The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Julia sat in the soft, padded chair across from Fiona. Thinking back, it seemed like nearly no time had passed. Still, recounting it, she had been here longer than she had planned or desired.

The days of recuperating from her collapse had been filled with conversation with Fiona... so much so that she could barely remember anything else. Although easily in her nineties, Fiona seemed to possess nearly boundless energy. Julia had no trouble matching it, but that made Fiona’s endurance no less surprising... and admirable.

In addition, Fiona was eccentric as hell. It was amusing, and Julia could not remember having spent so much time laughing. So, it was no surprise that Julia enjoyed her company. The days had stretched into weeks as the talks continued. Sometimes they included walks into the mountains, sometimes meals, or like now, sitting together enjoying a cup of hot tea.

Julia was fascinated with the earthy wisdom and spiritual insight offered in the smallest things that Fiona had to say. Well, at least the earthy wisdom. Her own title of “Goddess” was created to be mocking and irreverent. Okay... she had to admit that she also thought it was sexy.

Thinking of her past reminded her again that even though she felt that this lodge was a good place to be, she had a deep yearning to be back in the States, accepting the offerings and ministrations of her darling, lewd, devoted sluts.

Not that she was ungrateful... but she wanted to move on now, and Fiona was having none of it. Fiona seemed to think there was some purpose even in this endless waiting.

Unfortunately, Julia was in no position to argue. Not only did Fiona seem to have an uncanny knowledge of the details of Julia’s life, but Julia had seen the consequences of being rude, even in her thoughts. She shivered, remembering Fiona’s recent “etiquette lesson” with both relish and dread.

As much as she loved to cum, there was something unnerving about a totally involuntary orgasm.

Today’s conversation was like so many that they had shared, full of mysticism mixed with practical knowledge. But unlike so many of them, it was about Julia herself that they talked.

“You have wondered from time to time if you had some latent telepathic ability, Julia. Strange as it sounds, all women have some ability. Some have a little less, some have a little more. Perhaps it is because all women are all descended from a gene pool whose origin is unknown... while it may or may not be true, it’s a premise that happens to fit the circumstances. It’s certainly a way to look at it, a ‘place to come from’. We do know beyond any doubt that there is a shared consciousness, centuries old, that all women can feel. The closer their genes are to the original pool, the more awareness they seem to have.

“Daughters are gifted not only with knowledge of that shared consciousness, but with mental abilities so dynamic that to call them mere telepathy is to lessen what they are. They give the Daughter the ability to shape the consciousness of another. We formally call this ability ‘teleplasty’, but that sounds so... cold. So, we commonly refer to it as ‘gracing’. It may sound a bit pretentious, but is more in line with not only how it feels to be the subject, but also the practitioner of the art.”

Fiona took a slow sip from her cup, and continued.

“If you look at your own conversions of others, did it not evoke a certain graceful, giving feeling? Did it not feel as if you were somehow opening their eyes? And did it not make you responsible for them?”

Julia looked across the table at the ancient Fiona, a look of deep reflection covering her face. She knew that Fiona wasn’t “listening in”; she had slowly developed the ability to feel Fiona’s presence in her mind.

But even with what she had seen and felt, she didn’t want to believe the words she was hearing. The “Lost Daughters” sounded like the ranting of an old, senile cultist. Julia herself had led a cult of sorts, and still did, but she had always known that it was a mostly facade for her own sensual games. In contrast, this all had the sound of someone sincere about an odd notion that had been cultivated for years, flirting dangerously with full-fledged delusion.

Despite her desire to trust the old woman, she was still keeping one ear open for signs of the typical suicide pact, and half expected to see vats of cyanide-laced fruit punch in the kitchen. It was just too fucking strange.

Still, her own experience with Fiona, coupled with the feelings the woman had just described so perfectly, did make Julia begin to think that there might well be something more to all of this than she had consciously seen before. There was a real resonance in the old woman’s words; a resonance that she could not deny easily.

