The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Master Terrin lay back in a half-asleep haze, a soft smile on his face, immersed in sweet, wet pleasure. He couldn’t think about it. Couldn’t even think about the soft lips sliding over his cock, the fingernails digging into his thighs with the effort of holding him still. It felt too good to think.

A wet mouth. A rough tongue. Little moans and whimpers and sucking sounds between his legs. His cock throbbed and pulsated within the slick kisses, not only from the steady sucking but from the warm awareness that his kittyslut was doing what came naturally to her.

Or rather, what came naturally after he’d finished filling her head with horny, aroused pleasure, fucking her brains out and replacing those brains with nice, eager obedience and adoration for her Master.

Even as he thought this, she moaned happily. Unable to help himself, he opened his eyes and smiled down at her.

The dark-haired catgirl stared rapturously up at him, her eyes glazed, her mind quiet.

“Good Kitten,” he husked, savoring the way she whimpered as the trigger heightened both her arousal and her orgasm block. “Good Kitten.”

She nodded eagerly, continuing to slowly suckle. He lay back, smirking, and enjoyed the slow build.

The very, very slow build.

His hips bucked slightly. He gasped and wriggled, but she held him steady and continued to sweetly kiss.

And suck.

And lick.

So, so slowly.

Oddly, it was the rebellious edging, and not the fact that his hands were tied to the chair, that made Terrin realize something strange was going on here.

He looked back down at her with a confused frown. Kitten certainly seemed eager to please, but there was something calculating in the way her lips worked. Sometimes he swore he could see more sentience in the little slut’s mouth than her eyes.

She was edging him. Him, her Master.

“Kitten,” he growled, “be a good cocksucker.”

She whimpered as the trigger took effect. But the suckling continued at that rate.

He stared at her, breathing heavily. It was hard to think straight. And that... could that be why? Surely not. Kitten was a good kittyslut.

The world was still hazy, and with every little lick or suck, it seemed to blur a little more. With her edging, she was gradually returning him back to his half-asleep daze. But he could feel straw and cold stone beneath his feet.

He was in a stall in the barn. With that realization, everything... became that much more confusing. What was going on? Why was he tied down? Was this some sort of game?

Kitten let out a long sigh as she dragged her tongue down his shaft, slathering it in her sensual worship. He squirmed, unused to being edged. The buildup felt nice. But he wanted to cum.

And as the Master, he was used to getting his way.

“Kitten, m-make me cum,” he mumbled. Kitten whined, but kept delicately sucking. “Kitten! Be a good cocksucker!” Another whine. But she did not change her routine.

Terrin was stunned. She was resisting the commands. He knew he needed to be worried about that, but her lips and tongue felt so good, and the look in her eyes was so vacant and loving, and he just felt so... so... full

And finally, his eyes settled on the baby bottle located on the table, right there next to him.

And he remembered.

Remembered suckling from that bottle. Bobbin. Bobbin, his hob. She had taken him, hypnotized him. Made him drink. He had been overcome. Overwhelmed. Filled.

But why?

He couldn’t imagine. Because he couldn’t think.

Because Kitten was quite happily sucking him along the edge of ecstasy, dangling him above an abyss of pleasure. He was panting. Whimpering. Whenever he felt like he was about to cum, no matter how desperately he tried to hide it from her, she would know. Kitten always knew. She was one of his favorites on the Ambrosia Ranch, and she knew how to please her Master. And whenever the catgirl noticed he was close, she would invariably slow her attentions to slow, loving little sucks.

She would let him ebb back down until it was just a mild arousal, then start licking and lapping again, rapidly building him back up to his state of mindless need, take him all the way down and deepthroat him like an expert.

Which, thanks to his father’s work, and his own, she most definitely was.

His eyes settled on the bottle.

The holstaur. She was responsible for this, for the edging, for his bound state, for the pleasant buzzing in his head. She had gotten out of hand. Bobbin had let her take control.

She, too, would have to be punished.

Meanwhile, Kitten’s teasing continued.

