The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Haunting of Crowley Manor

Chapter 1 — The Devil’s Eye Pendant

DISCLAIMER: This story was originally posted to the superheroine story archive run by Mr. X over at Dangerbabe Central. Miss Americana is his creation; I encourage you to check out his site for more excellent work. This is a work of fiction, and all characters depicted are of adult age.

The Delta City National History Museum was one of the largest of its kind on the West Coast, rivaling the vaunted establishment in New York City, particularly thanks to the ongoing efforts of Delta City’s wealthy socialite class, and some generous contributions from the city’s hero population. Boasting some of the most complete collections of the strange and outré, the museum was a hub of academic study into the truly obscure and esoteric. Artifacts from the terrifying Kike-Nyoka tribe of deep Congo, the actual remains of the pirate ship of Eleanor the Red, and many other tokens of mystifying origin called the Museum their home.

To protect its contents, the Museum also boasted one of the most sophisticated security systems in the country. Closed-circuit cameras, motion sensors, proximity alarms and lockdown panels helped insure against the unusually dense crime rate of the erstwhile idyllic metropolis. Any attempt at forceful breach would alert every police station in a ten mile radius, and several heroes had agreed to be on-call to help out as well.

such security measures would have deterred any normal thief. But Barbara Cummings, or Esha, as her villainous alter ego was called, was not by any means a normal thief.

Crouched atop the roof of one of the museums extreme annexes, the blonde bombshell seemed to eschew every traditional concept of what a cat-burglar should look like. Tall, gorgeous, and incredibly well-endowed, the shapely villainess could have made a killing as a supermodel or centerfold pinup girl. Heaven knows she’d received countless offers over the years. But that kind of life held absolutely no attraction to Barbara, who grew up cushioned by the wealth of her family. As sole heiress of the Cummings fortune, Barbara could afford almost anything she wanted, could travel wherever she wished to go, and could live however ostentatiously she could imagine.

But all that certainty and security, which most normal people crave, only served to bleach the world of its excitement. Normal life held no challenge to Barbara, no thrill. Money allowed her to live an extremely comfortable...and boring...existence.

Barbara Cummings lived for thrills, for excitement, and Esha was her ticket to a world that held everything she craved.

Perched atop the museum rooftop, peering cautiously down through an expansive glass skylight, she couldn’t suppress a smile of pure adulation as she felt the familiar race of her pulse. The cool night breeze brushed against her scantily clad form like a lover’s familiar caress. She felt totally in her element, totally alive; nothing else in her normal life could possibly compare.

Tonight was going to be fun.

She glanced around the rooftop, taking note of the camera positioned over a roof access door on the other side of the platform. It was a simple device, with a field of vision restricted to a short cone around the door itself. As far away as she was, she was in no danger of being spotted. Her entry plan was well thought-out, and meticulously researched, thanks in large part to the diagrams of the security system she was made privy to since becoming a member of the Museum’s board of trustees.

Money could get you anywhere, Barbara had learned long ago, and though no one on that stuffy board thought her anything more than a wealthy, uncultured bimbo, their shallow opinion of her provided tremendous amounts of cover. After all, what threat could she possibly be? She was just a stupid heiress looking for ways to burn her money.

The chief of security was old, balding, and a certifiable lech. Barbara barely had to flash any skin before he’d been eating out of her hand. She’d made copies of his keys weeks ago. Getting the diagrams was child’s play after that.

Every one of the museum’s windows was fitted with an alarm, every door restricted by magnetic keycard readers. The central museum itself even had motion detectors in its air vents, but the older sections, like this annex, did not.

As silent as a cat, Esha made her way to one of the curved exhaust hoods, and after a moment’s effort, dislodged the protective vent cover and peered inside. A steady stream of warm air buffeted around her, ruffling her thick blonde tresses, and providing some respite from the evening chill. The circulation fans would be interspersed along the channel’s length, but she wouldn’t need to get that far in. She only had to make it as far as the first return port, which opened into the annex offices, after which the copy of the security chief’s keycard, tucked safely between the buxom thief’s generous cleavage, would provide her all the access she needed.

It was almost too easy, Esha lamented to herself, as she slipped deftly through the small portal and disappeared into darkness.

* * *

Less than ten minutes later, Esha silently stalked through the museum corridors, moving quickly but not hurriedly so. She had all the time in the world. She knew where every camera was positioned, knew where to stand to avoid them, and thus passed swiftly through the annex towards her prize. Security teams would be on their routine patrols, but at this hour, no one was scheduled anywhere close to where she was going. Despite the initial adrenaline surge, Esha’s outlook for the evening was growing increasingly dim. Breaking and entering was becoming almost routine, and the amount of prep she’d invested had made this job a little too smooth. She almost wished Miss Americana would come crashing down through one of the skylights above the corridor, dramatically demanding Esha turn herself in, just to liven up the night.

