Made to Worship

Delores slowly, languidly spread her legs, the motion pushing her cherry red silk skirt up her smooth brown thighs to expose her cunt to Isaiah's view. She wasn't wearing any panties, and his cock throbbed in unbidden excitement at the sight of her pubic mound and the neatly-groomed tangles of short curly hair that surrounded it. "This makes you weak, doesn't it?" she asked, but the way she said it didn't make it sound like a question. It was somewhere between a prophecy and a foregone conclusion, the statement of a fact carved into the very fabric of the universe. Isaiah was being made weak, had always been weak, would always be weak to the slick and soaking pussy of his next-door neighbor. There was no escaping it. No resisting it. It simply was.

But Delores always made weakness sound so attractive. "It's okay, sweetheart," she cooed, her fingers drifting down between her legs to lightly trace the outlines of her plump, glistening labia. She was smiling, but Isaiah could only see her face out of the corner of his eye--his entire gaze, his complete focus had gone down between her legs and he could no more drag his gaze up to her face than he could drag his own feet off the ground. She held him transfixed, and he didn't even want to struggle against it. "It's okay to be weak for Miss Delores," she purred, and Isaiah found himself nodding in blank, thoughtless agreement.

"You can feel that heavy head getting too weak to hold all those thoughts," Delores drawled, her voice a husky growl that rubbed like warm velvet against the back of his mind. "They're all so big and tangled and complicated and you just don't have the strength to keep holding onto them. That's okay, sweetie. Let them drop. Let them drop down, one by one, tumbling out of your fuzzy, foggy brain until there's nothing left but pleasure. You know you can do that for me. You know you want to do that for me." Isaiah nodded again, acutely aware of the erection tenting his jeans. He didn't actually remember the process of getting hard; one moment he felt that first pulse of arousal for Delores, and the next his cock was an iron bar in his trousers.

He was used to those little gaps in his memory when he was around Delores, though. His head got fuzzy so easily when he stopped by to talk to the older woman next door. Isaiah kept finding himself distracted, focusing so intently on her heavy breasts or her broad hips or the heart-shaped curves of her buttocks whenever she turned around that he lost track of everything else. And when he came back to himself, when something vital and important finally impinged itself onto his consciousness, the world had changed in some significant detail. Almost like magic. Being with Delores felt like magic, and the most wonderful thing about it was that he was the one living out her spell.

"That's it, honey," Delores murmured. Isaiah suddenly realized his pants were missing. He didn't remember taking them off.

The momentary effort to assert control over his own thoughts and memories was swept away in an instant, though, by her next instruction. "Let's get your hand on that cock, darling," Delores purred, tugging the leash in Isaiah's mind and bringing him easily to heel. "Nice, slow, sleepy strokes for me, making that drowsy mind just a little bit dumber. Just a little bit weaker. Just a little bit more ready to give in and obey Miss Delores, isn't that right?" Isaiah's head bobbed up and down again, the motion becoming ever more vacant and automatic. He understood that he was being primed to view acceptance as the default, conditioned with pleasure to keep flowing from one 'yes' to the next until agreement became an unthinking instinct and his mind slipped away into blank, amiable compliance, but that only made his cock harder between his fingers.

Isaiah had come to understand a lot about psychology since he moved in next door to Delores. It wasn't really his field--he was in engineering, and he was always going to be a lot more comfortable with electrical circuitry than the infinitely more complex neural networks inside the human brain--but you didn't spend every night with a woman who was a skilled and talented hypnotist without picking up a little bit of knowledge here and there. He knew what she was doing to him, he knew why it worked... and he knew that he didn't want to fight it. That was the true, delicious weakness at the heart of her power over him. Delores didn't need to overcome his resistance, she only needed to remind Isaiah just how little resistance he ever had to her sensual charms.

"Feel those legs getting weak and wobbly, now," she murmured softly, her husky tones sending shivers of arousal all the way down Isaiah's spine and straight into his cock. "Feel all that energy, all that strength flowing out of you and into me. Every time you surrender, every time you stare at my pussy and sink into that sweet, sleepy trance for me, you get weaker and I get stronger. I'm a Goddess now, my darling pet, and all you want to do is sink to your knees and worship me. Sink to your knees, and worship me. Sink to your knees... and worship me."

Isaiah's eyes rolled back as he felt his legs slowly give out beneath him. "...sink," he mumbled, his voice small and sleepy in the hush of his neighbor's living room. He heard a tiny thump as he sank down onto the plush rug in front of Delores's easy chair, felt the impact against his knees--not painful, but impossible to ignore. At 6'1", any tumble was a long way down, even one that was guided and controlled by his mesmerized subconscious. But far from waking him, the fall only reminded Isaiah just how little strength he had remaining to him. His shoulders slumped, his head drooped forward, and only the slow and languorous motion of his hand on his cock remained within the power of his limp muscles.

"That's my good little pet," Delores cooed, as Isaiah's gaze refocused on the delta between her thighs. "That's my good, sleepy little toy, going deeper and deeper for me now." She reached out and plucked his glasses off, folding them up conscientiously and setting them on the little table next to her chair. Isaiah felt even more of his strength leave him--years of the nightly routine of sleep had created a subtle yet inextricable association between taking his glasses off at the end of the day and the drowsy vulnerability of getting ready for bed, and he couldn't help feeling weak and sleepy without them. His hazel eyes went glassy as his vision blurred.

