Let’s You And Her Fight
Three Weeks Ago
“Hey Susan. Thanks for coming to your quarterly psychological screening.”
“You say that like it’s optional.”
“Well, I know you’ve had some… changes in the last three months. You’d be perfectly in your rights to not want to come.”
“I can do this fine, Mary.”
“…That’s… that’s… quite a courageousness mantra you’ve got going on there.”
“Well? Is it not working?”
“No, you’re doing fine. I’m glad you’ve found a way to cope with your anxieties.”
“But.”
“But yeah. This is really the kind of thing I’m not supposed to ignore.”
“…”
“You are a strong, confident woman. There is nothing the world can throw at you that you can’t cope with. The dark thoughts are not right and they are not you. They will flow past you and disappear again.”
“Are you… repeating the rules to me out loud?”
“You’re my friend, Susan. I hate to see you suffering like that.”
“It did help, thanks. Can you stick around me and just keep doing that when necessary?”
“You know I would if I could. But I do have other responsibilities.”
“Like the screening.”
“Yeah. …Look, would you rather I reported it or not?”
“Well, obviously you have to—wait. Are you seriously asking me the question?”
“I am.”
“…”
“…”
“Why are you offering to do this?”
“Because you’re my friend, and there’s nothing there yet that’s that dangerous, and you’re so much happier and healthier now, and I couldn’t bear to take that away from you. AndbecauseI’vealreadydoneitformyself.”
“What?”
“Oh God, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“What… what did you do?”
“It just slipped out. Please, forget it. Please.”
“It’s ok. You can trust me. There’s nothing you can say that will make your friends think less of you. The dark thoughts make them seem frightening but you know they care about you in real life. The dark thoughts are not right and they are not you. They will flow past you and disappear again.”
“Oh, don’t you start.”
“You must want to tell me or you wouldn’t have said something. You can tell me. I can keep a secret. And I won’t ever think less of you.”
“You will.”
“It can’t be any worse than what I let Franz do to me.”
“It is.”
“I promise. You’re my friend, Mary. You can see I’m telling the truth.”
“I—I—I should have reported myself years ago. I’m not even compelled to keep it secret. I just don’t want to give it up. It’s so good. Soooooo good. Ohhhh, God.”
“Oh, come on. I’m right here. Hands on the desk, Mary.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just—even thinking about it gets me so hot. I’m so—so—you remember Domin- the Diabolical Domme?”
“That girl, way back in the day? Yeah, I guess. She’d gotten you all subbed up and then I rescued you and beat seven kinds of—oh, Mary. You didn’t.”
“I… I did. I couldn’t help it. I could help it. I chose it. It was such a wonderful feeling, being her slave. I—I helped her get released from prison. I helped her go straight, and then, once nobody was paying attention anymore, I moved in with her. Oh God, moving in with her. So good- ”
“Mary! Hands on the desk!”
“—being broken by her, enslaved by her, moulded into her perfect sex-toy puppet. Her spy, her agent, her slave—”
“Oh, God, Mary, you’re not going to- right in front of me- ”
“—I am her slave. I am a slave. Maryslave is a slave. Maryslave is empty. Maryslave is filled with Her will. Maryslave comes when the Mistress fills her emptiness. Maryslave is always full with the Mistress. Maryslave is always coming. Maryslave’s, ah, body, ah, comes, unh, sometimes, but, unh, unh, Maryslave’s, unnnh, empty, unnnh, mind, unnnh, is, always, unnh, unhhhhh, comi—i—i —”
“…”
“…”
“Jesus Christ, Mary.”
“What… what did I say? I kind of lost track of —”
“Oh, some crap about being a slave, who cares. You jilled off in front of me, Mary.”
“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry, Susan, I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I’m always around Dee or Arianne when I’m like that and they’re gay, they’re with me, they like it, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve never told anyone else before. I didn’t realize I would—I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, don’t worry. It was kinda gross—a lot gross—but I know how it is. You’re not in control of your body.”
“I’m in complete control of my body. I’m not in control of my mind.”
