The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The two guys were having trouble taking “not interested” for an answer.

“C’mon, babe,” said the blond guy. “Why hang out on this street corner when you could be having fun with us? A couple drinks. You’ll have a great time, I promise.”

“Yeah,” said the other guy, a dark-haired, less intelligent version of the blond. “It’ll be fun.”

“No, thank you,” I said. “I have a ride coming.”

“Well, hell, we’ll give you a ride,” said the blond. “All you gotta do is ask.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, that might happen. What’s the temperature in Hell? Freezing yet?”

“Aww, don’t be like that, babe,” said the blond, taking a step closer. “You haven’t even given us a chance yet.”

“You noticed,” I said. “Now back off and leave me the fuck alone.”

His face flushed. “You don’t have to be nasty, bitch,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “Stuck-up slut. You ain’t that fuckin’ hot.”

And just like that, it was show-time. With my free hand, I feinted for his eyes. He took a half-step back and turned his head. I grabbed his wrist instead and whirled under his arm, twisting his arm behind his back as I did so.

“Owww...!” he said, trying to get away. “Leggo my arm, you fucking bitch!”

I moved with him as he spun around, using him as a shield against his friend. I couldn’t do it indefinitely, though, so I planted my feet suddenly and jammed his wrist as high up his back as I could and twisted his wrist even more.

“Gahhhhhh...!” he said. “Y-y-you b-broke my a-a-arm...!

I pushed him away and then jumped back as his friend swung a beefy fist at me.

“C’mon, bitch!” he said.

I kicked him in the balls.

“Gahhh-ahhhh-ahhhh-ahhhh...!” he said. Or something like that. His face was muffled by the sidewalk.

The blond guy was crying. “Y-you g-gotta get me to a h-hospital! Crazy b-bitch! All we were doing was trying to talk to y-you!”

I laughed. “Quit being such a baby,” I said. “It’s dislocated, not broken. And maybe by the time it heals, you’ll have learned how to treat women.”

Right then a new-looking dark Transit Skyliner van pulled up to the corner.

“Looks like my ride is here,” I said. “Toodles.”

“You can’t leave us like this! I’ll call the cops!”

“You do that, Sparky,” I said. “Tell them Special Agent Key Davenport says hello.”

I opened the door to the van and slid into the front seat.

As the van pulled away from the corner, I looked at the driver. He had tousled sandy blond hair, glasses and surprisingly thick, well-built shoulders.

Without looking at me, he said, “Friends of yours?”

“They were Avon salesmen,” I said. “The pushy kind.”

“I see.”

“They said I was a deep Autumn. As if. I’m obviously a cool Winter.”

He chuckled. “Black hair, pale skin? You’re a clear Winter. But you were right to beat them down.”

I looked at him suspiciously. “For a handler, you certainly know a lot about season color analysis.”

“Someone’s got to dress you,” he said. “You have no clue.”

“Watch it, Locke,” I said. “I’ll turn you from an Autumn to a Winter.”

“I’m more of a Spring, actually.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Any update on the Cartini twins?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Word is Tait’s meeting McNally at the club tonight.”

“Tait?” I said. “Hmmm. Him and McNally don’t normally run in the same circles. I wonder what his part in this is.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that myself. Fixer, maybe? That’s Tait’s specialty, after all. Anyway, find out what you can. Get enough intel and you can drop this gig.”

I nodded. “Good,” I said. “I’m tired of shaking my ass for McNally.”

Locke chuckled. “Well, it may end up paying off tonight.”

“It better.”

The Cartinis were twin sixteen-year-old girls who had been kidnapped several weeks earlier. Twins in Chrystal Heights are valuable to begin with because they’re rare and they often develop some serious abilities. But these twins were the daughters of a powerful and influential government figure, which meant that Chrystal Heights Intelligence was on the case.

Locke and I had been trying to track down the twins for weeks. This was our only present case. We were working the case because we had a unique m.o.

Locke pulled the Transit Skyliner van into a parking and parked beneath a large neon sign. The words “Chrystal Pleasures” flashed rhythmically.

“All right,” he said. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” I said, getting up and pushing through the heavy curtain into the back of the van. “Let’s do this.”

The back of the van was a large, comfortable compartment illuminated by a warm, soft glow. The pleasant scent of vanilla lightly misted the air. Soft carpet covered the floor. Two plush captain chairs faced each other.

I slid into the one closest to the back of the van. Locke sat in the chair closest to the heavy curtain. He opened a laptop.

“Okay, Special Agent Key Davenport,” he said. “Are you comfortable?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Senior Handler Damon Locke,” I said. “Let’s get started already before I’m late for work.”

He nodded. “Okay, Key,” he said. Then he looked me in the eyes and said, “Blue soup.”

“Hello, Casey.”

My eyes opened.

Locke nodded to me. “All right, Casey,” he said. “Time for work.”

I stood and stretched, arching my back so my tits stretched my top. Then I stripped down to bra and panties, dropping my clothes into a pile. Opening a mini-closet built into the back of the van, I pulled out a pair of torn blue jeans and a top that didn’t quite cover my navel. After slipping into the jeans and top, I pushed my black hair up into a wig, turning me into a bottle redhead. Finally I pushed my feet into a pair of heeled sandals.

I gave Locke a saucy wink. “Thanks, baby,” I said. “I’ll see you in a few hours, ’kay?”

Locke smiled tolerantly. “I’ll be here. If Tait does show up...be careful, okay?”

I smiled and ran a tongue across my upper lip. “I’m always careful. You know that.”

I opened the door and exited the van. As I made my way across the parking lot, I could feel my hips falling naturally into an exaggerated roll. When I got to the entrance, the doorman nodded and held the door open for me.

“Good evening, Casey,” he said.

“Hiya, Sam,” I said, reacting naturally to the name Casey. Intellectually, of course, I knew my name was Key Davenport, but that sounded foreign to me. Casey West, stage name Candy Cane...that felt right.

