The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Miriam Andrews drew off the road and round the crescent driveway. The house was not a mansion, but in this part of London had to be worth a fortune. It was discreet, set back from the road, yet within walking distance of good cafes and great restaurants. It suggested that the woman who owned it, Selina Wardell, liked her privacy, but not to be out of contact with the world.

Miriam was about to turn forty. She had been working as a financial journalist since leaving university. She liked the job, it had provided her with travel across the world and her words influenced business people and governments alike. Lately she had moved towards features rather than breaking news stories. She felt it gave her time to really get to know her subjects, something that had grown in importance once she had realised that it was the people in business rather than the business that they did, which really attracted her. In addition, she had also recognised that her thirties had passed by in what felt like a single year and she had many acquaintances but no real friends and a dearth of lovers. She did wonder if a new life started at her next birthday, but being uncertain, she thought it a good idea to free up some time to meet people and relax a little.

Miriam stepped from the car and rang the doorbell. In moments it was opened by a woman in her twenties. Miriam tried to do the sums, but gave up when she realised that Selina had no children, so this could not be her daughter; maybe a niece? The woman was typical of a type—English public school. Her skin was pale though not unhealthy and she had sleek long ash-blonde hair running down her back. Her complexion was smooth, not only visible on her face, but also her bare shoulders. She wore a black silk corset embroidered with red vines and tight black suede trousers that disappeared into shiny black leather boots at her knees. Her clothing was at once both sensuous and subdued. Looking closer a few things, like the diamond that glinted from the side of he nose and the braided leather choker tight against her throat, added a little more exotic flavour. Miriam remembered the comments she had heard in passing about Wardell’s sexuality. They might now be being confirmed, though to Miriam they were immaterial. In almost twenty years of interviews she had always focused on her interviewees’ business outlook, not any other attitudes that went around in their minds.

“Miriam Andrews. Is Selina Wardell in? She’s expecting me.”

“Certainly, come in Ms. Andrews, my mistress is in the drawing room.”

Miriam followed, interest piqued by the ‘my mistress’ routine. Servants were common among those who were successful in business, but generally none were dressed this richly. Maybe this woman was some kind of postgraduate or art student working for Selina as a domestice but who came in her own outfits. Miriam tried to rein in her curiosity. That was not why she was here, it was to find out how this woman had gone from being a civil servant to running one of the most successful tax consultancies in London in less than three years.

Miriam did not really know what she expected to see, though she had interviewed scores of people in their offices and their homes. Usually they aimed to give out some impression and would have her come to a room filled with leather-bound volumes or the latest high-tech equipment. Selina Wardell’s room was closer to the latter, but had a distinct style of its own. The furniture was covered in black leather, but minimalist and modern. A handful of computers surrounded her in a horseshoe shape.

It was the woman herself, however, who would have snatched away anyone’s attention. Selina Wardell was resting back in a comfortable office chair in the centre of the room, her feet up on her desk. She was a few years older than Miriam, no more than five, but it was clear that she kept trim; no doubt somewhere in this building was her own gym. Her sleekly muscled body was accentuated by her clothes that were of skin-tight black rubber polished to a high shine. She wore a sleeveless scooped top that barely held in her large firm breasts. Rubber armlets brought out the definition of her biceps and forearms. A large leather belt with stainless steel panels circled her waist and below, her toned legs were clear in the black latex leggings as they ran to calf-length boots of patent leather. Each had three inches of platform and five of chunky heel. Selina knew that when she stood up they would give this tall woman even more height allowing tower over most women.

The closely cropped blonde hair reminded Miriam of an eighties style, something from Annie Lennox or Grace Jones, though accepting such references did not make Selina’s sexuality a certainty. Glancing at the computer screens that surrounded her, which were showing screensavers of illustrations of submissive, barely clad women, did though. As Miriam entered, Selina slid her feet from the desk and stretched forward to extend a manicured hand. Miriam took it and shook it briskly.

“Take a seat.” Selina said casually.

Miriam sat in an empty chair, a replica of the one which held Selina. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

Selina gestured to indicate it was nothing. “I think you’ll find it was Julia’s suggestion.”

“Julia Taylor? You know her?”

“Yes, she’s a wonderful girl, very accommodating.”

“Ah.”

Now Miriam was a bit concerned, she had had more than her fair share of self-publicists and those seeking a spotlight for their mad schemes or even trying to enlist her backing. Now she thought back, it might indeed have been Julia who had brought Selina’s name to her attention and she hoped that this was not some kind of vanity exercise on Selina’s behalf.

“Don’t worry, this is not an ego trip. You like to find out about leading people in business, don’t you think others might enjoy that too? You’re a bit of a celebrity yourself, don’t you know that?”

“Thank you. Flattery will get you nowhere.” Miriam said defensively.

Selina gestured this away. “I have people who deal out flattery for me, I deal in facts. You’ve met with top business people from across this planet, that’s something of interest to me.”

Now Miriam wondered if Selina was promoting some kind of club or even a woman’s group. She had been invited into quite a few of those over the years. It was less uncomfortable having to see off such requests than business propositions, and sometimes she even got a good meal out of it.

Miriam turned as she heard footsteps. Another blonde woman was there with a tray of coffees. Her clothes were like Selina’s in being black, shiny and clinging, but she wore a tight top, the briefest of shorts, and buckled ankle boots; the skin left bare by the shiny plastic was covered in mesh stockings and sleeves.

“Alta Rica, I believe.” Selina said as the servant handed Miriam a cup.

“You’ve done your research.”

“Just like you.”

Miriam took the proffered coffee and drank, it was good, at the perfect temperature too. She looked back at Selina waiting for her to reveal why she had engineered for the journalist to visit her.

“Oh, I’m not expecting to pump you. You’re here for an interview and I respect that, but I always preferred to have you interview me than any of your colleagues or competitors.” Selina explained.

“Okay, I accept that.” Selina readied her hand-held recorder. “So what shall I call you? Ms. Wardell? Selina?”

“Well, most often I am called ‘Mistress’, but with equals like you, it’s usually ‘Domina’.”

