The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Electric Thimble Theater’

(mc, f/f, nc)

DISCLAIMER:

This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.

SYNOPSIS:

A hard-working legal consultant in a distant city relaxes by watching cartoons.

* * *

‘Electric Thimble Theater’

* * *

“I have you now, Tristana Trueheart!”

Shane started, suddenly awake. She was lying on the bed, surrounded and enfolded by paperwork; the television facing her was playing an old cartoon.

As her situational awareness settled, Shane sighed and rubbed her eyes. Three weeks at the Extended Stay and no end to the lawsuit in sight. The judge had thrown them for a loop, ruling out key testimony, and the whole team was scrambling to assemble backup work.

She looked at her chest; on her right breast, the disallowed depositions; on her left breast, replacement possibilities with some value. Around her on the bed, a constellation of options.

On the television, the villain chortled.

She yawned. Enough. It was after midnight and she had to be at the courthouse at nine, which meant she had to be at the downtown offices at seven.

Carefully, she organized the papers, sliding them back into their folders. Once the bed was clear, she took off her bra (her lounging bra; her work bra came off the instant she closed the room door behind her) and panties and slid back into bed, this time under the sheets.

The television was still crackling softly, flicking primary colors as the cartoon shifted from the black-clad villain to the bound heroine and back again. Shane did not remember turning the teevee on, but as she pointed the remote at the screen she hesitated.

Devilish Dan cackled again, and Clare smiled. She’d loved these cartoons as a child, simplistic as they were. The mustachioed bad guy, the hapless innocent damsel in distress, the heroic clean-shaven good guy bursting in to rescue her at the last minute.

Maybe she’d watch for a while. The train was already coming down the tracks, which meant that Brendan Bravesoul would be along any second...

Television still on, she fell asleep.

* * *

More delays, more work. Shane left the office at ten-thirty, with half a dozen folders in her briefcase. When her firm had given her this case, she’d been astounded at the hourly rate; not so much any more.

She was certainly earning it.

It took twenty minutes to reach the Extended Stay; it would have been a lot longer during rush hour but Shane never saw rush hour. Yawning, she swiped a packet of coffee from the lobby. It might make it hard to get to sleep, but if she didn’t have something to wake up she’d pass out in minutes.

Shane chuckled as she walked down the corridor towards her room, picturing herself explaining the drool stains on the paperwork.

“Late night?”

Shane squeaked, startled.

“Sorry.”

It was a woman, coming out of one of the suites. She was fair-skinned and dark-haired, shorter than Shane, and dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants. She stood in front of her room, looking at Shane with idle curiosity.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Shane stammered. “Lost in thought.”

The woman nodded. Her hair was short and parted on the side; her eyes were dark. In the dim hallway they appeared black, but could have been any other dark color.

“I see,” the woman said.

They looked at each other for a moment; Shane felt a bit awkward but could think of nothing to say.

“Well then, have a good night,” the woman said, dismissing her.

“You too,” Shane replied, and resumed her walk down the hall to her room. When she reached it, she turned to see if the dark-haired woman was still there, but the door to her room was already closed.

Shane unlocked her own door and turned on the lights. It was a nice enough room, but she was really starting to get homesick. She missed her books, her favorite chair, her mugs, all the little accoutrements that made her space hers.

She put her briefcase down and started the coffee maker; as she was slipping her bra off the phone rang.

Doubtless someone from the team. “Hello?”

“Well hello there.”

“Jason!”

“Hi, Shane.”

They chatted for a bit. She’d met Jason a couple of months ago, at a mutual friend’s house. They’d gone out for drinks, had a good time, but Shane was always so busy and then this case came up...

“So, anyway, the reason I called.”

“Yes?”

“I’m coming out there. Company is sending me to visit some regional offices, and one of them happens to be right where you’re working.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s great! I’m getting lonely out here, Jason, and there’s nothing to do and no time to do it in.”

“Well, I’ll be there Saturday after next. I’ll call when I get in, we can go have drinks or something.”

“That would be wonderful.” She hoped she didn’t sound too forward.

“Yeah.” He put meaning into the word. Shane bounced a little on her feet.

“Well, good night, Shane.”

“Night Jason.”

She put the phone down and smiled at it. A few hours off on a Saturday night—well, the company couldn’t begrudge her that.