“Hairsplitter. …So that’s what you’ve been hiding all along, eh?”
“Yeah.”
“Never would have guessed.”
“I am a perfect spy for my mistress.”
“Yeah, you don’t ever get to make fun of my mantras again.”
“It’s not a mantra, it’s a fact! …Wow, that sounded dumb out loud.”
“Uh huh.”
“But, anyways. The screen. Do you want me to report anything?”
“After all that? I’m feeling pretty good about the idea that this isn’t big enough to report.”
“Well, it is. I’m just bad at turning myself in.”
“Fair enough. But no. I’ll keep your secret and you keep mine.”
“Thanks, Susan. I mean, being with Dee and Arianne is wonderful, but I do sometimes wish I had someone else who knew, that I could talk to about it. It means a lot to me that I can trust you.”
“No problem.”
“All right. But we should still do the actual screening. Look around in corners for anything dangerous… other than, you know, the obvious. You ready?”
“I am.”
“All right. Close your eyes, relax. Open up your mind and we’ll walk through you together…”
Now
I hide behind a shipping container, trembling. The warehouse is almost pitch black but I can see flickers from the overhead lamps drifting towards the centre of the room, where Starlight is, still sucking down all the light. She must have an ungodly amount of power charged up now. I risk a glance in her direction and can see that her focus on finding me is indeed being tempered by the concentration it takes to hold all that energy in check. I try to see if I can pry that loose a little but I will not let others into my mind if I don’t want them there flickers through her and I look away, too late.
“I warned you to stay out of my head, Mindwipe, you fucking zombie bitch!” she shouts. The warehouse lights up for a moment as she explodes a stack of pallets.
“I’m not a zombie!” I shout back, trying to psychically throw my voice so she can’t find me. It must have worked because the shipping container that tips over an instant later, one side molten and bubbling, is a good twenty metres away. “My mistress controls my whole mind, not just my body!”
“I’ll show your fucking mistress,” growls Starlight. I can see the glow of her moving towards my row and I try to move as silently as possible as I run for another hiding place. “Once I have you, I’ll hypnotize you completely for my lover-master and then send you back to psychically break that slut.”
“Never going to happen!” I respond, and the forklift she thinks my voice is coming from is blown ten metres into a wall. “You might be able to get me but no amount of hypnotic suggestion can keep my mistress from taking control of my mind again!”
“You don’t know how strong it is,” purrs Starlight, suddenly enthusiastic. “Words unspooling in your brain, continuously. Suggestions. Instructions. Orders. Commands. I know you get off on being controlled. You’d never be able to break out.”
“I wouldn’t need to!” The warehouse is lit up up again as she fires into a catwalk on the ceiling. “My mistress would have no trouble overcoming it and freeing me from your pathetic triggers.” And then she’d enslave me to herself again, deeper, darker, more completely, but saying that out loud would be redundant for both of us at this point. We both know what the stakes are. Freedom was never one of them, nor would we have cared if it was.
“You say that now,” says Starlight. She’s approaching my position again and I set off as fast as I can, crouched down behind a line of stacked tires. “But when the light pours into your brain and fills it with my lover-master’s orders, you’ll understand.” She starts walking away from me as she searches the other end of the warehouse and I relax, safe in my hiding space for a little longer. “The… light. Oh, yes.” I don’t dare look at her too closely but I can tell that she’s suddenly smiling.
What is she planning? I have time to think in confusion, and then Starlight explodes.
The white-hot inferno engulfing her shatters into a thousand pieces, each little wisp of light flying across the room. They spread out, filling the gap between the tops of the storage units and the ceiling, our own little nighttime starscape, except every star is moving on its own, spinning, darting, dancing. It’s like watching fireflies, beautiful blurry white fireflies, dancing in the artificial night inside the warehouse. I had no idea Starlight could do this.
It’s so beautiful.
“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it,” agrees Starlight. I’m not sure if I spoke aloud or not. Her voice sounds strained. It must be very hard on her, keeping all this up. “Don’t you just love staring at them? All the beautiful stars.”
