The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Night of The Fist.

by Vanderbilt.

Kris watched the dancer work the platform in the middle of the club floor, sliding and twisting in time to the rapid beat of the new song. She smiled, her hips joining in sympathy with the dancer’s moves, shifting to the infectious rhythm. Sylvia LaSilvas’s throaty vocals pumped through the club.

“Pumping faster, running harder, glistening, shimmering, my sweat is drowning me . . .”

She tingled at the feel of slick skin pressed against her back, soft breasts with hard nipples cushioning between her shoulder blades. Lips brushing against her ear, hot breath on her neck.

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

Kris ground back, enjoying herself despite everything. She slid her hands down her sides, teasing between the tops of her thighs and then bringing them up, fingers wide, over her pink net tee to under her pert breasts. She knew the other girl could see the peaks of her nipples through the lace of her black bra. A lot of girls could.

“OMEGA GIRL!”

“HA! HA! YOU’RE GORGEOUS! WANT TO GET A DRINK?”

Kris reached her arms back behind her head, arching her neck back slightly, against her dance partner’s shoulder. She slid her blue eyes left to glance at the woman who now had her hands placed on her swaying waist. She liked what she saw. The girl had cropped blonde hair, full red lips, cheekbones to die for and the fully dilated black pupils of an Oh high.

Kris pulled a face.

“DRINKS ARE BORING! I WANT SOMETHING FUN!”

She eased up the sway a little, a fractional distance forming suddenly between the couple. A message sent from one body directly to the other.

If you want more of this thing, you need to do better than that.

The blonde got the message loud and clear. She leaned in, lips pressing against Kris’ ear, whispering so close that Kris could feel her tongue strokes. They made her pussy ignite.

“I know where we can get Oh.”

Kris grinned and pulled the girl in for a kiss. She allowed herself to be turned and held, the blonde’s hand in her mass of curly dark hair, pulling her chin back as she sucked on her new lover’s tongue. No reason she couldn’t enjoy this. No reason at all.

When they broke, both out of air, a slow song came on. The dancer on the platform moved her pelvis with exquisite languor, every move an invitation to a night of slow, molten lovemaking. Again, Kris found her hips moving in sympathy. She had her arms around the blonde’s neck.

I should move this along. The blonde’s thigh rose between her legs, her hands on Kris’s ass. But this feels so damn good.

“You want to go now?” said the blonde. Their foreheads pressed against each other, sweat mingling.

“No,” said Kris. “After this song.”

The blonde smiled and moved in for another kiss. They danced, heat building between them with each moment. Kris could feel her arousal soaking through her cotton panties. The song ended too soon.

“C’MON!” said the blonde, taking confident possession of Kris’ hand. She guided a path through the sweaty crowd, which now thumped along to the beat of the latest techno-atrocity. Kris let herself be lead. She’d learned that things could be so much easier that way.

The blonde had her head down, using her lead shoulder to fight her way through the crowd mixing between the dance floor and the long bar.

Kris used her free hand to press the silver stud clipped on the back of her right ear.

“Raven. Possible contact. Do you have me Stalker?”

An eerily disembodied voice entered her ear, the sono-tech of the transmitter easily besting the noise of the club.

“Stalker. Copy Raven. I have you.”

Kris felt a warm glow, both related and unrelated to the heat currently between her thighs. She let her blonde “friend” pull her through a door marked “Staff Only.”

* * *

The music from the club made the red brick walls vibrate as the blonde lead Kris down a short flight of stairs. On the stair well, a faded concert poster for Symphonic Nebula showed four girls posing provocatively with their instruments against a spiral of stars. The air smelt of sex. At the bottom of the stairs, they had to step over a girl in a shiny black latex top, her legs splayed to show her red lace panties beneath her micro-skirt. The girl’s hands stroked her body absently, drifting across her stomach and the tops of her thighs. Her wide black pupils stared into space.

“That’s Cindy,” whispered the blonde. “Her girlfriend must have ditched her again. She always get’s fucked up on Oh.”

“And you don’t?” said Kris. They stopped, a line of girls stood in a cramped corridor outside what looked like a storage room door. Bubbles of red paint knotted the surface of the door. It swung open and a couple of girls hastened in, while two more left, arms clasped around each other for support. The music from the club boomed through the ceiling.

