It’s a Good Formula
“What’s this?” Sarah asked Jack. Jack cringed. He had been reading some porn on MCStories.com on their apartment’s public computer, not expecting his girlfriend to be home until tomorrow. When he had heard the knock on the door, he had been completely distracted by that, and he soon was starting dinner. He stopped stirring the spaghetti and froze in terror.
“What’s what, honey?” he asked lamely.
Sarah turned around in her swivel chair, her long, wavy red hair framing her face beautifully. She frowned. “The thing on the computer.” Jack turned to face her. Again, he was reminded of how lucky he was to be with her. Where his physique could at best be described as nerdy (though he was working on it,) Sarah was curvy and thin like the kind of movie star they were both aspiring to be. Jack had slept with her, of course, but they had never really experimented, as he was a little uncertain on how exactly to say, “hey, do you want to take turns tying each other to the bed?” and not have it be creepy.
“The thing on the computer. Is it porn?” Sarah knew full well that it was porn. She had just read all of Dolly Molly while Jack had been boiling the spaghetti. Part of the reason she was clasping her hands together over her crotch was because of how much she enjoyed it.
“Maybe,” Jack said, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. Oh god, he thought, this is it. This is where she breaks up with me.
Instead, Sarah laughed. One of the places where Jack was actually doing well in show business was stand-up comedy. His facial expressions, nerdy sensibilities, and sense of storytelling usually had audiences eating out of his hand. Sarah was no exception, even if the joke was accidental.
Jack, on the other hand, relaxed. “So…” he asked hesitantly, “you’re not mad?”
“Did you masturbate on the seat without putting something between the nice chair and your dick?” Jack shook his head quickly. “Then I’m only a little annoyed that you never really talked about your fetishes with me,” Sarah said. “I may have been raised Catholic, but I am open to some things.”
“Thanks,” Jack said.
“For what?”
Jack looked somewhat nervous. “I’ve been worried that telling you certain things would, you know, result in an automatic dumping. I mean, how many people are really open to playing around with BDSM weirdness?” The buzzer rang, interrupting them temporarily. For a few minutes, they were distracted by serving and eating the meal that Jack had made. After a little while, they had come to a break in the eating.
“You know,” Sarah said, “that story was actually pretty sexy.” Jack’s eyes widened. “Really,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of spaghetti, “how so?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Gee,” she said sarcastically, “why would any girl want to be brought to mind-blowing orgasm just by putting on some clothes? What girl doesn’t want to wear something that makes her look great? What girl doesn’t want to have people lust over?”
Jack was about to open his mouth when Sarah opened her mouth. “And don’t say feminists. I know I’m just as much about equal fun for women as I am equal pay, and I’m definitely a feminist.”
“Actually,” Jack said, “I was going to point out the cost that comes with the kind of stuff on MCStories. Especially that kind. Honestly, it’s almost like it’s a fucking subgenre. Person gets a package with garments and accessories. They think it’s a little weird at first. Then they put on the clothes in the first tray, and something starts to take over their mind. The more stuff they put on, the greater the pleasure. The greater the pleasure, the more control the person that sent the stuff has over them. I would think that would scare you just a bit.”
Sarah shrugged. “Ok, that’s a good point. But… sometimes, some people don’t want to be in control. Sometimes it’s kind of nice to just go along for the ride. I mean, why do you think people like to get tied up? I admit, it’d be a lot more fun with someone you trusted…”
There were a few moments of silence, Sarah waiting expectantly. Finally, Jack asked, “What?”
Sarah sighed. “Remember that role you had on that show about the teens who fought vampires?”
“You mean the one I completely sucked in?” Jack asked.
“Honey, you were great in it,” Sarah said with some exasperation. It was one of those roles where the actor thought they were terrible, but everyone else had nothing but praise. “Anyway, you played a hypnotist in that episode. As part of your research into the role, you actually learned some hypnotism, right?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, “but are you really sure you want to do this?”
“How about you get the stuff together,” Sarah said, “and we’ll talk about it then. If I decide I don’t want to get mindfucked, I can always get a normal fuck while wearing whatever kinky stuff you decided to get for me. Deal?”
Jack considered this, a recurring fantasy already worming its way to the surface. “Ok,” he said, “I’ll do it.”
Two weeks passed by. Finally, one day at breakfast, after the table was cleared, Jack said, “I’m ready.”
Sarah was momentarily surprised. “You want to do it now? It’s Tuesday morning!” Jack nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “While we no-good creative people have literally nothing to do, our respectable white-collar neighbors have ‘actual’ work to do. Therefore, no one’s around to hear us if we get loud.”
“Oooh, you’re so smart,” Sarah said sultrily. “It’s very sexy. Like a heist movie.”
“Thank you,” Jack said. “Now, before we begin, do you still want to be hypnotized?” Sarah nodded. She had been reading MCStories quite a bit recently and had discovered two other stories with a similar theme, The Collar and Presents. “Well, mind control is part of the fun,” she said, her green eyes flashing sexily.
