The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nervously, Kaitlin sat on the tattoo chair, waiting for the artist to return. It took all of the willpower of the 26-year-old woman to come here. But, she had promised her girlfriend, Susan, that she would get some ink. Love compelled her to keep this promise.

Tattoos just weren’t Kaitlin’s thing. In fact, she had an aversion to all sorts of body adornments. She wore no makeup. She shaved neither her legs nor her armpits. She kept her hair short and practical. Her clothing was always based on what was most comfortable. Usually, the only vibrant thing about her was her natural, bright red hair.

Despite her androgynous appearance, Kaitlin had a killer smile, full lips, and large, expressive eyes. Susan fell in love with her after the two stumbled to her home a little tipsy, and ended up spending the entire evening on her couch just talking about art, music, and philosophy until the sun rose. Susan was the first lover who accepted her for who she was, and tried not to force her to conform to one of the many standards of lesbian beauty.

And Kaitlin grew to appreciate that, though Susan liked makeup and feminine attire, her lover wasn’t doing it out of subservience to societal pressures. It was just an accurate reflection of who she was.

Kaitlin would occasionally tease Susan with the label “lipstick lesbian,” while her girlfriend would respond by calling her a “sweatshirt lesbian.” They’d laugh and think of how lucky they were to find each other.

On their recent two-year anniversary, after a few glasses of wine, Susan revealed how much tattoos turned her on. Without thinking, Kaitlin professed her love and promised to get a tattoo just for Susan. Immediately, she knew her words were a mistake, but the look of adoration on Susan’s face convinced her to follow through on the promise.

So, here she was, alone in “Devon’s Tattoo Studio.” She’d learned of him a week ago while chatting with an intoxicated femme at a bar after work. With great enthusiasm, the woman spoke of her adoration of Devon’s work, slurring her praises and how he used unique, all-organic inks. In an alcohol-laden whisper, she pointed out that he even provides a little pill that nicely dulls the pain of the process. Kaitlin was skeptical, but when the femme showed off the iridescent butterfly above her right nipple, she was entranced. Never before had she seen such intricate work and gorgeous colors.

Devon finally returned and placed a single pill on the tray beside the nervous woman. Of modest height, many women would consider him handsome. Kaitlin merely looked at him with skepticism.

“So, this is your first time. I have to prepare you — the pain can be quite intense. I use special inks that I source myself. While they’re perfectly safe, they do sting a bit more than the factory-made chemicals your average scratcher would pump into you.”

Devon paused to let the words sink in.

“Do you really want to go through with this? If so, I recommend you take this pill. You’ll be awake, but much more comfortable. The effect lasts less than an hour.”

Hoping the pill would bolster her courage, or at least dull her doubts, Kaitlin responded by simply picking up the pill and swallowing it.

“Well, that’s the spirit,” Devon said with a smile. “Now, you just need to decide what you want and where. I don’t have a portfolio for you to look at. Just tell me what you want, and you have to trust me to make you happy. Note, the colors take several days to fully appear. They react with the natural pigmentation in your skin and take time to develop.

“How about a dragon with fairy wings along your neck? I could play off your emerald eyes in the wings. Who knows, you could make this the start of a more attractive look? With your hair and those eyes, you could catch the attention of many guys.”

At the rebuke of her appearance, Kaitlin’s temper unleashed her fiery tongue.

“Listen, asshole, I like the way I look. And so does my girlfriend,” Kaitlin paused, for effect. “She likes me just the way I am, and as sure as hell, I’m not going to conform to some phallocentric standard of beauty.”

Suddenly, the blood drained from Kaitlin’s head. Maybe it was the pill. Or, perhaps it was the realization that she had hired this guy to poke her with sharp objects. She retreated from her anger and fell back into the padded chair. He wasn’t trying to be mean, after all, she thought. She almost offered an apology.

“Hmmm, I see,” was all that Devon said, nodding as though he had just made a decision. He gradually moved the chair into a fully-reclined position.

