The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1.

Mistress’ bitch Capella was being walked. The nude bitch on the other lead was called Altair. The names were etched on their collar tags and on their minds. Mistress was an astronomer . . .

Capella felt the leash loose against her back as she paced along the paved walk in front of Mistress, enjoying the sun on her bare skin—and the stares. Over the lawns and the trees were stately buildings and skyscrapers beyond them.

She remembered a lobby, dark against the light from the door, waking from trance, her eyes still following the glint of Mistress’ pendulum as She put it away, hypnotizing Her bitches to behave before taking them out. Capella felt the oiled smoothness of the commands in her head, the way she had to think even less than usual after Mistress hypnotized her.

Now, out here, she preened in the stares of the people with clothes on. What made her warmest were the admiring stares of other Owners as they passed with Their own bitches. She didn’t ask herself why They were here, or why no one else did anything but stare (if They even stared). That was for Owners to think. She was just a bitch being exercised.

They walked.

They came to a wider path, and a forgotten habit drew Capella’s gaze up the pole with the signs. She sighed contentedly at the blankness in her mind, with no idea what they said. She’d known how, once, but signs no longer told her where she was or where to go.

Only Mistress did.

Hooves clicked on the larger way, and a heavy carriage rumbled past, with sightseers who gawked at Capella and Altair as Mistress drew them smoothly back to heel, out of the way. She saw Altair’s blue eyes flare in helpless shame as she stood nude before them on her slack lead, unable to do anything else unbidden by her Owner.

Capella’s nipples hardened to it. They waited as Mistress did, listening to a lighter click and the sound of bells as something smaller drew a lighter vehicle toward them.

“Capella, Altair—sit.” She was down on her knees, thighs primly together as Mistress preferred in public, hands crossed behind her. Her back was proudly straight, and she looked over to see Altair just as perfectly posed. She smiled, and the other bitch smiled back, thrilled to do credit to Mistress.

Capella looked the other way.

From that way came a pair of ponygirls drawing a cart. She felt no envy; she was chosen and trained as a bitch, and for all their glorious form, the ponies would never know their Mistress’ floor, or Her bed. The pleasure of obeying a programmed command to lick Her awake . . .

But glorious they were. Capella knelt and watched their perfectly synchronized legs keep gait and when the Owner driving them laid the whip gently to one, they both responded as though mind-linked. Capella gazed at the sun-flash on their patent-leather boots and fittings as they sped toward where Mistress stood. She heard the soothing ring of the bells on their pierced nipples and elsewhere, and knew the cadence must be part of the spell they were under.

They ran with their hands suspended before them, each holding a bouquet that matched the color of the ribbons braided into her hair—yellow for the brunette, dark blue for the blonde. They halted smartly before Mistress, and Capella found herself staring ahead at their gently heaving bellies sheened with sweat, the reinwork through their crotches to control them. The delightfully nervous, aroused twitch of their tails as they worked the buttplugs with semiconscious urgency.

Maybe Mistress had bought Capella from a stable before, and wiped her mind. Something about the ponygirls fascinated her, anyway, and part of the bitch thought of crawling forward and sniffing around them as they stood in harness, gently nosing them until their skittishness settled and they let her tongue their moist places. But knowing her will was pinned, that she would not move until Mistress told her to, excited her just as deeply as the promising scent drifting from their crotches. Being sent to lick the ponies to orgasm was just a pleasant thought, not even a wish.

All of Capella’s wishes, and most of her thoughts, were about pleasing Mistress.

Mistress and the ponies’ Owner spoke, and Capella knelt quietly, her mind blank to anything not a command.

Then something in Her tone changed, and Capella looked over to see Altair still kneeling, but blinking uncertainly.

“Still training her?” the cart driver asked.

“She’s really trying,” Mistress said. “She’s been so good up to now. First day out.”

“Ahh. I see. Medicated?”

Mistress looked at her. “If a bitch needs to be drugged, she’s not ready. But this one resisted trance in the beginning.

“Altair, hold.” The shift back to the command voice made Capella tremble and juice, and feeling it cool on her inner thigh she wished she were the one being corrected.

She watched Altair stare up into Her eyes, growing still and lost.

“Altair, spiral.”

Altair’s blue eyes glazed over immediately and her body somehow relaxed and stiffened at the same time. It felt like someone gripping her own cunt as Capella saw her sister bitch hypnotized out here. She moistened again and swallowed her moan, not wanting to disturb Mistress as She deepened Her other pet.

Not wanting to feel the longing as Mistress took away a bit more of another bitch’s soul.

Looking away, she saw a woman and a small child of no more than five walking up, the child not even glancing at her but gaping at the two ponies. It walked up to them, and they stirred nervously, looking at it and away until their Owner murmured something soft to make the ponygirls relax together, their eyelids heavier.

The child looked up at the blonde pony, standing next to her and putting a finger very lightly against the taut leather over her thigh. The pony twitched but her training held her still. The Owner looked on, alert but friendly, glancing at the child’s guardian and trading nods.

The child looked up and asked softly, “Mommy?”

The pony looked down and blinked. Her eyes seemed to be trying to focus, but Capella could see the pony was too deeply under control to react. She didn’t look at what Mistress was doing as Altair knelt, going deeper into trance.

The Owner’s eyes narrowed, but she did nothing as the child looked at its guardian and pointed to the pony, asking quietly of her now, “Mommy?”

“No, honey.” The guardian stepped over and crouched, glancing up at the ponygirl with an unreadable expression. “This pony belongs to the lady there. Mommy’s—gone.”

The child looked at her, then at the pony, then back at her, out of ideas but clearly fixated on the harnessed woman who stood over it.

“She likes these,” said the Owner, checking her watch. “They help clear her mind. And it’s about time to give her one, too. Would you like to?” She held out a packet of greenish tablets to the guardian, who offered it to the child. When it hesitated, she took a tablet and put one in each small hand, returning the packet to the Owner.

“Thank you. They’d both like one,” she said. The child looked at her doubtfully, but when the guardian led it around to the front and lifted it, it gravely held one out to each, the brunette first. She leaned forward over her bouquet and let out her tongue, and the child seemed interested in putting it on for her. The pony patiently waited and then took the pill into her mouth, blinking and looking away.

The blonde leaned forward, trying, now, to look at the small person before her, but her eyes dropped to the green tablet. Gently she worked her lips over it and almost kissed it from the child’s hand.

As she swallowed, she finally seemed to focus on the child. “Mommy,” it whispered. She shook, softly ringing her nipple-bells.

The guardian lowered the child to the ground, and it turned as if to protest but then looked back at her. Capella saw the Owner work the reins, and now she did gasp in envy, as both the ponies stiffened in their traces, staring forward now and sighing.

The pleasure their Owner had just tapped through their leather-bound pussies burned child and pills from their bridled minds. There was nothing for them now but the run to come and the delightful torment between their thighs that would goad them as they ran. The child stepped back, staring wide-eyed at the change in the pony.

Turning to Mistress, the Owner said, “I need to run them a bit when they’re dosed or they get sluggish. Later?” At Mistress’ nod she snapped the reins and the two ponies trotted off.

Capella trembled at the chorused cry the ponies made before their hooves drowned it out.

The child lifted its hand and opened its mouth again, and Capella found its eyes seeking her, but the guardian picked it up and turned it away from her as she walked quickly back the way they’d come.

2.

Capella looked away to the ponygirls, still seeing the painful joy on their faces before their run had taken them past her and away, and she knelt more proudly erect, enjoying the light breeze the cart had blocked on her breasts and belly. She shifted her head to feel Mistress’ collar, and it reminded her that she could be as proud as they.

Then she realized that the ponies were probably even more deeply enslaved than she was, too deeply to remember what pride was.

“Up, girl.” Capella saw that Altair had awakened from the trance Mistress had been putting her into. The other bitch’s eyes were still attractively glassy, but she walked steadily enough on her lead as Mistress led them back from the wider roadway.

Capella wondered how Altair was feeling, but envied her. Mistress hadn’t hypnotized Capella in public in a long time. She no longer had to reckon time as much besides the varying span between sleeps, but she knew it had been a while since she’d felt the strange thrill of going under outside, with others seeing her, on top of the more powerful kick of giving herself to Mistress’ voice and eyes and Her absolute Will.

Still, she was on Mistress’ leash now and she was being a good girl, so she was happy.

Mistress owned a third bitch. But Capella had only started to think of how Bellatrix lately frightened her, and terrified poor Altair, when her entire train of thought grayed out in the flash of Mistress’ silver pendulum swinging in her mind. As Her voice sounded once in Capella’s mind—When you remember, girl, you will forget—the bitch was already blinking, aware of nothing but the bliss of obeying a command she could no longer call to mind.

Obedience was enough. She made a quiet sound not even she could hear.

“Capella, stay.”

She froze, Mistress’ voice inside her before she even knew she’d been commanded. It was like Mistress’ correcting hand on her flank, and Mistress had trained her perfectly.