But alas, no one knew where the pretty Miss Americana was these days. It was all over the news.

Hell, maybe the stuck-up do-gooder had simply found herself a man, Esha chuckled wickedly. God only knew repression like that needed serious venting.

The thought of Miss Americana laid up in bed with some stud between her legs, pounding the hero right out of her, provided the sultry thief with a pleasant distraction as she sauntered the rest of the way through the museum. Esha made a mental note that, after she was done with this heist, she would have to find herself some hunky man-meat to finish off the evening with. Nothing like breaking the law to get a girl’s juices flowing.

Moments later, she found herself standing at the entrance of a long, windowless gallery. Interspersed down the length of the corridor were display pedestals, capped by cubes of perfectly clear glass, each one illuminated by a cone of warm white light.

The contents of those displays made Esha’s breath catch.

Jewels. Some of the most fabulous examples of fancy colored gems in the world. On loan from the New York museum, the collection boasted stones of unusual size, color, and clarity. Sparkling yellow, brown, red and purple stones glittered in the dim lighting, making her almost squeal with barely contained glee. Oh how she loved jewelry. It was a predictable vice for a girl with her background, but she didn’t care. They were such lovely little trinkets, she never tired of them. She would have loved to add any number of these particular beauties to her personal collection, and still she might, but tonight she was here for a very specific item.

Careful to avoid the cameras, Esha moved silently from case to case, glancing at the perfectly printed name plates, searching until....aha! She stopped suddenly in front of one of the display cases, peering in at the black velvet bed and the pretty little baubles resting atop it.

There at the center was her quarry. A fancy diamond of the deepest red she could imagine, like a ruby only darker, somehow...deeper, lay seated in an ornate silver setting, a long, delicate strand of white gold coiled around it like the length of a sleeping serpent.

The Devil’s Eye, Esha sighed in admiration. No wonder that crazy old bat wanted it so bad. The way the spotlight seemed to bounce around endlessly in its multifaceted depths made it almost glow. She could almost imagine it pulsing, almost beating, a bloody red heart of clear stone. The beautiful blonde was just beside herself, she’d never seen a stone like it before. Her crimson lips parted in an appreciative coo, her wide green eyes soaking in the almost agonizing glory of the pendant. God, she could stare at that thing forever...

As the fascinated blonde continued to stare at the bloody diamond, little by little, a dull, blank sheen crept over her eyes. Her breathing began to slow, to deepen. It was so pretty to look at, so...relaxing. The way the light endlessly reflected in its crimson depths was drawing her in, always in, ever deeper...so pretty...

A sudden, muffled sound came from the chamber she’d just entered from, and she snapped up, her heart skipping a beat. Dammit, she’d gotten so fixated on the jewel that she’d lost focus for a minute. That wasn’t like her. The smoothness of the job was making her complacent.

She slipped backwards, disappearing into the shadows, listening intently. Her heart was hammering. In the long seconds she stood there, holding her breath, she became aware of other things...like how her nipples stood rigidly at attention beneath the thin black material of her bikini top, and how her face felt too warm, flushed. Worse still, a steady, pleasant throb from her suddenly all-too sensitive pussy threatened to break her already tenuous concentration. God what had come over her? If she hadn’t heard that noise, what might have happened...?

The noise. Had she imagined it? Esha forced herself to utter stillness, listening until her ears burned. A moment later she heard it again: faint footfalls, accompanied by the musical jingling of a key ring.

A guard? Now? That was impossible, she’d had at least thirty minutes before the next sentry was due to pass by. How long had she been fixated on the stone?

Silent and still, coiled on a bed of night-black velvet, the Devil’s Eye gleamed almost...maliciously.

Esha put the strangeness of it out of her mind right then, and forced herself to concentrate on the issue at hand. She’d clearly messed up somehow, and now she had a guard to deal with. There wasn’t anywhere for her to hide in the jewel gallery, and the only real exit was back into the room from whence she came. She was cut off. The only other door in the corridor led to a utility room, but the door looked old, the hinges rusty. There was no way she’d be able to open it without attracting attention.

Moving with perfect silence along the dark gallery wall back to the gallery entrance, Esha risked a quick glance down the adjoining hallway, and instantly caught sight of the night guard slowly moving towards the jewel collection. As soon as she saw the guard though, Esha’s trepidation and uncertainty instantly evaporated, and as she noted the guard’s pretty young face, and the way her starched uniform failed to obscure what was clearly a very shapely body, the villainous burglar’s lips curled into a sinister smile.

