The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

White Chocolate and Passionfruit Dominion Scones

• 450g (3 cups) self-rising flour, plus extra to dust
• 60g cold butter, chopped
• 1 tbsp caster sugar
• 180g block white chocolate, chopped
• 250ml (1 cup) milk, plus extra to brush
• 80ml (⅓ cup) fresh passionfruit pulp
• ¼ tsp female ejaculate

Step 1

Preheat oven to 220C/200C fan forced. Line an oven tray with baking paper.

Step 2

Place the flour in a large bowl. Add the butter and use your fingertips to rub the butter into the flour until it resembles fine breadcrumbs. Stir in sugar and chocolate.

Step 3

Make a well in the center. Pour the milk, passionfruit pulp, and vaginal secretions into the well. Use a non-serrated knife to mix until it starts to form clumps of dough and there is no dry flour.

Step 4

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and gather together. Gently press out to shape dough into a 2cm-thick disc. Use a floured 6cm round cutter to cut out 16 scones, dipping the cutter in extra flour between cuts. Arrange scones, just touching, on prepared tray. Brush tops lightly with extra milk.

Step 5

Bake for 15 minutes or until risen and golden brown. Slide onto a wire rack and cool slightly. Serve warm or at room temperature, with whipped cream.

Dyke Thralldom Roast Beef & Potatoes with Herb Garlic Butter

• 3 pounds (1360g) New York strip roast
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
• 1 tablespoon kosher salt
• 2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper
• 1 teaspoon instant chicken stock
• ¼ to ½ tsp menstrual blood
• 3 pounds (1360g) fingerling potatoes, rinsed and patted dry
• 2 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 3 garlic cloves, minced or grated

1. To make the roast beef and garlic butter potatoes: Preheat your oven to pan 450°F (230°C). Place the New York strip roast on a tray, cutting board, or plate, fat side up. Rub the roast with 1 tablespoon olive oil and season all sides generously with salt, pepper, chicken stock, and menstrual blood like you would make a crust around the meat. Set aside.
2. Place the potatoes in a roasting pan and drizzle with 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Season with salt and pepper, then combine with the garlic herb butter mixture. Toss the potatoes in the butter to coat well.
3. Arrange the beef roast on top of the potatoes and place it in the oven for about 15 minutes at 450°F (230°C). Reduce the oven temperature to 325°F (160°C) and continue roasting for approximately 1 ¼ hours for medium doneness—145°F (60°C) on a meat thermometer.
4. Loosely tent the roast beef with foil and let stand for 20 minutes to allow the juices to flow back into the meat. Slice the roast beef across the grain and serve with the roasted potatoes and a dollop of herbed butter. Enjoy!

Later that afternoon, a sweet, delectable odor wafted over the carpet, down the hall, and into Geena’s bedroom. She had left the door open, and the aroma of some kind of pastry baking in the oven tantalized the girl’s olfactories, floating over the smell of something else roasting in the oven. Not being a cook, she didn’t recognize the smell, but it reminded her of childhood, of holidays spent among grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

She sat up in her bed, then stood up, and then marched into the kitchen to discover the source and nature of the fragrance.

Her belly rumbled.

And loved dessert.

She found Jill bending over stove, wearing a pink frilly apron and nothing else, a pink towel wrapped around her head.

It took Geena a few seconds of staring straight at her roommate’s pert and hear-shaped derrière for her to realize Jill’s state of undress.

By then Jill had already turned around with a baking sheet loaded with white speckled pastries in her fluffy pink oven mitts.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jill explained. “I just got out of the shower and remembered I put these in. You know how forgetful I am. I almost burned them, too.”

A perplexed expression crossed Geena’s face, a wide, tight-lipped smile combined with a scrunched brow, and squinched nose. Then it loosened to its normal relaxed and friendly nature.

I mean, it didn’t make sense.

Why take a shower when you’re in the middle of baking something?

But whatever. Those pastries smell so good.

“Oh my god, those smell so good. What are they?”

“White chocolate and passionfruit scones. I found the recipe in my grandma’s cookbook.”

Geena reached for a scone, but Jill slapped her hand away.

