The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Paige gave a lot of thought as to what she would wear to her lunch with Hillary DeWitt. She knew the restaurant was a very posh one, the sort of up-scale place where trendy, chic women would be dressed to the max. She paused with one hand on the outfit she had just bought. It was bold and sassy, the kind of thing that might be worn by a model, but hardly by professional woman, even one as pretty as Paige. Would someone like Hillary consider it too flashy?

She brushed aside her reservations. What the hell! She loved how she looked in the shiny vinyl skirt of dark maroon, with its short hem, and the tunic top, collarless, with that long prominent zipper that ran all the way down the front. Once she had the outfit on, it seemed only natural to go with a pair of sleek, calve-high boots. Perhaps, it was a bit much, but Paige liked the way she felt in the sexy outfit: wild and youthful, and, well ...’sexy,’ she thought, tugging on the red leather boots. She savored the word ‘sexy’; a thrill shot through her.

She wasn’t really dressing to please Hillary DeWitt, she told herself, but her heart beat faster when she saw the woman’s eyes widen in appreciation when she strolled into the restaurant.

The two women sat at a small table in a quiet corner of the elegant restaurant. The lunchtime crowd had thinned out, yet both seemed reluctant to leave, lingering over drinks and the trailing conversation.

Paige was enthralled, thrilled to have an intimate lunch with Hillary Dewitt, all to herself. Hillary intrigued her—a fascinating woman, who seemed genuinely interested in her and her work. She thrilled when those engaging eyes found hers, and brightened in a smile. Now she was looking across the table at Hillary when a strange feeling of detachment came over her. She was watching Hillary’s lips move, but not really able to pay attention to her words. She couldn’t seem to shake off last night’s dream.

In her dream she had come upon two naked people coupling on a bed in what looked like her parent’s bedroom. As she entered the room, she now saw that the woman, who was on her back, knees drawn back and legs waving in the air was none other than Hillary DeWitt, her teeth clenched, face contorted with passion. Between her spread legs a stocky man was pumping into her with lusty male vigor. Fascinated, she came closer, and it was then that the man turned to look over his shoulder at her, and she found herself looking into the grinning face of Marcus Wolfe!

She took another sip of gin. Normally, Paige didn’t drink much, especially during the day. But Hillary seemed to be especially fond of gin gimlets, and Paige thought it would be impolite for her companion to have to drink alone.

By the time the two women left the dark restaurant to step back into glare of the hot afternoon, Paige felt pleasantly lulled by the gin. She couldn’t face going back to her office, and when Hillary asked if she’d like to stop by her place, Paige jumped at the chance.

Paige crossed her legs and eased back on creamy beige sofa in the tastefully-decorated apartment, while her hostess went about mixing drinks—which Paige felt she could hardly refuse. Hillary kicked off her shoes, stripped off her jacket, which left her in sleeveless blouse. In stockinged feet she strolled over to hand Paige her drink, and then, somewhat surprisingly, plunked down rather close to her guest, tucking one leg under her, and leaning against the back of the sofa. There was a long pause in the conversation and Paige felt herself redden as she realized Hillary’s eyes were on the side of her face. She took a sip from her glass, and turned in her nervousness, to meet Hillary’s eyes. The blond woman was studying her with a soft, affectionate look that startled her. Paige met the woman’s searching blue eyes, and felt a wave of attraction. It passed quickly, and both looked away. The words ‘lesbian love’ shot through Paige’s confused mind; she took a big gulp of gin.

“You must tell me where you buy your clothes,” Hillary began, edging closer on the couch. For a while they discussed shopping, with Hillary complimenting the girl repeatedly on her taste, telling her that a woman had to have the right sort of look, a well-proportioned figure to carry it off. She had to be good looking—a pretty girl—like Paige. Paige thrilled to the compliments, blushing like schoolgirl.