We must be right under the dance floor, thought Kris. She could virtually taste the hunger of the girls on her tongue. They vibrated with need, standing submissively with hands by their sides, waiting for the door to admit them. Nobody else other than Kris and her blonde seemed to feel like speaking.

“No, I don’t take pills, I just inhale a quick hit. Best way,” said the blonde.

True, the blonde appeared positively relaxed by comparison to the other girls—still clearly riding her own high, but not out of it like Cindy at the bottom of the stairs. “You take too much, you end up like Cindy, and you end up doing whatever somebody wants you to do and liking it.”

Kris shivered. “Some girls like that.”

“Yeah,” nodded the blonde, a note of interest in her voice. “They do.”

Kris licked her lips. Despite herself, she could feel a wicked finger trace down her spine and tease between her legs. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t worry I’ll take good care of you,” said the blonde. She slipped her arm protectively around Kris’ waist. Kris felt oddly grateful for that, despite the irony.

The line moved briskly, two girls in, two girls out. Girls in, bright eyed with desire. Girls out, heavy lidded with satisfaction, eyes big and black.

Kris breathed, “Us next.”

“Yup,” said her blonde.

Kris realized she’d stopped speaking. She stood in line just like the other girls, waiting for her chance to enter the room.

All going to plan. Keep it together.

The door opened. A sloppy brunette supported by her redheaded girlfriend staggered out.

From behind the door, a perfectly manicured hand with black painted fingernails emerged and waved them inside.

* * *

Grey metal beer barrels shone dully around the back of the store room, lining up from floor to ceiling. A small black business case lay closed on top of a small wooden desk in the middle of the room. Kris heard the door click behind them, the noise of the club taking on a weird submerged echo in the confined space.

“Alison, where’s Cindy?” said a low voice from behind them. They turned to see a tall, pale woman in an immaculately tailored suit standing to one side of the door; her jet black lips turned down. Kris felt a little electric shiver deep between her thighs.

The blonde scratched the back of her neck, “Um, I, uh, lost her in the club, Messalina. This is Kris, she’s a newb who wanted to, uh, . . . .”

A penny dropped in Kris’ mind, “Wait, ‘Cindy’!? That’s your girlfriend on the stairs!?” She hadn’t been intending to take things any further with the blonde, but, still, she felt a sudden deflation.

“Uh, I can explain,” said the blonde. “Look, it’s . . . .”

“Out,” said Messalina. “I expect you girls to take care of each other.”

The blonde didn’t argue, wordlessly departing through the re-opened door.

“You too,” said Messalina. She flicked her wrist at the door. “If you find a partner you can come back.”

Okay, let’s make this convincing, thought Kris. She straightened, her shoulders losing their slouch. She sat back on the edge of the desk and tapped the top of the black suitcase.

She smiled at Messalina. “This where you keep the Oh?”

Messalina’s eyes narrowed, they had long delicate lashes that made butterflies lift off inside Kris’ stomach. “I’m going to count down from three to one. I expect you to have left this room by the time I reach two, or you’ll be spending the night in River City County’s emergency ward.”

“Then you would miss out on a very lucrative distribution deal.” Kris folded her arms. “I represent an established distribution network in River City. We’d be very interested in a mutually beneficial working arrangement.”

The door clicked shut. Kris collapsed, she didn’t see the woman move, instead, her legs disappeared from underneath her, a hand caught her hair before her head hit the floor and whipped her neck back, a knee drilling into her spine.

“You think you can just walk in here with some foolish slut you’ve picked up and then start negotiating with me?” Messalina’s voice didn’t rise above a whisper.

“EE-AHH! NO!” Kris could feel her vertebrae separating.

Oh shit! Stalker! Stay in place!

She gasped, “IT’S FOR REAL!”

The pressure on her spine disappeared and she flopped on the cool concrete, groping for breath.

“What’s your street name?” said Messalina.

“Raven. Huh-huh. Omigod,” said Kris, rolling onto her back. It hurt like hell. “Uh, uh, I can give you references.” Her vision blurred with tears.

“No, I will make my own enquiries. If I consider there is reason to be interested I will contact you.”

Messalina opened the door again. “Now, I will not repeat myself. . . . Three. . . . .”

