Master, or slave? Or... Yes?

Author's note: This piece is primarily a headspace exploration, of how the paradox of being put simultaneously into sexual slave and Master headspaces might play out and ultimately resolve. It is intentionally light on scenery, focusing on what plays out in the mind of the male narrator. There's the obvious trigger warning of M/s themes, but perhaps knowing in advance that it's a two-way street might make it less difficult to handle. Otherwise, we're basically looking at the aforementioned paradox serving as a confusion induction leading to mindless, deeply-fulfilling sex.

"Honey? I want you to put me into slave-space and fuck my brains out, please," she tells me. The idea sounds like plenty of fun, but I'm currently in the middle of something for work. Not hugely time-sensitive, but I'm in a good flow state and feel an urge to knock it out while I'm motivated. On the other hand... well, on the other hand, my absurdly-hot partner basically just told me to put her on her knees - both physically and mentally - and use her for my sexual gratification.

This report, I decide, can wait. "Hold on a sec, babe," I reply. "I just need to..."

"No. Now," she interrupts. "Slave? Your Mistress commands you to dominate my mind, compel me to submit to my Master, and force me to make you cum inside me."

Record scritch.

We're both switches, both very into hypnokink. Each of us has, at various points, installed hypnotic triggers into each-other: cum-on-command, insta-drops, brain resets, compulsory obedience... you name it, we've tried it, and used it to either spice up a scene or compete to see who can get the other into the subbiest - or dommiest - headspace. "Slave? Your Mistress commands you..." is her hypnotic trump card as far as putting me on my knees; I have an equivalent in her, but we can only use it once a month. It does two things: first, it triggers an immediate shift deep into a slave headspace: complete submission, devotion to the point of worship, and nearly unquestioned obedience. Second, it tacks a suggestion onto whatever said command happens to be, making obedience feel both irresistible, overwhelmingly erotic, and incredibly pleasurable.

I used mine last week to force her to take a mental health day once she got through the current crunch period at her job. That day's today, and apparently she's decided to call in her marker.

"What?" I ask, trying to make sense of the confused, conflicting impulses that are suddenly running through my brain.

First, there is the desire to do just that. Taking control of her mind? Forcing her to not just submit to my will, but actively mold her thoughts and emotions and even her identity to my words? Turning her into an obedient, horny slut so turned on by her complete submission that she can't even imagine trying to resist my command to offer herself for me to use and indulge my primal breeding/mating kink? Fucking yes. Hot.

Second, there is the rising compulsion to obey. My Mistress has just given a command I cannot refuse. I am her slave. I worship her. I must obey this command, and showing obedience will earn me incredible pleasure. Unless I use the safeword, I have literally no choice but to submit to my Mistress' will and serve her with complete faithfulness and devotion. Again, fucking yes, hot.

Third, there is the part of my mind that's looking at how these two seemingly-contradictory desires might actually fit together and be turned to my advantage. Both my Dominant and submissive sides are in agreement that we're going to: turn her mind control, submission, and breeding kinks against her; turn her into a needy cumslut helpless to resist my sexual power over her; and turn her into a giggling, melty cumsicle. The disagreement is over how I should feel about doing all that: am I leaning into how much I revel in having sexual power over a willing woman, or am I leaning into how much I revel in being able to serve with skill a Goddess worthy of my worship?

Yes, I decide. Fuck it, bring it, let's just fucking GO and see what happens.

"Oh, really?" I reply, lowering my voice into a chest-deep, sensual purr. "You want to be my sexy, slutty slave-girl, a collar around your mind, my hand on the leash, my will controlling everything you think, feel, and do?"

"Fuck," she gasps, wobbling on her feet, eyes fluttering and losing focus as the authority in my voice starts to slip inside her and seize control of her thoughts. No trigger and she's already giving in, I note. She must really be craving it. "Yes! Please, Master, make me become your slave," she begs, confirming my suspicion. Then, in a tone dripping with honeyed, sexual command - and eyes to match - adds "Be a good slave for me, and obey your Mistress' command to enslave her."

Record scritch.

Mother of fuck . Yes, Mistress! Your slave obeys! my submissive side gushes.

Oh, you dirty little whore . You want it, you got it. Time to obey your fucking Master, my dominant side snarls.

Oh shit, this is gonna be great , the chaos in the middle grins. Fuck yeah, let's do this!

"Get on your knees," I command. "Kneel before your Master," I add, then "be a good slave for me and open wide for your Master's cock."

