The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

House Rules Chapter Two

Note: Thanks for those who wrote praising Chapter One. I welcome all feedback:

Stace’s first sensation on awakening was sunlight on her skin. Before she opened her eyes or even remembered where she was supposed to be, she luxuriated in the feeling. Her skin tingled under the light; it felt slightly sore, like a sunburn, but it was a good sore. Same with her muscles, her joints, even her bones; she was bone-sore, but a happy, fulfilled sore, as if she’d been dancing all night…

She hadn’t been dancing. Images were starting to coalesce in the fog of her mind, intoxicating and bewildering. Someone else’s kinky dreams. But if the soreness was real, did that mean it was all real? Could any of it possibly have happened the way she was starting to remember?

Slowly, she opened her eyes. The sun-blanched scene confirmed that she was in her room at Hunt House. But that didn’t prove anything. Wincing, she lifted herself up on her elbows. Very sore…maybe sorer than was possible, unless she’d done…but no, it was unthinkable. To have done all that, with all three of them?

A dream. It must have been. The most intense, prolonged, perverted dream she’d ever had. And yet, she was so sore she could barely keep herself propped up. Her eyes moved trepidaciously down her unblanketed body, as if seeking out the other girls’ signatures. There were no marks…just soreness, through her guts and most profoundly in her sex.

Oh, god. Her arms grew weak and she flopped back down into her pillow. The instant her mind had formed the word “sex,” the images grew infinitely more vivid. Disembodied arms, lips, breasts, hair, thighs and buttocks joined and crystallized, and for a terrifying moment, she imagined all three of them – strong Colleen, voluptuous Rachel, unquenchable Becky – as one single, writhing entity, a fleshy chimera emerging from Stace’s own distended vulva.

The fiendish clarity of that horrendous image was enough to convince her that it hadn’t been a dream – but, since it was impossible, unimaginable, it couldn’t have been real either. Which left only one possibility. Stace had lost her mind.

She lay in bed for nearly an hour, and even as the soreness slowly faded from her muscles, her mind became more agonized. Eventually, she decided that she needed to remember all the details, disturbing though they were. Meticulously, she constructed a timeline, starting with her arrival in the house, the introductions, supper, studying…and then she wept silently and freely as she summoned up the memory of midnight: how swiftly she’d submitted to the song; how Becky’s musky scent had held her like a fishhook; the staircase tableau of Rachel and Colleen; her flight onto the lawn, and then how she’d been fucked before the girls took her back inside…inside…

The house. The bathroom, warm soapy water as they cleaned the garden soil away. Kisses on her nipples as the water ran down her body. Becky’s fingers cradling her clit. Colleen’s strap-on resting on her clavicle as she reached up to pull the shower nozzle down. Shrieks and gasps from Rachel; mumbling from Becky as she ate Stace out. Colleen’s tongue inside her mouth, Rachel sucking on her toes, Becky’s tiny fist inside her cunt, someone’s nails across her back, somebody’s finger up her ass, somebody kissing – ungh

Stace looked down at herself. Her hand was jammed between her clenched thighs, pumping furiously, cramping up. She screamed with frustration and yanked her hand away. She didn’t even know how long she’d been doing it. Even this, even trying to remember made her too horny to think. She was crazy; she was out of control. She had to get out.

Unless it was a dream.

Finally she knew she had to get up. Though her arousal had barely subsided, she had other things to worry about. It was the first day of classes, and she couldn’t let…whatever was happening to her…compromise her schoolwork. She had to get to campus, orient herself, buy textbooks…but even as she thought those things, they slipped away from her, like clouds. Why were those things so intangible, when this demented fantasy felt so real, so consuming?

As she prepared to leave her room – terrified of what she’d find downstairs, of what might happen when she saw her roommates – two strange things occurred that further convinced her she was losing her mind. The first occurred when she was getting dressed. Once she’d chosen a short skirt and tugged it on, she realized that she’d forgotten panties. However, when she opened up her underwear drawer, she stopped. Her brain went fuzzy. What was she doing? She closed the drawer and went to the closet to find a top. Only after she’d gotten fully dressed did she remember that she wasn’t wearing underwear. And yet, no matter how many times she returned to the dresser, she couldn’t quite convince herself to put them on.

