The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wendy’s first visit was well-timed for her purposes. She caught me just out of the shower, dressed only in my favorite plush bathrobe and nearly finished drying my hair. I almost missed the doorbell over the roar of the blowdryer, but I just wasn’t that lucky.

It’s funny. I still remember how good the carpet felt under my bare feet as I went to answer the front door. I remember luxuriating in the clean, new-apartment smell. I felt comfortable and so very much in charge of my life, a successful new swimsuit model living on her own at last and pulling in the big money. I was invincible!

I had no idea, then, of how my life was about to change.

“Uh... hi!” She looked familiar, standing there on my front doorstep, wilting under the August sun. She was very pretty, but in a sawed-off, mousy brunette sort of way that I found completely non-threatening. The big case beside her looked too heavy for her to lift. I almost made a real effort to place where I might have seen her before, but didn’t bother. Strike one. “Did I come at a bad time...?”

“Not at all. How can I help you?” I opened the front door wide, enjoying the hell out of her mixed response. On the one hand, a sweet blast of air conditioning to give her momentary respite from the heat. On the other, she was instantly blushing over having caught me in my bathrobe. Wonderful fun!

“Well... I could come back, if you wanted. It’s just...” She made a visible effort to collect herself, then hurried on. “I’m sort of taking a survey for my psych class. It’s an end-of-semester project. I’ve invented a thing... I don’t know what to call it yet, but it’s supposed to relax you. And, uh, cure headaches and stuff. I’m field testing it for my final report. You know, canvassing the neighborhood for volunteers. It... it only takes a few minutes,” she finished lamely.

Test subject for some new kind of homemade relaxation device? A chance to be the center of this poor girl’s attention while she did her scientific best to brighten up my already cheery day? I was already hooked, but didn’t feel like letting her know it yet. Instead I studied her more closely, enjoying how she fidgeted so self-consciously while I pretended to consider. She really was cute, and I’ll admit it... I really was taking pleasure from the way my own beauty intimidated her.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I’m sorry!” And the blush deepened further. “It’s... Michelle,” she lied. “Michelle Montinino.”

“Okay, Michelle Montinino. What would this experiment involve?”

“Well... I’d just need you to try a sample of the analgesic that I designed...” She caught herself, then hurried on. “It’s guaranteed non-toxic and non-reactive to any allergies you might have! Ibuprofin would be more dangerous. And then, well... if you have a table that I could set up on, and a wall outlet nearby, I’d just need you to look into a strobe device that I’ve rigged up. It only takes a few minutes to be effective, and it’s set at a baud rate that induces... I’m sorry. It relaxes you. Then I just ask you a couple of questions and get out of your life.”

I was miffed that she’d backed off from what would obviously have been a more technical explanation, like I was some airhead who couldn’t handle scientific jargon. So I don’t actually know what a “baud rate” is. I still had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. And really, that’s what sold me on inviting her in. I’d take her little test, then fake a massive migrane, just to fuck up her results. It seemed the perfect way to have a little late-morning fun.

“Come on in. You can set up your thingie on my dining room table. But don’t scratch the glass, or you’ll get to see how well you can cure a tall, mean-tempered blonde from her fit of towering rage, okay?” I opened the door completely and stood aside. Then, on a whim, I turned away and headed back to my bathroom, happy to let her founder about inside a stranger’s apartment unescorted. “Lock the door behind you, please. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Strike two.

“S-sure...” Through the open bathroom door, I could hear her struggling with her bulky suitcase. Then the satisfying clack of the deadbolt sliding home again on my front door. Then I heard only the roar of my blowdryer as I deliberately finished with my hair. I thought about offering her something to drink... it really was hot outside. But I decided against. She was technically inconveniencing me, cutting into my day. Why be too nice about it?

