aliakindomu: onlyseventhoughts: “Forget Now,” he said in a commanding voice. I was stand

aliakindomu: onlyseventhoughts: “Forget Now,” he said in a commanding voice. I was standing next to the bed he was on. He was sitting, legs out with his hands in his lap, a look of enjoyment on his face. He had asked to me stand up, and I was smiling while staring into his eyes willfully, trying to stay strong in the face of uncertainty “Forget Now.” A dark fog began to slowly roll across the ridges and valleys of my mind like dusk in the mountains, the darkness sweeping the hollows first before crawling towards the tree line and highest points in elevation. “Ali?” He said. He was watching the expression change on my face. I wondered why he was saying my name. The fog swirled around slowly, blacking out the easily forgotten first: my childhood phone number, the name of my hometown. It pushed and prodded deeper, gently covering more vital information. “Ali?” he said again. He must have seen my furrowed brow, my futile attempts at resistance and reconciliation playing out on my face. I looked up at him, confused. I knew the word, “Ali,” intimately, but somehow, I had misplaced its meaning. My eyes darted around the room, looking for clues, but I came up empty. The dark fog continued sweeping through my mind, throwing a blanket over the text message from him that had made me so excited earlier in the day: You don’t, by any chance, have any thick ribbon at your house, do you? The fog reached my memory of the spiral, but I held onto it tightly. I had been looking at an orange swirl, in a small chamber full of windows that looked out upon endless space. The chamber was filled with a buzzing frequency that was somehow both relaxing and all-consuming. I had imagined myself in this room, focusing on the brightest star, one that I believed to be home, longing towards it, but feeling resigned to my fate. The fog was looming around this edges of this image. I fought it off for a moment, but I was powerless as it pushed through my resistance, erasing every last memory in my mind until I was entirely blank and empty. “Ali!” I looked up. I was standing next to a bed in an unfamiliar space looking at someone that I was almost certain I had never seen before. What does that word mean? Panic began to wash over me. I felt lost, as if I had been drained of purpose and personage. I felt displaced, as if I had lost my bearings on time and place. I looked at him with big eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said, “Who are you?” “Ahhh,” he said, “This can sometimes happen. It’s a glitch in your programming. Don’t worry, you’ll soon begin to feel perfectly normal again.” “Perfectly normal?” I asked. My feelings of panic were beginning to dissipate and be replaced by something else. I was feeling drawn towards his slight aura of familiarity and trust. He was tall, with dark hair and square rimmed glasses. His voice felt calming and easy to listen to. He nodded sagely. “You see, you are a doll. A sophisticated doll with very advanced functions. I have turned on your consciousness setting, which accounts for your confusion. Right before I did that, you were modeling clothes. Usually, dolls don’t wear clothing.” I looked down at my body. I was indeed wearing clothings, but they suddenly felt unnatural against my skin. I grabbed at them helplessly. “Take them off, Doll.” It felt natural to obey his words. He was the only person in my world and I trusted him without hesitation. I urgently removed my shirt, crossing my arms to pull it over my head, and I slid quickly out of my pants. I tore off my bra and underwear, until finally I was standing in front of him completely naked. “Good, Doll,” he said, and I felt warmth and satisfaction wash over me. “Now,” he began as he got of the bed where he had been sitting, “another one of your advanced functions is your ability to apply makeup.” He placed a small yellow case in my hand, and firmly held my shoulders as he directed me to a bench in front of a mirror. He sat me down and positioned the mirror so I could easily see my reflection. I touched a hand to my face, admiring my short brown hair, freckles, lips, and empty eyes. “You’re going to do your makeup now, Doll. And as you do your makeup, I want you to feel more and more relaxed and happy. Understand, Doll?” I nodded, and he smiled. “Good, Doll.” I unzipped the the case that he had handed me. Inside of it, were small plastic tubes, jars, and pencils. The contents were familiar, but nameless in my mind. I began with a small container of beige powder that I spread over my face. There was pink that I dabbed on my cheeks, and silver for the lids of my eyes. The more I put on, the happier I felt. It started as a warmth that spread through my stomach and billowed out into my limbs, up my neck, and around my face. A smile washed over me. I picked out a tube of the pinkest pink and drew it slowly on my lips, feeling the sensation of the waxy substance spreading and pulling at my lips. I turned to face him. “Good, Doll,” he said, a grin spreading slowly across his face. “Stand up, “ he commanded. I stood up. He towered over me and I had to strain my neck to look into his eyes. I wanted to, and I did so adoringly. I had imprinted upon him. He took my hair into his hands. “Now for the finishing touch,” he said. He let go of my hair and grabbed a spool of thick pink ribbon from a nearby shelf. He positioned me standing in front of the mirror and began to wrap my body in ribbon. He started with my chest, covering my breasts and crossing it in the back. He wrapped it around my neck, down my back, and through my legs. I felt the friction of the ribbon as it slid through my slit. He brought the ribbon over my shoulders, around my back, and then tied a ribbon in front of the chest belt. He then took a crystal from his pocket and tenderly clasped it around my neck. I admired myself tied up and dolled up. My pupils were slightly dilated and my mouth hung open in an empty expression. I looked beautiful and I felt beautiful, as if I had realized my purpose in life. I was a blank slate, ready to be programmed for whatever my master desired. “Perfect,” he said, “a mindless, brainless, helpless, fuckdoll.” “I am mindless, brainless, helpless, fuckdoll,” I repeated obediently. Purpose realized. Artwork commissioned by the amazingly talented @aliakindomu. Original story about a true-life scene written by me for my partner’s birthday and shared with his permission. I did an art! And it found a lovely story to keep it company. Ohhhhh my gosh I can’t believe I forgot to make that ribbon pink that’s it i failed everybody out One of the sexiest stories I’ve read on here–super hot ideas–and the art fits it perfectly.  -- source link

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