Possession (Patreon)

Oh Michael, don't you know I was born to turn you on?

You must, you've told me it enough times.

You've whispered it in my ear in public, making me blush and squirm as you laughed. You've growled it at me as you held me down at hit me with all your strength. You've teased me with it as I lay tied to your bed, unable to move.

And I loved it each time.

I love that I am that object for you, that toy, that serves that one singular purpose. I love that I do it so well, and that we both know I'll do it in anyway you want. I love how far you've taken me, you've pushed in that direction.

My question is, can you see beyond that?

(And do I care if you do?)

...

"No... no I can't!," I say, shaking my head. There were tears in my eyes already, just seeing what they intended.

Michael loomed over me, as he always does. I always felt smell next to him. "No? Are you arguing? Should I get the paddle, and we can have a nice long discussion about it?" He grabbed my wrist and pulled me in.

My heard jumped. Even the threat made me more excited.

I looked over at what the clothes they had laid out for me. I had played so many roles for them. I had been their pet, their slave, their baby, their maid. I had come out with them wearing leather vests and diapers under my clothes. However, there were still lines.

"I don't know that I want that. Not yet." I whimpered.

Michael walked to me. He put a hand on my shoulders, and the other reached down and cupped me below the belt. I gasped. "Are you sure you don't want it, diaper boy? Your cock seems to disagree."

"I... I don't, Daddy." It sounded as fake as it felt. The truth was I longed for what they showed me, and had dreamed of it for months.

The outfit itself wasn't that far off from dozens I had worn for them before. It was a onesie, bright pink and with a heart on its chest. It came with leggings and platform shows, and bows for my hair, which had grown longer and would undoubtably be put in pigtails. My leash was beside it, the collar was on my neck, and I already wore a diaper to go with it. With it, I knew they would probably tie me, and give me a gag to keep me quiet.

I had worn the same before. What was different was what it meant today.

I felt a hand smack the back of my diaper. Sarah came around my other side with an arm on my back. "Is that true diaper girl? I think its perfect for you. I think its perfect for you to wear every day from now on."

"Uhhh..." I moaned. "Daddy, is she allowed to do that?" I asked as the other submissive teased me. To tell the truth, hearing someone who was herself being dominated talk down to me only made me crave more. If there was to be an pecking order, a huge part of me I was terrified of craved more then anything to be on the bottom of it.

"Yes sweetie. Remember our ranking?"

I thought back. We were both subs under him, but what we wore went beyond that. Regular clothes beat anyone cross-dressed, which beat anyone dressed as an animal, which beat, lowest of the low...

"She's also in a diaper Daddy," I said. "We're the same."

He shook his head. "Not anymore. Not when she's in her black diapers and her leather clothes, and you have your cute little printed diapies and onesie. You are the lowest here, and will still be from now on."

My mind swirled. By far the most humiliating game they had played with me was this one. It was the one thing that pushed me right to the limit, the only that still made me begin to think of saying no. Now, they wanted to take me into public, in our club with all our friends, dressed like that. More, they wanted me to live like that, to come into their home and stay like that permanently.

My heart jumped, and I wasn't sure if it was from disgust, fear, or joy.

Michael turned me to face him directly. He put a hand on my diaper and pulled me in right next to him, and put the other on the back of my head. I looked away for a moment, but he turned me back, and for a second I thought he would kiss me.

Instead, he just stared at me with his clear eyes. My breath caught, as it always did when I looked into them.

"Are you sure sweetie? If you don't want it, you know your safety word. This can all be over now. Just say it, or let us dress you again."

I was still, but was sure I was falling deep into his eyes again. Every time they hit me it was like all the will to argue left me. I felt myself melt and fall deeply into them, like a man possessed, and he did possess me.

The image of me going into the club, crawling in his humiliating costume, all the nervousness it brought, fell along with my willpower into his eyes.

Those eyes.

It was always those goddamn eyes.

...

Oh Michael don't you know you were born to turn me on?

That is the part I'm not sure you understand. Or, if you understand it, you understand it all to well.

It is everywhere and always to me. That feeling. That incredible, awful feeling. That arousal that is on my mind. That distracts me from work. That distracts me from relationships. That distracts me from all of life outside your impossible, clear eyes. The deep, painful knowledge that that you could get me to do anything you wanted no matter how bad I DON'T want it and the more I don't want it the more I want it because I know you want it because I don't want it and that makes me WANT it and I don't understand that. But you do, and that scares me.

I am not in love with you. I am ADDICTED to you. I am OBSESSED with you, and with your impossible clear eyes. When I see them I feel like I am possessed, and I know I am possessed by you.

I can stare at them for hours and not be sure what happened.

I am addicted to your body. The tight, lean muscles. The strong arms, able to carry me, to pull me, to hold me down, even as I struggle

(ESPECIALLY as I struggle)

The size that has you always looking down on my ever so slightly, ever so noticeably, with your clear, impossible eyes.

I am addicted to all you do to me. All our little games, all the strange clothes, all the things I never would have done if I never had met you. And I cant stop them. I can't stop wanting them. I don't know why I want them, I SHOULDN'T want them, but by god I do.

By YOU I do. You are my god now.

And that is what I am worried you understand all to well.

There are lines I cannot cross, but I don't know what they are when I see those clear, impossible eyes.

Not ever since I first saw them, those months ago.