The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The midnight chill makes gooseflesh of my skin. I kneel, naked, waiting. Summer matches me, our hands clasped behind our backs, faces skyward. Our vision fixed upon the gap where the moon hides her face amid the endless, silver galaxy above, waiting. Far from home, but not alone, in a clearing deeper in the forest than we have ever been before, waiting.

Our beloved approaches, a pale vision, but we dare not be distracted by her slender loveliness. Soon, we shall be as she. We start the forbidden chant she taught us. We draw the darkness into the forbidden mark our beloved placed upon us. As the icy cold emblem stings our brows, we invite the forbidden goddess within us.

Layla places her hands on the back of our heads, baptising us with magic. We feel the power now. It flows into us. The Goddess comes. She fills us. We are hers. We change.

Mother shook me awake. Though her touch was gentle, I gave a startled yelp. For a moment, I was unsure where I was, but I quickly recognised concern etched across her fine features. Summer sat on the side of her bed, rubbing her chest like it was sore. I realised she was discreetly covering the cord with the gold earring Layla had given us. We had not taken them off since the Fayre. I felt for mine and found it had reversed about my neck in my sleep so my hair should cover it.

Mother kindly fussed about us, asking if we were well, was anything wrong, could she get us anything? We normally had no trouble rising but this was our third tardy start in a row. It was unlike us, and she loved us too much to ignore it.

Summer was quick with her lies though and confessed we had been staying up late making changes to plans for our grand tour. We had met a traveller at the Fayre, she said, we had got talking and they had inspired us with fresh tales of far-off places. Lies with a modicum of truth were easier to tell than total fabrications. When asked how late we were up, I thought it best to be straight and confessed it was nearly dawn. Mother laughed at that, satisfied with our tale, and said we could have a nap after we helped with the vegetable patch.

We were happy to do so, but that left us no time to talk. Last night had been another massive evolution in our relationship with Layla. Our experiences were amazing but, while they delighted us, there were parts that seemed peculiar in the light of day. It was strange to be so taken by acts I had never even considered before meeting our pact-sister. And my dream had been so vivid, I was dying to tell Summer about it.

Being twins, she read all that in my face, perhaps it was in her mind too, and whispered a simple assurance that we would talk later.

We put a brave face on it and worked hard. Helping in the garden was something we enjoyed but it was a struggle today. Mother was a kind soul and knowing we were tired, took pity on us a few of hours in. She told us to take a nap before lunch, which we gratefully welcomed. Any plans to talk things over would have to wait. We slept as soon as we lay down.

Over lunch, Mother pressed us on our late-night talks, and we shared some of the information Layla had inspired us with, while keeping any details of our lover far from the conversation. She thought we might be ready to head out next spring provided father was satisfied with our survival training progress. Fortunately, that had mostly been going well, although our archery skills were mediocre at best.

That afternoon we had to check the traps for catches, which finally afforded us the chance to talk. The sunny spell showed no signs of abating, making this the hottest summer we had ever experienced, and we were in no hurry. I could barely wait until we were away from the cabin, but we had to be sure we were out of Mother’s considerable earshot, which was even better than ours.

“I had the strangest dream last night,” I started. “Did you?”

Summer nodded and gave me a familiar wide-eyed look. It was not the first time we had dreamed the same dream.

“A ritual,” she said. “In the mountains. Layla was there. She had marked me here,” Summer tapped her forehead.

“Yes! Then held me like so,” I placed my hand on the back of my head. “There was power filling me. Something about the dark of the moon. We must tell her tonight. What was that mark?”

“A black circle flanked by other marks, I think,” Summer squinted as she tried to dredge the details from her memory.

“I do not recall seeing it. But I felt it. A stinging coolness above my eyes,” I said, tracing the area with two fingers while I recollected. I stopped and smiled at our connection. “As weary as I am, I never tire of dreaming as one.”

Summer hugged me and squeezed. “Nor I. We are one,” she said into my ear.

“We are one,” I whispered back, squeezing her hard and releasing.

“Last night was extraordinary. Again. Unsurprising that it dictated our dreams,” Summer said. “Layla is just the most special woman. A sorceress besotted with us. If you had not shared it all I would think it a dream. Particularly that thing with the hair, back-to-back, yes? It was as if that was happening to someone else, or like I was half-asleep, but it happened. We were one person or… something…” Summer went quiet as her brow quickly un-furrowed then her whole face relaxed and she stared into the distance. I waited for her to continue but realised something peculiar had happened. Her eyes were open, but she was oblivious.

“Sister?” I called but elicited no response. “Summer!” Still nothing, so I shook her shoulder. She startled and snapped a look at me, eyes popping wide.

“What?” Summer queried, confused.

“Are you well, Sum? You looked asleep with your eyes open. You were somewhere else for a moment,” I asked, concerned.

“I… I do not know. Lack of sleep must be wearing me down,” she said, voice strained with fatigue.

“We cannot have had more than three hours’ sleep any night since we were bonded,” I pointed out, then thought my phrasing was odd. “Look, you covered for me yesterday morning. Why not rest at the east dell, and I will complete checking the traps?”

Summer looked at me as if I had offered her a palace. “Would you?” she asked. I nodded.

“You need it, and I doubt we will get much sleep tonight,” I observed.

“Bless you, Win,” Summer squeezed my hand. “We’ll be there soon. What was I saying? Oh yes, last night, when our hair was bound. I remember her saying something to me but then it is a bit of a blank, but… nnn.” I thought she might be ‘blanking’ again but then she shuddered, savouring her memory as arousal spread across her face. “Not that I mind if it is a little obscured, I like it, in fact. I had the best time.”

