The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Trina?”

When she saw Wendi blink rapidly, as though her brain was having difficulty processing what was in front of her, Trina mirrored it back with a general air of, ‘What the fuck is this look about?’ before actually asking the question in exactly that way.

Wendi processed it, looking Trina up and down completely before answering. “You look...different is all.”

Trina decided to take half a step back and spread her arms out quickly before slapping her palms to her thighs. “Different how?” She watched Wendi blank and open her mouth only to have nothing come out right away because, even with what was, in her mind, an obvious assertion, it wasn’t the easiest thing to articulate. She was always put together. She always dressed fashionably and now was no different, but there was something more...fun to it, and trashy without being obvious about it. White heels and slacks with a slim black belt and a polished silver buckle was all about being serious.

Above was a black crop top under a white jacket with a black choker with a silver and gold pendant bringing the eye to her cleavage and putting before them fact that she was conspicuously not wearing a bra. Her makeup was similar to what she usually wore, but...just a little more attention seeking and striking now. “You look like you could go to a business meeting or a business meeting with your sugar daddy.”

“Wouldn’t both of those be business meetings?” Her words were cool and matter-of- fact, so much so that Wendi considered shrinking backwards a touch, then Trina threw her head back in laughter and touched her shoulder. “Relax, it’s fine. I just...decided to loosen up a little bit more. She then seemed worried. “You hate it.”

“No...no, not at all. Like I said, it’s just different. You just used to be a little more formal, at least in public and...it’s just different. What happened?”

“Just woke up one morning and decided I’d try a new style of...me. I admit I’m still getting used to it, but enough about that. Come on in, I was just about to text you.” Trina glanced back as they walked into the living room. “You’re still looking good too though.”

Wendi was proud of that. She knew what she had going for her. Other people would call them blessings or gifts, but she knew that what she had came as a result of the effort that she put into it. Genetics gifted her with good looks, but no one would have truly noticed them if she hadn’t worked to emphasize them. Her long, midnight hair flowed to the middle of her back. She could spend hours getting those soft curls on the ends just so and making sure the black shimmered in the light. Her eyes were brown with gold flecks that looked almost amber in the right light and she’d heard more than once that they looked black when she was pissed enough.

People complimented her on how lovely she looked with so little makeup, most not knowing how much makeup and effort went into nailing looking like you wore little to none of it. She knew how to enhance what she had and use that to open the doors that her intellect would not.

She cultivated that as well. She was in the top three of her law school class, determined to be on top when it was time for her degree next year, and Wendi wasn’t one to be smart in just the area she chose as her career path. She knew a fair bit about a lot and liked each of the more than a few times she’d been underestimated and then put the guilty party in their place. They had looked at the pretty girl and learned that her name was Wendi with an ‘i’ and made all sorts of assumptions that worked to her advantage.

Wendi crafted her body, too. How she came into the world lent her body to a more hourglass figure and full breasts only slightly larger than what she thought would have been proportional, but at least she didn’t look like a comic book character. But she ran, swam, climbed and lifted weights. The result was a tight and firm form that she was plenty satisfied with when she looked in the mirror. She was smart, hot, in good shape, never sold herself short with other people or knuckled under just because ‘girls are supposed to be nice.’

Wendi stepped in, her eyes scanning the new modern, yet comfortable condo. “I really do love this place. Your mom and dad still covering it?”

Trina nodded, “Keep my grades up and the check is still blank.”

“Nice.”

“I’m a little pissed that you haven’t come to see it before now.”

“Busy. Lot’s of family stuff. Long story short, stepmom putting the ‘evil’ in ‘evil stepmom’ because she can. I’m more sad that I’ve missed at least three of your legendary parties by now.”

Trina gave it some thought, “Yeah, three. You’re always invited, you know.”

“I know, and next time, I swear. I’m just not quite in the mood for the sensory overload right now. A book club sounded fun, though. It was an easy read, it’s a chance to meet some new people, and we can chill and catch up this way way better than at one of your blowouts.”

“Mmmmm….nah,” Trina agreed. “My usual parties aren’t known for their intimacy.”

“Occasional fucking in the spare rooms or blowjobs in the closets notwithstanding,” Wendi teased.

“Like that happens all the time or something. Good music, good food, good drink and happy, attractive people leads to things sometimes. As long as they fuck on the floor with a couple of pillows like reasonably civilized people and not icking my beds, who cares?”

“You’re so very pragmatic.”

“I know it.”

“A little party like this sounds really nice..”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“How many more people are we waiting for?”

“A couple. Want a glass of wine?”

“I’ll wait a few minutes for them to get here.” Wendi knew who would be there and she knew who she didn’t know of the group that got invitations. “So, what are ‘Carey’ and ‘Lynne’ like, and what gets them an invitation to a high-class party like yours?”

“This is a book club, not a campus blowout. Anyway, Lynne’s pretty and bubbly without making you wonder if she gets high just to be that bubbly. It was my turn to do a walking tour and there she was. That turned into an all-day visit, and we got along. I thought she might be a nice addition to the parties later on. One pretty, bubbly girl gets you half a dozen guys.”

Wendi knew the truth of that well enough having spent summers tending bar. A bar that drew in girls was a healthy bar, and hot girls were the key to a successful party. But she looked curiously at Trina when her voice just sort of dropped away. “What about the other one? Carey?”

Now Trina looked uncharacteristically sheepish, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter to a to the one that, no doubt, was already being worked on in the living room. “Yeah…I sorta hit her with my car.”

Wendi lit up at the very idea because it was so unlike her and leaned her hip against the island. “You what?”

Her embarrassment grew, showing via the sudden shading of red “It was just a little…tunk. It really wasn’t anything. Neither of us even really felt it. I was pulling into the lot and there wasn’t anything there, swear to God. I checked my phone and...tunk...there was her bumper. Christ, a little tap and an eight-inch crack in a bumper and it’s eighteen hundred bucks. What the hell is up with that?”

Getting the embarrassing bit out, she now sort of shrugged it off, it not being as bad as it sounded at the end of the day, even if she was completely at fault.

“Her car or yours?”

“Oh, hers. Mine just got the paint scuffed. I never even bothered to have mine fixed. She was understandably freaked out for about ten minutes, then was pretty calm about it. She just wanted to get it taken care of. Took a few phone calls and texts back and forth, and you know how it goes on the phone. There’s an awkward pause here and there where you kinda think you should hang up, but the call barely started, so it seems rude. You end up filling time with idle nonsense. Everything about her screams bookish, so I ended up mentioning that I had a book club, and was thinking about restarting it. I asked if she wanted to come hang out and she said, ‘Sure.’

“Super nice of you.”

“Like I said, she seems like she fits a book club and I thought it was a good way to reinforce the ‘sorry,’ and just generally show that I’m a sweet and classy young woman.”

Wendi nodded and grinned. “You really are.”

“Come on.”

They walked into the main room and there were three girls that needed no introduction to Wendi. Trina was right that they were already working on some wine as they all exchanged enthusiastic if mostly non-specific greetings. One of the girls spied the bottle and raised her glass in approval. “Excellent. Haven’t gotten to half of this one yet, but we’ll need an emergency reserve.”

“Gemma, you’re a lush.”

“You aren’t the first person to call me plush, though you are the one of the only girls I’ve heard do it.”

“Lush.” Wendi, repeated, then one more time for emphasis, craning her neck towards the other and her place on the couch. “Lush.”

“And you’re uptight and always have been.” Gemma dropped that fact, but did it with good nature. Truth be told, she had been called plush by her suitors and they had all meant it in the most endearing of ways. She worked out as religiously as anyone else and she was as firm as as anyone, but it was always going to under a layer of soft that could especially be seen and felt around her belly, backside, thighs, and ass.

“Give the girl a break,” Trina commanded.

“Me or her?” Wendi asked.

“Whichever will get you guys to shut up and have a good time.”

“I’m just giving her a little bit of shit,” Wendi answered.

“I know it. How you doin’, hon? It’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, that’s my fault, Gemma, but planning to stick closer to home for a while, so you’ll see me more, assuming you want to.”

“Cool. I miss our shopping trips.”

“Did I keep you from shopping?”

“No,” Gemma said, her green eyes a striking contrast to her dark skin, sparkling in amusement at the ridiculousness of the idea. “I just miss our shopping trips. We have a lot of the same taste.”

“Helps you when you want to borrow my clothes.”

“It does. Having a dear, dear friend like you that functionally doubles my wardrobe is someone to be cherished. By the by, can I get that red blazer of yours? The one with the pearl buttons?”

“Tomorrow.”

Gemma smiled brightly and relaxed into the dark leather couch. “It’s so good to have you back.”

“I love you, too.”

Wendi found a spot at one end of the couch and spent the next few minutes catching up with the other girls. It was nice and it didn’t take long for her to get back into the social swing. It felt pretty normal and she was able to begin to put the unpleasantness of home behind her. That bitch trying to get between her and her father had consumed way too much of her time and her thoughts lately. She didn’t like leaving and giving the bitch time alone to do her work on him, but there was nothing to be done about it now that wouldn’t make things worse on her end. Wendi needed time away to think of a better approach, but there would be time for that later. Now was the time to chill with old friends, meet some new people and talk up shitty books.

About twenty minutes later, there was a timid knock at the side door. “That sounds like a quiet, bookish knock,” Wendi assessed.

Trina sighed a playful sigh. “It does, doesn’t it?” She looked around, “I shouldn’t have to tell anyone here to be nice, I know I don’t have to tell anyone here to be nice.”

“But?” Gemma asked.

“Since I make a point to drop the rules on everyone at a party whether they need them or not, be nice.”

“And nobody has to tell us that,” Gemma said. “Even if I hate a bitch I can fake smile for a few hours so everybody else’s good time isn’t ruined.”

“She just doesn’t come from money, that’s all, so no jokes, even if they’re really just jokes. I don’t know her that well and she might be sensitive to that sort of thing.”

Wendi threw out a tease before Trina left the room, “Sweet on her or something?”

Trina turned, “No. I just throw nice parties, so be fucking nice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“’Miss,’ bitch. I’m not old enough to have transitioned to ‘Ma’am’” Trina disappeared from view into the kitchen and opened the door when, “Hey, Carey,” was heard.

“Uh, hi.” She gestured to the street, “Is that okay? I just saw the other cars and…”

“It’s just fine, come on in. How are you?”

“I’m just fine.” She took in the expansive, five-star, stainless steel kitchen that looked apportioned like the stuff of dreams. “Wow. Do you cook? Tell me you cook.”

Trina looked around, feeling a bit embarrassed once again, “No. Honestly, I look around and I feel kind of crap because I know enough to know that this really is a helluva setup, but I have absolutely no idea what you do with anything in it but the fridge. Why, do you?”

“Home taught. Mom. Grandma. Aunts. I added to it,” she said proudly. “Man, I could dance around here.”

“Maybe you can come over sometime and cook. Then I can watch until you get sick of me asking questions.”

“That’s a deal,” she said, spinning slowly, thinking of what she could do with a place like this.

“All I have is wine, fruit, and some other snacks that you’re welcome to, assuming you read the book. You can’t stay if you didn’t read the book.”

She said firmly, and with a bit of pride that always came with anything that could be remotely considered an academic assignment. “I read it.”

“Kidding. Come meet my friends.”

That awkward heat hit as it always did. Her eyes went to the floor and she had to force them up, like she always did.

“Relax. None of them bite.” Trina put her hand on Carey’s shoulder and only had to give her the slightest push forward. As they entered the room, Trina employed her patented cheery party tone as they entered. “Wendi Lawson? Gemma Kenner? This is my new friend Carey Masters. Carey, these are my old friends, Gemma and Wendi.”

They both waved and welcomed her in, which made Carey blush again, this time making her once-pale cheeks flare. “Hi, how are you two doing?”

“Just fine,” said Gemma.

“Doing great, though I hear that Trina there tried to kill your car.”

Nervousness led Carey to laugh far more loudly than intended, which made the other girls laugh in return with Trina patting Carey’s shoulder once again, “You okay?”

Carey cleared her throat to attempt to cover her minor humiliation, “Yeah, sorry, no idea what that was.”

“Something caught in your throat, duh,” Trina said.

Wendi didn’t think anything of it, and honestly didn’t judge the young lady, but, dear God, did she have friends that would, but even they, at least, would have have had the decency to never do it on social media or to her face. This girl’s ‘plain’ radiated from her like the light from the sun. Her red hair was straight and to the middle of her back, with her bangs perfectly straight. Loose gray sweats met a like-colored baggy sweatshirt with a unicorn riding a rainbow. At least the unicorn wasn’t a full-on elementary school rendition and had the decency to look fierce with silver battle armor, wings with feathers that tapered into blades, muscles on top of muscles without being too ridiculous, and even a rather impressive set of fangs.

Her eyes were sharp and emerald green, though it was hard to get a really good look at them through thick glasses that gave off a young wizard vibe. Wendi wondered if she could use those things to build a fire if she had to. Her lips were full and freckles dappled her face. She at least seemed to take good care of her skin, not that most anyone would give her a second look.

“Do you like it?”

Wendi blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The unicorn.” Carey glanced down and then back up, “I saw you looking.”

Wendi got the impression that she’d seen the expression on her face on many faces before and decided to offer her an out that didn’t maybe leave Carey embarrassed.

“Oh. Sorry. Yeah, I actually do like that. Where’d you find it?”