The music was loud, but not overwhelming. There was a light crowd, mostly men, and a low current of conversation. This early, these were mostly regulars. There were two girls on stage, one topless and one naked, and another on a small side-stage. They were moving through their routines mechanically.

“Hi, Casey,” said a man I recognized as a regular, ogling me as I strode by. I gave him a wink, then blew a kiss at another. If McNally and Tait didn’t show up, I was going to make some good tips tonight.

The music started. Recognizing the opening notes to the Divinyls’ song “Touch Myself,” I strutted onstage, my schoolgirl outfit immediately catching everybody’s attention.

I made eye contact with a few regulars, then began moving my hips in a way that challenged every man watching me. My fingers danced over my sex momentarily, but then I spun and strutted away from the audience. I stopped briefly, my fingers unbuttoning my blouse before I shrugged it off. Then I spun again, giving the audience a good look at my boobs. There was some light clapping. Most of the regulars weren’t impressed- there were there to see me take the rest of my clothes off- but it was a good start. A quick twirl showed off my panties and then I was across the stage again. Then the schoolgirl skirt was off to another brief round of claps.

Thank goodness for Locke. There was no way I could do this on my own. But then again, that’s why he’s my handler.

Although this was the first time I’d ever gone undercover as a stripper, you’d never know it by the way I moved, the way I spoke, the way I flirted shamelessly. I walked and talked like an experienced exotic dancer, when in fact, even I didn’t know what moves I was going to make next. It was all buried in my subconscious. Placed there by Locke. And every stripper I’d ever seen in real life or on television.

We’re a special pair of agents, Locke and I. I have an unusual capacity for absorbing data, internalizing it and keeping it compartmentalized in my subconscious. Locke is a gifted hypno-handler…one of the best, really. When we started our careers with Chrystal Heights Intelligence, I was a good field agent and Locke was a skilled hypnotherapist working for the Department. We were both good at what we did. Then CHI put us together and suddenly we were one of the best undercover cells the agency had.

The next song started and I made a show of removing my top. Now the audience was paying more attention as my bare boobs jiggled their way around the stage. Not that my boobs were that big- particularly for a stripper- but they were bare boobs and that was enough to get a smaller weekday crowd going.

And then I saw him. McNally entered the club and made his way to a table near the stage. A waitress hurried to bring him a drink. I made a show of noticing his arrival with a boob jiggle in his direction and a subtle but definitive lip-licking toward him.

I had been working on him for two weeks now. Not enough to be obvious, but enough that he was finally requesting me for private lap dances. And tonight, hopefully, we’d strike paydirt.

Two hours later, I was beginning to despair.

Naked except for high heels, I had just finished my fourth dance shift. I picked up the outfit I had selected for this shift- a sparkly, see-through mini-dress- and slipped it back on. I glanced at McNally and he nodded at his table, an invitation for me to come over and have a drink with him. I walked over to his table with as much hip-rolling as I could pull off with dislocating anything.

I waved at the waitress as I sat down. She knew my drink. Which wasn’t actually a drink, per se, since it was just diet coke. It served.

“You’re looking good tonight, sweetheart,” he said.

I smiled and glanced away like I was embarrassed by his praise. “Thanks.”

“How about a little lap dance after this song, sweetie?”

I smiled, then winked and said, “Sounds good, baby. I’ve got some new moves I’ve been practicing just for you.”

And then a guy walked up and said to him, “You McNally?”

McNally gave him a look. “Who wants to know?”

“Grant.”

It was Tait. We’d never met, but I’d seen him on video before. I wasn’t sure why Tait was using an alias, though.

McNally lifted his drink in a salute. “Ah,” he said. “Well, glad to make your acquaintance, Mister Tait.”

“Likewise,” said Tait. “Now get rid of the slut. We gotta talk.”

Shit.

“Ooooooh, aren’t you a mister crabby pants,” I said, effecting a pout. I turned and put my lips next to McNally’s ear. “If you need privacy,” I said, “I’ll give you a private lap dance in the V.I.P. room. It’s really private.”

Several heartbeats passed and I thought it wasn’t going to work. Then he said, “C’mon, Tait. We’ll talk in the back room.”

Tait shrugged and we started toward the private dance lounge. Tait stopped and pointed at me.

“Without the slut.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I care what you’re talking about.” I turned to McNally. “C’mon, baby. I’ve been dying allllll night to just rub up against that great, big…lap of yours.”

“Just drop it, Tait. Pretty sure she couldn’t care less about what we talk about. She’s just a stripper, for crike’s sake. Pretty sure she ain’t an undercover cop, y’know?”

“Stop thinking with your dick, McNally,” said Tait. “’Course she ain’t no cop. But what she don’t know, she can’t tell, you dig? Look, I’m tired of arguing with you. If you don’t want to do it right, just go to the gallery and talk to Aaron yourself. But I’d make it quick, since the party’s tomorrow night.” He turned to leave.

McNally sighed. “I’ll get that dance later, sweetie,” he said, patting my ass.

I pushed his hand away. “Careful, baby,” I said. “If the bouncers see you touching me for free, they get kinda upset, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Whatever. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Sounds great, baby,” I said.

I waited until they disappeared from sight. Then I told the manager I wasn’t feeling well and suspected I was about to get my period. Five minutes later I was heading out the door.

Locke stopped in front of me and I slid into the front seat. He pulled away from the curb.

“So what did you get?”

“Not much,” I said. “They wouldn’t talk in front of me. But I think I got enough to work with. There’s someone named Aaron at a gallery who’s somehow tied up in this. And maybe someone named Grant.”

“A gallery? You mean like an art gallery?”

“Probably. Maybe Aaron is an artist. We’ll have to look into it. Immediately, though. Tait said the party’s tomorrow. You think…?”

“…that that’s when they’re going to sell the girls? Yes, I do. We’ll have to move fast.”