She was brought out of her reverie by Fiona’s voice. “I can see on your face that you are beginning to consider the remote possibility that I’m not some old kook,” she smiled. “It’s all right, Child. I know that from your perspective, I sound like a loony. Maybe I am!

“The truth is that none of us truly knows who we are. Consciousness is a mystery, and only the insecure create the illusion of knowing themselves. The true intelligence knows that there is only exploring.

“And we, the Daughters, are gifted with the ability to see beyond what has been called the ‘optical delusion of consciousness.’ Separate, individual consciousness is the delusional illusion... and we are allowed, or able, to see the Universe as it is... as it is named... One Song.

“In seeing, we begin to move about and explore beyond our own minds, our own playgrounds, and walk through the playgrounds of others... and seeing the destiny of the Daughters, further that goal. We do not destroy... we enlighten.

“And you, Julia, are the product of just such intervention in someone’s playground. Your mother was a Daughter, and a fluke... nearly fully complete in her genetic inheritance. So when she became pregnant with you, we did some... adjusting.

“You have no father, just as with the ancient Daughters of legend. That left only your mother’s genes, although you are not a clone. The genetic structure she passed to you was completed in you, on these very grounds, by being simultaneously ‘graced’ by one hundred Ambrian Daughters at the same time. In a sense, you are all of us, because we ‘gave’ our genetics to you... the idea being that some among us would fill the gaps still within your mother.

“This is not all a rosy picture. There are new, recent groupings of Daughters who have no roots in the past or in their origins. Only a few centuries old, these are nearly, but not quite, rogue sects. The strongest of these is the Covenance; they are much like you were before you came here. But unlike you, they have no connection to the spiritual sects other than through the shared matriarchal consciousness. Their agenda is destructive, and more about power than re-establishment of our kind. You are the bridge to Daughters of future generations, the Restorer. But you are also the bridge to these errant Daughters, whose influence and power must be brought into coherence in order that all Daughters not be destroyed.

“I know this is a lot to take in... but your completion is at hand. By completion, I mean that the moment of taking on who and what you are.

“None of us can see all of who you are. We can see much, and we know that you are beyond any Daughter living, but that is not enough. You must take it on for yourself, and occupy your full consciousness, lest you be used by the Covenance for their own agenda.

“So this is the Gift for which you have come to me. You have come to see who you truly are, and why you have followed the Path you have chosen. Once you have seen, you will be tested several times. It’s unfair, but it is the way of things. Though you may or may not recognize a test as it begins, you will know beyond question when each test is complete.

“It is time.”

(See openly, Child)

Julia’s eyes popped open with the clear strong voice that had come from right between her ears. She felt vaguely disoriented, and the room took on a feverish, delirious sense of unreality. She felt inside like she was clawing, scraping... even though she knew her hands were not in moving. Even her breath did not betray the urgency of her struggle. It was like being underwater too long... the feeling of exploding air and yet the need for more, as panic began to creep into her mind.

She shifted her mind again and again, trying for the right path, the way that would lead her out of this swamp of overwhelming suffocation....

Then something like a muscle... flexed... and wind blew strongly into her face, followed by incredible stillness.

Creeping in, and then blasting away the fear and disorientation, she felt the impossible joy of herself underneath all the masks, underneath all the defenses she had so carefully built for herself over the years of her life. She smiled, and then laughed... the laughter of someone finally free, finally safe to be totally open, without concern. It was the openness of when she was still less than a year old, when anything was good to be happy about, and nothing was a barrier to receiving or showing her joy. A time when a smile, a giggle, and unabated jubilation were not held suspect by others, and unblemished by the possibility of disappointment.

And then she realized something so profound that it shook her, happily, to her very core. This was not Julia recreating her memory, or “healing her inner child”. This was her now. It was the same her, the same child, the same girl, the same woman, the same... Daughter... without twenty-five years of sediment and bitterness heaped on top. And she remembered this place. This was home.

And then, the moment was gone.

She looked at Fiona... and felt something more, now.