A warm glow of anticipation began churning in her belly as she slipped back into the gallery, vanishing into the dim.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Carrie Stokes stopped in mid-step, forcibly stifling a yawn. She glanced around the deserted museum, her eyes moving from display to display, and sighed wearily. First week on the job, and whatever excitement she’d felt at her new responsibilities was rapidly fading in the face of the grueling tedium of the actual work. Being a night guard at the Delta City Museum seemed like such an awesome, somehow romantic proposition, but for the most part all they’d asked her to do was to walk the same beat, night after night. It wasn’t quite what she’d imagined, but it paid the bills, and God only knew she needed the money.

“Fucking college loans,” she grumbled under her breath. She had five or six more galleries to check, then she’d be on desk duty for a while. It would give her time to catch up on her reading. She had a doosy of a midterm coming up.

When she glanced up and recognized where she was, her pace slowed considerably. She hesitated. She was coming up to the Patterson Fancy Diamond exhibit. She’d have to check on the displays before proceeding on to the anthropology department.

Carrie’s stomach gave an involuntary, nervous flip.

She didn’t like the Patterson exhibit. Her third night on the job, she’d taken a minute to indulge in some unauthorized gallery viewing during her pass through. How could she not? Those gems were gorgeous! Bigger and more beautiful than anything her English degree was likely ever going to afford her, at any rate. What harm was there in looking around a little?

That was when she’d seen the stone...and then her recollection started to get foggy...and warm.

Even now if she closed her eyes, she could still envision the brilliant crimson diamond. Countless facets, so many that the stone almost appeared rounded, smooth, and always shining with that weird, inner light. Carrie had never seen anything like it before...

She had been jarred to her senses sometime later by an irate shake of her shoulder. Carl, one of the other guards, had come all the way over from his wing of the museum when she hadn’t checked in, and was seriously annoyed that she was wasting time lollygagging at some stupid colored stones. She had been humiliated, and totally befuddled. How much time had she wasted in that gallery? Far too long, clearly, and Carl had made it pretty clear that any more unprofessional behavior would get her fired.

He’d stormed off, leaving Carrie dazed and utterly confused...and even stranger, ridiculously aroused. God, even the thought of it made her shudder! Her panties had been soaked, her clit throbbing. Thank God her uniform had black pants, no one had noticed the dark, wet stain between her thighs.

That night, in the solitude of her room, she had masturbated uncontrollably to some of the strongest orgasms she could remember having. She couldn’t stop herself, she just kept coming and coming...

The memory of all of that made Carrie hesitate. She really didn’t want to go in there again. She was afraid of what might happen.

“Just walk on by, Carrie,” she murmured, “Just get on with your routine and walk on by—”

Suddenly, she heard a rusty whine, followed almost immediately by the sound of a door pulling open. Her heart started hammering, and she snapped on her torch, casting the beam through the dimly lit gallery’s entrance.

“Hello?” Carrie called out, steeling her voice, “Is someone here? Museum’s closed...hello?”

Carefully ducking through the door, she let her beam sweep the room, finding to her relief that it was utterly empty. The pedestals remained undisturbed. The gems shimmered on their display pillows. Nothing seemed out of place...wait. She stopped her beam, fixing it on a dull, old metal door far to the back of the corridor. The utility room, she reminded herself.

The door was cracked open. Ajar.

Carrie swallowed hard.

She began to reach for her radio, but stopped. That was all she needed after her last incident, calling back to the desk because she got spooked. They’d think she was anxious, flakey. They’d fire her for sure.

Well crap.

Casting a furtive glance behind her, the young co-ed trained her torch beam on the slightly open door, and taking a breath, forced herself to walk towards it.

She’d glance inside, just one look, then she’d shut the door and get the heck out of there.

By the time she reached the gray metal door, her heart was hammering, and her beam wavered nervously. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this job. The place gave her the creeps. Maybe her roommate could get her hooked up at the pizza place; dealing with all the local jocks had to be preferable to chasing imaginary spooks in a dusty old museum.

She reached the door. Pausing a moment to steady her nerves, she reached out with her free hand, and pushed into the utility room. The room beyond was barely a 10′ by 10′ storage room, one side dominated by a five-tier metal shelving unit, and the others stacked rather haphazardly with boxes. Her beam swept the room, found it mercifully empty...before it settled on a shiny, white rectangle laying in the middle of the room.

She stared at it suspiciously. What the hell, that looked like a...key card?

Carrie blinked in confusion, but also in relief. She had gotten all worked up over nothing. The place was really old, maybe the door just had a habit of coming open. She’d mention it to maintenance, let them deal with it. She reached down to her belt, flicked on her radio, and waited for her boss to acknowledge her. “This is Carrie, just finishing up at the Patterson Gallery. I’m heading to anthro next. Over.”