Kris made it out of the door before the count of two, scrambling out half on all fours. Her back screamed bloody murder at her.

A couple of girls gaped, “What happened!?”

“Don’t hang around if she asks you to leave,” said Kris. She pulled herself up by the wall, one hand on her throbbing lower back. “Where’s the way out of here?”

The girls gestured back towards the stairs.

Damn, I really need a hot bath for about the next six hours. And possibly a chiropractor. She saw no sign of her blonde or the unfortunate Cindy, for which she felt thankful.

It had started to rain in the dark street when she got outside, but she made it across to the subway station without mishap. She paused at the top of the subway stairs, not enjoying the thought of bumping her way down given the likely damage to her spine.

“I nearly killed her,” said Stalker. She stepped out of nothingness and slipped an arm under Kris’ shoulders. “One second longer and I’d . . . .”

“You did the right thing, ah! slowly!, we’re in, if my cover holds.” Kris enjoyed the feel of Stalker’s big soft breasts pressing against her, resisted the familiar temptation to nuzzle into her curvy partner’s platinum blonde bob.

“It’ll hold, you’re very good at it,” said Stalker. She wore an all-leather combat uniform, pistols strapped to either hip, a shotgun holstered on her back. Kris had never seen Stalker actually shoot anyone, but she also didn’t doubt that her friend would do it if it had to be done.

“Thanks, Jane,” said Kris. She felt her partner stiffen. Such a professional stickler, she obsessed about the details, even the grammar on their official reports.

“No first names on duty,” hissed Stalker. She didn’t sound terribly upset though, her voice betraying a concern that made Kris warm. They reached the bottom of the steps. “People on the platform.”

A young couple necked at the far end of the platform, far too absorbed in each other to notice anything else. Stalker disappeared, stepping into some fold in reality that only her eyes could see.

I’ll never get used to that, thought Kris. She hobbled down the platform and crumpled onto a bench. She closed her eyes and waited for the sound of the train.

* * *

The call came two weeks later. Midnight. A small cafe with an oriental theme in the harbor district. Come alone. Do not be late. The call didn’t last long enough to be traced.

Kris wore a tight little black number with her best silk thong underneath and a pair of lacey black thigh-highs from Lily’s House of Socks seasonal sale. She opted not to mentally examine why she did that. She paused outside the cafe, it had a white canopy decorated with pink blossoms hanging over the entrance.

She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her right ear, engaging the ostensibly decorative earclip on top of her ear.

“Raven. Stalker, are you with me?”

“Stalker. Yes, Raven, I have you covered.”

Kris inhaled and then pushed through the cafe’s small black door. A subtle smell of incense hung in the air inside, the sound of a guzheng being plucked came from speakers set high up on the walls. The cafe had only one guest. Messalina sat at a table in the middle of the room, looking perfectly pressed in a blue business suit, her dark eyes taking in Kris’ tight dress in one sweep. Her lips twitched.

“Sit down, Kris.” She gestured to a chair on the other side of her table.

Kris didn’t bother remarking on the fact that Messalina knew her real name. Of course she did. And if the cover identity really held up Messalina also knew that Kris represented a major drug consortium on the South Side with points of distribution in multiple clubs and bars.

Kris sat. She smiled and Messalina smiled back. She felt that same electric tingle between her legs that she had before.

“I appreciate your dress, Kris, it’s so much more pleasant to do business with a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you.” Kris’ hand brushed back another strand of hair, this time an imaginary one behind her ear. She could feel her cheeks blushing. Get it together. You need to be convincing. Not like you have a schoolgirl crush.

“Unfortunately,” said Messalina. “It appears you’re a deep undercover agent for River City PD.”

Kris didn’t see where the gun came from, it just seemed to be there suddenly in Messalina’s hand. The barrel looked very big and black.

Oh shit! Not the plan!

“What!? No!? I!? Who told you that!?” She held her hands up. “Don’t shoot!” She wondered whether Stalker would simply resolve the matter with a bullet of her own at any moment.

The earpiece pinged in her ear. “Stalker. Raven I have this bitch cold. Just say please.”

Messalina continued, oblivious. “My organization may be new in this city, but we have substantial resources. Our analysis suggests a statistically significant connection between you and a number of arrests in this city’s organized criminal networks.”