She’d have to find some time to shop for a dress.

While the coffee brewed, Shane finished stripping down, and changed into her leisure bra. She worked at the table for an hour, then brushed her teeth and segued to the bed. The folders opened and her constellation of papers re-emerged.

At twelve-thirty, the television came on by itself.

Shane blinked and looked up at it. Weird. The sound came on after the picture, slowly fading in until she could hear the snickering of Devilish Dan’s canine companion, followed by a deep sigh from Tristana Trueheart.

It had to be something wrong with the television. She’d report it to the management, but in the meantime it actually made for a pretty good alarm clock. Twelve-thirty was definitely time for bed. Shane collected the papers, got naked, and slipped under the sheets.

She watched as Devilish Dan tied Tristana up for the thousandth time. “You villain,” Tristana cried, writhing, her wrists bound above her head.

Shane realized she was horny.

It must have been talking to Jason; she’d managed not to think about sex for most of her stay.

She’d left Abracadabra, her Magic Wand, at home. Not the sort of thing one wanted to explain to airport security. But a few weeks of no relief at all and her fingers were more than sufficient to the task.

On the screen, Tristana wiggled in her bonds.

* * *

Friday.

They’d gotten a break today, Judge Hitchens allowing them to choose some alternate experts, and the last few days of furious catch-up seemed to be paying off.

Of course, that just meant that tomorrow she would be working again. At no point, with a billion dollars on the line, could one afford to sit back on one’s haunches. Something someone said in an unrelated case fifty years ago could suddenly become a precedent for a miniscule point, and on such miniscule points lawsuits could hinge.

But instead of rising at five she could get up at a leisurely seven o’clock; and after work she and some of the team went for drinks. There were a few courtesies extended to the weekend, and to Friday night.

Shane got back to the Extended Stay at ten. Bedtime was as soon as she could get naked.

The woman from four doors down was in the hallway again. She nodded at Shane as they passed each other. Shane just smiled.

Open the door, close the door, take off the clothes, brush the teeth, slide into bed.

She was asleep in moments.

* * *

Light crept into the room, and it dawned on Shane that she was awake. She looked at the window, but it was still dark beyond the blinds.

The television was on.

Devilish Dan was staring at her.

No, not at her, at Tristana Trueheart. The buxom heroine was wiggling about inside a sack; a gag around her mouth kept her protestations muffled.

Shane blinked as she rose a few more notches towards ‘awake’. She didn’t remember the show being so... intense. A gag?

Devilish Dan was taunting Tristana, stalking about in his dark cape and twirling his long thin moustaches. There was something compelling about him, something archetypical. The bad man reveling in his wickedness.

He was kind of fun.

Shane found her finger plucking at her pussy. Still horny, even after the previous night when she’d masturbated for way too long. She brought her finger to her tongue, got it nice and wet, and sent it for a long shivery slide down her slit.

Devilish Dan cackled. Shane could imagine he was laughing at her, trapped in the Extended Stay, reduced to masturbating with cartoons on.

That thought quelled her libido. It was late, and there was something odd about masturbating while watching a cartoon.

Then Brendan Bravesoul arrived, crashing through the window in an explosion of hyper-masculinity. His big teeth gleamed as he stood up and issued his heroic proclamation.

Shane yawned. What was she doing? She ought to be asleep. She reached for the remote and turned the television off, falling back to sleep instantly.

The clock next to the bed blinked four.

* * *

Shane had rather hoped that Edgar would let them have at least part of Sunday off, but no such luck. They were expected to work eight to six, same as today. Time off came after the verdict.

She drove along the commercial strip the Extended Stay lived in far enough to find a bookstore and a sandwich shop for dinner. Having Italian with the team just didn’t appeal tonight; instead she bought a Harlequin romance and read it while eating a salad.

“Come here often?”

Shane looked up. It was her, the woman from down the hall.

The woman smiled.

“Do what?” Shane said, then winced. “Oh, uh, no, first time.”

“I’m Olivia,” the woman said, extending a hand. Her nail polish was a sexy metal grey.

“Shane,” Shane replied. Olivia’s handshake was firm and still. Her eyes really were black, or almost.

“I see that we are staying at the same place,” Olivia said, sitting down at Shane’s table.

“Yes. Have you been there long?”