“Erm.” For once Miriam was non-plussed, she knew enough to recognise such references were sexual, and chided herself for not expecting something of that nature given Selina’s garb.

“Well, can we start by going back to when you established Dominion Consultancy? What encouraged you to leave the civil service and go it alone?” Miriam asked.

Selina’s gaze seem to fix as if she was witnessing events of three years ago plpayed out before her eyes. “Oh, have you ever heard of a woman called Ingrid Mason?”

“Yes, I know a little, she recently sold off her recruitment agency for a tidy packet.”

“Well, I was instructed to inspect her accounts. I had only been a tax inspector a couple of years by then. Work was my key focus.”

“So you had anticipated going into consultancy even then?”

Selina shook her pale blonde head. “No, you’ve met the type like me back then, though I bet you’ve never interviewed one. I liked the safety the civil service gave me. My life was not up to much, but even with all the changes the civil service went through, I felt secure there and that was important to me then. I certainly lacked the courage to break away even to become a member in a partnership, let alone running my own company.”

Miriam nodded, everything Selina was saying was familiar. A number of women she had known as a student had gone the same way, they had the intelligence, the skill, but lacked the guts. She supposed that was nature’s way of insuring there were not too many generals and sufficient footsoldiers.

“So, Ingrid Mason changed your mind?” Miriam pressed.

Selina smiled. “Oh yes, most certainly.”

Three Years Ago:

The inspection was almost over. Selina looked down her checklist to see if there was anything she had missed. Ingrid Mason’s accounts seemed in perfect order. She was not certain why she had been asked to go over them in detail, but she guessed these days they took a sample for specific attention and this time just happened to be the one when Mason’s file came up; nothing more. Not for the first time, Selina looked over at Ingrid. Selina had just turned forty and Ingrid was probably eight years or so older. Running the Helot Recruitment Agency seemed not to have stressed her at all. Her face was oval, framed by a Louise Brooks style cut of dark hair and its features large and somewhat intimidating, though not unattractive. To Selina it looked like her broad mouth, painted a deep burgundy could consume her and Ingrid’s eyes accentuated by silver-blue eyeshadow would be able to drink in her soul. Selina shook her head, these were fanciful thoughts, but maybe that was unsurprising given the melodramatic style Ingrid had adopted. Her house was a large place on the North-West edge of London, Victorian gothic revival with a round tower room above the front porch.

Ingrid herself was dressed in tight white silk blouse that showed Selina there was no bra beneath, just breasts that were surprisingly pert for a woman in her forties; Selina was a touch envious. Below the blouse, Ingrid wore jodphurs running into polished riding boots. Her clothes were unblemished and Selina guessed they would never be worn for riding, they were about projecting an image. When Selina had entered, Ingrid had stood and come forward to shake her hand, a gesture that momentarily surprised Selina, as being out of place for someone so aloof. The woman who had brought them coffee had seemed more like a companion, maybe even a lover, rather than simply a servant. She was in her twenties, had her dark hair cut very like Ingrid’s, but she wore a scant leather dress, sheer stockings and black high stiletto shoes that as she walked away Selina had noticed were fixed to her feet by tiny steel locks.

“Well, everything seems to be fine Ms.Mason.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You seem to run a successful business.”

“Yes, I’m thinking of selling up soon and spending more time with my interests.”

It was common enough for a successful businesswoman. Selina knew that she should not ask, but something in Ingrid’s tone suggested she was fishing for queries, and the tax official had to admit she was at least a little curious. “Your interests?”

“Yes, work takes me away from my pets like Ana too much.” Ingrid smiled.

Selina felt she should surprised, even startled, but there was an urge that made her want to persist as if she was on the verge of finding out something important if only she would let Ingrid lead her to the information.

“Ana?”

“She brought in our coffee.”

“She’s your ‘pet’?” It had quickly dawned on Selina that it was not simply a dialect term, it meant something stronger.

Ingrid gave that smile again which made Selina sure nothing was wrong; that this was a fascinating conversation. “Yes, I’m a dominatrix. Don’t look so bemused, not one of those cheap women who advertises in telephone boxes. They have their place I agree, but they’re not the real thing, for them it’s work, it’s not their lifestyle. Call me a Domme, a Domina if you prefer.”

“Domina Ingrid.” Selina said softly, but embarrassed that it was audible at all. “So who do you dominate?” She continued, trying to cover her blunder.

Ingrid smiled again, seemingly pleased by Selina’s questions. “There are so many who want to be dominated, I’m sure you find that. They need orders, they need direction and some are equipped to supply them. For submissive women like Ana I am their mistress. I effectively own her.”

“Own her? I thought slavery was illegal.”

“Certain forms of it. That’s only an aberration. In its whole history Britain has had only a short period without slavery and I don’t see it lasting, do you, Mistress Selina?”

“Mistress Selina? What do you mean?” Selina believed it was some kind of game Ingrid was playing, but a little piece of her sensed something more serious.

“Well, you don’t think you were ordered to do an inspection in my house for nothing do you?”

“What, what are you talking about?” Rationally Selina felt suspicious, but something stronger quickly doused those concerns and replaced them with curiosity.

“Women and men like me are seeking to move western society back to the way it should be. Not with all this equality: it’s rubbish, it brings weakness. You need leaders and you need the led. So many people are dissatisfied because no-one will come forward and dominate them. Why do you think dictators are so popular? It’s what the bulk of the population wants.”

“But not everyone.” Selina said, pleased in her defiance.

“Precisely. We need to emerge from the shadows, and it starts by recognising what we are and what we want.”

“If this is true, why are you telling me this? I’m not a domina, I don’t have any ‘pets’, human or otherwise.”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? You’re hoping to change me to your point of view; to accept that I should dominate other people?” Selina said dismissively.

