The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Don’t look up. It’s bright and cold up there. Keep going down.

She went down. It was all she’d done for days—not that time meant anything here.

The force pushed her along whenever she got stuck; it was soft but impenetrable, and it wasn’t so much a physical thing as it was the essence of inevitability. She was free to think whatever she wanted, as long as she kept going down.

She thought of Celia and Celia appeared, materializing out of the black.

Celia kissed her neck and leaned her back. They floated as if underwater: suspended, naked. Olive hands ran up the backs of her thighs and she shivered, wrapping her legs around, holding on for dear life, and her arms floated weightlessly, her upper body sinking, but Celia put the other hand on her lower back and held her up without even trying. The fingers traced lines from the backs of her legs to the front, then up and she gasped, her hips moved, and all the rest of her was useless, but it didn’t matter: she gave herself to the woman, completely.

The fingers slid into her and found her; blue sparks went off behind her eyes and she spasmed, floating in the nothing, then Celia pulled her up so their chests could touch when she did it again, then she did it again, and if Allison hadn’t already been “asleep” then she probably would have been unconscious by the time it ended. But in here that didn’t happen, and Celia brought her back, letting her recover so they could talk.

I think I’m lost, Allison looked up at her. I don’t know where I am. I can’t get out, Celia. Something’s holding me down. Help.

Shh, Celia said, and kissed her.

I’m at Todd’s apartment, I think... it’s off Main street...

I can’t hear you, sweety. You’re just imagining me. But the real me, I’ll find you.

Hurry... I don’t know how long I’ve been like this... every minute I get more lost... every time I try to get out I slip and fall deeper. I don’t know how long... I don’t know how long I have until there’s no more me left. Please come, please...

Shhh...

Beep.

“Hi Allie.” Long silence. “So. I know. I know this is stupid and obsessive, still calling you after two days. I must sound like a crazy woman.

“Just let me know you’re ok. If you don’t want to talk to me then send me a text, an email, whatever, you can tell me to fuck off, that’s ok, I just want to know you’re all right and I won’t call again.” The voice rasped; it sounded tired, sick.

“If you’re worried about me trying to make you come home... I would never do that. I just want to know you’re ok. Please.”

The display on Allison’s phone lit, showing the number of the missed call. Todd looked at it. Whoever it was had called five times in the past two days. Only a mother or a lover calls someone that much.

Something occurred to him. Someone who calls that much might also, say, report Allison missing.

“Allison, whose number is that?”

She lay on his couch, her head back against the cushions. She didn’t respond.

“Allison. Open your eyes.”

She did. They pointed at the ceiling. He held the phone in front of them.

“Whose number is that?”

“Celia’s.”

“Who’s Celia?”

“Celia’s why I get up in the morning.”

He almost slapped his forehead. No, he almost slapped her. Talking to her when she was like this was like trying to get the time of day from a cat.

“No. I mean, is she a friend of yours? You go to school with her? Who is she?”

“My girlfriend.”

He resisted the double-take.

I knew it. I always knew she was a dike. She never did appreciate my moves.

Then again, hot. He’d fucked a lesbian. Cool.

He hadn’t done it with the New and Improved Allison yet, the one who had walked out of the motel room the other night—he didn’t want to push her too far too fast. There’d be plenty of time for that later. But he was looking forward to it.

“Huh. So you have a girlfriend who calls you five times a day.”

Actually, that was less than hot. That was dangerous. People who call each other that much, who are that close, are dangerous to delicate situations like the one he was in. They’re unpredictable. They might do anything from calling the state police, to hanging up posters all over town, to kicking down the door wielding a chainsaw. Mothers and lovers are dangerous people. A chainsaw wielding lesbian, he could handle. The state police, he couldn’t.

Something else occurred to him.

“Is she the reason you called me? You have a fight or something?”

“Yes.”

That was good. That’s the first thing the police ask when you call in a missing person. Oh, so you had a fight and now they won’t call you back? Yeah. Come back next week.

“How bad was it? Break-up bad?”

Allison started to cry.

“Hey. HEY. Turn off the waterworks. This is important. What happened?”

“She made me think I thought something I didn’t think and then she made me remember it and then I slapped her and then I left,” she choked.

“Ok. Stop it. Think about something else. Allison. You’re back in the dark place.”

She stopped crying but her chest still hitched. It was maybe a motor response; her body couldn’t shift gears as fast as her mind.

Made you think something you didn’t think, eh?

“Your girlfriend. Does she ever... you know... make you do that thing where you fade away, like you are right now?”

“Yes. But not like you.”

Hah. Still the king.

“She’s a symphony. You’re just a ring tone,” she went on.

His face turned red.

Whatever. She was in dikey little dike love. She’d been too long without a man.

It explained a lot, though: how quickly Allison had gone under this time, almost as if she’d done it herself. It had become easier with her, over the years, ever since that day when he’d first found her staring at the TV as he recited baseball stats. Staring through the TV. She was a special girl. He’d recognized it and used it. But it had never been like this.

If it happened that fast now, it meant that this Celia was also a special girl. The other kind.

He thought that he would like to meet this special girl.

Todd didn’t understand what his talent was or even how it worked; he just knew that it did, on a few rare people. He’d gotten it from his father, and he didn’t know that either.

