The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This is a birthday story, written for My pet, karin, my favorite little kitty cat. Here’s to many future birthdays together, pet.

The usual disclaimers apply. You must be older than...say...16 and a half to read this.

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The Night Watchwoman

Midnight came and went, and still the woman watching the station had not moved. She was tall, and lean, with a cat-like grace to her movements, and that indefinable gleam in her eye that makes it perfectly clear which side of the fight you would come out on should you choose to cross her. As the door opened, she slid liquidly to the side of the door, allowing the occupants of the inner station to pass. When they had, she flowed back to her guard station and resumed the vigil. This was not going to be easy.

You had been watching her for several days now. What originally seemed like a simple jaunt in to gather up the plans for the newest safe design for your employer now appeared much more daunting. The place was impossible to breach during the day, of course, because it was full of people doing their business with the railway. Hundreds of people moved in and out of this station-house office, transacting business, and there were half a dozen guards to make sure things moved smoothly. Nighttime was the only time you expected to be able to get in, and now...this. This woman. She clearly had been brought in to guard the new safe plans, but she didn’t seem to take a break, as the other watchmen did. She didn’t eat on her shift, which stretched from 7 PM to 7 AM, nor did she seem to leave for the bathroom or even get tired. She never seemed inattentive, or bored, or even anything but...dangerous.

Taking your place in the small hollow that is seemingly out of her sight, you settle in for another long evening. You think about what kind of distractions have worked in the past, and realized that some have been extremely obvious for those not-so-swift guards, of which you doubt this woman is one, and the rest have been sexual in nature, and you can’t see that working here. Still, without a better idea, you decide, perhaps some of the tried and true methods will work best. You allow the exiting people to walk out of sight, leaving only the watchwoman, and stand up. With the silence of experience, you pull the zipper on your jet-black catsuit down a bit to expose some cleavage, clear your throat and step out of the shadows. Before your heels have clicked twice on the dusty paving stones, you see her head snap towards you, and can feel her eyes boring into you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and you stop, faltering. Your mind whirls and you have a momentary hard time in remembering why you’re there.

Recovering slightly, you close your eyes for a moment, and when you open them, you notice that she is looking at you, but this time without the ferocity that she was. The almost palpable force of that gaze, that feline gaze catching you in it’s visual paws, has disappeared as if removed physically, and there is just a woman...watching. You decide that your original plan should still work and shake off what must have been just a dizzy spell. Your body responds to your wishes and you slink forwards towards your prey. It does not really enter your mind that she is simply staring at you, and has not moved a muscle since you have started your “seduction.” Well, that’s not entirely true. You think that her grin, showing many white teeth, has grown slightly, but that might be a trick of the light.

There’s a buzzing noise in your ear. It’s very annoying. You reach out and slap at it, blindly, eventually stopping it by hitting it from above. Your alarm clock goes silent and your eyes pop open.

“What the...” You manage to no one in particular, and then you’re sitting up. Looking down, you’re fully dressed as you were the past evening when you...what. Trying to clear the cobwebs from your addled brain, you think hard and then the past evening comes to you. Or at least, some of it does.

You can see the watchwoman. She’s looking at you and you’re getting ready to...to what? Casting back, your mind seems to focus a bit. You remember that you were going to seduce her and get her to leave her post. You wanted to steal those safe designs. You were walking to her, and then...it’s so foggy.

Coffee. You desperately need coffee, you decide.

Dragging yourself to your feet, you stumble in your heels, apparently having gone to bed fully clothed last night. You head for the kitchen, smoothing the slightly rumpled suit that you slept in. That soft, slippery material ripples beneath your fingers as they run over your stomach, your hips, and down to your legs. You can feel your skin underneath, smooth, the lines unbroken. And then a small gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes widen.

You’re not wearing anything under this suit.

The thought takes a few moments to sink in as you stand there, swaying slightly. You HAVE worn this suit without panties or a bra before, but you didn’t last night. You KNOW you didn’t, and yet, there is no doubt that you are without them this morning. Thoughts of last night cascade through your clearing mind. Sounds. Images.

You. On your knees. Head bowed. Licking...things. Your skin on fire. Your skin exposed. Biting. Feeling teeth and fingers and other things touch you...everywhere. Eyes. Oh, the Eyes. On you always. IN you. Other things.

Shivering, you notice that you’ve been standing there, immobile, for some time. Your mind reels a bit and you sit again. You speak to yourself, aloud.

“What did she do...what did she do to ME?” You ask of the empty house. “God, I..I can’t remember any of it.” You put your head in your hand and lean over the side of the bed, dazed and lost. You just can’t believe your own eyes and senses. And then another thought occurs to you.

“And I can’t prove it either. Oh, Lord,” you almost wail to no one.

The following evening you find yourself back, as you knew you would be, at the station. You’re dressed as you were last night, having been unable to remove anything for fear of confirming what your fingers told you. Before you reach any sort of hiding place, you can see her. And, as she turns her head towards you, nostrils flaring, you can tell that she could smell you. A voice, deep, lovely, and completely irresistible floats across the air of the old train-yard.