“Me too, but we cannot keep missing this much sleep,” I noted. “We need to catch up. Not that I am the least tired when we are with her. The sight of her gives me such energy. It is when we are apart that I feel drained. I care not. I would stay up all night for a single moment with our beloved.”

Summer nodded vigorously, her smile lighting up her face. “We are in love!” she shouted and flung her arms out wide. We were a long way from the cabin and in no danger of Mother hearing us, so I joined in.

“In love!” I cried, bellowing the exultation in my heart.

“Love!” Summer shouted in my face.

I stopped, placed my hands over my heart and solemnly said, “To our secret bond I pledge myself.” Taken by my display, Summer stood opposite, her face serious, and repeated her pledge. Then we looked in each other’s eyes and intoned our vow in unison. Before breaking into smiles and laughing at our joy. Did life get better than this?

There was so much more to talk about, but we had come to the dell, so I left Summer in the shade of a beech tree to snooze while I carried on checking the traps. I estimated it would take an hour before I could circle back to pick her up and I was in no hurry.

We had not yet talked about Layla’s magic and becoming her apprentices. She was not what I expected of a magician. They wore robes and carried staves, did they not? I only had that petty conjuror form a few years back at the fayre and Mother’s many tales for comparison, but Layla looked nothing like any of that.

Anyway, her magic had no bearing on the depth of my feelings for her. It was amazing, and I very much enjoyed having it cast upon me, but it did not affect how I felt about her at all. There seemed a contradiction in that, which I struggled to reconcile. I loved having her cast magic on me, but it did not make me love her more… or less. That struck me as peculiar. Everything else she did made me love her more but not the magic. Maybe having her cast magic fired my lust? But then why should that not make me love her more?

I shrugged and gave up trying to make sense of it all. Layla was an enormous influence on my life now that there was so much to get my head around. The pace of our romance was dizzying. When I first saw her by the fire, I had never even thought of women the way I now whole-heartedly felt for her. I tried to picture other pretty village girls lustfully but, while there were dim stirrings that were not there before, it was barely a spring breeze compared to the autumn gale of our beloved.

I lost myself for a while in dreamy thoughts of the ways we had shared pleasure. Soon enough I was back at the east dell and crept up to Summer, dozing where I left her. I thought about the comical possibilities of throwing the three rabbits I had retrieved from the snares on to her, but I could not find the heart to wake her so rudely. Instead, I gently patted her thigh until her eyes flickered open. She roused quickly, circling her shoulders and stretching her neck.

“Any more dreams?” I asked, hopefully.

“Sadly, no, not that I recall. I was out like a candle. Ah! Success,” she said, nodding at the rabbits. “Let’s get them back and see if you can get a nap before this evening.”

As we strolled amid the buzz of insects, birds crying above and the heat of the summer sun it all seemed idyllic, but we missed our beloved.

“Such perfect afternoon. I wish Layla was here,” I said a little melancholic.

“Of course,” Summer said. “We will see her soon. Just a few more hours.”

“We should ask if we could meet at a more sensible hour,” I mused.

“We cannot risk exposing the pact. You know that,” Summer correctly asserted. She could be so annoying sometimes.

Mother was pleased with the catch and told us to take a nap, reminding us not to be up so late tonight. We agreed but it was a guilty lie. We would be up as late as our beloved desired. What I truly wished was to tell our parents we were going away to start our lives with Layla. I would miss our home enormously, and the wider world intimidated me more than I cared to admit, but I wanted forever with Layla to start in earnest.

The heat of the afternoon made poor rest of our nap. When we woke, we were focused on the only thing that mattered; being with our beloved. Nightfall came and we reiterated our empty promises to not stay up late. Deceit seemed unimportant to me compared to the necessity of maintaining the pact.

That evening we tried to clean our dresses of the dirt from spending so much of the previous evening on our knees or lying on the ground. Wearing them, boots, cloaks, the cord necklaces Layla had given us and nothing else, once we were sure our parents had gone to bed, we stole into the night.

We spoke very little on the way to our assignation. On previous nights, we had been brimming with nervous energy and cheerful chatter but tonight, for my part, I was gripped by the rising urge to be by our lover’s side. All else seemed extraneous. The occasional side glance in Summer’s direction showed her determined focus and so our pace was brisk.

As foolish as it may have been, the notion that Layla might not be there was gnawing at me. The possibility that she might not be there was harrowing. Whatever this fantastic tangle of fascination, lust and wonder our lover created in us, we could no longer do without it. We craved whatever mystery she might visit upon us tonight.

We reached the clearing about the thunderstruck tree to see her outlined in moonlight, dressed in the fine attire as she was that first night but with that scarf now fashioned as a sash about her waist. Her hair was plaited into a complex fashion tightly about her head with two strands falling either side of her luminous face. A huge surge of relief flooded through us. Summer swung her head to me and flashed her smile, the relief and joy transformed her face and mirrored my own. Everything would be wonderful, we just knew.

“Beloved!” we cried. Layla looked up. Her wolf smile welcomed us.

“My darlings, you fire my blood. I have missed you so,” she extended both arms to welcome us. We rushed into her embrace, smothering her fine features with hungry kisses.

“We missed you too, very much. We were quite lost without you. But you were with us in our dreams,” Summer excitedly revealed.

“Oh really?” Layla seemed pleased.

“Do not think us untrue, beloved, but sometimes Summer and I dream as one. It is a twin thing,” I said. “And last night we dreamed of you.”

“Do tell. You have my full attention,” Layla employed that remarkable focus of hers to make us seem we were the centre of her world.

“We were amid some ritual. You were there and had marked us for a dark goddess with some sort of black marks about a circle here,” Summer explained, stroking her forehead. Recognition registered on Layla’s face.

