The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I’m Alison’s slave. I obey Alison. Obeying Alison turns me on.”

Gillian could feel the cotton sheet beneath her, the material warm from her body heat. Under her left thigh there was a slight pressure, the material creased and bunching up just enough for her to notice it.

She was amazed she was aware of anything.

She was naked, lying on her Mistress’ bed, staring at the warm, off-white colour of the ceiling. There wasn’t anything remarkable about the ceiling. It was simply there.

Like she was.

Gillian’s arms were stretched out. Her legs were spread, leaving her open and vulnerable. She couldn’t move. No ropes held her, there weren’t any silken ties around her wrists or ankles, no handcuffs locking her to the bed frame. Mistress had put Gillian in trance and told her she was tied in place. That was enough. The redheaded girl couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.

“I’m Alison’s slave. I obey Alison. Obeying Alison turns me on.”

She didn’t want to move. Mistress had told her to take off her clothes, lie on the bed, spread her limbs. So Gillian had obeyed. If Mistress had wanted to tie her down Gillian would have accepted it, would have wanted it because it was what Mistress wanted. That Mistress hadn’t tied her down, had instead simply told her that she couldn’t move, just made it better.

Out of the corner of her eye Gillian could see Mistress. Mistress was watching her. Gillian liked it when Mistress watched her. Gillian belonged to her Mistress after all. If Mistress wanted to look at her then that was up to Mistress. But having Mistress’ attention made Gillian feel special.

If Gillian’s thoughts had enough clarity she might have tried interpreting the look on Mistress’ face. Might have noted the wide eyes, the occasional fluttering movement of Mistress’ hands. Might have wondered if the flushed cheeks meant that Mistress was excited, that perhaps the slightly parted lips, the occasional deep breath, meant Mistress desired her. Gillian would have liked the idea. Later, if she was allowed to remember this, she might think that. It would make her so happy that Mistress could want her like that.

Right at that moment such thoughts were far beyond her.

“I’m Alison’s slave. I obey Alison. Obeying Alison turns me on.”

Mistress had told her to repeat that. She was obeying Mistress. She knew Mistress’ name was Alison. In public that was what she called her Mistress. But in her mind Gillian always referred to her as Mistress. Not that there was much in Gillian’s mind now, nothing beside the words she was repeating and the mind-numbing arousal coursing through her body.

Gillian was aware enough to feel the pleasure that was turning her into a melting little puddle. Mistress had only put her in a light trance. Something new Mistress wanted to try. Or so Mistress had said. Gillian didn’t mind. Gillian obeyed.

Hypnotised girls obey.

It wasn’t a thought, but a memory, played out on the screen of Gillian’s mind, the redhead an empty vessel watching it. It was something else Mistress had said. After she’d arrived. After Mistress had asked how she was, how her studies were going. It was so kind of Mistress to care. Gillian would have been just as happy to lick Mistress’ shoes as a greeting, prostrating herself before Mistress, but if Mistress wanted to talk about Gillian’s day then the redhead would happily do that. Smile and laugh and act like a normal person.

Either way she was obeying her Mistress.

“I’m Alison’s slave. I obey Alison. Obeying Alison turns me on.”

She was so turned on. She could feel herself leaking onto the sheet. At another time, a time when she could think, she might have worried about staining something Mistress owned.

Like she was owned. She was Mistress’ possession, no more and no less than the sheet was.

Later, Gillian might wonder why Mistress had made her use Mistress’ public name, not her proper name. But it was what Mistress had told her to do, so Gillian obeyed. Gillian always obeyed her Mistress. Even when she wasn’t in trance.

A dim thought surfaced, struggling through the warm sea of arousal that occupied the space in her head. Maybe I’m always in trance? Always hypnotised. Always obeying. Always turned on.

That would be so good.

Gillian gasped in the middle of her recitation, the thoughts melting into a spike of arousal as if Mistress’ tongue was on her pussy. She couldn’t move her arms or legs but there was no restraint on her hips, Gillian thrusting them up, offering herself before slumping back on the bed and continuing to repeat the words Mistress had given her.

