’t play with myself unless Professor Mackenzie says I can.” Just a little bit of hesitation now, but it was still there.  “Playing with myself would take time away from the project. I have to do the project.”

“I won’t play with myself unless Professor Mackenzie says I can.” Less now, the girl’s resistance dying.  “Playing with myself would take time away from the project. I have to do the project.”

Natalie watched and listened, the edge of Lauren’s voice fading more each time. Until it was gone, not a trace of reluctance left. Nothing but the ideas Natalie had given her.

And now to make sure you’ll be mine.

“Here’s another fun idea for you Lauren. More things to say and believe. Say ‘Bimbos need to be told who to have sex with. I want someone to tell me who to have sex with. I’ll only have sex with who I’m told to. Being told who to have sex with turns me on.’”

The words feel so easily from the blonde’s pink lips. No more resistance to having limits put on her, Natalie’s control slipping easily into place. “Bimbos need to be told who to have sex with. I want someone to tell me who to have sex with. I’ll only have sex with who I’m told to. Being told who to have sex with turns me on.”

“Bimbos need to be told who to have sex with. I want someone to tell me who to have sex with. I’ll only have sex with who I’m told to. Being told who to have sex with turns me on.”

Natalie was sure that the flush on Lauren’s skin was becoming more visible.

“Bimbos need to be told who to have sex with. I want someone to tell me who to have sex with. I’ll only have sex with who I’m told to. Being told who to have sex with turns me on.”

The girl would be just as leashed as her friend. Not in quite the same way. Variety was fun. But just as controlled. Just as owned. Ready to be Natalie’s happy little bimbo sex toy.

“Now the next thing to say and believe ‘When I’m being a bimbo it’s for the project. The project is for women. Professor Mackenzie is a woman. When I’m a bimbo, Professor Mackenzie decides who I have sex with. I won’t have sex unless Professor Mackenzie tells me I can.”

“When I’m being a bimbo it’s for the project. The project is for women. Professor Mackenzie is a woman. When I’m a bimbo, Professor Mackenzie decides who I have sex with.”

And one last idea.

“Say and believe, ‘I love being a bimbo. Being a bimbo makes me want to cum. Every time I cum, I’ll be more of a bimbo.’”

It would trap the girl in a circle. She’d horny and empty headed and every time she came it would only make her more like that, wanting sex, wanting to cum. And when she did, she’d be even more of a bimbo.

Dutifully, Lauren repeated the ideas she’d been given. “I love being a bimbo. Being a bimbo makes me want to cum. Every time I cum, I’ll be more of a bimbo.” The girl made such a picture, with her newly done hair and tight dress and long legs, those ideas spilling from her moist lips.

Natalie let the girl repeat the last instructions until she was satisfied.  It gave Lauren something to do while Natalie finished typed away at her keyboard.

“Now Lauren,” the professor said once she was ready. “We’re going to go over everything. And don’t worry if your pretty little bimbo head can’t remember it all. It’s all on the screen. Just read the words and say them, over and over. And as you say them, they become more and more true for you. You’ll believe them. Begin.”

He girl began, her eyes fixed on the screen. The words falling so easily from her pretty lips. The ideas sinking into her mind.

“I don’t like thinking.”

“Thinking is hard.”

“I want to be a bimbo.”

“Thinking about anything other than what bimbos think about makes my head hurt.”

“I want to be an empty-headed bimbo.”

“I love being a bimbo. Being a bimbo turns me on.”

“I am a pretty, empty-headed bimbo.”

“Bimbos get to cum a lot. I want to cum a lot. I love cumming rather than thinking.”

“Bimbos cum lots when they have sex. I want to have lots of sex so I can cum a lot.”

“I won’t play with myself unless Professor Mackenzie says I can.”

“Bimbos need to be told who to have sex with. I want someone to tell me who to have sex with. I’ll only have sex with who I’m told to. Being told who to have sex with turns me on.”

“When I’m being a bimbo it’s for the project. The project is for women. Professor Mackenzie is a woman. When I’m a bimbo, Professor Mackenzie decides who I have sex with.”

“I love being a bimbo. Being a bimbo makes me want to cum. Every time I cum, I’ll be more of a bimbo.”

Very soon, Lauren would believe every word.

(To be continued)