The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter One: The Lost Weekend

I woke up that Monday morning with a terrible hangover. I used to overdo alcohol and drugs when I was young and foolish, but I hadn’t felt like this for years. As I staggered into the bathroom and started pulling myself together, I realized why I felt so anxious; I couldn’t remember a thing since leaving work Friday. I’d never had a blackout like that! I hoped I hadn’t hurt anybody. I noticed that my body was aching as if I’d been doing physical labor all weekend, and through the fog in my head I could feel that I had had some experience that had changed me. I was different in some important way, but I had no idea how.....

I dragged myself in to work, and zombied through the day. Luckily none of the users on my part of the network picked that day to find some clever new way of screwing up; it was all routine tasks I could almost do in my sleep, and at times I nearly had to. I turned on Rush Limbaugh, as I often do when I want to rest my brain, but he was back on Feminazis that day. For some reason I kept gritting my teeth in irritation at stuff I would usually find mildly amusing. As the day wore on, nothing exciting happened. At least nobody seemed to be after me, which made me feel a little less panicky.

I felt better Tuesday. I still couldn’t remember a thing about the weekend, but I noticed something odd at work: all my female colleagues seemed to have become more intelligent and interesting. I found myself listening intently to what they had to say, and picking up some good ideas I might have missed before. I’ve been told I have a problem with not letting women talk while I’m interrupting. Not anymore, apparently. Also, my manners seemed to have improved. I try to act like a gentlemen, but often I forget. Now, whenever there was some little thing I could do to make life more comfortable or convenient for a woman, I did it automatically, just because I wanted to. I began to realize that these changes were clues to the missing two days, and late in the afternoon it began to come back to me. All this strangeness had something to do with my pal Pat.

Pat is something unusual on campus; she’s a psych professor who understands human psychology! She’s a short, chunky woman with vivid black hair and eyes, a bawdy grin, and a warped sense of humor. She reads widely, thinks clearly, and says just what she thinks. She’s a feminist, but the coven of humorless neo-Stalinist fanatics on campus detest her, because she says funny true things about a lot of their political correctness. I think their rejection hurts, though she laughs it off; sisterhood is important to Pat. She is always available as a bureaucrat-scarer and a shoulder to cry on to the young women students and TAs, and a lot of them call her “Mom.” She’s mostly lesbian, but hope springs eternal; I’ve had a background letch for her all the years we’ve been friends, and she knows this and encourages it. She says she likes to make males suffer.....Anyway, if what had happened to me was part of a scheme of hers, I felt better about it; I like Pat a lot, and I trust her.

Chapter Two: The Wagered Weekend

As my memory cleared, I remembered talking with Pat last week about sex roles and romantic expectations. I never married, because I accept the traditional male role of dragging home the mastodon, and until a few years ago I was a perpetual grad student with no money. That’s my excuse, anyhow. Now that I’ve got a real job, I’m seriously looking.

Pat asked me if I’d considered our mutual friend Janet the Math Maven as a potential partner. Janet is a tall, gawky charmer, a mathematician who designs and programs models for scientists and engineers. I find her attractive, but she’s prematurely grey-haired and a year older than me. Now that I have some bargaining power, I was actually thinking of something more like a Playmate of the Month.

Pat howled, saying that I deserved my own glass case in the Museum of Archaic Sexist Attitudes. Then she asked if I knew how Janet felt about me. That was embarrassing; last year, shortly after her husband took off, Janet had let me know that she was attracted too, and that a relationship was possible. I ducked, and it came to nothing, but we’re still friendly. I had wondered then if Janet on the rebound hadn’t ended up with Pat; her ex had said that she was a dyke, as well as a castrating bitch who kept trying to get him completely pussy-whipped. Pat helped Janet through the grieving; she had hinted once that they were not lovers, though.

Then Pat said seriously that she might know why none of my relationships worked out. There are some men, she explained, who deeply need to belong to a woman, accepting her will as forming their environment, and making serving and pleasing her their most important goal in life. She thought I was naturally one of these lifestyle submissive guys, and trying to be a macho man just wouldn’t work for me. The role didn’t fit my soul.

She challenged me to try on the role of a slave boy. If I would trust her and put myself completely in her hands for one weekend, she said, she could brainwash me into the role. Then I could see how it felt for a week or so, and decide if I wanted to snap out of it and return to my former life, or continue my training and make this role central to my personal identity.

I’d always liked femdom fantasies, in such places as Penthouse Variations. There was one particular story about a woman who saved her troubled marriage by getting on top and training her husband to be her slave that I thought about for years. I wasn’t sure this was anything I wanted to try in real life, though; it sounded embarrassing. So Pat laid it on the line. She bet me one weekend of slave time against another. We’d draw cards, and if I lost I’d go through a weekend of Pat’s best mind-bending techniques. If I won, Pat would be my sex toy for a weekend, doing anything I wanted to do. That got my attention! I agreed.

We got together at her house last Friday night and drew cards. I got the three of diamonds. Uh-oh. Pat chuckled evilly as she showed me the queen of spades. “Sit right there and get used to the idea,” she said. “I’ll get us some fudge ripple ice cream. That should show you this is going to be a tasty experience!”

We ate the ice cream, and chatted about what results I could expect from this, um, intense brief therapy. She explained that she planned to make me do some household chores for her, and that she would also offer my services to Janet. She would offer me three chances to back out during the following week, she promised. After that, I would “lose quotes,” as she called it, and this new role would stop being a game I was playing and start to become who I was.

Presently I noticed that my thoughts were getting muzzy and vague. I felt alarmed and tried to stand up, but sagged back onto the couch. “Wha.....what.....?” I mumbled. Pat stood up and peeled off her top—one of her raunchy T-shirts, I think the one that said, “I snatch kisses and vicey-versey!” She sat down next to me and pulled me over into her lap, looking up at her.

