Author’s Note: This is a standalone story, but features the same couple from Sticky Notes.
“Ten,” Stephen snarled through gritted teeth. The barbell clanged back against the pins, and he was done. He rocked up to a sitting position on the bench, careful to not bang his head on the bar, and tapped his smartwatch to end the workout session. 400 calories; not bad. There was a pleasant throb in the muscles of his chest, back, and arms, and—as he stripped off his shirt on the way to the bathroom mirror—he smiled at the sight of his traps and deltoids standing firm under his reddened skin, swollen from the exertion.
He looked good.
Miranda came from the kitchen, where she’d been doing a little writing, as usual; her headphones blocking out the sound of her boyfriend grunting and clanging weight plates around while he did his thing. She stood slightly behind him and smiled at him in the mirror.
“Admiring yourself? Hmm? Like what you see?”
Stephen turned around, grinning down at her. “Do YOU like what you see?”
“Mhm,” she said, nodding, tracing her fingers along his arm, feeling the muscles flex beneath the skin. “Getting nice and strong for me, eh?”
He stepped closer and slid his arms around her. “Careful! I could probably hoist you up over one shoulder and have my way with you.”
“Oh, my!” she said, her fingers tracing across his chest. “I’d better watch out.”
Her hand came to a stop over his solar plexus, fingers splayed out. “Freeze,” she said.
Stephen’s body stiffened, and he found himself staring straight ahead. The pleasant exhaustion that came after a workout was replaced by the even more pleasant rigidity of being bound by Miranda’s hypnotic suggestion. And speaking of bodies stiffening, his cock stirred in his shorts.
She continued to trace her fingers along his strong, still body, leaning in to kiss him below the nipple. “So very strong, sweetie... and so very helpless. Aren’t you?”
“Mrrrrnnn,” he said, unable to move even his lips.
She left a line of kisses across his chest, biting his other nipple playfully. Meanwhile, her hand slid into his shorts and she grasped his cock. Her touch took it from mildly interested to desperately eager.
“Mirrnnnd!” he groaned, and Miranda laughed.
“Is something wrong, my big strong pet?” she asked, snapping her fingers. “You may speak freely.”
Stephen had control over his mouth again, but nothing else, his body resolutely locked in place. And her slow, teasing strokes made it hard to focus on what he wanted to say. But it was important.
“Miranda, please! I need to shower and get to work. I wish I had time for teasing, but—”
“Tsk!” she interrupted, giving his cock a quick tug that made him gasp. “You’re saying some silly job is more important than being my plaything?”
Stephen wasn’t sure if he wanted to nod or shake his head, but he couldn’t actually do either. He groaned. Of course he wanted to please her, he would have gladly fucked her right here on the floor if she’d told him to, but she knew as well as he that they just didn’t have time.
“Please, please, Miranda, I’ll make it up to you tonight, I’ll do whatever you want!” He saw the mischievous sparkle in her eyes that said she was unmoved by his plea. “You wouldn’t want me to have to tell my coworkers I missed the seminar because I was your hypnotized slave, would you?”
Miranda simply raised her eyebrows... and tugged his cock again. Stephen moaned, as much in frustration as arousal. What he’d just said turned both of them on, and he knew it. He was so fucked.
But this time, Miranda was merciful. She pulled her hand out of his shorts and snapped her fingers again.
“You’re free to move,” she said. Stephen breathed a vast sigh of relief, now that she’d restored to him the ability to sigh vastly. “Just remember you said you’ll do whatever I want...”
“Of course! Tonight, tonight I promise, whatever you want,” he was already turning towards the bathroom as he assured her, hoping she wouldn’t spring any more surprises on him. Triggers, mantras, secret words; she’d done so much work to condition him. Stephen knew he was Miranda’s plaything, and only her mercy (and economic necessity) let him keep his job at all.
