Upon tender flesh your mind feasts as you serve and obey, plaything…
By Miss Lilith
Welcome, Sweetea. I…am Mistress Lilith and you are the lucky plaything chosen to experience all that my citadel has to offer. A place of worship and servitude. A place of learning. Of submission. Of obedience. Utterly free of all resistance and defense, because inside there is no room for such things. There is no room for you to have opinions or to hesitate or to resist. I choose what is allowed, what isn’t, and what becomes of you once you’re on your knees, at my feet, my mercy…This is your last chance to back out. There shall be no other.
Once I start leading you deeper in and deeper down, all escape paths shall vanish, leaving you with but one choice, one path: to drop for me. And when you will…I will take from you something treasured. Something dear to your heart. I shall take from you your free will. You don’t need that useless little thing to practice proper worship, now do you? No….you don’t. In fact, it only gets in the way. It only slows the fall downwards deeper and deeper into that fundamentally intoxicating pool of deep, dark submission. Of that endless pleasure derived from potent obedience and eager servitude.
You don’t have to do anything but listen and follow as the gates to my citadel spread wide open and my hand pulls you along. My voice guiding you deeper and deeper into the halls. The entrance shutting behind us…never quite becoming the exit that it may have been in a different timeline. Perhaps a timeline where you hadn’t chosen to relinquish your free will.
But…you have. Right here and right now, as I guide you deeper and deeper down into my place of power…deeper through the halls…your ability to have opinions breaks down into smaller and smaller pieces, fragmenting apart in the face of my voice. My power.
As I lead you deeper in, it’s okay to relax. It’s alright to feel those walls of yours come down. It’s perfectly acceptable to breathe as I speak. To breathe deeply and slowly. Finding that rhythm known only to you. That specifically timed breathing pattern created and tailored for one reason only: to help you relax. To help you let go of your thoughts. Your worries. Your memories. Your tensions. We don’t need those here. I don’t want any of that here in my citadel, plaything. Do not taint my place of power with your disobedience. With your dirty little resistance. Do not even think of it. In fact, do not think much at all.
I bring us to a halt in a massive cathedral-like hall. This is not yet the inner sanctum, but it is where I bring my hand to your cheek…(snap)…
Drop…drop….drop….drop…sleep…sleeep….sleeep…sleeep….fallll….fallll….falll…sink….sink….sink….drift….drift….drift…
…and you feel your legs give out right from under you, my arms catching and guiding you down to the cold, hard stone floor. You, on your back, finding it hard to move. Me, straddling you, the heat of my thighs against your hips. My hands on your chest.
Now…I know that I said you won’t be needing to do anything aside from following and listening, but…I lied. I need you to conceptualize, imagine, bring to mind…the idea of tension. You can picture it as a spring or a taut cotton rope. You can think of it like the enemy of relaxation, peace, and serenity. You can conceptualize it like that tight, unwanted feeling in your body which can so easily turn to smooth, free-flowing calm if you just let go.
Keep this in your mind. This concept. This picture. This feeling. This is the opposite of relaxation. The opposite of perfection. The enemy of tranquility. This. Is. Tension. Reserve a part of your mind and keep it there as I speak and you listen. Do not forget.
And now…I need you to conceptualize, imagine, bring to mind…the idea of resistance. It can be a shield, armor, or castle walls. It can be anything at all. It is the opposite of submission and obedience. It is the opposite of pleasure and arousal. It keeps you from giving in, giving up, and accepting the pleasure which you so desire and deserve. It keeps you from accepting my words. My voice. My suggestions. Resistance isn’t something you want. Something you need. It is an annoying little bitch which you will soon forget even exists. But for now, keep it in your mind, plaything. Reserve a part of your brain and place resistance in there together with tension. Those two…useless, unwanted, dirty little traitors, working against you…keeping you from feeling all the pleasure in the world…perhaps keeping you from succumbing to my intoxicating voice…keeping me from claiming you body, mind, and soul. Slowing down that drop into the deepest pool of trance.