“And we chanted magical words you had taught us, and you called some sort of power into us, making us magical like you,” I continued, grinning conspiratorially. “It was wonderful or at least it felt that way to us. Does it make any sense to you or are we just babbling?”

“Not at all, my sweet Winter. I am honoured you would allow me into your dreams, for it is a dream of mine to share my powers with you,” Layla confided.

“You know my feelings on this,” Summer said, alluding to her embarrassing display at the previous evening’s end. “Does that mark mean anything or was it just a phantom of our dream?”

“A black circle? Flanked by the phases of the moon?” Layla asked. I shrugged. I had felt it more than seen it.

“Yes!” Summer confirmed, animatedly.

“Winter, may I demonstrate by marking your brow?” Layla asked.

It was not a demand; she was genuinely asking my permission. Without hesitation I agreed, “Of course, beloved. Please.” The chance to be her canvass quickened my pulse. Hoping she might use her magic upon me, I leant forward.

Layla placed her index and middle fingers in the centre of my forehead and dragged them apart across my brow, exclaiming a short series of arcane words. It seemed something more than fingertips pressed into my flesh. When she withdrew her hands a collection of icy patches stung my skin, an eerie familiarity to the sudden chill.

“That is it! Exactly so,” Summer said, animatedly. “What does it signify?”

“What does it look like?” I appealed for someone to tell me. I dared not touch my forehead for fear of disturbing whatever magic Layla had wrought.

“Summer, if I may,” she said. My sister nodded eagerly and accepted our lover’s touch upon her brow. In moments, she drew them aside to reveal a glossy, black circle, perhaps two inches across, bordered with a series of night-dark symbols depicting the phases of the waxing and waning moon. Seeing it clearly, I could map the receding stinging upon my brow well enough to know we were marked the same.

“You have brought our dream into the waking world,” I said in wonder. “You never cease to amaze.”

Layla shrugged modestly. “It is the least I could do. You are my dreams embodied,” she complimented. She could fell me with a word. Such a woman, such a love.

“So, what does it mean?” Summer asked.

“It is the symbol of Dahlk, goddess of secrets. I revere her. She looks over us and protects our pact. Your dreaming of her symbol is highly auspicious,” Layla explained.

Dahlk worship was not widespread, and I knew little of her. I had a faint suspicion she might be an aspect of Luna, the moon goddess.

“Is Dahlk not regarded as a dark goddess?” Summer asked. Alarm fluttered across my mind that we had just been marked with the emblem of a malevolent goddess. I was eager to embrace anything Layla wished to show us but this left me conflicted and a little fearful.

“She is, but the truth is not that simple. Darkness is named after her. Those who follow the light reject her and preach against her, since they fear her domain. She cares for the lost, watches over those who need the darkness, and protects secrets. If anything, she is our patron, for do we not meet in darkness? Are we not bound by a secret pact? If you have seen her sign in your dreams, upon your very brow, then you have her favour. Dahlk was kind to me when I lost… so much. She was there when all others turned from me, she shielded me when I was alone. Now she calls to you. Respect the goddess when she calls you,” Layla revealed, a refreshing sincerity in her voice, perhaps a vulnerability.

We were moved by her short monologue and could not deny we had borne the symbol of Dahlk in our dream. Given how wonderous our lives had become in the sheltering dark of recent nights it was hard to imagine anything ill of such a goddess. If Layla spoke favourably of her, that was good enough for us. My wish was to embrace everything our beloved offered but was this wise?

“We accept the mark of Dahlk,” Summer said, pre-emptively. I had misgivings but was inclined to agree.

“We consent. We accept the mark of our patron,” I said, still a little concerned I was consecrating myself to a dark power I knew precious little about, but I trusted our friend. If our beloved worshipped this goddess, then I would too. In that moment, I realised I trusted Layla with my very soul.

“Then we should be as one,” Layla said. With a swift, magical motion she painted the mark of Dahlk upon her own brow, and we were united. She spread her arms, palms to the sky, and we did likewise. “Speak as I speak, pact-sisters,” she instructed and we focused, readying ourselves.

“Touched by the goddess,” Layla began, and we repeated her words, excited by the ritual, apprehensive of its meaning, but eager to follow. “Goddess of secrets, patron of our pact, we welcome your blessings.”

“We invite your protection, we invite your darkness, we open ourselves to your will,” we recited, recollections of our dream drifting like mist about the edges of my awareness.

“Dahlk, lend us your darkness. Dahlk, keep safe our secrets. Dahlk, we give ourselves to you,” with each proclamation Layla drew her hands to her mark, then pulled them wide again, we copied her motion faithfully.

“We are bound in darkness. We will keep safe your secrets. We are your disciples,” she spoke, we repeated as the intensity of the ritual seemed to peak. “Sacred is the dark goddess, sacred is the darkness, sacred are our secrets.”

“To our secret bond I pledge myself,” the three of us said in harmony without prompting. Broad smiles broke across our faces, and we embraced. Was that it? It seemed brief.

“So, are we worshippers now?” Summer asked.

What did that even mean? Summer was as ignorant as I, yet we had blithely accepted being anointed in the name of a goddess of darkness. All it took was Layla to say she was loyal to Dahlk and now we were too. The impulse to embrace anything she showed us was overwhelming. We must be mad. Yet it felt so correct to draw closer to our beloved in body, mind and spirit. Layla was fulfilling the hopes we had built since we met that she would show us the wider world.

“All you have done is offer the simplest of prayers. To be a worshipper requires a deeper devotion, though you have dreamed of Dahlk, and are now anointed. Whether she answers your prayers we shall see in time. But if any deity wants you as a worshipper, it is unwise to refuse,” Layla explained.

