The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

5.

Pamela struggled against the relaxation, sighing as she lost the battle again. She kept her hands on the wheel of Robyn’s car, letting the hypnoslave’s low voice fill her mind with directions as she drove. It was so soothing to obey, especially to obey Robyn, turning where she was told.

The hypnosis kept her drowsy and alert at once, and she was driving perfectly even though she had no idea where she was going. There was no sign of Mistress, who’d gone ahead with Joss in Joss’ car. Mistress had followed the hypnotist like a trained puppy, and Pamela made herself wonder whether Joss was making her drive, too, deepening Tracy with the glow of each . . . streetlight . . . that . . . she . . .

She squeezed the wheel tightly enough to hurt. She heard Robyn laugh softly. Robyn enjoyed watching her try to resist the hypnosis. Robyn liked seeing it overwhelm her each time, flattening her into calm obedience again. Pamela was starting to wonder if that was part of what was making her fight it—letting Robyn get off on seeing her lose.

“Left, here . . . yes . . . good, Pamela. Just keep on. Yes.”

The praise tweaked Pamela again, as she’d been told it would. She forced her eyes up as she obeyed, trying to read the street sign. She had a vague grip on the way she seemed to be driving randomly, but it was a struggle to focus on anything outside that wasn’t a traffic signal. Her mind had been programmed to drive, and it made her so tired to try to do anything else.

She sighed. “I’m trying to remember the route.” She gasped quietly as she betrayed herself. Staring out at the road in the headlight beam, she blushed and remembered. Anything you feel, you will tell Robyn. Especially anything you want to conceal from her. Obey.

“You can’t remember it,” Robyn told her, and Pamela could feel the glimpse of street sign fading obediently in her mind.

“I’ve forgotten it now, Robyn.”

“I know.” The hypnoslave didn’t laugh, this time, as she had the first couple of times she’d told Pamela to forget about . . . to forget . . .

“Something on your mind, Pamela?”

“I’m terrified about Mistress,” she blurted again, but this time it almost felt good to share how afraid she was, even in the hypnotic daze she’d been put into.

Mistress herself had hypnotized her in the club before they’d left. Joss had commanded Mistress to do it, and Pamela had stood there, paralyzed by the trigger that had stopped her flight, unable to run or resist. Tracy had shivered, and Pamela wanted to think she was fighting the compulsion to put her under in front of these predatory strangers—but Tracy had looked aroused.

Pamela remembered being up against Mistress, riding her flexed thigh, sucking her breast through her dress, staring up into her eyes. She remembered nothing of what Mistress said, and couldn’t recall when the voice had changed and it was someone else in her head, stalking through the rooms that Mistress had unlocked . . .

Robyn’s hand was soft and very warm on her thigh, and suddenly nearly everything else hummed out of her head. Nearly everything.

Pamela tried to ask about Mistress, but Mistress’ own hypnotic commands subdued her again, and she submitted to obeying Robyn and driving where Robyn told her.

They were slowing down on a wide, brightly-lit suburban lane before she even knew she’d been told to stop. Pamela stared forward after a quiet command made her turn off the engine. Deprived of all purpose now, she didn’t try to turn or look, studying the back of the next car until it blurred into disconnected shapes.

Robyn stroked her thigh. “Mmm. Tracy gave you some new fitness goals—now you keep your body as soft as your mind.” She squeezed gently and Pamela whimpered. “i know, Pamela. Goddess likes Her meat tender, too. Body and soul.

“OK.” She snapped her fingers and Pamela started a bit. She realized her will was still bound, but the control was passive now. She could act, but if she tried to run away, she’d just—stop. Mistress’ voice in her head would freeze her again, and when she opened her eyes she wouldn ‘t remember why she was facing the wrong way.

At least she hoped the voice would be Mistress’.

She was following Robyn up long steps on a sloping lawn to a ranch house. Robyn knocked quietly. As they waited on the unlit porch, she made herself look around, seeing no one. There was a minivan in the driveway.

Behind Robyn’s car was the one Pamela remembered seeing Joss and Mistress walk to before Robyn had triggered her. Mistress was here. It made Pamela feel better, even as she realized she’d driven right past it and parked in front of it, too deep in the driving trance to recognize it as anything but another thing not to hit.

The door opened and they stepped into a darkened foyer. When the door closed, the lights came up.