“Why don’t I give you a few moments to focus on what you’d like me to create?” and with that, Devon left the room.

Drained of all energy, Kaitlin’s head started to feel fuzzy. The pill was definitely having its effect, she realized, and so she tried to focus only on what design she’d like. Slowly rising in volume, white noise entered the room from an overhead speaker. Kaitlin sighed at the soothing sounds and tried to concentrate on choosing her design. She really should have held her tongue. After all, Devon was probably just trying to be nice by suggesting that with just a few changes, she’d be an object of desire for the opposite sex.

Minutes passed and Kaitlin had yet to identify any concrete ideas. Wondering when Devon would return, she noticed her lips were moving. Her drug-affected state must have caused her to mumble. Just then, the white noise shut off. Kaitlin heard what she was saying.

“Slave gives Master obedience. Obedience gives Slave pleasure.”

“Slave gives Master obedience. Obedience gives Slave pleasure.”

Astonished, she closed her lips tight. The words still repeated in her own mind.

Devon entered the room.

“Well, well, well. I see that you’re now ready. Ready for some fun that is. We might even get to that tattoo of yours. Eventually.”

Kaitlin tried to lift her head, but could only turn it towards Devon, a cruel smile on his face. He slowly unbuttoned her denim jeans, smirking as he saw her plain white briefs covering a thick thatch of red hair.

“Kaitlin, let me ask you a question: What does Slave give?”

Reflexively, she responded, “Slave gives Master obedience.”

“And Kaitlin,” Devon said. He slowly slid his hand underneath the elastic of her underwear, cupping her vulva. Devon’s ferocious gaze held Kaitlin, as he spoke, “What does obedience give?”

Despite every effort to keep her mouth sealed, the young lesbian spoke.

“Obedience gives Slave pleasure.”

Adding an exclamation point to the end of her affirmation, Devon plunged two fingers into Kaitlin’s astonishingly moist pussy. Through gritted teeth, she sucked in air.

“Now, my very proud dyke, you are going to learn how much better it is to submit to a man,” Devon said, swirling his fingers inside her deliciously. “You will become my slave, coming back for more and more of my... ink.”

Devon paused to relish his control. Kaitlin held her breath. The only thing disturbing the silence between them was the squishing generated by his active fingers. These sounds triggered a wave of revulsion, but as it passed, she realized her hips were gently bucking against his ministrations. Her lips were also moving, mouthing the words to the mantra repeating in the back of her mind.

“Now, Kaitlin,” Devon spoke as he pushed his free hand underneath the lesbian’s sweatshirt. He held her right breast, covered by a basic cotton bra. “What would you say to me if I wanted to abuse your nipple?”

Kaitlin held her lips firm. Her diaphragm spasmed once. Twice. Then, bursting through her lips.

“Slave gives Master obedience.”

Devon’s thumb and index finger mercilessly pinched her nipple. Kaitlin held her mouth shut firmly. The artist twisted. Nothing. He pulled her nipple inches out from her breast. Kaitlin screamed.

“Obedience gives Slave pleasure.”

Satisfied, Devon released her breast. He lowered his face, hovering inches from hers. He held her gaze as he slipped a third finger into her. Then a fourth squicked into her. Up and down, a regular rhythm, Kaitlin’s hips thrust to meet him. The artist’s hand churned her sex and mind.

“Kaitlin, I will make you my personal canvas. I will cover you head to toe in my work. You will see that the magic in my craft isn’t only metaphorical. My inks hold power, power few understand or even know exists. I will transform you, mind and body. At the end of it all, you will forget you ever loved a woman. There will only be me, your Master. You won’t even remember that girlfriend who, for whatever reason, likes you just the way you are.”

For the first time since swallowing that cursed pill, Kaitlin was able to focus. Susan. Her love, Susan. Her touch, her smell, her taste, every detail of her lover stoked her mind.

A fire erupted.

