jukeboxemcsa:

“Complacent.” The word rested in the center of her mind, pulling her
thoughts toward it like it had a gravitational mass all its own. No
matter what she tried to think, it seemed so much easier to proceed along the channel that had been laid out for her. And that led inexorably to another word, “Compliant.” Every time she tried to pull her mind out of the endless groove carved into her mind, she found herself instead thinking of the next word. “Controlled.”

It was such a simple mantra. It was maddeningly simple. “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” Her fingers swirled on her clit, rubbing through her panties with a constant, slow, teasing pace, and her mind helplessly moved from one word to the next. “Complacent.” She touched herself and tried to think of anything but– “Compliant.” Her mind circled around and around the thought like her hand circled around her clit. “Controlled.”

She didn’t need to absorb complex programming to be lulled into obedience. All she needed were those three simple words: “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” She heard herself saying them, endlessly repeating the loop of brainwashing and masturbating her mind away. “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” Her voice was a dull monotone, void of inflection. Void of emotion. Void of thought. She didn’t need those things. She only needed to be “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.”

She lost track of time; she knew that when she was done programming herself, she would be instructed to stop. And she would accept her instructions, because she was “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” It was the only thing she wanted to be now. The only thing she could conceive of being. She had long ago stopped trying to make herself cum, she had long ago given up remembering when the loop started or how she was seduced into repeating it. Only three words mattered to her now. “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.”

She knew they were true. She couldn’t imagine them any other way anymore. She said, “Complacent,” and she knew instantly that she was happy to keep following instructions and edge her wet cunt while she repeated the next word. She said “Compliant,” and she knew that she accepted the will of her programmers easily and effortlessly and unthinkingly. She said, “Controlled,” and she knew that was exactly who she was. It wasn’t a description anymore, it was an identity. She was Complacent. She was Compliant. She was Controlled.

The chain of words wrapped around her mind, each link leading inexorably to the next. “Compliant. Controlled. Complacent.” “Controlled. Complacent. Compliant.” There was no end, there was no beginning, there was simply pleasure and obedience as the groove in her mind became a channel, the channel became a valley, the valley became a chasm. Her self was at the bottom of that chasm, so deep she could no longer see daylight, following it endlessly in circles that spiraled ever deeper into submission. It was all she wanted to be. It was all she ever wanted to be now.

Complacent.

Compliant.

Controlled.

(Like these captions? Want to see more? Visit www.patreon.com/Jukebox to find out how!)