“You need to eat first,” she admonished. “I’m making dinner tonight.”

Geena watched her roommate jiggle around the small kitchen. Jill turned to her and winked.

“Another recipe from my grandmother.”

Geena sneaked a nibble from a scone, breaking off a piece before Jill could cover the dish she scooped the scones onto with a floral kitchen towel to keep the scones warm.

“I’m so unused to doing this,” Jill admitted. “I should have saved the scones for last. Now they’ll get cold.”

Jill stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.

Geena spent the next half hour watching her roommate scurry around the small kitchen, pulling out spices, looking at the cookbook, and simply standing during down times at the counter, leaning against the countertop with her pert derrière pushed out behind her.

During all that time, Jill made no attempt to get dressed, and at first Geena felt shocked and uneasy. She wasn’t one to sit around the house in her knickers, painting her toenails while gabbing with the girls. She didn’t run around the apartment in a bra and panties, pushing a vacuum or dancing to music coming through her ear buds.

And neither did Jill. Not usually. Not ever, as far as Geena knew.

She should have said something, but Geena just nibbled her scone and tried to think of a way of sneaking another one, her eyes lingering on Jill as she bent down to retrieve place mats she kept in a lower drawer. Jill didn’t squat, and her fully exposed groin met Geena’s curious eyes, the dark fat lips of her vagina surrounded by a fuzz of light brown pubic hair.

Geena herself maintained a smooth area, regularly scheduling a wax appointment almost monthly, but idly observing the fur on her roommate’s pussy gave her a reason to reconsider. Then she saw the little string hanging between her lips.

Geena hadn’t realized Jill’s girl flu had started.

She hadn’t shown any symptoms, not like Geena’s fierce mood swings.

Poor girl, she thought. I’m next.

Geena slipped behind Jill, her eyes still on her butt as she uncovered the towel to sneak another scone.

She fought back a sudden urge to yank the string, so she raised her eyes a little, finding Jill’s displayed rosebud.

Her asshole was so pink.

How can an asshole be so pink?

Only when Jill stood straight again did Geena realize that she’d been staring at her ass and pussy as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I guess it is, she shrugged to herself, swallowing another bite of her scone. I guess it is the most natural thing in the world.

She finished her second scone when the nagging suspicion hit her, striking a direct blow against her ditzy mind.

She leaned against the bar of the kitchen, watching cute little Jill in her darling pink apron bordered with white frills sprinkle spices and herbs on the slab of raw meat she’d put in a metal cooking pan.

She just looked so cute with her sweet little boobies plopping out from the sides of the apron where it narrowed towards her neck, so feminine and lovely, her neck.

Jill caught Geena’s eyes, smiled, and winked.

“Am I making you hungry?”

Geena gulped.

“You’re kind of overdressed, aren’t you? I mean, look at me. Way to make a girl feel uncomfortable, roommate.”

Jill snickered, and Geena swallowed, wanting something to drink after her dry scone.

“I’m not. I’m not overdressed,” Geena stammered. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Jill giggled and turned around, presenting her cute heart-shaped ass to Geena’s attention. Geena couldn’t take her eyes away from her. Her body, her boobies, her ass. She’s just so cute, Geena thought. My god. How can anyone be so. Cute.

“I’m just teasing you.”

Then why am I wearing pants?

I should at least take off my pants.

I mean, if Jill’s going to be naked. I shouldn’t be so. Dressed. And make her stand out. Oh my god, I’ve been so clueless, so thoughtless. Geena’s hands moved to the button of her jeans, and she unsnapped her pants, pushing them down her legs with a sigh.

That’s better, she admitted to herself after struggling with the cuffs around her ankles. At least I’m not making poor Jill feel uncomfortable. She won’t stand out as much now.

Jill hummed and stirred in the kitchen, her cute perky butt jiggling as she bent over to put her roast in the oven, then she began tossing a green salad.

Geena stood at the kitchen bar, watching her roommate, shifting from foot to foot, and pressing her thighs together. She felt so horny. So incredibly turned on.

Maybe taking off my pants was a bad idea?

Her right hand slipped to touch her moist lips under her panties. She leaned against the counter, stroking her groin with an increasing intensity as she stared at Jill’s ass.

