The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In the city of New York, there once resided a young woman, a wealthy girl of class and high breeding. Coming from a rich family of old money, her ideals in life had been set for her at a very early age: to bask in the hard work of others, to gain the most benefit you could from any and every resource, before you discarded it, and to let no one dictate your life to you, but to seize control and hold on with an iron grip. These ideals had led her to a successful business career, The woman, whose name was Bridgette, soon reaped the rewards of a life filled with greed and voracity. It was Christmas eve, and she sat at her desk on the top floor of her office, steadily checking and rechecking the annual year end budget report. Frowning, she pressed the intercom, summoning her secretary, Julie Maxwell.

“Ms. Maxwell, come in here please,” she said. “I need you to dictate a memo for me.”

Seconds later, the wasp waisted brunette entered, sitting down demurely at her chair. Bridgette immediately began speaking. “Take this down. By order of the CEO of Douglas Consolidation Corporation, the following areas will experience a twenty-five percent downsizing, effective today: accounting, marketing, and sales. All other sections will be under cost-reduction protocols, and all department heads are to submit weekly totals to the company CEO no later than one o’ clock, each Friday. Signed, Bridgette Douglas.”

Julie wrote down every word, frowning slightly. “Got it, Ms. Douglas. Do you wish me to read it back to you?”

“No, I am sure you have it all down correctly.” Bridgette smiled at her secretary. “You have been an dedicated and hard working assistant for how many years now?”

“For more than twenty years, ma’am,” she said proudly. “I started here right out of high school. I worked for the former CEO, then for your father when he bought control of the corporation, and then for you for the past five years.”

“Yes,” Bridgette replied, moving back to her desk, as if already bored with the question. “In all that time, I don’t think you have ever missed a day of work. You have been here, rain, snow, sleet, or natural disaster, no matter what. I think this company needs more hard working and dependable people like you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Douglas,” Julie said, smiling grandly. “I’m glad that you appreciate my hard work.”

“Yes, and I’m afraid I shall really miss you when you go. Here’s your notice, Ms. Maxwell.” She held up a pink slip, to Julie’s utter horror. “See Jennings down in personnel for your severance pay. It has been a pleasure.”

“What? I’m FIRED?” Julie shook her head in denial, tear starting to well up in her deep brown eyes. “But why? I don’t understand...all the nice things you just said...all my hard work, and the long hours...and you are firing me?”

“Take it easy, Ms. Maxwell,” Bridgette said holding up a hand. “It’s true that you do a great job, and that your work has been impeccable. But we have a problem here. My company has a lot of dead weight holding it back, keeping it from rising fully to the top. Did you know that Forbes ranked Douglas Consolidation as the tenth largest conglomerate in the US? Tenth!! That’s why I am determined to cut loose all of this dead weight until we rise to number one! As good as a secretary as you are, I can get along without you, so you are gone.”

“But...but its Christmas Eve for Christ’s sakes!” Julie shook her head. “How could you do something like this NOW, of all times? I have bills to pay, a child to support, and living by myself in New York city with no job, how long do you think I will last?”

“I’m afraid that is none of my concern,” Bridgette said coolly. “I wish you luck finding employment elsewhere, and rest assured you will receive the highest of recommendations from us. But your services are no longer needed.” She picked up the phone, holding it up for Julie to see. “Shall I call security and have someone escort you to the front door?”

Deflated and defeated, Julie sighed. “No need. I’m leaving. You’re a terrible person, Bridgette Douglas. You have no Christmas spirit in you at all. You’re not even human to do what you are doing.” She walked to the door and grabbed her hat and coat. “But mark my words, one day you will get yours. People like you always get what you deserve in the end. Merry Christmas!” she exclaimed angrily as she walked out. Bridgette shook her head, muttering. Almost unbidden, the words came to her lips.

“Hmph. Christmas. Bah, humbug!”

Bridgette’s day went quite well. By the end of the day, she had laid off more than seventy people, cutting the operating costs of her company by thirty percent. Like Julie Maxwell, they had all expressed their horror and anger at being released at this time of the year, but what did they expect? During December, productivity always fell, operating costs always soared, and everyone looked forward to yet another free holiday vacation from work. It never ceased to amaze her how everyone could get so uptight about Christmas, which was just another day of the year. Not a religious woman, she failed to see the glory of the holiday, what it represented. And being rich, receiving presents on a regular basis as a child, she failed to see even the secular point of view for such a holiday. Good will towards all? The Joy of Giving? Utter nonsense. Mindless drivel. At least the day was over for her, and she could go home to her large mansion, let the servants draw her bath, and sink down, relax, and forget all about the upcoming holiday.

Her limo driver met her at the door, as always. He tipped his hat to her and said, smiling, “Merry Christmas, Ms. Douglas.” Bridgette had to restrain herself from punching him. If one more person said that to her, she didn’t think she would be able to refrain from the notion.

“Christmas,” she said through gritted teeth, “is a day just like any other. Now get me home, Charles, and be quick about it. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get to bed and sleep through this stupid day.” A little taken aback by his employer, Charles merely opened her door, let her inside, then shut it, climbing into the driver’s seat and taking the express route home. Bridgette scoffed at the houses that they passed by, decorated with brightly colored lights and tinsel and big plastic figures. Fools, they all were. They might be merry and jolly right now, but there would be little joy in them when they received their light bill next month.