She felt the deepest, most humble gratitude of her life.

It was not sad or traumatic to pick up her burdens again. On the contrary, it was appropriate. But what she had just felt was more than memory. It was a current experience of herself, of a possibility of where she could be, and she knew that it was now accessible. Somehow.

And she knew that in the end, this would be her salvation.

She felt silly as she stretched out in thought to try to find the words to express herself. Regardless, the need to put her emotions into words was more important than her own fleeting discomfort. Words came, formal and uncomfortably pretentious, but they were all that she had.

“Fiona. Sister, Mother, and Daughter. I have come from somewhere else to somewhere new. My eyes, though still half-shadowed, long for the light. I humbly ask, from the depths of my being, that I be allowed to learn from You the Path of the Goddess, the Way of the Daughters of Ambria. My heart is open, and I pledge it to You, until it is no longer.”

Fiona smiled at Julia’s awkwardness in the face of what could be called a miracle. In saying the ancient words of joining, having never known them before, Julia had passed her first test.

It has been said by Buddhists that enlightenment is like this: One morning, you wash the dishes. It so happens that in the afternoon, you achieve enlightenment. The next morning... you wash the dishes.

Julia had much the same experience.

Getting up the next morning, leaving the comfort of her room for the cold water of the shower down the hall, she said hello and smiled at all the women she had come to know and call friends. Kitty, the young sprite who lived next door, stopped to her for a moment to talk about the odd dream of the night before. Eleanor, an older Daughter who had been raised at the lodge, was singing in her room with the door closed. Becca and Simone were cooking breakfast, deep in their daily routine, making sure that everyone in the lodge was well fed. Fiona was presumably out on one of her morning walks. It was just like every other day.

She still was having a hard time with Fiona’s spirit-guide-granny routine. After a night of sleep, it was sounding more irrational again; but she couldn’t simply dismiss out-of-hand the fact that she had been the recipient of some kind of wonderfully profound gestalt experience.

How, though, could she be sure that it hadn’t been another manipulation by Fiona? If the woman could make her climax to unconsciousness, she could surely cook up something like this. It wasn’t likely... Fiona seemed to believe in what she was saying... but it was certainly possible. And sometimes, given the history of her own talents and experiences, possible was more than enough.

Julia shrugged off her heavy thoughts as she entered the bathroom to prepare herself for her shower. Looking in the mirror, she felt a yearning for her hair gel and a pair of scissors... her looks had lost the sharp edge that she still loved. She cupped a breast, feeling its weight and the light arousal it brought forth. Again, she thought of her brood, and felt a pang of loneliness. Despite Fiona’s objections, she would have to leave soon. Very soon.

Julia turned and entered the shower without even looking, since every other day she had found it unoccupied. She enjoyed the cold water and found that the solitude of her daily cleansing afforded her time to consider all that she was learning.

“Pardon me!” came a voice from beside her.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Julia looked to her right and saw Emma, soapy and wet, standing against the wall to avoid a collision.

“I’m sorry, Julia, I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Emma, looking a little embarrassed.

“No, no! I just didn’t expect anyone here,” assured Julia, smiling warmly at the young girl.

Barely nineteen, Emma had been discovered by Fiona herself in the town outside Fillmore Academy, a private girls’ school, and brought to the lodge for teaching as a Daughter. Her talents were impressive, according to Fiona, and it was pure luck that she had not been already recruited by the Covenance.

Julia couldn’t help but notice that the girl’s nipples were hard, and felt a familiar tingle of arousal and warmth rush to her pussy. She had been celibate since her orgasmic “ordeal”, and the lack of sex was relieving her of any pretense of inhibition. Just the same, she didn’t want to overstep her bounds. Insulting Fiona’s sensibilities was not something Julia wanted to explore.

“Can I ask you a question?” blurted Emma, looking a bit awkward. “It’s none of my business...”

“No, please... ask anything you like. If I can’t answer, I’ll just say so,” Julia replied, hoping that her growing lust for this delectable girl wasn’t transmitting to everyone within a hundred miles.

