The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Day One — The Girl.

It was wrong... It was a silly thing to do but I did it anyway... After all, it never happens to us, it can’t, can it? Well, can it?

Actually, it can... It does... It did!

I am confused. I don’t know where I am. Please, I don’t know where I am. I try to explore but everything is pitch-black. There is something in my mouth, it is hard and rubbery, I spit it out, but it won’t go. I push it with my tongue but something is holding it in place so I bite down on it—it gives, but not by much. Its about two inches across, hard and round: I shout, but all that comes out is: “Uh! Urr!”

Early this morning I was at the bus stop: it was pouring with rain. At least I think it was this morning, time is playing tricks with my mind, or is my mind playing tricks with time? Please, I don’t know where I am: all I know is that I am toasty warm and dry which is much better than being shivering cold and wet. There was just me and the girl: the Indian girl who looked about sixteen or seventeen. Either way she looked about ten years younger than me and just as bedraggled with the rain making “rat’s tails” out of her long black hair. I’d seen her before; she always seemed to catch the same bus as me: the six-fifty. She was a pretty little thing but we’re both British, so had never spoken.

Cars roared past, we both got splashed a couple of times. I looked at her hopefully without her noticing: she looked like a student; short raincoat over jeans. Colours weren’t obvious under the orange street lights. No where else in Britain seems to have these daft orange street lights. God! I hate dark mornings!

How did I get from there to here? How did I get the ball in my mouth? I don’t know! I’m spread-eagled as well, how did I get like that? Think, girl, think!!! I’m upright, the ball in my mouth is making me drool; I feel the saliva land on my breast and begin to trickle down into my cleavage. I feel myself frown. My clothes? Where are my clothes? Ah, yes, the scissors. ‘Snip... Snip... Snip!’ I remember those big, frightening scissors.

I’m at the bus stop with the pretty Indian girl. Oh no! My raincoat is starting to fail; that’s the trouble with fashionable clothes... They are useless! Plastic macs are out of fashion, so I get wet. A car splashes my legs and I hiss my displeasure. I must have said something because the girl stares at me, smiles and nods—her complexion strange under the orange street lights.

Something is holding my hands up above my head... Something is holding my feet in position about two feet apart... I’m the letter “X”... “X” marks the spot that I am in... My feet are on the floor and I am standing but it is pitch dark and I cannot move. Why am I not terrified?..I should be terrified, shouldn’t I? But I’m not and its warm and no longer raining. Somehow I am at peace and past caring. I close my eyes and watch the pretty points of light dancing in my own personal blackness. My mind seems to float somewhere in that comfortable place between waking and sleeping. Was it the injection that made me so relaxed: the injection and the kind words?

The bus is late. I glance at my watch, but cannot read it because of the rain spots that are striking the glass. The rain spots and the strange orange street lights. They say that nothing rhymes with “orange”: what would want to?

A car pulls up: it is a big car, a Mercedes or a Jaguar. Big, white and mud splattered. I don’t know much about cars except that I can’t afford one. The window winds down and, curiously, I look in. An Indian woman leans over.

“Excuse me, Miss, do you know the way to North Road College?” Her voice is accented but cultured.

I answer that I’m a lecturer there, but it’s not straight forward from here and there are a lot of turnings.

Her smile is beautiful and very reassuring, all pearl-white teeth with gold fillings. “Would you like a lift: that way you can give me directions?”

Say: “No!” Say: “No!” Say: “No!” Please say: “No!”

“Ooh yes please, that would be wonderful!”

I climb into the front passenger seat and sink in: its like a very comfortable armchair., it seems to mould itself around me. The adventure is beginning but I don’t know it yet... I am just glad to be out of the infernal rain.

I test my bonds: there are cuffs around my wrists and ankles: not tight, not restricting, just enough to hold me in place. I struggle and find that I have very little movement: clips rattle: metal clips, but that’s all. Oh, I wished that it was light... Then I realise/remember that there is something soft and velvety over my eyes. It is a mask or blindfold. I relax and let my captive wrists support some of my weight... I doze.