“The change is already happening. Of course, you and I are not likely to see the plan come to fruition, but in eighty years or so, this country, Europe, America, Japan, elsewhere, will be back to the society of Owners and owned, and we’ll be seen as the pioneers. Our efforts are already bearing fruit. Our society is becoming truly sexualised. Sex sells everything from cars to ice cream. How many of your male colleagues play computer games in which they act as pimps? In fact ‘pimping’ everything from one’s car to one’s house seems in fashion. How many women you know enjoy ‘Pretty Woman’, a movie where a rich man effectively buys a partner? How many women do you see out of a Saturday night with clothes that in the past would have been reserved for whores: backless halter tops, micro-skirts, long boots? They even have the words emblazoned on them, ‘whore’, ‘porn star’, ‘bitch’, ‘princess’, whatever: they are dividing themselves into those who will own and those who will be owned. It’s not just a youth thing, how many middle-aged women do you see sporting tight leather jackets or trousers or over-the-knee boots with spike heels? There’s a nascent dominatrix living on every suburban avenue.”

Selina was surprised to find a tingle in her belly as Ingrid outlined these facts. She had to admit that she had noticed them too. Often she had been tempted by a pair of boots that were that bit longer or had a sharper heel and the belts of linked metal on young women she had seen around the shops had been strangely appealing; if Ingrid was right, it was because Selina imagined them as shackles. Yet she did not own any of these boots, and she found it tough to talk with a man who took her fancy, let alone a woman she wanted to subjugate!

“Surely if I agreed with all this I would be on your side, in this conspiracy already?” Selina asked, feeling she was countering the picture Ingrid had painted of a society heading rapidly towards one of sexual possession.

Ingrid laughed. “Too many people in this bland, mish-mash of a society have not been allowed to see their proper roles and that goes for you. Even just talking with me, someone willing to show you what is really going on, will be shifting your opinions.”

“So you’re saying you’ll show me the delights of dressing in tight clothes and having a woman serve me, in all ways, I imagine, and I will join in. I’m not even attracted to women.” Selina was unable to bring off the sneer she had tried for, instead as she uttered the words they seemed to have a real attraction.

“Your sexuality’s not important. Those who dominate for real are attracted to power and they use it on people, men or women. Anyway, I am sure that once you’ve had a nice trainee on her lunch break lick you out beneath your desk, you’ll agree that it’s good to have a few women around to attend to you, they are so attentive and know just the right buttons to press, or stroke. As for your style, there are as many as there are mistresses. You’re not a horsewoman, but I know you are pretty regular at the gym. I’m sure there would be some shapely fillies there who would cream over you if you turned up in something sleek and shiny which really showed off your muscle tone. That haircut’s too bland, go for something that shows your real strength. You’ll have them flocking to you. With a little direction that you’ll soon learn, they’ll be literally be eating out of your honeypot.”

Selina shook her head, trying to dismiss the images Ingrid was planting. She had to confess she had always wanted to take the time to get looking really good, but work always got in the way. Now the thought of herself as one of those toned women showing off her assets certainly was exciting. “So what happens, you drug me, you hypnotise me and I march out of here to advance the cause? I think you’ll find it tougher than that.”

“As I would expect, you’re going to become a dominatrix, not a slave. Hypnosis has its place for the weak, for creating slaves, but I’ve no interest in using it on you. I prefer brunettes to blondes anyway. No, it is something more subtle. You are a strong woman, you probably order your staff around already, it is just a question of recognising that and letting it into every part of your life.”

Selina was beginning to recognise herself in Ingrid’s description and whereas she would previously have felt uneasy, she tested it out for a few moments, accepting that, seeing her strength and it felt good. That Susan Pearce who had joined a few months back as a revenue assistant always looked good in those too tight suit trousers and her blonde hair spilling down over the back of her blouse. As she let these thoughts run, the image of Susan snapped firmly into her mind’s eye, but now Susan was in figure hugging cycling shorts with a real shine and with something like a bustiere above it. Selina again shook her head to push out the intruding image.

“Ah, it seems to be taking effect.”

“What? If it’s not drugs and it’s not hypnosis what are you doing to me?”

“Very little. It’s simply a question of a few scents here, some sounds in the background, something on the skin, a little a bit of what you drunk, combined it’s opening you up to new ideas.”

“So you are doping me?”

“It’s nothing much stronger than you’d find in a health food shop or somewhere doing colour therapy. If you want, just make your excuses and walk away.”

As Ingrid said that, Selina wondered why she just did not leave. Now she realised she actually wanted to stay.

“You want to stay because I am waking up a true side of your character, this is the kind of woman you are, you are little different from me.”

Selina wanted to deny it, but something held her back. If she had to be honest, what she was feeling a little of now was envy of what Ingrid had: the strength, the control.

“You don’t think I would ask a woman here at random do you? We select our candidates carefully and we are rarely wrong. By the time you arrived here I knew you would be leaving this house well on your way to becoming a Domme. We pick women who have the funds, the ability to become self-financing. In cases like yours maybe they just need a little push. All but one of your colleagues you worked with five years ago has gone into private practice, why not you? You could be the best consultant for miles around, with less work, more pay and more time to enjoy yourself. I can’t believe you’re too timid, you’ve just not been encouraged, that’s what your employers want, to get a top class consultant on their payroll at reduced rates.”

Selina thought it through. Ingrid was right, there was nothing bar some shapeless qualms, some anecdotes about how difficult it could be, and she guessed those had come uncoroborated from her bosses. She was strong. She was certainly better than Fiona Updike who she knew was doing pretty well as part of an advisory team. Then more seductive voices came. Well, if she went ahead and broke away, she could set her own hours, live the high life, have nice women to serve her. She was sure she could tempt Susan to come and work for her, of course she would have to do a lot of it from home. Susan would have to stay over when they worked late together. Now another image of Susan came into her mind. This time she was dressed in tight leather trousers and a bra, it was leather too, her hair loose on her shoulders, carrying a tray of food to Selina.

Ingrid seemed to be watching Selina with interest. “Do you know what a meme is?”

“A meme?” Selina was rather thrown by the question. “Erm, I heard a talk about them. They’re ideas.” What had the speaker said about them? “She called them ‘contagious’ ideas.”

“Yes, you’re exactly right. Some religions recruit new members by spreading memes and you know converts are often more devout than those who’ve grown up in the religion.”

“So you’ve been feeding me a meme. Well, making me susceptible to your meme of a world of mistresses and slaves.”