“Ok,” Jack said nervously. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hypnotize Sarah. She was a really fun person, and he kind of liked knowing that she had decided to be with him out of her own free will. However, the vision he had was very compelling.
“Ok,” he said, pulling out a metronome, and setting it to a fairly rapid clip. “I want you to follow the little stick thing on the metronome as it goes back and forth.”
Sarah did as she was told. When her gaze was locked in step with the metronome, Jack asked, “Isn’t it fascinating, how it moves?”
“Yeah…” Sarah said, “fascinating.” It was weird, she thought. Before Jack had pointed that out, it had been getting quite boring. Now she was watching the metronome with a renewed fascination. Huh. That was odd, she thought to herself. I’m using the exact same words he did.
Jack had noticed this, too. He also noticed that Sarah was getting somewhat tired. He turned down the metronome’s beats per minute down slightly.
“Do you notice how it’s getting slower?”
“Yeah…” Sarah said. Jack noticed how she was a little sleepier than before.
“I’m going to keep lowering the speed of the metronome,” Jack said, “and as it keeps getting lower, you will notice that you will get more and more tired. See?” Jack lowered the tempo of the metronome again.
“I’m getting more and more tired…”
Jack lowered the tempo again. “You also notice that instead of falling into a normal sleep, instead you seem to be drifting away… Drifting off to a place where nothing matters…”
“Going to a place where nothing matters…”
“But you can still hear everything I say…”
“Can still hear everything you say…”
“When the metronome reaches zero, everything I say to you will be irresistible…”
“Everything you say… irresistible…”
“And every time I lower the metronome’s tempo you get closer to this state…”
“Tempo lowers… brings me closer…”
“Closer and closer… Closer and closer… Closer and closer… Closer and closer… And now you are there.” Jack waited for a minute, wondering if Sarah would respond. If he had done this right, Sarah should be in a state where he could tell her the sky was red, and until he told her otherwise, she would always see the sky as red. But he wanted to be sure.
“I am in that state now… I am far away… and everything you say is irresistible…” Sarah’s usually bright green eyes were now dull. Jack was torn between being aroused by a sexy girl saying she was under his complete control and somewhat missing the intelligent woman he loved.
“Wait here,” he said. He quickly went to a closet and brought back a large white box wrapped with a black ribbon. He set down the box on a table in front of Sarah and took out his iTouch.
“In a little while, you will hear a doorbell ring. When that happens, you will wake up and act normally. However, some things will have changed. Instead of hypnotizing you, you’ll think I went out to do something.”
“You went out to an audition…”
“You will not consciously hear me, or see me, but if I say something, you will hear it as a subconscious suggestion that you will internalize it like it was your own thought.”
“Won’t see you… let your voice shape my thoughts…”
Jack nodded to himself. This seemed to be going well. “You will also believe you opened the door to get this package in front of you, and that was what the sound of the doorbell was. You will forget all about the mind control porn except for two vague feelings: one of danger, like you’ve seen this situation somewhere. The other is one of extreme curiosity.”
“Bell rings… I’ll believe I’ll have gotten this package from outside… Have strange feelings of curiosity and dread…”
Jack was now extremely focused. This next bit would be tricky. If he had done this correctly, he would have to make sure that everything he said was the right thing. He took a few deep breaths, got up, pushed the chair in, and used his iTouch’s doorbell app.
Sarah shook her head. For some reason, she had zoned out for a bit. She turned her attention back to the package. There was something familiar about it, like a story she read before. But it was so tempting. She looked at the package again. It was a large white box with a black ribbon, done up to look like a present. There was a tag that said, in a flowing cursive script, “To Sarah.”
She wondered briefly at this. It looked expensive. Whatever it was, it had to be good. Hesitantly, she took off the ribbon, and lifted the lid. Inside she saw two items. She almost closed the box right there.
Inside was a pair of black leather panties and two black x-shaped pasties on a white velvet tray. Part of her wondered why she was disgusted. After all, she did have a kinky side to her, didn’t she? She answered out loud, “But… I don’t know who sent these!”
The other part of her reasoned that it didn’t really matter, did it? Besides, think of how Jack would like to see her in these. She looked at herself. In her t-shirt and jeans that she usually wore, sometimes it was hard for her to remember that she was really hot. She decided that she would change in the living room. She brought the box over to the floor by the couches and closed the shades. Then she began to shed her normal clothes.
For some reason, she felt a little naughty. Maybe it was that she was undressing in the living room, maybe it was the nature of what she was going to put on, but she definitely wanted to do a little strip-tease. Her shirt came off first, slowly raised above her head to reveal her red bra with a black lace vine pattern.