“I drugged your ice cream,” she explained sweetly. “Fix your eyes on my breasts—plenty to look at, huh? You can never touch me except when I tell you to, but now I want you to look, and you like looking, don’t you? Just let yourself go, feel safe in my firm hands, and remember—when female power is inevitable, relax and enjoy it!”

My vision narrowed down to just Pat’s gorgeous breasts, which seemed to be getting larger and larger. Her voice seemed to be coming from all around me; I knew she was saying something very important, but somehow I couldn’t quite hear it. I felt like I was floating, and realized that I was getting smaller and smaller. I was floating like a feather down onto Pat’s warm, soft breasts, sinking into them, immersed and surrounded by overwhelming femaleness. After that.....I didn’t know. I still couldn’t remember anything more until Monday morning.

Chapter Three—The Discovery

After dinner on Tuesday I started over to Pat’s to discuss this process with her and ask what was supposed to happen next. At least that was what I thought was happening. At one point I felt shy and decided to go to the library and call her the next day. However, this decision had no effect on my feet. They kept walking toward Pat’s place. I was a little frightened to realize that I was carrying out a post-hypnotic command she had given me, and I had no choice about it. Then I remembered her advice, and tried to relax and enjoy it.

Pat welcomed me warmly, saying “Right on time, I see!” I felt nervous with her, eager to please, but terrified to offend her. She was wearing a sexy costume of metal-studded shiny black bra and pants, which looked great, but made me more nervous. I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

Janet was there in the living room, and also seemed pleased to see me. “I hear Pat has been doing some redecorating in your head, Tom!” she said. “What all has she done to you?” I explained that I couldn’t remember, so at this point only Pat knew. This sent her into a fit of the giggles. When Pat came back in, I was looking for normal topics of conversation, so I said, “Speaking of redecorating, haven’t you had this living room repainted? It looks nice.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she smiled. “You did it!”

A vague memory came back to me, of myself painting away in a living room covered with drop cloths. I didn’t know if it was day or night, and my mind seemed to be on vacation. All I could think about was the task in front of me. I was tired and thirsty, but I knew that stopping for a rest was not my decision to make.

I realized that there was nothing normal about the situation, and I resolved to wait for Pat to tell me what came next. I didn’t have long to wait.

“You’ve always been a nice boy,” she began. “You’re limited by your upbringing and early conditioning, but you have lots of potential. That’s why I want to teach you that IT’S A WOMEN’S WORLD!”

As she said that last cue phrase, once again my vision narrowed down to only Pat, and she seemed to grow larger and rise higher. I heard a buzzing in my ears. I realized vaguely that I was now kneeling before Pat, waiting for her commands. Otherwise my mind was blank.

“I did a lot of work on you this weekend, but you’ve really only had the first part of the treatment,” she said. “If you don’t like what is happening to you so far, say the magic word ‘Safeword’ and I’ll start to undo what I’ve already done for you. If you like being this way and you want more of it, beg me to make you a slave!”

Part of me wanted to protest and demand to be released, but most of me said, “Please make me a slave, Mistress!”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“Good boy!” she grinned. “To reward you for the correct decision, you may kiss my ass three times on each cheek.” She kindly turned around and shoved her beautiful rear end in my face, and I eagerly kissed her as she required.

Janet was wide-eyed. “I’m not sure I believe this, but I like it!” she exclaimed. “I’ve wanted a man with that kind of attitude toward women all my life. My ex sure didn’t get it.”

“I’m glad you like it, dear,” Pat said. “I’m really training this one for you!” She turned to me and said, “Boy, Janet and I need to talk woman talk. You go in the kitchen and fix us a tray of coffee and cookies. And when you come back out to wait on us, make sure you’re nude.”

“Yes, Mistress!” I replied, and hurried off to the kitchen. I put the coffee on, stripped, and got out the cookies. I heard laughter from both women, and once an excited whoop from Janet. Once again, part of me was complaining at being excluded and treated as a servant, but most of me was thrilled to be giving pleasure to Mistress Pat and her beautiful friend.

Chapter Four: Experiencing Femdom

As I carried out the tray of refreshments, both women grinned to see me. “You’re doing well so far,” Pat said. “Stand here between us and gaze adoringly at me. I’m going to show Janet how easy it is for a woman to control a boy once she knows how. Stiffen up!”

Immediately my cock sprang to attention. Janet laughed, but Pat said, “Watch carefully now, dear. This is a boy’s handle. All you have to do to rule him completely is to take him firmly in hand.” She stroked my cock, which trembled with pleasure. “You like being manipulated by a woman, don’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“I’m too lez to have much use for one of these in sex,” Pat explained. “But I love to control boys, so I play with them as much as most het women. Males are genetically programmed to serve the woman who gives them orgasms. Most women let their boys initiate sex most of the time, or leave them free to masturbate, or to chase strange tail, or both, but that gives them too much mental independence. To take control, convince your boy that the only way he can come is at your command. Once he accepts that,” she grabbed my scrotum firmly, “you’ve got him by the balls, and his heart and mind will follow.”

“How do you sell him that?” Janet asked. “Most of them are used to controlling their own sex lives and yours, too, it seems to me,” she added with a little bitterness.

“Not all boys are assholes like the one you married, dear,” Pat said. “Many are as teachable as this prime specimen. I wanted to see how much control I could get quickly, so I got him to volunteer for a weekend of brainwashing. I drugged him to get started, then kept him hypnotized for the next two days, with several hours of intensive programming. Right now he’s back under pretty deep, and responding very well. Watch this!”

She patted my cock fondly, then said, “Go limp!” My cock immediately deflated to its minimum size. She smiled proudly and asked me, “How can your cock erect again, boy?”

“By female command, Mistress!”

“Is there any way you could do it yourself without a woman’s permission?”

“No, Mistress!”

