The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Victoria

Victoria paced back and forth at the front desk of her gym, waiting for someone to come help her. People normally scanned their cards and kept walking, but this station was to be manned at all times.

Theoretically.

She needed to talk to someone in charge, someone with names. She had a thousand questions, and the only person she could think to talk to was Hikitori. Her name lingered in Victoria’s mind, haunting her. The memory was fuzzy, but she knew that everything changed when she met Hikitori. Before that, her marriage was failing, her husband was indifferent to her existence and having an affair, and each day felt like going through the motions, like wasting time until the end of all things.

Since then … well … since then things have been … surprising. Antonio’s behavior, his neediness, his obedience, his submission, has been almost as surprising as Victoria’s new behavior. She didn’t recognize herself half the time these days. She spent hours on BDSM forums or watching videos online about rope tying. More than that, she felt strong, confident, brave, and … well … dominant. The woman she found in the mirror was like a sister of her former self. The features were all right, but the attitude was from another side of the family.

That was why she needed to talk to Hikitori. Besides an explanation, perhaps she could help her, encourage her. Victoria couldn’t let Antonio know this, but she had no idea what she was doing. She made it up as she went, and half the time when she walked away dramatically, she went to her room and almost cried, panicked, googled some advice, and then decided on a course of action. She was an actress more than a domme, and maybe this Hikitori person could help her.

Eventually, a young dark-skinned man came up to help her. He was cute, but too young for Victoria’s tastes. Besides, youthful personal trainers made her think of Trina, and nothing killed her sex-drive like Trina.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

“Yes, I was hoping you could help me track down an instructor for one of the classes you offer here.”

“Uh, sure.” He stepped behind their computer and began typing. “What was the class?”

“One of your yoga classes. Or maybe it was Tai Chi, I don’t really remember.”

“We have a bunch of yoga classes.”

“Right, well her name is Hikitori, I believe.”

“Unique name,” he said with a smile. He had perfect teeth and a sharp jawline. “Should pop right up.”

Victoria waited while he typed and resisted the urge to tap her foot. She knew she wouldn’t find Hikitori today. She’d have to be extremely lucky for things to turn out that way. Instead, she wanted some contact info.

“Ooo,” said the attendant. “Looks like she doesn’t work here anymore.”

“Shoot,” said Victoria. “Do you have any contact info for her?”

“Ummm, yeah,” said the young man. “Looks like I’ve got an email and phone number.”

“Perfect.” Victoria took out her phone. “What are they?”

“Do you have a complaint or something with her class?” asked the attendant. “Cause I can bring out my supervisor or something.”

“No, no, not at all. I just … I have some questions. I took a class with her, and I’ve been working out on my own, but I have so many questions.”

“Do you want to speak with one of our trainers?” The young man began clicking furiously. “You can take one of our yoga classes or Tai Chi class. They’re perfectly qualified to answer all your questions.”

“No, no. It was a specific technique,” lied Victoria quickly. “I’ve only seen her do it. I just need to talk to her.”

“Did she do something wrong?” The attendant turned around behind the desk, looking for someone. “Cause I can —”

“No.” Victoria slammed her palms on the desk, getting his attention. She did her best to smile and comfort him. “No, it’s fine.” Slowly, she pulled her palms away. “I know you’re hesitant to give me her number. Please. I’m not going to harass her. If you feel weird, just give me her email. Is that okay? There’s no harm in an email.”

The young man hesitated, twisting his lip to the side as he processed. “Sure. Whatever you say, ma’am.”

That was more like it.

“Thank you so much, sweetie.”

At home, Victoria stared at a blank email with Hikitori’s email address in the top box. How do you begin this? “Hello, I have your name in my head, and since that happened, I’ve been fantasizing about tying my husband up and making him worship me?”

Victoria sighed and copied the email. She opened a new tab and put the email into the search bar. The first hit was a website with Hikitori’s name on it. Victoria took a deep breath, then clicked open the website before she could second-guess herself. The banner of the website was a picture of Hikitori, but instead of tying up and crushing some man’s genitals, she was in front of a sculpture. The website described her as an artist, but as she scrolled through, apparently, she was a professional dominatrix. No. That wasn’t quite it. She helped people, women specifically, be dominant. She was a teacher. She had a whole page for classes.

