The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

7.

“OK, then.” Jessica’s best friend spoke reassuringly, but Jessica still didn’t look at her. “So. Your landlady put you into a hypnotic trance. Then, while you were completely suggestible, she programmed you.”

Jessica nodded. The words should make her feel something, but she was happy to be numb.

“To be her lesbian sex slave.”

Jessica nodded again. She was calmer than she’d thought.

“How did she hypnotize you, Jessica?”

With a swinging pocketwatch. Jessica frowned at the inanity but still wouldn’t look at her friend.

The frown had been noticed, if not understood. “No. I mean, did she drug you and then do it? Or . . . I’ve heard about something where you start to shake someone’s hand . . .”

“No.” Jessica shook her head. She pulled on her laced fingers but didn’t part them. “She just—I mean, I let her. I didn’t think . . .”

“Why did you let her?”

Because it made it easier for us to trade my body. Jessica kept her eyes averted and said nothing. She’d already thought of lying, but hers wouldn’t be the only story told.

A sigh. “Well, Jessica, I believe it happened to you. Because just cutting class doesn’t sound like you, to start with. Let alone going down on another woman and being her . . .

“Anyway, Jessica.” They both seemed relieved at the pause. “The thing is, to someone else, it would sound like very kinky but basically consensual sex.”

Jessica tensed, waiting for whatever form Jessica, I have to ask would take when it came. When it didn’t she felt bold enough to mutter, “What, is this like on TV when the police ask a bunch of really insulting questions and then, then they say ‘Oh, that’s not us, that’s what they’ll ask you on the stand’?”

There was no answer at first. Through the numbness, Jessica felt cruel for snapping at her.

But then she heard another sigh. “So you are going to go to the police about her?”

Jessica shrugged. “Probably not. You’re right about how they’d see it. But I should find a hypnotherapist to see whether I’m still . . .” She wondered whether to say it. “Under her control.

“And I’ve got to move out, right away. I can’t be in the same house with someone who did this to me.” She breathed deeply until it passed, relieved at how easy it was to keep the anger down.

“Who can you stay with, Jessica?”

She tried to turn and ask, “Can I stay with you?” But it was too hard to move, and she realized her mind was entirely empty of any idea of where her friend lived or what the place looked like.

Or what her friend’s name was.

Snap of fingers.

Jessica sat straight in the ladder-back chair, feeling the smooth wood on her smooth skin, staring forward just as she’d been told to, before Sandy put her to sleep.

For a second, like the especially vivid kind of dream that pursued her to wakefulness, Jessica felt like she was still someplace else, not naked in the living room of a woman who’d hypnotized her. Not sitting paralyzed under the power of that hypnosis. Someplace where she wasn’t completely obedient to Sandy and could think for herself.

Someplace where being turned into a slave was wrong, no matter how many orgasms she had.

Jessica started to return to that place, not even sure yet what she’d do with free will, or with the anger she was starting to remember she was entitled to.

Then she realized she hadn’t been there, or anywhere. She’d just sat through a trance under Sandy’s guidance. Sandy controlled her so completely that she’d accepted it without question, letting Sandy lead her by the nose.

She’d believed what she was told to believe. Belief was obedience. Even to dream of being free was to obey Sandy’s commands. It killed whatever tatters of resistance were left in her.

Sandy, in a sweatshirt and jeans, standing near the chair, watched her carefully.

Jessica sighed in despair and arousal. “There is only obedience.”

Sandy nodded now, seeing that she controlled Jessica. That she always had.

Jessica knew her hands, behind the chair, were held together only by the fingers she’d been told to lace together. But she also knew Sandy had made her believe that this would hold her just as securely as handcuffs.

As she knew this, she felt the towel under her, protecting Sandy’s chair from her juices.

Sandy looked down at her. “What are you, Jessica?”

Jessica looked back up at her. “I’m your hypnotized slave, Sandy.” For a moment it had seemed as though there were other possible answers. But even to wonder what they were left Jessica only with that one. Saying it made the towel a little damper.

Sandy saw that, and nodded. “What does that mean to you?”

Again Jessica could nearly come up with different things. But she wanted to say the only one that made her wet again.

“That I must do and think whatever you tell me to.”

“Yes. Good girl. Can you remember what we just talked about, while I had you more deeply hypnotized and you believed I was someone else?”

She nodded, still looking at Sandy.

“Good girl. Listen and obey.” Jessica sat more alertly, feeling herself triggered into focus. “When I tell you to, you will count down from five to zero. When you reach zero, you will forget what we talked about and remember only that you were in deeper trance, and that it made you more obedient to me. Do you understand what you must do, Jessica?”

“Yes, Sandy.”

“Count down now.”

“Five.” It felt good to say it. The quiet pleasure made her more blank as speaking each number pushed her deeper. “Four. Three. Two. One.

“Zero.” She blinked. There was an empty spot in her mind and a clitquiver for putting it there.

Then there was nothing but sitting and waiting for Sandy’s next command.

“You no longer feel the need to keep your hands behind you,” Sandy told her, and only then did Jessica truly know she could move them. She crossed them before her and rubbed them, until another quiet reminder from Sandy let her realize that they were not stiff. Her arms parted, forgotten.

“You won’t make any trouble for me now, will you, Jessica?”

Jessica shook her head slowly, bemused about why Sandy would even think about her being disobedient.

There is only obedience. She heard it in both her voice and in Sandy’s. She didn’t say it. Sandy didn’t need reassurance, certainly not from the slave she’d hypnotized.

Sandy gestured and Jessica rose smoothly to attention. She felt the chair’s edge against her legs. She was still turned on by having been bound to a chair with only her own subverted will.

“I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do with you now.” Sandy seemed to be talking to herself as well as to her subject, and didn’t seem to know how she felt about that.

A few minutes later, Jessica was placidly following Sandy up the stairs to her apartment. Like a serving platter, she carried her textbooks in her upturned arms, with her clothes neatly folded on top. Sandy let herself in and Jessica waited in the hall, bothered and aroused to be awaiting permission to enter her own quarters.

When Sandy told her to, she padded in.

Sandy let her stand blankly for a while with her student identity growing heavier in her arms, then told her where to set it down. Jessica savored the thrill of obeying, and the unexpected kiss of how it felt to turn her back on the clothes and books and return to the center of the room to be ready for the next command.

The phone rang.

Jessica twitched, but she snapped back to attention before the impulse to answer it went further. Like waiting in the hall, it thrilled and angered her to let Sandy decide whether she could act.

They stood in Jessica’s room and listened to the message. The voice of an unhypnotized Jessica came out of the machine, and Jessica felt the air on her skin. If I speak now, I say only what my hypnotist records in my brain.

I am more of a machine now than it is. She felt the air on her pussy now. It cooled the hot honey that thought wicked out of her.

“Hi, Jessica. It’s Louise—but you knew that! Um. I hope you’re feeling better. I took good notes with Dochmann and I don’t think she—well, she didn’t say anything about you not being there. I was going to say she didn’t notice, but that bitch never misses . . . ah. You don’t need to hear that. Anyway, if you’re up to it, call me, OK? Bye.”