Kaitlin looked away from her assailant. Her glance came to a telephone right next to her chair. One of those corded, old-school, heavy-as-fuck telephones. She let the fire of anger burn through her arm. Suddenly, she reached for the phone and swung it with amazing clarity towards Devon’s forehead, the cord ripping out of the wall.

His eyes barely had a chance to register shock before he collapsed onto the floor. Despicable fingers fell out of his victim. A trail of her juices dripped on the floor, next to a splatter of his saliva.

Still clutching the phone, Kaitlin slowly stood up from the chair. Her lungs heaved. Unconcerned if he was dead or alive, she shuffled towards the exit, still clutching the telephone. She needed to escape.

Kaitlin cried out as a sharp pain stabbed her between her shoulder blades. Devon had quickly recovered, stood up, and struck her with one of his own tattoo needles. Whirling around on instinct, she clocked the tattoo artist again with the phone. This time, her blow landed on his temple. Kaitlin felt a crunch that was simultaneously sickening and satisfying.

Devon collapsed onto the ground, dead.

Kaitlin stood in her shower. Hot water streamed over her head, filling her ears, isolating her from the external world. The previous hours played through her mind.

Once her attacker was truly dead, Kaitlin concluded the police would scrutinize her intensely. She had voluntarily taken drugs and killed a professional while intoxicated.

No one had seen her enter the isolated shop, and she could leave without being seen. Kaitlin put up the “Closed” sign, locked the front door to the shop, and drew down the blinds. Working slowly to allow the pill’s effects to pass, she donned some of the artist’s latex gloves and proceeded to clean up the scene. After over an hour’s effort, Kaitlin’s mind was clear and she was impressed with how carefully the shop was staged to suggest a robbery-gone-bad had led to Devon’s demise.

Returning home late, Kaitlin went straight to the bathroom, not even acknowledging Susan lounging before the glow of the television. While the shower heated up, she inspected her back. She couldn’t feel any open wound. In the mirror, she saw only a quarter-sized spot of dark ink embedded with her skin from the jab with the needle.

Kaitlin hoped the mark was only temporary.

And so, Kaitlin found herself in the shower, irrationally hoping the water could make it all better. She wanted to wash Devon off of her. She wanted to wash death off of her. She scrubbed and scrubbed, working desperately to get clean. Tears and shower water cycled down the drain.

After letting the heated water flow over her for far too long, Kaitlin spotted Susan’s razor. Desperate to get clean, she carefully shaved her legs smooth for the first time in her life. She then moved to under her arms. Detritus flowed down the drain.

Finally, Kaitlin emerged from the shower. Her skin was bright pink, and clean, and smooth.

She wrapped a towel around herself and entered the bedroom. Susan was undressing for bed.

“Hey, girl. Are you going to tease me even more, or can I see the tat you got?” her girlfriend inquired.

“Yeah, um,” Kaitlin fumbled. “The artist said the organic ink takes time to reveal itself. Let me show you later when it’s in its full glory.”

“Sure, hon,” Susan shrugged, as she completely disrobed.

Kaitlin walked to her tall dresser to get some bed clothes. Her eyes glanced up at the top drawer, the one she secretly called “the graveyard.” Inside she placed all the sex toys Susan had given her as gifts, toys that she found utterly unappealing. Usually, when receiving such a gift, she’d made a point to use it with Susan once, and then relegate it to the graveyard.

She opened the drawer and pulled out the first toy to receive this sad fate — a strap-on harness fitted with a very anatomically-correct dildo. Kaitlin remembered this toy sparked their first serious fight, rage filling within her as she yelled at Susan, “This is your fantasy? Me having an actual man’s penis? Do these veins attract you and get you hot?! The balls down here — do they make you wet?!”

Holding out the toy that once filled her with such rage, Kaitlin turned to to her partner. With a bowed head, she pleaded, “Susan, would you wear this?”

Momentarily taken aback, Susan slowly smiled at the unexpected interest. She glided down her lace panties and buckled herself in. Pointing to her bedside stand, “We’ll need some lube. Can you grab my bottle?”