“I drew it,” she said with pride. “I draw a lot of things. Commissions are a nice little side hustle.”

“They help pay for school?” Gemma asked.

She felt simultaneously more at ease with something of a familiar topic and on guard waiting for the hammers of mockery or judgment to come down on her. “Yeah. Trying not to rack up too much in loans, you know?”

“Got’cha,” Gemma answered. “I at least see the bills and I’m happy as fuck that I’m not the one paying them.”

“You do more than unicorns?” Wendi wondered.

“I can draw anything and do it with anything...pencil, pen, crayon...whatever.” In the moment of silence that followed Carey realized how she might be coming off as a bitch and retreated within herself once again. “You...want something maybe?”

“I really might,” she answered. “Something ‘superhero me,’ and cool.”

“Cool. Maybe we can talk about it later if you want and can talk about ideas. Or, you know, whenever.”

“Relax, okay?” Trina ordered playfully.

“Yes. Let us have wine and snacks and a chat about an insanely bad book.” Gemma said.

“Soon. We’re not complete yet and it would be rude to really get going before the last guest has arrived. But you know that because you’re fuckin’ classy like me.”

A few minutes after that, the energy in the room increased a dozen-fold with the arrival of Lynne. Wendi looked at her, then looked at Carey, wondering if the latter was some sort of sorceress because Lynne looked like someone Carey would have drawn if they asked her for a faerie pixie girl.

Petite, like a stiff breeze would blow her off the map, her hair dyed white as snow and actually cut in a pixie bob that contrasted with deep brown eyes. Her cheeks were round with a hint of natural rose and her features soft. The way she spoke and moved made her energy known. She flitted about the room and spoke as though the words were rushing from her in way beyond her control. Even sitting on the couch, she looked like a bundle of nervous energy looking for a reason to burst.

Wendi found herself conflicted. On one hand, she found herself sighing in exhaustion just watching her, but she was eminently likable as they sat about getting to know each other while Trina set the mood, bringing out the fruit and hors d’oeuvres. “Have you ever been tired?”

Lynne looked at Wendi, then nodded and smiled at the joke. “Yeah, sorry. I know I can go on and on. If I do, please tell me to hush. Sometimes I get going and I miss cues and before I know it I’ve sucked the air out of the room and everyone has just completely zoned out waiting for me to stop talking.” She caught sight of Gemma blanking, eyes staring off at nothing and she laughed, “Just like that.”

Gemma laughed, too. It was a nice moment to break the ice and made the getting to know you chatting much easier until it almost didn’t feel like that. Wendi looked at Carey when she mentioned her field of study. Honestly, it was one of the things she would have guessed, but it was still something of an awe-inspiring thing to hear someone say that they were studying physics and doing extraordinarily well. She was smart and gifted in her own ways, but that required a level of intellect that just didn’t belong to her. “Physics, huh? Wow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Carey answered, almost as if trying to justify it. She gestured her hands to either side of her head and spread them as though her head was exploding, “All that stuff in there; I could never get it out. Honestly, I just...” She stopped herself before she said too much, “It’s dumb.”

Gemma wouldn’t let her shut down again, “What?”

“It’s...how the universe works. It’s how everything works. I just wanna know how everything works.”

“Your goals are bigger than mine,” Gemma said. “MBA. Corporate ladder. Invest. Retire by forty, and let people like you figure out how everything works.”

Something occurred to Wendi that she decided to ask simply because she might never be in a position to ask anyone who might know. “I do like almost anything sci-fi, so, faster than light travel, ever? Yes or no.”

Carey was surprised by the question in that she didn’t think a woman put together like her would ever be interested in it, but Carey did like thinking about it. “Will never say never. Some of the math is there, but I think we have to invent s few more fields of it before someone can put the whole thing on some whiteboards and someone nods and, ‘Yeah.’ So, math we don’t understand yet and probably the discovery of half a dozen exotic materials to make a warp engine, space folder, or black hole pathfinder. But, yeah. I think so. And it’ll be great.”

Gemma laughed. “I can just hear the ‘awed by the magnificence of it all’ in your voice.”

Carey smiled, shared the laughter, and down her head went, but this time it came up again pretty quickly. She was actually starting to feel comfortable in the place even though the clothes Trina, Gemma, and Wendi were wearing cost about what she made in a year and the home she was in now could fund her college and still leave enough left over to buy her all the house she would ever really need.

In spite of all that, the three of them seemed pretty normal. And, for her part, Lynne seemed like the type of woman that she would ordinarily gravitate toward: artsy, fun, and energetic, even if she might be a little too much so for even Carey’s taste. I could adapt.

The group continued to chat while Trina finished setting up the evening with candles and music, this time focusing on Lynne and her love of all things art. The thing was that she seemed to find the artistry in almost anything and everything. Sculpture. Literature. Gymnastics. Tech. There was something in anything they could name that Lynne found that transcended the mundane to be an expression of something greater, to the point where a game grew out of naming something that she couldn’t find more depth to. They got to like trying to stump her and she rose to the challenge until Gemma thought that she had the perfect wrench to throw into it. “What about that old show with the talking horse….whatever the name was?”

Lynne leaned back into the plush cushions as she gave it thought, though the smirk she carried suggested that she’d already heard that one, or something like it before. “Actually a lovely attempt to demonstrate to the viewer how deeply the lives animals and humans are intertwined. They feel what we feel, and they understand more than we give them credit for. It’s a beautiful visual treatise on harmony that’s far ahead of it’s time.”

“I give up,” Wendi said, literally throwing up her hands.

Gemma laughed. “Holy shit, girl, is that a real tear?”

“Maybe,” Lynne said, “been doing plays off and on since middle school.”

“Christ.”

Another peal of laughter came from Gemma and the others joined in.

“I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m having a good time, already,” Lynne said.

“You weren’t expecting to?”

Carey looked at Lynne,” socially awkward enough to have heard the faux pas as soon as it left the other’s lips. Lynne, for her part, seemed fearless. Or maybe oblivious, but, either way, she plunged headlong. “I don’t know. Trina seems great, but rich people have reputations, deserved or not.”

“Trina’s great, but her friends might be rich bitches?” Wendi proffered.

“Kind of that.” Lynne answered, acknowledging what she’d stepped into. “It had me worried.”

“Well, I am a rich bitch,” Wendi retorted, “but I’m still approachable.”

Lynne giggled. “I’ll agree with that.”

“Perfect,” Trina said, looking around the center of the room before taking the thick leather chair opposite the others. “Let us all enjoy my perfectly curated evening with food, candlelight, and music.”

“A wonderful date night,” Wendi teased.

Trina was sort of indifferent. “That’s what it is. New people getting to know one another, seeing if they like one another, maybe developing new relationships, so, sure, a date night for all of us, so let’s enjoy ourselves, God dammit. And it sounds to me like we’ve all gotten off to a good start. Lots of chit-chat and happy sounds, or am I wrong here?”

“I don’t think I am, and this is already a success. Lynne? Carey? I have to confess to ulterior motives for inviting you guys to this.” Lynne looked on, genuinely interested in the answer while Carey tried very hard not to look like she was bracing to discover that she was the butt of the joke.

“I woke up one morning and realized my life was a little stale. It’s good in a whole lot of ways, but it was pretty rote, what with school and a nice place to live, nice car, and stellar parties, with mostly all the same people...or at least the same types of people. I realized that that’s really boring and, you know, did I do things like go to Europe just because I could, or because I wanted to go outside my bubble end experience new things?” She smiled and admitted, “It’s sorta both, but I really do like seeing new places and things like...literally walking on the same stone streets that ancient Romans walked.”

“I started thinking in the same ways about the people in my life. What’s wrong with going out of your way to meet people that are truly new different from you with their different backgrounds and new perspectives? I wanted to search for some people that that had things to offer that maybe I never would have considered worthwhile before.”

“So, I selected two of my best friends and maybe two new ones, and got us together with a shitty book, but good wine, and good atmosphere just to see what would happen.”

“Don’t tell me you hit my car so we could be friends.”

“No,” she dismissed quickly, “That was just me being a fucking dumbass. Again, sorry.”

Carey gave a little nod and a chuckle as she began to relax once again. “Okay then.”

“What’s this music?” Lynne asked, taking note of it for the first time. It was clearly classical, but no one she was familiar with.

“A friend of mine composes in her spare time. She’s got a lot and I haven’t gotten around to listening to a tenth of it yet.”

Lynne found herself paying closer attention to it. It was flowing and haunting, and yet, also, strangely uplifting in places. There was something quietly epic about it. “Think she’d mind if you shared? I’d love to hear more.”

“No problem. She’d be thrilled if I shared it. Remind me and I’ll send you home with some.”

“That’d be awesome, thanks.”

A few more minutes passed with idle chat before Trina decided that it was time to get to the reason they’d they’d gathered together this evening. She picked up the trade paperback from the end table. “I assume that we have all have with us the reason for this gathering?” She’d no more than asked and then everyone retrieved their own copies, whether they be the actual books themselves or their e-readers. The cover of that reason for her was creased near the corners and had a couple of small tears on the edges, and there were more than a few colored tabs between those cover pages to lead her passages that she wanted to talk about. The title appeared to be a secondhand find that she shared, so she had the most worn of the copies.

She took care of the literature she owned because what she kept moved her and she often went back to read favorite passages and, less frequently, the entire book. However, while The Darkness and the Light could be described as many things, even entertaining and amusing in their own, probably unintentional ways, it was not a work that she respected. She held it up, “Thoughts?” she asked before holding it just above her lap. “Because I have so very many.”

Wendi was the first to speak. “This sort of doesn’t matter, but it bugs me, so why do these people have to have names like ‘Brock,’ or ‘Stone’ Speaking as someone from a family with some cash, no one in my family is named, Brock, or Stone. I have a nibling named Dillynn, but that’s about it, and I will die on the hill that that terrible name for a kid could come from any family, regardless of socioeconomic status in this day and age.”

“Is that rhetorical?” Gemma wanted to know. “Because they’re ‘alpha’ They’re the most alpha of alpha names and, as such, the manliness of the man that carries such a name cannot be questioned and, thus, no further character development is required.”

She continued as everyone else chuckled and Lynne rolled her eyes in agreement. “That said, I have to at least give this author credit, “’Matheson’ is still a shit name trying to substitute for character building and exposition, but it at least sounds like old money and isn’t quite as awful as it could have been.”

Gemma groaned and took a swallow of her wine, “But Krysten “Kristy” Frost? Is there a much worse heroine name. Giving her the same name as every vapid 70s and 80s ditz blonde or summer camp murder victim is not a good start.”

“But she was a strong woman though. The book told me that every six or eight pages. It didn’t show me that somehow, mind you. It literally told me that to the point where I honestly think the author made words up when she burned through the thesaurus she bought to write the book with.”

“But she told off her boss off,” Trina countered. The book showed you that. She told her boss off and struck out on her own with no plan and the book told you how brave, courageous, adventurous, audacious, and gutsy that was.”

The laughter began and Trina continued, the room filled with the sound of their joy, the sound of good music and the pleasant scent that was something of a combination of fine leather and burning pipe tobacco.

“She’s going to be fine though because I’m also let in on how capable, proficient, adept, adroit, and able that she is.”

Lynne decided that this was her moment to slide in, sliding her hair away from her brow, “I am not going to defend the writing on this point or anything, but I do respect striking out on your own and just seeing what happens. I did that for a while before I decided that school was my idea as much as my parents.”

“No plan at all though for working or living while you did?” Wendi asked.

“Something would come up,” Lynne knew. “But, to be fair, I figured it was going to be short-term. There’s a feeling of rushing headlong into the unknown that can be a lot of fun. But I wasn’t Krysten, certain that life was just going to unfold around me and it’d all be fine if I just let go.”

Trina gave her credit for wisdom. “You can’t eat hopes and dreams, but, like you, Krysten, too decides that her path forward, after leaving the business world because of how much she hated it. Then she sees the handsome billionaire, and then suddenly business is wonderful if she could only drop herself into the job of personal assistant to Matheson Caldwell IV. Once she decides that’s the right thing, the 1950s sitcom hijinks ensues so that she gets the job.”

“And then, what chance does he have because rich, lonely, with Mom and Dad issues and she’s just so alluring, pretty, lovely, sublime, and pretty as a picture?”

The group laughed again because it was a more accurate representation of events in the book than it ever should have been.

Gemma had something to get off her chest after she took a swallow of wine. “Can I just take a second to piss on the trope of rich man doing stalker shit, like fly across the country to watch her on her time off and instead of her freaking out and running away she just swoons and it never occurs to her to, I dunno, try to get herself a restraining order.”

“Those don’t even do any good under the best of circumstances.” Carey blurted, then all but recoiled when all eyes were on her. Reflexively, she was already thinking of ways to backpedal or apologize rather than offend anyone and she was angry with herself yet again in the same ways as before when she spoke before she thought. She was angry at herself that she did it and doubly angry that she was already thinking of ways to apologize for it, and that she probably would.

She waited for the dragging to begin even as she spoke, She speaks and she’s feisty when she does, Wendi appraised. “Useless paper on its face and, even if she got one, two-tiered justice system for the rich guy anyway, am I right?”

Carey was just about to backpedal before she surprised herself yet again. “Yeah.”

“Legit point,” Wendi conceded. “That would be true in real life, but this is fiction, where moving what of your furniture he decides is nice enough for you to keep to a penthouse apartment without asking how you feel about it is charming. And the man who does it is telling the truth when he says that he just wants to give you a taste of a better life because he finds that seeing his wealth and power through your eyes is giving him a new perspective on things.”

