The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My bike. I tremble with fear at the thought of becoming the hypnotised, sex-slave of another woman, even as my young body is wracked with lust whenever I think of the woman whose slave I may soon become... because of my bike.

To think that only yesterday everything had been normal: me, my parents, my brother and my kid brother all living a normal middle-class, life in the leafy suburbs of an average city. Three miles to the city centre, two to the rolling countryside and less than one from my current position; behind the sofa of my mother’s best friend. One mile to safety, friends and freedom if only danger and enslavement were not yards away.

My doom started in the early part of yesterday evening. I was trying to study for a mock exam at college. The sound of tacky music and what sounded like a woman moaning penetrated my thoughts of Newton, Hooke and Maxwell. I tried to ignore it, it was just my wretched brother watching television in his bedroom, but that only made it worse. Didn’t he have a clue? Here was I trying to better myself whilst he lounged in his room watching...

“Watching what?” I had thought.

Curious, I put my pencil down and really listened. The sound was coming through the wall. It may have been muffled but it definitely sounded like a porn film; or at least what I think a porn film would sound like. I’m happy to admit I’ve never wasted my time with such things but I’ve seen enough references on television to have an idea what one might sound like. Plus Sandra Grayson liked to mimic ‘what I was missing’ to embarrass me in front of her gang.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she had moaned as she parodied a porn star.

I slid off my bed and crossed to the adjoining wall; brushing my blonde hair from my right ear so that I could eavesdrop better. There was a woman moaning and sometimes yelping too! My brother was watching a porn film! That did it! I quickly exited my bedroom door and marched right over to his. Fortunately, his door was ajar and I could hear everything clearly; a second female voice accompanied the sexual panting. How could Mom and Dad not hear it? I wanted them to storm upstairs and bring just retribution down on my brother. I decided to peek in first before barging in as, I realised, he might be doing more than ‘watching’ the film. I felt a bit queasy at that thought and almost backed down but I didn’t; how I wish I had, it wasn’t even a real exam.

Carefully, I looked through the gap made by the hinges first. It didn’t give me much of a view but I saw my brother on his bed, a look of lust on his face. In his right had, to my relief, was the TV remote. I then heard a woman groan in sexual pleasure.

“Mistress, mistress, there’s no one like you. Please let me cum,” another voice pleaded.

I pulled my eye from the crack as I heard the woman emit a long cry of impure sexual release.

“Oh yes,” I heard my brother gasp.

I had to see for myself so, as quietly as I could, I leant my head into the gap made by the open door. What I saw nearly made me stumble. There were several women, most of them naked, surrounding a single, dominant woman. Even in that brief glance that is how I thought of her. One of the other woman was partially clothed and her clothes were different from the others. They looked normal; a loose jacket, an open, white blouse and tan stockings. The other women wore bits of shiny, black material, chains and heavy make-up. The ‘normal’ woman was lying at the booted feet of the dominant woman. She was masturbating and, unlike Sandra Grayson’s exhibition, what she was doing was very real. It had been her voice that had drawn me to my brother’s door. I looked away from the writhing woman in disgust but my eyes travelled in a surprising direction—up the body of the dominant woman! Her face was beautiful; framed, as it was, in a halo of luscious black hair. As our eyes met she spoke.

“No woman can deny their desire for me. Worship me, Professor Cumlick. Let my slaves take you and know that you are mine.”

The ‘normal’ woman may have moaned her acquiescence. I don’t remember. I just gazed at the beautiful, dominant woman with the dark, hypnotic eyes. She laughed in triumph.

“All women desire me. All women crave my body!”

I realised I’d never seen anyone more beautiful nor more confident in all my life.

The film seemed to be coming to an end and I was slightly surprised that no hero appeared to save Professor Cumlick. The camera panned to the sex slaves partaking in an orgy at the dominant woman’s feet. Suddenly I realised that I had wanted to join them. I came to my senses. What had I been thinking?

I pulled my head back out of the doorway and considered what to do. I found thinking difficult. Should I go back to my studies as if nothing had happened, confront my brother, or rush and tell Mom and Dad? One thing I was sure about was not getting caught hanging around my brother’s door!

