Chapter Text
Team RWBY is out on the town, and Weiss isn’t with them. She is fuming, internally. Externally, she is scribbling words onto a half-filled document, venting her frustration on the helpless pen bound to crack between her fingers.
She told them! She told them they had work to do, essays to finish, but did they listen?! Of course not! Her good-for-nothing teammates preferred to slack off and party who-knows-where, knowing full well that Weiss wouldn’t be able to enjoy anything at all so long as that essay wasn’t done.
Groaning, she turns a page of her book and rubs her temples. She's made good progress so far, but she's been at it for an hour and her simmering anger isn’t doing her any favors either. She should probably take a break soon.
But. Taking a break is wasting time. That’s what her teammates would do — not her!
She needs something productive to do while she lets her essay sit, for a moment.
Tired, she reaches for her scroll, opening up her recommended page to mindlessly filter for some kind of video essay to listen to while she fantasizes about usurping her team leader. But nothing really stands out to her, leaving her to fiddle with the filters at random, already imagining how she would walk up to Ozpin and demand to be put in charge.
Then her finger comes to rest above a thumbnail.
Not a particularly helpful one. All it shows is the logo of a snake biting its own tail, and the brand name Ouroboros written in bold letters underneath it.
Training Your Mind, the title reads.
Weiss yawns. She's watched her share of all kinds of self-improvement guides, and they rarely work for her, clearly designed to help people far below her level. She's long since outgrown the stage where strangers on the internet have anything useful to offer to her.
She looks back to the mostly blank pages of her essay.
What the heck, she thinks, clicking on the video. A little refresher can’t do any harm. If it is any good, she could send it to Ruby as a passive aggressive way of insulting her leadership skills.
“You're exhausted.”
The voice is deep yet soft. Rich and warm, like dark honey. Surprisingly pleasant to listen to.
“You're tired. You're pent up.”
She has watched many videos like this, and usually the narrators are clipped and businesslike. Not that Weiss would mind; she preferred it, in fact.
Except this has… appeal.
She leans back in her chair and sighs.
“Your head is so full. Your shoulders so heavy.”
The text feels a tad too much like prose for a self-improvement guide, but she can’t feel hung up about it. There's just something about the way this man speaks that would make anything sound right.
The soft whispering of his s and sh sounds, the way his every p pops just a little. Crystal clear, yet softly melting into the next word. Every syllable pronounced with such care to each letter, all in that low, masculine timbre. It pleases the perfectionist in her.
“You work so hard, and no one sees it. No one appreciates it.”
It’s true, isn’t it? The others just don’t get it. Even now they’re out, wasting their time on that silly autumn festival, while she works to improve herself.
It's not fair.
“Poor thing. You don't have to feel this way.”
Weiss finds herself shivering. Something about the way he'd addressed her had felt… oddly patronizing. Condescending.
For some reason, she feels her cheeks heat up. Her fingers twitch.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to let all these worries go? To have all those heavy, heavy thoughts just drift away, and feel yourself relax…”
Huh… she can’t recall ever feeling truly relaxed. She's always had a clear idea of what she wanted, and a list of things to do so she'd accomplish it. She can’t just turn it off, it’s who she is.
But it sounds… nice. Very, very nice.
“Let your mind feel soft and sweet and empty.”
The words are a soft, rustling hiss, like silky fabrics sliding across each other. She feels her lips part just a little.
“So empty.”
She can imagine it. How nice it would feel… being without worries, without that pressure…
“Empty, like your cunt.”
Immediately her eyes snap open and she shoots up straight. Her fingers fumble for the pause button on her scroll and nearly throw it across the room in her hurry. When she finally hits the button, her face is beet red and she looks around, breathing heavily, as if someone could have been around to witness that.
W… what?
She hadn’t misheard that, had she? She takes another look at the video description, and oh god. There it is, black on transparent white. NSFW. Hypnotism Kink. Relaxation. Mind drain. Submission.
Hypnotism, that isn’t even a thing!
She can’t believe it, how had she missed that? What if she'd listened to that while her teammates were home? Fuck, what if she'd actually sent it to Ruby. Her annoying, immature, wannabe team leader would have thought Weiss listened to… to porn!
The embarrassment is too much to even imagine. With a quiet squeal of shame, she sinks back down in her chair and covers her mouth.
It's alright, she tries to tell herself. It was an accident. No one was here, you made an embarrassing but completely understandable mistake.
