Counting

This one focuses on intelligence play, with an inverse relationship between intelligence and pleasure.

* * *

“How many numbers can you count? Count with me. Remember, each number makes you lose a little more brainpower, and turns you on a little more.”

Your partner had given you the trigger, after you said you wanted to play with intelligence and brainpower.

As they started counting, you figured that it wouldn’t be too bad. You were able to keep up with them to ten, though the arousal and pleasure was starting to grow too much to just ignore, each number eliciting a suppressed gasp or moan.

“You’re doing so well pet! See? It’s not so hard, is it? Is the arousal getting to you? Do you want to touch? Well too bad. You wanted arousal and to play with your brain, you didn’t mention cumming, or touching. Try being more specific next time!”

You groaned, but they had started counting again. You thought about not counting along, but a look from them was all it took to convince you that that was a bad idea. You got to twenty, though your brain was definitely feeling slower.

It should have been easy, it was just numbers, right? But somehow the next number always felt a little further away in your mind. Harder to reach, to say. The pleasure was making it difficult to concentrate, a constant distraction.

“Good pet! Do you think you can make it to thirty? What’s wrong? Is the pleasure making it hard for your fuzzy brain to concentrate? Do you want to touch? Fine. You can touch, but no cumming, not unless I say so. Got it? Good pet.”

And with that they continued counting. Being able to touch made the pleasure less distracting, but still the numbers were hard to find, even with them saying the number for you, it was so hard to remember what they had just said.

And by the time you reached thirty, the pleasure was interfering again. You desperately wanted to cum, you looked up at them, eyes pleading. And then they snapped, and the world vanished, to you it felt like a moment, but they were standing closer to you.

The pleasure was still there, and your brain wasn’t any clearer. They started counting. You couldn’t find the words, but that didn’t seem to matter. Every number they went you felt your brain get dumber and dumber.

It was like your mind was being converted to pleasure with every word. You could feel your orgasm rising. Your mind dissolving into ecstasy. You couldn’t think, there was only pleasure, glorious, endless pleasure.

You came, moaning, and as you came, your mind finished the process of shutting down. Leaving you empty, and dumb, and docile. Feeling so good, so pleasant, so empty. They pulled you close, ready to have fun with you in this state.