The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

They dropped off Jasmine’s wrap at coat check. As Jasmine tucked the ticket into her clutch, Devon looked around, reminding her of a dog scanning a yard for disturbances.

“Devon!” Jasmine heard a familiar squeal. A young woman emerged from the ballroom, dark hair pulled into a tight bun, wearing a dusty pink strapless gown. “Oh my God, she looks incredible.” The woman put her hand on Jasmine’s arm. “You look incredible. Hi.”

“Hi, Tasha,” Jasmine said. She hadn’t seen Tasha since the beginning of her slave training, before Jasmine’s conscious mind was even aware of what was happening. Before she knew that Tasha had known all along what Devon planned to do to her.

Yet another thing Jasmine recognized she should be angry about. Devon had taken away her free will, her right to decide how she lived her life, and this woman, who’d spent her life in the lap of luxury, had helped him do it. But she was amused by these thoughts, actually, these silly little realizations. It made it easier to find her smile and forget the incident from the sidewalk. Once that line of thinking passed through her, all Jasmine could think about was the look of curious lust in Tasha’s eyes.

Tasha seemed to not know what to say next, and turned her attention back to Devon. “I have like five people I need to thank for coming, but then I’ll find you again. Oh, before I forget, Tiffany’s donated these absolutely killer earrings for the silent auction, and I want them so fucking bad and I do have a birthday coming up, so…”

“So ask your father to bid on them for you,” Devon said, grinning teasingly.

Tasha rolled her eyes. “He said it would look bad for the foundation if he did that. Please, Devon? I’ll do anything.”

Jasmine recognized the way her Master’s body shifted. He did like begging, sometimes. Devon leaned forward and cupped Tasha’s chin, like he so often did to Jasmine. “Get a job, then,” he said, in the same voice he might use to command Jasmine to spread her legs. “Or a rich husband.”

Tasha glared. “You sound like my mom. Come onnnnn.” Jasmine looked down and saw Tasha’s foot twitch, like she was keeping herself from stomping it. “Even if the bids go up, you’ll still pay like half retail.”

“Oh, what a bargain,” he laughed, still amused, “considering I wasn’t going to buy them in the first place.”

“It’s for a good cause.” Tasha didn’t belong to Devon, and wasn’t so easily pulled under his spell. But they’d known each other their whole lives, and Jasmine wondered if there was a time when Tasha really would have done anything for him. “For the kids.”

“We’ll see,” he said, retracting his hand from Tasha’s face.

Tasha cleared her throat and stepped back, adjusting her boobs in her dress. “Just don’t make me pick between having them and…her.” She met Jasmine’s eyes. “You promised.”

“I’m a man of my word,” Devon said. “Just find us when you’re ready.” He pulled Jasmine close to him and waved at Tasha as she walked off. When she was gone, he led her into the cavernous ballroom, past a sign that said, “The van Galen Family Foundation Annual Gala.”

“What does the foundation do?” Jasmine asked.

Devon furrowed his brow. “Something with kids, like Tasha said. Um,” he bit his lip, then snapped his fingers in recognition, “youth groups. That’s it. After-school programs, summer camps. For five hundred dollars a plate, you’d think I’d be more mindful of details like that.”

They checked the silent auction, where she marveled at things like vacation packages to exotic locations, more jewelry that Tasha hadn’t mentioned, and restaurant gift certificates. While she was reading the description for a set of parasailing lessons, they were approached yet again by someone taking bracing sips of clear alcohol, and it took Jasmine a moment to realize where she’d seen the older man before.

“Your mother’s here,” was all he said, directly to Devon.

“Mmhmm, hi to you too, Dad,” Devon responded, shooting a sideways glance at Jasmine.

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re being obtuse,” Devon said dismissively. “She’s been friends with Mrs. van Galen since college. Of course she’s here.”

Mr. Stockwell didn’t seem to consider that an adequate answer. “She wasn’t here last year.”

“Because she was in Paris last year. She violating some alimony agreement?”

Devon’s father grumbled with a bitter shake of his head. Then his gaze fell to Jasmine. “This is your…uh…”

“This is Jasmine, Dad.” Devon put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve met her. She used to work front desk.”

“And what do you do now?” he asked Jasmine, as if he was speaking to a child.

“She services my cock, Dad,” Devon said before Jasmine had a chance to stutter through a response.

Mr. Stockwell choked on his drink. “Jesus, Devon.” He paused a moment, and then he laughed after another sip. “Alright, you kids have fun.” He clapped his son on the shoulder before wandering off.

“Fucking exhausting,” Devon mumbled. “You did well,” he said. “I was worried your instincts might have you licking your lips at him.”

“No, Sir,” she said quietly with a tiny smile.