The radio barked in confirmation, and she shut it off. Sighing, feeling more than a little embarrassed at her nerves, Carrie stepped into the room to retrieve the fallen keycard. As soon as she was past the door, there was a sudden blur of movement...behind her! Faster than she could even turn around, she felt a strong arm loop hers behind her back, pulling her tightly against the lithe, shapely form of her aggressor, while a second hand swept up in front of her face to clamp a cool, soft cloth over her mouth, stifling her cry.

Her torch fell to the ground with a clatter, shutting off, leaving her to struggle in total blackness against the calm, firm grip that held her fast. Suddenly there was a hot, throaty voice whispering in her ear.

“Going somewhere sweetie? Stay a while. I insist.”

It was then that Carrie became aware of the smell coming from the cloth pressed over her gasping mouth. Sweet, cloying, a wave of dizziness came over her as reflexively sucked in breath. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but her limbs suddenly felt numb, heavy. With each poisoned gasp her struggles slowly began to fade, her body sagging back against her attacker. She struggled vainly to keep her drooping eyes open.

“That’s a good girl,” came the lusty whisper in her ear making her body erupt in goose bumps, “Close those pretty eyes for me. They’re so, so heavy now...just rest a moment, baby...sleep for me...sleeeeeep...”

Carrie let out a helpless groan, her eyes rolling back, her eyelids fluttering shut, as Esha’s chloroform did its wicked work. The blonde dominitrix smiled as she felt the woman swoon in her arms, and continued to hold the soft cloth over her nose and mouth as she eased the slumping security guard to the carpeted floor. Only then did she pull it away, and gave her unconscious prey an appreciative whistle as she surveyed her young, pretty face.

“My, aren’t you a cutie!” Esha said with a grin, tracing the fingers of her black gloved hand down the woman’s pale cheek, down her smooth neck, to brush appraisingly down the soft, ample curves of her prone body. The blonde thief chewed her lip, a thrill of heat blossoming on her cheeks. She’d snared a real hot one this time!

With some difficulty, Esha pulled away from the overwhelmed security guard. As quietly as she could, she pushed the door shut, then slid the deadbolt over with a final, resolute click.

* * *

When Carrie came to, it took a few seconds for her to realize where she was.

An unfamiliar ceiling hung above her. She realized that she was lying on the floor, her body sinking slightly on the thick, plush carpet. The room was dark, the only illumination coming from a small utility lamp that glowed with a low, pallid light, casting long shadows about the room.

God, where was she. What happened? What—

Suddenly, recollection came flooding back, and her eyes went wide. She tried to sit up, only then realizing that her hands were tied above her head, bound to one of the shelf legs against the wall. Her stomach somersaulted in terror. A strip of cloth was tied over her mouth in a makeshift gag. She whimpered, tossing her head, looking around with wide, frightened eyes.

“Over here, sweetie.”

A voice, a woman’s voice, suddenly cut through the darkness, instantly commanding her attention. Carrie craned her neck, looking over to see a shadowy form leaning against the far wall, just outside the small circle of light cast by the lamp. With smooth, catlike grace, the lithe figure swayed toward her. As she stepped into the light, Carrie’s eyes went wide.

Before her stood a tall, fantastically proportioned woman wearing nothing by a skimpy black bikini set, long, elbow length black gloves, and thigh-high black stockings that clung scandalously to her shapely figure. Her face was obscured by a simple black domino mask, her deep crimson lips curled in a predatory smirk. Her wild blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in a messy, bed-head mane.

Carrie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This woman looked like walking wet dream, like some kind of nightmarish, vampiric lingerie model. What the fuck was going on?

Then Carrie noticed her clothes. Or rather, her utter lack of them. Apart from her bra and slim, lace panties, she’d been totally stripped! Her curvy hips, smooth, toned stomach, and the generous swells of her tits were all helplessly exposed. She stammered incoherently through the gag, writhing ineffectually on the ground, a blush of embarrassment and anger blossoming on her cheeks.

The woman eased herself down next to Carrie’s thrashing body, casually deflecting a wild kick. She propped herself up on her side, ignoring Carrie’s angry cries, content to just let her hungry stare slowly drink in the bound girl’s soft curves. Esha found herself particularly drawn to the girl’s barely covered chest. Big and perky, just how she liked them.

“I’m sorry about the gag, honey,” the blonde sighed, lightly tracing her fingers over Carrie’s smooth thigh. “I needed to be sure you could hear me out before you went and did something...stupid.”

