Empty

“You are my empty, mindless slut.”

There is a tone of voice that Master takes when he is about to turn me on my head. If anything it’s him being TOO nonchalant. I know it by heart in hindsight, but somehow cannot see it coming when I hear that voice. This was how it went this week when I came home from work and jumped onto Skype. I’d spent the day completely aware of my cunt anyway, due to a “wardrobe malfunction” when I got dressed that morning. I’d somehow forgotten to wear panties, leaving my rubbing my clit against the rough seam of my jeans all day. Master had confessed at the end of my work day that I’d forgotten nothing, but rather he’d planted the suggestion the night before, and with that I should have come home expecting play.

I didn’t.

When the first words poured through the headphones I melted. I felt my cunt throb and I closed my eyes, feeling my mind click; become loose. I had all my faculties still, but these words had primed me and now everything in my head felt free-floating – his to move or remove as he wished.

“Get naked.” He commanded and as fast as possible I’ve stripped. He told me I’m his empty, brainless slut, and I took up the chant. Over and over I told him I am his empty, brainless slut. I said the words and little by little they made it so. Next I began to run my fingers over my clit as I repeated the mantra. I was already wet from being played with, but this soon had juice leaking out of me. Master heard my voice go more ragged. “Feel your brains leaking out your cunt, don’t you slut?” I nodded – clearly I was already getting stupid, nodding an answer to someone who couldn’t even see me. The words and the strumming continued and my head began to feel lighter; less cluttered.

Another few minutes of my trying to both remember to chant and touch myself and Master solved the problem. “Rub your slit each time you say the words.” He commanded.

“It will make me go faster.” I giggle to him. Somehow I worry this will be a problem, but he assures me that chanting these words faster is not a bad thing. Soon I’ve been saying them so long they’re beginning to lose their meaning, but I never stop. Never stop chanting or touching.

“Now you feel my cock slide into your mouth and begin to fuck your face.” He adds a new wrinkle. “Continue to say the words around my cock.” The added challenge crashes into my ever simplifying mind and I struggle to keep track of it all while more and more of my brains pump themselves out of my cunt and get all over my hand.

More minutes, less mind and I’m just beginning to float a little. I don’t know when the silly, simple smile smeared over my face, but I’m sure Master can see it even over the divide. “Now you feel my cock push into your cunt, fucking you. Keep chanting, slut.” The more horny I get, the more my brains pour out my cunt and the stupider I get. After only a few minutes of fucking me my Master moves his cock from my cunt to my ass and continues to pound into me. He also tells me I do not need to keep chanting. Though I was oblivious to the pieces of the puzzle then, I realized later that the chanting was no longer necessary – as long as my cunt kept leaking I was being reduced more and more. Literally fucking my brains out.

I vaguely remember asking for permission to touch my cunt as he slammed deeply into my ass, and he granted it. And why wouldn’t he? My hands began molesting my clit and cunt, and I found myself on the verge of cumming constantly, my hands completely coated with my excitement quickly and eager to fill with my cum. I had a residual flash of thought enough to realize that my hands were only speeding up the process, and I tried to protest to Master, stammering in little sentence chunks that I was making myself stupider faster. Stupider faster. Stupider. Faster.

Master said that was just fine, and that I was not to stop fucking with my cunt.

“How do you feel?” Master asked.

“Fucked. Empty. Light.” I panted around my double-assault.

“What do you want?” he asked me

“To be fucked.”

“Do you want me to cum in your ass?”

“Oh god, yes.” I panted so heavily now I felt almost like a dog playing a game of fetch.

“Then beg.”

Master recently discovered how much fun it can be to make me beg. Not only does he enjoy hearing my pleading, but he knows I’m never sure I’m doing it right; doing what he wants. The added desperation of my situation on top of the humiliation and my obvious, but degrading, pleasure at both is a cocktail he’s come to love. And beg I did, pleading that he fill my ass with his cum. That he leave me with his cum leaking out of my ass.

At last I heard him cumming over the line, and as he moaned his final pleasure mine came too. By the time I came I had only the tiniest bit of my intelligence left, and was fully floating on a cloud of pleasure and obedience. As my mind flooded back with my orgasm I thought once again how lucky I am that Master wants me to have my intelligence normally.

And how lucky I am that he likes to take it away too.