The girl at the bus stop suddenly leans in... “Hey, I’m a student there. Can I have a lift too please?” So that’s where I have seen her before—she’s one of our anonymous two thousand... Do I teach her? No, no I don’t, but she is a pretty little thing.

The Indian woman sighs resignedly and says: “Alright, get in the back and try not to drip too much.”

I’m with two other women: I can only be safe... Besides, It’s dry! I’m warm! I’m out of that damned rain.

The big car swings out into the city traffic and heads north. The car radio is playing something classical—something by Mozart. It must be Mozart: it’s soothing and it’s pack-jammed full of notes . I give directions: a right; a left; another left. We overtake a bus, a big lumbering thing full of wet, steaming people.

“Next left.” I say helpfully but something damp is pressed over my nose and mouth...

There is a sweet, sickly smell and taste and my head spins. I don’t quite lose consciousness but seem to be in that state between waking and sleeping. Mozart reaches a crescendo and I feel detached from reality. I see the driver operate a control on the dash and my seat-back begins to move down slowly. Soon I am lying almost flat. I wriggle to get more comfortable: nice!

My head is spinning, but I am relaxed... So relaxed. I feel something round being pushed into my mouth... Something round and rubbery. The girl lifts my head gently and slips a strap around my neck and buckles it, taking care not to trap my long red hair. She is soooo gentle and her hands are soooo soft that I smile, or try to. One after another, she buckles cuffs around my wrists. They are fur-lined and have metal rings on them. This isn’t right, but I don’t care! I feel safe! I feel comfortable! I feel warm! Something sticks into my neck: something like a pin or a needle: then hey! I’m past caring and gratefully fall asleep.

I dream: I’m in a warm comfortable place: Mozart is playing: I am in a very posh motor car... I’ve never been in a Mercedes before. . . . . . . . . . . .

“Oh Lord won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

My friends all drive Jaguars and I must make amends.

I’ve worked hard all my life, Lord, no help from my friends,

So Lord won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?”

. . . . . . . . . it runs through my head over and over: it drowns out the sound of the engine (what sound?). It drowns out Mozart... Four nonsense lines play over and over filling my little world, drowning out everything else... Or at least I dream that they do.

I stare up at the car’s roof: it is upholstered in soft white leather. The girl gently lifts my head and slips something around it, covering my eyes. Something velvety and black. A soft kiss is placed on my forehead. A gentle voice says: “Sleep well, my darling.”

...and I do! Or at least, I dream that I do.

Time passes. I am no longer in the car, I am suspended on the frame. The ball-gag is removed and I am gently offered a bottle of water. I drink greedily as I am very thirsty. I become aware of a pain in my lower abdomen, it goes at the same time that I realise that there is warm liquid soaking through my clothes and running down my legs.

A cultured voice with a musical, though cultured, Indian accent says. “You simply must house train her, Hamsini, my darling!” The voice is gently chiding.

The ball-gag is slipped back into my mouth: I do not resist, I do not want to resist. Instead I whimper and the blindfold is removed. I blink at the bright light.

The room is about thirty feet square and is decorated in brilliant white. Two of the walls are hidden by heavy white satin curtains After the darkness, it dazzles me. When my eyes return to normal I see that there are just the three of us: the woman, the girl and me. I can see them both and the resemblance is obvious... Mother and Daughter. Yes, that’s it, they must be: Mother and Daughter. I feel pleased with myself for reaching that conclusion; after the last injection, thinking is not easy.

The two of them relax in white armchairs, they are just watching me They are so alike. Time ticks by until suddenly, the Mother turns to her Daughter. “Are you sure? Remember we can’t exactly take her back to the shop?”

Hamsini, the daughter, regards me seriously then springs to her feet, comes over and begins brushing my hair which I wear long. She is very gentle. “Umm, Mummy, she is so beautiful. Just look at her hair: its like burnished copper. And her green eyes... Oh, I’m sure. This is the one that I want!”

The Mother stands and walks over. They kiss in front of me, the kiss has an obvious sexual undercurrent and lasts over a minute. They break and the Mother, still hugging the Daughter to her, speaks: “Well then. Happy Birthday, my darling. Eighteen today!” She squeezes her Daughter and kisses her again. “Why don’t you unwrap your present?”

