Chapter 5: Anticipation and Hypnosis
Clara tapped her foot impatiently against the marble floor, the sharp click of her heel cutting through the silence. “Where is that man?” she muttered, her voice low and clipped. She glanced at the antique clock on the mantelpiece, its hands crawling forward with agonizing slowness. William was late, and Clara wasn’t used to waiting. Her fingers drummed against the arm of the velvet sofa, the rhythm betraying her irritation.
She crossed to the window, her silk dress whispering against her legs as she moved. The rain lashed against the glass, distorting the city lights into streaks of gold and red. “Honestly,” she said aloud, though no one was there to hear her, “you’d think buying a few… items wouldn’t take this long.” Her lips curled into a faint sneer, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—anticipation, maybe, or nerves.
The “items” in question were the dildos she’d ordered William to purchase from a rather scandalous adult store she’d found online. She’d been specific, of course, providing detailed descriptions and measurements. “The largest one you can find, William,” she’d said, her voice cool and commanding. “And make sure it’s… realistic.” The memory of those words sent a shiver down her spine, though she refused to acknowledge it.
A thrill shot through her at the thought of them, of the way they would feel inside her. She closed her eyes, her breath hitching slightly as images from the laptop screen flashed behind her eyelids. The recordings had been… intriguing, to say the least. She’d scoffed at first, dismissing them as absurd, but something about them had lingered, burrowed deep into her mind. “Good girl,” she whispered now, the words slipping out unbidden. The voice from the recordings wrapped around her like a warm embrace, soft and insistent.
A strange sensation washed over her, a tingling in her breasts, a tightening in her stomach. She looked down, her eyes widening in surprise. Her nipples were hard, erect, pushing against the silk of her dress. “What the…” she murmured, her hand flying to her chest. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Not even in her twenties. It was as if her body was awakening, responding to desires she’d long suppressed.
The voice from the speaker grew louder, the words more insistent. “You are beautiful,” it murmured. “You are desirable. You are mine.” Clara swayed slightly, her mind surrendering to the sound, her body tingling with anticipation. She imagined herself using each dildo, one by one, exploring every inch of her body, discovering new pleasures, new sensations. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Her heart raced, pounding in her chest as if it wanted to escape. She couldn't deny the truth any longer. The voice was right. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, sending shivers down her spine.
Her fingers trembled as she reached beneath her skirt, feeling the damp fabric clinging to her skin. The wetness was undeniable, a testament to the desire that had been building inside her. She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But then, with a decisive motion, she yanked the panties down and let them fall to the floor.
The cool air against her bare skin was a revelation, a sensation she hadn't realized she craved. She felt free, unburdened by the constraints of society's expectations. A slow smile spread across her face as she whispered, "Much better." The words felt foreign on her tongue, but they carried a weight of truth that she couldn't ignore.
The bimbofication track continued to play, its sultry voice weaving a tapestry of seduction and surrender. "Pleasure is your purpose," it purred, each word dripping with honeyed temptation. Clara felt her resolve crumbling, her resistance fading with each passing second. Why deny herself what she wanted? Why fight the inevitable?
Masturbation. The word had always carried a stigma, a taboo that she had been conditioned to avoid. But now, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. A release, a celebration of her own body's desires. She bit her lip, her fingers twitching with the need to touch herself, to explore the depths of her own pleasure.
The urge was almost unbearable, a fire burning in her core that demanded to be quenched. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to distract herself from the throbbing between her legs. "Patience," she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with anticipation. The toys were coming. She just had to wait a little longer.
The voice in her head whispered again, its tone soothing and coaxing. "It's not like anyone would mind. It's just...normal." The words lingered in her mind, a seed of rebellion taking root. She felt a surge of confidence, a sense of liberation that she hadn't experienced in years. Why should she care what anyone thought? This was her body, her pleasure.
A wave of heat washed over her, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of arousal and excitement. She closed her eyes, imagining the feel of the dildos against her skin, inside her. The possibilities were endless, intoxicating. Her breath quickened, her heart racing as she allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy.
The sound of the front door opening snapped her out of her reverie. William. Finally. She straightened her dress, trying to compose herself, but her body was still humming with anticipation. She could feel the wetness between her legs, a constant reminder of the desire that had taken hold of her.
