The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

How To Pay Your College Loans

Chapter 3: Side Hustle

* * *

Content Warning: This story is intended for adults. Do not read if you are under the age of 18. This is a work of fantasy and is not a realistic depiction of hypnosis or sexual assault. Non-consensual hypnosis and sexual assault in real life are highly immoral and illegal, and I do not condone these things. All characters in this story are above the age of 18.

* * *

Clara sees another side of Jasmine she didn’t know previously, and gets asked to do some special side work.

* * *

Clara thrashed around in her bed as she tried to fall asleep. She couldn’t. The events from the night before had been burnt into her mind. Up until now, the reality of the situation didn’t entirely hit her. She knew she was now a sex slave, but she didn’t exactly understand what that entailed. Her life belonged to someone—specifically, two very rich ladies, and they could do whatever in the world they wanted to her.

That video. A part of her thought about getting the video back, or somehow deleting it. But how in the world would she do that? She got the feeling that the one who recorded her was attached to her phone as a fifth limb, and she wasn’t some cyberpunk hacker that could break into the system and delete it and blah blah blah. (That, and she’d probably get found out for it, and who knows what that would lead her to.)

Not to mention there was the issue of her closet. As her new wardrobe filled with frilly pink and purple dresses was wheeled in, some of her previous clothes were taken — even her beloved cat sweater she’d had since high school.

She couldn’t think straight. Even though the ladies were so good at clearing her mind into trance, Clara wasn’t able to fully get the thoughts out of her head and fall asleep. Taking a glance at the clock, she saw it was 3 o’clock, way past a normal hour for falling asleep. Her mind brainstormed what she could do. She even tried counting sheep, but then the sheep became too interesting.

Maybe if she had some sort of white noise machine, but she got the feeling that would be too much to ask for.

Why would it be too much to ask for? They were filthy rich. That’s why Clara was in this situation. They must be able to accommodate her somehow.

Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, Jasmine’s words echoed in Clara’s head and made her sick.

Clara groaned and sat up effortlessly. Her mind was too clogged with worried thoughts to sleep. Might as well not even try, she figured. But what else was there to do? Maybe going to the greenhouse and looking at the plants would help. She thought to bring her sketchbook as well. Plants were nice, but they weren’t particularly interesting to look at. Maybe that would get Clara to fall asleep… though she didn’t want to fall asleep in the greenhouse. That seemed like a recipe for punishment.

Gathering her shoes and some of her old clothes, she dressed herself and made her way downstairs. She didn’t bother to wear shoes—would have been too much of a risk in accidentally waking people up, and all things considered, her room was rather close to Diana and Jasmine’s. Hopefully the floor in the greenhouse wouldn’t be too wet; at the very least, she didn’t want her socks getting soaked.

Once again, it was about a 10 minute walk through the mansion — really drilling home just how big the complex was, something Clara didn’t entirely understand yet. Thoughts crossed Clara’s mine as to how many people actually lived in there, and how many just came and went as they pleased. Clara certainly wasn’t someone who could come and go as she pleased, as much as she wanted to right now.

She got to the greenhouse. The lights weren’t too blinding inside; rather, it was a subtle, warm light that made Clara feel calm just reveling in. Maybe she really did need to sleep with some light…

The air felt so much cleaner in the greenhouse. This was the first time Clara had been in here, which was surprising for someone who’d been there for a bit now and had a few opportunities to go check it out. Not to mention how much of a variety there was. All sorts of tropical plants lined the areas, along with succulents and bonsai trees (the latter of which could be extremely expensive, Clara knew from trying to home a collection and giving up midway through).

A cool mist filled the air. Clara heard one time in her freshman biology class that the human brain tends to shut down in cold weather, which is why many people, herself included, sleep with a fan on. Combined with the light, she already felt much more relaxed being in there.

Donning her sketchbook, Clara sat in front of one of the bonsai trees and began to sketch. At least, she tried to — as she tried to put the pencil to the paper, she soon found herself unable to focus on the lines of the tree, the leaves she always loved sketching, and the positions of the branches. She was always so good at nature drawing — why not now?

