The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Finally, Trini had to stop her lover; she desperately needed a break. She tapped Lizzie silently on the head; the Asian woman immediately ceased her tender licking. Tee laid her hand upon her own tummy, and quietly pointed toward the hallway. Understanding completely, Lizzie rolled away from her, freeing her to get up and use the bathroom.

Of course, it wasn’t quite that easy. The magic paint on her face forced her to act the way she looked, which currently happened to be like a mime. So instead of simply walking out the door, she had to mimic pulling her way forward against a strong wind. And when she finally sat down to do her business, she was only half-surprised when that turned out to be completely silent, too.

While she was there, she found herself thinking about what had happened so far—and what to do next. Merlynne’s strange makeup kit had done more than just alter their appearance; it actually turned them into whatever they’d painted themselves as. Moreover, some of the effects—her huge new breasts, Liz’s lactating nipples, their dual lack of pubic hair—had carried over from costume to costume.

Her lover was still lying on their bed, naked, waiting for her to return. She was unusually submissive, not at all like the Elizabeth Chang that Trini preferred. That was her own fault, really; she’d painted Liz to look like a hooker, and hookers do whatever their customers want. As she finished up and washed her white face (making a mental note that none of the paint seemed to come off), she imagined a soft voice, a woman’s voice, whispering in her ear. With a grin, she realized what she had to do.

Working her way back to her bedroom, she indicated that Lizzie could use the bathroom, which the brunette did gladly. While she was in there, Trini quickly sifted through the Costume Changes kit, until she came across just what she’d hoped to find: a tiny bottle labeled, “Gold Paint,” and a very fine brush.

When Lizzie returned, a few minutes later, Trini was sitting on the edge of the bed. She patted the spot right next to her, and her hooker-slut lover eagerly scooted over and sat down. Glancing at the items her silent friend was holding, Lizzie was enthusiastic. “Got another idea, ma’am? Ooh, I can’t wait! What do you need me to do?”

Smiling, Tee used both hands to gently pull her black-haired lover’s face closer to hers. She gave Liz a quick kiss on one cheek, before twisting open the small jar of gold-flecked paint. With quick but sure strokes, she painted a thin wavy line across Liz’s forehead—actually, a series of shallow crescents, with pointed crests and rounded troughs.

When she was done, the whole thing looked remarkably like a circlet. Or a crown. Trini smiled, and softly blew on the paint, as if to dry it.

Instantly, Lizzie’s demeanor changed. Where a moment ago she’d been compliant, now she was haughty. Even though they’d both been pretty much undressed all along, Trini suddenly felt naked; whereas Liz—make that Lady Elizabeth—was gloriously nude. Trembling, the blonde silently knelt before her liege lady, bowing her head.

“My subject and my lover, you may lift your head and look at me.” Lady Elizabeth’s voice held a timbre that Trini had never heard before. Instantly she found herself responding, gazing adoringly at the glory of her mistress. Deep within, she was actually relieved that she couldn’t speak; what would she have possibly said?

“Your appearance pleases us,” said Lady Elizabeth, “as does your subservience. But we tire of silence, and would hear your beautiful voice cry with passion once again.” She paused, considering. “And while we could simply restore your face back to its proper tone, we much prefer another idea. Look within Merlynne’s gift case, dearling, and fetch for us the whitest, blackest, and reddest paint you find.”

Tee jumped to do her mistress’s bidding; she was surprised and pleased to discover that she could move quickly. Apparently, although she still couldn’t speak, she no longer needed to act like a mime, at least not while following her lady’s commands. She quickly located the requested materials, as well as three fresh paintbrushes; it seemed the box had an unlimited supply, or maybe it magically recycled the used ones?

She placed the items within easy reach of her mistress, and was rewarded with a regal nod of approval. “You have done well; now come closer. Raise your chin slightly; that’s it. Close your eyes, and part your lips. Hold.”

Trini laughed to herself. Following that last command was easy, especially when one was a mime. For the next several minutes, she remained perfectly still, while Lady Elizabeth repainted her face to her own satisfaction. She even felt the touch of a brush on her eyebrows and lips, as she wondered what it was that her lady had planned for her....