“You keep driving. I’ll look up art galleries.”

We couldn’t find anything about a local artist named Aaron, but there were a few galleries in the immediate area. The closest one, however, was having a showing of the works of Baron Carl Mandrake. The gallery went by the artsy name of The Sphere.

“Baron” wasn’t “Aaron”, but it was close enough to warrant scrutiny.

We pulled in front of The Sphere and parked across the street. We immediately went to the chamber in back of the van and settled in the plush chairs.

“So, how about an art professor?” said Locke.

I shook my head. “I don’t have enough technical knowledge to pull it off longer than a couple of sentences. No body language or attitude is going to let me fake that lack of knowledge. How about buyer instead?”

Locke thought about it, then shook his head. “No, a buyer would know who Aaron is and what his area of expertise is.”

“True. I need something that lets me be ignorant without penalizing me, dammit.”

Locke thought about it for a moment. “Bimbo,” he said. “All fluff and enthusiasm, and your lack of knowledge won’t set off any red flags.”

I gave him a flat stare, but we both knew he was right. I settled back into the chair.

Locke said, “Blue soup.”

My eyes closed, my chin dropped to my chest, my breathing evened. I felt good.

Comfortable.

Warm.

Malleable.

Damon’s voice slowly unwrapped my outer layer. He spoke about releasing tension, releasing tension, tension was the glue holding my outer layers in place. Relax. Let the tension, the glue, dissipate. Release that outer layer. Letting it sift back into its compartment, packing it away carefully. My outer wrap slowly unravelling, compressing, filling the compartment. Carefully sealing it away for the time being. Sealing away the external Key Davenport, stripping me down to my inner core.

My inner core now bare, Damon began shaping me. Personality traits were gently patted down, sharp edges smoothed over temporarily. Then his voice tapped into an internal compartment, releasing a separately prepped personality wrap. Freed from its compartment, the personality layered seamlessly over my core element. Fluffy. Giggly. A creature of now, of what’s in front of me, not around me. Body language blended in. Mechanics pressed into place.

“Hello, Mindy.”

My eyes opened. I looked at Locke and blinked several times. Locke tried to be good, but he cracked and laughed. Too late I realized my surprised bimbo look must be in place.

I giggled. “Watch it, buster.”

Locke held up his hands. “No problem.”

I couldn’t really blame Locke for laughing. This personality was so opposite my core personality, the contrast had to be hysterical. This wasn’t the time for levity, though. It was time to get to work.

I wriggled my way over to the cabinet and took out what I needed. Matching Victoria’s Secrets push-up bra and panties. Black stretchy mini-skirt. White blouse leaving generous cleavage and a strip of belly exposed. Black high heels. Blonde wig.

I opened the van door and stepped out. “I’ll be back in a little while, ’kay, cutie?”

Locke gave me a lazy salute. “I’ll be here.”

I closed the door and headed for the gallery, heels click-clacking with every step.

There was a surprisingly large crowd inside. The Baron was apparently fairly well-known. Interesting, that.

I giggled and cooed at everything in sight before finally figuring out I was in the wrong section. The artist for this area was someone French whose name I couldn’t have pronounced even if I wasn’t wearing a hypnotic bimbo personality bodysuit.

I finally spotted an older gentleman wearing a suit who appeared to work for the gallery. I breathed in deep, stuck my boobs out as far as I could and wriggled my way in his direction.

Stopping just in front of him, I pressed a finger against my lower lip and gazed at a nearby painting as if awestruck.

The older guy stepped up and placed a gentle hand on my hip. “Enjoying yourself, dear?” he said.

I turned as if startled, boobs jiggling. “Oh!” I said. Then I giggled. “Omigod, yes! This display is, like, awesome!”

“I’m glad you think so, dear,” said the man. “Are you familiar with his work?”

“Oh, yeah!” I said. “I mean, well, not really, but it’s still, like, amazing!”

“Indeed. He’s an impressionist.”

“I know! I was totally impressed!”

“I mean he’s an impressionist artist.”

“Who?”

“Baron Mandrake,” he said, with barely a hesitation. Such a pro.

“Oh!” I said, my eyes big. Then I breathed deep, trying to look like an artist groupie. “Is he gonna come out and, like, meet his fans?”

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he said. “The Baron doesn’t typically go anywhere near galleries. A phobia, I’m told.”

Dammit. Nothing left now but to throw out one more line of inquiry and move on.

“Really?” I said. “That’s totally weird! I was talking to Bunny the other day and she kept going on about all the great work Baron did at the gallery. Although I thought she had called him Aaron, so maybe I got, like, the wrong guy?” I gave an embarrassed giggle.

The gentleman gave a tolerant chuckle and glanced down my cleavage. Then he said, “My dear, are you sure your friend was referring to Baron Mandrake? It sounds very possible that your friend was referring to Erin Ambers, who is not an artist, but rather the director of The Muse art gallery.”

Paydirt.

I squealed and hugged the man impulsively, pressing my boobs against his chest. Then I kissed his cheek and jumped back.

“Oh!” I said. “I so bet that’s it! You are such a sweet man for helping me! I’m totally telling all my friends about this place!”

Then I turned and jiggled my way out the door, my lipstick marks still visible on his cheek.

Despite my behavior, I wasn’t actually a dumb bunny. To make my interactions real, however, Locke implemented certain spontaneous reactions on my part to make my bodysuit complete. Some of those reactions were embarrassingly bimbo cliché. Unfortunately, squealing with delight was one of them. So was an initial inability to process information.

It isn’t quite as dangerous as it sounds. If my subconscious recognizes true danger, a switch hotwired directly to my agent compartment is thrown and my field agent persona is instantly in place. The only danger is the momentary flicker of dead time between personalities as my thought patterns realign.

I click-clacked back to the van and slid into the front seat. Locke already had the van running.

“Well?” he said as he pulled into traffic.