Finally she arrived home, and not even waiting for Charles to open her door, rushed inside the house, dropping her coat and suitcase next to the door. “Beatrice, be a dear and ready a bath, and a hot mug of co...co...? Beatrice? BEATRICE?” Bridgette glanced about her dark and empty house, warm, thanks to the well banked fireplace, but otherwise dark. “Where are you?”

“Oh, madam, I didn’t expect you here so soon,” her maid said, coming down the stairs. “I was working on the last few presents for my family, and I—”

“Skip it,” Bridgette said simply. “If its about Christmas, I just don’t wish to hear it. Draw me a bath and fix me a mug of hot cocoa. I want to just relax and let this entire holiday pass me by so I can get back to work.”

“Yes, of course, madam,” Beatrice said softly, then added tentatively. “Excuse me for bothering you, madam...but about our bonuses...”

“What? WHAT? a Bonus?” Bridgette turned, looking at her maid as if she had turned green and sprouted antennae. “Are you serious? Just because its a holiday?”

“Well, madam, your late father—God rest his soul—he was a very frugal man, and very concerned about money, as you are, but he still gave us a little something extra in our paycheck on Christmas. You’ve run his company for him for five years, ever since his ill health forced him to step down, but now that he is gone, I wondered if you knew about the bonus that he gave—”

“I am quite aware of ALL my father’s financial obligations, Beatrice,” she said, coldly. “My father was a great man, and a smart entrepreneur, but a poor businessman. He could have built his fortune up much more if he had cut back on unnecessary costs, and needless spending. Such as yearly bonuses.” She turned and stared her maid straight in the eyes. “You and your family receive a fair and competitive wage here, I provide you with room and board free, so that you may be on call whenever I need you, I provide everything you could possibly need. I do NOT feel that you need a yearly Christmas bonus. Not this year, nor any other year thereafter. Is that understood?”

Beatrice stood, stiff-lipped, and red-faced. Slowly she nodded. “Yes Madam. It is fully understood. I shall prepare your bath and your drink. Will there be anything else before I retire for the evening to be with my family?”

Bridgette thought a moment, then shook her head. “NO, that will suffice. But I shall be sure to call you should I require anything else, so have your pager on. Goodnight, Beatrice.” With that, the woman climbed her stairs to her bedroom, leaving her maid, fuming silently.

Sitting on her bed, reading the last of the Wall Street Journal, Bridgette Douglas covered her mouth as she yawned for the third time. After the relaxing bubble bath, and the hot sinfully sweet drink, she found it hard to stay awake. Folding her paper and placing it to the side, she crawled under the covers, switched off the light, and settled down to sleep. A slight flicker of light drew her eye, and mumbling, she opened both eyes to find herself staring at a beautiful soft light...a glowing ball of iridescence. Eyes wide open now, she followed the glittering ball of light, following its soft dance, back and forth, back and forth, then up and down...it was the strangest thing she had ever seen, yet she found that she couldn’t look away. After a few moments, she found herself relaxing somewhat. Whatever the phenomenon was, it meant her no harm. It was a soft light, gentle to the eyes even in this darkness, and pleasant to look on. Bridgette soon found herself smiling softly as she watched the twinkling light dance before her eyes, enjoying the light hazy sensation that filled her as her eyes took in the glorious light show. Then suddenly, the light winked out, fading into nothingness, to be replaced by three shadows, moving towards her. Frightened again, Bridgette reached for the lamp at her desk, and turning it on, gasped in surprise.

In front of her stood three very familiar and strangely dressed women.

The first was dressed in an old Victorian style night shift, all brown and black, something that perhaps an Amish woman might have worn a few hundred years ago preparing for bed. The woman’s face was what shocked her, however, as it belonged to her fifty year old maid, Beatrice. The second woman, dressed in a slightly more modern and colorful look, wore a combination Carnival fruit festival costume, and Santa suit, but one that clearly exposed and accentuated the woman’s curves in all the right spots. The face, however, belonged to none other than her young, recently fired secretary, Julie Maxwell. The third woman, she did not recognize, and had never seen her before, yet somehow she had the feeling that she KNEW her. This woman was dressed in nothing, opting for the complete natural look. All three women gazed down upon her, smiling in a most irritable way, and Bridgette, in typical Douglas fashion, picked up a pillow from her bed and flung it at them with all her might.

The pillow passed right through them and hit the opposite wall.

NOW Bridgette was scared. Pillows did not pass through people. It was physically impossible. And now, she noticed an unearthly glow about the three women, who seemed to lightly pulse with the same glow as the marvelous floating ball of light she had spotted earlier. But...if it was impossible, then what was going on? “Who...who are—”

“Be silent!” all three women said at once, effectively silencing Bridgette. “You wish to know who we are. It is simple. Your misdeeds have brought us into existence, and tonight we shall change your life, for the better. We are your last chance for absolution, Bridgette Douglas. Your LAST chance. Otherwise, there is no escape for you from the abyss.”