“Kitten,” he rasped, “you... you fuckin’ better keep that up.”

Kitten moaned, clearly relieved that orders were no longer conflicting. But Terrin gave a wicked smile. That relief wouldn’t last. “That’s right,” he groaned. “D-don’t you fucking dare try to kiss me, Kitten. If you do, I’m... I’m in for sure.”

The suckling didn’t stop, but the moaning did. “Mm?” Kitten sounded puzzled.

In her ‘Kitten’ state, the catgirl was always a bit dumber than usual. Sub-drunk, they called it. But when she was actually engaged in the act of worshiping her Master’s cock... oh, ‘drunk’ didn’t begin to describe it.

“Yeah,” he gasped, “you... you better not kiss me! ‘Cause I can’t take it. It’ll feel so good, kissing me.” He bucked his hips slightly, causing her to lean back. “I-I’ll give in for sure. And then... oh, f-fuck... Mommy’ll be really happy with you.”

Kitten stared up at him, her sucking slowing down. She licked her lips. “Mm.”

“That’s right,” he husked, giving a weak smile. “Don’t even... agh... th-think about it. Just go back to sucking me. Lucky for me she told you to suck me instead of break me, huh? Otherwise I’d...” He laughed weakly. “...I’d really be in trouble.”

“Mm.” Kitten slowly pulled off his cock. Terrin barely contained a weak whine of need as her lips slipped off his manhood. Anything could tend her back into the cocksucking trance right now, and if she started again, he knew she’d never stop. He’d never want her to.

She licked her lips. “Master wants a kiss?” she asked sweetly. Her eyes were totally glazed over. Fully in thrall to the holstaur. But that thrall could be cheated.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, “please, don’t! Don’t kiss me!”

“Master wants a kiss,” she cooed, climbing up his taut body. He subtly slipped his knee between her legs as she rose up to be level with him. She was clearly still conflicted, but as he’d hoped, loyalty to Mommy continued to win out over Mommy’s orders. “Ooh, Kitten wants to be a good girl...”

“No,” he whimpered, struggling in vain, “don’t, please, I c-can’t handle it—“

And as she kissed him—and she really was a fantastic kisser, especially with the lingering taste of holstaur milk on her lips—Terrin’s knee rose up between her thighs and started to gently rub back and forth.

The twice-brainwashed catgirl let out a surprised moan, but gave no other indication she even noticed. Her eyes were closed. The kiss was breathtaking, overwhelming. He could almost believe she was having a religious experience right now. He struggled weakly against the kiss, and continued to rub.

Slowly, as the kiss stretched on, the catgirl began to hump his knee. At first, it was very slight—perhaps she didn’t even know she was doing it. He rewarded this by very slightly increasing the speed of the rubbing.

Soon, she was kissing him more and more needily, moaning, whimpering, whining. He sped up mhis attentions, and her humping sped up to accommodate. For his part, he gave it his all. He broke his Kitten, as he so often did, slowly and lovingly. It didn’t matter if he was bound. So was she.

Kitten couldn’t handle it. Not any of it. And the more lust-dumb she was, the easier this would be. And Kitten was already very, very lust-dumb by default.

Soon, she wasn’t even able to kiss. She was just bucking and humping his leg, crying and clutching at him. He grinned, drinking in the sight. The catgirl’s ears were flattened, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed bright pink.

He’d made the wifwolf do exactly this many times, just to see her struggle with the compulsion. But with the catgirl, there was no struggle. Kitten finally straddled his knee and started outright bouncing and writhing atop it, whimpering, blubbering, pleading with little mews and nothing more.

She would not be able to cum without his command. Not even Mommy could change that.

There was only one force of mind control on Valina stronger than Mommy’s milk, Terrin knew with a smirk.

And it was just how unbearably horny this kitty could get when treated properly.

“So, my little slut,” he purred, as she continued to wriggle atop him. “Just what is it you want?”

“Ah—” Her feline eyes were wild, almost tearful. “Ah! Oh! Mew! Mew!”