She sits down to watch the show from the comfort of her armchair while Hamsini collects a pair of long scissors from somewhere and begins to remove my still-damp clothing snip by snip by snip.

She is careful, oh so careful as she cuts through my raincoat... She gently gathers up my hair and drapes it over my shoulder, then: snip snip snip through the back of the jacket, right down from collar to waist. I feel it loosen immediately. Then she repeats the process at the front... Slowly, carefully the big scissors cut my expensive Burberry down to my waist, I whimper. I loved that coat, even though it used to let the rain in: I saved for months to buy it and now it’s being turned into rags.

“Don’t be a silly girl!” She chides me. “I won’t hurt you... I’ll never hurt you, my darling.”

“Have you thought of a name for your pet?” Her Mother enquired. “She should have a pretty name.”

I tried to tell them that I already had a name but the gag turned my words into gibberish. They ignored me.

Hamsini steps back. “According to the meaning of my name, I am the woman ‘who rides the swan’.”

Her Mother chuckled. “Oh how fitting: you plan to call her ‘Hamsiki’? Is that not so, my darling?” She could see where this was going.

“Umm, something like that... There are many names that mean ‘swan’ but ‘Hansa’ is my favourite. After all if I am ‘the one who rides the swan’: then should I not have a beautiful swan to ride?” Mother and Daughter laugh, but it isn’t a nasty laugh.

“Oh yes: ‘Hansa’ is a beautiful name for her. She, after all, is very swan-like with her white skin. Yes, an excellent choice!” With Mother’s approved, I became the Daughter’s beautiful white swan.

Hamsini turned back to me, and with a few more snips , opened both of my sleeves from collar to cuff. The raincoat fell away, revealing my brown turtle-neck jumper. “Oh, what an ugly garment!” Hamsini gasped and snipped away at my favourite jumper in exactly the same way as my Burberry, only this time she sheared through my bra too and I was suddenly naked above the waist.

The girl lowered the scissors and gently played with one of my breasts. I was sure that this was wrong, but my nipples betrayed me as soon as she ran her finger around them. They stiffened and stood out. She licked one and gently flicked it with her tongue. “Oh, how cute... They’re coral-pink not chocolate-brown!” She proclaimed in surprise.

Her Mother chuckled happily at her Daughter’s reaction to my tits.

“Can they be made larger?” Hamsini asked.

“The breasts or the nipples?”

“Umm, both, please.” The Daughter answered hopefully.

“I don’t see why not. Tell you what: finish unwrapping her and we’ll discus what needs to be improved. After all, I want your birthday present to be perfect!”

My head was clearing slowly: I wasn’t in any immediate danger: nothing life threatening: but judging by what they were saying, my life was about to change beyond all recognition.

The scissors snipped again—one long cut this time, straight down the front of my skirt so that everything fell away leaving me in just a pair of pale-blue panties. Then two very careful snips later, both down the outside of each leg, and I was naked except for the cuff around each ankle and wrist. I look at them, each one has a metal loop built into it: each loop is attached to the frame by a large brass padlock. I clearly wasn’t going anywhere in the near future!

Hamsini stepped back and began to appraise me, or more precisely, my body. She stared at me for several minutes and I blushed a deep red. “Oh! How quaint.” The girl seemed genuinely pleased by my reaction.

She stepped forward and slipped a hand between my legs. I felt a finger gently ease up into my pussy. “She’s quite moist even now, Mummy. I think she likes girls!”

Her Mother found this to be funny and chuckled again. “Don’t worry, my precious child, if she doesn’t, she soon will.”

The girl withdrew her finger: sniffed it, then tasted it. “Oh, wow! She’s heavenly. I can’t wait to lick her out.” She tweaked my pubic hair and I winced. “But that patch of red fur has got to go: I always hate getting hair in my mouth!”

Her Mother nodded but said nothing as she sat there enjoying her Daughter’s obvious pleasure.

Presently they reapplied my blindfold and left me to my thoughts, such as they were. I sensed movement near me occasionally—no doubt the remains of my clothes were being cleared away. Then I was left to doze: I must have been drugged again for I have only vague memories of the remains of that day.