His father had been a traveling preacher, and he’d lived with him until he was four years old. He remembered the man, of course; but, it was in that childish way that doesn’t quite understand or care what the details are. He remembered churches without knowing they were churches; he only remembered looking at the wooden bench in front of him.

His father had been a traveling preacher and he had been a good one. He could whip the crowd into a frenzy: shouting, singing, falling in the isles, screaming

Hallelujah!

and keep the tension up through the whole sermon, leading them with every word, calling people to the front to be healed, and when he touched them they really were “healed”, at least for the rest of the day, and he’d shout

Hallelujah!

and the crowd would nearly fall into themselves, they weren’t themselves, they were one, all seeing the same glowing thing that he brought to life before them, and when they left they glowed too, and they all felt like they’d witnessed something special.

And if that isn’t mass hypnosis, what is?

Todd had inherited that ability, both genetically and from his earliest memories. He could paint pictures in people’s minds, and he could sense which people would be receptive to it.

He also didn’t know where his father had gone that day when he was four, sitting in a motel room watching Looney Toones; he only knew that he’d never come back. Where his father had gone was prison. He’d used his talent on one too many choir girls who were just south of legal. The motel manager had found Todd a day later, hiding behind the bed, crying. He’d gone to social services and that was that.

He’d inherited that talent, the one his father used on the girls, too.

When he’d met Allison, something had clicked; he could see the paths in her mind, and they were as familiar as the lines on his hand. He could lead her down them, to places so faraway and tangled she couldn’t get back out on her own.

He’d been stupid to let her go the first time. It wasn’t going to happen again.

Celia watched the door.

She’d had some free time as of late.

Most of it had been spent ogling the egress, but she’d gotten some things done, too. She’d been helping Shannon remember little things, bits and pieces.

First, the girl had to remember that Celia even existed. That was a pretty important one, yeah. She’d gone way overboard on that. Now that it was done, it was nice, very nice, to be able to talk to her like a normal person again. Brainwashed drones are seldomly witty.

She’d even let Shannon remember the fight with Allie, and that it was about hypnosis. Well, some of the fight. The parts about Shannon were still missing reels. Shannon didn’t remember anything about any of her trances, but she now remembered everything else, and that was a good start.

It had to be baby steps. Celia thought that the girl was getting close to being ready for the rest. She still planned to tell her someplace on the ground floor, though.

“Because little girls can’t fly!” she shouted at the door. The bottle was almost empty.

It had been two days since Allie had gone. Well, two full nights and one full day. The second day was beginning. Celia had only left the chair to use the bathroom and eat, and she’d been doing the latter less and less.

There was a knock at the door. There was a knock at the door! Celia leaped across the room in two large bounds and tore it open.

Shannon. Celia looked at her, swaying. Not Allison.

“Hey, Celia,” she said after a few beats, when the expected greeting didn’t happen. She wasn’t offended. Celia looked like a ghost.

“Hey freshman.” She walked back to the chair.

“Is everything all right? I heard... noises. There was banging, and I thought I heard you shouting last night, and this morning, and, um, just now.”

“The sink is stupid,” Celia confided. “Spoon got stuck in it. I had to bang it.”

“Ok...”

Celia went back to watching the door.

“Allie isn’t back yet?”

“Nope. She’s gone. I’m a douchebag.”

“You’re not a douchebag.”

“Sure I am.”

Shannon looked around at the apartment, at the bottle, and at Celia.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“No rest for the wicked.” She cackled. That one was pretty funny.

Shannon sighed. You move to a new city, you try to make friends, and you end up with two crazy lesbians and that dude from English class who only ever wanted to talk about Tolkien.

She crouched beside the chair.

“I know it’s none of my business, but, if she does come back, do you want her to see you like this?”

Celia didn’t answer.

“It’s not like she won’t wake you up when she does.”

Maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll just collect her stuff and go while I sleep, and then I would have missed it. Maybe she could sleep in front of the door. That wasn’t a bad idea. But what if the phone rang and she didn’t hear it?

“And that,” Shannon motioned to the bottle. “It’s ten in the morning. You should at least drink some water with it or something. You’re going to make yourself sick.” She reached for the bottle, which looked like it was about to drop out of the tan hand anyway.

“Shannon, I like you. You’re a together gal, and you have nice hair. But if you touch that bottle, you and me are going to have a problem.”

“Ok. Ok. Look, give me a call if you need anything, or come down if you feel up to it, all right? Any time. Getting out would be good for you. Ok?”

Celia didn’t answer.

“Ok?”

“All right.” Her eyes left the doorway for the first time since she’d sat down. They looked at Shannon, sort of. “Thanks, freshman. You’re not so bad for a freshman.”

Shannon smiled and turned to leave.

A soft thump came from behind her as she opened the door. She turned around. Celia had passed out. The thump had been the heavy glass bottle hitting the carpet. There wasn’t enough left to spill.

Shannon went back in, picked it up, put it in the cabinet.

She had a strange affinity for this woman, even though they hadn’t known each other for that long. She liked Celia, of course—she was funny and smart (usually), but it was more than that—there was a kinship. They were cut from the same cloth in ways she didn’t quite understand. She only knew that it bothered her to see this.

She found a blanket in the closet, draped it over Celia, and left quietly.