When I’d completely finished with my hair, I took a little extra time to brush my teeth. Then I ventured into the dining room to see what “Michelle Montinino” was up to. She’d set up a boxy little device, much smaller than the size of her suitcase had suggested, in the center of my glass-topped dining room table. It had a little bulb on top, surrounded by a reflective shield, and a long cord trailed from its base to plug into my dining room wall. She had thoughtfully set out one of my coasters, then had taken the liberty of fetching a glass of iced tea from my kitchen. I guessed correctly that her little drug was mixed into the tea.

She sat on the far side of the table, behind the little box-and-bulb thingie, obviously waiting for me. When I touched the back of the chair across from her and raised an eyebrow, she nodded hesitantly for me to sit. I got comfortable, enjoying myself immensely. Then just for fun, I studied the tea dubiously, as though it were among my least favorite beverages in the world. She had such a very, very pretty blush!

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Would a glass of water—?”

“No,” I sighed. “I guess I’d rather drink my tea than see it go to waste.” And with great satisfaction, I watched her blush deepen from scarlet to crimson. I lifted the cold, wet glass and looked at her in a slightly mocking request for approval, then drank deeply.

Strike three.

Then to kill time while her wonder-drug kicked in, we talked. I learned all sorts of little personal items about her, but none of them need repeating, because I doubt any of them were true. As I’ve hinted, “Michelle Montinino” wasn’t even her name. She produced a very believable consent form from her suitcase, and I was very careful to study it before signing. All of this took less than fifteen minutes, start to finish.

When I reported that my scalp was beginning to tingle, she nodded in satisfaction and turned the strobe on. Within maybe a few more minutes, or possibly just seconds—I don’t really know how long—I was out.

I don’t remember much about it, but at certain points it got very unpleasant. I felt pinned, helpless, while sheets of light thumped against my mind. All I wanted in the world was for it to stop. And there was a voice—her voice—helping me figure out how to make it go away, how to escape the discomfort. Sometimes I replied, maybe answered questions. I’m not sure. But there was a pattern to it. The more I took her advice, the better I felt. And maybe sometimes I didn’t like her suggestions... but then it would get really bad, really painful, and her voice became the lifeline guiding me back from such discomfort.

I remember untying my robe, letting it fall open, and knowing that this made her proud. That felt great, her approval. But it was more like a daydream than reality, so I wasn’t as embarrassed as I might normally have been. All of it was like that, dreamy and strange. Detached.

I sat at my table and watched her unpack other things from her case. Some of them were interesting. There were these glossy balls on a line, like a ludicrously fat string of black pearls. And a tube of some kind of jelly or lotion. But I was really uncomfortable about some of the other things that she was producing. A monstrously sized black dildo, complete with fake balls and veins? In the privacy of my home, without even asking? Oh, this girl had a lot of nerve...

She glanced up at me and smiled, then set up a camcorder on a little tripod, right on the table where I could look into its lens. Considering that I was effectively naked, with my robe hanging wide open to expose my breasts, this also seemed very rude. I model swimsuits only. Nobody needs to see any nudes of me, unless they’re ready to shell out some huge bucks.

“Having fun?” she asked lightly.

“Not really.”

“No?” It was my turn to blush at the mock concern in her voice. “Why not, Carrie?” And when had I told this little mouse my name?

“I don’t appreciate you bringing your sex toys into my house, and I don’t remember giving you permission to film me with my tits hanging out, okay?”

“Fair enough.” She shrugged. “So give me permission to film you, and everything will be okay again, right?”

I had to admit, this did make a lot of sense. “Sure,” I agreed reluctantly. “Whatever.”

“Super!” She reached over and switched the camcorder on. “Oh, and this part will really make you happy. You’ll love it! Let’s get naughty, okay? Bounce up and down so that your tits jiggle for the camera, okay?”

I did love it, too! What a positively wicked idea! I immediately started to bounce in my seat, giving the little camcorder a lens-full. She laughed, and although it was now my turn to blush, I had to snicker as well. “Wonderful, Carrie. Perfect.”

“But what about your little toys?” My voice was too jumpy to sound as outraged as I wanted, but it still had some edge. “Please put them away.”

“Oh, come on. Can’t I keep them out for a little while? Pleeeeease?“ Her grin was completely disarming.