It felt as if the moment was incomplete. Some greater mystery should be revealed, a devotion enacted or… something magical. In truth, my heart experienced no influx of the divine, only a steady growth of love for our guide into the dark goddess’s domain. My ignorance of Dahlk left me ill-equipped to even ask what we should do, but I trusted Layla to reveal more when she thought us ready.

“I can remove her mark now if you wish,” Layla offered.

“No,” Summer was quick to reply, but she spoke my mind too, as she so often did. “Let us keep them.”

“Yes, please do,” I confirmed.

“Very well, my pact-sisters. Then wear it proudly. Dahlk means a great deal to me. I hope she will mean as much to you,” Layla said, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Yes, Layla, we shall. We wish to learn how to properly revere our goddess,” Summer said, as devoted as I to our bond with our beloved.

“In time, my loves, in time. No need to rush. We have forever,” Layla answered. Summer and I felt the prospect of eternity with our lover swim through us in a rush.

“I have gifts,” our beloved announced, changing the tone considerably. She reached over the fallen tree behind her, grasped a strap dangling from the stump of a dead branch, and hoisted a cloth bag. I wondered why she had hidden it from view.

“Gifts? Oh, my love, there was no need. You are treasure enough. And we have no gift to offer in return,” Summer apologised.

“You are blessed with many gifts, my darlings, and I am humbled at how readily you present them to me every night. So, it is I who am in your debt. In that spirit, I offer you these in recompense,” Layla explained. She reached into the bag, causing a muffled metallic clink. She excitedly pulled out a folded, green scarf, laid it on the ground and opened it to reveal twin silver bands six inches across and perhaps an inch and a half high, a hinge on one side and a clasp decorated with a dark stone on the opposite. Too big for an armlet, too small for a circlet. I could only imagine it was a collar, like one would put on a pet if one was wealthy.

“They are beautiful,” Summer remarked. She greedily snatched one and turned it over to get a full look at it.

“They are,” I agreed. Following my sister’s lead, I picked up the other but tried not to snatch. “Where did you get them?”

“Bella. The lady who sold us our earrings,” Layla explained, as she flicked the top of her ear.

“Is she still in the village? I thought she was itinerant. Surprising she has not moved on yet,” Summer wondered.

“She camps not far away for now. I have coin and a sale is a sale,” Layla answered.

Layla piercing our ears at the Fayre was burned into my memory as the moment when an entertaining companion shifted into something altogether more attractive. I was grateful to Bella by association with that experience, and thus well-disposed to her wares. My thoughts began to fall over themselves as I toyed with the notion of wearing a collar Layla had bought for me. Why a collar? Did it mean the same to her as it was starting to mean to me?

“I do not recall seeing these among her wares,” I ventured.

“See keeps choice pieces in reserve. It is her method to lure one in with the smaller items and offer rarer pieces to those she thinks might buy. What my pact-sisters bring to my heart is precious to me, so I sought her out to buy precious metals to adorn you. Would you like to try them on?” Layla asked, taking command as usual.

“This is so kind of you, Layla. We would,” Summer confirmed, presumptuously. “What are these called? They are not exactly necklaces.” Sometimes our ignorance was awkwardly obvious.

“It’s called a choker,” Layla explained. “A necklace that fits flush to the throat. Do you like them?”

“I do. They are… lovely,” Summer replied as she briefly licked her lips. There was a husky breath of desire in her voice that recognised something deeper in those silver bands. I knew she was having the same lustful thoughts as I.

“What is this?” I asked gesturing to the circular stone, as I imagined it resting over my throat.

“Bloodstone,” Layla answered simply.

“It promotes healing, does it not?” I asked, recalling something Mother said years ago.

“So it is said,” Layla confirmed.

“Well then, let us accept our benefactor’s gracious gifts,” Summer said, unable to disguise her desire beneath the faux formality of her words. We looked at each other for a moment, anticipation in our eyes, as Layla reached over and took it from Summer’s hands. She turned it over, catching moonlight in liquid flashes across its edges and looked to Summer. There was a silent pause as Summer considered her next move and then committed herself.

She stepped closer to Layla and sank to her knees. Perhaps it should not have, but her clear submission caught me by surprise. Her demeanour was not the same as at last night’s end when her gross display was played off as part-joke. Now she was deadly serious. We all felt it.

The most frequent point of friction between my sister and me was when she would rush headlong into a situation that I was either not ready for or simply did not care for. Sometimes this made me feel uncomfortable or embarrassed as I felt the pressure of our creed to always act as one. This moment was different.

There were times when my desire for an experience was only hampered by a lack of confidence and Summer had opened many a door for me to indulge. Pleasure blossomed within me at the sight of Summer kneeling before Layla. I wanted to do the same but even after Layla’s obvious acceptance and passion over the previous nights, I felt ashamed to be so forward, so eager, so needy. All the same, I coveted abasing myself to our white-haired lover.

I looked down at the choker, seeing within it my desire for our beloved’s authority. It held the promise of commitment to these potent submissive urges she had helped me discover. It was just jewellery, but it grew heavier with meaning with each moment. I should be on my knees beside my twin but chose to stand for now. This was Summer’s moment.

Layla coolly looked down at Summer, her superiority burgeoning. She arched an eyebrow and said, “Very well. If this is your desire. You want this?” She waved the choker in front of my sister.

“Yes. Of course. You say it is a choker. I think it a collar. As one would put on a pet. You say we make gifts of ourselves to you each night. If so, I want to make it clear I am giving myself to you tonight. I want you to collar me… as a pet,” Summer said, running her hands up the back of her head and lifting her hair out of the way. I gaped at her brazen attitude. On her knees yet so assertive, so provocative. She could always astound me, and I loved her so much for it.

