The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Is that Isabel Wearing?” A voice with hint of an oriental accent asked. Adding as Isabel dreamily confirmed that it was. “My mistress would like to talk to you; please hold the line.”

Normally Isabel would go ape at being put on hold; but right now her mind was still reviewing the images that had seemed so real. Half in desire, half in disgust that she could get so excited at the idea of an older woman, one whom she and Jane both trusted, abusing her little girl. She didn’t know how long she stood there, the vision of her violated daughter making her nipples crinkle and her pussy throb.

For a brief instant she was aware, a voice saying “Hello, my Bella.” And then the action replay of her fantasy returned, a voice seemed to be speaking but Isabel was unaware of what it said, but Bella listened carefully to everything her mistress’s hypnotic voice told her, feeding the desire that smouldered so close to the surface.

“I’m afraid my mistress, is not available, Miss Wearing. Perhaps you could give me your daughter’s measurements.”

“My daughter’s what?” Isabel queried, the erotic images still fogging her brain.

“For her costume, the one she will dance in on Friday.”

“Oh, yes.” Isabel said and woodenly reeled off Jane’s vitals.

“And yours?” Susi asked.

“Why do you need mine, I’m not dancing?” Isabel asked, but provided them when Susi explained it was for her uniform.

“Thank you, Miss Wearing.” Susi’s voice said just before the receiver went dead. Isabel just stood there holding the phone to her ear as if still on hold, exactly as Kali had instructed her subconscious, Kali’s Bella.

“Mom? Mom, you home?” Jane called as she entered the kitchen, but she found it was empty and so walked in to the living room.

“Mom?” Jane queried, a hint of worry in her voice as she saw her mother standing stone still, the telephone receiver clamped to her ear, her back to the door.

Jane’s voice broke the spell and wordlessly Isabel returned the phone to its cradle. “Did you forget something, honey?” she asked.

“Forget something? I’ve been gone nearly four hours. Are you alright, mom?”

Like a slow motion replay Isabel turned towards her delicious daughter, her robe still open, billowing out as she circled, her thighs still glistening slightly from her earlier orgasm, her breasts firm and the nipples aching to be consumed by Jane’s warm wet mouth.

“Mom!” Jane exclaimed as she averted her eyes from her mother’s naked body.

Something in Jane’s voice penetrated Isabel’s torpor and she realised the reason for her daughter’s anguish. Quickly she grabbed the errant robe and retied the belt, covering her still yearning body.

“I’m sorry, Honey.” Isabel apologised. “I didn’t sleep very well and I must have dozed off on the couch after Aunty Lisa picked you up.”

The last phrase brought a bright red flush to Isabel’s cheek as she remembered what she had been dreaming about, ‘was it a dream?’ she wondered, but the flush stayed.

“You don’t look well, mom.” Jane said with concern.

“I think I’ll go lie down for a bit, would you mind making your own tea?”

“No of course not. By the way who was on the phone?”

“The phone?” Isabel queried.

“When I came in you were on the phone and then you put it down, who were you talking to?”

Isabel really couldn’t remember being on the phone and so covered with a. “It was a wrong number, honey.” She still seemed in a daze as she asked “What time is it, sweetheart?”

With a worried expression Jane glanced at her watch, “Nearly two.”

“Oh. I’m going to be late, I have an appointment with Sylvia at three.” Suddenly having a purpose seemed to blow away the fog that had so befuddled her. “There’s some juice in the fridge.” She said as she went upstairs to finally get dressed.

Amazingly, Isabel managed to get a parking spot right outside ‘A Cut Above’, and so was actually a couple of minutes early for her bi-weekly wash, trim and blow. She entered the small salon and stood by the reception desk, waiting to be noticed. Seeing her there, Sylvia excused herself from her current client and came out to greet Isabel with a friendly peck on the cheek as she always did.

About the same age as Isabel, Sylvia had been cutting her hair ever since they’d moved in to the town. “I’m just finishing Mrs Greigson, I won’t keep you long.”

