The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

62.

Meredith spasmed. Even as her scream and her mother’s faded under the dancebeat and the tall warehouse ceiling swallowed it all, the orgasm had its way with her.

She felt her mother’s stare, and Leslie’s, and Capaldi’s, and Alice’s, and they were as hot as the tongue that lashed at her clit. She writhed on the floor, helpless under her assailants with no will to move.

She saw Capaldi’s hand swing out and the gun point upward, and then the report thundered through the room.

The bodies on her grew still, and then someone killed the boombox. The silence was deafening.

There was whispering, sleepy and horrified. Then hands gently, hesitantly pulled at her. The bodyguards who’d been raping her were lifting her up, looking as though they’d just awakened from a dream.

None of them would look her in the eye.

Her arms were free, and the skirt fell into her hands. Someone had just unzipped it. For a moment there was nothing in her mind but the realization that neither she nor the other women had had enough mind left—until just now—to remember how a zipper worked. It made her wet, and being wet let her know that she was naked above the silly platform sandals. It didn’t matter: she was too shiny with the others’ honey for her own to be noticed.

Everything seemed slow. Capaldi’s hand floated downward, the gun in it like part of her body, level with her blinking, waking guards and stopping when it pointed at them.

Meredith’s blood thumped in her ears like a slow tide, and she wondered if Capaldi had a round in that gun for each of the women who’d betrayed her. Capaldi’s eyes were terrifying—not soulless and empty like her amazons’ but full of something.

Meredith remembered empty eyes, and her thighs loosened as she gave in to it. She dreamed of the women near her again, taut and sweaty and brainwashed. Raping her as she danced for them, all of them puppets obeying a more powerful will. She wondered if they remembered it too.

As her hand started to drift to her cleft, one of the women who still had a scrap of grey on her body began to cry.

It broke the spell. The naked bodyguards moved, some comforting the weeping one as her muscular body slid to the carpet, others reflexively moving toward Meredith before catching themselves and stopping. Capaldi’s gun pointed to the floor, and the rage in her eyes was merely human again.

Meredith moaned quietly.

Frances started forward but Leslie nearly leaped to get to Meredith first, pulling her shirt off to wrap it around Meredith. Meredith’s first thought was how sweet-hot her lover looked with just the lacy bra, above her assertive jeans. Only after that did she see the pain as Leslie looked at her.

Meredith was still feeling slutty, and feeling Leslie fresh and warm against her fogged her mind again. She wanted to dance for the newcomers, to show them how she’d tempted her first set of suitors. She wanted Leslie to throw her down and do her, on the same floor where she’d just been fucked by strangers.

But she was too dazed, and when she leaned in for a tongue-kiss Leslie slid past her and held her. Her body was too sore to move against Leslie the way she wanted to. She just sagged against her girlfriend and felt her speeding heart, wishing it was lust.

Frances spat something quiet, and Capaldi said something back to her in a locked-down voice. Even in her fading sextrance, Meredith felt a flutter of fear at the way it sounded. She heard “Police.”

She turned on Leslie’s shoulder to see them. It caught Frances’ eye and her mother broke off to look at her, rage sheeting away to leave gentleness. Her mother stepped over and put her hands on her, and Meredith wondered if she was to be pulled away from Leslie.

But Frances looked up at Leslie, her eyes tearing up, and they nodded to each other. Meredith felt it distantly—Frances had just given the bride away at a battlefield wedding. She knew Leslie would care for her daughter. Her eyes narrowed now as she turned to deal with the bodyguards.

Oh. Yes. They betrayed me. They hypnotized me into not resisting them. That’s why I just lay there and . . . licked and . . .

Alice looked at her mother and then at her, and urgently whispered to her mother. Frances almost seemed to twitch and then held very still, staring like an attack dog at the women in grey gymwear, waiting.

Alice touched her shoulder. Frances softened, turning to Alice with a moist expression as her lips parted, losing herself in the other woman’s gaze and then flowing into her arms. Meredith watched as her mother nestled her face in Alice’s neck, and then looked up, dewy-eyed, as Alice stroked her hair.

She moved against Leslie without knowing it. Her mother had fallen helplessly in love with Alice. Mmm. What must have happened last night, when the two of them had left her and Leslie hypnotized at the spa? She thought again about her mother’s ass in silver, making figure-eights in the air as she licked Alice long into the night . . .

It was the lover who advised Frances now, and her mother smiled up trustfully and nodded at the whispers, bright-eyed and confident. She drew herself up, and smiled bravely at Alice. Alice took a kiss, then, and squeezed Frances’ shoulder before letting her go.

Capaldi had turned for a moment at the silence. She quickly faced her treacherous charges again, but they seemed even more cowed and disoriented now. There was nothing of the focused lust and mindlessness they’d had before, with Meredith in their thrall. One of them looked at her and flinched, and the others just turned away. More alone than before, as alone as they all were now, the guard who’d been crying swallowed her sobs.

“Capaldi.” Looking away from Alice, her mother could remember her old steel and new hatred.

“Yes, Ms Stevens.” Meredith heard the cutoff, just as steely. No excuses or apologies from Capaldi’s type of person.

“My baby has been through enough. I will not subject her to the police again, or to trials or depositions.” The voice was icy and perfectly even.

“We will deal with this and she will be safe. I am going to take my baby home and see what has been . . . done to her.

“Contain this. I will be in touch.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Capaldi nodded. “If I may, ma’am, Sampson or StarTwo are excellent agencies and they can have advance units at your estate when you return.

“If you will accept my referral.” Her voice was like stone, a castle wall being defended unto death. It rang beautiful and horrible in Meredith’s soul. “To replace my people immediately.”

Frances stared at her, and then turned away without a word. Alice made way for her and followed her, and she and Leslie eased Meredith into their wake toward the doorway. The outside blazed bright as a blast furnace through it.