It was like something was clogging her mind. Maybe it was the light and mist combined that was making her sleepy, finally, helping her mind shut down all the worries and thoughts she was having.

She went through one page of trying to draw. Unpleased with how it was turning out, she went to another page and tried again. And again, and again. Feeling ashamed she took up already 5 pages in fifteen minutes of bad sketches, she finally had the willingness to give up and just go around the greenhouse for a bit.

The walk calmed her down some more. Her eyes jolted open a tad as she saw something that caught her attention — her favorite plant! The one she had living in her last apartment, that she managed to keep alive at all costs, through multiple winters and many, many issues in her apartment that her landlord ignored. She remembered doing a research paper on it. It was called…

It was…

Clara blinked. The name of the plant was slipping her… why? She loved this plant, and it was so nicely taken care of. She went back through her sketchbook to try to find the name, but she never had it in her to jot it down. Resolving to look at her biology books when she got back to her room, she gave up once again.

It felt like something was blocking her knowledge, her brain that got her through her 400-level classes. It was the sensation of looking at papers in her brain, trying to find answers, but finding certain parts of the paper redacted, in sharpie or white out or whatnot. Why was that?

Was that another effect of the hypnosis? Was it really that powerful…?

No, Clara shook her head. There was no way they could have blocked off her knowledge that easily. And if they did, they would have had a piece of Clara’s now-fractured mind! At least, if Clara managed to work up the courage for it, against the odds of probably getting “punished”.

She gave up. She was too tired, that’s probably what it was. Gathering her sketchbooks and pens, she tried to ignore the wetness in her socks and behind where she was sitting and headed out of the greenhouse. At the very least, she felt more sleepy and able to shut her mind down.

Passing by many, many rooms, she eventually got to the lobby. Something was different—another warm, dim light was on. Was someone there? Did Clara even care to find out?

Fuck it, she thought. She was too curious. Poking around the room, she eventually found none other than Jasmine. She was reclining in the chair, reading a book of some sort. Clara didn’t recognize the book (she didn’t read much aside from biology books), but she didn’t care to find out. Instead, she wondered what in the world Jasmine was doing there? Maybe she was racked with guilt over how she treated Clara, and couldn’t sleep because of that. Clara internally chuckled at the thought.

Don’t speak unless spoken to…

She decided to leave her alone. Making her way past the lobby, she resolved to head back up to her room and get some sleep.

“You’re awake quite late,” Jasmine commented. She didn’t look towards Clara’s direction, but Clara still felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“I, uh…” Clara tried to stammer up an excuse. Surprisingly, Jasmine didn’t seem mad at her, but that could have just been a ruse. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought going to the greenhouse would help.” Clara knew herself as a terrible liar and decided not to even try.

“Hm. It seems we’re in the same situation.” Jasmine bookmarked whatever novel she was reading and set it down. “Sit down.”

Clara couldn’t tell if that was an offer or an order, and she wasn’t willing to deal with Jasmine’s fury at this time of night, so she silently took her word and sat down on the couch across from her.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked calmly.

Clara tried to think of an excuse once again. “I… had a lot on my mind.”

“It is a change of scenery, for you,” Jasmine commented. It was impossible to get a read on her face for Clara. Usually, she defaulted to bitchy and impatient, but her face seemed somehow knowing. “I would understand.”

“I… yeah. I suppose it is.” Clara blinked. She debated saying something, and then decided ‘fuck it’ and asked. “Are you okay? You seem different from normal.”

“That isn’t a problem, is it?”

“Uh, no! Not at all. I like this version of you, but… why? You’re being… so nice to me. I appreciate it, I just… I didn’t expect it.”

Jasmine paused for a bit, debating internally. Clara wondered how much she was going to say; or rather, what she was going to say?

“I tend… to go back and forth,” she started. “It’s almost like a switch I can’t control, in my mind. Going back and forth between two extremes.”

Clara cocked her head, waiting for her to elaborate.

“One moment, I’ll feel… overwhelmed. Controlling. That’s the side you see most of me, I’d assume.” She was right — in fact, that was the only side of her Clara knew up until now, and it shocked her that it wasn’t her only side. “Then suddenly, it will change. I’ll feel completely calm. But, not necessarily a relaxing kind of calm. It’s the kind of calm that comes with… melancholy. I can see why you’d like this side of me more.”

