The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bella woke. Light was breaking into the room and it faded the total blackness in which they’d slept, into pale greys and creams and browns. The sheets were cool against her skin as she turned over, her arms sprawling out and her head burrowing deeper into the soft pillow. She’d slept like the dead; heavy and dreamless.

Now she lay still, her eyes beginning to adjust to the dim light, contemplating Kate’s sleeping body. The bed was so wide that the flat black expanse of sheets between them hadn’t been stirred at all when Bella had woken and turned over. Her eyes traced Kate’s silhouette; the strong leanness of her legs, rising over the curves of her ass and hips, narrowing at her slender waist, then rising to her shoulder and that flawlessly toned arm that lay above the bedclothes. The dark sheets lay in ripples over the stillness of her body, black dunes against a slowly brightening sky.

Bella felt a strange urge to reach out and touch her. The idea was there in her mind: she saw herself moving in close, propping herself up with one hand so that the sheets fell away from her naked body while the other hand would smooth down that cascading line of satin, feeling the softness of her friend’s body. She would feel her stir and wake, and then the hot press of their bodies, together. The image seemed to come out of nowhere, and she felt a sharp hunger for that physical connection. When she blinked and rubbed her eyes, it was gone.

Now, she just felt hungry for food. She remembered the taste of last night’s meal and she knew that she really, really needed to eat again. She slid from the bed, leaving Kate lying there.

The room seemed to have been cleared in the night. The trays and plates, the glasses and the bottle that they had left by the door, the neat pile of clothes that Kate had made on the floor on her side of the bed, and the various items that Bella had strewn on her own side of the room, were all gone. Their suitcases had been taken too.

She stood there, naked, hungry, thirsty and yet somehow unworried, and she wondered what to do.

The hinges of the wardrobe creaked when she opened it, and the sound was magnified in the dim emptiness of the room, but Kate’s breathing didn’t change from its quiet murmur. Inside, there were clothes, but not the ones that she was expecting.

Maids’ uniforms in that smooth, shiny, rubbery fabric, ankle length evening dresses in silk or that ubiquitous satin, and other items of clothing that seemed to be mainly composed of straps and buckles and chains. She slid each item past her along the rail. What was she supposed to wear to breakfast? Finally, she came to a bikini and a short, thigh length robe.

That would do. She was on holiday after all.

She told herself that she liked the fit. It was tighter than she would usually wear, and her breasts were too large to be much hidden by the two triangular pieces of fabric, but it managed to lift them up and press them together enough to make the overall effect quite dramatic.The robe seemed too small to allow much modesty either, but she supposed that it was better than just wearing a bikini to breakfast. Anyway, the fact that it was made of silk felt quite decadent. She could imagine Kate complaining, but the other girl was still asleep, murmuring in soft breaths.

The door to their room was as heavy and solid as everything else they’d seen in the Chateau but it felt weightless as it opened. The noise of its hinges was no louder than the quiet sounds that Kate was making. The long corridor outside was windowless but lit by electric lights.

She found her way to the double doors through which the maid had brought them yesterday. Now, they were locked. She continued along the corridor.

The passageway ended at a glass-panelled door that seemed to lead into some kind of refectory area. There were some long cafeteria style tables and benches and a couple of women, already in their glossy maids uniforms, were eating breakfast and chatting. Bella’s stomach growled at the sight of food, but this door had no handle and it wouldn’t budge when she pushed at it. Knocking and banging had no effect; the women didn’t seem to hear her or see her. Eventually she gave up and tried the other direction.

At that end of the corridor there was another, seemingly identical door, but this one swung open as she approached, and closed silently behind her. There followed a maze of corridors and many more of the glass panelled doors. At first she would try pushing against them, but she soon realised that the doors through which she was allowed to pass, and only those doors, would open before her. Someone was choosing where she could go.

At another time, that might have been a concerning thought, but all she could think about now was food. She followed the corridors with patience until eventually she arrived into an anteroom, which led, through an arched doorway, into the open air and the baking bright sun.

Bella stood blinking in an expansive, paved courtyard. Behind her, and to her left and right, it was bounded by the high walls of the Chateau. It was overlooked by wide, leaded windows and some turreted spires. Each of the walls was broken by stone archways like the one that she’d come through, but she couldn’t see what lay beyond them.

It must have rained in the night. There were a few patches of damp on the flagstones, but the sun was already burning them off.