Jessica was breathing hard as she finished. The new voice shocked her like cold water with the reality of the world outside this dream-universe she shared only with Sandy. She imagined breaking pose, crossing to the phone, picking it up and pleading with Louise to come get her. She pictured Sandy just watching her do it, not saying the words that would paralyze her body or stun her mind to sleep before she reached it.

Then Jessica imagined Louise arriving, frantic, looking fearfully at Sandy as Sandy let her in.

She imagined herself, sexy but demure in short-shorts and a tied off T-shirt, docile and gently apologetic, reassuring Louise. Smiling the blissful, convincing smile of the deeply hypnotized, playing back whatever bizarre explanation Sandy implanted in her thoughts.

Still smiling, staring emptily at the front door even after it had closed after Louise. Waiting for Sandy to tell her whether to start thinking again.

Jessica stayed at attention in her bedroom as the machine reset and beeped again. Even without the what-if, she shivered with her delicious inability to move. To want to move.

Sandy sat on her bed and looked at her. Jessica felt even more powerless here than in Sandy’s rooms. This was her territory, her life all around her, but her mind was in bondage, and none of it mattered to her if Sandy could keep her still like this. It kept scaring her and turning her on, and she realized it was part of how Sandy was keeping her under control.

That made her enjoy it.

Sandy watched her. “Well, that’s something that won’t keep too much longer.” She nodded toward the answering machine. “But we’re going to have to do some work with your mind before I let you out, Jessica. This has gotten more . . . complicated than I thought.

“I programmed you to enjoy being under my control, but I’ll need something stronger to keep you docile when you’re not with me.”

She smiled, and her gaze flicked from Jessica’s eyes to her cleft. “First, I’ll need to brainwash you. Just a little.”

8.

Jessica stared at the pocketwatch as it spun before her.

She recited and believed. “I must watch the watch. I will see only the watch. The watch hypnotizes me. I am being hypnotized. Seeing the watch makes me hypnotized.”

The watch spun slowly, flickflickflickflick flick flick flick flick flick flick

Then the other, flickflickflickflick flick . . .

It really was hypnotic. Jessica could almost feel the way the shape changed like a rhythm across her mind, drumming all her thoughts flat so they jumped at once.

“Hypnosis makes me obedient. When I am hypnotized, I must obey. I am always hypnotized. I am always obedient.”

She had listened to the words when she had first opened her eyes to the spinning watch, and she remembered them perfectly. They had become part of her mind. She knew that repeating them would make them into most of her mind, by numbing the rest of her thoughts.

Fingertips stroked her between her thighs as she knelt. They kept her perfectly on edge, flawlessly avoiding the touch that would ignite a climax while they made her need it more and more desperately. Needing it and being helpless to reach it made it better.

Best of all was that the hand playing her was her own.

Her other hand curved up above her to hold the pocketwatch in front of her eyes, as she knelt on her bedroom rug, another towel between her spread thighs as she dripped.

As she spun and stroked and droned she quickly lost awareness of all that. Only the feelings of helplessness and humiliation stayed behind, like little tongues licking her when her fingers had passed.

“Obedience turns me on. I love sex and I love being hypnotized more than sex. I live to be hypnotized by Sandy. Sandy is my hypnotist and obeying her turns me on hard.”

Jessica drifted close to orgasm, but the hypnosis bound her mind and made her resist. The pleasure deepened.

She loved the hypnosis for that. And she knew it was going to do more to her.

She was vaguely aware of Sandy standing up where she was and going to her desk. It didn’t break her concentration on the hypnotizing watch or her conditioned ability to skim climax. She heard the line being clicked out of the phone and the machine beeped off as Sandy removed any distractions.

The door closed after footsteps. Sandy had left her kneeling by herself, masturbating and chanting to the watch she’d been trained to fixate on. With what little was left of her conscious mind, Jessica knew this was going to condition her powerfully to associate intense pleasure with Sandy’s hypnotic control. After much more of this, Jessica wasn’t going to want to be free.

Even now there was a part of her that wanted to resist. It knew she could just be quiet and stop playing with herself, put the watch down and dress and leave.

It felt too erotic and just too fucking sweeeeeet to ignore it and stay on her knees, brainwashing herself for Sandy. She was already so enslaved to Sandy that she didn’t needed to be watched to make sure she obeyed.

The pleasure redoubled as she knew that. But nothing could break the control, and she stayed away from orgasm. The lovely desperate need for it just eroded some more of her will.

Her last lucid thought was that the latent free woman that thought about disobedience was as much under Sandy’s control as the rest of Jessica. Sandy only left it there so Jessica could see how much of a slave she was becoming.

Then there was nothing in Jessica’s mind but the hypnosis.

Snap of fingers.

Jessica was lying on her back. Her knees weren’t sore from kneeling, nor was her arm stiff from whatever it had held up so long. She’d been told those things and believed them utterly, relaxing as she obeyed the command to forget what she’d been doing before.

It was time for more instructions. Hands put earbuds into her ears, and she knew she was to listen. She stared up at the ceiling. The voice in the earbuds told her to see swirling colors there, and when she did, that they mesmerized her instantly. She knew she saw them only because she was told to, and as she realized the voice’s power over her, she slid easily deeper into it.

She stopped seeing the swirls when the voice told her she was falling asleep. The voice told her to keep listening even then, and as her eyes closed, the instructions continued.

Jessica stood on her bedroom rug with no curiosity about when or how or where she’d awakened from sleep. It was morning, but early.

I’ve been with Sandy, having sex with her. She hypnotized me. They weren’t really thoughts, more like echoes from outside, but for now they were the only thing in Jessica’s mind. Jessica was completely open to suggestion, and easy to convince.

That’s all something I’ll get to later.

I won’t think about it again until later. Until I’m told to.

Jessica stood there, hands by her sides, as it echoed into truth.

Until Sandy tells me to.

I must not form an opinion until Sandy tells me what to think about it. When we talk, later.

Right now, she had some classes to attend, and some studying to make up, and some excuses to compose. She knew she’d lost a day without really needing to focus on how. There was enough to do.

Jessica felt watched as she slipped into bra and panties, as though there were someone in the room with her, enjoying her body as she moved. It didn’t bother her—for a moment, she wanted to put off dressing, dance slowly in the nude. The invisible gaze would be like a hand on her skin.

But there was a compulsion to dress and get to class, and surrendering to that was hotter. It was inside her mind, and that hand was inside her, probing into her folds.

Jessica held still for a moment, imagining control of her will as something she’d spasm helplessly around as it reached between her legs.

The compulsion kept her hands from reaching there, and instead she chose a blouse and jeans, pretty but not check-me-out. It was important not to attract attention. She didn’t question that but only enjoyed a new stricture to bind her.

If I am told to, I will go to class in nothing but a dog collar and high heels. Jessica gasped at the new echo, and then forgot everything but the glow it left.

She gathered the textbooks and went downstairs.

By Sandy’s door she paused. An urge—almost a thirst—filled her, to knock and call for Sandy. She twitched, feeling the impulse vanish as if unplugged. In its wake she waited, wondering if Sandy would appear as she had yesterday.

She stiffened. Class. She must go to class. Her mind rang with the command, blanking her to anything else but what she must do.