Downstairs, she called Allison’s cell from her own phone. No answer. It went to voicemail. She frowned at the phone.

The afternoon burned away. Todd took Allison to an ATM and had her withdraw five hundred dollars: the maximum her bank allowed in a day, from an ATM. He’d taken the receipt and looked at the balance as they drove home.

Oh yeah she could be useful.

He just had to train her a little bit more. He was learning how to talk to the new Allison. When they got home she made him lunch and did the dishes. Emptying out the bank account, that might take another day. But she was coming along. The new Allison came along so much easier than the old one.

You’re in a dark room. But it’s cold. You have to go deeper, into a lower room.

The next room is too small. You want to go deeper.

The next room is perfect, comfortable, and your mind rests there, but the floor opens up and you fall deeper...

It was like telling a bedtime story. It was so easy. When he got bored, he had her do it to herself for a while.

He looked at her, lying on the couch with her head back. Her neck looked so vulnerable like that that; she really was a helpless kitten. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath; they pressed against the thin shirt. His Allie, she was never all that top heavy, but she was perfect for her build.

He sat down next to her. Her body bent towards the heavy indentation he made in the couch. She was liquid. It was so feminine, the way her hips bunched up and her legs drew together as their weight sank towards him. No, she wasn’t too small, she was perfect.

The hell with it. Who cares if she’s ready. He was ready.

He ran his hand along the bottom of her breast and remembered what they looked like: pink and white, just like the rest of her.

Something latched onto his wrist and tightened.

“You know how in the stage hypnotist shows, sometimes they have someone stand with their arms straight out? And they tell them, ‘Your arms are like iron, your arms are like steel’, and then, they have someone try to pull them down, and they can’t? They can even hang off of them, and the person won’t budge. People can be stronger than they are. I could teach ya.

“If you were ever in trouble, I could make it so that you literally hear my voice and become strong.”

“Ow?”

It was Allie’s hand. It squeezed like a vise. Her fingers dug into his wrist. OW. She wasn’t that strong, what the—

Her other hand came up, almost too fast too see, palm upwards. It struck his chin. His head snapped back; he literally saw stars. The hand carried through, right through the air where the rest of his head had been.

He scrambled backwards off of the couch, landing on his ass. Allison’s hands dropped back to her sides.

“What... the fuck... was that?”

“If I’m in danger, Celia makes me strong.”

“You weren’t in danger, dollface, we were just having a little fun.”

“If I’m in danger, Celia makes me strong.”

Yeah, he got that part.

If his head had been at a slightly different angle—if his chin had been a little more to the left instead of the right—that blow would have knocked him out cold. He’d felt it. Not possible. She weighed nothing. But it had happened.

Yeah, he wanted to meet this Celia cunt.

He thought about coming at her from a different angle. Maybe if he came at her from behind, grabbed her wrists, overpowered her. Bent her over the couch. It might work. She was dead to the world for Christ’s sake. But his bruised chin had reservations. Not worth it, just for a little tail.

Let’s get this straight. She’ll do anything you tell her to, if you word it right, but she turns into the fucking bionic woman if you try to cop a feel?

Apparently.

What was the point of having a hypnotized chick around if you couldn’t fuck her?

He breathed hard, fuming. Maybe if he told her to tie herself up, to the bedpost. Face down, of course—Allison’s knees suddenly looked like dangerous weapons. But he hesitated. She’d been like a wild animal for those two brief seconds. What if she did something while he was inside her to hurt him? Bent her hips violently to the side or something. He didn’t know what, he just knew that he was quite fond of his penis and didn’t want it damaged.

He’d have to tie her legs too, and high up, so she couldn’t move too much. This was all seeming like a lot of work just for a little bit of tail.

Screw it. He could just drug her. Todd had all sorts of stuff for that; his cabinet was a pharmacist’s wet dream.

He left the room to go sort through his bag of tricks.

Celia snapped awake, again; her eyes went to the clock. Four hours, she’d slept for four whole hours in that chair. Four whole hours Allie might have called. Her heart skipped a beat as she checked the phone, but there were no calls.

Her fingers dialed Allison’s number almost as an automatic response.

“Open your mouth, Allie.”

The pink lips parted. The glass touched them.

Her phone rang.

Goddamnit. He checked the number. Same number, again; it had been the only number, except for one different one earlier in the day.

He had to answer this time. Mothers and lovers are dangerous.

“Hello?”

“... who is this?” A woman’s voice, deeper than most. It sounded like she’d been up all night smoking cigars and playing poker. It was ragged.

“Who is this? You called me.”

“I called Allison.”

“She’s not here. She went out for a bit.”

A beat. It was the sound of Celia putting the entire situation, all of the last two days, together in one moment.

“Hello, Todd.”

“Hello, Celia. Nice to finally meet you. Allison told me a lot about you.”

“Put her on the phone.”

“I just told you, she’s not here. She had something to do with school, I don’t know.” He kept it vague; he didn’t actually know anything about her academic life.

She hesitated.

“Maybe she did. If you didn’t let her out once in a while, people might notice she’s missing. Right?”

He laughed.

“You’ve got some nerve, girly. You broke the girl’s heart. She needed some comfort.”

Celia winced.

“She came over here, we patched things up. It’s been like old times. We’re thinking of getting back together.”

“The next time you lie to me, I’m calling the police.”

