The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

With a look of scorn on her face, Mrs. Drennan walked slowly around the three women, examining them as they stood nervously in front of her desk in the housekeeper’s office.

Finally, she stopped in front of the three women and with a final glance walked back to her seat and sat down behind her desk, “So, you three think you are suitable, you think you have what it takes to become members of the Baronesses staff,” she sneered.

The three women looked at each other, obviously wondering if one of them would have the temerity to answer the imposing and frankly terrifying Mrs. Drennan.

“Don’t bother answering that question, it was rhetorical,” said the housekeeper as she looked at the three women then down at three pieces of paper laid out on her desk.

“Frau Kimberly Verren, you are twenty and work in a shop, is that correct?” said Mrs. Drennan as she looked critically and directly and the young, short brunette standing on the left of the three women.

“Yes Mrs. Drennan,” came the nervous reply.

“And why did you apply for a position in this house when you already have a job, why did you apply for a job that is physically taxing with longer working hours, and be honest with your answer?”

The attractive young woman looked nervously at Mrs. Drennan, “I… my… husband lost his job, and a position here pays… pays more than my current job,” stammered Kimberly.

“I see,” sneered Mrs. Drennan, “And what about you, why do you want to work for my Mistress? You’ve never worked in great house have you and the training regime for new employees is… rigorous, Frau Kinnon,” asked the housekeeper as she looked at the middle-aged blonde in the centre of three women.

“I understand, but as Mrs Verren said, the money is too good to ignore and I’m in need of it since my husband died, and I’m willing to undertake any training you require,” said the good-looking forty-year-old blonde.

“We shall see,” said Mrs. Drennan as she turned her attention to last of the three, a tall, extremely attractive brunette.

“And last but not least there’s you, Frau Tessier why would a forty-year-old woman suddenly want to enter service?”

Helena Tessier paused, “I agree about the money but it’s also the need for security. Vallenberg has changed recently but who would dare challenge or intercept one of the Baronesses employees.”

Mrs. Drennan managed not to laugh at the comments, especially the latter one, “I see, well we’ll soon see if you can keep the job and the so-called security you crave. But I can tell you all that the price for failing the induction and training course is more severe than you might realise, however all three have been deemed suitable for employment in the Baronesses household.”

Mrs Drennan could sense the relief emanating from the three women, “You will report to my office tomorrow at seven of the clock, at which point your training will begin, now leave.”

Without needing to be told twice the three women hurriedly left the office, closing the door behind them.

“Stupid bitches,” said Mrs. Drennan mockingly, “I’m going to enjoy fucking each of them, they’ll learn to appreciate having my strap-on in their arses and my cunt in their faces,” then she looked down and under her desk.

From the waist down, and unseen by anyone on the other side of her desk, other than for her black silk stockings each held up by six taught suspenders and high-heeled, patent leather shoes Mrs. Drennan was naked. The housekeeper’s legs were apart, spread wide enough to accommodate the figure kneeling between them, her knickers and her leather uniform skirt had been discarded.

Between Mrs. Drennan’s stocking covered legs knelt a woman completely encased in tight black leather. Even the woman’s face, was covered with only a small hole under each nostril to allow her to breath. The woman’s leather gloved and sheathed arms were secured behind her back in a stringently buckled and laced arm binder. The ring at the bottom end of the armbinder was attached to a tightly fastened leather strap around the woman’s ankles over the knee-high ballet boots her feet had been forced into.

There was one other item to the woman’s bondage, jutting nine inches from her mouth, mounted on a stiff rubber plate, was a rigid, realistically shaped, black rubber dildo. The dildo was held securely and firmly in position over the woman’s leather covered mouth by a harness buckled around her leather hooded head.

Mrs. Drennan grinned as she looked down at the glossy, leather-bound head between her legs.

“You could have told them what happens if you fail to complete the required training, or if the mind control drugs don’t work, couldn’t you Frau Ingles.”

On rare occasions the hypnotism, designer drugs and magic potions Mrs. Drennan used to turn the married women she hired into fetish orientated, leather and satin adoring, submissive lesbian maids didn’t work, or did so only partially. This was exactly what had happened to the thirty-six-year-old Kristen Ingles, and now she was suffering the consequences.

