The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

[Meena in Dr. Halpern’s surgery]

It isn’t that I’m dissatisfied, but I’ll never advance if I don’t change: Let’s face it. The bigger a girl is, the better. I’m talking breasts here. I only have A- to B-cup breasts: Pointy, nice, yet only average-sized.

Doctor, I’m saying, mine aren’t large-enough to compete where I work at “The Country of Love” porno-film studio, where the smallest girls bear B-cup tits.

“I can make you whatever size you want, but there will be a backlash of …your body resisting change.”

Go ahead, Doctor…I’m ready to put up with anything to get my big ones: I’d like to be a 36DD at least. Is that asking too much?

“The DD-cup isn’t a problem: You are only a 30-inch bust and to be a 36 that is a bit of a stretch…Hm.”

It’s a challenge? I can take being 32 or 34, but no way can I remain a thirty-inch chest, it’s embarrassing when everyone’s so big here.

“You’ll easily reach thirty-two around…If you’ll accept 34DD, I’ll manage without much added difficulty.”

O.K.. It’s a deal. I’ll take the 32-to-34-inch breadth, if you can make mine DD-cup.

…What about my face? Did you look at those photos and X-rays?

“I’ll make the nose less pointy, raise your hairline: That’ll help provide the higher forehead. Fill out your cheeks, chin. You’ll be cute. Look at this.” [Composite-photo] “The new face. What do you think? Nice?”

I’m not beautiful…But you do your best. All right? I know you’ve got an ordinary redhead to start with…

“Please to remember there may be some problems with the body rejecting change: But, It’s worth it.”

[Six Weeks Later]

I cannot say that this was easy. The studio made two Cable-Specials starring their beautiful-blonde Dove [she really is], I wasn’t paid for—while I was suffering the pain: Yes, it hurt, not the operations, which were snaps, only afterwards…I can’t say how I hurt: My face, ass, pained more than bust. Today, Doctor removes my bandages…Should be worth it. Face-wrapped, I already love being the bustiest girl in the elevator. Everybody stares! They retreat a bit to make room, or my breasts would …er, breast the door!

“Ah, Ms. Meena, this is your big day. And I mean that in the total sense of the word. I snip here, peel there, and your new look…’ [Holds back layers.] “Ah it’s…Look in my glass you see results for yourself.”

I’m very attractive …pretty, if not beautiful. Thank you, Doctor. A good job…Any more warnings?

“You can take these a few times if you feel pain, it’s your bottom I’m talking about, where I took skin.”

The studio is happy because I also have those large, red nipples, that I admired so much on Margie. There is one little drawback: I’m hungry and thirsty most of the time evenings. Eating or drinking doesn’t seem to help all much?

I’m not sure what happened last night after I left the doctor’s office: Amnesia? A blackout? I only had a couple of glasses of wine? Drinking never did before to me, perhaps it was because the two drinks were combined with pain pills. Pills say: Not to take them six hours before or after alcohol. I cut it too close?

I rub myself in-between my legs. Why I should need more sex? I do, and I’ve been trying masturbation. Last night’s nearly didn’t achieve orgasm, pinkly self-excited by my poster from a sex-pictures-by-mail bunch of a looker touching herself. Remembering this heat-orgy makes my groin stir over again. I shift, my excitement-level rises. Does my much bigger-bust, mean a bigger sex-drive? …Doctor didn’t say?

[At The Studio, Dove’s Dressing Room, Meena Knocks But Doesn’t Wait, Enters After Head-Inserting]

‘Might I come in, Dove? Oh! I didn’t know you were busy.’ Nagin, one of our male porno-actors is her boyfriend, and so he’s here, standing behind Dove’s makeup chair: A thickset, dark guy not really to my taste, but he’s her mainman, stocky with square-shaped hands and fingers, right now wrapped in Dove’s blonde hair, as she sits, her back to him. …Must get Dove alone. …Nagin’s got to go! …If I’m to control?

[Sitting at the mirror, back-on to me.] “Oh, that’s O.K., Meena, c’mon in. …Nagin’s going, aren’t you, babes? [Blows kiss at him, turning halfway around in chair. He’s standing behind Dove, in-between us.]

“I guess…” Says the big fellow, who looks puzzled at me, only down into my new deep cleavage, fairly noticeable in a dark-green, low-cut neckline I’ve got on. …He exits, blowing a kiss back at Dove in mirror.

“’Bye babes, see you tonight.” They live together and she makes more than he does, but that’s usual?

Smiling the glowing girl turns most of the rest of the way and looks up to me. “What’s up, Meena?”

I step up close to her, show her my new chained neck-jewel, not so big as my last one: It’s surrounded by seven smaller opals. Holding my shiny-stone pendant: She goes under my hypnotic-spell very quickly!

‘You’re sleepy, relaxed, entranced by the fire in my stones. Can you hear? You’ll obey me always Dove?’

“Yes…” [Very slow and low, her head falling down halfway on her chest, big blue eyes half-closed.]

