I was ready for this. I knew Tom’s methods - he’d try to trap me, confuse me, trick me, overwhelm me. I’d seen him to do it. I’d recorded what he’d said to other girls. I had a plan.
He’d walk up and say “Hi, Madison.” I’d say, “Hi, Tom.”
Then, if he said “How are you today?” I’d say, “I’m busy,” and he’d say “Too busy to talk for a second?” I wouldn’t want him to be suspicious, so I’d say “No, I guess not,” and he’d say “Good, because I really like talking to you.” I’d want to seem flattered, so he wouldn’t get clued in that I was onto him, so I’d say “I like talking to you, too.” He’d probably smile, and I’d smile too, because that’s just what you do when somebody smiles at you. He’d say “Do you like when I talk to you?”, and I’d think that was weird, because isn’t that pretty much what I just said? But I’d say “Yeah…”, and he’d say “Do you like listening to me talk?”, and I’d say “Yes…”, and maybe I’d start to worry, because suddenly I was feeling confused, and he’d say “That’s good,” and I’d feel a little better. He would say “You like to listen to me,” and I’d notice that one didn’t really sound like a question, but I’d feel kind of spacey, so I’d say “Uh huh…”, and he’d say “Say it,” and I’d say “I like to listen to you.” It’d feel so nice to say what he told me to say, and I’d smile more, and start to feel really calm and happy. Tom would tell me I’m a good girl, and then he’d say “You’re a bimbo, right Madison?” and I’d be all like, “I am?” and he’d be all “Yes, you are,” and I’d just be like, “Oh…”. And he’d go “Say it,” and I’d giggle and I’d say “I’m a bimbo,” and he’d say “Whose bimbo?” and I’d touch him and say “I’m your bimbo, Master!”
…whoa, okay, no. That’s not what I was going for.
He’d say “How are you today?”, and I’d say “I’m fine, thanks,” but be very curt about it, and make clear that I don’t want to talk to him. He’d say “Is everything alright?” and I’d say “Yes, I’m fine,” and again I’d try to be really cold and firm. He’d say “You know, if there’s something wrong, you can talk to me,” and I’d tell him “There’s nothing wrong,” and he’d look all sympathetic and say “Madison, c’mon. You know you can trust me.” I wouldn’t fall for it, though. I’d say “Really, Tom, it’s nothing.” He’d keep at it, though. He’d say “Do you trust me, Madison?” I’d say “Yes, of course I do,” because I wouldn’t want to let on that I know what he’s been doing to all the other girls. He’d say “That’s good. Friends should trust each other. Right?” I’d say “Right, of course,” and he’d nod and say “Of course. So I can trust you, too, right Madison?” I’d say “Yeah, of course,” because I’d want him to let his guard down a bit. He’d say “That’s good. It’s good that we trust each other,” and I’d just kind of nod. He’d say “So since you trust me, you know you can believe me when I tell you something, right?” and I’d say “Yes, Tom,” because that would actually make a lot of sense. Then he’d say “Madison, you’re a bimbo. Do you believe me?” I’d think about it a little, and what he said about trust would sink in, and I’d say “Yes… I believe you, Tom…”, and he’d say “You belong to me. Do you believe me?” I’d maybe think that was a little odd, but I’d know I could trust Tom, so I’d say “Yes, of course…” and he’d say “So what does that make you?” I’d giggle and say “I’m your bimbo, Master!”
…dammit! That wouldn’t work either.
He’d say “How are you today?” and I’d say “I’m great! How are you?” I’d try to sound all cheerful, to maybe throw him off a little bit. He’d say “Oh, I’m alright,” and sound kind of sad. “What’s wrong?”, I’d ask, trying to stay in character, and he’d say “I’m just having kind of a tough day,” and I’d ask “Why, what happened?” He’d say “Oh, I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m just kind of depressed.” I’d say “Is there anything I can do to help?”, because I’d feel bad for him, seeming all bummed out like that. He’d say “Well… I don’t know, what did you have in mind?” and I’d feel unsure, since I didn’t have anything special in mind. “I don’t know,” I’d say, “what do you suggest?” He’d say “Are you saying you’ll do whatever I want?”, and I’d get a little worried, because that’s not like me. I’d feel like I was losing control of the conversation, but I’d say “Um, maybe…” Tom would raise his eyebrows and say “Yes or no, Madison,” and I’d feel trapped, so I’d say “…yes?” and he’d smirk at me and say “Really? You’ll do anything I say?” and I’d shift on my feet nervously and say “Yes…” and he’d step closer to me. He’d touch my hair and say “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” and I’d whisper “No…”, and he’d put his hand on my shoulder. He’d say “No matter what you try, you’re going to end up becoming my little bimbo toy, aren’t you?” I’d melt towards him a bit and moan “Yes…” and he’d touch me, caressing my tits through my top, making my nipples stiffen. “It’s already happening, isn’t it?” he’d ask, and I’d purr “Yes…”, and he’d say “Tell me what you are, and I’d say “I’m your bimbo, Master.”
