The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

9.

Walking into the health club, Tegan felt like she was cheating on Dana.

This was the gym Dana had once told her Joss went to. Back then it had been a minor peeve, a thing the mysterious girlfriend did that Dana, no athlete, couldn’t enjoy with her.

On the phone tonight, Dana had sounded unhappier, feeling some distance from her girlfriend and not sure whether there was even anything wrong. It had been strange, hearing her friend hurt but being glad—and a little surprised—to realize that Joss was keeping her promise.

Success would be worse. No matter how clever Joss was, the breakup would batter someone like Dana, and then she’d miss feeling only this unhappy. It hurt to think about, and Tegan had tried not to let that leak down the phone line to her friend. But Dana had confirmed that Joss would be here.

Tegan filled out a guest application and turned it in to the sleek young woman at reception. The club was part of a chain and everything was corporate-crisp and shiny, down to the staff. The young woman graced Tegan with a perfect smile and a warm injunction to enjoy herself, and after her latest weird daydreams, Tegan could read it as a come-on.

She thanked the girl and picked up her bag to go change.

Looking around, her customary scan showed her men in various states of repair. Usually she’d scope out her guilty pleasure, the guys who came to be seen and were even more fanatical about workout clothing than women she knew. Conceited, and probably selfish in bed, but she liked looking. They were like pastries—overrich, very nonfunctional, but who looked for utility from a pastry? Or a gym Adonis who wanted to be a Vallejo cover?

But this time, Tegan’s vision was almost blurry: she was seeing this place with Joss’ eyes. Now both halves of the population radiated sexual possibilities from their shining skin and taut lycra. Lean, focused women training for something, finding their own trances. Lush babes, the other battalion of the see-me-want-me brigade, in eye-catching gymwear that was brief, tight, or almost not there. A happily-chattering bevy of women on their way to aerobics. Tegan started walking before someone started looking at her. She thought of Joss, moving through them all.

Candy store.

On her way to the lockers, Tegan kept imagining various women she saw as hypnotized. The hard-muscled little redhead doing reps like a machine, watching her form in the mirror with absorption, the trim Asian staring unfocused over the handlebars of her stationary bike, open to whatever her headphones were giving her.

Tegan smiled, picturing Joss spinning slowly, wide-eyed at all the tranceable girlflesh so wonderfully displayed, and crumpling to the floor with a groan, wanting to enthrall them all and unable to choose.

Laughing about it helped her offset the excitement she was feeling.

Coming here is really stupid, she thought, but now she was surrounded by other women dressing and undressing, slipping into neon-hued spandex with businesslike speed or peeling it from pumped, sweaty bodies, wandering in towels or in nothing but droplets from the shower.

Some of them were checking the competition, and some were trying to intimidate each other. But some wanted to be seen. Some of them were here to see for themselves. Undoubtedly someone was checking Tegan out as she stripped.

She kept herself from making a production out of it, but there was no way to unstiffen her nipples.

Fuck. It’s not like anyone knows they’re not always like this.

She had two sets of clothes in the bag—the one she’d thought of wearing for tonight, and the one she expected to end up putting on. The second set covered a lot more of her.

Tegan pulled out the first set, and just the fact that it was small in her hand excited her more.

It was almost like underwear, and she’d worn it that way a few times, which added to the naughty kick of planning to go out there in nothing but. The jogbra didn’t really show as much of her as it seemed to, but she hardly knew she had it on. The briefs looked like they were thinking of being bikini bottoms but hadn’t quite decided. Each time she slipped them on and felt them tight on her loins, she felt a moment’s fear until she remembered the awe in another ex-boyfriend’s voice as he’d said “Not everyone has the ass for those, Teegs, but you . . .”

As she straightened, though, she wasn’t sure it was his voice, this time, that her mind had played back for her.

She almost felt naked as she headed out into the club again, and the towel she’d grabbed felt facecloth-small, but after a moment she calmed down. There were some gratifying leers, and some of them were female. It made her lightheaded. But she hardly stood out.

Tegan tried to keep her expression even as she wandered through the place, and there were as many mirrors as she wanted, to verify how well she was doing. She wondered who’d seen her and filed her as another narcissist strutting her stuff, or possibly as someone on the make. She resisted an old singles-bar feeling by remembering that here it was OK to go do something by yourself. Solitude was not failure.

But Tegan wasn’t here to look.

She made the rounds of the larger rooms, uselessly replaying the snippets of comment Dana had made. Even if Joss had told Dana what she did at the club, Dana had un-heard it, so there was no clue. Tegan wasn’t surprised to come up empty in the freeweights or the circuit room, and the idea of Joss futilely pedaling or treadmilling or stair-stepping in place just didn’t work.

Much less so the idea of Joss writhing to perky commands in one of the aerobics halls—though Tegan scanned the sidelines for an avid pair of dark eyes watching the ones who were. But no. Tegan couldn’t see her skulking in one of the glassed-in galleries above, either.

Tegan leaned against the wall. Despite her quest, all this activity was making her feel like a slacker. She watched the dancers move, and looked at faces until she saw one without expression, eyes wide and riveted on the instructor, body moving in perfect synch with her. It was too easy to slide into a fantasy of becoming mesmerized by the rhythmic movement, the thumping soundtrack, the dancers’ complete submission to the instructor’s urging and commands—of being drawn in, sleepwalking to the end of a row and bending with the rest of them. Entranced.

Obeying the instructor.

Do not resist. Join us. Dance and obey. You will become One Of Us.

The instructor snapped a new command and instantly had the women upright and high-stepping in place. Tegan had to turn away.

She kept walking until the music-throb faded. OK. She thought of languid, catlike Joss, and finally saw an image that did work: a sauna or a steamroom with drowsy, deep-breathing women. Or a jacuzzi, with frothing bubbles and thought-blurring buzz and warm water that a careless woman could fall asleep to, listening as Joss helpfully told her how relaxing it was.

