The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

(Charleston, West Virginia. The next day.)

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Gregory Hermann said, “and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.” He slid the ring on the finger of his new bride.

Elizabeth Bowden, now known as Annette Elizabeth Hermann, echoed her husband’s statement before sliding a ring on his finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.” She smiled at her husband, a smile full of promise.

The officiating priest extended his hands over the bride and groom. “And now, by the power vested in me by the State of West Virginia, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss.”

Sitting on the last row of the church, Daniel Malcolm gave a little smile as he watched the ceremony end. His smile was ambivalent. On the one hand, from what Hermann had told him, and what he remembered from his brief interview with Elizabeth—or Annette, as she was now known—those two loved each other, and they had navigated around some impressive reefs in the past twenty-four hours. On the other hand, it was a wedding, and weddings had this bad tendency to remind him of Jenn, and of the bare fact that he had no idea where she was or what she was going through. Again, it took an effort to push the thought from his mind. He would deal with it later. Always later.

Organ music erupted as the bride and groom walked down the aisle, arm in arm, the bride resplendent in her short wedding gown, the groom handsome in his black tuxedo. Even the eyepatch Hermann was wearing gave him a vaguely roguish air that amazingly balanced the scars on that side of his face. He smiled broadly.

Hermann’s one eye caught Daniel’s and the groom nodded in his direction. Daniel nodded back. Hermann’s head nodded towards the side, and Daniel took it to mean Hermann wanted to talk to him outside. While the crowd filed out the main doors of the church, he went out the side door, and walked around to where he could see the limousine waiting for the couple.

Soon, Hermann and his bride came around the corner, still arm in arm, Elizabeth leaning on Hermann, looking happy.

Daniel extended a hand. “Congratulations, both of you.” He shook hand with Hermann, and when he turned to Elizabeth, she dismissed his hand and instead pulled up to him and hugged him.

Taken by surprise, it took Daniel a moment to hug her back. She pressed hard against his body, making no attempt at maintaining a respectable distance or some sense of propriety. Her hands rubbed down his back, and he was taken aback by her pressing her groin against his. When he cleared his throat, she tilted her head back to look at him, still holding on with her arms around his neck. Her eyes were wide and shiny.

“Greg told me what you did for me—for us. Thank you.”

Daniel’s “You’re welcome” was drowned by the scorching kiss Elizabeth gave him, all lips and tongue, her hands coming to the back of his head to keep him in place. Daniel protested, but Elizabeth disregarded those protests, and Hermann simply seemed to shake his head in tolerance of his new wife’s behavior.

Elizabeth let a shocked Daniel go, and turned to her new husband. “Shall we go, my husband?”

Hermann looked at her and nodded. “In a moment, Liz—Annette.” He still seemed to have problems wrapping his tongue around Elizabeth’s new name. “Please go to the car. I’ll be there shortly. I need to speak to Agent Malcolm.”

Elizabeth pulled up to Hermann and kissed him even more intensely than she had Daniel, practically humping his thigh as she pressed against him with her whole body, her short dress creeping up her legs and exposing them even more than they already were. “I’ll be waiting,” she told him, slightly out of breath after the kiss. “Wet and ready for you,” she added in a low voice.

With a gentle wave to Daniel, she walked to the waiting limousine, her pretty behind swaying gayly with every step. Both Daniel and Hermann watched her go in silence.

“That was... interesting,” Daniel said, a question in his voice.

Hermann had the decency to blush. “Yeah, well...” He composed himself. “Agent Malcolm, I don’t know how to thank you. I’m not sure what happened, or what role Lizzie’s—” he shook his head, gave a rueful smile, “sorry, Annette’s father had to play in all of this, and I respect that you cannot tell me, but regardless, Annette and I are together right now, and that’s all because of you.”

Daniel nodded. “Just treat her right, okay? And get in touch with me if anything weird happens.”

“Anything weird? You mean, weirder than any of this?”

Daniel chose not to answer. “And that goes for Shelley too. They are your responsibility now.”

“I understand.”

They shook hands again. Then Hermann headed for the limousine.

Daniel called after him. “Mister Hermann.”

Hermann turned to him, his hand on the limousine door.

“Don’t abuse it,” finished Daniel. He did not need to say what he was referring to. He took a page from Shawbank’s playbook, and gave him a cold glance. “I’ll be watching.”

Hermann nodded, then climbed in the car, which departed soon after.

Daniel watched the limousine turn left at the intersection. He stared at the empty intersection for a long time, while the wedding guests slowly spread onto the side walk and the surrounding lawn, gathering for pictures, and to chat with relatives they had not seen in too long. It was all so mundane, so normal, that it seemed like the events of the past days—of the past months—were nothing but a midnight movie he had seen the night before.

He did not turn his head when he felt a presence next to him. Shawbank. Looking like her usual unperturbed self, with her eternal black leather duster. He did not say a word, and she did not say a word either in return. He felt her glance at him, and return her attention to the guests mingling around the church. The expression on her face was unreadable.

Daniel was in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything. He took in the warm autumn day, and threw his head back to feel the sun upon his face. He closed his eyes. It felt good. Simple. Pure. Unlike all the thoughts he had been having all through the ceremony. Thoughts that threaten to degenerate into self-pity. I’ll find you, he told the sky to tell Jenn.

Shawbank spoke without looking at him. “I’m curious. How did you do it?”

“Do what?” He kept his eyes closed.

“Get them back together. Hermann and his fiancée. You said she was pretty messed up when she woke up.”