“It doesn’t matter what you are. He was going to look down on you regardless, just like I thought.” He rolled his eyes. “Deflecting. Shocking. Not giving a shit. That’s how I get people to invest their fortunes in the company. It’s how I keep him in the black. And it’s how I get him to fuck off when he’s being a bitter pill. He has no idea what you really are to me, but he knows better than to pry or question me when I pull out that card.” He seemed to be talking to himself as much as to her, but Jasmine listened to her Master with rapt attention. “It won’t make him respect you, but nothing will anyway, so at least he’ll leave us alone.” He looked around. “Wonder where Mom is.”

They passed a few waiters carrying hors d’oeuvres trays, but Jasmine avoided them. Her training conditioned her not to take food that Devon didn’t give her. Likewise, at the bar, he ordered her a club soda. She didn’t miss alcohol. She’d never been much of a drinker anyway, and it was important to Devon that she keep her senses clear, and that she stay healthy.

They went to their table, where salads were waiting for them. “Go ahead and eat,” Devon said as he pulled out her chair for her to sit. “I’m sure it’s all fine.”

She liked when he remembered the small nuances of her conditioning, when he took care of her in ways he might not have considered might be necessary when he’d decided to own her. If he hadn’t told her to eat, she would have stared at the salad plate in wonder until someone came to take it away.

He lingered behind her for a moment, then leaned over and kissed her on the neck. She let out a small moan, and he chuckled heavily in her ear. “Little fuckdoll,” he whispered. “Better eat up. Tasha will be back for you any minute.”

How could she eat? How could she do anything when the thought of someone coming to her Master and taking her like she was a borrowed piece of clothing made her feel so horny? If she moved even to take her fork, she might be unable to stifle an orgasmic scream.

He put the fork in her hand and sat down next to her. She could feel him smirking, though she could only see him out of the corner of her eye.

There was a clinking sound, and the chatter in the room died down as everyone’s attention turned to a man standing in a staged area with a background showing the van Galen Foundation’s logo. “I want to thank everyone for coming tonight,” he began, and then droned on about the importance of charity and giving back to the community.

“That’s Tasha’s dad,” Devon leaned over to whisper to Jasmine. “He’s nice. Bit of a windbag.”

Jasmine stabbed a forkful of lettuce without much thought. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the man as he spoke.

“What are you thinking?” Devon asked.

Jasmine blinked, unsure if she should say with others at the table with them. But she’d already disobeyed one order tonight, and she wasn’t about to do it again. So she put her hand on her Master’s thigh, partially because she knew he would like that, and partially to anchor herself so she could scoot closer to him and whisper in his ear. “I’m wondering what his cock looks like,” she said. Not seductively, but with a note of confusion. “I’m wondering what everyone’s cocks or tits or cunts look like.”

“I know,” he said gently. He put his hand on top of hers and petted it, a move that seemed so innocent on the outside, but that ignited fires deep within her, made her submissive brain light up. “I’ll release you from some of it, if it’s too disruptive. You’re not something to be leant out to anyone off the street, or even just anyone in the room. I’m discerning, when I share you, and I have conditions. He doesn’t make the list.” He pointed at Mr. van Galen. “Nobody in this room makes the list, except for Tasha.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Try to look at it as a way to remind you that you belong to me, that you’re a little whore if I want you to be. Not as anything you need to act on. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

“Good.” He paused as a waitress removed their salad plates and replaced them with their meals. His was steak, hers was salmon. “Eat.” Devon could move so easily between passionate monologues and one-word commands.

Mr. van Galen’s speech went on, and he thanked his family, including his wife and daughter. When he said Tasha’s name, she waved from her table and basked in some light applause. All of Devon’s friends were so pretty, Jasmine thought. So stylish and so sexy. She found Devon’s command made it easier to focus just on Tasha, just on the curves of her body in her tight dress, the excited glimmer in her eyes, the gleam of her white teeth.

Jasmine felt saliva pool at the bottom of her mouth, and if Devon had commanded it, she would have sprinted across the room to tackle Tasha to the ground and cover her in kisses. She twitched in her seat and tried to finish her meal before the speech was done. Tasha caught her eye and grinned, and Jasmine felt her clit throb.

Finally, the speech ended, everyone clapped, and Tasha, still clapping herself, stood up and hurried over to Devon and Jasmine’s table as the crowd resumed its various discussions.

She crouched between Devon and Jasmine’s chairs. “Oh my gawd, I thought he would never stop talking.”

“I thought it was one of his more restrained speeches,” Devon said.

“Shut up, no you did not.”

“Eloquent. Timeless. Ah, ah, ah.” He caught Tasha’s hand as she moved to give him a playful smack. “Be nice, or you can’t play.”

Tasha’s eyes went wide, and though Jasmine was as eager to play as Tasha was, she enjoyed seeing Tasha realize how much power Devon had, even over her. He had something she wanted. Badly.

Jasmine liked being wanted so badly.