Whirlpools.

Tegan took her time, heading back past a floorplan to make sure she knew where they were. Near the pool, she saw. She could see Joss admiring long-muscled swimmers in tight maillots, but her money was on the warm, wet rooms where even the hardbodied women would be sleepy and receptive, easily soothed.

If this gym was Joss’ candy store, that would be where she unwrapped her truffles.

On the way there she passed some smaller rooms with a few pieces of equipment. They looked like practice rooms at a music school. Their doors were flanked by glass panels and she peered into a couple as she passed. Men and women posed and moved and talked, and she realized these were personal trainers, for people who were willing to pay for private attention and seclusion for at least part of it.

Tegan stopped to savor yet another faux-trance fantasy. Through one window, she saw a short, compactly-built woman with chestnut hair gathered on her head doing curls with small dumbbells. She stood straight, looking forward, focused. She was shapely but soft, and Tegan felt a little pang of sympathy. When the woman looked in the mirror, she probably saw someone plumper than she really was, and that explained her almost grim dedication.

The statuesque blonde trainer who stood watching her might be her role model, her gym conscience, or her worst nightmare. But the trainer was as absorbed in her motion as she was. Tegan felt better—whether with a sister or just a mercenary loyal to her salt, the brown-haired striver was in good hands.

But to see them like this . . .

The health club offered mostly businesslike, gunmetal-colored weights, but some of them were polished, and the ones this woman used were dazzling. As she flexed and swung them with mechanical precision, reflections swept across the room, hitting the omnipresent mirrors and redoubling. The flashes flicked back and forth across the two women, hypnotically, and they were too fixated on the shorter one’s routine to notice.

Or, Tegan’s new odd sensibility whispered, they’re already hypnotized, and they can’t break free.

She trembled and nearly fell over as the tableau hit her. Seeing it through the panel kept her from any reality that would rouse her into disbelief.

There had been something else that had enticed her through glass, dangerous and seductive. A snake . . .

The door to this room was ajar, and the women were unreal, past the glass. Nothing stopped her. Tegan found herself reaching to the door, its cool surface on her fingertips not breaking her fascination but deepening it instead.

She pressed the door, the excuse already glib on her tongue for when they turned at the intrusion—even as she wondered how long she’d last before the swinging reflection put her into trance with them.

The door flew back, and the trainer was there in front of her. The blonde was a little taller than Tegan and looked much stronger, and Tegan felt afraid for a moment. The other woman was in a two-piece like her own, sexy and functional, but with her posture it made her look almost robotic. She stood tightly poised as if ready to leap onto Tegan like a hunting cat.

Her eyes were faraway, glassy. They saw Tegan, but didn’t.

The blonde was strong and ready, almost a fighting machine herself—and she looked as though she really were under hypnosis. Too deep in trance to choose on her own to attack Tegan, but utterly willing to obey someone else’s command to do it, without question.

Behind her, her student swung her gleaming weights in their arcs, her own glazed eyes oblivious to them.

“Release,” said a voice from a blind corner of the room, and the blonde came smoothly to attention, looking into infinity through Tegan’s forehead. Whatever had let her be aware of Tegan was off now, and the trainer was back where her hypnotist had taught her mind to stay.

Joss smiled at Tegan as she stepped into view.

10.

Joss was lithe and vulnerable in a high-cut black leotard that set off her pale skin. Smiling at Tegan, she padded over to stand beside the blonde trainer, who stared forward like a deactivated android. She rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder, kneading the muscle for a moment as though just to enjoy its firmness, and then eased off until only her fingertips touched it.

“You did well, Tracy,” she told the woman in a low, firm voice.

“Relax now. This woman is not a threat.”

“i understand, Goddess.” Tracy’s voice was strong and pleasant, and—sedated. “i am relaxed now. This woman is not a threat.”

Joss nodded. “Soon you will receive new thoughts to think concerning her. Until then you will do nothing.”

Tracy looked resolutely into infinity. “Yes, Goddess. i will obey.”

Gripping Tracy’s shoulder again as though she couldn’t help playing with her toy, Joss turned to Tegan. “It’s all right. Tracy’s quite controlled.

“Aren’t you, Tracy?”

“Yes, Goddess,” Tracy intoned. “Each command i obey puts me deeper under Your control.”

“That’s right, Tracy.

“Tracy is certainly an obedient girl now, but when she’s not hypnotized, she’s an active domme. Many a woman here dreams about being Tracy’s bitch.” Joss smiled thoughtfully as she looked the trainer up and down.

“She’ll play, sometimes, but she has a subbie of her own, whom she cherishes.” Joss said that without a hint of sarcasm, and even in her own daze Tegan felt a touch of cold.

“When she realized I was enslaving her, Tracy resisted, but I’d already prepared her mind. Eventually she knew it was better to obey than to think.” Joss looked up at the handsome, blank face. “At the end, I think she fought harder just so she could surrender more abjectly. But I could be wrong.

“Anyway, now she’s learning to want to do whatever I tell her to.”

Joss ran her fingers up over Tracy’s cheek, down the hollow of her pulse. “The first time I wanted a client of hers, she struggled so hard. But she took the conditioning well. She gave me Cindy, here, just for the asking.

“Very soon now, she’ll be ready to give me the one she loves and treasures most in all the world.” For a moment Joss sounded like she was under a spell herself, gazing raptly up at her passive subject.

Her slave. Tegan knew it was impossible. But Tracy just stood there, letting herself be handled and talked about like a trained animal, droning her obedience.

“Would you like to touch her?” It startled Tegan out of a half-dream of Tracy, just as blank, wearing nothing but leather straps and pulling Joss in a jaunty little cart . . .

“Tracy’s completely tame, Tegan. She won’t resist at all.”

