The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Blue.

She was staring at the blue flame. Her eyes fixed on it, unblinking. She wasn’t moving. There wasn’t a thought in her head. The flame she was staring at flickered, twisted. Like it was alive. Like it was a body, sleek and feminine and desirable.

Only the faint rise and fall of her chest betrayed that she was anything more than a beautiful statue. She simply sat there, in the dark, on her bed, legs crossed.

In front of her the flame writhed.

If she could think she might have thought the flame was pretty.

She couldn’t remember when she’d last had a thought.

The flame was between her hands. Held there. Cupped. It was almost like it was watching her as she watched it.

Like a pair of blue eyes, their gaze slipping over her naked form.

She didn’t care that she was naked.

She didn’t know how long she’d been staring at the flame. While it filled her mind. Reached into every little piece of her.

The flame was whispering to her. Changing her.

Her pussy was so wet. Arousal, hot and liquid and demanding, coursed through her. She couldn’t do anything about it. She had to just sit there. Bask in the feeling. So close to the edge but not tumbling over it.

The flame was whispering to her again. She had to listen.

She didn’t know what her name was. She was just a thing, aroused and mindless, watching the flame. She didn’t know that three other women in the house were doing exactly the same thing, watching their own blue flames, naked, so still, minds empty of thought, liquid need pouring through their bodies.

Wouldn’t have cared if she had known.

She just watched the blue flame.

For hours.

Nichole blinked. She was sitting up in her bed, her hands holding the candle Ms. Henderson had given her. The candle was lit, the blue flame dancing before her. She was naked.

Did I?

It wasn’t like her to sleep naked. But she couldn’t have been asleep if she’d been sitting up with a lit candle. Yet she felt so rested. None of it made any sense. Even if it felt so good to just sit there.

Her eyes slipped to her clock. She didn’t remember telling them to.

“Shit.”

It was later than she’d wanted. She needed to get ready. To get to work.

How long was I?

The thought disappeared. It didn’t matter how long she’d sat there, blue candle held in her cupped hands, blue flame dancing before her eyes. What mattered was getting ready. She knew that. That was important. How she knew wasn’t important.

Nichole jumped out of bed. But not before carefully placing the candle on her bedside table. It had its own space now, clear of her other things, hairbrush and jewellery box pushed aside.

The candle needed its own space.

It was important.

She didn’t know how she knew that. But she did.

A little while later Nichole examined herself in her mirror. It wasn’t that she didn’t like what she saw. She did. The short, pleated, royal blue skirt had Nichole’s eyes fixed on the image of her legs. That was the problem. The image was so tempting. It would be so easy for her to slip her hand under that skirt, its hem barely long enough to cover her crotch. Let her fingers find the edge of her panties, her breath catching at the touch. And then…

The young woman determinedly dragged her eyes higher.

Her blouse was no better. Silk and white and so sheer. She could clearly see the outline of her bra through it. She could imagine her hands on her breasts. Caressing them. Kneading them. Rolling her nipples between her fingers, the pleasure arcing through her body. Her head thrown back as she came.

That would be so good.

Need was crawling through Nichole. Hot, insistent, desire. She wanted to cum, so much.

But she couldn’t. Even as her body cried out for release.

It would be so much better to wait.

Something told her that.

She believed it.

Nicole walked back and forth in front of the mirror, admiring her image. She was allowed to do that. The walking, at least, was easier today. She was getting used to the high heels. The pair she had on were even higher than yesterday’s. Four inches. In a blue that matched her skirt. The shoes seemed new. Nichole couldn’t remember buying them. Had they been in the pile of clothes that she’d acquired in the last expedition with Clara? She wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. She could see, in the mirror, just what those shoes did to her legs. The line of her calves, the curve of her thighs.

She looked so good.

Her eyes were back where they’d started, on the oh-so-short hem of her skirt.

A finger found the edge of that hem, slowly teased it higher, more of her thigh revealed. Any higher and Nicole was sure she’d be able to see her panties. Then her finger could trail across the flimsy garment. She was already wet. Maybe her panties would show that. She wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. More importantly, she’d be able to touch them, press into the sensitive flesh beneath the flimsy garment, the delicious sensations shooting through her.

No.

She wasn’t supposed to do that. No matter how much she wanted to. No matter how good it would be. She couldn’t. Nicole withdrew her finger, let the skirt drop. At least as far as it could.