Kris swallowed. “Okay, well, um, there are lies, damned lies and then statistics, right? You can’t seriously have brought me here just to put a bullet in me.” Messalina kept staring. “Can I lower my hands onto the table? I can? Okay. Look, I don’t know what fancy computer programs you’re running, but getting arrested is kind of a cost of business, right? And in this city we have Omega Girl, Luminaire, Echo, and a bunch of other suits flying around, okay? So, maybe you ought to go re-do your math because . . . .”

Messalina held her free hand up, palm out. “If I only trusted in the numbers I would have had you terminated earlier, but I have other methods I prefer to employ.”

Kris let her breath out. “Good, I’m so glad. Uh, those methods don’t involve bamboo and fingernails do they?” Oh, I so hope I really am joking. Please let me be joking. Or I’m going to say please.

“No,” smiled Messalina. She placed her gun down on the table surface and brought out a small red candle. She lit it in the center of the table. “Look into the flame, Kris. I want you to let me hypnotize you.”

Kris licked her dry lips. “I guess this is an offer I can’t refuse, huh?”

“Not at all.”

She looked into the flame. The wicked tingle started to throb again between her thighs.

Messalina’s low voice slid into her mind. “Let your body relax, Kris, this is a very easy process, very easy indeed. Relax your hands, relax your shoulders. Watch the flame dance.”

She felt the tension flee from her body, replaced by warm wet heat that flowed out from deep in her core. The bright center of the flame danced, the yellow heart of the flame growing as if alive. The candle seemed to carry a sweet, sticky smell that filled her nostrils.

Her earpiece pinged. “Stalker. Raven, do not get sucked down into this. It’s a trap.”

Messalina purred, “You’re feeling so relaxed now, aren’t you, Kris?”

“Yes.” She really did. She felt so relaxed and comfortable. The light of the flame didn’t even hurt her eyes no matter how brightly the figures she could see inside it shone.

“What can you see in the flame?” said Messalina.

Her jaw worked slowly, she almost resented the effort. “People . . . people dancing . . . .”

“Good, who are they?”

She squinted, “They’re . . . girls . . . girls all dancing together.” She could see them quite clearly now. Curvy girls, slim girls, tall girls, short girls, each beautiful in their own way, circling in the flame. Each dancer moved in time with the others, reaching and lowering their arms in perfect synchronicity.

“That’s so good. Are they happy?”

“Yes.” Kris didn’t even feel her mouth moving, but she heard herself responding. There didn’t seem to be any conscious difference anymore between her voice and her thoughts. “So happy.” The girls looked ecstatic, lost in their repetitive motions as they moved like marionettes around the table.

“Look carefully. Can you see yourself?”

Something pinged in Kris’ ear, a discordant noise breaking through her trance. She frowned. “I . . . .”

“Shhh. Just watch.”

Again, the ping in her ear. Sharper now. More urgent.

“Can you see yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Tell me did you come alone here tonight?”

Kris saw herself dancing around the table. She and the other dancers bowed low as they swept around Messalina. Her thighs felt slick with the juice of her arousal as she moved. Her nipples diamond hard with lust. She stroked her fellow dancer’s limbs, each touch giving her a little tremor of pleasure. She heard the hiss of Stalker’s frantic voice in her ear. She bit her lip.

“Yes. I did. I came alone.”

“Good,” said Messalina. “Now let’s turn to some other questions . . . .”

Her mind drifted. A voice asked her questions. She danced.

The candle went out. Kris saw Messalina withdrawing her fingers from the wick. She could feel tears of sweat dripping into her eyes, her breath coming in shallow rasps. What did I just do? Run a sprint test? She wiped her fingers across her forehead. How long did she keep me under?

Messalina crossed her elegant fingers together under her chin and lowered her eyelashes. “So, Kris,” she said. “You appear to be who you say you are.”

She nodded, a wave of relief washing through her tired body. “Yeah, glad you found that out. That was . . . .”

Messalina grinned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

Kris laughed, her cheeks burned. “Sexy, really sexy.”

“Good, then before we discuss any further business I have another offer I hope you won’t refuse.”

“What?”

“Let’s go back to my place and fuck.”