Tegan gaped at the muscular body, seeing Joss’ power holding it rigid by gripping the woman’s mind. It made what she’d seen Joss do to Sasha at the gallery look almost friendly.

“She feels really good,” Joss coaxed, caressing Tracy’s upper arm, the contours of her rippled abdomen. She hefted a breast in its lycra and Tracy kept staring, but when she reached down and felt along the edges of Tracy’s narrow bikini bottom, the hypnotized trainer gasped. Joss studied her as she slid her fingers inward, tapping and stroking delicately on the tight fabric over her cleft.

Tracy’s eyelids fluttered and her eyes started to roll up once or twice, but she held pose. She might have grunted. Tegan wondered if she were trapped in that hypnotic dream with an orgasm she couldn’t express, or if it was just endless stimulation.

She heard labored, measured breathing, but when she could tear her eyes away from spellbound Tracy, she saw it was Tracy’s client who panted. Obviously under deep hypnosis herself, the woman kept up her reps with the light weights, completely unaware of how her trainer was submitting to being handled.

Joss stopped masturbating Tracy and bent to put her lips to Tracy’s cleavage, then lower, for a lingering kiss on her belly. She looked back at Tegan as she straightened, smiling at her hesitation.

“It’s all right, Tegan.”

Tegan trembled, feeling something go through her to hear that. She felt calmer but more excited in other ways. She tried to think of how Joss could have convinced this heroic-looking athlete to let her take that much control. Maybe the dominant blonde was secretly a submissive, and Joss had sensed that and drawn it out before using her influence to bend the woman into agreeing to hypnosis.

Why else would Tracy act this controlled, and call Joss “Goddess” with such fervor?

Joss snapped her fingers. “Tracy.”

The blonde’s eyes focused and filled with self—it almost made Tegan stumble backward. Tracy looked at her, but she didn’t even seem to react before her eyes glazed for a moment. Tegan knew she was seeing Joss’ command bend Tracy’s mind. Even Tracy’s reaction to the stranger in front of her was stillborn, her mind controlled by Until then you will do nothing.

Tracy turned at once. “Joss! Hi. Did you—” She blinked and smiled. “I’m sorry. I keep just . . .”

“Drifting off?” Joss suggested.

Tracy nodded happily. “That’s it. I thought you were sitting . . . I mean . . .” She grinned again.

“It’s all that exercise,” Joss said indulgently.

“Is it?” Tracy looked amazed, then sheepish. “Oh, right. I keep forgetting. The more pumped I get, the more blood goes to my body and the less there is in my brain.” She smiled, glad to see Joss nodding that she’d gotten it. “I’m lucky you keep reminding me.”

Joss made a pooh-poohing gesture. “You know it’s all right for you not to think, sometimes.”

“When I’m with you,” Tracy said softly, her eyes going almost bovine as she gazed at Joss.

Then she seemed to rouse herself. “Well, at least I’m not tempted to think so much, then. I can just use my body the way I’m told to.

“Strong body, weak mind!” She grinned proudly at Joss.

Joss nodded and then stepped slowly toward the tall blonde, her pale legs sinuous below the dark bodysuit. “A very weak mind indeed,” she said, and reached out to touch Tracy’s forehead as she’d touched Sasha’s.

Like Sasha, Tracy seemed to go to sleep where she stood.

With another finger-snap, Tracy woke again. She was a different woman, and Tegan knew this was the real Tracy, not the robot or the dull-witted puppet. The knowledge ran through her like a shock: Joss had hypnotized this woman into letting Joss turn her into the other two.

Tegan listened to herself. Tracy must be a latent slave, to consent to that.

The new Tracy smiled at Joss and then shifted briskly to her client. With a soft word she stilled the woman, who slowed her curls and stopped, continuing to stare forward as blankly as Tracy had, a little while ago. She braced and held the weights, looking ready to bear her burden forever unless someone bade her to lay it down.

“She’s doing a lot better,” Joss observed, sounding almost obsequious. There was no trace of the mocking mistress now.

“The hypnosis really helped her, Joss. I’m glad you got me to talk her into letting you put her under. She’s so much more receptive to instructions.”

Joss leaned back against the wall, showing off her legs and seeming unaware of how Tracy admired them. “Is she still resisting, a little?”

Tracy looked back at he client, who still stood numbly while the other two women debated her suggestibility.

It was unbearably erotic, and Tegan was past wondering why.

“Not since you showed me how to drop her with those triggers.”

They chatted, and Tegan thought about being that thoroughly controlled herself, wandering around the club aware only of Joss’ will and commands, or of nothing at all. She tried to remind herself Joss hadn’t really hypnotized her that day.

But here she was, barely dressed and watching Joss play with two obedient women, the fantasies kissing her skin like hot oil.

If only.

I didn’t think that. But she couldn’t cling to that thought, watching two attractive women discuss whether to condition a third. Her gaze slid across breasts she could almost feel.

I’d be a goner if I were a lesbian, Tegan mused, before losing herself in the Y above Joss’ lissome thighs.

“I wish I could get you to agree to be hypnotized,” Joss said wistfully.

Tracy laughed and shrugged. “Child of rock videos,” she said. “No attention span.

“Well, I’m going to wake Cindy now and take her out for some cardio.” Joss stepped back and watched as Tracy brought the chestnut-haired sleeper out of her trance. As soon as Cindy’s eyes lit up they swung toward Tracy, and her infatuation was obvious.

It was probably how Tracy had persuaded her to let Joss hypnotize her. Tegan thought about things people would do for people they were hot for. Cindy had thought she was pleasing Tracy, her sexy personal trainer, with no idea she was actually pleasing the hypnotist who was using Tracy as a ventriloquist’s dummy.

Tegan realized she was squeezing her thighs together.

God, it was so wrong, and here was a flesh-and-blood woman falling into it in front of her. She tried to think of Dana but this temple of exertion was so not Dana that she kept slipping back to the now. This quiet room with Joss, and two women Joss could control like puppets.

