Such a simple tool, a bobby pin. Every woman has them, and yet I bet you never knew I would do something like this to you, did you? Now, let’s start testing your sensitivity to different feathers. I have a soft, downy one I pulled from the pillows this morning and a stiff crow feather from the yard. Which one will make you drip more, I wonder…?
When Doti first put on the headphones, she’d assumed it was a silly joke. After all, who could possibly be brainwashed by a simple song? It just wasn’t possible. She pressed PLAY on the file she’d been given, sitting back in her desk chair to see what would happen. Much to her surprise, it was nothing but classical music. She checked the file to make sure she had the right one. Sure enough, it was labeled on her computer as “Hypno.mp3″, but the tune that was playing was clearly some kind of piano and violin duet. Still, it wasn’t unpleasant to listen to. It was actually rather nice. She scoffed, keeping the file running while working on some schoolwork.
She worked for several hours, before she suddenly realized she’d been spacing out. More than that, though, she had her hand down the front of her shorts. She blushed, stopping as suddenly as she had started and shaking her head. The classical music must have relaxed her a little too much, she reasoned. A quick glance at the clock showed her that it was getting close to bedtime. She took off the headphones and set them near her mouse, going about her nightly ritual before stretching out on her bed, clad only in a pair of white panties.
Unknown to Doti, the headphones were still playing. Softly, yes, but loud enough for her subconscious mind to pick up during the silent hours of the night. Soon, of its own accord, her body continued the erotic motions it had begun a few hours ago. One hand slipped into her panties, furiously teasing and rubbing her clit. Her body soared towards the edge of an orgasm… and then her hand stopped, letting it ebb away. While her conscious mind drifted in and out of dreamland, never awake enough to realize what was happening to her, the subconscious part of her mind continued to torment her clit… all night long.
Come morning, and Doti woke up hornier than she could ever remember. One hand cupped her pussy, and her panties were soaked through with her cream. In fact, they had done very little to stop her juices from leaking straight through the fabric and saturating the mattress. As horrified as she was, her pussy gave a shameful twinge at the sight. Being this wet was good–better than good, it was amazing–and she could barely keep her hands away from her pussy.
Doti decided then and there that she wanted more. She wanted to be wetter than she was now. She stumbled over to her computer, loading up some of her favorite porn and throwing the headphones over her ears. Her schoolwork could wait. Sitting down could wait! She bent over the computer table, furiously teasing her cunt as it leaked and dripped in wild abandon. Her mouth hung open as she feverishly edged again and again, her mind lost in the images on the screen. She was so far gone in her arousal that she didn’t even realize that the piano and violin were still playing in her ears.
By the time anyone discovered her, Doti was a hopeless mess. Her cunt was dripping nonstop, and she couldn’t touch it for fear of spilling over the edge. An edge she’d carefully preserved for over three days before anyone came looking for her. Desperate for more arousal, she’d resorted to massaging and kneading her beasts, teasing her nipples to provide stimulation. The headphones had been discarded after the second day, no longer necessary.
Doti was taken to a special facility where they had the resources to handle such unusual cases. The audio file was removed from her computer for analysis, but not much was discovered. It had been sent to her anonymously, from a burner account of someone who claimed to have intimate knowledge of a psychology they called “mental reprogramming”. Doti writhed on the bed as the doctors surveyed her, discussing her case. She was desperate – she needed to touch herself. Needed another edge. Only one of her observers seemed calm, jotting notes on the clipboard in his hands even after his colleagues had left. Finally, when they were alone, he knelt down next to the bed and smiled at her. “Hello Doti,” he said. “My name is Doctor Thornton. I’ll be taking over your case.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes as he continued. “Thankfully, I’m quite well versed in your symptoms. After all…” he stood up and looked down at her. “…I’m an expert in mental reprogramming.”
We’re only going to let you breathe when you’re on the edge. Every time you slip off that aching brink, I’m tightening this rope until you’re choking like mad, begging for more edges. That’s it, thrust your hips. Convince me you want to breathe. Convince me you want that edge. Pretty soon you’ll be able to drip and edge just by breathing. We’re going to recondition your brain to find the very idea of oxygen to be arousing!
Silly cunt. If your begging mattered, I’d have told you. I said I was going to edge you into oblivion tonight, and that’s what I plan to do. I’m not stopping until you pass out, so you might as well quit whining. Here, I’ll even help you. There, now I don’t have to listen to your incessant pleas for mercy.
If I was a normal person, your sobs and pleas might move me. They might stir some chord within my heart that inspires mercy or leniency. But I am not a normal man. I am a sociopath of great depth and depravity. Compassion, particularly for my victims, is not something I am readily capable of. So while your sobs and heartfelt begging might move anyone else, all it does is inspire me to be crueler. To edge your cunt even longer. To keep you denied longer.
Now, just relax. I am really setting you free. Society imposes such restrictions upon you. To be prim, proper, ladylike… so boring. I am giving you a chance to truly be free. To be what you are. You are a desperate little slut, your cunt ripe with cream and begging to be tortured. The ropes are not your shackles – they are your wings. You can fly to the heights of desperation on them, screaming and wailing in unbound agony. I will not judge you here. You can beg for the most depraved things, and it will only stir the fire in my loins. Your suffering is my release. Your agony is a balm upon my own. So scream in unconstrained arousal, my slave… for you are going to be here for a very… very… long time.
What do you think, babe… should we unlock the chastity belt and let her cum?
Yes Mistress! Please! I’m so horny! It’s been weeks sinc–
Shut up. She wasn’t talking to you, slave. She was talking to me!
*fearful whimpering* Yes Mistress! I’m sorry.
Much better… now, as I was saying, do you think we should unlock her? She’s been a pretty good girl the past few weeks, serving not just you but my other two lovers as well. I think she’s earned a reward, don’t you?
I was going to say yes, but the ornery little shit thought we were asking its opinion on whether or not to unlock it. Where the fuck does it get off thinking we care about its opinion?!
I agree, but we can’t be too strict. She has earned some kind of reward, and pretending a single infraction violates every bit of progress she’s made on her training would just be counterproductive.
Hm. I suppose you’re right… well then, she can eat my pussy while you unlock the belt, but she’s not cumming. Not for a long time still.
Oh no, please… please, I can’t–
I think that’s an excellent idea. We’ll give her some belt-free time tonight, tied to the bed, of course. Right now, go ahead and ride her face. I’ll unlock the belt and give her a few edges before we trade. Then we’ll discuss how long she’ll stay denied until her next chance to please us.
I think another two months should do it. Let’s see how well she licks.
Uie's Cage 