“Certainly, the so-called Domme Meme. By the look of you, you’re aroused, and that suggests it has taken and your view of the world is shifting round to my perspective. I imagine by now you’ll be imaging a slightly different relationship with one of your colleagues, one of your female colleagues, something a little stronger than a simple office romance. Maybe you’re seeing her in tight sleek clothes, maybe increasingly with a thick necklace or a choker. See her at your feet, her pert bum thrust in the air, so shapely in the skin-tight clothes you have dressed her in. That’s not a necklace at her throat, it’s her collar, there’s a leash attached to it and you hold it in your gloved hand. Order her to do something you’d enjoy, licking your clit, stroking your nipples. Command her, dominate her—she expects it, after all, as she reminds you, you are her mistress.”

Selina tried to resist what Ingrid was saying, but was finding it impossible. The thought of Susan dressed as she had imagined her, returned more strongly and Selina now thought of her subservient, acting in the way Ingrid was describing. Selina shifted awkwardly in her chair as the sensation in her pussy and on the tip of her breasts that told her she was aroused began building. There was something more though, something telling her not to fight these sensations, but to welcome them. Why should she deny herself things that were pleasurable? She had the strength not only to dream of them, but to make them happen. Ingrid had been right, there was this strong, dominating character inside her and the reason why Selina had felt so uncomfortable was because she had been denying her true identity.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Ingrid said, with a broad grin.

“I’m, I’m thinking about Susan Pearce.”

“Your first slave.”

“My, my slave.” The word felt strange, but as Selina said it, her body shuddered with excitement as she now knew it would be true. “I imagine her in tight leather trousers, that bum of hers, pert and so lovely in the smooth leather, and a bra, also black leather and the collar, mmm, yes, a collar, like you said. She’s at my feet now, telling me she’s my slave. I am opening my legs, I’m wearing, I’m wearing rubber leggings and yet my crotch is exposed, she’s nuzzling it. That’s good, that’s so good.”

Selina dissolved into gasps as the image took over and she felt as if it was happening for real, unaware that she was detailing such an erotic scene to a stranger, yet feeling no shame. This was right, this was proper, after all Ingrid was a domme too, she knew what pleasure could be had from a slave serving you.

As Selina re-focused on the room around her, she realised she had been stroking herself through her suit trousers and now her panties were sodden with her juice. An hour before she would have been astounded, embarrassed to even have consided doing that. Now she was different woman. Everything Ingrid had told her was true. She was a Domme, she was so glad to have had that revealed. She was certain her life would improve now that she would be in control.

Ingrid smiled. “Welcome. Don’t worry, you’re just starting out, but there’s a lot of us to help you. In time you’ll learn to spread the meme, but first you need to build up your harem. I know the temptation’s just to recruit some desperate sub off a contact website, but we don’t need to turn someone like them. You need to concentrate on those who think they’re vanilla, get them to understand the true pleasures of serving. Most of the population are servants, they need to serve, they’ll relish being enslaved especially by a sexy, powerful Domme like yourself. Start with that Susan. I know you would not have thought of her unless you could sense she was suitable to be led to enslavement. She’ll be your first, but I imagine you’ll soon have a handful of them and they’re your currency. A clutch of well-trained slaves always puts you in good stead among the Owner community, your community.”

Selina lapped up Ingrid’s words. A bright, tingling future seemed to stretch out in front of her in which dreams, sexual dreams would become reality.

Selina dropped the bag containing her training kit in the corner. It was the third time she had been to the gym that week. She had asked Gareth, the trainer she knew best, to put her on to something for muscle toning, and while she guessed it was too early to have started having an effect, she did feel stronger and her muscles seemed more lithe beneath her skin. She ran her fingers over her hair. Despite using the dryer it was still rather damp, maybe she needed to go for a shorter cut, something that would dry quicker. The tall Scandinavian woman she had seen there a couple of times came to mind and Selina wondered if she could have something like her look. Selina stretched to switch on her computer on her desk and went to hunt for her coffee cup.

“That’s a nice jacket.”

Selina looked round to see Susan Pearce framed in the doorway. She glanced down at the black leather jacket which in recent days had replaced the black cotton one she had been wearing for the past couple of years. She was glad that she had gone for the cafe racer style with the popper to seal it tight at her neck. Selina felt the urge to step closer to Susan, knowing that doing so would show off the spike-heeled boots that emerged from beneath her suit trousers. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” Selina said truthfully. “Have you got something like it?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you wear it to work?”

“Erm, I don’t know. I didn’t feel it would quite fit in.”

“Well, if a tax inspector can wear one surely it’s perfect for her workers.”

Selina was pleased as she realisd Susan was looking at her boots. She glanced back at Susan and rather than a young woman in the dull trousers and blouse, she saw Susan as a woman she had seen in a local bar, her face painted with pale shades, her hair extended and streaked running down her back, and her clothes a short shiny jacket doing nothing to conceal her bum, so visible in the tight unblemished plastic trousers that clung to her shapely legs. Selina knew that from somewhere had come the urge to make Susan into a replica of that young woman. Selina recognised that currently, whilst Susan might enjoy a good time, she was not yet a trashy tart who would give herself to whoever bought her a drink. Now Selina realised that was what she was eager to make her; well maybe not that she gave herself to anyone, but so she would give herself freely to Selina.

“Do you like the boots?” Selina asked, keen to keep this conversation going; she stretched out her leg so that Susan could see the shiny leather stretching up her calf.

“Erm, yes.”

Susan seemed a little nervous now and Selina thought it sensible not to push it too hard at this early stage. Susan did not, however, seem eager to leave just yet and Selina felt now was the time to try the gambit she had been planning. Ingrid’s advice had been to start with someone who was used to taking orders from you, most likely in a work setting, but as soon as possible to shift that into a different setting.

“It was quiet at the gym today. I had a really good session. Do you go?”

“I’d like to, but they all seem so expensive.”

Selina smiled, Susan had played right into her hand. “Well, I’m a member of the Centros gym, there’s a special promotion running at the moment.” Selina pretended to fish around in her sports bag and then pulled out a slip of paper. “Because I’m a member they’ve given me a voucher for free membership for a friend for a year. Could you use it?”

Selina handed over the paper to Susan. In fact she had simply bought a year’s membership, already in Susan’s name, with the hope that they would ‘run into each other’ there out of office hours.

