The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

LAST TIME:

“So if I don’t cooperate you’ll release these pictures?” Ethrienne tried to hide her dismay. She could tell that she was failing miserably.

“Oh, I won’t need to resort to anything as crude as extortion. All I have to do is remind you of what could happen, and probably will happen, if you try to satisfy your needs elsewhere.“

One by one, the screens returned to playbacks of the recording session. The heroine watched enraptured, and knew that the Baroness was right. She needed this too badly to walk away from it, and this was the only place she could get it without the risk of becoming enmeshed in scandal or helping criminals much worse than her captor.

“Just think about it for now,” the Baroness said in a mock-reassuring tone. She signaled a group of Leathergals, who stepped up and began unfastening the heroine’s shackles. Their body language and thoughts projected their confidence that the heroine was no threat.

They gave Ethrienne a few moments to stretch the kinks out of her limbs, then presented her with the clipboard. “Take your time, darling. For now, I’m only asking you to sign on as a performer. The other matters I mentioned can be worked out later.”

Sure enough, the documents were concerned solely with the studio’s adult entertainment business. That wasn’t really surprising; Ethrienne knew enough about the law to know that a contract to perform illegal activities was null and void on its face, and no doubt the Baroness did, too. The terms did allow the Baroness to dismiss her at will, leaving her with a moderately large severance payment and no safe way to satisfy her perverse yearnings. She tried to think of some way to resist that leverage, and tried not to think about how the villainess meant to exploit it.

“I’m not promising you anything beyond what’s spelled out in the contract,” she finally said. It was the closest thing to a victory she could manage.

“Fair enough,” the Baroness replied agreeably. She raised an eyebrow and looked at Ethrienne expectantly.

She held her captor’s gaze as she signed on the dotted line.

Has our brash beauty become a powerless pawn in the Baroness’ evil schemes?

What fiendish moves will the villainess command her to perform?

Stay tuned....

“Hello, Ethrienne. Long time, no see.”

The heroine tried to keep her face impassive. She wanted to scowl in defiance, but knew it would be an empty gesture. They both knew that if she were able to defy the Baroness, she wouldn’t be here.

She tried not to think about how long the last three weeks had been. One week of denial, one week of repression, and finally one week of attempts to satisfy her newfound urges. It hadn’t been very difficult to find women who were “into bondage and exhibitionism”, once she’d worked up the nerve to start a discreet search. She’d scored three one-night stands, each of which had ended in frustration when her partner balked at the hardcore intensity she needed. She’d even gone so far as to hire a professional dominatrix, who was prepared to fully indulge her yearning for bondage but unwilling to allow the session to be watched or recorded.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long,” the Baroness continued sympathetically.

Did she see the pent-up frustration, the relief at finally being offered this opportunity? Ethrienne clamped down on the temptation to scan the Baroness’ thoughts and find out. The call, when she’d finally gotten it, had said in no uncertain terms that she’d know, and would cancel the appointment, if she did that.

“I have a very entertaining session prepared for you.” The heroine found herself taken by the hand and led down the corridor into the building. She let it happen, smoothly keeping pace with her hostess... her Mistress. She tried to squelch that thought, to tell herself that this woman was just a villainess who had the upper hand over her for now. She was only cooperating enough to get what she needed, and would find some way to turn the tables.

She broke out of her reverie to step to the side and let one of the Leathergals pass by. As she did, Ethrienne felt a sudden slap on her behind. She reflexively jumped, then quickly recovered as she felt the grip on her hand tighten. The tingling from the swat felt good. It was a reassurance that she was among women who would not hesitate to give her the treatment she craved.

The heroine did a double take. No, she was among enemies. Enemies who intended to use and exploit her... she tried to cut off that train of thought, knowing where it would lead. It was too late. Once again, her attempt to focus on the wrongness of the villainess’ scheme was twisting into irresistibly erotic visions of herself submitting to it.

Ethrienne scraped up enough mental discipline to zone out, her awareness limited to placing one foot in front of the other again and again. Not undercutting herself any further was the best she could manage.