I pinched my left earlobe hard to shut off Mindy. I waited for a moment as my thought patterns shifted slightly sideways. Then I said, “The Muse.”

“The Muse,” Locke said, punching it into the GPS. “Got it. A definite?”

“More of a maybe,” I said, “but better than ‘Baron’.”

“Do tell.”

“Erin Ambers. Director.”

Locke processed that for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “It does sound better than ‘Baron’.”

I looked at the time. “All right, it’s late. Let’s hit the Muse first thing tomorrow.”

The next morning we were parked across the street from The Muse.

“All right,” said Locke. “Money this time?”

“Yes,” I said.

Back into the chamber once again. So many changes in this short a time period wasn’t good, but we were both professionals and could handle this. Besides, we just didn’t have time to play it safe. We were the twins’ last chance.

“All right, Key,” said Locke. “Blue soup.”

“Hello, Madeline.”

I gave Locke a once-over, then sniffed in disdain.

“Good day, Mister Locke,” I said.

“Are you ready?”

I gave him a look that spoke plainly of my loathing of the lower classes. “Of course I’m ready, Mister Locke. I am a professional. You just take care to do your job.”

Locke chuckled. “Of course,” he said. “My apologies.”

I walked over to the mini-closet, then glanced significantly at Locke. “Do you mind?” I said.

“Ah,” said Locke, getting to his feet. “My apologies again. I’ll sit up front while you change.”

“An excellent idea, Mister Locke.”

Locke moved up front. The quality of the available clothing was lacking, but there was a D’adore dress- black with white lining, hem just above my knees- and matching heels that would do, if only barely. I selected a red wig this time. Not Casey the stripper’s bottle-red, but rather a long, straight distinctive red.

I took a small lockbox out of the closet and put in the combination. The top opened, revealing a small amount of jewelry. I selected a pendant, a diamond bracelet and a ring. After a moment’s thought, I added a gold anklet.

Finally I turned on the bright lights around a mirror on the closet door and began applying my makeup with a confident hand.

I finished and looked at the mirror in satisfaction. Then I put everything away.

“Madeline,” said Locke, “put in your ear bud.”

I sniffed, but Locke was right. I put in the ear bud so he could hear all conversation.

“I am going to the gallery now,” I said, opening the door and exiting the van.

“Good luck,” said Locke. “I’ll be here.”

I walked into the gallery much like I had been dragged there and was considering buying the place out of spite.

Two employees started toward me to offer help, but I waved them off and stepped toward the back room where the expensive items were. Nobody went back there unescorted normally, but no one was taking a chance on trying to stop me.

It took less than five minutes for Erin Ambers to make her appearance.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?” she said. Mid-thirties, dark hair, dressed to show off her toned body and wealth in equal parts. Her dark eyes had Asian attitude, her movement imperious.

“Good day, Miss Ambers,” I said, not taking my eyes from the paintings on the wall. They didn’t appear any better than the paintings in the front room, but then again, I really didn’t have an eye for art.

“You know who I am. Good. And you are...?”

“Madeline will do for now.”

“I see,” she said. “My question still stands, Madeline.”

“I’m window shopping,” I said.

“Ah,” said Erin. “Indeed. A lovely day for it. Were you window shopping for something in particular?”

“Perhaps,” I said.

She waited expectantly.

“I’m looking for something by an artist named…Grant,” I said.

“I see,” she said. “I’m sure I don’t have anything by Grant just now, Madeline. You understand, of course. So sorry.”

I finally turned from the art on the wall and faced Erin Ambers. “Are you sure, Miss Ambers?” I said. “I was led to believe that there was something available, if only for a very short time.”

There was a pause. Then Erin looked me up and down.

“You know,” she said, taking a step closer, “perhaps there is a Grant available.”

“Excellent,” I said, raising my chin slightly.

“So tell me,” she said, taking another step closer. She was now in my personal space. “How is it you came to know we had a Grant?”

Her gaze was very intense. My eyes felt locked with hers. I was on the verge of possibly breaking into the inner circle, but I had to handle this very carefully. “An associate informed me I might be interested in what you have to offer.”

She took another step forward. Her breasts were touching mine. “Go on,” she said, her breath wisping across my cheek.

“An...an associate named...McNally,” I said, my voice faltering for some reason.

“Ah,” said Erin, shifting slightly. The friction from her dress rubbing across my breasts caused my nipples to become erect, pressing against the top of my dress. “Mister McNally. Of course.”

“Yesss,” I said, my breath quivering. I knew I should break my gaze away from hers, but her eyes were so dark...so mysterious...so deep. Deep, sensuous, erotic pools. Warm. Hot. My cheeks flushed.

Her hand came up, fingers stroking my cheek. Then she cupped my chin and lifted my mouth upward. She pressed her soft, full lips against mine in a steamy, sensual kiss.

I melted against her. I couldn’t breathe. My nipples ached. My sex lubricated far beyond anything I had ever experienced. Heat pulsed everywhere her firm body touched mine. My knees weakened.

Her hand slid up my back as she grabbed a fistful of my hair. She breathed into my ear, “You’re quite the—” and then stopped as my wig came off in her hand.

Her surprise passed quickly. “A wig,” she said, breathing again into my ear. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Now be a good girl and kneel.”

What little strength I had left in my legs disappeared and I dropped to my knees in front of Erin.

“Good girl,” said Erin, tossing my wig and stroking my hair with her fingers. “Good girl. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

She smelled so good. So powerful. “Yessss,” I said.

Her hand fisted in my hair and she drew my head closer to her. “Yes, what?”

Even through her dress, I could feel her heat. Her scent filled my lungs. “Yes, M-Mistress...”

She tightened her grip on my hair. “Say it again.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

Erin’s free hand reached down and she slowly pulled up the hem of her mid-thigh dress. She wore no panties. Her manicured sex was less than six inches away from my face.