“What makes you think I’m lying? You two did have a pretty big tiff, right?” Right? Oh shit, had that just been some fantasy of Allison’s? You couldn’t listen to her when she was like that, she didn’t know what was real.

“Yes, we did.”

He sighed with relief.

“So? It that strange then? Going back to an old lover?”

“She’d never go back to you, not like that. She might go back to you for other things,” and we both know what I’m talking about, “But she would never go back to you as a lover. So if you want to lie about it again, just know I’ve got 9-1-1 on speed dial.”

Well, that certainly gave a new color to the situation.

“And tell them what? Your girlfriend left you?”

“I’ll tell them you kidnapped her, drugged her, anything. I’ll make something up. Anything to get the cops at your door. Because I have a feeling,” she drew the next words out, “that you are someone who doesn’t want the police at their door. I’m thinking you’re the type of person who might already have a criminal record.

“In fact, I’m thinking you’re the type of person who might even have a warrant out for you as we speak. Maybe you’re on parole. Maybe it’s nothing. I don’t know your last name so I can’t look it up. But there’s something, and I’m willing to make that one little call just to find out.”

His face burned.

“Here’s how this is going to go. She’s doing something for school? Fine. It’s 2pm. If I don’t hear her voice on the phone or see her on my doorstep by 6pm, I’m calling them, and I mean that I’m not going to wait until 6:01.

“And if I find out you hurt her in any way—if there’s the littlest scratch on her little finger—or if I find out you’ve touched her at all—and I will find out—I’m calling them. I don’t care if it’s a single torn thread in her shirt, I will call the national guard to report that one fucking thread.

“Are we clear?”

His heart ran; he didn’t let it show, though.

“Whatever you say, dollface. She’s a free woman, though. What if she isn’t back by then? Or what if she is and she doesn’t want to talk to you?”

“That’d be a shame. Tell you what. I’ll call them just in case.”

“Fine. It’s been so nice meeting you, ma’am. I can tell you’re a real laid back gal.”

She hung up. Across town, her hands were shaking.

Todd looked at the phone, breathing. She knew. Allison must have told her. No, no. If Allison had told her about his run-ins with the law, Celia would have mentioned them specifically. She’d just been guessing.

He had the lonely realization that he wasn’t important enough for Allison to have talked about him that much.

When he’d been with Allison it’d just been small stuff anyway. Couple of arrests. Happens to a lot of young guys. The sentences are light because you have no record. But the record does begin to pile up.

After he’d let her go things had gotten worse. He’d always gotten his money from his girlfriends. Hell, he had at least four others on the side when he was with Allison alone.

But he’d had trouble finding... special girls like Allison for a while there. He’d needed money. Got caught stealing. That was one more thing for the books. Did a short amount of time—in county. Not state, not federal.

Got caught again, that’d been more time. And it was really hard to find girls to give you money when you were in prison. Boy howdy.

It wasn’t such a strange way of life. Nowadays, well—there were so many women with jobs and careers. Statistically, a certain percent of them would be looking for what he had to offer. It would have been hard to pull off his lifestyle in the 1800’s. Not nowadays.

He wasn’t going back. Next time it would be state. Next time it would be ten years, maybe more, depending. He was on his fifth strike. In some states, you only get three.

But he couldn’t let Allison go. He didn’t have any money left. The apartment wasn’t even his; he was just squatting there. He had nothing, nothing.

And even if he let her go, who was to say this crazy Celia bitch wouldn’t call the cops anyway? Mothers and lovers are dangerous.

He needed her. She was an angel sent to him in his moment of need.

There’s a storm coming, Allison.

Clouds formed in her quiet place. She could see them. They looked black and heavy and dangerous. The force painted the picture in her mind.

There’s a storm and it’s a bad one. It’s a hurricane and a tornado all in one.

Her brow furrowed as she watched it.

It’s going to kill anyone in its path. And it’s headed for town.

She made a little noise.

We’re safe here. It’s ok. That’s what tornadoes are like. They hit a few buildings then disappear. This building is safe.

Celia’s isn’t.

Allison’s head tossed to the side. Her hands worked.

It’s going to come through and hit only a few buildings, but it will completely destroy them. Celia’s will be one of them.

She’s going to die, Allison.

“No!”

The police and firemen are stupid, they don’t believe a tornado would hit here. They won’t help. No one will.

She’s going to die unless you save her.

Her chest hitched up and down.

You need to get her out of that building. You need to bring her here, where it’s safe.

“She won’t... she hates Todd... I hate Todd...”

Then you’ll have to make her come.

“I can’t... she’s stronger than me...”

I think you can, if you want to save her bad enough.

Allison whined. Her eyes rolled beneath the lids.

Celia’s very headstrong, isn’t she?

“Yes...”

If you tried to convince her, she might think something was up, and make you sleep. Then you’d both die.

You can’t let her do that. You can’t let her make you sleep. You need to find a way to bring her here without letting her put you to sleep.

It’s just for a few hours... just until the storm passes.

Allison’s nails dug into her hands. Her head tossed on the couch.

She’ll die, still thinking you hate her. That’ll be her last thought.

“No!”

Good.

The knob turned. Celia stood in the middle of the room, holding the phone to her chest, and then the door opened and then there was Allie.

