"Do you know what the difference is," Louisa asked, "between a calendar and a clock?" Jon stared back at her, his muddled mind blank with incomprehension as he tried to come up with an answer. He knew that answers existed--he knew a lot of possible answers, from form to function to style to purpose to size to color. But sifting through them all to find the answer the beautiful woman with hazel eyes and long chestnut hair and wide, smiling pink cheeks wanted to hear felt too much like effort when he was this deeply hypnotized. The harder he tried to come up with something, the more difficult it became and the more delightfully absurd his own inability to respond became, until finally he just giggled and shook his head. The gentle squeeze of her fingers around his shaft told Jon that was exactly what she wanted to hear.
"Good boy!" she exclaimed, kissing him on the forehead. "Of course you don't know. You don't know because Mistress hasn't told you yet, isn't that right?" Jon let out another vacant titter, the patronizing warmth of her cooing voice wrapping around his mind and swaddling him tightly in sleepy ecstasy. He knew that normally there was something beyond the blankness in his head, an intellect so sharp it occasionally cut itself, but the depths of Louisa's beautiful hazel eyes banished all the pressure to be witty and clever and right about everything. He only needed to think the thoughts he was given to think, and that made Jon so blissfully happy he couldn't stop himself from giggling.
The hand on his cock helped. Every time it tugged on his shaft, Jon felt another delightful pulse of pleasure surge up into his drowsy, obedient brain... and hours of delicious conditioning had taught his mesmerized mind that the better he felt, the dumber he became. And the dumber he got, the better it felt to sink into trance for his Mistress and let those warm, happy currents of sleepy bliss carry him along into blank, befuddled rapture. Jon never knew that becoming stupid was a skill before he and Louisa tried out intelligence play, but now he realized he had a natural knack for it. And for the first time in his life, that sounded kind of nice.
"Now. Calendars and clocks." Louisa's voice brought his mind to attention, her tone becoming firm and commanding without ever losing that quality of loving condescension that swept him deeper into her power. "Let's talk about a clock first, shall we?" Jon nodded, the motion automatically bubbling up more vacant laughter from his sleepy brain. Agreeing always made him feel amiable, and that led his thoughts down a rabbit hole of associations straight back to more of that same dumb, happy bliss he craved so much. It was another way his Mistress had trained him to be hers, and Jon loved knowing he'd responded to her training so perfectly.
"A clock," she continued, her hand continuing to relentlessly stroke Jon's cock at just the right pace to keep him wonderfully close to orgasm without allowing him to spill over, "is one of those devices that's very useful when it's working, and even more useful when it stops. A clock that's ticking could be running fast or running slow. It could be gaining minutes, it could be losing minutes, it could be set to the wrong time zone or simply the wrong time. But when you listen to that delightful, soothing silence of a stopped clock, there are two times a day when you know it's exactly right. Doesn't that sound nice, sweetie? Letting everything inside go silent and knowing how rare and precious it is when you give the right answer instead of saying something silly?" Jon nodded again. A part of his brain kept trying to poke holes in the argument, but every time he tried his train of thought got all muddled up and eventually his mind simply collapsed into vacuous acceptance. It was always easier to agree with Louisa.
"Now a calendar, on the other hand... a calendar takes work." Louisa shifted position, lying next to Jon with her lush breasts pressed right up against his side and her hand still working his shaft with that same patient rhythm. The steady dribble of precum welling up from his cock left her fingers well-lubricated, stroking freely and without friction. Jon had no trouble centering his whole attention on that playful, perpetual tug. His eyelids fluttered shut, but in his mind he still saw his Mistress's beautiful hazel eyes.