That was an understatement. Elizabeth—who now responded exclusively to the name Annette—had woken up after Shawbank and the recovery team had left with both the Special, James Bowden, and with Hermann, the latter to be dropped off at an emergency room. Daniel had stayed with the young women to keep an eye on them, both Elizabeth and her friend Shelley. Elizabeth had looked around for someone she called her Lord, and seemed quite lost without him, asking Daniel over and over again where her Lord was, going to Shelley—who was still knocked out—and trying to rouse her, asking her where their Lord was, and nothing Daniel could do would calm her down.

Shawbank listened to him recount that part of the story, and merely nodded, like she had heard all of it before. “Deep imprinting. Bowden must have been particularly strong in his insistence that she be his and his alone. That cemented his hold on her quite profoundly.”

Daniel looked at her. Shawbank was wearing shades, making her unreadable face even more unreadable. He noted, not for the first time, that she really was a beautiful woman, with her high cheekbones suggesting an Eastern European descent. While she had a slight accent when she talked, it was light enough he could not determine where it was from.

Daniel continued, staring back in the distance. “When Shelley came out of it, she wasn’t as distraught as Elizabeth was, but the two kept holding each other and Shelley was consoling Elizabeth and telling her everything would be okay and they would find their Lord, and I stepped away from them to offer them a bit of privacy and to keep an eye on them, but they seemed subdued, even though Elizabeth seemed ready to lose it at any moment. She was shivering, like she was cold. I looked around for a blanket but there was none.

“And then I heard Shelley tell Elizabeth that perhaps their Lord would call her and tell her what to do, and the way she said it caught my ear—I don’t know what it was. I picked up Shelley’s purse, and found two cell phones. Her iPhone was locked, but the other, a cheap flip phone, was not. It was odd, and then I saw it only had one call in its log. Then I thought—”

“Burner phone.”

“Pretty much. I called the number in the log, but there was no answer. I had Brisecoeur track it down, though, and it belonged to James Bowden. So I figured that this was the phone that Bowden used to communicate with Shelley. So I took a chance. If I disguised my voice, I thought I might have a chance to give Shelley new instructions, or perhaps just to calm them down. So I went around the corner, and called the burner phone.”

“And that worked?”

“Better than I thought it might. I don’t know what Bowden told her the phone did, but as soon as she answered, she treated me like I was Bowden myself. I did not even need to try to sound like him.”

Daniel recalled the conversation he had had with Shelley on the phone.

“My Lord? Where are you?”

“I’ve been called away. Do you recognize me?”

“You are my Lord. You are my Light. You are my Life.”

“How is Eli—Annette?”

“She misses you, my Lord. She is miserable because you’re not around, like you told her to be. She craves you and misses you and is suffering. When are you coming back, my Lord? Annette misses you, and your pet wants to feel your cock rip her cunt apart.”

“If you talk to her, will she listen to you?”

“Your Wishes are your Wishes even through me, my Lord.”

“Then tell Annette that I have... obligations to attend to, and that she can wait for me, and if she does I will be grateful. I will return. But in the meantime, I have elected a Lord in my stead, one to which both you and Annette will listen to like he was me. His name is Gregory Hermann, Annette’s old fiancé. I want Annette to act like she still loves him, and go through with the wedding, and convince everyone that they are husband and wife. Gregory will be your Lord in my stead, to both of you, until I come back.”

“Until you come back, my Lord?”

“Yes, until I come back. You will not call him Lord—you will simply call him what you used to call him, before. But he will be your Lord in my stead, until I come back.”

“Yes, my Lord. Will he get to fuck your pet’s slutty cunt, my Lord? Please?”

“He will be your Lord in my stead, until I come back.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Daniel had then watched Shelley relay his instructions to Elizabeth, who seemed to calm down instantly, even though there had remained a look of confusion on her face.

“Bottom line,” Daniel said, not wanting to go into the details, “that was a loophole in Bowden’s instructions to the girls—Shelley would take anything spoken through that particular phone as if it came from Bowden, no questions asked. It was a simple matter to get her to tell Elizabeth to return to Hermann and marry him.”

“And you told Hermann this?”

“Not the details, no. And I didn’t tell him about Bowden’s abilities. I just spoke of drugs and shock.”

“But he know about the phone? And its effects?”

Daniel nodded. He had felt he had to tell Hermann, in case Elizabeth or Shelley started acting up.

Shawbank watched the guests disperse, undoubtedly to get ready for the wedding reception later that day. “Nice gift you gave him, then. A girl he can pretty much do whatever he wants with.”

Daniel shrugged. “He loves her.”

She turned to him and smiled, a smile with no humor in it at all. She said nothing.

“Well,” she continued, “it was a nice thought, but the girl won’t recover. When they are away from the Special that affected them, they eventually wither and die.”

“What? Why?”

Shawbank shrugged. “Unknown. Usually it’s a heart attack, or some sort of systemic failure. They die craved something that they cannot obtain. The stronger the Special, the faster those he has affected start falling ill and dying.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Specials are horrible.”

“So she’s doomed?”

“Her and her friend, Shelley, yes. Certainly. And the other women that Bowden impregnated.”

“How long do they have?”

“It depends. Depends on the strength of the Special. On the duration of their exposure. On the extent of the changes he forced upon them.”

Daniel stared at her. The way she talked—so calm, so methodical, so unaffected—was disconcerting.

He looked in the distance, thinking of Hermann and his wife, headed towards a doomed future.

Greg Hermann leaned back against his seat in the limousine, and closed his eyes. Elizabeth, or Annette, as he had to remind himself—perhaps Annie?—was cuddled up against him, her head on his shoulders, her legs folded underneath her, her discarded white heels on the floor of the limousine.

