There’s a voice in Tamara’s head that’s both inviting and familiar even if she can’t associate it with any recognizable name or face. It doesn’t say much but when it speaks, it’s impossible not to listen, and of all the words that echo inside her mind when she’s driving home to the airport or relaxing on a comfortable sofa with a bowl of ice cream on her lap, none sounds more appealing than
“Sleep!”
The voice in her head lulls her to a dreamless slumber where everything is dark yet soothing. She lingers there time and time again not knowing for sure if she’ll ever wake up again and not worried about it either. It feels good to let the voice take her to this entrancing abyss, surrounded only by the echoes of the original command, constantly urging her to
“Sleep!”
And sleep she does, whether she expects it or not. Sometimes, the voice gives notice that it’s about to call on her with a faint hum in the back of her mind preceding the drop into mindlessness. However, most of the time, it announces nothing at all, relying on the power of surprise to effortlessly bring her down, down, down... like an elevator plunging into a never-ending shaft or a deep-sea diver whose tethers were cut off. She falls, sinks, spins, and twirls, her physical body left behind to embrace the overwhelming desires of the mind where kinkiness is not an illusion but the very core of her existence. And all it takes for her to get there is to listen and repeat the numbing order to
“Sleep!”
Tamara never fights it and never tells herself that resisting is an option. The voice in her head has silenced those venues, replacing them with more blissful paths to conformity. She accepts there’s pleasure in surrendering and often dreams about hearing it again. The best choice in life is to not have choices at all, a brainwashing mantra she’ll carry with her to her grave.