Bridgette began to shudder in utter terror now. This was something fantastic, out of a nightmare. It couldn’t be happening...could it? Nightmare. That’s it! I must be dreaming, that’s all. When I wake up in the morning, all this will be over and done with.

“NOT so, young one,” the Victorian dressed woman said. “This is no dream, this is all very real. What happens tonight will change you forever, or you shall not live to see the morrow.” Bridgette shuddered again. Could these beings read her very thoughts? “Yes, we can,” the middle woman replied, tilting her head slightly, causing the fruit on her costume to shift slightly. “Your thoughts are crystal clear to us; indeed your wicked thoughts and your horrible behavior are, like, what brought us into existence.” Bridgette shook here head in denial, closing her eyes, trying to block out the sight and sound of them, only to feel a cold, icy hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw the third woman, the naked one, looking down at her, smiling. “You may think of us like the Three Ghosts of Christmas, from the story, if you wish. Yes, that would please us, I think. We are something...different. But for your feeble little mind, that analogy will suffice. Now, come. we have much to do, and so little time!”

Bridgette felt herself rising against her will, her hands pushing back the bedcovers, and her body rising from the bed, to follow her unearthly visitors. The first “ghost”, the Victorian dressed one, took her hand. “Close your eyes for a moment, young one, and we shall go back in time, back to a time and place where you were once young and innocent.” Bridgette did as she was bid, and when she opened her eyes again, she gasped to see herself in her house, back the way it was years ago, full of life and people, and many happy servants. A Christmas tree sat in the lobby, and stockings were hung on the fireplace. “Christmas time, when you were five years old, my dear,” the ghost said softly, leading her upstairs. “A very memorable time for you, it sparked the first seeds of your wicked and evil behavior. Do you remember what is about to happen?”

Bridgette closed her eyes and nodded, frightened at all that was occurring. “Yes, I do. Please...must we go through this again? It was horrible and disgusting the first time I saw it. Please, do not make me go through this again!”

The ghost chuckled softly, sounding so much like her maid’s laugh, that she almost gave pause. “Now now, my dear, you must endure this for your own good. You were a child then, but you are an adult now. Look again through grown-up eyes and see. Understand that which you are about to witness!”

Indeed, the scene was playing out just as she remembered it. As she watched, a cute young five year old girl snuck out from her bedroom, making her way across the hallway, to hide and watch downstairs to get a peek at Santa Claus coming inside the house. Getting comfortable, she snuggled down in her blanket, watching, waiting, listening for the tale-tale sounds of reindeer and jingle bells. Instead, as she listened, she heard another strange sound, something she had not heard before, coming from one of the rooms to her right. Moving cautiously, the girl tip-toed to the room, and leaning close, peeked through the keyhole to behold something out of her imagination.

Suddenly, Bridgette was inside the room with the ghost, seeing everything from all angles while her younger self watched, spellbound, from the keyhole. Inside, her sweet adoring nanny, the self-same woman that had grown up to become her loyal maid, was lying naked on the bed, sweat rolling off her like huge raindrops, her back arched, her nipples peaked and ridged with sexual pleasure. Loud earthy moans were being ineffectually muffled by the pillow at her side, as another woman writhed against her, licking and sucking the nanny’s love button, sending her higher and higher into pleasure with each soft gentle lick. The other woman, in return, was being pleasured by the maid’s fingers delving deep inside HER pussy, finger-fucking her with lewd abandon. Young five-year-old Bridgette could not understand what was happening, only that it was horribly and terribly WRONG, but adult-Bridgette had a name for it. Lesbian sex. Her nanny, her maid, a woman with a husband and two young children, was also a pussy-eating dyke! It boggled her mind, seeing it again in glorious color. How could she have forgotten this after all these years?

“OOOHHHHH!!!” the woman on the bed cried out as she came, her back arching painfully as her partner’s skillful tongue sent her over the edge, soon followed by her as well, the nanny’s expert fingers bringing her off. With a sigh of pleasure, the other woman raised her head, turning into view of both Bridgette’s and both gasped almost simultaneously at the sight of their own MOTHER!

“Yes,” the ghost said, softly, as the scene before them froze in time. “Your mother was the ‘disgusting pussy-eating dyke’ that was pleasuring your maid. In your young mind it was so horrible a thing that you blocked it out, hid what you had seen from your own mind, except the subconscious NEVER forgets, it keep a record of everything you see and hear. Deep inside, that one scene warped you, letting your hatred for your mother and your wish to be nothing like her consume you. As you grew older, you refrained from any relationship at all, with the opposite sex or same sex—it didn’t matter. You wanted nothing to do with it at all. As a result, you never knew the quiet joys and pleasures of holding a lover’s body next to your own, you never experienced what it is to truly be in love. You closed off your heart, and concentrated solely on what you could obtain in the ‘real world’!” The scene changed again, as the child ran down the hall, scared, frightened, and turned to the only one she thought could help her. Her daddy.