His life had been a whirlwind for the last twenty-four hours, ever since he had seen those two agents, Malcolm and Shawbank, come at him in the parking garage at work, thinking they had been sent by the Connelly brothers to smash his knees or something. And then that Shawbank woman had nearly chopped his head off—he could still feel the coldness of the blade on his neck—and then there had been a race to Elizabeth’s place, and then there had been a race to the church, and then there had been that vision of Elizabeth’s stepfather plowing into his fiancée hard while her friend Shelley looked on, and then there had been a fight and then there had been Elizabeth’s thumb in his eye and the look on her face as she had gouged it out—hate and madness and a feeling of otherness that still made him shiver—and then there had been the emergency room where he had wondered just what the hell had and would happen.

Elizabeth’s hand was caressing him softly, running down his shirt, unbuttoning it, sliding inside to touch his chest. Her body was rubbing softly against his, and there was a faint moan that vibrated in the depth of her throat.

Greg turned his head and looked at his new wife, who had changed so much, without changing at all. From where he was, he had a plunging view down her cleavage, a view that revealed her perfect breasts squeezed into a tight corset. Further down, in the same line of sight, he eyed her thighs, sheathed in a pair of white stockings, their lace tops exposed, garters running up underneath the hem of the skirt. Her legs, her thighs, led right up to a pussy that he had finally sampled the previous night, for the first time, a delectable experience that he would remember for all time. He felt himself get hard at the memory of sliding into the tight and silky tunnel, and at the feel of Elizabeth’s hand sliding down and gently teasing his cock through his pants.

“Is this for me?” she asked, looking almost coy.

He moaned as her hand pressed harder against his cock and she tilted her head up, and he leaned down and kissed her. She responded with eagerness, her mouth opening and her tongue invading his mouth, her hand deftly unfastening his belt and opening his pants and pulling out his hard cock. She stroked him hard and fast, her hand feeling wonderful.

“Li—Annie,” he said, panting, “the driver...”

“Maybe we can get him to join us,” she responded, as she shifted on the seat to kneel next to him. “I’d love to have his cock sink into me while I blow you, my husband.”

The way she said that suggested that she meant every word. Greg shook his head. Elizabeth had always been highly sexual, he knew from their years of dating, but whatever Bowden had done to her had affected her in ways that he could not fathom easily. Agent Malcolm had not told him the details, if he even knew, something about drugs, but whatever it was it seemed to have jacked up her libido something fierce, and seemed to have removed much of her inhibitions. And it also increased whatever exhibitionist tendencies she may have had already. There was a sluttiness to her—he could not find a better term—even a tawdriness about which he did not know how he felt.

But any further thought he may have had was wiped from his mind when he felt her lips wrap around his cock and slurp it into her mouth. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, enjoying his new wife worshipping his cock with long loving warm strokes of her mouth, her tongue and lips and hands working in concert to convey sensations he could not get enough of.

The way Elizabeth was going at it, producing sucking noises that sounded loud in the confined area of the limousine, he knew that the driver of the limousine would have a pretty clear idea what was going on, but for the moment, he did not care.

He opened his eyes when he felt Elizabeth shuffle in place next to him, her mouth never letting go of his cock, and he looked at her pull off her panties and hike up her dress over her waist, baring her perfect ass.

She interrupted her blow job for a second, and looked at him. “You can fondle my ass, if you want, my husband,” she said, and Greg was fascinated by the thin strand of drool that hung from her lower lip. “Or you can stick your finger in my tight cunt, if you prefer. Or in my ass. Or if you want you can just fuck me...” She let the question linger.

Greg groaned and ran his hand over her backside, appreciating the way she thrust her ass up to meet his hand. She moaned, her hand stroking him harder. He was tempted, sorely tempted, to have her straddle him and ride him, but the fact that they were in a limousine stopped him. Somehow, getting head seemed acceptable, having outright sex not. He felt ridiculous at the thought, but the thought was there nonetheless.

“Continue sucking me, please,” he said, and Elizabeth merely grinned in response before dipping her head down and taking him back into her mouth, sucking hard and loud and swinging her ass slightly with each thrust.

He ran a hand over her cheeks as her mouth pressed down on his cock and he felt its head sneak its way down her gullet. She suppressed her gag reflex, audibly, and swallowed him whole, and he groaned in response. He fondled her ass shamelessly as she kept him inside her for several seconds, massaging him with her throat.

When she let him out to breath, she stroked him with one hand while glancing in his direction. “You really like that, don’t you?” She had a glint in her eyes.

Greg nodded, not trusting his voice. “Feels amazing,” he whispered.

Elizabeth smiled and then closed her eyes and moaned when two of Greg’s fingers pressed into her pussy from behind. Her slit was dripping wet, and she accepted him by arching her back and giving him better access.

“God I love your fingers in my cunt,” she said, her voice throaty.

She kept sucking him as he fingered her, and her skills were such that he was ready to explode by the time the limousine reached their hotel, which was admittedly close to the church.

“I want you to pop in my mouth,” Elizabeth said as the limousine with its darkened windows turned into the entrance of the hotel. And to emphasize her point, she started pumping him faster and harder, her lips forming a tight seal around his cock, her tongue and throat working double time as her suction increased.

Half a minute later, as if she had timed it perfectly, while Greg had three of his fingers thrusting deep into her pussy, Elizabeth triggered his explosion and he felt jets of his cum spurt out only to be caught by the gorgeous redhead that was now his wife. She kept his load in her mouth, not swallowing, not spitting it out, as she gently stroked his deflating shaft.

Greg belatedly noted that the limousine was stopped by the curb of the hotel, and that the driver was watching them silently in his rearview mirror. Greg could only see his eyes, but they were aimed straight at Elizabeth, who adjusted the top of her dress and dutifully ran a finger over her lips to clean up any stray semen and slip it into her mouth.