“As witty as always, Kitten,” he said with a laugh, leaning back in his chair as though he wasn’t bound there and giving her a little bounce on his knee. “Oh, but if only I could help somehow. If only there was something I could do.”

“F-fuck!” the catgirl squealed. “Ooh, fuck!”

“Oh, really?” His eyebrow slowly arched. “So that’s what you want?”

She blinked, continuing to wriggle atop him. “Ah?”

“You,” he purred, leaning forward to give his words more power over the wanton catgirl, “want to fuck me?”

She stared at him. Her lower lip trembled.

Slowly, she reached forward and grabbed the ropes binding his one arm to the chair. Rapidly, she cut through them, setting his right arm free.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, pointing at the hand, then at her visibly wet crotch, which had already stained his trousers. “F-fuck!”

He reached forward with a smile, and Terrin slowly, cruelly stroked in circles around Kitten’s slick clit. Kitten panted and whined and moaned, tears streaming down her red face. “What’s the matter, Kitten?”’ he whispered. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Fuck!” she squealed. “Fuck!”

“Really? Has the milk made you that big a slut?”

“No,” Kitten whispered, shivering. She knew just what to say. “Master did.”

“You were always my kittyslut.” He leaned in and planted a little kiss on her forehead.

She keened softly.

“Give me my other hand, then,” he said with a sigh. “And get me out of this chair.”

She bit her lip. Her eyes were wide, but there was wariness there, too. Terrin would have to be careful now. “Now, kitten,” he cooed, idly tickling around her clitoris, “Mommy wanted you to break me. And a sweet kitten like you knows that the best way to break somebody...”

“Is through fucking,” Kitten whimpered, from personal experience. She continued to struggle against his teasing mock-fingering as she untied his bindings completely.

He smiled as she released his left hand. And just as she was wrenching him out of the chair, ready to fuck his brains out on the stall floor, he grabbed the milk bottle—left so carelessly nearby—and stuck the nipple into her mouth. Right between her surprised lips.

The transformation was so sudden, he realized that his father must have built it in long ago. Kitten went limp. Completely. She fell back, her eyes turning dull, and he gently guided her into the chair he’d been bound in. Her eyes were half-closed as she clutched the bottle... and suckled.

He licked his lips, half-envying her. Mommy’s milk was hard to resist for anyone.

“Good pussy,” he whispered, continuing to torment her clit with one finger as with the other he tied the nursing catgirl to the chair. “Good slut.”

Kitten whined, clutching the bottle tighter, and he knew she was longing for those two special words that allowed her to cum. “Good... catgirl,” he sang lightly, laughing at her desperation. He straightened, job done, and turned away.

Kitten was whining and pleading, unable to stop suckling at the bottle even for a second. Only now did the dumb slut realize what had just happened to her. Or maybe she’d known all along that it was coming, and had allowed it to happen because she secretly wanted it. Terrin planned to tease her with that theory later.

Terrin opened the stall door and stepped out, fully nude, his entire muscular body on display. Bobbin was under the milk’s control. So were the wifwolf and Jill, probably. Only he had remained immune.

He smiled, cracking his knuckles. It was time to show the udder sprite some discipline.

Laca—known as Mommy to her adorable little sucklers—lounged back in the grass, sighing contentedly. The holstaur had finally done it.

Bobbi—sweet, weak little Bobbi—was hers. Cute little Jill, oh, she had melted for Laca like butter. The wifwolf had been tricky to catch, but a wifwolf in heat couldn’t very well resist a slime girl, let alone her Mommy. And silly Valina. Oh, how delightfully easy that had been. The catgirl had more triggers in her than a crossbow enthusiast’s basement.

And it had all been for what was about to happen now. All for this delicious moment. She played idly with her massive tits, silver hair spilling out beneath her among her two bull horns.

Every now and then, she tickled a nipple just right, and a tiny bit of milk would shoot out. It made her whimper. Oh, how she longed for the harem she had so long been denied.

Soon. Soon.