The decision was taken from me. Someone was coming up the stairs. I was suddenly aware of music from downstairs; Mom and Dad must have been listening to it with the doors closed and that explained why they hadn’t heard my brother’s porn film. Now, one of them had left the room and was on their way. I hoped it was Dad on the stairs. I ran to the banister and yelled, “Dad! Dad! Come here. It’s disgusting!”

It was my dad. He looked up at me in surprise, “What is it, sweetie?”

I told him everything bar the fact I’d watched some of the film. I heard the television go off behind me as Dad took the stairs three at a time. He brushed passed me, his face not just red from the stairs, and stormed into my brother’s room. I saw my brother frozen in the attempt to prize a DVD from his Playstation before the door banged to behind Dad.

“What’s going on?” Mom had called out from the hall.

For the rest of that evening the atmosphere in the house had been very tense. My brother never said where he had got the DVD and that had cost him his Playstation. My parents decided it must have come from some of his college friends because the alternatives were unacceptable to them. My dad placed the offending object in its black case on top of the bookcase in the sitting room and told my brother he would be addressing the issue later that month during Parents’ day. My kid brother was mercifully kept out of everything by Mom. As it was a balmy evening she took him for a walk to the Wilkinson’s. Their youngest son and my kid brother were friends at school and he’d just got a telescope for his birthday. Mom had returned alone; the Wilkinson’s had been understanding.

I returned to my study... or tired to. It wasn’t the moody blackness I felt emanating from my brother’s bedroom but something else that bothered me. I opened a window to let in some cool evening air but unfortunately there was no breeze. Finally, I gave up trying to study and just lay on my bed. I even tried reading but that didn’t help either. I kept on seeing a vision of her beautiful face, dark penetrating eyes and kissable painted lips.

“All women desire me. All women crave my body!”

As her words echoed and re-echoed in my mind, I felt I was truly missing something... something important. I closed my eyes and recalled her body in every detail. How? I don’t know. I couldn’t have looked at it for more than a few seconds yet I recalled every curve, every flash of her tight, latex bodice and sway of her mouth-watering hips. Mouth-watering? I got up and headed to the kitchen for a glass of cold milk.

My bedroom hadn’t cooled much when I returned. I decided to sleep in my special nighty. It was a present from my once-in-a-lifetime trip to Japan two years ago. It was made of silk, pale blue and with a cutsie motif on the front of some strange, pink creature. I had loved it at the time, I still do, but I’ve grown a lot since then so now it’s a little short and tight and shows off my curves in a very naughty way. I haven’t worn it in over a year even within my bedroom and I know I shouldn’t wear it any more but, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to look sexy. The temperature was just an excuse, I conceded, as I looked myself over in the mirror. I tugged at its hemline. I was better off wearing it than going naked, I told myself as justification.

I said my prayers and climbed into bed, throwing the covers back. I lay there, in the dim street-light that crept through the chink in the curtains, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually, I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up an image of Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom to purge me of the strange sensations I’d been feeling. Instead, I saw her... the beautiful, dominant woman and a bodice-ripping Keira Knightley who threw herself passionately into the role of Professor Cumlick...

“All women desire me. All women crave my body!”

I woke up in the early hour of this morning drenched in sweat. My pulse was racing and even the oriental silk teased my heaving breasts. I looked down my body and gasped. My nipples stood proud, casting little shadows in the dim light. My long legs were drawn up with their knees in the air and my slender thighs were speckled with beads of perspiration. Tentatively, I slid my right hand between my thighs and groaned. I was soaking wet. Was I sick? had been my first thought. I groaned and turned to the clock. It was three forty. I wasn’t ill. It was that wretched DVD. How could it had affected me so much? I mouthed what the dominant woman had said and timed myself against my LED alarm clock. I repeated it several times to get an average and then added a margin of error. Forty seconds, fifty tops, was the outcome. I marvelled again at how my life had been so disrupted in under a minute. I was so going to fail that exam—I did by-the-way. The only plan I could think of to exorcise my sexual spectre was to confront it head on. I had to watch the DVD again. Perhaps knowing more about it would enable me to throw off its unwholesome effect. Perhaps, on viewing my mistress again, I’d see through her glimpsed beauty and make-up. I blushed, realising I had called that beautiful woman ‘my’ mistress.

It wouldn’t be dawn for over an hour but the night was warm and my dad a light sleeper. If he caught me, I’d say I was going for a glass of water. If he caught me, my chances of watching the DVD were as good as blown. I decided I wouldn’t get caught.