The sudden iciness in her voice made Carrie’s struggles abruptly cease. She eyed the woman warily, but found herself shrinking back from the emerald, serpent stare that she fixed her with. Carrie panted through her nose, trembling. Esha nodded towards the shelf a few feet away, urging Carrie to follow her gaze. The bound brunette hesitated, then turned her head. In a moment, she recognized the small, rectangular tool sitting haphazardly on a low shelf.

A box cutter. Oh god, what did she mean?

When her eyes darted back to Esha, the anger and hostility was suddenly laced with something new—white hot, almost unbearable, panic. Seeing this, the blonde shushed her, resting a firm hand on her belly to steady her jumpy prey.

“There there hon, just relax. I’m not planning on cutting you up or anything crazy like that.” Then, her tone went icy again, “Just as long as you agree to do as I say. Simple enough, right?”

Carrie struggled to control her out of control panting, to quell the sudden panic in her chest. She desperately wanted to get out of this place alive. She was willing to do whatever this crazy woman wanted, oh god she just wanted to go home.

After a moment, carrie gave a slow, deliberate nod. Esha smiled.

“That’s a good girl. So for starters, no screaming, got it?”

At least, not yet, she thought to herself with a wry chuckle.

When Carrie nodded her assent a second time, Esha reached over and pulled the gag loose. The bound girl flexed her jaw, gratefully in-taking great swallows of air. When her breathing had steadied, she hazarded a quiet, tremulous question, “W-who are you? What do you want from me?”

The blonde vixen gave an exaggerated gasp, feigning indignation, “What? You mean you have no idea who I am? I’m offended!” She pouted at Carrie, her crimson lips pursing, “You college girls don’t pay much attention to the news, do you?”

Terrified that she might set her off, Carrie gave a very hesitant shake of the head.

Esha sighed. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. It’ll be all over the headlines once I’m out of here with that stone.”

“S-stone?” Carrie stammered, “You’re a thief?” She looked Esha up and down a second time, incredulously. She had to be joking.

Esha shrugged. “Some say the best. But you don’t need to worry about that. You see, you have much...bigger problems to worry about.”

And swift as a cat, Esha swung her leg over Carrie’s prone body, straddling the helpless woman across her upper thighs, pinning down her legs. Carrie gave a startled gasp, flinching at the sudden movement. Esha settled herself in, luxuriating in the firm softness of the young woman’s upper legs. A runner maybe, she mused; it would explain her exquisite figure.

“What do you mean?” Carrie whimpered, watching with mounting dread as Esha’s long, gloved fingers began to absentmindedly weave nonsense trails over the girl’s flat, tensing stomach. “D-don’t touch me! Please, let me go!”

But the gorgeous thief ignored her, letting her dancing fingers slowly walk their way up Carrie’s smooth stomach, along her sensitive sides, and slowly, oh so slowly, towards her luscious, bra-covered breasts. She grinned as the bound girl tried ineffectually to struggle beneath her weight. “I confess,” she whispered to Carrie, her voice low and intimate, “Stealing money and trinkets, that’s really just my second favorite thing to do. What I really love, what I positively live for, is stealing hearts...particularly from pretty little things like you...”

Carrie was about to snap a retort when Esha’s long, sensuous fingers suddenly grabbed hold of her taut breasts. The bound brunette gasped in shock, and she reflexively tried to heave the mad woman off her, but she had no leverage, and Esha merely had to adjust her balance a moment before Carrie’s bucking hips came crashing back to the carpet uselessly. “Let go of me! Let me go!”

Esha cocked her head slyly, watching her with bright, green eyes, as her grasping hands suddenly eased up on her breasts, then began to slowly, methodically, massage them through Carrie’s thin, lace bra. The pinned girl grimaced at the violation, but something...something was wrong. The woman’s hands moved with such purpose, with such familiarity. The way she was manipulating her boobs, gently, but with a knowing firmness, was so different from the wild groping she usually endured from the few random dates at college that had gone that far. Soon, in spite of everything, a tingling, pleasant warmth began to grow in her heavy tits. Carrie could only stare in mute shock, watching Esha’s deft hands roll and caress her tightening breasts, the inky black of her gloves contrasting sharply with her lavender bra and flushed, pale skin. When Esha suddenly sank her fingers into her sensitive tits and gently began pulling them up and away from her chest, Carrie let out a wholly involuntary gasp.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it sweetie?” Esha smirked, “No need to be shy about it. It’s just us girls here.”

“Ugh! N-no, no stop, please,” Carrie stammered, aghast that her body would feel anything, much less pleasure, from being groped against her will. But Esha’s hands just kept working her over, and soon the warmth in her breasts had changed to a steady throb, the all-too pleasant glow beginning to spread across her chest, down her belly, which now fluttered with almost nervous anticipation. Carrie kept shaking her head no, but her breathing was getting heavier, and a blush of color had blossomed on her cheeks. Esha smiled to herself. Time to take things up a notch.