“So what you used to think is your cock is really mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“What do you have to do to persuade me to let you come?”

“I have to pay close attention to your wishes every second, respond to your commands with instant cheerful obedience, and believe everything you tell me, Mistress!”

Pat sighed with satisfaction. “You’re being a very good boy,” she said. “Do you remember the new purpose in life I taught you this weekend? Tell us!”

“Mistress, my purpose in life is to serve and please all women, beginning with you and whomever you give me to.”

Janet wondered, “How could an ordinary woman do that? Pat, you’re a brilliant psychologist, and you’ve known Tom for years, so you knew where most of his buttons were already. Could I learn to do anything like that?”

“Certainly, dear,” Pat smiled. “When Tom is thoroughly enslaved, I’m going to give him to you if you want him, but you can do everything I’ve done with him without the formal trance or the drugs.”

“How?”

“Plain old conditioning, just like training a dog, except you can tell a boy what you’re training him to do, so he’ll get it faster. The basic lesson he is learning is that erotic pleasure comes from serving a woman. Of course, you don’t just tell him that. You let him deduce it as a generalization from experience. Advanced students can learn that the act of obedience itself is erotically gratifying, and some can be trained to prefer it to sex. But that’s only necessary for the male slaves of a lesbian mistress. A het woman can reward her boy by letting him give her pleasure.

The simple version is Pavlovian classical conditioning. When he does what you want, reward him. Give him a smile, a cuddle, a little petting, or an immediate orgasm, depending on what he did right, your convenience, or your whim. Be sure to keep him guessing; vary the rewards, and don’t treat him every time he does a trick. Every second or third time is enough.”

“For faster teaching, add punishment, too,” Pat went on. “Punishment is less than half as effective as reward, but it lets you discharge your anger at a boy failing to please you. When he does something you don’t like, especially if you told him not to do it, frown and speak coldly to him. Don’t let him touch you, and don’t let him come for weeks! Turn him over your knee and spank him or paddle him. If you’re into real pain play, bring out the whip and give him a dozen of the best. Unless he’s into pain play, of course. Then that’s a reward.”

“That sounds awfully simple,” Janet objected. “Would that really change him?”

“Absolutely,” Pat said. “After several months of this treatment, a boy will know that the sun rises between your legs, and that the only way he can be happy is to do everything you say. To speed up the treatment, add operant conditioning whenever you can. That requires more skill, but it doesn’t hurt to try it. When you tell a boy to do something, watch him like a hawk. When you see any sign—eye movement, tiny tightening or loosening of the jaw and hands, change of color in his face—that he has accepted your will and decided to obey, reward him instantly! That ties the reward to the act of submission itself. Once he learns that lesson a few times you’ll get what we’re actually after: massive surrender and a rearrangement of his whole personality .”

Chapter Five: The Joys of the Future

Pat asked Janet, “Dear, do you want to go ahead with the idea we discussed?”

“Yes! I’ve always fancied Tom, and it turns me on to see how he’s responding to you. Can you really transfer that control to me?”

“Permanent control will have to wait for him to graduate from slave training,” Pat explained. “That will take a few more weeks. Tonight I can already lend him to you, though, and I will. You go get ready, and I’ll have him ready when you come back.”

Pat turned back to me as Janet left the room. “I know you’ve noticed that women do most of the communicating and emotional bonding that holds a society together,” she began. “But you’ve taken this for granted, like a natural resource. It’s time for you to learn that SISTERHOOD IS POWERFUL!”

Once again, a code phrase swept me back into profound somnambulistic trance. I could see only Pat, and hear only her voice, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. I could feel my unconscious mind drinking in her suggestions like a rain shower on a dry garden, so I knew I would respond as she wanted me to. I wasn’t nervous anymore; I felt calm, safe and happy.

Presently I became aware that Janet was back. She had stripped too, and I was on my knees, looking up to her. Pat murmured one last code phrase in my ear; I think it was “cascade centerfold—stiffen up!” At once, with a rush like a waterfall, I began to remember all the pictures and videos of sexy beautiful women I had ever liked. All the feelings I had had when I looked at them came back, too, but this time they were all tied to Janet. I had been thinking that she was more attractive than I had expected, but now she became incredibly alluring. My cock was stiff as a board, and I had never wanted a woman so much in my life. I felt like I had never really seen Janet before, and now that I did, I was overwhelmed.

“You see now that the Goddess dwells in Janet, don’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“In the back of your mind, you will always remember this. You want to worship Janet orally, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress!”

“In a moment, Janet will give you a command that will always compel you to offer her oral worship. From now on, you find her sexually irresistible. You will be completely at her service, doing whatever she wants at her whim. Soon her power over you will be total, in all areas of your life, but we’ll start with sex. Are you ready to belong to Janet?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

Janet spread a beach towel on a pillow, put it on a reclining chair, sat down, and lay back. She looked me in the eye and gave me a long, slow smile. I shivered with ecstasy; she was so beautiful! “LICK HONEY,” she said.

All my erotic craving instantly focused on her pussy. I moved close to her, and she opened her legs and put them over my shoulders. I felt controlled by her thighs gripping my neck as my tongue darted out to taste her wet sweetness.

Part of me had been worrying again. I’ve never been much good at cunnilingus; I want to do it, but the smell and taste push me away. I shouldn’t have worried; Pat the Programmer had been ahead of me. As I began to circle Janet’s cunt, sneaking up on her clitoris, I noticed unexpected sensations.

The taste of honey was consistent with the trigger command Janet had used, and I enjoyed having her taste like that. With growing confidence, I licked her, hearing her gasp with pleasure and seeing and feeling her response. But what was that other taste? Chocolate! I should have known! Pat had hypnotized me years before, when I was trying to kick a destructive chocolate habit. She made me unable to buy the stuff, although I could still eat it in small amounts. Now I realized that going down on a woman was always going to give me the taste of chocolate again, and that I would crave it just as much. Only this habit wouldn’t make me fatter; it would just make a woman happy. I resolved to give Pat total cooperation in this training program, and to find something extra special to do for her. But now I just settled down to enjoy this wonderful gift.