“There was a rumor at my school about a ‘Goddess Julia’. I always thought it was stupid and all... But your name is Julia, and you are a Daughter, and... well, I... I just had to ask.”

Julia stood for a moment in shock. This had come completely out of left field. The only one here who knew of her past was Fiona, and she had promised to keep it a secret. She also had good reason for doing so... including the fact that Julia might need a shield from unethical Daughters.

On the other hand, she liked that her reputation had spread, and spread enough that even this slightly naive young girl would have heard of her. She decided it was time to be open. If she had learned anything from the day before, it was that being open was the key to everything.

“Yes,” she answered simply, “I am.”

“Then, Julia... we need to talk. Badly.”

Emma’s room was exactly like Julia’s, except the bed was turned in a different direction. Since they all wore the loose, colorful robes of the Daughters, even the closet looked the same.

In fact, Emma could even have been a smaller version of Julia. Her high cheekbones and supple lips brought both an elegance and hard-edged savvy to the look of the young Daughter. She was about five inches shorter, but had a perfectly proportioned bust and rear end, at least in Julia’s opinion.

Julia smiled and looked around the room, diverting her thoughts back to polite conversation.

Emma offered Julia a chair at her small study desk, and plopped down on the bed. “So, what do you think of it here?” she finally asked, a look of curiosity on her young, sweet face.

“I like it,” said Julia. But I like your gorgeous pixie-cut auburn hair and cute little ass more, she continued silently.

“And Fiona?” pressed Emma.

“I think she’s amazing. I’ve seen deep facets of myself, and had such amazing realizations since I’ve begun talking to her.” bubbled Julia, truly enthused.

“And she told you that you were the Chosen One, the Restorer, the genetic completion of an adulterated race, right?” pressed Emma.

“No one was supposed to know,” replied Julia, with a small, shocked wince.

“And why do you think that is?”

“For my protection from the Covenance, mostly. Also she doesn’t want me to be disruptive to, and disrupted by, the other Daughters.”

“Wrong.” said Emma, flatly.

“And just how do you know that?” said Julia, finally deciding not to let Emma’s attitude go unchallenged.

“Because she told me the same thing about me,“ whispered Emma. “She says the same thing to every new Daughter she finds.”

“Not to be callous, Emma, but I really don’t have any reason to believe you over her.”

“True. But there’s this: I have nothing to gain by lying. I’m not the one with plans for your future, and she is the one who stands to gain if she can find a Daughter who can play the part. She has five others who are being ‘auditioned’ right now.

“And you have nothing to lose by listening to me. You can make up your own mind. And if you decide I’m wrong, we don’t have to say a word.” Emma placed a finger on her lips, pulling down her lower lip a bit more than necessary, and gave Julia a soft, coy look. Tracing her finger across Julia’s lips, she whispered, “And... I know how to keep secrets...”

Emma cradled a breast and gave Julia a smoldering look that sent shivers through her from head to toe. “Never mind that you’ll never get to fuck as long as you stay here. I’m sure you don’t mind that a bit.”

Julia sat back in her chair, puzzled at Emma’s words. Her mind was so busy arguing with itself that she could only listen as the nineteen-year-old girl continued.

“Why haven’t you been having sex, do you think? She knows it is more than a basic drive to our kind. It’s as necessary as the air we breathe. She replaces it with all that feel-good-fuzzy-buzzy bullshit she passes off as spirituality. And she even uses orgasm as a punishment. She pretends she is all compassion, sweetness and light, but it’s a sham. I’ve seen her when she catches people doubting. It’s not pretty.

“The part about teleplasty is true, Julia, but if you are so powerful, why hasn’t she showed you how to use it? She knows you already have, subconsciously, on every woman who follows you. It’s not because you aren’t ready, or are unable to control it. It’s because she fears it, and fears being found out by you.

