The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jocelyn stepped back out of her closet into the bedroom, where Celeste was sitting on the bed. She paused in her girlfriend’s line of sight, and slid over the fabric of her dress, pressing it into one hip with her hand. “I’m just not sure about this dress,” she added, after a second. “Do you think the fit is right?”

Celeste was wearing an expression of deep concentration on her face. “Maybe if you presented it from a different angle,” she suggested, thoughtfully.

Jocelyn took this as a cue to perform a little spin.

Celeste frowned. “More slowly.”

Jocelyn complied.

Celeste tilted her head, considering Jocelyn again. “What do you think the problem is?”

Jocelyn looked down at the dress. “I think it’s just a little too loose— but the problem is it’s not even. Certain parts of it are practically trying to jump away from my body, and then other sections are hugging me close. It’s not uniform. If the whole thing was baggy, it would be easier to take it all in. But since each section fits differently it would be a nightmare— having to open only some seams, and not others! Not to mention that if I fix the parts that are loose, it could wreck the parts that actually fit,” Jocelyn finished, with a huff.

Celeste had watched her with an amused smile through her entire tirade. “Why did you buy the dress, then? Didn’t you try it on first?”

Jocelyn dropped her arms to her sides with an exhale of frustration. “Of course I did! I just thought I wanted a challenge. But every time I’ve tried the dress on since then, I’ve realized it’s almost unsalvageable. What was I thinking?” She groaned in frustration again, raising her arms to jerk her hands roughly through her hair— pulling a little harder than necessary, to give herself sparkings of pain, as self-punishment.

“Well, you asked for my opinion,” Celeste reminded her, drawing Jocelyn’s attention back. “Would you like to hear it?”

Jocelyn looked back to her, and gave a brief nod.

“I think you have a seamstress’ eye,” Celeste said, simply.

Jocelyn gave a her a confused look.

“You’re seeing imperfections that are almost unnoticeable to a layperson. If the dress is gaping forward in some sections, it can’t be by any more than a quarter of an inch. As far as I can tell, when I look at the dress, it’s a perfect fit.”

It was actually a helpful comment. But then, Celeste tended to be full of useful perspective. Still, though… “That’s fair,” Jocelyn said, though she spread her hands self-consciously over the waist of the dress. “But even if everyone else looks at me and sees a dress that fits, I can’t stand to look down at it, or look at it in the mirror because all I can see are those imperfections. My attention to detail is too good.”

Celeste gave a goodhearted roll of her eyes. “You are a bit of a perfectionist.”

Jocelyn let her hands flop to her sides again. “So you see the problem. I just don’t know how I can ever wear it. The alterations to fix the imperfections, small as they may be, would be a nightmarish headache, but without them, I can’t even stand to look at it. I kept the receipt. I guess the only thing for me to do is return it. Pity, though. I really did like the color.”

“It’s a good color,” Celeste agreed. “I have another comment, if you’d like to hear it.”

Jocelyn put a hand on her hip and leaned into it. “What is it?”

Celeste gave a tilt of her head. “I think my beautiful girlfriend looks good in everything she wears— I think everything she puts on her body fits her like a glove. Maybe she just needs a little help seeing that herself. I think… if you’re open to it… I can make that dress fit for you.”

“Oh,” was all Jocelyn said— because she hadn’t expected Celeste to suggest that particular game just then. She frowned for a minute, and then said, “I’m open to it.”

Celeste smiled, and it made Jocelyn a little unsteady. “Just… feel the way the fabric pours over your shoulders, first,” she suggested— and Jocelyn did. Part of the appeal of the dress had been the softness of the fabric. It was a loose flowing fabric, but the design of the dress had meant to make it tight and clinging through use of carefully placed seams and stitches. The whole concept of the dress had really been doomed, from the very beginning, now that she thought about it—

“Jocelyn,” Celeste chided softly. “Are you feeling the dress against your shoulders?”

“Yes,” Jocelyn said, primly. Sometimes it seemed Celeste had a direct link to her thoughts. She put her focus back on the fabric. It was soft against her skin, and now that she was putting her attention there, she felt as if the dress, at that point, was encasing her shoulder, and not just hanging over it.

“Notice how you can feel the fabric on all sides of your shoulders,” Celeste advised, only seconds behind Jocelyn’s own thoughts. “You feel it brushing your upper arm, you feel it brushing the back of your arm, the front of your arm— it’s even hinting at the side of your breasts. It’s completely covering those parts of you, covering every inch. And you can feel the fabric on your skin…”

Celeste had a certain magic she could weave with her words, and Jocelyn was falling under her spell again. As Celeste spoke, each sensation was conjured for her, and she was feeling the fabric brush against her in vivid detail.

“If you can feel the fabric on all sides of your upper arm, brushing every inch of your skin… there really can’t be any gaping there, can there?” Celeste asked softly.

“No,” Jocelyn said, her voice even softer than Jocelyn’s. It suddenly made so much sense to her— she didn’t see why she hadn’t thought of it before. Of course the dress fit her arms— of course it fit her there. She could feel the fabric against her skin in heightened detail, couldn’t she? Of course it fit.

“Now, I want you to drop your attention to your lower stomach, and your hips,” Celeste instructed carefully next. Jocelyn did, and her focus was so sharp that the rest of the room seemed to dim around her. “You can feel the fabric pressing close to you there, can’t you? You can feel it whispering over your hips, and curving around them. It’s circling and caressing your body there, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jocelyn said, her voice still soft. “Yes, of course it is— of course it is—”

“Tell me what it means if you can feel the fabric right against your body, Jocelyn.” The command was gentle, but Jocelyn was already responding to it before Celeste had even reached its end.

“It means it fits me there… If I feel it… it means it fits me there…”

“Very good,” Celeste replied, and Jocelyn shivered a little from it. “And you can feel the fabric all over your body, can’t you? There’s nowhere that you can’t feel it. So what does that mean?”

Jocelyn swallowed, but said nothing this time. Her body was tingling with the heightened sensory awareness that Celeste was guiding her through. It was hard to concentrate, and harder to answer. And she still felt the ghost of the shiver that had passed through her when Celeste had given her praise.

But Celeste did not order her to reply. Instead, she said, “Turn and take a look in the mirror, Jocelyn, and tell me what you see.”

It was easier to follow instruction than to speak— Jocelyn turned to the standing mirror beside the closet door, across from the bed, and sighed.

The dress was a perfect fit.

She must have been blind not to see it before— it hugged her body everywhere it touched her, clinging to every inch of her skin. It might have been the best fitting garment she had.

“It fits,” Jocelyn said, her voice touched by surprise. She knew that Celeste had made that happen, but her mind was too foggy to formulate exactly how she had done it.

Jocelyn turned back to face her, and Celeste’s smile held another note, now. “I think everything you wear fits you like a glove,” she repeated. “But you wear nothing so well as you wear your obedience to my power. Would you like me to help fit you into that, now?”

Truthfully, Jocelyn knew she was already most of the way there. Knew that it was never very far away from her. But it always felt so good to go through the motions of being fitted to it that she just had to say, “yes.”

And then she was moving to Celeste on the bed, and Celeste’s words were guiding her mind…

And she was curled up in the comforting familiarity of Celeste’s power again.

She had to admit.

It fit her better than anything else she owned.