Isabel was about to say it didn’t matter and that she wasn’t in a rush when Sylvia appeared to think of something and said. “I don’t suppose you’d let Angela wash your hair, she’s our new trainee, only started a couple of weeks ago?”

Her hair was one of the few things Isabel was vain about and she trusted Sylvia and wasn’t too keen to let such a raw trainee near it. But she knew that everyone had to start somewhere and at least Sylvia would still be doing the trim and styling and so she relented graciously.

“Angela; shampoo please.” Sylvia called loudly and excused herself as she went to finish Mrs Greigson’s blue rinse.

Like a spare part, Isabel continued to stand, waiting for the appearance of the trainee.

“Are you the shampoo?” A bored voice asked, and Isabel turned to see a slip of a girl looking at her, she couldn’t have been much older than her Jane.

‘The things some girls wear!’ Isabel thought as she appraised the white cotton bandeau top that just about covered her small firm breasts. Her midriff was bare save for a topaz navel stud from which hung a little jewelled flower. Isabel took an instant dislike to the girl; she hated anyone being rude or surly, especially if they were working in a service industry. “I am Mrs Wearing, and yes, I am the one who needs her hair washing.”

The girl smiled and Isabel thought she really ought to do that more often, for it lit up her elfin features no end. “Sorry, Mrs Wearing. Please follow me.”

The girl turned on her two-inch kitten heeled mules and started to walk towards the sinks. Isabel followed, watching the girls boyish hips and small arse that were squeezed into an impossibly tight pair of black jeans, a small crease that appeared momentarily at the top of each thigh as she walked provided the only real definition of her buttocks.

Isabel settled herself into the comfortable black leather chair and Angela pumped the lever at the back, raising the chair on its central pillar. Something about sitting in such a chair and looking into a mirror gave Isabel a sort of displaced déjà vu, causing a shudder to run down her spine.

Slowly Angela rotated the chair and let the back recline, the leg rest coming out to support Isabel’s legs as her neck finally rested in the depression in the front of the sink.

One of the reason’s Isabel continued to come to Sylvia was, that despite her brassy blonde hair and penchant for heavy makeup, Sylvia seemed to have missed the course at hairdressing college where they teach them to talk incessantly and ask inane questions, the answers to which they have no interest in. Sure Sylvia asked how Isabel and Jane were keeping and such but didn’t overdo it, and she remembered anything Isabel told her. Unfortunately for Isabel Angela appeared to be top of her class in that subject. All the time she was wetting, shampooing and rinsing Isabel’s hair she never let her mouth close for more than a couple of minutes, even butting in when Isabel tried to tell her she wasn’t going on holiday this year, to tell Isabel all about where she wanted to go.

Eventually Isabel just gave up listening, and it was at that point that she became aware of the young girls perfume and how she kept bumping her bare midriff and, as she leant over more, her breasts against Isabel’s arm. Stray drops of water landed on the girl’s top making it slightly translucent, her soft pink flesh beneath adhering to the now damp cloth.

So just as Isabel was actually starting to enjoy being so close to her, Angela announced “All done, Mrs Wearing.” And started wrapping Isabel’s wet hair in a towel and tying it turban style.

As Angela returned Isabel to an upright position and turned her to face the mirror once more, she said apologetically “Sorry if I seemed a little brusque earlier, I do like working here, it’s just all I get to do is wash hair, make the coffee and sweep the floor.”

Isabel suddenly felt sorry for the girl and very nearly offered to let Angela cut her hair, especially if it meant remaining close to those deliciously small breasts and watching the little flower hanging from her navel twinkle in the light as it bobbed around when she moved.

Her dilemma was solved however when Sylvia returned from showing her elderly client out and said. “Thank you, Angela. Now why don’t you go and sweep up round the other chair and then make me and Isabel a cup of cappuccino.”