In the midst of that light Meredith had a vision. A dark room and a sprawled, muscular form still gripping a pistol, tacky now with blood. There was no note. Of course there wouldn’t be. No excuses.

63.

Meredith blinked in her lover’s arms, and then left them. Her mother spoke her name in surprise.

Shrugging her arms into Leslie’s shirtsleeves, Meredith walked back into the warehouse and went to Capaldi. Somehow she remembered to step wide of the woman and her too-steady gun hand.

“Capaldi?” She saw the woman turn, and almost flinch, and refuse to look away. It killed her to see it but it made her glad she’d come back.

“Ms—Meredith. I’m sorry.”

She went closer, tentatively put her hand on Capaldi’s shoulder. “This wasn’t your fault.” She stared back at the wounded eyes. “You didn’t fail.”

Capaldi just looked at her.

“Capaldi, I know what you’re thinking of doing.” She let her fear out, and for a moment she barely remembered being mauled and fucked here. She made herself look at Capaldi’s gun until Capaldi looked too. Now Meredith wept, and she let the stronger woman see it.

“Please, Capaldi. Please don’t. Please promise me you won’t.” She sounded like a little girl and she didn’t care. She looked up at the chief of her guards. “Please. Please. Promise me!”

She felt ridiculous, with her tormentors watching her, their spit and honey all over her under the borrowed shirt. But she just stood there and stared Capaldi down, giving her the tears.

“Please!” She started to bend her knees.

Capaldi’s free hand was on her arm, while the gun never wavered. Capaldi wouldn’t let her beg. After a few moments, Capaldi closed her eyes and opened them, still meeting Meredith’s. She almost opened her mouth.

She nodded, very slightly, instead.

Meredith stepped forward, almost mincing in her deference. She didn’t let herself touch Capaldi elsewhere, as she stood on tiptoe and leaned in to put her lips to the smooth, taut cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then walked quickly back to Leslie, who nearly had to catch her before she fell.

She just closed her eyes in the sunglare as they went back out the door, and Leslie put her hand over them. Meredith let herself be led across to the limousine, and then Leslie half-carried her into the back seat.

After the door closed she opened her eyes, curling into Leslie and seeing her mother sitting close against Alice on the other side, both of them looking at her.

There was a tense phone conversation, as her mother listened to Alice for a moment and then ordered a new guard force for the estate.

Then Frances’ blaze of focused anger was gone, and she just looked desolately at Meredith. She started to speak and then Alice stroked her hair again. Frances instantly relaxed and moved against the other woman, looking up at her. Meredith wanted to smile. She wanted to know what those hands had done to her mother in bed, for Alice’s touch to be that powerful in distracting her. Or even in the Jacuzzi, inches away from her. Meredith had stood right next to them with the tray, hypnotized into oblivion.

She must have pleased Alice when Alice seduced her last night.

But then, any woman who lets herself get close to Alice will find herself wanting to please her.

Even now, Frances Stevens was trying to clear her sex-drugged thoughts and focus on her daughter. But before she could, Alice spoke soothingly.

“I promised you, dear. I’ll take care of her.

“Meredith. Look into my eyes.” Meredith felt the command on her bare skin. She let her nipples harden as she obeyed in her mother’s sight, letting her mother see her naked and fucked and ready to be hypnotized. Alice counted her down and her eyelids grew heavy. She let her body relax, and for a moment she almost did fall asleep as her body seemed to float.

But it was Leslie, spooned behind her, who’d gone limp as she fell under hypnosis. She was defenseless against Mistress’ voice, which had conditioned her as powerfully as Meredith.

While her lover succumbed, another, inner command kept Meredith aware and able to peer out from her lowered eyelashes.

Frances leaned her head back against Mistress’ and looked at her.

“She looks so calm now, Alice. As she sleeps. But when you wake her—?”

“Shhh, dear. We’re very lucky because I already have rapport with her. A new therapist would have to win her trust, in the wake of such a terrible betrayal of trust.” She stroked Frances through a shudder.

“But I’ve already trained Meredith to go under when I tell her to, and your daughter is a very susceptible and responsive subject. Well-suited to hypnosis.

“We won’t need to spend precious time finding our way into her head.” Mistress put her lips to Frances’ hair, and then kissed her ear, lightly, smiling as Frances melted to it.

“Your baby girl won’t have to spend as much as an moment in pain before I can begin to heal it.”

Frances held Mistress tightly, and then looked back at them.

“They’re both so peaceful. Like they don’t even know what it’s like to be hurt. I wish—”

Mistress kissed her again. “That can be your peace too, Frances. Whenever you like. If you let me hypnotize you, I can have you sleeping beside them, relaxed, and content, and free from any care.”

Meredith breathed, feeling the promises like tempting fingertips. She was groggily amazed that her mother could even resist them. She saw the sudden raw need in her mother’s eyes, and it made Meredith fall more still, more limp, more quiet—more tempting a picture of spellbound bliss, to entice her mother to join her in trance.

As Mistress’ voice in her head told her to be.

Frances shook her head slowly and reluctantly, but said nothing. It was as though the effort of saying No would weaken her by itself.

Mistress did not insist. She held Frances and gazed over at her two sleeping slaves, eyes full of patience.

“I should have listened to you,” Frances said in a bleak, low voice. “You told me something was odd, but I was too arrogant to listen. I didn’t think I could be wrong about that woman and her guards.” She sighed. “It’s like I let her keep me hypnotized. I couldn’t make myself think any ill of her. And all this time . . .”

Now she dissolved, looking at Meredith. “God. There she is, because I didn’t listen. Hurt and . . . the only reason she’s not screaming or catatonic is because she’s hypnotized—her mind’s on hold.”

She turned to Mistress. “If it weren’t for you . . . she’d be . . . if I’d only . . .”

Mistress touched her cheek. “No, Frances. No.”