And Tegan.

She stayed still and Joss was motionless as a cat. Cindy was too rapt in Tracy to notice them, and that might not even be the hypnosis. They replaced the weights and headed out.

“Close the door, Tegan.” Joss’ voice startled and calmed her.

Tegan waited a moment, and then . . . obeyed. It didn’t thrill her. But she waited for it to.

She turned back to Joss, who stood at her ease in the leotard like a pretty gymnast.

“It’s all right, Tegan.” She watched the phrase do whatever it was doing to Tegan, and the fact that she didn’t smile this time made it more intense. “I can keep this room for a while longer.”

Now she did smile. “I have some influence with the manager.”

Crossing over to the bench on the other wall, she paced as though she really were a gymnast, setting up for a floor exercise. But she just perched daintily on the bench.

“So tell me, Tegan. What brings you here?”

The answer flowed up inside, and Tegan felt her heart pounding. She’d watched Joss control the other two women, and she knew Joss wasn’t who she’d thought she’d been dealing with. She’d actually faced off with someone who could do that to two intelligent adults, and the idea tried to scare her.

Joss curled calmly on the bench and watched her seethe. For a moment she wanted to, so Joss could see . . .

It was out of her before she could think. “What did you do to me?”

Joss smiled. “I’ll tell you. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. But that’s not what you really want to say. Is it, Tegan?”

Tegan felt the dark charisma. What Joss did took no effort—it even seemed to strengthen her. It was tempting to think she was a vampire after all. Pale and dark, lethally attractive, seducing with ruin. Stronger with each mind she sucked in.

Tegan couldn’t help herself. When she knew that, it made her stop wanting to.

“Please, Joss.

“Hypnotize me.”

11.

Joss regarded her, and Tegan was actually relieved. Somehow she knew Joss wasn’t going to play with her—gloat, or hesitate, or pretend not to know what it meant.

Joss was going to put her into a trance.

Now Joss raised an arm and beckoned her to the bench. Tegan went to her and sat, feeling their thighs touch. Joss was cool and smooth. Tegan trembled.

“What did you do to me, Joss?” she begged again quietly.

Joss’ look was almost tender. “I hypnotized you before, Tegan.”

“But I . . . resisted you.”

Joss smiled. “You were ready for me to try indoctrinating you or to overwhelm you with sheer willpower, and command you to submit to me.

“All I did was natter on to your subconscious about how sweet and erotic it is to be hypnotized.

“Your subconscious seemed very interested.”

Tegan stared at her. She needed to stand up and run, not walk, out of here.

“Since I wasn’t saying anything it had been told to worry about, we had a nice conversation. A bit one-sided, I suppose, but your subconscious is a good listener.”

She should get her things from the locker and not bother to dress.

“A very very naughty subconscious it is, too, Tegan. You should have let it get out more.”

Tegan put her hand down to her thigh and stroked it.

“Here. Let me.” Joss covered her hand, and they stroked Tegan together for a divine few seconds. Joss released her without haste, and Tegan still felt her touch.

She had to run.

Her thighs clenched as she stayed.

“But your subconscious is an excellent hypnotic subject. Receptive, aware, eager, passionate. And very trusting, once you know where to touch it.

“Mmm. If your subconscious were a tangible thing, Tegan, I think I’d like it between my legs sometimes.”

Tegan shut her eyes, because if she looked at Joss anymore, dark eyes and liquid lips and slim curves, she’d be on her knees. Keeping them closed she said, “You conditioned me.”

“Yes. You now believe that hypnosis is the most intense pleasure you can attain. Of course, I took some liberties, and what I’ve trained your mind to enjoy is not the sort of hypnosis that the licensed types prefer.”

Tegan opened her eyes. “I tried to go to one. A hypnotherapist.”

Joss nodded. “I thought you might. You’re very strong. Part of you is trying to resist me. But when it’s not looking, it’s the same part that gets wet thinking about sleepwalking through town to serve me.” She smiled, looking sympathetic. “’Resist,’ which sounds good, keeps eliding to ‘disobey,’ which your inner hypnoslave obediently considers bad.

“But which is, always, another opportunity to yield, and stop resisting, and obey after all.”

Tegan hugged herself. “The phone calls. You were reinforcing me.”

“No, Tegan. Actually, they were just as you remember. Other than hearing the sound of my voice, which just encouraged your naughty subconscious to play back what I’d said to it the other day.”

She shook her head. Phone calls. Phone calls.

Dana.

“What about Dana?” she asked.

Joss put her hand on Tegan’s cheek, and Tegan closed her eyes and moaned. “Dana?”

Joss took her hand away and put it gently between Tegan’s thighs. She waited, looking at her face and listening to her breathe, and began moving just her fingers against the soft skin. Tegan gasped and leaned back.

“Dana is my girlfriend, Tegan.” Joss looked down, admiring Tegan’s legs as she felt them. “I like having a girlfriend. It’s so . . .” She cocked her head the other way. “Normal, I suppose. Someone who can surprise me, keep me waiting.”

“Will you—” Tegan tightened her thighs and forgot how to talk. Joss slid her fingers further up.

“Yes, Tegan?”

Leave her that way? But even as her wits returned Tegan couldn’t say it. She was afraid Joss would just look at her, not needing to ask if she were kidding. What terrified her was that she might not mind.

“The bet,” Joss said, after Tegan did nothing but squirm around her hand without speaking, “is still on. I can still ease away from her, if you can resist me.

She drew her hand away. “But since you came here to beg me to hypnotize you into my obedient thrall, I won’t have to.

“I can be a good loser, Tegan. But I’d rather win.”

Another smile. “It’s all right, Tegan. You may ask, again. I won’t make you beg.”