Their hostess was a pretty woman wearing nothing but patterned hose and four-inch heels. She was a little hippy and her breasts were small, but Pamela thought she was gorgeous, and her dazed smile made her head spin.

“Goddess wants you both naked,” the woman told Robyn.

“Thank you, kathryn. i must obey,” Robyn said, and looked at Pamela. “Undress.”

Pamela slipped her dress off and stepped out of her shoes, and just feeling the air of this stranger’s house on her tightened her nipples. The strange woman’s, kathryn’s, interested gaze at her started her juicing—and only then did Pamela let herself realize she was meeting another of Joss’ hypnoslaves. She wondered if this was the maid.

Her arousal slipped a little as she wondered what role Joss would try programming into Mistress.

She won’t. She can’t brainwash Mistress. She can’t.

Trying might be bad for Mistress, though. When Joss realized Tracy wasn’t one of the weak-willed puppets she usually played with, she might try using drugs or something else to break Tracy’s will. Mistress wouldn’t be enslaved, but she could be very badly hurt.

She thought again about running. In the club, Mistress had surprised her with the trigger, and then deepened her before she could wake. But their hypnosis play had always included a safety hatch. Pamela was proud never to have used it, just as she’d never safeworded under pain, but it was there. If she really thought Mistress needed help, she could leave to bring it.

Still, part of her didn’t want to leave Mistress. Even in this twisted scene, she was obeying Mistress, and Mistress might need her near, later.

She looked back at voluptuous kathryn and wondered if she had talked herself out of running from Joss’ house, too. Until Joss had finished brainwashing her, and it was too late.

Pamela saw a picture on a credenza, and it took a moment to recognize kathryn chastely clothed, smiling next to children. This was not Joss’ house.

kathryn turned and led Robyn and Pamela further into her home.

They passed a living room. A cartoon flickered soundlessly over a child sprawled on the floor and two more on either side of a man who lay back on a sofa. None of them moved. Robyn paused and looked at them, then at kathryn.

kathryn closed her eyes and lifted her hands to play with her nipples. “Sleeping . . . three more hours.” She bent slightly with the excitement.

“Goddess told me i should use the black bottle, again.” She waved her left hand frantically and then let it find her cleft. Pamela could smell her. “She s-s-said . . . She t-told me not to yyyyhhhh . . .”

They watched her writhe.

“. . . u-u-use the white bottle. Not—ohhhh—not this time.”

Robyn went to her and pressed against her as she masturbated, and her kiss sent kathryn over the edge. Robyn let her slide to the floor as she came, then nodded to Pamela and stepped away. Pamela followed her, trying not to look.

But kathryn’s exquisitely dimpled ass shook as she strummed herself, bathed in the light from the room where her family lay, staring at them. Pamela stared at her, and knew in another moment she’d start to masturbate too.

Then Robyn took her hand and drew her away.

6.

Mistress was always magnificent in candlelight, but Pamela had never seen her kneeling. It was so wrong.

She needed to masturbate again.

Mistress was nude in the collar Joss had put on her, and she knelt back on her heels with her hands behind her head. She was breathing hard, and the ring of flames glowed on her sleek contours as her belly flexed and her breasts heaved, her nipples taut. Her eyes were wild and they gazed up unblinkingly at Joss.

The hypnotist was a lithe silhouette against the candles, standing outside the circle in which Mistress knelt to her. Around them, the family room’s furnishings glowed indistinctly in the shadows, looking even less real than the drugged family itself, upstairs.

Mistress was needful, her dew glittering between her thighs, her gasps starting to whistle through her slack lips. She was too stupefied to beg.

Pamela hurt. She had to free Mistress from this. She had to give Mistress her mouth and sate her need. She had to crawl until Mistress’ dignity was hers again.

She didn’t even know she’d moved before a languid gesture from Joss had already frozen her.

Mistress whined.

Joss gestured again, and Mistress’ face lost its expression as her eyelids drooped and her head bowed. Her hands parted and floated to her sides, palms up. Her breathing slowed.

“Who is this?” Joss asked.

“This is Your hypnotized slave, Goddess.” Pamela barely recognized the voice, and for a moment she convinced herself that it wasn’t Tracy she’d just heard, worshipping someone. Tracy’s head was still down in her trance.