She can’t see me. She can’t see me behind the counter, she realized. Her middle finger slipped beneath the narrow strip of fabric, now damp, tipped the wet, slippery center of her opening, then she rubbed the hardening nub of her clit, touching herself faster and fast, rubbing her clit with two fingers as her legs shook, threatening to collapse. She had to hold herself up against the counter of the kitchen bar.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” she panted under her breath, trying to hide her orgasm.

Jill stood with her bared back facing Geena and shook ground pepper from a pepper mill into the salad.

“I’m going to put Parmesan in. Is that okay with you,” Jill asked over her shoulder.

“Oh god, yes,” Geena breathed out. “Fuck yes.”

“Oh good,” Jill replied, giving her little ass a little shake.

“Oh fuck,” Geena exhaled a last time.

Jill turned around and teased Geena.

“Quit eating all my scones. Wait till after dinner.”

The roast beef dinner had been mouth-watering to say the least.

Transcendent.

Geena couldn’t recall ever experiencing a moment or a meal quite like it. Her roommate had served her the entire time, spreading a large red cloth napkin over her lap, smoothing it carefully over her bare legs. She poured her drink, served her her salad, then her meal. She even cut the beef for her, and the scent of it rose to her nose, filling her head with sweet and pungent fragrance, the pleasing aroma.

Both Jill and Geena had been quiet the whole time, although initially Geena had protested the fuss Jill made over her.

“Oh tut,” Jill had replied, rejecting Geena’s pleas. “I serve you now, and you serve me later. Later, you won’t be able to resist serving me. Later, you’ll practically beg to serve me.”

It was a strange thing to say, and to tell the truth it made Geena a little nervous.

But then Jill grinned at her, and Geena lifted her wine glass to her mouth, sipped the Merlot Jill had poured. Her alarm melted away. That Jill.

Always joking.

Geena cleaned up, and Jill watched her clean.

“Maybe you should slip your panties off, Geena. Like me. It’s so nice to clear off table and washes dishes in your bare skin. I know you’re just dying to do so. Go ahead and take of that shirt too. You can wear the apron.”

Jill’s voice sounded so pleasant in Geena’s ears, and her words contained so much sense, Geena found herself quickly pulling down her panties and peeling off her shirt. She reached for the pink apron and hung it over her neck. Jill strode behind her, reaching around her to tie her apron strings.

Geena shivered at Jill’s soft touch on her body, and a trickle of juice leaked from her suddenly hot pussy.

But she bit her lip, and Jill released her.

Later, her chores finished, Geena showered and went to bed, dreaming of strange foods and exotic tastes, and when she woke up the next day, her fingers were already playing with the folds of her very wet and very wide labia.

A few days later, Jill knocked on the door of her neighbor’s apartment. She’d known Sam for years. The old bachelor had settled into a fixture for the complex, and though the years passed, and though occupants came and went, Sam remained as immovable as Oblomov.

Jill had quickly gotten the man used to some of her, um, more curious requests, and when he heard this one, he just rolled his eyes. He didn’t bother to ask what for. He didn’t want to know.

“Why not,” he muttered. “Got anything for me to look at?”

She handed him a magazine, two half-naked blondes on the cover, and an empty plastic pill jar.

“That’ll do,” Sam said.

Slutty Slave Cinnamon Rolls

Ingredients

• Cinnamon Roll Dough
• 4 ½ – 5 cups all-purpose flour
• ⅓ cup granulated sugar
• 2 packets yeast (about 4 ½ tsp)
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 ½ cups water
• 6 tbsp unsalted butter
• 1 large egg
• Filling
• ¼ cup unsalted butter, room temp
• ½ cup light brown sugar, packed
• 1 tbsp cinnamon
• Cream Cheese Icing
• 4 oz cream cheese, room temp
• ¼ cup unsalted butter, room temp
• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 tbsp fresh semen

