The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

That evening I sat and watched my tape of ‘A Clockwork Orange’—I do so love that movie—and waited for Karen to show up. Mom was dusting the living room, nude as usual.

I guess that bears some explaining. Dear readers, while I had been programming Karen these weeks, I had been doing similar work with Mom. She never wore clothing around the house anymore, which was a treat, since Mom had lovely C-cup teardrop breasts and a body that, by dint of hard work and ruthless dieting, was as nice as Karen’s. Mom’s coloring was different, brown hair and dark eyes, and she was an inch taller than Karen, but at the age of 37, she was still a knockout.

She now did the dusting, which had been my chore before. She also cleaned my room, scrubbed the toilets, and took out the trash, all of which had been my chores. I had used a much lighter touch with Mom than with Karen, but nevertheless, by now she had signed over the title to her BMW to me, put my name on all her bank accounts, credit cards, and stocks, and generally given me complete control of her money and her life. At home, she was my personal maid and cook. Her programming made her very happy with her new subservient role. Fourteen months after that holiday season, when I turned 18, she signed over the deed to the house to me...but that is getting ahead of my story.

Anyway, Mom was dusting, and I had just gotten to the part of the movie where Alex gets the Ludovico treatment, when the doorbell rang. Mom jumped up, startled, breasts bouncing delightfully. I never got tired of watching that.

“Master, are you expecting someone?”

“Yes I am, Mom, it’s OK.”

“Oh, I have to go put something on!” She was turning and heading for the stairs when I told her to stop. I told her she was at home, and safe, and that she was beautiful and there was no need to hide her body. Mom calmed down and waited to receive our guest. I was fully clothed, in case you are wondering.

I opened the door and there stood my Karen. “May I come in?” she asked shyly.

She certainly could. At school, Karen’s outfits had gotten more daring, to the point that she was getting long looks from the boys and frowns of disapproval from the principal, but to date she hadn’t crossed the line of impropriety. Here, in my living room, she had sailed right past that line. My little lovedoll was wearing an exceedingly short and tight spandex skirt, and a tube top that was stretched to the limit by her big juicy tits. She had more makeup than I’d seen on her before, and her hair was teased and styled to the max. She looked like a whore. She also looked like my wet dreams come to life.

Karen went pale when she saw my mother standing nude in the living room. “Tom, uh, Master, I didn’t—who’s this?”

“That’s my Mom, Karen. Mom doesn’t like to wear clothes, and she’s not ashamed of her body, so she goes bare at home. Isn’t that right, Mom?”

Mom smiled a smile of warm, affectionate greeting. “Yes, Master. Clothes just seem to bother me these days. By the way,” as she extended a hand to Karen, “my name’s Cindy.”

“P-Pleasure to meet you, Cindy.”

I stepped over and threw an arm around each of their shoulders. Then I looked at Karen and said, “Why don’t you get out of your clothes, too? You’ll be much more comfortable.”

Karen immediately looked nervous. Then my Mom chimed in, calm and reassuring as always: “Yes, dear, why don’t you? You’re very beautiful.”

Karen relaxed and peeled her clothes off. As I had hoped, no panties. As I saw my mother and teacher in their nakedness, interesting thoughts sprang to my head—but no need to rush things. Mom broke up my daydream by taking Karen’s hand and saying, “Come, dear, let me fix you a drink.”

We had a pleasant evening, my two naked beauties and I. Mom made us all pasta for dinner. We talked about many subjects, although I noticed Karen seemed to get a little lost when Mom started talking about current events. Actually, she used more one-syllable words than usual and generally came off as air-headed. It looked like my hypnotic and subliminal suggestions aimed at dulling her intelligence were working.

One interesting moment came as Mom was breaking an apple pie out of the fridge for dessert. The conversation was slowing, so I decided to do a little fact-finding. “So, Karen, what do you want to do with your life?”