* * *

She first started hearing the voice at the beginning of the year, shortly after the first session with her new therapist. Her name was... was... funny, she couldn’t remember it. It started with a V, she thought, but who was to say, her thoughts meant anything at all right now? The woman was beautiful and exuded confidence and power. She had been highly recommended by friends of her family, and it had taken a long time for her to go through with the idea.
Tamara was convinced she didn’t need therapy. She had no traumas to speak of, and no bad memories or underlying frustrations connected to them. A bit of stress plagued her here and there but that’s true for almost everybody. Some could argue that spending half of her life in the air was a sure way to slowly dissociate herself from the physicality of solid ground, but she didn’t see it that way. Being a flight attendant wasn’t a burden that had been imposed on her. It was what she always wanted to be, a rare opportunity to travel the world and discover new things to look forward to. When she was crossing the sea of clouds heading to another city or continent, she always felt free.
Not that everything was perfect while in the air. Tamara had a lot of stories to tell about her domestic and transatlantic flights and not all of them pleasant. From passengers feeling ill mid-flight to unexpected storms and turbulence that had threatened many a trip and even an attempted hijacking once promptly thwarted by the sky marshall onboard, she had enough memories to fill a 600-page volume or two and, perhaps one day, she would do just that for the fun of it all.
Tamara loved every city she had landed in, but her innermost predilection lay in Asian countries. Landing in Bangkok, Jakarta, or Kuala Lumpur was always a different thrill, one that could be explained by her ancestry. A recent genealogical survey she had conducted on her own dated her genetic roots to that part of the world yet no one in her family talked about it because of pure ignorance or wanting to forget where they had come from. When her flights crossed into Asian skies, Tamara was often seen sighing in her seat before her next round of the plane, yearning for something more, a deeper connection to the ways of the land.
She hadn’t found it yet and was unsure if she ever would. The voice in her head now discovered things for her, beautiful and twisted fantasies where she closed her eyes to the world to obey and nothing more. Her days were no longer exciting when awake. It was best to simply rest for a bit and
“Sleep!”
In her silent slumber, Tamara’s consciousness sometimes floated across a sea of fleeting images depicting things she was certain hadn’t happened. She remembered vague impressions of pain on her exposed back, thin red lines drawing a map of her journeys and beyond. She saw leather boots clicking before her half-dreamy and elegant, three-piece suits that highlighted the generous curves of a woman she loved to see in her dreams. Her name was Va... Va... it was at the tip of her tongue and yet she couldn’t verbalize it no matter how much she tried. Her therapist was always kind, always enticing, her words dripping all over her face like a honeyed concoction or a batch of fresh cum. Tamara savored the bittersweet fluids of her ongoing capitulation and smiled, begging silently for more.
“Silence won’t do it,” the voice in her head teased her, insinuating itself even deeper inside her. She imagined the sounds taking on the shape of a burrowing worm that moved freely inside her body, traveling from her brain to her parted legs and trimmed pussy before wriggling back up again, hidden from view but not from the heart. The voice was always there, a perennial presence that would never let her go. It was as strong as relentless only content by spreading its power and making her more and more eager to
“Sleep!”
And so, Tamara did, falling once, twice, three times into infinity. There was no bottom and the depths of depravity only grew wider and stronger.
The voice was right. The voice was always right. Silence was not the answer to the growing needs of her body, mind, and soul. Silence was a betrayal of all the teachings being imparted to her. The longer she remained silent the more desperate she would become.
“What do I do then?” she asked to the enveloping darkness, seeing collars, leashes, nipple clamps, and butt plugs flashing in and out of her vacant eyes.
“First, you sleep,” the voice replied, caressing her dark blonde hair and her aching nipples. “Then, you sleep some more. Deeper and deeper... deeper and deeper... and when you feel you’re on the verge of losing yourself, you open your mouth and scream for more. Scream! Beg! Let your vocal cords explode from the writhing pleasure you want more than anything in this world and the next. Sleep!”
The voice in her head was mellifluous and so very convincing. It always had an answer to her doubts for all answers were born from it. Tamara loved the voice more and more with each passing second. She loved it more than being high up in the sky or finally driving home for a well-deserved rest. It was everything to her, the true dimension of her character.
“It feels good to listen to me. You want to obey, don’t you?” it asked of her when Tamara’s eyes were slowly closing in front of the OLED TV.
“Y-yes,” she mumbled, her robe partly open, her thighs rubbing on each other. “I want you... please!”
“Then sleep!”
Tamara sank again, slowly losing count of how many times the voice had taken over to rewrite her will. To listen to it was a promise to continuously give in, every fiber of her being exposed, twisted, and built anew. She saw shackles on her wrists, kaleidoscopic lights above her head, and her therapist’s private office calling her to come inside.
“You want to be mine,” the voice said.
“I want to be yours,” Tamara muttered, drooling on the sofa’s cushions.
“You will be mine. You have no choice.”
“No choice...” she repeated, a murmur in the night that would never stop repeating itself. Whatever the voice wanted, she would do. Overwhelmed with sensuous delight, she forgot everything else, including the need to go to bed.

* * *

Tamara woke up the next morning with her pussy a slobbering mess and her legs covered in vaginal fluid leftovers. The orgasms had been intense and consecutive, a devastating earthquake followed by countless replicas. She was no longer on the sofa but on the cold, tiled floor, the bowl of strawberry cheesecake ice cream broken under the coffee table. The TV was still on, streaming the third season of her favorite romantic show, despite losing the last episode of the first and all of the second. Her head hurt from the excruciating intensity of what she had experienced.
Never before had the voice been so adamant, powerful, and irresistible. It rang louder in her weary ears, one step closer to completing its assignment. Tamara knew it wasn’t hers, but it wasn’t her therapist’s either. Its latest manifestation had made it sound like a weird combination of both with a random echo added for dramatic purposes. Was it real or just in her head? Confusion continued to pile on her already weak resolve, and she wiped the sweat off her forehead and rushed to the bathroom to clean herself.
As she took the flight of stairs, the name she could not recall for so long finally rushed to her wet lips. Vanessa, of course! Dr. Vanessa Madsen with her ample bosom, sultry smile, and an uncanny way of making all things preposterous seem like the best ideas in the world. She remembered telling her some of her intercontinental adventures and then relaxing on her couch as she talked about the wonders of hypnosis.
“I’m not sure I like that,” Tamara mumbled, uncomfortable at the idea of having someone poke inside her brain.
“I’ve had many people say the same things and while some fears are legitimate, most of the suspicions around stem from ignorance and misconceptions. I’m merely suggesting we take a journey inside your thoughts to look for those stressful factors you may not be considering. I like to call them tension bubbles and nothing is more satisfying than making them pop and go away. You will be a brand new woman if you do.”
“That easy, huh?”
If you go along for the ride, then yes. It’s no different from going on a plane ride for the first time. The moment when the landing gear goes up and that massive hunk of metal shoots for the sky can be terrifying because it’s not like we were born with wings, but the fear goes away little by little. After a while, it becomes just a memory, and no memory lasts forever."
Tamara remembered this and so many other small details, now coming back to her in full force. Vanessa wanted her to fly with her and she grew more receptive to the idea with every word. She fell for her for the first time after a recent trip to Beijing, and the voice in her head was born.
“She did this to me,” she concluded as she slipped into the shower. “She fucked me through and through and I like it.”
“Yes, you do,” the voice flowed from her lips. “You love to be free in the absence of thought. You wouldn’t hesitate if you could spend your entire life up in the clouds. This is the next best thing.”
“Servitude?” Tamara fingered her pussy automatically.
“Deliverance. Fly, sink, and never worry about anything else again. You must obey.”
“W-when?”
“Soon. Sooner than you think.”
Tamara curled on the floor of the slippery shower, finally rejecting the oppressive silence of before.
“More!” she begged as the water covered her eyes and labia. “More, Mistress! More!”

