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yonderlogz · 1 year

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Burger Kink (Ff, trans, hypnosis, noncon, watersports, rimming)

As you reached the counter, it took a moment to remember why you were there. For a second you struggled to remember where you were, but the bright lights and bright signs and the smell of hot fries hit you.

You were in Burger King, of course.

After driving for seven hours, you were hungry. And tired. That was probably why you stopped here, at a Burger King in the middle of nowhere, at one in the morning.

Why were you at the counter, though?

Right, they’d gotten your order all wrong!

You looked at the girl behind the counter, the girl who had served you earlier, and you tried to make eye contact. She was the only person you could see behind the counter, and you were the only person on the other side.

She wasn’t looking at you. She wasn’t turned away, and she could surely see that you were standing there and waiting, but she didn’t acknowledge your presence. She had sharp features and heavy makeup. Her shirt wasn’t tucked in, strands of platinum-blonde hair had slipped out from under her cap, and she looked utterly bored.

Her boredom was understandable, but you were hungry. And you hadn’t gotten the right order.

You looked directly at her, and cleared your throat.

She took out her phone, and began scrolling. As she laughed under her breath at an unseen joke, you felt an ember of anger smoulder inside you.

You were very hungry, after all, and tired.

“Excuse me,” you said.

For a moment she ignored you, and as your nostrils flared and you opened your mouth to repeat yourself, she looked up at you, her expression as blank and bored as ever.

“Hey,” she said. Her grey eyes met yours, but she didn’t put her phone away.

‘Hey yourself’ you thought. You couldn’t blame her for being distracted on a long, boring overnight shift, but she seemed actively rude. You pointedly looked at her phone, and then back up at her.

“You’re not busy, are you?” you asked, keeping your voice level.

The girl made a show of looking around the empty restaurant, and said “No,” before pocketing her phone and walking up to the till. “What’s up?”

You opened and shut your mouth, feeling annoyed despite yourself as you tried to remember what exactly was up. “Well,” you say, “you served me earlier and–”

“Yeah.”

Scowling, you continued, “You served me earlier, but the fries were cold, the chicken burger had no mayo, and the milkshake was the wrong flavor.”

She looked at you blankly. Then, she said, “That sucks.”

“Pardon me?”

“I said 'That sucks.’”

“Yes it sucks!” you snapped. You felt genuinely angry now, and as you glared at her you kept seeing new things to be angry about. She had a headphone in one ear blaring music loud enough for you to hear it. The floor she was standing on was filthy and hadn’t been mopped for hours. She was chewing gum!

You weren’t allowed to chew gum while serving food. That was a fireable offence, surely! Of course, you didn’t want to get anyone fired, but you were very hungry and tired, and you couldn’t understand why she was being so rude.

You tried to peer behind her into the kitchen, but you could see no-one else. She clearly wasn’t a supervisor–surely they wouldn’t have her running the place all on her own.

The exasperated sigh that came out of her mouth made your hands clench into fists.

“So, you want new fries and mayo for your burger.”

Your stomach growled, and you growled with it. “My burger is stone cold, I’d like a fresh one, *please*. And the right milkshake! I asked for strawberry!”

She blinked at you, and shook her head. “The milkshake machine broke.”

“What? You served me a milkshake a minute ago!”

She shrugged. “Milkshake machine broke.”

“You know what, forget it,” you said through clenched teeth. “Just give me a refund.”

She shook her head.

“Hey! You can’t not give me a refund, I didn’t even eat the meal!”

She shook her head again, then turned and pointed “Look at the milkshake machine.”

“Do you have a manager, or something? I want to make a complaint.”

You try to look at her nametag, straining your eye to see it, more from tiredness than her making any attempt to conceal it.

It read “PUSSY CRUSHER.”

You didn’t think that was her real name.

She looked you dead in the eye, and said “Listen, just take a look at the milkshake machine, and I’ll give you a refund and a free meal too, okay?”

She said it with such condescension that you almost turned away and walked out right then, but you wanted your money back. You wanted to yell at her, too, and yank out her headphones and make her spit out her gum and rub her smug, bored face into the cold slop she’d tried to get away with serving you, but you definitely weren’t leaving without your money.

She walked up to the brushed-steel milkshake machine, clicked a latch on the side, and removed the front panel.

“Look,” she said, and you looked within.

You saw four clear cylinders stacked in a square with the ends facing you, each one with a flavor of milkshake within, each one churning constantly, rotating in one direction as a plastic scraper within it turned in the other direction.

Chocolate, strawberry, banana, vanilla.

They weren’t broken at all. They were churning, over and over, humming mechanically, turn after turn and churn after churn as steam rose off the cold surface. The more you looked at them the more you were sure they were working fine, perfectly, even.

They were loud. They were very loud, weirdly loud. You couldn’t hear the tiny, tinny whine of music coming out of the girl’s headphones any more. Or the pop songs playing over the PA system.

In fact, you couldn’t hear anything else at all, just the jurrrr-jurrrr-jurrr of almost-frozen dairy products being turned over, and over, and over, and over…

As you stared into the ever-turning strawberry cylinder, some instinct deep within you made you want to look away. So you looked away.

You were looking at the banana cylinder.

You were still looking at the banana cylinder.

Annoyed, you looked away.

You were looking at the banana cylinder.

You were very tired. So, so tired.

Where were you, again?

Right, right, you were looking at the banana cylinder.

“Listen to me.”

Her voice was so loud it felt like it had been pushed into your ears on Q-tips. You listened. You couldn’t help but listen, in fact, you wanted to listen. You wanted to listen so badly that you wanted to jump up and down and yell that you were listening.

You didn’t do that, though. You didn’t say anything or do anything, you didn’t move a muscle. You just kept staring at the shake machine. You were too tired to do anything else.

“You feel real tired.”

Yes, you wanted to say, but you didn’t.

“Tell me if you’re feeling tired or not.”

I’m feeling tired.

That was strange. You didn’t hear yourself speak, but you felt your lips and mouth move, and felt the air and the vibrations as they left your throat.

You were really tired though, so tired. You couldn’t even focus on the banana cylinder now, and your eyes were flitting between all four of them, and the corners of your vision had gone dark. Every time you blinked the space around the cylinders grew darker, and you couldn’t stop yourself from blinking.

“Do as I tell you.”

You would, you knew that you would, but before you could try to speak, everything went black.

