The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Splash, splash, splash; the sounds of seven female bodies entering the water vibrated in the late afternoon air. Seven perfect female bodies, dressed in deep blue tight fabric moved underwater, their arms, toned and strengthened by years of swimming, pulled them forwards and through the vital liquid.

Kila Fleur was at peace. After all, she was in her element, and her dream of swimming along partners in a team was fulfilled; not in the way she had expected; but nonetheless fulfilled. And it was this sense of accomplishment that filled Kila with a profound, peaceful joy.

The girls wore smile of utter devotion and happiness; a smile that could almost be compared to the one smile that graced the face of the object of their collective desire, passion, and joy. The smile was graced by the afternoon air, then immediately submerged, only to resurface again.

These seven girls wore the most delicious blue garment, their one-piece swimsuit, tight and shiny. If staring from the bottom of the pool, one could see how the majestic and tight fabric hugged the girls’ curves, holding their breasts, caressing their tight and strong abdomens, and outlining their beautiful curves contrasting blue on different shades of skin. From above, one could gaze upon the exquisite skin consisting of the back area going from the scapula to the middle of the back, all marked as if an old-story pirate treasure by an X made of the delicious material of the swimsuit; their shoulders, slightly above the water, were equally the recipients to two thin strips of swimsuit material. And, as a way to both protect their lovely manes of hairs from the chemical assaults of the pool water, and to further administer Miss Jen’s power over them, they all wore tight swimcaps of red colour; worn in such a way that they all looked hairless.

Miss Jen, the coach and secret Mistress to these seven girls plus others, was, for the first time since Kila first saw her, enjoying the refreshing properties of the cool pool water. As usual, she was dressed in a tight, rubber one-piece swimsuit the colour of phathalo blue.

Miss Jen swam with idle yet perfect strokes, her face flushed with happiness and her body language telling stories of erotic nights not long past. But suddenly, as the girl once referred as the “creepy woman” – actually called Jacqueline – swam by her, her eyes filled with a deep lust, questioning and greed – she had found yet another prey.

A young man and swimmer of strong body and slender built walked around the pool dressed in shorts of floral print. Miss Jen stared at him, discreetly drinking from his manly visage; she then swam towards the edge of the pool and removed herself from the water, drops and rivulets of liquid streaming down her majestic, rubber-covered curves. Once standing out of the water, with the sun heating up her facial features, she called one of her thralls.

“Kila!” She cried, her face turned to her seven, obedient girls.

Although the seven, beautiful, and blue-dressed girls heard the majestic voice of their Mistress – all rejoicing and feeling a deep sense of fulfilment at hearing it – only Kila smiled a dreamy smile and stopped swimming.

“Yes, Miss Jen?” Kila Fleur questioned, her head cocked to one side, her arms and legs keeping her afloat.

“Come on out of the water, girl,” Miss Jen said, beckoning Kila out of the water with a wave of her hand.

“Yes, Miss Jen” Kila said with a happy smile and dreamy eyes as she began to slowly thread the water towards her Mistress.

Kila placed her hands on the cold, light-coloured tiles and lifted herself from the water with a gracious spin and twist of her body, giving her the perfect position to lay her swimsuited buttocks on the floor. She then raised herself to a standing position and walked, with small, enticing steps and a music-less dance on her hips – movements Miss Jen forced into her mind – towards her loved Mistress.

“What you wish of me, Miss Jen?” Kila whispered, her body slightly rocking side-to-side with a repressed surge of pleasure for being in front of her beloved owner.

“Tell me, Kila,” The coach began, her head turned slightly to the left, her eyes on the black-haired man that made her leave her natural environment, “How would you have that delicious piece of meat,” She pointed with a long finger, “Become an obedient sex slave?”

“However you wish, Miss Jen,” Kila whispered blankly, no real thoughts in her head except the beauty of her Mistress, the feel of her own swimsuit, and the face of her beloved Lara, so happy in the water she herself longed to return to.

“Oh! No, no, no,” Miss Jen said with a frown, “I want you to tell me…” She paused, cocked her head downwards and then continued, “…of new forms of getting myself evening playthings.”

“I understand, Miss Jen,” Kila said, her beautiful eyes, covered by plastic goggles, staring into her owner’s eyes, the sound of girls swimming echoing inside her empty mind.

“You are a smart one,” Miss Jen said, suddenly turning her wet head in the direction of her soon-to-be prey, “What do you think about this one? Eh? How would you make him my slave?”

Kila slowly moved her head leftwards and stared softly, though not achingly, at the man in question – the latter being now stretching his limbs. Kila’s eyes widened in the way anyone does when they recognize a face, though, in Kila’s case, both of her ears and forehead moved on par with the widening of her yes.

“I know him,” Kila said in a deep tone, her head turned towards her Mistress and a slight frown above her eyes, “His name is Rochet Cobb.”

“Oh?” The coach said, real amazement on her face, both for Kila’s knowledge and her prey’s name, “You do?” She paused and frowned, I don’t care about that!” She suddenly said, her voice turned commanding and a bit angered, “I want ideas on how to enslave him!”

“He has a sister – Resina Cobb – Miss Jen,” Kila whispered, her eyes still on the man in question, her once empty mind, though still filled with the echoes of splashes, machinating scenarios to help her Mistress.

Miss Jen is an unpredictable creature, known to show random fits of partially mental actions that only have a meaning to her own consciousness; hence why, from a certain point of view, the sudden wrapping of her arms around her thrall’s back was not strange at all.

“What do you have in mind, pet?” The coach whispered, her chin resting on Kila’s red-covered head, as her hands caressed Kila’s swimsuited back.

“Turn his sister into a swimsuit thrall,” Kila said as her hands returned her Mistress’ caresses, and her body mindlessly rubbed against the towering woman before her, “Obedient and loyal to you.” Kila shuddered, pleasure filling her body, her mind was filling up with mindless obedience. A moan escaped her lips.

