The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Charlotte made to protest, but already Lady Arabella’s fingers were stroking the sides of her small breasts. She did not, in any case like to refuse her, Lady Arabella did have such a commanding voice and it was so lovely on the island in the middle of the silver pool. She was not sure she could refuse had she been minded to. It was if her own will had become subject to this formidable woman from the past. The night felt mysterious and, since she had started down the stairs, had seemed to her to have a sense of naughtiness in it. Why should she not feel the caress of another woman and return the favour? She closed her eyes.

The stroking fingers began to have an effect. The coldness of the water had caused her little nipples to erect but now the insistent stroking caused the blood to harden them. Charlotte gasped as Lady Arabella’s fingers, having worked their way closer and closer to the areolae, now rubbed her hard nipples sending little electric shivers through her body. She felt, as she did when her own young hands played with her breasts, her sex begin to moisten and her secret lips to swell.

Charlotte opened her eyes and looked at Lady Arabella’s breasts. She needed to return the favour. With trepidation she reached out and repeated the stroking her own breasts had received but, of course, there was much more to stroke and play with as Lady Arabella’s breasts were so much more mature. Indeed, not only were her breasts much larger, but so too were her nipples.

“Suck them m’dear,” said Lady Arabella, again not so much as a request but a command.

For the first time since she had been a baby, Charlotte took a nipple into her mouth. Her own breasts were not large enough to let her suck her own nipples though she had tried pulling the larger breast (her right) to her mouth but she had not even been able to lick the tip of the pulled nipple with her tongue. A disappointment. She ran her tongue around Lady Arabella’s nipple and sucked it, areole as well, into her pretty mouth. Lady Arabella moaned, opening and closing her thighs. Charlotte played with Lady Arabella’s breasts for some time, burying her face in the valley, the oft-admired cleavage, trying to take two nipples into her mouth at one time (and succeeding) and licking the red cherries until they shone wetly in the moonlight.

Lady Arabella got up and eased Charlotte down onto her back so she lay on the grass. She stood over Charlotte looking down at the young girl before lowering herself to sit astride the now prone Charlotte’s hips. For the first time their thickets of hair were touching albeit only just, the dark and the fair curls mingling a little and exchanging dampness. She lent forward and kissed Charlotte full on the lips. Charlotte was a little surprised but allowed her lips to part to admit the questing tongue. She had not kissed full on the mouth before and was inexperienced in the dance of tongues: but she began to learn.

From Charlotte’s mouth Lady Arabella’s experienced lips and tongue moved to her little breasts coaxing more excitement and pleasure from Charlotte who wriggled this way and that under the stimulating onslaught. Lady Arabella bit on Charlotte’s little right nipple causing her to squeal and yet more moisture to drip into the wet folds between her legs. Lady Arabella rolled to the side of Charlotte and began to stroke her dark curls and run her finger down Charlotte’s little slit. She teased her making her fingers venture out onto the smooth skin of Charlotte’s thighs, skin silky wet with the moisture from her sex, but not touching the lips and then retreating to the sparse dark hairs.

“Shall I touch you there?” said Lady Arabella, “Would you like that, I know you will and I shall do it!” Her fingers ran over the edge of the outer lips and into the hot wet pool of Charlotte’s sex. Charlotte’s hips began to buck of their own accord naturally finding the motions of sex, trying to push the teasing fingers into her. Lady Arabella kissed her on the lips. “Slowly, my sweet miss, slowly. It is your turn to stir my honey pot.” The teasing fingers were withdrawn. Through the haze of arousal and, obedient to Lady Arabella’s command, Charlotte turned to look at Lady Arabella’s splayed legs and open sex. She touched the riot of fair curls seeking the slit, as Lady Arabella had done. The curls were damp and, as Charlotte bent for a closer look, the warm wet scent of aroused woman came to her nostrils. In the silvery moonlight she could see the details of her companion’s sex and set to play as Lady Arabella had played with her. The softness to the touch, the wetness and the complexity of Lady Arabella’s folds fascinated her. Gently with the fingers of both hands she pulled the long lips of the labia minor apart revealing Lady Arabella’s own entrance and her aroused and prominent clitoris.

“Come on girl, you know what to do.”

Charlotte’s fingers moved inwards, stroking and playing as she had so often done with herself and as Lady Arabella had so recently done to her. She pushed a pair of fingers into Lady Arabella, into Lady Arabella’s accommodating vagina. Her fingers slipped in easily, it was much more open than her own tight vagina, but of course it had been much practised upon. She ventured towards Lady Arabella’s prominent clitoris and was surprised not only by the feel of its size and hardness but also by the violent reaction of the lady herself to the first touch. Lady Arabella’s hips bucked and she grabbed for Charlotte pulling her down tightly on top of her so their pubic bones and covering of curls were tightly together. Charlotte found herself locked in a tight embrace, mouths together and Lady Arabella struggling to rub her sex against Charlotte so that her tender folds were pulled and excited to bring her to orgasm. A sudden tensing of Lady Arabella’s body indicated to Charlotte that orgasm had come,

“Oh my sweet, what bliss, what rapture. Now, of course, when I recover, I must do the same for you and, moreover, I must taste you. Once more Lady Arabella kissed her on the lips, “there are other lips to kiss you know.” Charlotte was unsure what she meant but was puzzled for only a moment before Lady Arabella knelt between her legs and gently put her arms under Charlotte’s thighs and pulled them upwards, opening her thighs, opening her sex and bringing it close to her face. She bent forward and to Charlotte’s surprise, even shock, kissed her right between her legs.