“Look, I’ll tell you something and you can decide what to do. All I ask is that you look to your natural instincts. The reason I know so much about what is going on is because I am from the Covenance. Yes, the same one she talks about.

“There’s no agenda to ‘get’ you. She tells that to everyone, too. I’m only talking to you because you’re not deep enough into her web to be totally blinded. I didn’t come here to find you. I’m on a fact-finding mission. I’m supposed to find out what’s really going on here, so corrections can be made. I really did hear about you at school, from a girl who lives near D.C. If you were the same Julia, I had to save you from this monstrous cult, if I could.”

Emma paused, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I... I’m risking the existence of my mind, but it’s worth it if I can save even one Daughter from the iron grip of Fiona. Even more worth it if I can save someone as beautiful as you.”

Emma’s revelations hit Julia like tidal wave. She didn’t want it to be true, but it just made too much sense. She felt ashamed, and worse, she felt used. It was the final straw. After falling to Dr. Salyer and the Board of Eleven, then emerging victorious, then nearly drowning in the emotional aftermath, and then finally being restored, and now this... deception... it was just too much to take. As much as she tried to avoid it, there was a dark stain growing in her heart. It was the inky blackness of bitterness and revenge, and Julia could not help but let a part of her welcome it.

“So how do I begin to use this power?” asked Julia, deep shadows showing on her face.

“Well, first, calm down.” soothed Emma. “We need to get your mind back into one piece. The Daughter way.

“In other words, we need to fuck until we drop.”

Breaking into a dark, wanton smile, Julia said, “Girlfriend, that’s the best idea I’ve heard in fucking weeks.”

“Mistress, is Your servant pleasing You?”

“Yes... cunt-slave... you are doing wonderfully. I am able to do anything through you I could do in person. It’s perfect. And... she is already more malleable than even I would have imagined.”

“Ohhhhhhh Mistress, it feels so wonderful and... right to please You... You are more than worthy of worship, adoration, love and lust...”

“Hush. I already know, cunt-slave. It has always been thus.”

Julia looked up from the bed at the nineteen-year-old woman-child walking over to her. She could smell hot arousal like a heady perfume, invading her thoughts and clouding her senses except for the desire to mate with this gorgeous, auburn-haired nymphet. She had a fleeting thought that perhaps her lust had been this strong before, but she could not recollect when.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the return of desire for worldly, womanly pleasure, picturing Emma in a crotchless, shiny, black latex corset. The smell of the imagined rubber mixed with the aroma of boiling womansex, and made her dizzy with the ache of deep, sensual need.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped at what she saw... Emma was dressed just as she had pictured, her movements now flowing in slow motion, like the visions of depravity that invaded her dreaming. Emma’s breasts sat like ripe canteloupes, unbound, with nipples stiff and pointing toward her like beacons of blissful promise.

She heard Emma’s voice in her head, sending delicious shills down her spine. “You see? You are already learning the Art of Gracing. There is nothing to fear... only that which is longed for...”

Somewhere deep inside, Julia knew that the latex that looked painted onto Emma was an illusion, something she had brought into their perception by her will... but it didn’t matter. It looked real, smelled real... and it was so visually powerful that Julia found herself getting lost in passion that was eroding her thoughts faster than she could replace them.

(You want me more than anything, Julia...) Emma intoned, slithering the thought into Julia’s mind like viscous, honeyed oil, sending her skin into goosebumps. And it was true. Nothing fucking matters but this moment with your lover, with your Goddess...

Julia jerked herself aware in a moment of reverse deja vu. This was terribly wrong... she was succumbing to a child, a naive girl who should not be able to command so much power. She knew it with all of her being. But the latex was still there, and her skin, now covered with glistening oil, looked like fucking liquid sex. Julia shook her head as rivulets of tingling pleasure rolled over her scalp.

She stood, legs wobbling, and made her way to the door. Throwing it open, she fell backwards onto her buttocks in surprise as she found Fiona, angry and glowering, standing before her, blocking her path. Julia tried to scoot away, but everything was back in slow motion again, her body moving through the molasses of altered perception, hands refusing to find any purchase on the floor.