You opened your eyes, and the restaurant pulsed back into being

The cover had been put in place back on the shake machine, but the machine seemed larger than it had before.

You realized that it looked larger because you were closer. You were standing on the other side of the counter, behind the till, though you didn’t remember walking there.

Still you could hear the churning, churning endlessly, drowning out everything else.

The girl stepped in front of you. She looked bored and annoyed, and she was still chewing gum, though you couldn’t hear the sound of it any more.

“Why are you here?”

Because your order was wrong, you felt yourself say.

She shook her head, and a roiling ball of anxiety blotted out whatever thoughts remained in your mind.

“No. You’re here because you’re a bad customer.”

I’m not a bad customer, you said, I’m just hungry, I ordered–

“You feel embarrassed.”

Every awful memory of embarrassment came back and plastered itself over your brain at once. Wetting yourself on a coach trip in eighth grade, being stood up for a date, burping in your first boyfriend’s mouth, bringing a bottle of wine to a muslim wedding, turning up to the wrong job interview–

“You feel ashamed.”

Unable to complete your degree. Never call your grandparents. Went out for a meal without enough money and hurried out of the restaurant before they noticed the 2% tip. Too cowardly to ask your boss for a raise, and too lazy to find another job.

“You feel guilty”

You’ve never helped anyone. You’ve made the world worse by being in it. You can’t think how, but you just know you’ve hurt everyone you’ve ever loved.

"You feel like crying.”

Your throat tightened up and hot tears ran down your cheeks. You felt as if a gash had been carved down your torso.

“You’re awful.”

Stop, stop, please, just stop, I understand, I understand.

“You’d do anything to not feel like this.”

Yes

“You’d do anything to be a better person.”

Yes, yes

“To be a good customer.”

Yes, please, God please anything.

She raised her hand and snapped her fingers

You could still hear the churning, but it was muted. In the distance, you could hear pop songs playing over the PA again, and the sizzle of the fryer.

“You,” she said, her voice loud but no longer blotting out every other sound, “are a bad customer.”

You nodded, and felt like crying again. “Yes, I am,” you said, hearing your own voice again.

“Do you know why you’re a bad customer?”

You didn’t, though you knew that you should. “No, I don’t know.”

She sighed, clearly at her wits end with your stupidity. “I was about to go on break. You came up to me and wasted my time. Because you wasted my time, I have to do a bunch of extra stuff before I can take my break.”

It didn’t seem right, what she was saying, Wasn’t the restaurant empty? And wasn’t she on her phone anyway? But you knew from the way she spoke that she was telling the truth. You had ruined her break, and maybe her whole shift.

“I’m s-sorry,” you mutter.

She seemed unimpressed. “If you’re sorry, you’ll make it up to me.”

“How do I do that?”

“Well, I wanted a break because I haven’t been to the bathroom since I came on shift. You need to help me with that.”

“Okay,” you said, but your mind felt fuzzy on the details. “…How do I do that? Do you want me to stand at the till or–”

She rolled her eyes. “No, nothing dumb like that. Just… look, just kneel down, okay? It’s not hard.”

You didn’t understand but you crouched down before gently going to your knees, wincing as they touched the cold tile floor. As you settled in place, you saw that the filth on the floor was rubbing off onto your skirt.

She walked in front of you, her belt level with your eyes. It was white and embroidered, and definitely not Burger King crew issue.

“Unzip my pants for me.”

You glanced up at her, and saw her with her phone in one hand and a cup of soda in the other, and then looked back at her crotch. It was next to your face, and it smelled of washing powder and stale frying oil.

Your fingers went to her zipper, unlatching it at the top before pulling it down, revealing a pair of white cotton panties dotted with blue hearts underneath

There was a bulge in her panties, and a sweet, subtly musky smell to join the smells of stale oil and fresh laundry.

“Take my dick out.”

Your breathing trembled but your fingers did not as you pulled her panties down just far enough to pull out her cock and balls. Smooth, soft and petite, with the thinnest sheen of sweat.

She reached down with two fingers and pulled back her foreskin, revealing the pink head underneath.

“Put it in your mouth.”

Her skin felt cool as you wrapped your lips around it, the smell of musk intensifying as you tasted the salt from her sweat. There was something odd about having a penis in your mouth in the middle of a restaurant, especially when you didn’t even know the name of the girl whose penis it was, but at least you were doing what you were supposed to be doing, instead of embarrassing yourself.

“Good,” she said, and you felt warmth bloom within you at the hint of praise, “now keep your lips wrapped tight, and don’t spill a drop.”

Your eyes went wide as you felt a trickle of salty, brackish liquid in your mouth. Unable to spill it, you had no alternative but to swallow it, and as you did it became a torrent.

She was pissing in your mouth, and you were swallowing it. Your nostrils flared as you struggled to suck in air, and trying to breathe between gulps filled your nose with the smell of fresh piss.

She was using you as a urinal, and your disgust at the thought grew with each mouthful, but before you could pull away you felt her fingers in your hair.

“What a good girl you are…” she said.

You knew she was right. She was using you as a urinal, and that made you a good girl.

She hadn’t been lying about holding it in since she got on shift. It was a strong brew, overwhelmingly salty, and it seemed endless. Your belly grew taut, and although you didn’t feel hungry anymore, you were beginning to feel queasy. In fact, you felt like you were a few mouthfuls away from vomiting it all back up. You felt more than a little relieved as her stream petered out.

“Take your mouth off my dick, Piss Girl.”

You did as she said, relinquishing it with a pop.

“Look up at me.”

As soon as you did, a jet of piss hit you square on the nose. You flinched from surprise, and as you struggled to regain composure she hosed down the rest of your face with the last of her stream, giggling as she did. Yellow urine dripped down your chin and onto your blouse as you gasped for air.

“That wasn’t bad,” she said, tucking her cock back into her pants. “Now that you’ve taken care of my break problem, why don’t we see if we can fix your mayonnaise problem. Follow me.”

You followed her into the kitchen. It made sense to stand up to follow her, but you did not. Instead, you crawled on all fours, spikes of discomfort shooting through your knees from the hard surface, the grime smearing onto your hands and legs.

Moving in such a way jostled your stomach, reminding you of its fullness. You still felt the insistent sting of salt in your mouth and the stomach-turning smell in your nose.