She spun in front of the mirror, skirt rising, a smile on her lips as her panties flashed into view.

She hoped Ms. Henderson would like her outfit. That thought didn’t bother her. Ms. Henderson was her boss. Hoping your boss liked your outfit was nothing unusual.

It was the next thought that bothered the young woman.

Maybe it will turn her on.

Nicole caught herself, staggering on her heels before coming to a complete stop. She stared at her image in the mirror. She shouldn’t think thoughts like that. Why would she want to turn her boss on? Even after what she’d done yesterday. Gotten herself off in front of Ms. Henderson. Twice. Half the orgasms of her young life. Her boss hadn’t seemed particularly interested. Why would she be? It was just a young woman seeing to her needs. Nothing unusual about that.

Something about that thought didn’t seem right to Nicole. Masturbating in front your boss wasn’t right, was it? But Ms. Henderson had told her it was nothing to worry about. Had told her it was alright. Nicole had looked into Ms. Henderson’s blue eyes when her boss had said that. The worrying thoughts shrivelled away. She trusted Ms. Henderson.

And her blue eyes.

Carefully Nicole made her way down stairs.

She could already hear the rest for her family in the kitchen, getting ready for the day.

“You look pretty today, Alice,” their mother Elaine commented to Nichole’s youngest sister.

Nichole had to admit that their mother was right. Even though Alice was just wearing her school uniform, the youngest of the sisters in her final year of high school, it was obvious the girl had put in an extra effort today. Not that Alice was ever any slouch about making the most of her blonde looks. But she’d obviously taken even more care today, with the waves of her hair bouncing like she was in a hair care commercial, makeup to match. Subtle, almost elegant.

Makeup?

Nichole was sure that their mother never let Alice wear makeup to school, even if her sister was eighteen years old. Nichole was sure that she had never been allowed to. And that same rule had applied to Ruth and Alice. But no-one else commented. Maybe she was wrong.

“Trying to attract some boy?” Ruth teased.

Alice smirked back at the middle of the three sisters, a mischievous glint in her eyes, her jam-spread toast poised an inch from her bright pink lips. “Who says this is for a boy?”

Nichole frowned. Did Alice mean it was for a girl? That couldn’t be right. Alice had a trail of boyfriends. All the posters in her room showed boys. Popstars, actors, anime characters. Alice couldn’t be interested in girls. And why had Alice bothered with the makeup before breakfast? Wouldn’t she need to fix it up after she’d finished eating? Nichole frowned as she snuck a glance at her sister’s legs under the table. So much of their length was exposed. Her skirt couldn’t be that short, could it? Maybe it was just the way Alice was sitting. But the skirt really did look shorter than usual. Which wasn’t that long anyway. None of it made any sense.

“I’m sure Alice is just doing it for herself,” their mother chipped in.

Nichole decided that had to be right. Even if the smirk didn’t leave her youngest sister’s face.

“And anyway,” Alice scoffed. “What’s it to you when you’re dressed like that?”

Nichole started as she took in the appearance of her middle sister. Ruth was wearing a dress. Ruth hardly ever wore a dress. But she was now. It was white and had a cute floral print and Nichole didn’t know when Ruth would have bought it. The dress did set off her sister’s dark hair beautifully though.

It still didn’t make any sense to her.

“Umm, why are you wearing a dress?” Nichole asked, dumbfounded.

“I felt like it,” Ruth shrugged, her cereal only half-eaten in front of her as she pushed it away. “It’s summer and I just felt like a dress. I’m only going out with some friends, so what does it matter?”

Nichole thought that was even less of a reason to dress up than if her sister had been going somewhere special. But she kept that thought to herself.

“So are you doing it for someone?” Alice teased.

“Shut up!” Ruth cried. From the flush in her cheeks Nichole was sure that their younger sister had hit a nerve. She wondered who it was that had sparked Ruth’s wardrobe choice. Unlike Alice, Ruth had never seemed that interested in relationships but now that Nichole looked again the dress really did seem more than you’d expect for a day’s outing. It was short and tight and the square neck line was cut awfully low. She wondered why their mother didn’t say anything.

“Well, I think Ruth looks very nice like that,” their mother commented.

Nichole blinked in surprise. It wasn’t at all what she’d had been expecting.

“So where are you going?” Elaine continued.

“Just out,” Ruth replied evasively. “It is break, so you know. I mean, I don’t get why Nichole is wasting the holidays on an internship.”

