The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Title: Dream State

Version: $Revision: 1.10 $ $Date: 2004/07/28 11:34:34 $


This work is copyright © 2000-2004 with all rights reserved by its author. The author specifically states that this work may be redistributed, without charge, as long as it is published with the same the story name (“Dream State”), author (“JimC”), and that the story is distributed in its entirety, including the disclaimer and all chapters. You may also modify this story by partitioning this into multiple parts, as long as this disclaimer is included on each part. I specifically do NOT permit this story to be published on any site that charges any mandatory membership fees.

The web sites StoriesOnline ( and ASSTR ( have explicit permission to archive this story.

The following is a work of fiction (actually, “FANTASY”). Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and rather far fetched, if you ask me.

This is a story that describes some sexually explicit situations in a fictional (remember fiction?) setting. The target audience is adults (people over the age of eighteen) with broad minds. This audience is getting harder and harder to find each year.

Final disclaimer—I doubt that any of the people would act in the way described herein, or even if things described herein are even possible. This is just fantasy, and should be treated as such. This fantasy takes place in the mid 1970s to late 1980s, without any fear from AIDS or any other sexually transmitted diseases, so don’t try this at home.

Chapter 5—“I’d do anything to get you into my world...”

I must make an admission right here.

Having two gorgeous women, naked and kneeling at your feet, telling you that they are your slaves is one hell of a mind blast. Don’t let anybody tell you any different.

So, how does one actually deal with such an event?

I looked at the two lovely ladies, and they were looking up at me expectantly.

I ended up asking probably the stupidest question you could think of. “What do you mean, ‘slaves?’”

Mary looked up at me. “That’s not the right word, but the closest I can think of. There’s something...” She paused, thinking of the right word. “Something... magical about you. Debbie and I both feel it.”

I looked at Debbie, and she was nodding her head vigorously.

I shook my head. “Up until tonight, neither of us had ever met Debbie before!”

It was Mary’s turn to shake her head. “Not true. She owns this apartment building. I’ve seen her a few times over the week or so.”

Debbie was still nodding her head in agreement.

“So, do the two of you do this sort of thing often?” I asked.

Debbie giggled.

Mary looked at me seriously. “Never, Jim. In fact, until I woke up, I never considered sharing any guy with any girl.”

“Me, neither,” Debbie added.

I sighed. My dick was getting hard again. It was like I was a teenager again. Debbie noticed, and started flicking at it with her tongue.

“Stop that, Debbie!” I said.

“Can you answer me a question,” Debbie asked.

“You mean, why am I refusing your services?”

“No,” Debbie answered. “How do you know my name?”

“I... um... well...”

“You see?” Debbie asked. “That’s how I know that you’re our... Master. I mean...” Debbie looked at Mary for help.

“Do you know how we connected last night, Jim?” Mary asked.

“I’m still having trouble with that,” I admitted.

“Debbie seems to have tuned into us,” Mary explained. “It’s through you that we met. It’s like we’re sisters with a common father, except the sex angle is weird. Maybe two slaves with one master, but that’s not quite right, either.”

This was too much for me to understand.

“You don’t mind that the three of us are naked?” I asked Mary.

Mary shook her head. “I’ve never shared my man before, and never even considered it before. I felt Debbie come in, and I immediately felt some sort of kinship with her, even though she was having oral sex with you. Everything changed at that minute.”

“I need some time to think things through,” I said.

Both girls got up together, silently, and without any protest. They walked out of the living room into the bathroom. A few seconds later, I heard the water start. About thirty seconds after that, I heard some squeals coming from the bathroom, and I could tell that they were bathing together.

I sighed.

I thought back to that dream of mine. I know for a fact that I was dreaming when I first saw Debbie. How did she get into Mary’s apartment?

I looked around, and didn’t see any of her clothes—or Mary’s, for that matter—on the floor. Did she walk downstairs naked?

How did I know that she lived upstairs, anyway? Nobody had told me that, but I knew it.

What does all this mean, anyway?

The girls had left the bathroom door open. I wondered if they wanted me to join in. They probably did, but I decided that it might not be a good idea.

I had found that Mary was quite insatiable last night—four orgasms (and I came during every one—which was even more unbelievable). I now had a second female to deal with... it seemed inhuman.