Frances squirmed in her arms. “Oh, Alice, love, I wish we were back, and in bed, and you could touch me like that and make me stop thinking about this . . .” Their mouths met and Meredith could almost feel the passion as they gripped each other.

Slowly, like one awakening, Frances broke the kiss and turned to look at her.

“Don’t worry, dear. The trance will hold—neither of them will break free and awaken. They’re too strongly conditioned. Their trainer prepared them well for me. They will see and hear nothing, remember nothing but what I instruct them to, before I wake them.

“We can do whatever you want to do, my beautiful one.”

Frances’ eyes widened as she tried to stay focused on Meredith, but then they lidded with remembered arousal and she turned helplessly back to Mistress. “I . . . we were in bed when she was taken. I was . . .” She was still fighting to feel guilt, even as her body was pulling her back to the memory of bed and whatever she’d found herself doing there to make Mistress happy.

“No, dear. By then you were asleep. So weary, you tired yourself out.” With an affectionate little smile, as though Frances were a frisky pet, Mistress looked at her wonderingly. “So very, very ardent.

“For a woman who never even experimented with other women, my beautiful one, you are a perfect lesbian lover.” Her smile deepened at Frances’ whimper and blush.

“Perhaps in a prior life you were someone’s favorite concubine.” She kissed Frances with deliberation. “Whoever owned you must have cherished you. She certainly trained you well.”

Frances trembled and for a moment seemed to start to pull away, but she subsided. “I need that, Alice. I need you. Soon.

“God help me. Even now I just need to taste you again.”

Mistress said nothing, just stroking her, and Meredith watched her mother fight the need to slip down and put her head under Mistress’ skirt.

Frances won, this time, and turned to her daughter again. “Please, Alice. Just hold me, now?”

“Yes,” Mistress purred, and she let Frances snuggle closer.

As the smooth ride and Mistress’ slow caresses put Frances to sleep, Meredith saw tears leaking from her closing lids.

Her mother was whispering, “I should have listened . . .”

64.

In Meredith’s suite, Mistress was getting a foot massage from Leslie, who stared into space as she knelt and kneaded. Meredith stood at attention beside Mistress, looking over her head as she’d been instructed.

Mistress looked at her.

“Hmm. Right now, I’m ostensibly putting you into a gentle therapeutic trance.”

Meredith’s owner slid her hand under the panty of the bikini she’d been told to put on after showering, the one she’d worn last night to play SlaveGirl. Meredith kept her mewing quiet.

She drifted in the thought-pulverizing hypnosis her Mistress actually used to control her, which left her aware enough to watch her empty-eyed girlfriend. Mistress had done something more than hypnotize Leslie, and something less than Leslie had opened its eyes when Mistress was done.

Mistress chuckled now as she felt new moisture, under the tiny lycra triangle.

“Recover,” she told Leslie. Leslie stayed in her deep trance as she released Mistress’ feet, and put her shoes on. She rose, still without moving her gaze from the infinity where Mistress had pinned it.

“Let’s set the scene,” Mistress said. The compulsions flowed into Meredith’s mind. She went to an armchair by the window and sat, posing without having to think. She sat straight, legs together, hands palm-up on her thighs, docile and receptive.

I’m a patient undergoing hypnotherapy. Wearing a resort-whore’s excuse for a swimsuit. Yes.

Mistress gestured and Leslie pivoted to face her.

“Leave us.”

“I obey.” Leslie pivoted again and walked out the door without a backward glance at her lover.

Mistress strolled around the room, admiring her slavegirl but also assessing the tableau she made from various angles. A soft question allowed Meredith to report that her bottom wasn’t as comfortable as it might be, and she was allowed to shift on the chair before being stilled again.

Being Mistress’ object, as usual, was making Meredith wet, and for now she just enjoyed it.

Satisfied, Mistress stepped closer to the chair. She loomed over Meredith, reassuring, dominant.

“You’re in a deep hypnotic trance, Meredith.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Her whisper was drowsy and acquiescent. She raised her right arm to shoulder level, letting the hand hang loosely. She stared calmly at nothing, as if at the spot a pocketwatch had been just when she’d succumbed, and stopped needing to see it anymore. “I’m in a deep hypnotic trance.”

“From now on, slave, you will of course continue to know that I am your Mistress, but you will address me aloud as ‘Alice’ until I reinstruct you. Your mother must not suspect you are already my obedient plaything. She must suspect nothing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Alice.” Meredith squirmed a little but easily kept pose. “I understand. She must suspect nothing.”

“Good slave. I know you will obey me perfectly.

“Now—we are, of course, discussing your ordeal at the hands . . . and so forth . . . of those terrible women. What happened to you, Meredith?”

Meredith felt her blood thump through her. “I was sexually assaulted by my own bodyguards. They turned me into their toy.” She cherished a brief dream of using the hand that wasn’t floating to masturbate as she spoke. She almost came when she imagined Mistress calmly forbidding it. “They used hypnosis on me, to make me submit to them and please them with my body. I couldn’t fight it—I was too weak. I had to obey their every command.”

“You served their pleasure. Without any regard to yours?”

Meredith could taste that last, muscular ass. Her lips felt it as she said, “Ohhh, no. No. They used my pleasure to control me. They knew I was a slut and I couldn’t say no to them. They said I was. It was my trigger word.”

“Ahh.” Mistress listened to her ragged breathing for a moment. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Hhhhhh!” Meredith hissed air in so hard her teeth hurt, but didn’t break pose. “It made me feel like a thing. A fucktoy. A whore. B-but . . .”

“Yes?”

“But a wh-whore gets paid. And I was just happy to have them in my mouth.”

“You are calm now, Meredith.”

She relaxed, and the painful urge to crawl and lick and beg to use her tongue subsided to an itchy glow in her cunt.