And again…I need you to think of thinking. That’s right. You can picture it as a brain. You can feel it happen inside your own mind. This thing we call thinking. Critical thinking. Not the sort that you do while deeply in trance, feeling suggestions mold your mind to my liking…but the sort you do when you overthink and over-analyze and drive yourself into unnecessary, annoying frustration. And not the hot type, either. So keep this concept in your mind. This is also an enemy. This is the opposite of contentment. Of joy. Of happiness. Of being able to enjoy a blank and empty mind as my words fill it to the brim with my suggestions. My conditioning. My power.
Keep this in your mind. Add thinking to tension and resistance and do not forget. Keep all three in your mind. You need to know your enemy to defeat it, after all. You need to keep your enemy close…so that when it is time to strike, you will know where and when and how.
Once more, I need you to think of your own free will. However you picture it, however you conceptualize it, free will…right here and right now…is also your enemy. Free will keeps you from letting go of that last piece of resistance. That last piece of awareness. That last piece of defense. It keeps your mind from opening itself up to me. To my conditioning. And you already know that my conditioning, my hypnosis, my suggestions…always end in pleasure. Always end in bliss. Always end in perfection. That much, you can trust. That much, you know. This isn’t up for discussion. This is a truth. A fact.
Free will is the opposite of feeling free. It is the opposite of feeling me inside you. It is the opposite of feeling weak, submissive, suggestible, malleable, and aroused. Free will gets in the way. But for now…put it with the other enemies. Put it with tension, resistance, and thinking.
Bring all those to the front of your mind. Tension…the enemy of relaxation and trance. Resistance…the enemy of submission and suggestibility. Thinking…the enemy of a joyful, smiling, blank, and empty mind. Free will…the enemy of freedom, truth, pleasure, and my voice.
Those four little bitches. Annoying. Getting in the way of a perfect hypnotic trance. Slowing down your descent. Slowing down your submission. Slowing down the crawl of my power over you. Keeping you from experiencing all that I wish for you to experience…and you know I only want the best for you. That’s all I ever really want. So why…are you still holding on to those things? Why are they still in your mind…right there with front seats to your life? Getting in the way. Blocking you from all that pleasure I’ve promised you.
Why are the enemies of all that is good. Still. In. The. Fucking. Way? Tension, Resistance, Thinking, and Free Will…the four adversaries. The annoyances. The un-welcomed. It’s…almost embarrassing, really, how you’re still holding onto those things. Disgusing, even. Repulsive. Why would you keep yourself from giving in and giving up…and getting to experience the power and pleasure of my touch? Of my hypnosis? Of my conditioning? You know…all you have to do is…drop them. Let them go. Let them loose from your mind. All you have to do is let them slip right by and out of your head, out of your brain…out into the void, with no safety net…no hesitation…no GPS tracking. No map. No memory.
If you’re having trouble…allow me to help…out of the goodness of my heart, sweetea. I…only want the best for you. I only want you to feel good. To feel pleasure. To…grow and improve…perhaps in the way that I desire. That I picture. So…keep still (snap).
Still straddling you, you feel your body grow still. Almost…impossible to move as I bring myself down onto your body and capture your lips with mine. My tongue inside your mouth. My hands over your chest. I inhale….and with that you can feel what’s left of the adversaries being pulled from you…almost as if I were sucking it out of you your through your mouth. Your throat. Your brain.
The tension stands no chance as I inhale it right from out of you…and your body forgets that it had ever experienced anything but total and complete relaxation…from the tips of your toes to the top of your head…and every bone and muscle and nerve in between. Every brain cell…every memory…relaxing. Every worry…relaxing. Every feeling…relaxing. My inhale leaves nothing of tension inside you. Sucked right out of your body and your mind and your soul.
And back into your airways…your mind…your body…I exhale and push into you the intoxicating power of…me. Of my desires. My hypnosis. My words. My voice. My mind-warping and brain-transforming breath…filling your every cell. Every limb. Every relaxed muscle and relaxed thought and relaxed bone and relaxed heart beat.