She must. The sound of her rasping breath in the hallway reminded her that she must do it now. Why was it such an erotic idea to go to a lecture? Jessica wondered, tensing her thighs unconsciously as she told herself again that she must.

As she looked at the door once more, she pictured Sandy just behind it, knowing Jessica was there but not wanting Jessica to know she was. She pictured Sandy naked, masturbating with one hand while the other was splayed against the door, pressed tight as Sandy held herself back from anything that would sway Jessica from going out to class.

The image flickered from Jessica’s mind as the echoing commands took control of her thoughts again. She gasped at the arousal of being under control.

Briefly she wondered if she should worry about how easily things were leaking out of her mind, leaving no trace. She was supposed to be a student. What if she sat dazed through the lectures, as ideas and explanations slid off her brain like oil down a dildo?

That thought stayed in her head long enough to connect with another: she knew she would retain only important ideas, and forget all others. She sighed with relief as her mind went blank again.

She must go to class.

9.

Class went well. Away from the house and the body-memory of being nude with Sandy, it was easier to surrender to the compulsion to concentrate. Jessica spent long periods forgetting everything but the lecture.

She must listen and retain. She must concentrate.

Between classes it was harder. Jessica saw the others around her on campus, wondering why she felt the dull need to talk to them. She had the oddest sensation of treading water while rowboats went by. She wanted to call for help, but she didn’t know why.

Jessica headed for the library, increasingly conscious of her nipples tightening under the blouse and bra, how very snug her jeans felt. It was still like drowning, but now there was warm allure to letting herself slip under, limp and helplessly sinking while the others rowed around, unaware of her plight or how easily they could help.

Sanity overtook her for a moment on the steps of the library. She needed to talk to someone. It didn’t matter who. She knew what to say.

My landlady hypnotized me. She’s brainwashing me into a slave. Help me.

It didn’t even sound crazy anymore. She climbed the stone stairs, shyly avoiding hope as she tried to wake herself up. I’m still in her power. I’m only loose now because she’s got my mind leashed and she’ll pull me back soon. I won’t be able to resist, then. I’ll go back to her and surrender.

Please help me fight it while I still want to.

Yes. She could tell someone. She could resist long enough to tell someone. Even if they thought she was insane, they’d take her away. She looked around, trying to find someone who’d listen, just that long.

She’s controlling me to use me for sex, and using sex to control me. She couldn’t remember all of it—that was part of the control—but she knew she’d orgasmed to seal in the commands, and knelt endlessly rubbing, chanting, staring, juicing . . .

Jessica’s elbow brushed a wall. She’d slowed to a halt in the vestibule, lost in thinking about what Sandy had done with her. Nearly able to feel it again. Nearly ready to arch up against it and—

She’s training me to obey her. To need to obey her, to get wet when I obey her.

She looked out of herself at the others walking past. They were like cartoon figures, well-sketched but unreal, nothing to reach to for help even in the half-dream she was slipping into.

Jessica breathed deeply, feeling the exquisite grief of letting them all pass by, chance after chance to be free, as she sank deeper into Sandy’s spell. It throbbed deep in her pussy like slow, endless stroking, and as she let it own her for a while, and a while longer, she recognized the rhythm. It was the soothing, perfect swing of a pocketwatch before her eyes.

I’m programmed. Just thinking it made it more true, and sweeter. Jessica nearly sobbed, but after she sucked air she held it in, letting it out in tiny sighs like pearls as she lost to the pleasure.

The harder she fought, the deeper she sent herself. Sandy must have meant her to remember wanting to think for herself again—just to ensure she kept trying, and enslaving herself.

Jessica shivered. It scared her that the danger felt so good. That felt even better.

Sandy was controlling her even now. Jessica remembered letting the other woman into her head, but not quite when she’d started giving up her will. It didn’t matter now. She was Sandy’s puppet, and Sandy was pulling her strings from miles away.

Sandy could come to her right now, so real amid all the cartoon-people. Jessica would drop into trance at a gesture, at whatever nonsense phrase had echoed in her brain as she rode a finger on the edge of paradise.

Sandy could make her want to be led out of here naked, arms raised like a sleepwalker, repeating “I must obey.”

Jessica moved slowly into the open area before the information desk, barely aware of the other students flowing in and out.

Soon it’ll be too late. It was so hard to feel terrified about that, instead of excited.

If I can’t wake up now I’ll forget why I need to.

I’ll forget my name.

I’ll forget everything but how her pussy shines . . .

“Are you OK?”

Jessica focused on a not-bad-looking guy with an overloaded knapsack, who’d stopped on his way out of the library. He’d taken headphones off and looked at her more closely.

“You looked a little lost.”

I almost was. I’m already a hypnotized sex slave and if I don’t snap out of it soon—

“I’ll be fine,” she smiled, tasting the chance as she spat it out. The raw turn-on almost made her grab her crotch right there, to let him see how a hypnotized sex slave submitted.

But standing still instead was just more white-hot obedience.

The boy saw her eyes glaze, and picked up the dark vibe she must be sending as she succumbed to her hypnotist’s will. Without admitting it to himself, he knew Jessica was almost too aroused to think.

“Are you—are you sure?” The concern was real. He’d be confused but he’d help her, get her somewhere to be treated and protected, watch the night with her if only to stay close to a pretty girl in erotic distress. A knight-errant waiting for a damsel’s call from the high tower.

Closing her mouth on that call tasted as sweet as Sandy’s cunt.

Jessica was reeling inside, appalled at what she was doing but wanting to writhe on the floor before Sandy, being her obedient little slave. Even so, she could still see the boy in his own dilemma, worried for her and wondering if he could get a piece of her.

“Oh, yes,” she told him softly, with a sweet grateful smile. “I have no doubts at all now.” She left him there and went on into the library itself.

What she’d just done didn’t fully hit her until she was alone in a carrel, and she sat perfectly still with her head in her hands. Sandy had been ready for this. Sandy had really, really bent her mind. Even seeking help was just another way to put herself deeper in Sandy’s power.

Jessica looked up. God. Even this, right now, was just part of the brainwash. Her mind was clear, she knew she was being mind-controlled, and she remembered she didn’t want to be. But it was more of what Sandy had done from the start—wake her to put her to sleep. Sandy was acclimating her to being controlled. Training her to go under more easily than falling asleep. She was getting used to it, and soon Sandy would have her accepting it as normal.

By then, it would be. Jessica would be brainwashed into Sandy’s willing slave.

It was her thighs tensing that warned her it was happening to her again.

But it was a mind-melting few seconds before Jessica could fight it. She shut her eyes and gripped her head, fleeing the image of herself wide-eyed and smiling, Sandy’s willing slave forever.

She managed to kill the lust with bone-numbing dread: this meant Sandy, all-knowing, had already foreseen everything and everyone Jessica would meet today, and programmed her to be triggered by them. Helplessly, over and over, falling deeper each time. Wanting it more. She’d be Sandy’s slave when Sandy got tired of hearing her beg to obey.

Realizing what Sandy’d actually done to her was worse.