Her earpiece pinged. “Stalker. Raven, sexual relations with a known criminal is a disciplinary code breach.”

Kris made a show of considering and then tossed her hair back. “Well, Messalina, I wasn’t expecting that, but . . . sometimes you have to go with the flow.” She took the hand being offered. “Please, lead on.”

She ignored the irate ping in her ear. All going according to plan, Stalker, even if it isn’t your plan.

* * *

Messalina’s apartment turned out to be a penthouse overlooking Kistulot Park in Midtown. High glass windows on three sides on the lower floor let the occupants see the horse buggies threading beneath the street lights in the sculpted landscape of trees and lakes far below.

”Nice. Really nice,” said Kris, meaning it.

“Stalker. Raven, good work. This is some serious Intel,” hissed the voice in her ear. Kris smothered a smirk.

Messalina came from behind the open bar on the other side of the room, a wine glass in either hand. “I told you my organization had substantial resources.” She’d shrugged off her coat. Kris could see the stiff points of her nipples through her white silk shirt. She took the proffered glass, it felt chill.

“Thank you,” said Kris. “Cheers.” They clinked and took a sip, watching each other over the lips of the glass.

“I like you much better like this, instead of trying to be some club kid.” Messalina brought her hand up to stroke Kris’s neck; she pulled her forward and brushed her lips. Kris opened her mouth, but Messalina teased back. “I still want to see you dance for me.”

She walked over to a low white leather couch and sat down, leaving Kris by the windows. She sat, picking up a glossy remote, and pointed at a pair of candle holders on either side of the room. Flames flickered on. The sweet sticky smell licked over Kris, making her pussy drip.

“Good trick,” said Kris, she took a sip of her wine. It tasted wonderfully chill on her tongue, the coldness melting in the heat building inside her. Music started playing, a soft voice singing high melodic words in Chinese echoed against the window behind her. She shifted her hips. Bit her lip. “Okay.”

Messalina sat back on the couch, her dark eyes drinking in Kris’s body as she placed her glass on the pine floor, then rose, bringing her hands behind her head.

Her earpiece pinged. “Stalker. Raven, what the hell are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Oh shit! Did I just say that out loud?

“Isn’t what obvious?” smiled Messalina.

Kris ran her hands down her sides, swaying as she glided across the dragon rug towards the couch. She could remember the dance now. Moving in time with the other girls. Repetitively. Deliberately. Submissively. It made her so hot.

“I’ll show you.” She got down on her knees in front of Messalina. Pushed Messalina’s knees apart.

Ping! “Stalker. Raven! This is going in my report!”

Messalina kicked off her heels and lifted her hips. She had black lace panties on that let Kris see the straight line of her shaved bush through a wicked front panel.

Kris’s stomach hollowed. Her mouth tasted copper with desire. The musk of sex filled her head. “I need you,” she breathed leaning in on hands and knees.

Messalina’s hand stopped her. “Wait. I have something to make it even better.” She pushed gently on Kris’s forehead, making her sit back on her heels.

She reached behind the couch and brought out a small wooden rectangular box, setting it down on the couch beside her. She snapped the lid open. “This is what it’s all about.” Her right hand came out of the box holding a syringe, her left hand held a small vial. She pierced the syringe through the silvery top of the vial, drawing a clear liquid into the syringe. “Orbweaver drug. 100% pure. Uncut. Oh. You’ll never have anything better.”

Kris tried to think, but her mouth hung open staring at the syringe. She heard a voice from what seemed a long time in the past in her head...

“You take too much, you end up like Cindy, and you end up doing whatever somebody wants you to do and liking it.”

“Some girls like that.”

“Yeah. They do.”

“Hold out your arm,” said Messalina.

Ping! “No! I mean, Stalker. Raven! No!”

Kris was looking at her arm rising as if she was in a dream. She couldn’t stop it. Obeying Messalina seemed like the most natural thing in the world already. Messalina was taking her arm under the elbow, looking for the upturned vein. Messalina’s finger flicked the vein on her arm, the syringe delicately held in the cup of her hand. A half-drop was hanging at the tip of the needle. She gazed as the needle was lowered to her skin. She was limp and molten. She was wet. Kris closed her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered.