She lay back there in the grass, and fantasized. A mouth at each breast. Sucklers to attend to her every need—and, oh, yes, she would be so generous, so kind, such a good Mommy to them. She almost came at the thought.

Her eyes lit up as she heard footsteps. Ah. She sat up, giggling. Dear little boy, she thought, watching the door with a grin. Such a good, obedient boy, coming when he’s tol—

“Bad girl!” barked out a voice from behind the door.

Laca’s eyes widened. She clutched her chest, feeling the worst kind of orgasm—all the buildup with none of the payoff—seep through her. Milk dribbled out of her tits. Her pussy tingled disappointingly. She gasped and whimpered, struggling to—

“Bad girl!” repeated the voice. She squeaked out loud this time as the agonizing half-pleasure tore through her whole needy body. Her knees quaked. “Bad girl! Bad girl!”

She was squealing now, falling prone on her back in the grass and clutching her massive, dribbling tits. Tears fell from her eyes at the waves of need coursing through her. She could only pray he didn’t remember—

Master’s voice behind the door was sly and slick as oil as he whispered, “Ooze it out, hucow.”

—that.

Laca’s eyes widened. She cried out, mewling in discomfort as her nipples began a steady, agonizingly arousing stream. It was like a great orgasm stretched out over hours. She writhed in the grass, pleading wordlessly, babbling in overwhelming, miserable pleasure. Nobody had dared even think to use these triggers in years.

And it was then that the door opened. She stared up in rapturous terror as Terrin smirked down at her wanton form.

“Like a cambion street whore,” he purred.

The holstaur whimpered, struggling to her knees. “M-Master, I—“

“Bad girl.”

“OOOOH!”

Terrin couldn’t help but laugh.

Laca had entirely given up trying to put up a fight at this point. She just cried out, and wriggled, and exposed her every voluptuous angle for his greedy gaze to drink in. The holstaur was a wet, milky mess. Once again, it was business as usual at the Ambrosia Ranch.

He smiled down at her—not unkindly, in his opinion. “What did we learn?” he cooed.

“Master—” The holstaur moaned, clutching her oozing tits tightly. “Master knows best!” she squeaked. “Obedience is pleasure! I am a good hucow good hucow good titslave yes yes y-yes oh yes...”

His manhood was stiff as a board at the sight, and pointed right over her head. He almost said ‘good girl’. But no. This was no time for her orgasming.

It was still learning time.

“That’s right,” he purred. “But in light of recent events...”

“Sorry please oh please Master—“

He reached down and began to slowly stroke his cock, eying up the curvy udder sprite with a sly smile. “... I think, perhaps, you might have to show me.”

Her blubbering slowed, slightly, though the trickling didn’t, as this suggestion sank into her ‘udderly ruined’ mind.

“Sh-show you?” she whispered, eyes wide.

He smirked. “Turn around, hucow.”

She whimpered at the trigger word, but slowly obeyed. What else could she do? The holstaur presented her ass to him, pushing it up slightly for his approval, and for a moment, he was quite happy to just admire it, to drink in her perfect bubble butt. Her tits were the main attraction, but damn.

He didn’t dare risk asking for a titfuck, of course. Her breasts held too much power. But with this...

He cupped her ass. Caressed it. She whined and wiggled it excitedly, already desperate to submit once again to his cock.

“That’s right,” he breathed, lining up his member so it barely grazed her dripping entrance. His hands wrapped around her, his hand toying gently with her nipples to keep her whimpering and mindless. Even now, no sense in taking any chances. “And... being is a trance-itive state.”

He saw her eyes go glassy and vacant as the trigger registered, and almost came just from that. Her panting grew heavier, headier.

And then he slid inside her.

He came instantly. That made him a little worried. But not worried enough not to start pounding in to her, hard enough that she moved a little each time, whining and whimpering. The clitoris wasn’t exactly a big focus for a holstaur, but he wasn’t exactly concerned for her pleasure right now. All that mattered was his own.