They looked at each other. Celia was afraid to breathe, afraid to move. Her eyes said it all. The moment stretched out.

Allison ran across the room to her, threw her arms around her, and Celia’s stomach did that thing that people do when they hear a not guilty verdict. She swayed. She was afraid to say anything.

They stood like that for a long, long time. Their cheeks pressed together.

“Rule number one,” Allison said in her ear, “no trances. Not yet. Not until I ask.”

“Of course, of course, anything, I’m so sorry—” At that moment, if Allison had asked her to cut off her own thumbs, she would have.

“Shh. Let’s not talk about it right now. Can we not?”

“Ok.”

She looks like the survivor of a plane crash, Allison thought. She kept her chin on the woman’s shoulder to keep the worry from showing. Celia felt weak in her arms.

“We can talk about it in the morning. Can we just go to bed now, for a little while? You look” like you’ve been trapped in a mine shaft for two days “like you need rest, and that’s probably my fault, and I just want to not think about it for a while.”

“Anything you want.”

Allison put an arm about her waist—it started as a gesture of affection, until she realized that Celia might actually need it. She held tighter as they walked to the bedroom.

“But I should... you let him put you in a trance right?”

“Yes,” Allison looked down.

“I want to check to make sure he didn’t do anything to you, baby. Hurt you, or touch you, or anything. I promise, that’s all I’ll do.”

“Later,” Allison kissed her cheek. “It can wait.”

They dropped into bed, wrapped up together. Celia fell asleep almost as soon as her face hit the pillow.

They napped. Celia woke some time later to Allison’s hands, rubbing her shoulders. It was heaven.

“How long were you in that chair? You’re all knots, head to toe.”

“Oh, I dunno... little while,” she smiled into the pillow. She leaned to the side, looking up. Allison’s hands guided her back down.

“Shh. You’re always taking care of me. Let me take care of you for a little while.”

The hands kneaded her lower back. Whatever she wanted. And if she wants makeup sex and you’re not in the mood, well, you will GET in the mood, soldier.

She felt Allison’s thighs on her lower back and ass as she climbed on, straddling her.

Allison’s hands worked; sometimes she kissed the places that she rubbed. The hands went up Celia’s sides, across her shoulder blades and shoulders, down her arms, even reaching under the pillow to do her forearms and hands. She felt Allison’s breasts against her back. That touch, in the palms of her hands, was heaven. Allison kissed her ear.

Then the hands were on her legs. Allison bent herself backwards, kneading Celia’s thighs without turning around. The two women looked like a sculpture: Allison arched her back so far that her hair touched Celia’s ass as she reached back to do the calves. Then back up. Then the hands left her.

Celia felt lips against her ear again.

“I love you,” Allison whispered.

“I love you too—”

And then something was over her face, covering her mouth and nose. A towel, or part of the blanket or something.

Celia lifted her head up. The cloth came with it. There was pressure. Allison’s other hand was on the back of her head, holding it.

Allie? The sound that came out sounded more like “ahhee?”

Then she smelled it: heavy, thick, a chemical but almost sweet. It burned her lungs.

ALLIE? She gripped the hand that held the cloth. It was immovable, a rock.

“You always take care of me. I’m going to take care of you.” The voice trembled. “I’m going to take you someplace safe, out of here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Celia’s heart stopped.

She forced the air out of her lungs.

She understood in an instant what had happened. He’d tricked Allison, made her think that they were in some kind of danger.

She squeezed the hand, pulled with all her strength. It didn’t budge, not a millimeter. The pale limbs were like steel.

You can make her strong.

No. The hand on the back of her head wouldn’t let her get up. Her shoulders were pinned to the bed. She screamed triggers through the cloth with her remaining air. They came out as unintelligible grunts. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen.

If it had been another attacker, she would have dug her nails into the hand, or reached back and tried to gouge their eyes out. But this was Allison. She didn’t know what she was doing. Even if she had known what she was doing: Allison.

Celia drew her knees up, lifting the both of them off of the bed and throwing them sideways. The motion carried through and their positions reversed: Allison on the bottom, Celia on top. Her legs kicked into the air.

That was worse.

She needed to breathe.

“It’s ok,” Allison was crying. “Don’t fight, baby.”

I know. It’s going to be ok because I’m going to make it ok. I’m so sorry I got you into this.

You should have been able to tell something was off about her. You weren’t paying attention. You were too busy being glad she was back.

She kicked her legs out and apart, pinwheeling them like the stuntmen do in the movies, causing her whole body to lurch up and twist. Her head twisted out of Allison’s grip and then her feet were on the floor. She sprinted for the door.

Just get enough space between you to talk her down—

But then the world turned sideways and so did she. Her shoulder crashed into the heavy dresser and she spun, landing on her ass in the doorway, facing back in. She blinked, dazed.

Breathed too much of it. Fifteen seconds from the lungs to the brain.

Use a trig—

Allison was on her again, pressing the cloth over her face. They fell back to the carpet, Allison on top.

Too slow. You’re thinking too slow. Breathed too much.

Should have used a trigger right away. You’re not thinking right. Breathed too much.

She grappled weakly with the freckled hand. It wasn’t going anywhere. She looked up into Allison’s eyes just in time for a tear to land on her nose. Allie looked terrified. Not of Celia, but of whatever she thought would happen if she didn’t win.