Finally, they stepped into a large room. Ethrienne’s eyes widened as she saw the familiar banks of cameras. They pointed to the center of the stage, where a shiny black mannequin stood beside a clear-sided hexagonal water tank.

As she allowed herself to be led closer, she saw that the figure was clad in a skintight black outfit that covered it from head to toe, except for clear plastic eye windows and an opening at the crotch that exposed the lighter-colored plastic beneath. The wrists, ankles, and waist of the suit had thick loops embedded in the material.

She turned to look at the Baroness, making an effort to keep her gaze on the woman’s face rather than her body. She knew that she ought to be closely inspecting the suit into which they obviously intended to strap her, searching for weaknesses, but she was afraid that if she stared at it any longer she would only expose her own weakness.

“Yes, darling, that’s what you’ll be wearing. A nice tight shiny swimsuit for your dip in the pool.”

Ethrienne stared into the tank. She saw her reflection in the glass, and couldn’t help but visualize herself inside it. Forcing herself to study the thing rather than gawk at it, she noted that each corner of the inner surface featured a thick round column with small holes and projections every few inches. She told herself that she ought to think of these features as “prisoner restraints” rather than “bondage hardpoints”. A faint voice in the back of her mind tried to warn her that tying someone up and putting them into a watertight container was a classic death trap—she ought to get out of here, fight her way out of here if necessary....

She didn’t even turn away. She needed this too badly. Badly enough to let herself be used as a pawn in Baroness Blackleather’s scheme. Badly enough to trust her safety to the villainess, if that was what was required. The feeling of weakness both disgusted and excited her... and she was honest enough with herself to admit that the latter was the stronger emotion.

“If you’re not comfortable with this scenario, you’re welcome to leave, and I’ll think of something else for you to do... eventually.”

Ethrienne shuddered. Yes, she felt definite qualms about what the Baroness was proposing. It was perverse and unnatural, even beyond what she’d already done the last time she was in this room. It was dangerous, even if the villainess didn’t intend to drown her.

Thoughts of perversity and danger weren’t driving her away, however. They were instead stoking her cravings to irresistible levels. She couldn’t even attempt to hide her need, much less deny it.

Ethrienne stepped up to the tank and looked into it at the wall where she would soon be mounted. “Let’s do this,” she whispered.

There was much preparation to be completed before Ethrienne was in position to “do this”, however.

Doffing her superheroine outfit was the quick and easy part. As she undid her sports bra and tossed it aside with her tights, it occurred to her that she ought to slow down and take these last moments to marshal her resistance. She looked down at herself, at the wet spot in the front of her panties. Her body’s needs were overcoming her better judgment. She couldn’t stop herself. Maybe that was the truth; maybe it was just an excuse. It didn’t matter.

She stood there naked, waiting for the next step. She expected it to be getting into the latex wetsuit. Instead, she was given a new outfit that had been created for her “G-Spot Minx” stage persona. Not surprisingly, it was a skimpy sexualized parody of a superheroine uniform, similar to the “Tribby Greatrix” and “Scissor Lass” costumes but even more blatant about it.

“This color scheme is a lot more flattering than that drab one you usually wear,” the Baroness declared. Unlike the other two heroines, her studio outfit did not in any way resemble her usual garb. She clung to that thought, the one mitigating factor in this situation, and told herself that she was willingly donning the costume in order to reclaim some semblance of modesty rather than as a token of acceptance of this porn-starlet role.

As Ethrienne carefully balanced on spike heels, the Baroness stepped behind her. “Those boots do very nice things for your butt!” she said as she reached out to give it a squeeze. “I realize they take a bit of getting used to, but you’ll find it’s worth it.”

The tingle that ran through the heroine’s body at the possessive touch was proof enough of that, she thought. She daydreamed about the Baroness joining her in the tank, making love to her in the water. It was a fantasy, of course. The Baroness didn’t personally appear in her productions, except as a mistress of ceremonies. After the filming, the Baroness probably intended to take her backstage—

She shook her head. That was defeatist thinking. No, she sighed, it was realistic thinking. This was going to happen. If she could stop herself, she’d still be at home jilling off again or at a lesbian bar trying to find a partner who could satisfy her. She was beaten, at least for the time being. All she could do was help the villainess as little as possible while getting what she needed out of their bargain.

