The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Title: A NIGHT IN YELLOW BIRD BAR

Story Tags: MC, FF, FD

Description: Will Joey rescue her closest friend, or be consumed in the fire herself?

Author’s Note — This story is a work of fiction and in no part should be taken as anything except fantasy, and it intends no offence. It involves very, very adult situations.

This story continues the narrative of the predatory and vampiric Mistress Amy.

Communiqué from all encouraged.

ONE

Five days. Or was it six? Six days for a God to build the world, and six days for a Goddess to tear apart Jo’s. Six haunted days since that evil night in Yellow Bird bar. The night when she had failed.

Joey had spent every free moment of the last week hiding under her duvet. The batteries of her vibrator were spent. Night after night had passed with only a hint of sleep. Lying naked in the moonlight feeling her skin burning up in flames. Sweating in the dark. The dawn would break to find Joey mindlessly scissoring her pillow, trying to capture between her thighs a pleasure now denied to her.

In the daytime she could fight it, at least at first. She had memories so tempting and yet so terribly wrong. They felt so perverted she had to bury them deep. Later, she would catch herself trapped in the company rest-rooms long after her shift had ended. One hand frigging at her clit, while the other wormed under her blouse, pulling roughly on her nipples. She watched a film in a room filled with smoke. It was nothing but pornography. Scenes of tongues and shudders and thighs wetly slapping together as two woman screwed for her benefit. And piercing it all, a pair of lips dripping with blood and breathing fire and speaking silently to her. She was frightened most of all by those lips.

Yellow Bird, Yellow Bird, Yellow Bird.

Her beautiful eyes sank into dark pools, exacerbated by her paleness. Showering did nothing to soothe her. Water fell like pine needles onto her skin. Soapy hands found themselves slipping down between her legs, and probing fingers would soon become desperate again, forever seeking a release that arrived stillborn.

Glasses of wine turned into bottles. It could well have been mixed with cigarette ash for all she cared. She could taste only sex in her mouth, smell it in her nostrils. She had to blink away scenes of hardening nipples being gratefully sucked. Of hair being tugged and flesh clawed until reddening scratches shone in candle light. Teeth biting into skin. Of kneeling on cold white tiles, worshipping with her tongue the bounty before her. She could no longer remember if she was the one being worshipped, or if she was one on her knees, filled up with such hopeless devotion. Did it matter, when both turned her on so much? Neither, no, none, she told herself.

Night after night she babbled into the darkness, knowing and yet not knowing exactly what to say to release all her lust. The words clung to the tip of her tongue, unable to be spoken. If only she could clear her throat. She could hear the whispering of instructions just outside the grasp of her senses, those red lips soundlessly mouthing triggers she couldn’t remember to forget, or forget to remember. Her mind clouded over when she tried to concentrate.

Yellow Bird, Yellow Bird, Yellow Bird.

By the morning of the seventh day, Joey had finally exhausted all her defences. Her own needy body had besieged her mind relentlessly. And finally, lust had conquered logic. Her skin now patiently explained to her the only clothes she would feel comfortable wearing from now on. She could only watch as she purchased the flimsiest, most revealing dresses she could afford. Her skin then told her precisely which garments she wasn’t allowed to wear any more. Her neck demanded to be naked no longer, and that required a humiliating trip to plead for a fitting in the closest fetish shop she could find.

Then, with her preparations complete, her body dragged her out into the sticky, humid evening. Her legs then carried her to the door she had promised to never return to. Her knuckles rapped on the wood before she could stop to reconsider.

Her body had betrayed her completely, and now it was shivering with anticipation. As she waited, Jo realised the sickening, beautiful truth. Her mind was ready to give in, just as her body had. Or had her mind surrendered first? Before she could decide, the door opened. In the black void a flame in the shape of a woman appeared.

Mistress Amy smiled. If she had expressed any surprise at finding Joey standing there, it would have been a lie.

“Hello Joey! This is a surprise! It’s so lovely to see you at last. And aren’t you so pretty tonight? Even if you do look a little tired. That dress is so tight I can tell you’re not wearing any underwear. Oh, look at your collar! That’s so very cute! And I didn’t even tell you to purchase one. You are eager to please, aren’t you?”

Joey burned with embarrassment at Mistress Amy’s appraisal, as if she had come only to stand and be inspected. She towered above her, laconically drinking in the poor befuddled girl’s needle heels, her skinny legs and bare thighs exposed by the scandalous dress. Her stiff nipples were so awfully evident through the satin. Her swanlike neck was trapped by the black leash. She felt naked and exposed out on the street.

“C-can I come inside?”

Mistress Amy tilted her head quizzically, arching a single eyebrow. A pregnant silence followed.

“Can I come inside, please?”

Followed by another little death of silence. Mistress Amy was squeezing it all out of her.

“Please let me inside … Mistress.”

“Of course you can come in, my dear! There’s just one little thing. You have to leave your old name right here on my doormat. And I’ve already decided on your new name. Your performance in Yellow Bird inspired me. Would you like to know what your name will be once you come inside?”

Joey stared at her feet. She nodded weakly.

“Your name is soppyslut. Seems appropriate, don’t you think?”

Joey remained silent. If she spoke now she would only croak. She didn’t want to reveal that all the moisture in her mouth had suddenly flushed right down between her legs, juicing up her naked sex.

“Now … say your name.” Amy demanded.

“S-sloppy … sloppyslut ...” She whispered, her will a husk. Amy rewarded her by softly gripping her wrist and leading her into the warm confines of her home.

Joey meekly walked into the black furnace, her name and dignity burning away with each step. Amy shivered with joy. She had spent the last week waiting and planning for this moment. Devising delicious plans for her newest slave. She had been amused at all the time she had managed to hold out, but tonight soppyslut’s training would begin. Just had she had hypnotised her honeypot into total submission, so would she break this one.

soppyslut and honeypot. The pair would provide her with so much entertainment!