The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tom was angry. It was not her fault, but Cathy was his slave, and females have always been used as an outlet for male tensions and frustrations. It tormented him that despite the fact that he believed she’d never disclose the secrets she knew, he had been directed to betray her and make sure.

He vented his fury on Cathy’s flesh. It was good that Cathy’s cunt was almost always wet and ready because now he rammed into it without foreplay. Thanks to a weeks worth of training combined with her natural sensuality, she responded to this attack as if his hands had roamed her naked flesh for an hour. It drove her wild, making her beg, “More, faster, I need your hard cock inside me. Please fuck me Master.” Cathy was adapting well to her new life.

Between his violent thrusts into her steaming cunt, he thought about how the camping trip she was so looking forward to was a setup. By Monday, there’d be enough evidence to either insure her silence or send her to prison for many years. His people would never trust a female slave to keep a secret.

The second cause for anger was his flaw. He could no longer lie to himself. After only one week he knew he was falling in love with this slave. “Ooooooooooo,” She cried out in passion as he plunged again into her tight fiery cunt. It felt like a velvet glove gripping his cock. She was like an ancient siren whose sensuous love songs bewitched him. Yet, it was more then physical. Her mind, her soul, her love, everything about her captivated him. She tried not to speak of it, but every glance, every touch, declared her desperate love, her need to belong to only him. He could not help responding.

It was almost unheard of for a trainer to fall in love with any women, let alone the slave he was training. It was wrong. It interfered with the objectivity he needed to maintain. He might hesitate if it became necessary to use her love against her. Tom needed to prove to himself that he was still in control.

He flipped over Cathy’s pliant body to use her doggie style for the next stage of her training -Pain. It was only a day or two ahead of the schedule he’d previously determined. He needed to know essential things about himself. Could he stand to see her in pain, either the physical now or the emotional agony to come? Would he stop if it became necessary to betray her trust? Could he force her to choose between her love for him and destroying everything she held dear? That much of his ultimate mission had been made clear by people to whom he owed everything.

At first I am afraid of the fury with which Tom attacks my body, but then it makes me hot and I begged, “Master, more, deeper, use me.” He uses me like an inexhaustible demon, piercing me with his demonic lance again and again, driving me to climax four times.

Then he flips me over with my ass in the air. Only a void fills my cunt that needs more of his hard meat. “Aaaaaahhhh,” I moan in relief as he re-enters me doggie style, resuming his attack. I hear and feel his thighs slapping violently against my ass. I thrust back trying to drive his cock deeper. He grabs my jouncing tits, using them as handles to thrust harder into me. I alternate begging and moaning between his thrusts, “Oooooooo, almost, oooooooo, there, oooooooo, make, oooooooo, me, oooooooo, cum, oooooooo.”

His hands shift to my hips and then—Wack! “Ooowwww!” I cry out in pain as my ass explodes in pain. Wack! “Ooowwww!” I cry out again as the palm of Tom’s hand strikes my other ass cheek. At first, I try to escape the pain, but I’m held tight. I’m shoved away from the edge or climax, but then his cock resumes pummeling my pussy. I no longer wish to escape. I need him deeper inside me. His cock drives me back to the edge once more, my cunt muscles clamp down to hold the invader in my depths then, Wack! “Oooooowwww!” I scream as the pain and pleasure merge. Wack! “Oooooowwww!” I scream again as the pain wins out over the pleasure.

Every few minutes Tom whispers, “Embrace the pain.” Five more times I’m pushed to the brink of orgasm and then beaten back. My ass is cherry red with the force of his blows. This is the roughest sex we’ve ever had and I love it. My entire body is vibrating; balanced on the edge of what? Pain? Pleasure? I no longer know. The two have merged. They drive me towards a climax of frightening intensity, but I need just a little more. Wack! I surrender to the pain and embrace it, begging my tormentor, “Spank me—Wack! Beat me—Wack! Fuck me—Wack! Hurt me—Wack!”

Almost there, I just need, just need . “Grrrrrrrrrruuuuuhhhh, uuuuuhhhh, uuuuuhhhh,” shouts Tom triumphantly as molten lava spews from his cock, burning and destroying everything it touches. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggghhhhhhhhhh”, I scream as a volcanic string of orgasms vaporizes my mind and I collapse unconscious beneath my Master.

I awaken naked and disoriented, unsure of the time, where I am, or how I got here. Frightened, I relax when recognize the feeling of being held tightly by my lover’s arms. His fingers rest on my tits and pussy while he snores loudly. Slowly my mind clears and it comes back to me. I still feel the heat rising off my ass. Will I be able to sit at all? I try to figure out what I just experienced.

“Uuuuummmmm”, I moan as Tom’s finger slips inside my twat, “You’re awake.” He says, “Yes passionate slave, and you were incredible.” I ask, “What did you do to me? It was so intense, so indecent, so erotic, so evil.” He replies, “It is merely the next step in your training. Now you know that pain may arouse you even more then pleasure when properly applied.” I said, “I never dreamed. I feel so degraded, yet so fulfilled.” He replies, “Those are the feelings of what you are, a true slave.” I shiver, understanding the truth of his words. I’ve added to my list of carnal sins and worse yet; I look forward to a repeat of this debauchery.

Our lovemaking / training session was a last indulgence before we join the canoe trip. “That’s my girl,” smiles Tom, “Now on your tummy.” He rubs some salve onto my fiery ass cheeks. “Ohh,” I exclaim at the cold sensation. . When he’s done, my left leg is lifted and bent enough to re-insert the Ben-wa balls. In this way I know that my pussy will probably get at least a small rest. “Lie back here and give the salve a chance to work while I drive to the church. In 30 minutes it will enable you to sit with minimal discomfort.” He promises, “You’ll need to sit on both the canoe and the bus you know.” Tom starts driving while I rest and think.