Celia’s eyes softened.

Don’t cry. I’ll fix it.

She reached up and placed her hand on the back of Allison’s neck.

Nothing happened.

That’s Shannon’s trigger, not Allie’s. You’re starting to mix things up.

Her arm flopped to the carpet. She couldn’t remember how to work it anymore.

“Just go to sleep, baby,” Allison sniffed.

Celia’s eyes drifted to the ceiling. It seemed to be getting father away.

“Allison, get off of her.”

They were in Todd’s apartment, in the bedroom. Celia lay on the floor, tied, unconscious, and Allison was wrapped around her.

“Get up.”

Allison didn’t seem to hear him. Her arms were tangled around her sleeping lover’s body and she didn’t hear him. She reminded herself not to squeeze too tight. Celia could barely breathe for herself right now, and if she squeezed, it might suffocate her. She hugged Celia’s arm instead.

Goddamnit.

He was losing control of her. Just having her dike lover in the room did it. She didn’t listen to half the things he said and she only looked at Celia.

Bitch was unconscious yet she was still controlling the situation.

“Allison, I need you to go to the store for me.”

Alison kissed Celia’s shoulder.

He couldn’t get her to do anything, not like this. He’d tried dragging her off once and she’d freaked, hitting him, tearing at his skin, biting him. She’d bit him. With her fucking teeth. That were used to eat things.

He could make her do almost anything: empty her bank account, do the dishes, kill the prime minister of who cares what country, but if he tried to touch Celia she turned into an animal, and he was convinced that, when she was like that, she didn’t even understand English.

“Allison. Allison. I need to go out for a few minutes.” He’d planned on having her do this part but that was clearly not happening. “Do you understand? You need to keep her safe while I’m gone.”

Yes, she understood that, for sure.

“It won’t be long. But you need to do some things. Are you listening?”

She nodded, her forehead rubbing against Celia’s arm.

“No matter what, you cannot untie her. If you do she’ll make you sleep, and you’ll both die. Why can’t you untie her?”

“She’ll make me sleep... and she’ll...”

“That’s right. It won’t be much longer. To keep her safe, you need to not untie her. Do you want to keep her safe?”

Allison didn’t answer. It was a stupid question.

“You can’t un-gag her either. If she can speak, she can make you sleep. And then what will happen?”

Allison shook. She knew what would happen.

“That’s right,” he said. “That’s what will happen. You can’t untie her and you can’t ungag her.” Go ahead and keep nuzzling her shoulder like she’s a big fucking teddy bear though, what do I care.

He looked them over. There was no doubt. Allison wouldn’t do either of those things. She might be unpredictable—especially when she was around this chick—but she wouldn’t do either of those things. She was Kosher. His Allie, he could read her like a supermarket tabloid.

He left them. He had to run to the liquor store. Not pleasure this time; oh no. This was all business.

He knew exactly how to get rid of Celia.

It had come to him when he’d walked into Celia’s apartment to carry her out. The place had smelled of liquor. Bourbon. Good stuff. He’d spent some time poking around. Maybe Celia wasn’t a drinker, but she’d been a drinker those past few days.

It was oh so perfect. He was going to buy two bottles of vodka, put a tube down her throat, and pour it in.

How many college students die of alcohol poisoning every year? He didn’t know, but he was betting a lot.

How many were investigated?

Now: if it was investigated, what would Celia’s friends and neighbors say? Had Celia been drinking a lot lately? Well, actually, yes, it wasn’t like her, but yes...

How much?

Well... a lot.

College student, seen drinking a lot recently, shows up dead of alcohol poisoning on someone’s lawn. Do they call the FBI for that? No, they do not. They call the family, comfort them, and bury the bitch.

Celia swam upstream to consciousness. It was rough going. It pulled at her, pushed her back. She sank, but part of her mind struggled.

She had a headache. Her mouth was dry. It pushed her back under.

Her eyelids parted but she couldn’t see. It was hot. She was wrapped up in a hot blanket. Air came into her lungs and she breathed.

Her eyes tried to focus. The blanket was pink and heavy. A knife stabbed between her eyes: the headache again, real this time, because she was awake. She closed them, tried to gather herself.

She opened them. Her eyes focused. The blanket had freckles.

So that’s why it smelled so nice.

Hey, Allie, she tried to say, but something was in her mouth and then she remembered and her head snapped up. It startled Allison, who lay beside her, facing her, one arm draped over her neck.

Celia couldn’t move her arms. She looked down. They were behind her, tied. She yelled into the gag, pulled with all her strength; her entire upper body flexed. The muscles in her shoulders and neck stood out.

“Shh... don’t do that baby, please, you’re going to hurt yourself...” Allison kissed her cheek but her voice trembled.

She couldn’t move her legs either; they were tied, ankles and knees, with duct tape, and bent at the knee. Something was attached to her ankles that was also attached to her wrists, so that she couldn’t crawl or hop away. She kicked; it bent her entire upper body backwards. She squeezed, trying to snap the bonds; she had strong legs, a dancer’s legs, but it wasn’t enough.

Allison’s arms were around her, on her wrists, trying to keep her from hurting herself.

ALLIE, she screamed into the gag. WAKE UP.

She screamed once more out of frustration then quieted, her chest heaving.