Sandy didn’t have to foresee Jessica’s triggers. She’d just trained Jessica to find her own. Sometime yesterday or last night in a trance too deep to remember, when she wasn’t using her like a whore, Sandy had seduced part of Jessica into becoming a spy to draw the rest of her into obedience.

Jessica gritted her teeth and managed not to imagine herself kneeling naked and mindless under the indoctrination, intoning her submission . . .

She was hypnotically compelled to seek out triggers. It was addicting her, and anything she tried to do now to save herself could be another way to get her next hit of obedience. And go deeper.

Jessica swallowed. She’s got me hypnotizing myself.

I’m already more of a slave than I was when I woke up this morning. Then Jessica realized she didn’t remember waking up.

She didn’t dare make a sound. Instead, she picked up her books and headed off to class. She almost made it before her cellphone rang.

Standing outside Faughan Hall, cold in her belly and heating up between her legs, she looked at the display. Jessica knew, but it still had the fearful surprise of a hand on her bare flesh.

Sandy was calling.

Jessica stepped quickly to an emptier area of the quad, so no one could see her, or distract her.

She must answer.

It was something to fight. She could still think now, even if every thought warped and slithered back on her, tempting serpents on willing skin—

Fuck. She. Could. Still. Think. Now. She could at least dream of resisting Sandy’s will.

But if she pressed the button and let herself listen to Sandy’s voice, Sandy would own her. She knew what that voice could do to her. Make her want to do to herself.

She managed a little cry then as she slid back into the trap. To know that conquest was to crave it.

The cellphone shook as she gripped it, struggling desperately not to answer it. She saw herself staring into space, raising it to her head like a pistol as if bewitched into suicide, and she nearly submitted right then, imagining herself that deeply enslaved.

If she gets back into my head she could do it.

The phone stopped ringing, but Jessica still held it tight like a snake’s head, fearing the fangs. She could see Sandy at her ease, smiling, ending the call before the voicemail picked up. Sandy couldn’t hypnotize her voicemail.

Sandy knew she owned a much more easily programmed machine than that, even if she couldn’t watch it tremble.

It rang again. Jessica whined with the need, suddenly savoring her fight because surrendering would be even hotter. She won herself a few seconds’ respite by looking wildly around for someone to see her and wonder what the twitchy girl was doing. But the windup toy Sandy had installed in her had chosen this dead space next to Faughan well, and unless she ran out or screamed no one would know.

Her body was paralyzed, and if she screamed it would be in the orgasm that collared her soul.

The ringing stopped. She thought of dropping it, then of kneeling instinctively to pick it up.

If she was on her knees when it rang, she was toast.

It rang once more. Sandy would be smiling more darkly now, sensing how her broken and sleepy little pawn writhed inside.

Jessica saw how easy it would be to move her thumb and press. The same move could send her over the edge after an hour’s masturbation on a long afternoon, and her trance-journey around campus, dreaming of Sandy’s mindfuck, had her simmering like endless stroking.

Oh god. She was remembering now, naked and hypnotized and touching herself, droning herself into Sandy’s thrall.

Before that. Lying in the sun, when Sandy was sated for a while. Staring at the cloud Sandy tied her mind to, while Sandy caressed her. Lying primed, helplessly passive, mewing for Sandy to touch her.

Sandy had hypnotized her until her mind was that way. Soft, slick, and enslaved to Sandy’s touch.

Jessica knew she’d lost. Ecstasy shook her as she straightened to attention and lifted the phone. Touching its button was better than touching her own.

“Yes,” she managed, over her pounding heart.

“I must obey.”

10.

Jessica obeyed the impulse again. “I do windows,” she murmured.

She stood in Sandy’s enclosed backyard in sandals and rubber gloves and nothing else, making her way along the ground-floor windows. She sighed at how sensuous it was to rub the slow, slow circles over the glass. Against the darkened interior she could see herself in it, a wide-eyed ghost with her hair slicked back and a bandanna tied around her neck, a pretty bow under her right ear.

Jessica didn’t remember it at the moment, but she’d been happy to skip the afternoon lecture and return home early to give Sandy more time and sunlight to work on her permanent enslavement.

“Soothing and relaxing,” she said to her ghost in the window, and they nodded to each other, briefly entranced by each other’s lips. The hypnotized Jessica in the reflection was clear and streakless now, which tripped something in the real Jessica’s sleeping mind.

She stopped for a moment and came to attention. The reflected nude girl was so pretty, standing so solemnly, tickled by the wet gloves and the liquid from the sponge she held.

“Soothing and relaxing,” she felt herself want to repeat. Jessica knew it was a trigger, and waited eagerly for what it would make her do. In a moment it let her know she had finished this window.

She leaned forward and dropped the sponge into the bucket she’d been given, and picked it up for her next task.

Jessica put a gloved finger to her cleft and hummed at the alien feel of the latex as she remembered being given these tasks. She’d stripped and put up her hair severely before she went downstairs to Sandy to be hypnotized some more. She’d knelt to Sandy, moistening as the watch swung into her vision.

When she woke, she was staring up in awe, receiving the bucket like a ritual vessel in both hands, feeling the heft of the gloves and sponge and the bottle of detergent. Setting it between her thighs, she’d dreamed of humping it as she held still for the bandanna to be tied on. Set to work, she was a naked parody of a girl with some cleaning to do, and she knew she was going to be washing her brain as well as her landlady’s windows.

Her voice had been husky as she thanked Sandy, calling her Mistress again.

Now Jessica set the bucket down. She stared at the suds that remained atop the warm water, lost for a moment in the iridescence of a bubble.

I’m so weak-willed, even that can hold me. She shivered in embarrassed glee and lost the will to look away. She felt a breeze and the sun on her skin, and she knew the window she must clean was before her. She’d been told to clean and she must obey, but more than anything she knew her mind was susceptible.

If the shine on a bubble caught her eye, Jessica was its helpless captive.

It popped. Jessica blinked for a moment and then smiled.

“I do windows,” she recited again. She bent down and soaked the sponge. The lemon scent made her eyelids droop—it was soporific, Mistress had told her, and an excellent way to keep servant girls docile. Jessica wanted to be her docile servant girl, and knelt for a moment to breathe deeply.

“Weak-willed,” she affirmed aloud, and then rose to do as she was programmed.

Jessica was sending herself deeper into hypnosis. Sandy had told her about it. The slow, repetitive labor of wiping down the window glass was conditioning her slowly and irresistibly. It was a task to lose herself in, a way to teach herself to believe she was subordinate, a dancelike mantra for her body.

I am making my mind as clean as this glass. As smooth as my body and this glass. My mind will be Mistress’ glass.

I must obey.

Jessica was not allowed to play with herself no matter how hot she got. But the hypnosis already had her thinking that it felt better to rub the glass than her cunt. She enjoyed the gentle exertion and how the slow, circular motion captured her gaze over and over. She loved seeing the reflected nude girl in sandals, dazed into menial chores—and she loved being unable to do more than glance at her, as she attended to this chore.

She paused, allowed to look at herself a while longer. This is keeping me hypnotized. Mistress has me doing it to myself. I will belong to her even more tonight than I did this morning.

She moaned and feel need tingle her inner thighs. She submitted and resumed her task.