"Flbblguh!" she babbles, eyes glazing over while her legs buckle and submit to my control, her mouth falling as open and receptive to my will as her mind has already become. "Aah... Ah-ahh," she tells me, too deep in her submissive trance to care that she's trying to say "Yes, Master" with her mouth open and tongue out. Then, she shakes her head and regains her composure. That irresistible fierceness I adore returns to her eyes, and I find myself powerless to look away from her hypnotic gaze. "Fuck this is hot," she gushes, then "you're being such a good Master for me, slave. But I'd be an even better slave for you, Master, you were a good slave and stripped naked for your Mistress."

Brrrrrr, goes the brain. Apparently she's getting her own M/s wires crossed too - so desperately in need of having control taken away that she's willing to dom me until she's sure I'll obey her and do just that. Yes, Mistress! and Good slave start fighting over who gets to be in the driver's seat. Am I being a good slave for my Mistress by knowing, saying, and doing exactly what She needs to feel Herself eager and aroused by Her enslavement? Or is my slave being a good girl for her Master by knowing, saying and doing exactly what I need to feel eager and aroused by obeying her commands?

The spiraling horny confusion distracts me long enough that by the time I remember to pay attention to what's going on outside my head, I'm pulling off my boxers to reveal a cock as hard as my mind just wasn't.

"Oh, that was good, slave," I purr, shuddering from the way she shudders, feeling both elated from Her implied, nonverbal phrase and deeply aroused by her complete erotic submission. "But I have to wonder, is it my Mistress or my slave kneeling before me? Am I your devoted, worshipful slave so completely under your control that I can obey even a command to enslave you? Or are you such a perfect slave that you can delude yourself into believing you're my Mistress just so you can trick yourself into showing me how completely I own you?"

"I... ah... fuuu..." she stammers, once again going blank as she wrestles with the paradox. While she's distracted and effectively mindless, I press the advantage.

"Your slave would be even more motivated to obey your command, Mistress, if you were to be a good slave by standing up and stripping naked for your Master."

"Yes... Master..." she murmurs, distant and dreamy, then does her best to obey. "strip... for... good... slave..." she adds, slowly pulling off her dress to reveal nothing underneath but stiff nipples, smooth sexy curves, and freshly-groomed pubic hair.

"My, my, what a good slave you are, Mistress," I purr. "Making yourself ready for your Master, ensuring your slave would be so overwhelmed by Mistress' beauty that he couldn't possibly resist you."

She shudders, squirming from my praise. "Thank you, Master," she replies, her voice high and needy. "But I thought you were going to use me, slave?" she continues, dropping her tone back down to a pitch that makes the back of my brain and base of my cock buzz with submissive lust. "Aren't you going to make me serve my Master?" She teases, stepping into me so She can press Her divine body against mine and whisper Her mesmerizing words into my obedient ear. "Or are you too soft, subby, and weak to pretend you're anything other than my mindless, obedient fuck-toy?"

"I...uh...guh..." I reply, my psyche thrown back into utter disarray.

I'm dimly aware of Mistress saying something like "Come to bed, Master fuck-toy, while you figure out how you want to obey your slave," then gently taking me by the cock and leading me where my personal whore wants me to finish reminding Her of her true place and purpose. But mostly I'm struggling with trying to decide whether it's better to obey Mistress and enslave her as She's commanded, or remind my slave that she does not, in fact own me by begging her to use me for her pleasure instead.

The problem, I realize, is that She has Commanded me to enslave her, creating a compelling double-bind of "by enslaving her, I get to obey my Mistress, please Her, and earn Her praise" and "by choosing to obey Her, I get to dominate, fuck, and breed my slave." So one way or another, this is going to go her way - the variable is how much each of us feels like we've been a good slave or satisfied Master to the other when it's done.

I'm feeling competitive, and come back to myself just in time to feel my hands gliding over her ass and about to take her hold of her hips while my blank-minded mouth finishes saying "Yes, Mistress... breed my... slave..." I stop myself and shake it off. "Oh, thought you could get out of doing the work, did you? I had no idea your were such a lazy slave, Mistress," I tease. I feel a flicker of satisfaction as she winces from the implication she's being anything less than perfect for me. "A good slave would please her Master any way he wanted, Mistress," I continue. "And you do want to be a good slave for me, don't you?"

"Yes, Master!" she gasps. "Thank you, Master, for obeying me and making me be your good slave," she continues, pressing her Goddess ass back into my rigid fuck-toy cock. "How may I please you, Master?" she asks, wiggling.