“You stupid cunt!” screamed the ancient Matriarch. ”Now look what you’ve done! You’ve ruined everything the Daughters have been working towards for 3,000 years! You BITCH! Your first punishment was pleasant... but now, you’re going to PAY!”

Fiona stretched a hand out towards Julia, closed her eyes and put her head back slightly... and stopped.

“You see, Julia? She is not who she says she is at all,“ came the voice of Emma, breaking through the fog of Julia’s fear. Julia crab-legged over to the door and kicked it shut, and raised herself to her feet, spinning around to face Emma again.

She gasped in both confusion and arousal at what she saw. Emma was nearly covered with the smooth latex, with only her feet, hands, and the soft oval of her face showing from inside the bodysuit. The smell of the latex hit Julia full force again, and she felt heat thrust into her crotch like the blast of a sex-kiln, baking her lust into her, soldering her ravenous desire into every nerve in her body.

She was confused and afraid... but could not resist the ancient call of needs deeper than history. She looked for a way out, and finding nothing with which to free herself struggled in panic for anything she could do.

A thought of incredible clarity sprang from the deep well of her subconscious, and she listened. Play along, get the girl to let her defenses down... it won’t hurt to... fucking cum... touch her, help her... obey her... wait for the crack in the armor to show... then lick... find the Holy Clit... pleasure Her... obey Her... release your fear... fear kills... love heals... love Her... save Her... surrender to love... to lust... worship Emma... Emma slut.... am a slut... am a slave... am a cunt-slave... obey... cunt-slave...

All thoughts lead to Emma... Emma leads to Sondra... Sondra leads to Bliss...

The name did not create the slightest stir as it burrowed deep into Julia’s mind, nestling in, and growing roots that Julia could feel take hold and grow. She tried for a moment to think what it might mean, but it felt too fucking good to worry about it. It was the mindfuck of heaven itself.

The roots began to spread apart Julia’s intellect, breaking it into pieces, feeding on it, making her part of the roots and the roots part of her, totally inseparable. She could feel the roots commanding her, pushing pleasure beyond imagining through her psyche and body, sucking away her mind and returning it... different... transformed... obedient... corrupted...

Just one... touch... was the final coherent thought that the Julia knew.

As her body quaked with the sensations now pouring freely through it, she reached down to her own flood of wetness and dipped deep into her folds. She pulled up, tasting, and then, eyes wide and nearly unseeing in the firestorm of pleasure coursing through her, she held it to Emma’s lips.

Eyes wide and unblinking and mouth slack, she watched as Emma suckled on her finger, chewing and licking the juices and moaning with bottomless passion.

As she pulled her finger free, she noticed that it was covered with the slick blackness of the latex. It rippled upward, covering her palm, and then out to cover her other fingers, creating a living glove of shiny blackness. Her hand began to tingle, and then, to tickle. Even without words, Julia realized that her hand was cumming.

The spread stopped halfway to her elbow, and as her eyes rolled up into her head, Julia was beginning to lose any sense of reality as the pleasure increased in wave after wave of alien, orgasmic pleasure.

(That’s right, Julia... let the pleasure consume you... take you... become you...)

Julia’s deepest self was being seduced... to fight against this... this molten whirlpool of ecstasy... was simply beyond her grasp. All she managed to do was bring her head forward and look into the waiting eyes of Emma.

Reaching up and pulling her down to the bed, Emma kissed Julia deeply, her tongue snaking into her mouth and dancing... pushing deeper and deeper... all the way into her throat, tingling with blazing sensations of almost clitoral throbbing... and then suddenly her mouth was filling with something slick and... delicious... the smell of latex filled Julia’s nose at the same time she was blasted with the realization of what was happening.

