The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Juicy Jungle”

Emily set out the washcloth before she got into the shower, and placed the razor and the scissors on top of it reverently. Laying out the tools had become a ritual, now, the months of repetition steadying Emily’s mind into a meditative state even before she really started. She put the shaving gel next to the washcloth, and started the hot water running. Then she stepped into the stall.

As always, the warm water reminded Emily of her first time with Janelle. Not the first time they chatted online, or even the first time they spoke on the phone and Janelle’s husky, whiskey-worn voice sent Emily spiraling down into her very first hypnotic trance, but the first time Emily flew to visit her in person. She remembered dragging herself off the plane, exhausted by the long flight and the multiple connections, and meeting Janelle down in the baggage claim with a weary smile on her face. The older woman took one look at her, and said, “What you need, little one, is a little tender loving care.”

Even if it hadn’t been a trigger, Emily would probably have sagged into Janelle’s arms just as readily. Seeing Janelle felt more like coming home than coming home did; she’d spent so long online gazing into those dark brown eyes and letting go of her thoughts that she associated them with peace, safety and comfort automatically. She gave in to her exhaustion and sank into trance instantly, then allowed Janelle to lead her out to the car and bundle her into the passenger seat as easily as if the other woman had carried her.

And when they got back to Janelle’s studio, Janelle led her right back to the bathroom, peeling off Emily’s travel-worn clothes and stroking Emily’s body with her strong, callused hands until Emily was giddy with pleasure. Then Janelle pulled her faded pink T-shirt up over her head, her braids making gentle clacking noises as they swung back down against the dark mahogany skin of her back, and shimmied her dark red skirt off with a few shakes of her hips. Emily couldn’t help noticing that Janelle wasn’t wearing any panties. She gazed into the lush tangles of Janelle’s pubic hair with undisguised fascination.

Before Emily’s foggy mind could realize it, Janelle was drawing her into the massive shower stall, taking her by the hands and leading her along while her eyes remained locked onto Janelle’s beautiful mound. So many times, she’d fantasized about kneeling in front of Janelle, inhaling her scent, nuzzling the soft thatch of downy hair, and to see it right here brought back all those memories at once. She barely even noticed the warm water sluicing down her skin.

But she noticed when Janelle turned her around and stepped into her, the older woman’s small breasts pressing into Emily’s back as those practiced, strong, stoneworker’s hands found Emily’s nipples. She couldn’t stop noticing the way that the dark skin of Janelle’s fingers contrasted beautifully with her pale body as Janelle worked the soft flesh of her tits, finding just the right spots to tease with the skill of an experienced lover. She couldn’t help the way her legs spread as Janelle caressed her way down to Emily’s smooth, slick labia. She couldn’t resist gasping and moaning as her head fell back against Janelle’s shoulder and her eyes drifted lazily shut from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

Emily’s hands were much softer than her Mistress’s rough fingers. But every time she masturbated in the shower, Emily pictured Janelle touching her.

Finally, her knees a little bit wobbly from pleasure, Emily finished cleaning herself off and stepped out of the shower. The room was thick with steamy, humid air, and not for the first time Emily was grateful that her apartment had a tankless water heater. It meant that she could spend as long as she wanted in the shower, pushing her fingers in and out of her slippery cunt and whimpering out Janelle’s name as she came, and still have time for the ritual. Her favorite ritual, now.

She went to the sink and turned on the hot water, letting it get as warm as she could stand before she slid the washcloth out from under the razor and scissors and got it soaking wet. She moved the tools to the corner of the sink, next to the toilet, and turned the faucet off. Only then did she sit down on the toilet with her legs spread wide.

She looked down at her pubic mound, thinking back to the way Janelle had teased it with her fingers as they lay together on Janelle’s old mattress. Janelle was lying on her side, her head down near Emily’s waist, her eyes glittering with excitement as she ran her thumb across the smooth skin and massaged the slick fluids glistening on Emily’s labia all over until Emily’s vulva practically gleamed.

Emily panted with arousal, then and now, remembering the helpless anticipation in her heavy limbs as she gazed at the thick, curly tangle of hair veiling Janelle’s pussy lips from her view. She was just waiting for the moment when Janelle would straddle her face, giving her the chance to worship Janelle’s clit with her tongue the way she’d ached to do for so many months...but the other woman seemed perfectly content to play with Emily’s sleepy, hypnotized body like she was a favorite toy.

Now, of course, Emily’s bush looked a lot more like Janelle’s. Her mound was covered with a jungle of fiery red pubic hair, still wet with the moisture from the shower and from Emily’s climax. Tiny little droplets clung to each little twist, and as Emily’s fingers brushed through them she could feel them giving up some of that wetness. Her fingers drifted lower, dancing lightly against her labia, and she knew that she was making herself damp all over again.

She put the washcloth against her skin, hissing out a gasp of shock as the hot fabric seeped warmth all through her cunt. It felt almost too hot at first, but after a moment her body became used to the heat and everything became deliciously, sensuously warm down there. Emily found herself rhythmically massaging herself through the terry cloth, sighing in bliss at the warmth and the pressure on her clit.

It was always so easy to take her time with this part of the ritual. Emily sat back as best she could, her head lolling against the wall as she closed her eyes and gave in to a reverie of Janelle, telling her how beautiful her body was as she slowly slid two fingers in and out of Emily’s pussy. “You have such a pretty clitty, little one,” she heard in her mind, the words etched into her memory by months of furious masturbation. “You’re so gorgeous lying there like that. You don’t need to do anything at all to be perfect for me.”

