Title: Are you ready? (Part 1)
It will already be done by the time you realize it’s beginning. In fact, it’s already begun, you just want to ignore the signs. So go ahead, and tell yourself that you’re still in control. Go ahead and try to resist the sights and sounds we’ve already implanted in your brain. Every act of resistance just tightens our hold on you that much more, and one day you’ll never be able to wiggle free.
The day will seem like any other. You’ll awake, and your mind will try to turn to what awaits at work. You may not run the world, but it sometimes feels that way. And as youpore over the latest notifications and tweets, something in your email catches your eye. Delivered by an unknown sender, the subject line simply reads “Open me once you’re ready.” While you normally delete anonymous messages without a second thought, this one, strangely, piques your interest. “Ready for what?” you wonder, as your finger hovers over the message.
You open the email. A video begins playing, a montage of mouths and cocks and bodies writhing. You weren’t in the mood to masturbate when you woke up, but the images of hands slowly pumping the cum out of a cock that looks a bit like your own causes you to stiffen. A lone piece of text appears onscreen at the video’s conclusion: I’m going to make you cum so hard you won’t be able to think anymore.
The thought of this makes you shudder. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? For someone to actually be able to turn off all of the voices in your brain. For someone to know exactly how to touch you, how to grab your cock and milk it, until you can’t see straight and the cares of the world disappear. To control your mind, not for a temporary moment, but always. You are suddenly acutely aware of the sensation of being watched, even though you are alone in your room.
You stand up from your bed, cock still throbbing, and turn back to your phone. You want to watch the video again before you shower. But..it’s gone, nowhere to be found, disappearing as mysteriously as it arrived. You try to shake off the groggy feeling in your head and move to the shower. The hot water feels good on your skin, but you find that your hand keeps making its way to gently gripping your soapy cock. Your hand almost acts of its own accord, and you have to actually say the word “stop” out loud in order to pull yourself together. When you look at the clock you realize 20 minutes have passed with you standing in the shower, stroking yourself, thinking about the images in the video, about the cock that isn’t quite yours but is. The water is cold by now, but you hardly noticed. You quickly dry yourself off. As much as you’d love to finish what the video started, the day is calling.
You arrive at work and immediately start scouring the computer for any evidence of the missing email. Nothing is showing up. It’s as if it never existed, except for the residual memory rattling around in your brain and in your cock. You start to wonder if maybe it was only a dream...
But the images in the video flash past your eyes again. You try to push them down, to push them away, but they just come back even more vividly and intense. You rub your eyes, hoping that this will make the feeling and the images disappear. It doesn’t. You search through your inbox again; you can’t find the video. It’s maddening. You are desperate to see it again, but you aren’t quite sure why; porn doesn’t really get you like this. But there is something about this video, and it’s absence, that has gotten you obsessing.
You try to work, but you can’t focus.
Suddenly, you find yourself heading to the bathroom. You usually use the public one, but you now find yourself inside the only private bathroom in the entire office. You reach behind you and turn the lock. Surely this will give you a few minutes to pull yourself together. Surely you’ll be able to tamp down the erection that keeps bulging in your jeans. You breathe deeply. Deeper. Deeper. Over and over again.
Before you know what you are doing your pants are unzipped and you cock is back in your hand, throbbing. You start to stroke it. You can’t believe what is happening. Your hand doesn’t even feel like it belongs to you; it’s acting as if it has a will of its own. You try to stop; you actually tell yourself “stop” but it’s too late. Your balls are really swollen. You know you’re going to cum soon. You can feel it rising in you, overwhelming your body, every part of you tensing until you have that moment of release. You put your other hand out to try to catch the cum shooting from your swollen cock but there’s too much.
You try to catch your breath. You’re still really swollen, as if you took a viagra. You feel ready to go again. You feel more than a bit flustered about what you just did. You quickly clean up. You hear something. A hum? A buzz? The light flickers in the bathroom. You try to shake it all off, but this is not normal behavior for you. It’s more than a bit scary that an anonymous video could push you to do this.
Things feel fuzzy, but nothing, besides you, seems out of place. A few minutes have passed; surely no one has noticed that you just jerked off in the bathroom? You hope. Your cock is still throbbing, but you’ll have to take care of that later. Right now, your mind needs to be clear. The problem is, it isn’t. The ONLY thing you can think about is that fucking video and how the cock that looks like yours but isn’t is throbbing and you want it to be yours but it isn’t.
