The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dolls

by Leigh

Part 1 of 3

Molly couldn’t believe what she’d gotten herself into. It was only her first day at Oakwood Academy, and the new student was sitting in the car of a girl she’d just met. A car which was barreling through the streets of New Bristol to the house of a girl she’d never even seen. Molly badly wanted to text her parents, so they’d know that she was just going to an afternoon party with the girls from art class — nothing that scary. But Tessa had forbidden it, and, well, she was the driver.

She could tell Tessa to turn around. No doubt she’d do it. But . . . then she might never talk to Molly again. And despite Tessa’s ambivalent coldness, the art girls’ social circle was the only one she seemed to have a chance of joining. Molly’s dad had suddenly changed jobs in mid-October, which had swept the eighteen-year-old, with barely a chance to say goodbye, into the land of the rich kids with their pretentious “Academy.” Needless to say, she hadn’t quite mastered the social protocols. Still, if Molly wanted acceptance, she’d better try to behave herself. The redhead sighed, smoothed out her blue blouse, and stuck her purse in a corner below the glove compartment, hoping she could forget about the phone inside it.

After a certain point, New Bristol all looked the same. Or, at least the parts Tessa was driving through did: trees, interspersed with gabled roofs, sculpted lawns, and scaled-back mansions. Suburban grandeur. More and more, Molly’s eyes drifted from the monotonous houses to Tessa herself. She tried not to make it obvious, though the blonde seemed unnaturally focused on driving. Tessa wore a bold red scarf draped around her neck, offsetting a black blouse. The elegant senior’s voluminous pale-blonde hair was delicately curled into ringlets; her full lips were painted ruby-red, outlined in a slightly darker shade.

Molly had heard that one of the major activities at the art parties was trading fashion tips. She hoped she could one day look as striking as Tessa. The blonde’s natural beauty was formidable, but Molly had never really done anything ambitious with her makeup or clothes. And, at her old school, people had called her cute anyhow. She’d just have to work a little harder here. Someone would take Molly under her wing, and Molly would be fine. Really. I will be. Calm down, self.

Molly was considering Tessa’s lacquered red nails, wondering how they’d look on her, when the car slowed and stopped. Molly looked up, realizing she’d been in a bit of a daze. The car was parked, along with several others, alongside a mansion that made no attempt to show restraint. It reminded Molly of the Biltmore House, which she’d visited once, in its size and ostentatiousness; but with Neoclassical twists, such as the engaged columns delineating segments of the house. The grounds were enormous, with large fields on two sides, and a forest surrounding the whole affair. A winding road disappeared behind the trees in the direction they’d come.

Tessa put her hand on Molly’s shoulder, making the new girl flinch and look up, embarrassed. Tessa calmly, superciliously grinned. “I don’t blame you for ogling, but you’ll be doing plenty of that later. The party’s about to start, kiddo, and we still need to go through security.”

Security? But she found out quickly enough, as a cop — or pseudo-cop — approached the car. She was over six feet, perhaps in her thirties, with severe demeanor and a seriously short haircut. She wore no obvious makeup, but was quite striking nonetheless, with blemish-free skin like porcelain. The cop unholstered her gun — a little excessive, no? — and ushered them both into a small security hut in the mansion’s shadow.

The building contained little more than a metal detector and an oddly sweet smell, which Molly assumed was a new air freshener. The redhead quickly went through without setting the detector off. Which suddenly made her realize that she’d left her purse in the car. Shit. She had hoped it would go unnoticed as a fashion accessory, but if she bolted now, Tessa would know she was getting her phone. She would just have to do without, and nervously hope Tessa’s promise to drive her home held up.

When Tessa went through the metal detector, it quietly beeped. The cop grinned, which struck Molly as quite inappropriate.

“Oh, riiight,” the short-haired woman said. “Tessa. You’re the one with the nipple rings. Well, let me just make sure. Arms at your side, all right?”

The elegant blonde was blushing hard, but complied. Molly tried to shrink into a corner as she watched the cop running her hands up and down Tessa’s legs in a very unbusinesslike way. This impression was confirmed when she flipped up Tessa’s white skirt and started squeezing and pinching Tessa’s generous ass through her lace panties. Molly watched with wide eyes as the cop went around to the front, stuck two fingers into the panting blonde’s snatch, pulled them out, and licked them clean. She gave Molly a meaningful look. The redhead didn’t quite get the meaning. But she knew two things: one, she had gotten in way over her head; two, her pussy was doing the same gushing thing as Tessa’s was. Her mouth opened in a silent moan.

Eventually the cop made her way to Tessa’s modest swells, pinching and prodding them vigorously and inducing ragged moans from the elegant girl. After rolling up Tessa’s blouse to display the mounted golden rings to the overwhelmed Molly, the grinning cop finally withdrew and sent Tessa on her way. Molly tried to follow, but the cop caught her arm with an incredibly strong grip.

“You’re new here. Full name, please?”