“Look up at me.”

The girl took a pre-sliced bun, split it in half, and dropped it into the top of the automatic toaster. She placed a wrapper blank-side-up on the heated countertop, took the toasted bun as it slid out through the bottom of the toaster, and placed both halves on the wrapper. She pinched a dozen shreds of sad-looking iceberg lettuce, placed them on the bun, grabbed the mayonnaise bottle, and squeezed it.

Nothing came out.

She turned to look down at you, with a look of mock-consternation. “I’m sorry Piss Girl, we’re out of normal mayo. Don’t worry, I’ll whip you up a special batch.”

She did not ask you to respond so you didn’t. You remained in place with aching knees and hands. The heat of the kitchen was already drying your piss-soaked clothes, causing a prickling sensation on your skin below. The smell was only intensifying. You would be sick right there, if only she’d let you.

She dropped a breaded puck of chicken into the fryer and pressed a button on the timer. It read 4:00, then 3:59, 3:58, 3:57…

Immediately, she wriggled her pants down to her knees. Her cock was stiff and jutting directly upwards. “Okay, you’ve got four minutes to help me make this mayonnaise, unless you want some dry-ass chicken to go with it. Kneel upright.”

You knelt up straight.

“Don’t move an inch.”

You couldn’t move an inch. You could barely force yourself to blink as she moved towards you, her cock bobbing from side to side. An inch before it touched your lips, she turned around. Her bare ass was in front of your face. It was pale, boyish, dotted with a few red spots on each cheek.

She spread her cheeks with her hands. Her asshole winked at you. It was clean and shaven, if a little sweaty.

She backed into you. Your face was in her ass. Your nose was in her crack. Your mouth was on her hole.

“Nod if you can still breathe.”

You nodded.

“I’ll try to make this quick so that you can get started. First off, you’re hungry.”

That was true. You were hungry. That was the reason you were here.

“No, you’re real hungry.”

Your stomach twinged and your mouth watered.

“You’re starving. You haven’t eaten for days.”

The feeling of fullness and nausea disappeared, now there was an empty pit inside you trying to reach up and pull something in. The smells of sweat and musk went from off-putting to enticing.

“You’re weak from hunger, you can’t think from hunger.”

Your head throbbed, your bones were water, all you could think of was food. Fries, burgers, chicken, nachos, anything. Every time you thought of a dish your stomach hurt more, and it felt like the pangs were growing strong enough to kill you.

“The pain and weakness is in your whole body. You’d do anything to stop it.”

You’d eat anything, stale bread, three-day-old sardines, mushy instant ramen, Scandinavian food, anything that would stop this pain, anything at all.

“When I tell you, you’re going to start licking my asshole. The more of your tongue is inside me, the less hunger you’ll feel. If you stop licking or take your tongue out, the hunger will come back twice as bad. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded, you nodded and nodded, you just needed her to say the word to say anything that would make the hunger–

“Go!”

You dug in, and dimly heard a squeal of joy. You lapped and licked but she clenched her hole tight to keep you out and the hunger still consumed you, still ate you from the inside out. You could only redouble your efforts, straining your neck and straightening your tongue, pressing it against her hole as if you were trying to fuck it.

The tip of your tongue slipped inside, barely perceptible, but the effects were instant: you were sated, enough to stop the panic, as if you’d been fed a single spoonful of broth. You sounded like a dog as you licked, desperate for more.

“Mhm, I dunno if I’m feeling it, maybe I should push your head away and watch you struggle for a while…”

You ignored her, kept licking, kept wiggling your tongue, pushing your face forward until you were completely smothered between her cheeks. The pain in your mouth wasn’t a tenth of the pain in your stomach.

You heard a giggle and felt her relax. Your tongue slipped inside her, meeting no resistance, as deep as it could go. The pain melted away so suddenly that it became a perverse pleasure, the rush of relaxation from working out a crink in your spine. You felt something damp between your legs, and it wasn’t urine.

“Yeah, that’s good, keep on doing that,” she muttered. You felt a set of rhythmic movements coming through her hips in time with little gasps and moans, and realized she was masturbating.

Your tongue hurt, your knees hurt, your neck hurt but it didn’t matter, you didn’t care, you kept on licking and digging and eating out her ass just like she wanted, the pain was like that of sitting too close to a campfire on a freezing winter night.

“Hah, you’ve got thirty seconds left,” she said, her voice harried, “kiss it like it’s your boyfriend, make out with my asshole like you’re in love with it.”

You kissed it, smooched it, pressed your lips to it, slipped your tongue in and out of it, moaned into it prettily, nuzzled it, lusted after it. You felt tears running down your face and didn’ know if they were from pain or joy. Her rhythms grew jerky, she cursed excitedly, and you heard the rustling of a bun being snatched off a paper wrapped.

“Fuck!”

She was breathing hard. You were still showering her hole with affection.

“Okay, stop that.”

Agony gripped your innards as the hunger returned. She saw the panic and pain in your eyes as she pulled up her pants.

“Ah shit, uh, you don’t feel hungry.”

The hunger vanished. You breathed a sigh of relief. Your jaw, tongue and neck were all throbbing.

“Actually, you feel kinda hungry. You could eat.”

She was right. You could eat.

She showed you the top of the bun with the lettuce on it. It was now criss-crossed with thin, watery cum. It didn’t look very appetizing.

The fryer beeped. She pressed a button, fished out the chicken-puck with a set of tongs, let the oil drip out from the breading for a few seconds, then placed it atop the bun. She picked up the bottom of the bun, went to put it in place, and paused.

“Wait, I’ve got a little extra for you.”

You watched her spit onto the chicken, twice, with perfect accuracy. She placed the bottom of the bun on top, wrapped up the burger, and handed it to you.

She squatted down, face-to-face with you. “You wanted mayo on your freshly made chicken sandwich, huh? Well, here you go. Eat up.”

You unwrapped it, taking care to keep your dirty hands off the burger and on the wrapper, and took a bite. It wasn’t mayo on the burger, it was cum and spit. You understood why it tasted gross. You couldn’t understand why each bite felt so satisfying.

“Well, it’s time for me to get back to work, so I need you out of the kitchen. With each bite you eat, you’re going to feel sleepier and sleepier. When you swallow the last bite, you’ll pass out.”

You were still chewing when your vision went dark.

________________

You woke up.

