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With Not a Bang But a Whimper
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It's just past midnight. I couldn't sleep, so I slipped out of bed, grabbed panties, bra, garter belt and stockings from beside the bed, and tiptoed downstairs. I dressed as I felt I must, and padded over to the Cabinet of Fun to load some weed in the vape.
Now I'm ready to submit my will to my glorious Mistress. Male persona stoned into a stupor, this is when She arrives. She consumes me from within, arriving on a caravan of kinks and fetishes, materializing from my very subconscious. She is always there, but only as an undifferentiated voice from the back of my mind. We all have them: hunches, hints, twitches and intuitions. Where did they come from, but from busy but inaccessible reaches of your own mind.
One of mine, however, under the presence of weed, crystallizes into quite a personality. She wants to take control. She wants to reduce me, the guy, to helpless sexual slavery. She wants to do this because she knows that it would work; knows because she's inside my head! Shit! Surrounded!
No, I must admit, I doubt that this will make any sense when I'm straight.
/H
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Posted on : Dec 12, 2016
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