Mrs. Drennan ran her fingers over Kristen Ingles’ leather-bound head, the drugs filling the woman’s head were not mind control ones, these simply subdued her, relaxing Kirsten to the point where she no longer resisted, Kirsten had been rendered incapable of challenging her fate.

“Later today you will be enslaved, and tomorrow you will be sold to the highest bidder, you may have been resistant to my drugs and potions, but you will never be able to repel the magic of a Magister. I think you’ll make an excellent sex-slave you certainly have the face and body for it, and the Baroness will make a good amount of money from you. You’ll sell for a good price at auction, but until you are mind wiped and enslaved the Baroness has said I can use you anyway I like,” gloated Mrs. Drennan.

Taking hold of the doomed woman’s head, Mrs. Drennan guided the dildo jutting from the leather sheathed face into her cunt. Comfortably positioning herself, Mrs. Drennan pressed the soon to be sex-slave’s face firmly against her pubes as the entire length of the thick dildo filled her cunt.

Mrs. Drennan grinned nastily, “I might even ask Her Excellency if I can buy you,” she said as she began to bob Kristen Ingles’ leather-bound head slowly back and forward. The dildo sliding in and out of her dripping wet pussy as used the woman’s head as a masturbatory sex-toy.

“There she is,” said Esme.

“She’s with someone, do you know who it is?” asked Ursula.

“Yes, her name is Veronica Harten, she’s Katherine’s best friend, they’ve known each other since school. I met her a few times when I was married to Konrad.”

“Won’t she be a problem?” asked Ursula.

“Not after we stick her with the same happy juice I’m going to use on Katherine, after that she’ll become an opportunity not a problem. I’m not going to delay my plans for Katherine simply because Veronica is with her grinned Esme as she looked at the woman with her ex-mother-in-law.

For a moment Ursula didn’t understand what Esme meant by opportunity, then she realised what her friend meant, “You’re going to… recruit her as well?”

“Of course I am, it’s her own fault that she’s in the wrong place at the wrong time,” said Esme without sympathy, “I’m sure she’ll be a very profitable addition to Madam’s stable.”

Ursula looked at the woman, “I think your right, but how are you going to inject her as well as Katherine without her realising?”

“Simple, you can do it, we’ll jab the hypodermics into them at the same time and after that we’ll make our plans for two instead of one. It doesn’t bother you does it that I’m going to turn Veronica into a whore as well?”

“Of course not,” said Ursula without hesitation, “In fact I’m looking forward to helping you.”

Esme grinned, then she looked down at the floor of the coach, two sex-slaves, dressed in tight red leather, their faces covered by red leather masks, were looking up at their owner. The two sex-slaves had been very expensive gifts from Esme’s employer, the brothel owner, Madam Irina de Venister. The two women that had been bought by Madam de Venister and enslaved as slave-whores, before being given to Esme as a gift had cost a premium price, well above what would normally be paid for a 38-year-old woman and her 18-year-old daughter.

The premium was applied for one simple reason, the mother and daughter had been kidnapped and transported from Burgenst, capital city of the Confederation of Mediem by the pirate, Captain Ordena Jenfer. And like all sex-slaves taken from Mediem, their rarity in Xentra and implied exotic nature meant they cost significantly more. But the fact they had been given to Esme as a gift showed how much Irina de Venister valued Esme, and reflected the fact that Esme brought in more money and was more popular with clients, especially wealthy ones, than any of Irina de Venister’s other prostitutes.

“Stay, I’ll be back shortly,” ordered Esme as she stroked the masked faces of her pets with her gloved fingers.

“Yes, Mistress,” sighed both slaves in their Mediam accented voices, their adoring eyes looking up at Esme.

Esme grinned at Ursula, “I fucking love owning them, and clients will pay a fortune if I let them join in,” she said as the female coach driver opened the door of the coach.

Esme stepped from the coach and Ursula followed, the coach driver closed the door behind the two friends.

Esme looked in the direction of her ex-mother-in-law, “Ready?” asked Esme.

“Yes,” said Ursula as she smiled at her friend.