Smart. He’d used tape, which wouldn’t bruise like rope could. Smart. She was glad that she scared him enough to go to all the trouble. Her head dropped against the carpet. She looked up.

Allie.

Allison brushed the hair out of Celia’s face and fixed Celia’s top, looking anywhere but her eyes.

Look at me.

She did.

“Don’t look at me like that, please,” she sniffed.

Celia looked at her. It wasn’t angry, or scared: she just looked.

“Stop it!”

Celia didn’t.

“It’s just for a little while, just until the storm passes, I promise, and I know you’re mad but I’d rather have you mad than dead so please don’t look at me that way, please.”

Celia’s eyes softened.

So that’s what it is. A storm. Creative.

She leaned forward as best she could and put her head against Allison’s chest.

It’s ok. Don’t cry.

But the absurdness of the gesture, of Celia, bound and gagged and helpless, trying to comfort her, made Allison cry.

“Ok, that was ridiculous,” she laughed, wiping her nose.

Celia smiled, or tried to. She would have laughed, but the gag made it hard.

So, read any good books lately?

She looked around the room, craning her head to see behind her. There. By the bed, a phone on the end table.

Allie.

She looked from Allison to the phone.

“I’m not supposed to use the phone, something bad will happen...”

But he didn’t say I couldn’t use the phone, did he?

She bent her hands up as far as she could, so Allison could see them. She looked from her hands, to the phone, to Allison.

“I don’t know...”

She could see the gears turning in Allie’s head.

On one hand, she was terrified of what would happen to Celia if she got loose, but on the other hand, those big brown eyes looked up at her and they weren’t even scared, they were Celia’s eyes, and they looked at her.

“Ok.” She got the phone. “But baby... you can’t... you can’t talk, what are you going to do?”

Celia’s hands opened and closed.

Just put it in my hands.

She felt the plastic in her palm.

The front door opened. Allison spun.

If you fuck this up and dial 411 instead, you aren’t going to live for the rest of the day.

Her fingers searched, found the button with the raised dot on it. That’s 5. But her hands were becoming numb with the bonds; she couldn’t tell which end of the phone was up. That’s the corner button, up and left, but is that the 1 or the 9?

There were noises outside as Todd dropped some bags.

Feel for the antenna! She couldn’t, it stuck out into the air somewhere and she could barely move.

Todd came in, saw Celia, Allison standing beside her. The phone was behind Celia’s back, where her hands were; he couldn’t see it.

“What’s going on?”

Celia took a chance and dialed. It was 50/50 she’d gotten it right or wrong. Then she dropped it.

“Is it gone? I want to let her go,” Allison said.

“Not yet. Soon.”

Allison knelt down next to Celia.

“I need some time alone with her, Allie.”

“Stay away from her.” She lay down and put her arms around her lover.

“It’s just so I—”

“NO!”

“Ok,” he said, but he smirked. Celia saw it. He left the room.

Why is he smiling?

Allison clung to her. She breathed (less easily now that she was wearing a redheaded straitjacket). What was he doing? It was quiet out there.

Five long minutes passed, then he came back. He was holding a syringe.

He looked at Celia, grinned, and put a finger to his lips. Shh!

ALLIE, TURN AROUND.

She bucked her entire body, screaming into the gag. Allison only held on tighter, her face burrowing into the crook of Celia’s neck. Celia flexed her entire body, trying to get an inch, anything.

He crossed the room and knelt by them.

ALLIE LOOK UP!

He leaned over Allison. Her cute little ass was aimed just the right way. But he frowned as he got closer.

“What the hell is this?” He snatched the phone from behind Celia.

Something heavy pounded on the door.

“Police,” a deep voice shouted.

Oh, shit.

It was ok, he could answer it, say he called on accident, make Allie play along—

Celia screamed through her nose.

In the movies, when someone is gagged, they can’t make any sound at all; someone can be in the next room and not even hear them. In real life, when someone screams through their nose, it can be loud. It was loud.

The young officer in the hall was only four months out of the academy, but he knew when to kick a door down.

It crashed inwards.

The worst part was the paperwork.

They’d made Celia go to the hospital, just for observation. Standard stuff. The redhead had ridden in the ambulance; the paramedics hadn’t been able to get them apart. Preliminary questions were inconclusive. The redhead was hysterical—she’d actually almost attacked the paramedics, until the other girl had whispered something to her. It was ok; the medics and officers were unfazed. Some of them had seen stuff like that before.

It was the same way in the hospital. They were supposed to be in separate rooms but they were both in Celia’s room, on the bed: Allison in Celia’s lap, her legs around Celia’s waist: Celia’s arms around Allison’s waist: Allison’s arms around Celia’s neck: their cheeks pressed together.

“I know it’s been a long day, but we need to talk to you two alone,” the detective said. The brunette was in much worse shape but she was the only one that responded to him, so he talked to her. “Alone as in without your friend—just for a few minutes. We just need to get a handle on what happened.”

“She’s not my friend,” Celia said without looking up.

“She’s not? Well... oh. Oh.“ He looked at them. Their limbs interlocked like puzzle pieces. He walked out.

“Give them a minute,” he said to the officer by the door.

“The exam’s done. We need to talk to them, Joe.”

“I said give them a minute.” He disappeared around the corner.

The officer watched the girls talk through the glass.