“Well... fine. Whatever.”

“Great. Now listen...” She added a pair of little alligator-clip-looking things to the collection that she’d spread across my table, then stood. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go use your shower. It’s really hot out there—”

Oh, come on! This girl had balls of steel! “But I do mind, Michelle. In fact, why don’t you pack up your things and get—”

“No. You don’t really mind, do you? Not at all. Come on, you’re a better hostess than that, right?”

Another good point, dammit. Any good hostess had certain obligations. “Well... fine. Just don’t mess up my bathroom too much.”

“Cool. Oh, and go ahead and give me your bathrobe so I’ll have something to wear when I’m done in the shower.”

I stood and reluctantly disrobed, then sat back down to continue jiggling for the camera. She stood there for a moment and watched, my bathrobe bunched up in her little hands as she blatantly studied my nude form. It was indescribably humiliating! This was a total stranger, and I was naked and bouncing like an idiot while she just stood there and smiled at me! But... well... as she’d promised, it was also great fun.

Then it was time for me to learn that she wasn’t a stranger after all. She studied me with a wicked gleam in her eyes until my blush had become almost unbearably hot. “Do you even know who I am, Carrie?”

“Michelle...”

“Wrong! So sorry! I’m Wendy Barnhill. Remember? Joey Barnhill’s kid sister, from high school?”

Oh, God! Joey Barnhill! I’d been his first girlfriend, and he’d had the nerve to think I would be the solution to his virginity problem. I mean, this guy had been really needy. I remembered how it broke his pathetic little heart when I finally dumped him. The last I’d heard of him, he’d decided he was a very gay bottom, giving up his dignity and his rear end to any guy who was dominating enough. And now that she said it, I realized that I did recognize her! Little Wendy Barnhill, all grown up now and standing there, grinning at me...

I got scared then. What if she wanted some weird kind of revenge for her brother? I mean sure, I knew I could tie her into a knot if she tried to fuck with me, but still... it was very disconcerting to be sitting naked in front of her like that, bouncing my tits for her camcorder...

“I see that you remember me now. Good.” Her smile broadened. “Okay, Carrie, I’m off to shower now. But so you don’t get bored waiting for me, why don’t you stop bouncing and get better acquainted with my pet dildo? I call him Big Bad Blackie. Say ‘hi’ to him.”

“...hi...” Pretty silly, talking to an inanimate object, but I couldn’t think of any reason not to humor the crazy little bitch.

“Listen, I can see that the sight of Blackie makes you uncomfortable, and that makes me sad. So I want you to get to know him a lot better. Go ahead and pick him up.” I stifled an exasperated sigh and continued to humor her. The weight of the dildo felt so creepy in my hand. “Now open your mouth wide and slip the head in. Just the head... and hold him in there for me.”

These words sent a convulsive shock through my whole body. For just a moment, I thought very hard about drawing the line. This was too much! I was trembling hard, and I could feel my heart hammering inside my ribcage. No way. No.

“Do it, Carrie.” Her voice was like a whipcrack, and before I knew it, my lips were stretched open around the head of Big Bad Blackie. Just like that. I couldn’t have been more stunned. Worse, that camcorder was still filming all of this! “Oh, good girl. Now check it out... I won’t presume to guess how you feel about this emotionally, but there’s one thing that I’m sure of. You’re feeling an awful lot of simple, physical pleasure from having Blackie in your mouth like that. I mean it’s absolutely irresistible! You can’t get enough of it!”

And it really was true. I couldn’t help it; the corners of my lips tried to stretch upward in a smile, and I let loose with an involuntary hum of contentment. Wendy laughed again.

“God, Carrie... if you only knew where that thing’s been. But hey, no problem, because this part’s even better. The deeper you can fit Blackie into your mouth, the better it feels. Do NOT choke yourself. At least, not to death. But try it! Give your mouth a deep poke, hey?”