When she realized that this was making her wet, she decided to have more fun. Pretending Jack was sitting on one of the couches, she turned and walked towards the place she imagined he was, kicking off her sneakers as she went. Then she ran her hands down her front and sides, tracing her most important assets until she got to her jeans. Swaying her hips and moaning in fake orgasm (though she was close to coming,) she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, but not giving imaginary Jack a good look at her panties. When she had been starting out in her acting career, she had taken a class on how to do a strip tease. There had been a day when the instructor had told her that you should show the front of the panties last in a private session. That way you had a chance to show them how happy you were to see them. There probably was quite a big dark spot on them already, but there was a reason it was called a strip tease. You had to be a tease about it, or it didn’t work.
She eased the jeans down her legs, turning around to show her butt. As she worked the jeans down, she also bent over, showing just how big it was, and how her panties matched her bra and went into her anus a bit. She made sure to take her socks off along with her jeans. She then stood up slowly, again tracing her legs with her hand, shaking her hips from side to side.
Finally, her hands found the bra strap. She unhooked it, grabbed the cups of the bra to keep them from falling off then turned to face the imaginary Jack. She was very excited as she flung her bra away to reveal her pink nipples, her juices trickling down her legs. Then she removed her panties. She then held them out by her pointer finger for the imaginary Jack to smell.
Her strip tease done, she turned her attention back to the box. She picked up the black leather panties and played with them. She was surprised to find a dildo and a butt plug built into them. While she was feeling kinky, she wasn’t sure if she was feeling that kinky. At least not yet.
She put on one of the black pasties to her left breast, exactly over her nipple. Once it was on, it instantly felt as though a finger was slowly tracing the x shape where the pasty was. She moaned at how good it felt, her back arching in ecstasy.
She put the other one on, and another invisible finger began to stroke her right breast in the same pattern, matching the left pasty stroke for stroke. This brought her arousal to new heights, but she still wasn’t coming. Then the Playful Pasties began to whisper to her.
“We can’t make you come,” they said to her in a sultry female voice that sounded familiar to Sarah. “Really?” she asked. “No, Sarah,” they said. “We just ease you into what comes next.”
“What does come next?” Sarah asked huskily. She was having trouble speaking coherently due to how aroused she was.
“The Pleasure Panties, of course,” the Pasties purred. Sarah was suspicious. This whole thing was really familiar. “And after that?” She asked.
“You’ll see…” the Playful Pasties said, laughing sexily. “Oh, and just a quick note,” they added, “You won’t be able to come until you put on the Panties. No matter what you do.”
Sarah sighed. She picked up the panties. “Oh!” the Pasties said, “make sure you put the dildo and butt plug in. It won’t work without them.”
Sarah groaned in a mixture of arousal and frustration. She decided to do the front first. After she pulled the Pleasure Panties up above her knees, she grabbed the dildo and guided it to her sopping wet vagina.
“Call it a pussy.”
“Excuse me?” Sarah asked, somewhat scandalized. “You’re a bitch in heat,” the Pasties said nastily. “You don’t get to use ‘nice’ names for you fuckholes until I say so. Now slide that dildo in and chant ‘I am sliding this dildo into my pussy’ or I won’t let you come. And do it slowly.”
Sarah thought of resisting, but the pleasure was so great it was becoming painful. So she did it.
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy.” Sarah was slightly annoyed, and it showed beneath the desperation in her voice.
“Slower.” The Pasties were commanding. Sarah had no choice but to obey.
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy.” Sarah was complying, now going at a tortuously slow pace.
“Do it slower.” Again, Sarah had to do it slower. The voice could not be resisted.
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy.” Sarah wondered what would happen when the pleasure would stop. She knew at the very least, she would become addicted.
“That’s a good pace, little slut.” The Playful Pasties were now back to their teasing, playful voice.
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy.” Sarah decided that she didn’t care. She just wanted to come like… No, she wasn’t that far gone.
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy!” Sarah was now losing it.
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy!”
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy!”
“I am sliding this dildo into my pussy!”
“OH GOD IT’S IN! IT’S IN MY PUSSY! Why aren’t I coming?” Sarah knew she should be coming, especially as the dildo in the Pleasure Panties was now vibrating and the Playful Pasties were still stroking. The dildo was also pretty large. She did not think she had ever been penetrated by something that long or thick before.
“Well,” the voice said, and Sarah knew that it was speaking for both the Panties and the Pasties now, “it may have something to do with not penetrating yourself up the ass with my butt plug.”
Sarah remembered that now. She figured that the sooner she got the butt plug in her, the quicker she’d come. She put her pointer and index finger in her now extremely dry mouth in the hopes that she could get some moisture out.
“What are you doing?” The outfit’s voice was dangerous. “I need to lube it,” Sarah whined, “I mean, look at what happened to my pussy and it was all wet!”
“Oh Sarah,” the Slut Outfit said, “I have something better than lube. I have a chant. A litany.”
“I still need lube!” Sarah whined.
“WIPE OFF YOUR FINGERS ON YOUR FACE, SLUT!” Sarah did as the Slut Outfit told her, the tone surprising her. “Now,” the Slut Outfit continued, “I want you to chant ‘This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress’ while you sliiiide in that nice, big, fat butt plug. Do this, and you will only have one more task to complete before I let you come. Remember, do it slowly.”
