Painting

“Hold still, faggot!” she orders, and I remain perfectly frozen. Standing over me, Amy aims her cock at my face, stroking it fast and hard. I don't flinch when the first thick pulse of cum surges from her prick and leaves a white stripe on my face.

Amy moans softly in pleasure as she stares down at me, one rivulet after another pulsing out and striping my skin, from my hairline down to my jaw. A few barely miss my eyes, but soon she's running out of space on my face that's not painted.

Finally, the last pulse stripes out, leaving my face drenched in Amy's jism. She's carefully avoided shooting directly in my eyes, keeping her blue irises focused on mine. When the pulsing finally ends, she squeezes the last drops out to the crown.

She leans forward, turning my head and brushing her crown down one side of my face, likely at the first spot not already coated. There's a little bit of her cum on my chest, even, and some in my hair, but my face is basically thoroughly soaked.

Amy steps back, smiling down at me with satisfaction, admiring what she's done to me. She takes a deep breath, breasts rising and falling with the motion, as she lets out a low, long, happy sigh. “Fuck I wish I could keep you like this forever.”

“Rub it in, faggot, I can't switch you off when you're such a filthy slutty mess!” she cackles in satisfaction as my hands lift, and I simply and quietly start rubbing her cum into my face. It takes a few minutes, but eventually I'm dry, my skin silky.

“Beautiful,” she sighs, pulling her shorts back up and stowing her cock, buttoning and zipping before she nods to me, “Deactivate.”

My eyes flutter immediately and I blink rapidly, swallowing reflexively as I look up at her for a moment. I wonder how long I've been on my knees, because I can register a tingling ache in the muscles of my legs.

“How'd it go?” I ask, as Amy holds a hand down to me. “Did you feed me while I was under?” I take Amy's hand, and she pulls me to my feet, nodding. I feel like I've got something in my stomach, but I definitely didn't eat before coming over.

“Yea. I gave you a protein drink,” she answers, “A pretty damn big one, actually!”

“Oh. Well, thanks!” I reply, “So, how'd it go?”

“You're a good subject. It was an incredible experience for me and a total success,” she says. I beam at her, happy to hear.

“Awesome!” I reply, and she grins at me, “So, time to reverse it? Or ... did you already reverse it?” Amy shakes her head, and I tilt mine curiously.

“I only volunteered for temporary, though!” I reply, and she nods, holding her hands up quickly.

“I know, I know,” she replies, “but the law says I don't have to honour that since you signed the waiver. Now don't, like, get mad, and assume that means I'm not going to, but ...” She pauses.

“All right. I'm listening.” She takes a deep breath and nods with a sigh of relief.

“Look, I need to let it settle in you for a few days. I'm not gonna reverse it right away,” she says, “Don't worry. I won't take the waiver to the government office and register you as reprogrammed, or anything.” I bite my lip firmly, but slowly nod.

“Well, okay, how long do you need me to stay brainwashed?” I ask, “And what actually happened while I was under, even? I have no memory of the last ... what time is it, now?” I look around, my eyes fluttering and widening as I see the clock.

“It's been two hours!?”

“Yea. You not remembering anything was one of my commands while you were under,” Amy answers in a very matter-of-fact tone, “I was doing tests. You're my best friend, I wanted to make sure I brainwashed you in a way that isn't harmful.”

“I took my time and made sure to enjoy myself. You know how long I've been looking forward to this,” Amy tells me, “Not as if people are lining up to be reprogrammed or anything.” She has a point, and I can't begrudge her for enjoying herself.

“All right, well, I'm glad you had fun,” I say, and she nods, “So, how long do you need me to remain brainwashed, Amy?”

“About a week, faggot,” she replies. I smile as she calls me that, without even thinking about it, or that she never used to.

“All right, Amy, I can handle that,” I reply, “One week, and then you deprogram me and return me to factory settings?” Amy snickers in amusement as I adopt the appropriate vernacular, but she nods reassuringly.

“You didn't do anything that's gonna get me in trouble over the next week or anything, did you?” I ask. She snickers.

“I know you well enough to know you enjoy being degraded and humiliated, fag!” she replies. My cheeks warm, but I still smile at what she called me, without questioning it for a second.

“Hey, it's one thing t- ... ” She holds her hands up.

“I'm kidding! I'm not gonna wreck your life this week,” she tells me, “For now, just go on home, relax, and let me run my various tests to make sure the hypnosis has settled and I have complete control over you, okay?” I sigh, but I nod to her.

“All right. Love you,” I say, and Amy nods, walking me to the mud-room where I grab my windbreaker and put it back on.

“Good faggot,” she says cheerfully, opening the door for me, “Go on, now.” I nod and head out the door, beginning to take a nice walk back home. I don't really know what she did, but she seems very satisfied with herself, and I'm happy to help.

Author's Note:
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