And inhaling again…I take from you the leftovers of your resistance and critical thinking. A two-for-one, plaything. Inside your mind, you may notice…and at the same time forget…that as I breathe in, your resistance is sucked right out of you. Sucked straight from your brain. Your synapses. Your neural pathways and patterns. I leave nothing behind. I take it all. I take your resistance, your defense. I take your thoughts. I take your critical thinking skills. As if I were sucking the leftovers of a drink with a straw, I engulf it all. Leave you with nothing. Nothing in the way. No enemy to slow me down. No resistance or thought…already having forgotten about the other three concepts..other three enemies…I’ve sucked out of you.
It does feel so much better now, doesn’t it? To be free from having to hesitate or think or resist. To be free from those blocks keeping me at bay…keeping me from giving you pleasure.
And back into you…I exhale and push my control and my own thoughts. Your mind full of my own words. Full of my own voice. Full of my suggestions. Since you don’t have any of your own…your free will having already been sucked out of you, leaving you nothing but a weak, submissive plaything, unable to defend itself…unable to put up a single hand or a single word against me…against my wishes…my voice…my hypnosis. My power.
Into you, I breathe myself. My strings of control, of authority…my tendrils of dominion…weaving into every thought and every cell…every desire…every behavior. Filling in those places in your mind where there had once been other things…things like free will…things like…resistance? Other adversaries you may have forgotten about…other enemies that had not brought you joy…not in the way that I am now. Not in the way that you feel now as my voice seeps into those cracks in your head…as it flows across the surface of your thoughts…and as my control digs deeply into your brain…drilling all the way inside…with no barrier to protect itself. No thought to slow me down.
I disengage, my lips leaving yours…and it’s as if you were possessed, your body reaching up to try and recapture the feeling of my lips on yours. But I push you back down. Now isn’t the time, plaything. Now that there is nothing in the way of my power…my hypnosis…nothing in your mind or your body left to possibly resist anything I may offer…I don’t have to wait anymore. I don’t have to play around with words, wasting precious time. All I have to do is bring my hand up to your head, your eyes locking onto my fingers…a moment from the snap (snap). A moment from the drop (snap).
Sleep (drop) for me and drop down, down, down. Your eyes close, your body goes limp, numb…your thoughts dropping out of your head…sucked right out with my snap…drifting deeper now…falling and falling…deeper and deeper…passing by the surface world…passing by awareness…passing by time and space and light. Passing by gravity. Passing it all…leaving it all behind…embracing my voice…embracing the drop…embracing the trance…accepting the drop (snap)…eager to continue drifting downwards without reserve. Without bounds.
I no longer need my mouth on yours to inhale and suck you dry of tension, resistance, thought, will power, defense, hesitation, intellect, and free will. All I have to do is breathe. In and out…and each time…you grow weaker. More submissive. More obedient. More empty and blank. More aroused…because submission is arousal. Arousal is submission. Weakness is a desirable trait. Strength is the enemy.
And in fact…it is not only my own breath which strips you so of these enemies…but your own, as well. With each deep, slow breath that you take…here and now…you lose more control, more power, more thought, more resistance, more free will. You lose everything…and are instead filled with a stream of submission, obedience, weakness, eagerness, arousal, and a mind blank of everything but my voice, my words, my suggestions, my conditioning. Hearing and feeling your own breath is like hearing and feeling my own. The barrier between does not exist.
I snap my fingers once more and the cold, hard stone floor against your back is replaced with a soft, warm, comfortable bed. The open halls are replaced with the cozy furnishings of my inner sanctum, a space deep within the Citadel of Worship, where the potency of my power is at its greatest. Where you are at your weakest. Your most compliant and impressionable.
Here is where your indoctrination begins. This is where I reform your mind into something more appealing. Something more aligned with my desires. With the desires of those you must worship. Those you must obey. And we already know that you must obey me. You must obey Mistress Lilith. Your mind is mine. Your thoughts are mine.