She's Weiss Schnee, after all. She would never stoop so low as to waste her precious time on… something like this! She's not like her teammates, who jump on any silly distraction in a heartbeat. She's focused, and she's disciplined! Better than the bored, hormonal people without ambition this video is clearly meant for.
Though it had sounded… interesting. But completely beneath her, of course! She's not the kind of person who would actually, seriously listen to this. Or worse, get off on this. No, no, no.
Slowly, her heartbeat returns to normal, and she puts down her scroll.
She didn’t even want a break, she reasons. She'll just finish her essay now. No need to lose study time over such a silly slip-up.
She takes up her pen and returns to her work with a sigh, successfully banishing all thoughts of this event from her memory.
For a while, at least.
Not even half an hour — and shamefully little progress — later, and she catches her mind wandering.
Your head is so full. Your shoulders so heavy.
She just can’t seem to focus on her task. She has that melodic voice stuck in her head, dwelling on its words far longer than she'd ever admit.
Wouldn’t it be nice to let all these worries go? To have all those heavy, heavy thoughts just drift away, and feel yourself relax…
Her gaze keeps catching on the silver glint of her scroll. Again and again she steals little glances at it, knowing that tab is still open.
She's… curious, she supposes. Yes, she simply wonders what people get out of this. It's normal, apparently, for people her age to… touch themselves to this. She's just never allowed herself to.
But maybe she should…? Just to see the appeal of it, of course. There has to be a reason it’s so popular after all. She doesn’t like not knowing something.
The truth is… hasn’t she always felt a little behind? Always working to better herself, while others had fun, and met people. Not for the first time, she finds herself wondering… was it even worth it?
Poor thing. You don't have to feel this way.
Something cold meets her fingertips, and she looks down. Her hand has closed around her scroll without any conscious choice to do so.
Weiss bites her lip.
She's alone. She's not being productive anyway. She can just have a quick listen to it, just once, to try it, and then she can go on with her life and forget about this.
Easy as that.
Finally arriving at a decision, she throws a surreptitious look at the door, ensuring she's alone. Then she pushes away her homework and opens her scroll once more, the screen lighting up with that same symbol from earlier.
She settles back into her chair with her pulse just a little too flighty.
Then she presses play, before she can change her mind again.
Immediately, that voice fills the room again. Soft and deep.
Seductive, she admits to herself.
“Empty, like your cunt.”
She shifts in her seat. Presses her thighs together just a little. That's okay, she's supposed to give this a chance.
“Let it all disappear. Your worries. Your thoughts. Your doubts.”
“Let yourself be empty.”
What would she look like, if she were empty? Unbidden, she imagines herself on her knees. Eyes glazed over and dreamily distant, her mouth hanging open, showing her tongue.
“There is only my voice.”
If she were actually being hypnotized, that's what she would look like. A mindless, thoughtless doll. A puppet on strings. Dancing to the words of this deep, rich voice. She notices that her hips have started to rock back and forth, and stops herself, embarrassed.
“You're just your body. Just a weak, warm body.”
She's a huntress. A good huntress, a great huntress. But the Weiss in her imagination is just as the man describes her: a weak little body, completely defenseless. Not athletic but soft and curvy. There is not a single care behind those glassy eyes. She's just a pretty body, no thoughts, only sensation.
Weiss feels her mouth go dry.
“Sensitive.”
“Soft.”
“Needy.”
Something in her lower belly clenches at the thought, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She's always had to be strong, always cold and hard. But this man's voice says she's not. This voice says she's…
The walls of her sex flutter around nothing, and Weiss moans.
“You can feel it now, don’t you?”
“You need. You want. You crave. Your drippy little cunt is begging to be filled.”
Filled. Filled, yes, filled, she thinks feverishly, her clumsy fingers pressing against the gusset of her panties. They’re soaked through, and the pressure makes her keen. That mindless girl in her head lets her tongue loll out, arches her back. Her eyes reflect a thousand stars, and not a single tiny thought.
“You need to be fucked.”
Her face burns at the crude language, but her fingers don’t stop squeezing her nether lips. Nothing could sound wrong from this voice. It states it with such calm, gentle confidence, like he's simply saying that the sky is blue. There's no room for any doubt to form. Why would there be?
“You want a big, fat cock to stretch you open.”
“You crave to feel its thick, hot come in your belly.”