“Well, she is closer to the end of her degree than you are,” their mother pointed out. “You should think about one for next year. You do have to think about what you’ll do after you graduate.”

“Um, maybe,” Ruth replied evasively. “Hey, Alice, you going to be here after school?” To Nichole it was an obvious attempt to change the conversation, but their mother let it slide.

“Sure,” their youngest sister replied. “You up for the next series this afternoon?” Nichole could never understand her sisters’ fascination with anime.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” their dark-haired sister declared. She seemed far more eager than Nichole could understand, but perhaps Ruth was just that desperate to avoid talking about her future.

Deciphering her sister’s motives wasn’t something Nichole was interested in thinking about. She wanted to get to work. She had so much to learn. And if she was lucky Ms. Henderson would let her get herself off again. The young woman gasped as need spiked through her. The exchange between her family had diverted her. For a few minutes. From the need centred between her legs. From the heat pooling there. She had to get to work. When she was there she could do what her fingers were longing to do. Find her centre. Push herself over that edge. In Ms. Henderson’s office. Something told Nichole that it was wrong to think about getting off in front of her boss. But the thought slipped away until it was out of reach.

Nichole had to grip the handholds on the train to stop from touching herself. It was so hard. The journey had been torture. Her centre was crying out. Maybe she could just brush against someone. Maybe that would be enough. Nichole felt like she was on a hair trigger, the pressure about to explode. She could almost taste it. She looked around the other occupants of the carriage.

Maybe she could get close to one of them. Accidentally brush against them. Think about what it would be like if their skin touched. Maybe press her breasts into their back in the crush. Perhaps they would they feel how erect her nipples were, even through her bra. Her breath was coming in gasps, her teeth playing at her lips, the urgency of her need filling her mind.

But she couldn’t do something like that. Not in public.

She didn’t want to think about why she wasn’t too choosy about the gender of the people her fantasies centred around.

At work Nichole went straight to Clara’s desk.

“Can, can I,” the intern swallowed, words hard to form. “Can I see Ms. Henderson?” She felt like a schoolgirl asking to see the principal.

The PA looked up at Nichole, smiling evilly. “No,” she declared, the word carefully enunciated, the woman’s ruby red lips forming into a self-satisfied smirk.

Nichole wanted to die on the spot. Or maybe just melt into a puddle.

A look of distaste flashed across Clara’s features. “She said you’ll have to wait.” The PA looked like she wished she’d been able to tell Nichole that the intern couldn’t see Ms. Henderson at all.

“O-okay,” the young woman mumbled. She could wait. She’d have to. That’s what Ms. Henderson wanted. Nichole could see Ms. Henderson’s blue eyes. It was almost like she was falling in to them. She’d wait. Even if it was so hard to keep her hands outside her panties.

Somehow Nichole made her way to her desk. She wasn’t sure how. Took her seat. The blue glow surrounded her.

Nichole didn’t notice. She never did.

“There’s some things she wants you to look at,” Clara called, disdain dripping from the woman’s voice. Nichole wondered again what it was she’d done to offend the PA. “They’re in your inbox.”

Nichole’s hand trembled as she reached for the mouse. She swallowed nervously. She didn’t feel like she could concentrate on anything. Except the heat between her legs. Her thoughts were skittering flashes. But she had to do this. Ms. Henderson wanted her to do it.

She opened the first file, her eyelids fluttering. She tried to make herself read it as she squirmed in her chair. She was at the bottom of the first page and she couldn’t remember a thing that she’d read.

Her other hand was on her thigh, heat spreading out from the contact. Meeting the heat that radiated from her pussy. Her hand was so close to her centre. She could move her hand a little further upwards.

No!

She couldn’t do something like that. Not out in the office. Not where Clara could see her.

With an effort of will Nichole balled her free hand into a fist while her other hand gripped the mouse. Ms. Henderson wanted her to read the files. That’s what she had to do. She could see two blue eyes staring out at her from the page. Like a watermark. Just there. Regarding her. Drinking her in. She could do this.

Slowly she read through the files.

“Ms. Henderson will see you now,” Clara declared.

Shit. Nichole started, the words on the screen blurring in front of her. Nichole didn’t know how much later it was. She was only half way through the files. If that. She’d had to re-read whole sections. She’d get to end of a something and realise that she couldn’t remember any of it and have to start again. Her attention would wander to where her breasts lay in her bra, her nipples aching to be touched. To her centre, hot and wet and needy as she squirmed in her chair.