What is it that people say when they are trying to sound knowledgeable in an attempt to impress? ‘Today is the first day of the rest of your life.’

If that isn’t pretensions drivel, then nothing is... But there again, in my case it was more or less true... Except... Today was certainly the first day of Hansa’s life and the last of mine.

Day Two — The Awakening.

After ‘Day One’ I was, and still am, unsure as to the number of actual days that passed: only the sequence of events. It will be ‘Day Twenty-One’ before I see daylight again, or experience anything which could be described as ‘a complete day’. The events that I describe as happening on ‘Day Two’ may indeed have taken place on ‘The Second Day’. However, they may have also taken place at the end of ‘Day One’ or on ‘Day Three’ or even ‘Day Thirty’! There is no way to know for sure. The event sequence is correct but the day numbers are really little more than a series of pegs upon which to hang these events.

I awoke the next(?) morning... Well I think it was the next... The mask and the ball gag were gone as was the frame, although I was still in the white room; or one identical to it.

“Good morning, Hansa, my darling!” A familiar and enthusiastic girlish voice cut into the tangled nightmare of my dreams. Nightmare? No! There was nothing unpleasant about my dreams or predicament. Surreal, yes. Unpleasant, no. For all intents and purposes, my life as a Human Being seemed to be over and that of a beloved pet animal had seamlessly taken its place.

I rolled over in my nest of blankets and beheld the face of my owner: the girl from yesterday who I knew only as Hamsini—the swan-rider. I smiled and she smiled back. She reached forward and buckled a diamanté-studded dog collar around my neck. It was soft and velvety against my skin. She kissed me on top of my head—exactly the same way that I used to kiss my dog when I was a child.

I look around... It seems that I had slept in some sort of large pet bed one with my name on it.

“Mummy says that I must look after you properly: well I intend to!” I felt her running her fingers through my hair.

“Where am I?” I asked plaintively.

The slap stung my face and was quite unexpected following the gentle treatment that I had hither-to received. “Bad puppy-girl! You must only bark or whine, animals do not speak in words. If Mummy finds out, she’ll have them take your voice away. I don’t want that, not yet anyway. You are a pet, so remember that and we’ll both be very happy.”

I was light-headed and pliant, probably due to the cocktail of drugs that I had been fed yesterday when I was given a. series of injections to make me docile. It seemed that they were planning to keep me drugged to make me cooperative.

Hamsini stands over me: she was wearing a white satin blouse, a bright tartan miniskirt and white knee length socks while I am dressed in precisely nothing. She clips a lead to my collar and gently tugs to encourage me to get out of my basket. “Come on, lazy-bones: time for you to spend a penny!” She insists that I crawl as she leads me across the room towards some sheets of newspaper placed in a corner.

She expects me to ‘puddle’ on the newspaper... So this is what her Mother had meant by ‘house-training’. I squat down as best I can, but the stream of liquid gushes out, splashes up and soaks my legs and feet.

“I think that I had better let you use a toilet from now on.” Is her only comment, although I think that she is more than a little disappointed that the experiment has failed. She dries me off with a towel and I am allowed to relieve myself with dignity thereafter.

Time for breakfast she announces she clips something to my collar and leads me across the room to a food bowl. Again I crawl on all fours, much to the girl’s pleasure. Breakfast is eaten on the floor.

After I had eaten as best I could, she carefully washes my face and brushes my hair and her own. Hers, although the blackest black, was as long as mine.

She allows me to walk upright most of the time as I am clearly no physical threat to her... In fact I am slightly taller and at twenty-eight, mine is the more mature figure: a figure that she seems to enjoy exploring. That exploration begins in the shower; although I must admit that before “The Second Day”, showering had always been a non-social activity for me. Today I am expected to wash both of us while Hamsini plays with my body and shows obvious enjoyment in the process. The play and exploration becomes more sexual as time goes on until she gently pushes me into a kneeling position and presses her pussy against my face.

