The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

They were both right. Cindy had feared that the encounter would change them … and it did. However, she was forced to admit that she and Betty were, if anything, even closer friends than before. Betty had sworn that this would be their only sexual encounter … and she was as good as her word. She continued to help Cindy with the housework three or four days each week so that they could spend more leisure time together … they even had another Sunday outing. She continued to be a bit of a slave-driver in the workout room … and she DID increase the speed on the machines … although Cindy found that, even though the periods left her gasping and drenched, she could STILL manage to finish the cycles without stopping.

But now, even though their time together was never spent in the act of sex, Cindy found that the topic of sex was ever more in their conversations. Betty wanted to know how Cindy’s newly denuded pussy was received by her two lovers, and she had to relate the encounters in excruciating detail. Daddy had found her so irresistible that he had licked her to two crashing orgasms … the first time that Cindy had ever experienced multiple climaxes. Even Pablo had been insistent on performing orally … and when Cindy explained that encounter, Betty had commented that he had raped her with his tongue … an observation that probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

But the real topic of discussion was Betty and her newly discovered proclivity toward lesbianism, for she now had little doubt that was the direction in which her love life must proceed. Neither girl had any experience with the tender dalliances into Sappho’s art, and so they engaged in a lot of “what if’s” and various other forms of pure conjecture. They surfed the internet, but found that most sites were pornographic in nature. Betty didn’t want masturbatory fantasy … she wanted to find the real thing; but if there were any bars or social organizations in the city that catered to lesbian interests, they didn’t seem to advertise.

Cindy certainly couldn’t go bar-hopping with her; not at her age. And so, even though Betty longed for her friend’s companionship in her quest for finding a potential partner, she started spending more and more time just going out. She would often leave in the late afternoon and not return until near midnight, most often after Cindy was already asleep in bed. It made her friend nervous. And it made Stepmother almost frantic.

During the second week of these little outings, Cindy began to notice that her “mental conditioning” sessions were changing. Over the months, Cindy had been putting herself into trance by setting and starting the metronome, and then simply allowing herself to sink down and down and down into the familiar state of being that was a wonderful dream-like condition she had rapidly become addicted to. She looked forward to these moments … she desired them with an almost sexual intensity. She never remembered what Stepmother had told her when she was in her trance … and more than once, she had noticed afterwards that her ears were rather damp with sweat and her hair had been pressed in on the sides, indicating that she might have been wearing headphones … and so, she decided, Stepmother’s hypnotic instructions to her might have been recorded in advance. Perhaps she was simply re-living the same trance state over and over again. However, each time she awoke from these sessions, she felt alive and happy and energetic.

But now, she found herself struggling up from the depths of especially profound levels of sleep … like trying to awaken after taking a sleeping pill. She had the strange impression that she and Stepmother had been arguing about something, and this left her feeling disturbed and uncertain. Finally, after having awakened from what she somehow knew was the deepest trance she had ever experienced, she asked in meek supplication what the matter was. Stepmother seemed to be pouting, but finally appeared to give her a weak smile.

“I have discovered a willful streak in you, Cindy. It bothers me exceedingly.”

“Willful?” Cindy pondered aloud. “Stepmother, I will do ANYTHING for you.”

“Will you tell me what you and Betty talk about while you are together in her room?”

“Oh my,” Cindy exclaimed aloud, looking troublingly down at her hands on her lap. “You … you want me to … to tell you what has been said to me in confidence? You want me to act as a spy against your own daughter?”

The woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “You … um … have a way of making my request sound rather sinister.”

“Oh, Stepmother, PLEASE don’t make me do that! Betty is the only real friend I’ve ever HAD!” Cindy took a deep breath. Her eyes were threatening to spill over. “Can I just tell you that she is trying to work out her problems? That I think she’s going to be okay? I really, really don’t think that she’s going to run away … not any more. But … but if she finds out that I betrayed her …. Oh, please don’t make me!”

“She’s been home for more than four months now,” Stepmother groused. “I AM going to find out why she dropped out! I AM going to help her! Why does she confide in YOU and not in ME? And what could be so onerous that you … who I thought I had broken completely to my will … won’t answer a few simple questions about her, even when I take you to the deepest levels of hypnotic control?”

Tears were streaming down both of Cindy’s cheeks now. “There’s NOTHING onerous! But Betty is my sister! She’s my FRIEND!”

“Sister?” The word seemed to physically shake the woman. She sat back and regarded Cindy in new light. “Sister?” Cindy couldn’t make herself look up. She tried to silently command her tears to stop. “Alright, Cindy,” Stepmother said quietly. “I’m sorry I upset you. You may leave now.”

And Cindy fled. She tried to find Betty, not really sure what she was going to say. Somehow, despite all the openness and honesty she shared with her, she had never actually TOLD Betty that she was being hypnotically controlled … that most of her actions, sexual or otherwise, had been directed through a sort of consensual mind control. But Betty had gone out again, leaving a note in Cindy’s room that she was going to meet up with some girls she’d met the previous week, and together, they were going to some bars downtown. She would be back late, the note said. Cindy finished her daily chores, worked out alone, and tried to listen to Daddy at dinner as he talked about some old British stamp he had won on an online auction. She resolved to read her novel (another of Stepmother’s romance books) until Betty returned, but she kept nodding off. She stripped off her robe and climbed into bed, where she immediately saw her metronome in her mind, and just like always, she was instantly asleep.

