The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Blue.

The flame was blue.

It filled her vision.

It filled her mind.

It was everything.

She didn’t know how long she’d been watching the flame. How long the flame had been speaking to her. She didn’t find anything strange about listening to the flame.

She’d done it so often.

It was telling her things. She was Nichole Stevens. The flame told her that. She had to get dressed. The flame told her what to put on. Black bra and panties, lacy and skimpy. Then she had to do her makeup. Just enough to highlight her beauty, a hint of eyeshadow and rouge. Red lipstick. A black silk blouse, the fabric a breeze over her skin. A light grey skirt suit, fine wool, perfectly tailored to her form.

She looked so professional.

She was Professional Nichole.

The flame told her that as well. Told her so much more. Nichole never said a word, never made a sound, as she readied herself for the day. As she watched the flame, listened to it.

She didn’t have to speak.

Downstairs she carefully ate her breakfast, not wanting to have to spend too much time fixing her makeup afterwards.

Her sister Alice did the same, while shooting knowing smirks at their third sister, Ruth. Nichole didn’t know what that was about. The flame hadn’t told her that it was important. So she didn’t worry about it.

She also didn’t worry about Alice’s girlfriend, Sandra, being there. Or how Sandra just sat there, unmoving, for a time, after Alice’s hand did something behind Sandra’s back. Sandra didn’t react, after that, as Alice’s hand snaked up her thigh. So far up the girl’s thigh. Alice’s girlfriend didn’t do anything until Alice’s hand returned to her back.

Their mother, Elaine, asked Ruth what she was doing with her day, fussed over Alice and Sandra getting ready in time for school. She didn’t say anything to Nichole. None of them did. It was almost as if Nichole wasn’t there.

It wasn’t fair. They should say something. Acknowledge her. It was only last night that she’d told her family that she was gay. Like them. They should be supporting her, caring for her.

Not ignoring her.

She watched them, their faces smiling, laughing. Not at her. Just the shared laughter of a family. But she wasn’t part of it. She may as well have not been there.

After finishing her breakfast Nichole stormed out.

She wasn’t sure that her family even noticed.

Nichole refused to let herself cry as she rode the lift up to the advertising agency’s offices. She wasn’t going to let her family’s treatment of her get to her. Why would she? It had always been like that. Shut out. Barely acknowledged. Always her sisters put before her.

Hadn’t it?

Faint images shimmered in her mind. Of her mother, asking how she was. Holding her. Just the two of them, together, buying clothes for her new job. Of her sisters, the three of them, laughing together. Like a family. Of herself, so embarrassed as her mother put her first.

They were just dreams. Nothing more than how she would have wanted her life to be.

She wouldn’t cry.

It wouldn’t be professional to cry.

And it would ruin her makeup.

Clara, Ms. Henderson’s PA, looked up as Nichole emerged from the lift. Clara was staring at her, a malicious grin on the brunette’s lips.

Clara was the first person to really look at Nichole that day. Nichole could feel the woman’s eyes roving over her, devouring her.

“Does…” Nichole started then stopped. “Is…” She wasn’t even sure what she’d been trying to ask. She tried forming more words, but they wouldn’t come. All she could do was stand there, her mouth uselessly opening and closing, as Clara rose from her seat, that grin turning predatory.

Nichole couldn’t move. She didn’t know why. She just knew that she couldn’t. That she had to stand there. As Clara advanced on her. As Clara’s lips mashed into hers. As she was forced back into the closed doors of the lift, trapped between the woman’s body and the cold metal of the doors. Her hands waved feebly as Clara took possession of her mouth, as the woman’s tongue thrust its way past her lips. As the woman’s body pressed into hers.

She could do nothing.

She wasn’t allowed to do anything.

She was so turned on, her heart racing.

“Aren’t you so dressed up, you little slut?” Clara whispered slyly, the tip of the woman’s tongue gliding over Nichole’s cheek before tracing the curve of the blonde’s ear. “Such a pretty little thing.”

Nichole’s knees went weak.

The blue flame had told her they would. She just hadn’t remembered until now.

The blame flame had told her that, too.

Clara grabbed her hand, pulling her along, Nichole almost tripping as she was dragged in the other woman’s wake.

Clara pushed her into a meeting room, Nichole stumbling, only barely catching herself on the table.

Clara kicked the door closed behind them.

Then Clara’s lips were back on hers and Clara’s hands were everywhere, the jacket of Nichole’s skirt suit pulled off and tossed away. Nichole heard a moan. She realised that it was her.

The blue flame had told her that she could moan.

One of Clara’s hands was around both of Nichole’s wrists, holding them above Nichole’s head. The PA had pushed the blonde up against the wall. The brunette’s free hand was roughly pulling the silk blouse out of the waistband of Nichole’s skirt, was undoing the buttons.