William entered the room, his expression carefully neutral. He held a plain paper bag in his hand, its contents hidden from view. "Good evening, madam," he said, his voice formal and polite. "I have acquired the items you requested."
Clara's eyes darted to the bag, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn't wait any longer. "Give them to me," she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. Clara clutched the bag to her chest, her heart pounding with excitement.
"Thank you, William," she said, her voice softening slightly. "That will be all." She turned to leave, but William hesitated, his brow furrowed with concern.
"One moment, madam," he said, his voice cautious. "Are you...quite well? You seem...different." Clara paused, a smirk playing on her lips. She turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with a newfound confidence.
"Different? Perhaps I've simply been feeling better, William," she replied, her tone light. Without another word, she turned and strode towards her bedroom, the paper bag clutched tightly in her hand, the laptop tucked under her arm.
"Tell the staff I am not to be disturbed," she called over her shoulder, her voice ringing with authority. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving William standing alone in the living room concern etched on his face.
Clara’s hands were already moving, fumbling with the zipper of her dress. The silk tore slightly as she yanked it over her head, the sound of ripping fabric sharp in the quiet room. The dress hit the floor, a crumpled heap of expensive material.
She turned to the mirror, her breath catching at the sight of herself. Her nipples stood taut, aching under the cool air, and between her legs, she was drenched, her inner thighs slick with arousal. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, her voice low and husky. Her reflection stared back, eyes dark with need, lips parted.
The laptop and the paper bag landed on the bed with a soft thud, the sound barely registering. She didn’t bother with the lights; the glow from the screen was enough. Her fingers trembled as she opened the laptop, the other hand already slipping between her legs. “Come on, come on,” she muttered, her voice tight with frustration as she navigated to the site.
Finally, the video loaded—a close-up of a woman’s glistening vulva, fingers teasing and spreading. Clara’s breath hitched, her own fingers mimicking the movements on screen. “Oh, God,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her clit was already swollen, sensitive to the touch, and she circled it slowly, her hips rocking into her hand.
The wet, sloppy sound of her fingers filled the room, punctuated by her ragged breaths. She slapped her clit—once, twice, the sting making her gasp. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she panted, her voice breaking. She couldn’t wait any longer. Her fingers moved faster, harder, her body arching off the bed.
The paper bag sat beside her, its contents calling to her. She grabbed it, tearing it open with shaking hands. Three dildos spilled out, each one promising a different kind of pleasure. Her eyes landed on the silicone one with the suction cup, its smooth, phallic shape sending a shiver down her spine. “You’re first,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
She grabbed it, her fingers tracing its contours, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Oh, you’re perfect,” she murmured, her voice trembling. The silicone was cool against her skin, the texture smooth and inviting. She pressed the suction cup against the back of a chair, testing its grip. It held firm, and she angled the laptop screen toward it, ensuring she could see every detail.
Her legs trembled as she positioned herself in front of the chair, her heart pounding in her chest. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the dildo, her breath hitching as the silicone stretched her. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped, her voice breaking. It was intense, almost too much, but she didn’t stop.
She sank further, the dildo filling her completely, and a wave of pleasure washed over her, so intense it brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, God,” she moaned, her voice ragged. She began to move, slowly at first, her hips rocking, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The chair wobbled slightly, but the suction cup held firm.
Her movements grew faster, more desperate, her body consumed by the sensation. “This is… this is…” she panted, the words trailing off as she surrendered to the pleasure. Her mind went blank, her senses overwhelmed, her body trembling with release. She cried out, her voice echoing in the room, a sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
Her body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. As the last tremors subsided, Clara leaned back against the chair, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. She wasn't satisfied, not even close.
With a flick of her wrist, she clicked "next" on the site, letting the autoplay take over. The screen flickered, and a new video started with a jolt. Clara's eyes widened as the image sharpened, revealing a woman with impossibly large breasts straddling a dildo that dwarfed the one she had just used. The woman's face was flushed, her eyes glazed with pleasure as she rode the dildo with practiced ease.
Clara felt a pang of envy shoot through her, sharp and unfamiliar. She glanced down at her own chest, her nipples still hard and sensitive. They were small, almost boyish, nothing like the woman's on the screen. "Fucking hell," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration. But she didn't stop riding the dildo.
