The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When I came to I was alone. The ropes were gone and I was lying in bed with the quilt over me. I lay still for a moment or two listening for noises elsewhere in the flat but heard none. I got up and winced with pain as I got myself dressed. Someone had already cleaned my face and so I threw my things into my bag and less than ten minutes later I was standing in the street hailing a taxi. At the airport I managed to get my ticket changed to the early evening flight and then I killed a fearful couple of hours praying that Katrina would not come after me. Once I was safely on the plane I tried to get my thoughts in order.

It was seeing Janet’s body that had taken me over the edge. Her buttocks were a mess of recently inflicted stripes but there was evidence of much older punishments. I knew then that Katrina was not new to this. I had no doubt that both girls were indeed students but I surmised that Katrina was tutoring them not just in Psychology. I guessed that Verona was naturally dominant and was following in Katrina’s footsteps and it followed that Janet was probably submissive to both of them. That look that she gave me told me that that she had been there too, on her back, helpless, whilst they rode themselves to ecstasy.

Some weeks later Katrina phoned me. She confirmed that she was bisexual, mainly men, but occasionally women, but only on her terms. She told me that she had been attracted to me ever since school but she knew that I would not go for her particular brand of deviancy. At the outset she genuinely believed that she could help me but she was overcome by her own desires. She said that she wanted a reconciliation but I put the phone down without another word and never spoke to her again.

The day following my return from Edinburgh I found that I was not drawn back to the office. I speculated that this was because Gemma had tacitly agreed that I need not return before Friday which now meant that I had two days in which to try and find a solution. On the flight home it had occurred to me that, whilst I could not enlist the help of another hypnotherapist, I could, perhaps, explore the possibilities of self hypnosis. Now that I had a new goal I was galvanized. It took a couple of phone calls to seek out a medical library that allowed general public access and then, less than an hour later, I was seated at a study table. It seemed that the medical community was still pretty evenly split on the efficacy of hypnotic treatments with a large proportion of the anti lobby being vehemently opposed. I took a light lunch and then immersed myself once more, this time concentrating on techniques.

By the time I returned home I had a thick sheath of notes and a renewed spirit of optimism. It seemed that the key to self-hypnosis was the ability to relax and years of yoga classes gave me a head start in this regard. It was necessary to reach a state of hypnotic susceptibility that demanded a deep state of relaxation. Some people did this whilst standing up to avoid actually falling asleep but others failed because they remained too alert in an effort to recognize the onset of the hypnotic state. It seemed that the second important element was to have, simple, clear cut goals. Some of the literature recommended writing them down and committing them to memory so that they could be accessed by the subconscious. An alternative was to try and visualize them before going under.

In my case it was very simple. I wrote down the phrase “I will no longer submit to Gemma’s will.” half a dozen times and recited it as a mantra. By repeating the words I used it as a countdown and each time I said them I allowed myself to relax a little more. After an hour I felt as invigorated as I normally did after a yoga session but I had no idea if it had worked. The following day I repeated the process twice more having bathed and pampered myself beforehand to help things along.

On Friday morning I deliberately slept late to see if I felt any guilt about not going into the office on time and was elated to find that my conscience seemed clear. I got up, had a leisurely breakfast and everything still seemed well. I got into my car feeling happier than I had in days and realized that I was actually looking forward to my confrontation with Gemma. As usual, I allowed the traffic flow to dictate the route that I took but I found that I had turned into an unfamiliar street. I came to a stop at the kerb to give myself a chance to check my mental map but, no sooner had I done so, than there was a sharp rapping on the top of the car.

“You’re late!”

I looked up into the heavily made up face of a pneumatically breasted blonde and it took me a second or two to recognize the woman who had provided so much tabloid fodder over the preceding twelve months. Melanie Marchant, real name unknown, was a former lap dancer who had achieved notoriety after marrying a fifty year old postman. He also happened to be one of the countries biggest ever lottery winners. She divorced him within a year, citing his adultery, and took him for half of everything he had. The sap had bedded an equally well endowed “model” who, the tabloids later discovered, had once worked at the same club as Marchant. Much was made of it but nothing was ever proved.