Our guest looked surprised, then knitted her brow in concentration. “I don’t know. I used to know, I think. There was a guy I was engaged to; at least I think we were. He was going to be a minister and we were going to have babies, but that all seems like a dream. I can’t even remember his name. Now I want to be with Master and serve him.” She put a hand on my knee. “I guess that’s what I want to do.”

Mom beamed. “That’s wonderful! You’ll be so happy! I’m so proud of Tom. He’s grown into a fine young man and a kind Master. He’ll take good care of you.”

I was pleased by Mom’s compliment and thrilled by Karen’s confession. My efforts to make Karen a submissive, destroy her free will, and wipe out her memories of her past were obviously working.

We continued chatting after dinner; then Karen entertained us with some of her old cheerleading routines from college. Dear readers, cheerleading is much improved when the girl is naked. As I watched those big tits bouncing and that perfect ass wiggling at me, I knew I had to have a release.

Karen finished off her last “Tigers, Tigers, fight fight fight!” and curtseyed as Mom and I applauded politely. Then I motioned for her to come over to me.

“Karen, there’s something I need you to do.” I unzipped my fly and pulled out my cock, which is average sized but that night seemed harder than it had ever been. Mom arched her eyebrows in surprise. “Blow me, slave.” She gulped, took a deep breath, and took my cock in her mouth.

She had been a shy, demure Christian girl, remember, so I thought she might be inexperienced at giving head. Karen sucked cock like a pro. It occurred to me that she and Don, since they thought premarital sex was a sin, might have found other ways to be intimate. What mattered was how it felt. There I was, in the easy chair, legs spread to allow Karen access as she knelt on the floor before me. I heard moaning, and I looked over to see Mom watching us and rubbing her pussy furiously. Down below, Karen went up and down my shaft. Her blond hair fell all around as she licked and sucked. As she pulled back to my tip and twirled her tongue on the underside, she gazed up at me with a look of love.

Mom came with a shout. Karen came soon after from fingering herself—part of her programming was to orgasm easily—but she didn’t even break speed as she moved up and down my shaft, going fast now, sucking hard, sucking like all she wanted in the world was to make me come. I felt it build, and at the last second I reached down and pulled her head away, so I could spurt all over her face.

Karen looked stunned. I took a second to regain my wits, then told her “That was great, honey.” She brightened visibly. Globs of my cum hung from her face. “Clean yourself off and swallow, Karen.” Slowly, as if in a dream, she scooped each blob of semen off her face and swallowed. “Now lick me clean.” She complied, then sat quietly and waited for instructions.

“Sleep time, Little Karen.” I dismissed Mom, gave Karen an injection, and continued. “Karen, from now on you’re going to be even more horny, more than you’ve ever been. It will be very hard to think about anything other than sex, or pleasing me. Whenever you try to think about other things you’ll get confused and worried. Nothing will make sense to you. You’ll find it impossible to concentrate. Thinking about other things will make you unhappy and afraid. But when you think about me, about how you can please me, or how you can serve me, you will be very happy. You want to be my slave. You don’t want to think. The outside is scary and confusing, Karen, but when you let me control you, you are safe and happy and content.

“You are going to forget things. Everything in your life before you met me will start to fade away. It’s like all your life was a dream, a scary, frightening dream when there was no one to protect you and control you. But then you woke up, and you were my slave, and everything was right. You love me. You are safe with me. You want to serve me. I am your Master. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good, good. On the count of three you will awaken...”

The next week was the last one before Christmas break, and it was a very interesting one. From my seat in Home Ec class I got to watch my mental conditioning of Karen take deep root. That week was supposed to be one of intensive review for the health and nutrition exam we were to take on Friday, but it didn’t happen. Karen couldn’t give the lectures. She’d stand up before the class and start talking about high cholesterol, or how to keep your blood pressure low, but after a few minutes she’d lose her train of thought and stand there looking confused and more than a little bit scared. Then she’d refer to her notes or the textbook and start again, only to forget again. Even worse was when a student would ask her a question about HDLs vs. LDLs, or the effect of body weight on blood alcohol level, and she would clearly have no idea. By Wednesday she gave up completely, and we spent the last three classes chatting about hair, makeup, clothes, and sex. The exam was canceled.