Clara’s hips moved with a lazy rhythm, her body still buzzing from the aftermath of her pleasure. The woman on the screen kept riding her dildo, her breasts bouncing hypnotically, and Clara couldn’t tear her eyes away. “God, I wish I had those,” she murmured, her voice thick with longing. Her own chest felt flat, insignificant, and the thought gnawed at her in a way it never had before.
The dildo inside her was warm, slick with her own arousal, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. The image of the woman’s breasts burned in her mind, a symbol of something she couldn’t quite name but desperately wanted. Her fingers twitched, itching to touch herself, to feel something, anything, that would bring her closer to that vision.
Her legs trembled as she slowed her movements, the suction cup dildo still lodged inside her. “I need… something else,” she muttered, her voice shaky. Her eyes flicked to the second dildo on the bed, its bumpy surface catching the light. It looked intimidating, almost too much, but the thought of it sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
She reached for it, her fingers brushing against the ridges. It was slightly larger, the bumps spaced evenly along its shaft, and the texture promised a different kind of sensation. “This’ll do,” she whispered, her voice low and breathy. She pulled the suction cup dildo out with a soft pop, her body twitching at the sudden emptiness.
Clara laid back on the bed, the silk sheets cool against her flushed skin. The suction cup dildo stayed attached to the chair, glistening with her juices, and she glanced at it with a faint smirk. “You’ve done your job,” she said, her tone almost teasing. She turned her laptop around, positioning it so she could see the screen clearly, the woman’s breasts still bouncing in time with her movements.
Slowly, she guided the bumpy dildo to her entrance, her breath hitching as the first bump pressed against her. “Oh, fuck,” she hissed, her voice trembling. She pushed it in, inch by inch, the ridges scraping against her inner walls in a way that made her toes curl. It was rougher, more intense, and she couldn’t help but moan.
Her free hand moved to her breasts, her fingers tracing their small curves. “They’re so… small,” she muttered, her voice tinged with frustration. She squeezed them, pinched her nipples, trying to coax some kind of response, but they felt inadequate compared to the woman on the screen. “Shameful,” she whispered, the word bitter on her tongue.
The dildo slid deeper, each bump sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Clara’s hips lifted off the bed, her body arching as she tried to take more of it. “God, yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking. Her fingers dug into her breasts, squeezing harder, as if she could will them to grow, to match the image in front of her.
The woman on the screen reached up, her hands cupping her own breasts, and Clara mimicked the motion. “I want that,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her body was on fire, every nerve alive with sensation, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be that woman, to feel that confidence, that power.
The bumpy dildo filled her completely, stretching her, forcing her to feel every ridge. Clara’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling as she teetered on the edge. “More,” she whispered, her voice desperate. Her fingers pinched her nipples harder, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a way that made her head spin.
A thought crept into her mind, unbidden and dangerous. What if she could have breasts like that? What if she could transform herself into the kind of woman who turned heads, who reveled in her own sexuality? The idea was intoxicating, terrifying, and she couldn’t shake it.
Her hand moved faster, her fingers working her clit as the dildo thrust in and out of her. “I want it,” she moaned, her voice breaking. The woman on the screen screamed in pleasure, and Clara felt herself spiraling closer to the edge. Her body convulsed, waves of ecstasy crashing over her as she came, her vision blurring.
When the pleasure subsided, she lay there, her chest heaving, her mind reeling. The bumpy dildo was still inside her, her breasts still small and flat, but the thought lingered. “I could be her,” she whispered, her voice soft.
The woman on screen arched her back, her body convulsing as she came hard, her scream slicing through the silence of the room like a knife. Her hands gripped her breasts tightly, fingers digging into the flesh, her face a mask of ecstasy that was almost too raw to watch. Clara’s breath hitched, her own body reacting to the sight, a warmth pooling low in her stomach.
The screen flickered, the scene shifting to a new video almost immediately. This time, it was a woman with a build eerily similar to Clara’s—slender, elegant, her movements fluid but with a wildness Clara couldn’t place. The woman was on all fours, her ass raised, a man behind her driving into her with a rhythm that was almost brutal. Clara’s lip curled instinctively. “Pathetic,” she muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with disdain. “Just another brainless slut.”
Her finger hovered over the skip button, ready to dismiss the video as beneath her, but then she caught the woman’s face. Her eyes were shut, her mouth open in a silent scream, her expression one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Clara froze, her finger trembling. The man’s thrusts were relentless, each one pushing the woman closer to the edge, her moans growing louder, more desperate.