“But...” said Charlotte but then the delightful feeling, the wonderful sensation of a tongue swirling around the entrance to her vagina came to her. The excitement of not knowing where the tongue would venture next. “Ooh, I, oh yes, Lady Arabella.” It was just too good, Charlotte found herself squeezing her own nipples as Lady Arabella continued to nibble her secret places, moving steadily closer to her own little clitoris. The feeling was building.

Across the pool a fox could be seen coming silently across the lawns. It paused sniffing the air and listening. Something was different tonight, something it was not used to. It turned and retreated back the way it had come, unsure but prudent. The sound of a cry from the island in the pool caused it to break into a run. Charlotte had orgasmed.

The two women lay on the grass on the little island in the middle of the pool looking out over the water to the house silhouetted in the moonlight. The air was warm and still and the night surprisingly quiet.

“This has always been a favourite place of mine,” said Lady Arabella, “as a young girl I used to gaze upon the isle and wish to reach it. I had it remodelled when I became mistress.”

“It is my favourite too. But how do you come to be...”

“Oh nothing, nothing you don’t need to ask that. Ah, we have the night and what a wonderful night. Look at that moon. Come let us bathe.”

Charlotte watched Lady Arabella swimming for the shore before she too slipped once more into the cool water. It felt so soft on her skin as again she felt the freedom of swimming naked, free of the constrictions of a swim suit or bikini, being as one with nature. She resolved in future to swim naked in the daytime when others were not around, to be free, a veritable child of nature. She broke into a crawl for the sheer pleasure of the idea and swam, a lithe silvery fish in the moonlight, a circuit right around the island before joining Lady Arabella on the bank.

“Come, let us walk as we dry.” Lady Arabella took her hand and they set off across the lawns. It still felt strange but exciting to Charlotte to be walking hand in hand with another naked woman around the grounds in the moonlight. The grass was dry underfoot, the summer had been long and there was little moisture around to cause a dew, one of those rare but perfect English nights when one can sit out long into the evening and beyond without feeling cold from a creeping dampness in the air.

Lady Arabella’s hand fondled her bottom, squeezing her cheeks, running her fingers in and around the dimples at the top and even running her finger over Charlotte’s little bottom hole.

They brushed against some low bushes that released a powerful scent upon the night air, the scent of an aromatic oil.

“I love the scent of lavender,” said Lady Arabella, “let us return to the house, to your bed. I long to make love to you again, my dear girl, on the softness of a feather bed between linen sheets scented with lavender.” She pulled off sprigs of lavender and handed them to Charlotte. “Take these, we shall sprinkle the linen.”

Hand in hand they walked to the house and ascended the moonlit stairs back to Charlotte’s room. Lady Arabella was in charge. Under her instruction the bed was strewn with the lavender and Lady Arabella lay down in the middle evidently relishing the comfort sinking her head into the pillows. Naked her pose was not one of modesty, far from it, her thighs a little apart in a picture of abandonment and availability.

“Come my sweet, it is time for you to favour me with that pretty mouth of yours.” Her thighs opened a little wider, “A little nibble, you—know what to do.”

Charlotte did as she was bid. She got up onto the bed and put her head between Lady Arabella’s thighs; she paused, this was not something she had done before. There, before her, inches from her face were the warm wet folds of Lady Arabella’s sex that she had been told to lick, suck and nibble just as Lady Arabella had done for her. Tentatively she stuck her tongue out and made contact, it was warm, wet and slightly tart on her tongue. The warm damp scent came to her and she leant forward brushing her lips across Lady Arabella’s sex. Charlotte began to use her tongue in earnest, Lady Arabella’s thighs closed around her head enveloping Charlotte in a warm, wet, scented world. She felt very comfortable, secure and happy as she explored Lady Arabella with her tongue, running the tip around the bud of her clitoris or pushing it as far as she could right into Lady Arabella. She was surprised at the gushing wetness, revealing Lady Arabella’s excitement and pleasure at Charlotte’s work. Rising wet faced and smiling she kissed her friend, a long deep passionate kiss as Lady Arabella drew Charlotte to her, their breasts touching and their secret curls once more mingling. The kiss was long. Charlotte was unsure what would or could come next.

