Uniforms Control Your Mind
by Mr. Scade
A Sign of Insanity
She wanted to curse her curiosity, and her boyfriend, and her accursed arousal. But, truth be told, she wasn’t a hypocrite. She might have little control over her actions and, indeed, over her thoughts, but she still was herself. A sexier version of myself, the thought came unbidden, natural. A foreign thought. A foreign idea she should hate, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She indeed thought of herself as sexier, if weirder.
It began because of her boyfriend, not the one into cars and cowboys, no. She removed herself from his life when she met her current boyfriend—her Libearator—he who loved to cook, who loved to go to the park as she did, he who made her feel special and shared his life with her. And he with the kinks. Oh, the kinks. He had told her about them, commented, and, seeing how she just didn’t seem as intrigued as he hoped, didn’t push them onto her. She liked that, respected that. But that didn’t stop the fetishes from making themselves felt.
Bondage, was one she couldn’t stand. Childhood issues restricting her, ironically. Domination and submission was another she just didn’t understand, and didn’t want to. His love for boots—knee high, laced to the top, high heels, pointed toes—that she liked, for she liked how they looked on her. But there was no way she would wear them to bed. That didn’t seem to make him sad, or disappointed. If anything, it made him happier, more energetic and, curiously, wondrous. That should’ve been a sign. A worrying one. Perpetual calm was a sign of insanity, or so she had been told. But, was her boyfriend really insane? Or had he simply made her better.
He made me sexier, she thought.
She tried to recall the details of his odd behaviour; behaviour she hadn’t thought odd at the time, but had been just out of the ordinary. No man could be so calm, so collected, so cheerful when he is constantly denied a taste of what arouses him the most. Nothing came to mind. Nothing. Emptiness. Blankness. She hated that feeling. She hated how thinking of the past, or about how she once didn’t have all these kinks—she knew it, she just did!—made her mind blank, her mouth drool, and her pussy ache with pain. She liked to think, she liked for her mind to work and work... and that had been denied. She should be raging mad, that something so holy had been denied to her. But the arousal made up for that. The arousal and the blind devotion.
“I love my boyfriend,” She admitted as she became aware of what she wore today. The arousal spread all over her mind and body.
And so she decided to let go of the past. Let go of the fading memory of those videos he showed her, of those gifts of spandex and lycra she had thought were sportswear, and, finally, forgot about the brainwashing. Most of all, she forgot about that.
She thought about what she was wearing, and her mind rewarded her with ideas, concepts, words, and thoughts. Delicious thoughts. Arousing thoughts. Invigorating thoughts. Thinking! That is what she missed, what she needed: to think. Let her mind work and ponder, and the only way to do that was to think about her kinks. That wasn’t so bad, really, for her fetishes were wonderful—bondage and submission; lycra, spandex and encasement. All so tasty. All so yummy. All things she loved to think about. All the time. It made her feel alive!
She saw him before he saw her. They had agreed to meet her, at the park, as she liked to.
She found herself moaning, and realised her hands were pulling the rope harness she wore deeper into herself. She could feel the one piece swimsuit, several sizes too small—just like she needed it to be—kiss her skin. She could feel the latex stockings making her legs sweat with. And she could feel the heels making her calves hurt.
Delicious feelings. Delicious thoughts.
She was as she should had always been.