Nichole struggled, weakly, against the other woman’s grip. She shook her head, a “No,” barely escaping her lips.

“Don’t give me that,” Clara scoffed. “You want this, you little slut.”

Fires of lust were burning in the brunette’s eyes. Nichole’s quivered. She didn’t know if it was fear or anticipation. Her knees were so weak she was sure that she would drop to floor, a boneless puddle, if Clara wasn’t holding her up by her wrists.

She could feel her nipples, so tight, so engorged, as Clara pawed at her.

Why wasn’t she struggling harder? She didn’t like the PA. If anyone was to do this to her she wanted it to be Ms. Henderson. She could imagine Ms. Henderson doing this.

But Ms. Henderson would be gentle. Not like Clara, whose free hand was now roughly mauling Nichole’s tits through the fabric of her bra, whose eyes were devouring Nichole as she did.

“Tell me you want this,” Clara ordered.

She couldn’t, could she? This was wrong. But it felt so good, Nichole’s knees weak and heat flaring through her and her breath coming in gasps.

“Tell me,” The PA hissed, her grip tightening around Nichole’s wrists.

“I, I want this,” Nichole whispered.

“You love this, don’t you, you little slut?” Clara grinned as she tweaked one of Nichole nipples, cruelly.

“Oh God, yes,” Nichole moaned. It was so good, pleasure arcing between her nipple and her cunt.

The blue flame had told her what to say. The blue flame had told her she’d be so turned on.

It hadn’t told her that she’d be dripping.

Clara’s hand dragged down the zipper on Nichole’s skirt. Nichole had to stand there, her hands still pinned, as the garment dropped to her ankles. Arousal was burning through her, her breasts aching with need, her centre crying out.

Why did she feel like this? She didn’t want this, no matter what she’d said. Did she? Didn’t want this woman doing this to her.

But she did. She wanted it so much.

The blue flame had told her that she did.

Clara’s free hand grabbed Nichole by the chin, forced the blonde to look at her, the PA’s hazel eyes staring into Nichole’s blue ones.

“You want this,” Clara declared.

Nichole couldn’t say a word, need burning through her. She didn’t need to say anything. She knew that her look said it all.

Clara didn’t wait for a reply, spinning Nichole around, throwing her against the wall, Nichole’s breasts squashed, her breath rushing out. Even with her wrists momentarily released she couldn’t move. Clara was behind her, crushing her against the wall, the woman’s centre grinding against Nichole’s arse. Nichole’s wrists were again pinned above her head.

Her pulse was pounding in Nichole’s head, dread forming a knot in her stomach. But that hardly mattered. Not with the way her centre was crying out.

Why was she thrusting her arse back? It felt so good. Just like the blue flame had told her it would.

Need crashed through her, hot and liquid and dark.

Clara must have flicked the catch on Nichole’s bra, the garment hanging lose, one of the PA’s hands mauling Nichole’s bare tits, arcs of pleasure shooting through the young blonde.

“You’re so turned on, aren’t you?” Clara hissed in her ear. Clara’s free hand was now groping Nichole’s centre through her panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet. You do want this. Just a needy little slut.”

Clara’s hand thrust inside Nichole’s panties. Then two fingers plunged into the blonde’s pussy, so deep. Taking her. Hard. Fast. A third finger.

“Oh God, fuck me. Just fuck me. Please.”

It was Nichole’s voice. Why did she say that? How could she say that? She couldn’t want this. Not like this. Taken, used.

She was so turned on.

“You love it when I call you a slut. When I talk dirty to you.”

Nichole did. The blue flame had told her that she would.

“You’re just a slut with a needy dripping cunt. Just a hole wanting to be fucked.”

Nichole was drowning in need.

Clara’s fingers pistoned in and out, her other hand crushing Nichole’s wrists. The blonde’s breath was coming in moans and gasps.

It was what Nichole wanted. What she needed. Through the haze of lust Nichole knew that Clara’s attention was focussed on her. Clara might be using her. She might not like Clara. But Clara wasn’t ignoring her.

Not like her family.

Even if she was just a thing to be used, she would be all Clara would be thinking about.

Clara’s fingers thrust into her again, so deep, Nichole screaming out her orgasm, the spasms wracking her young body.

The PA released her grip on Nichole’s wrists, the blonde sinking to the floor, unable to support her own weight as the aftershocks crashed over her.

“Thank you,” Nichole whispered, her mind still a blur from the haze of pleasure.

The blue flame had told her to say that. Nichole thought that had been unnecessary. She’d have said it anyway.

At least there was someone who didn’t ignore her.