Tegan looked at her. She thought randomly of being sent back out into the club like a windup toy—maybe she’d be programmed to feel the key turning in her back—to offer herself to women, triggered to submit, perhaps, to anyone in a pink headband with green eyes, or to try to lick the first bare ass she saw in the showers. She thought of standing empty-eyed in front of Tracy and Cindy, while the other cyclists looked on in the cardio room. Intoning that she was Cindy’s reward.

“Please hypnotize me, Joss.” Hypnotize felt like lips against her own. She mouthed it again.

Joss rose gracefully and led her to a narrow weightbench. Tegan straddled it, and then Joss knelt on it in front of her, looking down at her.

She reached forward and took Tegan’s head in both hands, staring down even more coldly and covetously than she had the first time.

Tegan submitted, falling up into her eyes. She waited, with her hypnotist, for Joss’ stare and touch and warm nearness to blot everything else from her awareness.

Before she really knew it, there was only Joss in her mind. Joss said, “You must obey.”

“I must obey,” Tegan told her. Joss repeated it, and so did Tegan.

It thrummed through her. Saying what Joss said. Thinking what Joss wanted. Using her lips and tongue as she was told.

Chanting the truth.

“I must obey.

“I must obey.

“I must obey . . .” She never knew when she’d started to say it by herself.

She never knew how Joss put her to sleep . . .

“. . . your mind is so tense, Tegan. Tense like your body. Relax your mind and your body will follow.

“My voice is like fingertips, strong and gentle and controlling. My voice is inside your head now, Tegan. You have let me in and you feel so good about that because of how good it feels, to sit there and relax as my voice strokes your mind.”

Tegan sighed quietly as it happened to her. Joss’ drone and hiss were pressure and release, rubbing the folds of her brain. Lulling her. In the firm grip of Joss’ voice, Tegan’s brain was softening. It was putty in Joss’ hands, and Tegan squirmed to know that soon they would squeeze, and press, and reshape her.

And she would sit here and relax and submit as her mind was changed. When Joss’ voice left it, her mind would have a new shape that pleased Joss. Away from Joss’ power to soften her, it would harden that way.

Tegan’s mind would become what Joss wanted it to be, and it would stay that way as long as she wished.

Tegan relaxed, feeling Joss stroke her pleasure center and slide it, elongate it into a smooth clitoris that grew into her brain. Her mind was putty and Joss dug into it, her fingertips moving it here and there as it pleased her.

Now Joss’ voice gapped Tegan’s center of judgment, flattening the part of her that had made independent decisions. Obeying Joss in all things, Tegan wouldn’t need to decide for herself ever again. Joss smiled and added putty to Tegan’s pleasure center, the puffy mindclit becoming one of the largest things left in her head.

Tegan moaned aloud as Joss blunted her free will with a thumb, pressing a dimple through the folds where it had been, ridging her brain instead with the whorls of Joss’ thumbprint. Joss had held her new, thicker pleasure center just so and the inner orgasm left her remodeled brain buzzing.

If Tegan weren’t safely locked in Joss’ hypnotic spell like a fly in amber, her orgasmic screams would have brought everyone running.

As it was, she felt her lips part, and a desperate little mew escaped her.

But she forgot it as she felt Joss take away more of her brain, to build the new part that would make her Joss’ utter slave forever. The new center that would be wrapped into her new supersensitive mindclit and slaved to its ecstasy.

An obedience lobe.

“For this, Tegan, I need to put you back to sleep,” Joss whispered, her voice in Tegan’s ears now, as sweet and irresistible as it was inside her skull.

“Yessss,” Tegan sighed, for the sheer joy of agreeing with Joss.

“Because you are hypnotized and very obedient now, Tegan, I can anesthetize you with a command.”

“Yessss . . .”

“Sleep.”

Tegan slept.

Her eyes stayed open, and after a long while or a short one Joss told her to forget her sleep.

Under the obedience lobe’s control, Tegan obeyed at once and looked passively at Joss.

“How do you feel, Tegan?”

She smiled blissfully. “I feel very obedient, Joss. And deeply hypnotized.”

“You look hypnotized,” Joss said admiringly. “It makes you almost unbearably beautiful, Tegan. And so willing to obey me.” Her eyes sparkled as Tegan smiled gently, happy to be so pleasing to her hypnotist.

“So docile, Tegan. When we met, so long ago, so hard for you to focus on now, Tegan, you were angry, and strong. I would need a strong leather harness to subdue you and make you my tame pretty pony to ride.

“Now, Tegan, you are falling into my eyes and having a hard time remembering anything but the need to obey me and be my sweet tame pretty pony. You need no harness, docile Tegan. I can put a ribbon around your neck and lead you wherever I want.”

Tegan shivered, seeing through Joss’ eyes on some dream-estate where she was led out with a strip of pink silk, or a tiny silver chain, tranquil and easy to control.

So tame and obedient another slavegirl could handle her. Tegan would follow anyone who took up her bridle, if Joss didn’t care to play with her. Tegan would be so far under Joss’ spell that she wouldn’t worry. Accepting her Owner’s absence would be as erotic as worshipping Her presence.

And after Joss had altered her thoughts, Tegan would be enough of a slut to dampen at the chance to kneel and lick even another slave.

“You’re in a highly suggestible state, Tegan. You’ve let me deep into your mind, and I’ve seduced you into feeling safe enough to let me move in your thoughts.” Joss smiled, and it was cruel and beautiful enough that it loosened Tegan’s thighs just to see.

“So I am going to brainwash you. You will sit quietly like a good little puppet while I alter your thinking permanently. I will leave some of your identity intact, but what is left will only be able to worship me.”

Tegan might have climaxed. Opening to Joss’ control felt nicer than that.

“I will implant some new truths in you, Tegan. Because you’ve let me in so far, you will be unable to resist them, and I’ve already trained you to want to be controlled.”

Joss laughed, and the contempt in it made Tegan damp again. “And you were such an easy girl to train.

“Now, you will not fight the new beliefs I will program you with.