More thoughts were cascading into my mind than I could immediately handle and I felt slightly faint. I got out of the car, leant against it, and took some deep breaths.

“Follow me.”

She walked back up the path towards a large faux Tudor house that was one of six in the street and, almost without thinking, I followed. My professional instincts were kicking in but it was all wrong somehow. She was a prospective client, I was late. I racked my brains. What time should I have been there? The interior of the house turned out to be a nightmare of mismatched modern themes that screamed bad taste and only served to unsettle me further. She had me sit down on a particularly garish sofa and I realized that I had brought a set of proposal forms with me from the car. I tried to find something to say, to stall for time, whilst I tried to regain control.

“How…How did you hear about us?”

“I know Gemma from the club. You’d be surprised how many business women used to come in.”

She saw the shocked look on my face.

“When they ask for dances they pay better than the men: and then of course there are the little extras…I must admit I never thought that I would end up as the client. Why don’t you put those papers down and undress for me.”

I felt a wave of revulsion but it was quickly replaced by a dangerously familiar sense of guilt. It seemed that all my attempts at self-healing had been in vain.

“Nice body, you sure you don’t want a job at the club? You’d make good money.”

I stood before her naked and defeated.

“Dancing can be a turn on but we had a strictly “no touch” policy with the men; so, at the end of the evening we girls would sometimes help one another out…I’ve missed that this last year or so.”

As she said it she stood up and slipped her panties down her long dancer’s legs. Any lingering doubts disappeared like pollen in the wind. She came towards me and ran her hands down off of my shoulders and onto my breasts before moving lower still. I winced as her hands playfully squeezed my buttocks and she half turned me to see.

“You’re into that sort of thing? Oh baby, you and I are going to have so much fun..!”

Hours later I got back into my car and then I fell apart. I sat and cried, great wrenching sobs that left me fighting for breath. It took a long while for me to regain sufficient composure to drive myself back home. I had signed up another client but at what cost.

Once I had showered I tried to think it through. Presumably Gemma, had planted the meeting details for Marchant somewhere that had impinged on my subconscious, possibly in one of the many e-mails she was so fond of sending me, and after that she had only to trigger the impulse for me to see it through. My new hope was that I had obeyed because the suggestion had been implanted before I started my course of self hypnosis and that I might still be able to resist new instructions.

With a renewed determination I spent the whole weekend putting myself under but this time I focused on specifics including “I will go to the police.”

On Monday morning I put my theory to the test. Instead of driving directly to the office I took a minor diversion to the police station. I parked up and got as far as the front desk without any ill feeling. I was sorely tempted to swear a complaint there and then but just getting there boosted my confidence immeasurably and I felt ready to go on the attack.

When I got to the office the door was locked and I assumed, not without disappointment, that Gemma had yet to arrive. I was surprised, therefore, to find her seated at her desk. At first glance I thought she had a cold. Her face was glowing and she looked slightly spaced out. For a split second I almost felt concerned but this was no cold. As I stood in the doorway she began to breathe harder.

“Faster!”

As she said it I became aware of the noise coming from beneath her desk and then she started to groan in a manner that was all too familiar.

“Oh fuck! Yes!..Don’t stop!”

She was in the throes of a more intense than usual orgasm and, whilst I felt that I should have looked away, I found myself rooted to the spot. Her body began to shake like a badly operated puppet as it ripped through her and then she sat limp in her seat as it left her drained. Finally she turned her attention to me.

“There’s someone here you should see.”