Victoria scrolled through the class listings. Some were whole weekend classes in female dominance, but they took place in New York or Los Angeles. Victoria could never see herself making it all the way out there. Out of curiosity, she clicked on it. What kind of things would someone learn in a class on female dominance? But she never got to the description. Hey eyes widened at the price tag. It was almost three thousand for the weekend class. On top of that, she’d have to fly out there. No. She wouldn’t be taking one of those classes anytime soon. Not unless Antonio was very good or very very bad. Only then could she justify spending so much of his money on it.

She went back to the class listings. The most popular classes were something called “Rope Dojo.” She clicked on them, and her mouth dropped. The comments and feedback below were covered in beautiful men and women. They were of all different shapes and sizes, but what made them beautiful was the same: tight corded rope wrapping around them, knots pressing into their skins, their bodies suspended or frozen in whatever position their domme wanted. She had been practicing knots at home, but she felt like an idiot most of the time. That’s why she got the straps for Antonio. She figured she could tie him up but not risk the embarrassment of him fumbling around with the rope. She could never achieve what these people did. Were these all Hikitori? She was an artist.

Victoria didn’t hesitate to sign up when she saw that Hikitori was hosting a class the following night. It felt impossible to learn to do this over the internet. She needed a teacher, someone she could ask questions of, someone that could explain in new ways and demonstrate from different angles. Besides, a class would be the perfect way to talk to her, find out what was going on with Victoria, what new and hungry thing was awake inside her now.

The next night, Victoria arrived late to the class. She was stuck agonizing over her outfit. Was she supposed to come in leather and stilettos? Corset and latex? This was a domme class. Surely, she should dress as a domme? Or would other dommes, real dommes, all come in jeans and skirts, making her look like an obvious novice. Was she playing domme while they were all there to actually be dommes?

In the end, she decided on tight jeans, boots, a long jacket, and a tight black tank-top. It could be a domme’s wardrobe for a session, but she had deniability. She could blend into both crowds if she needed to, depending on what the feel of the class was. Of course, she would have been better off reading the description of the class. It asked for couples to come, someone to learn the knots, and someone to receive the knots. Victoria came alone and arrived embarrassed, panicking as she looked out at four or five couples, each one with a woman tying knots over her sub.

At the back of the room, the head of the class, was Hikitori. She was wrapping bright pink rope around a tanned man who was twice her size. He was almost pure muscle, looking like a professional wrestler with gleaming, perfectly browned skin and long brown hair up in a bun. He was in nothing but his boxers, one leg bent and pulled behind him, the other straight and supporting all his weight. Despite his size, Hikitori was in complete control.

She was tall, with medium-length black hair. It cascaded over her shoulders, well styled in layers that looked like waves. The front of it was a bright teal, almost an electric teal. It was a single line of it, like a slash through the dark. She wasn’t dressed as the latex domme of Antonio’s fantasies. She wore a simple a-frame red dress. It was elegant, but more cute than powerful. For her, the power wasn’t in her clothes. It was in her posture. Her shoulders were back. She stepped forward with ease, claiming the space in front of her. She was out of history, a woman of royalty. She was exactly what Antonio wanted without the dress-up and pretend. She was exactly what Victoria and every little girl wished they could be.

Luckily, the whole class didn’t stop and stare at Victoria when she walked in. Hikitori did look up. She made eye contact with Victoria and tilted her head, beckoning the newcomer towards her.

“Sorry I’m late,” whispered Victoria as she approached. Around her, the other couples were still working to duplicate the pose Hikitori had made with her sub.

“That’s fine. Is your partner coming?”

“Actually, no.” Victoria shuffled her feet back and forth. “I didn’t see that I needed to bring one.”

“Would you mind working with Stefano?” Hikitori gave a playful slap on Stefano’s back. He wobbled a bit, but she reached out and helped stabilize him before he fell over.

“Uh, that would be fine,” said Victoria, looking up at him. He was at least a foot taller than her, and she was in heels. How was she supposed to restrain that?

“Perfect, I’ll catch you up to the rest of the class. Don’t worry.” Hikitori had a maternal air about her. She wasn’t a demanding bitch like the women in the videos Antonio watched. She seemed to genuinely want Victoria to learn. She carefully untied Stefano and ordered him to stretch out and get the blood flowing before he was tied up again.