Her cravings simmered away frustratingly as she paraded for the cameras, showing off her “Minxitude”, as the Baroness called it, in endless combinations of pose and expression and movement. She posed for another series of shots with a teasingly half-open top, and then again with her breasts fully exposed to view. She moaned as one of the Leathergals loosened her own top, while the cameras moved in to capture the moment. The strip-tease continued stage by stage until she wore only the mid-thigh boots, and then those were also slowly unzipped and peeled away.

Two Leathergals approached to rub her naked body with lotion. The oily sheen cast bright highlights that accentuated her curves for the cameras. She vamped shamelessly. Perhaps if she kindled their lust the way they kindled hers, they’d move things along faster and get this over with. Instead, it only seemed to slow things down, as the camera operators kept asking her to hold a pose while they captured a few more camera angles.

Finally, two of the Leathergals began unzipping the latex sheath from the mannequin. She waited until they finished, and then began getting her into the suit.

Of course, the cameras followed each achingly slow step as her legs were encased in close-fitting sheaths. Her sexual fires were now stoked so high that she quivered as the Leathergals adjusted the fit to get her pussy neatly centered in the crotch slit, even though their fingers carefully avoided contact with her flesh. She drew in a deep breath as the suit was wrapped around her body, guessing—correctly—that she wouldn’t be able to do so again once it was tightened against her.

She got her arms into the sleeves of the bodysuit, and the Leathergals helped her pull up the gloves. That left only the hood, which slid on more easily than she expected, requiring only a bit of adjustment to align the eye windows and built-in ballgag. “Breathe through your mouth,” one of the Leathergals told her as tightening straps pressed the material close against her face. It was easier than she expected; the gag was apparently designed to accomodate that need.

“You’re almost ready to start.” A thick metal collar was placed around her neck, over the bottom edge of the hood and the top edge of the bodysuit. The Leathergals fiddled with it, adjusting something below her line of sight, and then clicked the two halves together.

The minions led her to the side of the tank. Pressing a button recessed into the edge caused one of its six sides to hinge inward. She was then guided to stand inside the tank against the far wall. Staring into space, she allowed her arms and legs to be spread wide as the two Leathergals tied her wrists and ankles to the mounting points. For good measure, her collar was double-tied on both sides, forcing her to face directly forward.

All throughout the process, the thought that she ought to do something kept flickering through her mind. She told herself she couldn’t stop what was happening. That was easier than admitting to herself that she didn’t really want to. It was a moot point now. She was firmly bound in place, a helpless part of whatever sexual scenario the Baroness intended to film. She felt herself relaxing. With no options to choose from, there was no need to think about anything but accepting and enjoying this.

One of the Leathergals fiddled with a fastening on her outfit. Ethrienne shuddered. Was she finally going to get what she’d come here for?

No; the other woman was just straightening her uniform, or perhaps deliberately teasing her. She and her companion left and closed the door, leaving her alone within the enclosure. The heroine gritted her teeth in frustration, unable to touch herself or even clench her thighs in response to the insistent tingles between her legs.

A clear fluid began to flow into the tank. It was much thicker than water, and vibrated like gelatin as it settled into place. She flexed her toes, feeling the goo through the latex and listening to the squishy noises it made. Rocking her hips, she imagined thrusting her pussy against the stuff. Would it be firm enough to stroke herself against? Probably not, she thought sourly. It was too yielding; it would push back with just enough pressure to tease but not nearly enough to satisfy.

Hungry for physical sensation, she wiggled her legs as best she could as the stuff rose up her calves. Even knowing that it would only frustrate her further, she waited impatiently for it to rise to crotch level. Looking into one of the cameras, she imagined the audience watching her rocking and thrusting in a futile attempt to jill herself off against the stuff, visualized them slipping fingers down pants and under skirts. The idea gave her some consolation. She stared at the monitors, satisfying herself as best she could with thoughts of her sexiness being seen and appreciated.