She stood, looking around, hearing Mistress speaking to Her other bitch. “Ready now, Altair? All right, girl—step over there.

“Capella, come.” Capella followed Mistress as She took Altair to the tree. Capella watched the blonde bitch squat, blushing a bit in embarrassment under her erotically-planed cheekbones—she wasn’t too new to be housebroken, but Mistress was still training her—as she waited for permission.

“Yes, Altair. Now.” At the command she tensed and relaxed, and they listened to her stream hit the moist earth.

When the last of it petered out, Mistress murmured “Good girl!” and Altair smiled up at Her uncertainly.

“Stay, girl. Capella, clean.”

Capella dropped to her knees, suddenly below the other bitch’s eye level. She leaned forward and breathed onto the other’s belly before balancing and leaning further, between her thighs. Delicately she licked the sour piss that beaded around Altair’s smooth cleft, and worked her tongue into it, tasting the other bitch’s flavor gradually strengthen over the sourness. As she heard Altair start to moan, stimulated beyond her training, Capella slowed down, and when the other’s thighs weakly tried to trap her head her own training drew her away to kneel again, facing the other bitch.

Holding Altair’s eyes, she slowly licked her lips, and smiled as warmly as she could. It was Mistress’ alone to praise and reward Altair, if She chose, for being so good on her first walk out on a leash, but Capella liked the other bitch and wanted to help her obey and earn Mistress’ praise.

Somewhere during training, perhaps while the Spiral turned and Mistress’ voice was piercing down to her deepest self, Capella had lost any desire to be the alpha bitch. Mistress had taken it from her, with her will and her memories, and left her free to be a completely submissive pet. She took it away from anyone She trained.

Altair’s confusion showed that she still thought she missed it.

But she smiled tentatively back at Capella. Capella wanted to lean forward and lick her again, but training kept her still. Her smile deepened. The grip Mistress had on her mind made her feel as happy—as excited—as the sudden, sourceless rush of affection for her sister bitch. It was one with the bliss of kneeling nude, policing another bitch with her mouth in a park in the middle of a great city.

Life was simple and fun.

“Capella, Altair—up.” They were on their feet and padding back to the walk.

A few meters on, they rounded a curve and saw people behind a low fence playing with their own dogs—furred quadrupeds—and some frisbees drifted gently overhead.

Capella searched for any other bitches like her, but of the people who stared back at her, none were nude or collared. She traded a very brief glance with Altair. Mistress hadn’t brought a frisbee . . .

“Don’t worry, girls,” Mistress chuckled behind them, and they looked forward guiltily. “I’ve trained you to fetch other things.”

They walked again, and a bicycle swerved by, the rider incautiously staring back at them.

Hard to say which gender, but Capella fancied the stare sought and found her chest before whipping forward again, and she guessed male. Capella enjoyed his stare and imagined his envy of Mistress at having her and Altair on Her leashes. Mistress usually chose times when She could expect a minimum of such other traffic, but there had never been a formal division of time in the park between Owners and other users.

Someone came the other way around the turn where the cyclist had vanished with his eyes full of Capella’s breasts, a jogger this time. Capella watched them approach, seeing the shape resolve itself into something lithe and feminine and attractive. The jogger’s upper body was hidden in a loose sweatshirt but her legs were shapely and strong in skintight violet, and Capella watched her run.

Too small for a pony? she wondered as they came toward each other. She couldn’t picture the woman drawing a cart, even one smaller than what that deeply-conditioned pair had pulled today. But she had a placeless memory of another of Mistress’ friends showing off a slight, willowy girl she’d trained to take the weight of a large wagon in her traces.

Capella still remembered the weird fire in the pony’s unblinking eyes as she ‘d pulled. That had kept the memory from sliding out of her head like so many others.

“Brainwashing isn’t always about taking away power,” the friend had said, stroking her pony afterward. “It can be about finding power, inside her, and putting a bit in its mouth.” She’d resumed spooning her pony the grain she’d stirred with a fragrant syrup. Capella had watched her stir it, wearing plastic gloves. Remembered how the pony’s eyes had gone blissful and dull as she ate.

As she watched this woman approach, she knew the right Owner could make her shine, in harness.

She looked over at Altair but the other bitch had lapsed into a daze again, looking at the flowers that lined this part of the path. Altair’s training was ending and she didn’t spend nearly as much time anymore in the special room where Mistress kept the blinking lights and the Spiral, but she’d been cooped up a lot. The people and the open space today must be wearing her out. But Mistress would know exactly when to rest the other bitch and bring her home, so Capella didn’t feel too bad for her.

The jogger was near them, and as Capella heard her running shoes on the pavement—so different from the soles of a bitch’s feet, or the clatter of pony hooves—she saw the woman looking at her. Staring at her, making her suddenly feel so much more than naked—and uncomfortable.

First at Capella’s groin and her cleft, there for anyone to see. Then up at her eyes.

Capella looked back at her, and even though Mistress hadn’t commanded her, she felt the compulsion to adopt a display pose, joining her hands behind her.

The woman saw it but kept looking at Capella’s eyes. She glanced at Altair, and then at Mistress in a way that upset Capella so much that her mind let it go. Back to her.

They drew abreast, and the woman’s gaze was so intent on her that it reached something in Capella’s submissive depth and she stared helplessly back, feeling herself in the first shallow arc of hypnotic surrender.

Mistress will . . . Mistress will . . .

The woman was past them.

Capella shivered, and kept walking, trying to be strong, but too confused to find honest peace on her own. She nearly realized she was starting to envy the woman and her ability to think her way past this kind of fear. But it was the Spiral that twisted in her mind now, painlessly killing the thought before Capella could even know she’d begun to have it.

When she blinked, sensing her conditioning had just altered her again, the all-too-brief tickle in her pussy ensured she enjoyed it, but the fear at how she’d opened herself to the passing stranger was still there.

She was a bitch and she needed someone in control, especially now. Her conditioning told her Who that was, and that this was an acceptable time to seek it.

She slowed and stopped but never felt the leash touch her. Mistress had seen her posture change and had already pulled back, bringing Altair to a halt with a soft order, then looking at Her more experienced bitch to see what troubled her.

Capella turned, and sank to her knees, looking up at Mistress, dazing herself in those eyes and too lost in them to feel the asphalt. Mistress nodded to Altair, who relaxed and kept still. She stepped closer to stand over Capella, who gazed up adoringly at Her. She stroked Capella’s hair and worked Her finger over the spot above Capella’s left ear that . . . just . . .

Closing her eyes, Capella whined softly. When Mistress stopped and just rested Her fingertips on her face, staring down at her, Her face as closed as Capella’s was open, Capella started kissing Her fingers, shyly trying to draw one into her mouth.

“Mine, girl,” Mistress whispered, and it was exactly what Capella needed to hear. Not just the way her conditioning compelled her as the trigger slid through her—the self-aware Capella loved being owned, and cherished it now. She felt it in the flex of her thighs as she knelt. She whined again and was glad Mistress was touching her, so She could feel how Her bitch trembled for Her. “you belong to Me, little bitch. Don’t you?”

She nodded up at her Owner. Capella wasn’t too lost in devotion to miss Altair staring at them, and saw traces of horror, even contempt in the envy the other bitch showed.

Not deep traces, lately. Capella closed her eyes again, knowing that after more training, Altair would forget her other feelings, and live for moments like this with their Owner.

Mistress put Her hand on Capella’s head and moved it playfully from side to side.

“Up, girl.” Capella rose smoothly, instantly, sorry the moment had ended but happier, as always, to let Mistress’ will rule her. Mistress’ nod at how promptly she obeyed and stood at the command made it complete.

3.

They reached a spot where some benches lined the upper branch of fork in the path, and Mistress led them to the sloping lawn between the diverging paths, smiling as Her bitches stepped gratefully onto the grass again and smiled at each other. Mistress looked up as another woman came down the upper path and stopped by the highest bench, looking down.

“They’re beautiful, both of them,” she said, and her voice drew Capella to her face: friendly and wise, with soft skin under a cloudbank of gray hair turning to white. Together they told Capella that she could remember this woman if Mistress gave her permission, and Capella felt the memories behind the hypnotic screen would be pleasant. “How long have you had the blonde?”

Capella moved to Altair and brushed behind her, and she felt the other bitch relax at the feel of her skin, but her gaze swung back to the newcomer. “Both well-trained, too, Katherine,” she told Mistress. “I can see the new one’s afraid of me, but she won’t flinch. And Capella’s looking after her.”

Mistress stopped. “Judith, this is not a day to patronize me. Especially about that.”

Judith sighed, not offended. “You’re still determined to do it? Why did you want to talk to me, then? You know what I’ll tell you.”

“I know what the decision should be. I just need to be sure I believe in it.”

Another sigh. “May I?”

“Of course.” Mistress’ voice softened. “The new one’s Altair. She’s very spirited.