“With zero reason to believe that you’ll be fine being promoted to sugar baby,” Trina added.

They all laughed again because it was pretty hysterical when the cheesy writing was burned down to its practical essence and Trina piled on, “Because you’re about to find out that every problem you’ve ever had, or will, can be solved by my long and stiff alpha cock.”

“Have a drink, Carey,” Wendi, prompted, filling one of the empty glasses. “Let’s see if we can’t loosen those lips and get you to share some of the opinions that no one seems to ask you about.”

Carey blushed deeply again, “I don’t drink all that often.”

“All the more reason to try this lovely ’42 red.”

“It’s a ’43. It’s got that hint of...dusky on the back end.”

“The lush would know,” Wendi poked before turning her attention back to the quiet one. “Just one. C’mon, it’s a good wine. Live a little. Just the one, and you can nurse it all night if you want to. I promise not to try to ply you with booze all night.”

Carey looked at Lynne, wondering what she might do, seeing her come forward to get her own glass filled, ‘I’ll give it a try.”

Not wanting to be the odd one out, Carey relented with a sheepish smile. “Just the one.”

“That’a girl,” Wendi said, claiming victory. Wendi poured the glass mostly full and the girls spent the next twenty minutes picking apart the plot and the dialogue with increasing glee. The atmosphere was relaxed, everyone was having a good time, and there was so very much to pick apart.

Trina watched, enjoyed, and happily contributed to the thrashing of the author’s work. Since everyone was fairly well meshed at this point, she ate a few pieces of fruit, sipped her wine, and decided that now was the time, “I assume that some time tonight we’re going to talk about the only reason other than to trash the book that anyone might wanna read it on purpose?”

“Yeah, okay...the sex is good.” Wendi admitted.

“The sex is actually really good,” Lynne said, biting into a lush, juicy strawberry, letting the sweet burst and ooze onto her tongue. It was absolutely delicious and she couldn’t resist expressing her satisfaction with it. “Where did you get these? They’re, like, prime, in-season, best-of, but the season’s long gone.”

“Nothing but the best for my friends,” Trina said, dismissing it as though it was all much ado about nothing. “I have some serious science-geek friends who’re trying to scale up a hydroponics business. All these little morsels come from there.”

Lynne finished it and it was deeply satisfying. So much so that she wanted another, but feared diminishing returns. Deciding that it was worth a shot anyway, she plucked another from the platter. “Good thing you’re in on the ground floor of something like that because if this is what they always put out, they’re going to be rolling in money.”

Lynne could practically suck the juice out of the fruit and did. “Anyway, the sex is really good. It’s like a porn in book form; lots of useless plot progression and setup just to get to the sex, but the sex is killer. It’s so vivid and detailed. It’s obviously where the real passion was for the writer.”

Gemma agreed. “The plot felt like she was just trying to be funny almost, slapping around all the tropes of books like that between really good fuck scenes. They were so good that I pretty much just skimmed everything after the first two hundred pages to keep up on events and see if it got better just to get to the sex.”

“Cheat.”

“I am not,” Gemma said, pouting at the accusation, finishing her wine and pouring the dregs of the bottle into the glass while eyeing the next, “I read enough of it to be able to talk about the whole thing.” The corner of her mouth turned up, “I just read the better parts harder.”

“How hard did you read them?” Wendi teased, finishing her own drink. The, what Gemma called dusky, seemed to go really well with the candle scent in the air. They complimented one another so well, it was almost like drinking the scent. It was warm and comforting, reminding her of her grandfather’s study.

“Several passages...in the tub...several times, she answered, flushing at the memory, but without shame with the eyes of the others on her. “What? They were good and if you’re not going to jill to a book like this, why the fuck would you even bother to read it?”

“Language, young lady,” Trina said, trying her best to sound matronly.

Gemma took the dare. “Fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck.”

Trina lifted her brows and shrugged. “Be that way then.”

“I will, thanks,” she said, now finishing her glass, lifting it away from her lips and tipping it in order to watch the last few drops fall on her tongue. After there were no more to be had, she turned a predator’s gaze on the next unopened bottle on the glass and marble table before her.

Seeing that it was in no position to defend itself, she made her move, snatching and gripping it tightly There was a quick wave of dizziness as she did so. “Whoa,” she said with a titter as she before righting herself and beginning to work the bottle open. For a moment she wondered if she’d had too much already but decided that she hadn’t even really gotten started.

“I was waiting for someone to do that, and I figured it was going to be the lush,” Wendi said, bringing herself and her glass forth.

“So you’ll stop giving me shit for liking a drink or two?”

“For the rest of the night.”

Lynne made her way over to get a pour, too, “I’ll take one more.”

“Me, too,” Trina said. Lynne offered to take her glass to glass, to the gratitude of Trina. “Never fear, ladies, if we need more wine, more wine there is.

“Coming right up, new drinking friend and old drinking friend,” Gemma said as glass clinked against glass and the liquid swirled into the glasses in turn. Carey saw them huddled across the room and felt keenly of being an outsider in a place she was otherwise feeling comfortable when she never expected to, so she threw caution to the wind and put herself in line.

“You still have most of the one,” Trina observed.

Throwing caution to the wind once again, and not entirely certain as to why this time other than she may as well cut loose once in a while, she gulped the wine in three hard undulations of her throat. The burning on the way down gave her a spastic cough. Shaking her head to lose the cough and exhaling from the ‘o’ her lips had become, she looked about, “All gone.”

“That’a girl,” Gemma said again with a laugh from the group and Carey basked in the moment of pure acceptance.

Once everyone was suitably refilled and had returned mostly to where they’d come, Gemma leaned back, swirled her glass, and then took a drink, as did they all this time, even Carey, without hesitation. Wendi looked about and was struck by the fact that this already came out to be a successful evening. Even the new girls were kind of fun. They were nice and unassuming and she didn’t feel like she had to be ‘on’ with them. She didn’t have to be ‘rich girl’ or ‘rich bitch girl.’ She even entertained the thought of getting to know them outside of tonight. Maybe there’s something to this new perspectives thing.

She took a drink and something clicked in her mind reminding her of what gave her the best experience tonight. Wendi took another draw of the wine and, as she did, she drew the aroma of leather and pipe tobacco into her lungs.

Warmth filled her from head to toe as she cast her glance about approvingly. Gemma was happily working down another glass, as was Carey, who was now quite relaxed in her seat and seemed to have resolved her hesitancy when it came to drinking. For her part, Lynne was literally putting together a makeshift sangria, dropping pieces of fruit into the glass and letting them soak a bit before drinking while she leaned into the music. And Trina? Trina just seemed to be having a good time watching everyone else have a good time.

Gemma held the glass over her lap, suddenly remembering why they were all here. “You were right though, Trina. “All it took to melt poor Krysten was cash, cock and a healthy dose of domination.”

“It was a fun fall though, no? From first to the last.” She took the book and turned to one of one of the first marked pages, “In the most expensive restaurant in the city, I found myself a slave to propriety. I saw myself getting up, slapping his face hard enough to crack the air like thunder, telling him that my autonomy, much less decency meant that what he was doing wasn’t going to go on for one more second.”

“But all I could do was sit there in a flood of shame that fed the heat in a vicious circle that paralyzed me ever more the longer I sat there, while the people around me who had more money than many small countries drank their fine wine and scooped morsels of caviar onto mother of pearl spoons, oblivious to anything but their own wants and needs. The longer I sat there, the more I was just one of his wants and needs, but I was still unable to move.”

“Nice,” Gemma said. “What girl couldn’t use a good finger-bang in the middle of a nice restaurant?”

Trina chuckled, “Anything you want to confess?”

“I have never gotten finger-banged in a restaurant,” Gemma protested.

The tone left everyone hanging and Trina just waited patiently.

There wasn’t a lot of embarrassment in it, mainly because the wine was beginning to make itself known and stripped a good share of it away. “I’d been pretty wound up all day and the first free few minutes I had was in the ladies room at Magnifique. She looked around at the reaction and heard Wendi snort. “Trashy lush.”

“It’s a very nice ladies room.”

Wendi’s brow went up and back quickly and she inhaled with another drink silently as if to concede the point. “Still trashy.”

“Was still a thrill though.”

“’My wet cleft, having a will of its own, opened to his hand while all I could really do was let the experience take me where it would.’ Something like that?” Trina nudged.

“Something like that,” Gemma answered, vividly remembering the intensity of that evening, the lewdness that came with being spread in a bathroom stall, her ankles on the braces on either side of the stall. She remembered how her thighs shook and her ankles drew up and down the cool metal of their own accord while she continued to maul that pink button and that bit of flesh welcomed the filthy touches that it needed all day that day. The more she let herself think about it, the more needy that flesh felt in the now.

Her thighs came together tightly. “But that was just the opener, Gemma said.

“That was fun, and it was fun as the opener, but the better scene was right after they left. I mean, she just sat there, wondering what kind of person that she was for allowing it and letting him diddle her senseless, then she’s trying to figure out whether she liked it or not, or whether she should have liked it or not as he leads her out the door and right into the limo.”

“Fuckmobile,” Wendi corrected with a laugh, her eyes alight as she took another deep breath and enjoyed the warmth of the hug that she got in return.

Lynne jumped in. “That’s part of what made that scene good to me. The conflict. Should I or shouldn’t I? I want to because it feels so good, but it shouldn’t feel so good. What kind of person am I that it feels so good that part of me doesn’t want to assert myself because then the feeling might end.”

She sucked one of the grapes from the wine and let it burst between her teeth, following it with a drink, not sure how exactly one was enhancing the other but it was lovely. Each bite was adding to a pleasing fullness in her belly and that fullness was a weight helping to keep her seated and in the moment. “Those mousy protestations that, ‘I should go home.’”

“I can’t believe I let you do that. I shouldn’t have let you do that.” Wendi added.

“Because if she goes home, she might get some self-control back,” Trina said out loud. “She doesn’t want it back. She’s never been that heated in her entire fucking life and she wants to see where it goes. She could ask to go home and he’d take her home, but she’s in that backseat, the hum of the motor and the small bumps on the city street. The cool between her legs when the air hits that heated pussy.”

“Those fingers trying to keep her distracted.”

The scent of her filling the space. Him filling the space.

Trina took form the book, “Filling the space like he was the universe and she was one of those insignificant pinpricks of light within that sphere of everything.”

“She wanted to go home, but that pussy didn’t, and that pussy won, just like It won in the restaurant. He pulled those panties off and she let him as much as she could let him. Krysten lifted that ass but he was the one that took them off.”

“Then it was head down, ass up and that monster, rich, white cock ‘plowing through her shame and uncertainty until all that was left was lust.’”

“Did you memorize that book, Trina?” Gemma’s tone was rife with humorous judgment.

“Only some of the fun parts. Like him just pounding the shit out of her pussy and ‘now mostly responsible for the rocking of the vehicle, his body pounding into hers.’”

Lynne added to it according to what moved her, “Then she spends four or five pages in the battle between ID, ego, and super-ego. ID being her pussy, super-ego trying to find a path forward to make her stop herself from being a...meat puppet.” She just couldn’t think of a more enlightened phrase that was more appropriate. Still, it made her smile. It was a hot, sweet thought that was nice to think. All her thoughts had a sweetness to them now…a lightness that implied that they might just float away if she thought about them too much, so she decided to let herself not think too much. “Impaled on his cock.”

Trina delved more deeply “If you want to get meta about it, read that through again. Honestly, I think the ID was his. It was his instinct supplanting her ego and super-ego. He was pounding himself into her and the more he did, the weaker she sounded, and the weaker she sounded, the harder he fucked.”

“They were sup—sup….feeding each others’,” Gemma said. “Right down to the essence, her welcoming his cock, leg braced against the floor so he gets maximum leverage over her. His need to fuck and her need to be fucked ends up being all there is. I like...how they were so worn down at the end they weren’t even talking. They couldn’t talk. All it was was his grunts and her mewls and sighs.”

“Pure essence,” Trina said, her tone now having a sultry lilt to it, “Fucking and fucked. And afterwards...the shame...she has so much shame she up and quits then runs away. But neither one of them can get it out of their heads. That one fuck eating away at them, corrupting them. He wants more and she loved it, but she hates herself that she loved it so much. So handsome and magnetic, and it’s all fun and games getting the job and being around that power and magnetism and money but…”

Wendi chimed in, “The find out part is always the hardest.”

“Is it really that bad in her case?” Gemma asked. “It’s sort of a compliment. The sex is so good the richest man in the world has to come find you and get some more because ‘You’re so unlike anyone I’ve ever known.’”

“Weren’t you the one all wound up about tropes a while ago?”

“What? Nah, that wasn’t me.”

“I could have sworn that was you.”

In the pause, Gemma’s eyes widened because it was in that moment that she actually remembered saying it, and the quick, sudden rush of embarrassment made her recoil even as she tingled all over feeling it. “Nope, must’ve been someone else.”

“Okay.”

“He chases her down, and she’s all freaked because stalking and all that, and she tells him to get lost.”

“But he won’t. He can’t,” Trina adds with dramatic flair. “’You inhabit my every waking hour and going around the office and not seeing you there leaves me hollow.’”

Wendi dropped in again. “She’s the one that’s hollow.” Wendi said, leaving the obvious meaning to linger, “All confused. Tells him to go away, but she doesn’t try to leave herself.”