This insidious, seductive orgasmic ooze was filling her... taking her... she was beginning to feel the orgasm in her mouth, her throat, inside her ears... even inside the bone of her skull... nothing was immune, nothing hidden. She lay back, as the sweet sensation of climax swelled though her, her body beginning to twitch and shudder uncontrollably as all awareness left her entirely and she became nothing more than a reaction to pleasure itself.

Emma released her from the kiss and, turning and straddling Julia’s mouth with her own inflamed and swollen pussy, lowered her mouth to the wellspring of the Goddess/Daughter who had once been Julia Shelton.

The black ichor began to flow from Julia’s budding snatch onto Emma’s waiting, oily-slick tongue... and, swallowing, she allowed it to pass through her essence, adding the will of Sondra and feeding it to Julia as it poured from her own jetting pussy and asshole.

Julia was bucking uncontrollably now, the pleasure completely beyond human experience, the orgasm of shared consciousness driving her shifting essence into new, totally depraved realms... Emma could feel her own consciousness melding and bringing her closer to her own epiphany of lust.

Julia’s mouth was screaming, but it was unheard... as more and more of the satiny, slick blackness poured into and through her, every nerve dedicated to more and more pleasure... her body feverishly growing new pleasure sensors at the bidding of the lust-roots now irreversibly lodged within her heart and mind and soul.

The black, oozing rubbery mass began to vibrate from the energy, creating a seamless, wide ribbon that moved faster and faster through both women, vibrating against their sex and against their bodies-made-sex... insanely faster, like a belt of pleasure, racing through them as the silent screams of both women rose in their minds, pushing them farther and farther into fevered passion, beyond abandon, beyond even lust...

And then, as they reached the dark precipice at the edge of fused, maniacal pleasure, they leapt into orgasm as lovers leap to death... into the void of pleasure... where nothing existed but the pure essence of sexual rapture, consuming them entirely as they disappeared into the nothingness of perfect union...

...when Emma awoke, they were both walking along the road to the closest village, two hundred kilometers from the lodge of Fiona. Julia walked behind, blind to everything around her, unseeing and unfeeling, lost in the Rapture of Nowhere, the legendary domain of True Daughters.

She would not be the same Julia when she awakened.

“Mistress?”

“Yes, cunt-slave?”

“You saw. You know.”

“Yes.”

“She may truly be the Restorer, Mistress.”

“Yes. She may be. That is why you must take the next step.”

“Yes, Mistress. It does seem mundane, though... after...”

“After what?”

“After... how I have seen You use Your power...”

“Liar.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“She is at her most vulnerable now. Now is the only time we can shape her. She is not present enough for gracing. So either you can sit and whisper my Truth to her for the next ninety-some days, or you can use the couch.”

“Yes Mistress. Your cunt-slave will use the couch.”

“Good girl.”

“Thank You, Mistress.”

Darkness. The blackness was bliss, and the bliss was endless. Nameless, faceless, without memory, there was no thought, no sense of anything but just “being”.

An eternity stretched in all directions, all things focused on this one moment. Pleasure beyond expression. Beyond life and even death, no thought could possibly convey even a simple, awkward description.

This was the Rapture of Nowhere.

Eternity backwards. Eternity forwards.

And then, a thought slowly swirled and coalesced...

Julia saw that she was somewhere, but where that was, she could not tell. She did not have enough presence to care, or not care. It wasn’t even a whisper in her mind.

She let the pleasure of the blackness continue to seduce her mind and body.

And then, words began to emerge from the silence... words that did not compete with anything else for her attention... her focus... her inevitable acceptance...

Julia saw, heard and felt nothing but Truth.

Emma sipped her coffee, tired and footsore after the journey they had just taken. She envied Julia’s oblivion. She placated her physical pain with the knowledge that her mission for Mistress Sondra had been successful. She could let go for a bit, now that she had settled into Mistress’ retreat-house with Julia.

Emma sat and closed her eyes, letting her inner senses see the psychic form of Julia. She was still encased in her latex cocoon, and now lay on the Couch of Teaching, one of the Covenance’s most insidious devices. Being used as it was now, Emma knew that it was even more powerful than usual.