Moans from the bathroom interrupted my thoughts, and it was quite apparent that they were getting it on in there. I’d never seen two girls going at it before, except when Debbie and Mary were sharing my cock.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I tiptoed into the bathroom. There was steam coming out of the shower stall, and I could barely make out a body from behind the translucent curtain. There was darkness at the bottom, and it dawned on me that one girl was squatting down in front of the other.

I quietly moved the shower curtain so that I could peek in. Debbie had her face to Mary’s crotch. Mary’s eyes were closed, and her lips had a smile on them that made it clear she was enjoying Debbie’s attentions.

My guess was that Debbie was bisexual, and was teaching Mary the ropes.

My boner wanted me to join the action, but my other brain decided to leave quietly. I did, silently closing the bathroom door behind me.

I realized my mistake almost immediately. Now, I not only had a boner so hard that it hurt, but I also had to piss something awful. I had closed the door, so getting into the bathroom again wasn’t going to be as quiet as the last time.

Debating what to do, I heard a girl’s voice cry out in pleasure. To my surprise, it wasn’t Mary’s voice, but Debbie’s. Did they trade places?

I needed to get dressed. Walking around the apartment naked with two nude females wasn’t going to allow me to figure things out.

I went into Mary’s bedroom, and looked for my clothes from the previous evening. After a few minutes, I was dressed. I decided to go without my boxers, since the ones from last night were dirty.

When I left the bedroom, I saw Mary and Debbie sitting on Mary’s sofa, both girls wearing towels around their heads—and nothing else.

“Debbie, where are your clothes?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Upstairs.”


I tried to figure out if the two girls were the same size. They looked about the same, with Mary a bit older and maybe a few pounds on Debbie. Mary’s hips were a bit broader than Debbie’s.

“Can you find something to put on here?” I asked.

She looked at Mary and then sighed. “I guess...” she pouted.

“You too, Mary. Get dressed, and let’s all have some breakfast.”

The two girls quickly got up and went into Mary’s bedroom.

I expected them to start going at each other on Mary’s bed, but I didn’t hear any such activity going on. After about ten minutes, they both emerged. Debbie wearing a pair of jeans that would have been skin tight on Mary, but seemed to fit Debbie just wonderfully. Mary was wearing jeans that were tighter on her. Both girls decided to wear tube tops; Debbie’s was pulled so low that I could almost see the tips of her nipples peeking out.

When they saw me, they smiled. Mary asked me if I wanted breakfast. Debbie looked me in the eyes and announced that she was hungry for a sausage, and then looked down at my crotch pointedly in order to make it clear what kind of a sausage she was considering.

“Um... how about some actual food?” I asked.

“Fine. What will you guys have?” asked Mary.

Mary got our breakfast orders, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Debbie asked Mary if she could borrow her phone, and Mary said fine. Debbie looked at me, and told me she would call her assistant and tell her that she was going to be staying in today.

I didn’t see any problem with that.

Debbie made a call. I only heard half the conversation, of course, but it sounded like the person she called was named “Amy.”

Debbie’s call wasn’t that long, and about fifteen minutes after she hung up the phone, Mary came back in from the kitchen with a tray holding three bagels and three steaming cups of coffee.

After that marathon lovemaking session last night, I needed the caffeine in my system. I drank mine black.

When I bit into the bagel, I was in for a big surprise. They were... GOOD!

* * *

I need to digress from my story here. I promise to keep it short.

When I was first stationed in the service, I had a friend nicknamed “Brooklyn” (due to his accent, of course). He once took me on a train ride to his home, and when he arrived there, the first thing he did was take me into a bagel shop.

“What’s this?” I asked Brooklyn.

“A bagel shop. Don’t they have any where you live?” he asked.

I told him that I was from the other coast. All I knew about bagels were that they were things you got from your freezer.

“Frozen bagels? You got to be shittin’ me!” he cried.

The shop we went into smelled like a bakery back home, with a big difference. There were other smells that I had never associated with a bakery before... onion... and even garlic!

Brooklyn went straight to the counter and yelled to the lady behind the counter, “Martha? Your ol’ man still got you workin’ in this piece of shit?”

Martha looked at Brooklyn, and burst out with the biggest smile that I’d ever seen. “Anthony!” she shouted. “You’re back from the war!”

“Ain’t-a gonna study war no more!” he sang gleefully. He pointed to me and said, “This here’s Jim and we’re gonna be here for a few days.”