A moment later Jessica held still, staring at a comet-shaped arc of wetness the sponge left, rainbowing like the bubble. It kept her spellbound until it disappeared in wisps and vanished. She smiled at where it had been. She knew her thoughts were like that, at least the ones Mistress did not want her to think. They evaporated, leaving Jessica wondering and more obedient.

“Soothing and relaxing.” It told her she’d drifted through another cycle, deeper now. More Sandy’s slave, nothing on the glass of her mind.

Next was the large glass door. She’d been lured through it yesterday, triggered and aroused, ensorcelled into shedding clothes and responsibilities. By the time she’d stepped through it, she’d known only sexneed and the strange new compulsion to worship Sandy.

Jessica knelt reverently before it now, inhaling lemon-scent like temple incense. Rising, she held the sponge on both hands and anointed the glass, her whole body now bending and stretching to make the swirling strokes that soothed and relaxed her. She felt her hips sway as she gave herself to it, feeling her will weaken with each pelvic flick.

She saw the ghost-Jessica, naked and undulating, her hands like a supplicant. Her eyes met the glassy ones of the reflected girl.

Groaning, she slid to her knees, lost in her own gaze, wanting so badly to fuck the slavegirl she saw that she couldn’t stand up anymore.

But Jessica was a slavegirl, under deep hypnosis, and in a moment she was back to work, deepening herself with each stroke across the glass.

Before she knew it she was done. There were windows above, and on the other sides of the house. Jessica’s trance let her imagine doing this up on a ladder, or on the long porch writhing along the picture windows, stopping traffic. But Mistress preferred not to deal with the inconvenience, and for now her naked slave would perform in private.

Jessica let her programming control her as she rinsed and replaced the cleaning things. In sandals and neck-bow she strolled nude through the house to find Mistress in her study.

Mistress looked up as she entered, standing just inside the door, erect and attentive. Jessica felt a tingling just being near her. She knew this woman could reach into her head and make her do anything, and even in her trance she knew how dangerous that could be. It was like a knifetip drawn lightly across her breast, or fingers light but firm on her throat.

“I have completed my task, Mistress,” she said softly. She’d been programmed to while she knelt in front of the watch, and being allowed to remember that part didn’t make her obedience any less automatic, or hot.

“How did you serve me, Jessica?”

“Thank you for commanding me to clean your windows, Mistress. Now they are clean and bright and empty.”

Jessica closed her eyes and opened them. “So is my mind.

“My task was so soothing and relaxing. The motions you taught me were so . . . hypnotic . . .”

Mistress smiled. “Yes. You will not think about it now, since that might send you back into trance.” She chuckled as she watched Jessica’s eyes flutter.

“And I need you awake for a while. There are some new things I want to do to you, and as usual it will help me enslave you if you cooperate willingly.”

“I do want to be your slave, Mistress.” Jessica said it fervently, only half-aware of the urgent little twitch of her hips as she spoke.

Mistress leaned back, eyes dancing. She looked almost astonished, but very happy. “Why do you want to be my slave, Jessica? Instead of a free woman?”

Jessica wished she could kneel, but it also made her wet to say this while at attention. “Because you’ve hypnotized me into wanting to give up my free will, Mistress. And you addicted me to sex with you.

“You’re brainwashing me, and it’s really, really working.”

She looked over at her hypnotist, her head clearing a little bit. She couldn’t remember when Sandy had implanted it in her, but like a door opening in a sauna this bit of conversation always woke her a bit from the constant haze of obedience she was kept in.

Right now, Jessica could remember what she’d felt before. She knew what it meant to want to choose for herself. She even remembered the exciting flashes of fear when she’d first sleepily realized the hypnosis that made her helpless had changed.

Knowing this now, naked in front of Sandy, fresh from maid service, just made her feel even more unfree. When Sandy willed it, she’d drown in obedience again. It was breaking her even as it made her want to be broken.

Jessica wondered if, when there was nothing left of her that remembered life before slavery, Sandy would be surprised when her thrall just beamed back at her, eyes empty as her mind. She despised herself for wanting to fantasize about it.

Sandy watched it all dissolve Jessica’s will. Then she raised a small vial of clear liquid and a syringe from a tray with alcohol and cotton balls.

“I was going to wait before using this on you, Jessica. It’s an extremely powerful hypnotic drug. In tests, no one ever resisted its effects.

“Listen carefully to my voice, Jessica.” Jessica could almost feel the trigger open her mind and lubricate her.

Mistress’ voice throbbed into her. “When I tell you its name, Jessica, you will remember clearly that you have heard of it before, and always believed in its power. You feared someone using it to victimize you—but you dreamed of that and came.” She waited, watching Jessica sway until the new truths hardened in her mind.

“Its name,” Mistress told her, smiling, “is . . . inslavuthrol.” She laughed. “Yes. That’s it.”

Jessica shivered. She knew what it could do to her. What it was going to do to her now, when she held still to be injected.

“Inslavuthrol’s terribly strong, Jessica. What I do to you while you’re under its effects will be . . . permanent. But there are some tasks for you to perform that require complete domination of your mind.”

She smiled kindly. “It’s the depth of obedience I know you want to give me, Jessica. The kind you dream of when you come. You’d be sad you can’t, if I let you be sad.

“With this, you can.”

Jessica felt distantly sad. Sandy had taught her how her own naturally weak will made her susceptible.

But with this, she was doomed. Drug-induced hypnosis would overwhelm resistance she didn’t even know she had. Sandy could change her will, now. The inslavuthrol seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, as if the power it would have over her was seeping through the glass and drifting to her on the room air, already starting to dissolve what was left of her mind.

“Go to the sofa and sit, Jessica. On the folded towel—that’s right.”

Drugging Jessica would turn her into a perfect subject, receptive and unresisting. There’d be nothing her hypnotist couldn’t make her do or believe.

“Relax, and soon you won’t have a care in the world, or another choice to fear. Just my voice to obey, always.”

She’d be a willing slave.

“Yes, Mistress.”

11.

Being hypnotized felt even better, after the injection.

Mistress hadn’t administered it right away. As she sat beside Jessica, touching her body, she’d put her into a trance, so she could explain to Jessica more about inslavuthrol and what it would do to her. When she snapped her fingers again, Jessica blinked and knew, without any doubt or question, that the shot would be stronger than any sedative she’d ever taken or even heard of.

The needlestick was pleasurable, and almost immediately she felt her heartrate change and her awareness start to grow distant. Mistress’ voice began to echo in her mind, and already Jessica could feel her thoughts softening, reshaping themselves in response just to mild suggestions.

She felt drowsily excited about how easy the drug made her to control. Jessica thought of inslavuthrol being used out in the world. A strange woman brushing against her at school or on the bus, the prick of the needle—and before she could even protest, it would be subduing her, as her abductress programmed her with a moment’s whisper to let herself be led away. She’d obey, helplessly.

This time, Mistress ordered Jessica to imagine the pocketwatch before her eyes, and told her that under the drug, it would hypnotize her more powerfully than ever before. Jessica felt her dilated mind open to the idea and absorb it, and she knew it was true. On the command, she saw the swinging timepiece shinier, more eyecatching, more irresistibly spinning than she’d known. It snared her eyes instantly and she followed its illusory swing without blinking.