Am I expected to lick her? I honestly do not know how too. If she expects me to gratify her then she will have to teach me how. But no! She just intends to use me. Gently at first and then gradually faster and faster, she begins to rub her vulva against my face. She is using me to masturbate against... I am actually relieved as she rubs her self ecstatically against my mouth, cheeks and nose. I don’t need to do anything other than cooperate and she soon cums and actually squirted over me during her orgasm. The shower took most of it away, but some goes into my mouth. I have not tasted a girl before: she is exquisite: her juices have a sweet but earthy tang. She screams and twitches in orgasmic release, then helps me to my feet and out of the shower. We dry each other on large, soft white towels... This will become a daily ritual, although as yet I am unaware of this aspect of my future existence.

Days Four to Fifty(?) — The Improvements.

My confusion continues. I am separated from my beloved Hamsini and her all-powerful Mother. Once the woman is satisfied that I am truly what her Daughter wants, I am put into the hands of a shadowy section of the Medical Profession. Her “Special Doctors” as she always calls them.

Over the next many days I am kept sedated while my body is cut, tucked and padded out. It is a heady mix of lethargy, torpor, confusion, sleep, drowsiness and shadows. People speak, their voices echo. Their words are in no languages that I understand. They echo through my hearing and throughout my poor empty head. Someone seems to snarl gutturally at me while another hisses and hacks as if they are clearing their throat. There is a sing-song argument; laughter; a memory of arm waving—lots and lots of arm waving. I drift in and out of consciousness. My body is the centre of attention while the mind, hiding somewhere within, is ignored. I feel, low, high, remote. I feel wanted and reviled all at the same time. I do not feel as if I am me or even that there is a ‘me’ for them to be concerned about.

There is pain. There is soreness. There is a burning sensation in my groin, then in my arm pits. I drift off to sleep. I drift back to something resembling consciousness. The old pains are gone but now I have new ones and my throat is on fire. There is a heavy weight pressing down against my chest and I cannot move. I am suspended in some sort of a cradle and figures in green scrubs are tinkering with me. I drift off to sleep again. This happens time after time... The hours stretch into days; into weeks: or so it seems as I awake and fall asleep without and reference to day and night. I am connected to bags, bottles and containers by tubes and wires. Electrical things beep and click in response to I know not what. Shadowy figures in green read the dials and gauges... Time passes.

My feminine curves are exaggerated... Nothing extreme... I seem to have gone from ‘B’ cup to ‘DD’ and gained a well-padded rump. I was never sure that I wanted big breasts: but Hamsini wants me to have them, so thinking about it, I want them too. My nipples however now stiffen to at least an inch long and my alveoli seem to be the size of saucers.

They have also remodelled my lovely pussy, too: it is now more sensitive and my clitty is as long and as thick as my thumb and erects like a small cock when I am aroused, which seems to be most of the time: or at least seems to be whenever I am with Hamsini. My outer lips are fuller and more swollen now and my inner ones seem to hang lower and are more rubbery. If anything brushes against them I get a distinct thrill, almost like an electric shock. Not only has my arse been padded but my pucker seems to have been stretched and made more sensitive and accommodating. In my innocence I wonder why.

The last change, and the only strange one is the tail... Yes, Hamsini, has had them grow me a tail—a real flesh and blood one. A tail with long red hair transplanted from my scalp. It seems that they removed a strip an inch wide from forehead to nape. Some of it forms the skin of my new tail while the rest of it runs down my neck and spine to link it with my hair. They closed the gap in my scalp and it is no longer visible now that it has healed.

I have a strip of red hair running right down my back and a short tail with long hair like a horse’s. My darling Hamsini tells me that I should be able to ‘swish’ it from side to side as well as being able to raise it. Yes, it has its own muscles, that were stripped out of my back or from somewhere else where they were not needed. It is numb at the moment but will have feeling when the nerves regenerate.

Lastly, I try to speak... Nothing comes out other than squeaks, yelps and squeals. Hamsini’s Mother has been as good as her word... Animals do not speak, pets are animals and I am a pet There is nothing more to be said.

Of cause. I found most of this out much later, although, strangely, I don’t really care. Why should I? I am pampered and live in comfort. I am loved and wanted. The pressures and stresses of my old life have faded and I do not want them back. Being a pet is so relaxing.