Sarah nodded, and began to work the butt plug in. It was big, and she remembered the last (and first) time she was fucked up the ass, mostly because she felt like she was even tenderer there now than she was back then. She wondered, as the pain began and pleasure increased, why she was being more vulgar than normal. She also wondered how some stupid litany would help.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” Sarah realized that the pain was somehow now her only shield against what had once been pleasure. She welcomed it.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” That wasn’t true, though. She did like sex, but she didn’t measure herself by that alone.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” Or was it true?
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” On reflection, Sarah decided some parts were definitely true.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” After all, she was penetrating herself in the ass…
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” Also, she found this all very sexy, like this was all some repressed or forgotten fantasy now brought to life.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” Sarah supposed she was dressed like one, but was she really one?
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” Sarah thought some more about her as a slut. If she wasn’t really a slut, then why had she decided to try the Slut Outfit on?
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” Why had she decided to do something so degrading in the living room if she wasn’t a slut?
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” Why was she enjoying so degrading? If anyone came in, they would see her ass sticking up in the air. If they came closer, they’d find Sarah on her knees and face and loving every second.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” So Sarah came to realize that her litany was the truth.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” She was a horny slut. Maybe not before, but that didn’t really matter now. Or ever in the foreseeable future, unless her Mistress told her otherwise.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” And she was doing this not just for her own sake, but to please her mistress, the Slut Outfit.
“This horny slut is penetrating herself in the ass to please her mistress!” And, she realized as the butt plug finally was all the way in, the fact that she was doing it for someone else made it all so much better.
Taking a deep breath, she propped herself in a slightly more dignified manner on her arms and knees. However, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted dignity. She wondered if she’d rather have more humiliation. She took a shaky breath and asked the Slut Outfit, “What is it my mistress wants of me?”
The Slut Outfit said, chuckling, “Well, I think you know.”
“I know you want to give me the order, mistress,” Sarah said.
“Aww,” the Slut Suit pouted, “you passed the test. Very well, Slut Sarah. I want you to beg me to let you come.”
Sarah realized the pain was the only thing keeping her sane enough to beg for the moment, and it was fading. She had to beg now.
“PLEASE Mistress, let me come! I only wish to be your slutty little fucktoy to fuck and mindfuck whenever you are horny! I know that when I come, it will bring me even greater pleasure if you are even slightly turned on. It will be my greatest dream fulfilled to just obey you!”
“Nice begging,” the Slut Outfit said.
When the orgasm hit, Sarah realized that the “pleasure” she had been feeling was actually anticipation. She couldn’t tell you if she was screaming and moaning loud enough to breach the apartment’s soundproofing, or just gasping and drooling. But she could tell you that she was in heaven. Then she passed out.
She was brought back to the land of the living by the Playful Pasties stroking her breasts and the Pleasure Panties vibrating the rods in her again.
“That orgasm,” her mistress said, “concludes lesson one: How to be a Sub and the Joys Thereof. The next few lessons are how to be… something different.”
Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted it. Then she remembered the pleasure obeying her Mistress gave her. “Yes, my Mistress,” she said.
“Good,” her Mistress said. “Now, go back to the box.” Sarah, or Slut Sarah as she now thought of herself, went back over to the box. “Take the first tray out.”
Slut Sarah, as she now thought of herself, obeyed her Mistress, kissing the tray and setting it down carefully to thank it for delivering her mistress to her. Underneath the First Tray was the Second Tray. Again, it was covered in white velvet. On this tray were a mirror, some white foundation, some blush, some mascara, and black lipstick and a picture of a raven-haired woman showing how the makeup was applied. Slut Sarah wondered if that woman was a whore. Pre-slut Sarah would not have assumed that, but Pre-slut Sarah was gone, and Slut Sarah was all that remained.
Slut Sarah began to apply the foundation to her face. It must be nice to be a whore. Pre-slut Sarah would say that it was a dirty, degrading profession, it was dangerous for its practitioners and all the customers were terrible, disease-ridden people. Slut Sarah supposed that all this was right, but as she had discovered that her pre-slut self had never realized how sexy it was to be degraded. However, she supposed that she would not trade a life following her Mistress the Slut Outfit for the life of a whore.
Once she had covered every inch of skin from her neck up in white, she became, she grabbed the blush. As she did her cheeks, she found it sad that more girls could not know this pleasure she did. Also, no men could ever learn this either.
“Never say never, my little slut,” her Mistress crooned to her.
“What do you mean?” Slut Sarah asked as she closed the compact, satisfied with her blush. “You’ll see,” her Mistress said playfully.
Slut Sarah then did the mascara wondering what her Mistress meant. Was her Mistress training her to be someone else’s Mistress? It couldn’t be. Could it?