“Altair, Capella—come.” Capella felt the command and saw it take Altair too, and when they were in front of Judith “Sit” put them on their knees. She felt the buzz of obeying in public and let it spread over her body as she knelt. Mistress unclipped their leads, and Capella felt momentarily vulnerable, no longer attached to Her hand.

Judith reached for Capella’s face and Capella nuzzled her hand, enjoying the gentle palm and its scent of soap and old books. The woman stroked her hair and fussed over how good her muscle tone looked. She softly pressed the back of Capella’s head and Capella obediently leaned forward to sniff at the crotch of her white-faded jeans, breathing in the perfume and the deeper smell of Judith herself, feeling more almost-memories.

When she looked up she found herself smiling brightly, and Judith winked at her before turning to Altair. The blonde bitch tensed but held her place, and Mistress waited before saying quietly but firmly, “Altair—friend.” Altair closed her eyes and submitted to Judith’s touch, and then took her sexual scent as if dreaming.

Capella knew how deep the sex-conditioning went, and just seeing Altair give in to it made her own pussy dampen. It worked its intended magic on the newer bitch now, and her eyes were peaceful as she leaned back and gazed up into the old woman’s.

“Just let me get Altair’s toy,” said Mistress, and handed the little plastic contraption to Capella.

“Keep an eye on Altair, girl, and go play with her while I speak with Judith.”

Capella sensed hurt now in Mistress’ voice and looked at Her, wanting suddenly to kneel before Her and rest her head in Her lap. It was powerful enough to make her hesitate on a command.

Mistress took an unusual couple of moments to see that. “I’ll be all right, girl. Go.”

Capella obeyed, and took Altair a few steps aside but not wanting to be too far from their Owner, especially off-leash, out here. She drew the other bitch down to kneel beside her. She held out the learning toy, and for a moment there was pleading and shame in Altair’s lovely blue eyes, so much more so than when Altair had peed by the tree in everyone’s view.

Please don’t make me, her eyes said, and her lips worked but, of course, made no words. You know what it does to me.

Mistress’ brainwashing had replaced Altair’s will, but parts of her were only yet realizing it.

Stroking her cheek, Capella leaned forward and nuzzled it, and blew softly on her ear. She felt Altair soften and let the other bitch lean into her, enjoying the feel of her warm skin and racing heart.

Altair moaned, still sad and trying, but Capella brushed her ear with her lips, and Altair’s moan changed pitch. Capella felt Altair’s nipples harden against the skin of her upper arm. She’d seen how Mistress had conditioned Altair to respond to stimulation of her ear, and knew that if she pressed the toy into her hands now Altair would be playing with it before her mind could realize it, hooked.

You know what it does to me.

But she pulled back and waited until Altair’s eyes focused, and held it out to her. Altair still beseeched her with her eyes, but they were already filmed with the arousal that Capella could smell now, so close to the other bitch. They were dry, too—the last time, Altair had cried as she tried to resist playing with the learning toy that altered her mind each time, no matter how hard she struggled.

The training was taking her over, and she knew it.

She sighed, and took it, blinking as she fell under its spell again, faster than ever. Altair could barely fight now, letting the little lights and sounds guide her play, falling into their pattern.

Capella started to wonder if she’d been conditioned with that toy herself, but as usual lost interest and instead just took in how pretty Altair was, her intelligent gaze rapt on the teaching tool.

She was still close enough to hear Mistress’ tight, angry voice.

“Bellatrix wasn’t properly brainwashed to start with, Judith. Whoever bitch-trained her was a hack. A fucking butcher. They left pieces of her memory, not enough to make a sane self, and instead of scrubbing her they did some patchwork programming—some deep drug work here, some marathon hypnosis there.

“Bellatrix is still fighting her basic conditioning, and not even she’s sure why.

“And I’ve made it worse.”

Judith’s voice was calm, soothing Capella as she listened. “Katherine, first of all, be fair to everyone—starting with yourself. You’re one of the finest owners I know. She was lucky you bought her for domestication. Most of the slaves at those auctions end up in those highway comfort stations. You gave Bellatrix a wonderful—”

“Judith, that doesn’t matter. She’s my responsibility now and if there was a chance for her I’ve wrecked it with my tinkering. You should hear her, when the drugs are wearing off . . .”

“Katherine, you do hear her, don’t you? You put the other two there to sleep and keep their kennel soundproofed so they’ll rest healthy, and then you go down and sit outside Bellatrix’s run with your hands around your knees and listen to her. Don’t you?

“Just to punish yourself?”

Capella found herself holding Altair, wrapped around her from behind. The other bitch was too absorbed in her enforced play to notice, and Capella was beginning to share her stupefaction. She realized, nuzzling Altair’s gathered hair, that she’d gotten a posthypnotic suggestion about Bellatrix, and that it was trancing her each time she heard the other bitch’s name. She should have taken Altair further away.

It felt a little scary, going slightly under as she sat by herself without Mistress or a vet in control, but like any time that Mistress hypnotized her, it made her want to relax and submit to it anyway.

“. . . I never should have gotten her. I bought her for the wrong reason, and now I’ve destroyed her.”

“You haven’t destroyed her, and you bought her so you could—”

“Judith. You were the first one I told that day. I got her because she looks so much like . . .” Mistress’ voice was suddenly very quiet. “So much like Taylor.”

“Katherine. Goddess . . . you lost Taylor because of that screwup at college, and if this was a second chance—”

“Judith! I didn’t—” Mistress was crying, and Capella badly needed to be with Her, her face against Her. But Her order and the deepening increments of hypnosis kept Capella where she was, holding Altair closer. She tried to soothe herself with the quiet pleased sounds the other bitch was making as the toy rewarded her with symbols that triggered mild pleasure responses.

“Oh, Judith . . . it wasn’t a screwup. Not theirs—not even mine. It was when I was fighting with Mother and she threatened to cut me off.” Mistress had already stopped Her crying, but Capella knew her tone and wanted more than ever to be near Her.

“We had never—ever—been that bad with each other before. She knew I was four months from a grant and . . . I can’t believe we said those things to each other. I could have worked out something else to cover the money, but I wanted to show her how apart from her I could be.

“And I wanted to hurt her.”

Judith whispered, “Oh, Katherine.”

“She gave Taylor to me,” said Mistress, with an iron control that spiked Capella’s heart, “when I turned sixteen. We spent a week imprinting her on me, and then . . . laughed when she had to follow me everywhere until the programming settled. She responded to it—I never saw a flicker of who she’d been, not even a whimper in her sleep.

“Brainwashed in the best sense of the word—clean.

“I had her for five years. Taylor was bright, loyal, obedient, beautiful. So beautiful.

Mistress sighed. “She was a perfect hypnotic subject, and they’d made her submissive to the bone. She’d do anything. No limits.

“And I sold her to the Behavioral Sci/Mod lab. They used her for . . . they used her.

“They paid. I made it to my grant and to spare. Now I’m at the Observatory. So long ago . . .

“I saw the cable ad for the auction last year, and this could be her daughter. She isn’t—whoever Bellatrix was, her DNA doesn’t match what’s on file for Taylor—but I thought, she had to be there, catching my eye, for a reason.”

“Katherine. You’re a scientist. You’re always telling me the humanities are just collections of imprecision.

“So be precise. It’s years too late for Taylor. Bellatrix is another bitch, and whatever’s happened it’s different. She can still be helped.

“You can get her help. Bellatrix may never be able to serve anyone—but she could learn to, and whatever happens, you’ve saved her from what she could be doing.”

“Judith, you haven’t heard her.” Mistress sounded dreadfully tired. “She’s . . . broken. Wrecked inside. If I pass her on to anyone it’ll just be to move that pain out of my house, not cure it. I could tell people it was ‘for’ her, but it’d be like how I ‘lost’ Taylor. Another lie I tell to excuse my failure, and goddess damn my 21-year-old self for doing that and lying afterward.

“I wasn’t brought up that way.

“I have to take care of Bellatrix myself.” Capella heard the name and felt another soft dark hypnotic wave wash between her and Mistress’ anguish. She tried to hate herself for feeling peace when Mistress couldn’t.

“Katherine.” Judith’s voice was quiet, heartbreakingly gentle. “Give her to me. I’ll even buy her. Please.”

“Oh, Judith, who are you kidding? You’ve never kept a bitch, past an overnight for play.”

“My friends who do, hurt . . . But I can learn, Katherine. I’d rather—”

“She could turn on you, Judith. She’s broken inside but she’s healthy and strong and when she’s frightened—I’d never forgive myself.

“And I can’t do that to her, either. Bellatrix is hurting and it’s got to stop.” Mistress sighed, and then started crying again. “No. No.

“I’ve hurt her. And I’ve got to stop it.”

Capella shook, trapped in a strange drowsy nightmare, and then she heard a voice.

“Girl! Over here!” The hiss carried from bushes upslope from her but on the other side of where she sprawled around Altair, who still played obliviously.