Every evening featured a little hypnotic programming session with me and my sex kitten. I had already succeeded in increasing her sex drive to well past nymphomaniac and focusing that sex drive on me. Therefore I spent that week increasing her servility and further reducing her intelligence. The end goal was to make Karen addicted to sex with me and desperate to serve me in any way. As for escape, I wanted to make the very thought of escape alien to her, and I wanted her too dim to figure out how to get away even if it did.

I continued to avoid sex with her during the two weeks between end of first semester and Christmas Day. This was my way of building up her need for me to frenzy. She gave me a blow job every night but I ordered her not to orgasm by any means. I had already arranged for Karen to decline an invitation to her parents’ for Christmas, so on Christmas Eve, when I called and told her to come over, she was quite eager to obey.

Karen arrived at our front door wearing nothing but a robe. I noted with satisfaction that she had shaved her pubic hair as I had ordered. We had a lovely evening, two gorgeous naked women and I drinking eggnog and watching Miracle on 34th Street. Karen clearly craved my cock; she was touching me and fondling me all night. After the movie she gave me a truly superb blow job. Mom was so used to this sight by now that she barely noticed us, instead focusing her attention on the Alastair Sim version of A Christmas Carol (shown, thankfully, in the original black and white). That was when I got my idea, while Karen was sitting at my feet.

“Karen, go over next to Mom.”

She complied. Karen looked a little uncertain, but Mom smiled warmly at her. “Hello, Karen dear.”

“Karen, I want you to go down on Mom.” When she hesitated, I said “Now.”

As Karen kneeled and spread Mom’s legs apart, she looked at me questioningly. “Early Christmas present, Mom”, I said.

Karen dove in and commenced licking. Mom settled back in the chair, head resting on the headrest, eyes shut. “Yes dear. Oh yes. Oh that’s good. Oh...mmmm...”

Karen was obviously working hard, her mouth buried inside Mom. Mom was gripping the arms of the easy chair tightly now, mouth open, crying out from the pleasure: “Oh! Uh...nngh...yes...mmm...Karen...oh God....”

I moved in closer to look. Karen was licking and sucking Mom’s clit with vigor, stimulating it with her tongue and taking it between her lips. Mom looked almost like an epileptic now, kicking out with both legs, breasts bouncing, gasps of pleasure and ragged breaths coming from her open mouth.

Finally Mom grabbed Karen’s head with both hands and shoved her in closer, Mom in a frenzy now, obviously near her peak. “Oh Karen DON’T STOP! Karen Karen yes YES YES! Oh God, I’m coming, Karen, YES YES YES!”

Mom looked like someone had given her an electric shock. Karen sat at her feet, waiting, until Mom said “Dear, that was wonderful” and I sent a very happy Karen off to get herself a glass of water.

Karen slept over that night, on the couch.

We were up bright and early Christmas morning exchanging gifts. Mom got me some good stuff, including a DVD player and the complete works of Stanley Kubrick on DVD, which was very sweet of her. I got her some books, a Walkman, a gift certificate to a dress shop, and other items.

I chose Karen’s gifts with care. I got her a slave collar, some new high heels, fishnet stockings, perfume, books entitled How to Be Submissive and How to Please a Man, and two bras with cutout nipples. She seemed grateful.

She gave me only one present. It was a leather-bound miniature photo album filled with nude photos of her. Some were tasteful. Some were not. I looked at her in surprise, and she said with a shy voice, “I had a photographer do them last weekend.”

We had hot cider and talked for a while, and then it was time to give Karen her last present. I took off the pajamas I was wearing and stood before her, naked (now everyone was), with Mom watching from the couch. Karen looked at my cock for a few moments, then dropped to her knees.