My hand shook violently as I experimented, sliding the dildo in deeper until the head bounced against the back of my throat. And for all the wretched humiliation bringing sudden tears to my eyes, I can’t describe how grand it also felt. Pure animal pleasure, exploding inside my mouth to wash through my whole body like a warm, sweet wave. I moaned and tried to slide it in deeper, but gagged and had to pause a moment before I could try again.

“Great, great!” She was laughing so hard, it was difficult for her to talk. It pissed me off because I’m not an idiot; I knew that she was laughing at me, at the sight of me sitting there with my lips stretched open around a fat black dildo. Vicious little tramp! “Okay,” she said. “You just sit there and keep it up, and I’ll be back soon. Oh, but first, take these little clamps here... they’re called nipple clamps, as if you didn’t already know. Attach them to your nipples, then get back to work on sucking Blackie for me. I’ll let you know when you’ll want to do anything else.”

She took a long time in the bathroom. I could hear her going through my medicine cabinet and my bathroom closet, just making herself right at home. And she was in the shower forever. Then blowdrying her hair, gargling with my mouthwash... By the time she returned, my jaw was aching! Worse, I’d conquered my gag reflex, and my throat was almost in as much agony as my throbbing nipples. But it felt so good, too...

Then she was standing over me again, almost doubled over with laughter. “Oh, Carrie, you’re a real treasure! Look at you, deep-throating my personal dildo like the champion slut you are! I am so pleased with you right now!” A fresh surge of humiliated fury tried to rise inside me, but was instantly overwhelmed by the pride that I felt over having won her approval. I made a point to shove Big Bad Blackie in farther than ever, just to earn another word of praise from her. But she only laughed harder, and that didn’t affect me at all the same. After a moment she sat back down across from me.

“God, you truly are the perfect vision of a cock-sucking slut,” she murmured. My face was instantly on fire again. “In front of a camera, no less. Take that thing out of your mouth, you cunt. But leave the nipple clamps on.” Mortified, my eyes brimming with hot tears, I obeyed. Wendy giggled involuntarily when Blackie audibly popped out of my aching mouth. Then she fell silent and just sat there, calmly studying me. My face continued to glow red-hot under her gaze, the tears flowed down my cheeks to drip off the end of my chin, and I found it impossible to meet her eyes for more than a second at a time. I fidgeted, staring forlornly at the saliva-slicked dildo in my hand.

“Are you a slut, Carrie? For real?” The question came as a relief, a much-welcomed break in the silence. And as a chance to defend my values.

“No.” And thank you for asking. Now you know the truth, bitch.

“No? Good. Are you a virgin, then?”

“Well... no.”

“Ah-ha!” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. For just a moment, I wanted to claw them out of her head. “So? How many guys have you allowed to fuck you, Carrie?”

“...two.”

She looked genuinely shocked. “Only two! No shit! You really are a little prude, aren’t you! Oh, Carrie, we’re going to have to do something about that. How about oral sex? How many cocks have you sucked?”

“Five.” I stared down at my hands, increasingly uncomfortable with her questions.

“Mmmmmm... a little sluttier about the mouth, then. I sort of figured, from the way you were slobbing on Blackie. You really enjoyed sucking that fat-assed dildo, didn’t you, Carrie?”

“...yeah...” I mumbled.

“Louder, Carrie. Say it from start to finish. ‘I really enjoyed sucking that fat-assed dildo.’”

“I really enjoyed sucking that fat-assed dildo.”

“Now thank me, like you really mean it. Make me believe you’re grateful.”

I felt my eyes go wide with sincerity as they met her own. “Thank you, Wendy. I loved sucking Big Bad Blackie. It was... wonderful.”

She laughed at me again. “You’re so welcome. Oh, hey! How many men have gone down on you?“

I swallowed convulsively, but forced myself to answer. “Um... seventeen.”

“Oh, ho!” she chortled. “The truth rears its ugly head at last! You’re not a prude! No, not at all! You’re a bitch!“ I started to protest, but she rode right over me. “Unwilling to put out, barely willing to suck cock... but if the boys want to lap at your little treasure box? Hey, no problem!” And suddenly her gaze turned fierce. “I know you never sucked my brother off, Carrie. And you sure as fuck never gave him any. But was he one of the ones that you graced with the rare privilege of going down on you?“

“N...no...” And I had to look away from the withering scorn in her eyes. I think I only then realized how much she really hated me.