“Well, go on,” Clara huffed.

Nichole shot out of her chair, hurried into Ms. Henderson’s office.

“What did you think of it?” the agency’s owner asked.

“I, uh,” Nichole managed. It was so hard to think of anything she’d just read with Ms. Henderson in front of her. The woman was gorgeous, her beautiful face with its sculpted cheekbones framed by her flowing ash-blonde hair. Ms. Henderson was wearing an elegant pearl-white silk blouse. Unlike Nichole’s blouse you couldn’t even see the hint of a bra through it. Nichole’s tongue shot across her lips as she wondered if Ms. Henderson was wearing a bra.

She also wondered what her boss was wearing on her legs, the young woman’s heart beating faster at the thought. Ms. Henderson was seated at her desk, so Nichole couldn’t see below her waist. She was sure Ms. Henderson was wearing a skirt. How much of her legs did it reveal? She could imagine those legs, disappearing up under that skirt.

Like someone’s hand could.

“Nichole?” Ms. Henderson asked, a knowing smile playing at the woman’s lips

“S-sorry,” the young woman managed, trying to banish the images that played at her mind.

“I think you need something, don’t you?” the advertising executive teased.

Nichole’s eyes went wide. Did Ms. Henderson mean what Nichole thought she meant? She’d let Nichole do it yesterday. But that didn’t mean she’d let her do it again. Nichole hoped she would. She needed it so much, desire pulling at her as her pulse pounded in her ears.

“You might want to close the door first,” Ms. Henderson added, as Nichole’s hand reached for the hem of her skirt.

Oh God, the young woman thought, spinning and slamming the door shut.

“Now, you just see to yourself,” Ms. Henderson said, not unkindly. “I assume I’ll know when you’re finished.”

With that she turned her attention to the sleek computer monitor on her desk, leaving Nichole standing alone in the middle of her office.

Do I? Nichole wasn’t sure that she should. But it had to be what Ms. Henderson had meant. And she wanted to so much, need radiating from her centre, her breath catching.

One hand slipped under her skirt. Found the front of her panties, her fingers tingling at the silky sensation. She couldn’t wait. She groaned as her fingers slipped across the flimsy material. She wasn’t surprised that it was damp.

She was so wet.

Her other hand was pawing at her breasts.

Nichole heard a moan. It was only dimly that she realised it had come from her.

Desperately her hand thrust inside her panties, the sensation as her fingers touched her sensitive skin almost making the young woman’s knees buckle. Nichole moaned again as her finger traced her dripping length.

“Oh God.” Electric fire shot through the young woman as she rolled her clit between two of her fingers. Her hips were thrusting back and forth. She could feel her crest approaching, like a dam ready to burst. Maybe it would be better if she held back for a moment, let it build, but she couldn’t. She tried to summon the image of her dark-haired lover. But the image was dim, as if it was separated from her by thick glass. Distorted. She couldn’t make out the details.

It didn’t matter. Waves of bliss rolled through her body, hot and electric. All she could see was Ms. Henderson, her boss’ hair flowing in waves.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Nichole’s eyes lost focus as her world exploded.

Ms. Henderson looked up, Nichole drowning in those blue eyes.

“Hmm, hopefully that’s cleared your mind a little,” Nichole’s boss commented. “But you are a noisy one, aren’t you?”

Nichole wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She didn’t think she’d made that much noise. It was only natural to make some noise, wasn’t it? But her boss had been so kind to let her see to her needs and all she’d done was make a fool of herself. How was Ms. Henderson supposed to work with all the noise Nichole had made? And what if Clara had heard her? Her eyes shot to the door, embarrassment flaring through the young woman.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ms. Henderson declared drily.

Nichole’s head snapped back around, her eyes meeting her boss’. For a moment the young intern was disoriented. Had she been worrying about something? Yes, she had. About disturbing her boss. There hadn’t been anything else.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Ms. Henderson,” Nichole spluttered. “I’ll try to be quieter next time.”

With a start she realised that her hand was still inside her panties, her finger tracing her length, delicious aftershocks shooting through her. Her embarrassment spiking even higher Nichole yanked her hand free. Nervously she started edging towards the chair in front of Ms. Henderson’s desk.