“Keep going,” The coach said, her eyes looking at the oblivious man, her mind playing scenes based on Kila’s script, and her sex warming up.

“Once she is swimsuited and obedient,” Kila continued narrating, “Make her seduce Rochet Cobb and prepare him to become yours.”

Miss Jen smiled and rubbed her swimsuit-covered, wet sex against Kila’s thigh, her eyes closed as a magnificent movie played inside the recesses of her mind.

“That sound mighty good,” She said softly, her hands lovingly caressing Kila’s back and her chin drawing circles on the girl’s head, “But why would I be interested in making that specific girl into one of my playthings?”

Kila pondered for a second her response, weighting which would please her Mistress the most, “She used to be a swimmer,” Kila said dreamingly, a smile curling her lips as she remembered the young girl wearing a lovely pink swimsuit, “Now she is a dancer; keeps her body in impeccable shape besides being beautiful.”

Miss Jen pushed Kila away, a smile on her face, “That sounds like the kind of girl I like,” The blue-and-black-clad coach said, “Tell me more about how to make both of them my pets.” Miss Jen said, placing her right hand on Kila’s buttocks and walking back towards the pool.

“You can meet Resina dinning in the café near the dance school every night,” Kila informed her Mistress as she began follow her every step with false, erotic steps of her own, “You can get acquainted with her and eventually convert her,” She paused a second, sensing her Mistress’s impatience, “Or you can forcefully transform her into a thrall and have her betray her brother’s trust and swimsuit him, thus making him yours.”

Kila suddenly realized, as she felt the utter joy the pleased smile from her coach and owner irradiated inside of her, that she had just condemned two poor and unsuspecting souls to fall into the world of mindless obedience and perpetual joy of Mistress Jen! How very troubled Kila felt, for a second or two, before the now very familiar and delicious feeling of having pleased her Mistress washed over her. Kila forgot, though not completely, her troubled position.

Miss Jen stopped once her toes touched the pool’s water; she looked about the area, eyeing her still-swimming thralls and the man that would soon become her plaything, and smiled.

“I like how you think, Kila,” The coach said as she jumped into the shallow water, “I really do. One of the reasons I choose you as my new thrall,” She paused and submerged a second, wetting her lovely hair and majestic body, and then emerged, “You are going to help me make so many more swimsuit thralls!”

Kila Fleur, oblivious to the feelings of the world, but deeply focused on how her uniform hugged her body and the tight hold her swimcap had on her head, shuddered as the rocking properties of a mind-numbing, obedience-induced and praise-created orgasm washed down her swimsuit-clad body, passing over her sensitive breasts, and down through her tightly-held sex. She moaned in a whisper and a smile of utter satisfaction washed upon her face.

“Good swimsuit thrall,” Miss Jen whispered, a soft smile on her lips and her head slightly cocked to the right.

“Thank you, Miss Jen,” Kila whispered, her eyes swallowed into the coach’s stare, for a second, before she turned her sight towards the woman her heart truly belonged to: Lara.

“Now, come on into the water,” Miss Jen said as she began to idly swim again, “You must train, train and train! That tournament is just four weeks to come and we must be in the best shape!”

“Yes, Miss Jen!” Kila exclaimed with utter joy and conviction – the coach’s remark on the swimming competition soon to be had revitalizing Kila – as she immediately dived into the water.

About an hour latter, just as the sunlight became scorching hot, the seven girls, by orders of their coach and Mistress, removed themselves from the cold water, their powerful bodies glistening with dripping water.

The group walked in a line – an orderly fashion drilled into their minds by Miss Jen; a kink of hers to see her thralls walking so orderly – towards where their belongings rested. Each one picked up their belongings and, with Miss Jen idly staring at them, walked towards the square-shaped building that housed that dimly lit changing rooms.

The military-like procession of drones continued inside a short hallway leading into a somewhat spacious square room with long, wooden stools resting against each wall. Once the leading girl, Miranda, entered the room, she turned leftwards; the next, Roxanne, to the right; and it went like that until all seven beautiful, swimsuit-clad girls had her own niche.

They all, with their backs towards each others, and their faces facing the green-painted walls, placed their bags and belonging on the wooden stools then, in one swift, and mindless motion, turned around. They stood there, statue-like, with their arms tightly held against their sides, their feet shoulder-length apart.

In walked Miss Jen, her walk authoritative and powerful, her beautiful swimsuit glistening even in the gloomy shadows of that changing room.

“Good job today, thralls,” She said as she ran her hands through her wet hair.

“Thank you,” The seven girls said in unison, their voices broken by sheer ecstasy, “Miss Jen.”

“Alright, my thralls,” She softly said, “I want you all to caress each other. Give me a show.”

The seven girls smiled, their eyes still hidden behind equally coloured goggles, and turned their heads, each facing another swimsuit sister.

Lara, her distinctive cinnamon skin differentiating her from the rest, immediately moved towards her lover, Kila, and kissed her deeply. Kila returned the gesture with loving tenderness and hungry erotic need: placing her hands on Lara’s swimsuit-clad buttocks, pushing her covered breasts against her lover’s, and one tanned leg around a cinnamon one.

Mimicking their thrall sisters, the other five girls soon began to do as ordered: The blonde twins, Milagros and Melanie, whom had been made into incestuous lovers by Miss Jen, soon embraced each other with the slightly taller Milagros kneeling in front of Melanie’s blue-encased crotch; at the same time the blonde, creepy, older girl – Jacqueline – was eagerly suckling on Melanie’s nipples, one hand softly caressing the latter’s tight navel, the other massaging her red scalp. And the older girl, the one of the most muscles on her strong body, Miranda, was lying on her back, on one of the wooden stools, with the lightweight body of Roxxie rubbing against her own; both were kissing passionately and rubbing their swimsuit-clad bodies against each other.