Martha was walking around the counter to get closer to Brooklyn. I hadn’t been ready for the family reunion that was happening.

She made it to Brooklyn, and then hugged him so tight to her bosom that I thought he would suffocate.

“Watch it, Martha,” he yelled, although his voice was muffled by her large body. “I don’t need no nursin’!”

Martha held the hug for a few seconds more, and then seemed to notice me. She released Brooklyn, and took a couple of steps in my direction.

Instinctively, I stepped back, and found myself against the closed door to the shop. “Welcome, Jimmy. Any friend of Anthony is a friend of mine!” she said as she drew me into a hug.

* * *

The reason I digressed into that flashback is because I experienced my own flashback as I bit into that bagel.

That bagel Mary had prepared had brought to mind that image of that time in Brooklyn where I had my first “real” bagel. Warm, doughy, and dripping with butter on the inside slice. Sliced twice... not toasted. A real, honest to goodness bagel.

“This bagel is... wonderful!” I gushed, immediately taking another bite. “Are freezer bagels this good nowadays?”

Mary looked at Debbie, and shook her head no. “No. I was going to make some English muffins for breakfast when there was a knock at the kitchen door. An Asian girl had a bag with a half dozen onion bagels and told me that Debbie had told her to deliver them.”

I looked at Debbie in confusion.

“Delivery? From where? Brooklyn???”

Debbie grinned at me. “Not Brooklyn. There’s a bagel shop just around the corner...”

“Wait a minute!” I interrupted her. “A bagel shop...? In California?”

“Of course,” she said, wondering what I was confused about. “There have been bagel shops here for years.”

“Years?” I asked, not believing. I could still remember thinking about how somebody could make a fortune by opening a chain of bagel shops on the west coast back when I was stationed in New York.

Mary had a worried look on her face, and it hit me all of a sudden why I was confused.

I had been in a coma for a dozen or so years!

An uneasy silence descended in the living room, as this all hit me. Debbie looked at me, and then Mary, trying to figure out what was going on.

Mary caught Debbie’s confusion, and called my name, softly. “Jim?”

I looked up at Mary. “Uh... yeah?”

“Do you think I should explain to Debbie about how...” she paused, trying to think of the right word. “How we... met?”

I suddenly got an image of myself as Rip Van Winkle, and started to giggle. This eased the tension considerably, and Mary started to giggle. After a couple of seconds, even Debbie was giggling.

“Um...” said Debbie, in between giggles. “Why are we... (giggle)... laughing?”

“Tell her,” I instructed Mary.

Mary proceeded to tell the story of my accident to Debbie. I listened, fascinated, since this was one of the first times that I had ever heard Mary describe it from her point of view.

When Debbie had heard that I had been in a coma for years, her eyes opened wide. Then, as Mary explained about visiting daily at the hospital, Debbie’s eyes took on a more maternal look when she looked at me.

Mary explained how we met in her dreams, which Debbie understood right away, since I guess that is how I met Debbie, herself.

I finished that wonderful bagel, and ate the bacon from my plate as Mary brought Debbie up to date. I found myself helping Mary (OK. I was interrupting her. Big deal!) when she started describing the stuff that had happened more recently.

When Mary and I were done with the story, Debbie looked from me to Mary and just shook her head. “You know, that’s about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. It was a match made in the heavens, like you said, Mary!”

We smiled, and then looked at each other. I then looked at Debbie, wondering if there was any jealousy over my feelings for Mary. I didn’t see any... just love. Weird.

Something had been nagging at me while Mary had been telling her story. I thought hard, and it came to me.

“Mary, you said that the Asian girl brought SIX bagels?”

Mary looked at me and laughed. She was about to go back into the kitchen when Debbie corrected me. “That would be Aimee, my assistant. She’s not Asian, she’s Polynesian.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mary said.

“Not a problem, Aimee say that it’s a common mistake.”

“I’ll remember that,” I said.

Mary left into the kitchen and came back with another bagel, still warm, and like the first one, it was also dripping with butter.

This was MY idea of heaven, anyway.

* * *

Breakfast was long gone, and we were just lounging in the living room, making small talk.

It suddenly occurred that I didn’t know anything about Debbie... except that she was Mary’s landlady.

“So, Debbie. You’ve heard the story of Mary and me. How did you become the landlady here?” I asked.