“No”, I said. “On your back.”

Karen’s face lit up with joy as she hit the carpet. “Yes, Master!” she cried. Soon I was on top of her, and without a bit of foreplay, I slid myself inside her. Her eyes went wide as I entered, and then her face froze with pain as I took her virginity. Soon, however, her desire for me took over, and she was riding waves of pleasure. I was riding her, arms supporting my weight, my chest rubbing on her tits as I pounded away inside. Karen’s legs were spread wide apart, her feet crossed together behind my hips and pressing against me, as if she wished to push me inside her even harder. Then she uncrossed her feet and planted them on the floor and started pushing against me, her hips thrusting against me, driving me deeper inside her.

Karen was slick with sweat. Grunts and moans came out of her mouth. Her body rocked with mine, back arched, breasts crushed against my chest. Her fingers trailed up and down my back and then grabbed my cheeks and pulled me into her, and it seemed I went deeper still. Karen’s thighs flexed as she pushed off the floor against me. Her eyes flew open and locked on mine, and I saw inside them hunger and lust. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she screamed as her orgasm hit her. I came too, an orgasm that I felt all the way to my toes, and it seemed like I would come forever, shooting geysers into her. I cried out as well, then collapsed on top of Karen’s writhing body.

After taking several seconds to catch my breath, I lifted myself up to look in her face. We had not moved; I was still inside her. She looked at me as if from far away, then kissed me. She fell back, lips trembling, and she seemed to use the last of her strength to push two words out from her mouth.

“Thank you.”

We showered together, and then the three of us dined on Mom’s Christmas turkey. Then we sent Karen home.

The next day I was bored, so I decided to head on over to Karen’s. I would have liked to move her in with us but it would have been difficult to keep that a secret, and above all I did not want to draw attention to what I’d done to Karen. So fairly early that morning, I hopped into the BMW and zipped over to her apartment. I didn’t bother to call—what would be the point?—and I let myself in with Karen’s spare key. Dear readers, I was quite surprised by what I saw.

Karen’s suitcase lay open on the living room coffee table. A large amount of clothing was piled in a heap inside it. More clothing was strewn all over the apartment. Actually, it looked like a tornado had hit Karen’s closet. Next to the suitcase lay a tattered road map and the keys to her dilapidated ‘91 Nissan Sentra. Karen seemed confused. She had her shoes and socks on and laced, but otherwise she was naked. She was holding a bra in her left hand and wandering around the room, but not actually accomplishing anything. It was as if she had no idea what to do next. I watched my lovely bounce around the room for a few moments, and then I spoke.

“Karen, what are you doing?”

She froze, then turned to face me. She looked petrified. Her eyes were red from weeping. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t find her voice. I interjected again.

“Karen, are you going somewhere?”

Her fear seemed to deepen. When she spoke it was in a barely audible whisper. “I...I have to go.”

“Why are you leaving, honey?”

She started to sob. “You. You’ve done something to me.”

“Have I really? What have I done?”

Karen was having difficulty speaking. Her voice quavered and fresh tears were running down her cheeks. “I don’t—I don’t know. I didn’t used to be this way. I was a teacher. You hypnotized me after class one day, and everything started to....". She broke down in a fit of tears.

I tried to be reassuring. “Karen, you can’t go anywhere. You belong to me. Your place is here, with me, as my slave. It’s pointless to resist.”

A tear fell from her cheek onto her left breast. I watched it roll down the slope of that round, beautiful, gorgeous 38D tit and stop at her perfect nipple with its small areola. The nipple was erect. She tore her eyes away from mine and looked down at her shoes. “I have to...I can’t let you...I have to go home....”

“Karen, where is your home? Do you remember?”

She looked up at me in surprise. Her mouth opened and she took in a breath as if she was about to say something, but she suddenly stopped. She paused for a moment, trying to recall, and then burst out crying harder than before. She couldn’t remember.