At 18-years of age, I’m going on a combination canoe-trip and sleepover for the first time in my life. Most of my peers have been on dozens of sleepovers or have been going to sleep-away camps for years. The Preacher is only permitting this trip because my mom and I ganged up. Or maybe the real reason was that he blackmailed me into agreeing to meet the man he wants to be my future husband. Like there’s any way I’m going to marry a man 15 years older then me with three kids under the age of 5 no matter how big his mansion. This clown wants a nanny and a housekeeper not a wife.

I’ve always believed you should honor your parents, but does that mean you must let them ruin the rest of your life? Still I know that I’ve sinned be lying to them about so many things. I pretend to be the virgin girl I was a week ago. I pretend since a church sponsors the trip that my chastity is safe. The presence of a church chaperone is a sham. Tom’s cousin Art will let us do whatever we wish as long as it’s away from the little kids.

I want to repent my sins. Instead, I’m being forced deeper into a web of lies and deceit. My web is growing ever more complex and treacherous. I sin by encouraging lewd and carnal thoughts in others. I see the way men, and some women look at me when I dress in sexy clothes out of sight of my parents. It excites me. Am I destined to become the wanton whore that incites licentious acts and corrupts the innocent? I sin by having sex out of wedlock, not just once, but many times each day. Will my soul be damned forever? Is there any way to change my path? Do I truly want to?

My incipient feelings of despair diminish then vanish, as I grow increasingly horny. That might be surprising considering that I’ve just finishing an hour of very satisfying (screaming / multi-orgasmic / lose-consciousness) fornication with my lover, Lord, and Master, You’d think after that my body would want to take a break. Nope!

Maybe it has something to do with the bumpy road that’s making the Ben-wa balls in my pussy do an Irish jig. Maybe it has something to do with the heat and submissive feelings coming from my abused ass cheeks. Maybe it has something to do with being driven about while naked on a bed still heavy with the smell of our passion. Maybe it has something to do with the imminent fulfillment of my daydreams. Tonight when we are alone in out tent, cuddling skin-to-skin, I can pretend that Tom and I are married, sleeping together, loving all night long, and finally awakening nude in each other’s arms.

These thoughts seem to cast a spell over my fingers. They slither down into the folds of my pussy and I begin playing with myself. Just as the first passionate moan escapes my lips, Tom pulls the van into the church parking lot. I must stop when he tells me, “Put your bikini back on.” Tom parks the van as I’m drying the sheen of love oils off my twat with a paper towel. I apply perfume between my tits, inside my thighs, and under my arms, so I don’t smell of sweat and sex when I meet Art and the little kids.

Tom and I will be assistants to the trip’s chaperone and leader, his 30-year-old cousin, Art. We’re supposed to be traveling with 40 to 50 sixth-graders, 11 and 12 years old. So Tom bought me a conservative black bikini. It still might be a bit risque for a bunch of little kids on a church-sponsored trip.

Now it’s time to unload all our stuff from the van. I was really glad that the van had enough room at first. I’d never been on a canoe trip before so I tried to pack for every possible contingency, sun, rain, frost, and Sunday morning at services. When Tom picked me up I had two suitcases filled with “essentials” ready to go. There had been four suitcases, but I’d spent two hours forcing myself to cut to the bone. What remained were all my bathing suits, three changes of “roughing it” clothes two changes of “nice” clothes and accessories to match the clothes. That barely fit into the first suitcase. The second suitcase was filled to capacity with cosmetics; hair dryer, and other hair care stuff that I really need for any trip with my long hair.

Tom came upstairs to help me. He took one look and asked, “Please open both suitcases.” Worried I answer, “I may not be able to close them quickly.” He said, “Don’t worry I’ll take care of it.” He looked over all my stuff and picked out my toothbrush, toothpaste, one hairbrush, and one tube of suntan lotion. He placed these into a small gym bag he carryied then asked, “Do you have a hat for the sun that won’t blow away in the wind?” Embarrassed I say, “I forgot to bring a hat.” I took five out of my closet to show him. Tom picked one and put it on my head.

I was wearing brand new sneakers. Tom went into my closet, picked my oldest, dirtiest, pair of sneakers and said, “New sneakers will be ruined by the river. Put these on.” When was done he said, “That’s all you’ll need. Let’s go.”

I was on the verge of freaking. In a voice on the verge of panic I said, “but.. but.. I need my things.” Tom hugged me and kissed me until I relaxed then said, “I’ve done this before with other girls. Trust my experience. I know what a girl needs and what she doesn’t. The church will provide the rest. Besides it’s going to be in the 80s and sunny all weekend. We’ll live in our bathing suits, or (smiling) out of them. So, let’s go, we have everything that my princess will need.” In a daze, I let him guide me downstairs to say goodbye to my folks before we get into the van.

So here I am, getting out of the van with my hat, old sneakers, wearing the only bathing suit I have on my back—period. Tom is carrying my hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a small gym bag with a few important supplies he, “won’t talk about because they’re surprises”. He says, “The church will provide the rest.” I stop Tom, pressing my tits against him and tease, “And you like that I am totally dependent on you for everything, food, water, shelter, transport, protection, and if something happens to this bathing suit will I be naked until we get back?” He replies, “Yes, yes, and yes, my beauty.” In response, I press my pussy against his cock, relishing in how submissive I feel.

“Later,” says Tom, giving my still warm butt a playful slap. It only stings a little. That salve really works. I lift my lips to his and hold out for a kiss. He makes it quick, leaving me wanting more, but I let him guide me forward with an arm around my shoulders.

When we find Art, there are no little kids in sight. Tom gives Art a bear hug. They pound each other on the back then he introduces me, “Cousin, this is Cathy. Art give me that piercing “how good a fuck is she” appraisal from head to toe. This time I don’t blush, but I still lower my eyes. I must be getting used to being assessed like a prize mare at auction.

Finally Art says, “Welcome Cathy, you’re every bit as voluptuous as Tom said on the phone.” Art is ruggedly cute. If not for Tom, I’d let him know I was available. All this lewd thinking has made my nipples hard points. If not for the padding in this top they’d be easily visible by now.