I’m entranced. Entranced girls obey.

Like a machine. Like a windup toy. She was a doll, Mistress pulling the string and Gillian repeating the words she’d been given.

If she could think about it Gillian would have thought her pussy couldn’t get any wetter. She was wrong, but she couldn’t think enough to realise that.

I’m Mistress’ doll. Mistress even told her what to wear, like dressing up a doll.

Gillian’s hips bucked again, her pussy throbbing with need. She’d do whatever her Mistress wanted. Mistress seemed to like it when they talked, watched movies together, had lunch together. Things normal people did. Gillian knew she wasn’t normal. She didn’t want to be normal. Not when she had this.

“I’m Alison’s slave. I obey Alison. Obeying Alison turns me on.”

But if that was what Mistress wanted, she’d do it. Mistress even wanted Gillian to voice an opinion sometimes. Choose a movie, decide where they would go. Mistress wanted her to have opinions, so she did.

She was so lucky to have such a kind mistress.

Of course, the opinions came from what Gillian was. A Goth. She was a pretty Goth girl. With her black clothes and lace and tight corsets. Thick black eyeliner and stark makeup and silver jewellery. High-heeled boots over fishnet stockings. Because that was what Mistress had made her. It wasn’t what the old Gillian was. The Gillian she’d forgotten. The new Gillian was better. Because the new Gillian was something Mistress had made. So even when Gillian choose a film for them to watch, which might be a vampire film or some other horror film, or a TV show, which might be a fantasy or sci-fi series, or bought clothes (mostly black) or listened to music (she’d had to find out what Goths liked), it was all because of Mistress. Gillian just filled in the gaps of the outline that Mistress had sketched. Every opinion she had was something that let her obey her Mistress.

That was so hot.

“Stop Gillian,” Mistress said.

Gillian stopped.

“How many fingers Gillian?” Mistress asked.

“One, Mistress,” Gillian answered.

The redhead’s mind flicked back to a memory. Gillian didn’t know why, didn’t question it. Her phone ringing, her answering it. Mistress’ voice, sending her into a trance. She could remember herself, blankly staring. People all around, not realising there was an entranced girl in their midst.

Not realising Gillian was a hypnotised slave.

Gillian strained at her imaginary bonds, the idea of what she’d done, what she’d been made to do in public, so arousing that she couldn’t contain herself.

It was so kind of Mistress to let her remember this.

She’d taken a photo with her camera, showing where she was, then sent the picture to Mistress. Then Mistress had told her where to go. Then Gillian had taken another photo. And gone where she was told. And another. And another. The camera had been Mistress’ eyes. Gillian had just been the thing carrying Mistress’ eyes around. She was something less than the camera she was holding. Not as important as a piece of electronics. Not important at all beyond the task Mistress had given her.

Gillian’s pussy was on fire. Just like it was in her memory.

She could remember people around her. She could have called out to them. “Help, another girl is hypnotising me. She’s made me her slave.” A normal person might want to do that. Gillian wondered what the people who passed by as she took the photographs would have done if she had called out. Tried to get help.

It didn’t matter what a normal person might want. Gillian didn’t want to be anything other than what she was.

Mistress’ slave.

She’d had no urge at all to call out.

She didn’t even know where she’d ended up. She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. It was somewhere Mistress had wanted her to go. That was enough for her. If Mistress wanted her to remember then she would.

“How many fingers Gillian?”

“Two, Mistress.”

Another memory.

Standing in a Mexican takeaway, about to buy lunch. Gillian liked Mexican. Mistress hadn’t told her to like Mexican. Maybe it was something of the old Gillian. The new Gillian didn’t know, didn’t care. Mistress hadn’t told her not to like Mexican, so Gillian was allowed to eat there. She was taking another photo, this time of the menu board, sending it to Mistress.

Gillian’s memory skipped, she was sitting down now, unwrapping a burrito, peeling back the layers of paper that held it. The layers were nothing like the bonds that held her mind even if they made her think of them. The wrapping on the burrito was flimsy, easily disposed of. The bonds in her mind were harder than steel, and Gillian hoped that they would never go away.