Joss looked back at Pamela, and the way her eyes gleamed in the dark was nearly enough to send Pamela sprinting away. Only the thought of leaving Mistress this helpless, in front of eyes like that, kept her still.

At least she hoped that was all it was.

Without looking back at Tracy, Joss raised her hand slowly and Tracy rose smoothly to follow it until she stood in the ring of light, back at attention, her eyes glittering emptily. Joss smiled at Pamela and stepped out of the room.

Pamela looked at her spellbound Mistress, naked in another woman’s collar, and blushed to realize she was as turned-on as she was horrified. This hypnotist-bitch has had me for a few minutes at most. I’m not that weak, and belonging to Mistress Tracy is the solid core in me.

So it must be me who’s enjoying seeing her enslaved.

Goddess help this poor sub.

She wanted to rush over and kick the candles aside to kneel to Mistress, but instead she just walked to the candles and held out her hand. “Mistress?”

Mistress blinked, and then took her hand and stepped out from the flickering circle as though being raised from her bath.

“Mistress!” Pamela was on her knees now, kissing the taut skin of Tracy’s upper thighs, brushing her lips against the stubble in the vale between them, licking—

She gasped, feeling the rings with her tongue. They clicked as they hung from Mistress’ swollen labia.

Mistress wore rings?

She looked up, and saw Mistress’ eyes clearing. Mistress saw her confusion and slid down to kneel before her, putting her arms around Pamela.

“Baby, are you OK?”

It was too much for Pamela, and she started crying. Mistress kissed her and they leaned into one another. “Shhh. My wonderful slave. It’s all right. I’m here.” Pamela heard how hard it was for Tracy to sound brave, and cried harder.

“No,” Tracy said, trying to be stern and failing, but Pamela hung on to that and calmed herself. The hypnosis helped.

She knelt back. “Mistress. We have to get out of here. She’s dangerous and if we—”

“I can’t,” Tracy said. She stroked Pamela’s hair. “I’m hypnotized. I must obey Joss’ commands, and She told me to stay here.”

“No, Mistress! That’s not what you told me when we started hypnosis. You said the subject can resist a command if she wants to, if it’s bad or harmful. You can.”

“But I don’t want to resist Her,” Mistress said, smiling faintly. “I want to obey Her.”

Pamela stared.

“I know it doesn’t really make sense, Pamela. It’s called ‘trance logic’ and it makes Her slaves easier for Her to control.”

“Mistress—this house. That woman’s ready to poison her family if Joss tells her to. It makes her horny. I can’t let her brainwash you, too. We’ve got to get away. Now. Please.”

Mistress smiled, and ran her fingertips down Pamela’s back. “I know, baby. I know what She can do to women. She did it to me. I hate it and it scares the shit out of me, and I know She wants me to do something to you.” Mistress squeezed her for a moment. She kept smiling at Pamela, but tears gleamed on her cheeks in the candlelight.

“But She’s got me so programmed. The more I try to resist it, the sexier it is just to . . . succumb. Submit.

“Surrender . . .” Mistress’ eyelids drooped. Pamela tried to speak.

“N-no. No.” Mistress recovered and held her more tenderly.

“Maybe—you can try running, Pamela. Get someone—find Dash. She can . . .” Mistress blinked.

“Hmmp.” She grinned and her eyes rolled back. “Bad thinking again!” she sang. She shivered and her rings rang faintly between her thighs.

It was the smallest part of what was happening, and Pamela tried to deal with that first.

“Mistress—how did she get you pierced? We were only apart for a little while, tonight.”

Tracy smiled again. “She had me pierced a while ago. It was after She started making me hypnotize you. I was programmed not to think about it, and to program you not to see Her ownership either.”

“When did you start hypnotizing me again? I don’t remem—” Pamela bowed her head as she heard herself. Anomalies rose again in her mind—missing time, a night of low-key bondage from which she couldn’t remember anything but a candle.

The way she could never make herself focus on them for more than . . . more than . . .

She breathed. Something had just faded from her mind again, and it was so hard to care, but now she knew why. She thought about the two of them, wide-eyed under Joss’ spell, mindlessly fucking between and around Joss’ metal.

Mistress’ forehead pressed very gently against hers.

“Whatever I’m going to do to you, Pamela—I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. Even if She makes you like it when I do it.”