As if nothing had happened, with his load of semen still in her mouth, she opened the limousine door and exited, her dress still pulled up over her hips. There was no one around to see her as she adjusted her dress down her thighs, even though Greg was pretty sure that the limousine driver was watching her the whole time, and must have enjoyed a perfect view of her naked ass as she arranged her attire.

Greg exited, shaking his head, wondering exactly what he had gotten into. Elizabeth was still Elizabeth, but... more so. Uncensored. Wanton. Hungry. He was not sure he disliked it. Not sure at all. He felt guilty about wanting to thank Bowden—wherever he was now—about it. And it was not the only thing he had to feel guilty about. He pushed that last thought out of his head as he stepped up to Elizabeth, who waited for him by the lobby of the hotel, looking radiant like any newlywed would, still with his semen in her mouth. What was she doing?

He received his answer as the made their way to the reception desk. Elizabeth’s maid of honor, Shelley, was waiting for them by the desk in her apple red bridesmaid gown. Elizabeth let go of Greg’s arm and stepped up to the tall blonde and pulled her head down for a kiss. They locked lips, and Greg could see Elizabeth transfer his cum into her friend’s mouth—Shelley accepting it without protest. As the guests and employees in the lobby watched on uncertainly, the two women—the redhead in white and the tall blonde in red—swapped spit and cum, pressed against each other in a deep kiss.

Greg was partly embarrassed and partly aroused at this display, an ambivalence he felt was shared by most of the men in the vicinity, whose fantasies later that evening would undoubtedly prominently feature the two women. He walked up to the reception desk just as he heard Elizabeth say out loud and with an amused tone, “You taste like cum, you little bitch!” He did not hear Shelley’s response.

It took some work to get the clerk’s attention, but he finally managed to get the keys to the room he had reserved for him and his new wife, despite the clerk constant looking over Greg’s shoulders to steal a look at the two women nuzzling right there before everyone. Greg had to turn around and tell them to tone it down a little bit. He was worried they would all get in trouble, and trouble was the last thing he wanted.

In the elevator up to their room, Elizabeth was hanging on to his arm, her head tilted, and was kissing him with her fingers seeking to reach inside his pants, while Shelley was kneeling at her feet, kissing her thighs through her stockings, running her hands up and down her calves. Greg was ready to pull up the blonde should the elevator stop and someone climb in, but no one did, and by the time they reached their floor, Shelley’s hands were sliding underneath his wife’s dress and making the redhead squirm and squeal into his mouth.

Greg wondered at the interaction between the two women as he unlocked the door to their suite. As far as he could tell, Shelley had always been the dominant of the pair, with Elizabeth happily following her lead, not quite submissively, but with a patience and a tolerance that one would give to a hyperactive child. And from the rumors he had gleaned here and there about the two back in their college days, that dynamic had reflected itself in their dating behavior. He wondered whether their new behavior had anything to do with Bowden’s influence.

As soon as they were inside the room, Elizabeth grabbed Shelley and kissed her again, this time pulling up the blonde’s dress to her waist and fondling her aggressively, her hand between the tall woman’s supremely toned thighs. Greg’s held his breath as he saw his wife’s hand sneak underneath the thin material of Shelley’s diminutive red panties and press deep inside the blonde’s pussy. Shelley moaned in Elizabeth’s mouth, and her knees buckled.

Greg was not sure what to do exactly, so he just stood there, room key in hand, getting hard watching his wife assault her friend.

When Elizabeth pulled out of the kiss, she glanced at him with a smile, then grabbed her friend by her short hair. “Go give my husband a kiss, my little bitch, and tell him that you are going to be his fuck toy as a wedding gift. Then get down on all four and crawl to the bed.” Elizabeth punctuated her statement with a loud slap on Shelley’s rear end.

Greg watched, almost disbelieving, Shelley sashay her way over to him, her dress clinging to her body like a second skin, down to the middle of her thighs, and high heels sinking slightly into the deep carpeting. Her hips were almost hypnotic, and she took him by surprise by stepping up to him and kissing him. With her heels, she was about the same height as he was, and there was no need to tilt his head.

Her kiss was hungry, her lips searching his and her tongue all but subtle. Her hand lingered on the side of his face, while her crotch pressed into his hip bone. With her other hand, she pulled him close against her, and he let his hand run down her back to her ass, keeping an eye out on Elizabeth.

He should not have worried, as his bride was leaning back against the wall, her own dress bunched up around her waist again, her hand down into her thong rubbing her pussy, watching her best friend kiss her husband.

“You heard my Lady, Greg” Shelley said breathlessly when the kiss ended. She kept her body pressed against his. “I’m your little fuck toy today. Your little fuck toy wedding gift. A little fuck toy to whom who can do whatever you want.” She punctuated those last three words with kisses on his lips. “And I hope some of what you want will involve that cock of yours slamming into my tight little cunt.” She closed her eyes and shivered at those words, and kissed him again.

Letting him go, she dropped to her knees and then to her hands and knees before slowly making her way to the bed. Greg watched her the whole way, admiring how her behind swayed with each step, how her back arched.

“She’s got a nice ass, doesn’t she?” Elizabeth’s voice in his ear made him jump. She was at his side, her hand running down the front of his tuxedo, unbuttoning him, stripping him slowly. “It’s real nice and tight, my Lord told me. And she really went crazy when he fucked her there.”

