Hard Up

Hard Up – FemDom JOI Hypnosis

HardUp_Iocn

I was inspired to write this fun, sexy session by one of my pets… He emailed me while he was walking home from work with a raging hard-on! Poor little boy. 😉

I sent him a few rapid-fire emails, telling him what a horny little slut he was, and accidentally (on purpose) letting slip all manner of filthy things. What I’d do to a boy that horny. What I’d make him do to earn an orgasm. Where I’d make him have it.  How he would feel. How he’d do whatever I said, because of how utterly at my mercy he is.

Shockingly (not at all shockingly), this didn’t help his situation.

His quick deterioration, almost to the point of public shame as he raced home, was F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S.  I couldn’t stop thinking about this particular pet and his experience.

And from my musings, Hard Up was born. Hard Up is a guided hypnofantasy about walking home hard as a rock, the filthy thoughts that make it worse, and the Mistress who makes it unforgettable. It’s left open who that Mistress is, so no concerns about any “you must serve ME” messages here. This is hot, sexy fun for everyone.

That said, it does contain semi-public masturbation. In this session, “semi-public” means the general public doesn’t actually witness it, but the possibility of being caught is suggested. Being as this is hypnosis and you aren’t actually ducking into an alley behind an abandoned building to masturbate or anything, I can promise you it’s entirely safe! But if you have any serious aversion even to the suggestion of semi-public masturbation happening inside your mind, give this one a pass.

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Nightcall

Entirely naked except for a blindfold, he slept. I closed the front door silently behind me and slipped out of my shoes. The soft carpet conspired to keep my approach silent. The light from the dining room faded as I tiptoed down the hall, so just the barest hint remained in the bedroom.

Enough lingered so I could see the shape of his pale arm on top of the dark blanket. His vulnerability was intoxicating. I traced my fingers down his shoulder and upper arm, hardened muscle even in the looseness of sleep. Hungry for him, aching to spur him into command-following action, I wrapped my fingers around the back of his arm and squeezed.

So fast I didn’t see it coming, his other arm shot out and he seized me. With a fluid, practiced motion, he locked his hand around my thumb, twisting down and away, so my body was forced to follow. I had guessed this might happen so I didn’t cry out or try to pull away. There wasn’t any pain anyway, he had stopped just short of that. He was coiled but calm.

Silent, frozen, I waited with a smile he couldn’t see melting across my lips. After a single breath, in and out, he said my name. It was a question.

Yes. It’s me. 

He disengaged as soon as he heard my voice and said he was sorry.

Don’t be. It’s… inspiring.

I could see his brow scrunch up beneath the blindfold. “What is?” he asked.

To see training so deeply embedded.

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