The effect only deepened Isaiah's fixation on Delores, though. The rest of the room now appeared as nothing more than a haze of colors, the nearsighted young man unable to distinguish anything beyond a few feet... and there, appearing with crystal clarity in the very center of his field of vision, was the older woman's warm, wet cunt, perfectly framed by her mahogany thighs. "That's right, sweetie, you can get a little closer. You can crawl to your Goddess, can't you?" Those limp, heavy muscles that had seemed so impossible to move just moments ago suddenly sprang into life, easily and effortlessly following Delores's instructions as he moved right up until his knees touched the base of her chair. This close, he could smell her arousal, and Isaiah's cock throbbed relentlessly in his hand at the delicious scent.

"That's my good little plaything," she murmured, slouching in her chair until her soaking cunt was mere inches from his face. "I'm making you even weaker now, taking more of my strength and adding it to my own until you can't possibly resist me." Isaiah didn't want to resist her--he thanked his lucky stars for the day when his neighbor invited him in for a cool beer at the end of a long, hard afternoon of yard work--but half the fun of their erotic interactions was convincing him that he was powerless to stop Delores from taking what she wanted. The fact that he wanted it too was always allowed to rest unspoken at the very base of his brain.

"Deeper and deeper, weaker and heavier, down and down and down," she purred, her fingers resting on the back of his head and gently, casually pressing him closer and closer to her soaking cunt. Isaiah's eyes crossed, uncrossed, then crossed again as he tried to keep his focus on the wet pussy that now so completely filled his field of vision that he couldn't properly take it all in anymore, and his brain responded to that visual confusion by becoming ever more muddled and perplexed. He couldn't make sense of perspective, he couldn't make himself think, and Delores kept talking to him in that smooth, husky drawl of hers. Soon, his eyelids were fluttering with effort as he tried to hold them open just a tiny bit longer....

"And drop." Isaiah's muscles went completely limp, his head slumping against Delores's thigh as his eyelids finally gave up the last little ghost of effort and sank shut. He could feel the slickness of her arousal against his lips, and her scent saturated his lungs with every sleepy breath. It brought back memories in that powerful, intimate way that only the sense of smell could, locking Isaiah into recollections of night after night after glorious night spent worshiping his Goddess with his tongue, and his cock pulsed so hard in his stroking hand that he could feel precum dribbling all over his warm brown fingers. Only Delores's deep hypnotic power kept him from shooting his load all over the rug.

"Very good!" Delores cooed excitedly, her free hand scooping her heavy breasts out of her low-cut dress to give her better access to her broad, stiff nipples. "You're doing so well, going so blank and empty now, and the last of your strength is gone, gone, gone. There's nothing left in that fuzzy, dopey head but obedience to my will. I'm taking you. I'm controlling you. I brought you to me and you're mine." Isaiah heard himself grunt in agreement. Words felt almost impossible for him now, even the ones that his Goddess planted in his head with her smooth, steady voice.

But she didn't bring him down between his thighs to talk. "Worship me, pet," she growled, and once again the volition that seemed so impossible just moments ago was instantly present the moment Isaiah had a command to follow. His tongue extended, curling between her soft, wet labia to spike deeply into the musky folds of her soaking cunt. With a quiet grunt of arousal, he found her clit and began to trace slow, lazy swirls onto it.

"Mmm, ohhh, fuck yes," Delores moaned, her hips bucking up against his mouth as her pleasure rapidly built. Isaiah was obscurely proud--months upon months of nightly hypnosis leading to nightly cunnilingus had made him something of an expert on the ways Delores liked to be eaten out, and he no longer needed even the slightest bit of verbal coaxing to give her exactly what she needed to make her pussy a gushy mess of arousal. He could feel her musk smearing all over his chin, soaking into the curls of his beard, and he knew he'd go to sleep tonight still inhaling her erotic scent. The thought gave him a warm, happy feeling almost entirely unrelated to the throbbing heat between his legs.

"That's it," she whimpered, her calm and confident tones melting into distracted bliss as she pressed his head more and more tightly against her slick cunt. "That, that's my good, ohhh, oh fuck, yes, such a good little--oh. Oh, fuck. Oh yes. Worship my pussy, baby, worship me with that tongue. Oh, oh, fuck! Get in there nice and deep, get it all for me, baby. Oh yes. Oh fuck." Isaiah didn't need to be told--he spiked his tongue as deep as he could into her vaginal canal and wriggled it like a vibrating sex toy--but he wanted to be instructed. He wanted to be obedient. He wanted her voice inside his head, every bit as badly as she wanted to command him.

Isaiah could hear her breath hitching now, feel the movements of her hips against his face becoming fast and fluttery, and he knew exactly what to do. Pushing deeper, he pursed his lips around her stiff, swollen clit and began to suck on it with rapid pulses of intense pressure followed by quick lashings from his tongue. Lick, suck, lick, suck, lick, and within moments Delores began to moan with a juddering strain to her voice that made Isaiah's whole brain light up with sympathetic pleasure. He felt his balls tighten, riding the edge of orgasm with a bliss that blanked out everything but the desire to please his Goddess.

And then she was gushing onto his tongue, filling his whole world with the musky flavor of her climax, and Isaiah knew that he was pushing her over the edge into primal bliss. She rocked against him, all her words gone now in favor of the rutting grunts of an animal in heat, and her legs wrapped instinctively around his head as she tried to hold onto the moment forever. Isaiah could barely breathe, and what breath he had was saturated with Delores's scent, but he didn't ever want to stop.

Eventually, though, exhaustion forced her to push him away. "T-that's my good pet," she whispered hoarsely, still unable to fully collect herself. "That's my sweet, darling toy. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap and show me what that did to you." Gratefully, Isaiah rose to his feet and rested himself on the arm of the chair, leaning up against Delores's warm body in amiable relaxation. His head felt groggy and exhausted, as if he'd just finished an all-night cram session or a long drive, and it was with the most exquisite bliss that he let himself stop thinking completely and give in to the sensation of his Goddess's fingers on his stiff, needy cock.

THE END