“Now be a good girl and please your Mistress,” said Erin.

Something was off, but I wasn’t sure what. Granted, I had never licked another woman’s pussy before, but leaning forward and sliding my tongue into Erin’s hot, steamy sex felt so natural. Working her button with my tongue, trying desperately to please her.

“That’s it,” said Erin, her hand cupping the back of my head, pressing my face more firmly against her sex. “Such a good girl.”

I couldn’t stop. Pleasing her was the only important thing. I could feel her juices coating my cheek, her taste in my mouth, but I couldn’t stop. I worked her clit desperately.

“Yesss,” she said, hips bucking slightly. “I wonder who you really are. Your cultured voice, your every move screams money, but I don’t recognize you and I know all the local movers and shakers. And you’re maybe 25, 26 years old...too young to be a major player. So I’m guessing you’re just a spoiled little girl. That’s fine. I know how to train spoiled little girls.”

And then she came, her hips bucking as she ground her hot, wet sex against my face.

She paused and we remained locked in position, her rigid with orgasm, clutching my head against her heat. Then her breathing slowly returned to normal and she pushed my face away. I sat back on my heels as she tugged her dress back into place.

“Very good, Maddi,” said Erin, her inflection putting the i at the end of my name. “Very good. And do you know what it means?”

I shook my head. “No, Mistress.”

“You’ve just met me, Maddi. I’m a stranger. But you licked me anyway, didn’t you?”

“I...I...yes, Mistress.”

“And you did it very well.”

I got a warm glow inside. I had pleased Mistress! “Thank you, Mistress.”

“But you still licked a stranger. Do good girls lick strangers?”

Uh-oh. “N-no, Mistress.”

“That means you’re a slut, doesn’t it, Maddi?”

Oh, gawd. She was right. I bowed my head, cheeks burning with shame. “Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s fine, Maddi,” said Erin. “Sluts can be good girls, too.”

I looked up. “Really?”

“Yes,” said Erin. “Really. Now listen closely, slut.”

I shivered, hearing myself called a slut. I was a slut. A pussy-licking slut.

“Tell me, slut,” said Erin, “do you live alone?”

I nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good,” said Erin. “You’re going to go home now. You’re going to bathe. You’re going to remove all hair below your neck. And then you’re going to go to a salon and get a short, sexy haircut. Short in the back, but long enough for me to grab. Spiky bangs, long in front framing your face down to your jawline. Subbie, but sassy, and you’ll at least be presentable. Do not use your regular stylist. No more wigs for you, slut. I may be selling you tonight and I need your neck visible to show off any collar I decide to put you in.”

I blinked, working my way through her words.

“Now stand up, slut,” said Erin.

I got to my feet.

“Go home now. Be back here by seven. And you don’t tell anyone where you are going tonight, understand? If anyone asks, you want to be by yourself tonight. Do you understand, slut?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now go.”

I turned and left the gallery, dazed, Erin’s juices still on my cheeks.

Locke met me halfway to the van.

“Davenport!” he said. “What the hell happened in there? I was this close to entering the gallery when she told you to leave.”

“Nothing happened,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Locke looked at me in astonishment. Then he followed me to the van.

Locke started the van. Then he pulled out and said, “So now what?”

“I need to go home for a few hours,” I said. “I need a break. I want to be alone for the rest of the day.

Locke nodded. “Okay.”

He stayed quiet as he drove me home. Then he pulled into the parking lot of my duplex.

Turning off the engine, he turned to me and said, “Hey, Key, one quick thing before you go.”

“Yes?” I said, hand on the door.

“Blue soup.”

“Hello, Key.”

My eyes opened. I was in the back chamber, sitting in my plush captain’s chair. I felt completely relaxed. I felt good.

Locke, on the other hand, looked drained. There were slight bags under his eyes and his five o’clock shadow seemed more prominent. There even appeared to be a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. I had never seen him look so tired following a session.

“Damon?” I said. “What happened?”

“That,” he said, “is the most work I have ever done inside somebody’s head. If we weren’t up against a time constraint, I would have spread that session out over a week or two, at least. As it is, I’m still not sure I removed every bit of her influence from your mind.”

My heart pounded. “What do you mean?”

Locke opened the mini-fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He handed one to me. “I mean that in less than 5 minutes, that woman took over your psyche. If she had had you in there any longer, I’m not even sure I could have done anything for you. I had to tiptoe around because I had no idea if she had set up any sort of mind-bombs inside your mind. I didn’t think so, since she didn’t have enough time, but I had to be sure, since I was assuming you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life as a ditzy stripper.”

Locke took a swallow of water, then continued. “Key, she’s not using just hypnotism. At least, not hypnotism in the traditional sense. Let’s call it amplified hypnotism. She took you over against your will, and did so without any previous interaction. And judging from what I heard, she had you doing things you wouldn’t normally do on your own. That should be impossible, but apparently she’s got the power. It’s a rare ability, but not unknown in Chrystal Heights.”

I digested this, cheeks burning as I remembered licking her pussy, wanting to lick her pussy. Calling her...Mistress.

Locke chuckled. “You’re embarrassed,” he said. “Good. That means I succeeded in separating your will from hers.”

Cheeks still red, I said, “You will never tell a soul what happened in there. If you do, I will...I will...I will do something so bad to you, I don’t even know what it is yet. Men will tremble for a thousand years at the memory of your fate.”

“My lips are sealed.”

I pulled the top of my dress over my head. I was pretty sure I could never look at Locke again. “Thank you for fixing me.”

“No problem.”

“Now,” I said, pulling my dress back into place, “how do we get ready for tonight?”

Locke frowned. “Get ready for tonight? What do you mean?”

I spoke firmly. “We have precisely nothing concrete, so we can’t call anybody in, and tonight is the only chance we have of getting into that auction. Erin is taking me there. I have to go back.”