The next morning, Betty rushed into the dining room while Cindy was pouring the skim mild on her cereal and hugged her. “I’ve FOUND her, Cindy!” she squealed, jumping up and down in girlish excitement. She was still wearing the clothes she’s had on the day before. She stopped and looked around nervously. “Can we go up to my room? Can we talk?” Cindy looked forlornly at her breakfast, but smiled and followed her friend upstairs.

“It’s her!” Betty cried as soon as the bedroom door was closed. “Absolutely! Beyond a doubt! Cindy, I’m in love!”

Cindy grasped the girl by the arms and led her to the bed, sitting down next to her. “I believe you! Tell me!”

“I met these girls last week, and we had a few drinks, and so yesterday, one of them called me up and they all wanted to go out again. And so, we had a drink in the Hyatt bar downtown, and then we left and we went to this upscale bar next door … I don’t even know the name of the place … some yuppie pub that had ferns hanging all over the dining area, and I spotted her on the other side of the room, and she was with a bunch of girls, too, and she looked up and our eyes met. Have you ever seen West Side Story? It was like that, honest to God! And I got up and she got up and we walked toward each other and we met in the middle of the room. And I said: ‘Hi, I’m Betty.’ And she said: ‘I’m Juno.’ And ….”

“Juno?”

“Yeah, like the city in Canada. And ….”

“Alaska. It’s the capital of Alaska.”

“Whatever. And we sat down at a table that was open … right there where we met … and we both ignored the girls we were with. And we just talked and talked and talked. And Cindy, she’s so SMART! I mean, she’s got a degree in Electrical Engineering! But the job market being what it is, she’s only got a job as a tech support person for some big software firm downtown. But … oh, Cindy, I don’t know what to tell you next! She’s fucking PERFECT!”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong next,” Cindy hinted quietly.

Betty paused and seemed to shrink a little. She regarded her friend almost shyly. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Cindy paused a few seconds. “What is it, Betty?” she asked tenderly.

“Damn, girl, you can see right through me, can’t you?” Betty fidgeted and wrung her hands together.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably all in your mind,” Cindy said calmly. “Nothing is ever as bad as you think it is.”

“It’s pretty bad.” Betty took a deep breath. “She’s black.”

Cindy couldn’t help it. She barked a loud, single laugh before she could stop herself. “You mean she’s African American?” She smiled askance at Betty. “Are you out of your mind? This is the Twenty-first Century! This is OUR generation! Nobody gives a shit about race anymore!”

“Louisville is in the South, honeychild,” Betty said bitterly. “Or it THINKS it is, anyway. And oh yes, it does matter. You should have seen the girls I was with! You should have seen the girls SHE was with! They all sat there scowling at us. One of the gals I was with came over and confronted me … wanted to know what if I was going to come back and sit with them or stay there and make sweet-talk with the black girl … only she didn’t call her black, if you know what I mean.”

“What did you do?”

Betty reflected for a moment and shrugged. “I hit her, of course.”

Cindy grinned. “Of course.”

“And then Juno and I got out of there, and we went to another bar down the street. And we just talked and talked forever.”

“And did anybody give you any shit in THAT place?” Cindy wanted to know.

That made Betty pause. “No.”

“That’s because: IT. DOESN’T. MATTER.” Cindy said, punctuating each word. “And, it’s red-neck bigots that REALLY don’t matter. Ignore them. Love matters. Is it love, Betty?”

The girl smiled. “Oh yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then I’m really happy for you.”

Betty seized Cindy’s hand and held it in both of hers. “Oh gosh, I can’t even explain it! We split a sandwich and we had a couple drinks, and then I told her that I wanted to take her to a hotel room; and she got all nervous and smiled and said that she’d never ever done anything like that before; and I told her that I hadn’t either, except that I’d kissed my stepsister because we were best friends and I just wanted to see what it was like; and I think that maybe she was getting a little tired of hearing about YOU, because I’d already mentioned you more than a few times; but anyway, we went to the big hotel next door and I got us a room; and we went upstairs; and she just stood there while I undressed her; and then we kissed; and oh, Cindy, it was just PERFECT! And she didn’t know what to do; and I didn’t know what to do; and we just kissed and touched and caressed and stroked and nibbled and licked; and she makes this funny little noise when she cums; and her body just seemed to melt into mine; and she was almost frantic because she just HAD to please me sexually, but she didn’t have a clue what to do; and God, she’s so fucking CUTE!”

“It’s going to work out, Betty,” Cindy said encouragingly.

The slender brunette shrugged. “We’re like those two families in Romeo and Juliet.”

“The Montagues and the Capulets?”

“How do you KNOW all this shit?” Betty said admiringly. “First geography and then lit. Anyhow, I’m afraid we have a forbidden love.”

