You Have No Free Will

Melissa ground her naked breasts against the worn-out keyboard, unable to stop. The webcam light was on, showing her humiliation was being seen (and probably recorded) halfway across the world, but she didn’t care. Nothing was more important than exposing herself for the pleasure of her gorgeous owner. Even if she wanted to protest and resist her commands – such silly thoughts! – the trigger deeply embedded in her subconscious prevented her from even considering such a possibility. In those five little words, a universe of endless submission awaited her and they were as simple as…

You have no free will.

Of course not. Perhaps in another life or a vagary of the mind could that be true, but both possibilities were outlandish, and she had to focus on the present, living each moment for the glory of another, regardless of consequences. She continued rubbing her boobs senselessly, the friction of the keyboard keys leaving red marks on her sensitive skin.

You have no free will.

The words flashed briefly though she wasn’t sure if it was on the blackened screen or the innermost depths of her memories. Either way, the outcome was the same. A good drone followed orders and Goddess wanted more of her debasement, not only in private but in public spaces, too.

The first had been the violent orgasm during the company’s last Christmas party, an unexpected wave of pleasure that had her moan helplessly by the tree while her co-workers watched. The second happened less than two weeks later when water tasted like wine and an important meeting turned into a drunk festival after only two glasses. While frustrating, two incidents hadn’t been enough to jeopardize her position as Assistant Manager, but a third could change all that. Under normal circumstances, she would be worried, yet the hypnotic suggestions were more powerful than the rest, keeping the truth always present in her daily life.

You have no free will.

Melissa bit her lower lip, drooping eyes almost ready to close and not open again without permission. Outside her office, looking confused through the thick glass sheets, were a dozen of her subordinates, unsure of what to say or do.


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S. B.

Simple Being, Middle name Creative. Writer and artist with a penchant for themes of Female Domination, Hypnosis and Mind Control. My thoughts are my own except when they're not.

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