“Not even that much,” she whispered, her voice suddenly husky. “You feel bad about the way you treated him. Right?”

“Yeah!” I forced myself to meet her gaze again, seeking her approval, begging for it. “Oh, Wendy, I’m so sorry!”

“Wanna make it up to him?”

“Yes! Oh, please, yes I do!”

“Great! Then I’m gonna help you do penance. For starters, let’s see... who’s the most disgusting male specimen that you can reach in a hurry? Say, maybe five minutes if we’re lucky?”

“Mr Jones,” I answered promptly. Then seeing that she expected me to explain, I did so. “He’s the handyman. Works on the plumbing. I’ve only met him twice, because I just moved here. But he’s... I don’t know... nasty. Creepy.”

“Really? What’s so bad about him?”

“Well... he’s this middle-aged black man, right? He’s always trying to sneak looks at my ass. He’s very tall and sort of fat, and both times I met him, he was all sweaty. He was up under my kitchen sink yesterday, and I saw half his ass hanging out the top of his pants...” My description faltered, because it seemed like she wasn’t listening anymore. She was laughing again, really hard.

“Perfect, perfect.” I decidedly did not like the gleam that had appeared in her eyes. “And just how would I get in touch with our dear old Mr Jones...?”

It actually only took her about a minute or so to get in touch with him; he was home when she called. I don’t really know what they talked about, because she’d told me to ignore the conversation. I had “more important things to do” than listen to her, anyway. While she sat on my couch, chatting it up with Mr Jones, I was busy dealing with the realization that my duties as a hostess included... well, licking her. First her inner thighs, then... well... She had one little fist in my hair, guiding my head where she wanted it. She made me take her panties down with my mouth, then lap at her pussy for a little while. But that didn’t satisfy her, so she slid forward on the couch and gave my tongue access to... well, to her ass.

It’s very hard to talk about that. She explained that it felt good physically, you know? And I could see where she was coming from. The deeper I was able to force my tongue into her, the better it felt. It was so nice to hear her little moans of pleasure, just like she’d promised it would be. And to feel the way her body writhed, the way her warm, firm thighs gripped my head. But still, another part of me was horrified. I was kneeling there, on my plush carpet, with my nose in this girl’s pussy and my tongue up her...

I’m not even a little gay, and I couldn’t have been any more humiliated. So I thought, anyway.

But as I’ve admitted, the experience was at least very nice physically. When she finally guided me back to her clit, she became more excited. She coached me very carefully, and by the end I sent her into a multiple orgasm. And when I locked my lips around her pussy and felt her shuddering and flowing into my mouth... when I knew that I’d given her absolute pleasure... oh, I was so proud! It was so wonderful!

And then she was stroking my hair very fondly, softly, like she was honestly pleased with me. I wanted to melt under her touch. I could have died of contentment. I... I even kissed her wet thighs some more, voluntarily, you know? Without her telling me to first. Just... well, just to show her how much her happiness meant to me. I’m not proud of that; I am not a lesbian. But you can’t understand how important her happiness was. I mean, she was my guest, and she was poor jilted Joey’s kid sister. I owed her all the pleasure I could possibly give her.

When Mr Jones arrived, I was terrified... but I also knew what I had to do. Wendy had coached me carefully, and I knew that I could get through the experience. I just didn’t know how. My heart was thudding inside me. It was everything to keep from fainting, or at least screaming NO!!!

I knelt there on my bed, knees open wide, feet even further apart so that my ass cheeks were stretched open for him. She’d positioned me very carefully, back arched very deeply (“like you’re trying to touch the bed with your taut little belly,” she’d explained). This left my tits buried in the sheets and my ass jutting ‘way up in the air. I hid my face in a pillow; I wasn’t allowed to look up or especially to look back, ever. I could only glance sideways at the camera that she’d set up at my bedside, and then only to let it see me faking all sorts of physical pleasure. Finally, my arms were stretched up over my head, forearms dangling off the edge of the mattress, through the bars of my bedstand.