“What will you do?”

The obedience lobe pulsed. Tegan’s whole being throbbed in answer, but she promised it in the soft whisper of a slavegirl.

“I will obey.”

12.

Tegan awoke.

She stood at attention beside the bench, pleasantly stiff. Arousal made her ache, but to stand still and wait for another’s will made it better. She could move her eyes, and knew where she wanted to look.

Joss sat sidesaddle on the bench, her thighs slanted in parallel, knees chastely together.

Joss was so beautiful.

Tegan breathed deeply, and had an irrational impulse to make sure her hands weren’t floating beside her shoulders.

They weren’t. They were flat against her thighs. She had no desire to move them.

She hadn’t looked away from Joss’ eyes.

She’d awakened but she didn’t remember falling asleep. She knew she had, and it frightened her that she’d slept with this woman watching her. That fear made her all . . . soft inside.

She tried to shake her head at that to clear that nonsense from her head, but then she knew she had no desire to move at all.

Joss would tell her to move.

“You may resume thinking now, Tegan.”

Tegan felt her mind come back on. She gasped.

“You—oh my god. You—” She swallowed. “You got me.”

Joss smiled richly and didn’t bother to nod. Her eyes traveled Tegan’s body casually, an owner savoring newly-bought property she’d enjoy in her own time.

“I’m hypnotized,” Tegan whispered, and twitched as that did something so nice inside her pussy. “I’m under your hypnotic control.”

She was saying it because that turned her on more than knowing it was true. And because she knew Joss wanted her to.

It had happened. Somehow she’d fucked up or let go and allowed this woman into her head. Joss could reshape her now as she chose. For each evil command she could imagine Joss purring into her mind, she could see herself smiling stupidly and moaning “i must obeyyy!”

Joss swung her legs in and stood, walking to where Tegan stood facing the door to the training room.

For a moment, Tegan considered that people might walk by and see her, standing like a daydreaming sentry while a lissome dark-haired beauty gave her a leisurely inspection. It made her legs weak and she wanted to be seen that way.

Then Joss stroked her ass and she forgot everyone else. She held a forefinger up and Tegan knew she must look at it, and then at where it pointed. That easily, Joss pinned her gaze to a point on the door near the hinge. It would take a direct command from Joss before Tegan could look anywhere else.

Her cunt flared to be that controlled.

The hypnotist stood in front of her, close enough that her breath was cool on Tegan’s collarbones. Her eyes were dark suns Tegan couldn’t focus on now.

“What’s become of you, Tegan?”

Tegan panted, as the truth flowed easily up, covering her tongue and the folds of her brain. “You have made me your slave, Joss.”

Saying it made her proud and terrified and horribly, moistly ashamed.

“Mmm.” Joss stroked her hip. “And do you love me for doing that to you, slave?”

“No, Joss, I—”

“There is only truth in your thoughts, slave. You have no will to withhold it.”

Like that, Tegan felt her will to do that dissolve. Joss owned her thoughts.

“I obey, Joss. I hate you.” It was true. She knew what Joss had done to her—had induced Tegan to let her do. It was evil.

That Tegan wanted to climax just to think of it altered nothing. She’d been altered first.

She was utterly helpless. In fact, with a command, Joss could have her assisting in her own destruction.

“I defied you,” she breathed, imagining the thrill of trying. She was feeling the thrill of losing. There were no more chances. Her hypnotist could tell her to forget wanting any. “I challenged your will.

“Joss, what will you do to me?” She squeezed her thighs together, and felt Joss’ fingertips across them.

Joss’ eyes slid across her, taking in her arousal, her fear, how trapped in hypnotic stillness she was.

“What are you afraid I might do to you, slave?”

“I nngh.” Tegan spasmed as Joss touched a breast just so, while drawing her thumb across the nipple. It felt like a low-intensity orgasm, but was only its messenger. She emerged from it madly eager to open herself to her owner.

“I think you might send me naked into the men’s shower. Or brainwash me into forgetting who I am and becoming a prostitute the moment I leave the club.”

“Or—” she stopped with her mouth open. What she saw next she needed to tell Joss, but words just failed her.

Joss closed her mouth for her. “Natural enough. That would be childish of me, though. You were too defiant, and you are too pretty, just to hurt gratuitously like that.

“You’re not just going to please me, slave. You’re going to be useful to me.”

Tegan had an instant of cold clarity.

“Oh . . . no.

“Dana.” She writhed a little but stayed at attention.

“What will you make me do to Dana?”

The fear was different now, and less arousing by itself.

But Tegan was hypnotized, and the fear was never by itself. Wet worship made her pussy itch, the harder she tried to think of her friend.

Joss felt both her hips now, sniffing delicately at her trembling new prize.

“Why ask, slave? To know it will be to want to do it, once you know I will it so.”

Tegan felt dizzy. It felt so good to be this much in her thrall. The guilty flutter in her clit kept repeating as she saw herself succumb to Joss’ commands.

“Who won our bet, Tegan?”

Her name disoriented her again, but not for long. Joss had simplified things in Tegan’s mind when last she’d been inside.

“You won, Joss. You converted me. I am your willing slave.”

Joss looked at her. “I said you’d wake up loving slavery, and not want anything else.

“Do you?”

Tegan thought of the world outside this room, where she had a job and a life and friends, and Dana, whom she’d always protected. All that in Joss’ hand, to be tossed away or crushed at her whim.

Joss could tell her to walk out into that world wearing nothing more than she had on, ever again.

She imagined the pain of obeying, and how she’d beg Joss to let her wear less . . .

“Yes, Joss.” Admitting it, she moaned. “It’s so . . . wrong . . . but . . . but that’s why.”

Joss put a finger against her cleft and she went rigid, mewing uncontrollably.

“I have your body, Tegan, and I control your mind. I’ll adjust that a bit more before you leave this place tonight.