Clara stared at Jasmine confusedly. First of all, she was unsure why her Domme was telling her all of this so candidly, especially after how cruel and impersonal she seemed for as long as Clara knew her. Second, Clara wondered why — did she have some sort of illness that made her act that way? It wasn’t necessarily any of Clara’s business, but she couldn’t help but internally ask.

“Would you like some tea?” Jasmine suddenly changed the topic, jolting Clara out of her thoughts.

“Oh. Sure. Let me…”

“I’m offering,” Jasmine affirmed. “I’ll make it this once. What kind would you like?”

Once again, Clara found herself gaping at Jasmine’s sudden kindness and warmth. To be honest, Clara didn’t think she deserved such kindness, especially considering how thoughts of running away or going behind Jasmine’s back were crossing her mind earlier. Regardless, she didn’t want to decline, especially if this was a rare instance.

“Ah… thank you. Um, I suppose just green tea is fine…”

Without a word, Jasmine got up and headed into the kitchen. Of course it took a minute for her to walk there and out of Clara’s sight; it wasn’t like the lobby was particularly small in any way. Left to her own devices, Clara paged through her sketchbook again as she waited. Her sketches looked more like scribbles, though that might have been because it was so late and Clara’s mind was even more dysfunctional at that point.

She reclined in the chair and began fiddling with her fingers, waiting. The only thing she could hear was the ticking of the grandfather clock, and the sounds of tea-making in the near distance.

Eventually, Jasmine came back, two dainty tea cups in hand with piping hot tea. She tenderly set them on the table on top of a coaster. Silence hovered above the two for a long while as they both slowly sipped their tea. Jasmine stared into the distance, not bothering to make eye contact anymore even as Clara stared at her curiously.

“I run a large business, as you know,” she suddenly started speaking again. “It’s a chain clothing store. I haven’t managed to find a good secretary. So on top of management, marketing, and general leadership, I take care of all the administrative work as well.”

“That sounds… stressful.”

“Quite. All of the ones I have attempted to hire have been unreliable. Or liars, in order to cover up mistakes. And I believe I told you how much I dislike liars.”

Clara nodded. She might have been told that, but she probably forgot, what with all the confusion and whatnot.

“I have a horde of paperwork that I’ve been dreading. It wasn’t urgent for a long time, but it is now. Hence why I’m awake, I suppose.” Jasmine was already half-way done with her tea despite doing the vast majority of the talking, and Clara had barely touched hers.

“I’m giving you a choice here,” she continued after a pause. “Would you be able and willing to come help me with the paperwork?”

That made Clara nearly drop her teacup. Was Jasmine being serious? She was willing to take Clara out of the house and show her off? Or well, not necessarily show her off, but… show her at all?

“I… well.”

“You don’t have to say yes. But it will be helpful.”

Clara thought for a long time. There was a slim chance that she would get something out of it, but also, she was vastly curious to learn more about Jasmine’s life now that she was told everything she was told. Besides, she was decently good at menial admin work, having done it in college.

“Sure,” Clara shrugged. “If it’s going to help.

Jasmine gave a smile. A warm, thankful smile. A smile that seemed very out of place on Jasmine’s face, a smile that Clara never expected to see in her new life.

“I’m… I just, I’m surprised you told me all this.”

Jasmine paused, looking down at her teacup as her smile faded.

“I want to be clear with you,” Jasmine started. “You and Diana are the only ones who know this.”

Clara nodded, but she was still extremely confused.

“I’m asking you not to tell people this.”

“I won’t,” Clara reaffirmed.

Jasmine finished her tea. Clara was still barely halfway done, but she decided to chug it down and ignore the burning in her throat. Despite her quick drinking, it was still quite soporific. The way Jasmine talked to her cleared Clara’s thoughts, moreover. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad…

“You should go to sleep,” she said. “I’m going to stay up for a bit more.”

“Okay… I will. See you tomorrow.”