The drug made Jessica sleepy as it made her suggestible, and to keep her eyes open as Mistress wished she had to submit even more deeply to the induction. Jessica had no will to stay awake now, as the watch wiped resolve and thought from her mind. Only the hypnosis kept her from sleep.

And the hypnosis went deeper, so much deeper now that inslavuthrol suspended the rest of Jessica’s mind. She could feel her free will eroding and fading.

“Jessica?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I’m going to give you something very special. I’m going to teach you a way to put yourself back under my hypnotic control if you ever find yourself slipping out of it.”

Jessica felt so nice, now, being controlled, that the idea of not being controlled had no sting.

“It is very simple, and totally effective. After you learn it, I will deepen your trance and program you to recognize when you will need to reenslave yourself, and you’ll obey the compulsion to do it. Once you’re programmed, you will do it automatically, even if you think you ‘don’t want’ to fall back under my spell.”

Mistress stroked her. “That way, Jessica, no evil person will be able to take control of you. Or make you disobey me.”

Jessica gasped, quietly.

“Relax, Jessica. You have no fear now, and soon your programming will be complete.

“You will always obey me.”

“I will always obey you, Mistress!” It ended in a whine as Jessica felt the devotion spark in her clit.

“Yesss, Jessica. Yes you will. And since you are still completely under the influence of the . . . inslavuthrol, the programming will also be permanent.”

“I will always obey you, Mistress.” Jessica promised it in a whisper now, feeling tears start.

Mistress wiped them with warm fingertips, sighing with pleasure.

“The technique is simple, Jessica. It is designed so that even a confused, weak slavegirl can remember and use it to hypnotize herself.”

Reassured, Jessica smiled and listened.

“All you need to do, Jessica, is count yourself down into trance. A slave-mind like yours can always be made sleepier and more obedient, and it only needs to know it is sinking. And the soothing cadence just helps you stop thinking any other thoughts, even remembering that there are other thoughts.

“A stronger mind than yours needs a special obedience mantra to capture it and weaken it for the hypnotist’s control. But you are a natural slave, Jessica, and you can be enthralled by the simple, ancient descent of numbers. The greater to the lesser.

“The fullness of who you thought you were, to the zero that is your will.”

Jessica reeled in the grip of the drug and Mistress’ deep hypnosis, and knew it was true.

“You will start at one hundred and count down, one number at a time, each one filling your mind and opening it for the next. The rhythm will take you irresistibly down as you recite. Hearing yourself do it will double its power.

“You will stop when you reach total obedience. It will happen soon. No slave has ever reached zero before surrendering herself to total obedience.”

Mistress laughed, watching Jessica squirm as she imagined slipping into total obedience. “If you get distracted, Jessica, or momentarily manage to resist, your programming will bring you back to one hundred and compel you to start again—sleepier and more susceptible.

“Once you’re programmed, Jessica, it will suck you under and make you blank. Even if you fight it, you will only want to keep doing it. As your ability to obey improves—and it will—you will finish sooner and sooner.

“Eventually, you will be totally enslaved. You will be always entranced, never awake, so you will not need to count down anymore. There will be nothing left.

“You will be zero.”

Jessica moaned.

“Obedience and no thought. Something to strive for, Jessica. Even if you don’t remember you are.

“Now, begin.”

Jessica sat straighter. “Yes, Mistress.

“One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight . . . ninety-seven . . . ninety-six . . .”

It was even more dazing than being injected with inslavuthrol. The counting took control of her and it was like an endless surrender to being stroked. Like being washed away in a warm tide.

Counting herself down would have been like the pocketwatch, rhythmically wiping her thoughts away. But Jessica no longer remembered watching the watch. It was hard to remember anything but counting down.

“Eighty-one . . . eighty . . . seventy-nine . . .” Even her sleepy whisper reached between her legs, making her continue.

Jessica reached total obedience. The number meant nothing to her.

She awaited command.

She was commanded to begin counting herself down.

She obeyed instantly . . .

. . . Jessica awoke with no memory of sleep. Her mind was blank.

She knelt erect on her heels with her thighs spread, still and relaxed, blissfully unable to move. Her body was comfortable and she had no desire to think about it.

At eye level was the top of a low tripod, spread before her. She looked above it and not at it. There was a point on the wall beyond she knew she must look at, and she looked only there.

The wall was featureless, but Jessica was hypnotized and her bridled mind could find the spot a free woman’s could not.

That felt very nice.

Below her gaze she sensed nothing was mounted on the tripod yet, but she must look forward, not down. She was too blank to realize that she was staring at the point where something would be installed. Jessica had just been installed here first, on her knees.

She waited, staring at her spot.

She had no desire to glance at the tripod. Inches below her sightline, it faded from her awareness.

Then Mistress was there, leaning down to slide something onto the tripod. Jessica smelled her scents and heard her breathing, and kept still, staring through Mistress until she was reinstructed.

When Mistress stepped away, Jessica was staring at a new device, curved and silvery and oddly small atop the tripod. She blinked, as reflex momentarily overcame the trance commands and she focused on it, noticing it.

Then her programming resumed control and she gazed through it, no longer seeing it.

Mistress spoke a word and Jessica refocused, seeing the device again without really remembering not seeing it. Mistress asked her what it was.

“It’s a digital camera, Mistress.”

“No, Jessica. It’s not.”

Jessica kept looking at it, kneeling before it as though about to lean forward and kiss it. It was not a digital camera.

“When I tell you what it is, Jessica, you will know.”

“Yes, Mistress. When you tell me I will know.”

“This is a . . .” Mistress breathed, made a noise. Jessica waited, staring at what wasn’t a digital camera.

“This, Jessica, is a . . . hypnotrode. Yes. You remember learning that this is one of the most powerful hypnotic devices ever designed. It emits special signals that interface with human brainwaves, resonates, and then alters them in whatever way it has been preset to do.”

Jessica stared at the hypnotrode aimed at her face, her body keeping her head in position for its rays. She couldn’t look away.

Her thighs tensed but did not move. If she could have orgasmed, she would have. She couldn’t remember how.

“You will hold still and submit as the hypnotrode brainwashes you, Jessica. You will enjoy what it does to you.”

“I will hold still and submit as the hypnotrode brainwashes me,” Jessica acknowledged breathlessly, eyes locked on it. “I will enjoy what it does to me.”

She didn’t move as Mistress put headphones on her. Mistress stepped behind the hypnotrode and looked at her, but Jessica only saw that peripherally. She knelt and stared at the machine that was about to start brainwashing her.

Mistress rearranged the headphones, looked again, and then reached for the hypnotrode.

“Stare into the red light, Jessica.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Jessica felt her gaze slide to its new captor. She could feel the hypnotic emissions humming into her brain, measuring it, matching it, separating its waves and finding what was left of her willpower.

Painlessly burning it out.

She knelt and stared obediently into the changeless red light as she let it tame her.

In her ears, a girl began to recite in a sleepy monotone. The chant was seductive. It filled Jessica’s mind.