Instead, Kaitlin let her towel drop and knelt before Susan. Gently, she grasped the dildo with one hand, sliding it into her mouth. She felt the veins and ridges of the member rub along her tongue. Her other hand crept down and penetrated her sex.

Momentarily taken aback, Susan stood bemused before her kneeling partner. This roleplaying was completely uncharacteristic. Katilin thrust the dildo down her throat, moaning as her fingers quickly moved her close to climax.

Susan grinned, felt herself moisten, and decided to relish the new experience. She pushed her fingers under the strap-on harness and entered herself, letting Kaitlin’s thrusts against the dildo amplify the inward force. She placed her other hand atop Kaitlin’s head, wove her fingers through the fiery hair, and then gripped tight. Her lover moaned in approval, green eyes gazing up to lock onto hers.

Kaitlin came quickly, her scream stifled by the dildo down her throat. Susan immediately followed suit.

Kaitlin slumbered late into Saturday morning while Susan slowly awoke. Spooning her lover from behind, she breathed in and relished the warmth from Kaitlin’s bare back. Eventually, with a kiss to the ear, Kaitlin awoke. She flinched, almost imperceptibly. Sighing, Susan released her.

A beam of sunlight pierced between the window blinds to focus on Kaitlin’s back. Susan was astonished at what it revealed.

Taking up most of Kaitlin’s back was a shocking tattoo. A woman on all fours, barefoot and completely naked, presenting her ass to the viewer. The model’s head was craned backwards, eyes looking lustfully at the viewer.

After getting past that initial shock, Susan recognized the face — that of Kaitlin!

Reaching out gently, Susan’s fingers brushed against her lover’s skin as she soaked in the many details. The artist captured Kaitlin’s visage with amazing beauty. Her short red hair was tousled, an impish look suggesting she’d already been engaged in sexual play. Her emerald eyes glittered in the light mischievously, an astonishing hue of green to see in a tattoo. In fact, all of the colors were incredibly vibrant, with shades blending gracefully. Susan never thought a tattoo like this was possible — it looked like a work of vintage pinup art, airbrushed onto her lover’s skin.

The way the art reflected reality was also amazing. From the naturally-colored lips to that cute little “beauty mark” on her lover’s behind, the artist was meticulous. And, fortunately, the artist had the good sense to show a burst of red hair and avoid depicting a shaved vulva, a practice that Kaitlin had long railed against as for “men who want to imagine fucking underage girls.”

The whole tattoo was breathtaking. The look of primal lust on on display compelled Susan’s stomach to flutter. She couldn’t help but give a low whistle in perplexed approval.

“What?” asked a confused Kaitlin.

“Your tattoo. You weren’t kidding when you said it would take time for the colors to develop. Last night, I didn’t notice anything but a black dot. It’s not what I expected. But, it’s… stunning.”

“Oh. Glad you like it.” Kaitlin hid her continuing confusion. She tried to seem casual as she got up and rushed into the bathroom to see what the heck Susan was talking about.

Kaitlin felt a blur of emotions as she inspected the tattoo in the bathroom mirror. First, shock that this huge image would suddenly appear from nothing on her skin. Then, outrage at having her body defaced with pornography. Was this permanent?! But before she had time to even blink, these feelings passed and she just felt that it was perfectly normal to be a canvas for this artwork upon her.

What no longer felt normal was the whiff of Susan’s perfume she smelled lingering on her skin. Smelling the other woman made Kaitlin felt dirty. Entering the shower, she set the temperature to almost scalding hot. The water soothed her, but still she craved feeling cleaner.

Picking up Susan’s razor, Kaitlin removed what little stubble had appeared on her legs overnight. But, then, she went higher, carefully wielding the blade and slowly removing all trace of hair from between her legs. A last wash with soap, and she was grateful to feel no nicks stinging her. Finally, she felt clean and pure.