Art gives Tom the same look of “asking permission” that Mr. Smitts did. When Tom nods his ascent I know what to expect. Art smothers me in a bear hug, crushing my breasts against his chest. Unlike Mr. Smitts, Art’s cock is already hard and presses right up against my pussy. Predictably, the heat of my already aroused body flares. It burns wherever Art touches my flesh. I lose track of the time as my mind starts floating in a sea of arousal. If I weren’t already Tom’s slave, I’d beg Art to put me in his chains.

When Art releases me, I’m flushed and panting. He smiles at Tom saying, “She’s as sensual as Uncle Arnold promised, perfect for an Investiture.” “What’s that?” I wonder silently. More important, it seems that everyone has heard of me. I manage to get my arousal under control as Art explains, “There’s been a last minute change of plans. The sixth-grade trip was postponed because a more important, time-critical trip of high-school juniors and seniors needs to go out this weekend. We still need your help with this trip.”

Art brings us over to the group and provides an introduction, “Kids, please welcome Tom and Cathy. Both of them are on their college’s swim team. Tom’s an experienced outdoorsman. They’ll be assisting Desiree and myself on the trip.” Turning to me he says, “Cathy this is my ..uh.. wife, Desiree.”

He’s pointing to a stunning older woman, perhaps 26 years old. She is tan, elegant, poised, worldly, and very sexy despite her perky B-cup breasts. I know instantly that I’m not in her class. Is she a vision of what I might become in a few years with Tom’s support and training? I’d like to think so.

Desiree ignores me and sashays up to Tom. In a sexy voice with a noticeable French accent says, “Tom, Monique and I were talking about you just the other day. It’s been so long, do you remember all the fun we had together?” Apparently, Tom does. They meet in a hot kiss more appropriate to lovers then friends. If this keeps up, they’ll be fucking in the church parking lot within minutes. My jealously flares, but I watch in frozen horror. I know that if this woman wants to take Tom away from me then I have no chance at all of keeping him.

In the same commanding tone that Tom uses on me Art shouts, “Position!” Without thinking, I fall to my knees, legs spread, head-raised, eyes down, chest forward, and hands on thighs with palms up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Desiree in the same position at Tom’s feet. She too is a slave! That must be why Art hesitated when he introduced her before the word “wife”.

Art commands, “Desiree go to the bus and make sure that everything is properly loaded.” She rises like a cat, nods in my direction, and gives me a smile showing her perfect teeth. Desiree and I have our formal introduction without words. She has made her point. I hate her. If only fire could actually spring from my eyes, the look I give should vaporize her on the spot. Her smile grows even wider. Then she turns and sashays away with every man’s eyes on her ass.

Now my attention moves to the not so little kids. Turns out my bathing suit is not risque at all. The girls are all wearing identical white string bikinis with both a front-tie and a back-tie on top and two side-ties on the bottom. They reveal as much as they conceal. “Very easy to strip off,” pops into my mind after my experience with Tom. The boys wear matching red suits that are tight enough to show the outlines of their dicks even when soft. It looks like pictures of the fleshpots in Ft. Lauderdale during spring break.

There are 10 girl-boy pairs. All but one of the girls is 16, just two years younger then me. The boys are either 16 or 17. From a distance, a girl who looks like my younger sister comes bouncing over. Paula is full of energy and just turned 15 last week, but acts 13 and looks 19 with her busty, beguiling figure displayed in a revealing string bikini. She gives me a big hug and chatters away, “I’m so happy you’re here. I’m the youngest because I skipped third grade. Desiree is OK, I suppose, but with you here it’s like I have a big sister on the trip. I hope that’s OK with you. We’ve just got to be the best friends, right?”

Paula is so cute and endearing that I have to say, “Sure, that’s fine.” Paula is so thrilled, like I’ve just given her the best present in the world. She hops up, gives me another big hug, and says, “Eeeii! That’s great. I have to go tell Paul, he’s my best friend and my partner. We’ve known each other practically since we were born. See you later, sis.” I’m going to have to watch out for that one. She needs protection from her own innocence. She obviously has no clue about the aggressive male reactions that her beguiling body will inevitably provoke.

Art smiles, “Yes, she’s like a happy hurricane, that one. Drives the other kids crazy, especially Paul, but no one can stay mad at her. Still, a little kid in a woman’s body and smart as a whip. Too trusting, but that will change soon enough. She and Paul just slid under the wire for Investiture.” I could see just what he meant. Paula was only about an inch shorter then me. Everything else was fractionally smaller then mine too. She had the same long hair, same narrow waist, wide hips, and colossal boobs. Her bathing suit displays it all and she makes no attempt to tone it down.

My bathing suit may not be that sexy, but my body still gets me a lot of attention, especially with Desiree gone. It seems that all the boys would rather talk to me then their partners. I notice that the girls surround Tom. They’re all trying to flirt with him.

Is that jealously I feel again? Definitely, it seems to be my automatic response anytime that Tom pays attention to another pretty girl. Still, one look and I see “virgins” written all over them, the way they stand, the way the move, the sound of their voices when they address a male. Try your best, little girls. You have no chance. I’m the one he owns. Soon he’ll be between my open thighs sucking on my naked tits. I’m the one he’ll be fucking tonight. Is this how superior Desiree feels when she looks at me?

As for Desiree, no matter how hopeless the odds, no way I’m giving Tom up without a fight. He said I had to learn how to compete with other slaves. So, I’ll put up the sneakiest, sexiest, no holds barred fight that I can. At the very least this way, Tom and everyone else will know that I tried my best.

I remember something my history professor said about warfare, “In war, the only teacher is the enemy. The enemy shows you where you are weak. The enemy teaches how to attack in ways you never imagined. The enemy forces you to grow wise enough to win.” I also recall the saying, “All’s fair in love and war.” I will watch Desiree closely, learn from my enemy, and use that knowledge to defeat her.