She eased her chair back heedless of the fact that she was completely naked from the waist down. As she did so a naked figure emerged from beneath her desk. The sweaty body was definitely male but his identity was masked by a leather hood which was tightly laced at the back of his head. The hood had no eyeholes and from the mouth there emerged a six inch leather dildo which, at that moment, gleamed with moisture. Breathing was only possible through two small openings in the area of his nostrils and, right then, he was breathing hard.

His hands were bound behind his back with pantyhose but it was his penis which got my attention. It was girded by a series of thin leather straps each of which had been tightly cinched. Even as I looked he was valiantly trying to come to erection but the straps made it painfully impossible. There was another, thicker, strap tightened around his scrotum which was horribly constricting his balls. Had it been anyone else he would have had my sympathy but Sebastian’s body was all too familiar to me and, as far as I was concerned he was getting everything he deserved.

“Is it hypnotized?”

“He was to start with…”

It was not the answer I was expecting but his present state explained why she had been happy for me to take a few days off. She obviously wanted time to break in her latest acquisition.

“Get dressed. I want to talk to you.”

My assured tone of voice surprised her but she quickly regained her composure and, when she replied, it was with a hint of mischievousness.

“I can’t spare you the time right now but if you think its something important come round to the house this evening.”

I had the distinct feeling that she was toying with me and I wondered if there was something I may have overlooked. She took advantage of my momentary hesitation to pick up her clothes and head towards the washroom.

“Gemma!”

I shouted after her but it was too late as she locked the door behind her. I stood outside and waited with growing impatience. Finally, she reappeared with her hair and make-up redone,

“Gemma…”

Once again she ignored me as she collected her coat and case.

“I’ve told you. We’ll talk this evening.”

With that, she was gone. I should have gone after her, grabbed her if needs be, but I was stymied by my natural sense of social etiquette even whilst Gemma was blatantly rude. I felt frustrated but, in a way, relieved that I now had even more time to prepare.

Only once she had gone did I turn my attention to Sebastian. He was still standing exactly as she had left him but the way he was casting his head about suggested that he was not only blind but deafened too. I walked towards him and his head turned in my direction but I could hear that he was sniffing at the air. He tried to say something but the phallus must have extended into his mouth because all that emerged was an incoherent mumble.

If he could smell my perfume he must have known that there was someone other than Gemma in the room but he was very unlikely to know it was me. Whilst killing time at Edinburgh airport, and in order to return some semblance of normality to my life, I had tried out a number of scents. The one I was wearing was totally new.

I wrestled with my conscience for less than half a minute before I made up my mind. I crossed the room and locked the door before kicking off my shoes and removing my tights and panties. Since my induction Gemma had had a leather sofa moved into her office and I took his compliant hand and pulled him towards it. He was still trying to ask questions and it was difficult to keep a straight face whilst listening to his gibberish. I pushed down on his shoulders to bring him to his knees but he seemed reluctant to co-operate and I wondered if I had overplayed my hand. I decided to try a different tack. I reached down and, cupping his distended balls, I gave an admonitory squeeze. He gave an anguished howl and fell to his knees in an instant.

I hated to admit it to myself but watching Gemma had been a turn on and even more so when I realized who was involved. I sat down in front of him, with my legs apart, and used my fingers to stimulate myself. It did not take much. Within seconds they were coated with moisture and. on a whim, I wafted them under the hoods breathing holes. He drew back slightly and shook his head in denial but I brought my foot up and pressed against his already tortured balls. It was enough. He remained still and awaited my pleasure.

I put one hand behind his head and pulled him between my legs and with the other I guided the dildo to its target. I then had to pull his head back and forth to work it gently inside. Once I was comfortable I pulled him all the way in and held him there whilst I savoured the delicious sensations but, in so doing I was making it difficult for him to breathe. His distress was obvious from the noises he was making and then he tried to pull away. I gave him a couple on inches, just enough to take a few laboured breaths, and then I pulled him back onto me. At that point I laughed. He began to nod his head to push the dildo in and out and he looked totally absurd. He had been taught well and, to his credit, he kept a up regular, gentle, rhythm but I knew it would not be enough by itself. I was surprised by his stamina and it looked as though he could keep going for as long as necessary but the time had come to assert myself.