Clara’s breath quickened, her body betraying her as a heat spread between her legs. She couldn’t look away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and something else—something she refused to name. The woman’s pleasure was undeniable, almost tangible, and Clara felt a strange pull, a curiosity she couldn’t shake.
Her hand moved on its own, reaching for the paper bag beside her. She fumbled with the contents, her fingers brushing against the last dildo—the smallest of the three, sleek and unassuming. She switched it on, the low hum vibrating in her palm, and before she could think, she pressed it against her clit. The sensation was electric, a jolt that made her gasp.
She pushed it deeper, her body arching off the chaise lounge, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her. It wasn’t until it was fully inside her that she realized what she was doing. Panic flickered for a moment, but it was drowned out by the sheer intensity of the sensation. “Fuck,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her hips moved on their own, rocking in time with the woman on the screen, her moans mingling with the ones echoing from the laptop. The pleasure was overwhelming, all-consuming, her mind blank except for the need for more. The vibrator pulsed against her G-spot, each throb sending her closer to the edge.
Clara’s body trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fucked herself with the vibrator, her eyes glued to the screen. The woman’s screams grew louder, more frantic, and Clara felt herself unraveling, her own climax building with each thrust, each pulse. She was lost, consumed by the sensation, her mind blank, her body on fire.
When she came, it was with a cry that echoed through the room, her body convulsing, her senses overwhelmed. She collapsed back onto the chaise, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. The vibrator slipped from her hand, still humming faintly against the velvet upholstery.
For a moment, she just lay there, her mind reeling, her body still tingling with the aftershocks. The video continued to play, the woman’s moans filling the room, but Clara barely noticed. She felt… different. Transformed. And as she stared at the ceiling, a slow smile spread across her face. “I need more,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with a determination she hadn’t felt in years.
Clara’s fingers trembled as she laid the three dildos out on the bed, their silicone surfaces catching the dim light of the room. The largest one, thick and veined, stood rigid beside the smaller, ridged one and the sleek, vibrating toy she’d barely touched before. She stared at them, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, the hum of the hypnosis track still whispering in her ears. "I’m going to fucking use every one of these," she muttered to herself, her voice low and trembling with anticipation.
She started with the silicone one, its cool surface pressing against her entrance as she lowered herself onto it. Her hips rocked slowly, the fullness making her gasp, her fingers digging into the edge of the bed. "Oh, God," she whimpered, her voice breaking as she pushed deeper, the stretch sending shivers up her spine. She reached for the laptop, her free hand clicking through videos until she found one that caught her eye—a woman writhing on two dildos, her moans filling the room.
Clara’s breath hitched as she watched, her own movements growing more urgent. "Fuck, I want that," she whispered, her voice ragged. She grabbed the ridged dildo, slicking it with lube before pressing it against her ass. The initial sting made her hiss, but she didn’t stop, pushing it in slowly, her body trembling with the overwhelming sensation. "Jesus Christ," she gasped, her hips jerking as both dildos filled her completely.
The pleasure was unlike anything she’d ever felt, a deep, aching fullness that made her head spin. She rocked back and forth, her moans growing louder, her fingers frantically working her clit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her voice cracking as the intensity built. The video on the laptop changed, now showing a woman tied up and being railed by a machine, her screams of pleasure driving Clara wild.
Her eyes locked on the screen, her imagination running wild. "I want that," she panted, her voice desperate. She grabbed the vibrator, turning it on and pressing it against her clit, the buzzing sensation making her cry out. Her hips moved faster, the dildos driving into her with relentless force, her body writhing with pleasure. "Oh, God, yes," she moaned, her voice breaking as she came, her body convulsing, her mind blank.
But it wasn’t enough. She switched to another video, her hands trembling as she repositioned herself, the vibrator still buzzing against her clit. The woman on the screen was screaming, her body trembling as the machine fucked her without mercy. Clara’s hips moved in time with the machine, her moans mingling with the woman’s, her body on fire. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she begged, her voice hoarse.
She came again, harder this time, her body shaking, her vision blurring. But she didn’t stop, her need for more driving her forward. The vibrator slipped from her hand, still buzzing against her skin as she collapsed onto the bed, her body limp, her mind hazy. Her eyes fluttered shut, the images from the laptop still flickering in her mind as she drifted into unconsciousness, the vibrator still vibrating inside her.