Clara left, realizing she didn’t leave with “yes, Mistress”, but Jasmine didn’t seem to mind; at least, not for now.

* * *

“I know we’re working on turning you into a pretty, ditzy princess, but I’m going to ask you to wear something more… suitable, for the job.”

Jasmine was in a very sleepy Clara’s room the next day, having woken the princess-in-training up bright and early; understandable, considering Jasmine’s workday usually started around 6:30 or 7, but also deeply unfortunate.

“I… think I might have something…” Clara yawned as she turned to her closet, intending to poke through it. Jasmine stopped her.

“I already have something picked out,” Jasmine quipped. She pulled out a pile of clothes, delicately wrapped in wrapping paper and a ribbon. Clara took it, put it on the bed and opened it.

It was a dress, of course, with tights and high heels. The dress was a deep aqua blue with dark purple roses on the fabric, and a Giovanni rose lapel already attached to the top right. The tights were black, naturally, and the heels — which Clara could hardly even think about walking in — were tall pink heels. Probably at least two and a half inches tall; for someone who’d almost always worn flats in her entire life, this physically hurt to look at.

“I… um… wow,” was all Clara could say. “You’re very into the idea of me wearing dresses, are you?”

“Is that a problem?” Clara swore she could hear a hint of Jasmine’s bitchiness coming back into her voice.

“I mean… it’s not something I’d usually wear.”

Jasmine bit her lip. Her eyes were unreadable.

“I know we had a rather nice heart-to-heart last night, and that you saw me in… quite the good mood,” she started, with her voice suddenly taking a more serious turn. “But I am still your Mistress, and I expect you to obey me, as you swore to in your contract. Is that understood?”

Clara hesitated. She didn’t like having to go back to this after seeing Jasmine’s other side.

“I said,” Jasmine reiterated, “is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Clara took the hint.

“Good,” she sighed, snapping her fingers. “Then get dressed.”

Clara looked at Jasmine expectedly. She then realized Jasmine was probably not going to leave her to get dressed in private. Turning away from her, Clara began stripping her boring gray pajamas off and looking at the clothes on the bed.

She started with the leggings. They were almost a size too small, probably intentionally to suffocate Clara’s legs and make them look skinnier than they were. To be honest, she hated them. She hated clothes that closed around her as tight as these leggings did.

Then she went to the dress. It was on the longer side, thankfully, as it was a dress fit for going to work at a megacorporation in. And well, at least flowers were a plant, right? She’d rather prefer they be succulents or bonsai trees, though.

And then there were the heels. The goddamn heels. She suppressed a sigh and began slipping them on her feet. It felt foreign to her, the feeling of walking on her toes with only some vague support for her heels. At least they were thick, so she wasn’t walking on sticks. Even then, she struggled to even stand straight. She turned around to Jasmine, who eyed her with a small smirk on her face.

“We’ll have to teach you how to walk in heels. That’s what princesses do, after all.”

Clara didn’t feel the need to respond to that.

“Princesses don’t usually go to work,” she added. “But if they did… they’d look just like you.”

She didn’t respond to that either. Clara looked down.

“That’s what you are, after all, right?”

Clara looked down and fidgeted with the fabric of her floral dress. The fabric was soft, which was reassuring to her in a weird way. Maybe she did like dresses all this time. She nodded towards Jasmine, and apparently that was enough for her.

“Good. Then let’s go.” Jasmine flipped her car keys up and motioned Clara to follow her to her ultra-fancy car.

* * *

Jasmine was not the best driver. She was far more impulsive and road rage-y than Clara would have liked. That being said, at least it proved for an interesting ride and cut into the piercing, uncomfortable silence that existed between the two. After all, Clara wasn’t to speak unless spoken to; that was the point, right?

Jasmine did try to make conversation a few times. Clara wondered why Jasmine suddenly liked her so much — she felt as if she didn’t actually do much? Maybe it was because of the whole princessification thing, where Clara was suddenly beginning to act and look more like Diana.