The seven girls were close to each other, close enough for them, at least for the ones with their hands free, to caress the other pair next to them.

Miss Jen stared at the show of lesbian love with hungry and satisfied eyes; she was sitting with legs sprawled, and her left hand softly yet masterfully bringing pleasure to her ‘cuckoo’s nest’ and her right hand drawing circles upon her rubber-and-lycra-encased nipples. And it was this circling, on par with Miss Jen’s questionable magic whispers, and the girls’ very mind-bent existence, which had the full attention of these seven thralls.

“You love pleasuring each other in front of me,” The coach whispered and the girls listened.

“Yes, Mistress Jen,” The seven girls said in unison, Lara and Kila’s voices sounding the least.

“You need to pleasure each other in your swimsuits,” She whispered what she had whispered many times before, “You love your swimsuits.”

“Yes, Mistress Jen!” The seven girls said, their voices muffled by sounds of licking and lapping, and kissing and caressing.

Kila and Lara, differentiating themselves from their swimsuit thrall sisters, were the only ones who actually were in a loving as well as erotic embrace; the twin sisters close behind. They kissed each other with lustful hunger yet with a deep aching to touch each other with care; they hugged each other tightly and tenderly, yet with ravenous need; they held each other’s body instead of the sexual energy each was generating as if a magical amulet created by a succubus goddess; each touched the other, smelling the increasing revitalizing scent of the room, partly for the majestic sensation of swimsuit against swimsuit, but more for the need to feel each other with loving-kindness.

Moans escaped seven different lips as the scenes before Miss Jen became much more intense. The twins switched positions, Jacqueline turning her attention towards Kila, Roxxie and Miranda changing into a position in which both mouth’s graced the other’s sex. Meanwhile, Miss Jen enjoyed the show with hands exploring her well known body.

Miss Jen stopped staring at her slaves in favour of throwing her head backwards, the utterly delicious sensations coursing through her body making her feel both weak and powerful. Soon, after much self-pleasuring, Miss Jen’s hips buckled and a single moan was maintained within her throat for a prolonged period of time. The seven thralls, sensing their Mistress’s ultimate release, and with their pre-programmed triggers, instantly felt a similar release.

After what appeared to be an eternity, the several film-worthy and erotic scenes within that changing room came to an end. Each girl then turned her attention to changing out of her wet, chlorine-stained swimsuit and into a new and unique swimsuit.

Kila softly slid – as to deeply enjoy the ecstatic feeling of the material going up her legs – into a dark pink swimsuit of similar design to the blue one she had been wearing, but it covered her whole back, front, and even neck. It was equally tight as to intrude into both her sex and between her buttocks, and equally beautiful as to make her crave her own body.

Lara, in a bizarre twist of somewhat suppressed individuality, dressed into a competitive swimsuit with a military-print style; one with many shades of dark green and brown splattered on it. It framed her majestic and ample curves perfectly, and matched her lovely cinnamon colour perfectly.

Roxxie with her auburn hair now free from the tight hold of the red swimcap, did not enjoy – although enjoyment is completely relative when you talk about mindless thralls – Lara’s freedom. Roxxie was dressing in the type of swimsuit Miss Jen had made her love and specifically enjoy above all. The swimsuit was of the exact design of the blue training uniform, with the open back and logo over her left breast, but in a very white colour – Miss Jen’s favourite – and of a shinier material.

The twin girls – Milagros and Melanie – showcased more of their forced incestuous unity by wearing a uniform of their own design: a uniform splatter of blue and red diamonds on a background of black material, with zippers imprisoning each other into the swimsuit and protruding objects inserted into their sexes. Clearly a swimsuit made not with swimming in mind. Both of them eased their bodies into their bondage swimsuits, and locked themselves into it via the small locks wielded into the zippers.

Miranda, the lovely, sport-strengthened girl wore a garment that was more a mockery of a competitive swimsuit than anything else. It was high-legged to the extremes of showing the sides of her slim waist; made of a thin material that started, from front to back, as a pair of thin shoulder-straps that allowed for a clear view of cleavage, then ran down towards her sex which, due to the garment’s design, was tightly held as if it could fall from a tree – forbidden fruit – then thinned even further, becoming a single string that dived into the midst of her buttocks and back again to meet the shoulder straps. It was bright purple, and all very delicious.

Finally, Jacqueline, the woman of strong and thick features and a probably unstable mind, wore the simplest of floral print swimsuits, with the single thing differentiating her from the other thralls being the tan-coloured pantyhose she wore over it – part of her business-owning attire.

Once the seven thralls were out of their uniforms and into their own, unique slave outfits, Miss Jen turned to them, already covered in boring day-clothes, “See you tomorrow, pets,” She said, blowing a kiss as she hurried out of the damp changing rooms, clearly eager to start the hunt for new prey.

And once Miss Jen left the premises, the seven girls’ true personas took over again. Kila hugged with playful affection Lara. Kila’s guilt over the events and words that will soon lead two young souls into the road of slavery was preying on her consciousness like a bee to a flower. Overall, they all started chatting idly, like old friends, oblivious to the truth.

Suddenly, as they were soon to leave, a fast-paced electronic ringtone echoed in the decaying changing room. Jacqueline’s voice was soon to answer it and a short conversation in which the person at the other end of the line probably spoke of indisposition.

“Lara,” Jacqueline then said when she finished her talk.

“Yes?” Lara said softly, her head not really looking at the older girl.

“Marco said he couldn’t take care of the shop this evening,” Jacqueline said matter-of-factly, “I need you to fill in for him.”

“Oh, come on!” Lara said with a sort of anger on her tone, “Today was my day off and that lazy bugger never shows up on time.”