The smack of a leather boot meeting a skull wrenched Kris’s eyes back open. She saw the figure in black leather whirring past her over the couch, saw Messalina flipping off her back, spinning over her head, landing by the window. Stalker came on, arms raised, palms open. One long, exquisite leg lashed and took Stalker in the stomach, knocking her onto the rug. It caught in her legs as she scrambled up. Messalina seemed to hang over her in the air somehow, her hands scything at Stalker’s neck.

And Stalker disappeared.

Messalina thumped off the floor hard, but bounced back onto the balls of her feet in a moment. She froze as she felt the cold metal against her head.

“Move a hair, bitch and I will end you.” Stalker gasped. “You’re under arrest for drug trafficking, narcotics possession, organized racketeering and I bet there is a bunch of other stuff we’ll work out once we’re done.”

Kris staggered onto her feet. She saw the syringe lying on the couch where it must have fallen.

“Raven, I need you to cuff her ankles and wrists. She has some serious ninja shit going on.” Stalker exhaled. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to put it all in the report now that I broke cover. Stay still, bitch. . . . Raven? You ok?”

“I’m fine, Jane,” said Kris. She walked up behind Stalker and plunged the syringe into her partner’s neck. “Everything is going according to plan.”

* * *

Kris’s pussy dripped as she watched Jane aka Stalker riding the vibrating saddle on the floor. Her ankles had been tied together across the back of it, so that she could only undulate her hips in time with the stiff vibrator moving inside her wet cunt. The liquid sounds of Jane’s thighs clenching and unclenching mingled with her soft sobs.

“Oh. . . . Oh . . . . Oh. . . .Oh. . . .”

Kris licked two fingers and then brought them down between her thighs. She knelt naked on the rug waiting to obey her Mistress’s next order.

“You executed the plan most excellently Kris-chan. She truly never suspected you had already become my slave,” said Messalina. Also naked now, except for a pair of high heeled black boots, but otherwise so very much more in control than either of the two women writhing on her rug. “For this service, I will induct you into The Fist tonight by own hand.”

Kris groaned, “Yes, uh, thank you, uh, Messalina-sensei.” She curled her fingers inside herself and jerked in an acute spasm of pleasure. She gasped, “I didn’t expect you to pull a gun on me.”

“A necessary deception. She may have thought it too easy otherwise.”

“She might have shot you, Messalina-sensei.”

“Then I would have died in service to The Fist. Hail The Kage.”

Kris echoed as she had been taught, moaning, “Hail The Kage.”

Messalina checked Jane’s bondage. Her arms had been tightly bound back together and connected to the rope between her ankles, so that they pulled her backward, arching her. Her big breasts stood out, sweat glistening on them, bound in a butterfly web of knots that lifted them up and out as if in pagan offering. Her eyes stared in sightless ecstasy at the ceiling, huge obsidian black orbs, lost in an Oh high. A line of drool fell from Jane’s open mouth.

“Time for Jane and I to have a little talk,” said Messalina. She slipped a silver acupuncture needle from the top of her boot. Bending over, she pulled Jane’s blonde hair back and inserted the needle at the top of Jane’s spine.

“Jane, can you hear my voice?”

Jane blinked, her eyes swam, the blackness receding. She moved her head from side to side as if trying to recall something.

“Uh. Oh. Yes, uhuhuh, who are youuu?” Her hips slowed their movements, but did not stop.

“I am your dear friend, Jane.”

“My. Uh. Friend?”

“Yes. I am the woman who is making you feel so good right now.”

“Oh. Oh!” Jane shook. “Soo good.” Her head shook. “But . . . I don’t . . . remember . . . how.”

“Shhh. Your friend Kris is here too. She wants to help you as well.”

Messalina motioned for Kris to rise and approach Jane. Kris’s stomach clenched with excitement to obey. She knelt in front of Jane; so close that if she wished she could take one of her partner’s thick pink nipples into her mouth just by leaning forward.

Jane’s brow crinkled. “We . . . uh . . . we were . . . oh. Oh. OH!”

“Kris-chan, your friend Jane needs you to help her realize how much help she needs.”

Kris’s fingers trembled as she squirted a rich massage oil onto her hands. The smell of the oil mingled with the scent of the candles and the musk of sex. She reached out and started to gently massage Jane’s breasts with her fingers. Jane jerked.