“I’m not the landlady,” Debbie replied, simply. “I own the building.”

“You own the building?” I repeated.

“Actually, most of the whole block. That’s how I knew that Goldstein’s Bagels were downstairs,” she explained.

There was a bagel shop downstairs and I never knew it? Mary caught my reaction, and figured out what I was thinking and giggled.

“So. What’s your story? How did you end up owning a building?” I asked.

* * *

Yes. It’s time for another digression.

Debbie’s mother died when Debbie was about fifteen.

Her father was devastated by her mother’s death, and afterward, put all his effort into his work. Debbie had seen very little of her father before, and she now saw even less of him after the death of her mother. He had worked for the government before, and now had an agency on Wall Street, always going after bigger and bigger deals. He was a successful broker, and had his own firm. All Debbie knew was that he was making money hand over fist, and the more money he had, the more that his job demanded of his time.

After graduating from the private school Debbie attended after the death of her mother, Debbie got a scholarship to a couple of colleges, and her father wanted her to go to an ivy league school. He had hoped that she’d get her MBA and join him in his business.

Debbie, on the other hand, saw what his blind pursuit of money had gotten him... loneliness. She didn’t want that.

Instead, Debbie took one of her scholarships and went to a lovely little private school on the west coast. She majored in liberal arts. “So I could learn how to enjoy life,” she explained.

She did very well in college, becoming the class valedictorian. Her father was proud. So proud, in fact, that he was going to fly out to the west coast on a special trip to see her commencement address.

Unfortunately, the flight he was on never made it to California. There was a malfunction in the plane, and the crew tried to make an emergency landing. They were unsuccessful, and her father was among those that perished on that flight.

The airline offered to fly Debbie out to the place where her father died. She had been prepared to accept when she got a call from “Uncle Chuck,” her father’s best friend and business partner. He told Debbie to take a different flight and meet him in New York, instead.

She decided to take Chuck’s advice, and there was a first class ticket for her waiting for her flight to JFK. When she arrived, Chuck met her at the gate and gave her a big hug. He took her to the firm’s main office in Manhattan, and explained that they knew that Debbie had undergone a great loss. They also explained to Debbie that her father was quite a rich man... extremely rich.

Debbie and Uncle Chuck went together to the Midwest to identify and claim her father’s body. Since neither her father nor Debbie were particularly religious, she had his remains cremated.

It was a few days before the will was read, and Debbie found herself the beneficiary of just less than eight hundred million dollars. She also found out that there was a couple of bank accounts that her father had in her name, totaling millions more. She also held stocks in her father’s firm and other companies as well, which she decided to have Uncle Chuck proxy for her.

All told, Debbie had liquid assets of more than two hundred million dollars, and close to four times more than that in other assets. Her father also had some properties all over the country, which she inherited.

The brokerage was relieved that Debbie wasn’t going to liquidate all her father’s assets. In actuality, Debbie didn’t have the heart to truly disband the company that her father had spent his whole life building. Besides, she could use the brokerage to manage her assets. Debbie allowed Chuck to run his own company, Penet Holdings, with Malen Associates’ clientele, and left the original company as a holding company for her newly acquired assets. Charles Penet would manage Malen Associates for her.

Chuck and Debbie selected a portfolio of stocks and other investments, some high risk and high yield, some low risk with small but steady growth. Chuck said that her portfolio was much more conservative than her father’s had been, but then, she already had her first million when she started!

Debbie also met her father’s personal assistant, a young Polynesian woman named Aimee who was about the same age as Debbie. Chuck had told her that Aimee had been working for her father for a few years, but she was extremely bright and with people. Aimee and Debbie got along right off the bat, and Debbie offered to have Aimee continue working for her if she wanted to. Aimee agreed and became her personal assistant.

If Chuck had been the one to see to Debbie’s financial future, it was Aimee that had taken Debbie from a recent college graduate and new orphan and taught her the ropes of the world of high finance.

At Aimee’s advice, she hired two more staff.

The first was a driver named June. Aimee explained that when you are worth millions of dollars, it is not an extravagance to have a chauffeur but a necessity. If Debbie were to drive and get into an accident, lawyers could make her pay every last cent that she owned. Her chauffeur June loved driving, and even had a pilot’s license.