I knelt there and waited, quietly horrified, and listened for his arrival. When the doorbell rang, it was like a sickening jolt through my naked body. I heard her let him in, and for awhile I heard them in my living room, talking and laughing. I wasn’t allowed to pay attention to what they were saying, but I got the idea that she was trying to make him feel comfortable. She’d changed tapes in the camcorder; I could hear her playing the first tape for him, the one with me sucking on Blackie and bouncing my tits, so that he’d get an idea that she was serious about her proposal.

I remember hearing them help themselves to more of my iced tea, and thank God, she apparently managed to convince him to use my shower. I prayed that he would bathe very thoroughly before... before mounting me.

Finally he came into the room. Even barefooted on my carpet, I could hear the weight of his tread. He chuckled low in his throat, and it sent a terrified shudder through me... which only made him laugh more. “Sweet mother Mary, if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes... How you feelin’, there, dumpling?”

“I’m sooooo horny,” I moaned, obediently parroting the lines that Wendy had taught me. “Please, Mr Jones. Please... please fuck me? I’ll do anything you like. Anything.“

“Anything?” he breathed. I felt his weight settle on the bed beside my right foot. Then I flinched at the cool touch of his calloused fingertips on the inside of my naked thigh. “Anything at all?” And as Wendy had predicted, his touch was enough to add truth to my words. At once a wave of raw physical desire exploded out from my exposed sex, making my whole body prickle with heat. I was instantly wet.

“...anything,” I gasped. Then moaned helplessly as he almost gently inserted one of his fingers into my virgin ass. “...oh please, please, pleeeeease fuck me...“

But he didn’t take me. Not yet. I thought he would. I felt his weight moving across the bed, centering himself behind me. I was paralyzed with shuddering need as his hands cupped my ass cheeks, then firmly grasped my hips. I burned for him to thrust into me! But he didn’t.

Instead, something much, much worse. I found out just how big his tongue was. He lifted my ass up higher, until my knees left the bed, and just like that his tongue slid deep into my pussy and started moving around inside me. I wanted to go wild! I did go wild, sort of, shuddering and moaning and glancing sideways to make sure the camera got a clear picture of the slack lust on my face. But I wasn’t allowed to break the pose. Not unless he ordered me to, or made it clear that he wanted me to move by guiding my body with his hands. And he didn’t do either of those things. He just kept moving his tongue inside me, licking and thrusting, in and out, slowly... obviously savoring the effect that he was having on me.

It was all too humiliating. On some level I wanted to scream, to make this horrifying man get out of my house! Make him get out of my body! But the physical desire was too much. The desire to please Wendy, and almost as much, the desire to be the perfect sex toy for Mr Jones. Anything less would have been agony, Wendy assured me... and I believed her utterly.

Finally his tongue pulled out, and I thought maybe I’d have the relief that I craved. But no. He started licking my ass then, each stroke adding more fuel to my desire until I was sobbing. When he slipped into me again, I lost control and began to wail. “PLEASE!!! Oh, God, please FUCK ME!!! PLEASE!!!“

“Shut up!” His command was a thunderbolt, so angry! I choked back my sobs and concentrated on letting nothing past my lips but the shuddering breaths that were simply beyond my control. Quiet as I could be, I knelt there and focused on breathing, even biting back a yelp as at least two of his fingers suddenly thrust into me.

“Oh, you want it bad, don’t you, bitch? Look at that camera, there, and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you. But say it quiet, okay? Whisper it.”

“...yes, please... please, Mr Jones, I want it so bad... please fuck me? I’ll do anything...”

And he laughed again and moved in closer behind me, and finally he was mounting me.