Liz painted Tee’s face with smooth, sure strokes. Being Lady Elizabeth was wonderful; confidence and poise came naturally to her. The first thing to do, of course, was to convert her blonde lover from a court jester to a more proper subject. To that end, she finally put her minor in Asian Studies to good use.

She crafted a geisha.

The white face was already there; she simply touched it up and covered the red cheeks. She added bright red to the lips in a perfect moue, and painted the eyebrows into thin, tapering arches. After properly binding up all that yellow hair with the paintbrushes—which had somehow converted themselves into the right kind of ivory needles—she gently blew across her silent lover’s pouting lips.

The effect was astonishing. Instantly, Tee adopted a subservient posture, and quietly spoke her first words in over an hour. “What is it that you wish from me, my Lady?”

As was befitting a member of the royal family, Lady Elizabeth spoke without hesitation. “I believe a cleansing bath is in order. Then, I crave a relaxing massage, courtesy of my favorite handmaiden.”

Tee stood and bowed, at the proper angle and completely unconcerned about her nakedness. “You honor me, Lady. May I be permitted to withdraw and prepare your bath?”

“You may.” As her maidservant left, Elizabeth allowed herself to lay back on the bed, just as casual about her own lack of attire. Seconds later, she heard the water filling the tub; within ten minutes, Trini had returned, ready to bathe her Lady.

And bathe her she did, thoroughly and at length, using her fingers in a number of creative ways. Then she withdrew for exactly seven minutes, to give her Lady privacy, before returning to pat her dry with a soft towel.

Upon returning to the room, it was obvious that Trini had put those seven minutes to good use. The bed had been remade, with fresh satin sheets tucked into hospital corners. The lights had been dimmed, and a selection of scented oils had been placed on the nightstand. Lady Elizabeth supposed they had come from Merlynne’s kit, which Trini had apparently put away.

A good geisha does not need to ask what to do next; Trini was a very good geisha. Guiding her Lady to the bed, she had her lay facedown upon the wine-red satin. Then she put the oils to good use, warming them in her hands bit by bit, before applying them to her Lady’s perfect Asian skin. Elizabeth could feel her large nipples poking into the soft mattress; a slick warmth informed her that they were leaking milk again.

The perfect servant, Trini promptly took charge of the situation. She encouraged her mistress to roll over onto her back, and then straddled her; even as her hands applied the soothing oil to her Lady’s arms and throat, she allowed her mouth to siphon off the sweet warm fluid. Elizabeth shuddered with pleasure; she could feel another kind of slickness forming beneath her hairless mound.

Moving quickly without hurrying, Trini applied a coat of oil to the rest of her Lady’s perfect form. She seemed to know exactly how hard to press, how long to rub, for maximum sensation. And there seemed to be something in the oil itself that allowed the pleasure to linger, even after Trini’s hands had moved on. Lady Elizabeth luxuriated in the sensation, knowing that her servant was being drawn to her most intimate place like a moth to a flame.

A true geisha, Trini thought, ignores her own pleasure in favor of her mistress, and then takes her pleasure from that. Somehow knowing that her timing would be perfect, she allowed her brightly painted lips to descend upon her Lady’s moist and swollen mound. Her tongue easily slipped between the dark red labia, as she lapped up a thicker, more pungent juice than the sweet milk she’d fed upon minutes earlier. The tip of her tongue carefully wrapped itself around Lady Elizabeth’s womanly center—never anything so vulgar as a clit—cradling the super-sensitive nub as she gently hummed, coaxing yet another explosive orgasm from her mistress’s prone body.

And despite having received no direct stimulation, her own body climaxed immediately afterward; true to her calling, she had literally taken her own pleasure from her Lady’s. And even in the throes of her climax, she was careful not to let her tongue press directly against her mistress’s button, lest she cause her any undue discomfort.

Lady Elizabeth luxuriated in the sensation of climax; but she also recovered quickly. Even as she lay there, eyes closed while her attendant cleaned her nether regions, her mind was considering other possibilities. Trini was too perfect a subject, she thought; she anticipated every desire and never made a mistake. What Elizabeth really craved was someone to dominate....