Emily grunted in pleasure as the mental image wrung another orgasm out of her. She felt her juices gush into the washcloth, saturating it even further as she held it close to her skin. That week with Janelle took their relationship to a whole other level—not physically closer, she lamented, thinking about the two years of grad school she still had remaining, but she felt so much more profoundly submissive to Janelle now than she ever had. The loving grip of Janelle’s hypnosis seemed even stronger now, impossible to resist, and Emily lived for the little moments each day when she could show her devotion to her Mistress.

And Saturdays, when she could relax and take her time and truly sink into blissful surrender, were Emily’s favorite day of the week now.

She finally removed the washcloth, the relatively cool air of the bathroom smacking her mound like a physical force. Emily let out a long, slow, shuddering breath as the endorphin buzz kicked in, leaving her dizzy with pleasure. She was glad she was sitting down—if she had to get up right now, she didn’t think she would be able to. Her legs felt rubbery, just like the end of the first night with Janelle. “How many times have you cum for me, little one?” No matter how many times Emily heard that question in her head, she still didn’t know.

She reached out for the scissors with trembling fingers, then paused for a moment to steady herself. The last thing she needed was to cut herself obeying Janelle. Mistress wouldn’t want her to do that. Once her hand stopped shaking, she lowered the scissors down to the thicket of pubic hair between her legs. “Yes Mistress,” she whispered out loud, her attention focused raptly on the gleaming metal of the scissor blades.

She let the cool metal rest against her skin for a moment, careful to keep the scissors closed and the point well away from her body. The room was beginning to lose its steamy heat, and Emily could feel the way the moisture settled onto her body like a gentle dew. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her thoughts drift back to that first night with Janelle and the way that her Mistress guided her gently out of the humid air of the bathroom to slump onto the mattress. “Deeper and deeper, little one,” she whispered that night. “As deep as you can go.”

Emily’s free hand drifted down between her legs, remembering the way she sagged deep into Janelle’s embrace and Janelle’s power at the same time. She recalled Janelle’s braids brushing against her skin as the older woman laid her down on the mattress, placed gentle pressure against Emily’s knees until her legs spread wide open and her smooth, shaved pussy was exposed to the cooler air. It felt so erotic, being limp and blank and drowsy under Mistress’s touch for the first time. Emily had never been so wet in her life.

She thumbed her clit, the vision of Janelle’s caresses now more real to her than the room around her. “Such a pretty girl, my little one,” she heard, Janelle’s growl of desire overwhelming the gentle drip of the faucet or the sound of her own breath. “So beautifully submissive. You want to please me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Emily whispered, both in the reality and the fantasy. Her right hand continued gripping the scissors, knowing she could start trimming whenever she was ready, and her left hand frigging her wet pussy. The ritual of obedience always made her so endlessly aroused. She knew she would cum again before long.

In her head, though, she heard the next few words, delivered with the foggy cadence of the heavily entranced. “...do You...like it?” she whispered, as Janelle’s fingers began to trace the contours of her labia. “...just shaved...this morning...” She felt Janelle dipping into her wet cunt, drawing the moisture out over her smooth mound. She remembered that spasm of fear, the worry that somehow she had failed her Mistress by shaving herself.

And then Janelle’s words, husky with desire as she began to play with Emily in earnest. “You’re so beautiful, my sweet girl,” she said, erasing all of Emily’s fears with a single soft whisper. “You have such a pretty clitty, little one. You’re so gorgeous lying there like that. You don’t need to do anything at all to be perfect for me. You’re beautiful just the way you are. You are naturally submissive, naturally obedient, naturally mine. And natural is all you need to be to please me.”

Emily moaned loudly, her fingers pumping in and out of her pussy. She could feel the bridge between her thumb and forefinger pressing rhythmically against her furred mound, bumping her clit again and again, and the scissors were forgotten as her hand smeared her pussy juices helplessly into her pubic hair. “N-naturally...submissive,” she gasped out, chanting Janelle’s words over and over again as she brought herself to a third climax. “Naturally...obedient, nuh-nnh...naturally yours. Naturally submissive...naturally obedient, naturally yours.”

Her eyes flew open at the moment of climax, locking onto her bush with renewed intensity as she saw it for what it truly was—a mark of her surrender. Everything about her natural body was just another reminder of her natural submission to Mistress, and every week she could show that Mistress’s power over her was stronger than all the smooth-shaven girls she saw in the videos she used to masturbate to. They always acted like a woman needed to be smooth to be pretty, but Mistress knew the truth. Emily was naturally submissive. Naturally obedient. “Naturally yours!” she cried out, as she came again.

Finally, she carefully lifted the scissors away from her jungle of wet, sticky pubic hair and laid them on the counter. She sat where she was for a long moment, recovering her breath and letting some of the rubbery feeling out of her limbs. Only then did she stand up and put the razor, the scissors, and the shaving gel away in the cabinet where they had been sitting, unused, ever since Emily returned from her visit to Janelle.

Someday, when she moved to be with her Mistress forever, Emily knew she would throw them away completely. But for now, she brought them out every week to remind herself that whatever habits she used to have, whatever she used to think beauty was when she looked in the mirror, it was Mistress who owned her body. And Mistress loved to see her just the way nature made her.

“Naturally yours,” she whispered a final time. Only then did she allow herself to get dressed. Her ritual was over, but Emily was thrilled to know that her submission to Janelle never ended.

THE END