While he did that, Hikitori showed Victoria some basic techniques. She tied simple notes around Victoria’s wrists, and then asked Victoria to do the same to her. Luckily, Victoria had seen these online before, and she got through the basics quickly. Victoria felt her confidence boosting. She looked around the room. She must have lucked out and signed up for a beginner’s class. On top of that, Stefano was a perfect gentleman. He politely and gently told her when something was too tight or hurt. He also let her know when he could wiggle or get out of her knots. It was simple wrist and arm knots, but she was still adjusting to someone of his size. She was feeling good, warming under Hikitori’s compliments and attention. Her heart fluttered when Hikitori put a hand on hers. Flashes of a previous encounter with Hikitori danced through her mind. She tasted something sweet and buttery in her mouth. Her body flushed, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

That faded quickly. Halfway through the session, Hikitori moved to more complicated knots. She wanted Victoria to tie Stefano’s wrists to his knees. Victoria knocked Stefano over twice before asking him to lay down for the knot. She felt huge. And clumsy. And stupid. Hikitori’s tone never changed. She never chastised or belittled Victoria, but Victoria didn’t feel the flutters when Hikitori touched her. She felt stupid, stupid, stupid, and nothing else.

“Sorry,” muttered Victoria after wrapping the rope around Stefano’s neck somehow.

Victoria apologized a lot. She was sorry she was clumsy. Sorry she kept hurting Stefano. Sorry it was too tight. Sorry it was too loose. Sorry Hikitori had to help her. Sorry Stefano needed to reposition himself on his back. Sorry the knot wasn’t tight enough. Sorry that Hikitori needed to give other students more one on one work. Sorry when she couldn’t answer a question. Especially sorry when she needed to ask a question.

“I need you to stop,” said Hikitori gently, but firmly, as the class approached a close. Stefano was standing, his arms bound to his right knee, all his weight and balance on his left leg.

Victoria’s eyes widened, and she stepped away. “Am I, uh, doing something wrong?”

“Apologizing,” said Hikitori. “I need you to stop apologizing.”

“Sorry,” muttered Victoria, her eyes darting to the floor.

“That,” said Hikitori. She reached out and gently cupped Victoria’s chin, tilting her face up to look her in the eye. “Do you know what you are really saying?”

“That I regret screwing up?”

“No.” Hikitori smiled sympathetically. “That you feel your existence is an inconvenience. You are hoping if you apologize, people will forgive you for being.”

Victoria blushed and looked away. She couldn’t stand to be under Hikitori’s gaze. She wanted to please this woman, to be like this woman, but she felt miles away. Planets away, really.

“More than rope training, you need to claim your space. Claim the air you breathe, the room you take up, the mistakes you make, the desires you feel, the kinks you have. Own them. They are yours.”

“But … how?”

Hikitori glanced down at her watch. “Stay after class,” said Hikitori. She looked up to the whole room of students, clapped her hands, and began to wrap up the session. Victoria untied Stefano and fought every urge in her being to apologize for any mistakes she made. Stefano smiled at her, this Greek god of a man, and kissed her on the cheek before stepping out to put on his clothes.

Hikitori walked around, thanking all her students for coming. They thanked her for a great session. She told them about the next class she was doing in Memphis and urged them to come out again. It felt like the end of a dinner party. Everyone had a great time. Everyone thought they should do this again.

When the door closed, Hikitori turned around and smiled at Victoria. At no point in the evening did she feel like a domme. Yes, she was powerful. She was poised and in control every step of the way, but she never felt like a professional dominatrix. She was polite, but most importantly, she was kind. She didn’t hate Victoria. She wasn’t annoyed by her and didn’t want to subjugate her. Victoria felt that Hikitori wanted the best for her, and that, more than her expertise or success, made Victoria want to obey her.

“So,” she said, walking towards Victoria. “We were talking about apologies.”

“We were.”

“Would you like to sit somewhere more comfortable?” Hikitori gestured past the classroom to a lounge space. Hikitori worded it as a suggestion, but Victoria didn’t hear it as that.

“Yes.”

Victoria sat down on a couch in some sort of green room surrounded by cabinets, a sink, and a refrigerator.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.”

Hikitori poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Victoria. It was a beautiful white.

“You have questions,” said Hikitori as she sat across from Victoria.

“Many.” Victoria smiled and looked away from Hikitori. She distracted herself with another sip of wine. She wanted to ask about Hikitori’s name. How did it get in her hand? Why was she acting strangely? Why was it working? Why did Antonio want it? And most importantly, what the hell should she do?

“Start small,” said Hikitori. “Start easy.”

“Well …” Victoria took another sip of wine. “How do you do it?”

Hikitori gave a gentle laugh. “Do what?”

Victoria spread her hand and gestured to the classroom. She waved her arm around, indicating the whole room: the rope, the dommes, the subs, all of it.