“She didn’t tell him to leave.”

“Sure, she did.”

“No she didn’t” Trina spoke with conviction her eyes alight. “She lists all the reasons it’s a bad idea. She babbles out all the reasons that they shouldn’t be together. She talks about losing herself and that’s what her real problem is, but she never tells him to get the fuck out and don’t come back.”

Wendi considered it. It was hard to remember either way, so she picked up her copy the book. The words were double and the ones that weren’t jumped around the page. She blinked hard twice, squinted twice more. “Yeah, okay, the wine was really good, so I’ll take your word for it. It was all just a dance for them to fuck in a dive motel in her hometown.”

“It was either that or in her parents’ house.”

Laughter filled the room at that before Wendi took the deepest breath and sighed it out. They couldn’t even fuck in his car again. Or hers.”

“Why repeat the same scene?” Carey said dreamily. “They’re both going down into the depths, what better place to do it than some nasty cash-only motel where people come to stay off the radar so they can fuck around on their others. Besides, it just makes everything more….raw, more animal; fucking where no decent person would fuck.”

“And it illustrates another step in the decent of both of them,” Trina purred. “Hell, you can argue the environment helped pull them down. They look around and wonder, ‘Who needs to be civil in a place like this?” she asked, letting the question linger meeting Carey’s gaze, “Who needs to be proper in a place like this?” Trina replied to the sight of Carey’s hard swallow with a crooked, slightly wicked smile before she returned her gaze to the others.

“And to think it was just one little thing that got everything to start spiraling out of control. I mean, seriously, how many times has a guy held your hands behind your back or something? He pins her wrists over her head against the wall while he nibbles her neck and that one small action leads to that shuddering response where she’s practically melting against him and their eyes meet...Krysten and her little doe eyes and her hot body melted next to his, daring him to just take it, then telling him to just take it.”

“I want you,” he says, and she’s thinking of it and her head shakes, but it’s just too much thinking and too much feeling so she whispers, “Then take what you want.” Trina snorted. “What the fuck happened to everything but her ID then?”

“She wants to think about it later,” Lynne replied, “wants to shame spiral about it later.”

“She wants to play, ‘come here, go away,’ like so many of the dumb bitches in these books do, Wendi spat, having found the trope that she disdained. “Stalk me and it’s scary, but it’s hot right this minute, so fuck me and then leave because I shouldn’t be doing this to begin with.”

Trina looked her in the eye, smiled sweetly and gave her a long raspberry in response. Wendi turned when Lynne got in on the auditory fruit-throwing at the very end. “Who asked you?”

Her smirk made Lynne stop and giggle girlishly in return.

“Relax. It’s a book. It’s fiction. People can do whatever dumb shit they want in fiction and it works out fine because fiction. Aside from that, lots of girls do dumb shit in real life when you know that guy absolutely knows how to make your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head.”

Trina snapped her fingers, bringing the attention of all back onto her. “So he just fucking takes. Kissing madly, them drooling all over each other, then she’s on her knees, last of her brain fighting with the last of her instinct, Oh, no, no, I can’t go down on my knees to suck your cock here. This place is dirty and I’m a nice girl, but a pinch of the nose that she just tolerates and in her mouth it goes.”

“He fucks in that that rhythmic in and out….even the sounds it makes in her mouth can be counted on. His moans. His grunts. His hand on the back of her head to keep it where it is as much as to guide it. It makes her feel safe in the rhythm. Remember how Krysten thought about it. She knew what it was all doing to her even if he intended it or not. She knew it was all working together to pacify her. Remember how she surrendered to being a little suck machine. Cock in and out...keep it wet and make it wetter. Suck hard on it on the way out because that it makes and the sound he makes. Rhythm. Certainty.”

“But that wasn’t enough, was it?” Trina’s tone was as it would be if she were telling a scary story around the campfire. “Open your eyes, Krysten. I want to see. Look at me. I want to see you look at me.”

“And she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to be humiliated.”

“Krysten. Come on Kristen. Look at me.”

“Nothing. Because she doesn’t want to feel degraded. She can just stay in her happy...rhythmic space.”

He wants to see those wide eyes because he wants to know that she’s not daydreaming about sucking off some other rich guy in a seedy motel. He wants to know that she’s there. So maybe Kristy’s there. That name that everybody teased her with. That bimbo nickname that followed her around for years because ‘Krysten’ with blonde hair and nice tits, so she gets the ditz nickname that she always hated.”

“So, like he was commanding some serf that works for him, “Look at me, Kristy.”

“Then her eyes open. Maybe at that point, it really is more ‘Kristy’ than Krysten because she opens her eyes and it’s her worst fear. She likes it. She likes the degradation of being forced to look up into the eyes of the man that she’s sucking in some motel...doing something that Krysten would hate. She looks into his fierce eyes and she could stop. She knows it. They both do. She knows that she should stop and restore some of her fucking dignity.”

“Krysten would stop.”

“Kristy wouldn’t.”

“And that little slurp machine just keeps her eyes on his and remembers to suck hard on the backstroke. He holds her and he rocks.”

“He holds her and he rocks.”

“Rich man knows he could drain into that machine on its knees and the receptacle would take it, but it wasn’t going to be enough for the kind of man he was feeling like then. What was behind her eyes then, he had to explore fully and completely...take fully and completely but his clothes...everywhere they touched were like ants crawling all over his skin.”

A tiny squeak shattered the moment like a shotgun blast, bringing them all back to the room and out of the haze that Trina, as storyteller had created. They all turned to see Carey with her right hand buried beneath her sweats, her hand making the gray fabric pulse like the beating of a heart. There were more happy peeps from her until she blinked rapidly, her hand freezing under her pants.

Carey seemed untroubled at first, then a switch flipped behind her eyes and she realized that the women that surrounded her weren’t part of the dream. They weren’t part of the dream. They were real.

She knew them.

They were staring at her.

A chill ran through her body, except for her hand. Her hand was warm.

It was in her pants.

She pulled it from under them with the speed of a lightning and she wanted to die. Or be swallowed by a singularity, abducted by aliens, or pretty much anything that would make her disappear from here. “Sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry. I just got all caught up in thinking about the book and you talking about the book, and...and...I don’t know what came over me.”

Her words cane slowly, even though part of her felt like she was speed-talking like Lynne, like she wanted to be in one gear, but her body wasn’t quite in the mood to cooperate with her. “I should go.” Moving her head quickly to one side, looking for the door caused the room to somersault, but not enough to entirely distracting her from needing to find the door.

The girls snickered and tittered over the sight and the sight of her embarrassment. “Sometimes you just gotta flick that bean, huh?” Wendi poked.

“Been a while, has it?” Gemma wondered.

“It’s a normal response,” Lynne said, coming to her defense.

“I wasn’t dragging her, really.” Gemma said. “I copped to being classless.” Another glass finished found its way to the table, and, this time, it ended up on its side and it nearly rolled off the table before she flicked it back, not bothering to set it upright again. “At least this place has more class than a ladies room, even if it’s a nice ladies room.” She cocked a brow and snickered at her own joke, “But, depending on how overheated you get when you’re worked up, it might be a good thing all the candles are going. Some girls fill the room when they’re worked up.”

That was more than enough shame to drive her from the couch, albeit more slowly than she would have liked. “I’m gonna go. It was… It was nice meeting all of you. I’m so sorry.” She turned to take uncertain steps towards the door she entered before she felt the gentle and firm hands of Trina turning Carey to face her, doing so slowly, as though aware of how unbalanced the other felt.

Trina’s entire demeanor was gentle and comforting. Her smile was warm and her eyes were captivating pools of understanding. “It’s okay, Carey. Honest. It’s okay. Relax. Relax. You don’t have to leave. You don’t want to leave. It’s fine. It’s fine. Breathe, honey. Relax.”

Carey took a deep breath until her chest could burst and let it back out. As she let that breath go, she realized that Trina wasn’t angry at her. None of them were. They just teased her a little and it was perfectly understandable given the circumstances. It was fine. No one wanted her to leave and, as she tried to think about it, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, so she let Trina ease her back to the couch.

“It’s no big deal,” Trina said, taking the nearest glass and the beginnings of a third bottle of wine, filling her glass with it. It’s just a bunch of girls hanging out and talking about a sexy novel. Most of us have had too much wine and we’re talking sex and it’d be weird if fingers didn’t maybe start wandering. Most of us have had too much wine. You, on the other hand,” she said with a coy grin, “have to catch up. Drink this.”

Carey put a still unsteady hand on it and balanced it against her lips as Trina’s forefinger tipped the mouth towards her. “Chug, chug, chug.” It didn’t take long for the other young women to rally to the age old call of the college student. They chanted and Carey drank. She chugged so hard that, if the glass hadn’t been empty, she would have had to stop anyway in order to breathe.

She took in air to drive the spots out of her vision as the celebratory cheers filled her ears and gave her a sense of pride. Carey lifted her head and gave Trina the same happy, prideful look that young Carey would give her mother when she downed all her medicine.

“Good job,” Trina said in that same gently, matronly tone from before. Before pulling away and out of the sight of the others, her tongue dragged itself quickly over Carey’s hand, still wet from her own juices. Carey let out another adorable little squeak and it held Trina in place with the sudden desire to linger and stare into those eyes until dawn. They were beautiful before, but irresistible now. The light behind them was already so dim, and the smile so vacant. Trina suspected that if she kissed her right now there would be about ten or fifteen seconds of confused squirming and then she would happily surrender to her fate.

No, Trina. It will all unfold as it should. Mistress has given you all the tools and the will. Use the tools and you’ll get what you want. Exercise your will and allow it to happen in the fullness of time.

With that encouragement, she was able to pull away. “This is a Trina party and what happens at a Trina party stays at a Trina party. This is a nasty little book so I don’t think anybody should fault the girl if she gets wound up.” Trina sat down and looked at the girls each in turn, to make her point, and because she wanted to try to get a sense of how ‘here’ they actually were and she determined, happily, that they were all coming along nicely. She would have what she wanted and then She would have what She wanted. “As long as the girl’s not squirting all over one of my two thousand dollar bedspreads she can make her own fun.”

No one seemed to care all that much, since, if one had been going to Trina’s parties long enough they had seen some shit. Gemma took the floor next, “So let’s get back to the nasty little book.” She looked around as though the answer was somewhere around the room, “Where were we?”

Wendi had the answer, “Krysten was about to get her brains scrambled again by rich Matty’s long, thick cock.”

“Thrown on the bed,” Gemma added, “so far gone and so fucking animal they were biting each other more than kissing.”

“Needing to taste each other...consume each other.” Lynne chimed in now, imagining what it would be like to want and be wanted like that, on a level so deep that you’re looking for any way possible to become one being. “The more animal he was the more she wanted animal.”

“Driving each other insane. Who was doing the driving though, right? Trina wanted to know, watching each of them remember the scene and putting themselves into it in their own ways. “Was he doing it to put her in her place, feeling how she melted under the animal of it? Of him? Remember how she nipped just enough to drive him to nip harder. Maybe it wasn’t a fight. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was her wanting him to bite harder. Maybe it was her trying to show him what she could take...wanted to take. Kristy wanting to show him what he could do to her with no shame in the moment at all.”

“No shame in what she was feeling or what she wanted, or in giving him what he wanted when he slipped that fucking Redwood in her because the shame was for later. Right then, she just got to be empty-headed.”

“Weak.”

“Pleasing.”

“Submissive.”

Gemma was very pleased with things right now and her nipples were hard as she gazed down at her black, open-toed heels. “Spending how ever many pages on Krysten being so out of it that she was fascinated by the red nail polish on her toes.” Gemma pulled her eyes from the image of the glossy black on her own toes, but she couldn’t escape it.

Trina watched and took her lead, “Nothing mattering to her but what she felt. Her mind distracted by the simplest thing because her body was was all there was, and his cock deep in her belly was all there was. With nothing but the shriek of cheap, busted bed springs in her ears, but that was fine as long as he kept her weak and kept her fucked.”

“Her legs mashing her tits because his hands were like vises behind her knees pulling out to the tip and then plunging back in, but so very fast. He’d done other women this way, she knew, but, so what? Something in her...maybe it was in her mind...or maybe in the way he plowed without mercy, but she knew he’d never had a woman give up her pussy to him so completely. “I can’t stay out of this pussy. You know it, Kristy. You knew when you ran away I wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

That breathy, “No,” that came out, only a little too fast to be believed. “You wanted me to chase after you, didn’t you, Kristy? You wanted to see if I would. You wanted to see if your tight little pussy trap worked on me.”

“How her mouth opened to answer but nothing came out.”

“Yessssss.”

That one word conveyed so much. It was sleepy and languid, even as it ached with need. When they turned again they saw that Carey decided to make herself more comfortable. This time her sweats were at her knees with a pale pink pair of panties just above. Two fingers on her right hand alternated between dipping deeply into the well for her nectar and then using that nectar to keep her glistening clit slick and rolling it mercilessly beneath her fingertips, making her thighs quiver. It was all easily seen since Carey’s mound was shaved to smooth and pink perfection.

Carey herself was staring in the direction of Trina, Gemma, and Wendi through glassy eyes. She was there enough to to know that she should have been embarrassed and ashamed, just like Kristy was embarrassed and ashamed for wallowing in filth like she did.

But Carey just wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed enough to stop.

Just like Kristy wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed enough to stop.

