You didn't know it as you read, but there was something...
Extra,
in those lines. Something hiding - where? Behind the text itself? In the background image? Was it floating over the site as you read, or could it not really be there at all? You couldn't tell. You had lost track of time hours ago. How many stories had this been now? This was your first one - right? Surely you had only clicked onto the one story... And yet the darkness outside the window made you wonder, and the burning tension between your aching thighs begged to differ. You knew one story couldn't have gotten you so worked up, knew that one simple page of text hadn't had
that
effect on you, and yet here you were, soaking through the inside layers of your clothing and yearning for release.
You read on, this new story once again something different and enthralling. The character within seemed somewhat relatable, and you enjoyed the way the author had positioned the story around the core theme of sexual gratification. You found you especially enjoyed the suggestibility of the events, noting with keen interest the way the characters inevitably succumbed to external control without really being able to resist, no matter how much they fortified themselves or how long they escaped that power for. As you read on, you noted how each one of the author's characters were rewarded for their obedience, pleasured either by each other or by the sheer act of submission, as if the author themselves were ensuring that all who existed within their purview received what they had come here to get. Your crotch begged for your hand's sweet embrace as you read on, your eyes fixated on the next word as you devoured the narrative, but you knew you should not touch yet - not until you finished this last story.
As you read, you grew needier, more heated. The fire between your thighs built, crackling and tingling, growing only more intense as the pleasure on your screen built. When characters in the story reached pleasurable peaks, you shared those sensations, tiny thrills of bliss rippling through your own body as if you were a part of that very tale. When they fell into submission, complying with orders or trying and inevitably failing to resist control, you felt their plight, almost as if it were your own - their mental struggle, the overpowering weight of the trance descending upon their brain, their final feeble struggle as pleasure and control forced their consciousness down into murky nothingness until it drowned forever, leaving the character a horny, needy husk unable to move or think without more commands to obey. When at last their tale concluded, you felt their happiness, their contented, aroused lifestyle somehow satisfying, as if you wished for the very same to happen to you.
You did not know what it was that did it; never found the original source of the trance. Perhaps it had been in the text, or perhaps it had been a video overlayed above the site - or perhaps, just maybe, there had been nothing there at all, and it had simply been you all along, discovering a destiny you had not known for yourself until reading those stories, until at last you realized it, and from that moment onwards could do nothing to resist it. Whatever it had been, it didn't matter now; here you were, reading one last story before you finally-you had resolved in your mind-closed down the page and got off.
The story was short, less than a page, only a few paragraphs. It was a little different from the others, in that this one seemed not quite to describe anything; instead, it focused on the story of a helpless, needy pet sitting behind their screen, staring into it as the words of the story scrolled slowly by, flickering in their eyes as they drank in every word. You did not care; if it was short, it would mean your teasing would end soon. You would finally be able to stand up, stretch your legs, and perhaps see to that needy, desperate burn begging for your attention between your legs.