“You’re welcome, slut,” Clara grinned, slowly licking the fingers that had been buried in Nichole. “Now clean yourself up. Ms. Henderson wants to see you.”

A flower of warmth bloomed in Nichole. Ms. Henderson wouldn’t ignore her. Ms. Henderson was kind to her. Kinder than Clara. Ms. Henderson cared about her. Helped her with her needs. Was gentle. Mostly.

She needed Ms. Henderson.

But she needed to make herself look pretty again first.

Another thing the blue flame had told her.

A few minutes later Nichole stood demurely in front of her boss. She hoped there was no evidence of what Clara had done to her. Ms. Henderson wouldn’t want that.

It wouldn’t be professional.

She couldn’t help how flushed her cheeks still were.

Her boss smiled at her. Nichole almost melted in response.

Ms. Henderson would never ignore her.

“Good morning, Nichole.”

Her family hadn’t even said that to her.

“I have some meetings soon,” Ms. Henderson continued. “And I want you at them. But they’re not for a little while yet. I think we have some time.”

Ms. Henderson rose from behind her desk, Nichole’s heart soaring. It looked like her boss had some time for her.

Ms. Henderson did. Nichole just stood there. Because that was what her boss told her to do.

She’d do anything her boss told her to do.

Ms. Henderson was so gentle, as she kissed Nichole. As her hands roamed over the young woman’s body, caressed her breasts, stroked her centre. Soft, teasing, fingertips on her thighs, faint touches on her hips.

Nichole was quivering, her need rising again at every feather-light touch from her boss.

Her boss wasn’t ignoring her.

Ms. Henderson’s fingers pressed between Nichole’s shoulder blades. Nichole stopped moving. Stopped making any sounds.

It felt so good.

Felt so good as Ms. Henderson eased Nichole’s panties down, as her boss’s fingers played over her labia, teased her clit.

Nichole was so wet.

Ms. Henderson’s finger slipped inside her so easily, Nichole’s pussy welcoming the penetration.

Ms. Henderson’s thumb was circling Nichole’s clit, strumming it, bolts of pleasure shooting through the young blonde.

But she couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. She wasn’t allowed to. Not after Ms. Henderson had changed her setting.

Her arousal jumped higher at the thought. Ms. Henderson had changed her setting to the one that gave Nichole the most pleasure, the one that gave her the best orgasms. Clara hadn’t done that.

Ms. Henderson was so kind to her, so thoughtful.

Ms. Henderson understood her. Maybe she was the only one who did.

Nichole came, her vison dissolving. But she never moved, never made a sound, the pleasure crashing through her, taking her, wave after wave as Ms. Henderson kept stroking her.

It was one of her best orgasms ever.

“You’re still so wet, aren’t you?” Ms. Henderson smiled.

Nichole thought it was a kind smile.

“That will make it easy.”

Ms. Henderson returned to her desk. Retrieved the butterfly vibrator. Nichole thought she knew what was coming. Ms. Henderson was going to slip the toy inside Nichole.

But instead her boss handed it to her. “You know what to do.”

Nichole looked from the sex toy in her hands to her boss. Did Ms. Henderson mean she should put it in herself? Nichole wasn’t sure about that. But after everything they’d done it hardly mattered.

She’d do anything for her boss.

Swallowing nervously she pulled her pussy lips apart. The vibrator was so big. Had it really fit inside her? She looked up at MS. Henderson. Her boss smiled back, and nodded. Nichole knew what she had to do.

The vibrator slipped inside her so easily. She was so wet. It felt so good to be full, to have the other prong resting against her clit, the wings lying against her denuded skin.

So right.

Nichole knew what she had to do after that. Smooth down her clothes Stand beside her boss. Not move. Not say a word. Until she came. Then she could say “Yes, Ms. Henderson.”

She’d learnt that.

Ms. Henderson had the remote. At the press of a button the motors leapt to life. Faster and faster, stars appearing before Nichole’s eyes.

“Do you know what you have to do?”

Nichole couldn’t process the words. She was cumming. So she said. “Yes, Ms. Henderson.”

The response seemed to satisfy her boss.

Nichole said those words so many times that morning.

“You can keep that now,” Ms. Henderson said eventually, pointing at Nichole’s centre, where the main prong of the vibrator still lay deep with her, Nichole so aware of the intrusion. “Keep it in your desk. Whenever I tell you to come and observe some meetings you’ll know what to do.”

Nichole did. But how? She wouldn’t be able to just whip it out and put it in. Not in front of the whole office. Maybe she needed something to keep it in. Then she could slip off to the bathroom when Ms. Henderson gave her the message. And after that, walk back, in front of everyone, none of them knowing what she had inside her.