Oh, Mistress. This woman doesn’t think that way. My not liking it will be the whole point. That way I’ll be begging you to stop, and you won’t stop.

But Pamela said nothing about that.

“. . . Mistress? How did she—what did she do to you?”

“How did Goddess hypnotize me, you mean?” Just saying it seemed to heat Tracy’s skin. “With Her body. She knew I was checking Her out in the sessions, and She actually got me to focus on how She was flexing when She was doing certain things.

“I didn’t even realize She’d been talking to me, softly, while I was letting Her body mesmerize me. She was instructing me. Guiding me into a trance.

“Not until I heard myself repeating the commands back to Her. By then—I knew they were Truth.”

Mistress sighed, her eyes faraway now. “I was under Her control. She’s forbidden me to remember what else She did to me, but I think we had sex. Or maybe She had Robyn or another hypnoslave fuck me, to pleasure-burn it into my brain. But there was just one posthypnotic command I had to obey.

“To let Her mindfuck me again. And go deeper.”

How long? Pamela pressed against Mistress’ bare skin, hurting with how vulnerable her owner was. Tracy was strong enough to put the little bitch in intensive care—but she’d let Joss into her head, and Joss had brainwashed her into helping enslave herself.

And Tracy was already in Pamela’s head.

“I think I can make it out of here, Mistress. I won’t even stop for clothes, I’ll just—”

“We can’t resist Her will,” Tracy said, and Pamela shivered, hearing the command voice that she’d spent too long learning to obey with joy. “We must obey. I’m her hypnotized slave, and you’re my slave.”

“Mistress. I love you. But I have to go. For us.” She started to pull away.

Mistress held her. Her strength hadn’t saved her from Joss’ enthrallment, but even hypnotized this deeply, she held her soft slave without effort. Pamela nerved herself to cheat, to stroke Tracy’s cleft or even slap it, anything to distract her and pull loose. It made her dizzy to think about assaulting Mistress, and sick to think of leaving her, but this was too much.

Mistress released her, smiling up. She seemed to have found a way to ride out Joss’ compulsions without fighting them. She looked up into Pamela’s eyes.

When Pamela saw the obedience in them she tried to run.

“Obedient trance now, Pamela-slave.”

7.

The voice was familiar and it slid into Pamela’s mind again. She repeated what it told her and felt the pleasure burn coldly through her. It had been speaking to her for a while, and she’d been believing it utterly, but she was only now starting to know it consciously.

She was kneeling before Mistress, staring at the rings that claimed Mistress’ pussylips for the woman that controlled her. She felt Mistress’ fingertips grow still on her temples, no longer making the circles that had been sending Pamela deeper and deeper into trance.

Tracy was programming her. She was using her own hypnotic control of Pamela to bend Pamela into another tool for Joss to use.

They were in the bedroom, at home. Past Mistress’ hip she could see The Empress on its stand. For an instant Pamela could try to see it all as a dream. Tracy had taken her down into hypnosis and led her through an edgy fantasy that had ended up scaring her instead of arousing her, but it was all right now and . . .

She was staring at the rings on Mistress’ cleft, small but real.

One steel, one brass. It came to her gradually that it was odd to see them and stay awake, that for an endless time before this she’d lapsed back into trance each time she saw them.

“Mistress?” She surprised herself by being able to speak.

The hands left her head and she looked up, seeing Mistress look back down.

“Yes, slave?”

“Is she—is she here?” She didn’t bother to ask how they’d gotten home.

Mistress smiled. “No, slave. She doesn’t need to be here to control us.”

“Are you still her slave?” It felt obscene to say, and it made her hot.

It heated Mistress, too. Pamela saw the wet over the rings and heard Mistress’ quick breath.

“Oh, yes, Pamela. i’m Her obedient slave, all right. She’s an irresistible hypnotist.” Mistress sounded a little spacey, and very happy. Hearing the same mindblown “i” from her that Robyn used made Pamela queasy.

She hadn’t sounded that submissive before, in kathryn’s strange drugged house. After triggering Pamela, she must have let Joss hypnotize her again and drain more of her will.

“No, Mistress. You’re not a slave. You’re my owner. A beautiful, powerful dominant. No one can control you.” Pamela put her forehead to the floor between Mistress’ feet and leaned back up.