* * *

Two weeks went by, and Tamara’s inner despair grew out of control. Dr. Madsen was on vacation in some place unknown, and no one knew when she would be back. The flight attendant dreamed of her every night and whispered her name in the corners of the airports where she landed. The voice in her head was now a cacophony of screams and eerie laughter, all demanding her total compliance. 
“Submit!”
“When?” Tamara growled, her brain reduced to a pile of subservient mush.
“Submit!”
“I will! Please... I’m yours! I’ll always be yours!”
“Never forget that slave. I’m waiting for you.”
“Where?”
“Board the next flight to find out.”
Tamara checked her schedule. Asia was calling again, with Manila as the final destination. She packed her small bag, donned the red and blue uniform once more, and drove to the airport to fulfill her hypnotic destiny. It was a 16-hour flight, almost a whole day above the clouds. She welcomed it with a sheepish smile, eagerly awaiting the moment of arrival.
Vanessa was at the NAIA Airport waiting for her, but she wasn’t alone. Another woman whose mind she had expertly made her own, sat next to her, like a good obedient pet. Once, she hated dogs. Now she was a hypnotized bitch in heat.
“Welcome, Tamara,” Dr. Vanessa Madsen said, touching her right hand and watching the flight attendant shiver with unbridled satisfaction. “I’ve been looking forward to this day for a very long time. This is Janine, another one of my obedient toys. Imagine my surprise when I ran into her while waiting for you. I think you two will get along just fine but I should warn you she’s always... horny.”
“What happens now?” Tamara asked, staring into the hypnotist’s gorgeous eyes. 
“Whatever I choose for you. You need to obey. You’ve admitted it yourself.”
“I have. I will. My body and mind belong to you, Mistress.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Silence was an atrocity. The voice in your head was but a prelude to this moment.”
“Will it go away now?”
“It will fade into the background, yes, but never disappear completely. I want it to serve as a reminder of who you serve and what your purpose is. You’ll never be stressed again as long as you do what I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Tamara nodded, now open to all the ecstasy only enslavement could bring forth. “What are my orders?”
“We’re going back to my hotel bedroom to enjoy the rest of my vacation together. You and Janine are going to become best friends and she’s going to teach you a thing or two about how I like to be worshiped. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
“I’ve never been happier,” Tamara concluded, her pussy about to explode again.
“Perfect. She’s a good girl and I’m sure you’ll be too. Come, slave. The wonders of The Philippines are calling.”
Tamara trailed behind her owner and her devoted pet, her world changed forever. There’s a voice in her head that never lets her believe she’ll ever be free again. Its words are hypnotic paradise; the commands within make her whimper and squirm. All of them control her soul, reminding her of her place, but there will never be a more enthralling one than
“Sleep!”

The End