Olivia shook her head. “Not long.”

She really was devastatingly pretty; not in a blonde movie actress way, but in a commanding officer way, with her boyish dark hair and her strong features, her strong nose and defined chin. Her lipstick was a deep dark shade of red, matching her elegant silk blouse.

Shane didn’t know what to say. She found herself staring, feeling awkward but unwilling to look away. Olivia’s eyes... held her.

“Are you enjoying it... here?” Olivia asked.

“Yes,” Shane said, and then realized that was a lie. Wasn’t it?

Olivia looked into her a little more.

Then she stood up. “Well,” she said. “I only wished to say hello. Please enjoy your dinner; I think we shall meet again.”

Shane stood up too. “I hope so,” she said.

Olivia smiled at her, and then walked away. Shane stared at her black leather pants, her blood-red shirt, until they vanished out the door into the dark.

Shane shivered, and sat down. What about that woman was so compelling?

* * *

Back at the Extended Stay, she hopped into bed and flipped on the television.

News.

Frowning, Shane surfed a few channels. News, sitcom, sitcom, Spanish, old movie... where was the cartoon?

She looked at the clock. Eleven forty-five. Shane sighed.

Then she laughed at herself. Here she was, a grown woman, eager for her favorite cartoon to come on. And she had only seen it again for what, three nights now? And she had fallen asleep each time.

But there was something comforting about it, something familiar and attractive. She was working so hard, the cartoon reminded her of a time when she didn’t have to be responsible. It was carefree and familiar. It made her feel good.

She realized she was looking forward for Devilish Dan to put her to sleep.

Shane laughed again. That Devilish Dan. He might be a bad guy, but at least he was honest about it.

Well. It would be silly to stay awake just to watch a cartoon. A little reluctantly, Shane turned off the television and relaxed into sleep.

* * *

She knew it was the television when she woke. She had hoped it would turn itself on like it had been doing.

She slid up in bed a little and looked; Dan’s wicked black eyes were looking back at her. Shane smiled.

“Hello, Dan,” she said.

Dan just cackled. He had Tristana Trueheart already tied to a table, and was unscrewing the lid from a jar of spiders.

Shane wanted to see more of Dan, but the camera turned instead to Tristana, futilely struggling against the ropes. She was wiggling, eyes flicking from the spiders to Devilish Dan and back again.

As one of the spiders began to crawl up her leg, Tristana squeaked.

Shane had never really liked Tristana; even as a child she had wondered how anyone could keep getting caught by the same guy. As a young woman she had resented, in no serious way, the fact that Tristana always needed rescuing. That she, and through her all women, was helpless and needed to be rescued by a man.

Suddenly, looking at Tristana’s eyes, Shane realized something. She had been wrong all along.

Tristana liked to be tied up.

For a moment, Shane felt thunderstruck. It was so obvious. Tristana let Dan catch her. She enjoyed the menace, the helplessness. It got her off.

That’s why she was always in trouble. She let it happen. She let Dan capture her, knowing all the wicked things he’d do. Because she liked it. She wanted it.

Shane giggled. What a terrible thing the creators of the cartoon had snuck into their children’s entertainment.

God, she was horny.

So what if there was a cartoon on. The discovery was too kinky. Shane slid a hand down between her legs and began to touch herself, stroking, kneading...

... just a minute later, she came like a rocket.

Wow.

Shane giggled again. Tristana Trueheart, bondage enthusiast.

She realized her respect for the woman—no, for the character—had gone up exponentially. She wasn’t an airhead at all.

She was a woman who knew what she wanted.

Shane began to stroke herself again.

* * *

Sunday night Shane knocked on Olivia’s door.

She was nervous; suddenly her stomach filled with butterflies.

It seemed like such a straightforward idea; ask the woman down the hall if she wanted to go have dinner together. They were both strangers in a strange city. They had introduced themselves.

Why did it suddenly feel like she was asking Olivia out on a date?

It was a bad idea. She’d go.

The door opened.

“Shane,” Olivia said. “Hello.”

“H-hello,” Shane replied.

“What may I do for you?”

God, her voice was dark and husky.

“I, uh, I was just on my way to dinner and, and wanted if you were interested?”

Olivia smiled with dusky lips. “I am interested,” she said, “but I have already eaten tonight. Perhaps... later.”