“I know that,” Jacqueline said, “But it seems that this time it really is important. So, you are stuck taking care of the shop today.”

Lara stared at Jacqueline with an expression that went from anger to defeat, “Okay,” She said, her plans for the night destroyed, “I’ll fill in for the moron.”

With this, Jacqueline left the premises in a hurry.

“Wait,” Kila interjected curiously as the rest of the girls left the place, “Jacqueline is the owner of “Mightier Than A Gun”?”

“Yes,” Lara said, her eyes staring at her partner, “You didn’t know?”

“I know now,” Kila said shyly, thinking on ways of getting free books from her team-mate as all the swimsuit sisters walked their ways towards their destinations.

“I don’t know. I-I… I mean, I know I should be happy and filled with utter delicious pleasure,” Kila trailed off, her thoughts scrambled as she remembered the feelings of obedience her Mistress imbued in her, “But I can’t help but feel guilty about it. It’s… Argh!”

“You are overthinking, fiery red,” Lara said matter-of-faclty, her round chin resting on her right hand in a lazy position on one side of Kila’s kitchen’s counter.

“I am not overthinking. I am…. This is natural!” Kila said, frustration and preoccupation her body language, as she placed her swimsuit-clad behind on a wooden bar stool, “It is natural to feel guilt when you condemn people, isn’t it?” She stared longingly at her loving partner, waiting for an answer that would make her life easier at the moment.

“It is not natural when it goes against Mistress Jen’s wishes,” Lara whispered, leaning in close to Lara and softly taking the red-haired girl’s hand into her own. Twilight light shone on the military-print of her swimsuit, the zipper on the back clearly visible under the light.

Kila’s expression changed from preoccupation, guilt and frustration to one of sheer enjoyment and peace – sensations she was forced to feel due to her conditioning. Lara, seeing this, smiled an empty yet loving smile and walked around the corner, her bare feet feeling the cold of the tiles and her swimsuit slightly rubbing against her body, exciting her, and wrapped her arms around Kila.

Kila simply sat there with the woman she loved wrapped around her, mindlessly allowing for both of their tight garments to rub against each other.

“You need to understand, Kila,” Lara whispered on her lover’s ear, her right hand caressing the latter’s swimsuit-clad navel with affection, “That you need to feel pleasure and happiness when serving Her. These feelings of guilt are unnatural.”

“Need to feel pleasure,” Kila whispered, her eyes staring at nothing, “Obey Her.”

“Yes,” Lara said, rubbing her bosom on Kila’s back, “Obey Her.”

Kila’s whole body relaxed, surges of pleasure coming from wherever her swimsuit touched her body – a reminder of her position as a swimsuit-clad thrall. But this mindless state didn’t last, for Kila’s mind is powerful, mighty and learned.

“No!” She exclaimed, her arms suddenly rose abruptly, as she stumbled away from the stool she sat on, “It is not natural! It is not right!”

“Kila!” Lara cried, her loving embrace broken, her body aching for Kila’s, her hand extended in a plea.

“No, Lara!” Kila continued, walking towards her room. Lara followed.

Inside her personal space, a space Lara had not yet been permitted to visit, Kila quickly grabbed her clothes and dressed in the most common of drabs, completely hiding her swimsuit in the process. Lara watched this unholy procedure and pleaded for her lover to stop.

“Please, Kila,” She said softly, “Obeying Her is pleasure. We must do what She says and rejoice. You don’t have to go!”

“Yes,” Kila said, her eyes red and her throat hurting, “I have to. You are not acting like the girl I… I love… You are acting like a thrall, a beautiful, swimsuit-clad thrall,” Kila trailed off, her eyes glazed for a second, “But I need my cinnamon goddess, not a thrall in military print. No matter how beautiful she looks.” Kila walked out of her room, her left shoulder softly pushed Lara’s body on the way out.

“But… I am a thrall,” Lara followed her lover, “I need to act like this. Come on. Stay! Soon you’ll understand. This guilt will soon go away.”

“I know, Lara,” Kila whispered, her hand on the key inside the front door’s lock, “But right now I need to know why I feel this guilt.”

“Kila!” Lara screamed as the young, red-headed woman ran out into the world; she was bathed by the dying rays of the sun and caressed by a strong gust of wind. “Please! Don’t go….” Lara’s words were a dying whisper in the wind.

Defeated and longing for Kila’s body and love, Lara went inside, her world and mind broken between the woman she loves beyond reason, and the woman she must long for and obey. For some time she paced the short distance between Kila’s living room and her room, stopping in the latter’s with a curious yet scared look – she was yet afraid of how Kila guarded her room and didn’t dare go into it without her say-so – and smelled Kila’s scent.

Lara pondered what to do: Should she wait for Kila to come and talk it out? Should she call her Mistress? Should she follow Kila? Should she go home and wait for another day? Decisions, decisions.

Lara walked, her brown and dark green swimsuit rubbing her nether regions in such a manner that soon, after so much pacing up and down, Lara started to feel an aching, erotic need on her sex. She sat down on Kila’s soft, leather couch.

“What should I do!?” She cried, her eye filling with tears, her head looking towards the ceiling and her arms hanging limply at her sides.

Lara absentmindedly ran her hand down her chest, past her navel, and left it resting above her crotch; the tight hold of the swimsuit on her skin making her need such a touch.

“Hmmm” She moaned slightly, her hand caressing her swimsuit-clad skin with tenderness and need.

Suddenly she realized what to do and her middle finger, right on the slit of her sex, vibrated as if a reflex. Her eyes went wide and a loud moan escaped her lips as she quickly removed herself from the couch and walked towards were her clothes rested, her back was graced by soft, lycra-made caresses.

Lara slid her hand into the pocket of her black jeans, pulled out a small cellphone and quickly dialled a number.