“I really like this bra of yours. It’s a lovely color, very flattering. Big tits like yours probably need quite a bit of support. And this center clasp...”

“W-wait! Don’t!” Carrie cried.

But in a flash, Esha’s knowing fingers had closed in on the plastic clasp between her heaving breasts, and with a casual snap the two bra cups were instantly loose, letting Carrie’s large, conical breasts spill obediently into Esha’s expectant hands. The helpless co-ed let out a groan of shame, but she couldn’t look away as those black gloved hands took possession of her milky white tits.

The sensation was...it was just so...

“N-no..nn....ooh!” Carrie gasped helplessly, her breath catching. The feeling of Esha’s hands over her bra had been bad enough, but now her blonde assailant had unfettered access to her charms. Masterfully she resumed her deft manipulation of Carrie’s breasts, kneading, caressing, and rolling their exquisite softness with devious intent. Carrie’s nipples immediately sprang to treacherous attention beneath Esha’s coaxing fingers, and the blonde wasted no time in rolling them against her silky, gloved palms, and spiraling around her swollen areola with her fingertips. Carrie’s mouth had fallen open in mute denial, but when Esha took her engorged nipples between finger and thumb and slowly began to twist...

“AH!” the bound co-ed let out a sharp gasp as bolts of unwanted pleasure began to flicker from her tormented nipples. “Oh, oh please stop, let go of my...let go of...my...” But as Esha’s fingers continued their relentless assault, Carrie’s protests began stutter, to weaken. Her breathing was growing ragged, her eyes drooped, and more and more frequently, a moan of helpless, irresistible pleasure would slip from her parted lips.

When Esha used her nipples to slowly pull her heavy tits away from her chest, Carrie’s eyes fluttered wildly. “OOOH! Oh...God...!”

The blonde temptress chuckled at her panting victim. “As you can tell, I have quite a bit of experience with nice fat tits like yours. I know how sensitive they can be. And I know just...what they....like...”

With that, Esha wrapped her fingers around the base of Carrie’s left breast, steadying the quivering mound of flesh, before leaning forward with slow, menacing intent. Then, her green eyes piercing into Carrie’s faraway gaze, Esha extended her long, wet tongue, and traced a slow, meandering path up the slope of that captured tit, trailing a thin stream of shimmering saliva as she slowly, oh so slowly, approached its turgid peak. Carrie gasped raggedly as that tongue made contact with her engorged nipple, circling it, flicking across it, lashing it mercilessly with light, wet strokes. Carrie’s breathing was stilted, her belly fluttered, and her back unconsciously arched off the plush carpet to press up and into Esha’s hot, wet mouth. The master seductress didn’t disappoint. Opening her mouth widely, she planted her succulent lips against Carrie’s feverish breast, and sucked it into sweet, liquid ecstasy.

Carrie’s head fell backwards limply, a strangled moan her only protest, as the evil Esha nursed on her swollen tit. Oh God, why did it have to feel so good? The part of her that recognized this as wrong, that chaffed against the sexual assault, desperately wanted to struggle, to fight off the vile attentions of this wicked woman, but her breasts felt like heavy, delicious mounds of throbbing sensation. No one had ever made her feel this way before. More and more, that part of her still trying to resist was being drowned out by relentless, horrible, unwanted pleasure, both from her tormented breasts, and increasingly, from the hot, wet mess that was growing in her panties.

Esha moaned appreciatively around the swollen nipple in her mouth, looking up into Carrie’s desperate, flushed face. Her free arm swept underneath the prone girl’s arching back, her fingers caressing, forcing her to offer up her breasts as she slowly licked from one to the other. Carrie whimpered as she swept into the deep valley of her cleavage with her hot tongue, before once again climbing her other breast to claim her positively aching nipple between white, sharp teeth, and lashing it with mind-numbing pleasure.

So consumed was Carrie by Esha’s assault on her tits that she didn’t realize her seductress had eased a leg back, and had slipped her knee between Carrie’s trembling legs, poised, waiting. The moment came swiftly. Drifting further and further into the sexual daze Esha’s mouth and hands were weaving, Carrie’s legs began to slowly, unconsciously, fall open. As soon as she felt the girl shift, Esha’s knee pushed in, forcing her legs apart fully, and allowing the villainess to slide right down into her suddenly defenseless saddle. Carrie groaned in dismay, and tried, far too late, to close her legs, but by then Esha was laying between them, her firm stomach pressing against Carrie’s heated, panty-covered mound, and her massive breasts resting heavily on Carrie’s own spasming belly.

