The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Blurred objects and shapeless shadows filled Kila’s waking sight. She moved her head from side to side trying to make sense of what her battered sense was showing her; something white and shiny covered what appeared to be walls and a human figure moved in front of her with careful steps. Kila tried to move her arms in a failed attempt at breaking free from her bonds.

“Do not fight it, thrall,” She heard a familiar voice say. Kila stopped struggling against her bonds

Kila’s body reclined on the soft chair, rubbing her skin against an all too familiar material – a swimsuit. Kila’s eyes almost glazed over when she realized, by a sudden look downwards, that she was clad in her white, shinny, latex uniform swimsuit. She mindlessly moved her back from side to side, brushing her bottom and back against the chair of similar material, just to feel the electric sensations caused by the knowledge of what she wore run through her body.

“I see you are enjoying yourself, swimsuit thrall.”

Kila froze in place; her sex moistened yet again, her eyes glazed over, and her mind emptied. The voice, the beautiful commanding voice, Miss Jen’s voice, spoke to her... Spoke to her as the swimsuit thrall she was! Kila suddenly felt very happy and very aroused.

“Good thrall,” Mistress Jen whispered as she rounded the bound Kila as if a hidden trap might spring if she touched the bound girl, “You are responding quite nicely.”

A moan escaped Kila’s throat at being praised as the swimsuit thrall she knew she was. She felt hands on her naked shoulders and then soft words passing by her neck, caressing her skin, and into her ears. “Wake up now.” Whiteness attacked Kila’s naked sight; white-coloured walls and familiar latex-like coverings appeared before her as her senses suddenly acquired their natural strength. She moved her head to the right, hoping for something familiar to hold on to, but instead found several female mannequin torsos all dressed in various forms of one-piece swimsuits, all shiny and tight and deliciously erotic. Kila licked her lips, a deep sexual hunger flared from within as her mind and body begged to be dressed in the suits.

“I see my thrall is really enjoying the sight,” Mistress Jen purred behind Kila, her hands still wrapped on the young girl’s shoulders, “You like swimsuits so much, don’t you? You find the utterly erotic and mesmerizing.” The woman said with a lust-filled whisper.

“Yes,” Kila found herself whispering.

“Good.”

An obedience-induced shudder washed down the red-head’s body, allowing her to break the spellbound stare the rows of beautiful and colourful swimsuits asked for, and to shift her glances towards her left, triggering yet another shudder of pleasure as she felt her own tight, latex swimsuit rub against her skin. Her body was not given a second’s moment to rest when a loud moan escaped her mouth followed by the beautiful sight before her: standing behind round-glass doors as if prized museum jewels, a collective of nine human bodies all dressed the same stood. They were a total of eight women of varying ages and one young man; they were all beautiful, with fit bodies and strong muscles. Each one dressed in a white, latex, one-piece swimsuit and red swim-cap – Mistress Jen’s uniform. Their expressions were blank and blissful: empty stares and smiles of utter lust. Kila stared at them with a slack jaw; she took in the sight of her five teammates and her lover, all of them transferred to a different plane of beauty by the swimsuits they wore. She stared at the two girls she didn’t recognize similarly dressed as if they were her thrall sisters; at the not-so innocent face of Resina Cobb, with her full, red lips and her sensual eyes staring into nothing, her voluptuous and curvaceous body hugged by the tight swimsuit; and the sight of the man she had helped enslave, Rochet Cobb, his body hugged by the same ladies’ swimsuit, his hard member straining against the latex. Kila felt a combination of lust and guilt.

“That’s right, pet,” Miss Jen said, her left hand on Kila’s shoulder, as she walked around her soon-to-be mindless slave, “You brought them to me. With your help I made sweet, hot Resina into a mindless slave and had her seduce her candy of a brother.” Miss Jen purred.

Kila’s sight was stuck on the visages of mindless obedience before her. She moved her eyes from left to right, staring every single one of her sisters’, and soon-to-be siblings’, faces; but her eyes always, no matter what her lust-stained mind said, lingered on the lovely face of the woman who she felt had not betrayed her – Lara.

“Do you know why they are there?” Miss Jen suddenly asked, her head turned towards her collection of fetish thralls.