Layla’s eyes bore into Summer as she slowed down her speech to cast greater emphasis into every word, “As you wish, Summer. Tonight, you shall be my pet and obey me in all things.”

She opened the choker and lent around to position it. As she did so, she threw her gaze in my direction and locked eyes with me while she placed it about my sister’s throat. A simple click filled the silence and I shuddered at the moment’s undeniable eroticism. My quim clenched, Summer moaned softly and Layla’s gaze made it perfectly clear what she expected of me next.

The strangeness of my desires buzzed at the periphery of my awareness. Why was this display so compelling? Why were these new desires to submit so paramount? Why did I want to be Layla’s above all else? Her eyes held all the answers. They were the most beautiful I had ever seen and there was hunger in them, hunger for me. I had never felt so desired. It quashed my reticence. I wished to be whatever she wanted me to be.

Layla straightened up and her imperious eyes fell upon Summer.

“I am you pet and will obey you in all things,” Summer confirmed, her stare intense, as if Layla was the only person here. She remained on her knees, but her eyes followed as our beloved turned to me.

Without hesitation, I sank to my knees beside Summer, as now familiar submission wrapped about me like a winter cloak. Reverently, I lifted the choker, offering it, and myself, to Layla. She slid it from my hands and turned it over, drawing my eyes by making quicksilver of moonlight across its surfaces. Right then, I needed her to put it around my neck more than anything. I needed her to demonstrate her superiority. I needed to prove my subservience; a desperation sweetened by the absolute certainty that need would be fulfilled. Only dimly aware of Summer less than a foot away, I was transfixed.

“You want this. You want to be my pet, just like your sister,” Layla made statements of her questions. Her authority was as unquestionable as it was beautiful, as absolute as it was arousing. It drew heat from all of us. The musk of our beloved’s pleasure grew thick.

“I do, Layla,” the craving in my voice surprised me. Cheeks flushed, I had a powerful impulse to touch my sex but stopped myself.

“And once you are mine, you will do anything I demand, obeying me in all things on this night,” Layla laid out the terms of what she expected with precision. All she wanted was total obedience. If that was her game, I was more than ready to play. Oh, by the gods, I loved her so.

“Yes, Layla. Anything you command, I shall obey,” I breathily affirmed, mind racing across the possibilities of my promise. My eyes widened in surprise as I found myself suddenly on the brink of orgasm. I fought to contain myself as I lifted my hair out of the way.

“Good pet,” she said, her words stroked my sex, pushing me closer to the edge. Her magnificence engulfed me. She understood how much I wanted her to take control of me. She looked to my side, and I remembered Summer knelt there, though I only had eyes for Layla as she slipped the choker about my throat. The cool of the metal, startling against the heat of my neck, felt far better than I could have guessed: secure, fulfilling, final. With a quiet click I was made into a pet and came with a soft moan.

“Who are my pets?” a question that was an actual question from Layla’s lips at last.

“We are your pets,” we said as one.

“And what will you do for me?” she demanded.

“Anything,” we said and meant it. So committed was I to this game that, though I trusted she would not make me do anything I was opposed to, I accepted such decisions were now out of my hands.

“Kiss these,” Layla instructed, holding her hands forth to present the two identical rings she bore on her middle fingers. We obeyed. It felt absurdly satisfying to do so; easy and rewarding deep in my quim. We were already hers, ever since the night above the waterfall. This merely gave our relationship clear structure tonight. Perhaps tomorrow she would be our servant? Who knew? But this night we were her pets and would obey. The prospect brought me such delight.

Layla bade us stand and so we did as gracefully as we could manage. Again, obeying the most trivial of directions filled me with bliss. I could get used to this. She told us to take her arms and so we did. She told us we were to take a stroll and so we obeyed. I had never played a game quite like this before, but this was far more than sport. It was effortless joy.

As we walked, I found myself stroking the smooth metal of my choker, attempting to comprehend how it bound me to my promise to be Layla’s pet. Baring it brought me a strange happiness and I surmised that, as a pet, it was not my place to remove it. That was Layla’s right alone. I had agreed to this so if she decided we should keep them on, we would. I supposed we would remain her pets until she chose to release us, a stimulating prospect. It sent a series of arousals through me. Remaining collared would necessitate inventing some suitable lies to tell our parents tomorrow but I was too in the moment to let the future alarm me.

Naturally, we had made a close study of our beloved from the outset, and I had begun to learn the subtleties of our complex companion’s moods. Even in such a short time, it was trivial to tell when she was struggling to contain her lust, as she was on that walk. Clearly, our adornment was powerfully erotic for her. But I also noted there was something in the deferential way we added, “Yes, Layla,” to almost everything she said as we conversed during our stroll, that spiked her libido. The grip of her arm about mine became tighter, her gait a shade too fast to be called a stroll, and how she squirmed her thighs together when she caught us stroking our chokers.

Summer and I found a game in this. Alternating, we exaggeratedly ran our hands over our bodies, across our breasts, through our hair, accompanied with soft groans. Our beloved’s pets made a show of our lust, but then suddenly ceased and pretended we had done nothing out of the ordinary. Poor Layla did not know which way to look as one of us would take over from the other in our suggestive displays. We kept this up for an age, greatly enjoying flirting until, as we walked under a beech bower, Layla had had enough.

As I ran my free hand from throat to quim, Layla snapped. She pushed me against the trunk of a tree, writhed her body against mine, groping my breast. Surprised and delighted to have broken her composure, I squealed at her sudden aggression. Having ached for her all evening, I had finally made her want me as badly as I wanted her.