The woman she apparently loved so much. Why did Clara’s heart beat deeper thinking of that? It wasn’t that it particularly hurt. Clara didn’t expect Jasmine to like her even close to the way she liked Diana.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when they hit another pothole. Jasmine yelled out an explicative as the car jolted up and down. Both Jasmine and the car were really playing with Clara’s emotions at this point.

Fortunately, they eventually got to Jasmine’s place of work; at least, Clara thought it was her place of work. It was yet another giant building, yet more tall than wide unlike how the mansion was. There was what seemed to be a warehouse connected to the office building, with workers coming in and out. Clara wanted to vomit in her mouth, thinking of working for such a corpie. Not to mention being her sex slave.

Jasmine parked the car in the employee parking lot, not to mention the nicest spot that seemed to be specifically reserved for her. She grabbed her purse and laptop bag and ushered Clara out of the car. Taking another look at the enormous building, Clara briefly wondered just how miserable Jasmine made her workers.

* * *

Not too miserable, it seemed. Clara was shocked when she saw the expressions on the employee’s faces — they seemed to be generally in a good mood, smiling and greeting Clara and Jasmine when they walked in. In fact, no one seemed scared in the very slightest to talk to Jasmine, who responded cordially with grace.

That wasn’t even including the atmosphere of the place. It was so nice and clean, for one, however there were also a plethora of break rooms, a gym, a super nice cafeteria… Clara was even more shocked when she saw a ball pit, and people using it.

It was like she changed overnight, and that she was a completely different person at work. Why? Or was this just how Jasmine acted when she wasn’t dealing with slaves she bought into her mansion?

Clara was given a temporary ID card, and Jasmine promised to give her a permanent one if she was pleased with her progress. After giving her a very brief tour that left Clara shocked to no end, she was brought into Jasmine’s office — which looked like a proper place to hold some sort of cabinet meeting.

“Did you see the empty office I showed you on the floor before this one?” Jasmine pointed. Clara nodded.

“That will be your desk for the day. I’ve left some papers to scan and file, and I’ll write some instructions for you. You don’t think that’s a problem, do you?”

“No, Mis—“

“Don’t call me that here,” Jasmine intervened with a glint to her eyes. “We don’t want to alarm anyone, do we?”


“Good. Do you have any questions?”

Clara couldn’t help it. She had to ask.

“This place is very nice. Much different from… well…”

“From the mansion I run,” Jasmine said, and Clara nodded. “I read a decent amount of business management books. Generally, employees like two things — a good boss that acknowledges their value and worth, and a healthy work-life balance. That being said, I don’t give them too many distractions, and I hold them to high standards. Suffice to say, that line of thinking seems to have done me and my business well.”

She wasn’t wrong. Things seemed to be going perfectly in the office — in fact, the two were stopped a few times for a random employee to give a status update on something they were working on, and Jasmine always either praised them, or offered some sort of encouragement.

If Clara was being entirely honest… she was jealous. She would have loved to get that sort of praise or encouragement from Jasmine. And then she had a brief thought — she must have been being treated better than the others in the mansion. Maybe she had it good, all this time?

“One more thing,” Jasmine interrupted Clara’s thoughts. “If anyone needs you for anything… I expect you to assist them. That isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Clara affirmed with a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will. Don’t worry — none of the work is particularly taxing on the mind. Nothing your dumb princess brain won’t be able to handle,” she snickered.

“I… okay,” Clara nodded.

“Get to it, then,” Jasmine ordered lightly. “I’ll check in periodically through the day.”

Clara thanked her boss, and left the room, trying to ignore that Jasmine picked up her ringing phone before she had a chance to finish talking to Clara.

* * *

“Not too difficult for her dumb princess brain” was putting it lightly. The work was extremely tedious and mind-numbing — she had to scan every individual piece of paper, front and back, and go through three or so windows to digitally file them in the right folder. Then she had to file them in the cabinet alphabetically. Unfortunately, there was no real way to make it go faster.

So, yes, it wasn’t anything difficult, if Clara didn’t count focusing as difficult (which it was).

It didn’t help that her office was on the more isolated side; it was down a few hallways past where all the main offices were, and the only other rooms next to her were unused small meeting rooms. She forgot her phone in Jasmine’s office, so it wasn’t like she could listen to music while she scanned single piece of paper after single piece of paper. She was bored, but at least she wasn’t stewing in her room uncomfortably, or waiting to be used by Jasmine or Diana or whoever else they’d want.

