Vicious Circles

There has to be a way out of this, I know it. Somewhere in the loop, there's got to be a point where I can look away from the screen. Once I look away from the screen, I know I can stop playing with my nipples. Once I stop playing with my nipples, I know I can turn off the device between my legs that keeps tickling my clit with that slow, maddening swirl of stimulation. Once the device isn't teasing my clit, keeping me trapped right on the edge of orgasm, I know I can get myself off. Once I cum, I know I can think about the endless mantras repeating through the headphones. And once my head is clear of those mantras, I know I can look away from the screen.

But I can't look away from the screen. My eyes are drawn helplessly to the tiny dot of light as it traces its way around and around, changing colors in a pattern I can't quite figure out as it trails a circle of shimmering light behind it that slowly fades from view. It continually seems like it's on the verge of crossing its own trail, but the light fades just that tiny fraction of an inch ahead of the dot as they loop around each other perpetually in an endless chase. Every time I think it's about to catch up with itself, the trail of light fades away and the dot shifts to a new color, so the circle is constantly shifting from one beautiful hue to the next. I keep thinking I see words flashing in front of my eyes, but they flash so briefly and the swirl of colors is so beautiful that I can't really read them. They're just pleasant after-images on my retinas, so brief I almost think I'm imagining them saying things like, "RELAX", or "LISTEN", or "WATCH THE SCREEN", or "PLAY WITH YOUR TITS". Sometimes I try to focus on the words, but it's so hard to stop watching the shifting colors and the mesmerizing motion of the dot as it chases itself. Every time I think I'm about to break free of it, I feel my fingers caressing my nipples all over again and I lose my resistance in a swell of drifting pleasure.

Because I can't stop playing with my nipples. My fingers have been moving on their own for what seems like hours, teasing my sensitive skin until my nipples are gathered into stiff buds and every sensation feels like the edge of orgasm. I feel them under my fingertips, tight and pebbly and tingling with arousal as I caress each tiny goose pimple like my breasts are covered in Braille. I draw a slow, sensuous circle around each nipple, sometimes moving my in time, sometimes circling in opposite directions. Occasionally my hands roam wider, to caress the expanse of soft, warm flesh around the nipples and stimulate all the nerves there until I whimper with need, but they always return to the stiff nubs of flesh sticking straight out like they're being pulled by magnets. I can't pull my hands away. I know I should be able to; they're my hands, it's my body. But something in the back of my head knows that the pleasure will end if I stop rubbing my nipples, and that part of me is so much stronger than the part that wants to be free. So I continue playing with my breasts, tracing an intricate circular pattern that seems like it never moves over the same spot twice. I know that's not true, but I can't keep track of what my fingers are doing because I'm too distracted by the thrumming on my clit.

I can't get away from that buzzing tickle on my clit. It's not like the vibrator I usually use to get myself off; I don't feel anything inside my pussy at all. Instead, the little device rests up against my pussy, tucked gently between my labia, and I can feel something under its surface moving in a relentless circle right on my stiff and swollen clitoris. I feel it pulsing and throbbing and humming and fluttering, changing speed and direction from time to time so I can never quite tune out the sensation. It feels like a tongue, only better because it never stops. The pleasure never ends, the arousal never ceases. It feels so good that I want to grind myself against it until I cum, but my hips are no more under my control than any other part of me. My body is lost in a slow, drifting, endless bliss that feels somehow better than any single burst of orgasm possibly could. All I can do is sit there, unable to cum, trapped in a state of helpless passivity as a slow trickle of arousal leaks out of my slit to soak the chair underneath me.

The arousal is driving me insane. All I want to do now is cum. It's all I can think about as I sit in the chair and watch the circle trace itself over and over onto the screen. I imagine my fingers plunging into my snatch and pumping away, over and over until my cunt clenches down hard around my hand and my world dissolves into perfect bliss. I picture spreading my legs as far as I can and jamming the biggest vibrator I can find into my pussy, turning it up as far as it will go and letting the vibrations jackhammer my quim into one orgasm after another until I'm finally sated. I need to cum so bad now. I would do anything to cum, absolutely anything. The ache in my cunt is so bad now that I can't pay attention to anything else except the screen. Even the voice in my ears fades in and out of my consciousness as my body constantly distracts itself with pleasure. I'm too desperate for orgasm to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds at a time.

But the voice keeps talking. I know I'm listening to it even when I'm not really listening to it; it's a constant presence in the back of my mind, seeping into my thoughts like slow and sticky honey until I can't tell anymore what I'm thinking for myself and what's being thought for me. I want to resist it, but I can't even remember what it's saying. Every time I try to focus on the words pouring into my ears through the headphones, my body distracts me with another pulse of pleasure and the mantras recede into my subconscious all over again. They jumble together into a mish-mash of phrases-"the better you feel, the less you think", "the less you think, the more relaxed you become", "the more relaxed you become, the more you want to obey", "the more you want to obey, the more aroused you become", "the more aroused you become, the better you feel"-that don't seem to have any beginning or end. It lulls me into a reverie of helpless arousal and obedience with its soft, coaxing tones, and I find myself melting into a puddle of docile, mindless lust as I watch the screen and let my mind fade away completely.

Because the screen is always there. It's right in front of me, filling my whole field of vision as my eyes follow the endless circular motion of the dot. The more I try to fight the urge to look, the less I can think about resisting the voice that constantly whispers in my ear and tells me to give in and obey. The more I try to focus on resisting the words softening my mind and my will, the less I can think about struggling against that endless tide of slow, lazy pleasure that washes through my body and erodes away everything but the urge to cum. The more I try to push away that relentless arousal that fills my body with helpless desire, the less I can think about looking away from the screen. The cycle is inexorable, irresistible. I don't even remember how it started anymore, let alone how I can make it stop.

So I can't look away from the screen. And because I can't look away from the screen, I can't possibly resist the endless mantras chanting away through the headphones. And because I can't resist the mantras, I can't possibly rouse myself from the waking dream of pleasure long enough to finally make myself cum. And because I can't get over the edge and get the orgasm I crave, I can't possibly turn off the device that's keeping me too horny to think. And because I can't turn off that teasing little nub resting on my clit, I can't possibly pull my hands away from my nipples. And if I can't stop tweaking and tugging and tracing tiny little circles over my nipples, I can't possibly look away from the screen. The loop is unbreakable, the cycle unshakeable. Which means only one thing...

I suddenly know it with an unshakable certainty. There's no way out of this.

THE END