I left the safety of my bedroom in my Japanese nighty, something I’d sworn I’d never do. Why hadn’t I put on my bathrobe? The danger that my dad might just decide to bin the DVD spurred me on. I walked slowly trying to remember every squeaky floorboard between my room and the sitting room. My heart raced with each step. I was almost at the stairs when a floorboard creaked! I paused, straining to detect any change in the night noises of the house that would warn me of another body moving. I remembered how those very same noises used to frighten me as a child; the ticking of the main clock, the clank of the water system and the groaning of the house as it cooled unevenly... now these childhood terrors were welcome because they were the only noises.

I moved my foot off the loose board and placed it nearer the wall. That floorboard held and I let my breath out slowly. Stood as I was, stretched out, my nighty was taught against my firm breasts, teasing then to remain pert for my immanent encounter with my mistress. My mistress again? What was wrong with me? I took three quick steps regardless of the noise, just so I’d be doing something to take my mind off her. There was another squeak on the top step but I didn’t stop, stairs are easy so long as you keep your weight to the sides. Luckily I now have long legs; the descent used to be torture when, as a little girl, I followed my brother each Christmas, before we were allowed to get up but long after Santa should have visited, to see what presents awaited a good girl.

At the bottom of the stairs the door to the sitting room was but a few yards to my left. It was open and Mom had drawn the curtains back before going to bed. It looked floodlit to my night accustomed eyes. Good! I wasn’t likely to trip over one of the small tables in there after I had reached the ground floor without disturbing my family. My confidence grew. I felt cooler too. Cool enough that I considered returning to bed but to turn aside from a task wasn’t in my nature and I thought the worst was over.

I stopped in the doorway of the sitting room to get accustomed to the better light then picked my way through the furniture to the bookcase. On tiptoe I reached up and grasped the box that contained the mysterious DVD. Carefully, I pulled it from its resting place. I had it! I had her in my trembling hands but I had to be smart about this. I inspected the box to make sure I would know exactly how to put it back so that it didn’t appear to have been disturbed. Only then did I read its title.

THE PERILS OF PROFESSOR CUMLICK

Professor Cumlick and the Corruption of Innocence

The title gave me the impression it was part of a series. It gave me hope that the heroine, Professor Cumlick, would be rescued from the sinful influence of the mistress in a sequel and, based on this logic, that I, too, might overcome her. But did I want to? I had to admit there was pleasure in my torment.

Just as I opened the case with a loud ‘pop’, I heard the toilet flush.

I froze. Who was it? What had disturbed them? I’d heard nothing. I felt like Tantalus, my prize denied me just as it was in my grasp. It dawned on me that I couldn’t watch the film now even with the door closed and the sound low. The idea that I might showed just how mixed up I was. I cast around for another plan and found one under my nose—Mom’s copy of Casablanca. She’d only watched it the other day and must have left in on the bookcase. No one else was interested in that sort of film so it would be ignored for weeks. Plenty of time for me to switch discs and watch The Perils of Professor Cumlick on my portable DVD player tomorrow evening. There had been no more sound from upstairs but I decided to leave both discs behind in their new boxes just in case I bumped into the other night wanderer, whoever that might be. Carefully I switched the discs, one ear cocked for danger, and replaced the boxes as I had found them. Now I didn’t care if I was caught. I went to the kitchen and treated myself to a long, cool glass of water before creeping back to bed.

The pre-dawn breeze had finally started to waft through my bedroom curtains and I lay down with my legs apart to let its gentle caress cool my fiery limbs. I closed my eyes to sleep at last but found her waiting impatiently in the darkness. Through Satan-red lips she commanded me and I touched myself, I was too tired to resist any longer. I had masturbated a few times in my life, but more out of curiosity than need. Now it was a necessity. My body desperately wanted to cum. My fingers circled my swollen labia before thrusting again and again into my slick vagina. I fell into an exhausted sleep before she brought me to orgasm. I’d thought I’d won!

I woke up this morning feeling like I’d accomplished something but my victory was short lived. I couldn’t recall taking off my nighty but I must have done as I was completely naked. It lay on the floor beside the bed. My hands and vulva were coated with dry vaginal fluids. My hands must have roamed during the night as there were stains on my breasts and even around my mouth. My hair was in a turmoil and my body streaked with sweat and cum. As I beheld my shocking appearance in my mirror, it dawned on me how much I looked like one of the wild-eyed slave-girls that had surrounded Professor Cumlick.