Mental images of two girls watching her and reaching inside each other’s panties kept the need at bay for a minute or two. When her attention refocused on reality, Ethrienne saw and felt the gel surface high up her thighs, and tried to squat down to rub herself against it. It wasn’t quite deep enough yet. She persisted. Several cameras moved in to capture closeup views of the action.

Finally, she was able to dip her already-wet cunt into the goo. As she’d thought, it didn’t give her any satisfaction. Also as she’d thought, she found herself continuing the attempt, for lack of any better alternative. She continued wriggling and rocking as the fluid flowed up her hips and past her waist.

As the fluid covered her chest, she froze. When was it going to stop? It showed no sign of even slowing down. Was this a death trap, after all? She took in another deep breath, and began yanking at her restraints. For a moment, it occurred to her that her tits were putting on a very nice show as they jiggled in the clear buoyant gel, but she pushed the image aside and made another desperate attempt to break free.

She screamed into her gag. The Baroness watched her impassively, then signed the camera crews. A few of the monitors switched from wide-angle views to closeups of her wrists and ankles being held firmly in place as she struggled.

The glop rose up her neck, and began covering her chin. Ethrienne drew in one more desperate breath. Suddenly, the sound of pumps cut off, and the liquid settled to a final depth of barely an inch below her mouth. She stood still for a long moment, then nodded her head very slightly in a gesture of thanks.

“Now you’re ready to begin!” The Baroness gestured grandly to the door at the far end of the stage. It opened, and in walked Tribby Greatrix.

Even now, a small voice in the back of Ethrienne’s head tried to tell her to call the other woman Vindiatrix, that “Tribby Greatrix” was a trick the Baroness had played on her by unearthing and exploiting her subconscious needs. She paid it no mind. It didn’t matter whether this woman was “Vindiatrix” or “Tribby Greatrix”.

What did matter was the reason she was here. She was here, obviously, to get naked, dive into the pool, and have her delightfully wicked way with her.

Ethrienne watched with a mixture of excitement and impatience as the Baroness greeted the newcomer, beginning with an innocent hug but quickly progressing to shameless gropes and deep wet kisses. She distracted herself by wondering just how much of that would make it into the final production.

At last, Tribby broke away, and began undoing her outfit. The cameras swooped in; every detail of this part would be presented to the customers’ view. The Baroness was a sex symbol; Tribby Greatrix was a sex object. Ethrienne felt some resentment at the unfairness of that, but not strongly enough to turn her eyes away from the striptease.

A Leathergal pushed a ladder platform against the side of the tank as Tribby slid her thong down her thighs inch by tantalizing inch. Ethrienne locked her eyes on the other woman’s pussy, while making another attempt to get traction and rub her own against the gel. It didn’t do any good... or perhaps it did, as she caught Tribby’s eyes following the action with lusty appreciation.

Time seemed to slow down as Tribby stepped closer and put one foot, and then the other, onto the ladder. Her tits and hips and cunt and legs were presented front and center to the bound heroine’s gaze as she climbed, until she stood on the little platform at the top. One more step....

She didn’t take that step. Instead, she took a deep breath, let it out, and took a deeper one. Ethrienne watched and listened. How long was this torment going to continue?

“Just a few more moments,” the Baroness said, both to her and to the audience beyond the cameras. “Tribby doesn’t have any super powers, you know. All she has is a perfect body... which is quite enough, really.”

Tribby continued her breathing exercises. “Trained pearl divers can hold their breath for an amazingly long time. Some of them can manage ten minutes or more. Tribby can probably do even better than that.” The Baroness chuckled. “That should be more than enough, when the pearl is only a few feet down and ripe for the taking!”

After drawing in one particularly deep breath, Tribby jumped into the pool. Ethrienne gasped into her gag as the gel sloshed over her face, and then froze in shock when it didn’t slosh back down. Her eyes went wide as she realized that, with another body in the tank, the goo had risen to cover her completely and stayed there.

She tugged with all her strength, making another attempt to break free. It didn’t accomplish anything this time, either. Should she keep trying, or try to calm herself and buy a few more precious seconds?

Hands clamped onto her thighs and held them in place, taking away what little maneuvering room she’d had. They moved up and around to seize her ass cheeks. Warm firmness pressed into her crotch. Reflexively, she ground herself into it. She twitched as she felt a tentative thrust between her pussy lips. She groaned into her gag. She needed this.... and she needed to breathe!