“Brunette! Shit, are you so mindfucked you can’t even . . . ?

“No. Follow my voice, and look.”

Capella’s mind recognized a command and she was reeling too much from the repeated triggering to disobey.

She swung to track the voice, as it told her to.

“Yes, right, here!” She saw a shape by the large boulder that separated the bushes from the upper path, out of the sightline from Mistress’ bench.

A shape, and eyes. The eyes seemed to reach out for her, and she wanted to flee just slightly more than she wanted to let them into her head. Just slightly, and it was harder in her trance. But for Mistress, lost in Her pain, Capella fought it.

Eyes, and a face.

It was the jogger.

4.

“Can you understand me?” the young woman whispered. The urgency in it reached something else inside Capella, quite apart from the familiar buzzing pleasure at obeying while hypnotized.

She didn’t want to, but she nodded slowly, feeling Altair move slowly against her.

“Don’t do anything sudden. Just keep listening to me and look over at the skyscraper there. Not that—oh, all right. That one’s fine. Just listen.”

The voice quivered with nerves and other feelings Capella vaguely recognized. She felt a distant sympathy for the woman, and her helplessness as Mistress hurt made her even more receptive, but she relaxed and stared at the building. People could command, and were afraid; bitches like her just obeyed, and no one left fear in their minds for long.

“I didn’t prepare anything for this. I need to talk to you, but I didn’t think—oh.

“Your eyes, when I saw you. You’re different. There’s something in your eyes, and I can’t just leave you here.”

“Can you—can you speak? Can you answer me?”

Capella kept looking at the building, but the force of the question was like a fingertip on her jaw, turning her. She looked at the woman in the bushes and shook her head, then swung back to look at the skyscraper. Being compelled to look at it kept her attention on it much longer than she’d looked before, on this walk when her eyes rose over the trees of the park.

People like Mistress, and maybe the jogger, did things in buildings like that. There was an empty place in Capella’s mind, like many others she knew to step around while thinking, that had something to do with skyscrapers. Nothing compelled her to look there now, though: the pleasure she felt in not remembering anything before she awakened to bitch training was a smooth, dark barrier that nothing could disturb, not even all this.

She looked at the tall, angled shape and thought nothing about it.

“If you can let go of your playmate, just come over to me.

“Can you hear me?”

Capella kept looking away this time. It was the last real command the woman had given her, and there was nothing in these words to make Capella obey something else. The question was weaker.

She realized her mind was clearer—the triggers that’d been slowly stunning her had made her obey the other woman’s low-intensity commands, and that, neatly, had kept her from hearing more of them. She could hear Mistress and Judith talking again, but their voices were too muted now for—whatever they ‘d said to put her under again.

Altair leaned back against her, exhaling with a high, pleasant sound as the toy made her happy for programming herself more deeply.

“Hey! Have you drifted off again?”

Capella could actually ignore the stranger now as Altair’s noises stirred something in her. She remembered now, kneeling in Mistress’ study, her mind filled with the clarity of trance as Mistress put Her pendulum aside, instructing her. Capella was Altair’s playmate, and as the blonde’s elder in experience, was to play a part in helping train her, too.

“She’s a very bright one, Capella. Just like you. Once the learning toy takes hold of her mind it could carry her far and fast, and even though she still fights it, she’s too easy to hypnotize now for her to hold out.

“So I want you to keep watch over her, Capella. I don’t want her to go too far with it. She’s so quick to pick things up, once her resistance is overcome, that I’m afraid she’ll absorb too much before I’ve had time to train her emotionally.”

Capella had nothing but her steady gaze to tell Mistress how eager she was to obey and set Her mind at rest about Her newest bitch, but Mistress smiled.

“I know you’ll do it for me, girl. You always take care of your sister. Just be watchful. Altair’s sweet but she’s so high-strung, and I can’t keep her in deep trance all day. If she finds herself obeying some of that higher-level programming before she knows how to feel about it, she could . . .”

Mistress had trailed off, because She’d started thinking of Her other bitch, whose programming—

Then and now, Capella’s mind stopped her from thinking further about Mistress’ third bitch, and she had Altair warm against her now, almost purring with how well she was doing under the toy’s spell.

“Girl! Please!”

Capella reached down and slipped her fingers among Altair’s, seeking the Reset switch Mistress had taught her to find, not able to wonder why the lights and little musical tones weren’t enchanting her as they had Altair.

There was a half-familiar beeptone and the blonde suddenly relaxed in her arms with a sleepy “Ohhhh . . .” Capella leaned in and kissed her throat without having to know why. The learning toy was inert.

“What the hell are you doing with my bitches.”

Mistress was there, suddenly, and Her tone wasn’t even remotely like a question. It barely sounded like Her. Its black anger froze Capella’s heart—she never ever ever wanted to displease her Owner that way—but she knew it wasn’t aimed at her.

She held Altair more tightly to keep the other bitch safe from—from—?

The jogger had crept out of hiding to recover Capella’s attention and now she crouched guiltily, looking across the slope. Mistress stood close by, after coming noiselessly down from the bench where Judith watched.

Capella saw the woman tense, slowly drawing her lithe body tighter. Getting ready to attack . . .

Not Altair. The sleeping bitch’s helplessness ate at her. I won’t let you.

No—getting ready to run, feeling the force of Mistress’ protective rage. She rose slowly, with the sleek grace of a thwarted puma, working backward as she straightened, never taking her eyes from Mistress’.

“You can’t,” she hissed—and it was strange to hear that pain from someone else today.

It made Capella turn to see if Mistress heard the pain too, if it made her feel better or worse.

But just then the jogger lunged away, almost flying in a nylon blur of taut violet legs. She was past the bushes and gone.

Mistress took a few quick, jerky steps across the grass but then dropped to Her knees to see to Her bitches.

Capella looked up, not knowing how to apologize, but Mistress just smoothed her hair and then gently took the learning toy from Altair’s limp hands. She saw how Capella was holding her, and looked into her eyes, hurting Capella with how red Her own were.

“Such a good girl, Capella. She’s safe with you.” She leaned in and kissed Capella on the forehead. She left Her head there, and Capella almost fainted with the joy of it.

“My pretty, brave Capella. You’d never let your sister . . .”

Then Mistress kissed her again, on the lips.

Capella stared at Her, her heart burning, slaying her with the need, just once, just this once, to say—

“I know,” Mistress whispered. “Your eyes, girl. It’s in your eyes. Always, but especially now.”

They both looked at Altair, who was curled up in Capella’s arms now, a little smile on her face.

Mistress reached down and touched Altair’s temple, and even in her sleep the bitch responded.

“Wake now. Wake up, little scholar. So sleepy after lessons but time to wake up for me.” Mistress’ voice was strong again, and Capella was glad. Glad too that her sister would awaken to that strength in her Owner. It would have hurt Altair even more to hear Her the way She’d been before, talking to Judith about . . . what was tearing at Her.

Altair’s eyes opened slowly from the trance, shining like star sapphires in the afternoon light. They blinked and she sighed, and then they focused in Mistress.

Too relaxed to spasm hard, she jerked weakly in Capella’s arms as she climaxed, her eyes locked on Mistress. She moaned as Mistress smiled at her and touched her ear.

“Well,” Mistress whispered to Herself, “at least that’s going right.”

She looked up. “Judith, I’m sorry about this. I’m—I owe you a drink, sometime. Soon.”

“Anytime, Katherine. Just ask.” Judith had brought their leashes and the backpack down from the bench. She made no attempt to touch either bitch, but held everything as Mistress tended to them.

“Capella—clean.” Capella obeyed, and the silk of Altair’s inner thighs by her face and the dreamy thrash of Altair’s loins under her tongue washed away most of the bad feeling.

Distantly, she heard Judith. “Katherine. Whatever you decide, I will never turn away from you.”

“Thank you, Judith. I . . . thank you.”

“Whatever you choose it will be the harder choice, Katherine. You’ll do it alone as always, but please don’t hold it alone, afterward.”

Capella knew when to stop licking before setting Altair off again and reared up, meeting the confused eyes of the other bitch as she lay back, aroused and sated at once, and smiling. She leaned down again and kissed Altair’s smooth mons very lightly, drawing the loveliest little cry from her and feeling her knees give way.

It would be a moment before Mistress needed them standing, anyway.

“I’ll sleep on it, Judith. I won’t decide today. Not tonight. Maybe not for a couple of days . . . I owe you that, at least, for everything I just made you listen to.”

“Come to my place, Katherine. I have room for these two, and you can let yourself think.”

“Judith . . . it would be too . . .”

“Separate rooms, Katherine. Unless you need something.”

“It’s not that.”

“I know.” Judith’s voice was more sad than reproachful. “You’d lie there and wait until I was asleep, and then you’d ask the darkness who was there to hold your other bitch as you were held, and keep the monsters away from her dreams. And the answer would just make you bleed.”