“No,” Kila was able to whisper.

“Those tubes, or closets, or whatever you want to call them, are what I call My Obedience Chambers,” The white-clad woman began as she sat on Kila’s bound knees, “They are dressed in my uniform, with headphones set to a loop of my commanding whispers on their ears, and vibrators stuck on and in their sexes.”

Kila suddenly saw what her mind had been commanded to ignore via Miss Jen’s whispers: all the nine uniformed bodies before her had big, round headphones covering their ears, the soft and commanding and mindbending whispers of Miss Jen constantly echoing inside them with unique commands for every thrall. As her sight travelled south, Kila saw that every thrall had a thin, black cable travelling from between their legs all the way to the floor where it disappeared.

“Vibrators,” Miss Jen said as if reading Kila’s mind.

“Vibrators,” Kila found herself repeating with a longing in her voice.

Miss Jen smiled and rubbed her white-encased behind on Kila’s strong knees. She leant closer to her prized red-head, wrapping her arms around Kila’s neck, rubbing her ample bosom on Kila’s own, and placing her face so close to Kila that it divided the girl of all perception of the outside world.

“The girls have big-ass vibrators on maximum stuck deep inside their delicious clams,” Miss Jen softly whispered on Kila’s ear after planting a wet kiss there. Her legs wrapped around Kila’s. “The boy – I have to thank you for giving me the majestic idea on how to enslave him. He is probably the best man I’ve forced to wear a girl’s one-piece – has three different vibrators stuck to his penis, each going at different speeds.”

Kila stared at her swimsuit thrall family with longing and envy (though one could see a bit of fear in her body language) and at her Mistress, who she realized was wearing a white swimsuit too. Kila’s sex flared up with a surge of fetish-induced arousal, a silent moan escaping and met by a lower lip being bitten. Kila’s only noticeable reaction, at least to one sitting on her lap, was the sudden rubbing of her tights.

“Oh my, have we got something to hide, thrall?” Miss Jen said playfully as she slowly moved a hand down Kila’s chest and navel, softly letting it rest on the red-headed’s sex before starting to eagerly masturbate her, “Hmmm,” the woman moaned as if her own sex was being massaged, “You love masturbating through your swimsuit, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love masturbating through my swimsuit,” Kila mindlessly said, her mind reacting on an old trigger, her eyes painfully moving away from her siblings and unto her Mistress.

“Yes you do, thrall. You enjoy anything that has to do with swimsuits because you are my swimsuit thrall.” Miss Jen whispered, her hand working wonders on Kila’s encased sex, “You obey my swimsuit. You are turned on by my swimsuit. You need my swimsuit.”

“I obey your swimsuit. I am turned on by your swimsuit. I need your swimsuit.” Kila found herself echoing.

“Good thrall,” Mistress Jen said as she suddenly removed her luscious and erotic body from Kila’s bound figure.

Kila whined, aching to hear and feel and have her Mistress pleasure her.

“Now that you are sufficiently docile and aroused,” Miss Jen said coldly as she began to unbound Kila’s arms, “We can start the real conditioning.” Kila’s arms stood where they were, resting on the arms, fidgeting and aching to find a glorious swimsuit-clad sex to fondle.

With a devious grin on her face Miss Jen stared at Kila’s bound – in more than one way – body. She wanted so much to touch and fondle her thrall’s body, but the rewards of first breaking her were much more erotic than whatever she could do right now.

“You can play with yourself, thrall,” Miss Jen finally said, commandingly.

“Thank you, Mistress,” Kila found herself replying with sheer gratitude as her hands had already found her aching sex and protruding nipples and were eagerly caressing.

Miss Jen smiled and walked towards where her nine obedient, swimsuit-clad slaves stood. Smiling at their mindless obedience and just how perfectly good her conditioning methods were.

“Do you want me to let you into a little secret, Kila?” She moved her hand upon a small, black keypad stuck to the farthest right of the wall.

“Whatever you wish, Mistress.” Kila replied in between pants and moans, her hands working magic on her body.