“I know you can resist this, Mistress. I know you can free yourself, because I know you will protect me. I gave myself to you and I’m the luckiest little slut in the world that you took me.” She stared up at Mistress.

“I know you will keep me safe, Mistress. Because no one hurts your slave except you.”

Mistress closed her eyes. “Pamela . . .

“i know what you’re doing. She knew you would. She programmed me to resist that and i obey Her.

“It’s very sweet, though, Pamela. Thank you.”

“Mistress—”

“Hush. Listen. i own no slave. i own nothing. i am owned, almost as much as i can be owned. All that i thought i had is Hers, including the slut submissive i was training. i call you ‘slave’ because you are one—Her slave.”

Pamela wondered if she could still escape. She could still think of it, but maybe it was one of the things Joss had made Mistress brainwash her out of really doing, as she knelt here blankly. It didn’t matter. Mistress could freeze her body and stop her mind with a phrase, anyway, and she might not let Pamela wake up this time.

Or when she did, Pamela’s new mantra would be Mistress makes a lovely hypnoslave. Then it would be over.

She looked up at her Mistress, blissful in her collar and piercings, and wanted to die. I’m the only chance she has, now. No, she didn’t dare die. That would leave Mistress like this, forever.

“Mistress?”

“Yes?”

“You said she owns you ‘almost as much as you can be owned.’ Is there something you can still do to fight it?”

Mistress grinned. “Of course there is, Pamela. i can refuse Her call, or go somewhere She can’t reach me with Her voice.

“But i don’t want to. She’s made me forget wanting to. i do, a little bit—and yes, it’s because of you.” She reached down and stroked Pamela ‘s head. “But She knows how deep my feelings go for you. When She had me mindless in trance, i told Her everything She wanted to know about me, my strengths and weaknesses.” Mistress’ eyes glazed over and her hand tightened on Pamela’s head.

Pamela let herself be pressed to Mistress’ folds again, licking her.

“Then . . . i told Her everything else.” Mistress’ voice was tight but steady, even as her body spasmed under Pamela’s tongue. “Everything She needed to know. How to bend me, and break me, and make me Her helpless slave.

“She made it feel soooo good.”

Pamela attacked Tracy’s clit as it pushed out at her for attention, but even then whatever was inside Mistress’ mind, making her describe her own enthrallment, kept control of her.

“She let me beg to give Her some of my other clients. i told one of them She was a motivational hypnotist. i told one She was another client and that i wanted to experiment on whether they could help pace each other, if they concentrated on each other.

“One of them i told nothing at all. She had me stand there mindlessly while She simply hypnotized the poor woman where she stood.”

Pamela had stopped licking and leaned her head against Mistress’ thigh, waiting to cry. Mistress let her, lost in the memory.

“i don’t even know what She did with them when She had them. She just played with them, i think. Maybe She lent them to friends.”

Pamela tried to think of who might be friends with Joss. Then she tried not to.

Maybe there are people she plays with and doesn’t hypnotize. She thought about mistaking Joss for a subby on the prowl. Who just think she’s a little creepy but intriguing.

Who think the fun girls she brings along really do want to be playtoys and do those things. Of course, after they’d been in Joss’ hands, they did . . .

Mistress breathed. “It didn’t matter. She can play with anyone She wants. That wasn’t the point. She was melting me.

“She was conditioning me to betray and enjoy it. To do this to you and get wet.”

Pamela might be imagining the pain she heard, through the husky arousal. She turned her head and kissed Mistress delicately on her clit hood.

“It’s hard, though, my Mistress, isn’t it? Because you know your slavegirl loves you, just as much.”

Mistress looked down at her. Her face wavered.

Pamela reached out and rested her hand on Mistress’ thigh.

“I do love you, Mistress Tracy.” She held her Mistress’ gaze until Mistress slowly nodded.

“I gave you my obedience, Mistress. I offered it and you accepted, and I have never looked back. When I see a woman without a collar I feel sorry for her and even the ones who do submit aren’t yours.

“But—” She wanted to lean in against Tracy again, to feel her strength and breathe her scent, but she didn’t dare break this link.

“Mistress, you never wanted obedience that wasn’t given to you. You cherished me and the gift of my own.

“You can’t want to take it from me, now, Mistress. Not even for yourself—let alone for someone who’s hurting you.”