Tasha withdrew her hand and shrugged, trying to play it off like she didn’t care either way, but Jasmine could see the hunger in her eyes. She knew Devon could see it too.

“How do we do it?” Tasha asked, idly poking the top of Devon’s chairback.

“You want to play alone, or do you want me there?” he asked.

“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “I didn’t know not having you there was an option. Charlie said he and Sport did it right in front of you.”

“Did what?” Devon asked with a falsely innocent smirk, one leg draped over the other.

“You know,” Tasha said. When Devon’s expression didn’t change, she looked around, her face beet red. “Fucked her,” she whisper-hissed. “Fucking damn you, you turd.” But she fought back a giddy giggle, practically had to shove her fist into her mouth to keep it from escaping.

Devon smiled. “If they’d wanted privacy, I’d have given it to them. They’ve passed all my stipulations for trust. So have you.”

Tasha bit on her knuckles thoughtfully. “If it wouldn’t insult you…”

“Tasha.” Devon gave her an are-you-joking look.

She laughed. “Okay. I was thinking earlier about where. I snuck into the back when they were setting up, told them I wanted to make sure everything was going well.” She flashed a proud smirk at her subterfuge. “There’s a little room, like I think for brides getting ready for weddings and stuff. No one was using it.” She jerked her head off to the side. “It’s down the hall at the end.”

“Perfect,” Devon said. “Why don’t you go, and I’ll have Jasmine follow you in a few minutes.”

Tasha nodded, stood. “See you there,” she said, suddenly unable to look Jasmine in the eye. Her voice shook slightly, and she shuffled away.

“Is she okay?” Jasmine asked her Master.

“I think she’s fine,” he said. “The reality of it all may have just hit her. But you’ll make her feel more comfortable, won’t you, pet?” He leaned in and kissed her lips, the way any boyfriend might kiss his girlfriend. But he whispered, “You have plenty of techniques at your disposal. I’ve made sure of that.”

She clamped her lips together and shut her eyes.

“Good girl,” he said. Good girls make their Master’s friends feel good. That had been hammered into her during her training. It wasn’t the most important tenet, but it was up there. “Go on. I’ll save your dessert, but you’ll need to earn it.”

If he’d programmed her to be more assertive with him, she might have bit lightly onto his lip, promised in a husky voice that she would. But good slaves like her obeyed their programming, and so she only nodded with a heavy neck, tried to blink herself to some normal expression, and stood, following the invisible breadcrumbs that Tasha had left behind.

She didn’t know for sure that Devon would watch her as she walked, but she should always assume that he would be watching her, that he knew every movement she’d make and would factor that into his consideration of how rough to be with her, how much freedom he’d give her when he had her on her knees, literally or proverbially. She swayed her hips slightly as she walked, stepping more confidently in heels than she ever did before he trained her.

She found the bridal dressing room that Tasha had described. The door was ajar, and she pushed on it. Tasha was standing against a wall, facing the platform and mirrors where a bride would normally stand to be dressed and attended to by her bridesmaids. She held a vape pen in one hand, and was inhaling it deeply, wisps of smoke emerging from slightly parted teeth as she looked into the mirrors. She didn’t even seem to notice that Jasmine had come in at first, but turned when she heard Jasmine shut the door.

“I should lock it,” Jasmine said. Tasha nodded with an agreeing hum and a tight smile.

“Sorry,” Tasha said. “I just…I have no idea why I’m suddenly so nervous.” She laughed to herself and shook her head. “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. Months. Ever since Devon said…” She took another drag from the vape pen, then exhaled and rested the pen by her side with a straight arm. “Ever since this whole thing with you started, actually, all I could think about was when I’d be able to…” she swirled the pen in the air, “…use you. But now that you’re here, I have no fucking idea what to do. Feels like prom night all over again, to be honest.” She laughed. “Isn’t that silly?”

Jasmine blinked as she processed the question, which was more abstract than she’d been prepared for.

Luckily, Tasha didn’t seem to expect an answer. “I’m not a dominatrix or anything like that.”

“Do you want to be?” Jasmine asked.

“No.” Another drag. Jasmine sniffed a hint of cherry in the air. “I don’t want to waste your time. I know you mean a lot to Devon.”

“You’re not wasting my time,” she said. She was starting to get more comfortable in the silence, more in tune with Tasha. “Can I ask you something?”

Tasha seemed surprised by that, but not offended. She blinked, eyes wide, hint of a smile on her lips. Maybe there was more in that vape than tobacco. “Sure.”

“The first night Devon hypnotized me, someone was eating me out. It couldn’t have been him, because he was holding me from behind.” She took a step to Tasha, whose chest fluttered. “Was it you?”

Tasha nodded. “You remember that now, huh? Yeah, he said he needed someone to…stimulate you, I think is how he put it.” She made a face like it was a way of speaking from Devon that she was both very used to and very annoyed by. “I thought it sounded…” Jasmine reached out and touched Tasha’s cheek, and Tasha paused, swallowing to get more moisture in her mouth. “I thought it sounded hot.”