She felt Trini’s weight shift, and opened her eyes; sure enough, the blonde geisha was kneeling beside the bed, Merlynne’s makeup kit cradled in her hands. “My Lady is not quite satisfied, and wishes to alter my appearance once again, does she not?” She seemed to already know the answer; and, surprisingly, did not seem disappointed.

Wordlessly, Lady Elizabeth received the kit from her maidservant. The items she needed were, of course, near the top. She began with a small jar of astringent, with which she removed the face, lip, and eyebrow paints. Then she unbound Trini’s yellow hair, returning the slender ivory needles to their magic case. Next, she applied a smooth foundation, followed by a bit of blush, a touch of mascara, a hint of lip gloss—simple yet effective enhancements to her busty handmaiden’s natural beauty.

But she didn’t stop there. Using a wide brush, she smeared a thick layer of a dark umber paint all around Trini’s neck, save for the very center of her throat (where, were she a man, her Adam’s apple would have been). There, using a metallic paint and a somewhat thinner brush, she painted a thick gold circle that connected the ends of the dark brown collar. An idea struck her; switching to an even thinner brush, she added two golden hoops that—to all appearances—looked like they were dangling from Trini’s erect nipples. Laying the brushes back in the kit, she leaned forward and blew gently across her roommate’s exposed throat.

“Ah!” T threw her chest forward. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she couldn’t help herself; her nipples had both suddenly felt like they were on fire! Looking down, she could easily make out the gold hoops, dangling from what appeared to be permanently erect dark red tips. And while she couldn’t see the thick collar around her throat, the mark of her servitude, she could definitely feel the heavy weight of it. It took all of her willpower to resist reaching up and touching it; she was in enough trouble already for her involuntary outburst.

Sure enough, Madame’s first words to her were a cold, “You flinched.”

T remained silent, eyes downward. She knew her punishment would be much worse if she spoke without permission.

Though she couldn’t see it, Madame nodded Her approval. “What do you have to say for yourself, child?”

The words came out in a rush. “I flinched, Madame. I’m sorry, Madame. I was startled by the pain—”

Madame cut her off. “The pain will be as nothing, compared to the pleasure of your punishment. Palm or paddle?”

T thought fast; Madame had never offered her a choice before. If she showed a preference, it might be taken as impertinence. “Whatever Madame prefers.”

“That was the right answer, My slave. Very good.” Madame shifted to the center of the bed, using a pillow to prop Her upper body against the headboard. “Lay across My lap, face down.”

In her eagerness to comply, T nearly vaulted over the bed. She quickly presented her bare bottom to Madame’s gaze, resting her head in her folded arms. The position forced her bottom upward, and her newly-pierced and still sensitive nipples into the satin sheet; she knew that if Madame desired, She would be able to see and feel just how wet T was starting to become.

T thought for sure that Madame would use the paddle, at least at first. She was proven wrong, as her Asian mistress caressed and stroked her lower half, from her waist to the backs of her knees. She knew better than to look; so she had only the subtle shift in Madame’s weight as a warning, before the first smack landed directly on the flat of her left thigh.

She tried to make no sound; what came out was a barely-audible hum. Seconds later, she hissed inward as a second smack laid itself across her right thigh, followed immediately by another on the small of her back.

Madame seemed more amused than upset. In a soft voice, She chided Her slave. “Have you forgotten how to count, T? I suppose we shall have to begin again.”

Those three wouldn’t even count? T bit her lip with frustration at her own mistake. “Yes, Madame. May T ask a question?”

“Ask.”

Madame’s flat tone indicated that that was not the best course of action; but she knew that backpedaling now would make things much worse. “Is T permitted to know the number of strokes of her punishment?”

A hint of amusement crept into Madame’s voice. “Yes.” T heaved a soft sigh of relief, then almost choked when she heard the response. “Ten more than she would have, had she not asked that question.”