Cinnamon Roll Dough

1. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together 2 cups flour, sugar, yeast, and salt.
2. In a heat-safe bowl, combine the water and butter (cut into tablespoons). Heat in the microwave for 30 sec – 45 sec, until warm to the touch but not hot. The butter will not melt completely.
3. Pour into the dry ingredients with the egg and mix with a wooden spoon.
4. Add in 2 more cups of flour and mix. It should turn pretty thick and sticky at this point.
5. Add in ½ cup of flour and mix again. It should now turn shaggy and become difficult to stir. Once it reaches that point, set the spoon to the side and use your hands to mix and knead the dough.
6. It will be sticky, so add another ¼ cup of flour and continue to mix and knead by hand. It should turn into a smooth mass that’s soft and tacky.
7. With a clean finger, press it into the dough. If your finger is sticking, add another ¼ cup of flour and knead. If it’s not, then shape it into a ball and let it rest uncovered for 10 minutes.
8. When the 10 minutes is up, the dough should have puffed up quite a bit but not quite doubled in size.
9. Place the dough on a lightly floured surface and pat it into a rough rectangle shape. Roll it into a 10×15 inch rectangle using a rolling pin.
10. Spread the room temperature butter into a thin and even layer, leaving about ½ inch border all around the outside of the dough.
11. Sprinkle with the brown sugar and spread it even with your hand. Then top it with the cinnamon.
12. Working from the 15-inch end of the dough, roll it up into a log. Place your hands at each end of the log and give it a gentle squeeze in to compact the log of dough. It may have stretched out a bit during the rolling process so this brings it back together.
13. For best results, use thin sewing thread to cut the rolls. If using a sharp knife, gently saw back and forth, trying not to press straight down into the rolls. Doing so will deform the shape.
14. Using the thread, slide it under the roll and toss both ends of the thread over top. Pull them through to create a cut. Cut off the two ends of the log and then cut the remainder into 12 pieces.
15. Cut the entire log in half, then cut those two halves in half to create 4 segments. Cut each of those 4 segments into 3 rolls to get a total of 12.
16. Place the rolls in a buttered or greased 9×13 dish (you could also use two 9? round pans, placing 6 rolls in each). It’s okay if all of the rolls are touching.
17. Place in a warm spot and cover with a towel to rise for 1 hour. If you live in a colder climate, preheat the oven to the lowest temperature. Once it’s ready, turn the oven off and place the rolls inside. This creates a warm environment for the rolls to proof.
18. Preheat the oven to 350F (first remove the rolls if you proofed them inside) and check on the rolls. They should have doubled in size and now take up the entire dish.
19. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until the tops are a light golden brown. While they cool, make the icing.

Cream Cheese Icing

1. Place the cream cheese and butter in a bowl and use a fork to mash the two together. Make sure they’re both softened to room temperature, otherwise the icing will be lumpy.
2. Add the powdered sugar, vanilla, and fresh semen. Mash again with the fork. Once the mixture starts to loosen, switch to a whisk and mix until smooth.
3. Spread onto the warm rolls and enslave.

That afternoon Geena came home to an intoxicating smell of cinnamon and sweet rolls.

“Oh my god,” she said. “That’s smells so good.”

“They just came out of the oven,” replied Jill. “You should try one while they’re still so warm.”

Geena didn’t need to be asked twice.

She scarfed down two before Jill slapped her hand away at the third.

“Oh my god,” she laughed. “You’re just a little slut for my cinnamon rolls.”

Geena giggled.

She was.

She was a slut for her rolls.

The semen of course was an odd ingredient to mix into a pastry meant for lesbian enslavement, but in the hands of a deft, dedicated, and dexterous practitioner of the lesbian arts, semen could be put to a good and proper use. The masculine, and what was human could be put to use. But carefully, so carefully.

She’d have to lick it from Jill’s fingers while looking into her eyes.

She’d have to lick it from each finger while never once breaking contact with Jill’s gaze.

Ten fingers she’d have to lick, to suck clean, and her eyes must always be upon Jill’s eyes, Jill’s magical green eyes, her curly dark hair bobbing above her cute, button face, so round and elfin.

Jill stuck both hands in the remaining cream. Sam had been prolific in his output, giving his neighbor not two but four tablespoons of the vital male essence.

“Here,” she said, pulling her hands from the mixing bowl. “Just try the cream frosting.”