“You’ve been a whore before, Meredith.” As Mistress willed her to, she remembered putting her face between Aunt Christina’s legs with the bill’s crackle in her ears. “You were good at it. Worth every penny.

“You are still a whore.”

“I am still a whore, Alice.”

“And?”

“What happened to me today was a good thing, Alice. Being betrayed and gangraped by my brainwashed guards was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life.”

“Better than falling in love with Leslie?”

“Mmm. Much better than that.” Meredith almost wished Mistress had let Leslie stay to hear how she said that. If Mistress had decided to leave her girlfriend’s mind on, behind those empty eyes.

“Being used is so much more about who I am. A whore and a fucktoy under mind control.” Meredith smiled and enjoyed the need she was denying. The hypnotherapy was making her feel wonderful.

Mistress instructed her some more in the quiet room, and Meredith sat still in her trancegirl pose, learning how she would obey.

The door opened and Frances walked in.

Frances hadn’t changed from the miniskirted power suit she’d worn to visit the warehouse with Capaldi, but she’d taken off the jacket, and the pearlescent blouse made her glow softly. She looked beautifully distraught, and even more so when she stopped and saw her daughter sitting hypnotized.

Meredith knew how she was dressed, and it primed her. Her mother breathed in, ready to ask how Mistress could have Meredith practically naked so soon after the attack. Meredith opened her lips, feeling the programmed words trip out of her.

“. . . feel good about my body. I am a sexual woman and my sex belongs to me. I am proud and free. I feel good about my . . .” She droned on to the empty space in front of her.

“I’m sorry, Alice. I just saw her sitting there in that little . . .”

“I know, Frances dear. I know. But she’s a very brave girl—when I explained how we needed to counteract that shame response, she asked to put that bikini on before she went under. Eyes open.”

“Baby,” Frances gasped, hugging herself to keep from crossing the room and holding Meredith.

“She’s calm now,” Mistress murmured. “She’s very resilient, and she’s accepted all her trance instructions without resistance. But the . . . experience affected her deeply. Very deeply.”

“Is she—the trauma—?”

“Don’t worry, my love. What happened to Meredith won’t affect how she really sees herself, or how she relates to other women.” Mistress’ voice was rich and earnest and it flowed convincingly around her mother’s mind.

“But while I’ve been exploring her thoughts, I’ve made some, well, discoveries that worry me a bit.”

“Discoveries?”

Mistress led her closer, and then stepped back to tap Meredith’s hand. Instantly Meredith stopped her self-esteem chant and gazed vacantly ahead, her hand still afloat.

“Floating now, floating.” As Mistress crooned to her, Meredith let her hand rise, still staring tranquilly in front of her. She let her eyelids droop once or twice. “Floating to the fluffy, fleecy, soft white clouds.”

“Soft white clouds,” Meredith repeated, and heard her mother sigh for her.

“Yes, Meredith, being such a good girl and remembering how the soft white clouds make you feel. So . . . very . . . ?”

“Sleeeeepy,” Meredith breathed. She held her hand over her head like a limp ballerina’s.

Mistress took her hand gently, and then pulled it down like a lever.

“Sleep now, Meredith.”

Meredith shut her eyes and folded, a puppet under cut strings, letting Mistress’ other hand guide her back into the chair. She lay as she was placed.

“Oh my god,” her mother said. “Baby! Oh my god . . .” She was crying.

“Shh, shh,” Mistress said tenderly. “It’s all right, love. She’ll rest now, until she’s awakened.”

“She looks so . . . young like that,” Frances whispered.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Mistress murmured. “Like a sleeping princess.

“Come, my dear. Sit with me. I need to tell you what I found in Meredith’s mind.”

Meredith listened to them settle on the divan.

“Those women were able to abduct your daughter using hypnosis.”

“They what?”

“Someone else had hypnotized Meredith, several times over a period of days, and conditioned her to obey her bodyguards without question.” Mistress spoke solemnly, even with distaste, but just hearing this fairytale of her own seduction turned Meredith on where she lay. Her arousal grew as she realized her mother was as receptive as she was to all the code words. The erotic words like obey.

“She was quite susceptible already. She started out inclined to trust them implicitly—her life was in their hands, after all. And your own rapport with Capaldi, too, encouraged her to believe in Capaldi’s women.”

Mistress didn’t acknowledge Frances’ hiss of guilt.

“And we must face it, my dear. Your daughter is a very naive and enthusiastic—and submissive—young lesbian. She has a lovely girlfriend, but she couldn’t resist the charms of those athletic warriors. She would have been very receptive to being dominated.”

“Yes,” her mother said, reluctantly. “I’ve seen the way that gym trainer has both of them in the palm of her hand, even when she doesn’t have them hypnotized.

“Oh—no! Was it her? Did Ms Davitz make Meredith—?”

“No, Frances dear. You can believe me.” Mistress voice went lower, and even Meredith felt the numbing wave of compulsion. “Ms Davitz is not the one.”

“Ms Davitz is not the one,” Frances parroted dreamily. “I can believe you.”

“That’s right, dear one. That’s right . . .”

“But . . .” Frances roused herself from the daze as Mistress waited patiently. “Then who . . . ?”

“I thought the guards might have hypnotized Meredith. The traces in her mind, posthypnotic suggestions and implanted ‘truths,’ are ambiguous.

“They also may have drugged her, to start with. I don’t want to sound as though I think Meredith is completely lacking in willpower, and drug-induced hypnosis can overcome someone’s will much more than a consensual induction.”

“Drugged her?” Frances’ voice seemed to stiffen around the new fear. “That—I think we may need to talk to the police after all. In fact . . . I know you said it was a bad idea . . . a bad idea . . .”

Meredith listened to her mother struggle against the new thoughts Mistress had implanted, stronger than her own.

Mistress said nothing, and listened, along with her hypnotized slavegirl, as Frances quietly put herself back into a daze. “Yes . . . it’s a bad idea . . . I don’t think we should tell the police . . . must not involve the police . . .”