The mood of the previous evening carried over to the breakfast table this morning which was useful as it drew attention away from me. I was dog tired and still a little feverish even though I’d taken a cold shower. I had tired to show no signs of how I felt, taking longer to dress and comb my hair, and it must have paid off for nobody commented on my appearance.

I go to a private, higher education college just for girls. Originally, it had been run by nuns but now most of the teachers are laity and the nuns only run the college. That’s why there’s still a strict dress code for students even of my age; no hem line above the knee, no socks around the ankles and Heaven help the student that turned up in trousers! Only in sports had there been any relaxation in the rules and that was because no nun took those classes and the fields were well away from the main buildings. We all took advantage of that to push the boundaries of lady-like fashion. I had double netball last thing today, which I doubly dreaded: I was tired and I wasn’t sure how my body would react in the team showers afterwards; the strange, sexual sensations from last night still lingered.

I hugged my parents goodbye and shouldered my satchel that held my books and netball kit and left to load it onto my bike and leave. I’ve been cycling to college for over a year and the exercise has helped me tone my figure and keep me in the netball ‘A’ team. Sandra Grayson and her friends skulk around unnoticed on the ‘C’ team court. There is no ‘D’ team. It’s a girl’s bike in design but there’s no pink on it. Yes there are a few faded stickers of flowers and stars but most have fallen off now and what remain I haven’t bothered to pick off.

The test was the disaster I predicted it would be. B+ is embarrassing this close to finals. I told my lecturer I’d had a bad night cramming and left it at that, I had other worries; namely those strange feelings. Without wanting to, I found myself stealing furtive glances at the other girls and at some of the lecturers. The sight of them and what I wanted to do to them left me fidgety and needy. Changing amongst the others at the playing fields filled me with dread. I knew I would be compelled to look at the other girls no matter how much I tried to resist.

I turned up late for netball and blamed it on a puncture. The unfortunately named Miss Allcock, who took the ‘A’ team, was clearly suspicious but let it go so I managed to change alone without incident. The sight of the other girls’ scattered clothes got me far more excited then I should have been. My top felt tight and my white, pleated skirt too short.

My game was off. I couldn’t concentrate with my unnatural arousal. I stumbled and tripped on more than one occasion. I hated how my body would feign ‘accidental’ touches just to satisfy its desire with a quick ‘feel’. My eyes were just as wayward. If a player had her back to me they ‘checked out’ her ‘rear’ and if she faced me, they bored into her breasts. After I’d been hit in the face by the ball for the third time Miss Allcock took me to one side and asked what was wrong. I mumbled about not feeling too good and a bad night’s sleep. She put her hand on my forehead which made me long for something more. My eyes fell on her breasts and I considered letting my head fall forward into her inviting bosom. A voice just behind me seemed to keep saying, “Do it. Do it. Do it,” but it must have been the pounding of the blood in my head.

“You do feel a bit clammy. Warm to the touch,” Miss Allcock said after an age. “Do you think you’re okay to go home now or should I call your parents?”

I could have kissed her... I wanted to. I’d avoid that embarrassing shower and get a chance to watch that DVD sooner! Suddenly I felt my day turn around. It was an effort to remain looking ill. I thanked her and said I could make it home alone. I’d call my mum to let her know I was on my way, I assured her. Miss Allcock nodded and let me go. I didn’t bother with the shower nor did I get changed. I just slipped into my jacket and crammed the rest of my uniform into my satchel. Thanks to how fast I can fly on my bike, I was home in just under ten minutes. Mom would be surprised—I hadn’t phoned her either.

When I reached my front door, I left my bike outside and, snatching my satchel, let myself in.

“Mom?” I cried but not too loud.

There was no reply so I sidled into the sitting room and dumped my belongings on a chair. The black case was still perched on top of the bookcase but Casablanca was missing! I scanned the shelves then searched the room hurriedly but it was gone!

“It’s not the end of the world,” I repeated to myself until I almost believed it. Mom must just have moved it. I tore up the stairs to her bedroom and looked in the bookcase she’d turned into a shrine to her ‘classic film’ passion. It wasn’t there either!

“Mom!” I shouted.—still no reply.