Debbie hired her next staff member after Uncle Chuck had explained that among her father’s “miscellaneous” assets was a converted 737 jet. The jet was in a private air strip at a recently closed Air Force Base. When Aimee, June, and Debbie went to take a look at it, they met a Filipino lady named Mely who worked at the air strip. It turned out that although June had a pilot’s license, she had no certification on a jumbo jet. Mely, however, did.

Aimee and June left Debbie at the air strip while Mely gave Debbie a tour of Debbie’s new acquisition. When Aimee and June came back, an hour later, Aimee simply handed a sheaf of papers to Debbie.

Debbie glanced at the sheaf of papers, and then found Aimee’s one-page handwritten summary. She turned to Mely and offered her a raise of twice her current salary if she’d hire on as Debbie’s personal pilot. Mely ecstatically agreed.

The four ladies decided to go on a tour of her father’s properties throughout the United States, followed by a trip around the world to his other properties. They were still in the USA part of the trip, examining the property that was the block where Mary’s apartment was located. Debbie had given June and Mely a few weeks off to explore Southern California, and Aimee would stay in San Diego with Debbie, accompanying Debbie, although staying at a hotel, since the apartment complex that she owned only had a one bedroom apartment available. In addition, Aimee would also act as her driver, if necessary.

* * *

“Aimee was the one that got the bagels this morning?” Mary asked.

“Yes. Aimee has a weird... almost psychic... quality to her,” Debbie explained. “When I called her, you see, she knew that I was not in my room. I asked her to get us some bagels, and she mentioned that Goldstein’s was just downstairs.”

This Aimee sounded like an interesting person.

The three of us were startled when we heard a knock at the front door.

Mary got up and answered it.

A small but lovely lady was on the other side.

“You must be Aimee,” Mary said. “I’m happy to meet you again.”

“How do you do?” Aimee asked.

“Won’t you come in?” Mary asked.

Aimee gave her a big smile, and whispered something to Mary as she entered the room. Mary looked at her, confused.

I got up as Aimee entered, and extended my hand. “Hello,” I said.

“Hello,” she replied, giving me a warm smile. Her hair was dark, and framed her face beautifully, held on each side of her face with a barrette made from tiny pearls at eye level, accentuating her warm brown eyes. Her teeth were whiter than the pearls, and provided a great contrast to her red lips.

She was wearing a yellow mini skirt, which showed off her long, shapely legs. Her blouse was a white lace with white and yellow flower pattern that massed to provide the necessary opaqueness at the important points.

In short, she was gorgeous.

I knew that I was staring at her, but I saw that she was staring at me, as well. She shook my hand, bringing me out of my reverie.

She then turned her attention to Debbie. “Hi, boss!”

Debbie smiled at her assistant. “I guess you already know everything there is to know about Jim and Mary here.”

Aimee simply nodded and said, cryptically, “They are good people.”

Debbie nodded.

“That’s what she said to me,” Mary said. “What do you mean by that, Aimee?”

Debbie answered, “That’s about the nicest thing she can say about somebody.”

Aimee nodded. “I’m glad I passed some sort of test,” I said, a bit put off.

“Mr. Montgomery...” Aimee started.

I held up my hand. “Jim, please.”

“Jim... I am paid to look out for Debbie, and to advise her. You didn’t pass any test. I can see just by looking at you...” She paused, looking to Debbie for help.

Debbie sighed. “Jim, Mary. I told you that Aimee has a gift of insight into other people. If she says you are good people, she means it. She just knows it.”

I just shrugged, still put off by this exotic creature.

Aimee was staring at me, her brown eyes piercing into my being. I blinked, and she was just nodding at me, her smile having changed to a look of concern.

“Whatever,” I said. “How about some lunch?”

* * *

Debbie talked Mary and I into a nice little Thai restaurant that Debbie and Aimee liked in the area. I’d never had any Thai food before, but a few friends back when I was in the service said that it was good food. I was game to try it.

The restaurant was quiet, but brightly lit up. When we arrived, Aimee immediately said something to the hostess in a foreign language.

The hostess smiled, and said something rapidly back to Aimee. She then looked at the four of us and said, “Right this way!”

We followed her to a large round table near a corner of the room. The table could easily have sit six people. I had noticed that there were plenty of tables for four already set up, and then realized that where we were sitting was probably the most secluded table in the room—Aimee probably had asked for a little privacy.