Crazy. She was going crazy. When she moved across to the small, framed mirror on the back of her door, she expected to see the wild eyes of a madwoman glaring back at her. But then the second strange thing happened. She saw herself, normal – a bit disheveled, but no more than was to be expected in the morning. But something had changed, and it scared her more than anything: the girl in the reflection was incredibly hot.

She lost herself in the girl’s almond-shaped green eyes, especially the mote in the left iris. The slim, sharp cheeks and thin lips. The long neck…she was touching her neck, her earlobes, rubbing a slim, hot finger on her lips…

Another rude awakening; another vertiginous moment of confusion and fear. Now, she was watching herself watch herself. She’d never found herself attractive before – usually it was the opposite. Suddenly, every detail of her face in the mirror made her want to touch herself. So easy, no one had to know. Just hike her skirt up, put two fingers in between her lips, and—

She looked down. Her hand was there already, thrusting. Every time she thought about fucking, it was there. Beyond her control. She looked back up, and saw the fear and arousal simmering in her reflection. Hot. No sense in stopping now. Maybe, if she came, it would get easier. More normal.

She leaned up against the door so that her face was pressed against the mirror. Her reflection’s eye seduced her as her hand worked furiously. Come. She commanded herself. She was so horny, it should have happened already. Come. How many had she had last night? Impossible to count; more than she’d had before in her entire life. But now…

She groaned and writhed with frustration as her fingers brought her moments from a climax, only to sink back down again into the molasses of arousal. She pushed again and again—touching herself and kissing her mirror for ten, twenty minutes. Finally she gave up with a petulant shriek. It wasn’t fair; she’d never felt this hot before, except for last night, when she heard the song…

…It was after noon before she managed to pull herself away from the mirror, restore her appearance to something approaching normality, and summon up the courage to leave her room. Shame drove her out—not the shame of fucking herself in front of a mirror, though that was shameful enough, but the recognition that she’d already missed two classes on her first day of school. She was resolved to leave the house and, hopefully, put last night’s hallucinations behind her.

Downstairs, she discovered that her roommates were also late risers. Rachel sat at the kitchen table, eating cereal. Becky was by the counter, and she greeted Stacey with a cheerful call of “Toast!” Indeed, she had a small mountain of toast already made, with all the condiment jars open on the counter. Colleen was nowhere to be seen.

It was all too normal. Stace didn’t know what to do. Should she bring up what had happened last night? Would she get an explanation? Or would they think she was insane? She had a horrible fear that it really was all in her mind, and she would get kicked out of this amazing house for offending the hell out of her conservative, straight-laced roommates.

She sat down at the table. Rachel smiled at her blearily. Was it a knowing smile? Was that the smile you got the morning after someone kissed and bit your nipples till you came? Stace felt a flash of heat as she remembered (imagined?). She crossed her legs tightly underneath the table.

“I…I missed two classes.” She blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

Rachel smiled and rolled her eyes. Behind her, Becky reassured Stace: “Oh, hon, that’s not a big deal. Everybody skips around here. It doesn’t affect your marks.”

Stace had heard that one before, and she didn’t believe it—not in her own case, at least. But her brow furrowed as Becky continued: “Doctor Hunt doesn’t let our marks drop. She takes care of everything. It’s part of the deal.”

Stace watched Becky’s expression carefully as she strode over to the table and sat down. She asked, “D’you mean, she pulls strings, or something?”

Becky laughed brightly. “No. Well, maybe, sort of, in a way. She pulls our strings.” Rachel snickered at this. Stace was getting uncomfortable. “But what I meant was, she takes care of us,” continued Becky. She leaned over and stroked Stace’s hair lightly. “Our education. You don’t have to go to a single class, or read a single book. But when you get to the exam, you’ll still know it all.”

Before Stace could question this, Becky changed the subject. Her hand was still lingering distractingly on Stace’s hair. “Now, let’s get something important out of the way. We should have talked about this earlier. Do you have a boyfriend?”