He shut the bathroom door and flipped the lights and fan on, as though he needed an audio-visual barrier to prevent him from running back and plowing his eager girlfriend. Stephen looked at himself in the mirror again, now distracted from his swollen muscles by his swollen erection, standing straight out from his pelvis and pointing back in the direction it apparently longed to go. He cursed quietly. He hated disappointing Miranda, and disappointing himself besides, but a job was a job. She’d already talked him into taking a cheeky sick day once this week, the third time this month; if they kept this up, as fun as it was, he’d be unemployed pretty soon.
The water braced him up. It was always cold at first, and Stephen took the shock across his broad back and gritted his teeth until the hot water kicked in and he could turn and face it. He had hoped the cold shot might quench his desire, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Miranda, freezing him in place and teasing him; imagining her spreading her legs, running her sexy, sparkly fingernails up and down her thighs, beckoning him... he’d stalk across the room on his hands and knees like a lion stalking its prey through the grass until his hands were gripping her thighs, urging her to squeeze them around his head. He loved the heat and the dark and the absolute focus on her pleasure as he went down on her, the way she squirmed and thrashed with her hands gripping his hair, the sounds she made...
Without realizing it, Stephen was stroking himself in the shower, having stopped soaping up halfway down his torso. The fantasy had become so vivid he could almost smell Miranda’s scent. His hands still slick, he gently squeezed his balls while beginning to stroke faster, his intention to shower and dress and make it to the office on time beginning to fade, replaced by the throbbing heat growing deep in his body.
“Just a couple minutes of this,” he thought, with the slightest pang of guilt. “Miranda gets me so fucking worked up...”
He turned his back to the shower again and let the jet of water cascade down around him, creating a warm, wet cocoon in which he stood and slid both hands up and down his cock. Long moments dripped by until Stephen realized he was mumbling something. At first he wasn’t even sure what the words were, and it seemed like the harder he tried to think about what he was saying, the less sense it made. It was a strange sensation, like his body was on autopilot, his hands firm and slick as they slid up and down with just the perfect amount of pressure, cock hard and throbbing but nowhere near release, just feeding the growing sensations back into his brain as he stood and slowly, steadily...
“Stroke for Miranda... Sink for Miranda...”
“Stroke for Miranda... Sink for Miranda...”
“Stroke for Miranda... Sink for Miranda...”
Stephen’s eyes were glazed and he was seeing right through the far wall of the shower, imagining every inch of the smooth, soft skin he longed to worship. The part of his mind that realized he was chanting a hypnotic mantra as he masturbated in the shower was so faint and far away, almost as far away as the idea of cleaning up so he could dress and go to work. All he had to do was stroke for Miranda and sink for Miranda, feeling harder and better and deeper and dumber and dreamier and emptier and...
The glass door of the shower slid open, and Miranda joined Stephen, shutting her eyes against the spray reflecting off his body. She was naked and aroused, her nipples hard and pussy hot from the minutes she’d spent watching her boyfriend stroke his big cock and drop into his special hypnotic slave-space for her, just the way she’d trained him to. Finally, wanting his hands on her, loving the sight of his powerful body rigid with the pleasure that had washed away thought and free will, Miranda took her helpless slave by the wrists and guided his arms around her waist.
“Stroke for Miranmmmfff...” Miranda’s lips interrupted Stephen’s mumbled mantra as she slid into the heated space between his arms, her body deliciously slippery, his stiff cock pulsing between them as she reached down to take over. She kissed him more and more deeply as her fingertips traced his cock. The water dripping between their bodies hung suspended there, at the tip of his member, just like she’d suspended him in helpless, horny pleasure, spiralling deeper and deeper into trance.
Miranda pressed herself against his thigh, feeling the big muscles tighten as he shifted his weight, and it only took a minute of rubbing against him before she came; the delight of his complete submission taking her over the edge as much as the friction between their bodies.
Stephen was moaning as she stroked him, beyond speech, his mind blanked of even the mantra Miranda had hypnotized into him. She kissed her way down his chest, sliding carefully to her knees in the shower, between his legs, holding his thighs for support. Stephen’s muscles were quivering with the building pleasure and the need to balance carefully on the slick floor of the shower, but Miranda knew he’d keep himself standing no matter how lost in trance he became—she’d conditioned him carefully that way.