Susan looked pleased. “Thanks, that’s great. You’ve got no-one else you want to give it to?”

Selina shook her head. “No, I’d like you to have it, as long as you promise you’ll use it. That’s an order.”

“I promise.” Susan said coyly.

“Susan!”

It was Matthew Gilbert, another of the tax inspectors, calling.

“I’d better go. I’m sure he wants to know if I’ve sent those faxes.”

“Well, pop in for a chat when you’re next passing.”

“I will do. Thanks for these Ms. Wardell.”

“Selina.”

“Selina, thanks.” Susan said and hurried off down the corridor to deal with Gilbert.

Selina gestured it was nothing and turned back to her computer. Her first moves did not seem to have gone too badly. That made her feel so good, so powerful. Ingrid had been right, she was suitable to be a Domme and she was so glad that she now knew that. Her life was going to be so good.

Selina walked from the changing rooms and stopped to check her appearance in the long glass windows. She knew she had been undergoing a change of image in the weeks since she had met Ingrid, but this was the first time she had really noticed it all coming together. Of course the cropped haircut was more practical now she was coming to the gym so much more regularly and it seemed to add the strength she was feeling. Her muscles were certainly getting toned and that had been another reason for her shopping sprees. Until she had started searching, she had never realised how easy it was to order good looking clothes like the shiny black lycra top she was now wearing or the skin-tight leather trousers beneath it, that she was rarely willing to shed. The new pointed boots she had bought that morning finished off what she felt was a cool outfit. Selina hesitated, looking around idly before deciding to go to the cafe. She had felt that she had taken the good first steps in truly becoming a Domme. She had read all the things Ingrid had emailed and was keen to test them out. Recognising her sexual identity had been good but despite regularly resulting to her favourite vibrator to satiate her rising sex drive, she really felt something was missing. How could she really be a mistress if she had no slaves? Initially she had thought it easy, just go up to someone she fancied and they would fall at her feet, aware that she was their natural owner, but as Ingrid’s information had shown, there was more to it than that and to be successful she needed to be skilled at all the elements that went into bringing someone under her control.

Selina had thought she had been making good steps with Susan, but in the last week before she resigned from the revenue service, Selina had seen uncharacteristically little of the young woman and she worried she had scared her off with her inexperienced approach. Ingrid had been right, Selina’s more frequent fantasies had soon shown her she was attracted to women as much as to men, well, in fact, to people she could dominate to serve her sexually. She guessed it was the novelty of having a woman that made it special for her, and so totally having a woman too, that was an added extra. She knew now as well, that Susan was her ‘type’, the long blonde hair and the body ready to be toned up and then slid into some lovely shiny clothes. Selina gasped as she imagined Susan’s legs, the muscles firm from regular gym visits, shown off beneath tight rubber clothes of the kind Selina had been increasingly viewing online.

Selina shook her head. There were things to focus on. There was time enough for fantasising and lust when she got home. She had a lot to do. Dominion Consultancy formally started the following Monday and there were clients to attract and best of all, a staff to recruit. Selina had wicked thoughts about the dress code she would insist her employees adhered to. She had always been firm in her role as a tax inspector, but she knew that as her own boss, her staff would be whipped into line from the start, but the type of women she would employ would simply love that. This was the whole point of the Domme Meme to re-establish the proper balance in society as it had been for centuries, for millenia, between the many who served and the few who were served, in any way they chose.

Selina walked into the cafe, feeling the need of a smoothie to cool the ardour that physical exercise always seemed to stir up in her.

“Ms. Wardell, erm, Selina?”

Selina turned and for a moment thought she was day dreaming as Susan stood there, a leather jacket pulled on over her teeshirt and black pedal-pushers below.

“Susan.” Selina responded, trying to sound as calm as she could be. “You took up the offer.”

“Yes, thanks. It’s been the first time I’ve been able to get down here. Work’s been so busy. I was just in for a quick introduction. Then I was on the bikes.”

“I’m glad. We’ll have to make sure we come at the same time. You can spot for me.”

“You do weights?”

“Sure, you should give them a go. A bit of muscle tone is always handy.” Selina said, trying to sound light but encouraging.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them and Selina scrambled through the lessons she had been reading about reeling in a likely candidate for slavery.

“I’m getting a smoothie, let me get you one.”

“Thanks, strawberry would be great.”

“You’d be better off with banana, I’ll get you one.”

“Okay.”

Selina looked carefully to read Susan’s face, but there seemed no aversion to Selina taking the lead and making decisions for her.

“Find us a table. Just take my bag.”

“Will do.”

Minutes later Selina walked over with the drinks. Susan thanked her and the pair sat sippling their smoothies.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your leaving do.” Susan said at length.

“Yes, it was a pity. I took it to mean that you were not happy to see me leaving.”

Susan looked a little surprise, and Selina was pleased she had hit a target. This seemed to be some confirmation that pursuing Susan would not be an entirely fruitless occupation.

“Erm, yes, well, I guess I did feel like that.” Susan looked down at her drink a little awkwardly. “You know, you and I have got to be pretty good friends in the past few weeks.”

“Yes, and you’ve liked that.”

“Yes, I have.”

“And now you’re worried you won’t see me around any more?”

“Yes, work won’t be half as interesting. I know why you needed to leave, your style doesn’t fit in there any more. The clothes you’ve been wearing aren’t like the boring stuff people there wear, and now you’re hair too. You stand out from the crowd, and so I suppose you’ll be better off somewhere else. You’re way too cool for that place.”

“So are you. Leave.”

“And do what?” Susan asked, but her question lacked too much concern, as if she knew what Selina’s answer would be and it was one she wanted to hear.

“Work for me. You’ve got the right jacket already.”

Susan laughed lightly. “And if you told me where you got those boots I could get a pair of those to match too. Though I don’t think I’m quite up to carrying off a pair of leather trousers that tight.”

“In a couple of weeks you will.”