“Oh, okay.”

Olivia’s black eyes reached into her. Were in her.

“Shane. Is there anything else?”

Shane blinked. “Oh, uh, no. Thank you. Thank you.”

“Good night, then.”

Her small smile still on her lips, her eyes never leaving Shane, Olivia closed her door.

Shane realized she was holding her breath, and let it out in a long exhalation.

What was it about that woman?

* * *

The television came on and Shane’s eyes obediently opened. She smiled.

Devilish Dan smiled back at her.

Then he turned to Tristana, who was bound in some sort of square framework. She was gagged again, and tossed her head as Dan prodded her with his crop.

Shane smiled. Good for you, Tristana. You’re getting what you want.

The view closed in on Tristana’s face, and Shane could see that she was right. She could see the satisfaction now. Could recognize it for what it was.

Could understand the arousal.

Shane hadn’t noticed when she’d started to stroke herself, but now that she did notice she sucked on her fingers and went to work.

Wax, of all things; Dan was lowering Tristana, tied to her frame, into a pit of wax. He was also waxing poetic, rhythmic doggerel about turning her into a statue. Tristana struggled and wiggled and loved every second of it.

Shane worked another finger inside, grunting softly and thrusting her hips.

Then, with a crash, Brendan Bravesoul arrived. Shane frowned, her nose wrinkling. Her libido dried up. She watched him punch out Devilish Dan, bind him, and ‘rescue’ Tristana.

Shane could see the disappointment—the disgust!—in Tristana’s face.

Grumpy, Shane turned off the television and went to sleep.

* * *

It was a good thing that sex shops were open late.

Shane could feel the slick black dildo that she had bought wiggling in her purse. The store had put it into a brown paper bag, but when she got back to the car she felt a sudden need to touch it, so she took it out of its bag and out of the box.

It was slick and just the right firmness, solid but squeezable. And it was black, like... Devilish Dan’s eyes.

She turned out the interior light of the car and just handled it for a while, feeling naughty and kinky and excited.

She threw the package into a curbside trash can before she got back to the Extended Stay. Didn’t want the maidservice finding it.

She had the strangest feeling that, as she passed Olivia’s door, Olivia would step out and command Shane to reveal what she had in her purse.

The thought made her nipples hard.

But Olivia’s door stayed closed, to Shane’s relief and disappointment, and she got into her own suite and locked the door and took off her clothes.

It was far too early for the cartoon to be on, but Shane lay down on the bed and started to play with herself anyway. She had such nice tits, so smooth and... and just nice. Nice to look at, to touch. She wished they were big enough for her to lick.

God, her own body had never... she wanted to suck on her own tits?

Shane shook her head but her libido was undeniable. She did want to suck on them, she was finding herself sexy like she had never before. She fantasized about cloning herself, about being able to taste her own pussy. She took a long slurp on her hand, wormed it inside herself, then pulled it out and sucked on it while she fed the dildo into her pussy. Sucking on her own pussy, while behind her...

“Oh,” she muttered, stuffing it in, “Oh Dan.”

* * *

Tuesday seemed to crawl by.

They wrapped up their case. Perkins was well satisfied, but of course now the defense got their crack at things and Perkins’ satisfaction wouldn’t be worth a palmful of warm spit if they lost, billable hours or no. Only winners got promotions.

For some reason, Shane didn’t really care that much.

She had the television on at twelve thirty. Dildo Dan was washed and ready on the bed beside her.

The theme music played and Shane giggled. Her nipples tightened a little. She gave a few subdued bounces on the bed.

Tristana Trueheart was at home, tending her flowers. Shane felt a sense of newfound kinship with Tristana; she smiled. Soon they would both get what they wanted.

And sure enough—in swooped Devilish Dan on his Fiendish Flying Machine, snatching Tristana from her tulips with a dangling cage. As they rose into the sky, Shane was sure she saw an eager smile on Tristana’s face.

Then they were in a mountain cave. Devilish Dan sprang open the cage, only to step inside and bind Tristana’s wrists. She did not even try to resist.

Shane started to stroke her pussy.

“Oh, Dan,” she whispered. “You’re her real lover. You know what she wants.”

