You're sat on the train. It's late, approaching sunset, and almost no one else is about. The rattle of the tracks and the hum of the engines blur together, and a man sitting across from you is playing with a coin, flicking it between his fingers, making it dance almost too fast to see. You watch it as it moves back and forth, back and forth. His hand flicks it into a closed palm, and you start, and look up at the face of the stranger. Dark eyes, underneath a shock of neon dyed hair, framed by pierced eyebrows and a knowing smirk. Cute, you think. And he's caught you looking.

He raises his hand, starting the coin moving back and forth, up and down again, and starts to talk. Maybe what he's saying is important, maybe it's something you should be paying attention to, but he tells you to watch the coin dancing between his fingers, and you do, and he tells you to relax, and you do, and maybe he says other things, too, things which slip past your ears and into somewhere in your brain, but you can't seem to care. He's told you not to worry, and so you don't, and he's told you to keep watching the coin as it moves between his fingers, back and forth, and so you do. Somewhere beneath the pleasant fog he’s conjured in your brain, you're vaguely aware that you're agreeing to something, nodding, but it vanishes like smoke and all you can do is stare, letting him draw you deeper and deeper into-

Snap.

You jolt awake as the train pulls into the station. You look up to the stranger. His eyes are on you again, that same impish smile. A trail of drool has made its way down your chin. You must have dozed off, how embarrassing. He stands up, and you follow him off the train. It occurs to you, mutedly, that this isn't your stop, that your stop was a couple before this, that you should be somewhere else right now, but it doesn't matter. You feel half asleep still, as you follow him off the train, off the platform, all a distant blur around you as your eyes remain on him, your legs moving automatically.

He takes a sharp turn into a small waiting room, and you follow unthinkingly. It's only when he locks the door behind you both that it clicks that something isn't right. You turn to leave, but he moves faster, standing between you and the door. You try to push past him, but he raises his arm and the sight of the coin held between his fingers stops you in your tracks.

"Uh-uh, keep calm. Relax."

Your body follows his instruction. With an effort, you frown, holding on to the sense that something isn't right here. "You've done something to me." A question that came out as a statement. A statement that feels true. "This isn't my- I don't want to-" Every time you start to speak, he flicks the coin again between his fingers briefly and your eyes and mind follow it, helpless.

"Good, you can't look away. Just relax and watch it move." His voice is a murmur, calm, in control.  Eyes fixed on the coin, you can't tell if that's a smile you hear in his voice. "Worrying is so difficult, so exhausting, isn't it? I can see that the more you worry, the more you resist, the more tired you get. The more tired you get, the more you relax, the more you relax, the more you drop for me, the more you sink back into trance." Your eyelids flutter, your frown gone. "Good. Try looking away for me now, work as hard as you can, even though your eyes are drawn so tightly to the coin. Tire out that little mind." You focus as hard as you can, straining. All you can see is the coin moving back and forth. "Keep trying, toy. Try as hard as you can. In a few seconds you can stop struggling for me. Doesn't that sound so nice? You can drop and go back to sleep, and you know how good it feels to just relax and listen to me." You do, you realise. On the train it felt so good to relax and listen. "When I snap my fingers, you can stop trying to resist me and drop for me, nice and deep, and it will feel so good to relax and listen. It's so hard to resist, isn't it? So easy when you relax and obey for me." It is, you find yourself nodding. Your eyes feel heavy.

Snap.

Your eyes flutter closed. Distantly, you feel a steadying hand on your shoulder. "There we go. Focus on my voice now, that's good. My voice is all you need, and you know now that resisting just makes it even easier to obey. Now you can just focus on how good it feels to follow my voice." It does. He talks more as you drift on his voice, telling you to relax deeply, telling you again how good it feels to obey, telling you to notice how true everything he says is. You know it feels good to follow instructions, he's told you so. Now he starts to tell you where it feels good, and how, and how natural it is that obeying just makes you more aroused, that following his voice brings you pleasure. That you want so badly to obey him and feel that pleasure.  He tells you to get on your knees, and you obey.

“Open your eyes.” He's your height, maybe shorter, but he towers over you now, huge and powerful. "Good toy. It feels so good following my voice, doesn't it?" You make a noise of agreement. He leans closer, grinning, conspiratorial, "I have something that will make you even more relaxed and obedient for me. In a moment, I'm going to show you, would you like that? You can imagine for me just how good it will feel, can't you?" You can, and the thought sends tingling pleasure through you. "You focused on my coin so well for me and it dropped you down, and you're listening to my voice so well now as it drops you deeper. Now you're going to fixate on my cunt and it's going to drop you harder and deeper than anything else, all the way down. You want that, don't you?" You do.

"Open your mouth." He looks at you, reaching to trace a finger around your lips. If you were more aware you would realise how you must look: kneeling and vacant, face flushed, staring up at him with your mouth open and drooling. But you're deep now, unable to think of anything much, focused only on listening so you can obey and feel good for him. "In a moment you're going to smell my wet pussy, and it's going to make you so deep and obedient for me, so good, so turned on. Because it makes you feel so good for me you'll want more, you'll crave it more than anything else."