Now I am recuperating: in a few days I will be going to my new home. I am still suspended but am partly encased in a body mould to support my modified body. I have a distinct memory of whispering deep inside my head. I cannot hear the words, but they seem to be comforting. I vaguely remember pictures and videos flashing and flickering in front of my eyes. Things are becoming clearer—girls are wonderful...

Spring is in the air and I am looking forward to using my new body for pleasure, after all that is why I have been given it... Although I can’t help wondering what else life has in store for me.

Day (?)Fifty-One: The Swan and her rider.

I am home and wake up on the first morning in my basket. It is big and round with a padded, satin-covered base. I have blankets to keep me warm and cushions to cuddle up to.

Hamsini wakes me up on this special morning: all of the confusing sights, sounds and smells of my medical adventures seem to fade when I see her beautiful face and laughing golden eyes. She clips on my lead and takes me to somewhere that I can relieve myself. She watches but I don’t seem to mind. Next we shower and she explores my improved body, squealing with delight as she caresses it. When my clitty twitches, begins to stiffen and slips out from between my labia, she cannot believe it at first. Very slowly, she reaches out and gently strokes it, then she grasps it and plays with it: she treats it as if it is a cock and tries to masturbate it just like a little boy would. I orgasm several times as she fondles it. Out of the shower, we dry each other using the soft white towels and then brush each other’s hair after drying it. She then brushes my new mane and tail... How I wish that I could enjoy the sensation.

She takes one of my nipples in her mouth and sucks greedily like an infant at the breast. Her eyes go wide as it grows and swells to a full inch inside her mouth. I want her to take me right now in the dressing room but she doesn’t. Instead she leads me back into the white room, which she tells me is our playroom. This is where I slept, but when I look for my basket, it has gone. She sees my distress and tells me that she has had it moved into her bedroom because that is where I will sleep from now on.

I look around at the room, it is very plainly decorated. The walls and ceiling are a brilliant dazzling white while the floor is smooth, varnished pale wood. It is a sprung floor like in a gymnasium, a dance studio or a ballroom. One wall is mirrored while the one opposite is one single massive window looking out onto a very large walled garden. There are four doors: one to the garden, one to the toilet and one to Hamsini’s suite of rooms. The fourth one is locked. It is clearly a very big house belonging to a very wealthy family.

Hamsini gets me to jog around the playroom just so that she can see how the new me moves. The big breasts seem to bounce with a rhythm all of their own, while the wide arse seems to be built for comfort and not speed. The nerves haven’t regenerated yet, so the tail hangs lifeless and without feeling. Hamsini stops me and then plays with my tail... She seems to love it. She runs her fingers through the ridge of hair that now grows down my back: she loves this also. Strange that she likes this hair yet had them remove the tufts in my armpits and around my pussy. The latter is now smooth and much more sensitive. She fingers it and I quiver. She smiles, pulls my head down and kisses me full on the mouth. I have never kissed a girl before and my response surprises me... I relax into her nut-brown arms, close my eyes and let her explore my mouth with her questing tongue. I am hers for the rest of my life and we both know it.

Hamsini uses the silver chain dog-lead to pull me in front of the mirror wall. Oh, wow! I have been given tattooed-on make-up: full coral pink lips, subtle green eye shadow and delicate black eye lines to make my eyes seem bigger and more feminine. The collar that is still buckled around my neck is beautiful, the diamantés sparkle and glitter as I move and the light catches them at different angles. There is a change. Emeralds have been added to spell out ‘Hansa’ in sparkling green letters. It is a beautiful name—it is mine!!! I am Hansa! I am her White Swan!

There is Hindi script tattooed in gold above my left breast. Hamsini sees me puzzling over it and smiles warmly. “It says: ‘Hamsini’s Pet Swan’, my darling.”

I spin around and kiss her so fast that she is startled. I take the lead this time and clearly this is something that she was not expecting... Something has changed: I love her and I want to love her. Of cause I am hers but this also means that she is mine. I hold her and feel her relax in my arms. She drops the lead and I gently began to explore the inside of her mouth with the tip of my tongue. The kiss goes on and on: my tongue finds hers and they rub sensually against each other. The swan rider seems to grow heavy and soon her swan is supporting her weight as she relaxes completely. The kiss ends when I am too light headed to continue.