Ahead of her, on the far side of the Courtyard, there was a low wall parted by wide stone steps. Above the line of the wall, she could see nothing but sky, a clear, cloudless blue. In front of it, there was a wrought iron table and chairs. Sitting at the table, wearing a pale blue sundress and some strappy sandals, and still managing to look like the embodiment of elegance, was the woman they’d met yesterday, the one who owned the place.

The table, Bella was quick to notice, was laid for breakfast. Sipping from a small cup of coffee, the woman turned to glance over the wall. Then, looking back at Bella, she beckoned with a delicate gesture of her hand.

On the other side of the wall, the steps descended in a series of terraces, before the land started to fall away and there were only the vertiginous slopes of the valley sides. Immediately below them, the next terrace was dominated by a swimming pool, with blue mosaic tiles. Around the pool were some sun loungers. Some already had towels on them, she noticed.

Even though it was still early, there was a girl stretched out on one of the loungers. She was perhaps a year or two older than Bella or Kate, but still, Bella’s first thought was that the girl was a model. Her body glistened with sweat and oil. She wore a white one-piece bikini that was spread so thinly over the fullness of her body that she might as well have been naked. Even to Bella, the girl’s breasts appeared very large; maybe she wasn’t a model. Maybe not that kind of model. The girl turned to lie on her front, resting her face on the fluffy towel. She looked totally content.

“Who is...”

“Shhhhh,” the woman said. The Comtesse, the maid had called her. Countess, she supposed. “Sit down now, and eat, and watch.”

Bella perched on the edge of a chair, uncomfortable about joining a Countess for breakfast, but very hungry.

The woman cut a piece of pain au chocolat, spiked it with her fork and lifted it towards Bella’s lips. Bella accepted it. The pastry tasted of butter, and sun, and bright morning, and the chocolate was creamy and dark. Immediately, she wanted more, but the Comtesse had turned away to look down to the girl by the pool.

A man had arrived there. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts that didn’t seem quite to fit him. Although he was slim, and his body was wiry and muscled, his skin was very pale. Like the girl, his hair was blonde, but unlike her he mustn’t have spent much time lying out in the sun.

He stretched up his arms in the sunshine, doing an impression of casualness, and then walked to the opposite end of the pool, and lowered himself to sit on the edge of one of the loungers. Nothing was said, but the girl shifted on her towel and propped herself up on her elbows. It was like she’d caught his scent, Bella thought. She saw the girl glance at the man and then look quickly away.

He smiled and shifted his posture so that he was sitting with his legs apart, but then he ignored the girl and looked out at the steep, forested slopes beyond the terraces.

Bella saw the girl’s body begin to twitch, as if suddenly uncomfortable. She had lain down on her front again, but her hands couldn’t seem to keep still by her sides. They crept under by degrees until she was lying with both hands trapped beneath her.

Apparently oblivious to the fact that she was being watched from above, she turned her head away from the man and made what was initially a restrained sort of shuffling with her hips. As Bella watched, the movements became more pronounced. There was no doubt to where the girl’s fingers had made their way. There was no doubt, Bella thought, as she watched the wobble of those perfect tanned globes, split by the tight white thong, that the girl was utterly desperate.

“Ah,” said the Countess, under her breath, “but you know that won’t work, don’t you? You know what you have to do if you want release. For how long will you be able to last?”

It was ... strange ... to watch someone who was clearly, well, masturbating, but as she opened her mouth to make an excuse, the Countess was there again with a fork of flaking pastry and soft chocolate. The sweetness and the warmth melted outwards from her tongue and it became so much easier to sit there in the sunshine and to watch.

The girl stood up. The pale man was still gazing studiously at the scenery as she made her way around the edge of the pool to where he was sitting. One hand was still dipped beneath the thin white fabric, between her legs. Her other hand covered her mouth, trying to stop herself from speaking.

The man continued to ignore her, but his agitation was betrayed by his left hand, drumming silently into the thick folded towel beside him.

She trailed her own hand out from between her legs and wiped it, absently, on her thigh.

“Excuse me? Sir?” The girl spoke from behind her hand but Bella could still pick out the American accent.

The man turned to face her and fixed his face in an expression that was apparently intended to convey surprise.

“Good morning,” he said. His English had a different accent, a European one, but Bella couldn’t place it.

“Yes,” the girl said. “That is, I ... could you ... umm, help me?”