Bursting into his room, she found another surprise. Her daddy was in bed with a young woman, riding her like s bucking bronco. Looking up at his daughter in horror, the old man paused, trying to think of a way to explain what was going on, and what he was doing up there with the groundskeeper’s daughter. Climbing off her and putting on a robe, he turned to the woman, pointing to the door. Embarrassed, the naked woman ran out of the room, and Arnold Douglas picked up his daughter and placed her in his lap.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, my dear,” he said. “What daddy was doing...its something that BIG people do, when they feel sad and upset and want to feel happy again. Your mother...your mother has been cold...frigid really, the past few years since we had you. And she has been making daddy VERY sad. That woman there, she was just trying to make daddy HAPPY again, you understand?” The girl nodded woodenly. “Good girl. Now, we don’t want your mommy to know that she was making daddy happy, because then MOMMY would be sad, and would go away and take half of daddy’s money...and that would make DADDY very very sad! So, to make sure you remember not to tell mommy, daddy is going to give you a special present this year. Remember when you said you wanted a pony, but mommy said no? Well if you are a good girl and NEVER tell mommy then I’ll make sure Santa Claus brings you a pony!”

The scene switched back to the other bedroom, where the two women remained frozen in time. Adult-Bridgette sighed deeply, as the memory of that time came back to her, her adult mind understanding perfectly what had happened. “I know what they were doing now,” she whispered to the ghost. “Mom was getting her kicks with the female staff, and so was dad. One day, however, dad managed to catch mom in the act. He divorced her, left her penniless, destitute. I never saw her again after that, but because of what I had seen that night, I never cried for her. It was good that she was gone. Now it was just me and my daddy.”

“Yes, a travesty, that,” the ghost said softly, and for a moment, Bridgette thought she heard a wistful sadness in her voice. “Your mother simply tired of being poked and prodded by the old man’s limp dick for all these years. She stopped getting enjoyment from it. It was no longer a pleasure for her, only a chore. So she turned to a new source for her pleasures. And no one knows a woman’s body like another woman.” Bridgette gazed down at herself, noticing for the first time that she was completely naked. In shock, she tried covering herself with her hand. The ghost laughed. “Silly girl, modesty in front of other women is like spitting in the wind. It’s futile, it doesn’t get you anywhere, and in the end you only look foolish. But perhaps you need to see for yourself what you’ve been missing.” With a wave of her hand, the ghost disappeared, leaving Bridgette alone in the room with her young nanny and her mother frozen in time. Suddenly things went back to normal, and the two women looked up to see a beautiful naked young woman standing there watching them. They smiled.

“Who are you, kitten?” her mother asked her, sliding her hands across Bridgette’s soft flat tummy. “You’re a real beauty, but I don’t think I have seen you on our staff before. What’s your name?”

Bridgette, wild-eyed, opened her mouth to say, “Your daughter!” or to tell her to “Leave me alone you disgusting dyke bitch!” but instead what came out is, “You can call me Kitten if you like. Please, play with me. I want so badly to play with you!” Covering her lying betraying mouth, Bridgette soon found herself lying on the bed, as the two beautiful women began kissing and licking on her supple nude body. She tried to struggle, wanted badly to struggle, but her limbs wouldn’t obey her any more than her tongue would. It was as if she were a passenger in her own body, which someone else was controlling. Soon, however, her mother’s sweet supple lips on her smooth shaven pussy drove all thoughts of escape from her mind. A feeling of intense pleasure shot up between her legs, and for the first time in her life, Bridgette Douglas had an orgasm. The feeling was intoxicating, and she felt her body writhing, luxuriating in the sensations she had never before dreamed possible. But her skillful mother was far from done. Spreading her puffy pink labia wide, she began skillfully tonguing her slit, making Bridgette pant and writhe all the more, as her voice came back to her she heard herself began to chant, “Yes, mommy, yes...yes mommy yes...lick your little girl...YES MOMMY! Just like that...ohhh ohhh...yes, Mommy, lick your little girl’s pussy, Mommy, make her cum, make her cream herself, make HER FUCKING CUM NOW!!! AAAAAAIIIIIEEEEEE!!” Bridgette screamed her passion, feeling her body ignite, the sensation of her mother between her legs, tonguing like a madwoman, her dutiful nurse licking and sucking her toes, while her hands caressed her all over...it was too much. Back arching in pleasure, Bridgette rode the spasms of bliss into sweet oblivion.

Coming to a while later, Bridgette awoke to find herself back in her own bed, still in her bedclothes, with her hand, wet and sticky, still between her thighs. Sighing softly, she rode a small gentle aftershock of pleasure. Oh my God! If that is what sex is like, I was a fool to wait so damn long to experience it.

“I see you have changed already, and for the better,” a voice said. Sitting up, Bridgette say to her terror, that the ghosts were back, that it had not been a simple dream after all. Groaning, she pushed the bedcovers back and climbed out. Strangely, she didn’t seem to fear them as much as she did before. Perhaps she WAS changing for the better. This time the middle ghost stepped forward. Reaching out, she took Bridgette’s hand. “Close your eyes, and we shall be off, this time to a different place in the same time.” Obeying her ghost’s commands, Bridgette opened her eyes to find herself in a small apartment. It took her a few minutes to recall where she had seen it before, but eventually she knew.

“This is Julie’s apartment. Julie Maxwell! It’s YOUR apartment,” she said to the ghost, who frowned, and glared at her.