You straightened up in your seat. In front of you were the remains of your meal: a few flakes and ends of fries, an empty milkshake, a chicken sandwich wrapper with traces of mayonnaise on the paper.

You touched your face, your hair, your clothes. You couldn’t smell urine, and your clothes weren’t damp with it. They smelled cleaner than you remember though they had a strange scent of grease to them, as if washed alongside something oily.

Why would you have thought they’d smell of urine, though?

You didn’t think about it. Out of the window, it looked to be just before dawn. You were still in Burger King. Everything ached.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” came a familiar voice. You all but jumped out of your skin. A girl with sharp features, heavy makeup and platinum blonde hair. Her shirt was neatly tucked into her pants, and she had a look of gentle concern on her face.

“W-what,” you said.

“You’re on a road trip, huh?”

“I’m–yeah, I am. How’d you know?”

“You mentioned something about that earlier, before you ate. Then you passed out on the table.”

You straighten up, and feel things go click and pop in your back and shoulders. The girl was holding a coffee cup in her hand. You looked at her crew badge. It was a McDonalds badge with “GRIMACE” written on it.

You didn’t think that was her name.

“How long was I asleep?”

“I think you came in at two, and it’s half four now, so two hours I guess?” She gave a noncommittal shrug. “We’re not supposed to let people sleep in here, but my brother is a trucker and I don’t like to see people driving tired. Here,” she placed the coffee in front of you, “on the house.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you said. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just don’t tell my manager when she comes in.”

You take a sip. It’s bad coffee, but it does the job. “I won’t. I guess I should be getting back on the road. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You watched her walk back behind the counter and resume cleaning. Outside, your car was in the parking lot. You collected yourself, checked your bag, put your wrappers and cups in the trash, and made your way to the door.

“Hey.”

Her voice stopped you dead in your tracks. You looked at her. There was an intensity to her eyes that you didn’t recognise.

“Come here again some day,” she said. “You can meet the rest of the crew.”

You nodded mutely, and your mind flashed with the sensation of your lips wrapping around a soft penis, and piss running down your throat. When you walked out of the door the thought was gone, and when you drove out of the parking lot you had forgotten the restaurant entirely.

You wouldn’t remember it until you drove back for the return trip.

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yonderlogz · 2 years

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Y'all keep writing about chloroform so I'm going to arm you with some fun facts:

Chloroform is described as having a "misleadingly pleasant, ethereal odor."

In addition to being an anaesthetic and sedative, chloroform is also a euphoriant (makes you feel good) and anxiolytic (makes you feel less anxious).

According to one 19th century doctor, "chloroform, ether, nitrous oxide, gas, cocaine and possibly the other carbon compounds employed in producing anaesthesia possess the property of exciting sexual emotions and in many cases produce erotic hallucinations."

One of the people claimed to have discovered chloroform's use as an anaesthetic did so while hanging out with a couple of friends and experimenting with random chemicals for fun. I am not making this up.

This lunatic's preferred method of giving someone chloroform was to make a funnel out of a handkerchief and pour liquid chloroform into that funnel until the patient passed out. I am still not making this up.

That's a bad idea because chloroform can and will kill you by one of several mechanisms, mostly stopping your heart or breathing, and...

The difference between 😴 and 💀 is very small.

Because of this, the classic way to administer the drug is to use a very small dropper to put teeny tiny amounts of it in a cloth you're breathing through. This is still dangerous, though.

So modern methods mixed breathable air and carefully diluted chloroform into a respirator.

That's still too dangerous so we don't use chloroform in medicine anymore.

You should not play with chloroform.

But none of that means that your hypnokinky partner can't be convinced that the water you're droppering onto their cloth mask is something else.

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yonderlogz · 2 years

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“this is why it's good to be pussyfree baby, this way your body will be so desperate, your handpussy will feel so good, even if it's just because you're delusional & pathetic “

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yonderlogz · 2 years

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yonderlogz · 2 years

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reblog if you love #gooning out with #poppers #popperdong #popperbate

Popperhuffing Penis Perverts |||| Get More Vapours Here

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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I guide my legs into the stirrups, blushing lightly at the feeling of the air tickling the sticky lips of my pussy. I’m already wet—likely from the consistent periods of denial and no touch. And my clit is already throbbing. I wonder if she will notice. Hopefully, not. I squirm in my seat and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. The fabric of my gown scrapes against my nipples, which are already hard and nearly visible through the fabric.

My doctor enters the room again, then locks the door behind her. Offering me a warm smile, she sits down onto the rotating chair and slides on over, positioning herself between my spread legs. I swallow thickly, watching her guide the rolling tray of tools beside her.

I curl my toes as she pushes up my gown, exposing my wet pussy even more. I’m too embarrassed to look, but a thick silence fills the air.

“Hmmm... how interesting,” she hums.

I turn my head, meeting her eyes.

“You’re quite wet right now.”

I gape, my face turning bright right. She meets my eyes and chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“Nothing to be embarrassed of. It’s normal. But... I’ve never seen one as wet as yours.”

I gasp softly as her gloved fingertips part my lips, massaging my vulva. As she parts them, her eyes flicker with desire. I can hardly control myself and grip onto the sides of the chair. My eyes slip shut and my mind begins to go cloudy. I’m already unbareably horny, unable to comprehend any thoughts drifting through my hollow mind.

“I might... have to do a more in depth examinination,” she says clinically. “Just to ensure that nothing negative is the cause for all of this secretion.”

All I can think is that I know exactly why I’m sopping wet.

My breaths tremble as she presses her hands against my inner thighs, and I can feel my hole clenching. She reaches to the table and takes a speculum—I can feel my back arch as the cold metal touches my warm cunt, and I jolt at the sensation of my pussy being stretched open. My legs come up from the stirrups and my doctor mumbles something, pulling the speculum away.

“Please try not to move. It makes it difficult to position the speculum properly.”

When she tries again, I fail. I whisper an apology, licking my lips. She shakes her head.

“Well, there is another way,” she says. I watch as she gets up and moves to her desk. When she sits back down my eyes fall upon the leather straps and padlocks. My clit throbs hard at the sight and I can feel myself grow more aroused by the second. “I can secure your legs into the stirrups. That way we don’t need to concern ourselves with any movement that may interfere with this examination.”

“O-Okay,” I stutter.