“It would be a pleasure, of course,” he said. “Please, tell me what it is you need.”

“I need to—” said the girl but caught herself. Her hand flew to her mouth again.

“What?” he said. “What is the matter?”

“I really need to ... ”

“Yes?”

“To come?”

The man feigned incomprehension.

“You know, to get myself ... to orgasm?“

“I see,” he said, trying the fake surprise again. “Well of course, I’d be happy to ... to assist you. How do you prefer to—“

“No, no, no,” the girl interrupted, slightly breathless. “You don’t understand, I can’t just ... they’ve ... done something to me.”

“What do you mean?” he said. His own excitement was clear in his voice now; he wasn’t trying to pretend any more. “Tell me what it is that you mean.”

“I ... I can’t just make myself come or by ... you know,” her voice dropped again, “by fucking ... they’ve made it so that I have to...”

“What? What do you have to do?”

The girl shook her head, and turned away from him, but not for long.

“I have to suck you, and you have to come in my mouth ... Oh my God, I really need it. I need you to fill my mouth with come so that I can—“

“Yes, of course, I quite understand,” he said, “Please, you are quite at liberty to ...”

“But, here?” For the first time, the girl glanced up to where the Comtesse and Bella were sitting.

“Yes,” the man said. “Here. Now. Unless you’d prefer to wait for someone else?”

The girl only shook her head and the man picked up the towel from the lounger and tossed it at his feet. The girl took a moment to straighten it, knelt, and then without any further hesitation she freed his cock from his shorts and took him into her mouth.

Bella heard herself gasp, but whether it was in shock or excitement, she didn’t know.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” the Comtesse said to her. “If I touched you now, I think you’d be wet down there. I think that is how you’d really like to spend the summer, on your knees.”

There was something strange about what the Comtesse had said. Something not quite right. Yet with each of these suggestions, Bella found herself nodding in agreement, the taste of the pain au chocolat still tingling on her lips and in her mind.

“Watch then. Hands on the table. I will tell you when it is your turn for pleasure.”

Obedient, she watched. The girl was a far more enthusiastic performer than Bella had ever been. Her head bobbed up and down with her lips sealed tight around his shaft, and the muffled noises of satisfaction were ones that Bella would have had to fake. Eventually, the girl released him so that she could take several deep breaths and steady herself. She was shaking her head, blinking, as if she’d taken a hit of something that was far too strong for her.

The man reached out and ran his hands over the girl’s breasts, spreading his fingers wide to cup them, and smiling at the weight of them in his hands. Now, he held her head with both hands, held her still. He made her wait, impatient, as he brought himself towards her lips. Her tongue reached out for him but at first he would only let her flick at the very tip of his cock. Speech was beyond her now, but she began to whine for more and he let her bathe her tongue all around his swollen cock-head. Again, she moaned, and pulled against his grip.

He smiled, and pulled away. Now, in response to a single whispered word, the girl opened her mouth as wide as she could, and waited.

He stroked her hair for a few moments, and then took a firm hold of her, and with forceful movements of his hips, he began to vigorously fuck her mouth.

The girl made gasping, gulping sounds but to Bella’s surprise, when the man released his grip, so that he could brace himself against the edge of the lounger and thrust harder, the girl continued to push her open mouth down on him, taking him in right to the hilt. She stayed on her hands and knees and worked him with her mouth alone.

Bella watched, afraid but entranced. The Comtessse was right, watching all this had made her wet, even though she didn’t understand why. For herself, she’d always preferred to receive that kind of attention than provide it, and watching had never held any interest. The feelings were beyond doubt though, out of her control.

“Can you see?” said the Comtesse. “This is her purpose now.”

The man bared his teeth and gave an animal grunt and the girl swallowed, and swallowed, keeping her mouth wrapped around him, even as her body shook and heaved.

When he pulled out of the girl’s mouth, Bella knew from the shudders of her body and from her cries, no longer muffled, that she was still coming, there on her knees.

“Wouldn’t you like to learn that pleasure?” the Comtesse asked.

Bella put the last of the pain au chocolat in her mouth, but she was imagining a different taste. She didn’t dare to respond. She couldn’t ever have done what she’d just watched the girl do, but she knew that if she answered the Comtesse, she would say something very different.

The blonde girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She said something to the man, too quietly for Bella to hear. It was only when she said it again, and again, and again that Bella realised that she was saying “Thank you.”