“Welcome back, kitten. I have been waiting. Come closer,” she purrs.

Voluntarily, or not, it’s hard to tell, but your feet move, the stilettos clicking on the pavers, and you start towards her. With effort, you ask the question burning in your mind all day.

“Who ARE you...and what did you do to me?” you ask, in a tremulous voice.

Your question is rewarded only with a laugh that you would later remember as turning into a “Meooooooow....”

You continue walking forwards, pale and scared. You remember no more until you awaken.

You’re in a dark place, lying on something very hard. You can hear a train nearby and a commotion. People—many people. It’s all a murmur, but you guess you must still be at the train station, but during the daytime. You try to sit up, but your arms and legs don’t want to move. They’re not attached to anything you can feel, but they won’t move. Neither, apparently, will your lips, although you can manage a low moan. You struggle slightly, and you are rewarded for your efforts with a sudden sense that someone else is in the room. You hear breathing and what can only be described as a slithering sound as you feel a hand, soft, insistent, slowly glide up your leg. Nails, sharp as claws, tip those fingers and you do not try to move as those nails cross your thigh and settle in your crotch. Your breath catches as you feel a very sharp nail graze up your sex and you feel the clothes you’re wearing split open across your pussy and down to your ass. As soon as it does, you feel the hand withdraw and some movement. Moments later, you feel a face there, parking between your legs, at your now exposed sex, but you think it must be a man because the face is covered in a thick beard. When the tongue touches you, your body jumps in both alarm and pleasure, but there is also some pain as the tongue is so scratchy, as if someone is running wet sandpaper over your pussy.

But the owner of that tongue is more talented with it than you could imagine. It flexes and curls slightly, it moves subtly, pushing instead of lapping, curling and stroking, tasting but not scratching. Your alarm quickly dissolves into mindless pleasure. Unable to move, you cannot hasten or retard the progress of the tongue, or its owner, lying there as a living doll for it’s amusement. The exquisite torture seems to go on for hours, until you are sure you will go mad, and are then sure that you already have, when you feel a final flick in just the right spot. That does it, and your body, held completely still, convulses inside in pleasure too great to be imagined or experienced. You pass out.

You awaken moments, hours or days later to a low quiet purr and feel something on your face. It’s still dark, but you can again sense someone right next to you. Your eyes dart towards the presence and you can only see two small green pinpoints of light that might be eyes, bobbing in the air. They descend towards you and you try to withdraw but cannot. You feel that tongue again, this time on your face, licking slow strokes up and across your cheeks, your lips, your forehead. It’s sandpapery still, but it doesn’t feel like it’s roaming, or scratching, your skin. It feels like you’re wearing something to protect you and instead of it being scratchy, it feels wonderful. Almost sexual. You try your lips and they open slightly. Your mind says “God, who are you? Where are we?” but the sound that actually comes out of your lips makes you stop moving...and shudder.

You meowed.

From right above you, there’s a light, cooing laugh, and a returning meow. You know, now, as you did earlier, that it’s her. The watchwoman. You can hear the triumph in her voice, if you can call it a voice. You know she captured you. That, willingly or unwillingly, you came to her, you serviced her, night after night. Kneeling there on the platform, her hands on your head, your body on it’s knees. Your head at her pussy. And she changed you. And now, you know, that you are like her.

And that she if is a cat, you are her kitten.

You look up into those eyes that you saw earlier, even in the dark, but didn’t take for eyes. The green, glowing points of light, and know that she can see yours—can see the terror and the pleasure and the longing in them. You close them. And sleep takes you.

Night comes, and there’s a voice—a real voice—next to you.

“Wake, child. It’s time for us to prowl,” comes the voice. It’s low and smooth and altogether lovely. You stir and open your eyes, rising to your feet. You’re still in your smooth outfit, although you can feel the hole where she ripped it open and you blush slightly. Thoughts of harming this woman have gone away, but you are still confused. Remembering the intense feeling of her tongue on your face, you slide a hand up there, unsure of what you’ll feel. It’s smooth, as always, as are your long, slender fingers. A sigh of relief washes over you and you look at the taller woman, who is clearly watching you in that way that only cats can. A small smirk plays on her lips as she regards you.

“Um,” you manage, lamely. “What...happened?”

She does not reply, only stands there, waiting.

“Did...was that you...um..licking me before?” you sputter.

She nods, still smiling.

“Did you...did I...meow?”

Her smile broadens, but she remains otherwise stoic.

“Are you...” you at last manage, “are you a...um...cat?” you finish, realizing how dumb it must sound considering you’re both quite obviously women.

This prompts four words that change your life: “Only during the daytime.”

And with that, she turns starts to leave. Before she gets to the door, however, she stops again. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiles at you, and murmurs, “Oh, and nice catsuit, kitten.” Turning again, she swishes her ass slightly, and walks out of the passageway towards her post at the station house. Casting around helplessly, knowing that you were not dreaming, you let out an inhuman scream of anguish. And follow her into the night.

Clever kitten.