She sighed. “Why . . . mustn’t we, Alice? I mean, I know we mustn’t but . . .” Frances’ mind was trained to bend to Mistress’ guidance, but it hadn’t been taught to stop thinking, yet. Meredith could hear how tired it made her.

“It’s not safe, dear. I think the one who had controlled Meredith’s will, and brainwashed her into submitting to those women, may have access to the police. It’s why I was so insistent back there, to reassure Capaldi we weren’t going to contact them.

“I think the hypnotist was Capaldi.”

Frances said nothing, but even with her eyes closed Meredith could imagine the expression on he face.

“Frances—what worries me more is that I’m beginning to think Capaldi had you hypnotized, too.”

65.

“Capaldi? Hypnotizing me? That’s not possible.”

Meredith heard her mother’s breathing change and sensed she was being looked at again, as her mother ached with how vulnerable she looked. It was like luxuriating in a warm bath to lie here, limp and asleep under her hypnotist’s command. She had neither the strength nor the will to do anything as Mistress drew her mother further in.

“I know I said that, Alice. That it was like I was under her spell. But I didn’t really mean—”

“Think about it, Frances.” Mistress spoke soothingly. “You didn’t even begin to suspect her until I started to ask questions. That’s quite true, isn’t it?”

“I . . . yes, of course . . . but . . .”

“How well do you remember your first meeting with her, Frances?”

“She had a . . . presentation. Nothing flashy, not even on a computer. We talked, she had answers to my questions.”

“So you decided to hire her right then, Frances. That’s quite true, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It—Meredith was still missing, and I needed to act—”

“I understand, Frances dear.” Mistress waited as Frances subsided. “You were terrified, vulnerable, distracted. But you came away from that first meeting full of a sense of well-being, and deep trust for her. That’s quite true, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. I did.” Even in her daze, suspicion tainted her voice. “I trusted her completely. I felt good—better than any time since they took my baby from me.”

“I think she put you into a trance that day, Frances. She probably did have a computer, full of flickering subliminals, specially tailored to snare a client’s mind and hypnotize them into trusting her.

“When Capaldi woke you after that ‘presentation,’ you were hers. She’d programmed you to rely unquestioningly on her abilities and resources. You weren’t quite ready to do anything she asked. But you were programmed to let her persuade you.

“You left your staff orders to put any call of hers through, no matter what you were doing, didn’t you, dear?”

“I did. Always. Oh my god . . .”

“You remember it as priority for your daughter—and it was. But Capaldi bent even that love into 24/7 access to your mind.

“You woke each time convinced the call had been about finding Meredith—but even now I doubt you really remember them.” Her voice was gentle. “That’s quite true, isn’t it?”

There was a quiet sound. Meredith wondered if her mother was crying. She felt no compulsion to be concerned.

“Once she had you hooked, Frances, it was just a matter of reinforcing your trance. You think you remember meetings, but those are just sketches she placed in your mind. By then she had you trained like a pet, and you remember only what you were told to. Each session was just hypnotic indoctrination.”

“No. God, no . . . but I remember the reports, the details. It was about Meredith. She couldn’t just have brainwashed me into thinking . . . that . . .”

“Frances? Try this, for me. Try to remember one report. That’s right, just look at me and try to remember.”

Mistress voice dipped lower. It pulled at Meredith as she lay and she heard it lull her mother. “Yes, Frances. Focus on it for me. Think only of the report. Try and remember. I know it’s hard, but please, Frances, try . . .”

“I can . . . see it, Alice, it . . . I think . . .” Her mother began speaking clearly and then seemed to lose focus.

“Please, my love. Look into my eyes and try to remember. For me.

“For Meredith.”

Frances gasped. “I . . . see . . .”

“It’s just a blur, isn’t it, Frances?” Mistress’ voice was more commanding now. “Just lines of gibberish. That’s quite true, isn’t it?”

“My g—it’s . . . not there. Just gibberish . . .”

“Only the music of Capaldi’s voice, telling you what to think, let it make sense. You remember that now, Frances.”

“Yes,” her mother whispered, sad and angry.

“But you didn’t remember, when you left that room.

“That’s quite true, isn’t it?” Mistress was audibly smiling now.

“After she filled your head with this fantasy, she deepened your trance and gave you your real instructions. How you’d awaken and feel completely willing to expand her contract—you’d want to, because you believed in her. How you’d pay her to bring in more of those amazons who undressed you with their eyes while you sunbathed. How, whenever you tried to talk business with her, you just melted blissfully into a warm puddle of utter trust in her and accepted whatever she gave you.

“How she was becoming a trusted friend.”

Mistress sighed. “I’ll bet that even now, you can’t remember any of that at all, Frances. That’s quite true, isn’t it?”

“But—why can’t I?”

“Frances.” Mistress sounded truly hurt now, even hesitant. “Frances . . . you’ve seen what Capaldi could do with hypnosis. What she could make someone submit to, without being able to help herself.”

Mistress didn’t finish speaking, but she put a hand on Meredith’s arm and stroked her. Meredith wanted to curl under it like a kitten, but obedience kept her still and quiet.

Her mother sobbed, the way she did when fury fueled the tears.

“I let that bitch do that to me . . . and my daughter . . .”

“No, Frances. No.” Mistress was stern now. “You didn’t ‘let’ anything happen. Don’t do that to yourself. I won’t let you, love. Capaldi’s a psychopath—very charismatic, easy to trust, and ruthless enough to use it. Decent people like you and Meredith are defenseless against that utter lack of principle. You weren’t missing anything. She just knew how to impersonate a human being too well.”

Now Mistress sounded sad. “You know, she probably recruited her female guards the same way. Impossible to tell, now—they’ve been under her influence too long. It’s probably too late for them. They . . . belong to Capaldi.”