“I am NOT Julie Maxwell, girl! You had best get used to it. I may LOOK like her in this form, but Julie could not simply wave her hand and alter time and space. If you like, I could assume the form of a rotting worm ridden corpse, all the better for you to tell the difference.” As she spoke, the woman’s flesh began to dry and crack, bones poking through the flesh, and worms starting oozing out of her pores. Screaming in terror, Bridgette pulled away, cowering. With a grin, the ghost resumed her Julie disguise. “There, now that THAT is settled, watch and learn.”

Moments later, Julie walked in, carrying a heavy bag of groceries. “Honey, can you come and help me with this please?” A young skinny boy, about ten or eleven, entered the room, limping slightly. “Sure mom, no problem.” Awkwardly, he took one of the bags, carrying it across the tiny room into the kitchenette. “Did you get lots of cookies this year, mom? I really love those store bought sugar cookies!”

Laughing, Julie opened the bag and took out a single cookie. “Here you go, Aaron. Don’t let it spoil your appetite though. I’m almost finished with dinner, and we’ll eat just as soon as Roger gets here.”

“Oh mom, one little cookie won’t hurt.” Munching heartily, the boy limped his way back to his room, while his mother chuckled softly. Bridgette sighed rolling her eyes.

“Okay, this wouldn’t be a Christmas lesson unless there was a young crippled boy in need of an operation.” Sarcasm rolled off every syllable, and despite her fear of her ghostly guide, Bridgette found herself irritated. “Okay, what am I supposed to learn here? That I should be all nice and generous and feel bad about firing my secretary on Christmas Eve just because she has a kid? Well tough! Better luck NEXT time!”

“Silence!” the ghost thundered loudly. “As much as you need that lesson ALSO, this visit is to teach you something else. Now shut up and WATCH what unfolds.”

Properly chastened, Bridgette watched. Moments later a tall black man entered, tossing his hat and coat on the hooks in the wall. “Hey, honey, I’m home!” he said with a grin. Coming from the kitchenette, Julie nearly skipped across the room to hug her man, kissing him long and hard and deep. Bridgette’s jaw nearly hit the floor as she watched. Three things shocked her. ONE, that Julie, a lovely young blonde-haired blue-eyed woman, had a dark-skinned, black-haired, brown-eyed boyfriend. TWO, that she felt positively wet and dripping between her thighs at the sight of the two of them kissing so passionately. THREE, that she felt a sharp sting of jealousy, though for the life of her, she couldn’t tell if she was jealous of HIM for having her, the sexy beautiful and shapely Julie, or jealous of HER for having him, such a strong hard-bodied stud of a man. These thoughts unnerved Bridgette greatly, and she sought to get a grip on her feelings as she watched the scene unfold.

Dinner was uneventful. They talked pleasantly, holding hands now and again, with the occasional kiss that caused Aaron to roll his eyes at the “mushy stuff” while Bridgette felt her blood heat up with ever loving moment between the two. Their easy complimentary relationship only pointed out to her just how EMPTY and alone her own life was. Bridgette found herself WANTING, another first for her, feeling an empty ache inside her that money or power or success couldn’t fill. As poor as they were, Julie and her man had EVERYTHING important.

“Okay,” she said quietly after a time. “Point taken. Lesson learned. My life is empty, and meaningless. Can we please go now? Ghost of the Present, I cannot bear to look on their happiness anymore. Its...its too painful.”

“Oh, but the lesson is only HALF learned, my dear,” the ghost said with a grin. “Let us speed forward a few more hours.”

Abruptly the scene changed again, and Bridgette found herself inside Julie’s tiny bedroom. She and Roger were lying naked, coupled together atop the covers. From the scent and the sweat on their bodies, they had just had passionate sex, and the thought nearly caused Bridgette to cum herself. The two lovers were talking softly.

“That BITCH! That damn, muthafucking BITCH!” Roger said softly, but full of venom. “What kind of a monster fires someone on Christmas Eve? That kind of thing went out with Ebenezer Scrooge!”

“Shhh. It’s okay, love,” Julie said softly, trying not to cry. “It’ll be alright. I mean, you’ve still got your job to see us through until the Spring. I can find another job as soon as the market starts opening up again. After all, I am a damn good secretary. And Ms. Douglas did say she would give me a good recommendation for all my fine years of service.”

“Its still bullshit,” Roger said sullenly, tracing lines along Julie’s breasts, making her coo with pleasure. “You know what I’d like to do to that ice-cold bitch if she were here right now? I’d bend her over the bed and spank that ass till it was red as fire. THEN I’d fuck her so hard up the ass she wouldn’t be able to sit down for a year!”

Julie laughed wickedly. “Oh, yeah, I could see little miss ‘Ice Maiden’ standing still for that. Roger, the word around the office is that that twenty-eight year old woman hasn’t had sex in her whole life. She’s a fucking virgin! Why, if ever saw your monster dick she would probably pass out at the sight of it!” They both laughed long and hard over that, causing Bridgette’s blood to boil again. In anger she took a step forward.

“Oh yeah, well what the hell would YOU know about it?” she said venomously. To her surprise, Roger and Julie jerked back, covering themselves up with the bedsheets, cursing loudly. Bridgette turned pale as she suddenly realized that they could now see and hear her.