Desperately, she tried to suck down whatever air might still be inside the ballgag. It was more than she expected, not really a full breath but enough to ease the tightness in her chest.

Tribby’s tongue found her clit, and she gasped... and inhaled another half-breath. How could there still be any air left for her? She tried to think, but Tribby’s tongue found her clit and made that impossible. The world spun and faded in and out of sight. Everything was a dizzy haze, except for the jolts radiating out from her cunt across her entire body.

The world blurred around her as she clung to the ragged edge of consciousness. She was vaguely aware of the cameras and the cords holding her body in place. The only clear presence in her universe was the warm hard body kneeling in the gel, licking at her clit harder and faster with each moment. Somehow, the foggy haze made the sex and the bondage and the audience more real, not less.

Spots danced before her eyes. She tried to breathe faster and harder, but couldn’t. Even so, she managed to keep from panicking. She was getting some air, somehow. She wasn’t going to drown. She tried to focus on that thought, except it was impossible to focus on anything at all. She felt like she was going to pass out, between the shortage of air and the almost unbearable shudders that were beginning to convulse her body. It was scary, but in a good way, somehow.

Ethrienne didn’t have the breath to scream into her gag. Trying to do it almost made her black out. She felt herself cumming, harder and longer than ever before. It felt so good she even forgot about trying to inhale.

The next thing she knew, her eyes were once again bove the surface of the gel. Tribby’s bare butt was right in front of her face, close enough to grab and squeeze if only her hands were free. In one graceful movement, the other woman grasped the top of the ladder and pulled herself up out of the bath. The fluid level lowered, and Ethrienne was finally able to fill her lungs again. Her panting sounded more and more like sighing as the intertwined sensations of oxygen deprivation and sexual release faded.

Now that she was able to think again, she remembered something she’d heard of—something called “autoerotic asphyxiation”. Well, not autoerotic in this case. She couldn’t help smirking at that thought. It was all starting to make sense, now that her brain wasn’t overwhelmed with raw sensation. The hood must have had a hidden air supply, maybe in the thick collar fastened over it, just enough to keep her safe without blunting the effect.

She heard a gurgling sound, and saw that the gel was starting to drain away. The show was over. It had been a very good show, she thought. A fresh wave of satisfaction suffused her at the thought of viewers enjoying the sight of her body in latex-clad bondage. She imagined the scenario as they would see it: “G-Spot Minx” strapped in and submerged, her very breath held hostage in exchange for complete sexual surrender. The thought made her clit tingle as if it were being licked all over again.

As the last bits of goo flowed down the drain, the Baroness opened the tank and stepped inside. The Leathergals gathered outside the tank to watch as she undid the prisoner’s collar and peeled off her hood.

Ethrienne worked her jaw and flexed her tongue, getting her mouth back to normal now that it was empty again. Meanwhile, the Baroness took a cloth tote bag from a redheaded Leathergal and dropped the hood into it.

Then, she turned to address the heroine. “One of my contacts in the government has an appointment with me this evening. When he gets here, I want you to scan him, lightly enough that he won’t notice but deeply enough to confirm that he isn’t lying to me or setting up some trick. That won’t be a problem, will it?” The villainess was smiling, but the expression in her eyes was firm and unamused. “If it is, I’m willing to accept your resignation.”

Ethrienne winced at the last phrase. She couldn’t give this up! She needed it! “It won’t be a problem,” she replied. She swallowed. “I’ll do it!” she added, forcing the nervousness out of her tone.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Her expression was now genuinely pleased. She stepped closer, standing directly in front of the heroine. She leaned forward and parted her lips. Ethrienne closed her eyes and opened her own mouth to greet the kiss.

“He won’t be arriving for an hour and a half. That’ll give you some time to rest... after I take some time to play.”