“Please, don’t pick up,” She whispered, her eyes closed, the phone against her left ear, “Please don’t pick up.”

“Hello, Lara thrall,” Miss Jen answered happily.

“Mistress,” Lara said, her face flushed with need and obedience and a mindless expression even though tears ran down her cheeks, “We have a problem.”

The forest-like park in the middle of the city was in its peak beauty and natural marvel at the times of dawn and dusk; the early or late light shining on some parts and shadows crawling on others. It was a time of magic when many walked the old footways and bridges of the green and brown landscape.

On one edge of the park, away from the creek where Kila and Lara first kissed, one could see Kila’s frame moving about the trees and around the rocks, not walking on a pathway but on her own aimless way. She had her arms wrapped around her belly and her head hung low. She walked with soft steps, careful not to trip but not caring about her destination.

Soon Kila found herself wandering out of the park, just as the sun went down and the city was cloaked by the dark mantle of night, and into a long and almost desolated street. Light from streetlamps feel upon the façades of the many small, two storey buildings that loomed on each side of the road as Kila, her mind clouded with conflicting thoughts, walked without aim.

She was thinking about her own guilt; how the advice she had given to her Mistress had condemned two innocent souls to a future of eternal obedience and pleasure – somewhat unlike hers – and how very wrong it was, if she looked at it with a morality she previously had. On the other hand, she was torn asunder by the devotion and obedience and pleasure Miss Jen had implanted into her psyche. Kila held her arms tighter around herself and rubbed the cotton against the lycra underneath, rejoicing at the sensation of lame material rubbing delicious material.

“I am a swimsuit thrall,” Kila hear herself think, the whispering drilled into her mind almost tangible, “I obey Mistress Jen.”

Kila felt her mind in turmoil; a war was being waged between the shy and book-loving Kila, and the obedient and swimsuit-fetishist Kila. And the shy side was loosing.

She kept on walking in the night, a soft, cool breeze blowing from the north, yellow streetlights illuminating her body. Suddenly, Kila stopped walking and turned her head to the other side of the street. There, in the darkness, was a sports store Kila didn’t know about. She stared into it – though one side of her wished not to, knowing what would happen if she did – and saw many a delicious swimsuit. Kila’s faced lighted up with a naughty smile; Kila’s sex flared up with fetish-induced craving.

Kila all but ran towards the store, excitement of many kinds fuelling her steps. She pushed the glass door, a bell announcing the entrance of a costumer, and immediately sneaked to the corner where the one-piece, competitive swimsuits were. Her body trembled with excitement and an almost painful smile painted her face.

With her hands caressing a black swimsuit of simple design and of almost majestic feeling, Kila chanted inside her head: “I am a swimsuit thrall.” She held the black swimsuit in front of her; it was all black, no design on it, and it looked tight and very small. Kila chuckled, realizing that it was several sizes too small – the exact size that would hug her as if a second skin. Kila decided she had to buy it.

But one swimsuit was not enough, or so the whisper made her think. “Swimsuits are erotic. You need lots of swimsuits.” Her face was stuck in a perpetual visage of joy and obedience.

Kila inspected another row of swimsuits and saw another marvellous garment, a hydrasuit, one just like her white uniform, rubber-like and shiny, in the deepest shade of red she had ever seen. Immediately Kila grabbed the golden find and checked if it would fit her. How did she scream in glee when she saw that it was a perfect fit!

And with this find in hand, claimed as hers, she walked out of the small shop and into the night air, a white plastic bag holding her treasure. Her mind was chanting her mantra of obedience; the little trip had completely distracted her mind from the guilt and conflictive feelings that brought her here.

Kila the swimsuit thrall walked with light steps in the direction of her home, hoping that Lara would still be there so she could try her new swimsuits with her lover.

Kila arrived home, well after sundown, to find it dark and apparently desolated – no light was shinning and no sound, not even of the perpetual creaks and moans of the house, could be heard.

Kila’s first thought was that perhaps Lara turned everything off and went away; but something, something primal and instinctive, told her that somewhere in the cold darkness was a warm body awaiting her arrival. So, with this in mind, she ventured into her own dwelling place with instinctive steps, even in the absolute darkness she did not trip or stumble upon her carefully laid belongings.

But her home was not in utter darkness, for Kila saw in one wall in one corner the reflected light of her bedroom. She walked towards it and found, to her disbelief, the blue-painted room to her room closed and soft light shinning from underneath it. Someone had invaded her sanctuary! Her indignation then died when she realized it could only be her cinnamon beauty.

Kila opened the door with a knock. The door opened slowly with a moan-like creak, light pouring out and falling upon Kila’s beautiful frame. Inside, lying on her neatly made bed, was Lara, dressed in one of Kila’s own swimsuits – an erotic addition to an already exotic and delicious body. Kila was expecting something like this but nothing so majestically delicious; she let the package fall, her mouth slightly open, and her eyes staring at Lara’s open legs and arched back.

“Hello, beautiful,” Lara said softly, her eyes enticing and powerful, in between girly giggles, “Like what you see?”

Kila was, for the time being, speechless and dumbfounded, she was both enticed by Lara’s natural beauty and for the enhancement her own swimsuit had on her lover’s skin. The green swimsuit was too small for Lara’s frame, making it look much tighter than it already was. It pressed against her curves and sex, lifted up her rock-hard buttocks, and pushed her breasts in a way that both flattened them and lifted them. And to make it even more sensual and right, the room’s lighting, arranged in a manner that the shadows kept themselves to the fringes, as if demons crawling to the light, shone upon Lara’s green-encased body in all the right places.

Kila felt a sexual thrill run down her body.

“I…” She stammered, her throat sore with arousal, “I love it!”, Kila exclaimed, an expression of utter joy on her face, as she quickly began to remove the non-swimsuit garments off of her body.