“I’ve been enslaving girls for about two years now,” The woman dressed just in very shiny swimsuit began, “Over two years I’ve learned ways of doing it perfectly. The best examples being the Cobb siblings here,” She tapped the glass of the chamber where Rochet Cobb stood, his stare empty, and his crotch vibrating, “They are mindless and obedient to the bone. Perfect swimsuit thralls, if you ask me.”

Kila listened with unreal attention to her Mistress’s words as she pleasured herself to the fringes of human ability, but unable to bring herself past the frontiers.

“I took over Jaqueline’s mind with a combination of oral sex and constant repetition of my whispers,” The woman continued speaking as she pressed a button on the black keypad, a soft hiss echoed and the nine glass chambers opened, but the slaves inside didn’t even flince, “A method I had already tried and perfected with my first thrall, Lara.” The mention of her lover’s name, and the implication behind Miss Jen’s far-away words, brought Kila’s mind into a more conscious state, “With Jacqueline in my hands I was able to move into her business and create this little base underneath her bookstore,” Another twitch from Kila’s body. Her hands slowed down. “Near the pool and open to me at all times, quite convenient it is.”

Miss Jen paused for a second as she walked in front of her thralls, smiling as some of them orgasmed yet again with the constant whispers of obedience drilled into their minds. Miss Jen was so pleased with herself and what she had created, so lost was she in her own selfish world that she failed to notice that Kila’s expression of mindless, oblivious obedience, lust, and joy faded into a sterner look that only free and conscious and thinking minds possess.

“Remove vibrators.” The white-clad woman ordered not in a whisper. The nine slaves complied.

The white-clad woman then walked in front of one of the blonde twins, the dildo-loving Milagros, and suckled on the girl’s nipples. A random act, really.

“These two were quite difficult to enslave. The Genemeny twins were once quite conservative and looked down on alternative lifestyles; it took me months to discover what their weaknesses were. Would you imagine my, erhm, surprise and amazement when I discovered that they both had an incestuous longing for each other’s body. Mind you that by then I had discovered my methods to be flawed and had to develop something close to what you now see and what you will soon experience.” The woman then placed her white-nailed hand upon Melanie’s navel, her caring and possessive stare settled upon the blonde’s sex, “In hindsight, it was a godsend to have met such resilient subjects. They made me re-think my whole process and perfect it.” She crouched and kissed Melanie’s sex.

Kila, her hands now settled on her chest and on her right lap without the aching need to touch, was now wide awake and exempt of Miss Jen’s mind-bending machinations; both the mention of Lara’s name and the small but obvious allusion to Mightier Than A Gun had triggered something Kila only felt when she crossed the threshold of such a holy place.

“Anyway,” The woman said as she turned around and began walking towards the centre of the circular, white room where a table was. “Thralls,” Kila’s eyes almost glazed over at the word, but she managed to control her body and the need to scream yes Mistress.

”Yes, swimsuit Mistress,” Eight feminine voices, and one male voice, said in mindless unison.

“Line up in front of your sister, sexes pushed forward, and masturbate each other.” Mistress Jen said without looking as her hands grabbed what appeared to be a toy gun of sorts.

“Yes, swimsuit Mistress Jen.” The thralls said. A pause, then they turned to the their lefts, each had a unique smile of ultimate bliss and obedience painted on his or her face, and marched forth until they were all some two meters away from Kila, whom still sat still on the soft, latex chair, and began to touch each other’s sexes. The sight of nine persons, each with two foreign hands rubbing at his or her sex was exotically erotic. All perfectly lined up with their simply and happy smiles on their faces, their empty yet lustful stares settled on Kila’s shiny, white body – though none but one of them really saw the red-haired beauty before them – and their powerful, strong, and wide-shouldered bodies all framed and hugged by the tight fit of white latex. Kila almost had an orgasm; instead, she settled on a soft, rhythmic caress of her swimsuit-encased sex.

Meanwhile, Miss Jen held in her hand what, on closer inspection, was nothing like a toy gun at all. What the woman held was a transparent syringe fashioned into the shape of a gun; the needle was short and connected to the plastic via a round, metallic head, which turned to be the beginning of a small, gun-like contraption designed to quickly shoot the transparent liquid it held into the unsuspecting victim. The woman held the object in her hands, curiously staring at the contraption with a wicked yet amused smile on her face; her whole skin ached with anticipation of the feel of the needling sliding through flesh, the glazing of eyes, the opening on minds... Miss Jen snapped back into reality as she heard ten different voices groan. Good. Miss Jen walked towards the spectacle of ten bodies all masturbating eagerly and, as he knew, thinking of only obeying and wearing tight swimsuits.