“Do you have any notion what you vixens do to me?” Layla growled, a sound I had not heard her make before, as she struggled to contain herself.

“No, Layla. We are only pets. We do as we are told,” I teased, tilting my head back to show off my choker, taunting her with her own desire.

“Pet! Attend!” Layla barked to Summer.

“Yes, Layla. At once,” Summer replied and moved into position behind her, squeezing our beloved’s body between us. She nuzzled the nape of our beloved’s neck and snaked her hands up and down her flanks. Layla’s head lolled to one side in abandon, exposing her neck. I took advantage and fell upon it, peppering passionate kisses the length of it. Mirroring Layla, my hands explored her breasts, which drew a delightful rising scale of gasps.

The air grew thick with the mingled musk of our need. Our playful lewdness passed from sport into naked lust and carried on the tide of it, at the very end of a deluge of kisses, I bit Layla’s neck. She yowled like a wild cat, in pleasure or pain, I could not tell.

Startled and ashamed of my violence, I pulled back. Her face was contorted, eyes tightly shut, teeth bared. Her mouth stretched wide in her growl, only inches from my face, four fangs clearly on display, two above, two below, tips far sharper than any I had ever seen.

From the depths of her savage ecstasy, Layla’s eyes flashed open, their mysterious dark colours now burned with an orange fire. Instantly snapping back into control, she realised what she had revealed. I struggled to pull myself away from the tree, but the pressure of her and my sister was too great. I was trapped.

Panic gripped me. Breathless, I inhaled for a scream that never came. Layla’s ferocious glare impaled my mind. My head rocked back against the tree under the force of it with a dull thud. I froze.

I strained to move any part of me, but my limbs had lost all power. My entire body, even my eyes, were locked in place. I tried to cry out but found it impossible. This fuelled my panic, the only aspect of me still functioning, so I desperately grasped it in hopes it would grant me enough strength to force my body to respond. In moments, even that was stripped away as an irresistible passivity claimed me, my distress smothered in moments, leaving me paralysed yet eerily calm.

Struggling to comprehend what was happening, at the lower periphery of my vision I caught Layla’s fangs retracting, transformed into typical teeth. Time seemed to slow as it took an age to process my perceptions. It became immensely laborious to form thoughts as my faculties ground to a hideous, sluggish crawl. How long ago did those glowing eyes become all I could see? No time at all or forever? Somehow, I had forgotten the difference.

Summer sensed something was amiss and stepped round to see what was happening. I could hear her speaking but was unable to grasp her words. Was she calling my name? Too late, I realised I had to warn her, protect her, but the urge instantly faded. My attention was so fixated on our lover that even my precious twin seemed unimportant. As Summer circled, Layla swept those compelling, fiery eyes, towards her.

“See nothing. Hear nothing. Be still,” Layla ordered with a voice drenched in ancient power that resonated through us both.

Summer may have weakly mumbled, “nothing,” but I could be mistaken. Those overpowering orbs consumed my senses, anything else was immaterial. How best to put what happened next? Layla invaded my mind.

To this day it remains hard to express what she did, but I recall welcoming the intrusion. I was completely in love with this woman. Less than an hour ago, I had agreed to a game of doing anything she wanted, bound myself to that purpose and delighted in it. Now, supremely relaxed, my fear of her fangs completely quashed, I was a part of her.

There could be no resistance. My will was stripped from me by Layla’s own in a series of quick, brutal abrasions. My dulled wits welcomed the warmth and intimacy of the power that violated me so mercilessly. Detached from any notion of pain or fear, instead every new reduction of my faculties brought a profound burst of pleasure. Was she killing me? No. Death could not be so pleasing.

As a hunter’s daughter I had seen inside numerous skulls; the mysterious loops and folds of brain matter on which it is said the mind of any living thing depends. Layla’s will now moved freely about mine, leaving such pleasure in her wake as she took control of any part of me that took her fancy.

Curiously, the mark of Dahlk placed upon my brow earlier now flared like the touch of a branding iron. My capacity to feel pain was entirely at Layla’s discretion so the agony remained only abstract, the sensation almost a delight. I could not tell if I was being disfigured or merely imagining it, but I had the notion it was a conduit for Layla’s control.

Detached from time, a wonderful revelation manifested at the centre of me: my mind belonged to Layla. Her control was absolute. Without her will I was nothing. As an extension of her being she could make me do, think or believe anything. I existed by her grace alone and this sublime truth flooded me with joy. As soon as I fully accepted this she spoke with the voice of a goddess. When her lips moved, I heard her words both dancing in the air and thrumming deep within my being.

“You are mine,” my goddess spoke.

“I am,” I answered, reduced to Layla’s creature.

“What did you see?” she asked.

I knew what she meant, though the incident seemed long ago, I had not forgotten. There could be no evasion, no hesitation, so I quickly replied, “Four of your teeth. Impossibly sharp. Just after I bit you, when your head was thrown back. I am so sorry I bit you. Your eyes… like fire.”

“What did you feel?” Layla demanded. Her voice was everywhere, everything.

“Shocked. Frightened. The fangs… like the tales of vampires Mother told us when we were young. Your eyes. They scare me but… they are… beautiful. So beautiful. I cannot see anything else. I cannot look away. I cannot close my eyes,” I answered, every word true. I had not so much as blinked since she revealed their beguiling luminescence.

“What do you know of vampires?” Layla demanded. I mined my memory for everything Mother had told us.

“They are monsters who look like people but are not alive nor truly dead. They fear daylight and drink the blood of the living, drawn with sharp fangs… like yours. It is said they can influence one’s mind to quell resistance to their attacks. Legends say they cannot enter the abode of the living without invitation. I am afraid of them. I have been since I was a child,” I confessed.