Lara’s smile metaphysically widened with a deeper sense of joy, expectation, and excitement, her mind playing past images of similar moments and holding back the guilty turmoil. Suddenly her eyes, windows of erotic need, moved towards the plastic bag and laid them there.

“What you’ve got there, fiery red?” Lara questioned, her hand pointing towards the bag.

Kila, with her swimsuit showing under her t-shirt as if kinky underwear, cocked her head towards the swimsuit-carrying bag, “You mean this thing?” She said, the t-shirt being lifted from her body.

“Yes,” Lara said sultrily, her legs even wider apart.

“Swimsuits,” Kila said shyly as she threw the t-shirt to the floor, “I got two new swimsuits,” A pause, “Wanna try them?”

Lara stared at Kila’s swimsuited body, the sight so deliciously erotic to her that she almost had an orgasm. She closed her legs and sat on the bed, cross-legged, and with a look of want on her face.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, fist clenched near her face, “Let’s try them!”

Soon, with similar thoughts invading the plains of their imagination, both girls began to remove, with a strange sense of loss and pain at doing so, their tight suits. Kila unzipped her dark pink swimsuit and slowly peeled it off her body; with a wriggle of her hips and a shake of her legs the swimsuit fell, much to Kila’s credit, safely on the bed. Lara, on the other hand, simply placed her index fingers on the left and right shoulder straps respectively and pulled them off, revealing slender and wide cinnamon shoulders. With a face of utter sexual need Lara removed Kila’s swimsuit from her own skin, slowly moving it downwards and, when it reached her waist, raised her hips and pulled it off, never removing herself from the bed.

While both felt incredibly exposed and wrong by not wearing their swimsuits – for the first time in months – they both felt something new and exciting. The love the two had for each other was apparent now more than ever; they both had a deep lust for each other, but the looks on their faces were not of lust or need but of adoration.

Kila stared into the most beautiful body she had ever seen, that of Lara’s cinnamon coloured breasts and hips and navel and legs. And Lara was gazing at the image of beauty, Kila’s pale, soft, and strong body; her petite breast and slim waist and long legs. Their love made this moment, the first time they saw each other naked, unique and special.

They were both so mesmerized by each other’s love-enhanced beauty that with only nods and stares they communicated their wishes. With a nod from Lara, Kila crouched and opened the plastic bag, a tingle ran up her arm as she touched the garments inside. Kila shuddered in ecstasy. Soon Kila held, as if a merchant showing her goods, the red rubber swimsuit and the black lycra swimsuit, one on each hand.

Lara cocked her head to the left and nodded – she had found the black lycra swimsuit a sight to behold. Kila smiled and giggled on the inside, she knew Lara would choose the one with the more familiar look – boring as always, she thought to herself – which left her with the most delicious and exotic red rubber.

Kila handed the black, tight, too-small swimsuit to Lara, the latter quickly raising her body from the bed and sliding her so beautiful legs into the tight, delicious material. Lara could feel, wherever the swimsuit touched her skin, jolts of extreme pleasure – reactions forced into her consciousness – moans and groans escaped her mouth as her whole being shocked by soft spasms.

With her hand stuck on a perpetual caress, Kila slid her right foot into the rubbery material; an immediate jolt of utter pleasure surged through her. She groaned and moaned as her mind was filled with associated thoughts of submission and obedience, fighting her way through the amazing sensations until she was able to slide her left foot into the suit. Her face was flushed, a blissful smile curled on her lips, as she slowly pulled the tight, rubber swimsuit up her legs, leaving a trail of bubbling and tingling, and onto her crotch. Kila’s eyes fell upon the image of her black-clad lovely, a deep sense of belonging washing on unison with the sexual aching, as she moved her arm over her crotch, moving it from her behind all the way between her legs and onto her aching sex, slightly rubbing the latter. Soon she was caressing her whole torso, the shiny, red rubber hugging her as a second skin, sending jolts of utter bliss through her body; she was in heaven.

“Come here,” Lara whispered, ecstasy breaking her voice, her mind filled with conflicting images of Miss Jen, “I want to taste you, Kila.”

Kila smiled and softly crawled towards the bed, her shiny body glistening with every step, “You are a sight,” She said as she suddenly jumped on the bed, pinning Lara against the soft material underneath, her hands inches away from the latter’s head and her knees just rubbing against her thighs.

Lara whimpered, her eyes stuck in a helpless and loving stare, her legs writhing in mindless ecstasy, soft pants escaping her lips. Kila planted a loving kiss on those delicate, cinnamon lips, her eyes not breaking contact with Lara’s.

“I love you,” Lara whispered as she moved her long cinnamon fingers upon Kila’s thighs, rejoicing at both the feel of the swimsuit and Kila’s sensual curves.

“I adore you,” Kila said as she slowly let her weight fall on Lara.

Lara whimpered again as she mindlessly began grinding her black-swimsuit-clad body against Kila’s red-swimsuit-clad body. Kila softly did the same; soft, opposite thrusts; swimsuit against swimsuit; both aroused all over, their skins tingling with pleasure, their sexes aching for attention.

They both softly kissed each other, their eyes closed, their hands caressed each other with both strong lust and passionate love; and in their minds conflictive ideas were playing. Kila, her shyness still present, felt uncomfortable on the situation, yet her fascination for the swimsuits and her love for Lara were strong enough to make her bypass her own personality and indulge; meanwhile, in her mind, the soft whispers of Miss Jen began to stir.

But, unknown to the shy Kila, Lara’s mind was in turmoil. Her love for Kila was fighting a losing battle against the obedience implanted into her. She knew, deep inside, that her actions were both due to love, which made this moment special, and due to the orders Miss Jen specifically implanted into her open mind, which made this moment orgasmic.