“I see you all are enjoying yourselves,” Miss Jen said playfully, her back turned towards Kila.

“Yes, swimsuit Mistress Jen,” The thralls responded in unison.

“Good.” She said to herself and quickly turned, her hair flapping in the air with equal momentum, “Now, thrall Kila,” She said with a huge grin on her face, the gun-like syringe held high on her right hand. Kila, of course, twitched on her seat at the sight of the syringe, “Prepared to become a fully obedient swimsuit thrall?”

“Yes, swimsuit Mistress Jen,” Kila said with the monotone yet happy voice she had been commanded to use. She didn’t want to answer, actually. Kila wanted to confirm her whereabouts and to know what was in her Mistress’s hand; although she knew, by the woman’s previous demonstration, that Mistress Jen was fond of monologues. So she simply sat on her pleasure chair and waited.

“Of course you are, thrall,” Miss Jen began, staring at the liquid inside the syringe with hungry eyes, “You see, Kila,” And there the monologue began, “what’s inside this gun-thingy is quite amazing; once this liquid is inside someone, all brain function somehow slows down. Imagine as if you were thrown into a state of near-dream where you can still perceive the world around you, yet can’t do a thing about it except take it all in.” The woman paused, “Just imagine what this thing does when combined with my whispers!” She said with real joy.

Kila stared with a mindless, obedient stare, successfully hiding her confusion deep inside, not at the beautiful, swimsuit-clad behind of Miss Jen, but at the knowing eyes of her lover, Lara. Both girls stared deep into each other, both masturbating through delicious latex, and communicated. Lara, with a batter of eyelashes, expressed how very hurt and sorry she was for betraying Kila. Kila, in her own unique way, forgave her lover and urged her to help her out yet again. Lara only moaned in ecstasy. Kila dared, “Mistress Jen,” She whispered, snapping the commanding woman back from her dreamland.

“Yes, thrall?” The woman said with a smile.

Kila had hoped for a more angry response.

“Your thrall would like to know where we are.”

“Oh,” Miss Jen said with amusement, “Well, we are, of course, underneath Mightier Than A Gun,” She stared upwards, “Fitting place, don’t you think? This is your haven, if I am not mistaken.”

More than that, Kila thought, as her whole body tensed up, the hand over her sex clenching into a fist.

“Enough chit chat,” The woman said, walking nearer to the trap Kila was setting.

Mistress Jen placed a hand on Kila’s tight and leaned over to inject the red-headed on the neck. Kila’s clear mind was waiting for just the right moment for her to strike the woman and free herself.

“You want this,” Miss Jen suddenly whispered on Kila’s ear.

Fist unclenched, body relaxed, mind went numb; the whole of Kila was defeated in a single mind-controlling whisper. Her head began to buzz as old words of obedience rolled inside, “Obey Miss Jen. Obey the swimsuit. Obey Miss Jen.” Suddenly she wanted the needle to penetrate her skin and bring whatever mindless oblivion it brought. She longed for the object to intrude into her skin and make her into the perfect swimsuit thrall. Kila tried to fight it, but the conditioning was already too strong. She simply stared emptily and longingly at Lara’s cinnamon cheeks getting wet by a tear. Kila couldn’t figure out if it was a sad or lust-filled tear. Pain surged through Kila’s neck as Miss Jen jabbed the needle in and pulled the gun’s trigger, softly letting enough of the clear liquid into Kila’s body. Miss Jen removed the needle from Kila’s neck, but she didn’t remove herself from the girl’s lap.

“My sweet swimsuit thrall,” The woman whispered, her hand caressing Kila’s cheek, “You love your fellow thralls. You want to care for them. Touch them and nurture them.”

The mind-bending whispers travelled deep into Kila’s mind, breaking her defences, boosted by the liquid inside her system. The whispers were moulding her to a new reality, making her into something new. She wanted to fight it, yet she wanted it to happen.