“Who the FUCK are you, and what are you doing in here?” Roger shouted. Julie immediately placed a hand over his mouth, whispering that Aaron was in the next room sleeping.

“That’s...believe it or not, that...my former boss, Ms. Douglas,” Julie said in awe. Bridgette groaned, seeing that she was once again naked and utterly exposed. The ghost had dumped her into this situation, and it was going to take some fast talking to get herself out of it.

“Listen,” she said softly, “let me explain.” Taking a deep breath, Bridgette prepared to say that she had sleepwalked into this place, that it had been a mistake, that she was willing to forget everything and hire her back with a bonus if only she would give her some clothes to put on and drive her home. As before, what came out of her mouth was something else entirely.

“I’ve been a bad girl,” she said in a pouty baby-voice. “I’m sorry I was sooo naughty at work today, Julie.” Eyes wide, Bridgette tried to stop, but the words just kept flowing out of her. “I need to be punished for being so bad. I need to be spanked, and hard, just like your sexy hot boyfriend said. And I need to feel his big mammoth dick inside my ass, till I can’t sit down for a whole fucking year!” Her own words were starting to excite her, and her hand made its way to her damp dripping pussy. “Mmmm...and you, Julie, I need to make it up to you by licking your sweet sexy pussy, by making you cream on my face, as I take you to pleasure, while your big black man fucks my ass like the whore-slut I am!”

The two lovers looked at each other, confused at this wild turn of events, and taking the initiative, Bridgette pushed Julie back onto the bed, on her back, and moving her head between the woman’s spread thighs, began to nibble and lick the soft tender folds of flesh. At that moment, her body returned to her control, but Bridgette was too far gone to stop now. The feeling of pleasure she received at her mother and nanny’s tender ministrations moments ago—or was it years ago?—was fresh in her mind, and she was eager to experience such intoxicating sensations again. Diving right in, she began eating pussy like she had been born a dyke, skillfully recreating all the pleasure her mother’s sweet tongue had given her own virgin pussy. Soon Julie was panting and arching into each deep hard stab of her tongue, grabbing Bridgette roughly by the hair and forcing her head deeper into her pussy.

Suddenly, Bridgette felt a hard slap on her backside. Turning suddenly, she saw Roger, standing there naked in all his glory, slapping her soft tender ass. Gazing in wonder at his slightly hard dick, and imagining it soon plunging into her virgin asshole, Bridgette let out a deep moan, her body shuddering with pleasure. She arched her back a little, raising her ass even more, to joyfully receive the slaps she so richly deserved. She had been right all along. She WAS a little whore-slut, hiding all these years behind a false mask of chastity. THIS is what she lived for, what she was created for! Delving back into Julie’s steaming mound, lurching slightly at the delightful pain/pleasure sensations of her ass being spanked, she knew that this is what she had been born to do. Man, woman, both at once, it didn’t matter. She would fuck them all, and be fucked in return! As she felt Roger’s long thick shaft enter her hole, she realized suddenly how much her life had been like her very ass, so full of crap, so empty, until now...now she was being slowly fulfilled, filled to her limit with pleasures and purpose. Roger began pumping, and Bridgette let out a muffled scream inside Julie’s cunt, the sensation was too intense. Again and again she took his full measure and then some, writhing, floating in a dim gray fog of sensation, only aware of her mouth and tongue on Julie, her hands deep in her own pussy, and Roger steadfast and relentless, behind her. Everything was building, building on and on towards the finale. Then, as if it had been rehearsed, the three melodies climaxed together, in a chorus of blissful satisfaction. Bombarded on both sides as well as inside her own self, Bridgette again passed out in pleasure.

Coming to this time, Bridgette let out a soft moan. She felt sore and violated. Raising up from the bed a little, she found her hands clutching a long thick dildo, taken from her maid one night when she was seven, hidden in her closet so long she had almost forgotten it. Had she found it again in her sleep and used it on herself, dreaming of Roger and Julie all the while? Shaking her head, Bridgette sat up a little straighter in the bed. Just then a soft glow of light returned, and a smile entered her face again. This time, she much looked forward to the ghosts’ return.

The light faded, and this time only the last ghost stood before her. Now, in her new state of mind, Bridgette was able to fully appreciate how truly beautiful the woman was. No...not a woman, a ghost, a spirit. She had made that mistake once before, and the terrible reminder was something she wanted never to see again. The young ghost laughed softly.

“My sister spirit has always had a thing for dramatics. Don’t worry, I think there will be no need to remind you of who and what we are. You have changed much over this night, Ms. Douglas. Now there is but one more change you must accept before our job is complete.” She held out a hand, beckoning, and Bridgette rose to her feet, coming to take the ghost woman’s hand. Smiling softly, she placed both hands on Bridgette’s shoulders, and gently forced her to her knees. Confused, Bridgette looked up at the woman.

“I...I don’t understand. Where are we going this time? And why do you have me on my knees like this?”

“Silly girl,” the ghost woman said. “We are not going anywhere. This room is where your last lesson will take place. I will be the teacher and you the student. The last lesson you must learn is SERVITUDE.”