Leaving the shower, Kaitlin towelled off and look at herself in the mirror. She stared deeply into her own eyes. She saw a face that wasn’t happy, wasn’t sad. It was nothing, nondescript, emotionless, forgettable. She needed to find Susan.

“Please make me beautiful,” Kaitlin said to her partner, who was sipping morning coffee while waiting for the shower to free up.

“Sweetheart, you are beautiful. You have my heart, my desire… there’s nothing you need to change,” her lover responded with an encouraging smile.

“Susan, I want you to show me how to use all of your makeup to be beautiful. It looks good on you. Let’s try it out on me.”

Considering for a moment what could be motivating Kaitlin’s change of heart, Susan finally said, “OK, honey. I’ll show you everything. We can work on this together.”

For the next three hours, the two lovers went through everything. Selecting colors, plucking and sculpting eyebrows, curling eyelashes, foundation, concealer, mascara, eyeliner, highlighter, eye shadow, lipstick, brushes, pencils, and more. Throughout each lesson, Kaitlin asked questions and committed everything to memory. Susan had never felt closer — finally, her lover was interested in learning about this daily ritual that was important to her. Kaitlin, on the other hand, was only focused on learning how to make herself look beautiful.

Finally, Susan stepped back, hardly able to believe the transformation. Her lover looked like a model.

“You have good taste. Are these your typical height for evening shoes?”

Kaitlin had wandered into a small women’s boutique. It was filled with all sorts of stereotypical feminine wear — dresses, shoes, undergarments. Every work day, Kaitlin walked past it on the way to the train station with dismissive indifference.The same, elegant, middle-aged woman worked there always. Kaitlin had assumed she was the business owner, and developed a sense of pity for her — working day after day to earn a living perpetuating an unreasonable standard of beauty.

And yet, here Kaitlin was, in her store. Wandering around, she had picked up the most outrageous patent leather shoes, inky black with five-inch stiletto heels. Kaitlin had often compared shoes like these to the barbaric practice of foot-binding in China. A pit formed her her stomach, holding these hateful items in her own hands. But as the incandescent lights glinted off the slick leather, Kaitlin couldn’t help but be mesmerized.

After an uncomfortably long pause, Kaitlin eventually realized that she had been addressed with a question. Stroking the leather with her index finger, she responded absentmindedly, “Oh, I’ve never worn high heels before.”

“In that case, honey, these aren’t for you,” the owner responded, pulling them from Kaitlin’s grasp. A flash of anger entered her mind when addressed as “honey,” but just as quickly, it vanished.

“You have to earn the right to wear heels like these.” The owner smirked and her tone was playful, but in Kaitlin’s mind, she heard a stern rebuke. It was a rebuke she deserved. Her face grew red with shame. Her pussy clenched.

“Here,” the clerk returned with another pair, “These ankle straps are at the limit of what I’d recommend you start with. The heel is still pretty high — you’ll need to be careful. But the thicker heel will help with stability. Besides, stilettos are so cliché. These ankle straps will give you the sexy, 40s vintage look. I think they’ll suit you.”

Like receiving an offering from a priest, Kaitlin accepted the new shoes with both hands in reverence.

“Now, what else might I help you with?”

Alone in the small changing room, Kaitlin admired the pair of smokey stockings the owner recommended. Standing on her new heels, she twisted to gaze through the mirror at the glorious tattoo on her back.

Electricity ran through her clit as she confirmed the stockings and heels were nearly identical to the ones she saw her wearing in the tattoo. Kaitlin adored how the tattoo showed her on all fours, her smoothly shaved sex welcomingly presented. The stockings drew out the sensual, sfumato form of her legs. The heels brought her sexuality to a point. The glittering eyes, framed with thick makeup, captured her own, while bright red painted lips smirked knowingly.

Being as quiet as she could, Kaitlin slipped her hands down her smooth vulva. Just as her quivering fingers dipped into herself, the store owner interrupted through the closed door with some questions about sizing. Kaitlin sighed and stopped herself. She quickly put on the light pink cocktail dress selected to complete her new look.