…fuck! No, okay, wait, I’d say…
As I was thinking, Tom walked up.
"Hi, Madison," he said.
"Hi, Tom," I said.
"How are you today?" he said.
I shivered, bit my lip, and giggled. I felt my brain bubble and fizz, all my thoughts leaving it. I stepped up to Tom, pressing myself against him, letting him feel my curves and the heat of my body.
"I’m your bimbo, Master," I whispered in his ear.
He told me later that he was surprised how quickly I submitted. He hadn’t even done anything to me yet, apparently. He said I was the weakest-willed of all him bimbo pets. Isn’t that awesome? I was so proud of that.
I really enjoyed this story and I hope that you do too.
If you like totally wish Star Fleet had pink uniforms, you might be a bimbo.
If you know what Star Fleet is and think that latex is totally better for uniforms, you’re probably a bimbo-nerd.
I do love a beautiful woman with long dark rich brown hair that reaches all the way down to her bimbolicious ass.
All teasing aside, given a choice I’ll always choose to put chains in her mind, rather than on her body. Chains built from pleasure. Chains built by trust. Chains built slowly but surely over however long it takes.
In time, the chains become hers. She obeys because - in her mind - she has become who she feels that she is, who (not what!) she has always wanted to be. The chains themselves are no longer something that constrain her; they become the very things that have set her free from who she was before.
How can any slave ever break chains like that?
Beautiful words. I couldn’t say it any better myself. Control through pleasure and desire, control through re-shaping the self has always been my favorite form of control.
"I’m ready to meet with your coworkers, hubby…"
someday i will be a great asset to my future husband:)
It’s a beautiful photo of a lovely bimbo, and I’m pretty sure that I’ve re-blogged it at least once before. This time though, I a posting this for the wonderful and beri bimbo sentiment* by blazedbarebackbarbie. I have no doubt that she will make some Man very happy some day.
*Bimbo Translation, Sentiment: Okay Okay! Like this is like when you have a feeling or something, and you send it to someone. Sent-iment… Get it? Like a Hallmark card, they’re full of feelings and you send them to people. *giggle*
For the past couple of years vanessa had been one of Master’s top bimbo-slaves. she was often trusted to help induct* and train Master’s new toys. And though she had not yet earned her bolt-ons, she was proud that she had earned distinction as Master’s best latex fuck-doll. It had been ages since vanessa required Master’s hypno-files, but she still listened to them religiously every day. she had no wish to own her own thoughts, they belonged to Master. The fact that he had complete control over her mind made her feel positively delicious.
. . . . .
*Induct, Bimbo Translation: Ummmm, Kay, that’s like when you are like outside of sum’thin, like a duck *giggle*, ‘n’ then after you’re inducted ‘n’ stuff then you’re like inside the duck. *giggle* Ummm… wait, that doesn’t seem right. Man! Words are like Hard! Ummmm… i know it has sum’thin to do with being inside something, but i forget. Screw it! just look at the pretty girl in the pretty latex, if you really gotta know ask your Owner when He gets home.
That beautiful look of trepidation* on a bimbo-doll’s face when she realizes that this is going to take some thought.
*Trepidation, Bimbo Translation: Okay like this is just a big silly word. Like it just means scared, well like not quite scared, like pre-scared. Kinda like nervous. Like when you’re not quite sure if you can do sum’thin. Duh… See silly big word. Why can’t you just say that, stead of using a big ‘ol word like tripp-a… tripp-a-date…, ummm… trips-a-daze… Big silly word!
…and we have our first contestant for the “bimbo of the day” award.