“That is neither small nor easy.”

“But that’s my question. Any other question would inch us slowly to that.”

“Fair enough.” Hikitori gave a nod and quickly drained her wine glass. “At the very least, I can give you a simple answer: I realized long ago that everyone in the room wanted me to be strong.”

“What do you mean?”

“A sub isn’t always asking you to step up. That’s what we think of when we think of being in charge. We feel the weight of responsibility and what if we fuck up and what if they find out that I’ve been pretending this whole time? That’s stressful. Nothing kills sex faster than stress.”

“Then what? If he doesn’t want me to step up, what does he want?”

“He wants permission to step down.”

Hikitori let the statement hang in the air, arching her eyebrow as she watched Victoria try to process it. “Why would he want that?” asked Victoria slowly.

“Stress. Lack of control. Insecurity. I’ve found dozens of reasons, but the core is the same. Submissives don’t want us to micromanage their existence. I’ve had subs practically demand I give them permission to breathe. But they don’t want that. I don’t want that. As soon as the scene is done, we all go back to being sane people and remember that the other person is human. No, the one consistent thing I’ve seen from every sub is a desperate desire to let go of control, to step down, to take the burden of thinking away.”

“But then the burden of thinking is on me,” muttered Victoria.

“Precisely. You are doing him a favor when you take control. Never forget that. He owes you.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“It’s a messy but fun means to a very important end. When he abandons control with you, he is better at his job. He is more relaxed and focused throughout the day. He is better because you took that burden on.”

Victoria sat with that thought. She never felt like she was improving Antonio’s life. She felt like an inconvenience, a nag. For crying out loud, he’d cheated on her. Clearly, he was looking for something else, something that was not her. Who would want someone to give them extra chores or punishments? The more she tried to understand Antonio, the more he seemed to be some kind of insane.

“Your opinion is more valuable than you think,” said Hikitori after a long silence. “That’s your problem. All that apologizing is because you think your you-ness is a burden. Of course, that would extend to your opinion. Why would he want you to take on the mental burden if your opinions are all wrong?”

Victoria blushed but didn’t say anything. She was right. What if Victoria screwed it up? She’d been lucky so far, but whenever he pushed her, she had to leave the room and compose herself. She couldn’t look him in the eye and demand he listen or punish him. One day he would find out how much she was making up on the spot.

“Many women put themselves in a subservient position. They want to make their husbands happy. They want their home to be a welcoming and beautiful space. They want relationships both romantic and plutonic. They try to control, try to get their desires, by serving. That works for the most part, but it can be dangerous. That can make a dominant woman believe that her place is to submit and obey. It can turn off a vibrant and starving part of yourself. But worse, it can cause you to prioritize others more than yourself, to completely forget that you are a person with desires that others may not want or approve of, but they need to be met.”

Hikitori moved closer, putting her hand on Victoria’s thigh. Victoria looked up and into her beautiful eyes. “We can use that at the start, but we want to depart from it quickly.”

“What do you mean?”

“In a way, what I do is a service industry. I provide a service to my subs. They want to release control, and I take that on, for them. More than that, I provide myself. They don’t just want to release control, they come to me because they want me to be in control. They want my preferences. They want my desires. The best subs are here for me. Yes, they are seeking a type of release, but they want to see me control them for a time more than any other person in the world.”

Hikitori stood, poured herself another half glass of wine, and sat down on the arm of the couch. “The trick is to actually believe that your desires have value. Then, try to blend that with what they desire. Make an experience where everyone gets what they want, but never forget that they are coming to you to have your desires fulfilled.”

“How do you do that? How do you blend them?”

Hikitori stood, drained her glass, and reached out a hand for Victoria. Victoria took it, and Hikitori pulled her to a stand.

“Let me show you how I start each session,” said Hikitori. She put her hands on Victoria’s shoulders and pulled them back, straightening Victoria’s spine and correcting her posture. Victoria’s hands were clasping each other in front of her lap. Hikitori grabbed her hands and separated them, putting them at Victoria’s sides. She moved around Victoria, pushing furniture out of the way, making room.

Victoria’s mind ran from curiosity to panic. Was Hikitori going to treat her as a sub? As a client? Victoria thought of the room full of rope just outside the door. Was there a deeper dungeon here? Would Hikitori whip her? Beat her? Clamp her nipples? Torment her?

She knew she could say no whenever she wanted to. Hikitori didn’t seem like the kind of person that would force herself on another. If Victoria asked to leave, she truly believed Hikitori would listen.