When she had first moved into the massive manor house, the Baroness had instructed her secretary, Eleanor Edson, to find out what lay in every nook and cranny and behind every door, locked or unlocked, in the manor house. Eleanor Edson had done as she had been ordered and what she had found had surprised and pleased the Baroness.

At the one side of of the house, overgrown and obscured with weeds and ivy, and near but separate from the stable block, an obviously abandoned, barred and locked door had been discovered. A door that, once broken down, led a short corridor and a long flight of winding stairs that led to a suite of rooms filled with detritus, broken furniture, and filth. The original use of the rooms was difficult to ascertain, there was nothing to positively identify their purpose, and to add to the mystery the door, stairway and rooms were not shown on the architectural drawings of the manor house. However, the Baroness had immediately seen the perfect use for the mysterious underground space and ordered it to be cleaned out, refurbished, and set up for its new purpose.

The ruined door had been replaced with a stronger, sturdier one that required multiple keys to undo the sophisticated and complicated locks that kept it securely closed. Two heavily armed, totally loyal, and efficiently deadly female guards were permanently on duty outside the door and the whole area was patrolled by other guards. The short corridor before the downward leading stairs had doors leading to a small room on each side, rooms which also housed heavily armed guards, ready in case the door was breached to defend the corridor and to perform one other function.

Today was one of the Baronesses regular visits to this underground and very secret area and as she approached, the door was opened for her, and she walked inside. Magically powered, glowing lamps now lined the walls at short regular intervals, brightly illuminating the corridor, stairs, and rooms beneath, making it a very useable and convenient space.

Lifting her long leather skirts clear of her high heel covered feet as she descended the steeply canted stairs, her free hand holding the handrail as she walked quickly and confidently downwards. At the bottom of the stairs was another corridor, this one gently curving and with even more rooms leading from it, rooms that had now been repurposed. But the door the Baroness was really interested in was the one at the end of the corridor.

Stopping briefly outside the heavy, banded door, the Baroness removed a scented lace handkerchief from a pocket in her leather skirt, then she opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind her.

The large, underground room was arched and buttressed and was now as brightly lit as the rest of mysterious underground space, it needed to be. No matter what the rooms original use had been, its new purpose was obvious at first glance, the space was now an alchemist’s laboratory.

Test tubes, retorts and flasks, many of them interlinked by glass or metal tubing sat on several large tables. Chemicals bubbled and simmered over flames, and acrid fumes could be smelt as they drifted through the air. Filed on shelves along the walls were dozens and dozens of handwritten journals all with the same scrawled writing on the spines and next to them were an even greater number of well used books, with titles on the spine that meant nothing to the Baroness.

In the centre of the room, writing in a journal identical to the ones on the shelves, with several sheets of paper lying next to the journal, was a short, unattractive, balding man in a frock cock patterned with stains and burns. The man’s name Esdor Ky and this was his realm, his laboratory; Esdor Ky was the Baronesses alchemist.

The Baroness detested men, they revolted her, and she often wished they didn’t exist. She particularly hated the fact that in Vallenberg, across all sections of society, the number of male and female couples far outnumbered the number of female couples. A fact the Baroness was determined would, as soon as possible, be irrevocably changed, and Esdor Ky was a large part of her plans to achieve that.

Esdor Ky was an unusual man, it was extremely uncommon for any man to have even the slightest magical ability, the skill in the magical arts nearly exclusively resided with women. All women in Xentra could sense magic, and some could even use it, but nearly every man was devoid of the ability. But Esdor Ky was a rarity, he had magical abilities that almost rivalled those of a Magister.

Still holding the handkerchief to her nose, the Baroness watched Esdor Ky as he wrote in his scrawling hand. It wasn’t Xenia who had discovered Esdor Ky and his alchemical abilities, it was the Baronesses closest friend, the Queen’s confidante and adviser, Countess Hildegard ap Osterman.

It was the Countess ap Osterman who had told Xenia about the strange little man and his abilities with potions, drugs and powders. The Countess already had her own potion maker and experimenter, which meant Esdor Ky was of no use to her. So, along with the recipes, formulas and procedures for the mind altering and controlling drugs and potions the Countess had gifted her with on her enforced departure from the capital, the Baroness also took a newly employed and delighted Esdor Ky as her personal alchemist.