“Stop,” Ms. Henderson called, Nichole freezing in place.

“I’m sure you will try,” Nichole’s boss continued, her tone sympathetic. “You are a good girl.” Pleasure shot through Nichole at the phrase, the bliss almost as good as cumming. “But I think you need some help with that. What about we practice now?”

Nichole wasn’t sure what her boss meant. How was she supposed to practice being quiet?

Oh.

Ms. Henderson had to mean that Nichole was to do it again. Now. Masturbate. Cum. Nichole knew that she could. Even though she only just had. Even though the delicious aftershocks were still rippling through her. Her nipples were so hard, pushing into her bra and there was still that insistent heat pulsing out from her centre.

Nichole’s hand, streaked with the evidence of what she’d just done, reached under her skirt.

“No,” Ms. Henderson declared, rising from her seat.

Nichole froze again, her fingers brushing the front of her panties, the slight pressure sending sparks to her brain. She wasn’t sure what her boss meant. Nichole stared at the older woman, wide-eyed.

Ms. Henderson was wearing a skirt. Just like Nichole had imagined. It was blue, like hers. And short. Not as short as Nichole’s. But short. Short enough that the young woman could trace every line as Ms. Henderson moved around to her side of the desk.

Nichole swallowed. She shouldn’t ogle her boss’ legs like that. What would Ms. Henderson think? And anyway, Nichole wasn’t into girls. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself, even as her eyes rose higher, landed on the swell of Ms. Henderson’s breasts where they lay under that silk blouse, Nichole’s breath catching.

“You are a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Ms. Henderson smiled, her eyes sweeping over Nichole. “Now let’s have a look at you.” Gently the older woman took the arm whose hand was under Nichole’s skirt, pulled it so that the young woman’s arm fell by her side, Nichole whimpering as she lost that delicious pressure on her centre.

But Ms. Henderson’s hand was on her arm. And that was almost as good.

Nichole simply stood there as Ms. Henderson looked at her, captivated by her boss’ blue eyes. She was falling into them, those blue, liquid, pools. Blue like the ocean. Like sapphires. Light was twinkling in them. Even as Ms. Henderson moved around behind her Nichole could still see those eyes.

They filled her mind.

“You do need it, don’t you?” Ms. Henderson whispered, glorious sensations shooting out from Nichole’s hip as Ms. Henderson lay a hand there.

She’s touching me. Oh God. Nichole thought she could just melt into a puddle.

“I,” the young woman began, not sure what she was trying to say.

“Shush,” Ms. Henderson whispered. “Remember you need to be quiet.”

Nichole bit her lip, the urge to speak forgotten. But a moan replaced it as the hand that had been on her hip moved to Nichole’s thigh; long, delicate, fingers gliding over the young woman’s skin.

“Shush,” Ms. Henderson repeated.

Nichole didn’t know how she was going to keep quiet. Not with Ms. Henderson’s fingers snaking higher, over the delicate skin of her inner thigh. Those fingers were so close to her centre. Her centre that was crying out for attention. So close to her panties.

Nichole frowned. This couldn’t be right, could it? Wanting Ms. Henderson to touch her panties, to touch what lay under there. Ms. Henderson was a woman. Nichole was into guys, wasn’t she?

The thought disintegrated as Ms. Henderson’s fingers played at the edge of Nichole’s panties.

“You want this, don’t you?” Ms. Henderson whispered. “Don’t speak. Just nod.”

Did she want this? Her pussy was so wet. So needy. So empty. But no-one had ever touched her there. She’d always thought it would be a man who would. Who would be the one she wanted. Who would fill her. But need was cascading through her, lighting up every nerve in her body. She couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to.

Nichole nodded, just once. It didn’t matter if Ms. Henderson was a woman, did it? Her boss was just helping her.

And the young intern couldn’t fight the need pouring through her.

“Oh,” Nichole sighed as Ms. Henderson’s fingers trailed over the front of her panties.

“Quiet.” Ms. Henderson’s lips had to be so close to Nichole’s ear. She could feel the warmth of the older woman’s breath on her skin, the sensation tingling and mixing with the overpowering feelings shooting from her centre. Her knees buckled, the young woman falling back against her boss. She could feel Ms. Henderson’s breasts pressing into her back, sparks running through her from the contact.

Nichole’s jaw quivered, breath catching, as she felt Ms. Henderson’s fingers at the waistband of her panties, stars appearing before her eyes as those fingers slipped inside, slid down her delicate skin.