I took hold of the laces at the back of the hood and pulled him free and, seeing him there with the wet dildo still sticking out from his face, it occurred to me that he probably had no idea whether or not I had reached an orgasm. I did not leave him in doubt for long. I tugged harder on the hood to get him to lie on his back. He was not happy with this turn of events and, with his hands still secured behind his back, he put up a brief but uneven struggle. I used my weight to push him off balance and, unfortunately for him he finished up on his back with his legs folded under him.

The position he was in looked positively uncomfortable but, as I quickly moved forwards to straddle his shoulders with my knees, he was securely pinned. He tried to yell more loudly than ever but that only added to my pleasure as I lifted myself over his face. He knew what was coming and he struggled like fury, trying to shake his head from side to side, but it was all too simple for me to take hold of the shaft and keep him still. I took a deep breath and then I lowered myself onto it. When it was all the way home I rested for a moment but a renewed, muted, bellow told me that he was having trouble breathing again. With a sigh I took mercy on him and I began a slow rise and fall. At first I was gentle but, after a few moments, I needed more friction and I set up a harder, driving rhythm. I was dimly aware that the shaft was getting exceedingly wet and his continued cries suggested that some of the moisture was finding its way into his breathing holes but I was, by then, too far gone. By the finish I was almost pounding myself into his face but, as far as I was concerned, it was no less than he deserved for his disloyalty.

When my orgasm came it was with a violence befitting the effort I was putting in and I screamed with the joy of it. It seemed unwilling to give up, each time I thought it was over, I was lifted again until, finally, I was left completely rung out and slumped on his face.

It took a huge effort to regather my strength and to stand up again but the pleasant aches I was experiencing were going to be in direct contrast to the cramps that Sebastian would suffer. He was going berserk and any thoughts I had about releasing him were quickly dissipated. I hurriedly got myself dressed and left him in his own devices. After all, he had no idea who his tormentress had been and, as far as I was concerned, he was Gemma’s problem.

The whole episode left me feeling empowered and invigorated. I headed back to the flat and spent the remainder of the day getting myself prepared. In the end I grew impatient but I knew that there was no point in putting in too early an appearance. I made myself wait until seven thirty and then I set off.

Gemma lived outside the city centre in a large rented house overlooking a newly refurbished canal. The drive took a little over half an hour through the early evening traffic and, as I parked up, I was pleased to see that the lights were on. I repeated my mantras to myself one last time and then walked up to the front door.

Gemma opened the door to me with a smile that was hard to read. She ushered me through to the kitchen dining area and, once again, I could not help but be impressed with her good taste. The house had retained many of its original late Victorian features but Gemma had installed furniture which was both sympathetic to the original décor but at the same time made a modern statement. In the kitchen the table was set for four and, whilst it was not such a surprise to find Jenny there, the presence of Helen Heller was altogether unsettling.

“Take a seat, I was about to serve the hors d’oeuvre.”

I looked at each woman in turn. They had all taken advantage of me in the most intimate manner but each looked completely guileless. I simply wanted to get Gemma on her own and have it out with her but, yet again, I became a victim of my own social graces. I took the empty seat and the next hour unfolded as though it were happening to somebody else. Gemma served a light but perfectly prepared meal and the conversation centred on Helen. She was in the process of writing a book and she wanted Gemma’s assistance on the financial issues and Jenny’s on the contract and intellectual property matters. I took no part in the conversation but, instead, sat and slowly seethed. How dare they discuss such trivia after all the damage they had inflicted on me?!

I had just reached the point where I was going to stand up and demand a few minutes alone with Gemma when Helen turned to me.

“So tell me, have you tried self-hypnosis yet?”

The question, coming out of nowhere, caught me unawares.

“What?”