His hand rests on your head, pushes you suddenly towards his groin. You taste the fabric of his jeans, smell the musk underneath. "Breathe deeply." You obey, and your head fills with his smell. "Feel how my pussy floods your brain, how it chases out every thought except the need to obey and please me." You moan, overwhelmed by him. "My pussy always makes you feel like this. Obedient and desperate. This smell will always drop you deep into my power, it feels so easy to drop and obey for my wet cunt." He relaxes his grip and pushes you back. His hand tilts your head up, enjoying your dazed face and blank eyes. "You can imagine how much stronger that pull will be without the fabric in the way, how dazed and obedient and good it can make you feel." He pauses, lets you shudder in anticipated pleasure at the suggestion. "I'm sure you can also picture just how good it must feel to taste it. How much you want it, how deeply under my control it would make you." You were already drooling, and as the suggestion settles into your pussy-addled mind your jaw slackens and you stick your tounge out, desperate to taste. "Good toy."

"In a moment, I'm going to count to three and you're going to wake up for me, nice and alert. Then, when you smell my cunt again you won't be able to resist dropping into obedient trance for me, ten times deeper than you are now. One, letting yourself wake up, two... three!"

You blink. Another string of drool hangs from your mouth, and you wipe it away. Your knees hurt. You feel almost painfully turned on, but the wrongness of the situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Your kidnapper stands over you, calm, taking in the sight of you as he unbuckles his belt. He's smiling, and you see something cruel behind his eyes. You have to leave. You move to try and stand, and he pushes you down to the floor roughly. stepping forward to plant his feet either side of you. He pops the top button of his jeans, unzips them. Belatedly, your brain catches up with the situation, your mouth moves to form an objection, but then his hand grips your hair and pulls you into him. Your eyes roll back, your half-formed protest melting into a moan as the smell of his pussy pushes everything else from your head.

"Good. Sink back down, so much deeper, so much stronger. It feels so much better to relax and obey. You love to obey me." You groan with agreement into his incredible cunt, and above you you hear him catch his breath, feel him push your face harder into his boxers. All thoughts of resistance are gone as your head fills with the smell of his pussy. "Breathe and listen. I'm going to give you some instructions, and you are going to follow them for me because it feels good to obey. You love to obey, don’t you?" You nod again. "Say it."

"I love to obey." Saying it feels true, makes you feel all the pleasure he's told you comes with obedience. He groans, delighted.

"Tell me my wet pussy makes you obey."

"Your wet pussy makes me obey."

"Tell me my drooling cunt makes you a drooling slut."

"Your drooling cunt makes me a drooling slut."

"Good toy. God, you don't know how hot you sound like that." He reaches a hand into his boxers as he speaks. "Now, in a second you're going to repeat those three truths back to me over and over, feeling how true they are, feeling how deeply obedient you are. While you say them, you're going to touch yourself for me. Show off for me, show me how entranced and obedient my pussy has made you. If you do well enough, I'll let you taste it. Oh, and you're going to wake up for me when you do this, and no matter how hard you try you won't be able to stop yourself from obeying my instructions. Okay, slut?" You nod. "Repeat that back to me, tell me what you'll do." You do. "Good toy. On three, you're going to wake up for me, then. One, two, three!"

Snap.

This time, you don't have an opportunity to adjust to the situation. A hand moves without your consent into your pants, the other roaming to touch everywhere that feels good. Your mouth opens, speaking words that make you blush and squirm in humiliation. "I love to obey. Your wet pussy makes me obey. Your drooling cunt makes me a drooling slut."

He's watching you with hungry eyes, touching himself, and while every part of you wants to hide yourself from his gaze, you feel yourself tip your head back, hold yourself up to him, give him a better look. Show him how obedient you are. "I love to obey. Your wet pussy makes me obey. Your drooling cunt makes me a drooling slut."

"Louder."

"I love to obey. Your wet pussy makes me obey. Your drooling cunt makes me a drooling slut."

"Strip for me."

Your hands pause their activity, and you whine with need as you move to undress. "I love to obey. Your wet pussy makes me obey. Your drooling cunt makes me a drooling slut. I love to obey. Your wet pussy makes me obey. Your drooling cunt makes me a drooling slut. Ugh. I love to obey. Your wet-mmmf"

He had stopped touching himself, and before you realise what he's doing his fingers are in your throat and the taste of his cunt drops you hard and fast. He fucks your throat, and you eagerly lick and swallow as much as you can of him, lost in the taste and smell and need to please. "Good slut. Show me how much you want it." He kicks his boxers away, impatient, and your eyes fixate instantly on his cunt. You're drooling out of the sides of your mouth, moaning, desperate to taste it, desperate to show how good you can be. He's talking again, telling you what a good slut you are, that good obedient sluts lick, that good obedient sluts don't need to breathe.  A part of you is listening obediently, but it feels distant and faded compared to the joy when he finally, finally moves on top of you and that cunt becomes your entire world.