I can only think about my pulsating pussy and the sensation of leather kissing my skin. She maneuvers straps around both of my ankles, fastening them to the stirrups, then padlocks them into place. I’m surprised when she continues up my legs, next securing both knees, and then finally my thighs. I attempt to pull my legs from the stirrups to no avail—it’s like I’m glued to the device. And there is absolutely nothing I can do now to free myself. My doctor has the keys to the padlocks. It’s her choice to free me or not—I could be stuck here the rest of my life if she decided.

Those thoughts continue to pour into my mind. I squirm, my fingers curling around the sides of the chair. I want nothing more than to reach between my thighs and rub my clit to an explosive orgasm. I want to grip my tits and pull my nipples and moan louder than ever before. But I can’t. Unless I want to embarrass myself more than I already have.

Her gloved hands return to my thighs, and I feel goosebumps raising on my skin. I breathe heavily as she inserts the speculum, my hole being stretched wide. My doctor continues to work with a blank face—her professionalism is uncanny, but then again, she’s a doctor. That’s her job.

“Your vulva appears perfectly healthy. I’m going to examine your vagina and cervix now. I’m going to push your gown up further so I can see your abdomen.”

I watch with parted lips as she pushes my gown up, revealing my lower stomach. Her eyes skim over the rest of my body, stopping level with my tits. I know she can see my hard nipples pressing against that damn fabric. I subconsciously try to pull my legs free, and instantly move my arms to cover myself.

“Try to keep your arms by your side. I’m going to insert my fingers inside of your cunt.”

My eyes widen at the crude language she uses, but before I can say anything (not that I really even wanted too—I found that her language only heightened my arousal) I feel her fingers enter my dripping hole. I can’t help the moans that escape my lips. Her fingers move in circles inside of me, and she only pushes them deeper. Her other hand is pressing down on my abdomen. For a moment I swear she touched my g-spot, because my toes are curling and my back is arching. I immediately go to reach for her hands, wanting to pushing them deeper—make her fingers move faster. I’m right about to cum, leaking pathetically and making a mess all over my thighs and the tissue paper that sits beneath my bottom.

But she retracts her fingers. It only takes a moment for me to realize what I have just done, and my face is beet red. Holy fuck, I almost just came at the gynocologist. On her fingers. And I was moaning. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m beyond humiliated, angry at myself for letting my horniness get the best of me. What am I, a teenage boy? I should be able to control myself, not act like some slut during the middle of a medical examination!

“I’m—“

“I told you to hold your arms by your side. I also can’t have you making so much noise. What would the people outside my office think? Are you trying to get me in trouble?” she asks. Her tone is even and firm, yet still slightly degrading.

I’m flabbergasted. “No-no, of course I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, ma’am.”

She again gets up and goes to her desk. When she returns, there are more straps and padlocks, some of them longer than others.

“My only option is to further restrain you. If not, this will be the end of your examination. You can return home, however this visit will still be charged.”

Deep down I knew I didn’t want to leave. And I had already payed for the visit. I felt bad, too. I didn’t want to get her in trouble.

“Yes... yes that’s fine. Of course.”

My clit has a heart beat of its own. And as I watch her fasten my wrists to the sides of the chair, padlocking them into place, the heart beat gets louder and louder. I’m shocked when she continues to fasten the straps around my chest, one of them above my breasts and the other below. It’s humiliating—they look magnified and huge from being squeezed together, and my nipples are even more noticeable. Another strap is fed along my abdomen, until I’m compeltely secured to the chair, my legs spread wide and my slick, puffy pussy on display to my doctor. The gown hardly offers much coverage anymore.

“I will also ask that you consent to this being placed into your mouth.” She shows me the device, and my eyes widen. It appears to be a gag. The strap is black, but the center is a silver ring, and there are several metallic appendages that are fixed off the ring. It looks as if it can be screwed in a certain manner.

Still, I nod, opening my mouth for her. Her heels click as she walks around my restrained body, and she settles the ring behind my teeth. I groan at the uncomfortable feeling of my mouth being stretched wide open, coughing gently when she strictly fastens it. I don’t notice that she pulls the strap as tight as possible, buckling the gag into place.

When she walks back around to face me, she reaches forward, gripping the screws on either side of the gag. I’m surprised when she starts to twist, the gag only stretching wider and wider until I can’t possibly expand my jaw open any further. I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life, and I begin to shake my head, my incoherent pleas for release and relief going unnoticed.

I realized now what I’ve done. I’ve compeltely given up control to my doctor—a woman I hardly even know. And now I’m restrained entirely to this chair, hardly able to move an inch, strictly gagged and already drooling all over my chest. I can’t fathom how utterly pathetic I must look right now, but all I can do is wait for the examination is over to be released.

When she sits back down in the chair between my thighs, I watch her eyes scan over my bound form. She removes her gloves, only to replace them with a fresh pair, then returns to focusing on my exposed cunt. I groan again as her fingers penetrate me, pumping away slowly, milking me towards the edge. I squirm freely in my bonds, grunting as I tug against the iron-like restrains. All I can do is curl my toes and my fingers and shake my head from side to side.

I can hear the squelching of my juices, and she increases her pace, curling her fingers inside of me. My clit is throbbing, desperate for attention I wonder if it will ever receive. As soon as I’m about to cum, she again withdraws her fingers. I’m panting and sweating, drool seeping down my chin and neck.

“I think I know exactly why you’re so wet,” she says. “A couple other patients of mine participate in orgasm denial with their partners as well. It’s quite easy to tell a denied pussy from a satisfied one. Yours is... quite denied. I hope you don’t mind if I see for myself how far you can be pushed.”

I begin to thrash in my bonds, making every attempt in the book to free myself or at least hide myself from her. But there’s nothing I can do. I watch helplessly as she picks up the pair of scissors on the tray and takes them to my gown. She cuts away at the fabric, eventually managing to slip the remainder of the material out from beneath the straps binding my chest to the chair. Now, I’m truly on display. My tits and pussy are both out, and my nipples are completely hard.

I groan as she massages my tits, tweaking my nipples between her fingertips. She slaps at them, prodding them with her fingers.

“Incredible,” she hums in approval.

She gets up and when she returns, there’s a series of toys in her hands. The medical equipment once on the tray was now replaced with a plethora of toys she intended to use for my torture. A vibrator, a dildo, nipple clamps, weights, a makeup brush, and a feather all sit in a nice line.