“I start with one question,” said Hikitori when there was more floor space. She stood behind Victoria. “It’s simple and the most important: what do I want?” Hikitori reached out and grabbed Victoria’s shoulders gently. She then carefully began to massage Victoria’s shoulders, urging her to relax, rubbing her thumb carefully against Victoria’s shoulder blade.

“I need to know what I desire,” continued Hikitori. “I need to know what will give me pleasure in this moment. Perhaps I want to be cruel and sadistic.” Hikitori gave a soft chuckle. “Or perhaps I want to give relief.” Hikitori’s hands moved up, massaging Victoria’s neck. Victoria sighed and breathed into, arching her neck and releasing all the pressure from her shoulders. She let go of her posture and sagged into Hikitori’s hands. She needed this more than she knew.

“In this moment, I’m not thinking about the sub at all. This is all about me. I let myself be selfish. Perhaps I’m craving chocolate. I silence any voice that tells me I shouldn’t have chocolate. There are no shoulds or oughts here. There are only my desires, pure and simple. They can be immoral, cruel, corrupt, childish, or unhealthy. I’m not judging them. I’m not managing them. I’m feeling them. That’s all. I need to be completely honest with myself, or else I move from being a domme to being a prostitute.”

Hikitori stepped closer behind Victoria, pressing her body against Victoria’s back. Her hands moved down Victoria’s shoulders to the top of her arms and then to her waist.

“Perhaps,” whispered Hikitori in Victoria’s ear, “I want the feeling of a woman’s breast in my hand.” Hikitori’s hands moved up from Victoria’s waist to her breasts. She kept roaming her fingers over them gently, teasing the exposed skin from the tank-top.

“It makes me feel strong to feel how soft it is.” Hikitori’s hands widened and she grabbed Victoria’s breasts. Victoria gasped and arched her back, but she didn’t step away. She didn’t resist.

“I love to feel a nipple stiffen in my mouth. I love to bite it and feel a woman’s body arch, try to pull away, but also yield to it.” Hikitori’s fingers teased Victoria’s nipple and then pulled away. She paced away from Victoria, crossing in front of her. Victoria’s breathing was shallow, her skin tingled, and she wanted more.

Hikitori stopped in front of Victoria and looked her in the eye. “Ask yourself what you want to feel from the session.” Hikitori stepped forward and put her hands around Victoria’s hips, as though were about to dance. She pulled her head back to keep looking Victoria in the eyes.

“Right now,” narrated Hikitori. “I want to feel that softness melt in my hand. I’m not worried about what you want. I’m worried about what I want. This is for me as much as it’s for them. If you ask a true sub, and I know you won’t believe it yet, this is for you more than it’s for them.”

Hikitori pulled away and sat on the couch, raised one leg, crossed it over her knee, and smiled. Victoria didn’t move. She felt like she was being inspected, studied, weighed, and measured. She would speak when Hikitori had a question. That was all.

“After you know what you want to feel in the session, ask them what they want to feel. Don’t think for them. Don’t wonder what they want. Ask them aloud, with your voice, in clear and certain terms, what they want to feel from the session.”

Victoria remembered that. Somewhere, deep in her memory, she’d be told this before. She had used it before, asking Antonio how he wanted to feel. That was the most important thing. If she wanted to make sure he never cheated, she had to put him first, make sure he got what he wanted. Luckily, all he wanted so far was to feel pathetic or submissive. That meant she got to keep control, but she didn’t know what would happen if he said he wanted to feel dominant or in control. Would he ever ask for that?

“Don’t ask what they want. You’ll get a laundry list of fantasies, and you’ll feel enslaved to those fantasies. Ask them what they want to feel, and that gives you a destination to reach, but you decide how you will get there. It leaves you in charge, but it considers them. It allows you to make sure everyone gets what they want.”

Hikitori uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “So, my dear, what do you want to feel?”

Victoria shivered at the question. Was she Hikitori’s sub? Part of her wanted to melt, to let go, to completely submit to Hikitori’s commands and hands. She wanted to take off the mental burden of being the domme, of being in charge, of always having to make the decisions and be right, she wanted to let go of the fear and doubt.

But she didn’t want to submit. She didn’t want to run away from her fears and struggles. She came here to conquer them, to rise up over them. The more she thought about it, she didn’t want Antonio to stop being submissive. She wanted him to be more submissive. Yes, she wanted things to be easier, but only if he served more, if she was stronger.