Nichole glanced down. Nothing showed, her skirt sitting just as it should. She looked so professional.

She took an experimental step, pleasure shooting through her. It would be so hard to walk even the short distance between her desk and Ms. Henderson’s office, showing nothing. But she could do it.

She’d do anything for her boss.

“Will there be anything else, Ms Henderson?” she asked. It was what a good employee would ask. She was professional Nichole.

“Yes, you just wait there,” Ms. Henderson smiled.

Ms. Henderson slipped Nichole’s jacket off. Not like Clara had. This was gentle, easing the garment off, careful not to pull Nichole’s arms too hard. Then the skirt was undone and lowered down Nichole’s legs, Ms. Henderson lifting one of Nichole’s feet and then the other, Ms. Henderson making sure Nichole didn’t lose her balance.

All the while Nichole stared straight ahead.

Then her blouse and her bra and her panties until she stood there with just the vibrator still filling her centre.

Without her clothes she couldn’t be Professional Nichole any more. Professional women didn’t stand naked in their boss’s office.

Without her clothes she wasn’t anything.

“Let’s try this.”

The naked girl standing there didn’t understand the words. She was just waiting to be told what she was.

“What do you think, Nichole?”

The girl looked down at herself. She could do that now. She could think now. She had on a plain white dress. Short. Sleeveless, just narrow straps running over her shoulders. White runners and short socks on her feet. She could feel that her long hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. She knew who was.

“Do you want to play a game? I love tennis.” She was Tennis Nichole. She loved to play. She loved to play with Ms. Henderson. She could imagine Ms. Henderson in an outfit like hers. The strong, clean, lines of the older woman’s arms and legs. Nichole would just melt. She’d hardly be able to hit the ball. Especially with the vibrator still deep within her. But she’d have to. That’s what she did. That’s all she did. Play and look pretty.

For Ms. Henderson.

Ms. Henderson shrugged. “Cute, but a bit limiting. Still, when I need some exercise.”

Nichole didn’t really understand. She just wanted to be on the court. She could smell the grass. Feel the racquet in her hand. See Ms. Henderson on the other side of the net. It was all she wanted.

It was all she knew.

“Just stand there.”

It wasn’t all she knew. She knew that she had to obey Ms. Henderson.

Her clothes were removed.

She was nothing again.

And then she was something. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a loose t-shirt and a light blue denim jacket. Nichole knew what she was.

“Are we going shopping?” the blonde squealed. “I love shopping!”

She didn’t know why, or where the money came from. Or even where the things she bought went. It didn’t matter. She loved to shop. With her friend Angela. She couldn’t imagine anything else.

Couldn’t remember anything else.

And it would be such a good joke to do it with the vibrator buried deep in her pussy. Only she and her friend Angela would know that. Angela could turn it on and off whenever she liked, Nichole reacting to the push of the button.

Hilarious.

“So you want to go shopping?” Angela asked.

“Yes!” Nichole squealed, barely able to stop bouncing up and down in delight. Especially with how deliciously that made the vibrator move inside her.

She loved to shop.

“Well, we will,” Angela smiled. “Sometime.”

Nichole tried to not let her disappointment show. She had to do what her friend said. She didn’t know why. It didn’t matter. She just did. And she and Angela would go shopping sometime. Angela had promised.

Nichole forgot that as Angela stripped her again.

She forgot everything.

“Aren’t you so pretty?” Ms. Henderson smiled, an unknown time later

Nichole looked down. She was wearing a white dress again. But different to… Different to something she could barely remember. Her dress was sleeveless, but with ruffles and frills and a full skirt that reached almost to her knees and a square neckline to the tight bodice that was laced up the front and spaghetti straps over her shoulders. She had little white sandals on, with just a hint of heel. She knew that there was a cute little lace choker around her neck, white, with a gold ‘N’ hanging from it. She didn’t know how she knew that. But she knew.

It all looked so innocent.

She was Innocent Nichole.

She could feel something, at her centre. Nichole ignored that. Someone as innocent as her wouldn’t do anything, …, down there. Wouldn’t have anything down there. Certainly wouldn’t be filled by a…

She didn’t know the word.

There was nothing there. She knew that.

She felt nothing down there.

Even as Ms Henderson flicked the button on some strange little box she held in her hand.

Nichole never felt anything down there.

Ms. Henderson was admiring her. That sent a rush of delight through Nichole. It was so good to have Ms. Henderson look at her. Maybe Ms. Henderson would…

No. That was impossible. Ms. Henderson wouldn’t do anything to her. Never would. Never had. Any ideas that she had were impossible.

Nichole forgot them.