Come to me here, you’ll ‘Do whatever pleases Meena’, Slave-Dove ‘even if it isn’t good for your career.’

“I’ll do it…Whatever… pleases…Meena…” Dove stands, turns: Gorgeous, fair, with a perfect busty figure.

‘When are you taping your special?’ Meena asks. ‘I intend to be your helper, beating and sexing you.’

“Tonight. I’ll use you for both bits, if you say so Meena: I wanted June: She’s the biggest-breasted and all-natural. Can you let me see your tits…? It isn’t crucial, but Tom will ask me if checked you out first?”

‘Sure.’ [Meena unbuttons her dress’ top and pushes down the shoulders. Next unclips her big bra. Boobs fly out and she does have those large red nipples like Margie. Breasts don’t look fake or plastic.]

“Oh! I think you’ve got the part. I mean both parts. Those are great! That Doctor Halpern sure does nice work. Your face still looks like you too. It’s amazing. Can I feel your new big boobs and nipples?”

Yes, but you start to tread on thin ice Dove. I’m getting warmed up here and you know, I don’t dig men.

[Dove steps closer, massages Meena’s new melon-breasts. Rotates her thumbs on each large red nipple, both erect bright-red, immediately soothing and sizzling Meena, who bridles a little, flexing.]

Dove: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn you on, Honey.”

‘You’re going to have to satisfy me all the same, Dove. Get on your knees and yank my pants down.’

“I’m straight, Meena…Don’t you want a girl-lover to do this? Nina, even June, would enjoy eating you.”

‘No, Dove ‘it has to be you,’ as the song says. We need to find out how my spell worked. Remember only that you are my slave and will do my bidding in every instance, for example the two parts in your cable-special, and I’d also like to have Nagin, you’ll have to share him, if not give him up. You can wake.’

I stand by chair to make reach easier and Dove inserts her face in between my legs: I scoot legs apart. Her tongue is in me. I am loving it. My juices flowing hot. Dove shows she can spin her head in me!

“Oh! Why am I doing this? It isn’t like me! Forgive me, Meena! I can’t think why I’d eat your pussy!”

[Push the blonde’s pretty head out from crotch, I’m spreading-out, bump cunt up, enjoying orgasm.] “Argghh!” [Hair-pulls Dove’s face back in onto her crotch!] ‘…Love my taste, Slave-Dove?’ Lubricating, I freely-gush immensely! Rush feelings go all over me, from my center all down to my toes and fingertips!

Dove, standing, steps back, wipes her mouth of acrid fluids, “It isn’t like me, so please don’t tell anyone.”

Meena steps close-kisses Dove on lips. ‘It’ll be our secret. I love you Dove. You’re all mine now. Correct?’

Kisses, breaks off: “I suppose if you say to be all-yours… What must I do? Call you ‘Mistress?’ Or what?”

‘Better not, at least not around here. What do you get paid, half a million for our cable show, if your rating’s high? I’ll take double the helper’s rate for each of the two parts I’m going to play in this show.’

“But that’s too much! Meena, you might not know, but the studio gets half and I pay you out of my half. …With what you want, you will make as much as I will: That isn’t correct, because I’m the star after all.”

‘Shut up! You’ll do what I say and like it. Who’s got the fat boobs here anyway?’ Holds up her huge pair. [Crushes Dove against her makeup-chair, backs her onto mirror. Kisses deep and open-mouthed, tongue-twiddling, bodice-rips: Yellow-brown-plaid, knotted-belly top ruined.] ‘This color didn’t suit you.’

Very fine, picturesque titties. Lick, suck at Dove’s large pink-tips: I squeeze C-tits too-hard like boys do.

“Aiee! You’re hurting me but I can’t say it isn’t thrilling…Please don’t stop Meena, you know how I am?”

Knowing Dove is a masochist, Meena presses her enormousness onto Dove’s sweeties, making her say:

“Oh you feel a little hard-nippled, when you squash fiercely into me! I find it enjoyable, this small pain.”

I stop, step back from Dove, letting her try to realign wrecked top, say: ‘That’s why I won’t keep going!’

[Meena, At Dove’s: Eating With Boyfriend Nagin Waiting In Bedroom]

She cooks Italian, thinks Chianti goes with everything, even fish! Dove doesn’t look it, but I guess she is Italian: That marvelous figure had to come from somewhere? I’ve got lasagna: She’s doglike-kneeling naked beside my chair begging, so I hold a burnt-edged, hot-sausage scrap, over her head. Handcuffed behind, and ankle-cuffed with a short hogtie, Dove leaps up-down, banging her knees biting at the scrap.

I finish, lay my plate and salad remnants on the floor: Wipe off my hands in her blonde hair. Grinning nastily. Nagin waits abed. I mustn’t delay him. Grabbing and pulling her ear over, whisper into it: ‘Don’t forget to crawl in when done licking your doggy-scraps, my worthless Slave-Dove...’ Thrusting her head floor-ward into my messy red plate; resisting further humiliating ideas like stepping on her back.