“You’re an intelligent young woman. You must have thought of it. My guess is that you are here to see if you can break free.”

Her degree of perception shook me badly but I tried hard not to show it. I started to rise from the table.

“I’ve nothing to say to you… Gemma, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Please, sit down, there’s a good dog.”

With those few words the foundations crumbled. I had made the mistake of focusing all my efforts on overcoming Gemma’s authority at the expense of leaving myself open to the more malign influence of Helen Heller.

For a second or two I wavered as I tried to force myself towards the door but somehow the effort required seemed far too great and I slumped back into my seat. Gemma looked on with genuine fascination but Jenny seemed to be trying not to smirk. My breathing was shallow and I felt myself beginning to get light-headed. I had to make a conscious effort to breathe more deeply and to get my mind refocused. It was clear that both Gemma and Jenny were deferring to Heller and she now had me pinned with her steady gaze.

“I think it’s about time that we moved on to dessert…You’ll find yours under the table.”

There was nothing remarkable about her voice per se but the timbre was a distillation of all of the authority figures throughout my life, my mother, my priest, teachers. It burrowed into my brain throwing switches as it went.

I found myself beneath the table. I was looking for something, but not sure what, and then I saw that Jenny had opened her legs. She had dispensed with underwear and I was confronted by her vulgarly exposed sex with its neat covering of flame red hair.

“You know what you have to do…”

Heller’s voice drifted to me from on high but it was no less commanding. I shuffled forward on my knees and put my head between Jenny’s legs.

“Oh God…”

The exclamation was torn from her as I put my tongue to her sex. The taste was tart and she had obviously been turned on for quite some time. The rational part of my brain, imprisoned elsewhere, knew then that my every move had been anticipated and that they had come together to use me again and to reinforce their dominion.

I hated them, I hated myself, but still I applied myself with all the fervour and skills at my disposal.

“I’ve waited too long for this …”

She put her hand behind my head and pulled me closer as she relaxed more fully in her seat. To my left Gemma got to her feet and, consumed as I was with what I was doing, I could still hear that she was putting fresh dishes onto the table. For the next twenty minutes they talked and laughed as they enjoyed their desserts; it was as if I were of no consequence. In a strange way this enflamed me and I licked and sucked at Jenny’s sex with renewed determination. She played the game, and tried to remain outwardly impassive, but she was having to squeeze her legs tightly and painfully against my head in order to keep up the pretence. Finally, she could hold back no longer.

“Now! Do it now!”

I heard the other two laugh at her loss of control but they were hushed as she gritted her teeth and wrestled with the pleasurable sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. Her vice like grip on my head tightened even more and I was shaken with her as she juddered to a finish. When it was over she seemed reluctant to let me go but she loosened her hold and than discretely wiped herself with a paper serviette. No such courtesy was extended to me. I knelt there with my face hot, wet and sore.

“Coffee?”

Gemma got up from the table once again and my mouth watered as she returned with a pot of freshly ground Blue Mountain. For a few minutes it seemed I was forgotten but then Heller shifted in her seat.

“My turn, I believe.”

She raised herself slightly and quickly eased her panties down her legs. She let them drop to her ankles and then kicked them away heedlessly. I wanted to look away but I could not. She was wearing a mid length skirt, buttoned down the front, and, as I watched, she began to unfasten it. There was no doubt that it was a skirt chosen with exactly this eventuality in mind. As each button came undone she spread her legs wider until there was sufficient space for me to perform as she knew I would.