She stood there, nervously. She didn’t know what to do. It was so nice having Ms. Henderson look at her. But Nichole didn’t know how to react.

She was innocent.

Nervously she twirled her fingers in her long blonde hair.

“Oh, aren’t you just a picture,” Ms. Henderson smiled.

That was good. Wasn’t it? Nichole smiled back, embarrassed.

She didn’t know what else to do.

“Just go stand over there.” Ms. Henderson indicated a corner of the room. Was it an office? Nichole wasn’t sure.

“Feet just a fraction apart.”

It felt so good to have someone tell her what to do. She needed that. She couldn’t decide for herself.

She couldn’t decide anything.

“Now, one hand grab the edge of your skirt. Pull it to the side. Yes, like that.”

Nichole thrilled at the praise.

“Tilt your hips the other way, just a little, and run your free hand through your hair. And smile.”

Nichole did as she was told.

“Oh, that’s sweet. Just the thing to brighten up my office.”

It was an office. Nichole felt her smile turn even brighter.

Somewhere, very close to her, something was buzzing.

She ignored that. She felt nothing.

“Freeze.”

Nichole did. She didn’t move. She didn’t think.

She didn’t have to.

She couldn’t.

“Sit down, Nichole.”

Nichole didn’t know how much later it was. She was wearing her professional outfit again. Of course she was, she was Professional Nichole. Nichole Stevens, who worked for Angela Henderson.

Her boss.

It was her boss’s office. Where they…

Maybe Ms. Henderson would fuck her.

They didn’t have to be professional all the time.

It was so good when Ms. Henderson fucked her. Nichole didn’t have any illusions that it was anything more than that. She was so lucky that her boss helped her see to her needs. But there was no way someone as amazing as Ms. Henderson would want anything more than a bit of office fun out of a junior employee like Nichole.

The vibrator was sitting on Ms. Henderson’s desk. It was clean. Nichole couldn’t remember clearly. Hadn’t she been standing next to her boss? Watching some meetings. It all seemed so fuzzy.

Her centre was so sore, as if the vibrator had been buzzing inside her for hours. Maybe it had. If that was what Ms. Henderson had wanted, then that was okay by Nichole.

“So, Nichole, is everything alright?”

There was a concerned smile on Ms. Henderson’s face.

“Of course it is,” Nichole replied. “Working here is great.” She was only telling the truth. She’d never lie to her boss. She was so lucky to have this job. To have got it straight out of university. When did I? Nichole pushed the thought away. She loved her job. And how her boss let her masturbate in front of her. And fucked her. What could be better?

Ms. Henderson didn’t seem satisfied. “But what about everything else? Much as we try to be professional, we can’t leave everything at the door of the office. I like to think my employees have a good life. And if they do have any problems that they can talk to me.”

Nichole blinked. She hadn’t realised that she’d been staring at her lap. Where her hands were clasped, wringing against each other. Maybe she could talk to Ms. Henderson. Her boss would understand. But it was so hard. She’d never talked to anyone about how her family treated her. Why had she kept quiet? Surely there’d been someone she could have talked to?

No.

There never had been.

Only Ms. Henderson.

But she couldn’t find the words.

Nichole looked up. Into Ms. Henderson’s blue eyes.

So blue.

Like a flame.

She could fall into that flame.

Forever.

Despite everything, she was so turned on, one thigh rubbing against the other in need.

“My family,” she began, then stopped. It was so hard.

“Yes, Nichole?” Ms. Henderson prompted gently.

Those blue eyes were focussed on Nichole. Only on her. So blue. So deep. There was a kind smile on Ms. Henderson’s face. No-one else looked at her like that. Not her family. They ignored her. Not Clara. Although Clara obviously thought of her. Nichole could remember the PA’s hands on her. The lust in Clara’s eyes. The wonderful orgasm that had crashed over her. That Clara had given her. She didn’t mind what the PA called her. At least someone wanted her.

But none of them looked at her like Ms. Henderson did. Kind, caring. None of them touched her like Ms. Henderson did. Gentle. Seeing to her needs. Considerate.

She could trust Ms. Henderson.

She had to do what Ms. Henderson said.

She had to.

The flame had told her that.

“My family,” she began. She took a deep breath. Then it all tumbled out. How her family ignored her. Shut her out. Didn’t care about her. It hurt to say it. It hurt so much. How her mother looked at her sometimes like she didn’t even recognise who Nichole was. How her sisters never included her in anything. How her room didn’t really feel like home.

She was crying as she finished. Leaning into Ms. Henderson’s arms. She didn’t remember when her boss had left her chair, come around to her side of the desk, had put her arms around her.

It felt so good to have someone just hold her.

She couldn’t help being turned on.