“One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight . . . ninety-seven . . . ninety-six . . .”

Jessica didn’t know when she fell into the chant and started counting herself down. She was only aware of it sometimes, rising from the trance. Then the drone of their voices sedated her again. She lapsed into mindless counting again.

Falling into the bottomless depths.

Total obedience.

12.

Jessica blinked, yawned, and stretched. She’d been studying so long she’d stopped being aware of how she was dressed. She was naughty but comfy in a pair of tiny running shorts and a crop-T a bit too small.

She got up and preened at the mirror, still not quite getting why she found herself so hot but feeling no desire to question it. It was like the weekend, which she barely remembered.

Jessica knew that blankness was how it should be, and good girls didn’t question.

Besides, she’d never been this energized on a Monday. She’d survived in Dochmann’s class, getting an answer Dochmann must have felt sure she’d missed in the lost lecture last week. She’d come home, stripped and masturbated, and then, dressed in her new favorite loungewear, she’d sat down to study with the focus of a zombie.

Seeing herself as a barely-dressed zombie made her hot, too. She posed, stiffening her arms and widening her eyes, and sucked air to gasp at how erotic she looked.

Her door opened and Sandy walked in, laughing but saying nothing as Jessica jumped guiltily out of her pose.

Jessica didn’t mind her landlady coming in when she liked. She enjoyed feeling that Sandy could come to her at any time. She’d showered this morning feeling hopeful, and wandered the apartment in the nude before she had to dress and go to class.

She liked that Sandy had seen her playacting a zombie-slave, too.

“I’d like to take you somewhere, Jessica.” Sandy’s eyes wandered over the bare skin below Jessica’s tight little top before rising back. Jessica blushed and moved, as if Sandy’s gaze were warm and solid on her.

“S-somewhere?” Jessica realized she had a deep crush on her beautiful landlady, and it only felt good to be virginally tongue-tied. Especially being asked out on a date.

“To JJ’s,” Sandy said, leaning against the dresser and treating herself this time to the way Jessica’s thigh curved under the high-cut nylon.

“The stripclub?”

“I like watching pretty girls dance for me,” Sandy said, smiling as she saw Jessica’s thighs tighten. “Especially when they undress.” She seemed to be waiting.

Go to a club and watch other women? But she’d be the one Sandy brought.

Am I really gay? Or is Sandy just so enthralling that I’m under her spell?

She swallowed. “I . . . well . . . I’d love to, Sandy, but I do have to study. Tomorrow’s going to . . . going . . . to . . .”

Her mind slowed and her heart sped up, and now she felt it between her legs. She was trying to say no to Sandy.

She was resisting Sandy’s will.

She mustn’t. She must . . . must . . .

The world grew soft and clear and Jessica felt a new need flood her thoughts.

She stood still. But she must go down, now. Down . . .

“One hundred,” she said. Just saying it jazzed her.

“Ninety-nine,” she went on, surrendering something and liking how that felt.

“Ninety-eight . . .” The number was already large in her mind. Blanking other things.

. . . Jessica closed her mouth. She knew where she was, and what she was.

“I am totally obedient now,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Mistress said. Then Mistress said some more, and Jessica walked downstairs with her without looking back.

For a pleasant while Jessica was Mistress’ doll. Mistress had chosen a dress for her, lycra that shimmered metallic purple, a halter top and a zip neckline that Mistress left open to show Jessica’s navel. The hem was high enough to show off the very beginning of her asscheeks.

Mistress did not put underwear on her Jessica-doll before slipping the microdress on. Next Mistress put her into heeled calf boots, patent leather with a sassy gleam that second-skinned her legs below the knee and emphasized how much thigh she was showing the world.

Jessica stood at attention. After enjoying the view for a bit, Mistress sat her down and pulled her hair back, and after stroking Jessica’s bared neck she put a steel-mesh choker on it, dark and shiny against her skin. Then she began the makeup.

When she was done, Jessica looked into the mirror, and she wanted to fuck the whore she saw there. With eyeliner and black lipstick and the other things at hand, Mistress had turned her into a half-Goth, half-Weimar siren who looked like she’d been stolen from a Robert Palmer video.

Stolen because a girl with eyes like that would never have had the will to escape.

Jessica wanted to reach under the dress and flick her clit. She knew totally obedient girls didn’t play with themselves until told to. She sat still. It was enough to know that the dress was so high it didn’t need to be lifted, and there was nothing on her pussy but the air it heated.

Mistress left her doll sitting snared by her own image. She returned in a tailored tuxedo, sleek and strong and feminine, and smiled at how her doll couldn’t react.

Jessica sat like a doll and rose like a puppet, following Mistress to her car and being put in like a lady. Like a lady she didn’t cross her legs, but parted them with a sigh to Mistress’ hand as she drove.

They found a spot down the street from JJ’s. Mistress turned to her, and Jessica stared forward, loving the lack of any will to face her. She waited for orders.

“Before we go in I’m going to program you, Jessica.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She sat still, open to the trigger.

“Jessica? One hundred . . .”

“Ninety-nine,” she responded like clockwork, and that easily, it had her. She gazed at the street and stopped seeing it as her mind took itself further down.

“I am totally obedient now.” In Mistress’ car it sounded like speaking in bed.

“You are docile, completely passive. You will be aroused but you will not respond unless commanded. Everything you experience will make you more of a slave.”

Jessica repeated it softly. As she spoke her lips softened, docility filling her like warmth.

Mistress led her inside. They knew Mistress and greeted her respectfully.

Jessica felt the stares nearly as much as the prod of the music, and for a moment it was just that in the dark, aside from Mistress’ presence. Entering the dark club with its blinding areas of light reassured her, feeling a little like being put to sleep. As they passed a table, Jessica felt someone try to grab her, the stranger’s fingers cold and arousing on her leg and ass before she was away.

Mistress seated her and sat right beside her, running a finger up her bare back, and she relaxed. A pretty waitress appeared, long-legged in fishnet hose and graceful as a heron on her heels. She looked curiously at Jessica, a wanton sleepwalker, but knew to ignore her then and ask the dominant what they would have.

Jessica just looked around, not moving her head. Other pretty waitresses moved daintily around, and on the stage an athletic black girl writhed and held Jessica’s gaze for a moment until Jessica lost focus again.

Her gaze crossed other gazes. They stared at her as they wouldn’t stare at a girlfriend. She was a toy, and some of them were probably wondering what Mistress would want for the use of her.

Light hand on her thigh. She turned instantly. “Yes, Mistress?” She wished they could hear her.

“See only the dancer.”

“I must obey.” Jessica swiveled her head toward the stage, where the strong dancer was teasing the pole and then giving herself to it. Jessica knew how she’d taste . . .

Then Jessica started to dream. She saw the girl dancing, but trapped in a cage, a box, compelled to move. The girl had already forgotten trying to escape it, hypnotized by the music and the beat and the rhythmic flashing to give herself up to the dance.

It was a box for brainwashing. The music possessed the dancer, trapping her cunt with its throb and her mind with its laced subliminals, leaving both moist and receptive. Jessica watched her submit, sweaty and wide-eyed, open to the hypnotrode hidden among the blinking strobes, etching the obedience patterns into her mind forever.