With a smile to accompany a ‘see what I mean’ look exchanged via the mirror, Angela walked away, Isabel’s eyes fixed on her petite derriere. “Lovely isn’t she?” Sylvia said as she removed the makeshift turban. Isabel looked into the mirror and saw a smiling pair of very red lips beneath a two twinkling eyes.

“What?” Isabel said, pretending she hadn’t heard. “I was miles away.”

Sylvia stayed true to form and let it ride saying simply, “Today’s pay day, so I think I might give her a little something extra to make up for the drudgery, they get paid a pittance while they are training you know.”

Isabel just nodded and let Sylvia do what she did best.

When Isabel got home there was a note on the kitchen table telling her that Jane had gone round to her friend Pauline’s to study and would be back before ten, their agreed curfew time. It added that Isabel should forget the housework and get a little rest, which brought a loving maternal smile to Isabel’s mouth.

She yawned and stretched and decided she would take Jane’s advice and go and lie down for half an hour or so.

The late afternoon sun beamed in through the window making her room almost unbearably hot and so Isabel pulled the drapes. She undressed and lay on the bed, the only sound the languid ticking of her bedside clock that had originally annoyed the life out of her, but now she missed it if it wasn’t there.

She let out a deep sleepy sigh as she turned and looked at the clock which told her it was a couple of minutes off five. ‘Sylvia should be shutting up shop around now.’ She thought, and the video in her mind set itself to play.

Angela put the last of the freshly cleaned cups in the cupboard and looked around nervously, Sylvia was nowhere to be seen and slipping her shoes off she walked quickly to the door. With trembling hands she turned the handle and tried to ease the door open silently, but it refused to yield, the double locks were already secured and the closed sign turned to the outside world.

“Have you forgotten it’s pay day, honey?” Sylvia said as she stepped into view.

With a quivering lip Angela looked at her mistress, dressed in a tight fitting black latex catsuit, her blonde hair pulled back into a bun. The six-inch heels and platforms on her thigh length leather boots made her tower over her diminutive trainee.

“Well, honey? Mistress is waiting.” Sylvia said as she closed the gap between them, her fingers lifting Angela’s chin forcing the young girl to look at her.

“P..Please, mistress. Please don’t make me pay you again.” Angela almost sobbed, the previously confident young woman now close to tears.

“But, you are here on work experience, you’ve done the work and now it’s time for you to get the experience only a proper mistress can give.” Sylvia said as she took Angela’s hand in hers and led her back into the salon.

Obediently, Angela climbed into the chair. Sylvia, Remembering the struggle last time, was pleased and told her little pet so. The she drew a length of shiny black latex with a large knot in it from her belt, where it had hung with four similar strips but without knots and asked. “Are you going to be a good, quiet little girl this time, or do I need to gag you again?”

Angela had hated the gag, the knot, forced between her teeth as her mistress squeezed her cheeks, forcing her mouth open, the latex tied tightly behind her head. She could taste it now as the smell of rubber triggered the memory.

“I’ll be quiet.” She said, almost too softly to hear, and was rewarded with another ‘good girl’

“But I don’t think we can dispense with the bindings though just yet, my sweet.” Sylvia said as she proceeded to tie the girl’s wrists to the arms of the hairdresser’s chair, the latex, normally so yielding was now stretched to its limit, allowing Angela only the smallest movement, and no hope of escape.

A loud click accompanied Sylvia’s foot as it started to press the lever, the chair lifting on its central pole, like an offering being raised before an altar.

“Please don’t.” Angela whimpered as Sylvia nibbled her ear, her tongue flicking the flowered earrings that hung from holes so recently made, while her fingers with their long red nails played with the matching stud in her navel before scraping up her torso, searching out the elasticated band below her breasts.

As Sylvia’s expert tongue slipped inside Angela’s ear her fingers found her top and lifted it up and over her tiny tits, exposing the rose pink, puffy nipples, which were eagerly sought by the tips of fingers and thumbs to be squeezed and cajoled into crinkled hardness, with a soft ‘good little girl’ breathed into her now wet ear.