Dan yanked the rope, and Tristana and Shane moaned. Eyes never leaving the screen, Shane reached out for the dildo, tingled as she gripped its solid softness, brought it to her sopping crotch.

She lapped at her wet hand as she worked the rubber head into her snatch, eyes riveted to Tristana’s wriggling form.

Dan cackled, his black eyes flashing, and Shane’s heart raced.

They were lovers. So obvious. Dan and Tristana. He was wicked for her. He gave her what she wanted, what she needed. Tied her up and made her obey.

Shane felt the orgasm in her spine and pushed it down; these thoughts were important. She could come once she understood.

Tristana belonged to Dan. She had given herself to him. Gave herself to him every episode. And in return he did what she needed, bound her and tied her and forced her to obey. He was her Master.

She liked it like that.

Shane came, a relaxed come, shuddering and juicing and feeling her pussy grip the dildo, squeeze it and confirm her acceptance of it, her openness, the fact that it was inside her and she had put it there.

Like Tristana submitted to Dan.

“You wicked man!” Tristana cried, and Shane giggled. Yes, honey, wicked for you.

She reached both hands down and traced her fingers along her lips, distended around the fat slick dildo.

“Mmm, Dan. Be wicked for me,” Shane breathed, hypnotized by the sight of her own impaled sex. She leaned back, eyes closed, just breathing, feeling.

Such a lucky girl, Tristana.

Shane opened her eyes to watch Tristana struggle against the ropes.

Then Brendan Bravesoul appeared, kicking in the door, and Shane snarled and flipped off the television.

* * *

The defense trotted out their experts who refuted Shane’s team’s experts, and objections were lodged and aspersions were cast. All in all, the case seemed to be going their way.

Shane felt like she was sleepwalking through it. She’d try to pay attention, but then five minutes later she’d be daydreaming. Dreaming of Devilish Dan and tight ropes on her wrists.

At lunch she used her laptop to search the internet, hoping to buy the cartoons on DVD; but no luck. The copyright holder apparently never let them be released, and was very aggressive about hunting down bootlegs.

She did find lots of pornography, though.

Apparently she was not alone in her... admiration for Devilish Dan.

The afternoon wore on, and something about Dan was bothering her. She needed to see him, to study him... she couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something else she had to uncover about Tristana’s real lover. Something important and surprising... Shane wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew it was there. She had to dig deeper.

Of course, first this stupid trial had to recess for the day.

Eventually it did—but then it was off to the office, to discuss the events and how the case was shaping up, to allocate research based on the defense’s actions of the day. It was all quite boring; Mary Beth commented that Shane seemed “out of it”, but they laughed it off. It had been a long trial and a lot of work, and everyone was tired.

Not Shane, not any more. Shane was just horny and eager to get back to the Extended Stay and see Dan. To uncover the secret that something in the back of her mind told Shane that he had.

Finally, finally. Shane raced back to the Extended Stay—but it was only ten o’clock. Dan would not come for more than two hours.

Frustrated, she flounced down on the bed naked, to wait.

The phone rang.

Who?

“Hello?”

“Hello there!”

Oh. “Jason.”

“Hey, Shane. How you doin?”

She didn’t want to talk to him. He wasn’t like Devilish Dan at all, and Shane knew with certainty that she wasn’t interested in dating him or even seeing him again.

So she kept her voice flat and her answers short and uninterested. Maybe he’d get the hint.

He didn’t. He was still showing up on Saturday and still wanted to see her.

For some reason, she didn’t tell him to go fly a kite.

She would, though.

Happily, she could put Jason out of her mind entirely as soon as she put down the phone, so she did. She was horny and ready and burning to know what it was that had been nagging at her all day about Devilish Dan. What revelation she was on the cusp of but just couldn’t quite grasp.

She touched herself lightly, stroking, kneading her breasts, but very carefully kept orgasm away. That was for later, when the show was on. When Dan arrived. Until then, just foreglow; fingernails dragged lightly around her pussy, long slow pulls on her nipples, full-hand squeezes of her tits.

She had a great body. It was almost a crime Dan was a cartoon and would never know; never know that if he’d wanted it it was his.

The theme music played and Shane almost came.

There was Tristana, walking into a store. There was a shopkeep, a pretty dark-haired woman, and Tristana was asking for something. The shopkeep turned around and-

-pulled a lever!