Jessica knew it was a dream and let it hold her as she enjoyed the other woman. Someone approached the table and joined them on Mistress’ other side, but Jessica wasn’t told to respond.

“She looks fascinated.” A familiar voice was just audible under the music and the other din.

Her friend, Cecile.

13.

This was one of Cecile’s nights on. Jessica remembered telling Mistress that in her sleep. She didn’t worry about what else Mistress had taken from her mind about Cecile.

She felt nothing but docile and passive. It was nice not to worry about how to react.

“Syndra has a fascinating body,” Mistress said. “Still, my pet is easily fascinated.

“But let’s talk about you.” They laughed, and Mistress paused as the pretty, long-stemmed waitress went through the motions of taking Cecile’s order. Mistress must have invited Cecile to the table.

“I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

Touch in her thigh. Jessica turned back to them, the lovely black dancer erased from her thoughts. Cecile’s gaze was like a thin cold mist on her but she stared into it, past it.

“You’re not. My pet doesn’t mind. Do you?”

Cecile looked at her and smiled uncertainly. Under the makeup, she didn’t see her friend Jessica at all—only Mistress’ submissive fetish doll. Jessica watched Is she on something? slide behind Cecile’s eyes and fade. Not something to say to a guest she was trying to sell a dance to.

Jessica looked at her, and then turned to Mistress and shook her head slowly. She kept looking at Mistress. It was easy to do.

Mistress’ gesture reprogrammed her to scan the club again, seeing other dancers working the tables between sets like Cecile, hustling drinks and offering private time.

She heard Cecile’s come-on to Mistress, suggesting they go to one of the rooms. It was a while before her next set and she’d be happy to dance for both of them, if . . .

Mistress played her. She flirted with buying a private dance, and Jessica knew her own wetdream presence was worrying Cecile. Cecile could see Mistress could make her own fun, and even if she hadn’t recognized Jessica’s eyes she’d seen the chains behind them. Mistress could make her pet do tricks Cecile had never heard of.

Mistress seemed to realize it and stopped putting Cecile through her paces. She smiled gently and took Cecile’s hand, apologizing in a low voice for being so difficult. She understood how hard Cecile was working, and how tired she must be.

It confused Cecile and she leaned closer, letting Mistress stroke her hand, not pulling away. She smiled into Mistress’ eyes and nodded, ready to agree to anything here, feeling she’d made a connection.

Jessica saw it from the corner of her eye.

Mistress spoke quietly, making the table an intimate oasis in the noise of the club. Even for Jessica, brainwashed to focus on it, her voice was hard to hear, but Cecile couldn’t ask her to speak up. She had to lean closer, nodding, listening.

Mistress talked to her about focus, and relaxation, and the need to sleep. Cecile’s arm drooped behind her hand.

Cecile listened, her eyelids fluttering. Jessica could see her force herself to concentrate through the noise. Mistress was making her do most of the work in this induction, and they both knew Cecile would try.

Mistress’s comments were growing repetitive, but they stayed soft. Impatience flickered in Cecile’s eyes but then faded. She was already too relaxed and too transfixed to stay impatient now.

She nodded as Mistress’ instructions to her grew more precise. Mistress helped her forget what she’d thought she was here for, and just open herself to listen.

Cecile was staring into Mistress’ eyes now, her mouth slightly open. She blinked now and then, but each time she refocused promptly and seemed to have forgotten the club around them.

Mistress pressed the hand she held, gently, and Cecile swayed toward her a little, not looking away. Jessica could see that her friend heard Mistress clearly now. Cecile’s eyes glazed, as Mistress instructed her to hear no one else for a while.

Jessica saw a manager glance over and smile at Cecile. He thought his dancer was wrapping the tuxedoed lesbian around her finger, and Mistress certainly looked at her avidly. Cecile was being hypnotized in front of him and he had no idea. No one could do anything as Cecile fell under Mistress’ spell in plain sight.

Cecile’s eyes slid closed as Mistress allowed her to taste sleep. She whispered to Cecile for a moment and then the girl’s eyes slowly opened again. They seemed softer now, trustful and dull. Mistress smiled into them and now Cecile smiled shyly too, happy to have pleased her hypnotist.

Mistress stroked Cecile’s hand, and now and then Cecile’s eyes would start to roll up for a moment. Mistress kept speaking, and Cecile kept listening.

Mistress released her hand, and it floated for a moment before Cecile slowly lowered it, never taking her eyes from Mistress’. She sat gazing adoringly at Mistress as Mistress reached into her pocket and drew out currency.

When Mistress waved a finger, Cecile leaned forward, offering her cleavage as if to a vampire. Mistress slid the money between her breasts, and Cecile settled back. She looked dreamy but disappointed that Mistress hadn’t done more to her. But she was already hypnotized enough to behave as she was told.

Her hand floated back up, and when Mistress took it Cecile’s eyes closed again.

Mistress kissed her hand. Cecile’s eyelids fluttered attractively, and she woke up. They smiled at each other.

Mistress nodded. Suddenly Cecile’s eyes had a faraway look, and she rose from her chair, staring forward. She stepped the long way around the table so Mistress could watch her, moving like a somnambulist but not enough to draw notice.

She stopped next to Jessica, and Jessica looked up at her friend.

Cecile was in trance again, glassy-eyed and with no hint that she recognized Jessica. She looked down and her eyes went vague.

She leaned down, drew Jessica’s chin up with her fingertips, and kissed her deeply.

Jessica tasted her friend for the first time in their lives, and their tongues made love until Cecile withdrew. Cecile looked at her blank, and intent, until she stood straight again. Then she seemed to awaken again, walking toward the dressing rooms.

Jessica turned to Mistress, who enjoyed the rear view.

Mistress smiled. “They’ll remember how she dances tonight for a long time. She won’t remember much of it at all. While she’s awake.

“Come.”

Jessica rose and followed her out.

When they got home Mistress fucked her for hours.

Then Mistress sat her before the large-screen computer and spoke a trigger. Jessica felt her body obey until a file opened and she stared at a topless blank-eyed girl in headphones, staring into the camera with mindless intensity. The headphones gave her a robotic look that made Jessica’s pussy twitch. She thought of the dancer at JJ’s, brainwashed into utter submission until she needed phones like this and a remote unit to feed thoughts and commands into her head.

Then Jessica recognized herself, and the arousal almost melted her from the chair. The image-Jessica was expressionless, and it quivered through the screen how flattened her thoughts must be. Her veins and mind still full of inslavuthrol, suggestible and with no will left at all.

She’d been kneeling before the hypnotrode that wasn’t a camera, just before it began to brainwash her.

The image-Jessica started to speak in a dazed but relentless monotone.

“One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight . . . ninety-seven . . . ninety-six . . .”

There would have been an eyeblink during which Jessica might have remembered watching this tape over and over, all weekend.

But it had already turned off her mind and resumed the endless spiral into deeper submission.

By this point Jessica was always too hypnotized to blink.

She repeated the litany, waiting for total obedience as two versions of her sleepy voice echoed and harmonized.

“. . . seventy-one . . . seventy . . . sixty-nine . . .”