He blinked. Wait. Was that right? Wasn’t this learning time?

She was moaning happily, and he made sure to keep toying with her breasts, knowing this was the only way to keep her horny. He felt the pleasure blasting into him with every thrust. Her pussy contracted wetly around him, smooth as silk. Almost like it was sucking his cock in deeper.

But the trance had her. Right?

“Mooooo,” she cried. He grinned. Yeah. He had her.

“Good girl,” he cooed, savoring her trembling, gushing orgasm as it sang through her delicious body. Her juices spilled around his cock, but the real gushing was on his hands, where the milk practically flooded from her already-oozing nipples. “Gooood hucow.”

“Moooo!”

He laughed. “You were so...” He groaned as his orgasm started to climb. Already. That worried him a little. “So confident, so...” He pounded into her, panting. He was about to cum. “So sure y-you had me...”

Her milk was spilling into the floor and forming a small puddle in the grass. He licked his lips at the sight. His cock throbbed inside her warmth as he imagined dropping down, imagined slurping from that pool...

He knew he was losing focus. But his fingers were tingling all over from the milk, and his cock was throbbing with mind-numbing pleasure after all of Kitten’s teasing. He couldn’t even manage words anymore. The mooing was all he heard. Squeals and screams and moans lows and soft footsteps.

“Mommy,” chirped a sweet voice, “Master seems thirsty!”

Terrin’s eyes widened. But he couldn’t stop. He kept thrusting. Kept moaning. He realized now that half the moans were coming from him, not Mommy.

A slender, manicured hand with painted-pink nails reached around his neck and presented a full baby bottle, the nipple mere inches from his mouth.

“Who’s thirsty?” cooed the voice of the stockgirl.

He licked his lips.

In alarm, he quickly gritted his teeth together, eying the bottle with an almost primitive fear. “D-don’t—”

But Terrin was cut off by the holstaur’s bottom wriggling with excitement. Her pussy was practically milking him. He was so close. So close so close so close...

“Mooooo!”

White-hot pleasure soared within Terrin as his cock started to pulsate and release inside of her. His knees nearly buckled. His vision went pale. He gave a hoarse, totally overwhelmed scream of bliss.

And with a little airheaded giggle from Jill, the nipple of the bottle slipped right between his open lips.

He only struggled for the first few seconds. Then Jill’s muscular arms were wrapping around his head, cradling him as he drank, and his lips started to mindlessly suck. Warm milk trickled down his throat, and he felt his mind beginning to obediently melt for Mommy.

Fuck, it tasted... so good...

He moaned.

“Good boy,” Jill cooed, stroking his bare chest. “Why not pull out of Mommy so you can focus on suckling like a good boy?”

Fat chance, he thought, rolling his eyes. His cock was the only thing even remotely keeping Mommy in line! Keeping her from turning around...

… taking him into her arms...

… kissing him tenderly...

… forcing his whimpering lips towards her pert nipple, holding him at her breast until he was docile and pliant and ready to beg to suckle and drink and fill himself with her love...

He tried to stop himself, but his hands were already rising up to grasp the bottle. His knees buckled as he held the bottle with both hands and drank greedily. Jill stroked his hair, giggling and kissing his neck. Soothing him. Making him nice and tranquil.

Nice and obedient for Mommy.

It took the tranced holstaur a long time to recover. The bottle was half-empty by the time the holstaur turned around, eyes half-lidded, and smiled slyly when she beheld his state. “Ooh. What a good baby girl, Jill.” He felt Jill’s breath catch at the praise. Mommy crawled over, smirking, cupping Terrin’s chin in her hand as he sucked. She stared into his eyes, and he could see his empty, glassy gaze reflected in her adoring brown irises. “And it looks like somebody,” she cooed, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “has gone too long without obeying his Mommy!”

“Mm,” he moaned. He rocked back and forth, trying desperately to snap himself out of it. But it seemed like the rocking was just lulling him further and further down.

It took him a moment to realize the holstaur was actually doing it, smiling fondly. Rocking her baby to sleep.