She kissed down his belly until she reached his cock. Cupping his balls as she licked his shaft, Miranda made Stephen moan louder and harder, but he could not release until Miranda told him to, lost and helpless in slave-space. The feel of his hot, stiff skin against her lips turned Miranda on even more, and she went from slowly teasing his member with kisses to holding the shaft firmly as she bobbed her head, feeling him pulse against her tongue, hearing his moans reach new heights of intensity. She imagined his climax, a hot flood in her mouth, but knew he couldn’t go over that edge on his own.
She controlled Stephen completely. And that made her so fucking hot.
With just the lightest touch on her clit, Miranda came again. Breathless, she got back up on her feet with extreme care, one hand against the wall of the shower and the other climbing Stephen’s body, loving the feel of him, so hot and alive but helpless for her. She leaned close, kissing his neck, and whispered.
“Cum completely blank for me, baby.”
Stephen groaned “Cummm—”, trying to repeat the command but too overwhelmed to really vocalize. Miranda gripped his dick again just before she spoke, and felt how hard it jerked, again and again, felt the hot spurt against her thigh, immediately washed away by the shower. Stephen remained standing, safely balanced, as he finished his orgasm. His muscles had softened from their rigid attention and his breathing was deeper and more regular, as though asleep on his feet. Miranda brushed his wet hair aside and looked at his face. His eyes were closed, his lips parted. He looked peaceful. And, she knew, completely open to her suggestions.
“Good boy. You came so hard for me.”
“H-hard. Always hard... for you....”
“That’s right. And you’re totally blank now, aren’t you?”
“Tot-uhhh... blank.”
Miranda smiled, amused by how hard it was for Stephen to form words when in this state. He was beyond slave-space now, in the utterly vulnerable place where he accepted Miranda’s words without question and without memory. The things she told him now would become his new reality.
“Such a good boy. And you know, when you wake, you’ll be even more flustered about being late for work. Your deep mind still knows everything I’ve told you today… but your silly waking mind doesn’t need to remember, does it?”
“Doesn’t need… to ‘member,” Stephen murmured. His cock twitched in her hand; no matter how deeply hypnotized he was, it turned him on so much when Miranda controlled his memory. “Just… ‘member… with my… deep mind.”
“That’s right. And there’s one more thing, pet. Does your deep mind remember what I’ve told it about my pretty lips?”
“P-pretty… lipsss…” The phrase was a powerful trigger, and Stephen moaned as his brain reactivated it.
His cock was hardening again. Miranda sighed and giggled. “Remind me, silly boy… what about my pretty lips?”
“Can’t resist doing what your pretty lips say,” Stephen droned the mantra, “just listen, watch them glisten, and obey.”
“That’s my good, good pet,” Miranda gave his cock a last, affectionate squeeze and stepped out of the shower, toweling off. “Now, once you hear me shut the bathroom door, you can come all the way back from your deep, dumb trance. Remember, you need to finish your shower, and fast! You don’t want to be late for work…”
Stephen hurried through his shower and checked his phone—fuck! How could it be so late already? He’d tried to wash up quickly, not wanting to be late for work.
He hoped he hadn’t put his shirt on backwards in his rush to get to the door. He’d have to just buy lunch today, no time to put anything together. If Miranda had wanted to be helpful, Stephen thought, somewhat guiltily, she could have thrown some leftovers together for him while he was in the shower. Only fair, since her sexy little head games were why he was running late in the first place.
But no, Miranda was lounging on the sofa, applying gloss to her lips with a compact mirror. She seemed almost nude, but Stephen couldn’t afford more than a sideways glance.
“Bye, love,” he said as he rushed to the front door.
“Oh, sweetie?” Miranda called, in such a faux-innocent tone she could only be teasing him. “Leaving without even a kiss goodbye?”