That made Cindy laugh out loud. “Give me a break! There may be a few religious wackos out there hung up on the lesbian thing that might call it ‘forbidden,’ but only social Neanderthals still worry about race, trust me.”

Betty sighed. “Whatever. It doesn’t really matter. She says her mom is going to freak. Hell, MY mom is going to freak!”

Cindy shifted nervously. “And speaking of your mom … Betty, you have GOT to start talking to her. She’s really, really worried about you. She’s asking about why you left school … but I don’t think that’s actually what she’s concerned about. She’s concerned for YOU! For your happiness! You don’t have to TELL her anything … but if you don’t start TALKING to her pretty soon, she’s going to flip!”

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s time to bury the hatchet. It’s just that her idea of happiness is two ex-husbands, pre-nups that pay big, and the freedom to go get porked by somebody else.”

“You think she has a lover?” Cindy asked, shocked. That had never dawned on her.

“Oh, you’d better believe it. I don’t know who the guy is … somebody she’s been seeing for a long time, I bet. Probably since before husband numero uno. She’s been sneaking out at night for as long as I can remember.”

“Wow.”

“Okay, I’ll go talk to her. Juno and I are meeting again tonight. I can’t WAIT!”

And so it was that Cindy’s routine changed yet again. Betty was busy with her newfound love, and so cleaning duties were lonelier, as were her afternoon workouts. The hour-long sessions in Stepmother’s office went back to their old custom, as well, since now mother and daughter were speaking again, at long last. There didn’t seem to be any substantive communication going on, but oddly, that didn’t seem to matter. They were pleasant, and that was enough to establish an uneasy contentment. Three times per week, Cindy had sex. In the evenings, she sat and tried to keep herself interested in her novel, and she wondered what the characters in the book were getting that she was not. Something was lacking, she felt. The sex was most certainly satisfying … it made her body shiver and tingle. She liked the men she was with, even though they were so amazingly different. And, at the end of each day, she would get up, strip off her robe, and crawl into bed, only to be plunged into her hypnotically-induced slumber until morning and the start of another day.

And then … catastrophe. Juno had shown up for one of their trysts, and she had told Betty that it was over. She had evidently confided in her mother, and the woman had come unglued. Betty didn’t know if it was racial or the sexual orientation of the affair or simply the idea of sex at all. It must have been a horrible argument, for Juno (according to Betty) had been so upset that she seemed on the verge of emotional collapse. In her angst, Betty had insisted on driving Juno and confronting her mother along with her, but that had not ended well at all. In fact, Juno’s mother had met them on her front porch with a loaded shotgun. When last Betty had seen her one true love, Juno was crying hysterically at her mother’s feet, screaming at her lover to leave. Now, Betty was certain that her love life was over forever.

In the following week, Betty stayed mostly in her own room, moping and crying. She refused to eat until Cindy and Stepmother had joined forces and taken a tray to her room, refusing to leave until she had eaten something. Stepmother still had no clue that her daughter’s lover had been another woman … but, Cindy reflected, it didn’t seem to matter anymore, now that the relationship was over.

It is important, in this, the next portion of our tale, to realize that the idea of the masked ball was Stepmother’s, and hers alone. Neither Cindy nor Betty knew what had prompted her to start making plans for the affair. And anyway, it wasn’t really a ball … or even an actual party. There were to be only three guests, but Cindy was never made privy to any further plans, other than the cleaning of the main library in the south wing of the first floor. Stepmother DID press Betty into service for the event, and oddly, the girl seemed to come out of her melancholy shell and support the matter in the end, though she was rather unenthusiastic. Cindy asked her friend for details, but now even Betty refused to let her become involved in any way.

Betty and her mother spent a few hours in the woman’s private office, discussing this and that. Phone calls were made. Pablo was sent to a costume shop to pick up hanging bags and wrapped parcels, and later, he was also given the task of fixing the hors d’oeuvrs. The event was set for Friday night. Thursday, Cindy tackled the library … a room she had only been in twice before, since it was one of those odd places that nobody ever used, and so it was never actually in need of cleaning. She vacuumed, dusted and used furniture polish on the various library tables. The worst task of her tenure here, in her opinion, was the dusting of the books themselves. To her, it was as if she were an underpaid cashier who was forced to handle large sums of money, knowing that none of it would ever come her way. She loved books … longed for books … possessed an emotion akin to lust for books. The only volumes she was actually allowed to READ were those “loaned” to her by Stepmother; and their choices of genres were evidently vastly different. Cindy sighed and tried not to read the titles she was dusting, hoping only to finish her task and leave.

And still Betty seemed to be avoiding her.

The afternoon of the next day, things really started getting frantic. Daddy seemed to have no knowledge that anything was happening in his household at all. He spent the day in his Stamp Room, doing whatever it was that he did all day. Pablo pouted. This was his day to take Cindy sexually … usually in his room. But now, his duties preempted this luxury, and he was busy in the kitchen the entire day. Cindy stuck to her schedule, altering it only to include two of the downstairs bathrooms, a sitting room and a den, none of which had ever been used during her tenure there. She was told to forgo her daily workout in order to include the extra tasks. Then, after dinner, Stepmother told her to go and bring Daddy to her office. He seemed peeved to leave his stamps, but answered the summons without comment. Cindy was surprised, moments after he had gone in and closed the office door, to hear the metronome clacking away at what she now recognized as his special rhythm. The goal of this occurrence was evident; he would sleep while the party was going on downstairs.