“I’d never felt anything like that before,” Jasmine murmured. “It was incredible. I thought I was going to melt.”

Tasha took another, possibly instinctual puff of her vape. She started to exhale into Jasmine’s face, then seemed to remember herself and turned her head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you happy? Like, with what he’s done to you, you’re happy?”

Jasmine hadn’t thought Tasha was capable of such a serious question, but then, it was entirely possible her ditzy, spoiled-little-rich-girl personality was part of a habitual act. “Yes.”

“Because you really like it, or because he’s brainwashed you to like it?”

Jasmine furrowed her brow, trying to explain it gently, and in a way that didn’t make her head hurt. She wasn’t trained to be thinking this much, but for the time, she was Tasha’s, so she had to answer. “It’s…it’s more complicated than that. The way he’s in my head, they’re pretty much the same now.” She knew the process she was describing, the things Devon had done to her, explaining them would horrify a normal person. But Tasha just watched her with rapt curiosity, just a hint of concern that Jasmine knew could be easily rationalized away. “I think I wanted it, but it’s also possible he just told me that I did. But at this point,” she shrugged, “it doesn’t matter.” Her name. Her desires. None of it mattered.

“I did really like it, making you squirm like that,” Tasha said, her shoulders relaxing as she gave a small smile. “But I was nervous the whole time that you were going to snap out of it. When Devon told us what he planned to do to you, I think I barely reacted. We’ve always shared everything. I mean, everything. We’ve shared toys. We’ve shared partners. We’ve shared each other. So I thought, at first, I guess I thought he meant, it was all going to be one big, long scene. Even though I knew he could hypnotize people…I didn’t think…and then you came, and after that, I could just see it in your eyes. He was already erasing who you were before. It wasn’t a game.”

“Mmm-mmm.” Jasmine shook her head. “It wasn’t.”

“That made it feel, like, so different,” Tasha said. “I started to feel kind of bad for you, but he promised you would like it. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. Sport told me I was being an idiot for caring about it so much.”

Jasmine thought back to that morning, when Sport had fucked her with Devon’s blessing right there in his kitchen. He’d been so rough with her. He definitely didn’t think of her as a person.

She stroked Tasha’s neck. “I don’t want you to worry about me,” she said. “It’s kind of you, but it’s not necessary. If you’re Devon’s friend, that means you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other, and I know it wouldn’t make him happy to know you’re so concerned.” A hand brushed against the bodice of Tasha’s dress, and Jasmine was pleased to see Tasha blush. “So, what can I do to put your mind at ease?”

“Jesus, um.” Tasha smacked her lips, as if all thought had been sucked out of her head for a moment. “I don’t know.”

Jasmine wrapped a hand around Tasha’s waist, closing what little distance remained between them. “How about I make you feel as good as you made me feel?” Her voice was deep and sultry. She knew exactly what Tasha needed, without needing to be told.

Someone with more scruples might push her away, but Tasha nodded. “That means you eat pussy?”

“Yeah.” Jasmine chuckled. “I eat pussy.”

“Okay,” Tasha said, as if she was agreeing to a hairstylist’s suggestion for a cut.

Jasmine moved Tasha to the dressing platform, knelt before her like a bridesmaid adjusting the bride’s hem. “You’re so gorgeous,” she said. “All of Master’s friends are so gorgeous.”

“That’s what you call him?” Tasha asked. “Master?”

“Sometimes.” Jasmine knelt on the platform and lifted the hem of Tasha’s dress. “What do you want me to call you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Miss?” Jasmine suggested.

“Yeah.” That alone seemed to make Tasha relax, as the muscles in her perfect, slender legs eased. “I like Miss.”

“Miss.” Jasmine peppered Tasha’s leg with kisses. “I’m here for you. My entire purpose in this world, right now, is to make you cum before we leave this room.”

“And what if you don’t?” Tasha asked with a hint of excitement.

“Then Master won’t be pleased,” Jasmine said, without fear or warning. Just matter-of-factly, like she was describing the habits of the tide. She tugged teasingly at the waistband of Tasha’s pink silk thong.

Tasha shuddered, and Jasmine held her tight to make sure she wouldn’t fall. She rubbed Tasha’s pussy with her thumb through the fabric, and Tasha trilled.

Sport wanted a mindless fucktoy, something not much different from a blow-up doll. Master, at least for now, wanted a wanton sex slave who stared at him like he was the most wonderful man in the world and laughed at all of his jokes.

Tasha, though, Tasha wanted something else. And Jasmine was beginning to figure out what that was.

“You’ve fucked my Master so many times, haven’t you?” Jasmine cooed, running her lips along Tasha’s tight torso. “He loves you. And so I love you.” She licked the silk. “I am so happy he lent me to you.”