“Were you speaking Thai... or is it called Siamese?” I asked.

“That was Mandarin,” she replied.

“Chinese?” I asked.

She nodded.

I was wondering about Aimee’s nationality. Debbie said she was Polynesian, but that could mean she was from any of quite a few places. Mandarin Chinese wasn’t spoken in many Polynesian islands.

Aimee looked at me and answered my question for me.

“My mother was Hawaiian, and my father was French Polynesian,” she said.

I smiled at her. “I guess I’m just your average White Anglo-Saxon Atheist,” I said, sarcastically. Aimee’s manner somehow spooked me.

Aimee’s eyes opened wide and looked concerned when I said that, and she gave me that penetrating glance again.

We were sitting there about five minutes when I realized that we hadn’t gotten any menus yet. I started looking for the waitress, and Aimee noticed.

“Jim, there’s no need to order here. The waitress will just bring out food. Like a smorgasbord. I assure you that nothing will go to waste.”

I looked at Aimee. She did seem to know what I was thinking. I’d better be careful about what I thought when she was around.

Aimee looked at me again with that knowing smile. Damn it... she was doing it again!

The waitress appeared with four glasses and a bottle of wine with the name “Lotus Blossom” or “Thai Blossom” or something similar. I was never a wine snob, but Aimee’ simply nodded to the waitress, and she opened the bottle without any fanfare and poured the four glasses.

“Here’s to Mary and Jim. Two good people,” said Aimee, raising her glass.

“Here’s to all of us. All good people,” I answered, looking her straight in her eyes.

The meal was extraordinary. I am not a man that likes vegetables, but the combination of greens, with fruits, meat, and exotic spices was quite memorable. It was as if everything was different from each other. Some stuff was spicy, but enjoyable. Others were just simply delicious. My stomach told me that I should visit more Thai restaurants, and maybe find my way to visiting the country.

After that glorious meal, Debbie offered to take Mary shopping. Aimee said that she needed to do some more research, and gave the keys to the limo to Mary.

As the two girls walked off, Aimee turned to me and said, “We need to talk, Captain James Montgomery.”

“Oh?” I asked, taken aback.

“Yes. Let’s go back to Mary’s apartment. It’s a little bigger than Debbie’s.”

I nodded in agreement, and followed the gorgeous Polynesian woman out of the restaurant and back to the apartment.

* * *

“Captain Montgomery,” Aimee said as soon as the door was shut. “I know a few things about you. First, I wish to put your mind at ease. I do know you hold a power over my boss, but it is not my opinion that you are dangerous. It is my opinion that you are special.”

“You appear to know quite a lot about me. Including my name, rank and probably my serial number as well.” Aimee had this knack for putting me off like that.

“It’s my job to look out for Debbie. I’ve told you that before,” Aimee explained. “I’ll have you know that your background information isn’t what formed my opinion of you.”

“Huh?” I asked, confused. “Would you mind explaining?”

“Well,” she began, “when I was growing up, there were stories. Most people thought they were myths, but I always knew that at some level, they were true. Now, I am witnessing you.”

“I don’t follow. What stories?” I asked.

“About men that sleep, but never wake up. They invade the dreams of the living.”

If she was referring to me, I was confused. I never had any trouble waking up. “You think that I sleep, and don’t wake up?” I asked.

“I’m not totally sure what to think,” she answered slowly. She paused, and then said, “When Ms. Malen called me up this morning...”

“Ms. Malen?” I asked, interrupting her.

“Debbie. Sorry. When she called me up this morning, she described you as ‘the man of her dreams.’ This was totally unlike her. She basically uses men for a bit and discards them, never devoting any real love or affection on them.”

That’s a terrible thing to say about a woman, I thought.

“Yes, it is a terrible thing to say, but it is true,” Aimee admitted.

Damn. She was reading my mind again. I knew that I didn’t say that out loud. I really was going to have to be careful what I thought around Aimee.

Aimee smiled at me and continued. “When I talked to her this morning, I knew that something had changed. When I saw Mary in her kitchen, later, I saw something strange in Mary’s eyes.”

She paused, looking at me. “Later, when I saw Debbie, at the apartment, I saw the same thing in Debbie’s eyes. However, I saw Mary’s aura, and she is a good person. She’s a deadly and dangerous person, but not to Debbie, or anybody else near her, and she’s a good person.”