I took the stairs back down two at a time and skidded to a stop on the polished floor of the hall. I had to find that DVD... I had to find my mom. I ran into the sitting room and through to the back room and then I saw her. She raised a slim right hand, clad in black rubber, and waved at me and smiled. She had been out the back, gardening. I dashed for the back door and almost knocked her over as she came in.

“Careful! Mind the secateurs,” she said.

“Mom,” I gasped, “Where have you put Casablanca?”

She knotted her still smooth brow, confusion obvious in her blue eyes.

“Why aren’t you still at school?”

“Netball was cancelled,” I lied to avoid a long story. “Mom, Casablanca!”

Mom walked into the kitchen and put down her basket of clippings before she answered.

“I haven’t put it anywhere. I leant it to Jill this morning. Why? What’s the hurry for?”

She didn’t turn around but busied herself with sorting out her cuttings.

“I just saw it out and wanted to see it. That’s all. Guess I’ll go for a ride instead. Bye, Mom, be back soon.”

I didn’t think Mom bought the story because I’m no actress. I wished I’d taken a class in drama but I never saw the sense. Prancing around in a tight-fitting leotard and leggings just isn’t me. I can’t think of anybody who looks good in clothes that tight... except her.

“All women desire me. All women crave my body!”

My eyes moved onto my mom’s trim rear and I imagined it clad in tight, shiny, black shorts instead of her light-brown, cotton skirt. I turned redder than Hell. I had to go. I heard my mom behind me calling me back—asking me where I was going? Yelling that I couldn’t go out just in my netball kit! I dashed through the front door, jumped on my bike and made a quick get-a-way regardless.

I headed straight for my mom’s friend’s house. Miss White, I find it hard to call her Jill because she’s my mom’s friend, but she’s only in her twenties. My mom met her about five years ago. Mom had just had my kid brother and wanted to get back into shape and Miss White worked part-time at the gym she chose. My mom had left her job lecturing on music and was embarrassed about being in the gym. Miss White was an instructor at the gym but trying to become a song writer in the evenings. They met, they complimented each other and they became firm friends despite the fifteen years separating them. It turned out they had more than music as a common interest; classic black and white films was another.

“Why couldn’t it have been needle-work,” I had grumbled as I skidded through a red light.

I leant forward as I strove to go faster. Different scenarios played themselves out in my mind as I tried to think of a way to retrieve the DVD. My one hope was that Miss White hadn’t opened the box. I was sure Miss White worked on a Friday and that she would have contacted Mom if she’d found the wrong disc. I decided to blame my brother for the switched discs if asked. My saddle rubbed me and I shivered. Jill... was a very attractive woman. I blushed. My thoughts turned to Jill and how much my mistress was like her. They both had dark hair but Jill kept hers under control in a bun and not in a wild, night-black cloud.

“All women desire her. All women crave her body,” Jill’s image proclaimed suddenly, as she opened her front door to me for the umpteenth time in my mind.

I had only been to Jill’s home on a couple of occasions and always with my mom but I knew exactly where to go and I screeched to a halt on her drive in record time. I propped my bike against her new car and stepped into the porch. She had one of those doorbells that you can’t hear outside when you ring it and doesn’t always work. I pressed it anyway and waited. After a minute, I flapped her letterbox as her door had no proper knocker. There was no reply to that either. I looked at my watch and realised she might still be at work. I stepped out of the porch and looked around for any signs of life. An upstairs window was slightly ajar but it was a transom. I wandered over to her front window and peered in. Her television was on but I couldn’t hear anything through the double glazing. It just showed adverts. It meant she was in though. Either she was in her back garden or upstairs, I reasoned, to have not heard my knocking. I felt another surge of hope. Jill was like Mom in how she watched her films. She wouldn’t watch a ‘classic’ unless she had ‘cinema’ conditions i.e. dark! It wouldn’t be dusk for hours. I relaxed. My mad dash, I chided myself, had been unnecessary.

I paused. I had been calling Miss White ‘Jill’. Was it because I had considered her with sexual interest? I straightened my dark blazer over my white kit and brushed out my hair with my fingers. I’d caught my reflection in the window. I still had the problem of getting hold of the DVD, however. I could have tried the front door again but I hadn’t thought of a reason to ask for its return that didn’t involve revealing the switch, or... a wicked thought surfaced as I stood there... I could try and take it back without asking. I didn’t think it was steeling. The worst I thought it might be was trespass. Actually, I had decided the worst it would be was a lecture from Dad and the swap revealed but I was prepared to risk that to settle my sexual dilemma. My plan all depended on where Jill was. If she was in the garden, I was sunk.