Art interrupts my thoughts when he announces. “Since Cathy is new, we must have a greeting ceremony before we start.” A circle is formed alternating boy-girl with me in the center. I have to go around and be hugged by each person who says, “Welcome to our family.” I notice that the boys all hug me tight so my tits are squeezed against their chests. I also feel several good-sized hard-ons develop before they let go. When I get to Paul, his seems to be as big as Tom’s. No way is Paula ready to handle that monster. Art is next to last and want’s a second crack at me. His cock feels great, but is noticeably smaller then Paul’s and Tom’s.

I’m more then a little titillated when I finally fall into Tom’s arms. He gives me a deep kiss and I press my crotch firmly against his hardness to the hoots and hollers of the kids. Tom breaks our embrace before things can go too far. I’m not sure that I could have. I whisper to Tom, “What kind of church is this with these sexy string bikinis and that intimate greeting ceremony?” I’m surprised at the uncharacteristic anger in his answer, “Slave, focus on your responsibilities and do not ask stupid questions.”

We help organize the kids on the bus. They don’t seem happy that they’re required to sit with their partner. Maybe it’s the Ben-wa balls, but I start to wonder about how it’d feel to fuck every male I see. I shouldn’t be thinking such disgusting thoughts. It’s perverted to be thinking about so many men touching me. Besides even if some of them are barely a year younger then I, technically they are all under age. I know enough about the law to understand that it’s still called “Statutory Rape” whether I’m one year or a hundred years older then a minor.

It’s a short ride to where the canoes start. Desiree and I work very hard at pretending to ignore the other while watching her every move. On the way I find out that each boy has known his partner since they were little kids. However, it’s pretty obvious that although the boys are infatuated with the girls, the girls don’t think much of the boys. Each girl seems to be making a best effort to either ignore or insult her partner while flirting with every other boy. The boys must really like these girls, because they just sit and take it.

Paula is the obvious exception. She chatters away with Paul non-stop. At 6′3″ he’s one of the biggest boys on the trip. Paula tells me, “Paul will turn 16 next week. He’s eleven and a half months older then me. He’s just finished his growth spurt and is still adjusting to his new body.” His new body dwarf’s Paula’s and being on the wrestling team, he’s very muscular. Despite that he has a hard time getting Paula to slow down long enough to get a word in. Then she starts right up again.

We get everyone into the river and heading downstream. The girls are required to be in front while the boys steer. This gives the boys a great view of the girls butts that are only half covered by the bikini bottoms. The view gets better when a girl turns to talk to the other boats. The bikini top gives a good side-view of the tit-flesh on even the flattest chest.

Art says we can scout ahead, but we should stop just past the first rapids. With strong strokes, Tom pulls ahead. He asks me about Art and I admit that I’m attracted to him. Tom says, “We need to put on suntan oil so we don’t get burned. You do me first.” It’s a little difficult in the wobbly canoe, but I manage. Feeling Tom’s muscles under my hands is arousing me further. My pussy is starting to get wet. Then we switch. Tom begins with my neck and shoulders. It feels good and I close my eyes. Moving down my back, the bathing suit gets in his way.

I feel two little pulls at my sides and the top slides off. My tits tumble forward into Tom’s waiting hands. He spreads oil all over them, paying special attention to my nipples. By now my body is limp with arousal, head resting back on his shoulder, eyes closed. He may do anything he want to me, including (hopefully) fuck me soon. I hear catcalls from the hikers on the hills to either side of the river, “Look at those giant tits. I’d love to suck on them. I’d die a happy man between those jugs.” Feeling so exposed is making me hotter.

Tom’s hands spread oil over my belly and onto my legs and thighs. Two more pulls and my bikini bottom joins the top on the bottom of the canoe. If the canoe tips over, my only clothing will float downstream and be lost. I’m at the mercy of his desire. My hips start thrusting when Tom’s oily fingers reach inside my dripping pussy to remove the Ben-wa balls. “Master,” I plead, “everyone will see us.” He replies, “Yes slave, although the hikers are too far away to see our faces, it’s time you got fucked with an audience.” The thought makes me limp with excitement.

He lifts my ass and I moan, “Oooooohhhhhhh,” as my anxious pussy is lowered onto his cock. Tom starts rocking the boat to make his cock slide in and out of my grasping cunt. I have no leverage to pull him deeper. “Fuck her good,” I hear shouted from the hillside, “Ream that sexy cunt.” I’m so turned on that an unknown number of eyes are watching me be fucked on the river that I climax quickly and loudly. “I’mmm cummingggggg, cummingggggg, ingggggg,” echoes back to my ears. I slump back into Tom’s arms to the sound of applause from the hillsides. That marks a number of firsts for me: first fuck in a canoe, on a river, and with an audience. We could have sold tickets.

“We’re getting close to the rapids.” Says Tom as he re-inserts the Ben-wa balls and then has me dress quickly. It’s exciting going through the rapids. Tom’s experienced steering insures that we don’ t flip over. That’s important because we’re carrying most of the food in our canoe. He pulls our canoe up on the shore and he says, “Beautiful Princess Now Passionate Slave needs to make the girls sensuous and insatiable.” Another special game where I repeat, “This passionate slave needs to make the girls sensuous and insatiable.” I raptly listen as he says, “Do not try to hide your carnal nature. Be honest and do nothing to stop and everything to help the release the girls’ sexuality.” I reply, “Yes, Master.”

Tom and I swim and play in the warm water until we hear our group entering the rapids. We need to help several of the younger kids who get stuck on rocks. We help others with canoes that tip over. Once everyone is through we join the group and head down river again. The girls ask if I enjoyed my time alone with Tom and drop other hints. I realize that they saw us fucking. They heard my cries. Desiree asks cattily, “Does Tom like all his women so loud when they cum?” Everyone must have noticed how crimson my face became, but not how wet my pussy got. “Bitch,” I thought, but said nothing.