“i—don’t.” Mistress sank to her knees, keeping them wide, and she was starting to look as desperate as Pamela felt. But now, kneeling with her slave, she looked even weaker, bridled by a strip of leather on her throat and two metal trinkets on her pussy that gleamed with her juice. “i don’t want to, Pamela.

“But i want to.

“It’s wrong, but that’s what She has me hooked on. It’s so very very hot to see you fall into trance. i think of the things She’s said She’ ll do to us, or make us do, and i think of being helpless, and i need to touch myself.”

“Trance logic,” Pamela whispered.

“No, slave. It’s the only truth my mind can recognize anymore.” Mistress’ eyes changed focus. For a moment she looked like kathryn. The slave waiting for the night Joss told her it would be the white bottle for her family.

Then her eyes cleared. “It’s not done, yet. She hasn’t finished enslaving me. i’m not sure what the next thing is. i think it’s very deep sexual imprinting. i’ve met—i think i’ve met—some of Her other slaves, and that’s what She did to them to make them Hers. i’ll still have some me left, but there’s a point past which it doesn’t matter. What’s left of me will like it, want Her to use me.

“Or it might be . . . whatever She did to Robyn. Robyn’s different, and i don’t . . .” Mistress hung her head, and Pamela reached out, pulling her close until her owner was leaning on her shoulder. She kissed Mistress.

Tears tapped her thigh. “Pamela . . . Pamela, love, i’m so scared it’s going to be about hurting you, and that still terrifies me more than it turns me on.”

She tried to pull Tracy upright and hold her. She was starting to imagine what Joss meant her to suffer at Tracy’s hands to stoke Tracy’s orgasms and break her will, and tried to ignore the terror, because Tracy had the same terror. And Tracy came first.

Tracy said something to her, and she looked into her Mistress’ brimming eyes and shook her head.

Mistress repeated it, and without the sob distorting it, the trigger speared Pamela’s mind before she knew it.

8.

Pamela woke at attention.

Mistress was rigid, across from her. Pamela felt no surprise to see Joss, pert and fragile in her hotpants and boots, stalking around them.

Joss gazed at Mistress as though at a sculpture. She reached out to stroke Mistress’ flank, then her breast, nodding as Mistress’ eyes widened and she moaned softly. She cupped Mistress’ crotch with small, delicate fingers, peering closely at Mistress’ face as the pleasure and need rolled Mistress’ eyes up under fluttering lids.

Pamela didn’t know how she knew, but she was sure she knew the words that were ringing through her Mistress’ mind, over and over, after Joss had told her to recite them and forget everything else.

i obey i obey i obey i obey i obey i obey i obey

Pamela dreamed about kneeling and licking around Joss’ fingers, teasing her Mistress hotter and opening her further to the hypnotic mantra. If Pamela could have moved or spoken, she would have begged Joss to let her do that. She would be helping Joss strip Mistress of her will, but she would beg.

She would call Joss Goddess when she begged.

This is how she does it. This is how she turns free women into puppets. We know it’s awful but she makes us like it.

If Joss turned and gave her permission to masturbate, she’d worship the woman on the spot.

Joss turned, and Pamela gasped, and she realized what she was hoping, and the shame was a cold wave over her.

“She’s perfect like this.” The hypnotist smiled, her eyes drilling into Pamela’s mind, seeing how she agreed, and how she hated herself for it.

This is how she does it to me.

“But she’s even better when she moves. I don’t know whether I enjoy it more when she’s fawning or robotic, completely my slave, or when she thinks she’s free. She gets so feisty. Back there in the club she really thought she was going to tan my bottom.

“Do you like it, Pamela? She was your domme, but now she can be your faithful toy.”

What do I have to do? Pamela heard that in her mind, but there was something else.

Her face must have registered it. Joss said, “Say it.”

“She’s still my domme. I belong to her.” Pamela felt a headrush, saying it aloud, even with her Mistress half-conscious from the orgasm Joss wasn’t quite letting her have.

Joss didn’t disagree. “That helped. I don’t know how resistant you would have been, on your own, but her control of you let me snap you up nicely.

“And you might have been tougher to obedience-train, or even to hypnotize. Real submissives can sometimes be the most stubborn. All that inwardness and endurance.