I took her in that my arms. She nestled close against me, crying inconsolably. Her breasts pressed against my shirt. She literally cried on my shoulder, begging between tears, “Please. Please have mercy.”

I stroked her golden hair. “It’s too late, baby. I want you, and I’m going to have you. Don’t worry, Karen. You’ll be very happy.” I threw a robe around her, and led her out the front door to my car.

I had planned this crucial phase of her programming for a while, and luckily all was ready. I hadn’t planned to do it this soon. I had hoped it would not be necessary, but Karen’s little spark of resistance had to be snuffed out, and there was no reason to wait.

One word to Mom, and she left the house for a three-day getaway. I took Karen to the bathroom, where she relieved herself, then took off her shoes and discarded the robe. She was very docile, following me with her hand in mine. I put her into trance and led her to the basement.

Our house was in a rural, otherwise wooded area at the end of a 2-lane trail off the main road. Of course, no neighbor could have heard what went on in the basement anyway. In the center of the basement there was a wooden chair. I sat Karen down in the chair, then fastened the straps around her ankles, wrists, neck, and head. In the center of the seat was a line of holes to accept the screws for what I was installing on the seat: a dildo on a small stand. I inserted the dildo gently, very gently, into Karen, and screwed the base down into the seat. This way, she was free to move, but she’d have to rub herself against the dildo if she did.

I put a gag into her mouth, and then brought her out of trance. If she had been frightened before, the look in her eyes now, when she woke up, was pure abject terror. I spoke quickly: “Karen, you’re in our basement. Mom is out of town, and our nearest neighbor is a quarter-mile down the road. There’s no point in screaming, OK?” I took the gag out. She was silent. “Now honey, the less you fight, the quicker it will be.”

Then I turned on the strobe light, injected her with the CIA drug cocktail, pressed PLAY on the tape player, and headed for the door. As I swung it open she suddenly shrieked, “No, Tom! No, please, don’t!”

I shut it behind me.

Dear readers, it was very important that she be awake for this last stage, for it was time to break her conscious mind. The CIA mind-control drug, while it did make her very, very suggestible, left her conscious. The tape was playing Karen’s own voice, recorded previously in hypnotic sessions, saying the same things I had been saying to her subliminally and during hypnosis for six weeks: “Tom is my Master. I want to please my Master. My Master thinks for me. I love Master. I want to fuck Master.” Variations on a theme. While this played aloud, a second track played the same message subliminally. This way I could program her conscious and subconscious minds at the same time. The strobe light was meant to disorient her and deny her sleep, but I did not anticipate this lasting more than a few hours, with the influence of the drug and all the conditioning I had already done.

I could not have been more wrong. The drug coursing through her veins had turned trained KGB agents into zombies during the Cold War, but Karen found some hidden well of strength inside her. I watched and sometimes listened on a closed-circuit monitor (had to sell of some of Mom’s stock portfolio to buy this equipment). She fought loudly for the first few hours. Sometimes she would beg: “Please! Please God let me out of here!” Sometimes she would shout: “Help! Somebody help me! I’m in the basement!” Sometimes she was defiant: “You can’t do this to me! I won’t let you!” I wouldn’t have dreamed she had anything close to this much will to resist. Her cries lasted sporadically into the night.

Before midnight, she started to get tired. I was tired too, but Karen would get no sleep until she was broken. Around 12, I gave her a bottle of water and another injection. As the night wore on to morning, her voice faded to a dull moan, but I could still hear it: “...no, no...help...stop...please...” All the while, her other voice played on the tape on continuous loop: “I want to make Master happy. Master keeps me safe. Tom is my Master.”

Ten the next morning, 26 hours, another water bottle and injection number three. I was dead on my feet, drinking coffee by the gallon to stay alert, catching naps when I could. Karen was hollow-eyed, approaching breakdown. Her head lolled in the restraints. She wasn’t talking anymore, just moaning, moaning without words.