Ms. Henderson’s other hand was around her waist, holding Nichole to her. Nerves lit up along the entire length of the young woman’s body. She was held, her eyelids fluttering, nestling against her boss, Ms. Henderson’s thigh pressing into her arse. The older woman’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tight.

Nichole cried out as fingernails grazed her labia. The sensation stopped, Ms. Henderson pulling her hand away.

The older woman’s other arm was still wrapped around Nichole’s waist.

“You know what you have to do,” Ms. Henderson whispered, her breath warm on Nichole’s ear. She could feel her boss’ hair against her shoulder, smell the woman’s delicious scent, citrus and spices and something she still couldn’t place. The impressions tumbled through her mind, mixing with the insistence of her need.

Nichole knew what she had to do. She had to be quiet. No matter what she felt. No matter how good it was. She needed that hand back. She’d do anything for it.

Ms. Henderson’s fingers traced the length of Nichole’s opening. The young woman didn’t make a sound. No matter how much she wanted to. No matter how bliss was pouring through her. This was the first time someone had touched her there. She tried to summon the image of that dark lover. She couldn’t. All she could see in her mind was a pair of blue eyes.

Nichole couldn’t stop herself, though, as Ms. Henderson’s finger circled her clit, as her boss’ other hand found her breasts, a moan escaping the young woman’s lips as that finger pressed on her very centre.

Ms. Henderson’s finger ceased its attention to Nichole’s nub. “Shush,” the older woman breathed.

Nichole nodded, tightly. She knew what she had to do. As Ms. Henderson’s finger resumed its maddening, wonderful, circling, as Nichole’s hips started to pump, she stayed quiet.

Ms. Henderson’s left hand was on Nichole’s breasts now, stroking, the young woman shivering in delight as her boss’ hand glided over where her nipples lay. She could feel her boss along the length of her body. She was melting into Ms. Henderson.

The urge to make any sound died away.

The pleasure from Ms. Henderson’s hands didn’t.

“That’s right,” Nichole’s boss whispered. Nichole could just imagine Ms. Henderson’s beautiful lips, a hairsbreadth from her ear. Maybe her boss would kiss her ear. Maybe Miss Henderson’s tongue would snake out, lick the curve of her ear.

The pleasure spiked higher at the thought. Her body was being played, pleasure wrung from it like notes from an instrument. But that wasn’t right. Instruments made music. Nichole was supposed to be quiet. If she wasn’t an instrument, she was something else. Something Ms. Henderson was playing with.

Something that was quiet.

“Not a sound,” the older woman continued. “Quiet. You can do it. You feel so good. It doesn’t matter how good you feel, you don’t need to make a sound.”

In the few moments she was capable of coherent thought Nichole was so grateful. Ms. Henderson was taking time out of her day to help the intern. This was something she needed to learn. If she was going to get off in Ms. Henderson’s office she couldn’t make a racket while she was doing it.

“Oh,” she cried, a fingernail grazing over her clit.

“No,” Ms. Henderson reminded Nichole, the older woman’s finger tapping the intern’s clit. “Be quiet.”

Nichole’s arousal was spiralling higher and higher.

“No sounds. It feels so good, but you don’t need to make a sound. It’s so much better when you’re quiet.”

Nichole was swimming in bliss but something about that didn’t sound right.

“Better?” Nichole managed.

“Quiet now,” Ms. Henderson coaxed. “And yes, better. So much better when you’re quiet. Just the feelings, the sensations. Nothing else. It will always feel better when you’re quiet. Silent. When you’re aroused. When someone does this.” Nichole’s eyelids fluttered as one of Ms. Henderson’s fingers slipped between her labia, the young woman’s heart pounding in her chest. The movement was agonisingly slow, but Nichole wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Not a sound. No matter how good it feels. It’s how you like it.”

Nichole could feel Ms. Henderson’s words slipping into her mind, like the agency’s owner’s finger slipped between her lower lips. Further even. The finger didn’t penetrate too far. Her boss’s words burrowed deep into the intern’s mind. Nichole’s chest was heaving. She’d have fallen to the ground if Ms Henderson wasn’t holding her.

Those blue eyes were still in her mind.

“You want to be quiet when you’re aroused.” The words were sinking into her. Changing her. Morphing her at some basic level. Arousal meant being quiet. Nichole didn’t have to make any sounds.

