theprettynosferatu:

theprettynosferatu:
CW: Hypno, CNC, public play.
As the house lights went down, the murmur in the crowd persisted. The marketing hadn’t been entirely clear on what the show actually was. Words like “Mesmerism” and “See to Believe” led many to assume it would be a magical performance of some sort, even if the images on the online ads didn’t feature any of the standard signs of stage magic: no top hats, no doves, no wands. People speculated about what could be hiding behind the curtains. A water tank for a daring escape, perhaps? An ornate box to saw a lady in half? Something more modern, more avant-garde? They would take anything with little complaint: the show, after all, was free.

Excitement snaked through the crowd with electric vigor as the curtains opened and the spotlight came on. Some started analyzing the stage, as if they were writing a review for the show in their heads, rehearsing for when they would tell the story to their friends and coworkers. Okay, it was clearly going for minimalism: a black box performance, with only a chair as the focal point. A few of the more artistically-minded members of the audience tried out the term “Brechtian alienation device” in their heads, imagining how it would sound during a fancy dinner. Such pretentious musings ended as soon as the Woman walked on stage.

There was something otherworldly about her. Wide eyed, almost without blinking, she glided from the right side of the stage. There was a strange quality to her movements, almost as if she was being pulled by invisible strings, or carried by a warm breeze. Clad in a white nighty, the spotlight that followed her gave her an ethereal aura. There was an innocence to her, to the calm expression on her face. Without a word, she sat on the chair and waited. Seconds stretched uncomfortably as the audience was forced to deal with the absolute silence. Then the Man walked on stage.

Dressed in slacks, a t-shirt and a sports jacket, he seemed to exude the calm confidence that didn’t require the mask of arrogance. When he reached the center of the stage and spoke, it wasn’t in a theatrical tone; if anything, his tone was steady, warm, inviting. He spoke like someone that knew the truth of his every word, and felt no need to try to convince anyone else.

“Ladies and gentlemen”, he began, “thank you very much for joining me this evening. I truly hope this will be an enlightening occasion for everyone, apart from an entertaining one. There is a point to this show, and I feel it would be unkind of me not to state it outright.”

Men and women shifted in their seats. They most certainly hadn’t signed up for a lecture.

“We tend to believe we are, well, who we are. That our mind is solid, our actions of our own choosing. That there is a core there that cannot be changed, shifted, corrupted. That deep down we have this… shining golden orb inside us, our real self, sacred, indestructible. It is my intention to expose that delusion for what it is, and I hope you’ll engage with my demonstration with an open mind”, finished the man. Then he turned towards the woman, lay his hand on her forehead and uttered a single, forceful word.

“Awake.”

The woman gasped, almost as if she had been torn from a nightmare, only to find herself in a worse one. Her eyes grew wide as she looked around, tried to understand what was happening. As soon as she noticed the audience, a pitiful whimper escaped her lips.

“Help… please… help me…”

The men and women sitting in the hall did nothing. Surely this was all a bit of drama, theatrics to enhance the show. The woman stood up, her face a mask of desperation.

“What’s wrong with you? Do something! Please! Before he… No, no, please no…”

The woman ran to the edge of the stage, only to find herself unable to step off. Her body shook, as if every bit of her soul was willing it to do something it simply would not let her do. She ran toward the left exit, and found herself paralyzed again. She was trapped. The man slowly, with measured tones, explained.

“A cage, ladies and gentlemen. Not a cage of the body, but the mind. Nothing is stopping her from leaving… except the work I’ve done inside her deepest subconscious. So I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, how can you tell you are truly free?”

The woman fell on her knees, shaking, the reality of her confinement hitting her like a sledgehammer. A murmur started to float over the crowd. Was any of this real? Should they do something? No, surely it was all a show. It had been advertised as such, put on in a theater, for Christ’s sake!

“No, no, no, please… please… anyone…” she cried, defeated. The man was on top of her in what seemed like a flash, pinning her to the ground. She squirmed and screamed and tried to get out from under him. The audience grew concerned. This felt… wrong. Evil, somehow. And yet they couldn’t help but notice that, as much as she struggled, the woman didn’t actually do anything that could hurt the man. She didn’t kick him or try to knee his groin. If anything, she seemed more like a tiny prey in the clutches of some predator. That had to be staged, they consoled themselves.

“Stop! Please! Help me! What are you doing?”, she screamed.

“Stay still”, he commanded. The woman stopped struggling instantly. He stood up, and slowly, deliberately placed a foot on her chest. She screamed, not out of pain but out of impotence. “Tell everyone”, he ordered, “how you feel”.

She looked at the crowd and shouted everything that was boiling inside her chest.