Six that night, 34 hours, bottle number three and injection number four. Karen was muttering under her breath when I came in. I had to lean in close before I realized she was repeating the words on the tape. “I love to fuck Master. I am Master’s fuck toy. I must obey Master.” It wouldn’t be long now.

Two hours later. I had dozed off in my chair. I awoke and turned the audio on and heard grunting and heavy breathing. The monitor showed Karen enthusiastically thrusting herself on the dildo and having a fierce orgasm.

I entered the basement, clicked on the overhead light, and turned off the strobe and the tape. Karen settled back in her chair limply, staring at me with watery eyes and whispering “Master Master Master....”

I delicately withdrew the dildo, unfastened the straps, and helped Karen up. She smiled at me, kneeled, and fumbled for my zipper. “Karen, don’t you want something to drink?” She pulled the zipper down silently. “Karen, I have food for you.” She pulled my erection out. “Karen, don’t you want to go to sleep?” Karen took me in her mouth. She gave me a fantastic blow job, swallowing every drop. After she was done, I fed her a grilled chicken sandwich and some water and put her to bed. She slept for fifteen hours.

She was all mine. Epilogue

That was twenty months ago. I just graduated high school, and in a couple of weeks I’ll be going to a well-known Technical Institute to earn my degree in computer science. After that I’ll get a job working for a software company. I don’t really need a job, with Mom and Karen earning money for me, but it will give me something to do. I still do a little hacking in my spare time. Last night I hacked into the secret files of the Republican National Committee and found out that Ralph Nader is one of their paid operatives. Who knew?

Mom is the same she was that December. She still works as a CPA. After work she comes home, takes off her clothes, and becomes my servant, fulfilling my every need and catering to my every whim. I still control all her assets, of course, but I’ve done a good job managing them. Mom is very happy.

Karen never taught again, of course. She works part-time as a stripper downtown. I didn’t use the CIA cocktail anymore, but we still had several sessions where I fine-tuned her programming and blanked out her past. I was worried about her parents. Surely they would come looking for her eventually, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with that, so I took a chance and sent them a video of Karen stripping at a club, as well of the pictures of her that I sold to Internet porn sites.

Dear readers, it worked beautifully. Karen’s Bible-thumping parents disowned their hell-bound daughter. By now, Karen has forgotten her parents, and even forgotten her last name. When the three of us go to college together, she’ll have a new identity, complete with driver’s license and Social Security card. You’d be amazed what you can get if you’re willing to spend. With her new identity, and no knowledge of her link to Mom and I, her parents will be hard-pressed to find her, if they ever do look.

Yes, Mom and Karen are going to college with me. I couldn’t possibly leave my beauties behind. I gradually regressed Karen to a mental and emotional age of thirteen or so. She still has the skills I deemed useful, but in general she is childlike, very cheerful and affectionate. Her raging nymphomaniac sex drive remains intact, of course, and focused on me, although she and Mom have a pleasant little lesbian relationship that they indulge in on the side.

I have two stories left to relate to you, dear readers. The first came that June, just after junior year had ended. One day I decided to put Karen to her final test. I went to the garage, disconnected the starter on her Nissan, and came back inside. I found her and told her to dress, which she did happily, because that means she’s going out, and she likes going out as long as I am with her.

After she put her dress on I surprised her by pressing the keys to the Nissan and ten $100 bills in her hand. She looked at me in utter befuddlement. “Karen, I’m tired of you. You’ve disappointed me, and I’ve decided I don’t want you around anymore. Take the car and this money and leave. I don’t care where you go, but leave here and don’t come back.” Before she could say a single word, I shoved her out the front door and locked it.

About three seconds later a terrible banshee scream came from the other side of the door. Next came the sounds of Karen beating on the door, scratching at it with her fingernails, and jiggling the knob uselessly. She screamed “Master! Please Master don’t! Don’t send me away! Don’t make me go away, Master! What did I do, Master? Master, PLEASE!”