“We’ll just never know, hypnoslave.” Joss’ voice was doing frightening, addictive things all through Pamela’s body, more and more as she kept talking. “And after a little while, only one of us will still be able to wonder about it.”

Pamela moaned. She couldn’t help it. In that while, she’d lose her will, and filling the void would be the warm soft sticky need to obey Joss’ every command. She saw herself in the gym with Tracy, now her fellow slave. Set out as bait, drawing other women to hypnotize them or just weaken them for their Goddess. The hardbody and the lipstick lesbian, varied lures. She’d help enslave women she didn’t even know. Maybe a few she did.

She could still fear it but it was still turning her on, and she was forgetting why she had to fight that. She looked at Mistress, to savor the powerful body kept still by the hypnotized mind.

Mistress looked at her. Mistress was seeing what was happening to her. Joss had left Mistress aware, at least enough to watch the light in her lover’s eyes go out.

I belong to her!

Joss’ eyebrow went up, and Pamela realized her mewling cry had been audible. The hypnotist nodded, and Pamela found her voice again.

“Please. Don’t. Do.” She was too weary to finish.

“Please don’t enslave you?”

“Please don’t enslave my Mistress.”

Joss smiled at that. “Go on.”

“You can have me instead. Conscious and willing. I’ll—” Pamela’s mind turned against her. She saw skinning knives, an autopsy table, IV drips keeping her alive and awake in a soundproofed room.

She looked at her entranced Mistress and saw what she’d be brainwashed into. She knew, finally, what she was willing to do to stop that. Letting herself see the nightmares, she started to offer them, slurring some of the words as she forced her lips to form them. Joss looked interested but wary.

Pamela rushed to explain. “I’m not a pain slut and I wasn’t really trained for it so my threshold’s—”

“Shh.”

For a moment, there was only Pamela’s ragged, panicked breathing. Joss waited until it slowed.

“Well—I have you anyway, Pamela. And I’m not big on physical torture. Though I do have to say that with that imagination, your career as a pain slut would have been legendary.”

Joss smiled. “And short.

“It may be hard to reflect on it, just now, but—I’m not much for consensuality, either.” She spoke softly, sounding almost compassionate. Pamela was afraid, because that might be the hardest thing to resist now, even if it wasn’t real.

“And even you have to admit, there’s a kick to breaking a domme that just isn’t there with a slave. Everything about Tracy that makes you want to lick the sweat off her just makes me want to . . .” She looked back at Mistress, bending to taste a nipple almost absent-mindedly.

“To tattoo a collar around that neck.” She faced Pamela again. “If you see what I mean?”

Pamela wanted to cry, but when her tears dried Mistress would still be under the hypnotist’s spell.

“I’ll do anything,” she whispered, desperately.

Joss looked as though she’d hoped for more, but understood there was none. She turned away to Mistress, extending a finger to her slit. Pamela knew it would make Mistress more helplessly receptive than ever, and she didn’t want to hear what Joss was going to put into her head this time.

“Don’t do that to her!”

Joss turned. Pamela couldn’t look away, but she wanted to.

Joss smiled. “Anything?”

Pamela nodded.

“Would you die for her?”

Pamela started to nod. “Yes,” she said aloud instead. “I would. To free her. Yes.”

Joss smiled again. She said something Pamela couldn’t pay attention to, because suddenly there was a strobelight in her brain . . .

9.

When she rose from trance again she was still nude, and the room was larger and darker. It looked like an abandoned factory. She shivered, even in the warm air that came in through holes in the wall. There was smooth concrete against her back, warmed from how long she’d leaned against it.

She looked at Mistress, bare under clear plastic shrinkwrap that exaggerated her muscular curves, now at stiff parade rest with her hands behind her. Mistress looked like a fetish doll, and her beautiful eyes were shallow and empty, almost as though Joss had lobotomized her while Pamela had slept.

Joss stepped closer, her boots clicking hollowly. “No, she’s still there. I just prepared her.”

Pamela pressed against the wall.

Joss read her mind again. “This is not the time to start worrying about that, Pamela. But you have a good excuse.” Joss put a hand on her cheek, gently.

At the touch, Pamela fought down a sudden need to weep.

“Letting Tracy climax as she watches you die could just be part of conditioning her to obey. But she won’t.