“You are going to be the captain of my team,” Miss Jen continued, “Loving all your fellow thralls. You want to protect them. Touch them. Love them. You are attracted to each of them. You want them to touch you. You want to care for them – be a motherly figure.”

“I...” Kila began but was shushed by another wave of whispers.

“You always wear your swimsuit.” Mistress Jen strengthened previous phrases, “You are aroused by swimsuits. You masturbate in swimsuits. You want all to wear swimsuits.”

Kila moaned.

“You want your team mates to always wear their swimsuits, to always be in ecstasy, to always obey.” She continued, “You want them to obey the swimsuit. You want them to obey the captain. You want them to obey.”

“Yes...” Kila groaned.

Miss Jen continued whispering short phrases. What she hoped and knew would happen was that, with careful phrasing, she will transform Kila into the perfect motherly thrall. Miss Jen wanted Kila to become into a twisted version of a fetish wet-nurse to care and love and guide her team into victory.

“You want to support them. Train them. Encourage them.” The woman began as she rested her body against Kila’s as if a child, “You want them to be the best. You will encourage them. You will force them to be thralls. You are their mother. You obey.”

“I.... obey....” Kila was forced to say.

“Yes. You obey.” Miss Jen whispered, “You are a thrall. And a thrall obeys. A thrall cares for other thralls. A thrall loves other thralls. A thrall always needs to wear her swimsuit and obey. A thrall must care for other thralls. A thrall has a swimsuit fetish.”

A swimsuit fetish, Kila managed to think, so good.

Kila was fighting a losing battle. She tried to shut the whispers out and to close her mind from the deliciously enticing words of Mistress Jen. But she couldn’t. Not even the strange effect the bookstore had over her could help her now. Kila felt her sex moisten again, this time, though, with a different thrill. Her whole body was a mess of suppressed pleasure as Miss Jen focused her words now on the beauty of swimsuits and how very attracted Kila was to them. Kila felt hopeless and was almost completely enslaved by Miss Jen until her sight, maybe because of the dulling effects of the drug or maybe because she knew Lara would help her in the end, fell upon her lover’s sweet, focused face. Kila’s eyes widened as she realized the formerly mindless drone was showing real emotion.

“Mightier Than A Gun.” Lara whispered with great effort, her hands were still eagerly masturbating Rochet Cobb’s swimsuit-encased penis and Roxxie’s white-hugged vagina.

Suddenly Kila’s mind woke. Her consciousness returned and her body tensed as the spellbound name of the magic place, which somehow, as if enchanted, transformed shy Kila Fleur into a force to be wary of. An angry frown appeared on Kila’s face on cue with an evil smirk. Miss Jen kept repeating endless whispers on the subject of happiness and submission when, with a force created by adrenaline and love, she was thrown off of Kila’s tights and unto the cold, white, latex floor of the bookstore’s basement. The syringe-gun, so carelessly held in the woman’s hands, fell just inches away from Kila’s former prison.

“What the fuck!?” Miss Jen cursed as perplexity, confusion, and anger made it impossible for her to move fast enough to see that Kila was now standing, her swimsuit-hugged body beauty incarnated, her breasts tightly held against each other, her sex apparent through the tight material. She held in her hand the syringe-gun, staring at it with indignity and curiosity and a hint of satisfaction as she realized it still held some of its contents.

“Thrall..!” Miss Jen screamed with anger and would’ve continued, but the distracting pain of a needled being inserted into her soft neck distracted her.

“Let’s see how you like that.” Kila said firmly, a devious smile on her face.

“What... Kila?” Miss Jen stumbled on her words as she began to shakily stand up, her left hand nursing the spot the needle had touched, “What the hell... NO!” Sudden realization hit the swimsuit-clad Mistress as she saw the syringe-gun on her thrall’s hand.

“Thralls!” Miss Jen screamed, her face a mess of anger and confusion, “Rape her!” Her confused mouth somehow echoed, a shaking finger pointing at Kila.

“Yes, swimsuit Mistress Jen,” They all said in unison, their faces turning into visages of happy obedience.