Dove looks up, pathetically dripping sauce, her hair dirty and mussed: “Yes Mistress Meena, I’ll be in…”

She knows that I’ll want her mouth on me at least. Dove if she’s lucky, might get to have an orgasm. I walk slowly in to the bedroom. Feel very virtuous about my letting her off easy but perhaps I’ll do more.

Nagin isn’t spellbound to be my slave, and he says, “So Dove isn’t coming, or what?”

‘Are you ready? Dove won’t be happy if you aren’t? C’mon now, big guy.’ Slowly stripping, I excite him.

“I don’t get it but all right.” [Looks away, yells] “Dove, you sure of this, you want me to take this chick?”

Dove hollers back. “I’ll be right in, Nagin-Sweets. Go ahead and fuck Meena. It’s what I want, sure enough.” [Wailing is heard from outside. It’s Dove, who although hypnotized to yes, is hurting awfully.]

Meena says, ‘Don’t mind Dove, she’s confused, doesn’t know what’s happening.’ Let hang my giant tits.

[Nagin lets Meena atop him and carefully inserts himself, only the tip going in.] “You’re awfully tight...”

‘That’s good… Now if you thrust a bit and I push down a little, we’ll soon fit.’ Funny how a man is better than a Strap-On: Is it the warmth? Hurts so I grunt, he’s crunching-out good. Working up to a rhythm!

‘Put your fists under your butt to push up into me more’ I demand. He does it too: All of him in me now!

It is great, so full-up! I orgasm in no time: “Argghh!” Dove is crying and crawls in the doorway exactly in time for my orgasm. I feel she doesn’t enjoy this type of pain, so I rub it in, telling her I want her kissing me on the bed. Dove is horribly bound, she takes forever. I have to turn and watch: A sight! Sobbing!

Nagin ejaculates—“Aack!”—Dove slips twice, screams “Aieeeee! Aieeeee!”, before she manages climb with greatest difficulty. Her first fall is wonderful: Backwards, her head cracks on the floor! The second fall back off the bed, she is aware of this hazard, uses her bound hands and bend-up feet to prevent her head from hitting. “Uh!” Too bad! I have to laugh because she yanks her tied arms when raising knees.

Using her nice boobs, flopping them up, crushing them down against the side of the bed, squealing and sobbing louder as her lovely tits are crunched and stretched, Dove struggles, reaching her head and neck balanced above the bed-edge, to nibble on my lips. Red in the face from effort, her long, hot, pointy, rose-pink tongue darts in and out of my mouth! Enjoy her stretched, pained reach as much as anything!

I roll off Nagin and say, ‘You can screw her while she’s eating my pussy, Nagin-baby, but know you’re privileged, I could use my Strap-On instead of using you.’ Nagin looks shocked and eyes-implores Dove.

‘Go on, Stupid. Get in-between my legs, now!’ Dove isn’t sharp on hints. Pushing her chin, neck and breasts painfully into the yielding surface, Dove pulls up her knees and connected hands, finally Nagin assists, hauling her roughly with one brawny arm, pushing her hip: Falls over sideways on bed. ‘You can do it now: Nagin, that’s enough help.’ Dove sobbing-hurting scrambles headfirst to in-between my legs.

It is great, being eaten when I am lubricious. I already came, so I have a head start, girls know, it’s faster, having had an orgasm. Yet because the warmth doesn’t trickle to my nipples: …It’s my tits-filler blocking off thrills in-between? …A shortfall of fake tits? Heat goes to the base of my breasts. Stops, blocked: Next a climax zings back down to my pussy, exciting my clitoris and pussy-lips, while Dove’s tongue is pressing-down on my G-spot. “Argghh!” That was faster: Still, terrific! It was like two-in-one!

Nagin thrusts into Dove from the rear, huge hands under nice boobs, grunting like a bear he resembles. They come together! “Aacck-Oooh!” Should climax together, as they’re a couple? Like practiced? I mean to cut Dove off, starve her sexually: Haven’t gotten around to it yet…After we make our cable program? I can’t help wiping the floor with her? Though I admit Dove’s a charming, delicious softie: …A sweetheart.

[Phoning Doctor Halpern Wearing Only Her Watch]

‘It’s that I never liked eating so much, or drinking either, and having men: …I never wanted them at all… What? It could be the operations, that I have a reaction? Yeah..You warned me…Oh all right, next week sometime: No, it isn’t. …It’s not like me—I don’t get it, that’s all. Right, I’d call it at least ‘slightly-distressing’…O.K. …‘Bye and…uh…Thank you, Doctor.” Struggle into bra-blouse-panties-skirt-make-up.

I glance at my watch, see I’ve got at least an hour before we tape the special. I need one more gizmo.

[At the Sex Shop]

The cute shopgirl closes her eyes dreamily, a half-smile flits by, saying: “…A tongue-clamp on me?” Thinks it can be done. She is willing. …Wait, we’ll have to get the other chick to take over the counter.