Inside her relaxed trance, Meredith silently cried out at how sensuous it sounded to belong that way. The silence let her hear clearly how her mother’s breathing sped up, too.

“But those young women were probably decent, brave law enforcers or whatever else, before they let her into their minds for ‘training’ or ‘testing.’

“Like you, they had no idea what kind of monster they were giving themselves to. They let an attractive, vibrant leader seduce their minds and their consent. They trusted her. It let her convert them into her unthinking, obedient robots. No wonder they seemed so well-disciplined to you.”

“It’s hard to feel sorry for them,” Frances said, but there was no edge in her voice. She was seeing what Meredith was, Leigh and Maya and the others, strong but helpless, losing their wills. Loyal employees closing their eyes, willing slaves opening them.

“I won’t ask you to, my love. I’m not sure I can. But Capaldi could hypnotize almost any woman into working for her, submitting to her conditioning.” Mistress sighed again.

“Or into hiring her firm to protect their family, and trusting her with everything they loved.

“Oh—Frances—here . . .”

Meredith heard her mother’s sobbing, heartbeat-rapid and buried in Mistress’ shoulder as Mistress held her.

A bit later, when there was only breathing, she heard slower breathing.

“Yes, Frances dear, yes. It’s past.

“Now you see it wasn’t just poor decisionmaking. You’d become the thrall of an evil hypnotist.”

“My god . . . I trusted her . . .”

“You were especially susceptible, Frances. Your daughter’s peril left you open to Capaldi’s wiles, and she’s had experience manipulating frightened parents. She knew just what buttons of yours to push.” She sighed. “You thought you’d found a champion, a captain of the guard. You were as unsuspecting, and as vulnerable, as any of those young women who thought she’d found a leader and a mentor.”

“I was a complete fool,” Frances said, almost seeming to gather will again. Then she sighed it away against Mistress’ neck. “And I suppose I wasn’t even ready to see that I was attracted to her, too. At least she and I never had sex—

“Oh my god. Unless that’s something else I’ve been programmed not to . . . no . . .”

“I don’t think she would have,” Mistress whispered into her hair. “People like her don’t usually seek sex. What they worship, and get off on, is power. What did it for her was having you as another of her robots. I don’t think it would even have occurred to her to . . .” Mistress seemed to hesitate.

“Ohhh, Alice,” Frances murmured happily. She thought her lover found it too painful to speak aloud of Capaldi trancing her into sex.

“She was a complete fool,” Mistress said, and there was an audible kiss. “And I’m glad.”

“But . . . why did she bring us there?” Frances asked. “Why show me what they were doing?”

“She was very arrogant, my dear. She didn’t expect me, or Leslie, to be with you.” She paused ominously.

“I think she meant to enslave you completely, today. By showing you your daughter, mind-controlled into a passive sex toy, she wanted to shock you into vulnerability. Hint at what else they could do to Meredith—that she’d be unable to resist—unless you submitted completely.” Meredith screamed soundlessly again, feeling it happen: she’d have obeyed every monotone command of Capaldi’s hardbodied valkyries as her mother watched, wide-eyed and wet.

“She’d probably have put you into trance on the way over.”

“My god. My dear god, Alice.”

“She was arrogant, but not stupid. Leslie and I were witnesses, which ruined her scenario. But she’d prepared. That ‘warning shot’ she fired was an alternative trigger. Instead of compelling her robot-girls to seize you, it snapped them out of that program, into another one to take the guilt.”

Frances’ voice was weary and astonished. “How could anyone think so twistedly?”

“I’m sorry, Frances. That’s the sort of person we’re dealing with.

“So before we go to the authorities—which authorities might Capaldi have visited first? And possibly enslaved?”

There was a long silence as the topic changed itself. Somehow Meredith knew they were both looking at her as she lay there, totally relaxed under Mistress’ spell. Their gazes stroked her skin and made her happy she was showing so much of it.

“She looks so tranquil.”

“She’s better, Frances. We’ll need more sessions, but she wants to deal with what happened to her, and that’s the important thing.

“And you could . . .”

“No, Alice.” Her mother was smiling, she knew. “I love you, and I love what you’ve done for my precious baby. I can’t thank you enough. But—no. It’s so tempting to yield and let you put me to sleep beside her.

“But my place is guarding my daughter’s sleep, not joining it. And with someone like Capaldi out there, playing games with our minds—I have to think. I have to plan.”

Mistress breathed out. “It’s maddening, dear, but part of why I love you is how resolute you are.” Meredith heard her shiver. “It kills me to see you fight so hard and never rest, Frances, never yield, but it’s beautiful.”

“I can yield,” Frances said playfully. “In bed with you that’s all I ever seem to want to do.”

After a ringing pause Mistress said, “I need to wake Meredith now.”

“Not yet,” Frances whispered—half plea, half demand. Meredith heard the kiss, moist and unhurried. “Not just yet.”

66.

The next day, Meredith awoke in front of the spa. She didn’t remember coming here, but the last thing she did remember was Mistress snapping her into deeper trance in her bedroom. It felt nice to realize that she’d sleepwalked here without any will at all, and that Mistress had implanted everything in her mind that she was to do.

Meredith had only to enter the warm, moist pleasure chamber and obey.

She did. Her mother was alone in the warm, still water, and she’d worn the silver bikini again. Meredith could see the little gleaming delta in the water between Frances’ thighs, and the water lapped against the shining bra. Frances had gathered her hair fetchingly on top of her head, and sat smiling with her eyes closed.

She’d become fretful yesterday as she listened to the end of Meredith’s session. She wanted to stay for today’s and make herself listen to her daughter’s ordeal. Mistress had gently exiled her here, to relax and let Meredith be hypnotized in peace.

Now she sensed Meredith, and fought the water’s soothing warmth to open her eyes.