An hour later, Kaitlin was walking back along the familiar path to the train stop. On autopilot, Kaitlin’s mind thought only of staying aloft her new heels. In her right hand slung a petite gift bag from one last store Kaitlin had entered before beginning her return trip. In her left, swung a paper bag with her old clothes.

Passing alongside a trash barrel, Kaitlin released the bag of old clothes to the ground. Concern for its contents was completely absent.

“Step, balance, step, balance,” was the only thing in the forefront of Kaitlin’s mind. Her lips almost mouthed the words while her ankles occasionally twitched, struggling with the new footwear.

She found visualizing her center of gravity made it easier to maintain a fluid gate. That focus appeared as a colored orb of light within her body, which she carefully balanced. As her mind guided the tinted orb lower, she found her grace came even easier. Lower, lower, she experimented, until the light rested within her womanhood. Her hips swayed, her legs strode fluidly, and the tops of her thighs lightly kissed each other as they rhythmically passed. Walking in these shoes felt perfectly natural.

Kaitin finally walked through the open doors of the waiting train. All seats taken, she felt a sense of disdain when no one offered to give up a seat for a lady. Her hand wrapped around a metal pole, warm to the touch. A handsome businessman brushed up against her as the train accelerated. She did not flinch, and almost pressed into him.

A bead of arousal trickled down her right thigh, tickling her tender skin before coming to rest at the top of her silken stocking. It was only then that Kaitlin realised that nothing replaced her plain white briefs, now sitting by the public trash receptacle while she sped home.

Returning home, Kaitlin felt a sense of relief to find a note from Susan explaining that she would be out until late in the evening. Her heart beat faster as she crafted a plan for some self-pleasuring.

Entering the bedroom, Kaitlin placed the small gift bag on the bed near the pillow. Removing her dress and releasing her small breasts from the new lacy black bra, Kaitlin strode into the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror, her face looked washed out. She needed more vibrant colors. Pulling out Susan’s makeup, she started to assemble a list to apply anew to herself.

Following Susan’s training, Kaitlin applied the makeup step by step. It felt like she was brushing away a fog, revealing herself in vibrant desire. The hues and pigments caressed her skin, making her feel alive and important. With a last last stroke of a lip pencil, she finished with a flourish. Glancing at the tattoo on her back, Kaitlin was immensely satisfied with the reproduction, as though her hand were guided by an artist.

Finally satisfied with her beauty, Kaitlin went to the bedroom and opened “the graveyard.” Several toys laid out before her, each creating their own spark of excitement. Considering her options, she selected the strap-on she had felated earlier with Susan. She removed the dildo from its harness, extracting her prize. Her fingers trembled as she felt the fleshy veins and ridges that distinguished it from all other toys in the drawer.

Kaitlin mounted the bed. Her stockinged legs slid smoothly across the down comforter. In her mind’s eye, she pictured her form in the tattoo and positioned herself similarly. On elbows and knees, she reached back and caressed her vagina with the fleshy dildo. She coated the tip with her slick lubrication.

Kaitlin waited as she imagined a figure behind her. A male figure. A man with a raging hard-on. With the image now formed in her mind, Kaitlin pushed the dildo inside her with one smooth motion. Her pussy presented little resistance. She let out a low, primal moan as the length extended into her.

Kaitlin paused to enjoy the feeling of being so full. Something unlocked in her mind. Sex had never felt this pure, this vibrant. It was like the first time she watched her favorite show on a high-definition TV, after years watching on only standard. This is how sex should feel. Vivid and real, to be filled with purpose and force, to be filled with a cock.

Kaitlin realized something was missing.

Turning her head, her eyes found the gift bag. Leaving the dildo lodged inside her quivering sex, Kaitlin reached to remove the small box from within. She opened it. Inside was a plain, black collar, bought from a sex shop downtown. She buckled the collar around her neck, matching the one that now appeared on her tattoo.