As I began to learn Janet’s responses and improve the service I was giving her, Pat came around behind Janet and began to kiss her and nibble her earlobe. Janet returned the kisses with enthusiasm. Pat’s hands caressed Janet’s belly, then gently cupped her breasts. “Sister, do you want me in this scene?” she murmured.

“Of course, darling!” Janet gasped.

Guided by Janet’s squirms and moaning, Pat’s expert lovemaking and my clumsy but willing efforts coordinated more and more precisely. I felt like I was worshipping both women at once, or that all three of us were one unit. I lost track of time; my knees hurt, my neck ached, and my jaw muscles were getting tired, but I was in such bliss I didn’t care.

Presently, Janet’s body became rigid, and she had an unusually shattering orgasm that seemed to go on forever. She gave a high, piercing scream, then went bonelessly limp. I looked up and found that she had fallen asleep.

“A nervous reaction,” said Pat. “Just let her rest for half an hour or so. You go do the dishes, then draw a hot bubble bath.”

Pat came into the bathroom nude, arm in arm with a happily yawning Janet. My owners got into the tub, then allowed me to kneel outside and hand in supplies, run for cold drinks, and massage their shoulders. When they were done, I toweled them off, then tidied up the bathroom as Janet got ready to go.

Janet still had the shining eyes and buttery-soft contented look of a satisfied woman, and I felt proud to have been part of that. “Tom, I really like seeing you this way,” she said to me. “Are you sure you want to belong to me full-time? Because I want you for my personal slave, and once I’ve got you I’m never letting go. Don’t answer me now; I’ll be back Friday, and you can tell me what you think then.”

“Kiss Janet’s feet goodbye, boy,” said Pat. I joyfully complied.

As the door closed behind Janet, Pat hugged me and said, “It’s a sudden change from the way you were last week, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, Mistress.”

“But it’s entirely a change for the better. You’re learning fast. I feel that you’re working with me, not putting up a fight; is that right?”

“Yes, Mistress. I love this! I think you were exactly right about me.”

“As far as you’re concerned, I’m right about everything, boy. I’ve got a lot of exercises to run you through, to break you to harness and convince you that this is the way things are from now on. You’ve still got a lot to learn to be a perfect slave.”

She chucked me under the chin. “But don’t worry. You’ll soon get used to it. All the others did!”

Chapter Six: Basic Training Begins

Pat decided to review some of the changes she had made in me over the weekend. “I’ll only show you the results,” she said. “If you could remember exactly how you got this way, your conscious mind might interfere unhelpfully and make some of my changes come undone. And when I fix your head, you want to stay fixed, don’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“Then remember that IT’S A WOMEN’S WORLD!”

Once again Pat had me completely entranced. She made me lose sight of the living room couch. I looked where the couch had been, but all I could see was the carpet. Of course, when I walked slowly across the room, I bumped into the couch. I looked at Pat in bewilderment, and she snapped her fingers. The couch appeared again, but Janet was sitting on it looking at me. When she smiled, her beauty astonished me all over again. Her big grey eyes seemed to see right down to the bottom of my soul, and I knew that everything she saw there was hers now. Then Pat said, “Return!” and Janet disappeared.

I gasped, and Pat said, “She wasn’t really there this time. You want to see a lot more of Janet from now on, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“And you understand that to do that, you have to be hers, and accept whatever she wants?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” Then Pat said another code word, and I went blind. She saw my fright, and quickly asked, “Are you willing to accept your sight as a gift under female control, seeing what women want you to see?”

“Yes, Mistress.” She spoke again, and I regained my sight, only I knew it was no longer really mine. In the same way, she demonstrated her utter control over my hearing. My sense of balance proved to belong to her; when she suppressed it, I couldn’t even sit up. Likewise my sense of time. She made me feel ten minutes passing in what turned out to be one minute, then had me look at a snapshot of Janet while she got ready for bed. That felt like one minute, but it was really twenty.

She reminded me of the changes in smell and taste I had already enjoyed while going down on Janet, and assured me that she had similar control over those senses. I believed her.

“It’s late,” she said. “Pull the sleeping bag out of the hall closet, and spread it in the small spare bedroom. That’s my slave quarters, and sleeping there will remind you that you’re a slave now. Fall asleep quickly, sleep well, and wake up refreshed and eager to obey at six in the morning. Go into the kitchen then, and fix the breakfast order I wrote out and left on the counter. Wake me when breakfast is ready; I’ll have further orders for you then. Good night!”

“Good night, Mistress!”

I lay down with my head in a whirl, trying to understand what had happened to me and how completely my life had changed. But Mistress Pat had told me to fall asleep, and the next thing I knew it was 6:00 AM.

Chapter Seven: Out of State

I fixed breakfast and waited on Pat; she had me put the leftovers into a dog’s bowl, and I crouched on the floor to eat them. “I would use you as a lady’s maid,” she said. “But the way I dress, I don’t need one. Janet will show you what she wants done. You want to serve her that way, don’t you, boy?”

“In every way, Mistress!”

“That’s right. Now take a bath, then tidy up the bathroom and kitchen and go to work. While you’re at work today, you’ll feel almost like you felt last week, and you’ll pretend to be your own man all day. But we know you’ll just be pretending, right?”

“That’s right, Mistress.”

“It will feel strange to you to have thoughts I’m not controlling. Take advantage of that odd state of affairs to think about what you’ve experienced here, and decide whether you want me to release you or put you under more deeply. I’ll ask you officially tonight; this will be your second chance to back out. Don’t make faces at me, boy; I want you to be sure.”