Her Lord. She was talking about Bowden. She still thought of him as her Lord. Agent Malcolm had warned him that Bowden’s footprint had been too large in her psyche to eliminate—how Malcolm had figured that part out Greg did not know, but Malcolm had spent close to two hours with Elizabeth and Shelley in the church while Greg took his little detour by the emergency room—he touched his eye patch, not conscious of the movement until he felt the hard material.

Before them, Shelley climbed on the bed and remained in position, her ass up, her head down.

Elizabeth’s hand was busy unfastening and pulling down his pants, and finding and rubbing his cock that had gotten hard again at the display. “I can see you like the thought of fucking my friend in the ass, my husband,” Elizabeth said, a naughty playful tone in her voice.

“Liz—I mean, Annie—you sure about this?” He was almost annoyed at the tone of disbelief that had crept in his voice. Despite all that Agent Malcolm had told him—which did not amount to much, on second thought—he still had trouble believing the change in both Elizabeth and Shelley.

Elizabeth laughed. “Are you kidding me? This is your wedding gift, my husband.” She grabbed his cock and squeezed it before stroking it, making him shiver all over. “I want you to spank the little bitch while she eats me out and gets me ready—well, gets me even more ready than I already am. I want her ass red.”

She kissed him hard before strutting to the bed, unzipping and pulling her dress up over her head, leaving her clad only in her white garter belt and white stockings and her white heels and her white thong panties, a sexy image that Greg would call up over and over again in the coming months when he thought of his wife, or at least those times when he did not tell her to reenact that moment.

Elizabeth, having reached Shelley on the bed, flipped the blonde’s bridesmaid dress over her back, baring a thin toned ass clad in a red thong, and gave one of the exposed cheeks a resounding slap. Shelley yelped, but did not move out of the way, and Greg could see her in fact thrusting her ass upwards to facilitate Elizabeth’s access. Shelley’s legs spread apart a tiny bit as well. Elizabeth slapped her again, even harder, before climbing on the bed.

“Get me ready, you little bitch. I want to feel your tongue deep inside me. My husband,” she said, turning to Greg. “Come here and spank her, and spank her hard.” She grabbed Shelley’s head and leaned over to kiss her. “The little slut loves it, doesn’t she?” The kiss was long and deep, and afterwards Elizabeth grabbed Shelley’s head and pushed it down to her crotch, and Greg noticed that somehow, at some point, Elizabeth had ditched her underwear and was spreading her legs, nude but for her garter belt and stockings and her shoes. Her pussy, shaved clean but for a small patch above the clitoris, another novelty undoubtedly inherited from Bowden, looked wet and inviting.

Shelley dove in and started licking and sucking and Elizabeth leaned back against the headboard and kept her hands on the blonde’s head, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open, enjoying the treatment. Her nipples were rock hard, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

She pulled Greg out of his reverie—he had never witnessed one woman going down on another in real life before, and it was fascinating and arousing. “Come and spank the bitch, my husband.”

Greg shook his head and took position behind the blonde on all four on the bed. Her ass was right there, waist high, inviting, practically swaying, whether due to volition on her part or due to the attention she was lavishing on his wife’s pussy, he could not tell. Nor did he care. He tentatively slapped the proffered ass, thinking of all the times he had wanted to touch his wife’s best friend before, but never allowing himself the luxury of even thinking about it. And here he was, touching her, with his wife encouraging him. And then he thought of the phone he had in his pocket, the phone that meant that practically, he could get these two women to do pretty much whatever he wanted.

“Slap her harder! She loves it, the little bitch!”

Greg grinned and spanked Shelley harder, making the blonde moan and groan into Elizabeth’s crotch. Still smiling, and his hand smarting a little now, he ran his finger over the tight skin, appreciating the play of muscles underneath.

Shelley seemed to enjoy the contact, and lifted her ass further to give him better access, and to try to guide his fingers between her thighs.

Elizabeth seemed to read his mind. “Go on, you can play with her, but nothing goes in her pussy—it’s off limits.” She smiled at the moan of protest from her best friend between her legs, and the smile had a teasing quality to it. “Isn’t that right, Shel? Nothing in that slutty pussy of yours?” She pulled her friend’s head up.

Shelley moaned and pleaded. “Please!” She pushed her ass back against Greg’s hand. “My Lady! Please! I need something in my cunt! It’s been so long! Please! I’ll do anything...”

“See,” Elizabeth said, running her tongue over the blonde’s lips, as Greg wet his fingers on the juices running out between the blonde’s legs, “that’s the problem: you like it waaaaay too much in your pussy. It’s not healthy. And besides, I like you needy. It makes me wet.” She kissed her friend again, a deep kiss that made the blonde squirm even more.

Shelley grunted loudly in Elizabeth’s mouth when Greg pulled aside the thin string of her thong aside and pressed two of his now wet fingers against her tiny rosebud. Her sphincter gave way, and his fingers sank into a heated oven, one so tight he simply could not imagine his cock making its way in.

“That’s right,” Elizabeth said as Shelley moaned louder. “The little bitch takes it up the ass like a pro, doesn’t she? You like my husband’s fingers in your tight hole, Shel? You like him finger-banging your slutty ass?”

“Please...” Shelley moaned, pressing her ass back against Greg’s invading fingers. “Tell him to fuck my cunt, my Lady... please...Oh!”

Elizabeth smiled at her, but did not respond. Instead, she tilted her head towards Greg, all the while cradling Shelley’s face. “You like her ass, my husband? Isn’t it wonderfully tight?”

“It’s amazing,” Greg replied, thinking that words did no do the feeling justice.

“Can you just imagine shoving that big cock of yours in there? Pushing and pushing while the little bitch begs you to fuck her harder?”