Now which tongue-clamp do I want? That one’s the most severe? ‘…Let’s try it out on you, Baby.’

The twenty-something blonde sticks her tongue out, waggles it back and forth and says, “It involves stripping nearly-completely: We’ll need to go in the back.” On the way, she stops in an office-doorway, asks if she’ll take over awhile: Seated, tall, thin, near-flat-chested, dark-haired office-worker rises, hers not unlike my figure before I got my add-ons. Attractive, once you accustom to the subtle curves of her model-like looks? Perhaps that’s what Hollywood is after with the ‘size-zero’, skinny, undeveloped figures they sell us? Nah, all those showbiz kids are gay. They like men: Pick thin women who ape men!

Once in the back area, the dark-blonde saleslady says to me, “You’ll have to lick or touch my nipples and cunny to get me erect for clamping.”

Staring into her eyes, I order her to ‘say ‘cunt’.’

She laughs and says, “…Anyhow, if you’d rather, you can only touch my ‘cunt’ until my clitty is up and lick my nipples.”

I laugh too, agreeably and Clerk takes off her blouse and bra, exhibits fine medium-tits: Small, red nipples half-erect already. In seconds I lick them erect, she clamps her nipples, lets strap hang, making a round-mouth agonized-face, putting a two-part locking-clamp over and under her tongue, clasping tight.

Low moan leaks out. Device has got a ring on its outside edge, two nipples-straps merging into one strap and thread through the tongue-clamp’s end-ring. The other end of the strap is divided into three, ends in three pussy-and-clitoris clamps after an adjustable-length. This far end isn’t used quite yet…

The panties downed and off: She’s a real blonde but her cunt-hair is not as blonde, almost a light-brown. Lifting her skirt, I touch her clitoris, play with sparse, light-brown bush and her inexperienced-looking pussy until she’s wetly-excited, slippery, I spit on my hand to help, exuding a moist sex-smell.

“Ahhhhhh!” Clerk sighs through her gag! What I appreciate is: That pleasure muted by pain flashes!

I clamp both her pussy-lips and her raised-clitoris with hardware attached to the three-way-split strap-end. “Ugh!” She grunts with pain. I shorten the changeable-strap’s length, pulling all her tongue out to its limit and raising her nipples, clit and pussy-lips, until she reaches her stretch-limit: Bulging gray orbs.

“Orrfff!” She groans, face turning bright-red. I can tell her nipples are all the way out, they white-edge!

I un-clamp everything. Clerk oohs and aahs with returning-circulation pain. I say I’d like to gear myself.

Between flexing tongue and while massaging genitals and nipples, grimacing, Clerk says, “That really hurt, like: …Killer! …Sorry, I can’t ask her to relieve me any longer. She’s really the bookkeeper and doesn’t sell…” Gingerly puts bra, panties [makes round Ooh-mouth] back. “Do you want all this stuff?”

Of course I do. It’s tremendously cruel and thrilling, exactly what I need!

[Dove’s Cable Special, On-Camera Monologue to Audience]

“I want all of you, my special friends, to see my pristine beauty before I’m …er…beaten. I dedicate to you, my audience, my marks, bruises and cuts, which I’ll show you later.” Smiles and blinks prettily.

“I take all this bondage, undergo terrific torture, only for your enjoyment of my pain. You know I hurt: But I can take it and why not? There isn’t a woman in a thousand…—You ask: You’ll find out, right away—who will take a whipping, or be bruised, or make love to another woman, only for you to see and enjoy!”

[Takes off blouse.] “These are what my breast-slopes look like with a bra on, yet this is quite a nice view, more curviness than a guy will usually see. But when I am remove my bra… I wear a 32-C…” [Strips bra.] “…You can see I possess luscious, full, creamy, long-pink-nipple boobs, as men say. I take off my skirt,” [unhooking] “…panties too, important for pussy-torture: I wouldn’t omit this critical, most-painful part.”

[Takes off skirt and after swaying panty-clad neat hips in each direction with smiles, steps out of panties. Leans forward halfway hanging terrific rack into camera, stretches nether-lips from behind with fingers.]

“You can see, I’m spreading from the rear here, a porno-queen gambit hardly ever seen in real-life, but here I am doing it for you folks! …I love you. …Did I mention that? It couldn’t be otherwise!” [Both pink.]

[Assumes dying-cockroach position on back legs up. Hands on knees, parts pussy.] Watch, if you like anal, that’s my rear-hole…Some people think it’s important to show my asshole, darned if I know why.“

[Standing.] “Now I’m going to smack each of my soft tits quite as hard as I can, get ready: ‘Ouch!’ ‘Ouch!’ …That was bad. See, they’re jiggling and pinkened. Next I’ll hit my pussy very hard…’Ouch!’ Let me hit myself again higher, on my clitoral area …‘Owww!’: Very bad, it goes all over me, burning pain.