He shifted, obviously not happy. “Key, she turned you into her sub. You can’t go back and just pretend, you understand?”

I sighed. “Yes, I know,” she said. “You’re going to have to do it for me.”

Damon rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Key, this isn’t just tapping into one of the preset personas we’ve stored inside your psyche. For one thing, being a sub isn’t just an outer layer you wear...it’s a lifestyle. And even if we work around that part, it’s still a persona that has to be built from the ground up. I’ve prepped a lot of personas in your head, but none of them are submissive to a hardcore domme.”

“But can you do it, Locke? Those girls are counting on us, even if they don’t know it.”

Locke didn’t look happy. “I might. And I think I can give you a safety switch. But if I’m wrong, then you might find yourself auctioned off and sold.”

“They couldn’t afford me,” I said, trying to make him laugh.

He managed a smile. “If they can afford 16 year old twins, they can afford you.”

“True, that. All right, where do we start?”

Locke took a long swallow of water, then set down his bottle. “We don’t have much time. If you’re serious about doing this, I seem to remember that you’re going to need to attend to certain, ah, areas of your anatomy and you’re going to need a new hairstyle as well.”

Certain areas of my anatomy? A new hairstyle? Oh, @#$%$. I had forgotten about that. Grrrrrr.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s get it over with.”

Locke settled into his chair and waited as I did the same. “Now, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to give you the same devotion to Erin that she gave you, but you’re still going to be in charge of your thoughts. This will allow you to react legitimately to her orders. Otherwise you might pause and that would tip her off that you’re thinking for yourself. Also, I don’t know how deep inside your head she can go. This will survive at least a surface scan, but likely nothing more intense than that, since we don’t have the time. Are you with me so far?”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Now, we have some advantage due to the fact that you’re going under voluntarily for me, whereas your subconscious was fighting Erin. And you can shut off the persona when you’re ready. Don’t do it before the critical moment, though...you won’t be able to fool her for any length of time. And if she puts you under again, it’s likely for good.”

I nodded again. “Got it.”

“All right,” said Locke. “Now, you’re aware of the danger and what happens if you fail. You still want to do this?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then.”

“Just one request.”

Damon nodded. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“If I have to lick her again, make sure I, umm, at least like doing it.”

Locke laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “Blue soup.”

“Hello, Key.”

I opened my eyes. Mister Locke looked haggard.

Watching me carefully, he said, “Are you ready to go to work, Davenport?”

I got to my feet. “Yeah. I’ll go call my stylist...wait, can’t do that. I’ll call someone else. I’ll take a shower and do...what I gotta do. Pick me up at four.”

Locke tossed me a lazy salute. “Will do.”

Locke pulled away as I walked to my apartment. I entered and got to work.

I called my back-up stylist and tried to schedule an emergency appointment, but he was booked. So were the next three stylists I tried. I got lucky with the next one, however, a flamboyant guy named Gustav.

“You’re in luck, sweetie!” he said. “My five o’clock just canceled! Come in at five and we’ll make a new girl out of you!”

I chuckled and made the appointment. Then I started the shower.

There was no getting around it. I had to shave my pussy. Grrrrrr.

Thirty minutes later, I was showered and shaved smooth. I felt embarrassingly sensuous. If Locke said one word, I’d kill him.

Damon showed up in the van at four. We had a quick drive-thru lunch and then headed over to the stylist’s.

Gustav took one look at me as I walked in and started fanning himself as he looked at my hair.

“Oh, good heavens. You’re my five o’clock, aren’t you?” he said, his left eye twitching as he looked me over. “If you’re not, you better be my six o’clock. Such a pretty girl, but you have stripper hair!”

Gustav hustled me straight to the chair. He listened to my request, then looked me over critically. Finally he nodded.

“We can do that, sweetie,” he said. “Oh, yes. It will certainly soften your appearance and give you a little cutie bootie look. It’s good. It’s perfect! Okay, sweetie, just close your eyes and relax. I’m going in!”

I shuddered as I felt my hair fluttering past my neck. Stupid job.

He clipped, cut and buzzed. He sprayed and spritzed. He fussed and shaped. But finally he finished. He turned the chair with a flourish so I could see myself in the mirror.

I had to admit I was impressed. He had done exactly what I told him to do, but he had made it look even better...for a girly haircut. It was a graduated bob, with my hair buzzed short in the back, spiky bangs and my face framed by long strands to my jawline. Gustav was flamboyant, but good at his job. In fact, he was excellent. Certainly better than my present stylist. If I wasn’t sold to someone by the end of the night, I was changing stylists.

“Thank you, Gustav,” I said, paying him and adding a generous tip.

“Come back again, sweetie!” he said. “You really should!”

Okay, so he was also a sarcastic stylist. Whatever.

Locke did his best not to snicker at my new hairstyle. I rose above it all and ignored his barely veiled chortles.

We parked a block away. We didn’t want anyone seeing Locke if we could help it.

“All right,” said Damon. “You ready?”

I nodded. My heart was pounding.

We went back into the chamber and settled into the plush chairs.

“Okay, Key,” said Locke. “Blue soup.”

“Hello, Maddi.”

I opened my eyes and sat up.

“What time is it?!” I said. “I have to be there at seven! I can’t be late!”

“Calm down,” he said. “You have plenty of time. Now I’ll go sit in the front while you get dressed.”

I opened the closet. We really needed more quality clothing in here. Erin had already seen me in the D’adore dress, so I chose a black Clarion knee-length skirt and white blouse with black high heels. Then I did my makeup.

I was finally ready.

“All right,” said Locke, fixing my hair, “remember...because of the...intimate nature of what you’re doing, you can’t wear your earpiece. We’re essentially out of touch. When you go to the auction, I’m going to follow you. I will try to be in the area and support you the best I can, but you may be on your own for periods of time. If it looks dangerous, just get out. We’ll figure out some other way to save the twins. Understood?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “Now I’m going in.”