Susan did not respond and Selina was certain that the image she had been gently planting in Susan’s head was taking root. She had no doubt that tonight Susan would have very vivid dreams of strutting on spike heels dressed in leather trousers that matched her jacket. Selina waited a little longer. What she had read advised not to rush things along. Going slower meant things went deeper. Added to that, the longer Susan spent around Selina, breathing in the pheremone-laced perfume she had sprayed on quickly whilst Susan had been securing the table, the more open she was going to be to Selina’s suggestions. “You want a pair of boots like mine, shiny and sharp-heeled.” Again it could be a question but Selina put a force behind it that made it a statement. Susan seemed suddenly to jerk back into the here and now. “Certainly. I did think of getting a pair.”

“Well, why don’t you?” Without thinking Selina reached into her purse and pulled out cash.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“Go on, you get paid a pittance for all your talents. Think of it as a down payment.”

“A down payment?” Susan asked.

“Yes, a sweetener to encourage you to come to work for me.”

“For you?”

“Yes, I’ve decided it’s time to jump ship. Why else did you think I left?”

“I realised you had another job lined up, but who will you be working for, which firm, will they want me?”

“I’m setting up my own. You’re looking at the new owner of Dominion Consultancy.”

Selina had no idea where the name had come from when it had emerged in her mind a couple of nights before, but it seemed so suitable. Voicing it seemed to release a whole stream of ideas into her mind and she barely accepted that now she had a real desire to have Susan under her.

“Go and buy yourself the boots. I need to organise some things this week, but come wearing the boots to my place at seven next Saturday and you can find out about working under me alone.” Selina scribbled her address on a leaflet and passed it all to Susan.

Susan hesitated for a moment, but Selina could see that her qualms were fading. “Okay.”

“It’s only a job, you might not want it, but think it over.”

Selina lied, knowing now that she would say whatever she thought Susan wanted to hear. Far from being a simple job offer, Selina understood that her increasingly unbridled desires would make it the first step in Susan becoming her sexual slave.

The doorbell rang. Selina felt a sudden burst of excitement, but stilled herself. It was no way for a Domme to behave to jump up suddenly. Maybe to give her greater cofidence in her role she had adopted clothes more like the ones Ingrid wore—tight white silk blouse and an ankle-length black leather skirt concealing knee-length laced boots. Selina waited for the second ring before she stood and walked to the door, doing one final check of the room. It was perfect. Having followed the directions Ingrid had supplied, there was the right balance of light, colours, sounds and scents for entrapping an increasingly submissive woman. As Selina had read, this approach was not about erasing the target’s personality, it was about shaping it to have particular characteristics, so Susan would still be Susan, but a Susan eager to submit sexually to Selina.

On opening the door, Selina’s optimism received a boost. Susan seemed already to have moved in the direction of clothing that Selina had envisaged for her. Her sleek leather jacket was zipped up and the tab closed at her throat. She wore cropped skin-tight pale blue jeans that showed off every contour and had a length that meant the spike-heeled boots emerged for everone to see.

“Hi, you look great.” Selina said with true enthusiasm.

“Thanks.” Susan said a little self-consciously. “I felt it was important that you would like what I’m wearing. I got the jeans specially to show off the boots.”

“Yes, it is important, and I do like what you’re wearing. A nice pair of leather jeans would just finish off that outfit. Once you start working for me you’ll get some. Come in. You’d like a drink, some wine.”

“Thanks, some wine would be nice.”

“Come into the lounge.” Selina led the way. “It’s all informal here, make yourself comfortable on the floor.” Selina had removed all the furniture, bar a single armchair, and on that sat a wodge of papers, forcing Susan to sit on the floor, covered with a number of cushions and beanbags to make it not seem that strange. Susan lowered herself to the ground, looking a little uncomfortable at first. Selina returned with the glasses of white wine and clearing the chair sat in it. Susan’s wine was not really drugged, it just had a special blend to bring out the flavour and similarly to ensure Susan’s concentration was entirely on what Selina was going to tell her.

“Thanks.” Susan said, taking a generous sip. “That’s got a really nice flavour.” She drank some more.

“So, you’re looking forward to coming to work for me.”

“Yes, I think it’ll be good, the idea’s grown on me through the week. It’ll be exciting working for a new venture, being in at the start.”

“Good, yes, you’ll be my first, and you’ll certainly properly mark the real start of my new ventures.”

“What will you want me to do? Something similar to the tax office.”

Selina nodded, “Yes, the key difference is you’ll only be serving me. Of course the hours will be long, you’ll have to stay over quite a bit.”

“I guessed that might be the case with getting the business started.”

“But I know you’ll soon feel that in return the rewards are great; you’ll not want to leave.”

“Sounds good, I don’t get much out of working at the tax office.”

Selina smiled, sipping more of her wine to encourage Susan to do likewise.

“There’s one key thing. That’s loyalty. You’ll be loyal to me above anyone else.”

Susan looked up at Selina, clearly eager to please. “Of course, Selina, my loyalty will be to you entirely.”

“I know it will, but it is good to hear it from you. You’re only on a temporary contract at the tax office. Wrap things up there and you can start promptly, a week on Monday. It’s no use wasting cash on plush offices until we’re properly established, so for the first few months we’ll be working from here.”

“That’s great.” Susan said enthusiastically, apparently pleased that the ‘interview’ for her new post had been so straight forward.

“Here’s to us and Dominion Consultancy.” Selina offered the toast and the two women clinked glasses.

The rest of the evening was spent in chatting. Selina was pleased to note as time passed that Susan was taking less initiative in what she said or did, and seemed increasingly content for Selina to talk about her travels and her plans and just to nod agreement. Selina was proud of herself for having followed the guidance Ingrid had provided so carefully, and it seemed, so successfully. She brought the conversation back to the consultancy firm to plant the last of her ideas deep into Susan’s thoughts.

“... so working under my orders you’ll become a slave to me.”

“A slave to you.” Susan said drowsily.

Susan’s head was now rested against Selina’s leg and idly Selina stroked the young woman’s long blonde hair like she would a pet cat. Selina felt that her body was almost throbbing with the strength she was gaining from becoming fully an Owner, becoming a true Domme. She realised she was aching for Susan to put her head between her legs and lick her pussy to bring her to orgasm. Then again, she reminded herself these past few weeks had almost been as much of a journey for her as they had been for Susan and their paths started off by the Domme meme were now about to bisect, to merge and she had to wait patiently for that moment.