“I won’t tell you it’s alright,” Ms. Henderson said, her voice little more than a whisper. “But I’m here for you.”

At least someone was.

“Do you want to come back to my place tonight?”

Nichole’s heart leapt. She’d wanted to hear those words for so long. Her and Ms. Henderson. Together. Naked. Entwined. Her pussy was burning.

But then her brain told her that Ms. Henderson only meant the offer kindly.

“I have somewhere for you to stay.”

Nichole knew that her boss wasn’t referring to her own bed. Of course Ms. Henderson would have spare beds. She probably had some great apartment, overlooking the city. Plenty of spare space for an employee with nowhere else to go.

Ms. Henderson was so kind.

Nichole couldn’t say no to her boss. Didn’t want to. She simply nodded as she clung to the older woman.

It was late as they left the office. Nichole didn’t know how late. Didn’t know where the day had gone. There was no-one else there. Even Clara had gone. Nichole really wasn’t sure why Ms. Henderson put up with the woman as her PA. She wasn’t going to worry about that, pushing the thoughts of the brunette out of her mind as she climbed into Ms. Henderson’s expensive car. It was the first time she’d been alone with her boss outside of the office.

That made it special.

Nichole didn’t bother calling her family to tell them that she wouldn’t be home. They probably wouldn’t even notice that she wasn’t there.

The thought made her feel ill, even as she reminded herself that she should be used to it.

The drive was longer than Nichole expected. Though somehow it seemed to take no time at all. Out of the city. To a large house in the countryside.

Of course Ms. Henderson would have something like that.

Ms. Henderson didn’t ask her anything. Simply led her into the kitchen. It was huge. Almost as large as the whole ground floor of Nichole’s family’s home. There was a lovely wooden table there, chairs to match. Ms. Henderson told Nichole to sit. Told her to wait. Then Nichole’s boss made a meal. It was a Thai curry. Nichole’s favourite.

Her mother never made that.

Ms. Henderson was so kind.

“We need to talk, Nichole,” Ms Henderson announced eventually, the meal over.

Nichole swallowed nervously.

“Do you want to go home?”

“I, I don’t know. My family—”

Ms. Henderson cut her off. “Your family doesn’t care about you.”

“No, that’s not true.” It couldn’t be true. They were her family. Even if they ignored her. They had to care. Nichole was sure they did.

Except she couldn’t remember one time.

“I care about you.”

That was true. Ms. Henderson did care about her. Ms. Henderson let Nichole see to her needs. Helped her with them. Fucked her over her desk. Had brought her home. Given her something to eat.

Turned her on with just a look.

Nichole was so wet, her nipples so hard. There was a feeling at the back of her throat, need mixed with anticipation, creeping through her, like a wire, pushing deeper and deeper. The fingers of her left hand were playing with a knife.

Because she couldn’t keep them still.

“You can stay here.”

A jolt shot through the young woman. Of surprise.

Of arousal.

“But, I, I don’t have anything.” Nichole knew how lame an excuse it was the moment it passed her lips.

Ms. Henderson laughed. It was a kind laugh. Nichole could listen to it forever. Drown in it.

“That hardly matters, does it?” Ms. Henderson smiled. “I have everything you need.”

Ms. Henderson was so kind.

“I suppose,” Nichole allowed. “Um, you could take the rent out of my pay.” She had to give something back.

The edges of Ms. Henderson’s lips bent up, in an almost smile. “Don’t be silly, you work for me.”

“Do, you mean, like a servant?”

Nichole would do anything for her boss.

Ms. Henderson sighed and shook her head. “At the office. I have servants.”

Through the haze of arousal Nichole wondered where the servants were. Something about this didn’t seem right. How could it just be the two of them in a house this size? How well did she know her boss? Even if her family barely acknowledged her presence they were still her family. She rose unsteadily from her chair.

“No, um. It’s very kind but I think I should go.”

Even if so much of her wanted to stay.

Ms Henderson’s eyebrows rose. “Go where? Home? To a mother that can barely remember your name? To sisters that act as if you’re not there?”

That wasn’t right. Nichole’s mother did know her name? Didn’t she?

Ms. Henderson’s eyes were so blue.

Hadn’t Nichole’s mother looked at her that morning and asked “Who?” before shaking her head. Nichole was sure she could remember that. It had hurt so much.

But they were still her family.

They weren’t Ms. Henderson.

“I don’t need a servant,” Ms. Henderson was saying. “But there is something you can do for me.”

Ms. Henderson was looking at her, with those blue eyes. Nichole shivered as she felt their gaze on her.

It was a shiver of arousal

Did Ms. Henderson want a live-in lover? Nichole could do that. She’d love to do that. Whenever Ms. Henderson wanted her she’d be there.