“And I really like this outfit.” Hillary reached out to finger the vinyl skirt, as if sampling the material. The skirt had ridden well up over the rounded prominence of Paige’s nyloned knee. The dark haired girl kept her eyes down, watching Hillary’s fingers pick up and slowly rub the shiny fabric. And when they gave up that fabric, they lightly brushed across her knee in departing; Paige felt as though she had been burned by that brief, delicate touch.

“And those charming boots. They’re just perfect for you!” Hillary enthused. “Of course, you have to have a good pair of legs for them, and you have nice legs. Boots are really quite fashionable nowadays, aren’t they? Still, they must be hot on a day like this. Why don’t you take them off, and get comfortable?” she coaxed gently.

Paige, confused and tense, suddenly became aware of the nearness of the other woman who had shifted closer and now sat with her legs tucked under her, just inches away, her handsome blond face, poised and expectant. Paige felt warm, and unexpectedly—horny! She remembered those pretty features twisted in lustful passion. Not daring to look at her companion, Paige uncrossed her legs, and leaned over to find the zipper of her right boot. What happened next surprised her, and she meant to protest, but bit off the words as Hillary suddenly slid down off the couch to kneel at her feet.

“Here, let me help you,” Hillary offered, her voice suddenly low and husky.

Paige leaned back into the cushions, and extended a booted foot, smiling down on the short-cropped blond head, as Hillary sitting back on her heels, bent forward to take the leather-clad calve in her hands.

“Oh yes, these are nice, very nice,” she purred, running down the zipper, and pulling the boot free. The other boot was carefully removed as Paige, feeling deliciously languorous, settled back on the sofa, letting her head loll back against the cradling cushions of soft ultra suede.

She luxuriated in the feel of Hillary’s hands clasping her feet and ankles, gently rubbing and massaging, Eager fingers slid around a taut calve and hefted the warm, firmly packed nylon, as all the while Hillary looked up, watching Paige’s face for a sign. A wave of joyful exaltation swept her when she saw the lean brunette’s eyes flutter closed, as Paige gave herself up to the waves of pleasure. From somewhere far away the words ‘lesbian lover’ floated by her. An adoring hand slowly moved up that feminine leg inch by inch, savoring the silken curves of that long and exquisitely sculpted limb whose smoothly tapering length extended down to a trim ankle and long, slender feet.

Clasping each ankle, Hillary lifted the slack legs to place the heels nesting together in the valley of her lap. She settled back on her heels, pausing to appreciate the perfection of those slender close-set legs. Paige lay back, giving herself up to a kind of heavy sensual lassitude that settled in on her as she watched the blond through half-lidded eyes, looking down on the blond woman who knelt before her. She let out a long sigh and let her eyes flutter closed, smiling as she slid into dreamy contentment, not caring as she felt her skirt being shoved back uncovering all of those marvelous stockinged lengths, as those dreamy hands kept up their loving of her sinuous nyloned lines.

Then her nyloned foot was being lifted, brought up to Hillary Dewitt’s lips! The toes curled with pleasure at the first brush of those soft warm lips. The lips fastened on the big toe, kissing, sucking, gently sucking. An erotic thrill knifed through Paige, leaving her insides soft and mushy, leaving her helpless, drained. From somewhere she heard a low, earthy moan of ecstasy, and realized vaguely the moan was coming from her.

The slow hands moved up her slack loins, and she quickened when she felt them firmly feel their way along her haunches. A part of her felt that this was all wrong. After all, she wasn’t a lesbian! Yet, she didn’t react. She didn’t move a muscle as the short skirt was pushed up her legs and her knees were nudged gently apart.

She heard the words: “Oh, darling Paige, you don’t know now how I’ve longed for this moment”

Paige Robbins’ lips moved to say something, but no words came out. Her long limbs lay as they had been left loosely parted, the skirt hoisted shamelessly up her thighs, legs sprawled open in wanton abandon, like a slovenly whore’s. But the dark-haired woman was beyond caring; her limp body was useless, a rag doll’s body drained out of all will, all purpose. She was free, floating, blissfully content to place herself in her lesbian lover’s adoring hands.