“I frequently deceive, Pamela, but I don’t lie. I don’t have to.”

She turned to Mistress. “Slave, prepare.” Mistress said nothing, but brought her hands forward to her sides.

The hand with the gun in it kept rising until it pointed at Pamela.

She stared at Joss. “You’re going to make her—?”

Joss breathed in, luxuriously. “She’ll be free when you die, Pamela. With all her memories restored.

“This isn’t about hurting you.”

She turned and started walking to a darkened doorway. “She’s programmed to obey you, now. If you tell her to shoot you, just say ‘Do it,’ and she will. She’ll stay entranced until she knows you’re dead.

“If you can’t, or won’t, then have her bring you back to your place and we can pick up where we left off.”

Joss stopped, still looking away, and chuckled. “If you tell her to shoot me, she won’t. She’ll just lapse deeper, trigger you, and then—see above for obedience training.”

Pamela looked at Mistress, agleam in plastic as shiny as her eyes, relaxed as she kept the gun level. Mistress’ fixated obedience, the way the plastic exposed and imprisoned her at once—it was kindling something sick and treacherous and nice between Pamela’s thighs.

Everything Mistress had gasped out to her before was curling into bed-whispers. A domme bewitched into joining her sub on her knees, both of them helpless thralls of a demonic hypnotist.

Pamela could have that forever. She could doom Mistress to it. All she had to do was let go, and wait until she saw their Goddess gloating over how weak she was.

Pamela hung on to why that was so wrong she’d die to keep it from happening. She wasn’t sure how she did, but she did.

That had its own traps. She pictured Mistress later, on trial for killing her, too grief-stricken over her to grasp her own danger, unwilling to tell a truth no one would believe. Mistress would mourn her and her own life would be shit, year after pointless year.

Not for nothing did they warn about bargaining with the devil.

But she looked again at the plastic covering Mistress, more spread over the floor, a pile of cleaning materials by the door. Joss hadn’t twisted “free” into autonomy behind bars. If Mistress kept her head when she woke up, if she didn’t—oh! god!—turn the gun on herself, she could get away clean.

Pamela made herself see Mistress again, with the collar tattooed permanently on her throat, slavery tattooed onto her mind forever.

“Goddess,” she said, and this time Joss turned around.

“Will she know? That I’m doing this? Will she just think she murdered me here?”

Joss laughed and walked out.

Mistress waited, still hypnotized. Joss had reduced her to a simple machine, a spring-gun that breathed. Pamela was starting to trip on that again, her plastic Mistress, mind empty except for what her Goddess had put there. She thought about Mistress looking down at her body, knowing she’d killed her.

She saw Mistress nude in kathryn’s house, helping the curvy slave break another woman Joss had drawn into her web. Their shadows would writhe across the sleeping man and children, and none of the hypnoslaves would know which bottle kathryn had poured from.

Pamela moaned and realized she was stroking her clitoris.

Not touching it left it sensitive, too, and she was drunk and flying on the idea of surrender. She could let Tracy take them both back, and they’d be mindlessly tonguing their new Goddess. She’d squirm under Goddess’ contempt. Then she’d stop remembering dignity and loyalty altogether. It would no longer feel anything but good to think of Tracy this close to freedom, and then pulled back to life in a collar because her sub was just too horny to save her.

No.

Pamela stopped thinking of anything but her Mistress, and knelt to her.

It sounded like Mistress would have her memories back—how Joss had snared her, what she’d done, and why she’d be standing over her beloved slave with the smoking gun.

Mistress was strong. It would hurt her, but she’d know someone thought she was a woman to die for.

Pamela looked up. “Mistress, I love you. I hope this makes you free.

“If it doesn’t—I’m glad I tried.”

Mistress waited. Joss hadn’t programmed her to respond to that.

Inside Pamela something said This is just running away. While there’s life there’s hope, and you could try to help her. You’re just giving up.

Again she thought about kathryn, who might have hung in there too, living and hoping, waiting for a chance to break free. Being taught to come whenever she drugged her family, instead.

This was fucked up, and a very small chance. But she didn’t think there was any other chance, with Joss, at all.

Pamela stopped seeing the wide-eyed doll and saw the woman she’d given herself to. She thought about The Empress and other things they’d never do. She stopped.

“Mistress, I—

“Goodbye.

“Do it.”