The Baroness lurched forward, squeezing the bound woman’s body between her and the wall. Ethrienne tried to grind her still-needy pussy against her companion, but was pressed too tightly to move. She tried to wiggle from side to side, but the hands on her rear end held her too firmly in place. The next thing she knew, those hands were guiding her into the very motion she’d tried to perform on her own. She gave up trying to initiate anything and just let it happen. She couldn’t really be an active participant right now, anyway; between the deep-probing tongue in her mouth and the pressure against her chest, she felt almost as breathless as she had in the tank.

She shuddered as her Mistress finally gave her a bit of space. As her vision cleared, she saw the Baroness reach into the bag and remove something that looked like a Y-shaped stick. She grinned as an incongruous mental image of this woman walking across a field dowsing for water in her supervillainess catsuit flickered across her mind.

The Baroness grinned back at her. She held up the rod and flexed the ends, as if warming it up for use. Then she laid it against Ethrienne’s belly, two ends between her breasts and the third between her belly button and crotch. Slowly, she pulled it away; some of the goo that had been clinging to Ethrienne’s suit stretched over the gap for a moment and then snapped back onto the rod. Repeating the process, she applied more of the stuff to the other side of the forked cylinder.

Apparently satisfied that she’d collected enough of the gel, she handed the device to the redhead, who began sliding each of the three ends through her ringed thumb and forefinger. The clear fluid was soon spread evenly over the forked rod’s surface, giving it a bright even sheen. As the minion finished this task, the Baroness opened a zipper in the crotch of her catsuit.

“Now, Kristin—give it to me hard!” she cooed as she exposed her naked pussy. Silently and purposefully, the Leathergal stepped forward. If Ethrienne didn’t know otherwise, she would have thought that Kristin was the mistress and the Baroness was her submissive lovergirl. The perversity of it sent a shiver through her.

Kristin delicately maneuvered one tip of the device into the opening, then began slowly but firmly penetrating the other woman with it. “Ooohhhh... ooooohhhh yessssss!” she moaned as she took the thrust, her voice conveying overtones of helplessness and surrender that did not sound at all like Baroness Blackleather. The heroine stared at the tableau in fascination as the rod moved in inch by inch, listening to the cries of excitement and pleasure and need, occasionally glancing at Kristin’s harshly impassive face.

Even without scanning their thoughts—something she would not think of doing without express permission, of course—Ethrienne understood. The Baroness’ strength and dominance were so complete, so unquestioned, that she was free to indulge this side of herself right in front of her. Her Mistress was far above and beyond her, and yet in some ways was just like her.

The other two women each took a step back. The Baroness flexed the two protruding ends of the staff, pointing them forward and upward to form an erect double dong. Ethrienne stared at the twin rods, and felt her pussy and asshole itching to receive them. Her eyes rose to the Baroness’s face for a moment, just long enough to take in her expression. It was once again the face of her Mistress, bearing what an old poem called a “sneer of cold command”. She lowered her gaze submissively.

The Baroness reached down, tugging at the sides of the latex bodysuit’s crotch slit. It opened wider. Ethrienne felt cool air against her ass; both of her openings down there were now exposed, accessible, and ready.

The tips of the double dong slid against her, shifting into position. The rear one was almost in place; she wiggled her butt to help it settle into her asscrack. The Baroness raised an eyebrow; Ethrienne was unsure whether she was pleased with the cooperation or annoyed at the show of independent initiative. She felt hands firmly grasping her rear end, and held herself stock still.

“Ready or not, here it comes!” Her body twitched as the twin rods began to penetrate her. She relaxed her muscles, letting it happen. She twinged as her asshole reflexively clenched around the rear dildo, and again as the force of entry momentarily became a bit painful. She focused her attention of overriding those reflexes, and the sensation eased.

She gasped into her gag as the front rod found her clit. Unable to remain completely passive, she gently rocked, impaling herself just a bit deeper in front, then just a bit deeper in back, then in front again, and so on.

“Yes, darling; keep doing that.” The motion wasn’t an expression of inappropriate willfulness, she realized; it was her body carrying out her Mistress’ will. She was giving herself up to be used for Mistress’ pleasure, and gratefully accepting pleasure of her own in return.

A giggle sounded in her ear. It was another glimpse of the Baroness’ strength, so great that she didn’t need to maintain a constant show of it. “Oh, look at those naughty Leathergals out there!”