Drawing apart Charlotte stared at Lady Arabella’s magnificent breasts. She did so wish her own were larger. As she looked she noticed something odd, something unexpected, a hint of wetness, a patch of milky wetness seemed to be seeping from Lady Arabella’s engorged right nipple. A patch, no a bubble of white fluid obscured part of the ruby red nipple but surely it could not really be milk? As she watched the bubble grew and dripped falling onto the sheets. Lady Arabella looked down, “Oh dear me, that happens when you girls make me excited. Oh sweet Charlotte why not touch and see what results?”

Charlotte, intrigued, reached out and gently squeezed the breast, a spray of opaque fluid shot from the nipple across Charlotte’s chest. Lady Arabella sharply drew in her breath at the feeling, “yes, yes again.” Charlotte squeezed and was rewarded with another spray. Fascinated she reached out for the other breast and watched as both breasts produced, covering her chest with a fine milky film. It was indeed milk, Lady Arabella was squirting milk. It began to drip uncontrollably, the drips forming on the red nipples, turning to rivulets and slipping down under her breasts and across her stomach.

“Suck them, quick,” commanded Lady Arabella. Charlotte was not loath to try, she wondered what human milk tasted like, how warm and fresh it would be compared to bottled cows’ milk from the ‘fridge, and the naughtiness of the act excited her. She bent to comply, sucking just the teat between her lips and, using an instinctive technique, one she had not used for some fifteen years, began to draw the milk from Lady Arabella’s breasts. Lady Arabella, in her turn, was beside herself with pleasure. It had always been her joy to have her milky breasts worked by young girls. Of course in her time there might have been one young girl to each teat and another between her thighs. They had been happy days, so very long ago.

Charlotte longed to have Lady Arabella suck milk from her own little breasts but they, of course, did not produce. “Please, please pretend Lady Arabella,” she said. Lady Arabella was only too happy to oblige, she loved the feel of a young breasts, to tease them with her mouth and tongue, holding the little buds between her teeth and pulling. She played with the little breasts licking her own milk from Charlotte’s chest where the spray of milk had landed.

Charlotte was so excited; she did not pause to fathom the mystery of Lady Arabella’s breasts. Why a woman who had, apparently, eschewed men should lactate so freely?

“Come, let us nibble each other together, let us put lips to lips and play follow the leader. What I do, you are to follow. I shall lie on the bed and you shall lie atop o’ me but reversed. A great intimacy. Yes, that is it.”

Charlotte realised that she was to once more place her face between Lady Arabella’s thighs but to lie in the soixante-neuf position so that her own sex was available to Lady Arabella’s darting tongue and questing lips.

Crouching over the prostrate woman, her own face inches from the soft curls and open thighs, Charlotte gently lowered her own sex towards the older woman’s face. She had never felt so sexually excited before, it seemed as if her little clit was pulsing, as if it was throbbing. Any second now, she thought, a wet tongue would make contact with her. The anticipation was intense, all she had to do was lower herself. She had never felt so wet, was she actually, could she actually be dripping onto Lady Arabella? Charlotte lent forward, her own tongue coming out from between her lips ready to pleasure her friend. The wet warm smell came strongly to her nostrils. She lowered herself and at the very moment her tongue touched Lady Arabella she felt a tongue touch her. She shuddered, the muscles of her soft young thighs quivered, she sank a little further and her head was gently clasped by older and stronger thighs. Charlotte was already close to coming, and the intimate kiss of lips to lips had hardly begun. The night would be long and her orgasms plentiful.

Charlotte awoke slowly, a gradual dawning of consciousness, and half opened her eyes. Was it just a dream? Was it all in her mind? Charlotte looked up at the portrait; it was lovely and the dress so pretty but to dream of making love, wild passionate love with... a woman! What could she have been dreaming of? She did not think she was attracted to women so what spell had Lady Arabella exercised over her? How had she been so controlled, so directed? But it had been a lovely, oh so exciting and fun dream. Lady Arabella had been so real, still seemed so real to her, and so alive, so much a presence, so full of fun and, certainly, sex.

She closed her eyes and in her head Charlotte replayed the whole story of the dream, the surprise of Lady Arabella’s presence, the trying on of the beautiful blue dress, the midnight swim, the events on the island and the long dalliance back in her own bed. She had been very naughty. Charlotte sighed, what a strange birthday present, she did not think she could, or would, ever forget that dream. It had been so real, so colourful, so sensuous, so intimate, so very, very unlike anything she had experienced. Below her she could hear the everyday sounds of the household waking up; the usual pleasing smell of bacon and toast wafted into the room.

“Time for my shower, Lady Arabella,” she said looking up at the portrait. Charlotte laughed, “I wonder what you were really like, what it would actually be like to talk to you? But I shall never know.” She pulled back the bedclothes and froze, seeing, scattered across the sheets, pieces of fresh lavender, their scent, released by the opening of the warm sheets, rising to overpower the smell of breakfast and reveal, to a shocked girl on her seventeenth birthday, that it had not been a dream at all. Charlotte’s eyes, now very wide open indeed, slowly rose to stare at the portrait on the wall.