She sported a lusher growth of hair than Jenny and her sex seemed bigger. Her labia were very prominent, like orchids rising above a jungle canopy, and her scent was also, somehow, more primal. It had a rich, earthy, quality and it was evident that she too had been aroused for some time; I suspected that Jenny’s performance had affected her more than she cared to let on

Once again I found myself drawn forward and she gave an almost indiscernible shiver as I brought my lips to her shrine. She played the same game as Jenny, holding up her end of a normal conversation as I worked in the darkness, but she was appreciably slower to come to the boil. After fifteen minutes my tongue and jaw ached but there was no obvious sign of progress. Her sex exuded moisture as though it were a precious unguent to be dispensed with munificence. I plunged my tongue deep inside, seeking the font, but she would not be hurried. Any time that I made a premature move towards her clitoris she gave me a controlling squeeze with her thighs. It was more than half an hour before she allowed me to increase the pace. By that time I could no longer find any saliva and my mouth was filled with her taste. I was almost on autopilot as I lashed her excited clitoris and it was hard to measure my success. When she came in was in a series of crescendos which would build up and then recede before climbing higher still. The fact that I was now having to swallow hard to keep up with her flow was testimony to the power of her climax but she managed to retain some measure of decorum and I am sure that the other two remained unaware.

When she was finished I knelt sullenly using my fingers to try and knead some feeling back into my abused face muscles. Now there was only Gemma left and I simply wanted to get it over with but, above me, they were discussing the merits of a Sauternes that Gemma had served as a dessert wine.

“Let’s go through to the living room.”

The three of them rose from the table and then Gemma lifted the heavy damask cloth.

“… that includes you.”

They carried their glasses of wine into the large, airy, living space and I followed behind like some lowly domestic.

“If you ladies don’t mind…”

To my astonishment Gemma started to undress. I could still not believe how open they were with one another, how easy in one another’s company. I had always thought that my tendency towards prudery lined me up with the majority of reasonable thinking people but now I began to have my doubts. When she was completely naked Jenny piped up.

“I envy you your bum. I wish was trimmer in that department.”

Gemma ran her hands over her buttocks as though discovering them for the first time but I knew her well enough to know that she was flattered by the compliment. She looked at Jenny over her shoulder.

“I thought men went for the Latino look nowadays.”

“Men might, but clothes designers don’t.”

Heller laughed at Jenny’s answer and then added her own contribution.

“But isn’t it fun? Nowadays, you get a man down on his knees and he’ll worship your arse for hours.”

“Does that do it for you?”

Gemma asked the question unabashed.

“If you’re asking if I can come that way the answer is yes. As long as it’s done right …and for long enough.”

“Perhaps I ought to give it a try…”

As soon as Gemma said the words my stomach turned over; if her intention was to shake me up she had succeeded. She had shown a malicious streak in the past few days but this was cruel even by her new standards. For the next few seconds there was a stilted silence and then Gemma picked up a scatter cushion from the sofa. She tossed it casually onto the floor so that it lay in front of a heavy leather footstool.

Nothing was said, but the atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, and Jenny was trying hard not to squirm in her seat. For my part my heart was tripping so fast that I worried about a seizure. Gemma was enjoying her moment in the spotlight and as she slowly went down onto her knees she could have been playing Joan of Arc. She leant forward over the footstool and rested her head on the cushion. Any last doubts, or hopes, were dispelled. She knelt with her buttocks uppermost and, in spite of myself, the aesthete in me appreciated her smooth unblemished curves. Her knees were slightly apart putting her sex partly on view but it was not her sex for which she demanded my attention.

Each of us held our breath, waiting in our different ways, but the voice deep inside was getting louder, telling me that I must not disappoint them. I wanted to put my hands to my ears, to shut it out, but this voice was not a vibration of the air it was an unrelenting thing of dreams and imagination. The only way to quieten it was to appease it and when I recognized this my muscles relaxed and I gradually fell to my knees behind her. I heard Jenny swear under her breath but my whole focus now was Gemma’s perfect form. The deep cleft between the perfectly matched hemispheres beckoned me and I leant forward as if exchanging a kiss with a lover.

Gemma moaned at first contact. It was a low, drawn out, sound and her whole body quivered. I licked slowly, lingeringly, along the whole length, my tongue savouring the slightly salty taste and then I bowed low and started again. Over and over I slid my tongue along the smooth valley which was broken only by its single circular crater.