Capella leaned down again and kissed around the edge of Altair’s ribcage, and with the quiet of the way Mistress and Her friend were speaking, it was enough to distract Altair’s gathering wits from the floating hurt. It helped keep Capella from growing sad again, too.

“Katherine, at least sleep with your door closed. Put her down with something strong tonight, and then take yourself away from it. Do the same for your new blonde so she won’t wake alone, and take Capella to bed with you. If you wake her she won’t question you, won’t analyze you the way I might.”

Mistress hugged Judith and they stood together without moving or speaking. By the time Judith walked away without turning around and Mistress bent to clip their leashes on, Altair was bright-eyed and alert, and came to her feet with a joy that Capella found herself sharing.

They walked away home.

5.

It was earlier than usual when Mistress walked them a day or two later. Capella was happy Mistress didn’t seem quite so preoccupied today, but balancing her concern at Mistress’ mood was happiness that Mistress kept her closer now. She’d spent an evening curled at Mistress’ feet while She sat in Her study, and last night Mistress had even taken her to the Observatory.

She didn’t remember much of it. The idea that she’d understood what the Observatory was for once, what really went on below the strangely-bent dome and the huge tubular machine inside in its cage, was a film over her thoughts that she’d learned to peer through and ignore.

Mistress took her to Her office, and after kneeling her comfortably in front of Her desk, She was talking to Capella soothingly about the picture on the wall, a very wide, tall, deeply-hued shot of something Mistress called a galaxy. She obligingly changed the lighting for Capella, and just as She’d said, it made patterns and shapes come alive to delight her. She could stare at it for hours . . .

For a brief moment—a space between Mistress’ words—Capella had realized that she’d watched Mistress do something like this to Altair, putting her in the chair in the special room, talking to her quietly until the other bitch was gently caught in the lights and listening raptly to the recorded voices.

There was a housekeeper there to care for emergencies but this was as much in case Bellatrix started to . . .

Bellatrix. That had been enough to spin Capella into the whirlpool of stars Mistress offered her.

One of them has your name, pretty Capella. Find her and go to sleep.

She’d pressed her face against Mistress’ skirt when She returned. She was grateful Mistress had spared her being awake for any of the time she’d been away from Her side. Mistress knew, and She kissed Capella’s forehead before leashing her again.

Now, her head relatively clear in the fresh air, and she smiled at the wonder in Altair’s eyes as the blonde stared at everything. They saw another ponycart—a troika this time, matched redheads gleaming pale under their sunblock—too distant for Mistress and the driver to do more than exchange silent waves.

At one point they stopped and Mistress gave them treats, fruit bars in grain that they ate from Her hands, as happy to be eating that way as for the unexpected taste. Mistress smiled as they licked the crumbs from each other ‘s lips, chins, breasts . . .

They’d gone another way at first, but after a while they were on a path Mistress used often, and it was almost empty.

Almost. A woman in a business suit sat on one of the benches, reading something. She was attractive, and there was something compelling in how absorbed she was in what she was reading.

Capella kept looking at her, to store the sight of her for after Mistress walked them past where she sat. When she looked up suddenly, Capella first felt the thrill that always kissed her pussy each time a free woman saw her naked and leashed in someone else’s collar. But then the face, the eyes, hit with their familiarity.

The jogger.

Capella stopped dead, staring. She’d seen other bitches trained to point and suddenly wished Mistress had done her that way too, but she heard the quiet sound Mistress made, and then, just as quietly, “Altair—halt.”

The jogger stood up, her legs even prettier today under the short tailored skirt and dark hose. Leaving the book and her purse on top of her folded raincoat, she stepped deliberately forward from the bench. Her heels clicked precisely on the walk.

She spread her hands, and didn’t look at Capella, only at Mistress.

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry about the other day. I wanted to look you in the eye and apologize.” She waited.

“And so you have.” Mistress sounded less lethal than She had challenging the jogger the other day, but not enough perhaps that she’d notice.

The woman looked just as unhappy, but held her ground. “Ma’am, it was beyond rude. I can’t . . . may I please talk to you?”

“Why?” Mistress didn’t sound hostile, just completely incurious.

“Because this has been one of the worst . . . I’m sorry. I’ve been causing damage all week and I need to stop. I need to make amends with someone. You’re the only one I don’t know, that I dare to talk to.”

“You could just walk away and we could both ignore it.”

“Please.”

“Forgive me, please, Ms—?”

“Oh! I’m Margot. Margot S—”

“Forgive me, please. But this is looking like a slightly less inept effort to ‘liberate’ my bitches than you tried before.”

Margot dropped her hands and stared at Mistress. Her voice was even. “Tell me I look that stupid, Ma’am.” She didn’t look away. “That stupid.”

Capella waited, wondering what Mistress would command, knowing she’d do it. Do I know how to fight?

But after a little while Mistress laughed softly. “No, Margot. You don’t look that stupid.”

Margot nodded. “I appreciate what stealing them would do—not just to you but to them. If I care enough about them, and I’m not acting on an impulse, I’ll realize they’re happier as they are.

“And if I’m not doing it for them, then I’d be a pro, and I’d be better than this.”

“Point made, Margot. What do you want?”

Now Margot looked at Capella. “I just wanted to explain. Not justify—I had a reason. It was misguided, but I’m not crazy. Seeing them that way, that day, though—it just got to me.

“I know bitches aren’t always voluntary.”

Mistress spoke. “Capella, Altair—heel.”

Capella stepped backward, feeling her training let her orient on Mistress just by the sound of Her voice. Mistress had stepped back onto the grass on the opposite side from Margot’s bench, and now she felt it under her feet. She held Margot’s eyes as she sank to her knees by Mistress’ leg and brought her hands together behind her, knowing Altair was doing the same on the other side.

Margot seemed to fall into Capella’s stare, which disoriented her. Mistress’ power in me, she thought, and stiffened her back a bit more. She saw Margot’s eyes shift to the collar and tag that was all she wore. Hers.

Looking up at Mistress, Margot waited again.

“Are you accusing me of abducting these women, Margot? Or trafficking in abductees?”

Margot heard her name, realized this wasn’t a face-off after all. “I don’t accuse.” She looked at Capella. “And the way she looked at the end . . . I thought I was getting through, and that it meant she’d really been forcibly brainwashed.

“But the way she protected the other one—”

“Margot, I don’t know how much experience you’ve had around bitches. If you meet one who’s been kidnapped and converted against her will, then odds are that she’ll either be raving-insane, or she won’t have a will anymore. She’ll be a complete zombie. Some people like that.

“Not always that severe, true, and a skillful bitchmaker can turn the happiest, freest girl into a spaniel who’s so deep she won’t remember what her hands are for, and sex from the front will be a scary novelty each time her Owner takes her.

“The thing is, there’s no way to tell.” She reached down to touch Capella’s collar. A cool fingertip flicked the tag and Capella gasped, still looking at Margot. “But this is the only thing that concerns you, Margot. This bitch and her sister are mine. They know that, more fundamentally than they know anything else in their lives.”

Capella heard a sharp sigh that echoed her own to hear that. Altair was warming under Her words, too, and she was proud of the other bitch, responding so loyally and openly under a stranger’s eye.

“They love each other, and they worship me.

“Is there anything else you need to know?”

Margot looked at them and then at Her. “One thing.” She looked at Capella.

“May I apologize to this one?”

Mistress waited for a while, and Margot waited with Her, showing no sign of impatience. Then She said, “Would you like to take her lead for a while?”

Capella flinched but kept it inside. Mistress wills it, I obey, she said to herself, and fought the need just to lean against Her leg for reassurance. She would show how well-disciplined she was.

She was Mistress’ bitch Capella.

This was when that counted most.

Margot looked just as astonished as Capella felt, and then smiled faintly. “Wow. You don’t do things halfway, do you?

“Will she—?” She cut it off. “No. Of course she will. I’m sorry.

“Yes. I’d love to. I won’t try to run off with her. There’s a mounted—”

“In those heels, Margot, I don’t expect you’ll be running anywhere.” Margot laughed, and Capella heard Mistress’ soft chuckle before She continued, “But I expect that’s why you wore them, didn’t you?”

Margot looked at Her sharply. “Yes. That’s exactly why I did.”

“Trust breeds trust, Margot. Just as far as the linden tree there, please.” Mistress sighed. “The one by the wastecan.”

“Sorry. I was never good with . . .”

Mistress leaned down with the end of Capella’s leash and held it before her mouth. Capella put her lips on the grip, shivering at Mistress’s taste and scent and the warmth of Her hand. She closed her eyes once, and pictured the slow swing of Mistress’ pendulum for a heartbeat or two until she was calm. Obedient. Ready.

She opened her eyes to Mistress’ and saw Her confidence in her.

“Bring your lead to Margot, girl.”

Capella looked at her, felt the urgent tug of obedience, but closed her eyes and opened her lips, hearing the leather fall softly to the grass. She saw Mistress looking at her impassively. Anger had not started in Her eyes, yet—there was only curiosity.