I was quite young when Mother told us stories of vampires as cautionary tales to urge us home before dark. It was indisputable that the undead were a force within the world. Consequently, they had haunted my nightmares as a child. Under Layla’s compulsion, I had to divulge everything I knew, but I was torn for, as my beloved, I could never cause her distress. “I… I am afraid you are one of them.”

“Worry not, my darling. Believe in our love. Believe in our bond,” Layla commanded, which was easy to obey.

“Forget what you saw,” she instructed, the fire of my beloved’s eyes flared. The vision of her fangs was erased from my memory in a warm wave of bliss. I had seen nothing. It never happened. I was too immersed in my love for Layla to even notice anything had changed. Instead, I marvelled at the unbreakable connection we had formed in only a few short nights. I loved her so much.

“Yes, Layla,” I murmured dreamily.

“Good. Now, Winter, you trust me, do you not?” Layla asked one of her statement questions.

“Absolutely, my love. With my life, with my soul,” I answered, brimming with joy.

“And you welcome all that I show you?” she continued.

“Everything. I must embrace everything you offer. Your generosity astounds me. You are an endless source of marvels. I adore all you have shown us, everything you have done to us,” I replied. It was comforting to confess how much she meant to me.

“Good pet,” she said, which made my quim throb. “I am going to do something to you which will increase your joy. I shall change a tiny part of you forever, but you will not recall that I did so. You will believe it is, and always was, a part of you that grew naturally, over time. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly. You will render a change in me, but I will forget that you did so. I welcome anything you do to me, my love. What will you change, beloved?” I asked, mildly surprised I had the ability to ask the question. I was bound to my promise to obey her in all things this night. Nothing about this struck me as peculiar but the knowledge that she was about to do something to me made my loins churn.

“I note you like that. I shall tell you in moment, pet.” My heart burned at that name. “First you must listen carefully. You are completely open and receptive to what I am about to tell you. You will absorb it, take it deep into your heart, deeper than thought, where your emotions dwell. You understand,” Layla commanded, being very precise in her speech. This must be very important. I was a paradoxical mix of eager anticipation and extreme passivity.

“Yes, Layla. I am open and receptive... completely…” I answered as my thoughts diffused and my mind opened so very wide. Then I could not think at all, merely stare dumbly into twin pools of amber knowing only their truth.

“Winter, you have always felt strongly about vampires, but your fear transformed when you grew from a child to a woman. Now you are intrigued, attracted,” Layla commanded as my memories started shifting into the shape of her words.

“You yearn to be taken and penetrated. Biting your flesh, beguiling your mind, making you theirs—these are all aspects of your lust. Since this first took root in your mind, you have yearned for them. The more you have yearned for them, so the deeper the roots have run. This is what you are. This is a secret you have yet to share with anyone, even your sister, but you should. You understand,” Layla was not asking.

“Yes, Layla,” I replied and understood perfectly. It was all true. I felt my mind being stirred by some dark and slender implement, creating a profound shift within me, emotional foundations were reset as a primal fear was reforged into an obsessive desire.

“You will forget this incident entirely. You will forget any change you saw in my eyes. You will forget everything I have said, anything I have done to you since I took control, but you will hold the truth of it all within your heart forever. Now, be still and let these true beliefs impregnate your heart and mind. They are part of you now. Close your eyes and obey,” Layla commanded. Her eyes blazed a final time as mine slammed shut.

At once, my instructions were my world. Where I was, who I was with, what had happened all became irrelevant. My only purpose was compliance. The mark flared across my forehead again as my mind began reconfiguring itself around my beloved’s edicts with all the potency of childhood nightmares made sweet. I was aware once more, in a limited fashion, and noted a trace of sorrow that I was being made to forget the sublime state I had been placed in by my controller. Before I could determine if I mourned the soothing feelings that suffused my domination or the loss of my knowledge of what had been done to me, the memories faded, taking the sadness with it. Instead, falling into an unfolding dream, I turned to other thoughts, old desires that seemed new.

When had I last considered vampires? I fantasised about them a good deal, did I not? A moment of confusion was disregarded by the definitive assertion that I did. Darkly lustful thoughts swam into my mind. I grew increasingly convinced that I regularly used figments of vampires as stimulation for rapture, though I had never been brave enough to confess that to Summer.

Clearly, I had grown since Mother’s horror stories troubled my sleep as a child. Layla had proved how much I enjoyed submitting to the will of another, which made sense given my romanticisation of vampires. If tales were true, they could compel submission from their victims. Being made to obey, oh my word. It was suddenly so clear. Compulsion was my secret vice.

Of course, I knew vampires were dangerous. If I met a real one, I would flee in terror, would I not? But we lived far from any necromancer, unholy sepulchre or death-laden dungeon, so there was no harm in fantasising about them in the abstract.

With that in mind, my daydream drifted into an image of wandering the woods alone at dusk. Chancing upon a pale man… no, a woman, her fascinating eyes caught my attention. She stole closer in silence. It was not until she touched my face that I discovered I was bewitched and at her mercy. Her mouth opened, revealing the fangs of a predator. My pulse raced. Helpless, she tilted my head to one side, flaunting my throat. The anticipation of my doom thrilled me.

Cool fingers snaked into my quim. Was I dreaming or truly stroking myself? The idea of a vampire touching my sex was potent, so I gave myself over to the image, dextrously whisking my arousal. As she brought her fangs to my exposed neck, the fingers worked faster and faster. I imagined her teeth sliding into my flesh, penetrating me, as the fingers pushed inside.