The question startled Stace. She opened and closed her mouth several times before responding. Ordinarily she’d just say “no.” With somebody she trusted, she might even have confided that she’d never had a boyfriend. To herself, and no one else, she might have admitted that all the people whom she’d ever thought about romantically—all her crushes, all her longings from afar—were girls.

But what do you say to someone who was a total stranger 24 hours ago…but who had her fist inside your pussy 12 hours later?

She went with, “No.”

Becky heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. “That sure saves a lot of trouble. That’s always the worst part of getting new ‘mates in the house. When Rachel joined us, her BF just would not let go. She had to fly home in the middle of term just to tell him to his face that it was over. And as for my boyfriend—”

“Fiancé,” corrected Rachel.

“Right, whatever,” finished Becky.

“Wait,” said Stace. “You…you both had boyfriends?” She felt as if the world was spinning. This didn’t make any sense at all. She came from a small town; she’d never met any girl who actually called herself a lesbian. But based on everything that Becky and Rachel did last night…to her…well, how could they be anything but gay?

Becky cupped her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Oh, sweetie, you’re adorable. Of course we had boyfriends. But what we used to be has nothing to do with what we are. That’s what’s so awesome about Hunt House. It changes the rules.”

Stacey considered how she might respond to that. She thought of saying, what if I don’t want to change? But even as she thought it, she knew it was crazy, for all sorts of reasons. Mostly she knew that the answer to that question would be another gentle laugh, maybe a shrug – or worse, the words, “It doesn’t matter what you want.”

She said nothing. Instead, she turned as Colleen came into the kitchen, dressed far more impeccably than the other girls. In fact, Stace thought, Colleen looked as if she’d been up since dawn, and was coming home for lunch, not eking out a late breakfast. Her stern, professional demeanour carried her across the room and to the fridge…and then she stopped.

“Rachel.” She said flatly. Stace swiveled her head to see Rachel’s reaction (eyes downward, a hint of a blush), and then turned back to Colleen. The tall girl was holding a carton of milk.

“Who left the milk out?” Colleen asked. Silence. Stace found herself holding her breath, even though she didn’t understand what was going on. Her thighs were getting damp, too.

“Who. Left. It. Out?” Colleen pressed. “You know I don’t have time for this. Answer me now.”

“I did it.” Rachel blurted, flushing deep red on her cheeks and neck. Stace heard Becky whisper, “Oh boy, here it comes.”

Expressionless, stern, Colleen put the carton back in the fridge. Then, as she closed the door, she said, “Position Three. Don’t dawdle, or we’ll step it up to Two.”

With her eyes still downcast, Rachel pushed her bowl aside and stood up from the table. Stace sat watching, eyes wide, as Rachel lifted up her long, cotton skirt, revealing a bare ass with no panties. She twisted the fabric of the long skirt over her own shoulder, and bunched it up between her teeth. Then she thrust her torso forward onto the kitchen table, arms spread in front of her, fingers clutching the far edge.

Stacey stood up, alarmed. She stared at Rachel’s ample ass: creamy white, with a sliver of pink peeking out from between. Her lips. Her pussy. Her—

Rattling behind her. Stace stumbled away from the prone girl on the table, and turned around to see Colleen rummaging around in a drawer. Straightening up, she brandished a thin, black riding crop. With an expression of mild exasperation, she strode past Stace and positioned herself behind Rachel, about a foot behind her vulnerable ass.

“What—what—?” Managed Stace.

“She left the milk out,” Colleen said simply.

Becky, sitting across the table near Rachel’s face, winked up at Stace. “She does it on purpose,” she confided. “She loves the attention.”

With a practiced trajectory, Colleen raised the riding crop, then brought it down to strike both cheeks. The sound of the crop made Stace flinch. The sound Rachel made—muffled moaning through the bunched-up fabric of her skirt—made Stace want to touch herself all over again.