Her limbs were leaden. All she felt like she had control over were her fingering digits, and, with her options seeming to be to stop or continue, there wasn’t a lot of choice to make even if her brain wasn’t feeling like it was on the edge of floating away to join the clouds in the sky. Rubbing felt good. Being watched felt good. It felt naughty, so that made the good even better.

“Not feeling the least bit of shame, huh?” Trina sweetly tormented. “That’s okay. I’m sure that’ll come later, like it always does for Kristy.” She laughed it off as a funny quip, but she saw clearly how Carey’s eyes widened in response. That cue pushed her nipples against her blouse. Thinking of Carey’s descent stirred an ache in her belly that she didn’t want to ignore, and one more look around the other women in the room gave her that permission. “Not stopping this time, are we? You don’t have to, we’re all friends here. This is a Trina party, so make your own good time.”

“You like that part, Carey?” Her toes pointed at the ceiling, so wrong, but so right. But Krysten just surrenders to power and to needs greater than her own again, just as easily as she did the first time. So ashamed after that that she quits and runs away, but she runs to the first place he’d look. Maybe that pussy trap did want to see if it could lure that cock.”

“Or maybe Krysten just wanted to surrender and feel Kristy again. No thoughts or cares beyond surrendering to that greater will. Just...give up and whatever that greater power has you do and it’s really not your fault that you did it. That power ‘made you’ do it all.”

Carey tried to spread her legs, but she was feeling penned in by the fabric and the weight of her own limbs. The frustration made her brow knot and her throat let go of a whine of discontent until thoughts pierced the clouds unbidden. All you get to do is lay here and rub your pussy like a naughty girl.

Kristy would just lay there and rub her pussy like a naughty girl if someone wanted her to.. Clearly visible through those thick lenses was Trina’s gaze. There was cool satisfaction in her eyes, as though she thought Carey was doing the right thing and what she was expected to do.

Carey stopped struggling and a smile formed, a naughty, slightly vacant smile.

The mistress of ceremonies rose again and moved gracefully towards Carey, “Maybe that wasn’t the part you liked. “Maybe it was her with her legs wrapped around him, sitting on him, his arms wrapped around her so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat against hers. Do you remember how she clung to him, whimpering?” Trina stretched herself sideways, allowing herself to look at Carey’s frenetic rubbing of her cunt before bracing her elbow on the couch and resting her head in her hand. Was she riding him, or was she just letting him use her like a living, breathing pocket pussy?”

Carey twitched, nodding quickly.

“The sweat sticking to them as they fucked.” Trina leaned in to Carey’s ear, whispering, putting her hand between them. “She didn’t put a fight in the car. She didn’t put up a struggle in the hotel. It was all so half-hearted. The struggle was after each time she was taken...fucked...used.”

“But she couldn’t stay away. So much confusion. So much shame, but she still couldn’t stop herself. So much confusion and shame, but she couldn’t stay away from his power.”

Carey bit her lip and her neck craned as if in offering. It was true.

“His money. His prestige. His body. He was so much more powerful than she would ever be and she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t her fault that she was drawn to him. She had no choice. You know she didn’t. You know how she felt because you feel it right now. You’re feeling something so much more powerful than you.”

Carey squealed as she stared upward, fixating one of the track lights on the ceiling and the insidious and delicious whispers in her ear.

“None of the things she did with him were her fault because he was just that much more than she was. When they’re that much more than you will ever be, you know they will just take you and you’ll let them. You know that, even through shame, and guilt, and trying to talk yourself out of it, you’ll still do what they want, but at least it won’t really be your fault. You’ll even start doing things that you think might please them because you want them to keep wanting you under their power.”

Her breath quickened audibly and the pace of her fingers quickened to match as her mind raced, matching the words to the pictures her mind’s eye created from the book. Everything Trina said about Kristy was true. “Yesss.”

Trina put the most deft of kisses on her ear and she shuddered and squealed again, unwilling or unable to tear herself from the light.

“What the fuck are you saying to that poor girl? Wendi wondered, chortling as she asked the question. The others joined in after she started even if they might not have known what exactly was funny.

“You understand just like Kristy learned to. You feel so much like Kristy by the end, don’t you?”

Her mind skipped to the final chapter and epilogue unbidden, weaving Carey into the narrative. It was impossible because they were so much alike right now.

“You know when she was happy, Carey? She was happiest when she let go. She was happiest when she just gave up, when she gave up the guilt and shame and confusion and let herself love that power completely without reservation or even all that much thought.”

“You are so much like Kristy.”

“Mmmmm...uh-huh”

Trina’s panties were damp trying to contain the lust between her legs now. Carey was so close.

“You want to be Kristy; to love and surrender to a power so much greater than yours that wants and needs you.”

“Uh-huh” Her eyes still locked on the light above.

“You want to let that power shape you so that it will think you are perfect and it will always want you.”

“Carey, if you want to be like Kristy, you know what you have to do. Whisper it to me so that only I hear.”

Carey responded so very faintly that it was all only little more than the movement of her lips. “I have to give up.”

“Do you give up, Carey? Yes or no.”

“Yessssss.”

Let them hear, “Do you give up? Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to be shaped by power into whatever form that power wants, own and wanted by it forever?”

“Yesss.” the desire was building to such desperate heights that the light above was starting to halo and distort in her vision because her eyes were misting.

“If you want to be like Kristy, only you can take that last step. I can’t give up for you. You have to choose to give up so you can be owned, and wanted, and loved. You have to give up, Carey. Only you can make you give up. Give up. Surrender to that power. Give up. Give up, Carey. Only you can make that choi…”

The choice was made in an orgasm that sounded like a wailing, desperate plea that filled the room, the person making it heedless of anything other than what it meant...the sweet joy of having given up. And the knowledge that that feeling would fuel her every action and never leave her, no matter how many breaths she took from then to her last.

Trina knew what the sound meant. She had already heard it before many times, but she would never grow bored of it. It would always be the sound of the shattering of a mind and will, pieces on the floor aching to be reshaped. When she heard Carey make it, she touched her head to the other and released, too, not in orgasm, but a sense of perfect satisfaction and well-being that came with the knowledge that she was doing what Mistress wanted her to do, and that Trina had succeeded. Every pleasurable sensation was painfully exquisite for Trina now because they all came in service of, or as a reward from the power that wanted her, took her, and shaped her into what it needed her to be.

Those pretty eyes. Those pretty eyes that even thick glasses couldn’t hide what made them beautiful gazed upon her, and they were more beautiful to Trina now that she knew that that power greater than both women was resting comfortably behind them. There were claps and cheers as the girls shared in the victory, though only Trina truly knew what had been gained and lost in that moment of bliss.

All that was in Carey’s mind right now was the power she’d surrendered to. She’d understand what Trina did, or she would not because Mistress wanted other things for her, but, right now, Carey had handed the strings that controlled her to Trina and that was enough for now.

Trina rose again, this time her voice held the scold of a mistress of ceremonies who realized the party wasn’t quite going the way she expected. “Seriously, honey, if you’re going to do this in my house, you might as well go the whole way.” Carey’s eyes fixed on Trina “I’ve paid paid for strippers at all sorts of parties. I’ve even paid for strippers to do more than strip if everybody was down for it.”

“But, what I didn’t do, is pay for some girl to half-ass a show. Stand up, take it off, and show us the goods.”

When she reached her hand down to offer a hand up, Carey took it without hesitation because there just wasn’t room in her mind for much beyond the bliss that was already there and slithering into her mind more deeply into her mind by the second.

Carey rose, now proud of being on display to the degree that she was and excited to show off for them and, more, to do the first thing that she was ever commanded to do.

Carey looked at them, seeing in their eyes...curiosity mostly, but there were embers of more behind their gaze and Trina wanted her to do what she could to add fuel to those would-be fires. Carey played with those thoughts and her lips twisted into a grin. Embarrassment was no longer even a memory as she crossed her arms to her waist and lifted her sweatshirt up and over her head, revealing a bra the same pale pink as the panties she wore. Wendi noted that it was am expensive one, a nice mix of a bit of lace and serious support, which was obviously needed because she seemed on the edge of spilling out of it at any moment.

Carey developed early and paid for it her entire life with teasing, leers, crudeness, and the usual assumptions that she got tits instead of brains. So she spent a fair amount of energy in life hiding her body. That didn’t need to be a thing anymore. She was proudly on display and saw in Gemma’s eye a twinkle that was familiar to the part of her mind that was once hyper-vigilant against that sort of thing.

Now? Carey did her best to convey to Gemma through only the meeting of their eyes that it was welcome those full, lush cones felt freedom and Carey chucked the bra somewhere and slipped from her sneakers so that her sweats and panties could meet the floor, too.

She stood before them, proudly on display and her heart beat faster knowing that that familiar glint in Gemma’s eyes was brighter now. They all shared the same opinion on the sight before them, but it was Wendi who gave it voice, “Ho-lee fuck, girl, why would you hide a body like that?” If she was honest with herself, and with the night unfolding as it was, she was very much in the mood to be honest with herself, she was a bit jealous. With makeup and contacts to make up for her shortcomings, she could have modeled for sportswear or fitness equipment. Her legs and thighs were chiseled and those washboard abs looked bulletproof. And when she twirled? That ass begged to be bitten.

“You are something, aren’t you? Wendi’s totally right that you shouldn’t hide that body from other people. It’s something, and you should be proud to show that ninety-ninth percentile shit off.”

Carey went to do just that, but Trina’s hand on her shoulder put a stop to that. The lightest of pressure led Casey like a collar and chain around her neck to the loveseat next to Lynne and the slightest pressure plopped her down on the cushion. “You don’t mind, do you?” Trina quizzed, her face wearing the mask of a concerned host. “She’s a little tipsy and maybe you could keep her from getting up, wandering around, then maybe face-planting and costing my parents some money that I really don’t want to have to pay back or spend months talking my way out of paying back.”

Lynne looked over and back, wondering why she should be bothered. She had a sense that in another time and place it might have made her feel a little awkward even though she had done some art modeling to pay the bills and neither her body nor anyone else’s bothered her. But this was a warm, intimate party, the girls were nice, a nude body was nothing to be ashamed of, especially one like that.

Maybe it was the likelihood that the masturbation was likely to resume. There was a flash of that awkwardness mingling with the excitement of the unknown and the sugar sweetness in her belly that seemed to flow through her veins now, “Nah, it’s fine.” She was happy to let the words go because now she didn’t have to devote so much energy to speaking and could give it instead to just letting everything be sweet.

“Thanks. You’re a doll. You definitely get an invite to my next formal informal.” She turned back to her chair and, by the time she’d settled in once more and looked out at them, Carey was sitting up, one hand pawing her left breast and stopping now and then to give her nipple a playful twist and a pull upward while the other rested over her pussy, seemingly waiting for Trina to begin again before doing the what she’d already been caught twice doing.

It was only Trina’s own obedience that kept her gaze from lingering on that lovely body, and more, those empty eyes and that dopey grin that told her when one was ready to learn and to be and she could see some of that light in Gemma’s eyes now and Lynne’s, too.

But less so in Wendi, which was something of a surprise. Oh, she was very relaxed and open, and having a good time, but there was still a good lot of Wendi there. That’s fine, the night is young. “It really was smarter than I wanted to give it credit for at first, you know? He could have just kept fucking her senseless until she gave in and followed him around like a puppy.”

Wendi giggled like a schoolgirl hearing her first dirty joke. “That’s pretty much it.

“There was more though. It wasn’t just him changing who she was, it was just as much her changing him into who, deep down, she needed him to be.”

“Oh, yeah,” Carey moaned. It was all in the open now. Carey was manspread, toes pointed and fingers were rubbing furiously while she listened, almost wild-eyed to Trina’s voice. The others weren’t really paying all that much attention. If Trina was fine, it was fine.

“First, fucking her was just that craving he just couldn’t stop. All these kinds of books have that. But who was doing whom? She found that, through the guilt, she liked being weak. Krysten was his addiction and, very quickly, she realized power was hers. Surrendering it to him was hers. She didn’t even realize it until near the end of the book, but it was there all the way through. Krysten shaped him into the perfect girl for Kristy.”

Her eyes found Carey’s once again. “She used power she didn’t even know she had.” With Trina’s attention back on the others, “If you don’t believe me, let’s go through it from the beginning.”

“From the beginning beginning?” Wendi groaned.

“If we’re gonna book club, let’s fucking book club.” With that firm pronouncement, she grabbed the book and sought out each of the green tabs in turn.

Trina spoke, but Carey wasn’t hearing very well. Her mind heard the things that Trina said that Carey needed her to hear. Carey peered at Lynne, those dark eyes seemed wider now, more open...like whirlpools waiting for sights to find them and then be swallowed into their depths.

Carey dripped because Lynne was so hot. Absolutely everything qualified for that adjective right now, but Lynne had that bit of ‘more’ to her because Carey sensed that openness in her eyes. Lynne was on the cliff’s edge with no idea how she got there, peering over the edge, not understanding what she saw, but tempted by it all the same. Lynne just needed some help to take the leap, and Carey knew she could give the other that nudge.

Lynne’s senses, triggered by Carey’s lingering gaze, led her to turn to look at Carey’s form in all its glory. Clearing her throat conspicuously, she asked, “Having a good time?”