It hurt so bad! He took my ass first, not even asking or caring that I was a virgin there. I think his cock was as huge as Big Bad Blackie. Maybe bigger. It sure felt bigger, and it hurt!!! Plus, it was just wrong! You don’t take someone there. It’s too dominant, too... degrading. He thrust in so deeply that his pelvis locked in against me, spreading my asscheeks further. He was inside me to the very hilt, his wiry pubic hair tickling and scratching my sensitive flesh while his cock stretched me open wide to receive him. Reality sort of drew in until there was nothing beyond this experience, this sensation of my taut, agonized, pleasure-wracked hole mashed flat against his body, with his huge cock rooted into me all the way. It felt like the head was up inside my belly. I wanted to scream!

But as badly as it hurt, the pleasure was even more powerful. I was an animal, writhing in his grip, slick with sweat, my every breath a deep, rasping pant. My head tossed wildly and it took everything to keep my shuddering moans as quiet as possible as he began to thrust into me in earnest.

Oh, how that evil man fucked my ass... So hard, so deep, and for so, sooooo long. It hurt so badly... Sometimes I’d hear him chuckling, calling me nasty things and making me talk dirty to him or to the camera. But mostly he just grunted like a pig and kept pumping away at me, his cock hard and fierce as a jackhammer, and each time he rammed into me the pleasure increased along with all the pain and shame.

When he was nearly ready to come, he abruptly pulled out and skewered my pussy. He didn’t even announce that he was about to do it. Just one moment he was tearing my poor ass apart, and then suddenly WHAM... he was buried to the hilt inside my sex. I couldn’t help it; for one liberating moment I found myself struggling wildly, trying to break free of his iron grip on my hips. He had no right! But at once my head exploded with indescribable pain, taking the last of my breath away. I knew it would only get worse if I continued to resist, and the knowledge was enough to break me on the spot. I meekly arched my back again and let Mr Jones continue fucking me... as if he’d ever stopped.

Long, deep strokes, while the camera took in my slack lips, my wide eyes... and then Mr Jones came inside me like a hot, wet explosion. It felt like he was shooting all the way through my body, filling me. And as Wendy had promised, my own orgasm immediately tore through me in response, a shuddering triphammer of hot ecstasy, reducing me to a limp ragdoll between his hands, skewered by his cock, shuddering weakly as he pumped the last of his seed into me.

And also as she’d promised, I understood my humiliation with absolute clarity. Mr Jones had... bred me. He had fucked me, he’d destroyed my anal virginity and shot his seed into my womb, and I’d welcomed it like a perfect slut... and all of it was because that’s what Wendy wanted. I was her toy. My existence from that moment forward would serve exactly one purpose... to please Wendy.

That’s how it’s been, ever since. So far Wendy has introduced me to nineteen new “lovers,” including herself and Mr Jones. I’m the life of her little parties, crawling naked around the living room floor with a red ribbon tied into a bow just above my ass, and fresh condoms taped to the backs of my thighs. She’s been making money hand-over-fist from our pornographic films, and each new production is inevitably a little more shocking than the one before. But my new acting career may have to take a short break, if only because I’m pregant now. We’re pretty sure it has to be Mr Jones’s. She delights in letting him use me the most, second only to her. (Wendy promises that I’ll never be absolutely certain it’s his, and I’ve learned to believe her promises always. Still... it’s a good guess.)

Either way, the pregnancy has bought me a much-needed break. Wendy has become very gentle with my body since we found out, explaining that she wants to make sure my baby is born without a hitch. So until then, I mostly just give an abundance of head. And I’m all the more lucky because she seems to have become very jealous about that... these days I mostly just have to go down on herself and her very closest friends.

She’s also become a lot more careful about protecting my health, thank God. We were so very lucky that Mr Jones didn’t have any killer diseases! Since that first day, she’s taken pains to screen my partners ahead of time. And between lovers, she encourages me to work out daily and to eat a very balanced diet.

Of course Wendy knows every inch of my body by now, and I’m even more familiar with hers. I know her every scent, her every possible taste, and I’ve become very, very good at pleasing her. She promises me that I’ll be her favorite plaything for the rest of my life.

Under her care, I know that it will be a very long life indeed.