“I’m sure already—but you know best, Mistress,” I added hastily as she frowned.

“Always. Get busy! I’ll see you here at six tonight.”

As I got ready to leave, Pat had to remind me to dress. I had forgotten; I realized that I would have to be careful to act normal and not involve nonconsenting bystanders in our scene.

At the network control center, the daily crises of a system administrator quickly enveloped me. I found that my consciousness was working much more as usual, although the changes Pat had made in the basement of my mind were as silently palpable as a sleeping elephant on the front lawn. In the afternoon, I had to read a number of Novell AppNotes, and the state of stupefaction those induced left me as free of Pat’s control as I had been all day. I spent my afternoon break reviewing my situation.

I had had very little satisfaction in my lonely life as a fat and bookish middle-aged bachelor. Living with no commitments to anyone, I was free to do anything I wanted, but I didn’t want to do much. I realized that the role Pat and Janet were offering me, a life of complete submission and obedience under their wise guidance, was the best deal I would ever get. Janet.....I felt good all over as I remembered how beautiful she was, and how right it felt to serve her. I decided again to cooperate fully with Pat’s plans for me.

Chapter Eight: Back Where I Belong

“Bring in the groceries from the car,” Pat said when we met at her house. “Put them away, strip, then come into my room and give me a massage.”

I had wondered how long it would take Pat to bring me into total subjection again. No time at all, it turned out; just the sight of her and the sound of her voice were enough to zap me. Coming into her room with the bottle of body oil I had spotted in the bathroom, I found her also nude, and commandingly beautiful. “Rub me down all over,” she instructed. “But don’t get sexual; that’s not your department.”

I willingly obeyed, rubbing the tensions of the day out of Pat’s pantherlike muscles. When that pleasant task was done, she told me what to fix for her dinner while she read the paper. Then I stood and waited on her while she ate, listening fascinated while she blew off steam about how her day had been. Once again I ate leftovers and drank water from bowls on the floor, then cleaned up and scrubbed the kitchen floor while Pat answered her mail and did paperwork.

When I reported to her, she looked me over carefully. “You seem contented in the role of a slave,” she remarked. “Have you decided that this is what you really want?”

“Yes, please, Mistress!”

“Kneel, and beg me to enslave you further!”

“Please continue my slave training, Mistress!”

Once again she allowed me to kiss her ass. Then she led me into the kitchen, and got out a box of matches. She said, “This experience will really teach you that SISTERHOOD IS POWERFUL!”

At once I was back in a deep trance, willingly accepting Pat’s programming. When I came out of it, I found that I was holding both arms up in front of me, and that I was completely unable to move. I could speak and blink my eyes, but my body was immobilized.

“Some people like ropes and chains to make their slaves hold still,” Pat said. “But we’re software people, right?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

She said a code word, “Marble!” Then she lit a match and held it up to my right arm. I felt nothing at all; she was scorching the arm of a marble statue, as far as I could tell. She blew out the match, then grinned at me and said, “Hotpoint!” She slowly moved her little finger up to my left arm, then touched it.

“Ow!” I felt blazing heat where she touched me.

“Do you understand now that your sensations are under female control?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress. That hurts!”

“You want to dress the burn, don’t you? But you can’t move until I tell you to. I have you in perfect bondage. Promise to return to this state of helpless bondage, whenever I or Janet tell you to, and I will let you move to obey my commands.”

“I promise, Mistress.”

“Go into the bathroom and dress the burn, and look at the other arm, too.”

I did as she commanded. Where she had touched me with a blazing finger, there was a small blister and a ring of angry red burn. It hurt fiercely. On the right arm, where the match had been, there was a slight reddening of the skin, but no discomfort.

“You don’t like pain, do you, boy?” Pat asked when I returned.

“No, Mistress.”

“But if I decide to inflict pain on you, what can you do?”

“I.....I just have to submit, Mistress. I can’t resist you.”

Pat grabbed me roughly and gave me a thorough French kiss. “My little sub slut,” she said hoarsely, “you’re lucky I’m training you for Janet. She’s not into pain play, either. I have a sadistic streak a yard wide; if I were going to keep you, you’d be a masochist by midnight.”

I shuddered to realize that she could do it, too.

Chapter Nine: Mental Management

After an early night, Pat had me get up at five on Thursday to spend an hour dusting and vacuuming. Then I served her breakfast in bed, and went off to work as usual. She had promised me an interesting lesson in obedience that evening; I wondered uneasily what that would mean.

After I cooked and served her dinner, Pat got out a leather collar and showed it to me. “This is a slave collar, boy,” she explained. “Wearing it will mark you as my slave for anyone who sees it. Are you willing to let me show you off like that?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy!” She let me kneel to her and collared me, then said, “You need some new opinions to prepare you for tonight’s tasks. This experience will help you accept that IT’S A WOMEN’S WORLD!”

Once again I enjoyed the experience of deep trance, learning whatever Pat wanted to teach me. When she brought me out of it, she said, “Let me quiz you. How do you feel about your earnings? What should happen to your income?”

I said, “Mistress, when I belong to a woman, everything I earn belongs to her, just as I do. I hand over my paycheck, and she gives me whatever allowance she thinks I need to serve her efficiently. The only reason I would need to own anything would be in case she sends me away. Then I would need money to nurture the next woman to own me. That’s the only reason I have money now; I’ve been single, and I understand now that everything I’ve been squirreling away was really held in trust—for Janet, if she wants me.”

“That’s right. And what if your owner doesn’t send you out to earn money, but puts you to work in her own business? Does she have to pay you?”

“No, Mistress. Then I’m serving her directly and eliminating the middleman.”

“And if she sends you to work for a woman friend of hers?”

“The money arrangements would be between the two women, Mistress. I wouldn’t need to be paid, but my owner might want rent for the use of me.”

