Sonia

You come home and say the trigger, she stands there, you tell her to change into something good, she does as she is told "Yes master" you are so horny from the thought of controlling her, she used to be such a forward thinker, but now you could have her say "Yes master, All women are whores, you are more than allowed to touch any part" you thought she might not say this "Rape me, as much as you like" she says it with a smile in her mind right now she is sitting and sipping tea right now, you tell her it would be good for her to do as told even when awake, but you get no response, well whatever as long as you know her trigger is chutt, you can control her "master how do I look ?" She says after she had changed her clothes, you felt a bit of shame to turn her like this, but also excited to have her be your slave, this nut case had it coming, with that ass and tits, disgusting wench, you grab her ass."Please touch me more, master".

It’s late at night and the apartment is completely dark and silent. Sonia is already in bed, lying on her stomach, fast asleep after a exhausting day. She’s wearing only a thin tank top and small panties that hug her curves. The sheet has slipped down just enough to show the swell of her large breasts pressed into the mattress and the full, round shape of her ass slightly raised in her relaxed sleeping position. Her breathing is slow, deep, and even completely unaware.

You lean close to her ear and whisper very softly: chutt. Her body gives the tiniest shiver, almost invisible. Her eyelids don’t flutter; they stay closed. But every muscle instantly goes slack, deeper than sleep, like someone flipped an internal switch to “off” while leaving the body warm and pliant. She doesn’t wake. She doesn’t react. She simply becomes completely available.

You pull the sheet all the way down. Your hands move to her ass first — soft, heavy, yielding flesh that molds perfectly under your fingers as you squeeze, knead, spread, and slap lightly. No flinch. No sound except the steady rhythm of her calm breathing. The skin warms under your touch but she remains limp, like a life-sized doll made of warm silicone. Your palms slide higher, slipping under the thin fabric of her tank top. You cup her full breasts, lifting their heavy weight, thumbs circling and brushing over nipples that stiffen immediately on contact, as if programmed to respond. You squeeze, roll, pinch whatever you want. She lets you. No resistance. No tightening. Just perfect, mindless compliance. Her body rocks gently with each grope but never fights back; it simply accepts. After several long minutes of unrestricted play, her lips part just a fraction. A soft, flat, dreamy monotone slips out still fast asleep, eyes closed, voice distant and robotic: “Yes… master… touch me however you want… my body is yours to use…” She stays like that limp, warm, breathing evenly, ready for anything else you command or take until the trance naturally fades or you give her another instruction.