From the beginning, and despite her innate hatred for men, the Baroness knew her decision to employ Esdor Ky was the correct one, the man was brilliant. Not only was he able to reproduce and manufacture all of the drugs and magical potions from the formulas given to the Baroness, he was also able to begin altering them.

To the Baronesses delight, Esdor Ky quickly began altering the formulas, making them stronger and faster acting, less needed to be used to achieve the desired result of opening a woman’s mind and making her pliable, allowing her personality and sexuality to be permanently changed. Not only that, Esdor Ky was able to discover a way to produce larger amounts of the drugs and potions than ever before. Amounts that meant the Baroness could sell the powders, potions, creams, and drugs to anyone who could afford them.

The Baroness encouraged others to buy, encouraged others, especially her friends arriving from the capital, to use the drugs she sold them to transform as many women as possible, especially women married to, engaged to or being courted by men. And it was working well, but not quickly enough for the Baroness, she wanted more women to be transformed than ever before and she expected Esdor Ky to make it possible for her to achieve this.

The alchemist still hadn’t noticed her presence, “Esdor,” she said.

Esdor Ky gave a start of surprise as he turned his pale face towards Xenia, “Baroness, sorry, I didn’t hear you enter,” he said.

Esdor Ky’s pale skin was the result of his subterranean life, deeply agoraphobic, the alchemist never left his underground laboratory and suite of rooms, the idea of going through the door at the top of the stairs and into the open air terrified him. His journey from Xentra to Vallenberg had been undertaken in a drugged stupor, unconscious as he was carried in one of the Baronesses carriages twards his new home and only awaking when inside a building, it windows closed and shuttered to the outside world. That the man was insane was something Xenia had no doubt of, but he was also brilliant and happy to do whatever Xenia required of him, and here, below the ground he thrived.

“No matter,” said the Baroness as she walked to where Esdor Ky was working.

“Thank you for my present,” said a broadly grinning Esdor Ky.

Xenia looked at a pile of furs in a corner of the laboratory. Lying contentedly on the furs, a chain running from a ring embedded in the wall to the ring on the front of its collar was a sex-slave. Like all sex-slaves this one was erotically dressed, sheathed in a black leather slave-skin, flat-soled thigh length boots and black kid leather gloves. A supple, skin-tight black leather mask covered the sex-slaves face and was secured by straps around its head. But unlike every other sex-slave in the Baronesses house this tall, slim, bald sex-slave was male.

One of the sex-slaves leather gloved hands was wrapped around its fat, nine-inch cock, slowly caressing itself, while the other held the large, realistically shaped dildo it was sucking between its full, pouting lips. The sex-slaves bald head glistened with oil as it looked adoringly at its master, ignoring the Baronesses presence.

A lunar earlier the sex-slave had been a happily married, twenty-six-year-old heterosexual man with a wife and home before the Baroness had had the man and his wife kidnapped. The man’s body had been altered to suit his new master’s tastes, his cock enlarged, his lips formed into a permanent full pout, his nipples and tongue pierced, his body and head made permanently hairless. Then he had been enslaved, his mind wiped of everything that made him an individual, and a sex-slaves personality and desires implanted.

Now only concerned with how to bring pleasure to its master and his cock and the desire to be constantly used, it no longer had any memory of its former life. The man’s wife, a lovely brunette, had suffered a similar fate to her husband, her breasts had been enlarged and her waist narrowed to give her a 40-20-36 figure. Then with her nipples, tongue and clitoris pierced, she had been sheathed in a black latex slave-skin, patent leather ankle boots, long black latex gloves and a black latex slave-hood.

Terrified, and fully aware of the alterations to her body, the latex she was covered in and what was happening to her, but drugged and unable to resist her fate, the twenty-five-year-old woman had been collared. And then, just like her husband, her mind had been emptied and she had been enslaved as a sex-slave. The Baroness had sold the newly created latex sheathed sex-slave for a very low price to a friend who was as addicted to latex as the Baroness was to leather, Lady Delores Dominder.

Still sucking the dildo and caressing its cock, the sex-slave briefly turned its eyes towards the Baroness, but only for a moment, it quickly looked back at its owner.