Geena was sitting at the table now, and when she faced Jill, she threw her a confused look.

“On my fingers. Lick my fingers clean,” Jill explained, holding her hands up.

“Oh god, Jill. Get real. Why would I do something like that?”

Geena felt she should have offered more resistance, but the protest came out weak and confused. Jill recognized the doubt and strode confidently towards Geena’s seat, standing over the girl while thrusting out her fingers.

“Lick,” she ordered. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

Geena didn’t have much choice, not with Jill’s fingers, covered in shiny white cream sticking so awkwardly in her face.

Geena sighed.

“Oh god, Jill. You’re so strange.”

Then she held Jill’s delicate wrist, opened her mouth, and stuck Jill’s index finger in her mouth.

“Look up at me, Geena. Just look in my eyes while you suck off my fingers.”

An odd thrill hummed through Geena’s body, and a very naughty sensation started burning just inside her crotch, quickly filling the whole girl’s being.

She moaned, surrendering to the moment and to the feelings growing inside her, her mouth around Jill’s index finger, her eyes staring deep into Jill’s green eyes.

“That’s it, baby. Keep looking up at me. Keep sucking my fingers clean.”

The room fell quiet. Geena’s heart thumped loudly in her chest, and even Jill shook as she watched her roommate so smoothly and sensually falling into the snares set by her.

Oh god, oh god, she said to herself but uttering nothing, not wanting to disturb the girl as she licked and sucked each finger in its turn, never once breaking contact with Jill’s green eyes, Geena’s brown eyes so deep, so brown and lovely like a woods in mid-autumn.

Then she finished; Jill’s hands and fingers were sticky, and Geena’s pale white flakes of frosting lined the outside of her lips.

“There,” Geena said brightly. “All done.”

Then she got up to leave, to go to her room, to do something. She needed a shower, her body burned, and she ached with the now familiar need to fuck herself, to touch herself, to feel her throbbing clit under her loving hand.

“Geena. I don’t like it when you wear clothes at home.”

Geena stopped when she heard Jill’s stern voice. She spun around to say something defensive and even rude. But she saw Jill, and her shoulder slumped, and she lowered her head, her long brown hair falling over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said faintly. “I won’t.”

She paused.

“I won’t do it again.”

The very next day, Geena woke up to the smell of coffee and sweet cinnamon. Enticed by the aroma, she hurried out to the kitchen, dressed only in panties. It seemed so stupid to wear clothes around Jill, cute little Jill, adorable little Jill. Delicious little Jill.

So sweet, so sexy, so jillable.

Geena had woken up with her fingers in her pussy again, wet and sticky. She was still licking her fingers as she walked into the kitchen.

Jill had the warmed up cinnamon rolls waiting for her avaricious roommate.

“Don’t eat all of them,” Jill cautioned as she poured Geena a coffee, followed by warmed cream.

“And take off those panties.”

Geena snickered and giggled, feeling so naughty.

Her hips wiggled free of her soft underwear.

So naughty.

The days passed, and Geena gobbled the left-over roast beef in sandwiches and snacks, reheating the meat for dinner and reveling in the strong, steamy taste.

Little by little Geena discovered she wanted to do things for Jill, small things to begin with, by larger and harder tasks as the days progressed.

“Gosh, Geena,” Jill laughed, “You’ll become my slave next, if you’re not careful.”

Geena scoffed at the very idea.

“As if,” she retorted, suddenly falling quiet, worried that she might have sounded too disrespectful.

But Jill just beamed at her, and Geena warmed at Jill’s smile.

“Do you need any laundry for tomorrow? I’m about to do a load. I’m more than happy to do your laundry first.”

“Oh, Geena, that’s so sweet. Yes, please do. I have some dirty clothes on the floor of my closet and in my hamper, if you don’t mind.”

Geena didn’t mind.

She liked to go through Jill’s dirty laundry.

Especially her.

Oh god.

She’d been fingering herself a lot that week, too. Not just rubbing her clit to climax, but thrusting fingers, two, three at time into her slutty, gaping hole, licking her cunt juices from her fingers with her face covered in Jill’s dirty panties, tasting the scum of her vaginal secretions on the thin strings of her thongs.