How could such a nightmare drive me so wild? When did my interest in vampires become so prurient? Layla had shown me the glorious liberty in embracing desires I had never previously had the courage to accept. On the brink, I had to push deeper into my fantasy. I could not stop. So, in my mind’s eye, I watched the vampire latched onto my neck, taking my blood, draining me, piercing my soul, invading me, making me hers completely. The mark of Dahlk seared across my brow. I screamed as I came and was swallowed by darkness.

The next time I was aware of anything, Layla clapped a steady beat for us. My wrists crossed with Summer’s as we danced, mirroring each other’s steps. Swaying gracefully in long, looping arcs, our hair flying about, I had lost track of how long we had been dancing. Momentary confusion that my memory was amiss was reflexively discarded as I focused on Summer to perfect our steps. We finished with a flourish, flushed and sweaty, breathless but happy, and bowed low to our audience of one. Layla applauded, beaming an appreciative, as she ran up to hug us.

“You told me you could dance. I was unprepared for how completely you gave yourselves over to it. Your unity, your grace. Astonishing. You are special pets indeed. I am honoured,” she planted firm kisses on our foreheads. I was grateful for the coolness of her lips.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I felt only smooth, hot skin. That initial chill when Layla created my mark was long gone, now it had no more texture than dried ink. I vaguely thought it should feel different but was unsure why. Phantoms of fire and pain danced in the distance of lost memories but quickly faded. Perhaps I was overheated from our exertions?

Summer looked unsteady too, even a little confused. We had been so focused on the dance that we had lost track of everything else, which felt marvellous, but disorienting. Layla’s obvious delight grounded us thankfully.

“We have wanted to do that since we first met you, but you keep us so busy,” Summer laughed.

“Your pets love dancing and should have shown you sooner. Forgive us, mistress,” I apologised. That was new. I had not called her that before. It just slipped out, but no one paid it much mind.

“Nothing to forgive, pet. You claimed you had no gift for me, yet you show me a talent worth more than all the silver about your necks,” Layla assured us. It felt strangely satisfying to be so highly prized. “Time for home.”

“Yes, Layla,” we said in harmony. Though neither of us wanted to go, it had been agreed that we would part after our dance. At least, I think it had. Still dizzy and faintly irritated at my memory lapse, I brushed it aside without comment, not wanting to mar tonight’s final moments together.

Quietly strolling through the woods back to our cabin, holding our lover’s hands, we leaned into Layla, feeling tremendously grateful and content.

“Thank you,” I said, breaking the silence.

“What for?” Layla asked.

“Your beauty, your honesty, your knowledge, your love, being our first, trusting us with your secrets, collaring us, your kindness, your generosity, making us your pets and… liking our dancing,” I counted our blessings off on my fingers. “Is that everything?”

“And piercing our ears,” Summer added. “That is all.” Our list made Layla grin.

“We want to spend our lives repaying your many kindnesses. Say we will, beloved,” I pleaded.

“I promise we shall be together always. I will never let you go,” Layla said the perfect thing as ever. I squealed in delight.

“Good, because we are not letting you go either,” Summer added, squeezing Layla about the waist.

“Were we good pets, mistress?” I asked, feeling a euphoric rush at calling her that.

“Yes, pet,” Layla replied, stroking my hair, which sent delightful sparks up and down my spine.

“We enjoy being your pets,” Summer said, adding, a little coyly, “We could do that again some other night… if you wished.”

“I would like that. And much more,” Layla replied with her wolfish grin.

“I like the sound of that,” I added.

“Do you wish us to wear your collars to bed, and all day tomorrow and always? If you command us, we will obey,” Summer said as I nodded my agreement. We waited apprehensively for Layla’s decision. We were serious, though I had no idea how we might explain the chokers to our parents, but that was less important than Layla’s will. We had pledged to obey her so long as we wore the collars and would not be foresworn. She kept us waiting on her choice.

“I think it best I remove them,” Layla said at last. I was relieved and disappointed at the same time. “Kneel.”

“Yes, Layla, we obey,” we said as one, then knelt before her. My desire escalated at once. The power of our submission to her was irresistible. Any demonstration of it brought arousal to us all. Though the evening was coming to an end, we were ready to fuck if she commanded. With some sadness we held our hair out of the way and presented our throats. I could see Layla’s reluctance to remove our collars, but soon she took Summer’s with a click of its clasp and a swift motion, then did the same with mine, placing both back in her bag.

“There, you are free,” Layla said, a little forlornly, helping us to our feet.

“Not truly. Not ever again,” Summer said as we rose. “We are bound to our pact and our hearts belong to you now. Forever. I did not know it was possible to know I will love someone forever, but I believe it now.” She kissed Layla’s cheek.

“We will never be free of you. You are our path now. You are what we want. When you are ready to move on, we will follow. We love you,” I added, which made Layla smile a warm, almost coy grin.

“Oh, your love is such a treasure, but one more thing,” Layla placed her hands on our foreheads, uttered something inscrutable and when she took her hand away, she had erased Dahlk’s mark.

“May Dahlk protect you,” I said and kissed her cheek.

“And you both,” Layla replied, turned on her heel and strode away.

We watched her go as always, admiring her from behind until we could see her no more.

“So, we worship Dahlk, now?” Summer pondered.

“We had best not tell Mother that. She might object. Best let her believe we are still Lunites,” I ventured. Summer nodded and we stole back to the cabin and slunk into our beds. It was not as late as previous nights, and I incorrectly fancied I was still full of energy.

Lying in bed, I recalled the night’s events, getting as far as the stroll under the beech trees. I remembered Layla pushing me against that tree and my memory of her violence stoked my arousal one last time before sleep took me.