I wasn’t sure what Aimee meant about “deadly and dangerous” about Mary. I thought she was just a lovely woman.

“Yes, I agree with most of that,” I said carefully.

“When I saw you, I knew that you were a good person as well. All of you had that same aura. Your is much stronger, almost tangible. It is as if you could look into my mind and read my most private thoughts.”

Me read Aimee’s mind? Huh?

“Yes, you have powers,” Aimee said, anticipating my response. “I don’t know how you came about them. The only people I heard with the strong power I see in you are supposed to be ghosts: ‘The people that sleep and never wake up.’”

That phrase echoed in my mind as she had said it a few times now. People that sleep and don’t wake up. Like a...

Holy Shit! Was she talking about what I think she was talking about???

“Aimee, Mary and I told Debbie how we met. I think I should let you know as well, if you will tell me what you think.”

Aimee looked at me with a serious face, and simply nodded.

I told Aimee the story about how I had gotten hit by a jeep driven by Mary. How I was in a coma for so many years. How I met Mary in her dreams. I told her how last night, I met Debbie as well.

Aimee didn’t interrupt me at all. She seemed to accept the story, and nodded even at the strangest things. I even found myself admitting to her that Mary and Debbie had referred to me as their Master.

I finished my story, and looked at Aimee for comments. She had a thoughtful look on her face, and after about three minutes, she said, “So you think that a person in a coma could be a person that sleeps and never wakes up?”

I shrugged. It was a thought, anyway.

Slowly, she nodded. “It could be. It certainly fits with the legends. You have invaded the dreams of both Mary and Debbie, and I think that matches the legends more than a coma.”

“So, what do these ‘ghost people’ do? I’m not really dead, thinking that I’m alive, am I?” I asked, suddenly feeling a chill go up my spine.

“You are definitely alive, Captain Jim Montgomery,” she said with an assurance that I found quite convincing. “You have two beautiful ladies in love with you. There are actually three ladies that would do anything for you.”

I nodded, and then realized what she said. “Three?”

“As I said, Jim, you are a good person,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “I know that the next time you fall asleep, you may visit me in my dreams. I will not fight you. I will be in love with you. I will truly be with you.”

This was no longer funny. I was acquiring more women than I knew what to do with.

“Aimee, this is not funny. I don’t want slaves. I just want Mary.” Well, I just wanted Mary... and Debbie... and perhaps Aimee...

Her eyes drilled into mine. “You may not think you want slaves, but Mary and Debbie both see you as their focus.”

“I think I need help, Aimee, and you seem to be the one person that may be able to help me. I really don’t want slaves.”

Aimee just looked at me, thoughtfully.

Neither one of us spoke for about fifteen minutes. Aimee was staring at me. Her expression would get solemn, and then it would look like she was ready to ask a question. Somehow, I knew that she didn’t want to be interrupted, so I let her think.

“Jim. Quick. Without thinking, tell me where Debbie and Mary are.”

“Huh? How do I know where they are? A mall, probably,” I answered. Just then, suddenly, a name popped into my head. “Um... Neiman-Marcus,” I said.

“How do you know that?” Aimee asked, smiling.

“I don’t know. The name just popped into my head,” I said.

“Are they in any danger?” she asked.

“Danger?” I asked. “How should I know? Wait... No. They are not in any danger. Aimee, how do I know this?”

Aimee had a warm smile. “This is new to you, isn’t it?” she asked.

Of course! I simply nodded to Aimee.

“Truthfully, you don’t want slaves. Correct?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” I answered, truthfully.

“Well, I think that the term ‘Master’ and ‘Slave’ aren’t exactly the right terms. Would you prefer, say, ‘Parent’ and ‘Child?’”

Parent and child? Mary suggested that, but I realized that it would make my relation to Mary and Debbie incestuous. I shook my head briskly. Nope. I don’t want to get kinky or anything!

“Hmmm...” Aimee said, thinking. “How about ‘Teacher’ and ‘Student?’”

That sounded better. I nodded, but wondered, what was I “teaching” them?

Aimee sighed. “English is such an expressive language, but sometimes it is difficult to come up with the perfect terms. Let’s use ‘Teacher’ and ‘Student’ from now on. I think the ‘Master/Slave’ thing is worrying you too much.”

“OK. I’m a ‘Teacher.’ Wouldn’t that make you MY teacher?” I asked.