Bridgette half rose to her feet in protest. “Servitude? ME?? Absolutely not! Learning the denied joys of sex was one thing, learning that I am a free spirited slut at heart is another, but learning to SERVE others like a hired maid? That is something else entirely!”

A cold steel grip took her shoulder, forcing her back down again on her knees. “Do not presume to argue the matter with ME, Bridgette Douglas,” the woman hissed. “You are wrong on two counts. You WILL learn how to give service, to me, to your own servants, to anyone with authority over you...and there are MANY that shall have authority over you. But you were also mistaken about another thing. You will not learn to be a mere servant, like your poor unappreciated maid, you will learn to be a SLAVE!”

Eyes wide in horror, Bridgette shook her head in denial, even as she felt her body perversely heating up at the mention of her slavery. She duck walked her way back from the ghost, until she hit the edge of her bed and could go no further. The woman laughed again. “Do you not yet see that you have no choice? Look at you, still on your knees even as you try to flee. A REAL woman would have at least gotten to her feet and ran, a thought that never even occurred to you. Instead, like a good little SLAVE you stayed on your knees.” Ashamed, blushing furiously, Bridgette tried to get to her feet. It felt so WRONG, the thought of being controlled, of being told what to do. After all, she had spent her whole life being in control! Ever since that Christmas when her daddy had agreed to give her what she wanted in return for keeping his secret, she had been in control. Now suddenly, this...this BEING wanted her to give it all up without a fight? Hell no!

“You...will NOT...get me to submit...to you without a fight!” Bridgette said, regaining her feet, fighting against the urge to kneel and kiss the lovely woman’s bare feet. “Beatrice! BEATRICE! I need you! Please, come quickly!” she screamed. The woman glanced at her, tilting her head slightly in amusement. Bridgette managed to reach the door, and pulled it open to find...nothing. The wall continued behind the door, with no opening to walk through. She was trapped. “This...this can’t be happening to me! What are you doing to me?”

“I am teaching you that you are SLAVE, silly girl,” the woman said, walking forward. Bridgette sank back to the floor again, sighing. She had no where to run. Help was not coming, and even if it did, there was no way to reach her. She was no longer in her bedroom, she was in the Twilight Zone. “Poor poor little slave girl,” the woman said softly, caressing her cheek. “You’re so confused, so scared. I know what you need. You need to see the symbol of your slavery firsthand.” Waving one hand in front of the other, a small studded black leather choker appeared. “Here is your slave collar. You can’t be a true slave without your collar, now can you?”

Bridgette gazed down at it, transfixed, staring at the symbol of her slavery. The dim light gleaming off of it reminded her briefly of the wonderful dancing ball of light that had so entranced her before. Despite herself, Bridgette found herself relaxing again. The collar was wicked, small, feminine, yet sinful and decadent. It stirred her passions yet repulsed her at the same time. Somehow, she sensed that this symbol, this simple collar, would make her the kind of slave that the ghost spoke of. She feared the collar, yet desired it like nothing she had ever glimpsed before.

“Do not be afraid, my dear,” the woman cooed. “Touch it. Let your hands feel the smooth supple sensations of the warm oiled leather. Let your palms luxuriate on the creamy blissful sensations of this small elegant tool.” Timidly, unable to resist, Bridgette touched the collar. The contact seemed to galvanize the arousal she felt deep within her, strengthening it a hundredfold, causing a loud moan to escape her lips. Closing her eyes, images of her slavery swam through her mind, her kneeling nude before her loyal Beatrice, kissing her feet, pleasuring her sweet hot pussy as she had done so many years ago...dressed in nothing but her collar and a leather corset, taking Roger’s thick cock in her mouth, sucking him off while Julie spanked her ass with a paddle... of summoning her rehired secretary to her office at lunchtime, stripping off her cloths and serving her sweet Mistress Julie in any way she wished, giving her blissful orgasm after orgasm, while her Mistress kept her denied, unfulfilled until SHE was ready for slave bridgette to cum...she imagined her orgasm then, after being denied it for so long being given to her as a gift from Mistress-Julie...

Her eyes opened then, as she stared again at the object in her hands. The collar. HER collar. Had she really feared it so terribly only moments before? How silly and stupid such fears seemed to her now. By donning this one true symbol of her slavery, she would ascend...or rather DESCEND...to her rightful place. She was a slut, a whore. And now she would be a slave as well. It seemed so RIGHT. It was her purpose in life, to fuck, to be fucked, and to please her Masters and Mistresses in any way they so desired. Moving quickly, hands shaking with anticipating, she donned her collar. The ghost smiled softly, solidifying fully before slave bridgette’s eyes. “Very good. You’ve finally accepted the gift. Now, little slave, before I depart, I wish to test the depths and the knowledge of your servitude. Pleasure me, little slut.”

Crawling forward on her knees, eyes shining with utter joy and fulfillment, slave bridgette did just that.

Later, outside the bedroom, the “ghost” walked into the hallway, leaving the new little slave-slut sleeping peacefully in her bed. Pulling on a robe, offered by her sister “ghosts,” she chuckled softly, informing them that the mission had been a complete success. Mary Hart, from accounting, shook out her long blonde hair, and sighed deeply. “I’ll say one thing. The little bitch sure can suck some good pussy, considering its her first night. Just goes to show you, sex is intuitive.”