Or well. Was she? Clara briefly wondered if there was some ulterior motive Jasmine had for bringing her to the office.

Clara forced those thoughts out of her head and kept scanning. As if on cue, though, she heard the door knock. Instinctively, she responded with a “Yes? Come in.”

The door opened, and in walked a taller man in business attire — not standing out from the rest of the building. His hair was sleek, combed back into a small clean bun. Clara’s eyes moved to meet his, but she didn’t adjust her body in the slightest (her back was all stiff and achey from being in one slouched place for too long.)

“Hello,” the newcomer said with a smile. He kept his distance for a bit, waiting to see how Clara would respond.

“Oh, hi,” Clara responded with a blink. She hadn’t expected anyone to bug her — after all, Jasmine gave her one task, and she wasn’t trained to do anything else. So what could someone else need her for?

“You’re… new here, right? Or am I just going blind?” he asked with a chuckle, trying to pass off his joke as appropriate.

“I’m new, I suppose. Well, I’m only here for the day. I think.” Clara was always the socially awkward type, and being trapped in a closed office with this random businessman wasn’t helping. “I’m just… helping Jasmine with some work.”

“Helping Jasmine! As her personal assistant! Talk about the big leagues.” He smiled at her, and Clara could almost see the saccharine dripping from his voice. Just hearing his voice felt like eating something so artificially sweetened it’d instantly give her a cavity.

“I suppose.” Clara shrugged. She just wanted to get back to her work. “Was there something you want— erm, something I could do for you?”

“Just wanted to chat, I guess.” He smiled even wider. No, he wanted something, Clara figured. She could only imagine what. “So where are you from? Around here? How’d you meet Jasmine?”

He started throwing questions at her. Clara tried to keep up with them (“I’m from the suburbs, but uh, I just moved”, “I met Jasmine… online”, “All I’m doing is scanning papers, so nothing too interesting”) but was soon finding herself put off by this person and just wanting to be left alone. It didn’t help that he was inching closer to her, eventually towering over the seated, meek girl. Clara’s voice softened, feeling slightly intimidated.

“Uh… well, this has been nice, but I should really go back to my work,” she said, though it wasn’t like she was focusing particularly hard on scanning. The task was menial though, and similar to how Clara couldn’t focus on examining the plants, she couldn’t particularly focus on what she was supposed to do.

“Come on,” the man urged. “I promise there’s something in it for you.”

Clara now knew this person’s intentions. She was about to ask him to stop, to back off. She couldn’t tell—did Jasmine want her to please this random man, or was this dude just being a douche?

Clara opened her mouth to say something. The man spoke once again, however, leaning his mouth close to Clara’s ear.

“Pink, pink, pink,” he uttered softly.

As if on cue, something in Clara clicked. Her mind went blank, for just a split second. The pink smoke from the diffuser yesterday filled her mind once again. All she could see was pink, as if the room tinted in color significantly. She felt empty. Disoriented, dizzy, and off her pace. She wasn’t able to tell, but her eyes glazed over, the light in them disappearing.

“It’s okay,” the man continued, his voice continuing to be hushed and quiet. “Just let it sink back in. Naturally. It comes so easily to you. Pink is really the best color, isn’t it?”

Clara couldn’t help but nod. She tried to utter some sort of thought, but nothing came to mind.


The sight of this guy undoing his buttons and unbuckling his pants didn’t particularly register in Clara’s mind. The pink smoke only got stronger the more she tried to think. As soon as she had any sort of thought willing for this to stop, her mind went blank again. Hypnotized. Influenced.

The man, whose name Clara didn’t even know, sat down on the chair next to Clara’s spinning office chair.

“Princess, would you mind worshipping my chest?” His voice was so sweet and gentle. It was almost like he wasn’t mindfucking her and making her all docile and obedient. The princess couldn’t help it. She stood up and walked a few steps over to him. Sitting in his lap, Clara’s gentle kisses and licks grazed his chest, especially around his nipples and under the pecs of flesh.