Next here’s something you probably don’t often see.” [Going onto all-fours, with face lower, near floor,] “I’m scraping my boobs against the floor. Oh! Oh! …Terrible! Now with legs spread, whacking my open pussy into the floor.” “Thump, thump, thump! Owwww!” [Repeated abrupt-lowering spread legs, butt.]

“That was the pits: I hit my clit the last time too! A surging wave of agony [sob] throbbed all the way through me! You’ve seen every bit of me as ‘Before’… Meena, a sadist, will be here to spank me, whip me, use my body as a plaything. When she gets done with me we’ll have another show-and-tell of ’After’. Please give Meena the sadist a hand: She’ll whale out, thrash me like nobody’s business.” [Claps.]

[Audience applause only medium, conflicted, not a little puzzled, whether Meena is unworthy, a villain?]

Meena grabs Dove by the hair and pulls her face close: “Slut! Get over my knee now! I’m going to give you the works tonight!” Throws frowning, frightened Dove aside, a couple of feet, by her blonde hair.

As soon as Meena sits in nearby chair, Dove practically dives over her lap. “You don’t have big tits, do you? You’re rather small, aren’t you?” Holds Dove’s arms together by wrists, lifts them making her shoulders ache, takes a double-flyswatter spanker: Hits Dove on the butt each cheek alternately, next, the crease of her ass: “Swat-swat!” Each one’s a double-hit! Next, the back of her thighs, twice each!

Gripping roughly by the hair again, turns squealing Dove face-up, hitting each boob four times! Hits her pussy several strokes! Screams of “Aieeee!” Spreading them, whales a bunch on inner-thighs. More screams at nearly every thigh stroke: Dove’s only the teensiest-bit plump here, curves very temptingly.

…Stands up, suddenly dumping Dove on the floor! Luckily Meena’s fingers stop her head from banging the floor: Holds her hair, saying, “This blonde hair isn’t all that blonde …And is it even real? Too short for most men to consider you a girl! You want to be a boy, maybe, Slut? It could be arranged with a scissors or two: Poking four stiff fingers horribly hard and fast into both Dove’s boobs and pussy, causes three screams of “Aie!” For first time Dove sharply hurts beyond her usual limit: All three touchy places.

“Meena, you’ve got to…Please stop!” Instead Meena grips Dove’s face with both her hands, pinching.

“No, Dove, you’re a slave, can’t use a safe-word! You are asking for an additional punishment!”…Bends down, attaches tongue-clamp, locking clasp on, threads the strap, cruel clamps pinch Dove’s sensitive nipples, pussy-lips and clitoris. “That’ll take care of all that caterwauling!” Shortens adjustable-strap to yank tits, clitoris, pussy-lips up and tongue, down. Tightened a tiny bit beyond what would be take-able!

Whips crying-Dove unmercifully, but with only a light-flogger purposely hanging directly behind Meena on chair-back: Holds arms up, whips her long legs, back, armpits. Amid stings, feeling terribly-exposed, Dove hides face-tits-pussy-ass, rolls in a ball. Bit better: The strain on her tongue, nipples, clitoris and pussy-lips is lessened…Whipping goes on and on...Stinging Dove finds pleasure-filled pain in each shot!

Meena exits. Dove stands, sighs, carefully undoes her clamped clitoris, pussy-lips, nipples and tongue. “I really hurt when these clamp-grips are backed out, only a minute’s pain drags out for seeming hours!”

“Folks, that was Meena, please give her a big hand.” [Weeping eyes.] “I’m not sure: …I don’t think she’s actually so bad?” [Again a querulous smattering of clapping and a few boos fill the auditorium.] Dove laughs a little: “Oh, c’mon, guys, you can do better than that. Really she’s O.K., or she wouldn’t be here on my show.” [Renewed slightly-improved applause] “I guess that’s going to have to do.” [Chuckling.]

Dove shows her butt is bright-red. Her asshole and pussy look angry and purplish, while her tits are reddish-purple and her pink nipples swollen to twice their original size. “I can’t put my bra back on, yet my blouse will fit and my panties sting me a lot but they’re going on: I add my skirt. Meena didn’t hurt my feet, luckily…but let’s not tell her. Ribs are sore, now that the pull on my chest muscles relaxed. My sex is throbbing hotly with those pussy clips released, too. It isn’t easy to take this rigorous punishment.

I wish she wouldn’t call me ‘Slut.’ I don’t like that word at all: I’m not, you know, especially for a porno-queen. I have a boyfriend and I stick with him.” [Looks to producer’s pointing to opposite wings. Turns head brusquely to other direction.] “What? Meena is coming back? But I’m done here, I thought…” [Manages a look of fright, retreating as Meena reappears, walking casually out onto the stage, to hisses.]

“Get that blouse off now, or I’ll rip it: ‘Have a boyfriend and you’re true to him?’ We’ll see about that…” [Boos from audience, as Dove unbuttons slowly. Suddenly Meena spins her around, rips blouse off. “Little-Tits, get on your knees, eat my pussy! Now!” Sits in chair, undoes her own top-blouse-bra, releases huge 34DDs, doffs panties, flips up skirt, spreads legs. Pushes halfway-down-on-one-knee Dove to floor. She isn’t kneeling fast-enough for Meena. “Go on eat me Slut you know how to pussy-chomp.”