Well, she doubted it was really that important. Her Mistress would tell her if it was. But still, she thought as she put on the black lipstick, it would be nice if others could experience something that was even remotely as hot as this.
“Inspect yourself,” her Mistress ordered. Slut Sarah obligingly looked in one of the mirrors. Her face was now extremely pale, with only the red blush, black lipstick and black mascara adding color. Pre-slut Sarah had been transformed by make-up many times, so she wasn’t that impressed.
“You know…” her Mistress said, “I think you look different now. Less like a little slut who needs to attach herself to some strong personality and more like what you will become.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Slut Sarah said. She loved being a slut, just as much as she had loved being an actress. If her Mistress said that she would love this new role just as much, she had no reason to doubt her. The promise of coming that her Mistress was providing made her wonder if there was more to come, so to speak.
“Now,” her Mistress said, “I want you to repeat this until you come: ‘I want to share the joys of being humiliated and degraded.’” The dildo and butt plug Mistress had cruelly made her force into herself began to vibrate in Slut Sarah’s fuckholes.
“I want to share the joys of being humiliated and degraded.” Slut Sarah wondered how she could do that.
“I want to share the joys of being humiliated and degraded.” As the anticipation built, Slut Sarah was reminded that her Mistress would tell her what to do. She always did.
“I want to share the joys of being humiliated and degraded.” But who would she share this with? Not with Mistress…
“I want to share the joys of being humiliated and degraded.” Suddenly, she remembered. Someone Pre-slut Sarah knew: Jack. She came at the idea, making her arch her back and emit something between a howl and a moan. It wasn’t as good as the previous one that had turned her into Mistress’s perfect slut, but it was still much better than any orgasm before she had found Mistress.
“Second lesson complete, little slut,” her Mistress said proudly. “Now, get on your knees. No more doggy-style.” Slut Sarah eagerly obeyed. “Now, take the Second Tray out.”
Sarah took the Second Tray out, but this time she treated it more like a very good teacher than a lover. In the Third Tray was a mask made out of black nylon, a wig of long, straight black hair, and a black catsuit.
“Now,” her Mistress said, “these new clothes are also a part of me. As such, I expect you to treat them with deference. First, pick up the mask.” Slut Sarah did as she was told, making sure to kiss the mask as she did so.
“The mask represents mystique,” her Mistress said seductively. “A faceless person is a mysterious person. To be mysterious is a powerful aide in appearing confidant and intelligent, two of the sexiest traits a person can have. Being mysterious is also quite sexy on its own.” Slut Sarah frowned inwardly at this. This didn’t quite sound like a slut to her. But the entire point of being a slut was to be sexy, so she should probably try it. Also, her Mistress was about to order her to put it on.
“Now,” her Mistress said, “I want you to put it on so it covers your hair, nose, and everything above that. Leave as much of your cheeks and mouth exposed as you can.” Slut Sarah complied carefully, first gathering all her hair into the mask, then slipping it over her face. The nylon was very thin, so she could see out of it somewhat, but she realized what made it sexy for anyone who observed her would be trying to guess what kind of face was under that mask. She giggled, and ran her hands down her nylon-coated face to her painted chin. To her surprise, all the sensation was coming from her face. Even the nylon was more responsive to her touch than her hands!
“Mistress!” She said, “I’ve lost all feeling in my hands!”
“As well as the rest of your body,” her Mistress responded calmly, now coming from inside Slut Sarah’s head instead of whispering in her ear. “I should tell you that now that the only parts of your body you’ll have any sensation in will also be my body parts.”
“But I can feel you stroke my nipples, Mistress!” Slut Sarah said. “I can feel you massage my cunt and asshole!”
Her Mistress laughed. “That’s because I’m the one doing it. Now, let’s put on your new skin. Or, should I say, our new skin.”
Slut Sarah picked up the catsuit, caressing its leatheriness with her face. “This,” her Mistress said, “will be your new skin. It also represents confidence. Wearing it, you can be assured that you will have perfect skin and a perfect figure every second. When a person like you realizes that they are attractive, most others will recognize it as well.”
Slut Sarah stepped into the catsuit that would become her new skin. Once she had her arms in, she fumbled for the zipper. It was an immensely odd sensation, feeling her hand grab the tiny zipper from the perspective of the tiny little metal object. Her fingers felt huge and warm as they guided it up to just right beneath her chin. When she was finally sealed inside the black leather, she felt a strange warmth spread through her. After she hid the zipper in the catsuit’s piping, she looked down and realized that the catsuit had some wonderful shaping properties, making her boobs hug her chest and each other, making them look even bigger than they really were instead of being crushed flat. Anyone, girl or boy, would find this attractive. In fact, she found this attractive as well.
Before she could start massaging herself again, Slut Sarah’s Mistress called out, “Wait!” Slut Sarah stopped. “First,” her Mistress said, “you need to put on your hair.”