Susan phoned for a taxi from where she sat, then moved her leg and began gently to shake Susan awake.

“Time to go home.”

“Wha, what?” Susan asked blearily.

Selina stood up. She was reluctant to let Susan go, but knew that even at this stage if she pushed things too hard they could unravel and she was unwilling to risk that. The closer she came to totally having the Susan the more she wanted her, but for now she had to resist such desires. Selina helped Susan to her feet. The younger woman shook her head as if to clear it of her fuzziness, but Selina was confident that buried deep inside it, yet growing, were ideas that would soon make Susan all hers. By the time Selina got Susan to the front door the taxi was there. Susan was now more awake, but clearly weary. She threw her arms around Selina and kissed her cheek gently.

“Thank you, Selina, it’s been a nice evening. I could sit at your feet all night. I’ll see you a week on Monday. Thanks for this opportunity.”

Selina smiled and returned the kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, for being you, for being the first one to come under my dominion. It means a great deal to me.”

Susan smiled and then managed to manoeuvre herself out of the door and disappeared into the dark to find her taxi. Selina closed the door. She wandered back to the living room. She had a lot to do. She needed to get Dominion Consultancy properly off the ground if she was going to be able to support her new lifestyle. That meant recruiting real workers not slaves and getting some modest offices to run it all from. It was time for bed, she would be busy tomorrow.

Selina had woken early. Her business seemed to have come so far in the previous week, but today, with the return of Susan, she would see if she had made true progress in becoming a real Domme, or whether she would have to go back for remedial lessons. Selina sat in the living room irritably, looking at the clock coming closer to nine. There was still thirty minutes to go when the doorbell rang. Again Selina resisted the urge to bound to the door and open it, instead she walked calmly, though inside her excitement was boiling up. Selina opened the door, glad to see that in fact it was Susan. She was dressed from head to toe in black leather, the jacket and the boots were by now familiar, but the tight trousers, sleek and uninterrupted by pockets were a new addition. The jacket was unzipped and beneath Selina could catch glimpses of a shiny bustiere. Selina felt strong as she realised it had been her that had shaped this young woman to look like this, to think in the way that made wearing such sexy clothes second nature.

“You’re looking hot.” Selina said aloud, no longer afraid of scaring Susan away.

“Thank you.” Susan looked down at herself. “I wanted to wear things that would, erm, please you.” She said as if still a little uncertain at the urges that were filling her mind.

“That is excellent. They do. I’ve bought you some clothes a little like these, that not only will please me, but you’ll enjoy wearing.”

“Thank you, you are too generous to me.”

“It is nothing, you serve me well, I reward that.”

Selina marvelled at the language coming to her lips, but imagined that, as she realised that she would soon posess her first slave, further aspects of her dominant personality were being unlocked.

“Come in.” Selina ordered.

Selina took a small step forward so that as Susan passed through the doorway her leather clad body brushed gently over Selina’s. Selina closed the front door and locked it, certain that Susan would not be leaving. Susan hovered by the entrance to the living room, apparently uncertain about going in.

“Erm, there’s something I need to talk to you about before we I formally starting work for you.” Susan said hesitantly.

“Yes, what is it? Ask me anything you like.”

“Well, erm, well since we became friendly at the tax office, I’ve grown very fond of you. I like spending time with you.”

“Surely that’s good? You wouldn’t want to work with someone you loathed would you?” Selina spoke in a sympathetic tone.

Susan shook her head. “No, but I think my feelings have grown stronger.” She looked up abruptly as if trying to catch Selina’s immediate reaction. “I’m not certain. I’ve had a few boyfriends, but I’ve never felt this way about a woman before, so I don’t know.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re a eighteen, more than old enough to make your own decisions about things. One thing’s for certain, if it feels right, then go with it. What do you feel?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve wanted to do the things you’ve suggested, to dress the way you like, to have you tell me what to do. In this last week I dreamt about you every night. I’ve dreamt we are lovers. There I’ve said it, but...”

“But even though you’re embarrassed, it makes you feel good to admit it.”

“Yes. You understand.”

“I do. Now you’re worried that the feeling’s not going to be mutual, that I’m going to rebuff you, even worse that I’ll be disgusted and scream at you.”

“Yes.”

Selina leant forward, one arm encompassed Susan’s waist, loving the feel of the smooth leather beneath her fingers. Her other hand lifted Susan’s chin and brought her face to Selina’s; their lips touched briefly. Selina pulled Susan in tighter and pressed her lips against hers. Then gently the tip of her tongue probed Susan’s lips; after initial resistance they parted allowing Selina’s tongue deep into her mouth. Now Selina felt Susan’s arms close around her. Though she would not admit it, of course this was the first time Selina had kissed a woman too, but it felt good, and mentally she thanked Ingrid for providing her with the will to achieve this. The two women broke. In her grasp Selina could feel Susan relaxing.

“Was that a sufficient answer?”

“Yes, yes.” Susan said eagerly.

“Good. Welcome to your new home.”

Susan looked incredulous.

“No, of course, I have long wanted you for me. I am just so happy that you have come to the same conclusion. From now on I’ll look after you. I’ll dress you, I’ll supply all your needs. All you have to be is faithful to me.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“You realise you’re a different woman now.”

“Yes.”

“Suzy.”

“People generally call me Susan ...”

Selina put her fingers to Susan’s lips. “Now you’ll be know as Suzy.”

“Yes.”

“Now, Suzy, go upstairs, I’m going to give you those clothes I promised.”

“But the job ...”

“Don’t worry about that, no girlfriend of mine does paid work. I am the mistress of the house. You’ll have your tasks here, a major one will be looking good and sexy for me to enjoy.”

“Yes, mistress.”

For an instant Susan looked startled at what she had just said, but then her body seemed to be rewarding her for verbally confirming her growing submission to Selina.

“Excellent, go with what your body tells you is right.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan repeated and from her vacant expression Selina imagined the young woman’s responses were driving her into a state of arousal.

“Upstairs, Suzy.”