She’d been going to order the nachos, not a burrito. Mistress must have told her what to order, after Gillian had sent her the photo of the menu board. Gillian didn’t know if Mistress had simply told her. Or if she’d had Gillian keep her phone to her ear, had the redhead mindlessly repeating her words to the girl that was serving her. What would have happened if the girl had realised she was serving a slave? What did that make the girl that she had been serving a slave? Gillian remembered quivering in her chair, looking over at the girl, her pussy moistening her panties. The girl that had served Mistress’ slave. Which meant the girl was serving Mistress too, even if she didn’t know it. The girl was a brunette, pretty, her top outlining her small chest. Maybe Mistress would like her as a slave.

Gillian dismissed the idea. It wasn’t her decision to make. She turned her attention back to her lunch. The one Mistress had chosen for her.

Mistress was right. She shouldn’t have thought of the nachos. That was too fattening. She needed to keep her body as good as it could be for mistress. The burrito was much better for her.

She wouldn’t order nachos again. Not unless Mistress told her to.

Tears came to Gillian’s eyes as she bit into the burrito. It had avocado on it. Gillian liked avocado. But it was an extra, you had to add it to your order. Mistress had remembered that Gillian liked avocado.

The tears were tears of joy. Mistress was so kind.

“How many fingers Gillian?”

“Three, Mistress.”

Another memory.

Gillian was sitting in front of her laptop, logging on to the student portal. Her latest assignment should have been marked by now, the result there waiting for her. She’d worked so hard on it. Mistress wanted her to do well at her studies. And Mistress’ girlfriend, Jane, had helped her work on the assignment. Gillian would have been just as happy if Mistress told her to quit university, move in with Mistress and Jane and just be their servant. Maybe she’d have a maid’s outfit like Jane wore. Mistress’ girlfriend looked so hot in her maid’s outfit. Especially when Jane told Gillian to lie back and let Jane clean out her pussy.

“Mademoiselle has such a dirty little pussy, non? It needs so much cleaning, oui?”

Jane’s tongue was almost as good as Mistress’. But it was the knowledge that Mistress was watching as Jane ate her out that had made Gillian come. Over and over.

Gillian remembered remembering that as she steeled herself to look at the mark. Layers to her mind. And every one of them open to her Mistress.

She clicked the button.

B+

Gillian cried. Mistress would be pleased. It was her best mark yet. Better than anything the old Gillian had achieved. Gillian knew. She’d looked. It wasn’t as good as the marks Mistress and Jane got. They were so much smarter than she was. Straight A students. Gillian knew she’d never be that good. But that was alright. She was the slave after all. She just had to do the best she could for her Mistress.

“How many fingers Gillian?”

“Four, Mistress.”

Another memory.

Gillian had her phone in her hand again. Was talking to someone.

The woman that Mistress had said was Gillian’s mother.

“Yes, mum, B+,” Gillian said. Mistress had said Gillian should phone the woman regularly.

“That’s great dear, we’re so proud.” The woman probably meant her and the man Mistress had said was Gillian’s father.

Gillian was happy that the woman was pleased. Mistress had said that Gillian should love the woman and the man like a daughter should love her parents. So Gillian did. She wanted to make the woman and the man happy. Because that was what Mistress wanted.

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Gillian quipped happily.

“Yes, I know dear,” the woman replied, “but with, well, everything, we were worried. You were just so different.”

Gillian knew what the woman was referring to. When she’d gone home for the holidays her parents Mistress said they are my mother and father, so that makes them my parents, had been aghast at her new look. Not that it was new to Gillian. It was the only look she could remember having. But the Old Gillian hadn’t looked like that, so it was new to them. They’d been worried her studies would go off the rails. The old Gillian hadn’t been all that good a student.

“Maybe it’s what I needed,” Gillian observed, “finding myself.”

She’d certainly found herself. Or more properly Mistress had found her. Mistress had told her about how they’d met, a chance encounter one day on campus. Mistress had been trying to get Gillian to remember it. Gillian couldn’t. She wanted to, because Mistress wanted her to. But she couldn’t. It hurt not being able to obey Mistress.