“Excellent. If you please Janet enough that she decides to keep you, you’ll be working a lot in that little publishing business I own. Several clients of mine are working there tonight; when someone needs intensive therapy but can’t pay for it, I often let them work it off by becoming my slaves and working for me part-time for free. You’ll be joining them tonight. Get dressed and let’s go!”

“Yes, Mistress.”

At the shabby warehouse office of the publishing company, we found six people, four men and two women, working busily. All were wearing collars, and three men were wearing nothing else. All seemed to find their tasks absorbing and satisfying. They spoke to each other in a friendly, good-humored way when they needed to, but there was no unnecessary talking.

Pat explained her business plan. “This little outfit sells children’s books,” she began. “They went broke last year, due to too much feuding among management and high overhead. I knew one of the writers and liked the books, so I took the company over for its debts, without personal liability. I felt I could get the new staff to cooperate; that’s working OK. Now I’m trying to combine my side business with my social life, bringing down labor cost by working a second shift of submissives.”

She led me into the office area and introduced me to one of the three nude men. “Peony is in charge of my night crew,” she said. “Ask him anything you need to know about the business. He and the other two boys wearing just collars, Daisy and Violet, are gay clients of mine. They share an apartment, work their own day jobs, and work for me in the evenings. In return, I provide them with therapy and female domination. That’s a good deal for you, isn’t it, Peony dear?”

“Yes, Mistress! It’s so difficult for gays to get wise female guidance, but all males need it. We consider ourselves lucky to belong to a wonderful lesbian sorceress like you!”

“Tom here is a straight sub,” she explained. “That is, unless the owner I’m training him for decides to turn him bi.....He’s here to install the new computer system.”

“Finally! You deserve good service, Mistress. We’ve been at our wit’s end trying to keep up with the paperwork by hand.”

Pat led me to a corner of the office with a newly delivered PC and several dumb terminals. “Load the OS and wire up the terminals tonight,” she commanded. “You’ll load the applications and train the users later on. Ask Peony which desks the tubes go on.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I caught sight of the CD containing the operating system, and winced. “Mistress—Unix? That’s not an OS, it’s a virus!”

She spanked me once, rather hard. “I’m sadistic, remember? Deal with it! Suffer a little.....” She relented enough to explain. “I got a good deal on vertical market software that requires this platform. I’m glad I have somebody I can depend on to smooth out the difficulties. Or are you trying to resist my will?”

“Oh no, Mistress! You’ve convinced me that that’s impossible.”

“Good. Now get busy; I’ll be treating my other workers.”

Chapter Ten: Life With Janet Begins

We returned to Pat’s house around midnight, so she put me to sleep almost at once. As I served her breakfast on Friday morning, she told me to think over my options again during the day at work, and I did so. I felt more sure than ever that life as a slave to Janet and Pat was what I wanted more than anything.

That evening, Pat had me prepare dinner while she worked at her desk. Then she asked, “Are you sure you want to walk out of here tonight as Janet’s property? This is your last chance to chicken out; if you don’t really want to live under female power, I can return most of your old state of consciousness and give you double your boredom back.”

“I really want to be Janet’s, Mistress. If she lends me to you part of the time, so much the better. I know now how well this way of being fits me, and I could never want to go back to the way I was.”

“Good. I think you’ll be a very satisfactory slave to Janet. She’ll be here in a few minutes, so let’s get you formally dressed. Stiffen up!”

Pat took a length of red ribbon and tied a big bow on my rigid cock. “Tomorrow is Janet’s birthday,” she explained. “You’re my present to her, so be good!”

“Yes, Mistress!”

Janet arrived for dinner, and was pleased and amused with her present. As I waited on the two women, she kept smiling at me in a possessive way that thrilled me. After I tidied away the dishes, Pat asked Janet, “Are you ready to take control of your slave, dear? I’ve written out a list of the exercises you should put him through over the next few weeks, but he’s ready to surrender to you now.”

“Janet said, “Yes, I’m ready! I’m looking forward to putting him through his paces. Didn’t you expect to have more trouble with him?”

“Yes, many boys have more unconscious resistance to being owned by women. Even if they think they’re submissive, it takes time to break their wills and get them to uncross their fingers. They usually come in with a list of conditions—I’ll serve you if you do ABCXYZ for me. They have to be carefully taught that their owner may accept information and even ask for opinions, but once she makes up her mind, her will controls them. Tom needed this change deeply, so he didn’t fight it much.”

She turned to me. “On your knees, boy. What do you say to me for this week of training?” she asked.

“Thank you for enslaving me, Mistress!”

“Kiss my ass.”

As I completed this ritual, Pat said, “SISTERHOOD IS POWERFUL!” Once again I went out like a light.

When I returned to awareness of my surroundings, Janet asked, “Tom, how do you feel about me now?”

“Ma’am, you are my owner. Obeying you and serving your comfort and pleasure is my mission in life, and for as long as you want me, I will take pride in doing my best to please you.”

“Whenever I’m not using you, you are at Pat’s disposal,” Janet commanded. “She’s just your governess and personal trainer now, but you will still call her Mistress, and obey her just as if she were me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Janet turned to Pat. “When my husband took off, you put me back together,” she began. “When you thought I was stabilized, you propositioned me. I hope you knew that I didn’t say no because I didn’t want you.”

“I thought there was an identity problem, dear. I didn’t get my feelings hurt.”

“That’s right. I was still shaky; I’d always depended on my ex to make me real, and I needed time to learn to be an individual on my own. You’re so powerful, darling! I was afraid if I got involved with you then, you’d just swallow me up. Also, I’m bisexual, but it’s important to me to stay primarily het-identified. Silly of me, but there it is.....”

“Your feelings are your feelings,” Pat replied. “Do I hear you saying that both problems are solved now?”