The doorbell rang about eight-thirty while Cindy was bringing up the laundry from downstairs, and since no one else seemed to be around, she went to the door and answered it. A tall, slender blonde in tight halter and miniskirt stood on the threshold, looking around. “Ho-lee shit, will you look at this place!?” the blonde exclaimed, stepping into the foyer, her eyes wide. She turned to Cindy. “Do you LIVE here!?”

“I work here,” Cindy said calmly. “Can I help you?”

“Are you alone?” yelled Betty, walking down the big stairway. “Where’s the other one?”

The blonde shrugged. “I don’t know. She might be late.”

“What do you mean, late?!” Betty screamed. “I thought you two were coming together!”

“Well, we didn’t,” the girl said defiantly. “Am I going to go to this party like this?” She held out her arms to indicate what she was wearing. “You have some sort of costume, right? Where do I change?”

Betty gave her a sour look. “Follow me!” she ordered, and led her up the stairs, Cindy following with the laundry basket.

“Hey,” the blonde said, walking along. “Do you guys have any blow? You know … just something to take the edge off?”

Betty groaned. “No, we don’t have any blow.”

“In a place like THIS? What? You can’t afford it?”

“We don’t have any blow!”

“Alright! Sheesh! What a grouch!”

At the top of the stairs, Betty pointed. “Third door on your left. The costume is on the bed. I’ll come and get you in forty-five minutes. And your friend had better show up soon!”

“She’ll be here. Don’t get your shorts in a bunch!” The girl disappeared into one of the spare bedrooms.

Betty turned to Cindy. “Listen, baby sister … I know you’re curious about what’s going on here. It’s a really bizarre plan that Mom thought up … and I just sort of went along with it because … well, because I didn’t have anything else to do tonight, I guess. But my one and only stipulation was that YOU were not to get involved. Mom agreed, and so that’s that. I promise I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything, scout’s honor. You okay with that?”

Cindy reached out and took her hand. “Sure, whatever you say. I hope you have fun tonight.”

Betty gave her a thin grin, then turned and walked down the hall to her own room. Cindy sighed. She carried her load of laundry to the maid’s closet and deposited it for tomorrow’s chores, then went to her room, stripped, put on her robe and sat down to read. An hour later, she heard a car on the driveway and went to her window to see what the commotion was. Three guys, each of them dressed like Robin Hood, were getting out of a sleek Mercedes sports car, laughing, yelling at one another. It looked like it was going to be quite a night, she decided, and she honestly hoped Betty would have a good time. She was on her way back to her chair when Stepmother rushed in, a look of panic in her eyes.

“Cindy! You’ve GOT to help me! Can you? Please?”

“Of course, Stepmother. I’ll do anything you want! What’s the matter?”

“One of the girls didn’t show up! It’s VITAL that there be another girl at the party! Can you? Can you, please?”

Cindy looked uncertain. “Betty said I wasn’t supposed to attend. Is it okay with her?”

“I’m sure she’ll understand. There simply is no other way to make it work! We’re out of time! Come with me! Hurry!” The woman literally ran out of the room and down the hall toward the other wing of the building. Cindy didn’t wait to change. Still wearing the light robe, she sprinted after her. They wound up in the spare bedroom the blonde had used to change. Spread out on the bed was a harem girl’s outfit: pants of gauzy, see-through material that was only slightly more translucent at the crotch, and a top that was little more than a sequined bra, also made of a flimsy material that would leave very little to the imagination.

“Hurry!” Stepmother pleaded. Cindy unfastened the belt of her robe and shucked it off, letting it fall to the floor. Stepmother gasped. “When did you do THAT?” she asked, pointing toward the girl’s nether region.

Cindy blushed. “A month ago. Betty helped me. We did it again last week.” She picked up the pants, which were obviously meant to be worn without panties, and began pulling them on.

“Sisters,” Stepmother muttered. She shook her head and stepped back to observe the girl getting dressed. “My gosh, Cindy, what’s happened to the pudgy little girl who came here four months ago?” she queried wonderingly.

Cindy blushed and started working on the top. “Oh, Stepmother! This is NEVER going to fit!”

The woman hurried to her and groaned. “It was done with a special fitting for the other girl. Oh! We’ve got to make up at least three inches before we can get it on you. Wait right here!” and she rushed out, only to return thirty seconds later with a couple safety pins and a piece of satin ribbon that didn’t even come close to matching the garment’s color. She struggled with it behind Cindy’s back. “There!” she said at last. “I don’t know how long it’s going to hold. Try not to breathe!”