“Oh, fuck.” She could hear Tasha biting her lip with a groan. “I don’t…” she panted, “Nnn…I don’t think your job is going to be very hard.”

Jasmine laughed and tugged the thong down, revealing Tasha’s bare sex. “Do you want to know what it’s like, to belong to him?”

She separated the folds of Tasha’s pussy with her fingers, and licked the clit. It was almost immediately too much for the poor little rich girl. Her knees buckled. “I don’t want…I’m not jealous of you,” she promised, grasping Jasmine back for support.

“I know,” Jasmine said. It was true. Tasha didn’t want to belong to Devon. She had too many prospects, too much life to live, too much at stake. And she didn’t need to be Devon’s slave to fuck him. “But you want to know what it’s like. You asked me if I was happy, but I think deep down, what you really want to know, is what it’s like to have your mind ensnared and repurposed by someone you trusted.” She lowered Tasha gently to the floor, and the girl looked up at her with heavy, wondrous eyes, propping herself up on her elbows.

Jasmine crawled to her, making sure to keep it clear to Tasha who was really in control. Which end of the leash belonged to which woman, even if Tasha had no intention of pulling it. If Jasmine’s knees weren’t scraped, she wasn’t doing her job. “Do you want to know, Miss?”

“Yes,” Tasha whispered.

In the scuffle, Tasha’s dress had slid back down her legs, but Jasmine lifted it again and brought her head to Tasha’s dripping pussy. She inhaled. When she was free, she’d never eaten a girl out. She’d never been attracted to women, and oral sex in general had seemed like something gross to be avoided whenever possible. But Master had shown her, when he had her deep in trance, molding her like she was supple clay. He’d shown her how good it was to make her users feel good, to lick their cocks and pussies until they jerked with arousal and came onto her face. He’d taught her to love the smell, the taste and feel of them on her tongue.

She remembered feeling so silly, even in her trance where emotions like that shouldn’t be able to touch her. She remembered thinking it should have been obvious all along how wonderful it was to use her tongue to provide the pleasure that only a slave could give. But Devon had assured her that it was okay. She had him now. She had the owner she’d always needed. “I didn’t know who I was before Devon. Before Master. I was so lost.” Her voice cracked, and she buried into Tasha’s pussy her grief for all the years she’d spent so directionless, unaware of just how fulfilled she could be. The stress at the thought that in a parallel universe, Jasmine had never met Devon. “I didn’t even know how unhappy I was.”

She stroked her tongue over Tasha’s clit. “You know when an air conditioner turns off and you suddenly realize how awful the sound was, and how much better it is now that it’s peaceful and quiet?” Another lick, which elicited an animalistic moan from Tasha, who tried to murmur an agreement between her squeals of pleasure. Jasmine put her hands on Tasha’s toes and felt them curl into the hard carpet. “That’s what it’s like now. That’s exactly what it’s like. I don’t have to worry anymore. Everything is decided for me. Every thought, every movement, every word, decided by your best friend. By my Master.” She didn’t even have to lick her again; the words alone seemed to send Tasha close to the edge. “He has never been denied what he wanted, and neither have you, Miss. I am your deepest desires molded into flesh.”

She licked all the way from Tasha’s labia to her stomach, crawling over her overwhelmed mistress until their faces touched. Her own slut cunt was pulsating at the effort of putting into words how incredible it felt to have her autonomy stripped away, to be hardly better than an object. Words could never be enough, but she knew how curious Tasha was, how arousing she found it to think her friend had taken an ordinary woman and turned her into a toy to be passed around his exclusive circle.

Tasha, in some ways, was like Jasmine. Her whole life mapped out from the moment she was born, never having to worry about anything. But the difference between them was, Tasha was destined for other things. Things that required opinions and autonomy. A husband and children, a spotlight on her, positions on various hoity-toity boards that did various hoity-toity things. She liked those things. She reveled with that silver spoon in her mouth. She relished the things it allowed her and her friends to do, the lives it allowed them to toy with.

Lives like Jasmine’s. But all the money in the world could never give Tasha what Devon had. It couldn’t give her the ability to take a mind and bend it to her will. It could only give her temporary access to the lives that Devon had claimed for himself. Even if he were to give Jasmine to Tasha permanently, or set her up with a slave of her very own, she would always lack the ability to really control them. It would be like owning an appliance that could only be repaired or fine-tuned by one very expensive company.

Which she probably already did, Jasmine acknowledged to herself. But regardless, that was why Tasha was so turned on by the descriptions of Jasmine’s transformed mind, by being reminded of what her friend had done. It could bring her that much closer to tasting what it was like to be Devon.