I whimper when the clamps are fastened onto my nipples. There’s no hesitation when the weights are added, pulling down on my tits. The burning sensation coaxes me to the edge, and I watch in horror as she picks up the dildo. My moans fill the room as she fills me entirely with the toy, pushing it to the hold then using a strip of tape to hold it in place. Her fingers ghost along my lips, and my entire body tenses with pleasure when she takes to fingers to my clit, applying plenty of pressure to the aching spot.

“I have never seen a cunt as soaked as yours in my life. Seeing as you’re a slut for denial, I hope you won’t mind if coax a few edges out of you myself, dear.”

My body is on fire as I approach the edge, whimpering in defeat when those fingers leave me hanging once more.

“Now for the brush.”

She grabs the delicate brush and drags it through my folds, soaking the bristles and drawing circles around my clit. She paints my pussy with my own wetness, and I’m trembling all over. I pull at my wrists, my tits heaving with every breath I take. My jaw aches terribly, but the feeling of an incoming orgasm cancels out any sliver of discomfort I might feel—maybe the discomfort even adds.

I lose track of the amount of edges performed with the brush. All I know is that by the end of it, I had made a mess of the tissue paper beneath me.

My doctor takes a moment to pause, allowing me a break. But not much longer goes by before she continues on with the edges using the vibrator. She drags the buzzing toy all around my cunt on its lowest seething, teasing my inner thighs and pussy lips. I gasp as she places the toy against my tortured nipples, which she eventually removed the clamps from.

When she stops, it’s to look at her phone.

“Excuse me for a moment. I’m being requested at the front desk. I will return shortly, please remain where you are and try to not make any noise.”

I try to beg her to not leave—or to at least let me cum before she disappears, but there’s nothing I can say or do.

But my heart drops into my stomach as she opens the door, swinging it wide open. She kicks a door stopper in, fixing it in place so that the room is completely open to anyone who may walk back. I watch her, unable to comprehend my own shock. There’s no way she would just leave it open like that, not when I look like this—

I thrash in my bonds, crying out for her. This is utterly humiliating. I can’t believe this. There are tears in my eyes, but nothing I can do as she heads down the hallway.

I don’t know how to act as doctors and nurses pass the door. Some of them simply ignore my pathetic form while others will stop at the doorway, stare, and laugh and my predicament. I can only watch with pleading eyes, my cheeks hot pink at the thought of them being able to see my pussy spread open all for them.

One doctor even entered, walking circles around me, their gloves hands examining every inch of my skin. Their fingers prodded at my tits and flicked my nipples, chuckling when they managed to stirr a reaction out of me.

“Very nice tits,” they said. “And a pretty pussy too.”

After a few gentle pats on my cunt and stroking my inner thighs, they left.

A few nurses had gathered in front of the door not long after. They pointed and snickered at me, pulling out their phones to snap a few pictures of the new office slut.

“What a whore.”

“Yeah, she’s a slut. Look at how wet she is.”

“Pathetic.”

My doctor returns a few moments later with a clipboard, closes the door, then sits down.

“I’ve decided to schedule you for a follow up visit next week. There are a few more tests I would like to run; however, I don’t have the exact equipment needed to properly run these certain tests today.”

I can only imagine what she has planned.

“I’m going to have you sit tight while I fill out the rest of your chart. Also, you are absolutely not allowed to touch yourself under any circumstances until the next visit. At that point I will decide what your body requires—or, more specially, your cunt. If you think you will have trouble obeying these rules, nod now and I will have one of the nurses bring in a device to assist you through the week.”

I pondered for a moment. I had already planned on rubbing my cunt raw as soon as I got into my car... but I was intruiged. And still ridiculously horny. I moaned.

“Very well.”

A nurse entered the room moments later with a box, and my doctor finally released me from my restraints and my gag. However, I was not allowed to interrupt her as she fixed me into the contraption I would wear for the next week.

“Stand up straight, dear. Legs apart. Please place your hand on the back of your head and thrust out your tits. That’s a good girl.”

She slipped her hand down between my thighs, fingers rubbing at my clit. I moan, closing my eyes, my brows knitting together as I felt another orgasm ready to rack my body. Of course, she pulled away, leaving me aching and dripping.

Moments later, I felt metal encircle my waist, and she had me suck in comfortably. Once the belt was fixed into place, a similar metal strap was fed between my leg and pushed up against my throbbing and sopping wet pussy. I moaned, my clit twitching. She slipped the key into place and locked on the contraption. Her gloved hands pressed against the plate, and I whimpered in defeat, unable to feel any sensations against my denied clit.

“But... but—“

“No,” she said simply. “Now, you will be emailed instructions on how to clean and function every day with the device. You will also be required every day to do something that will ensure peak arousal. When you return for you next visit, I can only move forward if you have reached maximum arousal. Understand, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You may dress yourself and leave. Don’t forget to sign out.”

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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Waking up, you feel tight latex holding you in everywhere. There’s no use fight as you can’t move at all. Pulses start running through sensitive areas and keep building as you cum for the first time in 3 months. Relieve is short lived as the pulses keep getting more and more painful

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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a testimonial (or warning) for numbing gel 💕

ordered some lidocaine 5% and it finally came in the mail!!! bless online shopping. got sooo inspired by the numbing gel story, i just had to try it for myself

I was already edging getting myself so dumb and drippy when I used the gel, liike, probably 5-7 edges. i still have a problem with getting too close, and at this point I swear someone could just blow on my clit and that wouldve sent me over the edge

I applied a big, dime sized amount of gel on my finger and slowly circled my clit, my inner and outer labia, my opening, basically everywhere but inside my vagina. the first 20 seconds or so it got soooo hot and stingy, I would have came right then and there if I didn’t bite down my tongue to resist!!! it wasnt that bad though, and that feeling subsided as quickly as it came and it started to feel kind of cool, like going to the dentist and they numb your gums. i kept edging and circling my clit at this time using the gel as lube kind of, until I couldn’t take it anymore and gave myself a 5 minute break

15 min after the application I felt absolutely nothing. like my whole cunt wasn’t mine anymore. lifeless, nerveless flesh. i was edging so hard, tensing and grinding my hips into my fingers trying to get any sort of relief, but no relief came. it took away my orgasm.

at this point I started fucking my self with my dildo. I was going crazy, my pussy absolutely dripping with need. I fucked myself like it was my job, nothing on my mind but my need to cum. completely losing my sense of ego and self, my mind so far gone and broken that I was reduced to a dumb bitch in heat, running only on instincts. my mind just... broke. my pussy was so sloppy and wet, ready to take anything in it. if the mailman came by I would have tried to fuck him right there, I was so so so gone and stupid and desperate I would have fucked anything with a pulse.

after 30 futile minutes of trying to cum from penetration only, I gave up, defeated. I was a sweaty mess. it really solidified in me that i only exist for mens pleasure. i don’t deserve to cum. My orgasm serves no purpose, other than to entertain if men wanted me to.