“And then Rick says, ‘Here’s looking at you, kid’.”

“That’s where that line came from? Why didn’t we ever watch that?”

“I tried to get you to watch it but you have some phobia about black and white movies.”

“It’s not a phobia, grayscale just makes me nervous.”

They sat in their entwined, almost yoga-like position.

“They’re going to ask you a lot of questions,” Celia said.

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to have to lie. They can tell; it’s what they do for a living. If they think you’re lying about something they’ll just ask you more and more and then... I don’t want them to think you kidnapped me.”

“But...” Allison wiped her nose on Celia’s shirt. “...I did...”

“They don’t need to know that. I want to make you forget that part, just for now, just until it’s over. Can I?”

Allison looked at her like she was crazy.

“What are you waiting for?”

Oh. That kind of crazy. Heh.

“Wrap your arms around my neck tighter and put your chin on my shoulder, so if someone walks in when you’re under, they won’t notice anything.”

“Well I was gonna do that anyway.”

Questioning was conclusive. The brunette said he’d attacked her in her apartment—chloroform breaks down in the blood quickly, but they’d gotten to her soon enough that it had shown up in her blood test.

The other didn’t remember anything. She said he’d grabbed her in her apartment, then she didn’t remember anything until just before the police arrived. Nothing had shown up on her blood test, but lots of things can cause that: a blow to the head, drugs, even traumatic stress.

They had a police witness to a girl tied up on the floor, a syringe in his hand, a cabinet full of drugs that would have made Hunter S. Thompson weep, and a record as long as your arm. The girls wouldn’t even need to show up in court. Open and shut.

An easy week of nothing passed. New England did its thing and got beautiful.

The next Sunday, Shannon saw them out on the lawn. Allison was walking around on the grass in her bare feet; Celia was sitting cross-legged and reading a book. She went over and sat down. They watched Allison.

“So, you guys are ok then?”

Allison’s hands darted; she caught something, ran over to them with her hands cupped.

“Check it out!” She opened them. “Butterfly!”

It was, indeed, a butterfly. It flew away.

“Pretty much,” Celia said. Allison dropped into her lap. ”Oof! Give me some warning before you do that!”

“Are you saying I’m getting heavy?”

“No! I just need a second to prepare myself before there’s girl in my lap!”

“Think she’s ready?” Allison looked at Shannon. Celia did too.

“I think so.”

Last week Shannon would have said “Um?", but she was getting used to these two. You never knew what the hell they were talking about, but it was fun to listen to anyway. She raised her eyebrows.

“Can I do it?” Allison asked.

“It won’t work if you do it. Has to be me.”

“Aww. You have all the fun.”

“Well I couldn’t have her keel over every time someone touched her there! What if she was making out with some guy and he had his hands in her hair or something? The girl’s got nice hair. It’d happen eventually.”

Ok, now Shannon said it.

“Um?”

“C’mere,” Celia winked at her.

Shannon rolled her eyes and leaned over, then her eyes closed as the cinnamon hand touched her neck.

“Can I at least hold her up?”

“Fine! Just get ready, I don’t know if she’s gonna bolt again. She doesn’t look it but this girl can run.”

Allison got up and held her, pursing her lips. She looked like the world’s tiniest linebacker. Shannon’s head rested against her chest.

Shannon’s eyes opened.

“I had no idea you guys were so kinky,” she said.

“She seems different. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Allison watched the girl, who had seemed so small before, strut down the walk and out to the street. Her hips swung like a runway model. She didn’t know that someone who was only 5′2″ could do that. You had to be like, 5′10″ at least before your weight would do that.

“She is different.”

Allison looked at her.

“It wasn’t anything that I did,” Celia held her hands up. “It was all her. If you really want to know, Shannon’s a top.”

“So you taught her some stuff?”

“I didn’t teach her anything dangerous. I taught her how to find the kind of guy she’s looking for, whether he knows it or not.”

“Eh. I mean, how do you know she won’t...”

“I don’t. It’s her life, sweety.”

Shannon turned the corner, her long hair flowing out behind her.

“Do you really want me making her decisions for her? Because I can.”

Allison kissed her.

“No.”

They sat in the sun.

“I’ve been thinking, and I want to do something,” Celia said. “I know you might not trust me—”

“I trust you.”

“—and I can do something where you’ll never have to worry about it ever again. Remember how I protected your mind against people like Todd? How I locked them out? Well, I’ll do it again, except this time, I’ll lock myself out too. I’ll never be able to get back in. You’ll never have to worry about it, ever. We can do it someplace public, with witnesses, if you want—”

“Cut it out. I trust you.”

“—and so you’ll always know I’m not... I’m not... I mean I wouldn’t, but, so you’d be sure.”

“No.” She took Celia’s head by the cheeks. “No. I want you in my head.” They kissed. “But there is something else I want.”

Celia looked up. Anything.

“I want you to make me forget.”

“What, about Todd?”

“No, who cares about him. He’s nothing. I mean about us, our fight. I want to forget the whole day.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“You know we’ll be happier.” It was the truth.

“No.”

“It may be the only way for this thing we have to go on. I’m serious.” Also the truth.

“No.”

Allison smiled to herself. That was right right answer, four times in a row.

Something big and soft tackled Celia. She was being hugged by a redhead.