“Do you want to know something else he’s done to me?” Jasmine whispered, and Tasha could only nod between breaths. Jasmine ground her hips against Tasha’s, stimulating her own pussy as much as she could, while rubbing Tasha’s clit in circles. The rich girl whimpered and moaned and gasped. Her makeup would need a touch-up, Jasmine noted. “I’m not allowed to cum until you do, Miss,” she said. “I’m always wet. I’m always horny. But my masters and mistresses always come first.”

She remembered the relish in Devon’s voice when he programmed that command into her, smiling at the pun, speaking the words into her ear, letting them soak into her. She remembered a tiny bit of resistance that she couldn’t vocalize. No, no, please, I’m so fucking horny already, please don’t tell me I can’t cum. But since then, she’d learned how wonderful it was to pull the orgasms out of Devon, and her own climaxes seemed so much sweeter as a reward. And of course, she’d learned never to question the wisdom of her master’s commands.

Well, almost never. She shuddered at the memory of how she’d behaved in the car, but shook her head, reminding herself that it wasn’t hers to worry about right now. Master wouldn’t be happy to learn she’d selfishly gotten distracted from her task by her own avoidable misstep.

“You can tell me not to, if you want to, Miss,” Jasmine said to Tasha, being sure to keep her tawdry, smoky voice.

“Wh-why would I?” Tasha blinked heavily.

“I don’t know,” Jasmine said. “But you can, if you want.”

“I don’t…but…fuck…” She was so close, Jasmine could tell as she pressed her fingers harder into Tasha’s clit. “What would happen…to you?”

“I don’t know that either. It’s not important.” She kissed Tasha’s cheek, and then her lips.

“God…he’s really…” Tasha gasped, and with it, the last of her doubts of Devon’s abilities were erased. Jasmine had convinced her that she was a real slave better than Devon ever could. “You’re really…a…his…”

“Yes, Miss,” Jasmine said quietly.

That was enough. Tasha threw her head back as best she could with her back already on the carpet, and her entire body vibrated with her orgasm. “God, yes, oh, oh, oh…!”

Jasmine’s washed through her too, like a thundercloud clapping from her chest and rumbling down to her slut cunt. She didn’t allow herself as loud a moan as Tasha’s, only letting out a breathy gasp that didn’t betray how devastatingly blissful she felt at a job well done. That was part of her job too, to express her emotions in the way her masters or mistresses would find most pleasing. Tasha hadn’t fucked her. She had fucked Tasha. And so in this case, her own pleasure was incidental, maybe even moot.

She bit her lip as the aftershock of her orgasm burst forth with the understanding of what a good, good slave she was. It could only have been better if her Master was here with them, stroking her, complimenting her himself. But he’d done such a good job with her that she knew how good she was, how pleased he’d be.

The two women remained on the carpet for a few minutes as they caught their respective breaths. Then, there was a knock at the door.

For a moment, Jasmine thought it might be Devon, coming to check on them, but she didn’t recognize the muffled voice on the other side, which sounded uncertain and deferent. “Hello? Is everything okay? We heard noises.”

Free Jasmine might have left it to Tasha to smooth things over, but slave Jasmine knew that Tasha was in no state to handle this. Besides, Jasmine was there to serve her.

She smoothed Tasha’s disheveled hair, kissed her forehead, and stood up, adjusting her own dress and hair as best she could before the person on the other end got the idea to find the key to the door. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack, just enough for her own face to peek through. “We’re fine,” she said to the short man in a waiter’s uniform, flashing a dazzling and charismatic smile. “Thanks for checking.”

“No one’s hurt? Everyone’s okay?” He was pimply-faced, and she could see other catering employees checking from around the corner. No doubt he’d been elected as the de-facto representative to figure out what was going on.

“Everyone’s okay,” she assured him. “Boy troubles,” she lied.

He nodded, eyes growing wide, finally deciding the issue was above his paygrade. He’d probably come to New York for the same reason as her: to find himself, to find success. He was probably even the same age as Jasmine. But he seemed so, so much younger.

“Okay, it’s just…I don’t think you’re supposed to be in there cause there’s no wedding and…” he trailed off.

“We’ll be out soon. Thanks.” She slipped her head from the doorway and shut the door, then turned to Tasha, who’d propped herself up into a seated position and was staring at her.

“The night I met you,” she said to Jasmine, “you couldn’t even look any of us in the eye, or talk without stammering.” She laughed. “He’s made you more like him. Fucking figures.”

Jasmine smiled. “May I redo your hair?” she asked.

Tasha put her hand to her scalp, then stood to examine herself in the tall mirror. “Oh, jeez,” she muttered. “Definitely can’t go out like this. You can really fix it?”

“Yes, Miss.” Jasmine brought over a chair and sat Tasha in front of the mirror. She pulled a travel bottle of hairspray and bobby pins from her clutch, which had been lying by the door.

“I always thought you looked so frumpy before,” Tasha said. “No offense.”