With surprising gentleness, Sylvia placed Angela’s feet at either side of the large footrest and used the remaining two strips of latex to bind her ankles to the two poles that fastened it to the chair.

Kneeling, Sylvia reached out, her finger and thumb poised and Angela whimpered, knowing what was to come, but she also knew if she objected her mistress would force her to wear the gag again. With expert precision Sylvia pinched the girl’s left thigh in exactly the same spot as last time, where slowly fading bruises were now being coaxed back in to livid life.

Still gripping the tender flesh, Sylvia lifted her hand, pulling the trousers and the trembling girls skin. The trousers’ high lycra content allowed it to be pulled much further than Angela’s flesh, which snapped back leaving Sylvia holding just the stretchy material. With her free hand she picked up her recently sharpened hair scissors and sliced through the taught fabric just beneath where she was pinching it like a hot knife through butter. As the blades severed the final strands the material shrank back with a soft splat against Angela’s skin, leaving an almost perfect circle, the focus of which were the two rapidly rising welts.

With mock concern, Sylvia bent and kissed the bruising flesh, then like the long hand of a clock marking the hour she let her long red nail slip beneath the stretchy trousers, lifting the fabric like a small tent. The wickedly sharp blades of her scissors closed on the roof, and with a soft ripping sound closed together, the Lycra threads pulling the rent apart in an inverted V.

Ever further the finger burrowed, chased by the hungry jaws of the shears, the pursuit halting a couple of inches below the waistband, the milky white flesh of Angela’s left thigh exposed for her mistress’s pleasure.

Sylvia moved her hand so that it now hovered over the young girls right thigh, bringing forth and involuntary whimper, that fortunately her mistress decided to leave unpunished. As the finger and thumb descended Angela tried to flatten her leg to the chair, but knew better than to try to move it to either side.

Once again, with unfailing accuracy Sylvia found the exact spot and the pinching digits closed before lifting and cutting the stretchy material. After another honorific kiss, the scissors carved their unrelenting path up the girl’s thigh. With the right leg now perfectly mirroring the left, the scissors turned, forging ahead to unite the two, the material curling away and gradually exposing a thin black lace strip that held an almost translucent, lace trimmed black triangle that was supposed to cover the girls decency. Finally the two rents were joined and the lycra cloth rolled away exposing the young girl’s thong.

“Mmm, so pretty.” Sylvia breathed as her finger traced the lacy edging from the left, down almost to the girl’s asshole and then back up the other side. “Almost seems a shame to.” Shame or not, the scissors sliced first one and then the other strap and she peeled away the gossamer thin cover to reveal the prize beneath.

With just the tips of her fingers and nails, Sylvia explored the area around Angela’s light pink lips, the small downy blonde hairs, almost invisible to the naked eye but deliciously apparent to Sylvia’s fingers. “See, my sweet, I told you they would grow back.”

Angela was all too aware of their regrowth, for the last two days every time she stretched or bent, one of them would catch in the material of her panties, pulling it hard until she could find somewhere private and push her hands down her trousers and ease her panties away, freeing the trapped hair.

“That’s just one of the benefits of working at a beauty salon, sweetness. Especially if your mistress owns it as well, it means you get to have free treatments.” Sylvia said as she reached for the warmed jar of wax and a bundle of thin strips of cloth. As she applied the hot wax with a wooden spatula, Angela winced, but Sylvia soothed as she applied the first strip of cloth that soaked up the wax. “Don’t worry, my pet, the heat is nothing compared to.” And she ripped the cloth away pulling the freshly sprouted hairs with it.

A scream escaped Angela’s mouth followed by a string of apologies and pleadings not to be gagged again.

Sylvia smiled even as she painted the next strip of wax. “Lets see if you can control yourself this time, and anyway it can’t possibly hurt as much as the first time we did this.” Again the strip was ripped mercilessly away. Angela bit her lip to stop herself crying out; and if the pain was less than the first time, it was marginal at best.