Clara noticed something poking into her thigh. As soon as she had any sort of rumination about it, he said “pink” once again and the thought disappeared into thin air.

“Good princess,” he cooed, running his hands up her waist under her dress and up to her breasts. He gave them a tight squeeze, making Clara cry out, and then softened his grasp around them. “You’re so soft. This is okay, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes…” Clara had no choice but to respond with that. She couldn’t even think about disobeying.

“Perfect.” His grin turned into an evil, toothy smirk. “Then I suppose you don’t mind if I…” One of his hands moved down, on Clara’s back, moving down until he was groping her ass. His hands felt cold, icy. Once again, as soon as Clara thought about that, she felt bright pink and nothing else.

“So docile. Jasmine really trained you well. To think it’s only been, what, a few days?”

“I… um… only…”

“Less than that? Wow, interesting! Your mind is kind of like putty, then. Soft, and you can mold it into any shape you want. A princess shape suits you.”

It felt right. Princess felt right. Actually, it didn’t feel like anything, but it didn’t particularly feel wrong either.

“Can you tell me something, miss?” He asked, keeping the same smile on his face. “Did you really think that we all weren’t in on this? Of course, it’s not everyone in the office. Just those who are… higher up.”

“I… no…”

“You didn’t think that? Of course. Thinking is too difficult. Not suited for a princess like you, hm?”

Clara shook her head. He was right — it was too difficult to do anything else, especially resisting. In fact, it was even too difficult to notice the growing warmth and wetness between her legs.

“You like being called that, don’t you? A princess. A pretty, docile, mindless princess.” His hand moved down under her panties and around her body, checking just how wet she was. “Of course, it doesn’t make sense to call you anything else. After all, why wouldn’t I? You’re enjoying this so much. I’m too nice to call you anything else.”

She moaned out. “I… thank you…”

“Hm? Thanking me already? But I haven’t done much other than tease you a bit. What do you want, princess?”

Clara said the first thing that came to her mind. “With… with your fingers, I…”

“You want me to finger you? Sure, I can do that.” He smiled again. It was warm this time, forgiving and generous. His fingers began working on her pussy, slipping one and then two fingers inside. Clara winced as he did so, letting out a soft, high-pitched moan.

This man apparently had experience. He knew to use his thumb to stimulate her clit while his index and middle fingers did all the work up there. Of course, while he did his dirty work, he continued playing with Clara’s chest as he squeezed around the nipples and twisted them a tad. His hands were cold and made Clara shiver as her nipples grew hard under his rough tug.

As if to tease and deny her chest, he lifted his hand off them and onto Clara’s head. Grabbing a fistful of her hair from under, he pushed Clara into a rough kiss with him. Just like his hands, his lips were cold, being warmed up by Clara’s.

Of course, Clara couldn’t think to kiss back. She let this happen to her. Any thoughts of saying no or resisting were long gone. But this person didn’t seem to mind doing all the work, treating Clara as his expendable plaything. Why would he? That’s what Clara was — a mindless princess doll, a toy.

“Let me ask you this. Can you even formulate a sentence right now?”

Of course she couldn’t.

“Why don’t you try right now.”

Clara tried. She desperately tried. All that came out were “ah”s and “I”’s and “please”s. Her mind was too far gone. And of course, that earned her being mocked by this random businessman.

“Awww. That’s cute,” he cooed. “Jasmine really picked someone good.”

He didn’t say anything else, and neither did Clara as he started fingering her harder. He wanted something — he wanted a brainless, ditzy orgasm from her, and he seemed willing to do whatever he needed to do to get it. He kissed her again, this time biting her lip hard.

If Clara wasn’t already mindless enough before, she definitely was now. “Please, please, please…” she begged over and over again as her cunt quivered around the man’s fingers and palm.

“Please what? Please give you permission to finish?” he asked. “And why should I do that? You haven’t done anything for me. You haven’t even made a sentence like I asked, you idiot princess.”

Clara whined out intangible noises.

“Try again,” he ordered. “Say something all girly for me.”