Moves forward on chair, leans back, rotates hips a bit on Dove’s face. “More tongue action, Slave-Dove, get moving in there, I hardly feel you, Slutty, Roundheels, Pain-Slut. …Argghh! I hope that boyfriend of yours sees this!” [Kicks both feet lightly on Dove’s shoulders, knocking her over on back. Gets up, tears Dove’s blouse in two, drops it on the floor, steps on halves saying, “Explain that to him!” Exits laughing.]

Dove gets up and smiles at booing-Meena audience. Tries to put the dirty, ripped-halves of blouse on each arm, buttoning the front. Torn in back. “It’s all right, all part of my show folks. Don’t get riled at her. I’m a submissive and I have to be beaten every day, subjugated completely, usually to a man’s will: Meena is even worse because I don’t go for girls. She’s a walking depression! Except my tongue, ripped a little bit from the ratchets on that clamp, I don’t think I’m bleeding anywhere…” [Sticks out her tongue which bears small bloody scratches.] “This is actually a happy ending.” [Looks to wings for timekeeper.]

“So if it’s that time? …The producer says I have a minute or so left. There’s time for me to say: …I was hurt a lot by the spanker, especially my tits, they burned, each hit: Meena battered my pussy.—At each stroke my eyes ran red—until I saw stars! And the clamping and stretching…you saw my tongue, what’s left of it…Try to imagine your most sensitive places stretched-out while you’re whipped outrageously all over, the pain’s incredible! …Of course I’m unusual in that even remembering the bad hurts, warms me.

I dedicate my hurting—It was largely ‘psychological’, tonight?—To you, my wonderful people.’ Takes off ruined blouse, holding up her curvy but obviously-brutalized, swollen, injured titties, pointing-outward to audience, her hugely-purpled nipples. ‘I’m half-erect already only thinking about my remembered tit-tortures! Blood rushes-heart pumps, I’m actually having the best of times. Not quite peaking…’ Stands on tip-toe and raises face with expectant-look. ‘No, that didn’t reach my orgasm but you can’t win them all?’ Laughs. Dove’s breasts: Meaty, heavy, almost D-cups, misshapen but nearly-perfectly pear-shaped.

Undoes skirt and points out whip-spank marks on perfectly-shaped thighs, removes panties slowly with mouth roundly-open as though gaspingly-sore, spreads herself, holding her pussy wide-open from the rear: Bright-red inside Dove’s pussy and her pussy-lips, both sets, are most swollen and not much less-red. Lies on her back, whipped-marked legs raised, Dove again shows the cameras her asshole, similarly a hole angry-red from abuse, visible marks all over her tight, white rear end. Rises to standing. Waves.

“Love you all! Good Night! I’ll miss you. Until next time, I offer my outrageous, but normal to me, pain-filled world to you!” Purses lips, blows kisses, with slight boobs-jouncing, bottom-thighs wiggle, exits.

[The Next Morning at Meena’s]

‘Schoolgirl Murdered’ shouts the news, showing a picture of a long dark-haired, fair-faced girl about seventeen, with hinted-at-but-hidden good figure, nice-looking, in a gray school uniform.

Thinks, ‘I saw her last night with Dove in the liquor store.’

“Ernestine Garofalo” is her name, the TV says.

Recalls her saying that, agrees with the TV screen’s reader, ‘Yes, but she isn’t a schoolgirl, only an early- twenties, young-looking wife, who has a husband into pretending she’s a uniform-wearing youngster!’

I remember I told Dove that, ‘With fish, she needs white, not red, wine.’

We went in the store, Dove introduced me to this girl while buying something called Asti Spumante which she said is ‘Italian Champagne’. I said that wasn’t what I meant, but Dove bought it anyway.

We met this Ernestine. After, I’d gone to Dove’s. I recall only that, of last night: More blacking-out?

I phone Dove and she says I was at her place only a little while. Afterwards, they don’t know where I went. Home?

I said that was it. ‘Remember to cover me if it’s necessary: I was at your place an hour. Make sure Nagin knows so, too.’

Hung up. Looked at my clothes: Blood on them in a few places…I have to get rid of them…I don’t understand but I might have killed that girl! Rack my brain trying to recall…?

I take off my pajamas which have brownish-red smears. Well, no wonder, my hands are covered with stains like dried blood. While I’m washing in my undies, my pale, new, gigantic breasts bobble. I hope they aren’t the cause of this! I throw my pajamas in the pile, doff my silk panties, my pink 34DD-bra and everything else I had on yesterday, even my patent-leather pumps. After drying, my jolly-but-sad tits swaying in the mirror, I sob some to think that my new, huge beauties may be connected to the tragedy:

Without dressing at all, not much thinking about it either, I take the blood-speckled pile out to the hall.