She gulped, and hastily said, “Molly Carson.”

The cop nodded, her expression and voice lecherous. “Tegan will have fun with you, I’m sure.”

She waved them away, and they headed back towards the mansion. Molly turned the cop’s words over in her mind. Tegan would “have fun with” her. It seemed a weird turn of phrase. As if Molly were a doll for this Tegan to play with, or something. About all Molly knew about Tegan Stone was that she was rich, and the undisputed leader of the art girls’ social circle. Molly was in the afternoon all-levels art class, while Tegan attended in the morning, so they hadn’t ever met.

Molly had seen one of Miss Stone’s sculptures, though, displayed in the back of the room: a painted-ceramic mountain lion, snarling with almost absurd realism at the class. It was a little hard not to look at the beast when taking down notes, although the fashionable girls in the class were a good distraction. She’d only appreciated them aesthetically at the time. But Tessa and the cop had flipped a switch. She shivered as she began to relive her afternoon memories, this time focused not on her classmates’ jewelry, but on their luscious lips, and what they could do to her . . .

Tessa interrupted that train of thought by ringing the doorbell. Molly shook her head, trying to clear it. A black-haired girl stood in the doorway, whom Molly recognized from afternoon art. She hadn’t ever caught her name, nor did she remember the girl’s most notable feature: very generous breasts, now exposed in a delectable low-cut green dress, and emphasized with a golden necklace. The olive-skinned girl greeted Tess with a lengthy but seemingly chaste hug, and turned to Molly.

“You might not remember me from class,” the girl said, extending her hand. “I’m Miranda.” She spoke warmly, with a clear Spanish accent. Her complexion was perfect, and she had wide, brown eyes with gold sparkles in them, which Molly thought she could easily get lost in.

“Molly. Nice to meet you again.”

They shook hands, and Molly felt a pleasant tingle up her spine. Which was followed by a resurgence of the heat she’d felt earlier. She recognized the same, cloying smell inside as in the security building, but it seemed more intense, and cut with something deep and rich. Dark chocolate and berries, maybe. The scent had a strange spice, almost pungence to it. Molly couldn’t stop thinking about the scent.

At one point she noticed that she was sweating. This fact barely registered.

Molly followed Miranda through the foyer. It was clear that the scent was coming from all around—but Miranda seemed like she’d been sprayed with it. Something about that scent compelled her. Compelled her to do things. Nasty things. It was all Molly could do not to grab hold of those toned legs and beg to be allowed a taste of Miranda’s delectable pussy, no doubt unblemished, slick and sweet like berries . . .

She followed Miranda into the next room, open-mouthed and staring directly at her bubble butt as it jiggled under the green fabric.

Suddenly Miranda stepped back, and wrapped her arm around Molly’s waist. The redhead didn’t resist. She couldn’t. A primal thrill that this voluptuous, perfect girl was touching her overrode every thought. Molly’s body pulsed with every step, and her pussy was beginning to leak again—she was glad she’d worn a skirt, hiding the sight. Nor could she really smell herself over the delicious sweet scent, which was growing stronger, almost thickening the air. Miranda’s hand unhurriedly edged further down, until Molly suddenly realized she was being led into the room by her ass. She was slightly embarrassed, but was far past the point where she would say anything to object. Past the point, too, where she cared why girls were suddenly turning her on.

After a gentle nudge by Miranda, Molly looked up. She saw about a dozen young art ladies, sitting on couches scattered around the enormous living room, with plates of hors d’oeuvres all about. A few others were in an adjacent atelier, where some easels were set up, one with a vaguely charcoaled female figure, another an abstract explosion of rectangular oranges, pinks and greens. Neither the food nor the incipient paintings were getting much attention, although many had goblets filled with some dark liquid, and were drinking it with evident pleasure. Wine? No one mentioned that! A frisson of frightened excitement shuddered through Molly.

The girls were all clustered in dyads and triads, chatting animatedly with each other. Many had hands on another girl’s legs, or their head in another girl’s lap. Several were mid-snog—including Tessa, who was heavy-petting with an Asian girl who Molly didn’t recognize. She vaguely thought this should be a surprising scene. But it all seemed very natural, like there wasn’t another way to imagine the party. Every other girl in the room was astoundingly beautiful: wide-eyed, clear-skinned, with moderate differences in height, bust size and musculature, but all seemingly sculpted with the same basic aesthetic. And Molly didn’t fit in. Maybe she was cute at her old high school, or even in math class, but all of these girls were like works of art.

Molly’s heart sank. How would she ever be accepted among such Galateas, such beauties?

“Everybody, this is Molly. She is new here.” Miranda said it without any condescension or scorn, but very carefully and seriously, as if articulating a profound truth. “Please greet her.”

With that, Miranda removed her hand, and slipped out of Molly’s field of vision. Molly stood, feeling a bit off-balance, and tried to think about whether she should try to slip away — somehow — but couldn’t clear her head enough to make any decisions. Before long, the girl who’d been necking with Tessa stepped in front of Molly. Her ample boobs, under a white top with lace fringes, were at to Molly’s eye level. Molly had to crane her neck up to see the girl’s intense green eyes, which seemed to laser eldritch images of pain and bliss into her.