Aimee smiled a bit. “That’s the problem with English. No. I may understand what is happening at a different level, but there’s a deeper bond between you and Mary. Almost as deep, perhaps, as the one between Mary and Debbie. Don’t try to stretch the analogy too far, because the words aren’t perfect.”

“Mary and Debbie have a deeper bond than Mary and I have?”

Aimee sighed, and tried to think how to explain things.

“Can you tell me how do you fit in this?” I asked.

“If you will have me, I’d like to be your student, too.”

Shit. Another slave. Even if by another name. Two women were going to be difficult to deal with. Three would be impossible. It might be a dream come true for some guys, but my dick was still sore from last night and this morning!

Aimee must have sensed my thoughts, because her spirits drooped noticeably.

“Aimee, it’s not that I don’t like you. The reality is, I hardly know you. I sure as hell don’t know how I got mixed up with Debbie. I don’t want to end up with hundreds of girls all thinking of me as some Master or Teacher or Guru or something. There’s too much of it out here in California. I just want to live my own life.”

“Debbie found you,” Aimee said quietly. “Just like Mary found you. Just like I found you, although you don’t seem to want me. There may even be others. I cannot truthfully tell you otherwise.”

“Aimee, I DO want you, but I don’t want to hurt Mary, and I also don’t want to hurt Debbie,” I said.

Aimee nodded, understanding. “I know,” she said, quietly.

The way she said that broke my heart. I was hurting this girl by rejecting her. I could find no words to express the way that I was feeling.

After a minute or two, Aimee looked up at me again. “Is Mary jealous of Debbie?”

“Um... I don’t think...” I started, and then corrected myself. “No. Mary isn’t jealous of Debbie.”

Aimee nodded. “Is Debbie jealous of Mary?”

“Well...” I said and then sighed. “No. They aren’t jealous of one another.”

“They are like sisters, are they not?” Aimee asked.

I flashed back to the memory of the two of them in the bathroom. Maybe a bit more than sisters...

We continued to discuss things, getting no further really. Aimee sensed my reluctance to have her become a “slave” or “student” and didn’t bring it up again.

* * *

Debbie and Mary arrived back in the apartment a few hours later. They were enthusiastically carrying about a half dozen bags.

When they arrived, however, their conversation stopped.

Debbie and Aimee exchanged a look between them, and Debbie told Mary and me that she needed to go somewhere. Mary looked at me, and smiled.

“Wait until you see what we got!” Mary said, excitedly.

Aimee and Debbie left silently. As Mary was showing me her purchases, I vaguely wondered where Debbie was. Immediately, the answer popped into my head... She was upstairs in Debbie’s room. Debbie was hugging Aimee.

I felt like a big heel, having hurt Aimee, but truth be told, this Master/Slave thing scared the shit out of me, even if you called it Teacher/Student.

Mary must have sensed my feelings, because she got quiet.

I noticed the lack of conversation from Mary, and looked at her. She had a questioning look in her eyes.

I sighed and told Mary about my conversation with Aimee. I neglected to tell her that Aimee had said that she was willing to be my slave, but instead talked about Aimee’s interpretation of the “people who sleep and don’t wake up” and also her description of the Teacher/Student relationship.

Mary listened attentively, waiting for me to stop. When I finally did, she asked me, simply, “So why is Aimee crying now?”

“Aimee is crying? She wasn’t crying when she left!” I said.

“Right now... I know... and I know that you know... Debbie is hugging Aimee in her room, and I can feel Aimee’s tears on Debbie’s shoulders. I know that you can feel that, too.”

Actually, I didn’t know, but I reached out with my mind and connected to Debbie and found that what Mary said was true.

Damn. If you had asked me a couple of days ago if I believed in all this mind-reading shit, I would have laughed in your face. As of today, I had two slaves, with a third girl crying because I wouldn’t enslave her.

Mary looked at me, and said, “I know that Debbie is worried about Aimee. We both know that you are worried about her as well.”

I simply nodded, not knowing what to say.

Mary grinned at me. “Well, if I’m a slave, this slave wants to fuck her master. Do you want to retire to the bedroom?”

How can a master refuse?

“Mary... I may not be up for another marathon session,” I warned her.

Mary didn’t seem very disturbed by that. “No problem. We could just cuddle, if you want.”

She led me to her bedroom.