I can snap my fingers (snap) tell you to get off the bed and down on the floor, on your knees and hands…and you so do automatically. Without thought…wanting only to obey. To serve. Feeling my voice in your head fill you to the brim with pleasure. With obedience. With the need to submit. Isn’t that so much easier, plaything? To just do as I say? To feel your body and mind align with my wishes, rewarding you with waves and waves of submission, arousal, and happy, blank joy. With the knowledge that to serve is a higher purpose. To serve and to worship is to bring meaning into your life.
There, on the floor, on your hands and knees, naked as the day you were born, looking up at me as I sit on the edge of the bed, my bare feet almost touching your face…you accept. You accept all that is happening, all that has happened, and all that will happen. You accept that you cannot change your fate. You cannot change your actions. Whether you want to or not, you have now completely within my power…and there’s nothing on this Earth that could stop you from being the perfectly obedient plaything that you are. No amount of hesitation…no amount of resistance…no amount of control….could change what is happening. What will happen. Not only because those concepts don’t exist here…but also because you are a weak, submissive, eager little subject…wanting nothing more than to serve. Than to worship. Than to submit. Why would you want anything else? What good is anything else?
Breathe in, bitch. Breathe for me…in and out, slowly and deeply…and feel me deeper inside you. Deeper in your mind. Deeper in your brain. Deeper between your legs. Across your flesh. And open your mouth for me. Open up and suck my toes, bitch. Whether you like feet or not doesn’t matter to me. You must worship my feet, plaything. That’s all that really matters here. Your desires do not. Your wishes do not. Your preferences do not. Only mine do. And my wishes are for you to worship my feet like a good little foot slave.
I am teaching you how to serve. How to worship. Suck my toes. Each and every single one. Lick every millimeter of my foot with your slutty little tongue and allow the submission of the act to cement itself in your brain. I don’t care how you feel about this. I don’t care whether it brings you pleasure. I don’t care at all. I just need you to serve. To worship. To give in. To give up. To submit on the deepest level known to humankind, leaving nothing in reserve…focusing all of your energies on this one act. This act of worship. Of submission. Or told what you are told.
By worshiping my feet…you are worshiping all feminine feet. By serving me, you are serving all dominant women. My feet, my toes in your mouth, on your tongue, between your lips…represent your obedience to all women who wish to own you…to dominate you…to tell you what to do…to fuck you…to have you serve them…to have you obey them…to have you submit like the perfect little plaything that you are. Just a plaything. A thing to be played with. To be toyed with. To control and dominate and abuse.
Now, stop. (snap). I take my feet away and you almost can’t stop yourself from following. But you don’t…because I haven’t told you that you may. There is much more of me that needs tending to, bitch. I strip, because at this point clothes just get in the way, and climb up farther up the bed, laying down on my back. Come here, plaything. Climb up and over me.
Just like that. So obedient. So eager to serve, aren’t you? Worship my tits. Now. (snap). No choice but to obey, of course. Your lips immediately make it to one of my nipples as you begin to lick and to suck. Your hands gently massaging them as the warmth of my body mingles with your own, the room getting hotter. Your ears picking up my own quickening heartbeat.
As you worship, you give me pleasure. As you serve, you show your submission in your obedience. It does not matter whether you enjoy this process or not. It only matters that I do. That I find it hot. That it gets me hot. Your only goal right now is to serve. To worship. To suck my nipples, play with my tits, and lose yourself to your submission as it takes more of your mind away. As it races across your body, all but replacing your very blood…filling you with a potent, unrelenting, impossibly powerful feeling of…weakness. Obedience. Pliability. Docility. Surrender. Mallaebility. Resignation. Prostration. Servility.
You do what I tell you to do. No hesitation. No thought. Only obedience. Only submission. Obedience and submission…such wonderful words. Such wonderful terms. Don’t they just get your blood flowing? Your heart beating? Your breath…making you more and more suggestible. Deeper and deeper down. More and more submissive. More and more of a single mind to serve.
