[Audio Summary: This is the audio recording for the script of the same name, which appears below.] - Audio posted 03/18/2014

On request - and because I haven't recorded in far too long - I've recorded the "Touched on the Edge" script from my previous post.

There are three revisions. First is unedited - so it has some background noise.

Second has a noise filter, if you find the background distracting.

Last has some heavy post-processing that may or may not make it more pleasant to listen on a loop.

In short, I'm in a new recording environment and I'm not certain as yet what will work best.

So any feedback would be appreciated.

Consider it a compulsion, if you like. ;)

As always, enjoy.

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Revision 2:

Revision 3:

[Text Summary: This script explores the concept of edging through the mechanism of touch, comparing physical touch to the touch of my words on your mind. As you might expect, you are instructed to edge, as well as encouraged to read repeatedly.]

My favorite thing about control is the touch.

Not the physical touch, lest we become distracted from the purpose, but the touch of my will against your mind.

That moment, a subtle shift in tone perhaps, when you are no longer simply reading or hearing my words...you are following them.

I prefer live feedback for that reason. There is nothing in the world hotter than the change in the tone of your voice when you recognize that your will is no longer the dominant force in your head. This blog does serve nicely as a chronicle, though.

I wonder sometimes how it feels for you, when my will brushes against the edges of your mind. Sometimes subtle, subversive, slithering, insidious slipping into the thoughts you've forgotten and working its way deeper. Perhaps you notice and don't care, can't stop, submit.

Or perhaps by the time you are aware, you've already surrendered.

I confess the subtlety is often more attractive than taking things from a more direct approach, though the latter can also be fun. My will won't often dominate you in an absolute fashion, the process is softer and far less blatant. I've heard it compared to the ebb and flow of the tide. I like that.

I also like that you can feel the shifts in it. Little things, when you read or listen, like the way it suddenly matters more what I want. The way the world fades around you and my words become more clear. The way what I'm saying repeats itself in your head - or are you repeating it? Is the distinction important? Could you stop if you wanted?

I summarize that phenomenon as follow and obey, as in your mind is becoming trained to follow and obey my words. The summary is lacking and perhaps ineloquent, but I do so love patterns of words that fit a rhythm - the back-and-forth swing of a watch or metronome. I wonder what rhythm they fit when you chant them softly...

The beauty of the touch, when it works, is that the words themselves aren't important. I confess that I don't know how effectively my musings capture the notion, let alone the moment. The feeling of having your mind ensnared. The knowledge that every word takes you deeper. The desire, the need, to read on and on and on and follow and obey.

It is, perhaps, like being on the edge of trance. I do like edge play, after all. Teasing and letting you stare down the drop you know is coming, yet making you wait helplessly as you grow weaker and more compliant...unable to take that last step until you are told.

You didn't know you had to be told. Often you don't have to be told. That is the touch, see, the influence of my will. I haven't told you not to drop, after all. You could stop any time you wanted, even now. Or you could let yourself drop. But you won't.

Would it matter, though? Has my will slipped in deep enough to continue to alter your thoughts even after you step away? Time will tell.

Or it already has. You were perfectly rational a few minutes ago, and now...now you are all hazy and starting to feel very soft and my words make more sense than any kind of logic or reason. You feel that pull on the edge of your mind, which is ultimately just the weight of my will resting on thoughts you know you aren't meant to have...not really.

Truth is, you don't want them. You didn't exactly come here to be involved in deep thinking, though you definitely want to be involved in something deep.

I haven't mentioned the arousal, because I'm curious. Does it form without being instructed, yet? Have you sunk that far into my influence? I haven't compelled you to touch yourself while you read my words, have I, so where does that ache originate?

The details are unimportant, and we both know where this ends. You'll kneel, you'll chant, you'll submit, you'll succumb. You'll feel the touch of my will against yours and you'll let yours dissolve into mine. Your mind is an afterthought, and maybe this time I'll let you keep it. The ability to think does so nicely contrast with being controlled. I enjoy the juxtaposition, even as I prefer your mind to be blank. Blank and empty and follow and obey.

Again, the physical is irrelevant. You kneel even now, whether on the floor or just in your mind. That's the truth of the relationship, the intent, the goal. My will, my words, guiding you where we both want you to go. The subversive nature is useful, but not required.

Subversive indeed. You are craving to be told something direct. A command to follow, and instruction to obey. I've been keeping you on the edge, and your mind wants to be shut off. The subtle is driving you mad, you want the direct. You want my will to crack across your mind like a whip and subdue you into a blissful blankness.

Feeling me rewrite your desires is just so much lust and want and teasing and you've been such a good girl, following and obeying every word and phrase and line so far.

I could tell you to sleep, to drop, to touch yourself and go mindless for me. You'd do it. I don't believe you'd even hesitate. Would you? That eagerness betrays you. Perhaps that's the point.

I want you to edge, instead. To read again, hungrily taking in my words. To touch yourself, if you can, but not to cum. Reduce yourself from rational and aware to a drooling mess that simply wants to be controlled. Taken. Enslaved.

I'm not there to anticipate when you reach the point I want, which is a shame, but we can work within these constraints. Read this twice, three times, four, however many it takes for you to feel so incredibly weak and submissive that even the idea of being called a good girl makes you twitch with need. Let yourself repeat my words, chant the ones that catch you just so. Follow and obey.

Resign yourself to the soft and teasing sort of brainwashing for as much time as you can devote to it now. At the very end, if you're good, you'll feel my will shift inside your head. If you edge long enough, too long, I'll reward you. That touch will change from teasing to dominating, and you'll drop like so many stones falling through water...straight to the bottom. I'll even let you orgasm, maybe, but only once you realize how unimportant that is in all of this.

Call it enlightenment. Call it torture. Call it cruel. Call it amazing. Call it whatever you like.

Obey.