I was so deep in subspace, I had to bask in my neediness and lie there for a few more minutes before I could climb out of that mental state and into reality. my labia was slowly gaining sensation now, but my clit was still a piece of numb flesh. I got on with my evening, cooking dinner and going for a run. It’s weird, it’s like I KNOW I need cum, everything about me was physically exuding sex. Face flush, eyes dialated, cunt so swollen and dripping through my panties, almost through my pants. But there was no feeling down there, and I knew that rubbing my cunt with my fingers or on my chair would be futile (but I know you would have loved to see me try)

but then my run. my fucking run. I started regaining sensation in my clit 3 miles into my route, and it was excruciatingly delicious, feeling my thighs and my shorts graze my clit with every step. I thought I was going to cum right then, at this popular running route in front of everybody. but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Because good girls don’t cum, and I am a good girl. As I was running I dropped harder into subspace than I ever have before. Panting, drooling, running with static and mantras in my head.

I finally got home and edged my brains out for god knows how long. it just felt so good to give into my pussy and my training, to turn off my mind and float. I always read these kinds of stories, thinking that it wasn’t true. Just a fantasy. It was after this experiment that I saw the truth now, which is I am verifiably an addicted, stupid edgeslut. A fucktoy. A cumdump. I can’t deny it any longer. I wasn’t smarter or better than any other girls. I succumbed to my training just like they did, all in a matter of a few weeks. im like soooo excited to see where my training will take me in a few more weeks, months, and even years!

YMMV, but I will warn you that using numbing gel for your training may rewirr your brain just like it did to me. That’s okay, though. It feels good. I’m a good girl now. And good girls make more good girls.

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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A Whole Year

“But, Sir, it’s not fair!”

What’s not fair? You agreed that you wouldn’t cum without my permission for one month.

“But it’s been a whole month and you never let me cum!”

That’s true, but it’s not unfair. I never said that you would get to cum. Only that you have to have my permission if you do.

“And you’ll never give it.”

I never said that.

“But you won’t.”

You don’t know that. Get to the edge right now, okay?

“Ngh… yes, Sir.”

That’s my girl. I thought things have been really nice, haven’t they?

“Mmm… yes, they have been nice.”

I think edging has been really good for you. Don’t you like edging?

“Yes, but-”

And when you give your orgasms to me? It’s hard, but isn’t it nice, too?

“I… I guess so. I like how happy it makes you.”

It does make me happy. And I think it’s been really good for you. I’d like to extend past one month if you agree.

“Extend? For how long?”

I don’t know. A year?

“A year!”

Well. Eleven months. A year from when we started.

“I don’t think I can go a year without cumming.”

I didn’t say you couldn’t cum. Just that you’d need to have my permission.

“Oh, Sir… I think you’ll keep me from cumming the whole year.”

It’s not much fun if I tell you my plans up front, now is it? Really close, please.

“Mnnngh… no I guess not.”

So? One year, right?

“God, can I cum first?”

No. One year?

“Will you make a promise?”

What is it?

“If you really do keep me from cumming for a whole year… oh God, I’m shaking… If you do… you have to promise that you’ll let me cum after the year.”

I don’t have to do anything.

“But… please, will you promise that?”

That’s better. I promise that if you really haven’t cum for a full year, if you ask me to cum I will say yes.

“You promise?”

Yes, silly, I just did. Edges making your brain fuzzy, huh?

“Mmhm.”

Good girl. So… one year?

“Um… okay, yes. Yes, Sir.”

“You’re never going to let me are you?”

I didn’t say that. I just said no.

“But you always, always say no!”

That’s my right, isn’t it?

“Yes, but-”

No buts. It’s my right.

“I know.”

I was thinking, though…

“About what?”

Keep the vibrator on that clit please. Only take it off if you absolutely must to keep from cumming.

“Nnnggg… you always make it so hard.”

Mmhm. I know. I was thinking that you’re right about me always saying no, though.

“I know that.”

Haha. You’re cute. What I was thinking is that it doesn’t really make sense for you to keep begging and asking to cum when it’s almost always going to be a no.

“What do you mean?”

I want you to stop asking to cum.

“Oh, but, Sir!”

You can still tell me that you want to cum. I just want you to stop asking. If I decide you should cum, I’ll tell you.

“I… but you never will, will you?”

It’s really not much different from asking to cum and being told no all the time, right?

“I… I guess not.”

Good. So no more asking to cum.

“Until the year is up.”

Until the year is up, of course. Then you have my promise that if you haven’t cum yet, you can ask and I’ll say yes.

“Then… okay.”

That’s my good girl. Really close now. I’m going to take this one away from you and I want it nice and hard first.

“Oh, God, Sir. I’m so, so close.”

Stay right there for me, okay?

“Nnngh… it’s so hard.”

I know. But you can do it. You’ve almost done a whole year. Just a couple months left.

“Oh God, I want to cum so bad.”

But you won’t, will you?

“Nnnnnnn… no, Sir.”

You know sometimes I kind of miss hearing you beg to cum.

“You do? Should I-”

No. No, that’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking we could have you ask permission to touch for the rest of the year.

“Just to touch?”

Yes.

“And if you say no I can’t even edge?”

That’s right.

“Sir…”

It would make me happy to hear you begging again.

“But… oh… you’ll say no.”

Sometimes. But sometimes I’ll say yes.

“I… I could still touch you, right? And make you cum?”

Yes, of course.

“Then… okay.”

Such a sweet girl! That makes me very happy. Now lets get ready to give this orgasm back to me and you’ll be done touching for the day.

You did it.

“What did I do? I just woke up…”

You went a whole year without cumming! I’m so proud of you.

