[F] How he fucked me and my mind: a week long story.

I’ve known I was kinky since I was young. No girl finds villains as attractive as I did when I was a kid unless they’re gonna grow up with a fetish for it. I did my best in my younger teen years to educate myself and experience as much as I could, but I fell short, and I’ve always felt I was missing something in bed.

I discovered hypnosis almost completely by accident when I was looking for an audio recording of someone describing how to masturbate with a vibrator (usually skimming through /r/gonewildaudio for it), stumbling instead into a kinky power-play with some tricking of the mind, and I was blown away. I quickly found the recordings too impersonal and posted a wanted ad here on reddit for a hypnotist to help me explore my kinks and interests.

I got replies, yeah, way too fucking many, and with how badly I was trying to find someone I could relate to, a lot were slipping through the cracks as I tried to respond. I kept reading and reading until finally one message came that stopped me and made me go back to reread out of curiosity. He said something that got me stuck there, reading his message, wondering if maybe he was the one I should be trying to work with.

So I replied. I expressed my sincerity in wanting to hear more from him shortly after he messaged me, to no immediate response.

In an hour, I got impatient of refreshing for a reply, so overeager, and [messaged him again](http://prntscr.com/cqdj2v) before falling asleep.

My steep downhill crash begins here.

His reply the next day sealed the deal. The last thing he said in his reply back to me was “I’ve already, unintentionally, learned not answering you fucks with your head, for example,” to which I sat staring at my screen for moments on end, realizing how quickly he had already begun to pick up on my behavior, and I got wet.

It was so easy for him to do this to me. He took advantage so well of how little I knew about him and made me desperate to hear a single word he had to say. The second day I knew him, was laying on my bed with my vibrator tied to my thigh to be forced to orgasm (and not orgasm) under his control. I felt helpless despite knowing his only power were the words he said to me. I was scared to disappoint, scared… generally. And it was, and is, so so good.

I grew more and more sick of waiting on the orange bubble for him. I was all the way up his ass, begging for his attention, whatever I could get. Sometimes when I ask questions he’ll ignore them, making me ask again or say “you didn’t reply,” and I will turn bright red in embarrassment when he says “I know I didn’t.” I crave to know, but I love to be fucked in the head by him. We moved to kik, giving me a small victory, or at least I thought.

Entered into the world of dread between knowing something was delivered or read, and whether he was typing, not, or revising his message over and over – and him knowing the same from me. My messaging anxiety skyrocketed and I would check my phone every few minutes for hours on end. He asked* me to keep myself shaved. (Told me to*, to which I melted). But with kik began easy photo and video messaging, now being able to see and hear my voice and expressions made things more personal and intense almost instantly.

Now, the five days we initially talked, I wasn’t completely broken yet. I was still figuring out how charming I found his remarks about me, his ideals about politics, the fantastic voice I only heard once, with multiple orgasms and pain basically every single day. He was beating my mind into a corner and I was moaning and getting off on it.

We come to the night of Tuesday into the early hours of Wednesday. I’m being told to fuck my ass with my plug, and that I do, however I do something different from the usual times I have something in my ass: I’m fucking loving it. Squirming, cumming, dripping. Then I had to sit with the plug in my ass while my hitachi went at my clit, as long as he wanted, cumming without stopping.

I came. And came. And came and came and came. I was so broken, unable to talk, unable to cum. When the hitachi was allowed to be turned off, I instantly began to cry. *Hard.* I squirted a large puddle below where I was, my pussy swollen, red, soaking and dripping like I’d never seen it, and I just couldn’t quit crying. I didn’t know someone could cum so much. So hard.

The reality set in in the morning, when I realized just how horny I was while I was crying on the bathroom floor for no reason. I loved how he was breaking my body. Being made to orgasm like that stripped me down and not only made me feel completely empty and obedient to him, but also totally fulfilled the hole that was missing in my sex life, reaching the potential I knew my body had. But I cried, red-faced, laughing at myself. I cried because I had cum too much, I cried because he made me love anal in one night, I cried because I felt such intense purpose and desire, and that was perfect.

I understand how absolutely out of the norm this is. We both do. But to me, this is what I’ve been waiting my whole damn life for. I love having my mind fucked.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/566fcs/f_how_he_fucked_me_and_my_mind_a_week_long_story