There were no shoes to the costume. The final phase was a mask which was so elaborate that Cindy had to sit in a chair while Stepmother worked for two full minutes getting it on. Cindy’s hair stuck into the back of the affair, hiding it completely, and then the mask came over the top of her head and covered her face down to her nose. It latched on either side, so that nothing would allow it to come off without first working to release the latches, and then unwinding it from her face, head and hair. Cindy looked at the finished product in the mirror. It was an owl mask, replete with colored feathers, and it covered the top of her face and head so completely that there was absolutely nothing that gave any clue as to her identity. The last step was the application of bright red lipstick.

“You are to leave the mask on at all times. Understand? Now, hurry!” Stepmother urged, leading her out of the room and down the stairway. At the door to the library, she paused. “Stay here!” she ordered in a harsh whisper, and she ran in the direction of the kitchen and returned with two glasses of pink liquid. “Drink this! Hurry!” she urged, thrusting a glass into Cindy’s hand. She didn’t hesitate. She drank two gulps, paused to accustom herself to the harsh taste, and then took two more swallows, finishing it. It left her gasping a little. “Good girl!” Stepmother said, beaming. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Stepmother.”

“Good. Now, do exactly as you are told. Men will touch you. Allow it. Men will want to have sex with you. Do whatever they want. Understand?”

“Sex?”

“I’d better prepare you,” the woman declared solemnly, and in one smooth motion, she pulled something out of her sweater pocket and held it up in front of the girl.

“Oh my,” Cindy said softly, staring at the dangling crystal.

“Relax, my little pet. Relax for me, and stare into the crystal. See only the crystal. Hear only my voice. Relax … submit … surrender … obey … obey … obey. Say it, Cindy.”

“Obey,” Cindy muttered in a faraway voice.

“Good girl. You are feeling very good now, because I put something in your drink. You will be relaxed tonight. You know that you are going to have sex with each of the men in that room, but you accept that. You will do that. You will do whatever anybody tells you. You will obey.”

“Obey.”

“Good girl. And now, wake up!” and Stepmother snapped her fingers.

“Oh my,” Cindy said, blinking.

“Here! This is your second drink. The other girls have already finished theirs. Sip it slowly, but finish it, alright?”

“Yes, Stepmother. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

“Good girl. Now, in you go!”

Stepmother opened the door, and suddenly Cindy was in the room. She staggered a little, and only just kept from spilling her drink. The others hadn’t noticed her yet, and kept talking animatedly at the other side of the room in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace. The three Robin Hoods were there, and Cindy now saw that they were of three distinctly different sizes, ranging from about five-feet six-inches, to well over six feet in height. The tallest one was lanky. The shortest one muscular. All wore masks that covered their faces very effectively, like her own, and she couldn’t even discern their hair color.

The two women in the room were dressed exactly like she was herself; the same diaphanous pants, the same skimpy top, the same owl mask that hid their identities completely. At last, one of the girls saw her and broke away from the group, coming toward her rapidly. “It is about-fucking-time you showed up, slut!” the sexy owl said. “What in the name of almighty hell kept you?”

“Betty?” Cindy asked meekly.

“Cindy?! What the fuck are YOU doing here?” She put her hand to her head. “Oh, no. You are NOT getting involved in this! That was my ONLY condition! She PROMISED me, damn it!”

“The other gal didn’t show,” Cindy explained in hushed tones.

“I don’t give a flying fuck!” Betty hissed. “I’ll call the whole damn thing off! I am NOT getting my little sister involved with ….”

“Tina!” the other sexy owl cried, walking up to them. “I thought you were going to Aspen with that fashion photographer! What made you change your mind?”

“I … um ….” Cindy stuttered.

“Hey, Tina, you got any blow? These tightwads got nothing! I mean, what kind of party IS this, anyway?”

Betty took Cindy’s drink out of her hand and gave it to the other girl. “Here.”

“Oh, gee … thanks! This is some kind of great shit! I don’t know what’s in it, but … say, Tina, did you get your breasts done? You are NEVER going to get fashion work with gazoombas like THAT!”

“I … uh ….”

“Wheeee!” the girl shrieked. She had just been grabbed around her bare waist by the mid-sized Robin Hood and spun back toward the fireplace.

“Hey girls! Come on back and join the party! We’re just getting started!” the guy slurred.

Betty spoke up: “Um … could you give us a minute, Robin … you big stud? We girl owls have to … uh … powder our beaks.”

The guy guffawed and dragged the other owl back into the fray. She was gulping down the contents of Cindy’s glass.

“Aw, fuck, Cindy. I can’t believe you let yourself get roped into this,” Betty moaned.

“What’s happening?” asked Cindy. “What’s this all about?”

“These three bozos are the ‘Three Musketeers.’ Ever hear of them?”

“No. And the Musketeers were French. Robin Hood is English,” Cindy commented.

“Shit, girl! Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“Um ….”

“The ‘Three Musketeers’ are the most eligible bachelors in Louisville. Each of them is filthy rich, they all went to the same high school, they all went to the same college, yada yada yada. One is the son of the owner of the largest thoroughbred stables in the whole metropolitan area. One is the son of the biggest coal mining mogul in the state. And one is none other than The Prince, himself.”

“Prince?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘The King of Carpets?’” Betty asked.