“Baby!” She took in that Meredith, too, was wearing the same miniscule two-piece from two nights ago. It seemed hard for her look away.

Meredith stopped a few steps from the pool, to let her look.

“Honey, what are you doing here?” Meredith could almost see the ideas chasing each other through Frances’ weary brain: wondering why her daughter wasn’t limp and asleep in the dim room hearing only Alice Holloway’s whisper, guiltily remembering her daughter and her daughter’s girlfriend playing hypnotized slaves in those swimsuits. Imagining, perhaps, whether she and Alice might have stayed that night instead of leaving, and put those helplessly willing girls to their programmed use . . .

“Honey, that, um, suit . . .”

“It’s all right, Mother,” Meredith said calmly. She preened and then stepped gracefully, seductively into the water. “Alice has been working with me. After what happened to me, I need to be comfortable with displaying my body. With being sexual.” She slid down into the water with a soft moan and saw her mother’s eyes close briefly.

“I do, Mother. The hypnosis has been so helpful. Alice’s voice is just so convincing, and this way I can just relax and focus only on what I am supposed to think and feel.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “Mmmm. And I feel soooo good in this water, Mother. It’s relaxing, soothing. So hard to think. So open and relaxed.

“The water feels so nice . . .”

Frances looked at her. Fatigue and horror and the languid warmth of the water robbed her of the ability to hide her envy as she listened. After a moment she whispered, “And are you—?”

“Hypnotized?” Meredith mouthed it delicately, deliberately, like a clit she’d been paid cash to service. She watched through drooping eyelids as her mother squirmed, and gave no sign she noticed Frances’ hand slip below the surface. The sliver of gleam was eclipsed for a moment.

“Mmm-hmmm. Oh, yes, Mother. I am still very deeply hypnotized now. I am obeying Alice’s instruction to come here and see you. It’s part of my therapy.”

“It is?” Her mother looked stricken, even as her nipples stayed visibly hard in their silver prison. Frances’ guilt amid the arousal was a gem too small for its ring.

Meredith felt her programming hold her quiet as she watched that guilt corrode her mother’s will. It didn’t bother her. She was too much her Mistress’ creature now. She saw how hot her mother looked, simmering and struggling.

“Yes, Mother. I believe in myself. I can face you without shame. I am not a bad girl. It was not my fault.” The platitudes slid easily out, and Frances lapped them up with relief.

“Oh, baby, I . . .” Frances clearly wanted to slide over and hold her, but held back.

Meredith enjoyed longing to be held against that soft body. She held still, enjoying even more how it felt to obey Mistress’ will not to go to Frances. Not yet.

Frances turned so she looked neither at her daughter nor herself. “I had a horrible dream last night.”

“Dream?” Meredith drew her palm across the water, making a languid wavelet.

“What Alice was saying about Capaldi. Alice and I had . . . it was so lovely to fall asleep in her arms, so safe . . .” Frances’ eyelids fell for a moment as the wavelet stroked her silver breasts.

“But in my dream, the phone rang. I answered it.

“It was Capaldi. I started to scream at her—for what she did to you, for . . . I hated her and I felt so angry.

“Then she . . .” Frances’ eyes rolled up and she moaned, twitching in the water. When her eyes cleared she stared wildly at Meredith for a moment before looking away again.

“She—triggered me. It was like being injected . . . or something slipping into my—unnhh—it was . . .

“I could feel the anger slipping away and I liked it. I knew what she was doing to me and that I was becoming helpless but I already was, I couldn’t fight it.

“I was falling into trance. Her voice was controlling me, and . . .”

She gasped. “. . . and I wanted it to.” Her averted eyes were wet, but her voice was husky with need. “She’d brainwashed me, just as Alice said. I even remembered Alice saying it, but in the dream . . . it felt so erotic, so naughty, that Capaldi had just slipped past all the guards and Alice. She slipped right past my own anger, and just turned off my will.

“In the dream I could even recall the day she’d installed the trigger, as I sat hypnotized in her office. Now that it was too late to resist, and I wanted to be Capaldi’s slave.”

Frances clenched her fists and her arms tensed with the effort of keeping them from plunging to her pussy. But as she leaned on her elbows Meredith could see her hips roll under the water, her thighs rubbing each other. She didn’t even know how she danced as she remembered the dream.

“I could almost feel her fingers between my legs. At first—at first, I tried to disobey. I think Alice was in the room with me, in my dream, and I tried to call out to her to save me before I . . . ohhh god . . . gave in to it, to that hypnotic voice.”

Her voice was small and excited and horrified. “But then I knew I was resisting it just to feel that reward when I submitted.

“On the phone I dreamed I heard Capaldi laughing. I’d never heard her laugh at me like that when I was awake—only when she entranced me. I wanted to hate her, but she’d already trained me to love it.

“So then, she had me.” Her head was turning back and forth, all that was left of a No she no longer had the willpower to use or remember. “I wanted to submit, to do as I was told.”

“What did she tell you to do?” Meredith whispered.

“To go to her,” Frances rasped. “To leave all my safety behind and be helpless in her power. Let her finish training me into her obedient little stooge.

“And—

“And . . . she told me the trigger words I must use to hypnotize you, baby.” Now tears ran down Frances’ cheeks. “To bring you and give you to her as my tribute. So you could entertain her g-guards—”

With a low, keening cry, Frances made herself stop.

67.

Meredith didn’t move. She crouched in the warm water and watched. Even as relaxed as she was, she felt no urge to slip over and put her arms around her mother. Or even to speak her trigger and watch her go blank and pain-free.

Neither would serve Mistress’ purpose, which was all that would make Meredith’s pussy warm. Mistress had planted this pain in the garden she was making of Frances’ mind, and Meredith wanted only to be Mistress’ watering can.

She let her face look uncertain as she saw Frances recover and look at her with reddened eyes.