Kaitlin returned her hands to the dildo behind her. Slowly building out a rhythm, she lost herself in pleasure. With one hand, she pumped the dildo. The other danced around her clit. She revelled in the feeling of her hand gliding along her newly smoothed vulva, slick with her juices. Higher and higher she went.

Confusion interrupted her reverie as Kaitlin felt two hands place themselves on her hips. Looking back, her eyes widened in shock as she saw nothing but two inky handprints moving on her skin. The hands gripped her tight, pushing her torso into the thrusts of the dildo. Her pleasure intensified and Kaitlin’s mind decided to accept the supernatural grasp.

The hands moved. She felt one glide up to the back of her neck and then forcefully push down, pressing her face into the depths of the comforter. The other left her hip and materialized on her left arm. It pulled her arm from underneath her. Her clitoris ached at the departure of flittering fingers. The hand shifted along her skin to roughly grasp her wrist, twist her arm, and pin it firmly to the bed.

Kaitlin was trapped and controlled. She submitted to the assault. With her one free hand, she continued to piston the dildo inside her, taking on a fierceness that drove through her core. Pressed into the bed, Kaitlin rocked herself towards orgasm.

Without warning, the hands released her. Kaitlin paused, letting go of the dildo and holding her breath. She ached for release. Yet, it seemed only proper to wait for her unseen lover to return.

Drawing out of her skin, a stream of ink extracted from her back, slowly forming into a figure behind her. Kaitlin felt like something was being pulled from her, some force leaving her body. Taking on detail, dimension, and color, Devon materialized out of this stream of ink. He knelt naked behind her, his penis rigidly pointing her direction.

“Are you ready?” he smirked.

“Yes,” Kaitlin breathlessly responded. Slowly, she pulled the dildo from her vagina and discarded the lump of plastic off of the bed. She propped herself back up on her elbows, wiggling her ass invitingly to Devon.

“Yes, what?!” Devon insisted.

“Yes, please,” she answered.

Silence stung her heart.

Then, she turned her head back towards him, looking at him with gleaming eyes as she said, “Yes... Master.”

Roughly, Devon entered her. The shock, pleasure, and pain caused Kaitlin to gasp involuntarily. Ploughing into her, she braced herself to his attack. Lust clouded her mind. She felt his member swell.

“Now,” Devon spoke with authority, punctuating his words with thrusts, “you shall forget that dyke girlfriend and desire only me!”

A sudden sanity returned to Kaitlin’s mind. She resisted. Her hands clenched. She tried desperately to hold on to the many pleasant memories of Susan.

Countering her newly-found resolve, the ink along her back seeped through her skin and into her spine. Multi-colored tendrils traveled upwards and proceeded to permanently rewrite her synapses. Dextrous hues pulled from her the last bits of her sapphic memories and desires, her natural lusts slipping through her grasp and dissipating like a drop of ink in the ocean.

This man was changing her, forcing her to submit to her new life as a slave, and tricking her mind to crave it all the more. After struggling frantically, Kaitlin exhaled slowly and gave in, embracing the new lusts artfully drawn in technicolor on the canvas of her imagination. Her will died. Her hands relaxed.

Kaitlin turned, and held Devon’s gaze.

“Slave gives Master obedience.”

The words had an affect on Devon. Her complete subjugation pushed him over the edge. He spurted into her.

“Obedience gives Slave pleasure.”

The splash against her cervix triggered Kaitlin’s own orgasm. Devon’s thrusts threw her higher and higher, her breathing so frantic that her head buzzed and tunnel vision enclosed upon her.

Devon slowed and became almost tender. She swirled herself around his slowing movement, savoring the feeling as her climax subsided. Finally, her Master withdrew. Kaitlin arched her butt up even further, gratefully feeling his cum slithering down into her. The last of the ink disappeared from her skin and entered her mind.

Kaitlin remained on display for her Master. On all fours, her lust-filled face looking back at him, she was the perfect representation of the tattoo that recently adorned her back.

He nodded in appreciation of his creation. Her vagina, a well for his essence. Her mind, a well for his will.