“Please, my Lady...” Shelley groaned, pushing back harder against Greg’s fingers, which were now thrusting in and out of her ass. “Please... my cunt?... please?”

Elizabeth looked at her, but spoke to Greg. “You can fuck her ass as much as you want, for as long as you want, as hard as you want, my husband. And she’ll make it good for you, won’t she, my little bitch?”

“Please, my Lady...” Shelley moaned.

“But first,” Elizabeth continued, looking at Greg, “I want you to come and fuck your wife, my husband. I need your cock inside me.”

Greg looked back at her, and grinned. He pulled his fingers out of Shelley’s ass, who responded with a little whimper that he understood as disappointment, and gave her another slap that made her yelp and made Elizabeth smile wider.

Shelley moved out of the way, lying down next to Elizabeth on the bed, and the redhead kissed her deeply while remaining in position, her legs spread, waiting for Greg.

He lay down between her stocking-clad legs, his cock hard and demanding leading the way, and pressed into her steaming pussy.

“Oh fuck—yes!” Elizabeth groaned, tilting her hips up to facilitate his insertion, squeezing her pussy around the invading shaft. “I love your cock!”

“And I love fucking you with it,” Greg responded, closing his eyes, enjoying the feel of his wife underneath him, squirming, panting, yielding. He would not go as far as saying that waiting for so long to fuck her had been worth it, but it certainly made it better.

Shelley was staring at them with longing in her eyes, one hand grasping a small breast, the other between her legs softly playing with her inner thigh.

They fucked slowly, Greg and Elizabeth—Annie as he was trying to think of her—and she cooed and squealed softly with every thrust he made, looking at him, pacing herself based on what she felt he wanted, a lover and not a fuck-buddy, a partner and not a hooker hired for the night.

“Watch this,” she whispered in his ear as he pressed into her, and she put her hands on his ass to keep him where he was, fully embedded inside of her. “Get around him, little bitch,” she told Shelley, “and stick your tongue up his ass. Go on, lick him good.”

Shelley scrambled to obey her mistress, and Greg, who was enjoying the feeling of Elizabeth’s pussy squeezing him rhythmically—what was she doing down there?—gasped when he felt the blonde’s tongue gently probe his anus with a light touch. “Whoa!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Elizabeth giggled softly in his ear. “She’s got a wicked tongue on her, that little slut. Just go with it, enjoy, and let me milk you.” She kissed him hungrily as he remained motionless, assaulted by the feeling of the blonde’s mouth pressed against his ass and her tongue thrusting into his anus and by the sensations of Elizabeth’s pussy massaging his cock from inside.

“Fuck you feel good, my husband,” groaned Elizabeth, pressing her body against Greg’s, as if she wanted to feel him with every square inch of her skin.

Greg could only moan in pleasure. Shelley’s tongue was thrusting in and out, one of her hands massaging his balls.

Elizabeth was whispering urgently in his ear, as she rubbed herself against him. She was pressing her crotch into his pubis, rubbing her clitoris against his skin, working herself up to an orgasm. “I want you to come inside me, my husband—spill your load deep inside me. And then I want you to fuck the little bitch’s ass while I watch. Oh! Lord! Fuck!” She clenched and arched her back underneath Greg, and he pushed a little further into her, even though he thought he had already bottomed out.

Elizabeth’s words were coming faster, as was her breath. “And when you fuck her ass, do it fast—do it hard—Oh! Make it hurt—I want to hear her scream—I want to see her cry—Ah! I want to listen to her beg that she’ll do anything for you to fuck her slutty cunt instead—I want to hear her list all those things she’ll do—Oh! All those degrading things she’ll do to you—Oh! To me—Oh! To whomever we choose—Oh Jeeeeez!”

She clenched beneath Greg, her body seizing, and her pussy clasped down on his cock like a vise before starting to throb, and between that and her squeals in his ear and Shelley’s tongue thrusting harder and faster into his ass while she pressed his cheeks apart and kneaded his balls, he exploded, driving his cock into his wife’s pussy while Shelley remained attached to his ass.

“Oh yes! Come inside me! Deep inside me!” Elizabeth moaned, pulling Greg close and kissing him while she wrapped her nylon-clad legs around his waist, holding him tight.

He emptied himself inside her as she shivered through the tail end of her orgasm. Then he pulled out and collapsed next to her, spent.

Shelley remained at their feet, looking at them, waiting for instructions.

Elizabeth wasted no time to provide them. “Go and clean my husband’s cock, you little bitch—and thank him for letting you rim his ass.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Shelley responded, and grasped Greg’s deflated cock with a tentative hand before leaning over and gently suck it into her mouth, slurping off the combination of Elizabeth’s juices and his own semen. She then looked up at him, coy. “Thank you for letting me tongue your asshole, Greg. I’ll do it again, whenever you want. Just ask, and my tongue will be up your ass before you know it. And if you fuck my cunt, too, well then—”

“Leave my husband alone with that, my little bitch,” interrupted Elizabeth. “He doesn’t want to hear about your poor slutty cunt. Come here and put that tongue to good use again and clean me out.”

“With pleasure, my Lady,” Shelley responded, giving Greg’s cock a last longing glance before crouching down between Elizabeth’s thighs and proceeding to clean up her best friend gaping pussy.

Greg shook his head, then stood up to stretch. He sank in the chair in the corner of the room, watching the blonde eat out her new wife with gusto. He rested. Then he thought of his plan. He reached for the bottle of champagne that had been waiting for them, and popped the cork. The two women, busy with their ministrations, barely noticed. He poured himself a generous glass, and drank, to steady his nerves.

When Elizabeth came again, this time from Shelley’s tongue and fingers, he knew it was time to act.