I did. I am entranced. Some part of my mind is sluggishly coming to life, reminding me that entranced is what I don’t want. I ignore it. Starlight is my friend. She is working hard to put on this show, just for me, and she deserves to have me appreciate her work.
“Look at the stars,” she continues. “Follow their patterns.” I stare, trying to make out a pattern in their flickering movement. “Concentrate on their light. The way their motion is your whole universe.”
They are my whole universe. The voice hissing in panic is pointless, ignored. Why would I listen to it when I could watch the lights?
“You want to stand up, reach for them, touch them,” Starlight urges. I do. I stand, rising from behind the tires, raise an arm hopefully towards the ceiling. I hear, distantly, her boots on the concrete as she sees me and begins walking over.
“See how they’re merging?” I do. The lights have started to group up, their erratic, distinct motions becoming synchronized. “Just like your mind. It doesn’t want to move on its own. It wants to flow, move smoothly with the others. It wants to follow my voice.” My mind doesn’t want to move on its own. That’s why I am so happy with my mistress. My mind follows her voice. Starlight is… not my mistress?
“Watch the stars,” continues Starlight. They have formed up into a single formation now, lazily looping a figure eight above me. “See how they all move together. All one purpose. My purpose. You want to be a part of that purpose. You know listening to my voice will help you become part of that purpose. Listen to my voice.” I already have a purpose. My mistress’ purpose. The back of my brain has seized upon this and is struggling for control. My body does nothing as I fight myself. I am quite used to keeping my body still.
Starlight is somehow right next to me now, whispering in my ear. “You are almost one of the lights, now, aren’t you. A beautiful, brilliant star, that does what I say. That loves to do what I say.” I love to do what she says. I love to do what my mistress says. My mistress is Dee—Susan—Dee -
“Watch them descend. Each light perfectly obedient to my voice. Let them merge with you and share that obedience with you. One.” A single light darts down to my forehead and splatters like a tiny warm raindrop. “Two.” I am watching the lights again, as they descend, one at a time, to merge with me and share their obedience with me. “Three.” The loyalist part of my mind is sinking again, the obedience being dripped into me one drop at a time too much for it to overcome. “Four. Five.” I’m slowing down, losing track of things. “Six. Seven. Nine.” The lights have stopped moving, the ceiling is moving behind them instead as my head takes up their rhythm. “Eleven. Thirteen. Eighteen. Twenty-Five.”
I surface one last time, somehow, just enough to hear the words ‘Forty-Seven’, but all there is on either side is warm, white, obedient light.
I float the last bead of light to Mindwipe’s forehead and watch it boil off as I release it. I lie down flat on the filthy concrete, not even caring about my clothes. That was so hard. I’d barely ever even tried to do a light show like that before, and not with so much power, all at once… I was exhausted. If it hadn’t been for my lover-master’s words rolling through my brain, giving me guidance as to how to hypnotize her, I would never have made it even close to the end. I’d never hypnotized someone before, either, but that didn’t matter: my lover-master’s instructions were perfect, of course. Obeying my rules gives me confidence. Obeying my rules gives me strength. Obeying my rules fills me with joy.
I’m not quite sure what to do next. I’d bragged about sending her back to enslave her former mistress, but I wasn’t sure I could actually do that. My lover-master could, would know the perfect words to put in her head to render her impervious to any chance at subversion, but I wasn’t so skilled. I’d had to rely on the emergency hypnosis escape rules just to get this far. I will keep my submission a secret. I will not hypnotize others unless there is no other choice. I know Franz is happy with me alone.
Still, I am tired and need to do something with her while I think up a way of using her to defeat Mistress Dominique completely. “Sit down,” I say, and she sits down opposite me. “Drop your arm.” She drops her arm into her lap. The sight fills me with ideas and I sit back up. I love sexy red nails. I love running my sexy fingertips over my body. I love being turned on by my sexy hands.