“I’m fucking terrified! I’m scared! I’m angry! I don’t understand! I feel so small… Why isn’t anyone helping me? Are you all monsters? I hate you! I hate… I hate my body, I hate that it won’t… that it simply obeys… I hate my weakness… I hate this! I hate everyone here! And I hate you most of all, you asshole!”, she finished, still looking at the audience. He had commanded her to speak to them, after all. People shifted in their seats. Maybe this was meant as a sort of social experiment, and indictment on the passivity of the masses… but there was something else, something terrible growing. They tried to push it down, to ignore it. Some men crossed their legs to hide their growing erections.

“Do you want what is happening? What we both know will happen?”, he asked.

“Want it? Want it!? You fucking monster! How could anyone want this? No, I don’t want it, you bastard! I don’t want you anywhere near me! I wish you dropped dead!”

“Ladies and gentleman, I’d say the subject has expressed herself quite clearly. Her desires are patent for all to see, her determination palpable. Surely that’s her core self talking, her words coming from the very depth of her spirit. Such things can not be changed, you must surely think. And yet…”

The man turned slowly, dramatically towards the woman, who remained laying perfectly still right in the middle of the stage.

“How can you say you don’t want it when you are such a slut?”

The man put special emphasis on that final word, which sent a shiver through the audience. The woman started slowly squirming, her eyes closed as if she was trying to keep something out, like the word was a battering ram slamming against her skull.

“I mean, that is what you are, isn’t it? My complete slut.”

The woman’s hips bucked. Still, she fought with all her might.

“No… please… I beg you… don’t…”

The audience held its breath in a mixture of horror and anticipation.

“Don’t what? Call you my perfect, depraved little slut?”

The woman went on all fours, her face a mask of despair. She pounded on the stage with a silent scream, her entire body shaking, struggling against what, with every passing moment felt like an inevitability. The man lifted her head gently, looked into her eyes and placed a single finger right on her forehead.

“Slut”, he said, his voice calm, firm.

The transformation was unbelievable. The audience gasped as it seemed like a new woman, an entirely different woman was being born in front of their eyes. The woman’s body relaxed, her movements slow, deliberate, sensual. Something between a yawn and a moan escaped her lips as her eyes became full of something bright, something needy. Something almost hungry.

“Mmmm… well, good evening, Master”, she cooed, her voice a symphony of promises. “Oh, I see we have an audience today! Well, that should be… fun”, she added, smiling at the crowd. The audience, for its part, kept quiet, even as a few members tried to subtly touch themselves over their clothes.

The man ignored the woman for a moment, even as she slowly began fondling her breasts, her stiff nipples poking through the sheer fabric. Instead, he addressed the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve heard her before. You listened to her passionate pleas. They were sincere, don’t you agree? And yet, now, let us ask our subject her sincere desires. Tell them, slut, what do you want?”

The woman turned to the audience, a dramatic, intentionally sensual gesture. She bit her lips and opened her legs, letting everyone see exactly how soaked she was, the stage lights reflecting on her pussy, drawing attention to it.

“I want…” she started, slowly bringing her hand between her legs. “I want… I want whatever Master says I want. I want to be his perfect, depraved, sexy fuckdoll. I want… I want his cock! I want to worship his perfect cock, to suck it, to feel it deep inside me… fuck… I want Master to remake me into whatever his cock wants! I’ll do anything… be anything for that cock… I’ll… I’ll become… fuck, it feels so good… I’ll become dumb or mean or a liar or… anything! I don’t matter… only Master’s cock matters… I am nothing, an empty vessel for him to fill with whatever he wants! I am tits and holes for his cock! My mind is soft and so malleable so he can make me his perfect toy!”

The audience was no longer silent. From here and there small, muffled moans began filling the air. What they were watching was wrong, of that they had no doubt. But morality grew more distant in their minds by the second, surpassed by something stronger, more primal. They weren’t even shocked when the man pulled out his cock. The woman turned towards it, her eyes fixed on it as if it was the only thing in existence. Her lips were wet, eager. And still, she didn’t move. She wouldn’t, unless commanded to.

The man spoke to the audience once more.

“Do you doubt her sincerity now? She wasn’t lying before. She isn’t faking now. What she is is an entirely changeable concept. As are we all. But let us explore further”, he said before turning again to the woman.

“Don’t you feel… desperate?”

The woman froze in place, her eyes widening, as if overcome by a tidal wave of feeling. Her lips parted and, as she stared at the man’s cock, her tongue started licking the air, drooling over her nighty. There was a moment that stretched in perfect silence before something inside that poor, manipulated mind broke completely. Her hips started bucking wildly, grinding against a cock that wasn’t there. Her hands went into a frenzy, seemingly unable to fully satisfy a myriad needs: they went from groping her breasts to spanking her ass to going into her mouth and taking the place of the cock she needed more than air and, still, was unable to reach without explicit permission. The audience could feel the vile thing that had been growing inside coming out. A few heads went down towards the lap of the person seated next to them; hands reached out in the dark; garments of all kinds came to rest on the theatre floor. And yet, when the man spoke, they all stopped to listen, to look at him, to look at her.

