“What Is CNC and What Does a True Pro-Level CNC Scene Look Like?”

He paid $10,000 upfront in cash, sliding the envelope across the table like he was making a deal with the devil. That was the baseline — a price tag just to ensure I’d even consider taking him under my wing. I’m a purist, you see. I don’t just take anyone. He had to prove himself, show me he was worthy. And prove himself he did, though not in the way most might expect.

We sat at a dimly lit diner, the kind of place where people rarely look at each other, absorbed in their own solitude. He couldn’t take his eyes off me, though, his gaze fixed like a dog waiting for a command. Most men like him don’t even know what they’re signing up for — they think they do, but they don’t. Their past experiences? Laughable. Nothing comes close to what they imagine about me. And that’s the secret — I give them exactly what they need to know, tailored to the little tells they’ve already revealed.

My hand drifted beneath the table, finding his thigh. He stiffened, his breath catching mid-sentence as my fingers moved higher, slow and deliberate. His mind was already mine, though he didn’t realize it yet. That’s the core of mind control — it’s what defines it. The operator has no fixed identity; they’re fluid, malleable, shaped entirely by the experience they’re creating.

My fingers brushed the outline of his cock through his pants, and his composure began to fracture.

He looked at me, wide-eyed, like he wasn’t sure whether to stop me or beg me to keep going. I pressed harder, tracing his length as I leaned in slightly, my voice low and steady. “Relax,” I murmured, my nails grazing him just enough to make him squirm. “You’re already doing exactly what I want.”

Eventually, the operator disappears — shutting off completely, forgetting themselves entirely. That’s what makes it art. That’s how you can sleep at night. I could feel him trembling now, barely holding it together as my hand slipped inside his waistband, stroking him with the lightest touch. His breathing turned shallow, his body betraying him completely.

I smiled, my other hand stirring my coffee as though nothing was happening. “Most people don’t measure up,” I whispered, squeezing him just enough to make him gasp. “But you… you might be worth it.”

“Red,” I said softly, as though the word had slipped out of nowhere. His brow furrowed slightly, his subconscious already catching hold of the thread.

My hand brushed his under the table, and I leaned forward, my voice low and calm, laced with suggestion. “Red,” I repeated, slower this time, savoring the way his pupils dilated just a little. His body stiffened, his breathing shallow as I let my legs part slightly.

His eyes flicked downward, and there it was — my red thong, a bold slash of color against pale skin, perfectly framed beneath the table. His lips parted, the word sinking into him, burrowing into his mind like a seed.

“Red… it’s a color that stays with you, isn’t it?” I murmured, tilting my head as I watched his focus narrow to me and only me. “Every time you see it, every time you hear it, it draws you in deeper, doesn’t it? Like it’s wrapping around your thoughts, making everything else fade away.”

His breath hitched, and I smiled, leaning back just enough to keep him chasing. “Let go,” I whispered, my voice sliding into his mind as smoothly as silk. “Just listen, just obey, just follow the color red… until it’s all you see, all you feel.”

The uncertainty of the months before had melted away, replaced by a singular focus. Me. The red. The control he craved. And in that moment, his mind began to splinter, the layers of his identity unraveling thread by thread.

When I finally showed up, he didn’t see it coming. I wore heels — loud, clicking heels that echoed across the pavement. A little theatrical, yes, but every detail matters. I ordered chloroform from a science supply website, just for effect. I didn’t need it, but it set the tone. When I leaned in behind him on the park bench and whispered “Boo,” the sharp intake of his breath was music. He was mine.

He stumbled back to his apartment with me, dazed, hypnotized by the way my voice wove through his thoughts like a snake through tall grass. I wasted no time. The induction was seamless — a whispered mantra paired with a gentle stroke of his cheek, like I was petting a dog.

“You’re safe with me now, and as you hear my voice, you might notice how easy it feels to let your conscious mind simply drift away. There’s no need to think anymore — just listen, just let go, and allow yourself to obey completely.”

His mind unraveled with every word. He was drugged by then — not the chloroform, just a light cocktail I slipped him earlier. Enough to make him pliable, like putty in my hands. I sat him on the edge of his bed and whispered commands into his ear as he slowly, obediently stroked his cock. He was so far gone he didn’t even notice I never touched it. That wasn’t the point.

His hand moved faster, stroking his cock as her warm, full breasts pressed against his face. The soft swell of her skin filled his senses, and he sucked harder on her nipple, making it stiffen against his tongue. Her voice, low and commanding, spilled into his ear.

“Feel it now — your mind splintering, breaking apart, piece by piece.”

His lips tightened around her nipple, sucking harder as his cock throbbed in his grip, the rhythm of his hand desperate and needy.

“Everything you thought you were is slipping into a box, locked tight, never to return.”

The taste of her skin consumed him, her fingers pulling his hair, holding him firmly in place. His body shuddered, overwhelmed by her scent, her touch, her words.

“Tomorrow, you’ll wake up different, free.”

His strokes grew uneven, his breath ragged as her voice wrapped around his mind like silk.

“You’ll quit that useless job, cash out everything, and finally go where you’ve always wanted to be.”

His tongue flicked against her nipple, making her gasp softly, spurring him on as the heat in his body burned brighter.

“You’ll stop answering calls, stop pretending, and start living. It’s easy to let the idea consume you, the thought of being taken beyond yourself becoming something you can’t ignore.”

She pulled him closer, her breast pressing firmly against his mouth as his cock pulsed in his hand.

“Right here, right now, you’re beginning your new life. Every stroke brings you closer. Every taste of me makes you let go.”

The words sank into him, deeper than any touch, as his body surrendered completely to her, pleasure radiating in waves that he could no longer resist.

And just like that, I was gone, leaving him in a daze with no memory of what happened, but an ache he’d never shake. You might start to notice how much you want to explore the edge of your limits, feeling the thrill of giving up control entirely.