It's not that I want to stop.
I hear the sound of a key in the lock, and at first I wonder who else has a key to my apartment. But then I feel the tiniest swirl of pleasure at the back of my mind, a subtle but insistent reminder that it feels better not to think about some things. This is one of the things I don't need to think about, so it makes me happy to let the thought slide right out of my mind and focus my thoughts on something else as the door opens.
I don't want to stop. If anything, I want to push my limits a little. I want to do things I might have said 'no' to, back at the beginning, just to prove to myself that it's really working. That idea...it's so fucking hot.
"Hi!" I say as Paul walks into the room. I'm a little surprised to see him, because I thought our next date was on Tuesday, but i kind of remember mentioning to him that I would be staying home today without any plans for the afternoon. Except that weirdly enough, I remember it in his voice. Memory's a funny thing, isn't it? It's so easy to let it play tricks on you, and so silly to worry about it.
But I wonder sometimes...is that feeling really my feeling? Or is it one that Master put there? Am I exploring my boundaries, or is he slowly eroding them, bit by bit, with hypnosis and pleasure?
"Open wide," he says, and suddenly my body feels so warm and lazy that I just slump into a boneless heap on the couch. The book I was reading falls out of my hand to land on the floor, and I feel my body listing to one side like a sinking ship as the slump turns gently and easily into a collapse. My eyes close all on their own, stuck shut so impossibly tightly that all I can achieve when I try to open them is exhausting myself further.
I've already given up a lot of control to him. I don't think it's too much, but I think what worries me a little is that I don't always know exactly how much it is. And I think what worries me even more is that I don't know what 'too much' would look like. If I'm enjoying it, if it's making me happy, what line can I draw that has meaning?
"I am wide open for you," I hear myself say. It's so strange, listening to my own voice and realizing I had no idea what was going to come out of my mouth until I spoke. It's also unbelievably sexy. I'm crazy wet between my thighs, completely out of nowhere. It builds like a feedback loop-just realizing how quickly I'm getting turned on by the rush I get from being triggered into trance and obeying makes me even hotter. It makes me want him to command me more, just so that I can obey and feel that rush all over again.
I catch myself wondering...what if I don't need boundaries at all? What if I only set limits because I felt like I was expected to? It's not like Master is the only one programming me. I have twenty-three years of people telling me that good girls don't show off their bodies, good girls don't enjoy sex, good girls don't do anything but missionary...maybe it didn't take brainwashing to set all this off. Maybe it just took someone telling me that I was a good girl for something else for a change.
"That's my good Candy Girl," he says. I almost correct him out of sheer reflex, but then I remember how good it feels when Master calls me Candy instead of Candace. The memory and the pleasure are intertwined, they hit me at the same time and I let out a helpless sigh as I once again accept my Master's words. Candy is sweet like me. Candy tastes good like me. Candy makes Master happy, just like me. Of course I'm Master's Candy Girl. Of course I am.