With that, Madame’s hand cracked down directly on her ass, hard. T huffed with the unexpectedness of it, and then managed to choke out, “One.”

By seven, she was shuddering; by fifteen, she was crying silent tears. But through the pain, a strange sensation of warmth had started to rekindle within her loins. Even as each new love tap hurt her worse than the one before, she felt herself struggling not to squirm from arousal. She could feel her lower lips swell and separate; she hoped Madame wouldn’t punish her, for her lubrication wetting Her thigh.

Twenty-three; thirty-one; forty. T was openly sobbing, and no longer able to contain her squirming. She knew that she would climax within another ten strokes; she also knew that if she dared do so without permission, it could be a month or more before she would be allowed another.

Madame paused in Her punishment, allowing Her hand to drift between Her slave’s spread thighs. She gathered some of her nectar on Her finger, enjoying both the scent and the taste of T’s juices. “You have been good today, T; I have decided to reward you. Turn over.”

T squirmed onto her back, trying not to hiss as her bright red bottom made contact with Madame’s naked thighs. What she saw through the blur of her tears nearly made her climax right there: Madame’s own full breasts were swollen once again, full of passion and milk; spots of white liquid dotted both areoles, and had even started to run down Her chest.

She struggled to maintain her composure, even as Madame’s left hand began to tug at and play with her new gold rings. In the back of her mind, she realized that she had only been a slave for about twenty minutes, but she felt as if it had been her whole life. Bending to Madame’s wishes had become the only thing that mattered.

“Aiiyeee!” Her eyes closed, T had been completely unprepared for Madame’s next strike, hard across the front of one of her thighs. She barely had enough time to sputter, “F-forty-one,” through clenched teeth, before Madame had evened things out with a smack to the other exposed thigh.

“Eight more, My sweet. Fifty strokes total, and then you may have your release.” Unspoken was the word, “Unless.” T silently thanked Madame; she’d been in danger of crumbling, but knowing the goal gave her the fortitude she needed to hold on.

Those eight strokes were the sweetest torment. T never faulted in her counting, and never tried to cover herself up, though several times she almost faltered—the hardest was the forty-sixth stroke, applied directly to her exposed and hairless mound, which caused her to arch upward with a combination of pain and ecstasy. To make matters worse, while Madame never actually struck T’s massive breasts, She seemed to relish the pleasurable spikes of pain She delivered, as she pinched and pulled, groped and stroked....

Smack. “Ah! Forty-eiiiight....”

Slap. “Forty-nigh-yine....”

Whack! “Fiftee-eeyaaaahh!” Even as She delivered the final stroke, Madame inserted Her index finger within T’s slick channel, and laid Her thumb directly onto her throbbing clit. It was probably overkill; T was primed to explode anyway, at just that moment. In fact, her climax was so forceful, she actually gushed pussy juice, for the first time in her life!

Minutes later, she was happy to return the favor, as she knelt in front of Madame and contentedly suckled away the pent-up pressure inside Her leaky breasts—and, almost incidentally, brought Her to the final climax of the evening. Then Madame had her stand next to the bed, while She applied a skin-toned lotion that covered up the red areas, and instantly made the hurt go away. They celebrated by showering off together, before happily tumbling into bed, instantly falling into a deep sleep filled with peaceful dreams.

The next morning, Trini and Liz woke up together, still naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. The feeling was so wonderful, it took them a moment to realize three things: Liz was back to being Liz, Tee was back to being Tee—and in their mystical night of passion, they’d both missed the Halloween party they’d actually ordered the costume kit for.

It took each of them another few minutes of joyful exploration to discover that Merlynne had left them with some lovely parting gifts. Liz’s breasts, while no longer lactating, remained full and silicone-free. Tee’s own rack—still pierced, by the way—had gone up two whole cup sizes; she’d have to borrow some of her lover’s bras until she had a chance to buy new ones of her own. And with a pleasant shock, they both found out that they were still perfectly hairless down below, with not even the least bit of itchy morning stubble to ruin the sensation.

The kit itself, of course, was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t seem to faze either of them; they both got the sense that when it was needed, it would turn up once more.

Magically, of course.