“Can I have another one?” giggled the alchemist, licking his lips as he looked at his pet.

“If you are successful, and do all I require of you, yes, I will provide you with another sex-slave” said the Baroness turning to look at the dishevelled and manically grinning alchemist.

“How are things progressing?” asked the Baroness.

“Well,” said Esdor Ky, “I have calculated the necessary quantities and doses and am attempting to confirm the best method of delivery, I’m confident I’ll soon have a solution to the conundrum.”

“Good, do you require anything?”

“Yes, I need more test subjects, those have nearly reached the end of their usefulness,” said Esdor Ky gesturing towards a row of metal cages.

Three of the low, narrow cages, were occupied, two held women and the third a man, a husband and wife and their daughter. The mother and daughter were awake, masturbating continuously, writhing and moaning as they lay in their cages while the husband was unconscious.

“How may do you need?” asked the Baroness.

“Six women of various ages between say twenty and fifty should suffice.”

“I’ll arrange it, you’ll have the delivery tomorrow,” said the Baroness dispassionately.

“Good,” said Esdor Ky as he looked back down at the journal filled willed with formula’s and calculation’s he had been writing in. The Baroness knew from experience she was losing the alchemists attention.

“Is the latest batch completed?” asked the Baroness.

“Yes, over there as usual,” said the alchemist in a quiet faraway tone, his eyes fixed on his journal as he towards towards three boxes near the door to the laboratory.

The Baroness glanced Esdor Ky, his attention was now fully on his work and she doubted that he realised she was present. Turning on her heel, Xenia headed for the door from the laboratory.

Once again, she tried desperately to move, and once again the effort was futile. All she could do was remain kneeling where she had been placed with her hands resting on her thighs as the waking nightmare continued.

Some memories of the nightmare were crystal clear to her, other periods there were gaps. She clearly remembered the start she’d been out riding and stopped to water her horse in the river that marked one of the boundaries of her husband’s lands. She’d heard a noise when none was expected and turned to look only for there to be a sudden stabbing pain in her neck and then blackness.

Then later, a memory remembered through a haze, lying on her back, naked and voices, two voices, a man and a woman. Unable to move, she could feel tight straps around her legs and body, her arms held securely at her side, something stiff and unyielding around her neck from below her chin almost to her collar bones, she whimpered.

“This one’s awake,” the male voice had said.

“It happens occasionally, once she’s bagged for transportation, she’ll drift off again. Let’s have a look, ah yes, lot 38, Lady Anabelle Arlson, aged twenty-six, married and a natural blonde, five feet eight-inches tall with a 38-24-36 figure, and she has a reserve on her, she’s a special,” replied the woman.

“I know you prefer the fairer sex Captain, are you ever tempted to sample the wares, so to speak?”

“Tempted yes, but I’ve never acted on the temptation, my… partners are not those you deliver shop-soiled goods to. Bag this one, Bosun, and once they arrive make sure the other two are bagged as quickly as possible, we have a schedule to keep.”

The voices had moved away, and hands had taken hold of her, sliding her feet first into a brown leather bag. Then her head was inside the bag, and it was being closed and tightened around her legs and body, zips and buckles being fastened as she drifted into unconsciousness again.

Then nothing until her mind had cleared and she had been here, unable to move as she stood with hands tugging her long blonde hair, bradding it. Other hands pulling a tight black leather suit up her legs and over body before closing it at the back as it became skin-tight and felt like she was wearing a second skin, not clothing. Then leather gloves that reached her biceps had been slid over her hands and arms, over the arms of the leather suit, the three buttons beneath her wrists fastened. Knee-high boots that arched her foot to a point and had heels so high it was surely impossible to walk in them had been painfully forced onto her instantly aching feet.

Her hair braided, and dressed in obscenely tight black leather she had been made to kneel by women dressed almost identically to herself. So now she waited, her tightly gloved hands resting on her leather covered thighs, terrified at the thought of what her unknown fate would be.

Again. she could hear voices, women’s voices, indistinct and only the occasional word or phrase.

“She’s just as described and worth every penny,” said one.

Then giggling, and “It needs bigger tits,” said a younger voice, “I want it to be 42-20-36 just like me.”