“Are you alright dear?”

Gillian realised a sob had escaped her lips at the idea of not obeying Mistress.

“Yes mum, just something caught in my throat.”

“Are you still dressing like, um, that?” the woman asked. “It’s just such a change, you never liked black that much.”

“Well, I do now,” Gillian stated flatly. The woman could just put up with it. Mistress had made Gillian this way, so that’s how it was. Daughters were allowed to tell their mothers things like she’d just said. So Gillian could say that to the woman. Even if she did love her. Though nowhere near as much as she loved Mistress.

She wondered what the woman would think of the other changes. What she would do if she knew her daughter yes, I’m her daughter was Mistress’ slave? She probably wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t understand. Would be horrified if she knew that Gillian was owned, did everything her Mistress wanted. Had sex with her Mistress and her Mistress’ girlfriend.

Was currently lying on her Mistress’ bed, naked and entranced, with four of Mistress’ fingers jammed in her hot, needy, pussy.

The woman probably wouldn’t like it all. Gillian did though. Not that any of that mattered. All that mattered was what Mistress wanted.

“Should I?” she heard Mistress ask, Gillian unable to process the doubt in Mistress’ voice.

“Oh come on, Ali,” Jane replied. “You’re the one that said you wanted to.”

Alison looked from her girlfriend back to Gillian. Back to her slave. The redhead was lying on their bed, staring at the ceiling. Alison knew how turned on the girl was. Gillian was so slick, so wet, that Alison’s fingers had easily slipped inside the girl. All four of her fingers.

Oh God,

She could feel Gillian’s pussy tightly around her fingers as she worked them in and out of the girl’s sopping opening. Alison could barely think, her own arousal, red and dripping and needy, clouding her own mind. This was her slave. She owned the girl. She could do anything she wanted to her.

She wanted to do this. For her and Jane.

She loved Jane, she really did. She knew every inch of her girlfriend’s body. But Alison realised that they were nothing more than novices when it came to the details of pleasuring each other. That they were, in so many ways, just beginning. She wanted to do more. She wanted to do everything she could with her girlfriend.

But it was rather daunting.

She had turned to her usual solution to any problem, reading up. The internet was her friend. She’d been amazed, and intrigued, and aroused, and more than a little embarrassed, at what she’d found. At what two women (or three) could do together. Could do to each other. So many ways of pleasuring each other. She hadn’t been game to suggest some of it. No matter how eager Jane was. Her girlfriend never said no to anything.

But some of the things they could do needed, well, extras. Toys. Sex toys. Alison had never even owned a vibrator. She was somewhat surprised that Jane hadn’t either. Her girlfriend had just shrugged off the question, saying that boys had been enough for her until Alison had opened her eyes.

Alison had suggested ordering something online, but Jane wouldn’t hear of it.

“C’mon,” the blonde had declared. “It’ll be fun. Browsing them for real will be so much better. We have to do it.”

So they had, even if Alison had been reluctant. Not that that had lasted long, not when she’d seen some of things. Imagined using them on Jane. Jane using them on her. Alison had felt her cheeks flame. And it wasn’t all embarrassment, very little of it was really. From the way both of Jane’s hands had gripped her arm she thought her girlfriend had felt the same way.

Jane had wanted to go on a shopping spree. Blindfolds and handcuffs. Strap-ons and clamps and other things that had Alison’s knees weakening. Sneaking through the shop, thinking of the two of them and all this had been far more of a turn on then she’d expected. But she couldn’t bring herself to buy too much, whatever Jane said. Hadn’t wanted to face the woman at the checkout. At least it had been a woman.

Alison had agreed to them buying a couple of vibrators. That if that worked they’d come back for more. She wasn’t even sure about that. They were, after all, so phallic. Well, more or less, the shapes confounding her. Alison had no use for men, or any part of them. But Jane had persuaded her. Alison was so nervous about making the purchases that she didn’t even realise what the woman behind the counter meant when she said.