We went through two more rapids before it was time to find a place to camp. In the calm waters between, we occasionally brought several canoes together to float more leisurely down the river as a group. Our canoe, not Desiree’s always seems to be in the center of these groups. When the girls whisper to me, it is not with jealously or contempt, but curiosity.

They seemed desperate to know how to attract and how to hold a man’s interest as they have seen me do with Tom. I give freely and honestly of the knowledge I have, how to please a man and how to fire his desire. In return they give me warm looks of gratitude and respect. Like the ripples from a stone in a pond, I see my words being passed outward from canoe to canoe, from girl to girl. I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t be so explicit with 16-year-old girls, but isn’t that part of our job? Besides, I know it will please Tom.

Paula is the only one who’s concerned for me, “Are you OK Cathy? It sounded like he was hurting you. I have to watch out for my big sis, you know.” She says, trying to cheer me up. There are moments where you feel incredibly close to another person. At that moment, I felt like Paula and I would be friends for life, almost as if she was my real little sister. She’s so naive, so unworldly. Could I have ever been that young. Well if truth be told, she thinks exactly the way I did at her age. Even if she’s barely 15, she has a woman’s body. Why should I try to protect her? She should know what that means.

I try to make her understand, “I’m fine Paula. We were having sex. It can feel very good for a girl with the right boy. It was so intensely pleasurable that I cried out as I climaxed.” Paula is blushing from head to toe, but manages to ask, “How do you know he’s the one, especially before the first time?” I smile and try to explain, “Let him touch you the way he wants. If that feels good then you touch him the way he wants. Feel the heat of the moment. You can stop anytime you want, but if it feels good then open yourself completely to him. Let yourself go; He’ll take control.”

I know I’m setting this girl up, laying the groundwork to corrupt an innocent child. “Thank you for being honest and patient with me. I know I sound like a stupid little girl some times.” Paula says, giving me another big hug (not easy with the canoes). I wallow in guilt at my betrayal of this trusting child who foolishly wants to be my friend. How much lower can I sink into depravity?

If she followed my advice then the sexuality in her ripe body will soon be released. I shouldn’t let her tender age make me feel guilty. Am I helping my friend or corrupting a child in a woman’s body? Did I have any choice? I was following my Master’s wishes. Paula pushed off and was actually quiet for a few minutes while she thought about what I’d said. Then I hear her chattering away again. The girl was irrepressible.

Art selects an isolated spot he’s been to before. Everybody has a specify assignment. Tom and Art help the boys who must bring all the supplies from the canoes then each put up a tent for themselves and a separate tent for their partner. Desiree declares that I’m the cook and she’ll get the campsite clean then set the tables. While she divides up the other girls between us, Art takes me aside and hands me a tea bag sized packet of some kind of white powder and says, “Take this and mix it into the punch bowl before everyone is served. Do not forget, slave!”

Of course, Art knows that I’m a slave from my reaction in the church parking lot. He might have known before. I wonder what is in the packet. It can’t be dangerous because Art will be drinking it with the rest of us. As a slave commanded by a Master, I pretty sure that I’d be in serious trouble if I disobey. There’s no time to check with Tom. I drop the packet into my cleavage since I have no pockets to put it into.

Tom sets up a separate tent for me in the middle of the girls area of the campsite far removed from his. His tent is isolated from the rest of the camp “for privacy”. Art knows that’s where we’re both going to be tonight after the kids go to sleep. He sets up the only tent that’s officially for two, Desiree and him.

Mom made sure I’m a good cook, but I’m not familiar with outdoor and camping styles. The girls give me some good advice. They also ask lots of increasingly personal questions about Tom and me. “What it’s like to kiss him? Is tonguing really slimy? Does he give you lots of compliments? What do you like best about him? Is his thing as big as it looks? Is bigger really better? Is it really hot to touch? Are bigger breasts more sensitive? Does he buy you presents? Are you going to marry him? What kind of places does he take you? Do you like it when he touches your private parts? Has he ever licked you there? How does it feel the first time? How long does it take before the pain is replaced by pleasure?” I don’t remember being so obsessed with sex at their age, or giggling so much, but I continue to try answering all questions honestly and clearly.

Once lunch is ready, each girl must serve her partner before she eats. The boys are sitting together at a wide table. To serve, a girl must bend all the way over, well displaying her lightly clad tits. The more one tries to hide, the more her tits bounce and jiggle.

Desiree begins, bending so low that her tits threaten to fall right out of her top. I follow next, mimicking what she did. With my superior equipment, I clearly put on the more spectacular show. The boys definitely appreciate the view.

Desiree directs each of the girls to follow in turn. None of them comes close to the sensuality of either Desiree or myself. Still each boy greatly enjoys being served in this fashion by his scantily clad partner. Although they pretend to ignore the frank stares of their partner and his mates, the girls all blush. I know they like being admired. I know the other girls look up to Desiree and I. I whisper to them to watch how when Desiree and I walk our hips sway and our tits jiggle. Soon they’re all trying it, even Paula. The boys begin looking at their partners in a new and lascivious way.

“Oh no,” I realize, “I almost forgot about the packet.” While the group is distracted by the food serving ceremony, I get the packet, surreptitiously dump it into the punch bowl, and use the ladle to mix it in well. The serving ceremony is now repeated with each boy receiving a glass of punch from his partner. When I serve Tom, he leans forward and whispers so only I may hear, “Sip the punch. Drink the water.” In addition to the punch, large jugs of water have been set up on the table.

Art stands to propose a toast, “To a successful Investiture weekend for all our candidates. Remember candidates, you must drain the first glass of punch without stopping.” He lifts his glass to his lips and the candidates all joins him. Desiree and I go around refilling the empty glasses. Then we sit and enjoy the meal.

After a delicious lunch (if I do say so myself), Desiree holds a class on dancing for the girls. She uses several veils as accessories. It is not the type of dancing you see in music videos or dance clubs. I’m probably the only other woman present who recognizes it as slave dancing. Think of it as belly dancing, but 10 times more erotic. After some persuasion, Art agreed to let the boys watch. I think the girls will perform better when watched by male eyes.

