We’re laying on the couch, sort of on top of one another. My hips are nestled between your legs, my back resting on your stomach, your back resting on the arm of the couch. Your arms lay easily over my chest, gently rubbing back and forth over my collarbones. 

It had been a rough evening after a rough week. I cried when I came home from work, a nurse who has always on my case had scolded me for something stupid in front of other people and my boss wasn’t willing to back me up. On top of that, my chronic pain was acting up and one of my work shoes was breaking in so I had been walking around the hospital all week on shoes that felt just slightly different, a sensory nightmare. My nerves were shot and I was overwhelmed. You were a bit frazzled yourself, your boss kept tacking more work onto assignments hours before the deadline, forcing you to work late most nights this week. You had held me while I cried, barely out of the doorway and with my backpack still on, and canceled our plans to make an elaborate dinner, but instead sat me down on the couch with a glass of water and the cat in my lap while you ordered a pizza. You kissed my forehead and listened and eventually I stopped crying, we took deep breaths together, the pizza came, and we watched an episode of Star Trek which, mercifully, involved Data and Giordi going on a low stakes adventure together.

Now, we’re laying on the couch, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's bodies, our breathing synchronized and easy. I sigh and pull your arms closer to mine, nuzzle my head up into your neck. 

“How are you doing, babyboy?”

“I’m ok now, I think. Thank you for taking care of me, Sir. It’s tough out there and I’m a delicate guy.”

“It’s tough out there and you are delicate in the best ways and tough in the best ways and you work so hard for your patients and you deserve to be taken care of.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and squeeze your arm to me tighter, smiling big.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“What do you need tonight?”

“I’m settled now. I’m down for whatever. Is there something you wanted to do?”

“Are you feeling up to playing a bit? I could turn your brain off and give you a break. No pressure, we have other options.”

I squirm in your arms at the thought and giggle.

“That sounds lovely actually.”

“What sounds good?”

“Floaty, pleasure, service.”

You lean down and kiss the top of my head.

“Good boy. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” My voice sounds small and sheepish, knowing what comes next.

You raise one hand in front of my face, fingers poised, ready to snap. You hold it for a long moment, my anticipation building, then you snap and you say “Drift for me, babyboy.”

I stay lucid just long enough to feel how hard I’m dropping, think “Wow, I must have been really craving this,” and hear the whoosh of my own breath as I exhale sharply, feel my body going limp. 

After that, I’m out. I’m down in a dark, warm, safe place. I feel surrounded by your dominance, the safety you make for me. I drift, tumbling and stumbling deeper. It is soft here. The darkness is plush and velvety. Thought flow in, but flow out just as easily. My only body sensation is my breathing, deep and even. I’m fully lost to time. I breathe in the thick still air of this place and feel heavier, fuzzier, warm, safer. Somehow there is so much stillness and quiet in this place, even as I keep drifting downward, further and further, gently but quickly but slowly downward. I know that in this place, all I want is to accept whatever you tell me, whatever you give me. To be your perfect floaty pet, open and obedient.

Gradually, as I keep sinking, the dull fuzzy sensation of my skin changes. It grows hotter, tinglier, and somewhere I feel my body squirming, my mouth drop open as my breathing gets faster and heavier. I become aware of my chest, my tits dominate my awareness. Just the rise and fall of my breathing and the feeling of my shirt on my chest feels so good and tingly. I’m aware of touch, which makes me shiver delightedly, but couldn’t tell you where or how or who was touching me. I know deeply that I’m your toy that you’re giving me what I want and need, in ways that please you deeply. Next, I become aware of my clit going tingly. My whole cunt feels hot and I know I’m getting wet. I’m aware of movement, but I can’t tell if it’s yours or my own and, while I know I could, I just don’t have the will to shift my consciousness into a place where I could tell. I drift for a while, relaxed but squirming, calm but aroused, totally willing and open but craving intensely. 

And then I’m being pulled up up up, and my eyes struggle to focus, your skin is so close to my face. I realize I’m on my knees on a pillow on the floor, my mouth is open lazily, jaw relaxed and loose, drooling slightly at the edges, and suddenly I register, happily, that your dick is moving against my tongue. You’re fucking in and out of my mouth, slowly, gently, not going very deep. One of my hands is buried in my underwear, rubbing haphazardly on my swollen clit. The other is squeezing my nipple, hard. My tits are pulled out under my sports bra, which pushes them down and together. 

I love, everytime you pull me out of trance like this, the feeling of becoming aware of it all at once. The hotness of it all, hitting me with no preamble. One moment I am drifting, the next moment I am aware that I am turned on, needy, exposed, being used, desperate for your touch and desperate to please. I certainly don’t scoff at vanilla sex, or kink scenes without trance, but there is something about becoming aware of my compromising position, my neediness, my submission all at once that just doesn’t compare to seeing it as it happens in fits and starts.

I hum happily on your cock, my lips breifly going taught as I try to smile with my mouth full, and I go from passively being fucked to actively sucking, swallowing you, tasting your precum, taking you up to where your hand is steadying yourself. I pull back and I swirl my tongue over the tip, then go deeper again and press the back of my tongue up into the underside of your head, tightening just there. I’m drooling badly now and simply let it be sloppy as I feel some drool land on my kneeling thighs.

I let my hand on my nipples slacken and rub circles, I increase the pressure on my clit rubbing in more concerted circles, then up and down, the circles again. I feel your hand reach down into my hair mostly scratching gently, 

“Hands on your head, babyboy.”

