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Disconnected and Defeated

Belinda tried to wake herself up when she heard Juliet begin to speak to her, but by then she’d descended so deeply into the fugue of ecstasy that had swamped her mind and body that she couldn’t really make her muzzy brain work anymore. She heard the beautiful blonde purring, “I’m disconnecting your brain now,” and she recognized the danger she was in–she was far too complacent and vulnerable to resist Juliet’s soothing hypnotic voice right now, and her slick and oiled body craved pleasure too much to make the other woman stop. But that very vulnerability made her unable to even open her heavy eyes, much less pull her suntanned pussy away from Juliet’s touch. She was completely helpless to do anything but lie on the towel and listen to the woman she thought was her friend as she reprogrammed Belinda’s mind.

But god did Juliet make it feel good. “I’m unplugging your consciousness, unmooring it one thought at a time from the rest of you until the part of you that’s aware of my voice in your ears won’t even know what your waking mind is thinking. Your brain is going to drift away, floating off into the ether, while the seat of your focus and attention listens obediently to my words and accepts them without question. Every surge of pleasure disconnects another one of the cords instructing your personality of who and what you should be as a person, removing your identity so I can install a new one underneath. You like that, don’t you?” Belinda knew she should say no. But already the threads of perception felt loose and muzzy and it became increasingly hard to associate herself with her self. By the time she realized she was nodding, it was too late to stop.

“Good girl,” Juliet husked out, her tones thick with heady lust as she fingered Belinda’s G-spot with one hand while rubbing over her clit with the other. “Feel those connections coming free now, thought after thought sputtering and fizzling and disappearing as you sink into my pleasure, my bliss, my obedient trance. You belong to me now, just like Ezra, just like Annette, just like all my other good girls.” A lot of the questions Belinda had about the odd composition of Ezra’s social circle of late suddenly answered themselves, and the reasons for the unexpected invitation to a secluded beach cottage for an entire week all expenses paid, but Belinda found the revelations slipping out of her head as soon as they arrived. It was simply too hard to think now. She could see the tenuous links to her consciousness behind her closed eyelids, and the last of them was beginning to give way.

“In a few moments,” Juliet said, with the confidence of a woman who’d made countless lesbian slaves in her time, “you’re going to feel yourself disassociate completely from your own mind. Whatever thoughts it’s thinking right now, whatever it’s occupying itself with in the absence of awareness of your body, you won’t even know what it is because it won’t be there anymore. The only part of you left will be a helpless influx of sensory perceptions, untroubled by thought, unable to resist because your resistance won’t even know what’s happening to you anymore. You will listen and obey, and when I allow your consciousness to return it will plug back into the new concepts and beliefs I instill and accept them without even the possibility of doubt. Are you ready for that, slave?” Of course Belinda didn’t stop nodding. Her brain was holding on by a single thread now, and it couldn’t hold any serious notions of defiance. She wanted to obey. She needed to obey. She needed to–

“Disconnect and cum, slave,” Juliet intoned. Belinda heard herself give out a strangled grunt of orgasmic bliss, but she had no idea what it meant anymore.

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Same sissy, same dress, different decade.

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