Kila retreaded a couple steps, past the bondage chair, as the row of nine slaves stopped grazing each other’s sexes and began marching towards Kila with the hungry stares of sexually deprived teens. Panic began to swell inside Kila, but then she remembered what Miss Jen did to her, “Stop them!” She cried, not in fear or panic. She simply cried. “Thralls,” Miss Jen said without noticing, “Stop.”

“Yes, swimsuit Mistress Jen,” Echoed the servants without recognizing the contradictory orders.

“What...” Miss Jen screamed again, but the strain of raising her voice and the added fatigue of the countless sexual encounters of the day, plus the very effect of the mind-numbing drug in her body made it impossible for her to speak, let alone stand; hence, why she soon had her face and the rest of her body transferring heat to the cold floor.

“Thank you, Miss Jen, for being so overly confident and not observant.” Kila said with newfound confidence as she crouched next to Miss Jen’s unmoving body, “If it wasn’t for this location, Mightier Than A Gun, the place that, as you should’ve know, changes me” Kila stared at the discarded syringe-gun on the floor, “I would’ve never been able to get the necessary strength to break free from your ability.”

“I... You are mine...” The woman stumbled on words, not really able to decide on one curse or question or idea at a time, “You are mine...” She whispered to none but herself.

“As you can see,” Kila began, rubbing her still sore neck and allowing some blood to flow back to her head, “I am my own Mistress,” A chuckle, “And you are going to pay for forcing my sweet Lara to betray me.” At the mention of Lara’s name, Kila’s demeanour changed, her face sweetened and a look of both hurt and longing crawled upon her features.

“No...” The former Mistress croaked, unable to move an inch without forcing her mind and body to find metaphysical anguish.

Kila ignored the once powerful woman’s plea of help and instead walked to the row of still-hypnotized thralls. She stared at them with a lustful smile, her sex flaring yet again at the sight of the nine persons all dressed in delicious, light-catching swimsuits; and she looked at all of them with what could be described as motherly love – a need to teach them, protect them, use them, and caress all of them. Miss Jen’s conditioning had, after all, a powerful lingering effect on Kila. A sight echoed in the white latex room as Kila brought her still trembling hands upon her lover’s face. Lara, able to break, on a certain degree, free of her Mistress’s dominion, had her stare planted upon Kila’s features; she stared right into Kila’s eyes with both love and apology.

“It’s okay, my love,” Kila said, bringing her forehead to touch the cinnamon lady’s, “I forgive you. I still want to be with you, now more than ever.”

Kila’s word were emotional enough that a tear filled with joy, arousal, and love streamed down her red-flushed cheek. The words had an equal effect on Lara, who, after finally hearing the words that allowed her guilt-stricken mind to be set free of the burden, was finally able to break free from the need to stay still and obey. Lara wrapped her arms around the curves of Kila’s waist and hips – a soft caress that both demonstrated her affection and lust for the red-headed – and brought herself closer to the girl of her dreams. Both stood there, hugging each other with deep affection, surrounded by swimsuit-clad and mindless thralls, just enjoying each other.

“Kila?” Lara was the one to break the perfect silence.

“Yes, Lara?” Kila replied, her forehead still touching her lover’s.

“What are you going to do with her?” Lara said softly, her sight strained upon the almost unmoving and groaning figure of the woman she still felt, for all the wrong, forced reasons, a lingering affection.

“I don’t know,” Kila whispered, feeling the pressure of responsibility fall upon her, “I can leave her like that.”

“She’ll return soon enough and do it all again,” Lara said, her tone low and caring, “She still has power over all of us, even you.”

Kila didn’t answer – a new storm had been released in her mind. She ached to get rid of the woman who had both been the cause of her falling in love with Lara, the realization of her dream, and of her new erotic outlook on such a mundane garment. But she knew, deep inside, that she needed to do something more than simply tell her to leave them alone. Kila needed to make sure that the woman will never do her evil tricks again; or at least make sure that the woman will never do her evil tricks if not ordered to.

“I have an idea,” Kila said with a voice neither determined nor vengeful – a voice that invoked nothing but duty, “Help me carry her to the chambers.”