I obey immediately, with a speed and pleasure I know you’ve hypnotically enhanced. Obeying you feels so good, a shiver of pleasure runs through my body and make me crave your commands. I raise my gaze, looking up at you through my eyelashes, hands resting on the back of my head, cock still in my mouth, as you look down on me. 

“You look so good like that, babyboy.”

I smile, as best I can, and mutter “Thank you, Daddy.”

You pull your cock out of my mouth and reach down suddenly and before I can register what’s happening I feel a sharp sting of pain on my cheek. You slapped me, hard and quick. The spot burned, but just as quickly you grab my jaw bone roughly and pull my head up so I’m looking at you.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, babyboy.”

I nod quickly, struggling to maintain eye contact. Your words  “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I want you to focus on what you’re doing. Keep your hands on your head. Your only purpose is to give me pleasure. You got it?”

I nod, afraid to speak.

“Go ahead.”

I lean forward, mouth open, hands on my head, and let you guide your cock into my mouth. Just as I get into a rhythm, you speak again.

“Look at me, babyboy, but don’t stop.” You hold up your hand a few inches from my eyes, ready to snap again. I inhale sharply, in anticipation and my eyes go crossed trying to follow your hand. “And sympathetic bliss.” You snap to emphasize the trigger.

My hips buck as soon as I hear the trigger. It's delicious, but always a bit infuriating, especially after such a speech about focusing. It makes me feel every bit of pleasure I gave as if it were my own. Suddenly my mouth on your cock becomes my mouth on my cock. Nothing makes me feel closer to having a dick than this does; I joked once that it was free temporary bottom surgery. Every lick, every stroke, every bob of my head, I feel intensely, amplified by the hypnotic suggestion. I moan loudly, almost a muffled yell, from the sudden jump in my pleasure, the unexpected sensations on my cock, and then felt the vibration of the moan rolls from my hypnotically enhanced cock through my body, causing me to pull back from you with a ragged gasp and buck my hips so hard I almost fall over. I want badly to move my hands from my head to steady myself but I simply take a deep breath and pause while I regain my balance. I hear you chuckle above me. 

“Got you good, babyboy?”

“Yeah, Daddy. You got me good.” My voice sounds so small.

“Take it easy, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I resume my sucking, going slowly and carefully this time, anticipating the feelings of each move. I make a few futile attempts to stifle my moans, before giving in. Despite how slow I’m going, each movement draws deep guttural noises from me, everything from moans to grunt to whimpers. I hear you laugh again, and place your hand back on my head, more helping me stay steady than controlling my movements. As I regain composure, just a bit really, I slowly increase my pace and depth, adding more suction, more pressure. My thighs are shaking now, both from being on my knees for so long and from steadying myself against the onslaught of self inflicted pleasure. The distraction is infuriating, I focus on the blowjob, trying and failing to block out the pleasure. I’m squirming as my head bobs, breathing hard through my nose and sneaking gasps through my mouth, making noises that are porngraphic, animalistic, and, most of all, embarrassingly loud. I hear you moan above me, I know you’re close. If I can just focus for a few more seconds. I renew my efforts and moan loudly, on purpose now, hoping it feels as good on your cock as it does on my cock. It must, because you jerk forward and place a hand on the back of my head. You gasp and shudder, then pull my head towards you, pumping into me. You cum hard, pulling me closer and my forehead touches your belly and I feel your cum spill into my mouth, salty and hot. As you hold my head to you and jerk against me, it’s all I can do to hang on, keeping my hands on my head, trying not to gag or tip over off of my knees, remembering to breathe. Your breath is ragged and each shudder, each twitch runs through my body. Just as you’re starting to come down, you let go of my head, I start cumming myself. I want to pull away and come up for air, but I know it would ruin my own orgasm. I stay pushed against you, but my arms fall away from my head and wrap around your hips, holding myself up as I jerk and moan. I feel my cunt clench over and over at the same time I feel my hypnotic cock shudder, the sensation is delicious, euphoric, white hot and overwhelming in the best way. 

At some point I must have pulled away because I feel myself melt to the floor, still shaking. Before I hear you moving, I feel you laying down beside me, pulling me in tight from behind, and holding me close while I twitch a few more times with the aftershocks. 

It takes a few minutes for my breathing to return to normal. You pet my hair gently and nuzzle your forehead into the back of my neck. 

Eventually, you speak, low and gravelly. “You’re a very good pet, you did such a good job, sucking me off, distracted as you were. You liked that didn’t you?”

I nod against your chest, it melts into a nuzzle. “I did.”

“I could tell,” You say smugly. “I don’t think you’ve ever cum from so little touching before.”

I wiggle my hips to indicate my satisfaction. It's all I can muster right now, but I think you get the message.

“And, drift for me.” You snap.

…..

When I wake back up up up, eyes fluttering open, we’re on the couch again, back in the same positions we started, almost as if nothing had happened, except we’re naked now, and sweaty, and it’s dark outside. You’re petting my hair gently.

“Hey, babyboy. Welcome back.”

“Hi, Daddy.” I respond quietly and drowsily. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like… really good.” What I can’t summon up in vocabulary I try to express in tone, making the words as breathy and languid and dreamy as I can.

“Good. We did some relaxation work while you were down. I know it was a long day and I didn’t mean to uh… put you through your paces quite as hard as I did.”

“I liiiiiiked it.” I purr.

“I know you did. Still, I wanted you to feel rested when you came up.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“I love you, babyboy.”

“I love you, too.”