“I really, really am,” Carey said, letting her fingertips roam her body. The human eye tracked movement out of reflex, so Carey let Lynne see those fingertips roam in seemingly random paths. Seemingly random, but those roads always led downward, brushing past that pink, engorged nub and cleft. Lynne’s dark eyes followed those trails, eventually driving her to speak just to expend some of the nervous tension that was building within. “Ha—have you ever thought of...art modeling? I’ve done it, it pays pretty well and it’s fun if you’re uh…” She lost her train of thought as she saw fingers traveling the slope of one of Carey’s pillowy breasts, “not ashamed of you body or...into exhibitionism.”

“This is the first time, really,” Carey replied. “I usually feel kind of awkward and if I’m noticed at all it was for my body, which was something that I didn’t want to be noticed for.”

“What, umm...what changed?”

“I dunno, really. Just being here is about just going for it. That’s sorta what Krysten did, huh? Everybody knows about Trina and knows about Trina parties. When I realized the Trina who invited me was that Trina, I wondered what the game was, but, maybe she’s not setting me up, and I could use some new friends, so why not read a book and come talk about it?”

“But it’s so nice.” Her voice was dreamy. I expected everybody would be stuck up or they’d wanna make me feel like shit, because my daddy didn’t buy me a new Porsche for my birthday, but you’ve all been so nice. This is a safe place, and we’re all feeling good. Aren’t we all feeling good in this safe place? Trina said it was okay and that it was safe if I wanted. You didn’t complain. You could have.”

Lynne had to think about how to articulate the reason more than she had to actually think about the reason itself as she looked down at that nearly perfect form. The reason itself was kind of nice to think about. “Because...I model. People stare and it’s not all just to try to get the curve of my back right. Bodies don’t bother me. I watch porn. It’s not a big deal.” Talking much as he ordinarily did helped her just be happy and not as foggy.

“You watch porn?”

She looked caught for just a second, then pushed down the wave of anxiousness that admission, for some reason, gave her.

“Do you do girls? Do you watch girls do girls?”

There was that anxiousness again, “I watch girl stuff. It’s different. It’s cool. No, I’ve never actually done a girl. Never exactly had the opportunity and never exactly went looking for it either.”

“Why not?”

Her shoulders darted up and back, “I dunno, I’m not really into casual play and never found a girl that made that spark go off, you know?”

“I know,” Carey said with an extra layer of sympathy as Trina’s voice rolled on in the background as a melodic cadence more than words. Memories seemed to flow to her as she needed them, so as to serve that greater power and that made her feel so good. “I don’t do much just because busy with school, and I’m not the best at social things. You might’ve figured that out already, considering, but I have done it with girls a couple of times.”

Carey stopped tracing her fingers along her curves and put her arms to her side, letting her body speak for her. “Wanna give a girl a try?”

Lynne’s anxiety notched upward and her mouth went dry.

“That’s not a ‘no.’ Come on. You’re feeling good. I know you’re feeling good. I’m feeling good. Trina won’t care. This is a safe place. This is a warm and safe place where we can feel good.” Carey’s face took on a seductive look that would have felt painfully unfamiliar on the old Carey, but for the one she could feel herself becoming, it was as natural as breathing. Her mind filled with thoughts of lust. She thought of all the men who looked at her body in want before she felt she had to make a hobby of finding ways to cover herself so she could be taken seriously. If they were lined up before her now, she’d happily make amends for every case of blue-balls she’d caused. She’d service them all and leave them sweaty and spent.

Now though, there was only one before her that she could service, and Carey had to make her want it. She spied Lynne’s last, now mostly drained glass, dregs of wine and the untouched fruit still inside. With Trina’s voice still in the background, Carey took that glass and plucked the single impossibly plump strawberry from it, plucking the bit of green from the top, reaching her tongue to the point of it as she imagined some seductive tramp from a book like tonight’s would have. She had Lynne’s attention and saw the surprise when Carey laughed. She didn’t think to laugh, she just did. It was almost as if she could see into Lynne. Every twitch, quiver, caught breath, rapid blink, and sound was like a map all over her body...the map to what she wanted in order to be drawn in and all Carey had to was follow the path forward.

The laugh surprised Lynne and it showed, but it brought forth her own smile. It was warm and comforting, like that of old friends sharing a joke only they knew. That and the sweet pet of her arm just amplified the warmth in Lynne’s belly. “This is a safe place to play.”

“Play with me.”

This time, she bit through the fruit, letting the juice flow down the corners of her mouth. Lynne followed the droplets as they glistened from the light above. It was an almost impossibly perfect angle, but when Carey moved her head in exactly the right way, for Lynne, the droplets seemed to twinkle. They moved more slowly than she would have expected had she really been thinking about it. The juice had a syrupy quality that, was, no doubt, what made them the best she’d ever tasted.

They were so sweet. And, as Carey chewed the half she’d taken slowly, Lynne felt hungry again. She knew how Carey’s mouth tasted now and she felt hungry for it all over. Every bit of it was a show, from the slow rolling of her jaw as she chewed to the barely audible sounds that marked her satisfaction with it. As she watched, Lynne could feel the heat and the hunger melt the rational part of her brain and Carey wasn’t helping.

“These are sooooooooo good. You still hungry? You still look kinda hungry. There’s plenty. She stretched her arm outward to put the fruit near her quivering lips. “This is a safe place, Lynne. It’s a safe place to be hungry.”

Lynne looked at the oozing bit of fruit. There was still so much juice. It twinkled in the light of her mind. And that luscious, syrupy nectar was now commingled with Carey herself.

“You are still hungry, aren’t you?”

Lynne nodded dumbly.

“That’s okay. It’s safe here. You can be hungry for anything you want here; anything you want.”

Carey seemed to understand everything. They’d only known each other a few hours and it was obvious to Lynne right now that Carey understood her so well. They could be friends. And she was so hungry.”

“It’s okay to be hungry for whatever you want.”

Lynne’s mouth watered and her head dipped forward, but, somehow, the delectable stayed just out of reach.

“You’re hungry. It’s okay to be hungry. It’s okay to be hungry for everything here. So hungry for everything.”

Lynne’s prize receded from her grasp just one more time, “Are you hungry?”

The answer escaped her lips at the speed she was used to, “I’m so fucking hungry.”

When her mind found a fresh morsel of lucidity, she saw the treasure was firmly held between Carey’s teeth. There was one treasure with another and Lynne needed both. It was her turn to suddenly laugh and she saw the smile in Carey’s eyes along with the question as to what was on her mind.

“Strawberry Carey.” She tittered again. “Carey strawberry.” Before Carey could share in the good humor, Lynne attacked and tasted both, finding them both every bit as delicious as she’d dreamed. More sweet passed between their lips and Lynne stopped trying to wrap her tongue around Carey’s long enough to chase it so that nothing was lost. The shared heat of their mouths matched the heat in Lynne’s brain.

They kissed, the touching of their lips, tentative at first, but more passionate and audible as the two gave up on paying attention to anything but one another. Their lips popped together over and over and they liked the sound. It was sexy and naughty and Lynne could feel the pops in her brain. They tickled.

And, in the center of her brain, where that tickle was surrounded by a numb feeling like a limb that had fallen asleep, it was aware of the patient cadence of Trina’s voice. It was calming. It added to her sense of safety. It added a sense of righteousness to doing what she was doing. They kissed and laughed as Carey tried to strip Lynne and Lynne trying to help without having to break contact with that sweet, sweet mouth for more than a couple seconds at a time.

“Such a pretty geek,” she pronounced as she tore herself away enough to peel off her top and expose her small chest. Her breasts were just large enough to add some feminine definition to her chest, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to have huge tits like the ones in front of her.

You...sorta have ’em. She laughed at that before pressing herself against them and sinking in as she kissed Carey a bit more. Now, however, that there was nothing between her and those mounds, they called to her and she answered by weaving her lips and tongue from lips, to neck, to cleavage before hefting each of those tits to her cheeks before worshiping each one in turn with teeth and tongue as she molested them both as they rested in her hands and molested them without mercy.

Carey’s sounds of helpless lust drove Lynne’s to new heights and, in a pique of frenzy, Lynne took the glass and dumped the remaining contents down Carey’s belly, leaving that bit of wine running down her belly, Carey looked so heated and Carey’s whimper at the suddenness of the unexpected sensation led Lynne’s mind to imagine steam rolling off that fair, smooth, freckled skin as a grape rolled to a stop just to the left of her belly button.

Lynne looked at it. The purple was a deep and dark hue, and it was a nearly perfect sphere and she knew it would be so full of rich, irresistible juice.

Rich. Irresistible. Juice.

She snatched it between her teeth with the speed of a serpent claiming prey, making Carey yip and finally focus her eyes on Lynne’s, that adorable face now between her legs, running the fruit captured by her teeth up that pink cleft and in slow circles around her bright pink nub. Carey’s heartbeat quickened in anticipation but she did nothing because she didn’t need to. She had an idea of what was to come and she didn’t need to be in control anymore. Lynne understood now. It was in her eyes.

Now, Carey could let go and she was so happy to let go.

Holding the piece of fruit firmly just above Carey’s clit and popped it between her teeth, watching the sweet spray all over that girlflesh before starting to roll down her skin in slow motion. The snow-capped fairy girl chased it before it could escape her, reveling in the mix of fruit sweet and girl sweet. When Carey began to literally whimper like a puppy, Lynne spread Carey’s knees with both hands and proceeded to drink her fill of the now flowing river of girl sweet.

In her mind, there was no difference between it and the fruit anymore.

Trina continued making her points even as she couldn’t help but steal glances at the pair to her right. She continued her pleasant lecture as to the examples that proved her overall point of the book and she could have kept going all night, but she didn’t need to. Some time around, ‘Carey Strawberry’ Gemma had tuned out entirely, though her mind still paid attention to the cadence of it was carried on the music in the air.

There was so much music in the air, but it was only when she was calm like this could she find the place where she could almost hear it, like whispers only close enough to be heard as whispers without other definition or meaning. But there was more than enough to listen to and to feel, so she just let Trina’s voice and the music tell her what to feel. She’d never felt so relaxed in her entire life. Gemma could have moved, maybe, but that would require thought beyond listening to Trina be...right. Trina was right about everything she was saying….about shifting power dynamics, whatever that now incredibly confusing concept was. About submission. All of it.

And when Trina painted the pictures of Kristy and….and...the rich guy fucking she could see it again. She could feel the touches and gropes and the pinning of bodies against one another. Gemma could feel holes being stuffed and tits slapped. She saw it in her mind, and she felt it. It was true. The rich guy called Kristy a slut and she acted like one because it was true. Rich guy demanded that she pull a long, sweaty train of men to prove her devotion, and she said that she had no shame anymore and the music said it was true and Trina said that it was true.

Rich guy told Kristy that he he just wanted her to do it so that he could always degrade her with the filth that she was capable of wallowing in and they would both know it wasn’t just some fantasy they fed to each other in the wild throes of sex. It would be true. She had to be what he wanted before rich guy would keep her.

Trina was right. Submission was right.

A woman tailoring herself to to be taken was right.

A woman being taken after she had perfected herself was right.

Those were the whispers Gemma heard. The more she relaxed and tried not to make them out, the better the whispers were carried by the music into her ears, the more clarity she found. Gemma could hear them now. Those words reverberated and found places to embed in her brain like shrapnel into flesh. Others that were just as true joined them. In a voice that her mind believed was hers.

Gemma needed to be perfected.

She wanted to be wanted. She wanted to be loved.

The sounds of sex around her drew her gaze to Lynne and Carey, Carey nude as the day she was born, Lynne between her legs lapping and sucking away, still wearing her shoes and her jeans, still looking something like the person that she was before she got here. They were being made better. That one still wore the trappings of normal even as she licked….even as she serviced...struck a chord deep inside Gemma. She was in the process of being perfected. Eventually what she thought was normal would be stripped away. She would soon be nude. Bare. Bare and that much closer to actually being worthy of being taken.

Gemma envied that.

Those emotions changed the music for her. I want to be wanted.

I want to be loved.

I wanted to be perfected.

I want to be worthy. Gemma wanted nothing more right now and she realized, unthinking that Trina’s voice was the perfect companion to the the music in her mind.

Trina was the key, she realized. She was the key to Gemma being everything she wanted to be. She turned her head back and stared towards she who was now an oracle of truth. Perhaps, Gemma thought, if she stared as blankly as possible and looked as empty as could be, Trina would see that she was ready, that she was worthy of being perfected. She let all thought go, and all that remained was the need and hope that Trina would see.

Trina did.

Trina was already becoming adept at seeing what conversations with the self were going on behind their expressions. She could read the changes almost like words on a page. Trina continued to speak as though there was nothing on her mind beyond proving her points regarding the book, but Wendi surprised her. She could see Wendi float on a nice high, immersed to her neck in the pool of joy that Trina built here just for them. She looked half asleep and struggling a little not to travel the rest of the way, but there was light behind those eyes. Wendi was behind those eyes. She expected Gemma to be the challenge. She was often Trina’s equal when it came to boisterous and outgoing. If Trina was the life of any party, Gemma could be the shot of adrenaline that gave it a second wind or took it to the next level.

But she was as surrendered as she could make herself be. Limp. Blank, but with need behind the eyes. Trina stopped talking about the book and watched Wendi’s eyes open a little wider as the rational bit of her mind that was still around heard an end to the boring drone about a stupid little fuck novel, as though the book marked the dawn of a new Renaissance.

But that was over now and she could just sit here and breathe deeply.