“I want to feel strong,” whispered Victoria.

“What?” asked Hikitori. “Speak up, dear.”

Victoria looked up and held Hikitori’s gaze. “I want to feel stronger.”

“Good,” said Hikitori. “Now, for me, the next step is to combine these two. I have to keep in mind that the sub is ultimately here for my pleasure. They want what I want. That means I will get to feel the softness I crave. That is a non-negotiable. Never abandon your desires. Their desire is yours. Remember that.”

Hikitori stood back up. She moved to Victoria and grabbed the bottom of Victoria’s tank-top. She pulled on it, untucking it from Victoria’s tight jeans. Victoria understood and raised her hands. Hikitori lifted and peeled Victoria’s top off. Without hesitation, as confidently as though it were her own body, Hikitori reached behind Victoria and unhooked her bra. She lightly tugged on the straps, and the bra fell to the floor. Hikitori never pulled her eyes away from Victoria’s, and Victoria never blushed or backed down.

“Did you feel weak or submissive when I touched your breasts before?”

“No.”

Hikitori grabbed Victoria’s bare breasts. Victoria gasped: her hands were cold. Goosebumps crawled over her skin, and she shivered.

“My job is now to create an experience that allows me to feel your softness, and you to feel stronger. The better you know your sub, the more intimacy between you, the better you will know what helps them feel that way. This is the tricky part, where we separate novice dommes from true Mistresses. Aim for the feeling, the experience, not the task. Some may find spanking to make them feel safe, some may feel terror. It changes from sub to sub. The sensation and experience are the primary tools of the domme to create the desired feeling for their sub.”

Hikitori flicked Victoria’s nipples under her fingers. Victoria gasped. She felt her knees give a little, and the nipples hardened under Hikitori’s touch.

“You see, in BDSM, we transcend simple binary understandings of pleasure or pain. It is within our desires to feel pain or to be denied.” Hikitori pinched Victoria’s nipples, hard. Victoria gave a small cry but felt heat and lust surge through her body. “It is even within our desires to have our desires ignored entirely.” Hikitori pulled her hands away. Victoria felt herself leaning forward, hoping to keep Hikitori’s hands on them, longing for them to be touched and played with more.

“We are more complicated than we can understand. For some, feeling strong may be beating someone with a whip or a cane, but for others?” Hikitori trailed off, grabbed Victoria’s hand, and pulled her to the couch. She turned and forced Victoria to sit. She sank to her knees in front of Victoria and spread the curvy blonde’s legs.

“For some, strength can be feminine. It can be soft. It can seduce and entice and empower all at once. Some don’t need to hurt to feel strong. Those are quite special.”

Hikitori moved forward between Victoria’s legs. Victoria gasped, anticipating the moment, the taste. Images flooded her mind, some memory and the other fantasy. She couldn’t separate them all: Hikitori’s nipple in her mouth, Hikitori between her legs, her eating Hikitori’s pussy, more and more and more of their bodies entwined.

Hikitori moved up, past Victoria’s pussy, and gently turned her head to the side. She slowly wrapped her lips around Victoria’s right nipple and gave it a gentle lick. Victoria sighed, letting her pelvis slide forward as she relaxed. Hikitori melted into her, keeping herself latched to Victoria’s breast.

Victoria sighed as Hikitori began sucking on her nipple, letting herself relax into it. At first, her body was ablaze with sensation. She felt every breath, every slight movement of her tongue. It started from her nipple and swirled outward, over her chest, down her stomach, and to her pussy. She spread her legs further, wanting pressure on her clit, wanting more of this, whatever it was.

Hikitori’s hands danced along Victoria’s skin. At first, they teased Victoria’s right nipple, but then they slid to Victoria’s tummy and around her back. Finally, Hikitori was holding onto Victoria, clinging to her, sucking on her breast.

Victoria couldn’t help but smile. She looked down at Hikitori, the beautiful Asian woman with the dark, silky hair, and the bold line of electric teal. She was someone Victoria admired, someone Victoria wanted to be like, but doubted she ever could. She was a pillar of strength and femininity and sexuality.

And here she was, on her knees, clinging to Victoria, suckling at her breast. Victoria felt like laughing. A sense of serenity and joy washed over her. Yes. She could be this. She could do this.

Victoria raised her hand and placed it on the back of Hikitori’s head, cradling it. Hikitori looked up at her, making eye contact while she suckled. They both smiled: Hikitori feeling the softness of a woman beneath her, Victoria feeling stronger.