“Ladies, and gentlemen, a moment, if you would. Please, look at our subject. Do you doubt her need? Her desperation? Truly look at her. Would you respect her? Do you, in your heart of hearts, see her as a full human being right now?”, he said, before asking the woman, simply: “What are you?”

The woman struggled to speak. Finally, with a massive effort, she managed to string together something resembling speech.

“C-cock… Cum… Slave! Cockslave! Fuck… Holes. Holes! Fill holes… Cock… Mouth, pussy, ass… Cum… Cum, tits, throat, cunt. Cunt! Fucking cunt! Fucking holes! Use… Use holes. Use, abuse… Cunt. Fuck cunt, hurt cunt, make cunt drool! Tits, holes, nothing more! Slave… Slave… Wet and horny fucking cumslave!”

“I could not have put it better myself. Now… you are released.”

The word hit the entire room like thunder. They were released, as the woman was released. Released from shame. Released from morality. Released from fear. The woman crawled as quickly as she could towards that cock, that perfect cock that was the center of her existence, the sole focus of her life. She used her tongue, her lips, her throat, desperate to please it, desperate to give it pleasure. His pleasure was her pleasure. The audience followed suit. No one cared if the person they fondled, kissed, sucked was a stranger, or a friend, or if they had come with a partner. Such ideas were ridiculous. They were bodies, made for pleasure, made to experience sensation in all its forms. Soon women were riding people they had never met, kissing each other, exploring the tactile wonders of skin on skin. Men didn’t stop to consider if the woman they were bending over to use was a cherished friend, someone’s wife, a complete unknown. There was a purity and a connection in the theatre, as if all their bodies were in fact pieces in one larger organ, entirely focused on the maddening extremes of pleasure.

When the man went on his back and the woman crawled on top of him in a frenzy, few in the audience noticed. She rode his cock savagely, her mind unraveling as she felt the one thing that mattered, the thing that made her whole enter her over and over again, sending shivers up her spine, turning her lips, her nipples, her every cell into an electric fountain of sensation. Her face was the very picture of complete debauchery, of mindless, absolute ecstasy, stronger than any drug, more true than any religion. Her eyes sparkled with the joy of not having to be a person, merely a being that experienced her own pleasure and the pleasure of her master as her own. She screamed and drooled and moved with infinite stamina and vigor, almost trying to coax him cum deep into her womb… but remaining always on the very edge of orgasm, unable to reach that final, explosive release.

The man felt it coming. It was inevitable. The woman was just too good, too perfectly gone, too desperate to please him. He managed to hold back for a moment, just enough to issue one final command.

“Cum.”

He didn’t intend it for the audience, but the effect was undeniable. The theatre became a symphony of moans and screams, conducted by the woman who, with her eyes rolling back, came over, and over, and over again, until she collapsed, unconscious.

***

Backstage, Sarah opened her eyes. She couldn’t remember a thing, but her body, the way she felt, as if floating on a cloud, told her something had happened. Her muscles were, she had to admit, a bit sore.

“Did it work?”, she asked her husband.

“Like a charm, babygirl”, he replied, caressing her hair.

“Really? Every bit?”

“Every single one. Exactly as we mapped it out.”

Sarah managed to sit up, a bit surprised.

“Even the, you know, me hating it and not wanting you at all?”

“Yes, even that. I have to say, I was a bit shocked myself at how well that one worked. You truly, honestly hated me for a while there!”

“See? I told you you could do it! I knew you could! You’ve been improving so, so much lately as a hypnotist, that… Well, you managed to create a… me, I suppose, that hates you! You have any idea how amazing that is?”

“I can’t say I particularly like the idea of you hating me!”

“Oh, you know what I mean! I’d say I’d never hate you, but clearly you can even make that happen! And did we do the… you know, the desperate thing?”

“Oh yes we did. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to not just nut right then and there looking at you so completely lost in the need to worship my cock? I should get a fucking medal for that, love!”

“I’ll make sure you get a… proper reward, daddy. And the audience? At what point did they leave?”

“They… didn’t.”

“What?”

“They didn’t leave, honey. I know we were sort of expecting them to bolt around halfway through at best, but… you know what? I’m not going to tell you what happened.”

“Mean!”

“I’d much rather see your reaction when you see the footage. Excellent job placing the cameras, love. We have so many angles to… enjoy.”

“So… dinner and a movie, then!”, she smiled.

“Dinner and a movie it is, babygirl.”

“I love you so much, daddy”

“And I love you, babygirl. Shall we head home?”

“Yes! And… is it too soon to start planning a new show?”, she said with a devilish glint in her eye.

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I’m reblogging this one because it’s a stealth love story, in its own way