Gemma groaned with every sweep of my tongue and I noticed that her sex was weeping onto the stool. I caught up the runnel of moisture with the back of my finger and brought it to my mouth but she did not appreciate the pause. She reached back with both hands and spread herself open throwing light on the crater with its gray pink rim. It seemed to take on a life of its own, expanding and contracting almost imperceptibly as her barely suppressed excitement grew. I bowed my head and licked gently at the puckered flesh and the appreciative sounds she made were almost animal. I took my time, fascinated by the firm but elastic texture, and then she took me by surprise; in the midst of her growing delirium she uttered one clear word.

“…please…”

The next few seconds felt odd. I was caught in the middle of a hateful act but, in some way, I had gained a degree of control. I pressed my tongue to her opening but it was unyielding and she gave a groan of disappointment. I pressed more firmly and the tight sheath of muscle suddenly relaxed allowing me to plunge within. She came, right then, in that instant. My tongue was held in an unmerciful grip as her body shook with rapture and she screamed out in relief. When it was over she did not relinquish her grip and I knew that she wanted more. It was easier now, her whole body was relaxed and I could move my tongue more freely seeking out her depths. The taste was antiseptic, betraying her preparedness, but she reeked of sex. A few minutes later she came again. This time it was a less violent climax but with my tongue deep inside I experienced her bodies every vibration.

Only as I pulled away from her did the full extent of my degradation come home to me and it was made worse knowing that there had been witnesses to it, although they clearly had their own agenda. At some point Jenny had moved across to sit on the arm of Heller’s chair. Her hand was busy within the confines of Heller’s blouse who had reciprocated by slipping her hand up under Jenny’s skirt.

“Bravo, an Oscar winning performance. Do they have Oscars for the porn industry?”

Heller’s levity tipped me over the edge.

“Have you seen enough?! You really are a depraved fuck!”

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

I wanted to scratch the smile from her face.

“Is this the only way you get your sick thrills? Forcing me into this?”

“You’re a natural. Do you remember when you asked me if people could be made to do things against their will under hypnosis? I may have misled you a little. To make it work you need to find some particular area of the psyche to work on. Gemma told me that, whilst you can be aggressive in your business dealings, you are otherwise unfailingly polite. That makes you naturally deferential and it is only a short step from there to a state of natural submission.”

I did not want to listen to her but I knew that the more I understood about my predicament the more chance I had of finding a solution.

“Are you saying I am naturally submissive or was made to be so?”

“You want to please people and hate to cause upset: that is innately submissive behaviour. All I had to do was tweak it.”

Her lecturing tone got to me again.

“Then why the fuck didn’t self hypnosis work?!”

“I think you’ll find that it did. I guess you put up your defences against Gemma but you weren’t expecting to see me again.”

“If it worked then why the hell did I just take part in that obscenity…?!”

In asking that question an appalling realization dawned and the pit props that were bracing my slender hold on rationality were kicked away. This evening there had been no direct commands: with Jenny it may have been intimated but with Heller and Gemma I had not been told what to do. I had done it of my own volition!

Heller looked at me as though she could follow my every thought.

“You have to ask yourself, what do you really want, what do you really enjoy?”

“You’re completely mad! You think I like this!?”

She unfolded herself from Jenny’s embrace and came to me. Standing just inches away she looked me directly in the eye and before I could react she reached down and lifted my skirt. With her other hand she cupped my sex and then smiled as she raised a questioning eyebrow. My panties were sodden.

I could no longer marshal my thoughts. My mind was a kaleidoscope of confused images and my deep-seated instincts screamed for something familiar, something to cling to. At that moment Heller moved to one side and I saw Gemma sitting on the sofa with her legs parted. She smiled and beckoned me forward and with an overwhelming sense of relief I knelt and put my face between her thighs….