Slut Sarah reluctantly picked up the hair and held it in front of her. “This hair,” her Mistress said, “represents intelligence. Many people think that intelligence is something to be squeezed out of their mate. This is not the kind of person you will be with or become.
“The thing about the wig is that it won’t actually make you smart. That’s because you’re already very smart, despite what has happened to you. Instead, it will focus your intelligence on what’s important, and allow you to focus despite constant sexual stimulation. You’ll just focus on the important things, is all.”
Slut Sarah wondered how getting her intelligence back would help her be sexier as she put the wig on. There was knob in the back that would allow her to seal it to her head. When it finally pinched into place, suddenly dozens of perverted ideas flowed into her mind, all of them arousing her. She moaned. She was rapidly approaching the point where she needed to come as the arousal built.
“Mistress,” she said, as her Mistress’ dildo and butt plug began to vibrate faster, “I need to come!”
“I need to come, too,” her Mistress said. “But we are not complete. Find the other pieces in the next two trays and we will become complete. And we will come, little slut.”
Slut Sarah hurriedly threw aside the Third Tray. In this tray was a pair of white gloves with black ruffles along the opening for her arms, a white corset with black strings, black ruffles along the top and bottom and a black bow, and finally, something that looked like a cross between stockings and high heels, connected with a garter belt to white underwear. These were also white with black ruffles.
Slut Sarah desperately wanted to feel herself, so she went with the gloves first. Realizing that the orgasm would be even better if she dragged it out a bit, she decided that that’s what she’d do. She picked up the left glove first, and slowly slid it on. It was a little hard to get all her numb fingers in the right hole, but she was finally able to do it. Unable to resist, she slid the now-gloved hand down to a tit and gave it a tweak. She began to moan in ecstasy as the glove, seemingly vinyl, touched the leather part of what was now her skin. She noticed that her Mistress had a similar reaction.
“Does this please you, Mistress?” She asked coyly. “Yes!” Her Mistress breathed, “More!”
Slut Sarah knew that her Mistress couldn’t come until she could. Any attempts to hurry it along would increase anticipation, but make the orgasm at the end all the better. So Slut Sarah decided that it would be more pleasurable for her Mistress if she worked on dressing slowly, keeping her in a state of anticipation disguised as painful pleasure.
She then took the other glove and rubbed it against her painted cheek before slowly slipping it on. Then, she had a brilliant idea. For some bizarre reason, the back of her right hand was highly ticklish. She also suspected it was an erogenous zone because every single one of her past boyfriends had found that they could get her wet by rubbing it. She decided that if she rubbed it, she could determine if a) the vinyl was also like skin and b) if her sensitive zones were still just as sensitive when her real skin had been replaced by leather and vinyl.
She began to stroke the back of her right hand with her left pointer and index fingers. She shuddered and moaned. Not only did the zone still exist, but stroking it was now even more arousing than it had ever been. Maybe it was the feel of vinyl, or maybe it was that her new skin was much more sensitive than the old. Maybe it was even both combined. Whatever it was, her Mistress was unprepared for it. The voice of the Slut Outfit screamed, and, as if to mimic a real woman, made the dildo and butt plug vibrate faster. Slut Sarah, now more capable of acting in these conditions, could deal with it. Her Mistress obviously could not.
She moved the stroking down the arm. Doing so confirmed two of her theories: her new skin was both more sensitive, yet still had the same erogenous zones of her old skin. It also had some new quirks. For instance, the vinyl parts were more sensitive than the leather, and the black vinyl ruffles were more sensitive than the white parts.
After she was done tormenting both herself and her Mistress, Slut Sarah next detached the vinyl stocking/boot hybrids from the panties. “Why did you stop?” her Mistress husked.
“Didn’t you say we need to put it all on before we can come?” Slut Sarah asked innocently.
“Yes… yes of course,” her Mistress said, trying to get back into control, then wistfully adding, “It just felt so good…”
Slut Sarah then began a similar process with the stocking boots, teasing her mistress as much as she could as she put each one on, of course. Then came on the corset. After cinching the thing as tight as she could, Sarah ran her hands over her new, curvier body.
Finally, Slut Sarah turned her attention to the last piece of her new skin, the underwear. The garter belts were still attached to it, so they tickled slightly as it traveled up her legs. Once they were in place, she attached the belts to the stockings. Disappointingly, she couldn’t stick her hand underneath once she could feel through it. She had had this idea that rubbing both the front of the panties and the crotch of the catsuit would be like having two vaginas and rubbing them both at once. She contented herself with rubbing the white panties which were much more sensitive than her vagina before it had been sealed away in the Pleasure Panties.
Still rubbing the panties, she picked up the Fourth Tray, kissed it, and then began rubbing it on her chest. After she and her mistress had had enough she looked in the Bottom. There was a black leather belt, a black whip, and a black riding crop.
“Mistress?” she asked hesitantly, some of it due to being out of breath from arousal, “What is this?”
“Put everything together,” her Mistress said, “then go to bathroom and stand in front of the full-length mirror there.”