My Rider’s back arches as her head tilts slowly backwards. Soon she is staring up at the ceiling and her wonderful black hair cascades down to her cute little arse.

“Oh Hansa, darling Hansa! That was wonderful!” My rider says breathily.

I try to say something, but can only manage a puppy-like whine: “Hnn, hnn, hnn, hnn.”

She straightens up and stares in horror. “Oh, Mummy had them take away your voice after all! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask for that!”

Then, lead forgotten, she takes me by the hand and we walk side-by-side out into the warm sunny garden where we eat breakfast on the patio where she is seated at a white garden table. My bowl is on the floor at her side and this is how I eat. Unfortunately, Human Beings do not have a muzzle, so eating like this is surprisingly difficult. I get the food plastered over my nose, all around my mouth and in my hair. My tongue is too short for me to lick myself clean.

Hamsini takes pity on me, she wipes me clean and gives me a spoon so that I can finish off. Afterwards she leads me across the lawn: me walking on al fours like the animal that I now am. The garden is beautiful: it is warmer here because of the surrounding high wall and so experiences an early spring. Flowers are out, I recognize daffodils, but most of the others are strangers to me. I sniff a big purple daisy on the way past, it is exquisite.

My beautiful owner leads me through an archway in a carefully trimmed hedge and then through a hidden gap between two massive hydrangeas. The leaves and blooms gently brush my skin as I pass, I shiver with pleasure.

I find myself in a secluded but romantic arbour: shrubs and trees are all around, shielding it from prying eyes: there is no other way in or out. The space is about twelve feet across and has a chipped bark surface. She tells me that this is her secret place and that no else ever comes here... I find this hard to believe considering that the evidence of a gardener’s expert attentions is everywhere.

Besides the four patio lamps, the only things in the glade are a statue, a swing and a bench that is partly protected by a rustic three-sided shelter. The bench is thickly upholstered in a black leather-like material, it is soft and warm to the touch. I see that Hamsini has prepared for this moment for there is a strap-on lying on the bench. The dildo is green; she tells me that it complements my hair. I am shocked, I have never seen one of those things before, I stare at it wide-eyed in horror but Hamsini only laughs musically. She is laughing at my reaction, not at me.

We sit on the bench and I get a good look at the statue that is also in the secluded little arbour. It is of grey stone and is of a well-endowed girl crouching on all-fours. Her back slopes gently towards us; her ample breasts hang down and her broad arse points in our direction... Her stone pussy is mesmerising and seems to stare invitingly.

We kiss and cuddle for twenty or thirty minutes, our explorations of each other’s bodies becomes gradually more intimate. She tastes like heaven and is soon as naked as I am. She takes the lead, after all she owns me, I am her pet. I am hers to do with as she wants and in any case I have no human voice to make suggestions: instead I whine and yelp enthusiastically, She calls me her beautiful swan and for some reason I quiver with pleasure at this. During one particular long and intimate kiss she gently pushes me back onto the bench and I feel fingers work their way into my pussy. I twitch and relax as she slides them in and out skilfully. I cum and she breaks the kiss. She removes her fingers and sucks one clean; then she offers the other one to me—I take it into my mouth and savour my own silky juices. I taste sweet and musky with a slight earthy overtone. It is a taste that I will crave from now on.

Hamsini takes the strap-on and buckles on the white leather harness. She stands in front of me, the false member standing at attention at her groin... The green dildo seems to be watching me. I feel threatened... While not exactly a virgin, I lack real experience as far as sex is concerned, the only twice that I had experienced it were not exactly pleasant and both times it hurt like blazes when I let Donald forced his cock into me. He came on both occasions, but I did not and the only orgasms that I had ever enjoyed before I was abducted and given to Hamsini were D-I-Y ones and rather weak.

Now I lie back on the bench, legs open and feet touching the floor, one either side. I look up at my brown angel who seems to tower over me, pert breasts, green cock and all. I am ready, I am waiting, I am filled with both longing and trepidation. I whine hopefully and yelp encouragingly.