She was still begging when I opened the door. She collapsed into my arms, hysterical with relief, smothering me with kisses and reaching for my crotch. “Oh Master thank you thank you thank you thank you....”

I smiled down at the gorgeous young woman who was already sliding out of her blouse. “It’s all right, Karen,” I said as the blouse hit the floor and she reached for the bra clasp. It was only a test, and you did just fine.” Then I took my eager slave to bed and fucked her.

The second story happened just a couple of days ago. I was in the living room, reading a book, wearing a pair of gym shorts. I try always to wear some article of clothing as a badge of ownership over my two slaves, who wear nothing in the house. I thought Mom was packing for our move (house already in escrow!), and I presumed Karen was watching TV, which is her usual leisure activity.

I was reading quietly when Karen appeared at the entrance to the room. “Master?” I looked up and enjoyed her nakedness, as I always do. The golden hair framed that sweet angelic face in all its beauty. Her smile is brilliant. Her hands are small and delicate. Her tits are large, large as any centerfold’s, but round and firm and natural, the kind you just yearn to lay your head upon. Her trim waist and flat stomach flare to gently rounded hips. Her pussy, the source of so much pleasure, is always shaved. Her legs were smooth and lovely, ending in dainty little feet. I am grateful to have such a rare jewel of a woman for my slave.

“Master?", she asked again, bringing me back to reality.

“Yes, Karen?”

“May I suck your cock?”

Such politeness. “Of course you may.”

Whereupon Karen entered the room, followed closely by Mom! Mom, who has dark coloring and C-cups but is still so much like Karen. Each of them grabbed one side of my shorts and pulled, leaving me nude. Mom smiled at me, a smile with just a hint of wickedness, and said “Please relax and enjoy, Master.”

Then they commenced to suck my cock together! They quickly teased him to erection, their mouths on either side of him, their lips and tongues meeting as they jointly licked and sucked him from top to bottom. Or, one would take the shaft and balls, caressing with her warm wet mouth, while the other took the tip, swirling her tongue around it as she might an ice cream cone.

I certainly couldn’t last long like this, so I took charge. “Mom, on all fours. Karen, underneath her, start rubbing her clit.” Both complied speedily. I got up from the chair and immediately slid into Mom—perhaps I should call her Cindy now—slid into Cindy hard, drawing a sharp moan.

I wondered briefly why this was happening. I had programmed Mom to be totally subservient to me, of course, and to be naked around the house, but I hadn’t gone nearly as far with her as I had with Karen. Mom still had all her faculties, and still worked as a CPA. Also, while I had “encouraged” her lesbian relationship with Karen, I had never once directed Mom’s—Cindy’s—sex drive towards me. Could Karen have influenced her? Could Cindy have unknowingly used some of Karen’s subliminal tapes? Or was this just the next logical step of Cindy’s submission and obedience?

It hardly mattered. What mattered was that I had two sex slaves now instead of one, and Cindy was enjoying herself thoroughly. Karen was below her, rubbing her clit furiously while I slammed into her from behind. Cindy’s body shook and her tits swayed with every thrust. Soon she was bent forward and down, her head pressed between Karen’s legs, growling with pleasure. Finally Cindy came, shrieking, writhing, in convulsion, and then I came too, exploding inside her. It was over, and we all collapsed on the floor.

Cindy licked me clean this time. My lovelies snuggled up to me as close as they could, four breasts pressed against me, and promptly fell asleep with their heads on my chest. I was awake for a little longer, pondering. Is this enough? Is two sex slaves enough, or do I need a third?

I have decided two is not enough. I will capture another. I’ll have to choose carefully. She must be without husband or child, and preferably have only a minimum number of family relations. She will have to be able to enter her new life without making too many problems as she leaves her old. Of course, she will have to be a stunning beauty as well. It will be a time-consuming search, but I have plenty of time.