Slut Sarah complied, putting the crop and whip into their respective holsters, then fastened the belt in the area between the panties and the corset. She tried to walk to the bathroom, but even at the best of times, it usually took the magic of editing to make it look like she knew how to walk in three-inch heels, and the heels on the stockings were six inches. She decided to crawl.
“Get up,” her Mistress told her, her voice showing she was just as desperate to come as Sarah, “and look at the person in the mirror.”
Slut Sarah did as she was told. The person in the mirror looked… Well, it didn’t look like Slut Sarah or Pre-slut Sarah. Pre-slut Sarah would never have worn anything like this, and Slut Sarah did not want to exude the authority this woman had. Neither woman had this woman’s body, though that may have been because of the support offered by the various clothes the strange woman in the mirror wore. She did feel that if her Mistress ever released her, she would love being a slave to a woman like this.
“Now,” her Mistress asked, “does that look like Sarah?”
Slut Sarah shook her head. The woman in front of her did so as well.
“Do you want to know a secret, slut?” her Mistress asked her. “I’m not really a slut outfit. I’m a dominatrix outfit. My sole purpose in life is to turn you into that woman. You want that.”
Slut Sarah suddenly realized two things: first off, her Mistress’ voice was her own voice, but playing a role like on an animated TV show. Second off, being a dominatrix was both the last thing she wanted, but also the thing she wanted most.
“You want it,” her Mistress breathed, “because the next time you come, both because the orgasm will be so good it will begin to transform your mind into hers and because your Mistress desires it. And I want it because that is my purpose in life.”
Slut Sarah nodded in defeat. The imperious woman nodded in approval.
“But Sarah could never be that woman, could she?” her Mistress gasped out. “The problem with that is that the woman standing in the mirror is you. Therefore, YOU AREN’T SARAH!”
The orgasm hit Sarah full force. She stumbled and fell and began to writhe and moan as the mind-blowing pleasure eliminated her name and all her memories before putting on the panties. She orgasmed again, and even the day’s events became a blur. Her memories were modified to suggest that her Mistress had been an external person instead of a voice in her head, and instead of being trained in her house by lunchtime, she had spent weeks in a BDSM club as her Mistress slowly brainwashed her in front of dozens of spectators. What wasn’t a blur was the feelings she had, first of reveling in her submission and degradation, then of the joy of how she was able to use her knowledge of her Mistress and the joy of submitting to tease her Mistress to new heights.
She orgasmed again. New memories of how she had slowly became the Mistress and her Mistress became the slave bubbled into her head. The sweetest was the tipping point when her soon-to-be-former Mistress had called out her name. “OH GOD!” she had screamed, “DIANA, DON’T STOP! MORE! MORE!” Soon after, her Mistress had become her slave, the club owners had hired her to go to ‘prospective clients’ and provide ‘out of club services.’ She smiled at the thought.
As Diana stood outside the apartment door of her next client, dressed in her dominatrix outfit and clutching her black and white leather handbag, she wondered why she was remembering her past. She also wondered why she felt like she knew this place. From the other door on the floor she was on, a door opened.
Diana turned around. There, a confused expression on her face was a woman wearing a bath robe that hung open, revealing white cotton panties and bra, the kind that obviously came from a twelve-pack. Judging by the tissue stuffed up her nose and the somewhat vacant expression, the poor girl obviously had a fever. Judging by the small but widening dark spot on her underwear, she was also somewhat aroused.
And why shouldn’t this girl feel aroused? Diana was wearing her signature outfit: white vinyl gloves, white vinyl bustier, white vinyl stockings with six-inch heels connected by black garter belt to white panties, all with deliciously frilly black vinyl ruffles. Beneath that, she was wearing her lovely black leather catsuit. Her dark hair (which was long enough to almost cover her tits, if any of her skin had been exposed,) black stocking mask and black lipstick accentuated her pale face. It was enough to turn anyone on. Hell, just wearing it turned Diana on.
Diana, also feeling very turned on and empowered by this encounter, blew the girl a kiss. Then she turned to knock on the door. “I’d let you watch what happens next,” she said seductively, “but I don’t want that cold you have.”
It opened surprisingly quickly to reveal a slightly nerdy man. “Wow…” he said, staring at her for a few seconds. Then he remembered his manners. “Come in, come in.”
She did so, closing the door behind her. Then she gave his face a slap. “Someone doesn’t know the rules,” she said icily.
“What are the rules?” the man asked meekly. She slapped him on the other side of his face.
“What are the rules, Mistress,” she said as the blow connected.
“What are the rules, Mistress?” Jack asked.
Diana smiled. “The first rule is that you address me as Mistress Diana, or just Mistress,” she commanded, “the second is that you do what I tell you.”
“Yes, Mistress Diana,” he said.
“Now,” she said, “head into the bedroom.” Jack complied, showing her the way. Diana wondered why this apartment seemed familiar. She had been in many apartments since she had been hired. She tried to remember when she had been here. For some strange reason, she couldn’t picture a single client’s home. She shrugged, deciding it wasn’t important.