She smiles down and then leans over and takes up my lead, gently she pulls me over to the statue... I am mystified... Surely she is not going to fuck that? She smiles again then gently drapes me over the stone girl’s back... Only the statue is not stone, it is warm and yielding to the touch like some type of spongy grey plastic. When I am lying belly-down on the girl-figure Hamsini takes my hands and clips my wrist cuffs together under the figures belly and just below its ample breasts.

I look back and smile, spreading my legs as wide as I can. It is going to hurt, I know it is. It always hurts: but if this is what my darling owner wants, then this is what I shall give her. I whine encouragingly: the number of sounds that I am now able to make is strictly limited, whining seems the most appropriate.

Hamsini moves over and stands behind me, between my open legs. She stares at my dripping pussy which must look inviting to her. Yet nothing happens for a minute or so: I begin to get confused, worried even: doesn’t she want me? Has she spotted something that repels her, something that she was previously unaware of? If I am not wanted, will her Mother send me away?

Then, after I have listened to my internal demons for what seems like for ever, she moves my tail to one side and I feel her fingertips softly stroke my labia... She is ever so gentle and I sigh appreciatively: she strokes my pussy for several seconds and then slips a finger in: I quiver and moan.

“So you are ready, my beautiful Swan?” Hamsini asks.

I want to scream: Yes, oh yes, yes, yes! But can do so no longer, instead I whine and moan.

She withdraws her fingers and I feel something larger being rubbed up and down against my oh, so sensitive pussy-lips, It feels wonderful and I feel my back arch in anticipation as I raise my shoulders and breasts off the girl-figure to which I am secured.

Then the head of the bright green cock is pushed in. It hurts momentarily and I yelp, but then I feel it fill me as Hamsini forces her faux-cock into my pussy.

The Swan Rider has mounted her Swan for the first time, Now I must take flight and bear us both up on the wings of ecstasy.

And ride me she does!

She eases forward, stretching me as I have never been stretched before, Her cock is no thicker than Donald’s, but it is longer. In it goes and I gasp... Then she begins to slide it out and I sigh. She repeats the process and once more I am filled. She rides me as I am meant to be ridden: she takes it slow at first and the discomfort is gradually replaced by a feeling of pleasure. Gently she speeds up and also increases the depth of her expert thrusts and soon she is pushing into places where nothing has ever been before. It is a wonderful rhythm... Full—empty—full—empty—full—empty. I find that I am gasping and panting in time to her pelvic thrusts. Soon I can hear her body slapping against my arse as her wonderful thrusts develop power to match the rhythm. Then without realising it, I scream, I have cum!

The Swan-Rider has ridden her Swan to ecstasy. And it is a massive orgasm: much more powerful than anything that I previously experienced. My body spasms and jerks for many seconds. I expect her to stop, but she doesn’t and the ride continues. I cum again and again... Two, three, four! I hear my rider scream also and her rhythm goes to pieces for several seconds, but the ride continues... Five! Six! Seven! Each one more powerful than the last... Eight!!! ......!!!! ......!!!!! I lose count: I am not really sentient any longer as wave after wave of raw pleasure slams through my body. I scream, I yelp, I writhe uncontrollably; but then; suddenly—nothing!

I awake, still chained to the figure... The Swan Rider had ridden me until I had lost consciousness. I lie there panting and moaning... weak orgasms continue to ripple through my body like after shocks. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” I sigh in ecstasy. I never really appreciated that I, as a woman, can experience multiple orgasms nor that I could orgasm so powerfully time and time again! I am grateful to my darling Rider. I know that she came also, for she was shrieking as loudly as I had been and towards the end. The force of her slamming against my arse had been enough to push me forward along the figure’s back. Only the statue’s breasts had stopped my chained wrists from moving any further.

The Rider releases her Swan and we sit on the ground and hug each other... No, we cling to each other. She mutters endearments into my ear while I whine gently into hers. I realise that my throat is sore; I honestly did not know that I was a screamer: Donald had never given me cause to find out.

We help each other to our feet and kiss. I relax in my Rider’s arms and run my fingers through her beautiful hair. The embrace goes on and on. What a site we must have been out there in that sunlit arbour: pale pink skin against golden brown; copper-red hair against glossy black; coral pink nipples against chocolate-brown.

A Swan and her Rider.....