Desiree works with one girl at a time while the others watch. Ignoring the girls, I watch how Desiree walks how she moves. Her body seems to radiate sexuality with every motion. Unfortunately things are not going well. The girls do not understand the nuances of what she is trying to explain. Desiree grows more frustrated with each new girl and begins muttering to herself in French. Finally, she turns to me in exasperation and says, “Tom tells me you have some small skill. Perhaps seeing you will inspire these empty-headed neophytes to see what they might become.”

It was the first time Desiree had hinted, however indirectly, that I might be able to do something that she could not. I could not let such an opportunity pass unanswered. I rose and took several of the veils from Desiree then walked to the center of the circle of watchers. I glanced at Tom and made a motion. He understood immediately and began the same slow beat he used in my earliest training.

Tom grunts, “Uuuuuhh”, strikes the ground twice then repeats the sequence. Art copies him then the other boys all join in. As Tom trained me, I let my body be controlled by the male rhythm. My hips begin to sway. I move slowly, sensuously, bending, spinning. Desiree has moved to hover next to me. She whispers suggestions, “Dance your desire. Rub your tits.” The beat goes faster and I match it. I hear, “Dance your submission. Rub your inner thighs.” I hear a animal growl from the men. A whisper says, “Thumbs point to your pussy. Fuck him with your hips.” My hips undulate in uncontrolled passion, driving an unseen lover to penetrate me again and again. Then I cry out as if in orgasm and fall to the ground, my forehead touching the ground at my Master’s feet.

Applause and catcalls burst out all around the circle. Catching my breath I rise and bow to my audience. I see every man and boy sporting a hard cock beneath their swimsuit as a fitting tribute to my skill. The girls all complement the realism of my dancing, especially the climatic finish. When I meet Desiree’s eyes, she bows her head and smiles in acknowledgement. Her eyes say that she knows that the final climax was real. When the applause die down and I have caught my breath, she asks, “Perhaps Cathy would like to show these girls how they may move their bodies as she does.”

I call all the girls up to stand in a crescent with me at the center. They seem eager, not hesitant as they were with Desiree. I take them slowly through each part of my dance until they understand. The boys begin their rhythm again. I am more patient and not as exacting as Desiree is. The girls follow my lead through each stage of the dance. The boys shout out encouragement to the pleasure of the dancers. The girls redouble their efforts.

They are very receptive to every suggestion I make. Is that another effect of the white powder? No one balks when I instruct them to caress their arms, their flanks, their breasts, their thighs, or to imagine that it is the hand of their lover. The girls are becoming lost in the dance. I can see their arousal slowly building. Without giving them a chance to think and get shy, I have them stand in front of their partners, bouncing their tits, shaking their ass, and thrusting their hips forward. I have them end together, each with her head touching the grass at the feet of their partner. Breathing heavily from some combination of exertion and arousal, they await the verdict of their audience.

The wild applause bursts like an explosion from all sides. The dancers almost glow from the intensity of the response. I notice that without exception, every girl, even Paula is flushed with twin bullets poking against her bikini top and the scent of female arousal is coming from many sources. Once more I silently wonder, “How much of their arousal is normal and how much is the white powder?”

I feel they have made an acceptable showing. More important, they have opened the door behind which was locked their boundless hidden sensuality and released it for their partners to see. The next time, it will come forth more easily, perhaps automatically without their even realizing it, controlling their movements, and inflaming their men.

There is no doubt in my mind that Desiree’s skill as a dancer is far beyond mine. Obeying her whispered suggestion transformed my dance from sexy to sensual, from interesting to fascinating, from arousing to orgasmic. However, the girls respond better to my instruction. Perhaps because they identify more closely with me. Perhaps I am more accessible then the impressive, but intimidating Desiree. In any case, I feel like a big sister to these girls who all hug me and thank me profusely.

I also feel like a puppet whose strings are being pulled by Desiree to accomplish what she could not. The girls are uniformly unaware of the message their dancing sent to the watching boys, “If you can tame me then you can use me.” Again, I am the agent of corruption of the innocent. Surely I will be damned for this.

Paula comes over, asking for my approval, “Cathy, was I OK? Did I do it right? Paul seemed to like it. I saw his thing get hard. Do you think it was because of me? I feeling so strange, hot. And you know, wet between the legs. I never felt this way before. Aren’t I too young? I’m afraid. Is there something wrong with me? Am I getting sick.” The white powder must be some sort of aphrodisiac, arousing Paula and the other girls. I can’t tell her my suspicions and I’m being watched. I’m supposed to foster their sensuality, so I say, “Yes, you did it right. Yes, you made Paul hard because it turned him on. Yes, you’re normal when your body signals that it’s getting turned on too.”

She hugs me and says, “Thanks sis, I trust you. I won’t be afraid of the feelings.” She sits down by Paul and hugs him. His hands start moving over her flesh in intimate ways I haven’t seen before. She starts to pull away, but then looks at me, nods, and relaxes, letting Paul do what he wants. I’m feeling really guilty. She’s so innocent, so trusting. I am leading them to temptation. How deeply have I betrayed her trust? If I drugged her is it weakening her normal defenses? A real sister would warn her about how dangerous it can be to arouse any boy when you’re practically naked especially with a body like Paula’s.

Next it is the girls’ turn to watch and the boys turn to practice. Tom and Art taught them several simple moves to quickly take down a fleeing person. Next they began explaining how to bind the target to maximize helplessness. After discussing the general case, special ties for females are described.

After all the boys understand the basics, it’s time for a demonstration. Art asks the girls if they “will allow their partner’s to practice on them?” They all giggle, but decline. Art gives Tom a meaningful glance. Tom looks at me as if to say, “Go along with this,” then nods back to Art who asks, “If Cathy and Tom demonstrate it first, will you all promise to try?” Still flushed with their success at the dance, they all swear to do it.