Jack held the door open for Diana. She walked in and inspected the room, wondering at the sense of Déjà vu. She shrugged internally, and returned to examining the bedroom. It was big enough for her purposes, she supposed, though the bed could be bigger. At least both ends had headboards on it, so that would make tying down her client that much easier. She paced, walking with ease in the six-inch heels she had worn for what seemed to be all her life. She dropped her bag on a chair.
She smiled at the bed. It had clearly been made for two people. “I see you have a girlfriend. Where is she?”
“Close by, if you can believe it, Mistress,” Jack said, smiling at some sort of joke. Something told Diana that she should get the joke, too.
“Well, you’ve been a very bad boy,” she said, chuckling at his audacity. She wondered exactly how close by Jack’s girlfriend was. Could she end up having to deal with a pissed-off she-demon? She supposed she could deal with something like that. “Now, strip.”
Jack stripped hurriedly. Diana was a little annoyed. Another man who had no clue how to strip. It was a little unfair, but she supposed that Jack had the excuse of not really having anything to show, or at least believing it. If he became a recurring customer, she would definitely change that.
“Now,” she continued, her voice hardening, “on your hands and knees.” Jack obeyed. Diana unhooked her bull whip from its holster. “I’m going to give you twenty-five lashes. And your girlfriend will thank you for every. Single. One.”
The whip she had was specially designed for this kind of thing. It still would leave a mark if she hit him too many times, but it would provide the right amount of pain her client wanted. And when the client began to enjoy the pain, Diana would begin to get wet.
As she whipped Jack, Diana reflected on how much she enjoyed doing this: helping these poor fools who couldn’t get what they wanted from their significant other. She also loved seeing them grovel and squirm.
After she was finished, she tossed the whip aside and unhooked the riding crop. “Stand up,” she ordered.
Jack, smiling, gingerly complied. His cock was erect and leaking a bit. “Now,” Diana whispered, “I’m going to spank you with this. You will count to fifty, and each time you say a number, I will deliver a spank. If you falter or miscount, you will restart. Once you complete the count correctly, your reward will be to become my little fucktoy. Do you understand?”
Jack nodded eagerly. To her utter delight, Jack fucked up the count twice. In total, she ended up spanking him with the crop eighty-two times. When she was done, she ordered him to lie down on the bed. He complied, his erect cock up in the air. Meanwhile, she had gone to her bag to get out some white silk rope. First, she tied his legs to the bed. Then she moved to his stomach.
Wiggling her vinyl-clad ass on his stomach and rubbing her leather-wrapped legs against his sides, she then began to tie his hands as well. She then leaned forwards and gave him a long, passionate kiss.
Getting up, she walked back so she had a good view of Jack’s entire body. Then she leaned forward and began to give him a blow job, lightly tickling his dick with her tongue at first, then putting the long, swollen member in her mouth. It didn’t take him long to come, his sticky sweet sperm shooting up into her mouth down her throat. She swallowed and moaned. She needed something more.
While she continued to suck, she fumbled with her corset. Memories that had been edited or hidden began to return. Jack had known her once, a lifetime ago, but the details were hazy. Something told her that getting these clothes off would help.
The corset came off her body, and her lips came off his rapidly deflating member. As more clothes came off, Diana went away and Sarah, the real one, came back. When just the wig was on and the mask pulled up to reveal her face, she was almost entirely her old self again.
She turned to Jack’s penis again to give it a few rubs. She reflected that she wasn’t entirely back to her normal self as she re-inflated and mounted it.
“Are you back?” Jack asked. Sarah smiled mischievously. “Mostly,” she said as lowered herself down slowly. “I just want to have some fun before I’m all the way back…”
Pretty soon, the lovemaking became much more normal. Finally, when the two lovers were both spent, lying in each other’s arms and a thoroughly messed-up bed, Sarah asked Jack, “So, how did you do it?”
“Well,” Jack said innocently, “I hypnotized you, didn’t I?”
Sarah punched him in the shoulder. “You know what I mean, silly. How much of it was mental suggestions from you and how much of it was from me?”
“Well,” Jack said, “the fact that you’re taking this so well is all you. The idea for the striptease was mine, but the moves were pretty much all yours. Nice job by the way.”
Sarah smiled at the compliment. Jack decided to summarize, as it was 2:00 and he hadn’t had lunch yet. “Basically, the general structure of how things went, like how each tray of clothing would change you was me suggesting it, but the way it happened would be thought up by your subconscious. Also, things like the clothing being your skin, being able to walk in heels, and, of course, the dildos in the underwear were all my suggestions.” He paused. “Can we have lunch?”
Sarah nodded. “Sure. We’ll have to do this again.” Jack got up and began to look for his clothes. “It’ll have be awhile. I’m kind out of ideas.”
Sarah smiled to herself. “Oh, I have a few…”