She leaned forward to Mistress’ hand.

Putting her lips to it, she kissed it reverently.

When she looked up into Mistress’ eyes, she almost cried out, seeing Her understand.

She would die before refusing a command. But if she were about to be stolen away now, she couldn’t live with herself if she hadn’t shown Mistress that last devotion.

Leaning down she took the lead in her mouth. Then Capella stood smoothly and walked toward the woman, feeling the slack of the leash brush against her. She saw Margot looking at her, and despite her nerves she was starting to juice—over the risk, the pleasure of obeying, the keen honor of Mistress ’ trust that Capella would please Her. Now the admiration of this woman was making her hot.

Looking deep into Margot’s eyes, both submitting and challenging her, she knelt, hands back, holding her head high.

Margot looked gravely down and took the leash, opened her mouth, and then looked uncertainly at Mistress.

“Don’t worry, Margot. She’s not conditioned to your voice; you can’t trigger her with a command. Just tell her what you want her to do and she’ ll obey.”

“Stand, please.” Margot spoke gently, but there was something underlying it, a firmness that faintly echoed Mistress’ own. Capella felt a rush as the tone reached into her and helped her rise gracefully to look into her handler’s eyes from a level.

“Yesterday I frightened you,” Margot said. “I meant to, but for the wrong reason. I saw how you guarded the other and I saw how you looked when your—mistress came for you.

“You were brave, but I’m sorry you had to be. You’re a very loyal—Margot blushed, and looked down. Then she swallowed and looked up, and very deliberately said, “You’re a very loyal bitch. I think your mistress is very proud of you, and she should be.”

She breathed out. “Kneel again, please.” Capella obeyed, never looking away from her face, though she was aware of the warmth behind Margot’s short skirt, the way the fabric of her hose followed the curve of her thighs.

Margot touched the lead to her lips and she accepted it again. Margot looked at her and began to speak—then looked up and addressed Capella’s owner instead. “Thank you for trusting me with her, Ma’am. But she’ll be happier by your side than mine. Even just as far as that tree.”

She stroked Capella’s forehead. “Go back to your mistress now . . . girl.”

Bowing, Capella rose and walked back to Mistress, kneeling to present the leash. Mistress took it and heeled her softly.

“Thank you again,” Margot said, gathering her things. “I really appreciate

it. Everything.”

Mistress nodded but said nothing, and the woman walked away as though she expected nothing.

They waited there, the bitches quiet and straight at heel. Mistress put Her hand on Capella’s head. “That girl was right, Capella. I’m very proud of you.”

Capella closed her eyes, and breathed.

6.

Mistress’ house was quiet, and She kept the lights low.

Altair kept trying to go into the study to where She was, and the vet’s aide kept looking nervously at her. The aide was new and young, and clearly used to handling bitches and ponies in an exam room, where they were docile, already sedated or hypnotized.

Capella kept nosing up to Altair and calming her, and finally sniffed at her ass until Altair’s eyes smoldered in arousal. Capella saw lopsided gratitude on the vet’s aide as she straightened and sidled out to the parlor with Altair trying to spoon with her as they walked, her breath hot and light on Capella’s neck.

It was just as well, because Capella was trying to stay alert for Mistress’ sake, not thinking about why the veterinary psychiatrist was there, why Mistress had been so pale all day.

Why last night’s sleep had been hypnotically induced, Mistress’ voice impossibly level and soft behind the pendulum as they heard the crying from . . .

Capella’s mind evaded it, with help from Altair’s tongue as the other bitch drew her down in front of the sofa. She wanted to envy the blonde her calmness, her blue eyes bright and unaware as any ponygirl’s, nothing but light submission and arousal in her mind. But she was happy, knowing Mistress wanted someone here in Her house not to be affected by whatever was happening to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix.

Capella blinked. She’d thought the name, but she wasn’t fading into hypnosis. No pendulum was blanking her mind from inside.

She touched Altair to ease her away from her cunt. She needed to think.

Mistress had left her mind free to think about her other sister. She was eager to help, if it was Her will. But she was worried, too. Change like this wasn’t always good.

Altair leaned forward, accepting that Capella didn’t want her cleft tongued and kissing her way up Capella’s belly instead. Capella tried to resist the pleasure, but she knew what Mistress wanted her to know, now, and she loved submitting to limits.

She leaned back. Especially limits enforced by lips like these. She wondered what lessons had been pouring into Altair’s mind as she sat in the special room. Mmmm . . .

Then there was someone in the doorway.

Mistress.

The bitches rolled apart and, this close, crawled to Her, each finding a leg to nuzzle. She reached down, soothing each of them with fingers across scalp.

“Yes, hello,” she whispered. “Shh.

“Listen. Altair, sit.” The blonde came up, back on her heels and looking up at Mistress. “I need you to sleep for me now.” Even as she spoke, Altair swayed slightly as she knelt but stayed upright, peering drowsily at her Owner.

“Stand, now.” Mistress put out a hand as Altair slowly came to her feet, still staring at Mistress’ eyes. “Go to your room now, girl. Go to your room and stay awake till then, don’t fall until you kneel to your bed, and then you will fall deeply asleep. Dream . . . just sleep and let the dreams come, Altair.”

She snapped Her fingers and Altair drifted out of the room.

Mistress looked down. Her eyes were wet. “Come, Capella.”

They were in the room where Bellatrix had been kept since it started. It was hushed, and smelled of medicine and candles and fear. Capella was sad and frightened in a vague way but she knelt where Mistress gestured, at the foot of the bed.

“Professor,” the vet said, “I can do it, for you. Right here.”

“Thank you.” Mistress’ voice was quiet, but the vet was used to that kind of quiet. “But I’ll see to her. She’s mine.

“I have the documentation.”

“I know, Professor. I just . . .”

“Thank you. You’ve done everything you could.”

“Professor. So have you.”

“. . . I know.” Capella stifled a whine at how tightly Mistress was holding Herself. Didn’t the vet—?

She did. “This is my pager, Professor.” She was already closing the kit. “If you need anything tonight—”

“Thank you,” Mistress said, and sensing more was needed, She said, “You’ve made this easier than I’d feared it would be. I won’t forget that.”

“I’m sorry,” the vet said, before gathering her aide and leaving.

“Capella.” Mistress stood over her. “I need to get ready, girl. Make your sister easy and then we can go.” She was gone, too quickly for Capella to nuzzle Her hand.

She leaned forward, over the mattress where Bellatrix lay, still and lean on the light sheets. She could have been a pony, Capella thought, admiring her strong thighs and the small breasts that seemed so sought-after in harness. But she looked at the proud face, relaxed now thanks to the vet’s needles, and leaned down to kiss one of the nipples.

She felt Bellatrix shift and let herself enjoy the heat of the legs against her belly. She didn’t straddle her sister’s legs, taking her pleasure only from the small noises Bellatrix made to each little move of Capella’s tongue and lips and teeth. Soon she was licking gently around the other bitch’s navel, tasting sweat that was bitter with pain and old dosages.

Then she sensed she shouldn’t delay, and moved down to Bellatrix’s cunt, as smooth as her own. She’d missed it—there was something like a peach to its shape, and even in the dimness of the sickroom it tempted her. She tasted its outside and found the bitterness again, but as she felt Bellatrix stir even under the drug they’d put her down with, she knew the answer.

When she drew forth some honey, then Bellatrix would be sweet to taste again.

She was deep in it, lapping at the soft slick warm fruit. She was coming close to a long slow climax she knew she’d never have, with Bellatrix’s quietly moaning mouth nowhere near her.

Mistress’ hand was pressing gently on her shoulder, and it took moments even to realize it was there and back out of the wonderful drunkenness. She obeyed the silent command, rising to her kneeling position on the bed beside Bellatrix, and looked at Mistress.

Mistress’ eyes were shining, and She stared into Capella’s face, at the juice across her lips and chin. She leaned forward, and Capella stopped breathing, wondering if Mistress were about to kiss her again.

But Mistress’ eyes filled with tears, and Her face worked. She leaned down instead.

Put Her face between Bellatrix’s spread thighs.

Capella heard the moist sounds and saw the other bitch writhing again. She turned and lay across Bellatrix, putting her arms around her, feeling the urgent breathing against her ear, and then the vague but tightening grip of Bellatrix’s arms, so Bellatrix could hold someone and be held.

When she came. Her cries were softer than when she’d been raving, but Capella cherished them as they held each other and the other bitch thrashed under her Mistress’ tongue.

Then Bellatrix lay limp, her face smooth now, her eyes half-visible under the lids.

“Down, Capella.” As she slid off the bed, she heard Mistress speaking to Bellatrix, softly, almost singing. And it conjured Bellatrix awake, and drew her to her feet.

“Capella—help her, girl.” Capella held Bellatrix against her, feeling the other bitch trying to find her footing, trying not to make Capella carry her.