“Yes! I’ve gotten a stronger sense of self, and now you and Tom have solved the man problem. I’ve got a male lover who will never try to push me around, or fly into a rage when I spend some time in the woman-loving side of my head. If you still want me, I’m yours on toast!”

Pat grinned triumphantly. “Jackpot!” she said. “That’s just what I was aiming at. Come into the mistress bedroom, and let’s roll around. For the first of many times, I hope.....”

Janet flew into Pat’s arms, then kissed her thoroughly and at leisure. As the two women started for the bedroom, Janet crooked her finger to summon me. “Tonight you’ll just be the helper,” she instructed. “You’ll provide breast play and everything else you can think of, but never in a way that would interfere with what we’re doing for each other. Do you want him to serve you too, Pat?”

“Definitely! Boy, does it bother you to be a minor convenience for two women making love?”

“Of course not, Mistress! Millions of men would give anything for the chance.”

“You’ve given your freedom. Do you think you’ll miss it?”

“I doubt it, Mistress. I wasn’t doing much with it, anyway.”

As my new owner and her lover enjoyed each other, I served their pleasure eagerly. Touching Pat erotically with her permission was a long-hoped-for treat, and Janet was more beautiful than ever. When she came, she seemed to shine with her own light. I felt as satisfied as I ever had after making love; I knew that the purpose of sex for me from now on was Janet’s pleasure, and I relished seeing how well that purpose was achieved.

Chapter Eleven: Advanced Training

Janet led me to her apartment, and had me clean up the week’s accumulation of dirty dishes in the sink while she got ready for bed. Then she asked, “Do you want to sleep with me, Tom?”

“Yes, please, Ma’am!”

“I want you there, but sharing my bed is a privilege of perfect slavery for you. Anytime you fight my control of you or give me a hard time, I’ll make you sleep on the floor, you understand?”

“Of course, Ma’am. That’s only fair.”

She hugged me, murmuring, “I still don’t quite believe this, but I’m going to take full advantage of you. Now go wash up and get ready for bed. You’ve got a hard weekend of obedience training coming up!”

When we woke up Saturday morning, Janet told me not to drink anything until she said to. I always drink several glasses of water first thing in the morning, so I was pretty cotton-mouthed as I served her breakfast. I looked longingly at her juice and coffee, but she shook her head and made me eat without drinking.

As the day wore on, Janet had me clean her apartment, then wash and wax her car out in the heat. I sweated heavily, and was constantly aware of thirst. She made me eat a salty lunch, and again forbade me to drink. In the afternoon, we walked three miles in the park, and I was getting woozy when we got home. I was relieved when Janet brought out a large dog’s water bowl, filled it, and put it down on the kitchen floor.

“Do you accept that from now on, whatever you drink comes to you under female control, and that every sip brings you more deeply under my power?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I husked.

“Listen carefully. I permit you to drink this water now, but you will please me very much by waiting until I tell you to drink it. This will show you how important it is to you to please me. I give you the choice; what do you want to do?”

I scraped my tongue over my dry lips, and found myself smiling incredulously.

“That’s quite a surprise, isn’t it?” Janet asked. “Tell me what you feel!”

“Ma’am, I’d rather please you than anything!”

“Good boy! Sit down on the floor and look at the water, and feel yourself getting thirstier and thirstier. And as your thirst increases, your desire to please me and do my will keeps increasing faster. When I decide that you have no desires at all except to follow my every whim, I will let you drink, so work on surrendering quickly! I don’t like watching you suffer.....”

“That’s a change, Ma’am! Pat thought this up, didn’t she?”

“Yes, and it’s working, isn’t it?”

I sighed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

After two more endless hours, my owner decided—correctly—that my only thought was to please her, and let me lap up the water and refill the bowl. After I fixed dinner, she let me eat at the table with her, and I glowed at her kindness.

She said, “I’ve decided to rearrange your political priorities, Tom. In a perfect world, only women would hold positions of power. In our very imperfect world, sometimes a male candidate serves women’s interests best, usually because there’s no woman running. In that case, I’ll tell you whom to vote against. When two or more women are candidates for the same office, once again I’ll tell you which sister I trust more. But when one and only one woman wants a job, you won’t have to ask me. For the rest of your life, you freely choose to please me and vote for the woman. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, sister!” she exclaimed. I was startled at the term, but thrilled at her approval. Then she gave me a bigger thrill. “Leave the dishes,” she commanded. “Come into the bedroom and undress me!”

I carefully undressed my beautiful goddess, kissing and caressing her all over as she showed me she wanted. Then she lay down on the edge of the bed, swung her legs out toward me, and gave me a lustful and triumphant grin. “LICK HONEY!” she said.

As I joyfully offered her oral worship, I noticed that my cock was only at half-mast. When Janet was satisfied, we stopped making love, and it went limp. Janet noticed my curiosity, and explained that we wouldn’t be using my cock as a tool of her pleasure for a long time. “Sexual frustration will be a valuable tool to make your slavery to me solid and permanent,” she said. “As my total control over you hardens into part of your deepest personal identity, I’ll start to let your cock harden once in a while, too. Until then, being deprived of orgasms is the best way you can serve my pleasure, and that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Chapter Twelve: Double Domination

On Sunday morning Janet and I went to church, after talking over our religious positions. We agreed that our relationship had the potential to turn into a marriage, and that both of us were comfortable with the idea that God was appointing her to be my owner and me to be her slave. By serving Janet, I was fulfilling the duty of a husband. When I worshipped her, I was worshipping God’s image in her. We also agreed not to emphasize the woman-centered nature of our relationship in religious contexts, though. Some unimaginative people would not accept that a wife’s rule over her husband can be proper, and others would be sinfully envious!

After lunch, Janet sent me over to Pat’s business for more slave time there. I put on my slave collar, got the applications loaded on the computer, and created the user accounts for the regular employees and for Pat’s slaves. As I was wondering what to do next, Pat arrived.