“You might need to work up to that.”

Alison looked at the woman. Then at what Jane had placed on the counter. Then at Jane. Then back at the counter. She was sure the …thing… sitting there wasn’t what Jane had originally selected. It had extra parts. And it was huge.

Jane’s face fell. “Oh, uh,” the blonde stammered, uncertain, her bravado melting away.

Alison wasn’t letting anyone do that to her girlfriend. Even if they meant well. And it had been her idea in the first place to buy things like this.

“We’ll manage,” Alison stated, staring straight at the clerk, watching the light dawn in the woman’s eyes as she looked between Alison and Jane.

The woman blinked, once, and that was it. And then she was all smiles and helpful suggestions. Telling them about lube, which had Alison embarrassed again. She fought that down. Led Jane out of the shop after they were finished. Kept her composure all the way home.

Then almost lost it as she considered what they’d done. It really was big. She didn’t want to hurt Jane. Even if the idea of throwing her girlfriend down and thrusting that monster into her had Alison swallowing and gasping for breath as she pictured the blonde writhing under her.

It wasn’t just Jane she wanted to use it on. There was Gillian. She didn’t want to hurt Gillian either. But Alison thought she had a solution to that. Which involved hypnotising her slave. Putting Gillian into trance and using the massive vibrator on her. Once the idea entered Alison’s head she couldn’t resist. The thought of doing it to the girl set her heart racing madly, the images flashing through her head, Gillian entranced and open and obeying.

And if it worked she’d use it on Jane. Have Jane use it on her. Maybe have Gillian use it too. On both her and Jane.

Alison’s eyes lost focus at that point. She couldn’t wait.

Which brought her to right where she was.

“Just relax Gillian. Relax your muscles. Let your pussy go loose. It will feel so good.” As she spoke Alison’s thumb brushed back and forth over her slave’s clit. “If it hurts too much let me know.” Her fingers stroked the warm, wet, velvet of Gillian’s inner walls. The sensations shot up her arm, flooded over her brain. With barely a thought her head jerked down, need driving her. Her lips latched around Gillian’s right nipple, the girl’s back arching in response, thrusting her breast up towards Alison, offering herself.

Alison tore herself away from the nipple, stared at Gillian’s features. The redhead’s eyes were wide and staring, her cheeks flushed. Her mouth was open as she panted in need.

“Just relax,” Alison forced out.

Gillian slumped back onto the bed. Alison could feel the girl’s muscles going loose. She pulled her fingers out, reached for the vibrator, saw it glistening with lube. Jane’s cheeky grin told her how that had happened. She turned back to Gillian, ran the length of the silicon toy between her slave’s breasts, stared at the glistening trail it left.

“Do you want it?” she asked teasingly, waving the toy in front of the girl’s glassy eyes.

“Yes mistress,” Gillian replied. Alison knew there wouldn’t be any other answer. The girl was still hypnotised. Not as deep as she usually was. Alison wanted her to be able to respond. But she was deep enough. Her eyes were glassy and her legs were spread. Her slave’s body was as open to her as her mind.

Oh god, yes. Alison wanted this. Wanted to see her slave writhing in pleasure. Know that she was the one causing it. That she was the one in control.

She let the end of the vibrator play over Gillian’s opening, her breath coming in the same short gasps as the girl’s.

She pushed, watched the toy slip inside, amazed at how easily Gillian took it, the girl’s lips parting easily to accommodate its width. She didn’t think anyone could actually be that big. But Gillian was taking it. Not easily. Every little move had the girl crying out. But they were clearly cries of bliss.

She heard the redhead cry out again as Alison thumbed the control. She could feel its vibrations, felt them echo from her hand through her body, zero in on her clit, a haze of passion blinding her. As she pushed she remembered what Gillian had felt like when Alison’s fingers had been inside her, imagined Gillian’s walls pushing back against the intruder, the slow advance of the vibrating dildo. Taking the girl this way was leaving her breathless.

Her vision cleared enough to let her see Gillian’s hands pulling against her imaginary bonds, the muscles in her arms tightening, the girl’s chest heaving.