“I did? A whole year?”

You did. A whole year. Hard edges and no cumming. Only touching with permission. Such a good job.

“Thank you, Sir.”

You’re very welcome. Now. Wasn’t there something you wanted to say in this situation?

“To say?”

Right. Something you wanted to ask me?

“Oh! Yes!”

Haha. You look excited.

“Mmhm!”

Okay, go ahead.

“Sir, may I please edge for you?”

That’s what you want?

“Yes, Sir. Please let me touch so I can give you a nice hard edge. Please?”

Such a remarkable girl. Yes, you may.

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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Improvement Training for Good Girls

New Content Alert!

It turns out that no-touch makes me super switchy.

Here is a 10minute FDom audio for anyone hoping to improve as a Good Girl. It goes right back to basics. You should only listen to this if you have permission to touch, as it includes explicit instruction to do so (if you aren't already). It also instructs you not to cum.

There is also explicit reassurance that being a good girl is a mindset, and not dependent on your body. As always, my style is very supportive and nurturing, with lots of praise.

This is my first foray into topping, all feedback gratefully received.

You can also find it on Soundgasm.net

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yonderlogz · 4 years

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Building up complex suggestions from simple ones

Alright, so in the past I’ve written something outlining some of the basic kinds of suggestions that feature repeatedly in hypnoplay (here). I’ve also talked about combining those into more complex effects (here).

Now, I’m generally one to have a lot of fun with those basic sorts of suggestions, I don’t tend to try to go super complex with things. I generally view “complex” suggestions more as combinations of the more basic things strung together anyways.

It is fun at times, however, to take an idea and just dive into it, and keep adding onto it, and building up the complexity of how you use it. So what I thought I’d do, as a followup to those previous posts ages ago, is to write a few examples of doing this.

To be fair, I’ll probably end at things that you can do in one go if you wanted to anyways, but I just felt like it’d be fun to go through the steady process of doing something and then slowly adding onto it.

Let’s go!

Example #1:

Alright, I’m going to do this a bit on the fly. Let’s start with a basic blank trigger. With that, we have a subject not really thinking about anything and just existing. Great starting point! XD

Where should we go with this? Well, an easy jumping point is to some sort of doll trigger, by adding looseness and limpness, an unwillingness to move, and focusing more on the passive observer nature of the blank trigger. So we have our subby-sub (sorry, I’m gonna have fun writing this time :P) as a passive ragdoll when we want. This is already pretty nice, we can hold them, hug them, maybe grope if things are lewd and ok. ;P

Ok, maybe a limp ragdoll all the time isn’t ideal. Not only do I not want them to flop everywhere, but having them standing could be useful. So let’s add in a way of doing it with a much harder freeze in place, but otherwise the same. We now have a statue! This is mostly transitionary that I’m elaboring on because why not. Let’s us do the same things as before, but standing up rather than sitting/lying down.

Obviously, I’d want to add in being able to pose our cute imaginary subby-sub here. So we add in suggestions that if we move their body it’ll move, then stay in the new position, and that if we tell them to move they’ll do so as well. Bam, mannequin, essentially. I think the use is almost self-explanatory, stick them in all sorts of cute and/or sexy poses. ^.^

Next step! Well, we can change their poses now, so let’s also think about clothes. We could add in some programming into our mannequin trigger, that’ll cause them to change into a (specified) outfit, or hairstyle, or whatever, and then return to where they were beforehand. What use is a mannequin if you can’t choose what clothes are on it, right? ;) At this stage we’re just adding options and complexity, to get more out of the original purpose of the first few stages of this.

Where to go from here? More actions programmed into our test subject? There are admittedly a ton of ways you can take doll-like suggestions. Make it less passive, and give them back a limited set of thoughts/ways of acting? Make it less blank, and into a bit of a brainwashing type thing, with limited thoughts, or mantras, or feelings going on?

Example #2:

Ok, this time let’s start from something way different, and more explicitly kinky. We have someone we’ve just tied up.

First thing’s first, we zonk our test subject, and help them recreate the sensations of the rope (we’ll assume rope) that we previously tied them up with. This could be pure sensation play as-is, but I think everyone knows where this is about to go!

Now, we add in the obvious freezing sort of suggestions in combination with the hypno-sensations of the rope. We can tie this to a trigger of us either describing where the rope is, or by touching them along where we want the sensations to be. Hypno-bondage! We can get rid of the rope now, we aren’t going to use it anymore. Obvious uses are obvious, a few words or touches and you have a subby-sub who is effectively tied up! XD Now, I’d break this into the steps of “phantom rope”, and then tying it into a trigger. But I wrote it like this and I’m too lazy to change it so hah. :P

So what are we missing from our hypno-bondage, that we could do in physical bondage? Pull on the ropes, right? Well we can add that in! This is basically some form of hypno-puppeteering, having their body move in response to given stimuli. For example, a good YANK motion could make them feel as though they’re being pulled towards you. This is just making the experience more complete, but also starts letting us do things that might be a bit difficult with the physical ropes, such as pulling their body in weird ways, without having to worry about injuries, or ropes moving or biting in.

Right, that’s a pretty complete bondage experience! What can we add now? How about some mental bondage too? That when the rope trigger gets used, it starts limiting their thoughts, or awareness, or just makes their head go all fuzzy and drifty? This just lets us tailor our subby-subs experience to what we want it to be.

Where from here? Add more suggestions tailored to kink? Phantom impact play or such? Tailor it to supplement physical kinky play? Potential for handling brats during scenes where you want them to be able to move, but have some fun control over them? Start going really creative with it? Move from hypno-rope, to hypno-tentacles, or something more unusual, that you can only do via hypnosis?

So those are just two instances where I just went with an idea in a direction, and kept adding. Obviously those aren’t the only ways you can take those starting points, or the only ways to get to those end points, but I more wanted to outline a thought process.

What I’ll point out, is each individual step in those examples was simple. Add a basic suggestion here, throw in some sensations or thoughts there, program in a set of actions when triggered. Even though the end result is potentially very complex, each step isn’t.

That makes it both easier for you to do, because you aren’t trying to do a million things at once, but I’m sure it makes it easier on the subject as well, as they can get used to it bit by bit, and get more once they’re no longer having to actively thing about responding to the previous parts. Not to mention, it’s fun experimenting and testing each step. XD

And that’s it from me for now!

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