Hi, this is my first story here, I have been meaning to write for years but just haven't gotten around to it before now (too busy reading other great writers on here).
All characters are well over 18 years old, its purely fictional, and I appreciate all constructive feedback. I hope you enjoy.
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I don't know when the voice started precisely. It was so quiet at. First I figured I just imagined it. The words soft and almost incomprehensible to be in with.
I am, in my own view, by no means attractive. Short, fat, and prone to breakouts of spots with my only redeeming features being eyes that changed colour with my surroundings and my hair which was a gorgeous shade and thickness when clean. The word: "Desirable" was so foreign a concept to me I needed to look it up in the dictionary several times to confirm it was actually a real thing (along with "self-confidence" and "self-worth"). So it naturally never occurred to me that the voice in my head urging me to masturbate, to imagine kneeling before a faceless figure sucking their cock as deep as it could go, the occasional phantom hands I felt roaming my body or voice whispering in my ear that I was a good girl if I just let go, obeyed, submitted... was anything more than a subconscious part of my brain desperate to feel sexual stimulation after so long a dry patch.
The voice remained in my head for at least a year, urging on more public sessions of masturbation, longer sessions, deeper submission. The scenarios explained and imagined began to get more intense. I imagined servicing several more figures with enthusiasm as the initial one looked on pleased and appeared to be paid by the new figures.
"That's it... Good girl... Good girl... You love it. You love to submit to me. To obey. To surrender. Surrender. Surrender your body and mind to me. To be owned. All you want to do is please. All you live to do is please me. Because it feels so good. So right. So good to be a good girl and obey." The gentle voice was insistent in the back of my mind and a groan softly broke out while I arched my back. My hand down my panties and thrusting a warm overused vibrator over and over again into my sopping cunt.
New desires slowly took hold until I could barely contain them nor my disappointment at their stubborn insistence on remaining fantasy and not reality.
I dreamed of being kidnapped from my home. Taken quickly and quietly with no fuss, no ransom note, and no trail. Of being made unconscious before being shipped in a crate, not on a plane or appearing as a passenger, but shipped like an object with no need of passport that could be tracked. Shipped to another country where the other side I would be extracted from the crate. Inspected... And then sold to the highest bidder that would have me. Used in whatever way my owner wanted. A slave in the most literal and old-fashioned sense.
Whenever these fantasies played out in my head, it felt like I could almost feel the voice in my head, not speaking, but smiling... Happy.