“AH! Oh! Kris!”

“Yes, Jane,” said Kris. “Messalina-sensei wanted me to help you.” She spread her fingers wide on the smooth, soft slopes of Jane’s breasts, bringing them up together over each hard nipple in a slow incessant rhythm. “You’ve been so lost in your rules and your regulations. Just like I used to be.”

Kris ran her fingers around Jane’s pink aureole, her touch feather-light. Her captive partner groaned and arched further, straining for more. “Messalina-sensei knew how I felt. She found me. Yes, she . . . .”

Jane’s head spasmed, “How? . . . You . . . cover . . . convince anyone.”

“It’s a data-driven world,” said Messalina, she circled the two of them. “You can tell whatever lies you like, but you can’t beat the numbers.”

“She showed me how much pleasure there is in serving The Fist. And I knew you’d find such pleasure too.” Kris bent forward, she let her tongue drift in a lazy circle around Jane’s left nipple.

“Let me help you, Jane. Let go of your thoughts and your will and I will show you such pleasure that you cannot imagine.” Kris shifted, running her tongue across the top of Jane’s other nipple.

“I . . . Don’t. . . . Oh.” Kris drew the hard peak into her mouth and suckled. Her partner gasped, “Oh, yes. Oh, yes.”

Messalina whispered, “Let it go, let all your thoughts flow down to your friend’s mouth. Feel yourself letting go.”

Kris increased the pressure, sucking hard now, her head bobbing gently. She moved from one slick breast to the other.

Jane hissed, “Oh, please. Please . . . don’t . . . oh . . . don’t . . . stop. Yes. Oh, yessss.”

Messalina stroked her hair. “You can feel them all slipping away. It’s so easy, Jane. So easy accepting my will. Let your friend Kris suckle your mind away.”

Jane’s eyes rolled back, her sobs became fainter until they stilled altogether.

“Enough, Kris-chan. Sit back.”

“Yes, Messalina-sensei.”

Messalina swung her legs across the front of the saddle, so that her delicate pink pussy lips hovered in front of Jane’s mouth. Her fingers played in her captive’s hair.

“You will sound how your sensei wishes you to sound. You will look how your sensei wishes you to look. You will do what your sensei orders you to do. You will obey your sensei.”

Jane sighed, “Yes.”

“That is ‘Yes, Messalina-sensei’ slave”

“Yes, Messalina-sensei.”

“Good. Now as your first order, Jane-kohai, worship me.”

Jane moaned as her tongue licked and sucked eagerly at the wet pussy pressed into her mouth.

“You too, Kris-chan.”

“Yes, Messalina-sensei.” Kris leaned forward, her hands cupping her sensei’s taut asscheeks and pulled them apart so that her tongue could worship too.

* * *

Stalker stepped out of a hole in reality just as Kris entered the side-alley behind a strip club on Riverside Drive. She could hear cars whizzing past as she gave her lover a hug.

“So, how did they take the report?”

Stalker grinned, kneading Kris’s butt with both hands. “Disappointed, but nobody questioned it. There is no Fist activity in River City.”

“Well,” smiled Kris. “That’s not entirely true. I certainly know somebody who likes ‘fist activity’.”

Stalker blushed. “Um.”

“You better run. I have a cover I’m building for a strip club investigation. Let you know more soon.”

Stalker nodded. “Hail The Kage.” She disappeared.

“Hail The Kage,” said Kris. She waited five minutes then slipped inside the strip club by a shabby black door in the alleyway.

Inside, she could hear a heavy dance beat coming from the main floor, thrumming through the thin walls of the corridor. She slipped across the black and white tiles and pushed into a door marked “Dressing Room.”

It had tall changing mirrors and tables covered in various props and costumes. A shockingly tall woman with long red hair reclined in a chair in the far corner of the dressing room, struggling to pull on a pair of black thigh boots. She had the weirdest green eyes that Kris had ever seen.

“Raven, I presume?” said the woman.

“Yes.”

“You’re right on time, I like that. Agent Rebecca McCandliss. I hear you’re an inducted member of The Fist?”

“Yes. I’m in.”

The redhead rose. “Good. Let’s get to work.”

END.