She's never thought about this. Never cared to. But now she can see it so clearly: herself, spread open. Whining and gasping as a massive member pushes inside her, coated in her juices. Stretching her, filling her, fast and hard until it throbs and pulses, her greedy, dripping cunt working it to completion and claiming her reward. To feel liquid heat paint her insides, ropes and ropes of it shot into her womb, so warm and heavy, more, more, more…
“You don’t need to think when you're being fucked. You don’t need to think when you're clenching down on someone's cock. You don’t need to think when you feel it pump you full of come. You're empty, brainless, sensitive, happy.”
Her fingers are pumping into her entrance now, still hindered by the fabric of her panties, but she doesn’t even notice. Thrusting the silk into her spasming hole alongside her fingers, just wants something to fill her up, she's so empty, empty cunt, empty brain, wantwantwant—
“Don’t think.”
“Don’t think.”
“Don’t think.”
She can’t, she can’t, there’s no room, so much feeling. Thumb brushes her clit and oh, yes, more, her slip so soaked it hides nothing, pulled taut over the throbbing bundle of nerves every time her fingers plunge into her cunt, mmmh, yes, yes…
“You can feel your mind go dark. You're so empty now. No more thoughts for you. No thoughts.”
“There's only my voice, filling you so deeply. You don’t need anything else inside your head. It feels so good to have my voice inside your head.”
She throws her head back and moans, any shame forgotten. Her knees pulled up to make it easier — stretched open, that huge cock carving out its space inside her, harder, please — and she knocks over her cup, tea ruining her essay, she doesn’t even notice. Her body is on fire, she needs, she needs—
“It feels like you'll come.“
Yes. She needs it, needs to come, needs to come on that thick, hard cock.
“My voice is making you come. My voice inside your empty little head.”
“You want it.”
Yes, yes, yes, yes…
“Say you want to come.”
Her lips part, as if to obey. Want, they mouth, want, want, want…
“Come. Come for me. Come to my voice.”
With a yelp, she does. Her vision turning white as her cunt pulses and clenches around her fingers, as deep as they'll go with her underwear still on. Her back arches off the chair and her eyes go cross, her entire body shaking from this first, brilliant orgasm of her life. It feels like melting, like being rewired, and her hips lift off of the chair to meet her fingers at every thrust.
Afterwards, she collapses back into her chair, gasping for air. Eyes unfocused, vision swimming. She feels like she's glowing. Like she's been reborn. Ant there is no coming down from this high: the voice cradles her in deep, dark warmth, cut off from anything else.
“Shhh. Shhhhhh, you're so tired now. Let your eyes fall close.”
…eyes so heavy… her eyes are… so heavy…
“Your mind goes to sleep, hush now, there's no one home…”
So soft, warm and soft, like dough. Molten chocolate in the shape of a girl. Lids drift closed and she's gone, fingers still buried in her cunt, throbbing gently. Too far gone to do anything but lie there in a haze, the audio still whispering praise into her empty little brain, undisturbed.
“Perfect,” it coos sweetly. “Good girl. Perfectly empty, perfectly mindless. Good girl, so good. So wet and dumb and sleepy. No thoughts at all. Good girl. Just listen to my voice, let it drag you under. Good girls listen and sink, sink, sink for me…”
+-x-+
The next morning starts with panic. She shoots up in her chair, wide awake all of a sudden, and sees Ruby and the others snoring in their beds. Dried come is flaking off her fingers, her clothes are a mess, her panties are on full display.
Her scroll is still lying on her desk, the screen see-through and dormant.
Weiss goes pale. She grabs it and stumbles into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
Oh god, what happened? She remembers…
…empty, sweet and empty, good girl, no thoughts, no worries, no doubts…
Her cheeks turn red. Her knees go soft. That sweet, needy ache in her cunt returns with a soft, steady pulse.
She'd… gotten a little carried away, it seems. Fallen asleep after… that. And had forgotten to clean up before her roommates came back
A knock on the door makes her jump, and she holds it shut out of reflex, despite it being locked.
“Occupied!” she squeals, a mockery of her usual commanding tone.
She prays her teammate doesn’t notice.
“Hurry up, Weiss,” Ruby yawns. “I wanna brush my teeth. You missed out yesterday, it was so fun. We had to carry Yang home! Sorry for not waking you by the way, but we really weren’t in a state to talk.”
No comment about finding her in a state of undress. No difference in behavior.
Had she been lucky? Had they all been too tired to pay any attention to her?
“I'll be quick,” she replies absently, her eyes already back on her scroll.