He pulled out his cell phone, and called the number Agent Malcolm had given him. Greg had felt a reluctance on the part of the young agent to give him that information, and given what he was about to do, that reluctance was maybe not misplaced.

A phone in Shelley’s purse by the door rang, the ringtone some kind of classical music Greg did not recognize. Shelley froze for a second before getting off the bed and answering.

“Yes, my Lord?”

There was a half-second delay between Shelley uttering the words and them coming out of Greg’s own phone, a delay that Greg found disconcerting. He needed to concentrate.

“Shelley,” he said. “Can you hear me?” He felt ridiculous to even ask, but he just could not seem to be able to jump into it cold.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Somehow, she thinks I’m Bowden, Greg thought. It was as Agent Malcolm had told him: Whatever you speak into the phone, Shelley will take as instructions to be obeyed. And whatever she tells Elizabeth, Elizabeth will take as instructions to be obeyed. Agent Malcolm had told him of it, and had told him he had used it to help Elizabeth and Shelley recover from their ordeal. If not for the behavior changes in Elizabeth and especially Shelley, Greg would have thought Agent Malcolm had lost it. But it was true. And to see it in action was something else altogether.

“Shelley,” he said, “I want you to tell Liz—Annette that she loves me—I mean, that she loves Gregory Hermann, and that she will obey Gregory Hermann the way she obeys me, your Lord.” This was getting confusing. As Shelley repeated his instructions to Elizabeth, who listened with rapt attention, he focused on what had kept him hard since the previous night, when Malcolm had explained to him what was going on. He took a deep breath, let it out.

“Shelley,” he continued, “tell Annette that from now on, she is to behave like an insatiable lust bunny, the way a porn star behaves on camera: eager, hungry, always ready to fuck. I want her to become that ultimate fantasy to every red-blooded man in this country. She is to be turned on by being used, objectified, treated like a whore, dominated, even insulted. In private, or when I tell her to, she will dress to arouse, and will get turned on when she’s on display, understanding that it is her job to be sexy and desirable and fuckable. Nothing will be too demeaning, too humiliating, too perverted for her. In fact, the more perverted the sex, the more aroused she will be. She will be very vocal, even crass in a sexual setting, but remain very proper in everyday life.”

As Shelley repeated these new instructions, he felt a stab of guilt. But if he had had any hesitations about this—his own private porn star, a fantasy he had had ever since watching his first pornographic movie at fourteen—they had been shoved aside when he had seen how Shelley had behaved in Elizabeth’s presence.

When Elizabeth turned to him with a look of dirty lust on her face, he felt his cock jerk. “Annie,” he told the redhead. “I want you to come here and suck my cock.”

“Fuck yeah! I’d love to suck your cock! And then I’m gonna shove it up my cunt and fuck you until you go blind,” she replied, her voice eager, and she scrambled off the bed. Before she could kneel between his legs, however, she stopped, and looked around. With a smile on her face, she bent down to pick up her high-heeled shoes, and made a show to put them on. Then she straightened up and ran her hands down her body.

“There,” she said, posing. “Now I look good enough to fuck, right?” Without letting him answer, she sank down to her knees between his legs, and grasped his cock.

“Annie—stop,” Greg said. “Open your mouth.”

She did, looking back at him. He took his cock and slapped it lightly on her face, the way he had seen in that movie so long ago.

“Stick out your tongue.”

He slapped his cock on her tongue, again, lightly. Elizabeth grinned, and Greg smiled right back when he watched her hand descend between her legs.

“How about you call me Master today?” he told her, before putting his cock on her tongue and sliding it into her mouth. “And I’ll call you my little cock slave?”

By way of response, Elizabeth simply started sucking on his cock, taking him hard and deep, her mouth a vacuum, loud and messy.

He leaned back in his chair, enjoying her ministrations, blessing his luck. It worked! He almost could not believe. Yet here was his wife, his own Lizzie, acting the way he always wished she did. He put a hand on the patch covering his right eye, in some ways the price he had to pay for this benefit.

“God I love your cock!” She looked up at him, looking mischievous. “Master.”

“And my cock loves you, my little cock slave!” He grabbed her head and pushed it down on his cock, taking her by surprise and making her gag. “I love fucking your mouth!”

Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes conveying a mixture of lust and amusement, and she put her arms behind her back. “Then fuck away, Master. My mouth is all yours...” she said, her voice dirty, opening her mouth and waiting for him to take his pleasure.

Which he did, while Shelley looked on, a look of envy on her face, the cum she had licked out of Elizabeth’s pussy still shiny on her chin.

Looking at Shelley, he realized he was procrastinating. He closed his eyes, and told Elizabeth to just suck him now. He rang up Shelley’s phone again.

“Shelley,” he said. “Go grab my bag, and pull it the video camera equipment I have in there. Set it up to record the bed. Make sure neither I or Annette are in frame. Then grab the piece of paper that’s in the bag, and learn your lines. Then I want you to get on the bed, and put on a sexy show, pawing your tits and your ass and your cunt and finger fucking yourself in all the dirty ways your mind can imagine. And yes, you have my permission to put fingers up your cunt this time. And while you do all of that, I want you to speak your lines into the camera. And make it real. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” said the blonde.

She did as she was told, and in no more than ten minutes, as Elizabeth dutifully sucked on Greg’s cock, moaning and humming all the while, Shelley had set up the digital camera upon a tripod, had learned the act that Greg had prepared the previous night after agonizing over his decision, and was back on the bed, kneeling but standing straight with her chest towards the recording camera.

She cupped her small perky breasts, twisting the nipples and wantonly shifting her hips. She looked at the camera, both coy and lascivious.

