Asylum Patient #582371 The Sissy Bear
The heavy door of The Asylum creaked open, and a man stepped inside, his movements tentative, nervous. He was a slender figure, his face flushed with the blush of someone who felt both shame and desire as he adjusted the hem of his skirt — a pleated, pastel pink one that barely grazed his thighs. He had carefully applied makeup: crimson lips, soft eyeliner, a hint of blush, but the fear in his eyes couldn’t be concealed by powder or paint.
He glanced around the room, taking in the dark, luxurious decor, the walls adorned with sensual art and the low, ambient lighting that seemed to cast shadows of both seduction and control. Then his gaze fell on me, the figure waiting in the center of the room, an air of authority wrapped around me as tightly as the black leather gloves I wore.
“You’re here because you want to be freed,” I said, my voice soft but commanding. “Freed from your inhibitions, from the conflict inside you. Isn’t that right?”
He nodded, biting his lip, a mixture of nervous energy and eager anticipation evident in his trembling hands. “Yes, Doc,” he whispered.
I motioned for him to come closer, my eyes locking onto his, holding him in a gaze that seemed to strip away the layers of his hesitation. “Let’s get you into something more appropriate,” I murmured, my tone leaving no room for resistance.
I walked over to a nearby wardrobe and pulled out a set of tight, lacy lingerie — dark, seductive, and exactly what I knew would make him feel the mix of arousal and humiliation he craved. His eyes widened, and a soft moan escaped his lips as I handed the garments to him. Without a word, he began to undress, his hands fumbling as he pulled off his shirt, his pants, leaving him in nothing but the lingerie that clung to his body, accentuating every curve, every line.
“Good,” I whispered, my breath warm against his ear as I stepped behind him, my hands smoothing over the delicate fabric, ensuring every part of it hugged him just right. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”
I guided him to the mirror, letting him see himself — his reflection both alien and strangely beautiful in the dim light. His breathing grew heavier as he stared, a blush creeping up his neck. I stepped closer, my hands trailing down his sides, feeling the tension, the arousal building within him.
“Look at yourself,” I commanded softly. “You are perfect as you are, but there’s more I can give you. More that you need.”
I reached around him, one hand sliding down his body to cup his hardness, already straining against the lace of his panties. He gasped, his eyes closing briefly before I snapped at him to keep them open. He obeyed, his gaze locked on his own reflection, watching as I began to stroke him slowly, deliberately, the fabric growing tighter, his breathing more ragged.
As I continued, my voice took on a rhythmic, soothing quality, each word carefully chosen to sink deeper into his mind. “You feel it, don’t you? The way your body responds, the way your mind relaxes. You want to be mine, completely. Let go. Surrender.”
His breathing hitched, and I could feel him teetering on the edge, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing moment. I leaned closer, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered the final words that would push him over, “Sleep for me now. Drift deep into the pleasure, deep into my control.”
With those words, his body shuddered, his eyes glazing over as he fell under, his mind slipping into the depths of hypnosis. I continued to stroke him, guiding him through the trance, reinforcing every suggestion, every command I gave him.
His cock strained against the tight fabric, the lace barely able to contain it. With a deliberate motion, I pulled his skirt up, letting the throbbing head peek out, swollen and needy. His mouth opened in a silent moan, his body trembling as I whispered sweet nothings that solidified his submission, his arousal, and his utter helplessness.
“There it is,” I said, my voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at how eager you are, how desperate. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be completely mine, to feel your mind and body belong to me.”
He nodded weakly, his consciousness only faintly aware, lost in the haze of hypnosis and pleasure. I continued to work him, slow, deliberate, ensuring that every stroke, every whisper drove him deeper into the abyss of submission.
“You will remember this,” I murmured, “Every time you see yourself like this, every time you feel this way, you will remember who you belong to, who controls your desires, your thoughts.”
As I increased the pace, his breath grew ragged, his hips moving involuntarily, chasing the pleasure that I controlled with precision. His cock throbbed, the lace barely containing him as I brought him closer and closer to release.
“And when you’re ready, when you feel that edge, you will come for me, completely and utterly mine,” I whispered, my words the only thing anchoring him to the present.
With a final stroke, his body convulsed, his release spilling out, staining the lace, his mind and body surrendering completely as he climaxed. I held him steady, whispering words of reinforcement, ensuring that this moment, this submission, would be etched into his psyche.
When he finally collapsed, panting and spent, I smiled, knowing that he was now, truly and completely, mine.