“The guy on all the TV commercials?”

“Yep. The largest flooring manufacturing and sales outfit in the Ohio Valley. Well, one of those goons is his son. Believe it or not, ‘The King’ actually named his son ‘Prince.’ Of course, the old man croaked last year, leaving Princey Boy with a gaboodle of money.” She paused and shook her head. “Anyway, dear old Mommy got the idea of having them all come here for an orgy.”

“Orgy?”

“Sex, baby sister. The three of them are going to have sex with the three of us. That’s the hypothesis, anyway. Mommy Dearest’s plan, of course, goes a step further. In Mom’s deepest, darkest fantasy, one of them becomes so enamored with little old ME, that he pursues me, weds me, and sets me up financially for life! Get it?”

“Betty,” Cindy groaned. “You don’t even LIKE men!”

Betty’s shoulders slumped. “Cindy, if I can’t have Juno, it simply doesn’t matter anymore.” She shrugged. “Guys. Gals. There’s no difference without her. My one true love is lost and gone forever.” She paused. “Sorry, I’m a rambling here. Mom spiked the punch.”

Cindy reached out and put her arm around her friend’s waist. “I’m feeling a little funny myself.”

“One was enough for me,” Betty explained, hugging her back. “I gave my second one to the Blonde Bimbo, too.” Cindy giggled in response. “Okay, baby sister,” Betty sighed. “I tried. I failed. So … welcome to your first orgy. Try not to fuck it up.” She brightened. “Hey! I made a joke!”

Cindy came to think of the Three Robin Musketeer Hoods as: Small, Medium and Large. Since she didn’t have access to more intimate information … at least not yet … she based these descriptions on height only. Large, she decided, was dumb … or at least, not very witty. Medium was loud, obnoxious, and clearly the leader of the group. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was making up for some other inadequacy with his brash and condescending tone. And Small was quiet. Very quiet. He seemed out-of-place, nervous, ill-at-ease. She found herself feeling sorry for him.

The most embarrassing episode of the evening occurred early … right after Cindy had joined the group. Medium was all over her almost immediately, touching, petting, feeling. She simply smiled and tolerated it, just as Stepmother had said she should, though the harem girl who was Betty seemed decidedly ill-at-ease and wanted secretly to play mother-hen. Eventually, he tired of Cindy’s non-responsiveness, though, and turned his attention to the girl Betty had dubbed ‘The Blonde Bimbo,’ who was now feeling no pain whatever. They all stood around watching as Medium told yet another fantastic story of daring and chivalry while simultaneously feeling up his new sex interest, when suddenly, Large brazenly stuck his hand down the back of Cindy’s pants and squeezed her ass. Cindy jumped and squealed, her breasts bouncing due to the sudden movement, when both of the safety pins holding her top let go simultaneously and bra, ribbon and pins scattered under extreme pressure, freeing her large breasts for all to see.

A cheer went up from a couple of the guys, and while Cindy was busy looking for the various parts of her makeshift top, they quickly decided to get the party moving at a faster pace by demanding that the other two girls ease the discomfort of the third by voluntarily removing THEIR tops, as well. This suggestion was finally put to a vote, but since the Blonde Bimbo had (in a fit of drunken revelry) already removed hers, the act of voting was moot. Cindy stopped struggling with the too-small garment, and Betty reluctantly removed hers as well. Medium and Large were really getting into the feel of the evening now. Cindy found her waist surrounded by Tall’s strong arm, and he absent-mindedly traced a finger across her breasts as he recounted an episode that had occurred during a fishing trip the previous week. Medium was beginning to get very confidential with the Bimbo, who was giggling almost uncontrollably now. Small had wandered off to the other side of the room by himself.

“Hey, Big Boy,” Betty said, somehow insinuating herself between Large and Cindy. “Why don’t you tell ME about that fishing trip. I LOVE fishing!”

The tall Robin kept looking from Cindy’s breasts to Betty’s. Physically, he had made his choice … but this new, slender woman would at least listen to his story, he finally realized … and so he switched allegiances and set Cindy free. “Thank you,” Cindy mouthed silently to Betty, and she quietly backed off from the pair and wandered over to where Small stood alone.

“You don’t seem to be as enthusiastic as your buddies,” Cindy said.

He shrugged. “I always thought this was a bad idea,” he complained in a low voice. “I’m sorry if I’m being a party-pooper, but I really get tired of apologizing for those screwballs. They act without thinking, sometimes. Most of the time, actually.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I wish I hadn’t taken that damned drink. It had something in it!”

“I know what you mean,” Cindy replied. “I feel funny, too. I gave my second drink her.” She pointed.

“Well, that explains a lot,” he said, glancing at the masked girl making out with Medium. She could hardly stand on her own, and she was pressing her body against his with obvious passion. “I think they gave us guys a little something extra,” Cindy’s companion complained, blushing while he adjusted his trousers. “The number one party drug in the world now is Viagra or one of those other drugs like it.”

Cindy smiled. “I’m sorry about speeding things along,” she told him. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen. This outfit wasn’t designed for me, and it’s way too small. I’m just sort of a stand-in.”