But her orders could wait. Lara simply allowed herself to enjoy the moment, the first true intimate moment with Kila, and the first moment of true passion.

Soft kisses still graced Lara’s neck and shoulders and neck, her own fingers still caressing Kila’s thighs and buttocks and lower back, as almost inaudible words begging Kila not to stop echoed from her mouth. The room grew warmer, the dim, yellow lights shining off of both their swimsuit-clad bodies.

Lara had her eyes closed, her mouth breathing moans and pants as her lover planted soft kisses on her. Suddenly she found her hands, eagerly and erotically caressing Kila’s red-suited lower back, were now doing the same higher up. Slowly opening her eyes she realized that the delicious and oddly skilled kisses were moving southwards, past the line of her breasts – though she did enjoyed two softly-laid, deliciously wet kisses on both her black-covered nipples – down her navel and, with a sudden pause, upon her crotch.

Kila found herself in a twisted and erotic version of a personal heaven. The woman she loved, the suits she pleasured herself over, and fingers caressing her scalp – one place of certain oblivious sensitivity – made this moment comparable to a night in any pleasure palace of Arcadia. But the moment could indeed get better, she thought as her kisses became licks upon Lara’s awaiting crotch and, shortly afterwards, after a sudden pause, upon Lara’s swimsuit-covered sex. For both of them, the taste of experienced cunnilingus was absolute bliss. Tasting her lover’s powerful sex juices through the already strong taste of black lycra was something Kila had been fantasising for months (though part of that fantasy was not as old as she thought it was) and it was absolutely worth the wait – the simple taste was driving her on the verges of a mind-numbing barrage of sexual ecstasy.

Kila’s skilful licks and grazes were of such aptitude – such power that Lara, even with her mind numbed by pleasure, could taste them. She curved her legs, pushing her aching sex into Kila’s mouth, urging her lover to lick and suck and graze with stronger intent; moans escaped Lara’s mouth as Kila complied.

“More!” Lara tried to scream in ecstasy, but only moan-muffled groans escaped her lips.

With the skill of a hundred succubuses Kila licked her lover’s swimsuit-covered sex, using the fabric of the fabled garment to increase the pleasure; she was using one hand placed just above Lara’s sex to move the swimsuit up and down her sex, while her own tongue played godlike tunes on the tasty treat of Lara’s clam.

Moans filled the room, both red and black.

Lara could only shudder in pleasure and rub Kila’s lovely and soft red cresses, what seemed to make Kila, with every careful pull and stroke, increase and decrease the speed an intent of her licks. Soon Lara’s whole body language changed from that of sheer enjoyment to absolute oblivious pleasure. On cue with her lover’s needs, Kila’s hands began rubbing Lara’s lycra-clad sides, sending jolts of tingling and pleasure-filled sensations comparable to a strange brew of excitement and need. Lara shuddered as Kila moaned as she suddenly realized the rubbing of her red-clad breasts upon Lara’s cinnamon legs.

“Yes!” Lara groaned just intelligible enough, “Yes, thrall! More!”

Luckily for Lara, Kila was too deep in her own thoughts of swimsuit-induced pleasure to consciously notice the exact words she mindlessly blurted out; but the word thrall had triggered something that had been implanted long ago by Kila’s Mistress. “Lick the swimsuit. Caress the swimsuit.” Whispers echoed inside Kila’s mind, “Obey the swimsuit. Lick the swimsuit. Caress the swimsuit.” Kila heard the drilling whispers inside her consciousness, but for whatever reason she couldn’t do anything but act. She obeyed them; licking and caressing. And it brought both of them deep pleasure as Kila’s licks hit the mythical spot that sent the flood of tingles and sensations crawling on Lara’s body into a warzone-like struggle streaming from every pore down her body and out of her sex and backwards. The orgasm, so powerful and beautiful, cradled Lara’s whole being into a blissful mess of pants and moans and shuddering limbs. And as soon as Kila tasted the flood of new sex-juice her whole body rocked and screamed as an orgasm of her own, not as powerful or mind-numbing, washed her whole body.

Both lay there, Kila above Lara, shuddering with ecstatic afterglow, the black-clad girl softly caressing the red-clad girl’s red hair while the latter softly caressed the first’s nipples. Both were smiling and both had slow whispers echoing inside their heads.

Kila crawled forward, moving towards Lara’s face, planting kisses on the black material. Lara simply smiled and mindlessly drew spirals on Kila’s red-clad back.

“You taste like heaven,” Kila whispered before planting a deep, wet kiss on Lara’s lips, allowing the latter to taste her own pleasure juices.

“I do,” Lara giggled as she tasted the lingering taste of her own juices mixed with the magnificent taste of lycra.

Both smiled, each in her own way – shyness and delight painted on Kila’s face; lust and need splashed on Lara’s visage – and held their lust-hungry, love-filled gazes for some time, communicating with just their eyes.

Suddenly Lara realized something, something important and majestic and unbelievable painful. With equal suddenness, Lara wrapped her arms around Kila’s waist, a contrasting image of black upon red and white, allowing her fingers to caress her lover’s encased skin for a second before she was able to, with caring strength, push Kila rightwards unto the bed in a twisting motion, inverting their positions so that Kila was now shadowed by Lara’s featureless shadow.

Lust filled Kila’s hungry stare, her lower lip turning a deep red as she bit on it, her hair a tangled nest of blood-red cresses, her skin turning a colour matching her swimsuit’s; she eagerly awaited for Lara’s soft, cinnamon lips to fall upon her neck, shoulders, breasts.... everywhere. Kila wanted Lara to kiss her all over, to caress her skin, to love her swimsuit, to lick her sex. Kila moved her left hand towards her breasts, softly rubbed a nipple, and then moved it in swirling motions towards her crotch. Lara, as if sharing a metaphysical link with Kila, moved her own hand in swirling motions over her lover´s tight, red swimsuit – shadows mingled with the reflected light – and slowly moved it downwards, meeting Kila’s own hand above her sex. Lara lowered herself upon Kila’s body, her own hand rubbing in unison with Kila’s upon the red-clad beauty’s sex, and began hungrily kissing Kila’s neck, lips, and shoulders.