At first, the girl stayed on her knees but he took hold of her hand, helped her to stand and to pull up his shorts. Then he led her over the steps to the uppermost terrace and to the table where Bella and the Comtesse were sitting.

When the girl saw the Comtesse, she put her arms to her sides and dropped her gaze to the floor. The man, even though he looked ever-so-slightly uncomfortable to be wearing nothing but those baggy shorts, held the Comtesse’s stare without hesitation. He gave a shallow, slightly mocking, bow.

“Good morning Mr Kaufman,” said the Comtesse.

“Madame,” he said. “English will suffice?”

“Yes. I’ve listened to enough mangled French for one weekend, and I’m certainly not going to speak German to you.”

He smiled. Appearing to lose interest in the American girl, he looked at Bella, appraising her body without any semblance of apology or restraint.

“And who—“

“This one is not for sale.”

“No?” his voice suggested disappointment. “My employer would have been very interested I think.”

“Undoubtedly. It’s the lure of the unattainable. She’s not for the market.”

The Comtesse rang a small golden bell and one of the servants appeared. Like the others that Bella had seen, she was dressed in that polished black, but her dress was somehow more serious, almost formal. It had long sleeves that disappeared into wrist length gloves. The material was shiny and tight over the curving muscles in her arms and her belly and the globes of her breasts. The dress finished at the top of the girl’s thighs. Below it were long, tanned legs, as slender and sharp in their outline as the girl’s shadow on the hot flags of the terrace.

Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail which made her face seem rather severe, but there was no denying that she moved with poise and grace.

“Adele, take her to cell number seven.”

“Yes, Madame. Is she to be bound?”

“The arm binder. No gag.”

“Yes, Madame.” Adele’s hand held some pieces of thick black leather, and she gestured at the American girl with them. “Your hair, Kaycee.”

The girl smoothed her hair into a ponytail and lifted it so that Adele could buckle the wide leather collar around her neck. As Adele pulled the strap tight, Kaycee’s body relaxed and her eyes lost their focus.

There was something wrong, Bella thought. Something was really, really wrong with all of this. She tried to make herself think about it, because there was something that she had to do. It was something important, and she needed to do it quickly, but her thoughts felt so very heavy now. Each of them was sinking, back down into the thick, buttery taste of chocolate and the wonderful sunlight on her skin.

“This one as well, Madame?” Adele’s fingers caressed the back of Bella’s neck.

Bella made a wordless sound, “Nnnnnnnn.”

“Yes,” the Comtesse said, “she will require a uniform, and then she can be put to work.”

“Of course, Madame.”

Bella opened her mouth in protest as Adele encircled her neck with the collar and pulled it tight. The smell of leather became impossibly strong, dizzying. She began to think that she could taste it in her mouth. There was a strange, oily heat, spreading around her neck and rising into her brain. In fact, she was hot everywhere.

It was hard to breathe, hard to think, and when the man, Kaufman, said “So you are training her then?” his words seemed to have travelled from another place entirely, and lost their meaning.

“Something for my private amusement, to ... how do they say? Balance the books.”

Bella heard the words, made some vague connection to herself and forgot them again.

Thoughts seeped out into the heat of the day until the only things left were the aching desires of her body, and the certainty that, if she was a good girl, those desires would be quenched.

“The leather is impregnated then?” Kaufman was watching with interest as Adele clipped leads to the collars and guided the now docile girls away.

“Direct methods are sometimes the best,” the Comtesse replied. “But let’s return to the business at hand. It seems rather redundant to ask if you were ... satisfied. Unless you have any further concerns then the girl is ready to be collected once the final payment has been made.”

“Her technique was certainly exquisite, and you have developed her body most agreeably. She was perhaps a little too eager; her internal conflict requires some augmentation—”

“Eager?” said the Comtesse, cutting across him, “Of course she was eager. She’s desperate for release and she must suck cock to get it. That was precisely what was requested!”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Kaufman, he made a smoothing motion with his hands, as if calming the troubled waters. “These are questions of degree. My employer would simply like to see his purchase a fraction more ... how does one say?”

“Distressed?”

Kaufman smiled in resignation.

“If you like,” he said.

“She isn’t a robot. Her mind continues to learn. The needs we’ve given her are too great. You will have to tell your employer that he can’t have a girl who is desperate to suck cock and desperate not to suck it at the same time.”