Esha released her captive nipple with a satisfied sigh, and flashed Carrie a confident smirk. “You’ve got a pair of seriously knock out tits here, baby. I’ll be I could even make you come just by playing with them a little more, but there are other—wetter—places I think I’d rather see...”

The girl’s eyes went wide, “Oh no, please don’t, I’ll do anything, just...please...!”

Esha’s eyes glittered in the dim light, “You’ve got that right. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll happily do anything I say...”

And to Carrie’s horror, Esha slowly began kissing her way down the girl’s tortured body. Every few inches, her tongue would slip out, tasting her, taunting her, dipping into her belly button and making her squirm. But even as she inched lower, even as Carrie begged her to stop, she could feel her pussy starting to drool in anticipation. Her clit was aching. If what she could do to her breasts was any indication, there was no telling what would happen if she reached her sex.

But Carrie did know what would happen, and the thought of it both filled her with dread...and unwelcome desire.

As Esha slipped her way lower, she hooked her hands behind Carrie’s knees, and with predatory insistence, began to push the struggling brunette’s legs up...and back...

Carrie tried to resist her, tried to fight back, but her muscles felt like jelly, her legs were weak. Esha had no trouble spreading her wide open, and soon, the wicked woman’s mouth hung inches away from her panty-covered mound. Between her legs, Esha let out a low chuckle.

“You keep saying no, but it looks like your pussy has other ideas,” she said, “Here, let me help you make up your mind...”

Carrie flushed with shame, embarrassed by her body’s betrayal, but the feeling only lasted a second. In the very next breath, Esha’s long tongue snaked out and pressed hard against her panty-covered sex. Carrie’s hips bucked, and a strangled gasp was torn from her throat, as the wicked sensation rocked her already battered will. Esha’s tongue began to languidly trace over the thin, wet material of her panties as they outlined the swollen lips of her pussy. In seconds, the mix of Esha’s saliva and her own treacherously flowing wetness had reduced the front of her panties to a clinging, translucent panel of fabric, barely concealing her spasming labia beneath. Esha watched as her tongue worked its evil magic over the helpless young woman. Her wet, shining nipples stood at rigid attention atop her panting breasts, and with every passing moment her vocal protests grew more and more incoherent, punctuated increasingly by melodious moans of unwanted, but undeniable, arousal. All too soon, Esha no longer needed to hold her trembling knees apart; they lay open, inviting with their unspoken submission more and more of the conquering pleasure from Esha’s devilish tongue. The blonde seductress slowly began to slide her hands down the backs of the co-ed’s soft thighs, massaging, caressing the supple flesh, until she was cupping and kneading the firm globes of her ass. Carrie’s face was flushed, her wet lips parted, her eyes distant, dreamy, as Esha’s tongue wove tantalizing patterns through her useless panties. Enticing. Seductive. Irresistible. Seeing her prey spiraling into total sexual submission, Esha gave her panty-covered mound one last long lick before she opened her mouth wide, covering her swollen pussy with a sloppy, sucking kiss that made Carrie moan hopelessly, her hips rising up off the carpet, letting Esha’s slender fingers slip under the thin waistband of her panties. She groaned raggedly as she felt the gentle tugs as Esha began slipping them off.

“No...no....oh no...” she could only moan, tossing her head, as the vile vixen pulled away the last bit of her clothing, easing it up and over her unresisting legs, and deftly flinging it into the darkness.

“I think I’ll keep those,” Esha smiled, “As a souvenir.”

Esha took a moment to absorb the loveliness of her now naked victim, her eyes following the gentle curves of her legs and thighs, the enticing curve of her hips, and the hot, glistening mound of her defenseless sex. The villainess groaned hungrily, letting her fingers pass through the small trimmed triangle of fur at the crest of Carrie’s mons, her eyes glinting in predatory anticipation. “And now,” she whispered, “You’re all mine.”

Then, before Carrie could put up any further resistance, Esha moved in, and plunged her tongue into the girl’s sopping pussy.

Carrie cried out, he hips heaving, as that long, sinuous tongue delved between her soaked nether lips, tracing along their length. The flat of her tongue lavished her sex, stroking it from back to front in long, dominating slurps. Her pussy lips spread obediently for Esha’s invading tongue as it began sliding in deeper. She pressed insistently against the opening of Carrie’s spasming vagina, caressing her, slipping in just deep enough to inspire unwanted thoughts of pure, submissive need in the bound security guard. “NOOO!!” she gasped, “N..no...s-stop...Oooh, oh god, it feels...so...n-no...I can’t...I...can’t...”