I walked round to her side gate. Before it stood her bins for rubbish and recycling. I wheeled the heaviest to the base of the gate and used it to scramble over. I landed on the other side quietly, thanks to my trainers, and made for the side door. It would have led into Jill’s kitchen if it hadn’t been locked. I wasn’t put off. The DVD was in the house and I had to have it. I crept to the rear of the house and peeped round. The long garden looked empty but there were plenty of hiding places amongst the trees. Why would Jill be hiding in her own garden, I berated my overactive imagination and, suppressing my nervousness, slid along the rear of the house. I checked that Jill hadn’t appeared through each window I passed. My ‘luck’ held and I reached my goal: some French windows. These led into what loosely matched the back room in my house, although Jill used this room as her sitting room. There was still no sign of Jill. I decided she must be upstairs in her ‘music’ room. I had been in it once when she’d had it soundproofed.

I tried the latch on the windows and thankfully it wasn’t locked. If it had been, I would have used a stone to smash it. I entered and made straight for the DVD player in the next room but the Casablanca box wasn’t there. The DVD player itself was empty. I wanted to punch something or curse but my reason just about held my frustration in check. It had to be here, I insisted to myself. I started a hurried search, keeping both ears open for any sound of Jill.

Finding nothing in the front room I returned to the sitting room and almost yelped with glee. There it was on the sideboard! I had rushed passed it in my eagerness to check the DVD player. Miss White must have just put it down after bringing it in. I popped the case open and hugged the Perils of Professor Cumlick to my cotton-clad bosom. Then I heard tinkling, like cat bells. The sound came from the front room or beyond, it was faint but getting closer, which was surprising as Jill didn’t own a cat. It threw me. I waited too long trying to determine what the sound meant. Then I heard other noises I recognised. Jill was heading towards the room I was in. By accident I let the box fall. It made a slapping sound as it hit the sideboard. Jill must have heard that! My mind raced. I’d never get out and over the side gate before she saw me; the helpful bins were on the other side. So I did all I could in the time available—I dived behind her sofa.

The sofa was long, designed for three to sit on, and old. Its back was made out of three padded sections supported by a series of wooden slats, however, the padding had withered and the three sections no longer formed a snug block. By pushing my fingers between two of the sections I formed a slit that let me see the rest of the room. I held my breath and waited for Jill to appear. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this.

The mistress strode through the doorway. She looked just as I had imagined her; tall, commanding and beautiful beyond compare. Her dark hair settled gently on her white shoulders and bounced with every step she took in her high-heeled boots. I wanted to play with it, run my fingers through it, bury myself in it, but some ember of sanity held me back. She was dressed in a similar fashion to her screen character: tight, black corset; elbow-length, black gloves and matching, diamond encrusted wrist bands and chocker. In her left hand she held a thin, black chord which passed out back into the front room. It was clearly attached to another person. The mistress had looked back as she entered.

“This way, my pet,” she’d said, as if speaking to an animal.

Jill followed her in on all fours. Part of me wanted to laugh but terror, real terror, griped me first. She wore bands around her ankles and wrists to which the cat bells I’d heard were attached. The leash, as I now saw it, was tethered to a collar around Jill’s neck. Her thick, black hair, which she always wore up, was wild and loose and perched on her head was a pair of fake cat ears! Her eyes were heavy with mascara and her lips were unnaturally red. Otherwise, she was naked. Miss White, my mom’s best friend, the woman who had babysat me and still babysat my kid brother was naked and bound to another woman and looked incredibly ecstatic about it. I shuddered as I realised what they had both been doing upstairs together as I searched for the DVD. How could Mom not know about this side of her best friend after so many years? What were the chances of me seeing Jill’s mistress on... the DVD! The answer made me giddy. Maybe Jill had never felt this way before seeing the DVD. Even the small bit I saw made me ache with desire for Jill’s mistress and I had never felt anything towards a female before. I thought it was impossible but this stranger in black must have found a way to make subliminal commands work. I had only seen a few seconds of the film but my damp panties, pert breasts and presence behind Jill’s sofa showed how powerful the DVD’s influence had been. Poor Jill had probably watched it all; had she been able to stop once she started?