Alison slipped the toy back out, slowly, saw Gillian’s jaw quiver. Then back in, inch by slow inch. She wasn’t some boy, to just ram madly away. Even if her control was hanging by a thread. Even if she just wanted to ravage the redhead. She was going to take this slow.

Out again, gradually, slowly, Alison’s breathing as deep as Gillian’s. Then in, the vibrations stoking the flames in both girls. She could almost feel Gillian’s pussy lips gripping the silicon rod, the resistance as she slipped it out, Gillian’s hips rising, her arms and legs jerking against the imaginary bonds. Alison’s own excitement rising as well as she pushed an arm of the device onto Gillian’s clit, the vibration running up from her palm and down through her body to her own pussy.

She stared in wonder at Gillian’s glistening form, sweat beading the girl’s body. Heard a cry of “Mistress!” as Gillian came, her slave’s body arching, the nipples on the redhead’s breasts tight and hard, the smell of her arousal flooding the room. Alison gripped the device, slowly pulled it out again, Gillian screaming in ecstasy.

The fingers of Alison’s other hand were splayed, digging into the sheet, Alison on her knees next to her slave. Her hair hung about her head, her whole body clenched with the desire raging through her. She hadn’t imagined it could feel this good. Had thought it would be Gillian more than her that would enjoy this.

She’d been wrong.

Gillian’s hips were rising, as if begging Alison to push the toy deeper. She couldn’t refuse. Didn’t want to.

Alison stared at Gillian’s pussy, the lips spread so obscenely around the girth of the toy. Gazed at the slick juices, mixed with lube, spread over its length as she withdrew it before thrusting it back again. She wanted more.

She pushed the smaller arm out of the way as she slowly, oh so gloriously slowly, thrust the toy home.

Just as slowly she lowered her head, licked her slave’s clit, heard Gillian’s breathing quicken, felt the girl pulling against her imaginary bonds, harder and harder, Gillian’s head thrashing from side to side as she came again, another cry of “Mistress!” bouncing around the room.

Her own orgasm was beckoning her, just out of reach, her pussy crying out for attention. But there was nothing she could do. One hand was holding her up. The other was gripping the vibrator that was deep inside Gillian. She and her slave were bound together, locked. Gillian was hers, would always be hers. Desire, need, passion and even love roared inside Alison, the mix exploding into a heat that left her reeling. Alison thumbed the vibration to a higher setting, heard Gillian mewl in pleasure. She teetered on the edge of her own crest.

So close, please, oh god.

“Jane!” Alison called, desperate need dripping from her voice, before locking her lips back around Gillian’s clit, the hard nub an irresistible temptation, the girl’s back arching again. She was sure she could feel the vibrations through her lips, Gillian’s clit thrumming. The thought of what she was doing, the sensations from her lips as she sucked, was turning her on so hard Alison thought her panties would melt from the heat.

She heard her girlfriend move up behind her, felt the blonde’s hand reach under her short skirt, stroke her panties. Alison’s vision blurred, her world was mere sensations; the hand gripping the vibrator that was buried in her slave, the feeling of Jane’s hand, the nub around which her lips were locked. Jane’s fingers slipped beneath her, rubbed her clit through the thin fabric

Once.

Twice

A third time.

“Oh, fuck,” Alison cried, her voice muffled as she sucked in Gillian’s clit, her world dissolving as a wall of bliss crashed over her.

Sometime later Alison came back to herself. She was lying face down on her and Jane’s bed, her right hand still gripping the toy that was buried in Gillian’s pussy. The redhead was gazing at her, adoration shining in the girl’s eyes.

Slowly, because she didn’t want to hurt Gillian and it feels so good she drew the toy out, amazed at how wet the girl still was. Alison didn’t know how long they’d been lying there. Gillian had just waited for her. Hadn’t tried to move.

She can’t you idiot. She still thinks she’s tied down.

With an audible pop the end of the toy emerged. Hastily Alison reached for some tissues to clean it off, staring guiltily at Gillian.