A third voice said, “The physical alterations will of course be free of charge for you as an after sale extra.”

“Excellent, please proceed,” said the first voice.

She heard the sound of high heels approaching and then something was being held in front of her face, the open back of what she could tell was a black leather hood.

“Open wide,” laughed a voice she recognised as the third one she’d heard as a gloved hand took hold of her chin and opened her mouth.

Then she saw the reason why, attached to the inside of the leather hood, level with her now open mouth, was a fat, realistically shaped rubber phallus. The leather hood moved closer to her face and the fake phallus was guided between her lips and into her mouth.

The black leather hood was pulled tightly against her face, she could feel it wrapping around her head from the neck up, as the fake phallus filled her mouth. Smoked glass panels were in front of each of her eyes, at first drastically dimming her vision, but then her eyes adapted, and she could see through the lenses as if she were wearing the glasses her husband had had made for her to wear during the summer to dim its bright sunlight.

The leather hood was being fastened, the laces down the back being pulled and tugged to close it, the leather becoming tighter and tighter around her head and across her completely covered face. Finally, the hood was laced closed, and she realised with absolute terror that she was completely encased from head to toe in black leather and only able to breathe through her nose.

Something was looped around her neck and words were being chanted in a language she couldn’t understand as whatever was around her neck tightened until it was snuggly but not uncomfortably fitting. Then she felt hands being placed on her leather hooded head and chanting in the strange language began again.

Shock filled her as her vagina began to throb and pulse with pleasure, her nipples becoming instantly erect and hard as she rapidly became more and more excited. She shuddered, she’d never felt like this before, it was wonderful it was intoxicating, her husband had never made her feel like this, her vagina felt incredible… her vagi… her… her pussy… yes… … her cunt, her cunt felt amazing… her breasts… her bre… her tits felt wonderful even her anus… her anu… her arsehole felt excited.

Shudders of pleasure made her leather sheathed body shake, as beneath the dark lenses fitted to the hood, her eyes rolled up into her head until only the whites showed.

It felt so good, so wonderfully good… her husband had never… her husb… her… nothing… no one… no… never… never before had she… not she… not she, no… never she… never before had… had it felt such pleasure, it needed to… it needed to fuck… it needed pussy, fanny, cunt, twat to worship to lick to eat to pleasure… it was an it… not she never she, never Anabelle… never free… never Anab… never An… it, only it… always… forever… only, only it… only a sex-slave… forever… property… it was a sex-slave it realised as an orgasm so intense, so all consuming… it swept through its mind and body, flashes of deepest black and brightest white erasing and deleting everything that had made it Lady Anabelle Arlson. It was a sex-slave… an unnamed sex-slave desperate for a Mistress to obey and worship and love, no other memories existed in its mind, no other personality, only that of a sex-slave, an it, a toy, a pet, with only one purpose, to give women sexual pleasure.

The newly created sex-slave felt the hands leave its head as it eyes returned to normal as it knelt patiently waiting, its leather covered face turned respectfully to the floor.

Two sets of booted feet appeared before in its vision and a leash was clipped to the ring at the front of its collar.

“Stand,” said a woman’s voice and there was a tug on the leash.

The sex-slave climbed to its feet, standing easily and comfortably in the knee-high ballet boots, it shuddered with pleasure as gloved hands stroked its leather covered body and face but kept its eyes averted. It had not been granted permission to look up.

“Look at me,” said a woman’s voice and the sex-slave immediately obeyed.

Three women stood in front of the sex-slave, one was older, dressed in black leather and very fat, a second was much younger with platinum blonde hair and an incredible, massively breasted narrow waisted figure that was also sheathed in black leather. The third was dressed in a grey robe with a sheaf of papers held in her hand

“I am Mayoress Margareta Steinman, and this is my wife Sophie, you are our property, we are your Mistresses, your name is Jade,” said the fat, leather dressed woman

Unable to reply, the sex-slave shook with pleasure, it had two Mistresses and it had a name, no sex-slave could ask for more

“We can make those alterations while you wait, Madam Steinman, if you would be good enough to allow one of my colleagues to take your pet away for a short while,” said the woman in the grey robe.

“Please do,” said the Mayoress as she handed jade’s leash to a woman in grey.