Locke tossed me a lazy salute.

At five minutes until seven, I entered The Muse art gallery. Once again I walked past the hired help without pause and walked straight to the back room.

At seven, Erin entered the room.

She looked me up and down. Then she looked at my hair.

“You’re here,” she said, “and even presentable. Good.”

I nodded. “Why am I here?”

She walked over to me. Stood in front of me. My cheeks flushed as a sudden rush of heat flowed over me. She was in my mind again, touching here and there, re-establishing her hold on me.

“Presentable for a slut, anyway,” she said, ignoring my question. She slid a finger into my mouth, her red nail disappearing between my lips. As my lips instinctively closed around her finger, her eyes again locked with mine.

Those deep, dark eyes.

After a few moments, Erin laughed, apparently satisfied her control over me was still complete. “Good slut,” she said, pulling her finger from my mouth and drying it on my blouse. “Now come with me. You have just a few minutes to get dressed.”

I followed Erin from the room.

Once in the back room, Erin sat in a chair. She looked at me expectantly.

“Strip down to your underwear, Maddi. Quickly.”

My hands moved of their own accord. My blouse, skirt and shoes were removed. In moments I was standing before her in my bra and panties.

“Now,” said Erin, “come closer.”

I took a step closer. Then another. I could smell her. My nipples hardened. I got wet. So wet.

Erin stood up and walked behind me. Her hands slid over my hips and then over my belly. She cupped my breasts from behind.

“Now play with yourself,” said Erin, “but don’t finish. Do you understand?”

I licked my lips nervously. “Yes, Mistresssss,” I said, my fingers slipping into my panties.

I gasped. Her hands on my breasts took my breath away, even through my bra. My fingers penetrated my overheated sex, slid over my clit.

“Good,” said Erin. “Such a good slut. Work that little clit, slut.”

I bit my lower lip. My heat was growing. My belly muscles were already twitching. My hips wriggled. I couldn’t help myself. I had to climax. I had to.

“Now stop, Maddi,” said Erin. “Stop right now.”

I was close. So close. But my hand stopped, my clit quivering, my belly muscles taut.

“Good,” said Erin. “There are clothes on that chair over there. Put them on.”

I was frustrated, but I turned and walked to the chair. I took the items and dressed. Then I turned and checked a mirror.

I was now dressed in a short black leather skirt. It flared out from my hips, the hem barely lower than the bottom curve of my ass. A white long-sleeved shirt, collared, with a thin, black tie. The tip of the tie just reached the waistband of the skirt. Black high heels completed the outfit.

Almost.

“Chin up, Maddi,” said Erin.

I lifted my chin. Erin held up a length of leather with round links attached to the end. The collar was put around my neck and the chain links locked together. It was a snug fit, but not restricting.

“There,” said Erin. “Now we can go.”

So off we went in Erin’s Rolls Royce, with me dressed as a subbie little prep girl. Between the hair, clothes and collar, I looked like an adorable, vulnerable little thing.

As we left, Erin blindfolded me. I had no idea if Locke was following us or not. But even if I hadn’t been blindfolded, I was far too distracted to be looking for Locke. Sitting this close to Erin was driving me crazy with heat. Being blindfolded, my other senses were working overtime. I could smell her. My nipples were hard. My hips were wriggling. I was a wet mess. All I could think about was licking my Mistress. Even with Locke’s safeguards, she was still deep inside my mind.

“When we get there, your job for the most part is eye candy. I’m going to have you on a leash, but it’s for show. You do not step away from me far enough to stretch the leash at any time, for any reason. There should be some slack at all times. You will walk a step behind me and you do not speak to anyone unless I tell you to do so. Do you understand?

“Yes, Mistress,” I said. My voice sounded strained even to me.

“Now play with yourself,” she said, “but do not climax.”

We arrived at the destination about fifteen minutes later. We had driven long enough that I had no clear idea where we were. Even if I had been able to follow the turns blindfolded, she kept me distracted with making me play with myself on and off throughout the drive. Her intention, no doubt. Regardless of her reason, I was a wet mess.

She removed the blindfold and attached the leash to my collar.

“Let’s go, slut,” she said, getting out of the vehicle. I had to crawl across the seat on all fours before exiting the vehicle through her door.

We were at what appeared to be an old warehouse. There were no other buildings around. I could smell the ocean, however, so I knew we were close to the coast. That was bad news for the twins, since it meant they could be sold and moved out of the area almost immediately.

Erin led me by my leash toward the warehouse, pausing momentarily to shake a hand or exchange greetings with various attendees. No one paid me any attention. Apparently it wasn’t unusual at all for Erin to show up with a collared girl on a leash.

We finally made it inside. Although it appeared unpainted and unused on the outside, it was surprisingly clean inside. It wasn’t going to be mistaken for a 5-star hotel, of course, but there had obviously been some effort to make sure it was clean enough to serve as a slave auction site.

There were a fair number of people about. A bar had been set up and drinks were being served. There was a low buzz of conversation.

Now if I could just find the twins.

“Well, now,” said a voice, “you’ve got yourself a real cutie there, Erin. I don’t recognize her. Buying or selling?”

The voice belonged to a well-dressed man abut fifty years old.

“Hello, James,” said Erin. “Just displaying at the moment. She’s completely untrained.”

“She looks pretty well trained to me. Smells like it, at least.”

Erin smiled. “Only because I’m standing right here. Whoever buys her will be starting from scratch. You know my influence only lasts for a few hours once they’re away from me.”

“Yeah, I know,” said James. “The girls started complaining yesterday and haven’t stopped. I can’t wait to move them.”

“A little complaining isn’t going to kill you,” said Erin. “Better that than trying to sell them all bruised up. As their host, you should be more understanding.”

“Very funny,” said James.

Erin smiled. “The auction is starting soon. I’m going to go check on the girls and get them into a more agreeable state of mind.”