Judging the two, Trina decided she could allow herself to have a little fun with things. Mistress would allow it if there was no risk, and there was none. If there were, the edicts She carved into Trina’s mind wouldn’t let her indulge to begin with. But She also knew that Trina loved to indulge because She gave Trina that, too. It was her reward from Mistress when She couldn’t be there Herself.

“Gemma? I know you can hear me. Are you all right?”

“Ye—” A grimace lasted for the blink of an eye when she realized that her physical health was not enough. “No.” The was better. That was true.

“No?”

She rushed to Gemma’s side quickly as Gemma’s dark eyes continue to stare straight ahead. If I stay blank, Trina might want me. If I stay empty, she might want to make me perfect. Trina can’t see me still be me.

Trina looked to any outsider that might see like the worried host and friend and that’s how Wendi saw it then when she moved her head through quicksand. The tones of worry and distress in her ear notched her alertness upward. A deep breath as if to speak and all she could do was feel that feeling of safety once again, which seemed odd somehow given that something seemed to be wrong with her friend. Blinking quickly and having to put a little extra effort into lifting her eyelids after. There was a worried part of her mind and a part that felt perfectly perfect.

Wendi grimaced in much the way Gemma just had. Something’s wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Trina asked, petting her arms to comfort her. “What’s wrong, honey?”

The stroking soothed her, making it easier to reveal herself and the ache within. She knew just what to do. Trina was the answer. “I want…”

“What, Gemma? What do you want?”

Her expression remained smooth and her body still, but she dared move her eyes to meet Trina’s, but she felt so wrong even speaking at all. “I want…”

“You have to answer me, Gemma. You must answer and you must tell me the truth. You can never lie to me.”

“I want to be perfect.” Her eyes misted now as she gave voice to a goal that seemed so far away with her thinking mind in the way. “I want to be perfect so I can be wanted...and taken.”

Trina clenched her thighs together, “I understand, honey, and I want you very much. Don’t cry.”

The misting stopped at once and Gemma thrilled at how her body did what it was told without her thinking about it. Maybe she could be perfect after all.

“I want you very much, but you’re thinking about it all the wrong way. Would you like me to tell you how to think about it?”

Gemma couldn’t stop herself from biting her lush lower lip. “Yes. Tell me what to think about it. Tell me what to think about everything.

“It’s right to want to be taken and perfected, so you can be wanted and be loved.

Trina knew! Trina knew her thoughts.

For Gemma, it was like her mother giving her the only life advice she would ever need. Ironically, from this point forward that was essentially true. “You can’t make yourself perfect. There’s too much life that got you here for you to be able to make yourself perfect. You had too many selfish wants, and needs, and thoughts before tonight. You have too many now.”

“You need someone else to tell you what perfect is. Once someone tells you what to think and what to do so you can be perfect, and you obey, that makes them want you.” Trina leaned closer, their lips nearly pressed to one another before she began planting baby kisses on Gemma’s smooth cocoa cheeks. “And when the person sees you will obey and that you will always obey, no matter what you are asked to think or do, that makes them love you and want you. (kiss) You will always be better than all of those other women with their own thoughts, wants, and needs.” (kiss)

Gemma grabbed Trina’s arms with both hands, clinging to the lifeline of truth she offered and using her to steady herself because those the kisses were almost overwhelming, the tingles from one barely ebbing before the crash of feeling that came with the next.

“When that’s all that is left of you on the inside, and they see that… (kiss)… then you will be perfect and they will take you and love you.”

“Oooooooo.” Gemma simply couldn’t stop the sound from erupting from her throat.

Wendi’s heavy eyes widened in spite of the weight. Something was so wrong. Yet still she felt warm and safe even though the whisper that she was unsafe found a touch more purchase.

“In order to take you, (kiss) love you, (kiss) and make you perfect, you have to obey. “Can you?”

“Yes., I can.” Give me something to do. Give me a way to obey and I will show you that I will obey.

“Will you?” (kiss) A hand slid under her blouse this time, making Gemma’s mouth fall open.

“Yes, I will.” Gemma had never been so determined to do anything. The hand at her breast, clearly in want, provided additional motivation.

“Then stop worrying. (kiss) Stop thinking. (kiss) No more thinking. (kiss) Stop thinking. (kiss) Show me that you can obey.”

Trina’s cunt juices flowed like a slut in heat when she felt Gemma’s hands clench her arms more tightly while the rest of her body quaked in response to the command. After those first few seconds where Trina felt like Gemma was trying to crush her she, felt Gemma’s grip on her weaken.

And grow weaker still.

And weaker.

Trina imagined Gemma’s every thought, want, need swirling down the drain that she and Mistress had opened, never to be experienced again, and Trina panted in response like she’d run a marathon.

What was happening now was only the beginning of what Mistress could do and what would be done, but, from this moment that Trina created, there would be no going back for her almost lifelong friend. Try to release her from her bonds and she would either crawl back, begging to feel them again, or she would try to put the scraps of herself that remained back together into something that she recognized as who she used to be, and try to forget how good it felt, but, either way, the Gemma that arrived tonight for a festive, intimate gathering of friends, was gone forever.

Trina’s eyes closed before she groaned in ecstasy at the thought and the truth that she was the one who did that to her friend.

“When there is nothing left in your mind (kiss) but the next thing someone tells you to do, or (kiss) the next thing someone tells you to think, you will be perfect.”

Gemma’s left hand twitched once, then again, involuntarily. Trina’s lips pursed because it felt like the end of life spasm that it was. Trina opened her eyes and was greeted with the sight of complete blankness in those green eyes. Whatever was left behind them was crushed and only the vessel remained.

Her face was slack, her body boneless. Gemma was a blank slate. She was so perfect now that Trina couldn’t resist anymore. She undid her belt and worked her hand into and under her pants, to her panties as she kissed that blank slate deeply. That blank slate that was waiting to be written on.

Her hand found her clit and violated that engorged bit of flesh like it was just another slave to use, her fingers snug between hot clit and cool, wet silk. She kissed that warm and waiting mouth, tasting the emptiness and finding it sweeter than ambrosia, as she always did. Trina kissed as if she were madly in love. Trina was in love with the fact that the thoughts had been sucked from Gemma’s mind. There was no sound from her mouth but Trina’s own moans, then none but the screech of Trina’s own whorish orgasm that left her body twitching.

Trina rode the high before withdrawing her hand from between her legs and easing back to now so that she could feast once again on the void behind those brown eyes. Trina almost fell into them again, but her peripheral vision caught the look in Wendi’s eyes that were also fun things to see before Her victims fell; fear because they didn’t grasp what was happening. Confusion as to what was happening to them and trying to understand why they couldn’t muster the ability to be more afraid. Wendi had spark, and, as much as she still burned to play with Gemma, there was someone else to ruin.

Trina shifted her body so that she could look towards Wendi while she spoke seductively into Gemma’s ear.”

“Gemma? Are you ready to be told what to be?”

“Yes.” The word was utterly flat.

“Be happy, Gemma. Be full of joy and peace.”

Almost at once, Gemma came back to life. Her smile was broad and she looked like she did when Wendi first saw her and more. She looked like she was overflowing with life. It was almost believable except for the feral glint that her gaze held. It was like someone turned a dial as far as it could go and that inhuman level of joy overflowed to collect behind her eyes.

“Be horny, Gemma. Be wet. Gemma? Float in happiness with an unquenchable need to fuck anything you can find until you are told to be something else.”

Gemma’s now heard the sounds of Lynne and Carey thundering in her ears and, turning slowly, she found paradise. She turned back to Trina, eyes still wild, but now pleading.”

“Go fuck, honey.”

She suddenly darted away, skipping in little steps towards the pair on the other side of the room. When she reached them, she dropped to her knees just as Carey had her third orgasm on Lynne’s tongue and Gemma began removing Lynne’s skirt to get at what she needed. Lynne stopped long enough to look over her shoulder and show Gemma the same wild, empty eyes that she had before Lynne wiggled her ass to help the other strip her as she went back to feasting on that soaked, ginger thatch.

Trina watched until Gemma wormed her naked form between the two and lifted one of Lynne’s hands away so that she could get unfettered access to one of the ginger’s bulbous breasts. She watched them sort of meld into a single lust-driven beast.

The sound of something hitting the couch drew her attention and, turning, she saw Wendi’s palm limply strike the cushion, repeating the sound that touched her ear. There was fight to be had, but, seeing how Wendi still sat slumped with no hint that she had true control over her own body and no hint of strength that she was trying to hide waiting for just the right moment, it didn’t trouble Trina any more than a cat would be troubled by the trapped mouse that she was about to start playing with.

She went to the fireplace and the oak mantle above to where the candles sat, swaying the air. Trina snuffed one out with a quick puff and took it to Wendi, one foot in front of the other in a carefree stride. She settled her weight onto Wendi’s lap in a seductive straddle. “Hot, isn’t it, Wendi? All three of them will fuck until I tell them to stop. Or dance a waltz, recite poetry, sing a song, or anything else I tell them to do. Not only will they do it because I told them to, as you might have guessed with Gemma, they want me to tell them to.”

Taking Wendi’s chin in her thumb and forefinger, she turned Wendi to face her, eyeing her as sculptor would eye the potential in an untouched block of granite. “There’s so much potential in you Wendi that I could never have seen before Mistress showed me her world and allowed me a place in it. That any part of Wendi is still in there at all is really something.”

Trina watched Wendi’s lips move as if to speak and she could have done nothing. She could have made sure Wendi remained in a compliant state, Mistress would have collected her and that would be that, but Trina would see it as a failure. She had yet to give Mistress someone that was no less than fully ready to be remade, and she would not start now. With the work mostly done for her already, she would smooth out that last tattered and frayed edges of Wendi.

Trina suspected that much of Wendi was already obedient, even though the part of her that she was using to fight with was her focus. It was so much her focus that she thought it was all of her. Testing that was simple enough. “You wanna say something? Say it. It’s okay. You have questions? Ask away.”

What to Wendi felt like anger came to the fore and gave her a bit more strength with which to fight. “Drugged.”

Trina looked like she’d just watched her friend win a prize. “Yes, Wendi. Yes! You were drugged.”

“The wine,” she drawled.

“Yes. The wine,” Trina admitted. “The wine was very drugged. But, then again,” she looked around the lavish condo, “so was everything. So many drugs in the wine that I’m surprised there’s still wine in it. There are subliminals in the music and they wormed through your ears all night. The fruit? Genetically engineered almost from the in ways that I couldn’t begin to explain to you. The paper in the books was drugged, and there were still more subliminals in the e-book. You looked right at that bright light and they pumped themselves right into your fucking brain.”

“Did you find that when you imagined the fuck scenes they were particularly vivid? You kept reading and couldn’t put it down in order to get to the next scene because they were just that hot.”

“Everyone has their own triggers, the things they really like and that their minds will embrace before others. They all mix, but turning on a mind is like turning on a body; everyone has their own special tweaks.”

“Do you know what yours is? I do. I knew in the fist ten minutes.” She gave Wendi a playful wink. You haven’t taken a shallow breath since we sat down.” She put the hardening wax under Wendi’s nose. She resolved to hold her breath. She would not take any more of that sick poison into her lungs for as long as she could manage.

Then she felt fingers at her belly dancing frantically with laughter almost instantly following. Her body was still so very heavy that she could only manage a few half-hearted attempts to squirm away and her laughter was a series of subdued giggles and not the screeching peals that it would have been otherwise. The result was the desired one all the same, Wendi took in more of that warm, comforting tobacco and leather mix that Trina waved under her nose and straight into her brain in hit, after hit, after hit, until Wendi couldn’t even feel her body anymore. All there was was comfort, safety, and peace. There wasn’t a care in her world right now.

She floated, dazed, for how long she didn’t know, but she eventually focused her eyes from behind her head toward Trina who still had Wendi pinned under her weight. The smile she saw above her was sinister and seductive. “This is what you, love, honey. This is what you love.”

The candle went from left to right and back again. What was left of Wendi thought the look on Trina’s face was there to drive her, but it was satisfaction at the way Wendi’s head went wherever the candle did, taking more in whenever she was given the chance. Terror flared within when she felt the smile on her lips.

“There we are, Wendi, honey. Wendi want another little taste?”

“No,” she whispered.

“I’ve heard that tone before, Wendi,” she scolded. “That tone is, ‘No. No more because I love it and the last thing I want to do is admit I want more of this feeling,’ but you’ve still got that spark. We can fix that, can’t we girls?”

Lynne, Gemma, and Carey peeled themselves from one another and focused their attention on Trina in eager anticipation like pets anxious to please.

“If you wanna go, Wendi? Go. Don’t let me stop you. Do you wanna go?”

The words was right there, but she still had to grope for it for a second. “Yes.”

“You wanna go?”

“I wanna go.” In Wendi’s mind, the words were determined and angry. In the air, there was some anger and determination in them, but not enough to match. Trina lifted herself off of Wendi and stood over her. Wendi put all her will into trying to get up, but all she could manage was to put her left leg forward a scant few inches.

“Here,” Trina said, sounding excited to be a good little helper. “Let me help you up.”

When she did, there was an earthquake under Wendi’s feet and her stomach roiled and threatened to bring the meals of the day back up. It didn’t happen and the sudden illness returned to her a piece of what she was when she woke up this morning. Her eyes fixed on the front door just a dozen steps away, give or take. Where she went from there was a mystery, but, right now, there was the door.