Mistress led them to the garage, the car. She opened the back door and Capella saw blankets spread along the back seat. She and Bellatrix could curl up together on the way . . .

She nudged Bellatrix toward the front passenger door instead, looking at Mistress.

“Capella . . .” Mistress looked back at her, started to frown and then stopped. “Oh. Yes.” She reached to move a blanket to the front seat. Capella crawled into the back seat and curled under the belts as she watched Mistress belt Bellatrix in. When She was done, She looked at Capella.

“Yes. You were right. Now I can hold her. Until we get there.” She swallowed. “Sleep, girl. Sleep now.”

Just Her voice pushed the command into Capella’s mind, and she didn’t even feel herself sag against the straps.

Mistress’ voice woke her as she stood beside the car and Bellatrix rose slowly to lean against her again. They were under the moon in woods, and Mistress was a dark shape in Her clothes, carrying vaguely-outlined burdens that Capella sensed She would never give one of Her bitches to bear.

“I used to play here, when Mother brought us up to . . . This way, girl. Watch her feet.

“Care for your sister.”

They moved away from the car after Mistress, following Her surefooted way along the smooth ground. Then they stopped as She set Her load down. “Capella. Just let her settle there. Let her down—that’s it. Good girl.

“Come.” Capella stepped to Her, looking down once to where Bellatrix lay still and quiet on the ground.

“I want you to go back to . . . no. Come, girl.”

She followed Mistress halfway back, over a rise. “Sit.” She was looking up at Mistress, Her head framed by stars. One of them has your name, pretty Capella. Find her and—

Mistress took the pendulum from Her pocket, but she looked into Capella’s eyes and shook Her head.

“Keep watch here, Capella. And don’t be afraid.” She held Capella’s head once and then turned back to the clearing where Bellatrix lay.

For a while, she just looked up at the stars, wishing Mistress could be up there, in the cool calm.

Then she heard Mistress. “Bellatrix. This is my fault. I am sorry. I—you—were owed better than this. Soon it won’t hurt anymore, little one. Soon. Just relax . . .

“No. Goddess forgive me, I can’t. Not like this.

“Bellatrix—sit.” Her voice came brokenly then. “Oh—god. You did it. Good . . . girl.”

Then Mistress whispered something else. Somehow Capella sensed when it was coming, and started to cover her ears, but she remembered drifting off while Mistress hurt, in the park.

She left her hands by her sides. There was no one to cover Mistress’ ears for Her, either.

The crash slapped hard at her ears but she felt its shock most in her ribs.

Don’t be afraid. Capella felt her ears ring, and tried to obey.

There was a dry, regular sound after a while, through the ringing, but she just knelt and waited.

Then Mistress was beside her, breathing harder and carrying the dark burdens again. “Come, Capella.”

In the car, the blanket that smelled faintly of Bellatrix was rolled up behind Mistress’ seat and Capella’s was in the front, now. Mistress held the door open, but Capella knelt instead, raising her hands tentatively, in a pose Mistress seldom required and she’d never essayed unbidden.

Begging.

“What, girl?” Mistress took her hands and looked down.

Capella opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it. Then again.

Mistress stared at her.

“. . . Capella.

“Speak.”

Capella blinked. “Mistress,” she whispered, starting at how unfamiliar it sounded. How raw it felt.

“i—love You, Mistress.”

Mistress nodded.

“Mistress,” she strained. “Please. When it’s my time . . . like this, Mistress. This is how i want—how i beg to die.

“For You. With You. By Your—” But she couldn’t speak anymore.

She still held Mistress’ hands and it kept her from falling over. Then Mistress was beside her, holding her. They held each other.

7.

It was a day or two before Mistress took them out again.

The first night, Capella had followed Her to Her bed, but Mistress had turned and said, “No, girl. Tonight I sleep cold. Tonight is for her.”

Capella had knelt. She could not speak, and she didn’t want to beg again. But she could imagine Mistress lying there awake.

Mistress had come to urge her to the door, and she rose and turned meekly to be put out. Mistress led her back to the room, where Altair sprawled on her bed, her hair loose and white across her cheek and shoulder in the light from the window. Capella lay back in the bed, and Mistress leaned over her.

“You will sleep tonight, my girl. Deeply and peacefully like your sister . . .

“Like both your sisters, now.

“Look into my eyes, Capella. Look and surrender and sleep.”

Capella tried, just for a moment, to fight it, to stay awake and watch this night with her Mistress. But Mistress’ power was in Her eyes now, and they darkened her mind as she looked into them.

Mistress knew she tried, and She knew why. Capella dreamed she heard Her say so. She dreamed she tasted Mistress’ lips again, and then Her tongue.

Then Mistress had let her dream of the sweetest, pinkest honeyed peach, and of a forever afternoon to lick it.

But today She took them out, and Altair almost skipped on her leash to be in the sun and breeze. Mistress smiled to see her, and it lifted Capella to see that. Mistress sat on a bench and let Altair and Capella off their leads, watching them chase each other around the trees and wrestle gently when they caught each other, which they did often.

When She clapped they stopped instantly and went over toward Her to be watered. Someone rolled past on a bicycle and looked at them, smiling under the bike helmet. Altair smiled back and looked after the cyclist. Before they could cross the path to join Mistress, someone came up on foot.

Capella didn’t recognize Margot, at first.

Margot was dressed quite differently this time—a top that was really just a sports bra, high-cut running shorts, running shoes, a fanny pack that just made her waist seem even tighter. Her body was wiry and trim, and gleamed from her run.

“You’re—here,” she panted, smiling hesitantly at Mistress. “You were—gone—a while.”

“Yes.

“How are you, Margot?” Mistress shaded Her eyes. “Any progress making those amends?”

Leaning forward, hands on knees, Margot looked down and let her breathing slow.

“Most,” she said, looking up for a moment. Capella and Altair walked past her to kneel at Mistress’ feet.

“I still don’t know what they are, really,” Mistress said. “I don’t think you’ve committed crimes, though you may. But they may be larger to you than anyone else. That many people couldn’t think so highly of you and be so wrong.”

Slowly, Margot straightened, her face still open but a little fearful.

“The man at the cappuccino cart, who told you where I walk the girls, knows your name too. He told me that day, and where you’d told him you work. After that I could let others ask.”

Margot stared.

“Would you like some water, Margot?” Mistress pulled one of the plastic bottles loose and handed it to Altair. “Bring this to Margot, girl.” Altair obeyed, kneeling at Margot’s feet and grinning up at her, offering the water.

Barely hesitating, Margot took it. “Thank you.” She opened it and took a small mouthful, then looked down at Altair. “Thank you, too.”

Altair smiled, and at Her snap came back to crouch by Mistress.

“I knew you weren’t extremely stupid, Margot, but you could always have been at the other extreme. So I needed to see, to protect them.” She stroked Capella’s hair. “And myself.

“Then I saw what you were doing.”

Margot stood very still.

“Please drink some more, Margot—you need the fluid. It’s not drugged. I carry it for my bitches and for me.”

Drinking, Margot said, “I know. I don’t think you’d drug me. And I know how you care for them.”

“Would you like to walk one of them today, Margot? Here on the path? You may still need to cool down.”

Margot didn’t answer either way, but she looked at both bitches.

Mistress waited a moment, then clipped Altair’s lead to her collar and put the end in her mouth. At the command to bring it to Margot, Altair obeyed without blinking. Capella knew Altair had been under hypnosis that first day, and remembered only Margot in her suit the second time, with nothing to fear.

But Capella knew it wasn’t just that. Altair was a good girl for Mistress.

Now Altair knelt before the woman and offered her mouth with the leash, hands back and waiting patiently to be taken. Margot looked down at her in wonder. She reached for it but stopped, bending to set the water bottle down and then standing. She gently took the leash from Altair’s mouth, but only stood there, saying nothing.

Capella saw Altair’s eyes half-close and then her sister swayed slightly forward, her nostrils flaring. Margot swallowed, and Capella knew Altair had smelled the woman’s arousal as it steamed from her, losing herself in the scent. Altair whined softly, but roused herself with the sound and leaned back.

Margot looked down at her, and Capella tensed at the sheer force of the woman’s gaze at her sister. She saw a shiver strum Altair’s back muscles. Was she afraid?

Capella felt an awful clawing inside. She had to protect Altair, get between the newer bitch and anything that threatened—but her brain was jammed on the idea of doing anything without a command.

Mistress sat calmly, and Capella breathed. She is wise and I obey Her.

Margot looked up, and that same fierceness was for Mistress, now.

“I—” She stopped, as though choking. “This—” Her muscles were in sharp relief as she held herself painfully still.

“This . . . is the wrong end of the leash.”

She held it down to Altair, who leaned forward and neatly mouthed it again. Then Margot bowed and put her lips to Altair’s forehead.

She looked up at Mistress where She sat, started to speak, and thought better of it. She waited.

So did Mistress. But She didn’t call Altair back to Her.

“Tell me, Margot.”