Couldn’t.

Not right. Desperately the thought tried to form. Ms. Henderson was doing something to her.

“You’ll feel so good but you won’t make a sound. It’s so much better this way.” Ms. Henderson words poured into her mind, her fingers working magic at Nichole’s centre, her pussy melting at the sensations. Her hand played over Nichole’s stomach and breasts. The young woman’s own hands were useless, her arms hanging limp at her sides as Ms. Henderson played with her body.

Her boss was right, it felt so good, Nichole’s body alive with pleasure. She’d never felt anything like this. It was so good being quiet.

“Whether it’s you doing this or someone else. Not a moan. Not a cry. Not word. Quiet.”

Nichole could feel herself changing. She couldn’t stop it. With the sensations pouring through her body she didn’t want to. She needed Ms. Henderson’s hands on her. Needed the caresses on her breasts, the stroking of her pussy. Her nipples and her clit were rock hard. She didn’t care what her boss said, what it was doing to her. She’d give anything just to cum.

“No sounds,” Ms. Henderson warned. Nichole bit her lip, her boss’ thumb grinding into her clit. Her nub was so erect, pleasure pulsing out from it. The young woman thought she should cry out. Some little part of her wanted to. But it was so small. Ms. Henderson didn’t want her to do that. So she couldn’t. Even as that thumb ground down, even as the bliss radiated out from her nub, there was no urge in Nichole to cry out. She was silent.

Just as Ms. Henderson wanted her to be.

That made it even better as her world exploded.

Ms. Henderson’s fingers kept a slow, gentle, pace as Nichole came down from her crest, delicious echoes rippling through her.

“Good girl,” her boss whispered, Nichole biting her lip at the tingles the words sent through her.

Ms. Henderson withdrew her hands, Nichole mewling at the loss. She was allowed to make a sound now. She knew that.

Silently Ms. Henderson glided back to her chair, Nichole’s eyes fixed on her boss’ rear. Elegantly the advertising executive resumed her seat.

Nichole was held by her boss’s blue eyes.

Ms. Henderson was speaking. Nichole had to listen. “That’s how you’re going have your best orgasms from now on. Not making a sound. You don’t need to make a sound. Quiet. Unless I tell you otherwise.”

Nichole frowned. It didn’t seem right. Md. Henderson shouldn’t be telling her these things. She could feel herself changing. Parts of her were different now. That wasn’t right either. Crying out when you had sex, when you came, that was normal, wasn’t it?

But Ms. Henderson’s eyes were so blue. Ms. Henderson was her boss. Nichole had to listen. She was here to learn. And if this was something she had to learn, well, Ms. Henderson knew best.

Had Ms. Henderson been saying something? Nichole wasn’t sure. What she was sure about was that she’d much prefer to be quiet when she came. And if a little part of her still insisted that it wasn’t right, well, that didn’t matter. It was what Ms. Henderson wanted that was important. Being quiet when she came was right. It wold be less disturbing for her boss.

“Now, I think you need to go look at those files again. Then we’ll continue this discussion. I think your head will be clearer now.

Nichole blinked. Of course Ms. Henderson was right. Her head was much clearer. Why wouldn’t it be, after cumming twice?

“Come back when you’ve finished them.” As Nichole opened the door to Ms. Henderson’s office her boss continued. “Clara, just let her in when she wants.”

Nichole shrank into herself as she caught the glare from the PA. She didn’t catch the blue glow as she sank into the seat at her desk.

Two hours later Nichole was back in the advertising executive’s office, the files all read. The young woman was feeling pleased with herself. Not only had she read all the files, she hadn’t felt the need to get herself off the whole time she and Ms. Henderson had been talking.

Not that she could remember everything her boss had said.

“Not bad,” Ms. Henderson allowed as Nichole finished her summary. “Not bad at all. Well, actually it was very good for a first year. You have only finished your first year at university, haven’t you Nichole?”

Nichole frowned. She could feel the lines forming on her forehead. Her mouth opened. Then closed. That wasn’t right, was it? She’d finished two years of her degree? Hadn’t she? Wasn’t that why she was doing an internship while Ruth was off with her friends? Hadn’t their mother said something at breakfast about Ruth getting an internship next year, when she was as far into her degree as Nichole was?

“Yes, just one year,” Ms. Henderson mused.