I’m not gay. Not even slightly. Mindwipe does nothing for me. Except her hands. God, her hands. I think the original intent was to give me a little bit of bodily self-confidence and help me cater to my lover-master’s particular kink, but the rules dug in deep and give me no leeway in appreciating other women’s hands either. Mindwipe’s hands are long and slim and the nails are just the right length, and a deep, dark red the same colour as the one the rules apply for me more often than not. They are magnificent. I don’t feel even the slightest bit conflicted about it. I’m straight, and I’m satisfied with that. That doesn’t affect at all the appreciation the rules have told me to have for soft, sexy, feminine hands. I love looking at sexy hands. Using my hands is the hottest possible foreplay.
“Raise your hands,” I say. Mindwipe raises her hands blankly and limply. “No, show them off.” She begins rotating them back and forth, much too quickly to properly look at them. “Slower!” I demand, frustrated. Mindwipe doesn’t understand, doesn’t have the rules. She’ll be so much happier once she has her own set of rules threaded through her mind, telling her how to do everything better. Obeying my rules gives me confidence. Obeying my rules gives me strength. Obeying my rules fills me with joy.
“Just—do what I do,” I finally say, after a minute of trying and failing to get the blank-faced trancee to take the slightest bit of erotic initiative. I hold one hand out as if expecting a kiss from a gentleman. So does Mindwipe. I enjoy the look of her hand, daintily but authoritatively held in front of my face. I kiss it. She kisses mine. I raise my hand to her cheek, caress it. She follows. I drag my nails down her cheek and the curve of her neck. She does not react but when she does the same to me and I gasp, she gasps too. Sound’s a little out of sync but not too bad. I stroke the curve of her breast. It’s not doing anything for me, of course, but when I look down and see her lovely, red-nailed hand stroking me I can’t contain my moan. I love stroking myself with my sexy fingers. I love the feel of my long nails on my flesh. I love being turned on by my sexy hands.
“God, yes,” I mumble. “God, yes,” Mindwipe mumbles. I glare at her. She glares back. “Do what I do except for speaking, ok?” She doesn’t repeat me. I pinch her nipple and gasp again when I feel her deliciously sharp nails pinch mine. She doesn’t gasp. “Make real noises. Say… something that you’d really be saying in this situation.” Talking dirty is hot. I love talking dirty. Talking dirty helps me feel comfortable with my body.
Mindwipe does nothing as I reach out and squeeze her other tit. (She squeezes mine and I wriggle in her grasp.) I wonder for a moment if telling her to make a decision is too much for her tranced-out consciousness, but after a long moment of enjoyable groping, she says: “Ohhhh, yes. Maryslave’s body is there to be used by the Mistress.” Ungh. I’d almost forgotten that Mindwipe probably hasn’t had normal sex in years. I mean, the blissed-out subservient orgiastic fucking the rules tell me to have probably doesn’t count as “normal” either, but at least I can still talk dirty to my lover-master. I will tell Franz I am his little bitch. I will tell Franz he controls my body as I stroke his cock with my long, sexy fingers. I will beg Franz to let me come as I ride him.
Distracted by these thoughts, I take longer than I should have to notice that Mindwipe is still talking. “The Mistress can use Maryslave’s body however She wants. The Mistress should take Maryslave for Her pleasure. The Mistress must use Maryslave.”
“Use your hands properly,” I say. Mindwipe instantly stops groping me and instead sets one hand to stroking my lips with its fingertips while the other runs its nails down my back. I let my own hands grope myself instead. “Oh, God yes,” I moan. Running my hands over my body is hot. I love sexy red nails.