“Good idea,” said James. “I don’t mind hosting these auctions or even taking care of the product, but those two are a pain in the ass.”

James walked away then. Erin headed for a door behind the stage.

Paydirt. There was no doubt now. Erin was the mind behind the kidnapping after all. And she was going to take me to the girls.

I made sure my face remained passive as I followed Erin down the hall, guided by my leash. Of course, I was already having trouble concentrating. Erin’s proximity, combined with Erin making me play with myself earlier, had me aroused as all hell. It was getting very difficult to focus.

Erin took out her phone and made a call.

“It’s me,” she said. “I’m on my way there now. Make sure the girls are ready.” She hung up without waiting for a reply.

We continued down the hall until we came to a door. A man stood outside the door.

It was Tait.

I kept my head down so he couldn’t see my face. He wasn’t likely to recognize me, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

Tait nodded to Erin and opened the door for her. He gave me a passing glance.

We entered the room. Two pretty girls were inside, dressed in matching short virginal white dresses. They were twins. Teens.

Amy and Romy Cartini.

“Are you here to bloody well release us?” said the closer one, through clenched teeth.

Erin smiled. “No, Amy, I am not. I am here to make sure you cooperate with tonight’s agenda.”

The other twin- Romy- said, “You can stick tonight’s agenda up your bloody arse, you fucking witch.”

I smiled on the inside. I liked them already.

Erin shook her head. “I’ll be glad when you two are someone else’s problem. Now come along, you two. Be good girls.”

She gave Amy an intense stare- much like she had given me at the gallery earlier today. And Amy slowly became more docile.

Then she turned to Romy. Romy opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Then her mouth slowly closed and her face relaxed.

“Ready to cooperate now, girls?” said Erin.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the two sixteen-year-olds in unison.

Tait looked at Erin. “You alright? You look...strained.”

“Yes,” said Erin curtly. “I’m controlling three people in my immediate vicinity. It takes a bit of focus. Let’s head for the stage.”

Then the door suddenly burst open. A lumbering figure crashed in.

“Cops!” he said. “It’s a fucking raid!”

It was McNally.

“Shit!” said Tait.

“Shit!” said Erin.

“Candy Cane?” said McNally.

“What?” said Erin.

McNally pointed at me. “I know her. Even with that hair. That’s Candy Cane. She’s a stripper at Chrystal Pleasures. How did you end up with her?”

Erin looked at me, then at McNally. “What are you talking about? I picked her up from my gallery yesterday. She’s a spoiled little rich girl, not a stripper. Now can we get out of here? Grab the girls.”

Then Tait pointed at me. “She’s a fucking cop.”

Erin looked at Tait. “She’s quite the talented girl. Stripper, spoiled brat, cop. Does she sing as well?”

“It fits,” said Tait. “How else would the cops know we’re here?”

And then McNally suddenly dropped to the ground.

“Don’t move!” said a voice in the doorway.

It was Locke. He had apparently tazed McNally. He didn’t appear to have any other weapons, unfortunately.

Erin turned to me. “Maddi!” she said, pointing to Locke. “Protect your Mistress.”

I turned and took a step toward Locke. Then I reached up and pinched my left earlobe, hard, shutting off Madeline.

I blinked, waiting as my thoughts re-aligned themselves. Then I whirled and back-kicked Tait.

Unfortunately he was as tough as he acted. He stumbled back a step, but that was it. I kicked off my high heels as he recovered and charged me. I side-stepped and brought up a knee as a feint, making him pause, then lifted my leg higher and snap-kicked him in the jaw.

Erin saw me engaged with Tait and finally realized her control over me was gone. She yelled, “Amy! Romy! Get the man in the doorway!”

Amy and Romy went after Locke. Erin ran out the door. I faced off with Tait.

Tait threw a right punch that I blocked, then a left that I blocked. I feinted for his eyes, making him lift his hands to defend. Then I kicked him in the balls.

“Gahhhhhhhh...!” he said, stumbling back, then dropping to his knees and clutching his groin.

I kicked him in the jaw. He fell to the floor and stayed there. I turned to help Locke.

“Forget about me!” he said. “Go catch Ambers!”

I left him to wrestle with the Cartini twins and took off down the hall.

Running after Erin in bare feet gave me an advantage, since Erin was fleeing in heels. I caught her just as she reached the back door.

“Going somewhere?” I said.

Erin turned to me, her face dark, trying to regain control of me. I smacked her cheek and she flushed.

“You...you bitch!” she said.

I shrugged. “Sticks and stones...” I said. Then I punched her lights out.

“Well, that’s that,” said Locke. “We got a couple, but Erin and her partner James are the only ones likely to go away for a long time. Tait and McNally will get some time too.”

“Erin could end up at the Chrystal Heights Mental Health Clinic,” I said.

“Maybe,” said Locke, “but unlikely. She has a criminal mentality, granted, but not really a psychiatric condition. And her power isn’t really that powerful. Controlling three people is about as much as she can do at one time and her control is temporary at best. They should be able to neutralize it enough to keep her confined. Once her jaw heals, of course. They think you broke her jaw.”

“Good,” I said. “I hope so. She made me lick her pussy. Can I hit her again?”

“No,” said Locke. “That’s probably considered to be in bad taste.”

“Whatever,” I said. “The twins?”

“They’re waiting for Ambers’ control to wear off,” he said. “Quite the pair of firecrackers, those two.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad we got to them in time. And I’m glad you got to us in time. Nice save at the end there. And the work you did inside my head...”

“That part was both of us, really,” said Locke.

“Still,” I said, “what you did was awesome. If someone’s gonna be in my head, I’m glad it’s you.”

“No problem,” said Locke. “Of course, convincing Chrystal Heights finest you had found the twins was a bit of a chore, but they came through in the end.”

“Yes, they did,” I said. “Now, can we please go to the van so I can put some clothes on?”

“Sounds good to me, Key.”