What? Nichole couldn’t understand it. She was older than Ruth. Of course Nichole was ahead of her sister. Wasn’t she?

Ms. Henderson’s eyes were so blue.

“One year.”

Of course that was right. What had Nichole been thinking? She was older than Ruth, but not by much. They’d been born within a year of each other. Gone through school together, Nichole always having to remind people she was the older sister, her blonde hair making people think she was the younger. It was so embarrassing having your younger sister in the same year as you at school. It was better at university. Even though they were both in first year at least they were in different classes. Nichole was so proud of herself, having found an internship while Ruth was frittering away her holidays.

And now Ms. Henderson was complimenting her on how well she’d done.

Not bad for a first year, Nichole smirked to herself. Maybe that would make her mother proud of her. It was so hard to stand out being just one of three sisters.

“As I said,” Ms. Henderson smiled. Nichole didn’t take in much of the smile, her attention fixed on her boss’ blue eyes. “Very good for a first year.”

“Thank you, Ms. Henderson,” the young woman gushed.

“Oh, don’t thank me,” Ms. Henderson declared with a wave of her hand. “You’ve earned it. I think you’re learning a lot here. Oh, and before I forget, take this.” Ms. Henderson reached down beside her desk and retrieved two decorative gift bags. “Give one to each of your sisters.”

Taking the bag Nichole peered inside. In each lay a wrapped shape. Long and cylindrical. Like a candle. “Um, you shouldn’t. You’ve already.”

Ms. Henderson silenced Nichole with a wave of an immaculately manicured hand. “Pish. And anyway, they’re not for them. They already have theirs. Tell them to give them to the prettiest girl they know. And then you won’t have to worry about it again. In fact, you’ll forget all about it.”

Nichole didn’t think she’d forget doing something like that. But maybe Ms. Henderson just meant it kindly, as the gift was coming from her and not Nichole. Even if it was an odd gift. Ms. Henderson hadn’t met her sisters, let alone other girls they knew.

Nichole stopped worrying about it. Lost in her thoughts she was sure she’d missed something Ms. Henderson had said. Hopefully it wasn’t that important. She’d forget all about these new gifts. Once she’d given them to her sisters.

“But now put the bags down,” Ms. Henderson ordered her. “We need to see what else you’ve learnt.”

“Um, sorry?” Nichole managed. She wasn’t sure what her boss meant.

Ms. Henderson smiled, mirth twinkling in her eye. “I have some work to do. But I’m sure you won’t disturb me.”

Oh. Ms. Henderson wanted Nichole to masturbate. Silently. Right now. Arousal flashed through the young woman at the thought. She could feel herself moistening, her nipples tightening. Ms. Henderson had asked her to do it.

She had to be quiet.

Hesitantly Nichole slipped her hand under her skirt, her eyes fixed on Ms. Henderson. Her glorious hair. The sweep of her chest.

Nichole’s mouth formed an ‘O’ as her fingers glided over the front of her panties.

Not a sound emerged from her.

The young woman’s gaze roved over her boss’ body as Ms. Henderson typed away at her computer. Nichole’s eyes followed the movement of those long, delicate, fingers. Fingers that had been inside her panties just a few hours ago.

Like Nichole’s fingers were inside her panties now, grazing over her labia.

The click of Ms. Henderson’s fingers on her keyboard was the only sound in the room.

It was so easy being quiet, Nichole’s arousal stoking higher and higher. As her thumb found her clit. As her other hand pawed at her breasts.

As Ms. Henderson looked up, Nichole falling into those blue eyes.

Still falling into them as she came, her world exploding, electric bliss riding up and down her nerves. But she didn’t blink, didn’t look away, those eyes holding her attention.

Nichole didn’t make a sound.

It was so much better that way.

The young intern didn’t make a sound that night either, lying in bed as her hands roamed over her body. Something told her she was allowed to do that. As long as she was quiet. She’d given the candles to her sisters, not that she remembered doing so anymore. Given them their instructions. And after they’d given the candles to their chosen recipients, Alice and Ruth wouldn’t remember that either.

It was what they’d been told to do.

Nichole tried to summon the image of her dark lover, brooding and handsome. She couldn’t. All that came to her was blue eyes and blonde hair and a face whose beauty took her breath away.

Nichole didn’t make a sound as she came, the image of Ms. Henderson’s face filling her mind.

By the side of her bed the candle burned, its blue flame filling the room.