“Jade, you will obey this Magister,” said the older Mistress as she stroked Jade’s leather covered face with her kid gloved fingers.

Silently the new sex-slave followed the grey robed woman who now held its leash, walking easily in its ballet boots it strode erotically at the end of its leash, sad to leave its Mistresses but happy to be obeying them.

The Mayoress watched, a smile on her round, cosmetic covered, double chinned face, as the first sex-slave she’d ever owned was led away to be physically altered.

“May I ask how you located the woman I’ve just enslaved for you; I know she came from Mediem, which automatically makes her an expensive purchase, but it intrigues me how you knew about this particular female?” asked Dolores Delmar as she indicated a large velvet covered sofa.

The Mayoress and her wife took a seat on the sofa and a tray arrived with two glasses of expensive sparkling wine. Margareta Steinman took a glass and passed it to her young, bimboised wife before taking a glass for herself.

“Two lunars ago I was on a trade mission to Bergenst, a boring ten-day of meetings and agreement signing to ensure trade between Vallenberg and Mediem continued to flow. I first saw jade at a dinner, its former husband was a member of the Mediem side of the trade delegation and she was with him. I immediately knew I wanted her, but not as a wife, not as a lover, after all I was already contentedly engaged to Sophie,” said the Mayoress as she squeezed her young wife’s kid leather covered, tightly gloved hand.

“No, there was only one way I could have Lady Anabelle Arlson and that was as my sex-slave, so I made arrangements and now, with a certain benefactors assistance, she’s ours,” grinned the Mayoress.

“I can’t say I blame you,” said the Magister, knowing exactly who the Mayoress meant by her benefactor, “And do you intend for other women to pass into your… possession, do you intend to increase your stable of sluts.”

“I do,” said the Mayoress as she continued to hold her wife’s gloved hand, “I think five would be a suitable number. And of course, I find females from Mediem to be especially… interesting, rather exotic and very suitable for turning into sex-slaves.”

“And it will be my pleasure to arrange those enslavements for you, naturally this will be at a discount because of your status,” said the Chief Magister.

“Thank you,” said the Mayoress as she sipped her expensive wine, “I will make sure I inform my acquaintances and friends of your consideration. Tell me, how many women pass through the Magisters office and are enslaved each lunar?”

“It varies of course, and before I arrived the number was zero, but on average, if we include the females… acquired in Mediem, about seventy, sometimes more sometimes less. However, I have spoken to the Baroness, and she has guaranteed that that number will increase dramatically over the coming lunars.”

“Good to hear,” said the Mayoress as she finished her wine.

Then Sophie sighed dramatically and pouted, “Please Margareta, I’m so bored, how long before I can take our new pet home and fuck it?” she sighed.

“I’m sure it won’t be long my darling,” said Margareta, “Am I correct?” she asked as she looked at Dolores Delmar.

“Not long at all, physical alterations have become commonplace and, over time, the speed with which they can be carried out has increased dramatically. We can now accomplish what once took days, in an hour or less. Please, allow me to get you some more champagne.”

More sparkling wine was brought, and Margareta and Sophie drank the expensive champagne as they waited, chatting with each other and the Chief Magister.

“Ah here we are,” said Dolores Delmar eventually at the sound of approaching high heels tapping on the wood floor.

At the end of its leash, jade was being led back to its owners by the Magister who had taken the sex-slave away. But now jade had the body its owners required, the tight black leather that encased it was stretched tautly around jade’s 42-20-36 body.

“Yummy,” giggled Sophie as jade’s leash was passed to the Mayoress.

“Perfect, exactly what I wanted,” said Margareta as reached out and stroked jade’s massive, leather sheathed breasts, the sex-slave shook with pleasure as its breasts were stroked by its owner.

“Many thanks Magister, I’m delighted with the transformation,” said the Mayoress as she and Sophie stood up, “I will be in touch when I’m ready to acquire my next pet.”

The Magister gave a small nod, as arm in arm, Margareta and Sophie walked away, behind them the enslaved and physically altered Lady Anabelle Arlson followed obediently at the end of its leash.

Ursula was smiling as she took off her hat and gloves and passed them to Mrs Drennan, it was evening, and the light outside had been rapidly fading as she returned to the manor-house she now called home.