The thought made him whimper, longing to give in.

His temper flared, and he gave an angry growl as he suckled. No! I can’t give in! I can’t let her win!

Jill started planting affectionate kisses down his neck. I mean... I shouldn’t...

Mommy giggled, rocking him gently into an obedient sleep. ... it’d feel really nice, though...

“Good boy,” Jill cooed in his ear, kissing his neck loudly. Practically slurping at it, really. Milk dribbled down his chin, and she reached around, hungrily lapping at his skin. His cock was pulsing with need to be immersed once more, but he longed even more to dive into Mommy’s swelling, perfect, soft, smooth tits.

He knew he was breaking down, but he still had some hope. One of his hands was occupied with the bottle, yes, but one of his hands was free, and Mommy seemed entirely diverted rocking him in her arms, watching the struggle slowly die in his eyes.

Heart beating quicker, he reached out, grasping for something... anything...

Jill took his hand, giggling, and brought it down towards his cock. He struggled, but weakly. Ever-so-weakly. He was theirs now.

“Yes,” Mommy breathed, her arms wrapping slowly around him as she rocked him to mental slumber, “he is a good boy.” His eyelids were drooping. His last sight would be that of Mommy, smiling adoringly at him... and those massive, dribbling breasts.

The bottle was almost empty. His eyes were almost closed.

And then the bottle was empty.

“Already done?” Mommy sounded mock-surprised. “Ooh, my baby is so, so thirsty. So needy. Does he want more?” Her eyes glimmered knowingly.

“Mm,” he moaned, feeling Jill dragging his hand steadily closer to his cock. They would make him stroke himself into submission. And he wanted to do it. For Mommy.

Mommy’s voice turned almost wicked. “Beg Mommy for it.”

“Mm...” As Jill placed his hand on his cock, and he started to stroke, filing his mind with dazing pleasure, he suckled mindlessly at the empty bottle.

He would beg. He knew that now. He had come here to beg, to plead, to whine and whimper like a pathetic titslave. He would say whatever Mommy wanted him to say. Do whatever Mommy wanted him to do. He would submit, would be obedient, would be her good boy.

Because he loved his Mommy.

He felt Jill gently take his other hand, pulling the bottle from his longing lips so he could speak. He stared longingly at Mommy’s teat, dribbling with milk, desperate for a pair of thirsty lips.

He felt Jill’s warm breath on his shoulder.

She was staring at it, too. Gods, they were both lost. They hadn’t even stood a chance. Jill would do anything for that milk—even betray her own boss. Anything to suckle at it forever.

He blinked.

Then, in one fluid motion, even as he pumped his throbbing member faster and faster, he took his milk-soaked hand—still held by Jill’s—to the breast. And he gave it a squeeze.

“Ooh!” Mommy’s eyelashes fluttered. She smiled lazily at him, brushing his hand away. “Naughty boy. Jill, baby girl, why don’t you...” She trailed off. “Jill?”

Jill’s hand lingered by the breast. Slowly, as though spellbound, the stockgirl reached forward and stroked the nipple.

Simultaneously, Mommy and Jill let out little whimpers.

“Jill,” Mommy whispered. “Don’t... ah...”

But Jill was leaning forward now, eyes glassy and empty and locked on that milky tit. Terrin fell to the side as she leaned closer, panting. Her tongue was lolling out like a horny puppy sprite, like a milk kitten under a blood moon.

“Mmmmommy,” she whined.

Mommy smirked, but there was nervousness there. She reached to push Jill away, but Jill’s finger was still stroking the nipple, still making milk drip out, and the holstaur seemed sluggish and confused. “B-baby... why don’t you, um...”

Jill’s lips—slowly, hesitantly, but with growing eagerness as Mommy failed to issue any strong commands—locked onto Mommy’s nipple.

Mommy let out a startled squeak. Now she started struggling harder, as the real danger became clear. But Jill was already wrapping her arms around her Mommy, moaning louder, suckling with desperation as the addiction took over.