Susan walked up the stairs, her leather-clad bum swaying as she moved, partly due to the boots she wore, partly to the fact her mind and body were sliding into what Selina now recognised as an attitude of sexual servitude. Selina grasped Susan’s bum, loving the feel of it, and even more that Susan accepted that grasp without complaint. In moments they were in Selina’s bedroom. Feeling optimistic Selina had already layed out more leather clothes for Susan, and now was glad she had.

“Suzy, strip.” Selina commanded.

Susan obeyed without thinking, sliding teasingly from her leather jacket, casually tugging off her boots, before lowering, then discarding, her bustiere and finally shedding her tight trousers. Selina looked on, pleased as she saw Susan had worn no underwear and her breasts were aroused and her pussy seemed wet with juice. Feeling increasingly bold herself, Selina approached and tweaked Susan’s left nipple before lowering her hand and slipping a couple of fingers deep inside Susan. With that gesture she knew that Susan was totally hers.

“Dress, Suzy.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan replied breathlessly.

Susan crossed to the leather minidress and eased herself into it. Selina came forward to close the collar at the neck. From that ran slim leather straps that she tightened a notch to pull the leather tight against Susan’s breasts. The little of the dress that was below, hugged Susan’s contours, yet Selina pulled the integral belt tighter, reminding Susan further of what she wore and who had provided it. Susan replaced the plain studs in her ears with the large hoop earrings Selina had put out. Then looked for a moment at the small item before slipping it over her wrist and middle finger to back her right hand with black leather embedded with gems. She pulled on the fishnet stockings, then sat on the edge of the bed to put on the long black leather boots. They reached well beyond the knee and as she stood up Suzy rose on their heels.

“Excellent.”

Suzy smiled, clearly pleased. Selina stepped up to reward her with caresses and more kisses.

“At my feet.” Selina commanded, knowing that her true destiny had now been realised and that she owned this woman.

Suzy fell to the floor, her kisses coming on Selina’s boot tips.

“Halt, kneel.”

Suzy obeyed whilst Selina went to her bedside drawer and pulled out the new dildo. She unzipped her own trousers and slid one end deep into her moist pussy then returned to Suzy.

“Head down, let me mount you.”

Suzy complied, turning and thrusting her backside up to Selina, lifting up in her kneeling position to let her mistress slide into her pussy from behind. The black rubber slipped in easily and soon Suzy was gasping in pleasure. Selina could see the orgasm was explosive and felt that some of this had to come from Suzy’s recognition that she had just been taken by her mistress for the first of many times and that her life would never be the same again. A life of secure servitude stretched out in front of her, beckoning her on with the submission she now knew was the proper course to follow.

“Stand.”

Selina shifted to the bed and lounged back on it, splaying her legs.

“Lick me out.”

Selina had no need to command twice. In moments Suzy was on the bed, straddling Selina’s legs, her pussy still dripping. Then her head was down between Selina’s legs. She needed some training, thought Selina, but she had never anticipated her first slave to come fully broken in. It would certainly be good having Susan practice on her. As the first stirrings of an orgasm began appearing within Selina, she was so glad that she had gone to see Ingrid; so glad that she had become a Domme.

Now:

“An interesting story.”

Miriam felt it was all she could really say. A lot of it she took to be exaggeration and clearly, for some reason, Selina felt she had to justify her sexual choices. Trimmed down it would make a reasonable story about successful women in business being mentors to bring on other women, and the benefits of a little assertiveness training.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking, it’s a bit of reality, mixed with a little fantasy.” Selina said. “Well, I don’t need to waste time convincing you that everything I have told you is true.”

“Why? Because you’re going to recruit me to this band of mistresses?” Miriam scoffed.

Selina smiled smugly. “No, you’re already a recruit and soon you will begin recognising it.”

As if on cue, the young woman in shiny black returned. Miriam jolted as she realised how attractive she was and thoughts of wanting to get to know her better came into Miriam’s mind. For a moment she thought it nothing unusual, but then realised she was running her eyes over this woman’s body, wondering what it would like to be kissed by her, to have her at Miriam’s feet, to feel her tongue lapping at Miriam’s clitoris.

“Good, it is taking, I can see you’re having carnal thoughts about Suzy here.”

“No. What have you done to me?”

“How ever much you try to deny it, you know I am speaking the truth, just let go and recognise it. You’ll leave this house a Domme.”

Miriam was incredulous, but the words Selina was saying did seem exciting. “I’m hardly one for the gym, tight rubber’s not going to suit me.”

“No, of course not. Every Domme’s different. I don’t resemble Ingrid and you’ll be different again, but we will be united in moving our society towards one of ownership, one Domme at a time.”

Miriam stood, aiming to leave Selina’s house and these crazy ideas.

“Come over here Mistress Miriam. This is what we envisage you becoming.”

Miriam did not even notice the way Selina addressed her. She just crossed to get a better look at the computer screen closest to Selina. It showed the image of a mistress with a woman in a short leather dress kneeling at her feet. Miriam recognised the face of the slave as that of Angela Butler, a new cub journalist in her office. It had to be a composite, a shot that Selina had had grafted on to this sexy leather-clad body. It was a good body and the leather showed it off so well, Angela would certainly look good in a dress like that.

“I know you like salsa...”

Miriam had to agree with that, the dancing was the one thing that got her entirely away from her work. She wondered if Angela would be interested.

“... so I imagine with more time on your hands that will begin to play a greater part in your life. Look properly at the mistress, you’ve not done that yet have you?”

Now Miriam felt compelled to look. The mistress wore long black leather boots turned into a cuff at the knee. Above were fence-net stockings beneath a short leather skirt, slit to the waist to allow free movement. Her top was a shiny black leather corset that showed off her golden-skinned breasts so well. Her tanned face was framed by long dark tresses of hair and its almost Hispanic appearance accentuated by dark make-up on her eyelids and lips that gave her, gave Miriam—she now recognised the face, such a sultry appearance, one that she really loved.

“That’s what you’ll soon become.” Selina said.

In that moment Miriam knew it certainly was, she understood there was nothing she could do to stop it and her body quivered in the anticipation of the pleasures to come now that she was a Domme.