#titplay

Ripe flex for my stinky brothers.

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“Hhhhh… hhhand,” Darla moaned, suddenly very aware of how difficult it had become to express anything more than the simplest and smallest of thoughts. Georgia’s fingers were wrapped around her soft pink breasts, constantly teasing the dark brown nipples until they stood up like bullets, and it was all making Darla so damn crazy with lust that her normally-sharp brain had slowed down to a crawl. She had one thing and one thing only on her sluggish mind, and that was the orgasm that drifted perpetually just ahead of her in a warm red fog of tantalizing lust. And she–she couldn’t hold onto a train of thought, either. She was just saying ‘hand’, but the reasoning behind it had already slipped out of her muzzy head, leaving behind only pleasure and arousal.

Was she thinking of Georgia’s hands? They felt  so good right now; Darla couldn’t remember a time when simply being touched and caressed like this had made her so fucking stupid with lust. “It’s okay, sweetie pie,” Georgia whispered, her breath rushing intimately into Darla’s open mouth as she broke the train of sluggish and bewildered thought with another potent kiss. “You don’t need to worry about it. You don’t need to think about anything at all.” Darla shivered with desire, and a part of her gratefully sank down deeper into the sea of pleasure that was already threatening to overwhelm her… but another part of her recognized those soft, dulcet tones that were so different from Georgia’s usual speaking voice. She–she was talking differently like that for a reason, wasn’t she?

With a titanic effort, Darla forced herself to concentrate on a single mental effort despite the constant arousal that fuzzed up her thoughts with static and made her want to stop thinking and hump the warm hand on her slick pussy. She thought back, back to the last moment when her mind seemed lucid and clear, and recognized that her sluggish brain wasn’t just sluggish because she was so fucking goddamn horny right now and the fingers were rubbing her clit rubbing rubbing her clit rubbing her clit– “Fuck!” she gasped explosively, almost losing track of herself in a moment of near-orgasmic pleasure. She held on, albeit only barely. She’d realized that she wasn’t just drunk with lust right now. She was hypnotized.

Georgia had hypnotized her. Georgia had hypnotized her slowly, subtly, inducing so much arousal and desire into Darla’s sleepy mind that by the time she realized what was happening, she was too turned on to do anything but surrender to the bliss of the other woman’s touch and lose herself in the sheer sexual heat of it all. Her thoughts had dissolved like cotton candy into a warm, sticky mess of lust, and she couldn’t focus and she couldn’t think and she couldn’t make sense of the strange little anomaly that kept nagging at her and preventing her from slipping away completely. Every time she tried, Georgia’s hands squeezed her breasts or rubbed her nipples or played with her soaking cunt or–

She almost got it then. Darla managed to get as far as counting the hands caressing her naked body and coming up with a number that didn’t sound right even to her confused and befuddled brain. But before she could wonder where Georgia’s husband was, and what he was doing while they were having sex in his bedroom, a finger skated over her clit and the thought crumbled into helpless bewilderment. “H-hand?” Darla managed to murmur out, but it was the last fragment of an already-lost notion and it soon melted into slick, wet pleasure and was gone.

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He’d noticed. Oh, fuck, he’d noticed. Cyndi knew it was bound to happen, she’d seen the post circulating enough times before she finally took the plunge and got the tattoo to know that plenty of people would recognize the ‘free use’ symbol on her wrist, but it hadn’t even been a full hour since she removed the bandage and already a guy was giving her a look that told Cyndi he knew exactly what it meant. She looked up at him, concealing all her trepidation behind a bright smile, and thrust out her chest ever so slightly to emphasize her pendulous breasts.  And her cunt melted in a rush of warm, liquid arousal as he reached out and gave them a casual squeeze. “Looks like someone knows her place,” he purred, his voice a husky growl of lust as he pulled her closer and began to grope her heavy tits.

Cyndi nodded, a whimpering squeak escaping her lips as he roughly yanked her shirt over her head and started playing with her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra. “Y-yes sir,” she mewled, unable to escape the powerful waves of sexual heat that made her brain fuzz and fog over with undisguised lust. She’d been offering herself to strangers online for a couple years now, edging to hypnosis files until her mind was a muzzy haze of arousal and talking dirty to any man who would listen, but taking the next step and making her fantasies a reality was giving her a hit of excitement so intense that she was creaming her fucking panties. “I, I know that as a woman, I’m inferior to men and–”

The sharp smack of the stranger’s palm against her tit made her break off with a gasp of surprise. “Oh, don’t bring other women into this,” he snarled, unhooking the clasp on her bra and tugging it free so that anyone walking into the empty conference room would see her bare tits hanging out. “It’s always the same with you sluts, isn’t it? 'Women are inferior, women are born to serve men, women can’t think.’ Did other women go out and get a tattoo that gives men permission to use them any way they wanted? No. It was you. Don’t try to pretend that it’s your gender that made you a weak and needy little bitch when we both know you just can’t handle making decisions for yourself.”

Cyndi’s mouth opened, but for a moment no sound escaped. She’d known that this would be intense, erotic, the culmination of all her fantasies of being used and demeaned and treated like a piece of meat by some big strong man, but… but somehow the way the stranger stripped away her last illusions made her wetter than she ever thought possible. She couldn’t even hide anymore behind the excuse of the anti-feminist rhetoric that always felt so wrong and so hot at the same time–he was right, after all. Plenty of women had no trouble refusing men. It was her. It had always been her. “Y-yes sir,” she whimpered, her voice almost a full octave higher. “I, I’m inferior. To men and women.” It felt like such a relief to finally admit it.

“Good girl,” he growled, taking a double fistful of titflesh and squeezing. “Now, be back in this room promptly at 5:05 PM. I’ve actually got work to do around here, and you need to get your clothes back on before someone sees you like this and fucks you stupid before I get the chance.” Cyndi nodded again, unable to trust her own voice. She knew she would obey–and she knew that this was far from the last time someone would put her in her place.