She watched, horrified and helpless, as Colleen issued a series of smacks. The crop drew angry red criss-cross lines across the girl’s quivering ass. Between the cheeks, Stace could see a ruddy flower start to bloom; Rachel’s lips were swelling up. She wondered if her own lips looked like that. She desperately wanted to find out.

Pressed against the fridge, squirming, Stace tried to make sense of what was happening. “The song…” She gasped. “I thought it was the music, made us—”

“Horny?” Finished Becky, in between the staccato of smacks and gasps. “Everybody’s horny, Stace. The song just shows us what to do with it. And when she’s not singing,” she langorously reached out and stroked Rachel’s red face, “we can still have fun. Making us wait till midnight every day would be…well, torture.”

Colleen snickered at the pun. Her left hand had slipped beneath her blouse, and was working her own right nipple. Across the table, Becky kept one hand on Rachel’s face, while the other pried apart the buttons on her own jeans. She writhed in her chair as her fingers found her clit.

“Oh, Jesus,” Stace breathed. It was too much. She’d been firm with herself, before, even in the throes of self-pleasure. If this house were really as depraved as she believed, she’d have to escape. But now, watching Rachel get flagellated for a meaningless kitchen misdemeanour…watching as the three gorgeous girls all drew pleasure from the thrashing…watching Rachel’s nether lips become obscenely red and puffy, glistening, pleading for a kiss…

Her will was gone. Her hand dove beneath her skirt, from where she’d barely managed to retract it only ten minutes before. Now she realized why she’d felt so compelled to go without panties. Her mind was being taught to let her body have its way.

For an endless minute, the four residents of Hunt House were silent, except for a breathy chorus of grunts, moans, and muffled cries. The riding crop kept time.

Then Becky saw how furiously Stace was masturbating, and she gasped out a laugh, and that laugh sent Stace into new paroxysms of shame and confusion. She couldn’t even conceive of willing her hand out of her hot crotch; she just shut her eyes and wept as the unrelenting lust kept her body in its thrall.

“You can’t – ugh, fuck – Stace, geez,” Gasped Becky, “G’th’fuck here. You can’t come like th-that.”

Stace tried to speak. She merely mewed.

Becky kept one hand on Rachel and the other squirming in her panties, but she leaned forward in her chair and ran her tongue across her lips. “Get in here.”

Stace wept and shook her head.

“I think it’s cute,” said Colleen, with remarkable composure. She’d set the crop aside and was blowing on the angry red stripes on Rachel’s ass. “She thinks she can say no.”

Becky opened her mouth to speak again, but a series of ragged gasps emerged instead. She was coming. Stace forgot her shame and watched the girl’s small body shudder and clutch. Her own legs suddenly lurched forward, away from the fridge, towards the song of flesh and breath.

Becky still couldn’t speak, but Colleen seemed to take over, and spoke with stern assurance. “The First Rule of the House, Stacey. We share everything.”

Becky’s orgasm still had hold of her. Rachel seemed about to pick the orgasm up, through Becky’s stroking fingers. Colleen took note and her fingers fluttered over the petals of Rachel’s sumptuous cunt. Rachel began to scream through her skirt.

Becky stammered, “H-h-h-hu-hu—”

“We share the Doctor’s knowledge,” Colleen said, “That’s why you’ll never fail a test again. She looks after us. And we share this with her.”

“Hu-hu-hum—”

Colleen pinched Rachel’s clit as the prone girl hollered through her climax. “You’ll never come by yourself again, Stace. Do you understand? You have to share, from now on.”

Becky finished her insistent message to Stace: “Hump my leg.”

It was the unquestionable simplicity of the instruction, coupled with the revelations about her dizzying new life, that sent Stace’s mind away for the rest of the encounter. Just as she had lost her utter sense of self last night in the garden, now she ceased to be Stace, simply because her actions, her passions, could never have been possible in Stace’s old life. Her ego plunged down into her cunt; her name became her grinding hips; her whole, entire image of herself, if she’d been able to reflect, was of her gaping nether lips against the coarseness of her lover’s jeans.

And with Becky’s little hand around the back of her neck, she found a crescendo in the early afternoon.