“I have to agree with you on that, Mary,” Julie said, slipping out of her own costume, and into her own clothes again. “Are you sure everything we did to her will stick in the morning? I mean, she was deep under when we put all that in her mind, but is there a chance she might wake up and remember what happened to her?”

“Nope, not a chance,” Mary said proudly. “I actually brought her out of it at the end, once she put on the collar. She took to her new role like a natural. No, everything she experienced has changed her for good. Even if she knew the truth, I don’t think she would want to go back.”

“Well THAT is certainly a relief,” Beatrice said softly. “I have wanted to make up for her mother’s dismissal for so long, and this seemed like just the right time. I have to thank you two ladies for helping me pull this off. Even with the drugged cocoa, I couldn’t have pulled it off by myself.

Mary and Julie laughed. “Believe me, the pleasure was all mine,” Julie replied. “With any luck, we’ll all have a much nicer life from now on, having such a rich and wealthy little slave at our beckoned call.” Checking her watch, Julie cursed. “Oh, shit! I’ve got to go! I promised Roger I’d only be gone for three hours at the most. He’s gonna flip!”

Mary grinned, holding up the heavy emerald pendant she had used earlier tonight. “Want me to hypnotize him? I think I could make him forget to be angry at you.”

“Don’t you DARE!” Julie said laughing. “No, he’s my sweet sexy man, and I like him just the way he is. Although...if he doesn’t pop the question to me soon, I’ll give you a call.” All three women laughed again, as they each made their way downstairs. Beatrice bid them all goodnight, then turned to head back to her own room. Epilogue:

The next morning Bridgette arose with the rising of the sun. Stretching, she glanced at the clock, and smiled. It was Christmas. “I haven’t missed it!” she said aloud, kicking the covers from her body. “I still have time!” Running to the closet, she picked out her sexiest clothes, put on a warm coat to protect her from the cold New York winter, and made her way quickly downstairs. On her way, she stopped by one of the rooms and collected a bag full of gifts several friends and admirers had given to her (which she had fully planned to take back to the store and get the money for, before now!) and took it with her. Making her way to the kitchen, she took out the specially prepared breakfast Beatrice had made beforehand, sliding it into the oven for a few minutes until it was hot. Then, taking one of the serving trays, she collected the breakfast, made her way outside, walked next door to the tenant’s quarters and entered with her own key. Moving quietly, she carefully set up the food, and deposited a large bag of presents under the Christmas tree. Finally, she slipped out of her coat, moving to the side of the bed where Beatrice slept, and knelt humbly, waiting for her to awaken.

After a while, Beatrice turned over, groaning, the smell of fresh hot coffee nearby rousing her. Opening her eyes, she saw Bridgette, kneeling at her bedside, smiling softly. Inside she cheered at seeing her former Mistress so reduced, while outwardly she displayed alarm. “Madam?” she said quietly. “Is something amiss? Did you try to summon me and I missed the call?”

“No, Beatrice,” bridgette said softly. “No, I don’t need anything from you. I just thought to surprise you. I have brought YOU breakfast in bed, this morning! Look,” she said, pointing at the wide selection on the platter before her. “Everything you could possibly want. And...and I brought your some presents, and gifts for your children as well. I...I hope...I mean...I hope everything...pleases you.”

Beatrice smiles down at the girl, lifting her chin up to look her in the eyes. “Madam, thank you. But your behavior...it is so strange. You act almost as if you were—” bridgette’s eyes grew wide as she awaited the word that would seal her fate. Beatrice, delighted at making her wait, finally relented and said the words. “—a slave.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, as she basked in the sexual heat the words brought out in her. Opening them once more, she gazed up at the woman that for so long waited on her hand and foot. “Yes,” she said in a soft, tender, vulnerable voice. “That is exactly what I am. A slave. Your slave, Mistress, if you so desire me. I...I learned something about myself last night. I had dreams...no revelations. I discovered a whole new side of myself that I had kept locked away all this time. I...oh forgive me, for going on so. What I meant to say was, Merry Christmas, Mistress.”

Beatrice smiled, not taking offense to her words, or reacting as if she had gone crazy, which bridgette took as a good sign. “Slave hmmm? Well, it will be nice to be waited on for a change. By serving me, you DO realize that you will have to give FULL service?” Beatrice stood up from the bed, and slave bridgette gazed up in wonder at her forty-nine year old maid, with the well-toned body of a twenty-five year old. slave bridgette found herself shaking with desire, the need to please her Mistress blotting out all else.

“Yes, Mistress, of course! Please, my Mistress...allow your slave girl to pleasure you! Please!!”

Smiling, Beatrice moved back to the bed, spreading her thighs, as slave bridgette eagerly slid between them. Sighing contentedly, Beatrice considered the days ahead, the meetings with Mary and Julie, of sending her little slave girl to service them, and of all the fun they would have from now on. A smile of pure pleasure crossed her face, only partially due to bridgette’s clever tongue. The former maid and her former Mistress welcomed in the New Year with a bang. It was truly a very Merry Christmas.