“I was,” Jasmine said. It was just about impossible for her to be insulted now. She tugged gently at the locks of Tasha’s hair that had come out of her bun. “Devon prefers my hair down, but he wanted me to be adept at grooming myself, and others. In the early days, I used to browse hairstyle tutorials on my work computer. I didn’t even know why I was doing it.” She smiled at both of their reflections.

“Did it feel weird?” Tasha asked. “Doing things without understanding why?”

“Sometimes. But he was already suppressing my thoughts at that point, so that helped.” She stuck a bobby pin in her teeth as she positioned Tasha’s bun.

“When he first told us what he was going to do to you, I guess I was literally picturing you’d be like, a fucking…I don’t know…like one of those real dolls except human.”

“I could be,” Jasmine said quietly, wistfully. “If he wants.” She looked at the mirror again, locking eyes with Tasha.

“I didn’t know if you could think at all.”

“I still think,” she said. “It would probably be hard to parade me through a room of unsuspecting people if I was literally mindless.”

Tasha let out a snort. “You’d be pretty fucking surprised at how few people would notice.”

Jasmine let out a twinkling laugh. “It’s the critical thinking that he’s tamped down,” she explained. “After all, what he’s done to me, it’s…well, a normal person wouldn’t call it moral. I know it’s not. But he’s taken away my ability to care. And I know that’s wrong too, but I also don’t care about that.” She had to stop momentarily as arousal made her quiver.

Tasha didn’t seem to know what to say, and if Jasmine knew anything about Tasha, it was that she never ran out of things to say. “Do you have a compact?” Jasmine asked to break the silence. Hers was a few shades too light for Tasha’s face.

“Oh, yes. My bag’s over there.” She pointed to the spot where she’d been standing when Jasmine came in.

Jasmine retrieved it and handed it to Tasha, who dug around in it. Before the compact, though, she pulled out her vape pen and pressed the buttons quickly to activate it, then took a puff. “Want some?” she asked, angling the pen towards Jasmine.

“No drugs, no alcohol,” Jasmine said. “You enjoy.”

“God, I couldn’t survive like that. No offense.” She took another drag, then made an acknowledging sound with the pen still in her mouth. “Oh, right.” She pulled out her compact and lipstick.

Jasmine knelt in front of her. She raised the lipstick to reapply it on Tasha, but before she could, Tasha kissed her lips. “I think you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other,” she said. For the first time since Jasmine walked into the room, she could hear a bit of playfulness and ease in the girl’s voice. “As much as your,” she sighed with delight, like she still couldn’t quite believe it, “as much as your Master will let me.”

“Yes,” she said, no thanks or promises. Either would be presumptuous. She pressed the lipstick to Tasha’s lips. “I’ll tell him.”

“Oh, you can bet I will too,” Tasha said with a smack of her lips. She preened in the mirror for a moment. “Can’t even tell,” she said. “Kind of a shame.”

“Yes, Miss.” With nothing else to do to care for Tasha, Jasmine stood and put her hand on the back of Tasha’s chair, awaiting further instructions.

“Guess we should get back out there.” Tasha pouted.

“Yes, Miss.” Jasmine had to look away from her own reflection as she spoke. She felt liable to put herself into a trance, being so blank and quietly obedient, thinking about her Master. Her legs trembled, unsure if they wanted to stay by Tasha’s side, or carry her back to the ballroom where he awaited.

Tasha stood up. “Let’s just go out together,” she said. “Who gives a fuck what anyone thinks?”

“I don’t.” Devon might, but he might also find it amusing if any eyebrows were raised.

Tasha clasped her hand, suddenly, in the way an old friend might. “Shall we?” She tugged on Jasmine’s arm, and led her out of the bridal room and down the hall.

In the ballroom, Devon was seated at their table, conversing with two older women. “Oh, great,” Tasha murmured, and Jasmine recognized one of them as Tasha’s mother, who’d been seated next to her father during his speech. “You met the former Mrs. Stockwell yet?” Tasha asked.

Even with a free mind, Jasmine would have had to take a moment to translate what Tasha meant. “Devon’s mother.” She was the second woman.

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

As they approached, snippets of their conversation became audible. “…her nanny always talked about how ‘spirited’ she was,” Tasha’s mother said. She noticed her daughter approaching and waved. “Her father wanted the hammer to come down hard on her attitude, of course, but Birgitta, her nanny, she’d come with a Masters in child development and recommended, I guess you’d call them more gentle techniques? More introspective.” She put her hand on her own chest. “I thought she was nuts, but Tasha was a perfect angel after that. Well, until she hit puberty.” The two women and Jasmine’s Master laughed. “Anyway, my point is,” she put a hand on Devon’s thigh, and Jasmine noticed Devon’s mother raised an eyebrow and looked away with a subtle roll of her eyes, “there’s no need to put off children. You get the right nanny and they’re easy as pie to raise.”