They were gathered close around the glass, enjoying the show. Several of them had their hands stuck down their waistbands. One pair had their hands inside each other’s pants. Ethrienne felt a jolt as if every one of those fingers were stroking her cunt.

“You should see Kristin,” The redhead was nowhere in Ethrienne’s field of view. “She’s right behind you, rubbing herself against the tank right where your ass is pressed up against it.” As the rear dildo penetrated a half-inch deeper, Ethrienne imagined Kristin behind her, without a plate of glass or anything else between them, ass-fucking her fast and hard. Probably Kristin was imagining the exact same thing. She’d have to try it later—

She blinked. Was she actually coming up with more ways to be used as a sex toy? Was she so far gone that she couldn’t even refrain from cooperating any more than absolutely necessary?

Apparently she was. Her fantasy of being sodomized by the Leathergal included a ring of cameras surrounding them. She craved an audience, and was willing to help the Baroness profit in order to get it.

It was impossible to reject that thought. It was too obviously true. All she could do now is let the pleasure of the moment sweep it aside.

Her hips began rocking harder, in time with her partner’s thrusts, drawing the dual dildos all the way in. The two women writhed against each other, each motion rubbing the rods against sensitive spots. Ethrienne gulped down a breath as best she could, keeping her mouth open to accept another deep kiss. She could feel the first wave of rhythmic twitching in her cunt, warning her that she was on the brink.

The ballgag didn’t quite muffle her shout as orgasm washed over her. Her body jerked hard into the tank wall behind her, and then into the Baroness, who stood almost as unyielding. She, too, was on the brink, and was pushed over it as the dildo transmitted the force of Ethrienne’s gyrations deep into her body. The Baroness staggered into the bound woman, pressing her even harder into the wall, convulsively squeezing her ass. Ethrienne thought she was about to pass out, or perhaps that she had passed out and was just now coming back to consciousness.

At last, the two women stood facing each other, coming down from the afterglow and catching their breath. “Oh, that was delightful!” the Baroness declared as she began undoing the captive’s bonds. Ethrienne staggered back to her feet without the cords’ support, and found herself drawn into her Mistress’ embrace. The two of them shared another lingering kiss, less blatantly sexual but somehow more intimate than those they’d exchanged during their coupling.

With some unspoken signal, they pulled apart. The Baroness sighed. “We’d better get cleaned up and ready for our guest.” Looking the heroine in the eyes, she continued, “Again, it’s entirely up to you. If you have any qualms about this arrangement, you can still leave and never have any further dealings with me. I’d even tear up your contract and erase all your performance recordings.”

“No!” The idea was even more unthinkable than it had been before. To never have another chance to satisfy these desires... she’d go insane from bottled-up need. Having her erotic performances go unseen and unappreciated would make it even worse. She’d always crave the warm satisfaction of sharing her sexual pleasure and having it reflected back into her mind’s eye. The need would surely drive her to untrustworthy outlets that sooner or later would enmesh her in scandal and compromise her secret identity.

“I’m in,” she declared, her voice firm and unwavering.

The Baroness nodded in acknowledgment, as if she already knew what the answer would be. Of course she did, Ethrienne knew. She belonged to the Baroness, body and soul. Her stripper. Her sex toy. Her servant. Her slave. She felt a pang of shame as she put it to herself that bluntly, but she couldn’t deny or resist it.

“Well, then; get a shower and lie down for a while. I’m tempted to join you, but you need to be rested and ready.” She reached out to pat the heroine on the cheek. “I know you still have a few ethical qualms about reading minds on my behalf. You’ll do it anyway, because you can’t bear to disappoint me. Am I right?” Without waiting for an answer, or perhaps reading a clear affirmative answer in Ethrienne’s eyes, she smiled and concluded, “It’ll get easier, and before long it won’t bother you at all.”

For a brief moment, Ethrienne’s fear that she was right almost drove her to turn and walk away.

Almost.

Can nothing break the Baroness’s spell over this dominated damsel?

What will become of three trusty titans turned to trained trollops?

Tune in for “Banishing Badness”, same SMUT-time, same SMUT-channel....