Strip by strip, like a farmer harvesting a field, Sylvia waxed her playthings pussy until every last hair was removed, her fingertip inspection confirmed it, even as the attention made Angela whimper, though now out of building desire as she knew the worst was over and she would soon receive her reward, her ‘something extra on pay day’ just as her mistress had promised.

But before Sylvia bestowed her generosity, she applied a soothing balm, rubbing it into Angela’s baby soft skin, removing the powdery residue left by the waxing, building Angela’s frustrated need to an almost incandescent level, the scent of sex and menthol filling the air.

Squirming against her bonds and the leather chair, Angela forgot about keeping quiet, right now she couldn’t care less if her mistress gagged her, just as long as she did what she was doing.

Lips met lips and Angela bucked, pushing her pussy against her mistress’s mouth, pleading for her to slip her tongue inside her, and Sylvia obliged, tasting her slave’s honey, her tongue dipping in and out, her lips brushing the girls engorged clit bringing her to the brink of ecstasy time after time, till the young, bound girl didn’t know where she was, or who she was, all she knew was the need.

Fingers were playing with her nipples, squeezing the puffy buds that had darkened as her arousal mounted. Suddenly her mistress’s tongue was no longer searching for Angela’s nectar and the girl pleaded for her to return, to complete what she had started. Her left nipple was on fire as Sylvia pinched it, just as she had the young girls thighs. “I think we should pierce this next, don’t you, honey?”

Angela heard the words, even knew what they meant, but she didn’t care, she needed to cum, and so she all but screamed her agreement, a scream that continued as her orgasm finally set her body on fire.

Isabel sagged back on to sheets that were drenched in sweat and cum. She didn’t know how long the vision had lasted, or how many times she had climaxed. She lay naked, neither awake nor asleep, until the damp sheets turned cold and a shiver brought her back to reality. She was close to tears as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening to her.

Gingerly, Isabel propped herself up and looked at the time, it was nearly eight O’clock. She determined to go for a shower, her only consolation being that at least this time the fantasy had not included her lovely Jane. That was a mistake.

“Miss Wearing?” Angela said as she looked down hungrily at Jane who was sitting on the large red leather sofa reading an out of date magazine, her finely toned dancers legs crossed, allowing just the faintest glimpse of her white cotton panties beneath her short denim skirt.

Jane looked up at the source of the voice and couldn’t believe that someone who worked at her mother hairdressers would dress like that in tight black latex jeans and a semi transparent bandeau top. Through the top, Jane could clearly see the small flowered piercing hanging from one of her nipples, apparently part of a set that matched those in her ears and navel. “I’m Angela, my mistress asked me to prepare you for your treatment.”

“Mistress?” Jane boggled.

Angela laughed, a girly, bubbling giggle that belied her appearance. “Sorry I mean Sylvia, the owner. We call her that sometimes and I guess it just slipped out.”

Jane smiled, remembering the names they gave some of her teachers and the fear that they would address them by their nickname oneday. “You had me worried there for a second.”

“Would you follow me please, Miss Wearing?” Angela asked.

Angela watched as Jane’s lovely legs uncrossed and she rose in one fluid motion, saying, “Call me Jane.”

“This way please, Jane.” Angela said, holding out her hand in the direction of the treatment chairs.

Angela’s hand went to her recently pierced nipple as she followed the ballerina, her eyes fixed on her arse and thighs. “Just here please.”

Jane settled herself into the comfy black leather as Angela adjusted the headrest. “So what can we do to you today?” Angela asked.

‘That’s a strange way of putting it’ Jane thought but said. “I’m doing a recital this Friday, so I’d just like a quick tidy up if that’s okay.”

“Oh I’m sure we can manage that.” Angela said with a hidden leer as she swept a black nylon cloak over Jane and tied it at her neck, and, although unknown to Jane, to the metal pole holding the head restraint.