Kila shuddered, the ecstasy flooding her mind, almost drowning the whispers.

The scene repeated itself: Lara’s kisses soon travelled southwards and met Kila’s sex. Kisses and licks. Time passed before the rocking flood of pleasure broke down Kila’s body and mind, numbing her existence with sheer lust.

Hours or minutes passed. Kila and Lara lay on the soft, white-covered bed, their bodies still hugged by the deliciously erotic and fluid-stained swimsuits, their arms and legs wrapped around each other. They were staring into each other’s eyes, their foreheads touching, their hairs tangled in a mess of black and red, and their bodies still grinding against each other as if trying to rekindle the flame of arousal – too bad their bodies were sexually exhausted for the time being.

“Kila.” Lara whispered, a delicate hand caressing stray strands of her from her face, “I love you.”

Kila smiled, her face painted not by sexuality but by love and care, “I love you to, Lara,” She whispered, closing in with her rubber-hugged body, “You are just... I can’t explain it.” Kila closed her eyes in mock-anger. A finger pressed on her lips; it tasted salty and sweet.

“Shh,” Lara calmed Kila’s mind, “You are overthinking, my love.” She paused just to stare into her lover’s eyes and to softly caress those delicious lips, “You don’t need words. I know what you are feeling– How you feel.”

Kila simply smiled, all worries and shyness and preoccupation for her own inability to express fading and being wrapped by a marvellous blanket of care and love and need.

“I feel the same for you,” Lara continued, “Maybe more.” Another pause, this time different, heavier and forced, “That’s why it pains me to do this.” Lara’s voice broke, tears crawling at her throat.

“Lara?” Kila whispered, her face turning inquiringly as she felt her lover’s mind in turmoil and her body move a hand underneath the pillow where her black-haired head rested.

Lara had her eyes closed, the afterglow of several orgasms receding as the soft, mind controlling whispers she had been hearing all night returned in earnest, “Make her ready. Bring her to Mistress.” The whispers echoed, guiding her dreadful actions. She pushed her hand underneath her pillow and pulled something plastic and cold and heavy with liquid.

Kila’s face was, of course, questioning; but this look didn’t last for long before Lara quickly and skilfully pulled her hand from underneath the pillow in one quick swoop and unto Kila’s neck. A sudden pain flared from Kila’s neck, the exact same sensation one felt when a wasp stung flesh or a needle....

“Lara!” Kila screamed as she abruptly removed herself from her lover’s embrace and kneeled on the bed, her right hand trying to find the exact location from where the pain came.

“I am sorry, Kila” Lara cried as she tried to hold her lover, “I had to.”

Kila was confused, angry and in pain, “Had to- What?” She found the source of the pain and jabbed it out of her flesh, another surge of pain shot through her neck.

Kila held in her hand a finger-size, syringe-like object, white and almost weightless, with the tell-tale signs of a greenish fluid once in it. She gazed in horror at the syringe thing, then, slowly, at her lover, awaiting a wicked smile but met only with avoiding eyes filled with guilt and regret and hurt.

“Lara...” Kila suddenly felt her words stumble as her vocal cords loosened, “What’s... what did you do?” The question was almost inaudible.

Lara forced herself to stare into her lover’s increasingly sleepy eyes, “Mistress Jen made me.” She said with a voice so low and broken that it was pitiful to hear the words; her face was a mess of blissful features and tear-stained eyes.

“Mistress...” Kila whispered dreamily as she felt her whole body relax. “Obey Mistress,” A sudden whisper flashed through her mind as she fell upon the soft covers.

Lara immediately crawled towards Kila and wrapped her arms in a loving embrace. “Please,” She sobbed with a smile filled with happiness, “Forgive me. I had to... She made me do it.” Lost words. Kila was already falling into a forced sleep, her mind shutting down as the green liquid filled her whole being.

More whispers: Obey Mistress. Obey the swimsuit. Submit.

“I love you,” Lara whispered on Kila’s ear before she passed out.

Lara’s eyes could not meet Kila’s beautiful face. Even with the tangled mess of red and the flushed and exhausted look it bore, Lara found the pale girl’s features an epiphany of beauty. She extended a shaking hand and softly caressed Kila’s cheek.

”I obey Mistress,” She mindlessly said as her hand moved from Kila’s soft, pale cheek and towards her swimsuit-clad body, “I am a swimsuit thrall.” She added, tears falling from her eyes.

Lara was now lost to her own conditioning, the love she felt for Kila locked away behind mindless obedience and tears. She placed a hand on Kila’s shoulder and softly pushed her, forcing her body to fully fall on her back. Lara found the sight of Kila’s tight, shinny, red, rubber swimsuit a tribute to sexuality. She shuddered as a surge of pleasure was released and she began to mindlessly kiss and nibble on her lover’s rubber skin.

Lara’s fetish was strong and her conditioning stronger. Swimsuits are pleasure. As ordered and whispered by her Mistress, Lara proceeded to rape Kila’s swimsuit-clad body – action that took little over a quarter-of-an-hour due to Lara’s love.

Once her orders were met, Lara walked towards where her clothes were, crouched and removed her cellphone from a pocket and speed-dialled her Mistress.

“She’s ready,” She said mindlessly, tears still wetting her cheeks.

“Good thrall.” Mistress Jen moaned, the sound of sex echoing in the background.

Another orgasm washed over Lara as the line died.