The Couch was playing simple commands into Julia’s spongy, receptive, vulnerable, malleable mind. Not just playing... it was vibrating it into her from her back to her front, from top to bottom, from inside out.

Normally, the Couch would chip away at the resolve of a Daughter as the relentless commands coursed through her. As each resistant thought emerged, it would be destroyed in a powerful physical and psychic blast. Emma had seen the strongest of Daughters crack in less than an hour.

For Julia, in her altered state of consciousness, there were no resistant thoughts. There was no sense of time or place. While it was being spoken into her, each word would be Julia’s single thought. It would be her entire universe. It would be her fucking existence.

And she would be listening without ceasing for the next twelve days.

“Cunt-slave.”

Emma jerked to attention and fell to her knees as her Mistress spoke to her mind. “Yes, Mistress Sondra, your whore hears and obeys,” she answered.

“You have done well, and your reward shall be great.”

Emma shivered as the touch of her Mistress’ mind-kiss sent waves of pleasure through her body... every tremor of lust deepening her willing servitude.

“And how is my little ‘bun-in-the-oven’?”

“You cannot see, Mistress?”

“Don’t be impudent. No, I can’t. The Cocoon shields her from all but those within a very short distance. In the ancient days, this protected the Daughters from outside influence, as long as they were isolated during the time of Fullness. Someday I’ll have to let you read the ancient texts. They are most illuminating.

“Now, take me to into her, through yourself. Open for me, precious Daughter-whore.”

“Yes, Mistress. Your word is my life.”

Emma focused and moved her mind to Julia’s still, imprisoned body. She slipped quietly, invisibly into Julia’s thoughts and perceptions, seeing, for the first time since bonding, the inside of Julia’s mind. She could not hear the Couch of Teaching, but she could feel the nearly irresistible draw to the black depths where Julia’s indoctrination was under way.

She felt her Mistress’ mind consume her own, and bathed in the bliss of her own submission as she watched, her quickened arousal reverberating more with each moment.

“Who are you?” came the words of Sondra’s will.

“Julia,” came the thought-word from the blackness.

“What are you?“

“Daughter, Cunt-slave, Mind-whore, Handmaiden to Almighty Goddess Sondra.”

“What is your purpose?”

“To fulfill the Will of Sondra in all things.”

“What are the limits of your obedience, adoration, lust and love for Sondra?”

“There are no limits.”

“And how long will you be owned by and totally in service to Sondra?”

“For all eternity.”

Emma felt Sondra slowly, gingerly pull back from the abyss, and pulled back her own mind, careful not to create any wakes or evidence of their presence.

“When next you cum, cunt-slave, it shall be more than glorious. After only a few short hours, Julia is already too far down the road of surrender to turn back. This is my gift to you, your reward for unswerving obedience. Mistress is well-pleased.”

“Thank You, Mistress.”

When Sondra was finally gone, Emma found herself shaking. As much as what Mistress was doing excited her beyond expression, she also felt a profound sadness. In her bonding with Julia, she had been surprised to find someone truly deserving of her devotion and love. Her eyes stung briefly as the tragedy hit home.

That Julia would be no more.

Trying to collect herself, lest Mistress find her in mourning, Emma shuddered with horror and pleasure as she tried to imagine the ramifications. By the time Julia’s mind returned to the physical realm, the Couch would be giving her instructions so complex that they would be a maze from which there was no escape. Julia would be a fucktoy and a True Daughter of Sondra’s whims.

The world had never seen the Daughter that Julia would become. No one had ever bent, twisted and reshaped a True Daughter so completely.

That was already changing.

It was unimaginably arousing and, at the same time, unspeakably horrific. Emma felt the urgent desire to cum, along with the maddening desire to end her own existence. Her shame caressed her pride, creating a torture of infinite pleasure and pain.

Finally, unable to escape her own betrayal, she did the only thing she could.

Emma wept.

Whether from joy or grief, she could not say.