Tom and I stand and get in starting positions. He carries a 6-foot piece of capture rope. Art says, “We will give Cathy a head start. I will count to 3 when Cathy may start then continue to 6 when Tom will follow.” 3 seconds is a big lead for a runner. I am half way across the field before Tom can catch me. I might have made it if I’d been wearing a jogging bra and my awkwardly massive boobs had not been bouncing madly, wrecking my timing. Tom takes me down, efficiently knocking the air out of me. In seconds I’m bound in a new way.

I’m rolled onto my back. My right wrist is tied to my right knee that is bent backward. The rope is drawn behind my neck and looped loosely over my throat from left to right. Taken behind the neck again the rope is used to tie the left wrist to the left knee that is bent to match the right side. Tom stands and waves back at the crowd that cheers our performance. “OK,” I say, “The fun’s over, please untie me now.” Tom gives me one of his evil smiles that I know means I’m in trouble and says, “No slave, the fun is only now about to begin.”

By testing my bonds, I realize the full nature of this insidious tie. The girl (myself) is rendered helpless to move her arms or legs. She is spread-eagled, unable to cover her tits and displaying her wide-open pussy to her captor. If she attempts to close her legs more then an inch or two the rope around her neck will press on her windpipe, cutting off her air. The thin strip of cloth that is my only defense has wedged itself into my slit and is pressing directly on my clit. The sensations of sexual vulnerability and arousal are magnified many times for the bound girl.

It may be a good thing that we are so far away that the girls cannot see how sexually exposed and helpless that I’ve been tied. Otherwise they might refuse to honor their promises. However, they have no idea of what is really about to happen.

Art and Desiree organize the kids so that there is about 8 feet between each pair in an outwardly pointing circle. He instructs, “Girls run on the count of 3, boys you know what to do. Ready—1”. On that first count the boys leap forward as a group and uniformly copy Tom’s takedown maneuver perfectly. Within a minute each stunned, unprepared girl is spread-eagled on her back as helpless as I am. When one girl protests about cheating, Art orders all the girls to silence. The message is clear, “This was planned. You are powerless. Do as you’re told or suffer the consequences.”

Art now begins to ask each boy in turn to relate to the group an incident when his female partner, now trying to resist the overwhelming feelings of being his defenseless captive, was especially cruel to him. Eddie relates, “Sara stole my clothes at age 7 when we were swimming with a group who ridiculed my nudity.” Another boy tells, “She stole a cake and then falsely accused me. My dad walloped me something fierce.” 6-foot 1-inch Bobby says, “I was a shrimpy little kid at age 10. Angelica was a tomboy who beat me up and stole my lunch money once a week.” Paula’s endless chatter has stifled and repressed Paul all his life. He says, “She’s worse then my parents, always telling me what is best and what I should think instead of asking what I really think.” They continued around the circle in all seriousness without anyone daring to laugh.

Now in turn each girl is required to apologize convincingly and submissively to her partner while he sits between her open thighs, looking across her tits into her eyes. The boys vote if she has made them believe she is truly repentant. A single nay and she must try again.

My own capitulation is assured. I ask, “Are you going to rape a helplessly bound girl?” “Of course, your beauty is too alluring for me to resist,” promises Tom and then gags me, “This is to prevent the group’s seminar from being unduly disturbed by your cries.”

He plays with my pussy until I’m leaping to his touch. The thin strip of cloth guarding my leaking slit has already been pushed aside and the Ben-wa balls extracted. He easily slides his cock into me and begins fucking. My top is slid downward so his lips may find my aroused nipples. The similarity to my most degrading fantasies makes me very hot. I’m brought to many loud orgasms that the gag cannot completely muffle.

Desiree leads the other girls in berating any recalcitrant. She only needs to gently imply what might happen if the girls remain helplessly bound this way until nightfall. The sound of my cries in their ears makes it quite obvious what might happen. Everyone knows that Tom is fucking me after seeing and hearing it on the river. The boys all wield mighty swords under their suits that they make no effort to hid. The girls know their partners see hardened nipples topping their soft breasts. They all hope the growing wetness between their splayed legs is not noticed.

It is not subtle, but it is an effective way to teach the girls sexual subservience and the boys sexual dominance in these new roles. She is bound. Submissively displaying her lightly clad sex to her partner, a male to whom she must submit in the form of her apology. A group of males has the power to keep her bound indefinitely. Her sisters join the males against her to force her genuine capitulation.

When an apology has been given and accepted. Each boy gives his partner a valuable necklace with a different colored semi-precious stone that matches a ring he already wears. It is a token of his acceptance of her apology and marks her as being bound to him. Art may be the leader, but the girls instinctively fear Desiree more. Only when the last apology has been given and accepted do their male partners release the girls. Desiree makes sure that no girl rejects her necklace and that each boy now receives at least a kiss on the lips as thanks for his gift.

Tom and I rejoin the group during this ceremony. The girls see me as a role model. I hold my head up proudly that Tom has so publicly claimed my body. The message is, “Be proud when a man touches you intimately.” They do not see the lingering shame for my behavior. The condemnation of the Preacher echoes in my thoughts.

Desiree appears to accept Tom’s choice, too. Perhaps it’s because she and Art both seem anxious to get away. They must both need relief from the erotic demonstration they just staged.

The afternoon has flown by. Tom and I are put in charge of dinner preparations. Before she leaves with Art, Desiree gives me a larger packet of white powder to be added to the punch bowl. She whispers, “Double dose. Don’t drink any.” I reply, “I’m so horny now, that’s the last thing I need. What will the effects be on the other girls?” Desiree smiles and says cryptically, “Wait and see.”

Tom and the boys collect wood and get the cooking fires started. They also build a large campfire for another “training seminar” after dinner then they go down to the beach until dinner is ready. I direct the cooking and designate another girl who worked with Desiree during lunch to do the table setup.