I look each way, go across the hall to the incinerator and toss in it, all that fits. Close the door. My pajamas and the shoes go in with my second batch: Someone’s coming out a door, I close and re-open the incinerator fast: It’s all gone. I’m naked! Back into my door quickly, slowing to close it noiselessly.

Stand momentarily back to door, my butt feels cold. Phone is ringing and it’s Dove: The police were to see her and she gave me an alibi but I should say I was with her an hour and went home. I thank them.

Dove says cops didn’t say but ‘Ernie,’ as she calls the victim, may have written down Dove’s name because she gave her phone number. Perhaps my name’s noted. I turn on the TV. It’s said the murder happened around midnight. I’m cutting it awful close if they’re telling it straight but according to my and Dove’s story, I think I’m O.K.. I’m beginning to feel cold naked. Look around for a casual cover-up.

In reality, if I went to Ernestine’s after leaving Dove’s, I could have done the murder. I look at my vial of yellow pills, “To be taken in case of necessity for pain, one or two every six hours. No alcohol within six hours.” I think it was half-full and now there are only five left. Some long word and ‘morphine’: It says thirty were in there. I take one and flush the rest. Did I take the pill last night and did I drink? I don’t know… They don’t say how Ernie was killed but there’s enough blood for a stabbing…I don’t know guns. I’m not strong enough to strangle someone, not that I would of course. I’ve chopped up a veggie or two.

My mind, I must take charge of it. Naked, I get out the clothes I wore two days ago. Sniff: They’re all right, not smelly. I put on my white-lace bra, clip it. Looks great! I am a good-looking sexy chick. More phoning. I sit: Feels strange in chair half-nude. Mail for me at the studio. A Secretary at our studio says it’s all ‘hate-mail’ from my Cable appearance. There’s a whole bag. ‘Open it, if it’s all rotten, toss it out!’

“What, all of it?”

‘Save any power-company or business, use your head,’ I tell her. ‘What about our ratings?’

“Oh, sky-high,” she says, “There’s another whole bag of love-letters for Dove. Good, nice, sympathetic writing that in-passing curses you for a devil.” [Chortling heard, from this dopey secretary’s end.]

‘That’s all right, as long as the show reached the cut-off for Cable ratings; I think we had to have seventy-percent for our bonus-payment.’

“You had a seventy-five rating.” Well, ‘Thank you.’ Hang up phone. I would be paid the whole amount for my parts as sadist and dominant sex-partner. A small fortune: I’m going to need it to pay Dr. Halpern, perhaps a defense lawyer. I don’t suppose the amnesia will fly. I made a solid enemy-public out there!

Someone’s at my door. The cops. No lawyer? Yet? See what they say first? Wrapping in all-at-once-grasped-at robe, my belly’s recoiling, bouncing, feeling a draft between pants-less legs unnaturally-exposed, I let in: Two plainclothes-cops with the younger, silent one looking around and the older one talking, asking me things. Lt. ‘Something’ and Detective ‘Other:’ I tell them to sit, ask them back, ‘What is it?’ They want to know my moves last night. I repeat my ‘At-Dove’s’—story, ask again what happened.

Lieutenant asks, “You know an ‘Ernestine Garofalo’?” [Reads from a notebook.] I nod. “We need your movements an hour or two after you left her last night…You might’ve been last ones to see her alive.”

I can’t act shocked so I nod again, amend his sentence quietly… “Other than her killer,” I say. Their faces look agreeable, but these coppers don’t really agree: That I might not be the killer. They want to see my clothes from last night: I show my two-days-ago outfit: They look at it, say they have to take it away to be tested. I ask if it’ll be messed up irrevocably. They say I’ll be reimbursed if that happens and I’m not the perpetrator. I give them the outfit but not my shoes. I want to wear them I say. Younger cop writes a receipt for my clothes, detailed-lists each item, flops each on my couch, tears paper off, gives it.

They say they might ask for my shoes later. I say if that’s all right…to keep them for now?

‘We are trusting you not to wash or polish them.’

I tell them I won’t but add: ‘They are designer-shoes worth about eighty dollars. You can’t wash these.’

The younger guy takes out a magnifying glass and says, ‘It’s mostly I never saw eighty-dollar shoes before.’…But Detective ‘Other’ is looking at the soles, heels and the bottoms, not the uppers which I’d say, cost this value, since they’re imported, smooth, shiny, bright-green …and an electric-green at that!

I feel strange and want to be violent. Wrest those shoes away, hit them both over their heads with the shoes and run! They probably have guns. I wouldn’t get far. And I’d be in jail. …Dumb move. Where the hell do those violent thoughts come from? I try offering coffee and start putting it on, explain I’m only-now getting going. Press my cold bare-under-robe sex against the oven-door, but it isn’t hot, so it’s like a placebo? I turn and ‘warm’ my butt a bit in the same way though, pretending it’s to face them.

‘It’s eight-thirty and we’ve been up for hours,’ says the older, friendlier cop.