There wasn’t much to say. The previously cum laude graduate honors student had lost all her intelligence, at least for now. She was like an open book, but like a picture book children would read in kindergarten.

“I’m… I’m a dumb princess.”

“Really? That’s it?” he laughed at her, his snickering having a mocking edge to it. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect more. Fine, then. You can cum.”

And Clara did. She had the hardest, most mindless orgasm she’d ever had in her life. Her toes and legs curled up as her grip tightened around the man’s shoulders. Moaning gasp after gasp, her eyes rolled back and pleasure overtook her. She squirted into his fingers, something she’d barely done before (not that she had many opportunities to), and this seemed to amuse him, though Clara didn’t particularly notice. Her eyes welled up with tears from the strong sensations that racked her body.

And then she calmed down. She felt some sort of wetness in the guy’s pants where what was presumably his dick was soaking into her. Even stronger than before, pink smoke clogged her mind. Clara only barely registered what just happened.

“What a good, pretty, docile princess. Doing just as she’s told.” He took his fingers out and wiped them on her dress, thinking that’d degrade her more than she already was. He buttoned up his shirt, apparently deciding not to go any further.

“Just let that smoke fade away now,” he said, and Clara did. “There’s no more pink, for now. It’s all coming out of your head.”

As he spoke, the pink mist drifted out of her head, and color began returning to the room. Just as it did, Clara began registering what just happened.

“Wake up,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

Instantly, Clara was back, and she registered everything that had just happened. Horror and embarrassment coated her face and she pounced back off of his lap, crashing into the desk and knocking some papers over.

He laughed, again. He knew what he did, what he was getting Clara into.

“You… what… I… how…”

“Oh wow, you’re back and you still can’t say anything coherent? Typical.” He stood up from the chair, brushing himself off. He took the handkerchief out of his chest pocket and began wiping up him and Clara’s juices.

“I… you weren’t supposed to…” Anger raided Clara’s mind, just as it did when she realized she was being recorded masturbating by Jasmine and Diana the night before. She was humiliated, to say the very least.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked with a scoff. “It’s not like Jasmine wasn’t in on this. She let me, as a nice reward for all the hard work I’ve been doing for her. So it’s not like you can report me””

He was right. Clara couldn’t do anything but stew in her anger and shame. She tried to say something else, anything; but deep down, she knew she would face serious consequences if she tried to fight back even in the slightest.

“Well, I have to get back to work now. Thank you for relieving some of my stress.” He headed towards the door, his voice sounding so kind.

Clara, of course, didn’t thank him. But she had to think of something to do, something to say to him. Of course, as always, she said the first thing that came to what was left of her mind.

“What’s your name?” Now that she had her mind back (for the most part), she finally managed to ask the question she probably should have asked long ago.

With another insidious smirk, he simply responded “wouldn’t you like to know, huh?” And then he walked out the door, leaving Clara stunned and trying to process what in the world just happened.

Clara didn’t scan anymore papers. She simply sat at her desk, staring at the ground. Once again, a thought of escaping, of running away, came to her mind. And then it immediately disappeared.

Hours passed. At the very least, Clara didn’t feel the wetness in her panties anymore, so she felt less humiliated about that. She always hated the color pink, and even more so now.

Eventually, Jasmine came back into the room. She knocked on the door, and then let herself in before Clara could respond.

“It’s time to go,” she said, and Clara couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or pleased with her.

“…I didn’t get a lot of scanning done,” Clara said, all dopey and embarrassed.

Jasmine gave a knowing smile. Clara saw just a bit of cruelty in it, but more so, the smile was warm in a strange way. “I know,” she started, “but you did as you were told, didn’t you?”

She wasn’t wrong. Clara technically did do what the guy wanted, as much as she hated the fact that was the case. “So, I’m pleased with you.” Jasmine shrugged. “You didn’t do anything to disappoint me, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I’m… I’m glad.” That was a lie. Clara was furious, if she was being perfectly honest.

Jasmine adjusted her laptop bag on her shoulder. “I hear you did quite well, too. Maybe I should bring you back.”

Clara hoped she wouldn’t. But also, deep down, she felt the pink mist. And that made her hope she would.

* * *