He regarded her with a lot more interest now. “You’re a stand-in for an orgy?” he asked. “What made you do that?”

She blushed. “I’m helping out a friend. The truth is, I’d do just about anything for her.” She paused. “You ought to know about that … being a Musketeer, and all. Or a Robin Hood, as the case might be.”

“The idiots couldn’t even get it straight between French heroes and British,” he complained. “They STILL don’t get it!”

Cindy swept her hand toward the bookshelves. “I’m sure we’ll find Alexander Dumas here somewhere,” she said smiling. “AND various British authors who wrote about the Locksley’s. Maybe we could explain it to them.” She looked across the room at the others. “But on second thought, maybe they all have something else on their minds right now.”

He was giving her his entire attention, now. “You know, for a stand-in orgy harem girl, you are VERY interesting.” He kept trying to peer only at her covered face, but his eyes were naturally drawn to her tits.

She felt like covering herself with her hands, but she forced herself to just stand there, letting him feast his eyes on her flesh, and she tried to think of something to say. “Um … I’ve never understood why the books on this side of the room are all the same … all LOOK the same, I mean … while the books on the other side all look normal.”

He laughed. “Those over there are all modern firsts … first editions, I mean. I could show you how to identify most of them, if you want.”

“They’re all well cared for,” Cindy remarked. “They all have plastic protectors around their slipcovers.”

“Slipcovers are for furniture, my dear. Books have dust jackets. And, believe it or not, the dust jacket is often the most valuable part of the book … at least as far as collectability is concerned.” He shifted his attention back to the leather-bound volumes nearest them. “These books over here are part of an old collection. Back in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, bookstores were very different than they are today. Literacy rates were very low. Books were either made for schools, for churches … or for the rich. If you wanted a new book, you went to a bindery. Printers would print the book … the interior of the book, I mean … and a book binder would bind it. If a wealthy family used the same binder, then it was easy to acquire a library where all the books were identically bound. Make sense?”

Cindy smiled. “You’re a bibliophile!”

He seemed to be contemplating her. “Would you like to … uh … go somewhere else and just … talk?” he asked.

“Sure!”

But alas, that was the instant that a yell went up from the other side of the room. “Hey Robin Hood, you ugly fuck! It’s time! Grab that wench and get your butt over here! Now!”

Small sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to do this. I’d rather get to know you,” he said, almost ruefully. He extended his hand to her, and she took it in her own, letting him lead her back to the other four participants. Once there, Medium took off his hat and put something in it, then held it out toward the Bimbo. It soon became obvious that she couldn’t even focus her eyes on it, let alone figure out that she was meant to pick something out of it. Medium sighed and held the hat out to Cindy, instead. She reached in a picked something out of it. It was a red feather.

“You are most certainly a lucky girl,” Medium declared. He motioned toward his hat, and Cindy saw that it had a red feather in its band. Looking around, she realized that each had a different colored feather. Betty picked a green feather, meaning that she would be with the Small Robin. Large quickly went to the tipsy Bimbo and gently led her over to the sofa at one side of the room. “Madam,” Medium declared gallantly, extending his hand to Cindy. She took a deep breath, put her own hand in his, and followed him out the door and down the hall into the sitting room. Before entering, she looked back and saw Small and Betty going into the den.

As soon as she was alone with him the guy grabbed her, pulled her body against his own, and kissed her … not an easy task, considering that each was wearing a mask that extended over the wearer’s nose. Then, the mask-nose poked her sensitive breast, making her cry out, before he finally got his sucking mouth over her right nipple. He clamped his teeth over the erect bud, making her jump and squirm. He was being very rough, pawing her, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples hard, running his palms down her sides, around her back to her ass and grasping it roughly. He fiddled for a long fifteen seconds with the catch at the back of her costume pants before becoming overly anxious, grasping the thin waistband and ripping the garment asunder, making her issue a scared little scream.

This only seemed to turn him on more. He dragged her to one of the couches and flung her down on it, where she couldn’t help trying to cover herself with her hands. Even Pablo, as rough as he was sometimes, was nothing like this. This man didn’t just want sex. He wanted the power of taking someone weaker than himself. It was Cindy’s first experience in the realm of sadism, and she had absolutely no idea what was happening to her.

With little effort, he grasped her around the waist and flipped her over, then grabbed her thighs and dragged her backwards, draping her over the arm of the sofa. He stood behind her and pulled her legs far apart, then on a whim, he hit her … hit her hard with his open palm across her ass, making her shriek. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. He slapped her again, then again and again, and finally stood behind her, fiddled with his pants for a few seconds, lined himself up and thrust hard into her open pussy. She screamed again, and in response, he laughed, leaned back and slapped her quivering buttocks three more times in rapid succession. Finally, he paused in this act of brutality, and he set up a rhythm, pumping hard into her. Cindy felt him fill her, but nothing else. She just prayed for it to be over … and then, her prayers were answered. He stiffened, shouted a curse, pushed as far into her as he could, and began to shiver. Cindy didn’t feel it happening inside her … with Daddy and Pablo, she could feel their lurching cocks … their squirting cum. But with this guy … nothing.