Trina took her, spinning her again, but, this time, nowhere near as badly as before. “Wendi, no. Your car is out this way, remember? Remember that you guys parked on the side? Girls? Come with me, and you can all go together.”

She did remember now that Trina reminded her. She didn’t want Trina to lead her anywhere but it was all right. because Trina is leading me where she wants me to go. No. Where I want to go. Where I want to go. And we’re all going to go together. That’s right. Wendi stopped, or was stopped, finding herself but a few steps away from a familiar door.

“There we are.” Trina moved behind her. “Go ahead. Try to leave.” She even gave Wendi the gentlest push.

She would. She had to. One step.

Then another.

Then one more.

Now Wendi was close enough to the door to to reach out to it and she did, though her arm coming towards the knob took her balance away and threatened to put her on the floor again. She braced her other arm against the steel and righted herself. Wendi took a deep breath, only catching a hint of the safety of her grandfather’s study now. She was glad it didn’t fill her mind because she might not be able to leave at all, but she missed it, too. Almost there. Have to get out. Have to get out.

Her hand was on the knob and she turned. It didn’t move. She turned it the other way and it didn’t move. Locked. It was locked. She looked down and quietly whimpered softly in impotence and frustration.

“One-seven-three-three-zero,” Trina said in her most helpful tone.

It didn’t help much, as numbers had suddenly become so hard.

“Girls? Why don’t you crawl over and convince Wendi to stay for a little longer.”

They dropped to all fours and closed in on her, cooing and giggling as they did. The sound like vapid schoolgirls in some 80’s slumber party massacre film was music to Trina’s ears, enticing her again like foreplay. Mistress had made her so much more sensitive and had given her so many gifts, including how to just appreciate the moment before her with one last soul still trying to endure, not realizing even now that it was already over.

Wendi looked down, pawing at the door and brushing at the keypad, pressing buttons as she touched them, but she wasn’t even trying to see them anymore. Instead, her gaze was drawn out the window at the sporty little silver means of escape that she vaguely remembered being hers was. It was so close. All she wanted was inside, not even considering that she didn’t remember how to drive anymore. She’d be safe there. Or maybe someone would see.

But it was so far and the girls were on her now. Touching and kissing...licking and caressing. Wendi’s mind flashed to a horror movie she saw once with demons clawing at the witch that called them, trying to pull them down into Hell.

Except that this was a sensuous, glorious, Hell. The hands that came up to peel her slacks from her body, taking her panties with them, both ending up bunched at her ankles, tangling her legs in them enough for her to know that, already wobbly, she’d be hard pressed to get out that door. The knowledge made her cry out in desperation as she tried the door again, but, this time, was just two slaps at the knob as she looked longingly out the window. She couldn’t even muster the strength to beat her fists against the door.

“Figured it out yet?” Trina asked.

Wendi’s forehead touched the glass, but she didn’t answer.

“Try to leave, not ‘leave.’ If I told you you could go, I bet you could.” Her voice turned to sex now, “But it’s all already in your head. It’s already changed you. You’re doing what I tell you to do without even realizing you’re doing it. All I think you need now is a little too much sensation to put you over the edge...to snuff out the little bit of you that still cares.”

Despair closed her eyes and made her sink, or those incessant, needing bodies surrounding her pulled her down, either way, her knees hit the cold floor. “Why?”

Trina barely heard it, but she answered anyway, “Why take them? Take you? Because that’s what Mistress wants. I belong to Her and I do what She wants. She wants me to bring her pretty meat, and that’s you, so that’s why. You’ll all belong to Her or someone She tells you you belong to.”

“Why haven’t I snuffed that part out yet?” Her head tilted and she drew her index finger down Wendi’s cheek, making her eyes close and her body tremble, heat against her pussy.

“Soon. And finally. I’d like to play with you more, but I like to temper my own kinks with caution. Cat spends too long playing with the mouse because she’s fucking cocky and sometimes the mouse gets away. I’m sure that’s not you, but, caution.” She looked down at the others. “Play all you like with Wendi, girls, but don’t let her leave. I’ll be back in two swishes of a cat’s tail.”

The warm and wet between Wendi’s legs grew until the source had to be determined. Her eyes opened to make contact with wide, frenzied green eyes looking up at her while that pink tongue that contrasted in such eye-catching fashion was fucking Wendi’s little joy buzzer. There was something beautiful in it no matter how much Wendi tried not to see it. There was an innocence that came with emptiness. She didn’t care anymore, so she had no fear whatsoever.

Falling into those pools just a little led her thighs to twitching back and forth. The part of Wendi that was still Wendi knew it wasn’t a good idea, but there was a part of that part of Wendi that could feel that forgetting was good and something that she would want to do. She could bide her time, she realized. If she could just hide herself and play the dumb little zombie, between now and whenever this ‘Mistress’ showed up, she might manage one chance to get free...but probably only the one.

She leaned back, letting...she looked over her shoulder to see who...Lynne pull off her blouse while Carey found a strength that Wendi thought that zombies couldn’t have in grabbing her to suck on a nipple hard enough to cut diamonds. When her mouth closed on it and her tongue dragged across it, Wendi sighed in want and she had to remember to hang on.

The music was louder now, too. Not that she thought it was, it really was, as Trina had piped it through the kitchen and upped the volume. Wendi could hear it now, a sweet song of innocence, submission, and abject surrender. It was a song of promises that she could be everything and anything as long as she first accepted being nothing.

Wendi rode that current until the part of Wendi that still remembered Wendi returned long enough to hear movement to her right. She couldn’t see it because to turn her head enough would have required her take her mouth off the virtual cow udder in her mouth. It was so tasty and, when she did do girls, which was occasionally, she almost always gravitated to the women that had larger examples than even her own of what she saw as pure femininity. And what she suckled now were the largest, most perfect examples she’d ever seen.

Or tasted.

Wendi heard a voice far louder than the whispers in her head or even the sounds of sex that she was in the midst of. Trina was back with them. “Some girls just need a little more push. Some people can resist good things, even lots of a good thing because they’re used to it. You’re used to eating pussy. Or having a hard cock. Sometimes, what’s needed is a lot of wonderful feelings from somewhere they’re not used to feeling them.”

“Maybe it’s blowing in their ear. Maybe it’s their feet. Lots of nerves in the sole of the foot to stimulate. It all depends on the person. One size doesn’t always fit. I have found a lovely spot, especially women like yourself who have spent their lives with long, thick, luxurious hair like yourself. Lean on your elbows, Wendi, head back.”

A sliver of her thought ‘No’ because she had to fight. The other ‘No’ came from the knowledge that she would have to part from that breast she was sucking. But part she did, and, when she leaned back, Trina gazed down at her just before raising her right hand. She flicked a switch in that hand and the clippers she held hummed to life. “So many nerves there on the top of your head.”

The clippers came down and slid through the thick hair, shearing it away as though there was nothing for the blades to cleave at all. Trina continued to chatter while Wendi’s hair piled on the floor around her. “So close to the surface. And those nerves go dim. They get used to the weight of your hair so it stops being heavy. They’re never just touched. They’re never allowed to touch the air...to feel hot or cold. They live their lives asleep. They want to be reached. They want to be touched. They want to feel.”

“You just have to reach them. Now, you don’t want to take someone to the point of bald; only a one or a two when it comes to the blade. You want a touch of hair to add to the stimulation the nerves in an around the follicle.” She turned the clippers to take the hair from the back of Wendi’s head and the nape of her neck.

Wendi felt like her head might float from her body. She did feel lighter and more free. And cooler. She didn’t need to shiver, but as she lay there, it added to her sense of calm. She sighed when she realized the feel of a tongue between had returned, not having fully realized that it had left before that moment. This one was different so she stole a glance downward to see Carey’s pretty eyes ever so slightly distorted by the glasses gazing up at her, Carey’s fingers pulling apart Wendi’s lips and her tongue’s tip flicking with slowly increasing pace, occasionally smacking her lips when she got her fill in the moment, in part to be playful, and, in part just because she tasted so fucking good.

“Did you like the end of the book, Wendi?”

Book? There was a book? Yeah, I remember now. “Yes.”

“How they both changed?” Trina blew gently on the top of Wendi’s head. With the whispers and the tongues and hands and still the hint of pipe tobacco and rich, cared for leather. A complex web was weaved and what was left of Wendi in the center. Pursing her lips, Trina blew on one of the strings with the gentleness of an angel’s kiss. Stray, tiny hairs came away with the air, and oh, how Wendi could feel it. It was like a kiss on each and every hair. She bit her lip, which then turned to a clenched jaw before the exhalation was pushed between her teeth before another, “Yessssss.”

“Krysten liked being Kristy. She liked being weak, but what fun is it to be weak to a man who isn’t as strong as he could be? He had to become what Kristy needed him to be. Kristy made sure he fed on her weakness. She made sure that he got hard just thinking about it. Kristy made sure that he saw that the more powerful he appeared to be and that he actually felt, the more turned on and submissive she felt.

Another gentle breeze sent more shivers through to Wendi’s toes.

“So he turns more ruthless just because it turns her on and she turns him on. He turned into the kind of richies that Krysten always thought she hated, but that money, that big, thick cock and that power over his world, her included melted her. She ended up wanting him to have the power to ruin her.”

“And, at the end, when she pulled that train while he watched from his living room on that huge screen in 8K glory? He watched her take them all on like the filthiest of sluts just because he wanted to see if she would do it. She did it with fucking pride, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

“He snuffed out Krysten, didn’t he? Kristy? Kristy stopped reading, stopped worrying. She even got dumber. He liked that and then she liked that. He gave her the power to snuff out Krystin, just like you gave it to me.”

Trina’s fingers began to play across what was left of Wendi’s hair. Trina would wait for the wanton moan, those nerves that had never truly fired before, shooting pleasure straight into her brain before pausing so that the nerves would reset before beginning again in a different place.

“T-took.”

“Took? I took, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Trina gave it due consideration, “I brought you here to do this, sure, but here you are, pretty girls all over your tits and your pussy and you’re not even trying to leave.”

Carey found delicious ways to lick and between that and the sucking sound she made and the tingling all over on her head and now in her head, she couldn’t hold back, “Fuck...fuck… Can’t.”

Trina leaned closer, cradling Wendi’s head, her fingertips turning tiny circles at the base of her skull. “That’s right. You can’t leave. It’s going to happen anyway, honey. You can’t leave and it’s going to happen anyway because you know all of this is so much more powerful than you.”

“Krysten chose for herself,” Wendi. She chose for herself and she’s happy now. She chose and she’s better. You can let it happen anyway or take your destiny in your own hands just one more time. Krysten ended her old life on her own terms. You can be like her. Be like Krysten.”

“You can’t leave and it’s going to happen anyway Choose.”

“You can’t leave and it’s going to happen anyway Choose.”

Trina watched Wendi seem to stare at nothing, thrilling at the brutal battle she saw being waged behind her eyes and how it marked her face. Trina watched that lust translate to fear, then confusion with perhaps a hint of terror...a fear of the unknown. She watched Wendi’s eyes focus somewhere, then widen as her pupils did the same, this time, unlike with what she saw with Gemma, it was like something pouring in. Her entire body even jerked as though struck by an irresistible wave.

Trina saw it all and came, not taking her eyes from Wendi’s.

Then there was the smile. There was the hollow, filthy smile that Wendi had now that told Trina what was done was done. Trina served her purpose and the satisfaction was like afterglow. “Wendi?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Really good.” A thought popped in and she smiled. “I like my name.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” She breathed in, feeling nothing but satisfaction. “It’s Wendi with an ‘i.’”

Wendi with an ‘i’ then grabbed a handful of that red hair, pulled an eager Carey to meet her and began to lick and kiss Wendi’s own cunt juice from her.

Trina stood in the kitchen, her bleeding edge gold and glossy black phone in hand. With some quick, practiced key presses, she secured the line and called the number that mattered most to her.

After two rings a goddess’s voice answered and her beauty appeared, “Hi, Trina, love. How’s it going?”

“Very well, Mistress, thank you.”

“I keep telling you that you can call me Kayley.”

She smiled and she was “You said I ‘can’... Mistress.”

That perfection smiled back and Trina’s heart skipped several beats. “I heard you were having a party tonight? How did it go?”

“There are four girls that would love to meet you.”

“Oh, I bet they would. I bet they’re just perfect, too.”

“Not yet,” Trina teased.

“Fair.” she conceded with a smile. Any problems?”

“None beyond the usual confusion they all have before they understand.”

Kayley detected the echo of need in Trina’s voice. “Just enough trouble to have fun with, huh?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You still look like there’s some play in that pussy. Do you still want to play?”

Her toes curled every single time Mistress spoke filth to her. She turned her head and over her shoulder was nothing but the singular, writhing beast that she had created for Her and she longed to be part of it. She turned back. “Very much, Mistress.”

Kayley looked away to double check the time. “Okay, let’s call a pickup at 1AM. They can spend the last hour with headphones and the docility subliminals so… that gives you a little more than four hours of playtime. Have fun.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

“Oh, and, Trina? Good girl.”

Kayley watched the bliss wash over Trina, knowing that, for Trina, those two words from her made everything Trina did worthwhile. When she came back to the world and she knew that Trina could see her do it, Kayley puckered and kissed the air before the screen went black and the phone’s normal theme reappeared.

Trina relished the approval and the affection for a bit longer before she tossed the phone on the island and turned her attention to the tangle before her before beginning to shed her clothes.

I love a good party.