“My dear Comtesse, you know that I, that we, would never make such an unreasonable demand. I will simply require that she be ... reset to a state which is more, can we say, vulnerable, before delivery. My employer will know that he cannot spoil her innocence indefinitely. He will not keep her forever.”

“Yes,” said the Comtesse, shaking her head, “and after that, a career in pornography will clearly be appropriate.”

“She will certainly have the skills for it, and no doubt your highly remunerated services will be in demand once more.”

“Hmmm,” said the Comtesse, looking past the man, towards the tree-lined ridges and the flat blue sky.

“So, she will be ready for collection in a weeks time?”

“Collection? Yes, yes of course. I will have her desires calibrated and her memories faded. He’ll find her perfect, as he always does, at first. Are you sure that you won’t have something to eat?”

Kaufman smiled. “Most kind, as always, but no.”

“Not even some Coffee? Some juice?”

“While I’m sure you would find it most satisfying to have me awaken in one your guards’ uniforms, Madame, I have an appointment at the port, and my employer would be most displeased if his newest purchases were not safely delivered.”

“Of course, of course. Then I—” the Comtesse was interrupted by the sound of running, the sharp staccato clack-clack of spiked heels on the terrace flags. It was Nicole, who had been tasked with ...

“Madame, the other girl, we have a problem and I think that you need to—”

“Yes, Nicole, thank you. Will you excuse us Mr Kaufman?” She stood up. “Of course you’re free to make use of our usual distractions, but I’m sure you’re eager to collect your shipment. You remember the way out?”

“Of course Madame. Please, don’t let me keep you from any urgent matters.”

His amusement was quite insufferable. One day, Kaufman, the Comtesse thought, one day soon.

They hurried through the cool, empty corridors.

“Which one is she inside?”

“Preparation room five, Madame.”

“And she came without protest?”

“In the bedroom she was quite docile, but she began to resist a little when she saw the other girls who were being prepared and then ...”

“Yes,” said the Comtesse “you say that she punched Simone, tried to escape and you managed to lock her in.”

A door of metal and glass sat incongruously amidst decaying plasterwork, gilded picture frames, and some straight-backed chairs of carved mahogany.

“Open,” said the Comtesse to the door, and it did.

The dark floorboards and the scents of wood, and polish, and dust ended at the doorway. On the other side were white tiles, fluorescent lights and a sterile cleanliness. They passed through.

“We were afraid to try to subdue her, in case she was damaged, Madame.”

Afraid to be damaged yourselves more likely, the Comtesse thought. Probably quite sensible. How had this English girl managed to slip the controls?

They reached the preparation rooms. She’d had the sides that bordered the corridor were walled in one-way glass, partly to enable purchasers or spectators to observe what was happening within. Inside, her black clad employees continued their work on their naked and bound subjects.

The Comtesse could quite imagine that if a girl was able to think for herself then she might well, having seen the treatments taking place in the other preparation rooms, decline to participate any further. That was the whole point of the controls; the girl shouldn’t have been able to think at all until it was too late. How had she managed it?

In room five, Kate was alone. Like the others occupants, she was naked, apart from the leather straps. Unlike the others, she was undoing the straps and throwing them into the corner of the room. The pieces of leather skittered away from her over the white tiles, and having stripped herself, she ignored them. Not even a vague wistful glance at bindings that she ought to have been longing for. The Comtesse shook her head. Impossible.

She was careful not to say it aloud. Not in front of the servants.

The girl obviously had some idea that she might be watched, because she covered her breasts with one arm and turned herself away from what she would see as a mirrored glass wall. She was examining the other walls in detail.

“She’s already tried the cabinets,” said Nicole. “She knows that they’re bolted to the wall and locked.”

“Has she tried to get out?”

“Just once,” said Sylvie, who stood, ineffectual, by the door.

Kate was standing underneath the air ducting now, reaching up and out with her arms, and jumping.

“Dieu! Is this Impossible Mission? She’ll injure herself.”

“I think it was actually Mission—”

“Yes, Nicole, thank you. Go and fetch the hose unit from room seven.”

The girl scurried past her and disappeared around the end of the corridor. Kate continued to jump, and the Comtesse watched, partly out of concern that she would actually reach hold of the duct and bring it down on her head and partly in appreciation of those strong athletic legs and bouncing breasts.

All this, the Comtesse thought, all this because D’Apacher thinks it’s beneath him to cook an omelette and because Collette doesn’t think at all.