Unsurprisingly, the girl’s questions are now more personal, “Where did you learn to dance? What makes Tom a good teacher? What do you do when you need his touch? Can you make him want you by dancing? Did you cum before. How many times? Do you always have so many orgasms? Is that normal for most women? When did your training start? Why did Tom choose you? Do you take his thing in your mouth? Does his hair tickle your nose? What does it taste like? What’s the difference between cum, semen, and sperm? What does semen taste like? Do you swallow? Does it make you throw up? Is the first time painful? How often do you and he do it? Do you get sore when you do it a lot?”

I tried to answer honestly, but had to lower some of the numbers so I’d be more likely to be believed. The last question was the most difficult. Then I remembered what Tom does following our last fuck before I return home each day. He takes out the same healing ointment that soothed my cunt the night I lost my virginity. He rubs it all over the Ben-Wa balls before he inserts them into my pussy. When I read the side of the tube, it said something about producing increased strength and endurance varying by age and frequency of application.

Despite the distance to their tent, the girls and I can hear Desiree cry out each time she orgasms. Several of the girls look longingly in that direction. I think they wish that their body not Desiree’s was being used to sate a man’s lusts. I smile thinking about Desiree’s earlier comment about how loud I was. It’s a good thing that the boys are down by the beach. I don’t know if Tom and I could control them as well as Art and Desiree.

Dinner is ready. I send one girl to Art’s tent and another girl, Sara to fetch Tom and the boys. Desiree and Art walk over with that totally contented look of a well-fucked couple. A minute later, we hear Sara screaming back at the boys who are chasing towards our campsite. Wearing only sneakers, she hides shivering behind Desiree and me for protection. Eddie triumphantly leads the pack of boys holding Sara’s captured bathing suit in his hand.

Desiree hushes me remembering that Sara had done the same thing to Eddie many years ago. She merely holds out her hand to Eddie who places the bathing suit into it. She turns to Sara and insists, “Thank Eddie for returning your bathing suit.” Sara sputters in amazement, “but.. but.. He’s the one that took it.” Giving her a no nonsense look Desiree says, “Be glad that’s all he took. Now thank him or spend the rest of the day naked.” Sara in a tiny voice, “thank you”.

Eddie asks, “What was that, Sara? I couldn’t hear you. Were you talking to me?” Desiree demands, “Last chance. Louder and properly.” Almost in tears, Sara almost shouts, “Thank you for returning my bathing suit Eddie.” Desiree gives Sara a big smile, hands her the bathing suit and coos, “That’s much better. Now stop running around like a naked slut and get dressed before somebody decides to rape you.”

After that, the girls’ attitudes towards their partners change completely. They flirt with all the boys, but concentrate mostly on their partners. Once she calms down, Sara was the worst of the lot, constantly bumping into Eddie or rubbing up against him. Becoming attentive and solicitous, they tried to find out what interested their man. The serving ritual becomes a contest to see who can shake her titties the most for her partner. I still won of course, unless you count the girls that popped out of their tops entirely.

Once dinner is done, the girls insist on reorganizing so that we sit girl-boy-girl-boy with each girl next to her partner. It is dark now, except for the light of the cooking fire. Slowly the conversation dies down as the amount of cuddling increases. When Sara pulls Eddie to her for a deep kiss, the other girls quickly followed suit. The only sounds are of heavy breathing and whispered names. “Is this another effect of the white powder?” I wonder silently, “Am I some kind of drug pusher? Is this stuff addictive? These are legally minors. Am I getting them hooked?” My concerns dissolve as Tom begins kissing and caressing me.

Before things go too far, Art calls everyone over to the campfire. In a few minutes, it is blazing upward and driving away the slight chill of the night air. Every girl sits with her partner and insists he must hold her because she is cold despite the heat from the fire. It’s only a matter of time before male hands begin to explore female smooth female skin. How much resistance do these girls have left after everything they’ve seen and done today? How much more susceptible has the insidious white power made their most sensitive flesh?

I know that somehow I’ve being manipulated into corrupting these girls. That doesn’t mitigate my responsibility or my crimes. I’ve been set up as the goal, the model, the example being used to draw the girls into decadence and degradation. I don’t know how many laws I’ve violated so far or how many more I will before this trip is over. I’m sure there are enough charges to put me in jail, public indecency, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, distribution of illicit drugs, accessory before, during and after the fact of who knows how many other crimes. And finally, If I haven’t yet crossed the line of Statutory Rape then I have a strong feeling that it will happen before the night is over.

I look over at Paula who’s cuddling with Paul, pressing her voluptuous body against him. Only a few hours ago she seemed to be the most innocent 15-year-old girl that I’ve ever met. Paul’s hand has already slipped under her bikini-top and is gently massaging her tit.

In Paula’s hand is a fresh glass of the punch I drugged. It’s her fourth since dinner. Her eyes already have a glazed over look, her skin is flushed, and her nipples firm. As I watch Paul wraps the fingers from her other hand around his hard cock. She makes no attempt to pull it away. I turn my eyes away, unable to watch the results of what I’ve done to her and the others.

She’s an unsophisticated little girl with has no idea how erotic she looks. I should tell her to stop. I should warn her of danger, but I keep silent. I know the secrets that only the four leaders share. I put the powder in her drink. I’m the one responsible for the susceptible state she’s in. I’m letting down this sweet girl who looks up to me and trusts me. I’ll be the one responsible for whatever is to come. I bury my head in Tom’s shoulder, unable to look at how I’ve perverted the little sister that I never had.

Tom reaches between my legs that automatically spread for him. He’s preparing me for whatever comes next. My breathing deepens. I forget about the girls and my culpability. Tom joins me in looking up at the full moon. The moon has great power over women. We are bound to follow its rhythm. The night of the full moon has always coincided with my most lurid thoughts and dreams. It stirs my loins and my passions in ways I cannot control and do not understand. Some nights I dream of dancing naked beneath it. I feel defenseless and exposed to its power. I’m waiting, waiting, waiting for the next step in my fall from grace.