Tristana fell through the floor into a cage.

The shopkeep came into the room, laughing. She turned around, waved her arms, and turned around again-

-it was Devilish Dan!

Tristana gasped and Shane moaned.

It was Dan. How she longed to be taken by him.

The dildo wasn’t big enough. Shane wanted to really feel it, to stretch, to stuff it in, but she was so wet, so ready, that it slid in with only a small amount of pressure.

Tomorrow she’d get a larger one.

But it was big enough to ride, and she began to hump as Dan cackled at Tristana. He opened the cage door, rope in hand, and Tristana did not resist at all as he bound her wrists.

Shane could see the lust in Tristana’s eyes.

But she was really focused on Dan.

She realized, as Dan led his bound captive out of her cage, that Devilish Dan was actually smaller than Tristana. He wasn’t actually very strong at—no, no. He was strong. Powerful. He just wasn’t very big. Not very masculine. He was more beautiful than he was handsome.

Actually, he seemed sort of effeminate.

It was the moustache. Of course Devilish Dan was a man, he had that moustache. But Shane realized all at once how fake it looked. So long, so thin. So glued-on.

The shopkeeper...

Was Devilish Dan...?

She stared. Of course he was. Look at his hands. Look at his full lips. Look at his beautiful, dark eyes.

Devilish Dan was a woman.

Shane shook her head in wonder. How much she had missed, how much they had hidden. Of course Devilish Dan was a woman. How else would she know so exactly what Tristana really wanted? Only a woman would know. No man could understand that. Only a woman would know what another woman wanted, what she needed. A powerful woman. The sort of woman who could understand what Shane needed, and give it to her.

Devilish Danielle.

And only now had Shane penetrated her disguise. All these years... and no one knew. Shane was a little awed.

And hotter than a five-alarm fire.

She wanted them to kiss. She needed them to kiss, stupid cartoon, can’t show the truth. Danielle tied Tristana to the table, they were so close, but the world would not let them kiss.

Instead, Danielle laughed, and fingered the switch. Tristana moaned and wiggled on the table.

If only...

But in came Brendan Bravesoul, throwing a wholly unnecessary lasso over the switch, and dropping some chandelier-like thing down onto Devilish Dan. As he carried Tristana away, Shane could see the yearning look in her eyes as she stared over Brendan’s broad shoulder at Danielle’s black boots.

Shane touched herself, but she was a little beyond that now. Reverent more than horny.

Devilish Danielle.

Of course.

* * *

Another day of interminable defense witnesses, paid-for experts to counter their own paid-for experts.

Shane yawned.

No one noticed. The case was, as even interminable cases must, winding to a conclusion. Perhaps tomorrow would see closing arguments; perhaps even a verdict before the end of the week. Then, of course, that verdict would be appealed, but Shane could take some time off and spend the tens of thousands of dollars she had just earned, before she would be tasked to work on round two.

The courtroom closed and they went back to the offices; not much work tonight. Perkins himself would be closing, the defense had only three more witnesses in the morning.

They wanted her to go have dinner with them but Shane pleaded fatigue. She wanted to go back to the Extended Stay and worship the television.

She went by the sex shop and bought another dildo, a fatter one, slick black and ribbed. The clerk kind-of sort-of recognized her, but said nothing.

On the ride back, the dildo held between her legs beneath her skirt, Shane thought of Olivia. Mmm. She was dark, and strong, and oh so sexy. Her body would be like Shane’s but different, nipples and belly and soft wet slit...

Shane shook her head. She had never... it was Dan. Dan was a woman and Shane lusted for Dan, so now Shane was lusting after a woman. But she wasn’t a lesbian. She had never... well, not yet...

Ooh. But Dan could make her. Tie her down and ravish her, tongue and touch her until she was a lesbian, forsaking forever the company of men to live at the feet of her Mistress...

She shook her head again. Where was this coming from? If she wasn’t careful she was going to drive off the road. She squeezed her thighs around the thick black shaft and tingled.

She needed a VCR. Needed to record these shows, to record Dan as he sneered and leered and took her breath away. To take him home when she was finally free of the Extended Stay.

It was only nine so she went to a store and bought one.

The dildo went back into her purse for the walk from the car to her room, but she left it on top, a glossy black admission if anyone opened it to look.

Olivia’s door was closed.

