summerscaptions:I was ready for this. I knew Tom’s methods - he’d try to trap me, confuse me, tric
summerscaptions: 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. -- source link