My mom’s best friend closed on her new mistress and nuzzled up to her. She made purring sounds that made her conqueror laugh mirthlessly.

“You like you mistress don’t you, Jill?”

“Oh yes! I love you. I must please you, Mistress.”

I felt queasy from a mixture of nausea, fear and arousal. I’d pushed the fingers of my left hand into my panties to ease the throbbing demands there. Part of me longed to crawl out from behind the sofa and fall at the mistress’s feet just like Professor Cumlick.

“Now where is my wonderful DVD, my pet? You never did say how you got it.”

My hot body turned icy cold at those words. Please, I silently begged Jill, please don’t tell her. For Mom’s sake, for all the times Mom’s been there for you and been you best friend, don’t answer this woman you’ve known for less than a day.

“It’s over there, Mistress, on the sideboard.”

I prayed she’d say no more, as sweat ran in my eyes.

“The film came from a friend’s house. I don’t know how she got hold of it.”

“Who?”

And she told her mistress everything: Mom’s name, where I lived and then she mentioned me. The mistress cocked an eyebrow.

“Do tell.”

I tried to close my ears as Jill described both my Mom and me. Had Jill thought of us in those terms before she’d been turned into a lesbian? I was stunned at the pleasure I felt on hearing Jill tell her mistress how hot I was. I concentrated on my rhythmic manipulation of my damp sex, not too fast to trigger an orgasm yet not too slow to be useless, but I could still hear Jill and see the other woman’s growing interest. I couldn’t blame Miss White really; she’d watched the film. I doubted I could disobey the mistress if she ever turned her autocratic voice on me.

“They sound like a nice pair to add to my collection,” she said when Jill finished, as though Mom and I were earrings. “Perhaps I should wander over there in case there is some more property of mine waiting to be collected.”

Was that how easy it was... see the DVD and wait for the mistress to claim you? I missed Jill stand up. She whispered something into her mistress’s ear that made the other woman emit that cold laughter again.

“Yes,” she said, “property just like you.”

“Mistress!” Jill shrieked. “The case is open! I closed it and put it face down here.”

“Shit!” I though. I don’t swear often, even in my mind, but what else could I think?

“And the French windows are open,” the mistress noted.

“No!” my mind screamed.

Jill dashed to the windows, bell’s jingling, and lock them closed. She handed the little key to her mistress.

“It looks like we disturbed our burglar and she has flow,” the sinfully beautiful stranger declared. “But which one was she? The mother or the daughter?”

“How do you know it wasn’t one of the others, Mistress?” Jill asked.

The woman yanked the leash and made her unfortunate slave fall back to her knees.

“Because my commands do not affect men. One of the women must have seen some of the film. What else would drive her to burgle your home?”

“Colleges shouldn’t have finished yet, Mistress,” Jill said pointing at a wall clock.

“So it’s the mother.”

The woman savoured that sentence.

“But if she were affected she wouldn’t give the film to me, Mistress.”

“My God!” I realised, “Jill knows she’s been hypnotised yet is still acting like a willing sex slave.”

“No,” I corrected myself. “She’s not acting.”

“Fool!”

A vicious tug on the leash accompanied the exclamation.

“She gave you Casablanca. Clearly she didn’t know what she was doing.”

A slender, gloved hand scooped up the DVD box.

“I’m sure she will be overjoyed when I return her favourite film.”

She dropped the leash.

“As for you, pet. I suggest you change back into your humdrum life until I summon you.”

Jill wriggled on the floor to kiss the other woman’s boots and uttered her absolute obedience. The mistress turned on her heels and left. Jill scrambled after her. I didn’t wait for them to reach the front door. I was out from behind that sofa and across to the French windows in seconds. I tried them gently; they held. Then more firmly. Still they didn’t yield. I had to save Mom! I was considering forcing them when the doorbell rang. I darted back to my safe haven behind the sofa and waited. Perhaps the woman had forgotten something upstairs or changed her mind when she realised what time she’d reach my house. It was too much to hope that it might be Mom instead come to fetch me and it was too early to be my dad or brother. Then I knew, with bleak certainty, it would be my mistress-to-be because she had discovered who had visited Jill today and that I hadn’t left, as she had thought, when she saw, propped up against her car, my girl’s bike.