“You just stand there.”

Nichole did. She’d do whatever Ms, Henderson told her.

Even if she was only a schoolgirl.

The professional clothes were gone. Why had she been wearing them? In their place was her school uniform. How had Ms. Henderson got that?

Nichole didn’t worry about that. She also didn’t worry about where she was. Or how they’d got there. Or why she couldn’t remember changing her clothes.

Something told her that she didn’t have to worry about those things.

Something blue.

They were in another room. Nichole assumed they were still in Ms. Henderson’s house. There was a large walk-in wardrobe. And a full-length mirror.

“Look at yourself.” Ms. Henderson commanded, indicating the mirror.

Nichole did. She had to do what she was told. She could see that she was wearing her uniform.

She could feel how wet she was, arousal spreading from her centre.

“Look at yourself.”

She was in the jeans and top and denim jacket again. Maybe she and Angela would go shopping.

The arousal was raw and hungry and she was so empty.

“Look at yourself.”

She was in the bikini. Was it time for the beach? She couldn’t remember anything but sand and surf and how much Ms. Henderson turned her on. She wanted Ms. Henderson’s hands on her. Playing over her bare skin. Maybe Ms. Henderson’s hands would dip under the skimpy material of her bikini.

She almost said ‘Please’.

She could barely breathe with the need crashing through her.

“Look at yourself.”

Sparkly purple dress and high heels. Had she just been at a nightclub? Where they getting ready to go to one? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was dancing and Angela and how her pussy was crying out for the older woman. She wanted to give herself to Angela. To be taken. Ravished.

She was so empty.

Except for the need.

“Look at yourself.”

The pretty white dress. All frills. So innocent. She wasn’t turned on. Didn’t even know what that phrase meant. She felt nothing physical.

But she was so grateful.

“Look at yourself.”

This was new. A crop top, short skirt. So short. Short enough to show the tops of her stockings, a bare expanse of her thighs. Heels that were so high. She was melting for this woman. She never did for her johns, never. But for this one she’d do anything. This one could bend her around her little finger. Have her cumming with just a word. She wanted it. Needed it. Needed this woman that she’d only just met, needed this woman to fuck her, use her. Take everything.

What else was a whore for?

“Remember.”

She was in an office outfit. She was Nichole Stevens. She was an intern, she’d only finished two years of university. She could remember all the outfits. How she’d felt.

How she’d been nothing without them.

She could barely stop from throwing herself at Ms. Henderson. Her hands were trembling, her lips quivering in need. But it wasn’t her place to do anything.

“I.” She couldn’t say anymore.

Ms. Henderson was there, in front of her. Ms. Henderson’s eyes were so blue.

“I choose your clothes,” Nichole’s boss declared. “I choose what you are.”

“No.” Nichole tried to shake her head. Tried to look away from those eyes. Someone else shouldn’t decide that for her.

No matter how good it felt.

No matter how good it was to look into Ms. Henderson’s eyes.

Blue eyes. Like a flame.

“What does that make you? What gets dressed up like its owner wants? Pretty outfits. Becomes whatever those outfits make her. Then is ready to play with.”

Nichole knew the answer. But she didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to think what admitting it would mean. What it would mean for her.

She had to answer her boss.

“A doll?”

“That’s right,” Ms. Henderson smiled, melting Nichole’s insides even further. “You can be my doll. My pretty little doll.”

That wasn’t right. Nichole tried to tell herself that she wasn’t a doll. That she wasn’t a thing. A doll was just a possession. Something owned. She didn’t want that. Nichole stumbled in the direction of the door. “No, I. I should leave.”

“And go where?” Ms. Henderson demanded. “To a family that doesn’t care about you? To a house that doesn’t feel like home? I’m the one who cares about you. I’m the one who’ll take care of you.”

Nichole had to turn around. The sound of that voice, telling her the truth. The thought of those eyes, filling her mind.

She stopped, turned around.

Ms. Henderson was so much closer than she’d expected. Had Nichole even moved at all?

Ms. Henderson gently stroked her cheek.

Nichole nuzzled into the touch. She couldn’t help herself. Didn’t want to. Her eyelids fluttered. She’d let them close, just revel in the sensation, except that would mean she wouldn’t be able to see Ms. Henderson’s eyes.

Her mind filled with the blue of those eyes.

“I’ll look after you,” Ms. Henderson whispered. “I’ll care for you.”

Of course she would. Ms. Henderson cared about her. Was so good to her.

And owners cared about their dolls.

“All you have to do is say yes.”

Would it be so bad? a voice in Nichole’s head whispered. Having someone care for her. Dress her up. Decide what she’d wear.

What she’d be.