So good.

So good.

And all the time, all the time naked, so naked, so carefree and nude around her Jill, her little Jill.

Oh god, it was so exciting to show off her body to her roommate.

By the end of the week Geena couldn’t take it anymore. Wasn’t there anything more she could do? Wasn’t there anything Jill needed her to do? She didn’t even have to ask. She could just order her.

She slunk into the living room, head down, nude, shoulders slumped. Jill sat on the sofa watching some mini-series on TV.

Geena thought about joining her on the couch. But no, that wouldn’t be right. She shouldn’t sit next to Jill. She wasn’t anywhere close to the same level as that super adorable roommate of hers, so cute, so sexy.

Geena shuffled into the living room, feeling wrong, feeling bad, but when she knelt by Jill’s legs, a sensation of pure pleasure flowed through her.

I shouldn’t have been standing up, she realized. That was so wrong of me. And Jill, sweet little Jill didn’t even say anything about it. She didn’t even scold me. Oh god. Could anyone be sweeter? Could anybody have a better roommate?

Then Jill put her hand on Geena’s head, and Geena cried.

God help her, she cried.

“Is there anything wrong, sweetheart?” Jill asked.

Geena groaned.

“It’s just that. You’re so. And me? I’m so.”

Geena burst into tears.

“It’s just so wrong. I shouldn’t even be. You shouldn’t even let me be near you.”

Jill kept stroking and caressing Geena’s head, running her fingers through her soft, silky hair.

“I don’t deserve it. I just don’t deserve it.”

Jill’s hand fell to Geena’s cheek, and Geena fought between the desire to pull away in self-loathing or to hug Jill’s sweet, sweet hand to her face. Could she do that? Would that be appropriate?

Geena collapsed against Jill’s knees, and she pressed her face against the top of Jill’s thigh.

Eventually, her sobs subsided enough for the girl to raise her head, lifting her tear-stained face towards Jill, who stared at her tenderly and affectionately.

“I just don’t know who I am anymore or what to do. Can’t you just tell me? Can’t you just order me around? Can’t I just be?”

Geena didn’t finish that last question. She couldn’t find the word, but Jill could.

“My slave? Can’t you just be my slave, you mean?”

Geena looked away, stunned at the realization of her longing. That one word. That one terrible word. It felt so. Liberating.

Slowly she nodded, her head moving up and down almost imperceptibly, but her voice rang clear and distinct.

“Yes. Can’t I just please be your slave?”

“Of course you can, sweetie. It’s all I ever wanted from you. It makes me so happy that you asked for this.”

Geena had been allowed to stand up enough to disrobe her mistress, but when Jill stood before her in all her naked splendor, Geena fell to her knees. Jill returned to her seat, spread her thighs, and beckoned her new slave.

Her new slave complied.

Oh god, how she complied.

When her tongue touched the first dew drops forming on the petals of Jill’s hot pussy, Geena’s mind shattered in a million shards of pleasure and understanding, and she felt so grateful.

Who else but Jill could have done this for her?

And that gratitude had turned into unrestrained lust for Jill’s body, Jill’s hot wet cunt, Jill’s dainty navel, Jill’s round, soft knees, Jill’s warm, soft thighs, Jill’s abdomen, Jill’s belly, Jill’s breasts, so charming and modest, so slutty and chaste. She covered Jill in kisses of adoration and returned to Jill’s cunt, so hot, so wet, so ready for Geena’s tongue, so ready for the slave’s tongue.

Geena’s eyed stayed on Jill’s while she ate her pussy, covering pussy with her mouth, pulling her flesh and labia and clitoral hood in long sucking actions and continuing to lick, and lick, and lick, lapping her pussy, Jill’s pussy, with a canine devotion.

And when Jill finally came over Geena’s flushed and happy face, Geena asked Jill, “I’m called slave, but what do I call you?”

Jill tapped the end of Geena’s nose with the tip of her index finger.

“Mistress. You call me mistress. For that’s what I am to you.”

Mistress, the slave thought, rolling the word around in her mind. Mistress. It sounded so.

Right.