He breathed a ragged sigh and pulled out of her, panting, then he busied himself with his pants, pulling them up and fiddling with the buttons. Cindy crawled forward, away from him, crying. She curled up into a ball in the center of the couch and lay there, watching him the way a trapped mouse watches a snake. He grinned at her. “Well, THAT’s the best YOU are going to get tonight, Sweetie,” he declared. “Do me a favor; don’t tell my friends how much better I am than them. I don’t want them to get a complex or anything.” And he walked to the door, opened it and was gone.

She didn’t know what to do … didn’t know what to think. She just lay on her side, hugging herself. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the tears, shivering. She stayed that way for a long, long time. Then finally, slowly, she became aware that she was no longer alone in the room, and she opened her eyes again and saw a man standing right in front of her. Without conscious thought, she sprang upright, sitting in the center of the couch, and she drew her legs up against her and clutched her knees with her arms, watching him. At long last, she became aware that the man in front of her was the smallest of the trio … the one she liked … the one who talked about books. Their eyes met, and it was as if a massive emotional wave washed over her. She trusted this man. Somehow, she instinctively KNEW that he would be gentle with her … would respect her … would protect her. She leaped up and threw herself at him, standing on tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing the whole of her naked body against him.

“What did he do to you?” he hissed in her ear.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “Hold me. Oh, please hold me.”

His arms were around her then, and they were strong and soothing and infinitely reassuring. She felt at home. This is where I belong, she thought. I was born to be held in these arms. She was aware that he was suppressing deep inner feelings, shaking slightly, clutching her nakedness to himself. She was very conscious of the hardness pressing against her lower belly.

“Would you think me terrible if I told you that I need you?” she asked softly. “Will you take me? Please?”

“Tell me what he did to you,” he urged.

“No … please don’t make me tell. I just want to be yours now. I’ll do whatever you want. I need to feel what it’s like to please you. Please?”

He grasped her around the waist with his hands and lifted her, swinging her body to the side, scooping her into his arms, gently depositing her back onto the couch. He stood and stripped out of his clothing, slowly, purposefully, until he was as naked as she. Only the masks remained. He settled himself atop her, pressing his body into hers, feeling her luscious breasts flatten against his chest, feeling her legs spread wide, so that his cock lay against the smoothness of her vaginal lips. His mouth sought hers, and they kissed tenderly, gently, warmly, fervently, urgently, desperately. His cock lurched against her, straining. She began rotating her hips, trying to find the stiff invader and bring it home inside her. Somehow, it happened, and he was pressing, pressing, further, deeper. She gasped and clutched him with her arms, her legs moving up now, encircling his hips, her heels urging his buttocks to push forward, ever forward.

They were together now. Firmly together. Wonderfully together. It was as if their bodies had fused. “Do you … do you feel that?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Oh, yes,” she answered, straining upward to meet him. “Oh, my darling, yes.”

He began thrusting, slowly, purposefully, endlessly, and each time their bodies met, they were as one. Her orgasm came from nowhere, shocking them both. It crashed over her, and she clenched every muscle in her body, her fingers digging into his back, her heels bringing him as deeply inside her as was physically possible, her toes curling, her cuntal walls grasping him, milking him. He strained his head upward and roared his lust at the ceiling, his passion throbbing and gushing in her body’s core. And then he collapsed atop her, gasping, nestling into her.

“I … I don’t know what just happened,” he told her quietly. “Whatever it was … it’s never happened before. Never before now.”

“Yes,” she told him gently.

“What … what are we going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Cindy replied, so softly he could barely hear.

The door opened. “Hey dude! Time to switch!” The tallest of the three Robins stood there, lanky, naked except for his mask. His cock was flaccid.

“Listen, man,” her lover said, annoyed. “Give us a few minutes here, will you?”

The other man approached. “Nothing doing, dude. Time’s up. Get your wick out of that hole and give me a shot, will you? Your next assignment is back in the library. If she doesn’t wake up, do her anyway. She’s a nice piece.”

The man atop her looked down into her eyes helplessly. “Listen … I … I … um ….”

“Go,” she told him softly. “And, thank you.”

He got up, picked up his clothes, looked at her longingly, and left. He didn’t bother getting dressed again.

“Okay, little lassie,” the tall guy said, sitting down hard next to her. She sat up, waiting to see what he intended to have her do. “I hope you’re ready for a food gucking!” he exclaimed. He blinked and thought for a moment. “A goof rucking.” He frowned. Then he leaned his head back against the back of the couch and started snoring.

Cindy sat looking at him for a very long time, then she stood up, collected the shredded costume pants and went to the door. The hallway was empty. Nude, she tiptoed to the foyer, up the stairs, down the hall and into her room. It took a few minutes to finally get the mask off. She crawled into her bed, and for the first time, she did not think about Stepmother’s metronome. Her thoughts were on something else entirely.

Below, a man entered the sitting room and stared at his sleeping friend. Frantically, he searched all the other rooms in that wing of the mansion.

Somewhere in the quiet house, a clock stuck midnight.