Margot sobbed once, but it was just from remembering to breathe. She shook her head. “I’m sorry . . .” Her whisper was ragged. “All I can think is ‘I want,’ ‘I need,’ and it’s not about that.”

“Margot. Your need brought you here. It’s in control. Let it speak.” She waited until She had Margot’s eye and then smiled. “What it’s about is not up to you. Relax.

“Tell me.”

Margot stared at Her, breathing deeply and slowly. “I thought I knew how . . . I came here for the last two days, and you weren’t here . . .”

“Margot. What do you want?”

“I w—” She choked again. “I want—”

“Rest, Margot.” The woman looked relieved—and then Capella could see her face brighten. “Come here, please.

“Altair—heel.” The bitch let Margot step past her, then crawled back to kneel opposite Capella.

Margot came very close to Mistress before stopping. Head down, she unlaced one shoe and kicked it behind her—impatiently pulling the other off when the laces snarled.

Straightening, she looked at Mistress, and then very slowly reached down and slipped her bra up to free her breasts, then over her head, tousling her hair.

Mistress watched her.

She tossed the bra to one side, catching Altair’s eye as it moved before the blonde turned back to look at her. Still looking at Mistress, she put her hands to her hips, working her fingers and then pulling down. They saw the dark tuft between her thighs and then the shorts and panties were at her ankles, her legs sweeping up from them. She stepped out of one leg, the other, kicked it near the bra.

Margot stood nude, braced on her slightly-spread legs with only her fanny pack still slung on its nylon web belt from her waist, oddly rakish and lovely.

Undoing the catch, she took the pack and held it before her. She knelt before Mistress and held it out. Mistress took it and opened it.

“Yes. License, passport . . . you, Margot.” Margot nodded up at her. “In my hands.”

Mistress’ voice was soft and toneless. “You know this isn’t a game or a scene, Margot. The self in these documents would be mine, and I’d destroy it. I’d take your name, and your memories, and your free will. Your scruples and your ability to decide what you’d never, ever do.

“Obedience training isn’t like learning rewards, or military training. Your mind would be altered—this is brainwashing. What you think you feel for me now would pale, beside the glare of the passion I’d weld inside your soul and leave burning as long as you lived.”

Margot was looking up at Her, eyes shining.

“I told myself not two days ago I wouldn’t take a new bitch again, not for a while. Perhaps ever.”

Margot froze. Her eyes widened, but they stayed on Mistress, and Margot stayed on her knees.

“You don’t need to know why. But I don’t own lightly. I take selfhood and shave its pussy, put it in a collar and teach its tongue a new skill. I strip a bitch’s defenses, make her mine and only mine, and I will always do right by her. If I can’t, I won’t have her.”

She looked at Margot. Capella saw a tear in the woman’s eye start to roll down her cheek.

“But maybe the fates don’t like me making forever-oaths. You’re like a gallant pretty aerialist without a net, and you’ve left the trapeze. You had to—you must fly—and now I must catch you. Letting you fall would be something worse than I can do.

Her smile was dangerous and warm. “And I’d be an idiot to let someone like you belong to anyone else.”

Margot was absolutely still.

Mistress zipped the pack and put it aside. “Capella—command.”

Capella came erect beside Mistress, staring at her, wet already, knowing her mind was about to be . . .

“Capella, look and listen. Omega Aurigae, blink disable on.”

She felt an odd tug inside and closed her eyes, opening them slowly. Mistress had already turned to reinstruct Altair, and she saw the blonde’s eyes locked on Her. “Omega Aquilae, blink disable on.”

Turning to Margot, She said, “I’m going to hypnotize you now, Margot. My girls can watch now. You’re the only one still susceptible.”

She took out Her pendulum, and seeing it Capella felt numb, as though something in the deepest part of her had gone to sleep. It felt empty, almost wrong. She should be under the spell already, fading, sliding into trance.

But her head was clear, and she saw Altair glance at her with beautiful solemnity before they saw what the pendulum was doing to Margot.

It had captured her.

Margot had let her eyes rest on the silver oblong as Mistress let it hang before her. “My mother gave me this, Margot. To control my first bitch, Taylor, when she gave her to me.”

Stirring restlessly, Margot blinked, but couldn’t draw her eyes away. Or didn’t have the desire to. “I thought she’d been conditioned to it, trained to let her mind sleep as soon as she saw it, imprinted with an irresistible need to surrender to it.”

The pendulum was moving in shallow curves now, and Margot was gently caught in them, letting it draw her eyes pointlessly around. Capella saw her relaxing into it, not fighting, and as she gave up trying to anticipate its motion, it took her and she followed.

“Irresistible, that need.” Mistress voice was growing softer, and her cadence was gradually matching the way the pendulum danced its minuet here, and there, and back. Her voice drew Margot into the dance, and Margot’s body began to move like a leaf in the breeze, as though she were being invisibly, possessively stroked. Held as her mind thought it was being courted, and opened to the seduction instead.

“Taylor couldn’t help herself. Whenever she saw it she stopped thinking, stopped worrying, stopped remembering. All she had in her mind was sleep.”

Margot’s eyes were glazed, trapped. She slowly straightened as she knelt, not aware of doing it, not aware of anything but the glorious bright thing that danced her soul away from her, and Mistress’ voice.

“And then obedience.”

Her Mistress’ voice.

8.

Margot knelt before Mistress, staring raptly at the pendulum.

The pendulum was gone.

But Mistress had told her it was still before her eyes. So it still transfixed her.

Capella and Altair watched, juicing to see how hot and helpless they must look when Mistress opened their minds to do Her will.

Margot had tried to weep for joy when Mistress told her the wonderful secret that the pendulum would be inside her mind forever now, always waiting to put her to sleep when she needed to stop thinking. But even that emotion faded.

Mistress paused.

“You’re very deep now and very relaxed, Margot. You know I will care for you, and that you can just do as I tell you without fear or question.

“You know this is just a taste of how you will feel, every moment, once I condition you.

“You know that taste is one you’ll need on your tongue forever.

“Just the way you’ve slipped this deep shows how good a subject you’ll make. The very finest bitches have submission in their bones, their skin. The very finest are the only kind I have by me.”

Capella barely felt pride, too rapt in watching Margot give herself to Mistress.

“You are the very finest, bitch.”

She stopped, and let Margot kneel there, staring into space, her mind still bound to the imaginary pendulum, tracking its invisible ellipses. Capella knew Her words were flowing endlessly around Margot’s mind now, their pattern too complex to follow and too hypnotic not to follow, marking the ellipses over and over across her other thoughts.

Making her other thoughts hard to focus on.

Then difficult to remember.

Then impossible even to imagine having . . . had . . . at all . . .

“Now, girl.

“Tell me what you want.”

Margot sighed, bliss tinged with a faint grief that was all that was left of any desire to resist.

“I want to be yours,” she whispered, softly but distinctly. “i need—to be Yours.

“i need to learn from Capella and be a good obedient bitch . . . she’s so . . .

“i need to . . . lay my head on Your lap at the end of Your hard day.” She was crying and didn’t seem to notice.

“i need my life to be as simple as the collar on my neck.

“i need to play with the other bitches and make you smile.

“i need to dream i could be the one to lie by Your bed if You wake and . . .”

Mistress hushed her with a finger to her lip.

“Yes, girl. You will obey.”

Mistress stopped and looked at Her entranced captive, and suddenly looked so lonely that even in her vagueness Capella needed to touch Her. Mistress felt Capella against Her knee, and put Her hand on Capella’s cheek without taking Her eyes from Margot.

“Sweet girl. Always.

“I will never have my Bellatrix again. But now, soon, I will have my . . . Polaris.

“Fetch the spare collar, Capella.”

Capella found it in Mistress’ pack, and obeyed the urge that suddenly took her to take it in her mouth instead of her hands. The glow in Mistress’ look told her she’d done well.

“Kneel for your collar,” Mistress commanded, and Margot straightened in her dream of obedience.

But as She reached to put it around Margot’s neck, Margot stirred again in her dream and raised her hands vaguely, trying to reach for it.

Mistress stopped and looked at her thoughtfully.

“What, girl?”

“Wanted . . .” Margot wept again as easily as a child—but a sob took her and Capella knew it wasn’t easy at all. “Wanted my last free act to be to take Your collar. my gift, Mistress.”

Mistress sat back. “you are gift enough, beautiful one. But surrender now. your last free act will be to tell Me what’s most true—and then it will be.”

“i need to be . . .” Margot strained, and then her eyes closed and her face was at peace as they opened.

“i am Yours.” She whispered it.

When Mistress buckled the collar, Her new bitch jerked once and panted.

Mistress told Capella to clean it, and Capella enjoyed the strange feel of the new bitch’s muff as she licked the strange new sweetness from her. Capella and Altair gathered the discarded clothes, the water bottle, and then knelt for their leads. They rose on either side of the new bitch, and when their eyes met they kissed her from each side.

Mistress walked Her three bitches away home.