“Madame?” Nicole had returned with a complicated arrangement of straps and tubing that were connected to a heavy looking plastic canister.

“Well don’t just stand there, put it on. Sylvie, help her.”

With some difficulty, Sylvie lifted the canister, and Nicole struggled to get her arms through the straps. Both girls swayed and stumbled precariously in their heels and the Comtesse suddenly had a chilling image of them both falling, the canister breaking and the entire day descending into complete farce.

“Can we please attempt to treat this situation with some seriousness?”

The girls immediately stood to attention, bodies and legs locked straight.

“Finally. Now, if you’re ready?” The Comtesse unlocked the door.

At the sound of the lock turning, Kate spun around.

It was the Countess woman—the Comtesse, and two of the bimbo-servants who had tried to subdue her earlier. The Comtesse wore a loose fitting blue dress and sandals. She looked relaxed. The two servant girls were in what was apparently their uniform of stiletto heels and fetish mini-dresses. As if the situation needed to be made more surreal, one of the girls was wearing what seemed to be a water canister on her back, attached to a spray gun. She looked like she was going to topple over.

“So,” Kate said, “This must be the part where you tell me there’s been a terrible misunderstanding?”

“There were many things misunderstood last night,” the Comtesse said. “However, I regret to say that you have probably understood today’s situation quite well.” She gestured with a hand and the girl with the sprayer minced forward.

“Keep. Away. From me.” Kate hissed the words at the three of them.

“Now then, my dear, I’m know that you’re upset.”

“Upset? Upset? Does that word translate differently in French? Ninety nine fucking Chateau to choose from and—“

“Believe me,” said the Comtesse, “that’s just what I was thinking yesterday.”

“Where’s Bella? What have you done with her?”

“She’s a little more relaxed than you. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to do this, how would you say it? The easy way?”

“I don’t know what you did to her, but it’s not going to work on me.”

“No, apparently not,” the Comtesse said. “But don’t you feel any different at all? Not the slightest urge to submit? No confused feelings about my beautiful girls?”

“The only thing confusing me is how the fuck you think you’ll get away with this. When I get out of here, I’m going to make you wish that you’d never set eyes on me.”

The Comtesse smiled, her eyes roaming over Kate’s nude body.

Her gaze lingered on Kate’s breasts, still heaving a little despite her efforts to control her breathing, and the smooth skin of her thighs, and her neatly trimmed pubic hair. Kate wanted to cover herself, even if it was only with her hands, but she wasn’t going to give the woman the satisfaction, or leave herself defenceless. She kept her hands in tight fists.

“I think,” said the Comtesse, “that while you have already caused me a great deal of trouble and expense, the more I see of you, the more I like it.”

“Well, you can get over it, because you’re not going to be seeing any more. We’re leaving.”

“Not quite yet.”

“You know that you can’t hold us here forever, right? We’ll be missed.”

“Oh, you needn’t flatter yourself,” the Comtesse said. “I don’t want to retain you. A couple of weeks will be more than long enough for me to enjoy you, and to ... clarify ... how much you crave the company of other women.”

Kate scorned that last suggestion with a terse laugh.

“You really are insane,” she said. “You’re going to be waiting a long time.”

“Ah,” said the Comtesse, “that’s something I think that you have misunderstood.”

“I know that I don’t fancy girls, and I know that you can’t make me.”

“My dear, as you’ve already seen, my enterprise here is to train sex-slaves. How far do you think I would proceed in that business if I troubled myself to respect a girl’s original desires?”

The Comtesse said something in French and the servant girl began to fumble with the spray gun, pointing it at Kate.

She threw herself at the Comtesse, but the jet of liquid hit her, splashing her face and her breasts. She managed two more steps before the world began to spin and a strange, drowsy heat, rippled out from her chest and clouded her thoughts. She stumbled, blinking and gasping.

The room had tilted somehow, and the Comtesse seemed to have grown incredibly tall. Eventually, Kate’s mind struggled to the realisation that she was lying on the cold tiles at the woman’s feet, looking up at her. The other girl, with the spray gun, shuffled forward and peered down at her, uncertain. Kate tried to cover herself with her arms but the movement was slow and when she managed to place her hands over her breasts and twist on to her side, she became lost in the feeling of touching her slick skin. She choked down on what she thought was a cry of frustration, but the sound that escaped her was only one of need.