“But it’s your soul that I’ll enjoy taking from you.”

Tegan floated against her finger. “My soul is yours, Joss!”

Joss laughed. “That’s your cunt speaking now, slave. Those lovely lips know what to say. But your cunt isn’t terribly bright—though I might let it control you now and then.

“It doesn’t know about souls. It doesn’t know that the one I can really just walk away with isn’t worth picking up.

“Do you want to kiss me, Tegan?”

Tegan blinked. Joss’ face filled her trapped gaze, her lips as silken and hypnotically supple as when they’d first captivated Tegan.

“Please, Joss. Yes.”

Dana had seen her like this.

Tegan knew she was being allowed to remember her friend again, and that Joss was watching her as she did, and the twisting inside was sweet.

She’d done this to save Dana. Now she was helplessly bound to a monster who coveted Dana for . . .

For whatever she wished to do with her.

For whatever she bade her obedient slave Tegan to help her do with Dana.

Joss’ lips brushed hers and moved away, and now Joss’ lithe body slid against hers, her thighs smooth and cool.

“Do you love me now?”

“Nooooo . . .”

Joss’ lips and tongue sealed it off, and Tegan’s hate for her made her taste even more addictive.

Joss moved against Tegan’s body as she held her, and without her posthypnotic control Tegan would have slid bonelessly to the carpet. She was a lifesize doll that Joss played with shamelessly, and Tegan’s nerves quivered with terror and longing as she thought of things someone could do with an unresisting toy.

The training room door opened.

“Whooooah!”

“Check it—hooh!”

Joss took her time playing with Tegan’s tongue before withdrawing her own and leaning back to look, keeping a proprietary arm around her slave.

Tegan was still locked at attention, and luxuriated in stares she couldn’t return or avoid. She could see the two twentysomething guys from the corner of her eye, and for a couple of her racing heartbeats she knew she might have been able to find them attractive.

“Your, um, girlfriend’s kinda spacey,” one ventured.

“Yeah. Can we watch?”

No. Not attractive after all.

“She’s fine,” Joss said. “I’ve just got her hypnotized. Makes her a lot easier to control.” They both sucked air to hear it. Tegan juiced to be so controlled and unable even to look.

“And no.” Joss chuckled. “You may not.”

“Hey! She’s hypnotized? Can she hear us? You can do that?”

Joss didn’t answer. She just touched Tegan in a way that made Tegan’s world go pale grey for a moment, or maybe a day. Tegan was still at attention when she was aware again.

“Hypnotized. Shit.”

“Wow. She’s hot. She looks like a robot or something. A sexbot. Yeah. A sexbot.”

Tegan was worried, but she was under Joss’ control. The worry wisped away. She stood and stared.

“Shit. My—I mean, shit.

“Hey, could you do that to my girlfriend? Hypnotize her?”

“Yeah. Turn her into a sexbot?“

“Shut up.”

Joss moved her hip slightly, and Tegan’s breathing sped up again.

“What’s your girlfriend’s phone number?”

Even hypnotized, Tegan could feel the pause lengthen.

“Uhhh . . . maybe that’s, I mean let’s not, OK?”

Joss slid away from Tegan and went to the door. She snapped her fingers. “Slave.”

Instantly Tegan stepped forward, going to her past the two males.

“No worries,” Joss told them, putting her hand on Tegan’s ass to guide her out. “I may already have it.”

As they went down the corridor, it was a while before the door closed behind them.

By then Tegan had already been told to forget them.

13.

Tegan’s vinyl microskirt seemed to mesmerize the hostess as she pranced into the restaurant. She ignored the stares of a man and his date but felt them like hot and cold breath on her body. She was thrillingly aware of how close the hem of her microskirt was to the level of her crotch. She didn’t need to bend over in this to flash people—she just had to take long strides.

That was what her red satin panties were for.

She’d parked on the other end of the mall just to show them off by parading down the concourse. She’d needed to check herself out in the shopwindows. She knew the eyes that stroked her as she went were seeing the new short shag haircut, the tight tailored blazer with only skin above the lapels, the excuse for a skirt, nothing but a lot of bare thigh before the heeled patent-leather boots gleaming just below her knees.

But Tegan had been told not to look.

She’d obeyed and grown hotter, and knew the people seeing her were seeing that . . .

But here she was, in the place where Joss had first hypnotized her. Being summoned back here angered her, but it excited her to be reminded of how she’d fallen into the other woman’s power.

She stood there, posing in a away she knew had been burned into her mind, and let the hostess slink up to her.

“I’m here with—”

“Oh, we know, honey.” The hostess savored her. “Come with me.”

“Thank you,” Tegan said, in a breathy voice that made her blush. She heated to the familiar way the hostess put her hand to Tegan’s back to usher her in. She spent the walk through the main dining area, past the staring customers, in an agony of suspense, waiting for the woman to slide her hand down and cup Tegan’s ass. She even knew the sound she’d make.

But the hostess only guided her to the back, where Joss sat in a semicircular booth. The hostess left, and Tegan stood there on display.

She swayed a little. It felt like she was waiting to drift unwarily into Joss’ gaze, but Joss had already hypnotized her. She could take complete control of Tegan with a word now.

Joss didn’t. She just sat there and enjoyed knowing Tegan would obey her anyway.

Then she slid out and unctuously beckoned Tegan to slide into the booth ahead of her. Joss was trim and modest in a dark belted jumpsuit. It showed off her lithe body only sometimes and in hints, unlike Tegan’s whorewear. Tegan felt the stares as her skirt rode up. Her pussy felt like red neon.

She crossed her legs to hide it, and as she saw her thighs shift she realized it just made the microskirt rise higher, showing her hips. Joss slid in and blocked some of the view, and she felt absurdly protected.

Joss put her hand on Tegan’s thigh and stroked it. Tegan’s head spun with that, and with being so close to the woman who controlled her. She looked into the face she hated and dreamed about, beyond caring that anyone who watched would take them for lovers.