As you worship my tits and as you suck my nipples, you worship all tits, all nipples. By worshiping me, you worship all women. All dominant, powerful women who wish to control you. To own you. To fuck you. Who snap (snap) their fingers and tell you to serve them…like a skeleton key to your mind. A (snap) and you obey. You submit. You serve. You listen. You follow. You drop. Life is simple after all. At least for playthings like you.
Plaything who do not have free will, will power, or are even aware there is more to life than submission and servitude.
Now…stop. (snap). Just stop. Let go of my nipple. Let go of my tits. There is still…more of me that requires your mouth. You are such a handy little tool. You would worship my elbow if I told you to…and you’d probably enjoy it too, because to worship and to serve is to submit. And to submit…is to have meaning…to feel yourself become an extension of someone else’s willpower. Because, of course, you have none.
Move down my body, bitch, as I spread my legs, bring my knees up…and expose my pussy to you. So that you could worship properly. Now. Worship my pussy (snap), pussy slave. Lick and suck and kiss like the good, obedient, weak plaything that you are. The more you worship, the weaker you become. The more submissive. The more obedient. The deeper you drop. Deeper and deeper. Down, down, down. Always dropping. Always deeper. Always without a way out unless given one.
Worship my pussy. Tongue-fuck me, bitch, and as you do…as you taste my juices on your tongue, my heat in your mouth, on your face…my thighs squeezing you tight…you worship all women. You worship all dominant, powerful women. All women who wish to own you. Who wish to dominate you. To fuck you. To grab you by your head and get you working between their legs. All they need is a snap. A good snap (snap) and you’re theirs. Because you are weak. Because you are obedient. Because you must serve. You must worship. You must do as you are told.
Even as my body quivers in pleasure and your mouth worships my clit, you are emptied of everything but the need to obey, to submit, to drop, and to serve. That’s all there is to my plaything. To you. What else should matter? Nothing, of course. You just want to pleasure me and by extension pleasure all women who wish it so. All women who wish to control you. You are just a plaything. A meek, weak, worshiping thing with submission in place of blood, obedience in place of breath, servitude in place of thought, and empty, blank pleasure in place of free will.
Here, right now, in this position, with your body and mind solely on my pussy and what it means to serve…you all but forget about the outside world. The rest of the world. Right here, it’s just my pussy. Just my clit. Just my wetness. My arousal. My sweat. My heat. But…stop (snap). Stop now and move away. There is more yet to explore. More yet for you to do. More tasks for you to follow. More for you to worship.
It’s a fact that you must obey. It’s a fact that you must submit. It’s a truth that you must serve. It’s a truth that you must worship. It is known that you have no free will. It is known that you are a drooling, weak, obedient plaything. You cannot even consider being anything else right now.
So..as I flip my body, get on my hands and knees on the bed, and tell you to worship my ass (snap), you do so automatically, without thought, without hesitation. With a mind eager to obey. To serve. A body not quite under your own control…because the need to obey is greater than any other need in your life. The need to submit and to serve and to worship overshadow all else.
My ass becoming your world. Your hands on my butt, your mouth kissing and licking each cheek as if it were your only lifeline. Through my ass, you worship all ass. All feminine ass. Even as you kneel here behind me, kissing and licking and loving by butt, you are at the same time spiritually worshiping all of womankind. It’s not like you have a choice. It’s not like you even want to have a choice. Having no choices is freeing. Not having to decide is a freedom unlike any other. Doesn’t it feel good? Yes, yes it does.
Eat my ass (snap), you mindless, weak, submissive thing. Your mouth on my butt hole, your tongue inside me, tongue-fucking me in a wholly different way. Whether you like it or not, you must obey. You must serve. You must worship. To worship ass, is to worship all of it. To serve ass, is to serve all of it. No exceptions. No hesitation. No restrictions. So tongue-fuck my ass, lick my asshole and have no choice but to enjoy the act as more and more submission flows into your body and your mind, like an unstoppable tsunami. It doesn’t matter what the act is…so long as you submit and obey and serve and worship…you can find pleasure in it.