Carrie moaned, sincerely, her eyes drifting shut. Her hands tugged uselessly at their bonds, unable to stop the woman between her legs. Her willpower was fading. Her pussy had come alive beneath Esha’s talented tongue, and her hips were rocking uncontrollably against her seductress’ hot, lapping mouth. It was too good. She had never been eaten out like this before. Every touch of that soft, supple tongue stoked her desire into roaring furnace of undeniable lust. Esha seemingly knew her every weak spot, seemed to know just how hard, or soft, she liked to be touched.

She was on fire. Her body melted under Esha’s tongue, her mind, her convictions, leaking out of her sopping pussy in rivulets of sweet, sticky nectar. Her wide, brown eyes looked down past her mountainous breasts at the woman forcing this wild, forbidden pleasure upon her, her gaze finding the blonde temptress’s glimmering, emerald eyes, and falling deep into their mesmerizing stare. Her heart thudded with a strange roil of emotions...fear, submission...and infatuation.

“You like how I make you feel, don’t you, beautiful?” Esha murmured, her voice low, intimate, nuzzling her rigid clit with her pursed lips and making Carrie swoon.

Esha’s piercing stare fascinated her, made butterflies dance in her belly. Her mind lay open, unresisting, her will totally undermined by the relentless, evil pleasure that flowed from her captive pussy. Esha gloated inwardly, having seen it all many times before. Far beyond her athleticism and resourcefulness as a thief, her greatest weapon, indeed her most dangerous weapon, was her skill at snaring and seducing unwilling females into beguiling, sex-drugged submission. Hopelessly entranced, as much by Esha’s compelling, dominating stare as by the unwanted pleasure coursing through her body, the bound co-ed could not help but respond.

“I...I...y-yes...I like...it...” she repeated, her face blushing.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“Oh! Oh...I...no...please don’t...don’t s...stop...” she gasped, as Esha’s tongue began to slowly circle her engorged clitoris with her slick, firm tongue. With each spiraling revolution, the liquid heat in her pussy ascended irresistibly towards brilliant, tantric release.

“You want to cum so badly, don’t you?” Esha sighed, now sliding one, then two, slender fingers into Carrie’s gushing sex, spreading her wide, pistoning in and out in a toe-curling rhythm that took her breath away.

“AAH! Please...I’m so hot...please...!” she cried, her hips thrusting back against Esha’s hand, needing to feel her fingers deeper, deeper. She was getting so close, so dangerously close...!

“Be mine,” Esha hissed, her eyes flashing, “Submit to me. Call me Mistress...and come!”

“Oh...oh yes...yours...I’m yours...m-mistress...Oh Mistress! OH!! Oh I’m coming! I’m coming!! I’m....AAAAAAHH!”

Carrie screamed, her body heaving, as Esha’s thrusting fingers and spiraling tongue pushed her into an abyss of ecstasy. She seized, her hips rising off the carpet, her juices exploding onto her Mistress’s silky gloves and hungry, sucking mouth. Esha groaned in her own ecstasy, devouring every twitch and tremble, every drop of delicious cum. Carrie’s pleasure crested like a wave, drowning her in its erotic current, just as a second wave swelled behind it. Esha only had to brush her thumb across the sensitive opening of her ass to send the second orgasm crashing right behind the first.

She rode Carrie masterfully, prolonging the pleasure as long as she could, until finally the poor girl collapsed back to the ground, her chest heaving, her pussy spasming. Esha sat back on her haunches, lording over the fallen girl. Her wet, crimson lips spread in an evil, satisfied smile as she reached forward, and tugged at the knot restraining the girl’s hands. Carrie felt them come loose, opened her groggy eyes to see Esha pulling her up and into a tight, dominating embrace. Their breasts mashed together, and Carrie could feel the engorged stiffness of Esha’s own nipples pressing into her through the black bikini top she wore. The blonde thief grabbed hold of the hair behind her head and bent her back for a deep, plundering kiss. Carrie moan submissively as Esha’s tongue drove into her, bringing with it the sweet, heady musk of her own sex. After a brief, overwhelmed moment, Carrie’s tongue began to dance, eagerly, with her Mistress’.

When at last Esha broke their kiss, Carrie was panting, and staring up at her conqueror with wide, awestruck eyes.

“Now then, darling,” her Mistress whispered thickly, stroking Carrie’s hair and possessively squeezing her soft ass. “It’s your turn.”

Confusion flickered across Carrie’s features...followed by dawning understanding. She blushed furiously, her eyes fluttering closed, and she moaned eagerly as Esha began gently urging her head down...down...

Soon the dim room was filled with fresh moans, and the sound of wet, willing submission, as the master thief added a gem of another kind to her trove of female conquests.

The pendant, Esha resolved, could wait just a little longer.