At least someone would care. She’d never have to worry about that ever again.

Ms. Henderson took her by the hand, led her along. Gently.

It was so easy to let Ms Henderson make the decisions.

“This will be yours.”

They were standing in front of a glass case. In another room. It was a nice room. Even at night Nichole could see that the window had a view.

Not that a doll would care about that.

The glass was clear, polished. There were lights set into the floor of the case. To illuminate the contents.

Her.

It would be so easy to say yes.

“Of course you won’t be in there all the time,” Ms. Henderson told her, Nichole barely comprehending. “Dolls get to be played with. Like her.”

Nichole became aware of another case in the room. Just like the one she was standing in front of. Except the other one had an occupant.

Clara.

Nichole gasped in shock.

The PA was simply standing there. Unmoving. Nichole was sure the woman wasn’t breathing. Her eyes were so glassy. So vacant.

“She was such a delicate little thing when I first met her. Such an introvert. Almost afraid of her own shadow. Do you want to meet that Clara? It will just take the right outfit. But I do like the sassy one. Such fun to bait her. And she likes you. Maybe I’ll play with you two together. That will be fun, won’t it?” There was a faraway look in Ms. Henderson’s blue eyes. “Oh, I know. You two can be girlfriends. I’ll have you go on little playdates.”

Ms. Henderson’s eyes were fixed on Clara.

A shiver went through Nichole. This was all wrong. What Ms. Henderson wanted of her was wrong. She was a person, not someone’s plaything. She didn’t want to be a doll. And she didn’t want Clara as a girlfriend. She didn’t like Clara. Clara bullied her and insulted her and called her names and…

Ms. Henderson looked at Nichole.

With those blue eyes.

Clara had fucked her until she couldn’t hold herself up. That had been so good. And what was the alternative to what her boss offered? Sisters who ignored her? A mother who didn’t care about her?

Ms. Henderson cared about her. Even Clara didn’t ignore her. Maybe having the PA as her play girlfriend would be fun.

Maybe Clara would fuck her again, like she had that morning. Call her names with her fingers buried deep inside Nichole. Leave her a quivering wreck. Clara had given that to her. It was only Nichole who’d cum that morning, not the PA. Maybe Clara did care about her. Maybe she’d fuck Clara. Leave the PA moaning for more.

If that was what Ms. Henderson wanted.

Nichole would do anything her boss wanted.

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you know what it means?” her boss asked her, suddenly looking serious. “You’ll be my doll. My possession. Owned. To do whatever I want with. Be whatever I want.”

“Yes,” Nichole repeated. She wanted it. Needed it. Everything else was too hard.

“Say it again,” Ms. Henderson commanded.

Nichole had to do it. It didn’t matter what it meant. Ms. Henderson’s eyes were so blue and her family didn’t care about her and the orgasms were so good.

“Yes,” Nichole repeated again.

“Three times is a charm,” Ms. Henderson smirked. “Tell me that I own you.”

“You own me.” It wasn’t even a decision, even though Nichole realised it meant so much. She didn’t make decisions any more. She just did what her owner wanted.

It felt so good to be owned.

It was right.

“You’re my doll.”

“I’m your doll.” She was. It was true. Nichole was so happy. She’d never have to worry about anything ever again. Never have to decide anything.

Ms. Henderson would make the decisions now. Tell Nichole what to do. What to be. She was just a doll, after all. Dolls were just there for their owners to play with. It felt so good.

She was almost cumming.

“You are so pretty. And I have so many outfits for you. Don’t worry,” Ms. Henderson reassured her, smiling. “You’ll still work in the office. Now and then. You and your girlfriend Clara can help me get more dolls. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

Nichole would. She’d like anything her owner had her do. She didn’t care what it might mean for those other women. She was owned.

She came, the pleasure blasting through her, her knees sagging.

It was so good to be owned.

Nichole was in her schoolgirl outfit again. She didn’t know when she’d changed.

I didn’t change my clothes, she told herself. My owner did.

Nichole wondered if she’d ever dress herself again.

She hoped not.

But it wasn’t her decision.

“In you get,” Ms. Henderson ordered, holding the door of the case open.

Nichole did.

She’d do anything her owner told her to do.

Pleasure radiated from her centre, another orgasm was so close.

“Freeze.”

She did.

Slowly, a delicious tingle ran though her. From her toes and her fingers and up her limbs and through her body, leaving her insides churning with delicious heat. She could hardly breathe, the wave sweeping her chest, her neck. Her eyes lost focus, the pleasure more than she could bear.

She didn’t see the blue flame washing over her. Changing her.

She was a doll.

She always would be.

Everything went black.

(The End)

(But there will be an epilogue)