That… had never happened to her. Never, in her entire life, had she ever come close to feeling like this, acted the way she did. It's like she had been possessed, that seductive, lilting voice replacing her own thoughts with all kinds of absurd images. Transforming her into someone wanton, shameless. Someone who dreamed to be spread open on cock and loved it.
She had loved it. She'd felt so…
Weiss blinked, and realized she was rocking her cunt into her hand again. Mortified, she forced herself to stop.
Well, she thought to herself, cheeks red. She'd wanted to try it, and she had. Now she knew what that was about. She could move on and continue as usual.
This was a one-off, an absurd, horny lapse in judgement. She didn’t actually like anything the voice had described, after all. She wasn’t some mindless, submissive puppet, she was Weiss Schnee, huntress of Beacon Academy and heir to the Schnee family.
She looked back down on her scroll. The video had long since finished — after the one hour mark; she must have missed quite a lot — but it linked to a website full of others like it. Paywalled, of course.
Not that she'd ever waste money on something like this.
Seeing that as a sign, she closed her scroll and got ready to shower. She'd been lucky to avoid discovery by her teammates, but Weiss Schnee wouldn’t rely on luck in the future!
No, she'd simply forget last night, and never listen to it again.
+-x-+
She listens to it again.
The night after that first time, she can’t sleep. Spends the entire night with her fingers buried in her cunt and her hand clasped over her mouth, preventing any noise from reaching her sleeping teammates. She hears the words from that video replaying in her head, over and over again, and her cunt is aching with need.
She makes herself come once, twice, but it's just not the same. A frustrated clenching of her walls and some hollow flash of pleasure, before that need returns again. Nothing like the way she'd dissolved into fantasy, lost all control over herself when watching that video. She just can’t stop thinking long enough to enjoy it.
She falls asleep with tears in her eyes, hours past midnight.
Why is she like this? What's wrong with her?
+-x-+
The next night, her teammates go out again.
Leaving Weiss all alone in their dorm room.
She's determined not to be as foolish as the other night. She'll ignore the video. Forget about it. She wouldn’t be feeling this… lacking, if she'd just never opened it to begin with.
She lasts for an hour.
It's just a video, she reasons as she grabs her scroll and sneaks guiltily into her bed. It doesn’t actually do anything to her. She just has issues, and listening to that deep, deep voice makes it better. There's nothing wrong with having needs.
“Your head is so full. Your shoulders so heavy.”
“Poor thing. You don't have to feel this way.”
It feels so good. To have that baritone softness wash over her, describe her plight so well. Like he really knows her, understands her. Knows exactly how to make it all better.
“Let it all disappear. Your worries. Your thoughts. Your doubts.”
“Let yourself be empty.”
She's floating. Her mind is being wiped clean, all those bad thoughts fading, she's so light and weightless…
“You can feel it now, don’t you?”
“You need. You want. You crave. Your drippy little cunt is begging to be filled.”
On her stomach, her ass propped up high in the air, her cunt so wet it’s running down her thighs. Her face pressed into the pillows as if she's being held down, as if there's really someone behind her, pressing against her swollen sex.
“You need to be fucked.”
“You want a big, fat cock to stretch you open.”
“You crave to feel its thick, hot come in your belly.”
She's panting. Fucking her fingers, imagining it’s someone else doing this to her. Someone with a big, beautiful cock that barely fits into her small body, but she takes it anyway, the lips of her cunt stretching around its girth. Every thrust squeezes more of her thoughts out of her head, gets her closer that blissful, mindless perfection. So good, it’s so good…
“You don’t need to think when you're being fucked. You don’t need to think when you're clenching down on someone's cock. You don’t need to think when you feel it pump you full of come. You're empty, brainless, sensitive, happy.”
She's drooling now, knees trembling, her body shaking and writhing under her imaginary partner's cock. So empty, so empty, so happy and empty…
“My voice is making you come. My voice inside your empty little head.”
“You want it.”
“Say you want to come.”
“Wanna,” she whines, slurring the words, “I-I wanna c… cuh… “
“Come. Come for me. Come to my voice.”
Her vision splinters into light, and her body erupts in ecstasy.
She collapses with a helpless, dreamy smile on her parted lips, that all-consuming voice gently lulling her to sleep with all kinds of sweet, praising nothings she has no hopes of understanding anymore.
All she knows is that everything is as it’s supposed to be.
So right. It just feels so right.