“I’m an actress and in show business, this is fairly early.” They are apologetic, turn down my coffee-offer and taking my clothes, but not my green shoes, they turn to the door. The older guy turns back.

Lt. O’Hanrahan [it says here] gives me his card as they leave. ‘In case I think of anything I can add.’ They’ll be in touch, says the younger cop, Detective ‘Other.’ I think his name ends with ‘—ski?’ Exeunt.

I shut and lock it. Sit, letting out a long sigh. What if I hadn’t talked to Dove and what if I didn’t burn the clothes? Not to mention, what if I’d clunked cops and run…? I know where that scenario ends. I ‘m thinking now about the lawyer. It’d raise their suspicions more, if I hired one now, but it doesn’t hurt to look: In the phone book under ‘Lawyers-Criminal’, I see a big ad, a half-page for ‘Lincoln:’

Get his girl, who says I shouldn’t have talked to the cops.

If it’s murder, Mr. Lincoln wants a thousand, before you can even talk to him and say you retain him.

‘I’ll send it over but I don’t know I’ll need him.’

“Better safe than sorry.” Says this urban-accented chick: The nerve.

[More Phone Ringing, from Doctor Halpern]

Dr. Halpern: “Meena, you’d better come in at once, not next week and expect to be here half the day!”

‘O.K., but what’s wrong? It sounds urgent and it isn’t like I don’t have anything else to do? That’s why I had surgery—to work more, and if this keeps up, I’ll be only working about the same amount as before?’

Doctor: “Come, that’s all…It’s very important even though it’s only a minor re-do, that needs done…”

[At Doctor’s Office]

Halpern: “If you could stay two to four hours,” [injects arm] “I could have your breasts off and back in…”

Meena: [Naked in a green smock that doesn’t start to cover her] ‘…Was it ‘Mad-cow’—udder you used?’

Dr. Halpern pushes her shoulder to lying-position on table. Says, “We don’t know everything but it was British, and you will be a pure-Wisconsin with this fix… To be all safe. How have you been feeling?”

Meena says, ‘I got to admit that even for me, I’ve been weird: Black-outs, strange lapses of common sense… Uh-oh, feel pretty woozy right now…’

Blackness, a shroud falls around, as Dr. Halpern readies his shiny, silvery, surgical instruments on a table.

[Soft-Focus Flashback While Under the Knife at Doctor’s]

Ernie, as schoolgirl, takes off gray uniform jacket and starchy off-white shirt, displaying banded-down boobs: ‘I think he’s passed out: He was, even when I left to get him more booze. George is in a bad way.” Feet, shod, stick out over the end of a couch. Ernie and Meena take off George’s shoes. “Mph!”

Meena sticks out a foot. Pushes Ernie over her leg. Ernie hits her head, isn’t completely unconscious, moaning: “All girls got ’em. I’ve got the big ones. Not so big as yours, at least they’re all mine!...” Ernie whimpers, her brunette head turning back and forth on the floor. Waves hands about ineffectually.

Meena reaches for a paring-knife and cuts snapping-halter-band. Very-fair breasts are biggish with the large, pinkish-red nipples that inspire poetry! Meena is mad Ernie has C-cup boobs, doesn’t flaunt them. Cuts nipples, boobs, with enough dripping blood that she drags woozy Ernie, slightly-protesting, into her tub. “No! You don’t have to kill me!” Cracking her head more on tub Ernie mercifully falls unconscious.

Meean starts shower running on bloody Ernie-body, sticks her own face, giant boobs, under, soaping, splashing off blood, tissue, stepping out and toweling: Soft-focus jells. Realizes sequence happened!

She’s re-living it in a dream? Feels nauseated at thought, but doesn’t vomit because Doctor gave her a pre-operation, anti-regurgitation injection. ‘I ate parts of that poor girl, or wore parts of her, or both?’

[End Flashback Dream-Sequence]

[At Lawyer Lincoln’s]

Lawyer: “Thanks for the money, that’ll hold me for now, show the police this.” [Gives his card.]

“…And call me the next time the cops show up, you’ll probably be court-order searched. I’ll be over and make sure the cops only do what’s allowed by the judge on their court-order. You touch anything?

O.K., get rid of all that bedding.

…No, the pillowcase and the sheets will be enough: Unless you see the bloodstains have leaked through onto the bed.”

“Here’s a new phone. It’ll go on your bill. Yes, you’ll have to throw yours out. See you next time. Send another two thousand when you can: Covers your search and arrest, up to and including bail, but not any trial…That would be fifty-thousand more.

…No, possibly not, if you and Dove stick to your stories. Better to be on the safe side. Goodbye.”

Shakes hands. Gets up off his perch on the arm of a chair, goes into his inner office.

Meena shrugs at the girl, sadly gathering stuff to leave: Her mammoth jugs complain, being a bit sore.

The hard, fortyish Receptionist asks, “Ms. Meena, when can we expect your balance of two thousand?”