The red-haired beauty broke free from the black-haired maiden’s embrace and walked towards the still writhing body of Miss Jen, every step forcing her swimsuit to rub against all of her skin, arousing her with every caress. Both girls wrapped their hands around the woman’s body, Lara took the feet and Kila the shoulders, and dragged her with little effort – years of swimming and other manners of physical exercise gave both girls strength enough to perform the feat – towards what she had called Obedience Chambers. Once in front of the cursed instruments, they paused. Lara stared into Kila’s eyes waiting for a command. She still ached to be told what to do.

“Each chamber has its own... thrall, right?” Kila’s voice wavered at the word thrall. On the other hand, the word brought a pleasant, peaceful sensation over Lara and the other eight thralls capable of hearing it.

“It’s the other way around, but yes,” Lara replied with little emotion to her voice (Kila noticed this), “Each of us has a unique chamber with unique commands.” A smile crawled upon Lara’s features.

Kila pondered this for a second, staring at the unmoving woman on the floor, “Lara,” She then began, “Who... Who out of us is the most docile and obedient?” Lara thought for a second before answering: “That would be Roxxie. Out of all of Mistress Jen’s thralls Roxxie is the one with the minimum of free will... she was completely transformed into a thrall... fully dependant of Mistress’s wishes and orders.” Lara said not with a frown, but with a smile that spoke of longing and happiness at the thought.

“Help me put this witch in Roxxie’s chamber,” Kila said coldly, somewhat ignoring Lara’s description and denigration of the sweet brunette. Kila wrapped her arms around Miss Jen’s shoulders.

Soon enough the two girls had placed Miss Jen, who could not register anything but the rub of her own swimsuit upon her skin and the mindless bliss and need to obey she felt, inside the chamber. They stuck the red, overly-big vibrator deep inside the woman’s sex and placed the headphones over her ears. Kila stared at Miss Jen, a smile on her face as she relinquished in the almost literary irony of the scene, and her arms wrapped around her chest as if her whole being had been hit by an otherworldly cold. Meanwhile Lara locked the once Mistress inside the Obedience Chamber, setting the glass prison, and the mind-bending devices inside, on a perpetual loop – time enough to break the once powerful woman into her own submission. Lara walked towards Kila and wrapped herself around the red-haired – A lover’s embrace.

“What now?” Kila said, her eyes not on the white-clad, glass-imprisoned woman, but at the row of eight swimsuit-clad thralls.

“They’ll go, eventually,” Lara said matter-of-factly as she guided Kila out of the mysterious, latex-walled room and into a long hallway; rows of grey lockers of the kind found in either old gyms or high schools rested upon either side of the hallway, “We are programmed to wake up, dress, and return to our homes whenever Mistre– Jen took her time to give us orders or simply disappeared to do something better.” Lara added with a suppressed smile at the memory.

“Okay,” Kila said, her worry for her fellow thralls satisfied.

Soon both girls fell silent and turned their backs to each other, looking at their names painted in white lettering upon the grey locker doors. Without a word, each girl dressed again into her own common clothes without realizing that they were stepping into pantyhose and jeans and boring t-shirts without first stepping out of their beautiful swimsuits. Eventually both girls were dressed in clothes appropriate for the outside world and each had, without their general knowledge, a white-coloured bag filled with what they would eventually discover to be a great number of many shapes and forms of one-piece, competitive swimsuits.

Days later, inside the halls of Mightier Than A Gun, Kila stood reading a mock-fantasy novel; she was dressed in a simple green skirt, black tights grazing her legs, and a black t-shirt over her torso. She had a smile on her face due to the constant reminder of the yellow competitive swimsuit she wore underneath her clothes and, of course, the fun passages of the novel she read. It took some time, but Kila eventually left the premises of the bookstore in favour of meeting her lover in a small cafe just outside the local movie theatre. There, Lara sat with her legs crossed and enjoying the delicious taste of a blueberry cheesecake; a smile of utter satisfaction flared upon her face every time her tongue tasted a spoonful of desert.

“Hey, beautiful,” Kila planted a kiss on her lover’s cinnamon cheek before settling down in a chair in front of Lara.

“Got anything good?” Lara asked, her attention shifting towards the yellow shoulder strap visible through Kila’s t-shirt’s collar.

“Of course,” Kila said referring to both the books and the fetish garment she wore.