“Her Excellency has requested that you join her in the blue drawing room,” said the housekeeper.

“Thank you, Mrs. Drennan,” said Ursula as she looked in a mirror to check her perfectly applied makeup.

Ursula walked from the entrance hall, her high, needle thin stiletto heels clicking on the floor as she made her way to where her lover was waiting.

Closing the door behind her, Ursula entered the blue drawing room, so called because of its blue painted, vaulted ceiling, and for a moment paused as she looked at the woman she loved. Xenia was sat on a large, well padded blue leather sofa, two sex-slaves, naked but for their collars and ballet heeled ankle boots, lay at the Baronesses feet.

Ursula recognised one of the sex-slaves, it had originally been called ve, and it was the reason for the Baronesses departure from the capital city, however its name had recently been changed to match the Baronesses other slaves and ve was now 1. The other sex-slave, a beautiful blonde, was obviously new because Ursula, who had fucked all the Baronesses sex-slaves, didn’t recognise it. However, knowing how many other female pets the Baroness owned, it was probably called 30.

The old Ursula would have been distressed, even disgusted that some unfortunate woman had been transformed into a sex-slave by the Baroness, but the new Ursula felt completely different. As far as she was concerned any woman was fair game, and if Xenia wanted to own a particular woman, to have her enslaved as a sex-slave, then why shouldn’t she.

It never failed to amaze Ursula how stunningly beautiful her much older lover was, as far as Ursula was concerned Xenia was perfect, and she couldn’t wait to marry her.

“Darling, you’re home,” said a smiling Xenia as she put down the documents she was reading and stood.

Ursula walked over to Xenia, the lovers embraced and kissed passionately before Ursula took a seat on the sofa. As Xenia went to a table and poured a glass of wine, Ursula took her cigara case and lighter from her handbag and lit one of the long brown cigara’s, inhaling deeply and contentedly before blowing out the smoke in a long stream.

Xenia passed Ursula the glass of wine and then sat at the other end of the blue leather sofa and for several seconds she watched Ursula smoke.

“How was your day, did things go as planned with Esme?”

“Almost,” said Ursula, then she explained about Veronica Harten and Esme’s decision to include her in her plans.

“And did it work, did Esme get her kid gloved hands on both of them?” asked a grinning Xenia.

Ursula laughed, “With a little help from me, yes. And now the pair of them are at the brothel and already dressed for their new lives, and I have to say they both looked delicious in red. They’ll make great whores by the time Esme is finished with them.”

By the time Ursula had left the suite of rooms that Esme occupied in the brothel, both Katherine and Veronica were dressed in constricting red latex corsets, red satin opera gloves, red silk stockings and red leather, knee high boots. Their pubes had been shaved, their faces painted with thick cosmetics and their nipples pierced with gold rings by Esme, and Esme’s sex-slaves were eating their cunts. Undoubtedly the first time either woman had been orally pleasured by a sex-slave.

Esme had told Ursula that neither Veronica or Katherine would leave the brothel until both were fully and permanently transformed into lesbian prostitutes, and that she hoped Ursula would be their first paying customer.

“And will you?” asked a still smiling Xenia.

“I’d like to, if you don’t object,” said Ursula as she sat smoking.

“I don’t, darling. And what are Esme’s plans once she’s finished with her ex-husbands mother?”

“His sister Kendra will be joining her mother as an… employee of Irina de Venister, I don’t doubt she’ll look as good in whore’s red as Katherine does,” laughed Ursula.

“Undoubtedly,” laughed Xenia, then she paused, reaching out the Baroness took hold of Ursula’s hand.

“My darling, I have something to tell you,” said the Baroness as she held Ursula’s hand, “I wish to offer you my condolences,” she said as she picked up the document she had been reading when Ursula had entered the drawing room.

“The body of a man was found in an hotel room, apparently he had died of food poisoning, some sort of seafood that was well passed its best and which the hotel chef says he never prepared,” said Xenia as she looked at Ursula, “I’m afraid the victim was your husband and you are now a widow.”

For a moment Ursula said nothing then she smiled and began to laugh, “About fucking time, let’s celebrate,” she said.