“And how are we today, Tegan?”

She took a ragged breath. “I tried not to come here. I tried so hard.” Tegan heard her voice shake even as she kept it down. She saw Joss sip her desperation and had to pour her more. “I told myself I’d wear jeans, and my tweed jacket. But I had to put these on.” She tried to ball her fists but the warm feeling that oozed up from between her legs softened her, and she let one hand fall open to the table. The other dropped beside her thighs, leaving them to Joss.

“You know how deep the posthypnotic commands are, Tegan. Why did you resist?”

Because you’re evil. Because I have to break free before you program me to do something horrible. Because I’m starting to forget why it’s wrong to worship your ass. Because—

“—it makes me so wet when I finally weaken and submit to you.”

The sneer she earned was like a finger in her ass.

“I spent an hour masturbating on my bedroom floor before I could clean up and wear this.”

It always happened, but the thrill of admitting it to her hypnotist was deeper and stickier each time. Now she needed to confess that dreaming about sex with Joss made her hot—but it had been dreaming about stalking around like a windup toy, with nothing but Joss’ commands in her mind, that made her come.

But her owner caressed her to silence. Joss had other uses for her now.

“You came for a reason, slave. Besides the fact that I whistled for you.”

Tegan tensed, and she was more aroused than she’d thought she’d be.

“Did you do my bidding?”

“Yes, Joss.” She looked into the dark eyes. “I obeyed my instructions.”

“Did Dana suspect anything?”

Tegan shivered. “No, Joss. She thinks I’m her loyal friend. She has no idea that I’m a slave to your will.” Talking like that was like stroking herself, and that was only partly because it seemed to amuse Joss.

“She still trusts me completely.”

“Excellent.” The hypnotist waited a bit longer, watching Tegan writhe and rewarding her with fingertips on the softness of her inner thigh. “Then why doesn’t Dana want to experiment with hypnosis?

“Does she distrust me, a little?”

Tegan shook her head. “It isn’t that. She saw a hypnosis show back in college, a little while before we met.” When I was still a free woman. “An R-rated show. She saw a couple of girls peer-pressured into volunteering, and the hypnotist had one of them stripped down to her underwear and dancing. She even let him tell her to take off her bra.”

Joss nodded. She watched as Tegan pictured herself and Dana as the involuntary volunteers, slowly losing their wills and their clothing in front of everyone.

“Dana said her friends told her not to worry—the girl would have snapped out of it if she’d really resisted. They said she just wanted an excuse to be naughty. It happens.”

It was so easy and so bad to repeat it all for Joss. It was like taking her own top off just to please. Dana had whispered this to her, after hours of coaxing, afraid that even the walls might hear it.

“Dana didn’t think so?”

Tegan looked into her hypnotist’s eyes and wondered what Joss could do with a coed exhibitionist. She turned me into her pawn, and I still hate her.

“No, Joss. Well, she believed it, but part of her still felt that the girl had been abused. She said she had dreams for weeks afterward that the guy had implanted suggestions in the prettier volunteers to come to him, like a vampire calling prey.”

Joss sighed and stroked Dana again. “Mmm. A vampire and prey. It’s a very sexual image. Did it arouse her?”

Tegan tried to resist again. There was no point now, and she already knew it wasn’t for Dana’s sake.

Sensing it, Joss stared her down, smiling. “You must obey me, slave.”

“I must obey you,” she rasped, wishing her owner would just reach down to her red satin center and flick her into paradise.

But obedience lasted even longer.

“Yes, Joss. She didn’t want to admit it even to herself, but she has some deep submissive feelings and seeing someone hypnotized brings them out. She’d fight if someone tried to take her, but the ritual of focus and surrender just pulls at her. It scares her. The gentleness scares her. It’s . . . seductive . . .”

Joss leaned close to her and blew softly on her neck. “Very well done, Tegan. You’re such a good slave. I’ve barely needed to train you at all.

“This is very helpful.”

Tegan stiffened. She didn’t know how it would happen, but she knew Dana could be persuaded now. Joss knew what she had to say and avoid, and Dana would believe her fears had been calmed.

She pictured Dana taking one last doubtful breath and then leaning back to trust herself to Joss’ voice. It was easy to see Dana at attention afterward, wearing nothing but the locket Joss had swung in front of her. She could picture Dana standing oblivious as Joss put it around her neck, after Dana’s mind had been trained to see it swinging all the time.

Joss slid her fingers further and higher, and Tegan’s thighs loosened to let her in.

“Soon, Tegan, you’ll awaken to more programming about that. I think the next time I have Dana consider being hypnotized, you’ll volunteer to be a chaperone.”

She grinned as Tegan moaned. Tegan could taste the betrayal already, and it was as addictive as Joss’ honey had been, from the first time she’d let Tegan kneel to lick her.

“I must obey,” she gasped, and nearly came as Joss reached a fingertip almost . . .

Tegan knew there was dew of her own under the red satin, and that the pleasure just now had seared the compulsion into her mind. She would lure Dana into submitting to Joss’ hypnosis, soothe any of her fears and let her think there were two free women there with Joss.

Just thinking about it was making her wet again.

Joss watched her. Soon enough they’d leave, and people would watch the slim dark woman and her microskirted pet glide off to bed somewhere. But Joss knew how Tegan’s soul was leaking out of her, each time Tegan obeyed.

Tegan knew Joss’ patience was endless, and her own ability even to remember anything but how to be a slave dripped away each time she dampened.

After a while, she really would be nothing but Joss’ creature, with no will of her own and no desire whatever to have one. She’d remember it only to thank her hypnotist for seducing it away from her.

Tegan shivered. By then she might think she loved Joss.

But by then she’d no longer be anything whose love mattered.

Quietly, under her owner’s hand, Tegan came.