“Hello, Mister Connelly,” she said, her voice throaty, the way Shelley knew a proper girl looking for a stiff cock to fuck her should sound. “My name is Shelley Caskill, and I’m a dirty little slut.” She put two fingers in her mouth, and sucked hard, closing her eyes. “I hear you were looking for girls for your clubs, to dance, and to entertain your patrons, and I thought that my slutty little body might be good enough for you.”

She posed for a few seconds, her hands on her head, her body exposed, toned, tight, her skin slightly shiny from her exertions with Elizabeth earlier. She brought her hands back down to her breasts, and squeezed them some more.

“I know my titties are a little bit small compared to the big-titted sluts you are used to, Mister Connelly, but they’re very sensitive, and if it helps I’m happy to get a boob job if that’s what you prefer. I really really want to work for you.”

She ran her hands down the sides of her body and brought them over to her pussy, which she caressed with her eyes closed before looking back up at the camera.

“I’ve got a very tight cunt, Mister Connelly. You wouldn’t believe how small it is. And I know how to use it too—you just need to ask any of the boys that I’ve fucked over the years, who kept coming back for more. I love anything up my cunt, Mister Connelly—big cocks, tongues, fingers, dildos, anything—oh!”

She pushed two fingers into her slit, and they slipped inside so easily it was as if they had been coated in oil. Shelley gasped, and a tremor ran up her body and her thighs trembled and she fell back on her ass and moaned as she thrust her fingers in and out, with increased vigor. She seemed to have forgotten all about the camera and her script, and was simply pleasuring herself, quickly reaching a climax that had her squirming and screaming and finally collapsing on the bed, her thighs pressed together and trapping her hand between her legs.

She took a few moments to catch her breath and recover before looking again at the camera, an embarrassed smile on her face.

“I love to come, Mister Connelly, as you can see. And I come easily and quickly and loudly, and I know for a fact it drives boys crazy to see a girl coming hard as they fuck her.”

She slowly turned her back to the camera and bent forward while sliding her hands over her ass and pulling her cheeks apart, exposing her tiny rosebud.

“And you know what else drives boys wild, Mister Connelly? When a pretty girl like me tells them that she wants them to fuck her ass—to fuck her tight ass as hard and as long as they want. They just go nuts, and can’t wait to sodomize me—there’s just something about giving to a cute blonde in the ass. Don’t you agree, Mister Connelly?”

She pushed a wet finger insider her asshole, and groaned in pleasure as she gently thrust it in and out.

“I also love to feel a big fat cock in my mouth, Mister Connelly. I love getting face-fucked, feeling a thick cock chocking me as it pounces my throat. I love it when a boy just unloads in my mouth—or on my face, or on my tits, or anywhere they want really. I just love getting sprayed with thick man juice, Mister Connelly. It just makes me so hot—”

She turned around and, facing the camera, on all four, thrust three fingers in her mouth while pumping her hips as though she was being taken from behind. She licked and sucked her fingers before running her hand back down between her thighs.

“But you know the best part, Mister Connelly, the thing that will make me the best fucking slut you’ve ever had working for you? The best par tis that I’ll do anything you want, no matter how perverted, no matter how depraved, no matter how sick. I get off on obeying big strong men, Mister Connelly. I get off being a submissive little slut that has to put out to a big strong man so that she can feel his big cock plowing into her slutty little cunt. I’ll be the best little cock slut you’ve ever had, Miter Connelly. I can promise you that.”

And just like that, Shelly thrust three fingers into her pussy, and before long she was once more lost to the world, writhing on the bed as she finger-fucked herself into oblivion.

Greg watched her with awe, while Elizabeth kept on sucking him sloppily, drool running down her chin and onto her breasts, coating them with a sticky sheen, the way she had often seen in pornographic movies. She looked delighted to service him.

Greg watched Shelley pleasuring herself and coming over and over again, the camera capturing every moan and groan and every finger thrust and every pelvic motion. He would edit the video, of course, but he knew he would keep much of this last footage. It was simply too good.

And then he would send the video to the Connelly brothers, as he had told them he would when he had called them on the phone earlier to offer Shelley’s services as payment for his debt. The brothers wanted some proof that the girl was suitable, and Greg was certain that the video would establish that Shelley was more than acceptable.

He quashed the feelings of guilt that were threatening to surface. He did not want his kneecaps smashed to smithereens, or to find himself stabbed in a dark alley late at night. He did not know exactly what the Connelly brothers were involved in beyond the strip clubs everyone knew they were running, but he had heard the rumors about illegal operations and prostitution rings and even white slavery. He knew that they could use a pretty girl with an inexhaustible sex drive and a subservient streak. And after Greg had given her instructions to obey the Connelly brothers like she obeyed her Lord, Shelley would be just that, a girl who lived to fuck and who would do the brothers bidding no matter what. She would be there sex slave.

Shelley deserved better, certainly, but he would make sure that his instructions would make it so she thoroughly enjoyed whatever the Connelly brothers would put her through, thoroughly enjoyed her new life as a sex slave. It was the least he could do.

“Liz—Annie,” he told the redhead lavishly worshipping his cock, “get on my lap and fuck me.”

“Fuck yeah,” Elizabeth said, wiping her mouth and straddling his lap. “You want me to shove that big cock up my cunt, Master? Want your little cock slave to ride you like a fucking bull?” She sank on his cock, and it felt amazing. “Oh yeah,” she moaned. “That’s so fucking nice.” And she sought his mouth to kiss him

As their kiss deepened and her hips started dancing on his thighs, he reflected that he had the rest of the day and the whole night to enjoy these two women together, and he resolved to make the best of the time they had.