“Kasumi. A pleasure.”

Molly was expecting a handshake, but instead she got an embrace, and a rather infantilizing one at that. Kasumi’s powerful hug forced Molly’s head against the Asian’s breasts. Molly briefly imagined herself suckling, being nursed by Kasumi. Toned gold-beige arms, stronger than they looked, kept her from moving for a long moment, but her annoyance faded as quickly as it came. Molly grew to appreciate the comfort of not having to think about where to stand, what to say, what to do. She was just there, held by Kasumi, happy to be accepted by such a cuntmeltingly perfect lady and suddenly wondering what it would be like to have a sexy sister. Or mommy. Or both at once.

Kasumi’s embrace shifted, and for a moment Molly was only being held by one arm – yet even this was too firm a lock for Molly to hope to escape. Then, that arm too was gone. Molly stepped back and saw Kasumi, smiling down at her, with a goblet in her hand, filled with the same dark liquid that seemed to be everywhere.

“Drink,” was all she said.

Kasumi brought the edge of the glass closer to Molly’s head. The redhead could not help but breathe in the rich smell — redolent of the berry scent all around her, but fuller, more complex, and with an added spiciness that made the mysterious drink hard to resist. But something seemed wrong. This delicious offering, by this unearthly beautiful woman, smiling beatifically with thick lips painted gold — something deep inside her longed for it all, but something else, something instinctive in Molly, recoiled and stiffened.

Molly hesitated. Kasumi’s tongue gave a little, slightly predatory lick, and Molly felt it like an electric shock and her knees buckled, her body reeled with the sheer pleasure of being wanted, even as prey, by such an unearthly creature. But that feeling of wrongness was still there, and made her hesitate. It made her take a step backward, close her eyes, and, with great effort, turn away from the looming beauty in front of her, towards the door.

She opened her eyes, and saw Miranda standing in her way. The dress was gone, replaced only by a beautifully intricate set of forest green lingerie, and an indulgent smile. Patiently, Miranda offered Molly her own goblet.

“Drink,” she said — warm, kind, sweet.

Molly couldn’t close her eyes to those beautiful brown eyes with the golden specks. She could do nothing except get lost deep inside as the goblet crept ever closer to her lips. Imagining what it would be like to have eyes like that. What it would be like to seduce others with a glance, to put them under her spell, a spell she knew she was falling under, but she hardly cared.

A hand on her shoulder, gentle but firm. Kasumi. She didn’t have to look to know. She couldn’t look. Couldn’t look away from Miranda’s hypnotic eyes.

“We love you,” whispered Kasumi and Miranda in unison. “Drink for us.”

With a shaky arm, still not looking away from those golden orbs, she accepted the goblet — feels heavy — maneuvered it to her mouth, and sipped.

The (wine?) was incredible. There were many, many more notes in it than she had been able to smell. Licorice, oranges, a sort of softened mint, and other tastes beyond anything Molly could recognize or name. Within a few seconds, a warm, intense feeling spread from her throat, to her face to her chest, to her arms, to her hips, almost seeming to press her flesh, and to tickle it gently, and to blow on it . . .

And then an electric shock hit.

She dropped the goblet, saw it bounce on the floor just as she fell to the floor screaming in pleasure. Molly’s blue blouse was covered in wine, but she hardly cared. It was as if her entire body had been unplugged for her entire life, and she’d just been plugged in. She’d had orgasms before, of course. Late nights pleasuring herself, a couple of awkward fumbles with boys back home. But nothing, nothing at all like this.

As the spilled wine leaked into her body, the warm feeling spread again, and intensified. Her blurred vision cleared enough to see Miranda on top of her, straddling her, grabbing the back of her neck, and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss as her eyes went wide and the wine sent her into spasms of heavenly, cunt-gushing, goosebumps-raising climax once again. She could hear someone else drop to the floor, could feel her legs being spread by strong hands, her panties sliding to her ankles and then off. Her vision began to clear, and she saw someone she didn’t know, pale with a brown pixie cut and a mischievous smile, lean in and began to lick Molly’s soaking cunt.

A few licks, with Tessa and Kasumi on either side of her, lifting her up, massaging her back, other tongues darting in and out to tickle and tease, and the new brunette testing, prodding, slowly inserting a finger, then two, and moving back and forth. Another girl, whose hair was bright blue and who wore earrings like an abstract depiction of a compass, started kissing her quickly and offering her more wine. And she drank just as the brunette’s teeth found her clit and lightly nibbled, and Molly smashed into a second brain-searing thoroughly-wet climax much, much higher than anything before, building even then, beyond comprehension, beyond control, and she squealed and screamed and spasmed with the most exhilarating electricity, and she finally, gloriously, suddenly lost consciousness.