Rather than answering immediately, I let go of my slave's hips and climb onto the bed, then lay down on my back. "It would please me if my slave would sit on my cock and show me just how much she loves pleasuring me with my slave's wet, needy cunt," I inform her. "Now obey, Mistress pleasure-slave, and use your perfect slave pussy to make Master breed you with your slave's cock."

I realize that things are getting a little messy at this point. The more I revel in pushing her towards a pleasure-slave headspace, the more deeply I feel it blending with how obeying Her Command pushes me towards the same. By enslaving her, I obey Her, and prove myself a good slave for my Mistress. But by obeying Her, I enslave her, and earn the thrill and power of having total control over my slave.

I realize I've zoned out again when I see her straddling me, waiting with both amused satisfaction and an aching need to be commanded to serve. "Holy shit you're fucking beautiful," I blurt out, somewhere between a gasp of worship and a predatory growl, as I'm hit full force by just how deeply I adore this woman. I feel at once the wide-eyed rapture of being chosen to serve a literal Goddess and the dark, devilish pride of knowing that such a perfect creature has been corrupted by her lust and remade into my devoted sexual servant. And then I see much the same behind her eyes, and I feel myself somehow both melt into a horny, needy, subby puddle and solidify into a tower of white-hot, unshakeable dominance.

"I... Fuck, Master, I've never felt so turned on from knowing this cock is mine," she replies, equally unable to separate the Mistress from the slave, and utterly floored by how deeply she's feeling both. "May I please pleasure you now, Master? May I serve you by using my slave's beautiful, wonderful cock?"

"Fuck! Yes. Fuck, please, Mistress, fucking Yes!" I snarl with rapt adoration. "Do your fucking job, Mistress, obey me, and use your slave's cock as it pleases you until you feel me breed you and remember that I fucking own you!"

"Fuck!" she gasps, then practically slams her hips down onto mine.

"Fuck!" I mirror, nearly cumming right then and there from how incredible it feels to be both served and used, obeyed and claimed, taken and surrendered to. "Now! Please, Mistress!" I beg, seizing her hips and forcing her willing compliances. "Breed your Master," I beg,

"Obey my slave," she agrees, and begins grinding her pussy into me, using and serving and obeying and claiming me. This time I can feel my mind going blank from how deep and fast the contradicting desires are spiraling together. Am I her Master or Her slave? Am I obeying Her, or is she obeying me? Am I in love with a Goddess or a perfect whore? Am I fucking my slut or is She fucking her toy? Each question can have only one answer, but choosing one means refusing the other, and neither option feels any less true. And so the spiral continues, down deeper and deeper into mindless pleasure and lust, until suddenly they all punch through some floor in the bottom of my psyche and merge into the only valid answer to all of them at once:

YES.

What follows is not the kind of sex you can put into words. Too much gets lost in translation from the reality of the moment into the retelling after it's over. It's not so much primal as primordial. The universe shatters and falls away as Me and Her do our frenzied damndest to become US; the sense of connection and love and lust between us so deep and maddening that even having separate bodies is too far apart.

With hands and lips and mouths and fingers we try to melt our minds and bodies together with oceans of pleasure and molten desire.

With hips and cock and pussy we try to build a friction so divine it sparks the orgasm that lets us finally fuck our souls into each-other.

When the first attempt doesn't work, we try again. And again. And maybe again after that, but by about halfway through the second round my brain had more or less turned to a delicious soup of erotic, hypnotic trance and spicy sex chemicals. It gets pretty fuzzy from then on.

What I can tell you is that when I eventually come to something at least in the same zip code as conscious awareness, I'm a giggling paralytic mess about as ruined as the swamp that used to be the bed. I try to make words with my mouth, but somehow they just end up becoming slow, deep kisses with punctuation in the form of gentle pecks on her lips, cheeks, and forehead.

"What... the fuck... was that?" she eventually manages to gasp.

"I... fuck, I dunno, but... fuck," I somehow manage to reply before knotting my body up with hers and continuing the dialogue in a love poem of physical, eagerly-reciprocated affection.

Eventually exhaustion gets the better of us. I lie back so she can her drape her sweat-slicked, perfect body over mine and lay her ear over my heart.

"Good slave," she murmurs sleepily, then snuggles up tighter.

"Very good slave," I reply, then begin absently stroking her hair. She squeals, wriggles against me, then subsides with a happy sigh. After a few moments, I add "I love you, Mistress."

"I love you, Master," she echoes, and then we let sleep claim us both.