Jane was about to say something when she felt the cloak tighten across her chest and stomach, pinning her arms to her side. In the mirror she saw Angela tying straps behind the back of the chair, a look of triumph mixed with lust on her fine elfin features. “I think it is common to shout for help at this point, Jane.” Angela said as she completed her binding.

Jane didn’t need asking twice and opened her mouth, not to cry for help, but to scream the place down. Her lungs had just filled when, with the speed of a striking cobra, Angela’s hand was covering Jane’s mouth, the latex gag filling the void. “I can’t believe you fell for that one.” Angela said as she secured the gag beneath Jane’s ponytail, the latex stretching the girl’s mouth into the parody of a smile.

“My mistress will be with you shortly, I’d advise against struggling.” Angel said before walking away and leaving a struggling Jane alone.

“My pet should have told you not to struggle.” Sylvia said as her strong talon like fingers held Jane’s head in their vice like grip. “See to her legs, pet.”

Jane felt hands on her ankles and strained to look down and saw Angela, on her knees, binding Jane’s feet to the chair. A collar and metal leech that ran to her mistress’s belt had been added to Angela’s already weird attire.

“I’m so glad you decided to come to me, my sweet. Your mom and aunty Lisa have told me all about you, its just a shame neither of them are here to see me start your transformation.” Sylvia said in a voice like liquid chocolate.

Jane tried to scream, but the gag was very effective. A muffled sound sneaked passed the rubber knot as Sylvia wrapped Jane’s ponytail around her hand and pulled back sharply, holding Jane’s head fast against the chair. With deliberate slowness, and via the mirror, in full view of Jane, Sylvia removed a pair of scissors from her belt. Not the small delicate instrument she used for trimming, but what appeared to be a large pair of pinking shears, the interlocking teeth squealing as they opened and closed.

Even with the pain of her hair been pulled Jane struggled as she realised what was going to happen. “Just relax, sweetheart. Your mom was beginning to find your lovely silky blonde hair just too attractive and so she asked me to.”

She didn’t tell, she showed, the jagged blades crunching their way through the root of Jane’s pony tail which was held aloft like a trophy once it had been separated from her head. “Look after this, my pet. And if you are a good little doggy I might make a tail for you with it.” Sylvia said as she threw the dismembered hairpiece towards Angela, who was now sitting on her haunches, panting happily.

Tears ran down Jane’s face as she saw what this madwoman had done to her hair, especially as she had said it was her mom’s idea.

“Oh look pet, she’s crying like a little baby.” Sylvia sneered. “Shall we give her something to take her mind off losing her pretty hair?”

Angela whimpered her agreement and took the shears from her mistress and started to cut a long slit up Jane’s skirt, even the heavy denim cloth failing to resist the razor sharp triangular teeth.

With her more accustomed scissors, Sylvia started to re-dress Jane’s hair, and Angela cut away Jane’s cotton panties, exposing her virgin pussy, well virgin save for her Aunty Lisa’s fingers and tongue.

Angela’s little whines finally caught Sylvia’s attention and she smiled down at her pet, who, with her task completed, was waiting for her reward. “Go ahead, pet. But don’t make her cum. That’s my privilege.

If Angela was disappointed, she certainly didn’t show it as she bent her head to Angela’s musky pussy and started to lap. Jane tried to ignore the sensation, but it was impossible as the silver ball on the end of Angela’s tongue stud slid up between her pussy lips before flicking her clit at the end of each stroke.

Sylvia appeared satisfied with her work, Jane’s luscious golden locks now transformed into short almost fur like covering, save for two pointed clumps on top that Sylvia set with a strong hair wax. Sylvia watched her charge, seeing her breathing become more rapid as she gave in to Angela’s attentions. “Careful, puppy.” She warned. But it was too late and even with the slick ball of latex filling her mouth anyone that heard Jane would have known she was cumming. With a smile of triumph Sylvia fastened the velvet collar with it’s little gold bell, claiming Jane as her new little kitten.