“Are you being a good boy for Janet?” she asked.

I happily agreed that Janet seemed pleased with me.

“Strip, and then come into my office. I’m going to tidy up the construction work I’ve done in your mind. This will make it easier for you to devote yourself completely to Janet; you’re always in favor of that, aren’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“SISTERHOOD IS POWERFUL!”

When Pat woke me up, I found that my memories began the previous Friday night, when Pat began enslaving me. My entire life before that was a grey blur. Pat explained that I could remember things from the old days anytime I needed the information to function, as in dealing with friends and relatives or filling out official forms, or to serve a woman. Otherwise, I would completely forget my old life and just be who Janet wanted me to be. This made me feel securely owned, and happy about it.

When I got home, Janet explained her desires for how we would handle money. I would change the direct deposit on my salary to her bank account, and she would give me a weekly allowance. I would transfer 20% of my investments into her name immediately, and 20% more each six months, so that I would be completely dependent on her after two years. If she grew dissatisfied with me and sent me away, she would return half of the money I had given her, plus its proportionate increase while we were together. I had no right to decide to leave her, and would have to leave my money behind if I ever did. This all felt fair to me, and I couldn’t imagine wanting to leave, so I willingly agreed to sign a pre-nup expressing those terms.

Over the next week, I emptied out my apartment and moved in with Janet. It felt good to be instantly available to serve her, and I eagerly learned her preferences in housekeeping and cooking. I was amazed to find that it was no struggle at all to adopt a much healthier diet at Janet’s command. I might still want my regular fattening foods, but she wanted me to eat healthy food and less of it for a long life of vigorous service, and only what she wanted was important. She also made me gradually increase my physical activity, joining a health club and beginning to learn tennis to play with her. For a lifelong couch potato, this was shocking, but I had to obey Janet, and I found that I learned to like doing whatever she told me to.

One night, following Pat’s recipe, Janet made me drink a big glass of iced tea, then forbade me to go to the bathroom until she said. She pretended not to see me squirming for a few hours, then asked, “Are you ready to accept female control over your plumbing?”

I agreed that I was, and she permitted me to get rid of the tea. As I was thinking this lesson was over, she slapped my ass and said a code word installed by Pat in some previous training session. At once I had to scramble back into the bathroom for an urgent crap. Then she explained that she now had control over my sphincters, and that from now on, if I ever resisted her will, she would make me wet my pants or worse! I agreed that she had the right to punish me that way if she thought I needed it.

Then she explained that the air I breathed was a female gift to me, and that every breath I took would keep me completely under her power. I willingly agreed, and she said that she would not demonstrate. Breath control play was exciting but too dangerous, and I was a poor medical risk for it. I had no trouble taking her word for it.

The next weekend, I was back at Pat’s business, training the users on the new software. Saturday’s session was for the regular employees, so Pat let me dress conventionally, but Sunday was for the slaves, and she had me work nude and collared. There were complications in getting the software running, so, with Janet’s consent, Pat made me work straight through Saturday night solving the problems. Sunday night I was yawning while serving Janet her dinner, and she asked sympathetically, “Are you sleepy?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You can go to bed right after you clean up the kitchen if you want to. However, you will please me very much if you stay up until I tell you to sleep.”

“Of course I’ll stay up, then, Ma’am.”

Toward midnight, Janet asked me, “Are you ready to accept sleep as a female gift, and let every night’s sleep bring you more and more deeply under my power?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

She had me get into bed, then put her hand on my forehead and said, “Sleep now.” The next thing I knew it was Monday morning.

Chapter Thirteen: Completing the Change

That Tuesday evening Janet took me over to Pat’s house to serve at a party. This turned out to be a DS scene party; all the slave boys Pat had trained were there, required to serve a formal high tea to Pat and several of her women friends. We all wore pink polyester aprons, cock rings, and erections, and Pat demonstrated her control over us and encouraged the other women to command us. During the party, I found that I could speak only when spoken to, and that I froze into hypnotic bondage whenever a woman touched me and said, “FREEZE!”

Friday morning we took off from work to visit Janet’s lawyer and sign our pre-nup. The lawyer grinned knowingly as she watched me sign myself into permanent submission. She said to Janet, “If all men knew their place as well as you’ve taught this one his, there’d be very few divorces.”

I reflected on the happy marriages I had seen in my life. Different people have different needs, but it seemed to me that many of the happiest and most stable marriages were between a woman with a whim of iron and a man with frequent opportunities to say, “Yes, Dear.” Perhaps my relationship with Janet was only a little ahead of the trend already apparent in American culture.

Our relationship continued to ripen, growing more and more completely satisfying. The first month, Janet made me sleep on the floor twice for momentary resistance to her will, and spanked me once for not speaking respectfully to one of her friends. After that, I stopped even thinking about what I wanted, and devoted myself to learning every detail of Janet’s preferences and meeting them as perfectly as possible. I knew that being her slave was the role I was born for, and I found it completely fulfilling.

When Janet decided that she wanted to keep me permanently, we got married in her church. The minister is quite conservative in some ways, but she smiled and nodded approval when the groom said “obey,” and accepted without comment my decision to give up my bachelor name and take Janet’s.

We took a honeymoon trip to a beautiful half-deserted beach on the Caribbean coast of Honduras. I decided to write down this story when I realized how happy I was, and wanted to offer other people interested in lifestyle femdom this example of what is possible. The moment of that realization was one day on the beach. I had just been putting sunscreen on Janet, lingering over her breasts since she had taken off her bikini top. She realized that she had forgotten her trashy novel in our hotel room at the top of the bluff, and told me to go get it for her. I hopped up, saying, “Your wish is my command, Ma’am!”

She gave me her Mona Lisa smile and said softly, “I know.”