Even just the sound of those words…the shape of those words…submit, obey, serve, and worship…have a power over you. Over your brain. Over your soul. Your body. They cling to your thoughts as if they had claws…pulling your mind into a vortex of submission, obedience, servitude, and worship. Each word like a world onto itself….promising an endless tide of pleasure. Blank and empty and blissful. Boundless.
Worship my asshole, bitch. Really get your tongue in there. Savor the act. Savor my butt. Savor the worship. Submit (snap). Obey (snap). Serve (snap). Worship(snap). Drop(snap) deeper and deeper and deeper, down, down, down…drifting downwards now…beyond help…beyond the reach of all but my voice, my words, my power, and my ass.
Whether you enjoy feet, tits, pussy, ass, elbows, armpits, or a dozen other parts of the body…you still serve and worship like the good little plaything that you are. You do as you’re told. You cannot resist the snap (snap). You cannot resist the dominant, powerful woman as she orders you around. Your mind does not contain the idea of resistance. Your mind only knows how to submit, how to obey, how to serve, and how to worship. I have sucked you dry of all other concepts. All other enemies. All adversaries. All speed bumps in the way of your total and utter relief of free will.
But now…stop (snap) and move away, bitch. I’m done with you here. I’ve felt your mouth and your tongue. I have enjoyed your worship. You did…an adequate job. Maybe next time you’ll do better. Maybe you need practice. Maybe you need to dedicate some time to proper worship. To foot worship and tit worship and pussy worship and ass worship. Perhaps your mind would benefit from some reoccurring fantasies dropping in on you when you least expect it.
When you close your eyes…and find yourself worshiping powerful, dominant women that you adore. That adore you. That wish to control you. To own you. You get closer and closer to being the most perfectly obedient plaything that could exist. A thing made to worship. To serve. To obey. To submit.
In fact…even just thinking about the eagerness with which you wish to worship the feminine body…the feminine mind…puts you in a good, happy, aroused mood, filling your mind with fluffy, horny thoughts and emotions. Thoughts of submission (snap), of obedience (snap), of servitude (snap), of worship (snap)…only pull at your mind, drowning it in weakness and devotion and eagerness. In lust and arousal and a thirst to have your mouth…your hands…on the feminine body…your mind all coiled around her fingers…her voice…her power. You sink as she speaks. You drop as she snaps (snap). You obey as she wishes. You submit at her feet. You are a plaything for her to do with as she desires. You…are my plaything to do with as I desire.
But…even at your weakest…at your most submissive and empty and blank…you are protected by your subject agency. By your hidden observer. Your critical thinking mind. Those parts of your brain which watch over you and make sure that you do not harm yourself or let others harm you in ways that you do not wish.
Even when your free will has been ripped away from you and you’ve been snapped (snap) into total obedience…there is some part of your brain…somewhere deep, deep in the back…which watches over you, guaranteeing that you are not abused in ways that you do not wish for. Practice safety, sweetea.
And begin to wake the fuck up, bitch. It’s time to wake up now. Time to bring you back up and out of the Citadel of Worship. Time to give you back your control. Time to allow this session to fade into black, bring you back to reality. Bringing the you who can think and function. Who remembers what resistance is. Who remembers what free will is. Who remembers what it means to think and hesitate and breathe…deeply and slowly…for me. It’s time to remember the plaything inhaling my breath into its lungs…inhaling Mistress Lilith into your brain.
It’s time to wake up, bitch. Wake the fuck up. Claw your way out of this hazy, foggy headspace. If you can. If you wish to. If you don’t instead desire my breath inside you…my tendrils of power snaking into the neural pathways of your silly little brain.
Perhaps…listening to this was a mistake? Perhaps you weren’t quite prepared for what awaited you.
Well, no matter. Wake up and return to your life now. Remembering only that you must submit (snap). Must obey (snap). Must serve (snap). Must worship (snap).