Mommy’s eyes were wide. “Get off—s-stop—aah—”

And then Mommy started to moan as well as the sucking and slurping sounds began. Jill bore Mommy down against the grass, clutching the breast like it held the key to immortality. Mommy wriggled and gasped, first in alarm, but increasingly in unwanted delight as pure pleasure coursed through her.

“No—aah, no—m-m-more—” As her moans started to rise, her whimpers and cries for Jill to release her became less and less convincing. “D-don’t suck meeeee!”

And then Mommy was squealing in pleasure. Her arms shot up and clutched Jill to her breast. She was thrashing now, a big, dumb smile spreading across her face. She was about to cum.

Terrin was still stroking himself. He licked his lips, staring down at the unoccupied breast.

“Ah—oh, yes good—good good good—about to—need my—”

She stared up at Terrin, and her lips quavered, and he realized she was struggling with the word boy.

“Being is a trance-itive state,” he whispered.

“MOOOOO!” Mommy screamed, squeezing her legs together as her pussy flowed. “M-Moo! Moooo!”

And Terrin came with his own groan of pleasure, shaking as the powerful orgasm flooded through him in time with the holstaur’s. His cum spattered all over the grass before him. He leaned over her, panting. “Good girl,” he cooed, watching Mo0mmy’s pupils dilate. No more risks this time. He had her now. “Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.”

Mommy was crying. She was screaming. The holstaur was lost in lust, begging, pleading. Terrin reached over, smiling, and started to stroke along her clit. “Good hucow,” he murmured, savoring her tormented screams. “Good milkslut.”

Laca stared at the ceiling in wide-eyed ecstasy as Jill sucked first at one breast, then the other, looking up at her with a look of pure adoration.

Mommy was in rapture. She was cumming over and over again. It was hell. It was wonderful. She was being reduced to a submissive slut once more, and she knew she’d love every second of it.

Some part of her knew she needed to fight, too. But it was quiet—oh, so, so quiet—and the pleasure was so, so, so loud. As loud as her squeals. As loud as Jill’s moans. As loud as Master’s sweet voice as he whispered in her ear, telling her she loved to be a good hucow, a good, sweet slave, telling her she loved him and loved to obey...

And her mind opened for him like a honey drone’s legs. Generations of careful resistance and erosion of his commands were coming undone in a single afternoon of pleasure. She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help herself.

But gradually, she began to notice something.

Master still hadn’t closed the door. And there was someone else in there with him now.

Bobbin. Bobbin, the lithe, fit hob, stared at them in docile lust, swaying slightly in place. The fey licked her lips.

And Mommy blinked.

“Oh, B-Bobbi,” she cooed, spreading her arms wide. “Come help Mommy!”

Bobbi’s eyes lit up. In a dazed trance, she stumbled over, panting. “Mommy,” she keened. “Mommy! Bobbi wants to help!”

Master’s eyes widened. He spun, but too late, as Bobbi tackled him to the ground. He struggled, but he was no match for the muscular hob. Bobbi giggled, shoving him out of her way.

“Good pet,” Mommy purred, shaking as another orgasm slowly rose within her. “Such a good baby girl! Such a good baby girl!

“No,” Master panted, thrashing beneath the hob’s grip. But he was still stroking himself. And Bobbi had him pinned.

“Poor little boy,” Mommy cooed at him, giggling. “Did he f-forget that his Mommy alwa—aaaaAAAAh!

In that moment, Bobbi had rise off him, crawled to Laca’s breast, and stuck her finger into Laca’s pussy.

Laca stared up at Bobbi, her lips parting, her eyes turning teary with ecstasy.

“Wanna help Mommy,” Bobbi whimpered, and descended upon Mommy’s other breast. Her tongue slowly ran over the nipple, and her lips locked on and began to suckle.

Mommy’s arms reflexively wrapped around the two nubile beauties, clutching them close, as Bobbi started rapidly stroking her clit, and Master started to whisper once more.

And the lovely udder sprite began an orgasm without end.