“Justine, really.” Jasmine had always thought that Devon didn’t sound much like his father, whose voice was more crackly and higher. But now she realized, he sounded like his mother. She was unmistakably a woman, but her voice was deep and lilting, confident. The kind of voice that demanded respect without having to ask for it outright. “The girl’s just moved in with him.”

Jasmine almost stopped, realizing they were talking about her. Tasha squeezed her arm, and gently pushed her towards Devon, who reached out and put an arm around her waist, still seated in his chair. “I would have liked to introduce you under less…awkward circumstances,” he said, giving Tasha’s mother a meaningful look.

“Where were you two hiding, anyway?” Tasha’s mother asked her daughter.

“Clearing our heads,” Tasha said, flashing the end of her vape pen from her purse.

Her mother sighed. “You see what I mean? I swear, this girl gave me gray hairs ten years early.” She put a hand to her expertly dyed brunette head.

“Ringing endorsement for children,” Devon said.

“Oh, but Tasha’s told me how absolutely charming your Jasmine is.” No one was addressing her directly, and so Jasmine just stood, eyes down, waiting for her owner to move her or acknowledge her. They didn’t seem to notice or care, either, and Jasmine understood then why Tasha had seemed so skeptical that Devon wouldn’t make her stupid and blank just so she could fit in at social events. “Between the two of you,” Tasha’s mother went on, “I think it’s safe to say your children would inherit calmer genes.”

“Well, I appreciate the insight,” Devon said with a smile. He looked up at Jasmine. “Darling, I assume Mrs. van Galen needs no introduction?”

“A pleasure,” Tasha’s mother said, reaching out and grabbing the tips of Jasmine’s fingers. The fingers that had just been inside her daughter’s moist pussy.

“Nice to meet you,” Jasmine said.

“And my mother,” Devon said. “Veronica Harrington.”

“Nee Stockwell,” Veronica said with a smirk. She stood up and kissed Jasmine on the cheek. “So, this is the girl who’s finally gotten my son to settle down.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Devon said.

“Well, she’s moved in with you. I don’t know what else you’d call it.” Veronica waved her hand dismissively. “Either way, I look forward to getting to know you.”

“Yes,” Jasmine said. “I do too, Ms. Harrington.”

“Veronica, please.” Devon’s mother stood. “Well, this has been delightful, but I haven’t had a chance yet to make Devon’s father squirm with my presence, so I’d better go find him and say hello.” She winked at Jasmine, as if she of all people should understand the joke. “Justine, lovely as always. Glad I could make it this year.” She clicked off in her heels.

“I’d better go too,” Justine said. “Lots more hands to shake. Tasha, if you could help with that, it would be…” she sucked in air through her teeth, “commendable.”

“Alright, jeez, give me a minute.” Tasha suddenly sounded like a petulant teenager.

Justine sighed and put a hand to her scalp, like she could feel another gray hair bursting through, and then she was gone too.

“Oh, God.” Tasha sank into the free chair to Devon’s right and put her face on the tablecloth. “That killed my buzz quick.”

Devon stroked the back of her exposed head. “You look like you hardly had any fun at all.”

Tasha shot up. “No,” she stage-whispered. “No, oh my God, Devon, she’s…” She looked at Jasmine, her lips moving wordlessly. “She’s amazing. She did great. I can’t even…fuck. I mean seriously, holy fuck. And she cleaned me up after.”

“Perfect.” Devon moved Jasmine to sit to his left. “And did you have fun?” he asked his slave.

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, her tongue heavy with sincerity, and the suppressed urge to shout it. To obey, to give pleasure, and then to be asked if she liked it. What more could a fucktoy like her possibly ask for?

“Good.” He pushed a plate to her. “Then you’ve earned this.” There was a slice of cheesecake on it, adorned with strawberries and a sweet red gel.

“Oh, that’s the best,” Tasha assured her. “They order it in from Junior’s.”

Devon cut off the end of the slice with the side of the fork, slid it on, then pushed it between Jasmine’s lips. “You’re my good girl,” he whispered. “My very, very good girl. Aren’t you?”

She nodded as the decadent treat hit her tongue and then slipped down her throat with a swallow. Just like she’d swallowed Charlie’s cum earlier that day.

He pressed the fork into her hand. “Finish it up, and then we’ll be getting you home. You’ve had a long day.”

At the thought of going home, Jasmine was reminded of the mistake she’d committed in the car, and wondered what consequences he had planned. Pleasing Tasha might have earned back some of his goodwill, but she couldn’t be sure. “Yes, Sir.”

She ate the cheesecake quietly while her Master turned to Tasha and they discussed all manner of things that didn’t concern Jasmine. Work, families, and responsibilities in general. She wasn’t forbidden from listening, but it wasn’t encouraged either, and so she tuned it out, happy to let herself drift in her floaty slave cloud.

Which, right now at least, had cheesecake.

To Be Continued