“Spray her again. Don’t let it splash you.” The Comtesse was speaking in English again. She wants to make sure I understand, Kate thought.

The jets of liquid struck her on the belly and on the legs. She was lying in a puddle of it now and she knew, she could feel, that it was draining all her strength and control. She tried to turn over, so that she could crawl away, but her limbs wouldn’t respond. It was starting to feel so good just to lie there, and give up control, and to let the woman do what she wanted. It felt right.

No! Why was she thinking that? She managed to tilt her head to look at the Comtesse.

“Bitch,” she was able to say.

The Comtesse smiled. Not the cruel smile that Kate had expected to see, but more a smile of indulgence.

“Again. In her face. Make sure she gets it in her mouth.”

Two more jets, one hitting the bridge of her nose and washing into her eyes, one spurting into her mouth like a fountain.

It was like her mind had been sluiced clean of all thoughts.

Consciousness trickled out of her head.

“Comment s’appelle-t-elle?”

“Bella.”

“Bella.” The man drew out the pronunciation, savouring it. He leant back against the white stone wall and planted his feet apart. He grinned at her.

The other girl, Helene, took her hand, and led her to him.

“We’ll take it in turns, yes?” Helene had said. Bella had watched her see to the first guard. At first there was the same unease that she’d felt when she’d watched the American girl, Kaycee, sucking that German man, but it was all mixed up now with the strange cloying, flooding warmth from the collar. She tried to remember what the problem was. Hadn’t there been a reason why she didn’t want to suck cock? What had it been?

By the time that she was watching the guard come into Helene’s mouth, and Helene swallowing as much of it as she could, Bella was eager to show that she could do it too.

Yes, that was right. That was what she wanted, and being clear about that felt so much better.

She pressed herself against him, her breasts almost spilling out of the rubber dress. All of the staff seemed to wear some sort of uniform. Her mind glided over the strangeness that she was wearing it. It felt too good. She let her fingers trail down the man’s chest. His guard’s uniform was of black leather and it was hot to the touch; he’d been standing in the sun. Helene laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her downwards.

The rubber stockings were tight as she squatted at his feet. She knew that the dress had ridden up over her ass, but she didn’t try to adjust it, because she was hoping that Helene would see, and would want to touch her. She reached for the buttons on his leather breaches, and freed his cock.

Already it was stirring, thickening in her hands and pointing up towards her mouth. Greedily, she took it between her lips and began to suck.

“Oh yes,” Helene encouraged her, “good girl. Take it as deep as you can.” Again, she felt the soft touch of Helene’s fingers, this time on the back of her head. There was a slight downwards pressure and then, when she’d accepted enough of his length for Helene’s satisfaction, so that he was pushing against the back of her throat, she felt those fingers stroke through her hair and tease against the bare skin of her neck and shoulders.

Soon, she was completing the movement without the need for Helene to guide her, and the man was making loud groans of approval.

Bella reached her gloved hand down between her legs.

“No!” Helene slapped away Bella’s hand, and then delivered a couple of sharp smacks to her bottom. When Bella raised her head to give a cry of surprise and indignation, Helene used both hands to push Bella’s head back down on to the guard’s cock.

“It’s forbidden for maids to touch themselves,” Helene said to her. “If you are an obedient girl then perhaps you’ll be rewarded, perhaps we both will. Now, make him come. We have many more to service.”

Bella looked at her for a moment, her expression almost sullen, but then she started to work him with vigour.

The guard was careful not to touch Bella with his hands (another rule, she supposed), but he was clearly as eager as Helene because he began to buck his hips against her, pushing up even as Bella pushed her mouth down. After he began to do that, it wasn’t long before she felt his cock straining and spurting.

She wanted to prove to Helene how obedient she could be, and she swallowed happily, lapping at the head of his cock and suckling Helene’s fingers when the other girl wiped some stray droplets from the front of Bella’s dress.

The two of them left the man to straighten his uniform and fasten his trousers. Giggling, they ran beside the wall to the archway where the next guard awaited them.

Bella felt the warm air, breezing against the bare skin at the tops of her thighs. She felt the sun, hot on her back. The taste of come was still in her mouth, and she licked her lips. For a moment back there, she’d felt doubt, and wondered whether something was wrong, whether she shouldn’t be doing this, any of it. That worry evaporated again. Wasn’t this the way she’d always wanted to spend her summer holiday?