“Are you alright?” Alison asked nervously, icicles of regret forming in her brain. What if she’d hurt the girl? Damaged her? Maybe she shouldn’t have done this. But the idea had been just so tempting. She and Jane were still novices really at what they could do with each other.

“Yes Mistress,” Gillian smiled dreamily.

“Really?” Alison. “Don’t just say that. In fact, wake up.” She needed a serious answer from Gillian. Alison watched critically as Gillian stretched, looking for any signs the girl was in pain.

“You’re not hurt? Or anything?”

“No Mistress,” the girl answered, obviously trying to look serious. It was too much.

Alison reached for her, Gillian melting into her arms. There was still desire there. Gillian was beautiful. And she looked so vulnerable, curled naked in Alison’s embrace. But that wasn’t all Alison felt. There was affection. And maybe something stronger than that. And responsibility. Gillian was something Someone! Damn it! to be cared for, valued. She had to remember that.

“Did you like it?” Alison knew this hadn’t just for her benefit. Or Jane’s. Gillian wasn’t just a thing for her to use. The girl had her own feelings, her own needs. Alison was desperate not to forget them.

“Oh god, yes mistress,” Gillian breathed.

“Well, um,” Alison flustered. After what she’d just done to the girl she shouldn’t be embarrassed. But she was. Even as she glanced at Gillian’s pussy, amazed that it didn’t show more evidence of what she’d put the girl through. “I want you to do those exercises I told you about. The, um, Kegel ones, right? And if you think anything’s wrong see someone. Got it?”

“Yes Mistress.” Gillian’s voice was solemn as she answered.

Even so Alison wasn’t sure the girl was really paying attention, Gillian seeming more intent on snuggling into her arms. She couldn’t resist laying a kiss on the redhead’s hair.

“And use the balls I gave you.” The vibrators hadn’t been the only thing they’d bought. And besides, the idea of her slave doing exercises to keep her pussy tight was just so hot. Jane had said it was a good idea.

“Yes mistress.” Gillian nodded. She would do as she was told. What Mistress had done hadn’t hurt. Not a bit. It had been glorious. But she’d do what Mistress said. Always. She had to stay healthy for Mistress. So she’d do the exercises. This was Mistress’ body after all. Mistress owned it. Gillian knew she had to take care of it.

And she’d use the Ben Wa balls. Mistress had said they provided a different sort of exercise. She hadn’t given Gillian the details. Gillian didn’t care. Gillian would do it because Mistress had told her to. Mistress had given her the balls. They would be something of Mistress’ inside her. For hours at a time.

But not right now. Right now she was being held by her Mistress, snuggled tight against her chest. With Mistress’ arms around her Gillian was safe and warm and happy and nothing else mattered.

Though the sensations still flowing from her pussy did make it even better.

“Ali?” Jane asked, hesitantly

Alison looked between her girlfriend and her slave. She knew what Jane wanted. If she was being honest Alison wanted it too.

There was a light in Jane’s eyes, almost blinding in its intensity, as she regarded the naked girl held in Alison’s arms. Eagerness. Desire. Hunger. And underneath it all a desperate need as the two girls’ eyes met.

Alison beckoned Jane over, brought her into the embrace, Jane wrapping her arms around Alison and Gillian as Alison hugged them both.

Alison didn’t want to disappoint her girlfriend. But she also didn’t want to take too many risks.

“Gillian,” she whispered hesitantly. “Would it hurt too much if Jane?”

“No mistress. I, I want to.”

“So she could?” The idea was so hot. She could imagine it. Jane’s using the vibrator on Gillian. Alison watching. Hoping Jane would call out for her as she’d called out for Jane. Jane needing Alison to push her over the edge. Alison looked hungrily at Jane, imagined slipping her hand under Jane’s skirt, her fingers so delicate as they played over her girlfriend’s panties. Such a contrast to the violation Jane would be making of her slave.

“Yes mistress,” Gillian stated.

Alison smiled as she looked at Jane. She’d share her slave with her girlfriend. It was only fair.

(To be continued)