On her knees in front of the television, Shane felt naughtyright. She needed cuffs, ropes. A collar. Needed to submit to Dan in a way that she could feel.

As a sign of her devotion, she remained kneeling until twelve-thirty.

The music started to play and the tape started to purr in the VCR. Shane remained kneeling.

Tristana appeared, reading a book in her home. Shane smiled at her sister; soon they would both get what they needed.

When Dan swooped in, Shane sighed happily and sat back, spreading her legs on the carpet. She began to finger herself as he threw a net over Tristana and took her away.

Then they were in a lair, somewhere, didn’t matter. Dan(ielle) was chortling, telling Tristana that this time she would not escape, because this time she would not want to.

Dan was going to hypnotize her.

Tristana called Dan a fiend, and wiggled in the chair she was tied to, but then Dan pulled out a crystal pendant and Tristana gasped. She seemed unable to look away.

Shane was unable to look away. Her pussy was melting on the carpet. She reached blindly for the new dildo, eyes locked on the screen.

The pendant was swinging now, and Tristana’s eyes were getting glassy. Shane’s hand found the dildo.

“You are getting sleepy,” Dan(ielle) said.

“Sleepy,” Tristana echoed.

“You are in my power.”

“Your power.”

“You are becoming my slave.”

“Your slave,” Tristana agreed. Her eyes were at half mast, just open enough to focus on the pendant.

“You will listen to me and do anything I want,” Danielle commanded.

“Yes, Dan. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Yes, Dan,” echoed Shane. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Her hand had found the dildo, and she grunted as she pushed the head into her snatch.

“You will become my partner in crime, my obedient accomplice.”

“Yes,” Tristana replied. “Obedient.”

“Obedient,” Shane whispered.

“Obedient,” came a clear voice from the doorway.

Shane’s head snapped around.

Olivia.

She was standing there, looking, watching as Shane stuffed a fat black dildo into her spread snatch.

Shane’s face burned but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even take her hands away from her pussy, couldn’t even close her legs a little bit. She just sat there stupid on the carpet with the slick black thing halfway out of her cunt and let Olivia look her over.

Olivia smiled, a wicked, irresistible smile.

Then she raised her hands and snapped them apart, and between them, taut, was-

-a gag.

Shane whined as Olivia stepped towards her. She opened her mouth to speak, perhaps, or perhaps just to accept the gag as the black rubber ball filled her mouth. Olivia fastened it behind Shane’s head as Shane stared up at her with wide eyes, her legs still spread and the dildo still clenched in her hungry snatch.

Olivia sneered at her.

She was in black, all in black, shiny leather pants and a tight corset, her shoulders bare. At her waist dangled a thick white coil of rope, a pair of handcuffs, other things.

Shane wanted this so much.

Olivia reached down under Shane’s armpits and lifted her, turned her, pushed her facedown onto the bed. Shane’s arms were pulled back and her wrists tied, so fast, and then her ankles were wrapped and loosely lashed together.

Olivia chuckled.

A finger touched Shane’s pussy and she bucked, and shivered as it slid around her lips, still spread by the dildo. Then a hand was pushing it in, pushing the dildo in deeper, deep, and then the rope was circling Shane’s waist and running between her legs, a panty of nylon cord, and when the finger stopped holding the dildo it didn’t go anywhere.

Then the rope came up and around her neck.

Shane wriggled but found herself unable to even drop back to her knees, so expertly was she bound.

Pressure on her neck, and Shane obediently leaned back up, and then Olivia was pulling her to her feet.

Olivia’s hands on her shoulders turned Shane around, and she looked into the eyes of her captor.

“You have a lot to learn, slut,” Olivia said. “So we’d best get started.”

Olivia walked for the door, rope in hand; the rope ran to Shane’s neck: five feet of slack and then Shane was helplessly following, naked and bound. The dildo shifted inside her with each step and Shane could not stifle her moans.

Olivia walked out into the hall. Shane’s heart raced—would they be seen? Would someone be there, a maid, a guest, to see Shane’s helpless nudity?

Helpless in harness, unable to stop, Shane stumbled out after Olivia.

The hall was empty.

Olivia jerked the rope, and led Shane down the hall to her room.

* * *

Shane smiled as the jury filed out of the jury room.