Both stared at each other with lazy eyes before Kila spoke, her face turned towards the evening sun, “What now, Lara?”

“I finish eating my cheesecake – God! How was I able to go two years without this – and then we go on yet another date, and hopefully I’ll be modelling those new swimsuits for you.” Lara said as she ate another orgasmic spoonful of delicious sweetness.

“What– No!” Kila said with both an amused face and an annoyed frown, “I meant what we do now with,” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “Our siblings.” Kila had thought of saying sisters or thralls, but the word sister was eliminated since now a male was among their ranks, and the word thrall was dismissed due to its ability to invoke small orgasms.

Lara placed her spoon next to the two inches of cheesecake, “Well,” She whispered, “We cannot get rid of the conditioning, that’s for sure.” She moved her hand down her body, grabbed the t-shirt’s hem, and lifted to show Kila part of the bright green swimsuit she was wearing.

“That’s true,” Kila said as she licked her lips at the sight of Lara’s swimsuit-encased body, “But we have to do something. We can’t let the others alone; you know how very hopeless and empty some of them fill without a Mistress.”

“I do,” Lara said, half-referring to herself.

Another silence ensued.

“Why don’t you become the new Mistress?” Lara said after a while, her cheesecake now gone.

“What!?” Kila screamed, her body tensed and her face contorted into what appeared to be a conflict for control over Kila’s features between indignation and that spark of joy you feel when you love an idea, “Are you crazy!?”

“Tell me, Kila,” Lara said wrapping her hands around Kila’s, “Have you been able to go a day without thinking about the others, swimsuits, or caring for your team mates?”

“I... eh...” Kila stumbled on words. Lara had, in a matter of seconds, unarmed Kila; she knew very well that Mistress Jen’s conditioning, the conditioning that had transformed Kila into the team captain, was still there.

“Jen made you into the team captain, Kila,” Lara said softly, her fingers caressing Kila’s, “That is not going to change. She made you want to care for us and to be a twisted form of wet-nurse.” Neither of them realized that they echoed Jen’s words.

“What are you getting at?” Kila said, returning the loving gesture.

“We transformed Jen into a swimsuit thrall; she is as compliant and obedient as Roxxie, maybe even more,” Lara said as she moved her hands up Kila’s arm, “We can make her whisper on your ear and transform you into a new Mistress – A better Mistress.”

Kila said nothing. The idea, which, months before, would’ve repulsed and secretly interested Kila Fleur, was being turned and inspected. Maybe it was the thoughts she had been forced to think reacting with this new set of words, but Kila was considering it.

“What do you say, fiery red?” Lara said with nothing but care and need in her voice, “We can fully make you into the perfect team captain; both fulfilling your need to care for us and our need to be cared for.” And my need to have you, Lara silently added.

Kila stood from her chair with such noiselessness that some stealth masters would’ve been envious, her face turned towards the evening sun, warm light falling on her skin. A soft breeze began blowing, moving her red hair, which no was longer since she was partially free from Miss Jen’s control. Lara cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out what her lover was thinking, and stood. She wrapped her hands around Kila’s belly, letting her warm body rub against her lover not in lust but in care and support, her forehead resting upon Kila’s nape.

“Please, Kila,” Lara said, her voice almost broken by emotion, “Be our Mistress. Care for us. Care for me.”

Kila place a hand upon Lara’s fingers and softly caressed the perfect landscape of her hands. A smile crept upon her face.

“Okay,” She said softly, conviction permeating her voice, “I will become your loving Mistress. I will do it.”

Lara’s eyes went wide with joy and fulfilment, her heartbeat increased, her sex moistened. Kila, sensing the reaction her words had on her cinnamon-coloured, swimsuit-encased lover, turned around and stared into her eyes. Lara stared back with tear-stained eyes – salty rivers soon went down the beautiful contour of her cheeks.

“Oh, Kila!” Lara cried in joy, “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will prepare...” Kila, in a sudden flare of inspiration and deviousness, placed a finger on Lara’s lip, echoing the latter’s manner and sexual playfulness.

“You are overthinking,” Kila said with a smile of satisfaction.

Lara stared at the finger and then got the joke. A happy smile claimed her face.

Another soft breeze picked up just before the two lovers kissed.