You look in the mirror. You run your hands through your hair and try to neaten your appearance. It’s not working. You adjust your cock and prepare yourself for the world outside the bathroom walls.
You open the door. The office seems normal. You return to your desk, grateful that no one seems to be staring at you. You can’t really sit; your cock is still hard and your jeans feel too tight. So you raise your desk and notice a text message from an anonymous number on your phone. There aren’t any numbers; it’s literally just a bunch of hashtags. Instead of a blue or green message, the text bubble is black.
One word: Good.
Quickly followed by: That was the first test.
You suddenly feel very, very nervous. That sensation from this morning of being watched, but not by anybody in particular, returns. But just as fast as those nerves kick in a surge of excitement jolts your body. The fuzzy feeling is gone and you feel wide awake. Wide awake and very excited.
Your mind is racing. This very thing, this out of control feeling yet very much in someone else’s control, is what you have always secretly wanted. Fuck, it hasn’t even been a secret, there just hasn’t been anyone who could do, really do it, in the way you needed. The reality of what is going on starts to slowly dawn on you. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the time someone has finally figured you out, and they are flipping the switch.
You look at the phone. Impatient. Eager. A bit anxious for what will happen next. If that was the first test, what might the second look like?
You stare. You wait. You set the phone down, pick it up. You’re not even trying to distract yourself anymore; you freely let your mind come back to the flashing images in the video, to the feeling of cumming in the bathroom, for the need to cum again. You generally don’t consider yourself to be easily aroused. You pride yourself on your cool demeanor, and on the fact that you are always in charge. But someone else is definitely in control right now. And it excites you more than you’d care to admit.
You hear that buzz again, and the light above you flickers. Your phone lights up; another message in black: Go home.
You don’t even hesitate for half a second before grabbing your laptop, your bag and your coat. You try to walk through the office calmly, while covering the bulge in your pants. Everything feels a bit surreal, electrified, and as if you are watching things from the outside. You can tell you are moving too fast: “slow down” you say to yourself, but it doesn’t work. You almost feel like running.
You quickly make your way home, blocks from the office. You wait for what feels like an eternity at crosswalks, at streetlights, at the elevator. Your phone buzzes, but the messages aren’t in black so you ignore them. You finally get through the front door of your apartment.
Everything seems still. You notice the quiet; the sounds of the city outside have slipped away. You move to the kitchen by the door and notice a bottle of wine, opened, and a glass with a heavy pour. The phone buzzes. You hope it’s another message in black.
One word: Drink.
You look at the bottle. It’s good wine. You’re not normally a day drinker, but this hasn’t been a typical day. You take a big sip, and feel your very keyed up body start to relax a bit. You move to the couch, glass in hand, and await the next instruction. You take another sip. You hope you won’t have to wait long. You think about playing with your cock again but decide against it. Hopefully someone else will be doing that before long. Your balls do feel heavy, again, though. And you’re still throbbing. But before you can reach down to touch yourself you hear a voice, definitely not your own, a woman’s voice inside your head that simply says “Wait.” And even though you don’t understand it, you do.
The wine is starting to have an effect. You’re only a glass in but it feels like three. You’re relaxed but alert, awake but very still. None of this is like you.
The phone buzzes. Black message. Your breath catches in your throat. You hear the door clicking open behind you. You turn to look at who is coming in, but as you do your eyes start to feel very, very heavy. You slump against the couch. You feel one hand on the back of your neck, while another picks up your wine glass before it tumbles to the floor. The fingers on the back of your neck feel long, and cool; she runs her hand up through your hair and gently tugs your head back. You hear a cooing in your ear, the same voice you heard in your head, whispering “Good.” And that’s when you fall asleep.
You wake up, in bed. You move to sit up, but you find that you can’t move much. Your hands are restrained. Your legs are too. She’s pulled some of the neckties you never wear from your closet and used them to tie you up. You tug, but that only makes the knots get a little bit tighter. You stop moving. You’re determined to stay very still, and very awake.
A bit of movement from the entryway. You look, but you still can’t tell who it is. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor lets you know she is getting closer. She kneels down on the bed. You can feel her breath on your neck as she leans in.
“Are you ready for your second test?” she asks.
“Yes,” you say, in a voice that belies far too much excitement for your taste.
And as the word bursts forth from your mouth almost as hard as you came this morning, you realize it is the only word you have spoken all day. “Yes,” you say again.
“Umm-hmm,” she says. “Then let’s begin.”