It had taken them only a few hours to reach a verdict, which was surprising. Surprising good, or surprising bad, the team would find out shortly.

Shane did not care.

At Mistress Danielle’s instruction, she had already written her letter of resignation. Shane was leaving the firm, effective immediately. She would sell her house and move where Mistress Danielle instructed her to.

Mistress Danielle’s ropes were stronger than steel.

Shane wore one now, around her neck; the feel of it beneath her collar was a tangible reminder that she was owned. Not that she needed reminding; the cords in her mind were stronger still. But it felt good that even here, in the heart of the law, Shane was in bondage.

Olivia Danielle.

Shane’s Captor.

Shane’s Mistress.

The television show had been awakening her. Preparing her. Readying her to accept who she was, what she really wanted.

Readying her for Mistress Danielle.

Around her, her colleagues were grinning. Patting each other on the back.

They had, apparently, won.

Shane accepted their meaningless congratulations, smiled vacantly, said a few nice things. Tolerated the time back at the office as champagne was uncorked and toasts were toasted. Left as soon as she felt able.

She returned to the Extended Stay for the last time. Her room had already been cleared out; Mistress Danielle’s other slaves had taken all of Mistress’ new things. Shane had a suitcase for the clothes she wore. She removed them, folded them, put them inside. Knelt in front of the television to wait.

When She was ready, Mistress came.

Shane remained kneeling as her wrists were bound behind her, as the rope looped around her torso. She opened her mouth for the black silk gag. When she was bound to Mistress’ satisfaction, a yank on the rope and Shane rose to follow Her from the room.

She led Shane through the halls and out to the parking lot. Perhaps the desk clerk had seen this before, perhaps not. It did not matter. The family in the parking lot certainly had not, nor had the drivers passing by, one of whom hit the brakes with a screech.

Cheeks burning, nude, bound, Shane followed Mistress.

There was a black van at the end of the lot, with the rear doors open. Mistress led Shane to it, and into it, and tied her leash to the ring bolt set into the van’s floor.

“Lie down, slut,” Mistress commanded.

Shane lay down.

Mistress stepped back out of the van—and was suddenly accosted, a hand grabbing Her throat and shoving Her to the side.

A man leapt into the van.

“Shane?!” he said.

He began frantically to untie her, realized that the knots around her body were too strong, and pulled out a Swiss army knife. He sawed through the leash holding Shane to the ring bolt. Then he picked her up and pulled her from the van.

Oh no. Not again. Not now.

Shane kicked, and bucked. “It’s okay,” he said, running across the parking lot with her in his arms. “I’ve got you.”

Shane saw Mistress, standing by the side of the van.

With all her strength, Shane twisted, rolling out of Jason’s arms and onto the asphalt. Before he could touch her, she somehow lurched to her feet.

The gag had come loose.

“Get away from me,” Shane hissed. “I hate you.”

Jason stared at her.

“This is what I need,” Shane went on, eyes burning. “What I need. Get away from me and never come back. I hate you, Brendan! I belong to Dan!”

She could not run in the ropes, but she shuffled across the parking lot in her bare feet, and fell back into the van.

Mistress sneered at her as She closed the van doors.

* * *

shane stopped to look at the televisions.

she was on her way to the courthouse to deliver some papers; Mistress was opening a new business venture and She had instructed shane to prepare and file the paperwork.

shane enjoyed going out in public. she enjoyed the feeling of her collar around her throat, significant in a way that passersby would never understand. Beneath the crisp professional suit she was wearing, the leather straps tightly restricted her posture, and held the black ovals inside her pussy and ass.

The televisions, nine of them, were in a storefront. Three of them were playing a cartoon; something about it tickled a memory, causing shane to stop and look.

The hero, a man in black with a thin moustache, had a bound woman on a table. The woman was enjoying her bondage, flexing and moaning and superficially objecting.

Dan. Devilish Dan.

shane smiled. He reminded her of Mistress Danielle, his mastery of ropes and of women’s minds akin to Hers, his dark eyes a comic interpretation of Mistress’ bottomless wells.

Perhaps she would bring the cartoon to Mistress’ attention.

From somewhere, the theme song to the cartoon arose in shane’s memory, and she hummed along as she went about her Mistress’ bidding.

* * *

END ‘Electric Thimble Theater’