“The Mistress loves Maryslave’s hands,” Mindwipe continues. “The Mistress loves feeling Maryslave’s hot sexy hands slide up and down Her back. The Mistress loves the feel of Maryslave’s nails digging into Her flesh.” God, this is so hot. Mindwipe is practically speaking in time with the rules as they slide through my dirty, horny, spread-legged mind. “The Mistress likes feeling Maryslave’s fingers pinch her nipples. The Mistress likes an extra pair of hands arousing her body while She rubs Herself. The Mistress likes being aroused by me.” Something—something isn’t right there. Mindwipe’s hands keep the rules pouring through me and I can’t concentrate on her words enough. “The Mistress wants me to keep going. The Mistress wants me to do with Her body what I will. You want me to control your body. You want me to control your mind.” No, no, no, how is she—she is out of the trance. How did she get out of my trance? Her hands are gripping my ass tightly now, and I still haven’t stopped rubbing myself up, and the rules keep rolling on, demanding I be aroused. Running my hands over my body is hot. I love sexy red nails. No, I have to think how to stop her -
“You want to let me into your mind. Everything will be so much hotter still once I’m in your mind, turning you on from the inside.” No, no, yes, no, yes, yes, and then the perimeter alarm goes off I will not let others into my mind if I don’t want them there and I want her there, I abandon my defences and lay myself out for her intruding will even as she’s whispering inside my head, you’re so hot right now, a dirty horny animal, you don’t need to worry anymore, you don’t need to think anymore…
I let my hands drop back into my lap. Starlight is panting and rubbing herself up, her mind trapped in the cycle of primal lust I’d instilled. It had been a close-run thing. If she hadn’t let Maryslave start speaking, let me remind myself of who my real mistress was, I’d still be entranced, letting her program me into her slave—not the kind of slave I needed to be at all. As it was, even with my unquenchable devotion to Mistress Dominique aiding me, I’d had to fight my way out inch by inch like I was trapped in a tarpit.
But it’s over now. Starlight’s mind is enfolded in a beautiful Swiss watch of commands, flowing around her and controlling her—maybe not a Swiss watch, more like the world’s most perfect and intricate BDSM setup—and I don’t dare try to take it apart. But I can let her writhe around in arousal while I bring her to my mistress and let her blow it all away with her powerful, wonderful control. Susanslave will thank me, soon enough.
My phone buzzes. So does Starlight’s. “Not now,” I moan, so close to defeating her, once and for all. It’s a text from Silver Shield. “Giant fucking lizard-beast came out of Alcoa mine. It’s eating people. All hands on deck,” I read aloud, knowing as I do that my conscience won’t let me stay here—even to complete my conquest of Starlight—when my help is needed like this.
In the corner of my vision, I see my words shoulder aside the dirty instructions about Starlight’s hands. I will keep my submission a secret. My duties as Starlight are important to me. I will not let anyone’s control stop me from protecting the innocent. She gasps like she’s just surfaced from deep underwater, balls one hand into a fist to keep it still while the other checks her phone. “Fuck,” she says, as she reads the same message as I had, and stands up and starts walking with me. “Awful timing.”
“For me, you mean. I had you on the ropes.”
“And yet I’m still not your puppet.”
“You would have been.”
“Like you were, Miss oh-so-mindless Maryslave? If you got out I could get out. I was just crazy horny, and you don’t even have a dick to fuck me with. Nothing doing.”
“I have wonderful, sexy, red-nailed hands,” I say, scratch her arm, watch her shiver a little. “My mistress,” I continue, smugly, “is clearly better than your master.”
“I think it’s clear that we have not established anything like that yet.”
“Nice light show, though.”
“Thanks, I’ve been practicing with other people too. Its gawdawful hard. And I’m not sure what it’d be good for except hypnotizing people… and that’s creepy and weird and black-hat to just pop at someone.” I nod. Hypnotizing people is only cool when it’s consensual or when my mistress commands it. “Nice job you coming back from trance. That’s got to be hella useful.”
“I was really, really, lucky,” I admit. I see her suddenly get curious about how close she might have been to enslaving me, returning me to Franz as their helpless hypnotized fucktoy, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of telling her. “I’ve never actually done that for real before. It’s good to practice with you but I hope I don’t actually have to try it in the field.”
“Well, we can hope. You know, Mary,” she says, as we reach the warehouse door, “I also really hope the ‘fucking’ in ‘giant fucking lizard-beast’ is an intensifier, not an adjective.”
“God, Susan, why would you even suggest that!” I cry, in sudden horror.
“Because it’s not like it’s even that unlikely, here.” I see where she’s going and we finish in unison: “This fucking town.”