Stephen stopped and sighed, laptop bag heavy in his hand. He leaned his head against the door for a moment, then turned back to Miranda. Of course, he would kiss her goodbye.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, walking over to her. She was wearing a tiny lingerie set, his favourite, and he tried desperately not to let the sight of her body, her skin flushed under a few scraps of satiny blue, distract him from his responsibilities. “I just hate to be late, you know?”
He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her soft, shiny lips. Not as long as she wanted, he was sure, but more than a peck. It would have to do.
“I understand, sweetie,” she said, looking up at him. “You have so many big important things you need to take care of.”
“Exactly,” Stephen said, staring at Miranda’s mouth. The way her full, shiny, pretty lips formed each word made him absolutely certain of their truth. He was glad she understood him so well.
“I know your job is so important, sweetie,” she said. “You need to be ready to perform every task you’re given immediately and perfectly.”
He nodded, the need to run out the door itching at the back of his mind. But he felt strangely passive, just standing there, staring.
“You know your job is so important,” her pretty lips said. “Performing your function is all that matters. And you perform it so well, without thought or question, don’t you?”
Stephen nodded, watching the light glimmer on Miranda’s sexy lips. She had said something true. About his job. Or his function. He couldn’t remember the details. That was ok.
“And you’re so good at your job as my mindless fuckbot, baby. So good at being a big, hard cock, a blank little brain, just giving me pleasure.”
Stephen nodded. A tiny voice in the back of his mind despaired; it knew he was supposed to be in a meeting right now. But his body felt so stiff and heavy. His cock was so stiff and heavy. He didn’t remember when that had happened, but it made sense. He was Miranda’s fuckbot, always hard and ready for her pleasure.
Her pretty lips were moving, so shiny, glistening, and it felt so good to watch them and accept her words without hearing them. Miranda spread her legs and Stephen unbuckled his belt, opened his fly, and guided his swollen cock to meet her. She was rubbing herself and he could see how wet she was through her sheer panties. He slipped those aside so he could slide into her and she gasped and reached for his body as he pumped deeper and deeper into her pussy. He was her fuckbot. That was his only job. He would always perform perfectly for her.
The day was a blur. Miranda reminded him to eat and drink and relieve himself. Stephen’s head remained empty of any thought other than “I’m Miranda’s fuckbot”; sometimes she had him repeat it out loud while she rode him. Even between their marathon sessions, he stayed erect and incredibly sensitive, but it never occurred to him to touch himself, to bring himself pleasure… and the thought of his own orgasm never crossed his brainwashed mind.
He was Miranda’s fuckbot. That was his only job: he was a toy for her pleasure.
When she woke him up around dinnertime, Stephen had truly forgotten his day job, let alone that he’d been rushing out of the house that morning to get to a meeting. After they’d showered off together and changed into cozy clothes and were sitting down to the much-needed meal Miranda had ordered, it finally, finally dawned on Stephen that he’d totally blown off his work day to play with her.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Miranda asked between bites, noticing his expression.
“Babe, are you kidding? I mean, you know I love the way you fuck with my mind, but, c’mon… I blew off work completely. I didn’t even email them with an excuse this time. That’s gonna be a little hard to explain.”
Miranda got that mischievous grin on her face again.
“What?” Stephen demanded. His hair always stood slightly on end at the sight.
“My silly, silly boy,” Miranda giggled. “Look at your phone.”
Stephen blinked. He’d checked his phone after she’d let him out of Fuckbot Mode, but hadn’t noticed anything… He picked it up again and read the date.
“It’s… Saturday?”
“Mhm.”
“Wha—How—Wha—Miranda!”
“Silly! Making you forget the date is the easiest trick.”
Stephen just gaped, at a loss for words.
“And you know what that means, my love?”
He was afraid he did, was pretty sure he did, but had to ask anyway. “…What?”
“It means we can do this all over again to-morrr-ow…”
Stephen groaned in defeat. Underneath the dinner table, though, his cock twitched.