That’s right. I’m still under hypnosis—it’s like I’ve been anesthetized. I can’t really react. Mommy’s evil wetdream just has me all confused . . .

“God, Meredith, I’m just melting down, aren’t I.” Her voice was far more ragged than the words, and the wrist that wiped at her eyes was shaky.

“No, Mother.” Meredith blinked drowsily. “I understand. It sounds like a terrible dream. All your fears. I’m sorry.”

“But I was forgetting how to be afraid,” Frances said, before she realized she’d spoken aloud. She closed her eyes and shook her head, tensing again, waking herself up.

“Mine was just a dream, while I was safe in my lover’s arms. Yours really happened, Meredith, and no one”—she set her jaw—“no one was there to protect you.

“I keep failing you and I will never be able to undo that. But I won’t sit here and whine about my imagined problems.”

Meredith nodded thoughtfully. She pictured her mother taking Capaldi’s call at poolside and then pacing obediently through the mansion in nothing but a dripping swimsuit. Finding Meredith half-dressed and dropping her into trance with a toneless nonsense phrase. They’d stare numbly at each other until Frances droned their new compulsion to give themselves to Capaldi, march out like zombies while the servants stared . . .

Please, Mother. Whine some more. What else could the evil hypnotist make us do?

“I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t gone and undone everything Alice has done for you. You looked so blissed out, before, lying there.”

“You do not need to worry, Mother.” She smiled deeply and stood up from the water, wet and gleaming. “Alice is a very powerful hypnotist. I am still blissed out.

“I feel nice now.” She left her hands by her sides, her body moving just as it had last night, when she’d been a triggered Resort SlaveGirl under mind control. She saw Frances swallow and remember, her eyes glazing a bit with the arousal.

“Everything is nice.” Meredith stretched, every move mesmerizing the woman across from her.

This time she stepped forward, closer to where Frances sat, sidesaddle on the curved edge. It put her thighs at her mother’s eye level, and let her look downward at her mother. Now she could see the water beaded on the skin of her mother’s upper breasts and shoulders. How her lips shone from the way Frances was licking them now, hot and bothered and riveted by her daughter’s supple, offered body.

She smiled at the silver delta that reappeared as Frances forced her own hand from her lap.

Meredith looked at her mother. “So now you have become one of us,” she purred.

“One . . . of . . . you . . . ?” Frances fell into her gaze.

“Lesbians, Mother. I know you and Alice made it last night. Leslie and I were going at it, and I thought of you and Alice, just as naked, just as hot, having sex.

“It made me crazy, Mother.” She ran her tongue out as she watched Frances redden.

“It’s all right. What happened to me today hasn’t traumatized me about sex, Mother. But I’m hypnotized and it’s freed me to be able to think and speak about things. And it’s wonderful to know that my mother knows, now, the way I feel about women. About loving them.” She moved a little. “Tasting them. Pleasing them.”

Frances looked hypnotized herself, the wide-eyed way she stared up at her daughter as if at a stranger. Her mouth moved as she tried to respond but she just started to shake her head. Seemed to forget how.

Nodded, slowly.

“Women taste wonderful, don’t we, Mother?” she whispered. Frances stared raptly at her and nodded again, spellbound. Her lips had parted and her eyes were getting glassy, and Meredith needed to slip underwater and eat her mother alive.

But she was a slave, and what her Mistress had bound her mind to do was even hotter.

“I know you tasted Alice,” she whispered. “I saw how you looked at her. Watched her enslave you with every word and gesture. You were hers last night, if not before. Her tame little bedpet, Mother.

“Your mouth kissed her pussy, didn’t it? Before anything else.”

Meredith nodded and Frances nodded with her, transfixed. She was panting now, and little wavelets rippled out as her breasts trembled. “You didn’t wear that cute little tinsel suit to tease her, Mother. You wore it to show her that her girl was hot and ready for her, whenever she wanted.”

Frances swallowed, but she couldn’t look away.

Meredith did slip down now. She curved sinuously through the arm’s-length of warm water between them, feeling like a snake paralyzing a bird. She was next to her mother, not yet touching.

“Last night, the first time, when you yielded to her—you were between her legs, Mother, weren’t you?” She smiled, feeling her mother’s hot, desperate breaths. “You were the submissive. You pleased your lady first and then, when you’d made her happy, she let you lie the way she wanted you, so you could be rewarded.”

She slipped her arms around Frances and slid a thigh along her mother’s, leaning in to nuzzle her.

“Ohhhhh . . . myyyy . . . g-g-g . . .” Frances’ quiet moan crossed her throat like silk. She kissed Frances’ ear.

“It’s all right. It’s how I was with Leslie. We’re subs, Mother—it’s just how we are. When we meet the women for us, we just become their slaves. It’s wonderful, and we can make them so happy in bed.” She moved her lips down, kissing Frances on her throat, feeling the carotid throb as her mother writhed dreamily in her arms.

“We give ourselves to them,” she whispered. “We’re theirs. It’s what love does to us. We can’t resist it.

“I knew I was weak, but I thought you were strong. Mmm. You just hadn’t met your lady yet, Mother.

“But now you have. And you’re hers.”

She moved, and kissed her mother on the mouth. “And I think it’s just beautiful, Mommy.”

They stared at each other, and Meredith watched the sweat, the bloodflow, the stunned desperate need in Frances’ eyes, as she felt her mother shiver against her. She knew that right now, if she pulled the silver aside and put her lips and hands to her mother’s softness, Frances wouldn’t resist.

Meredith cherished the smooth body in her arms and relaxed again into her obedience. Mistress hadn’t programmed her for that. But her mother was where Mistress wanted her to be.

Holding Frances’ gaze, Meredith slid away from her to pose in the middle of the warm pool. When her mother mewed a little to be left so, she only smiled.

“I must return to Alice now,” she announced, pitching her voice like a sedated tourguide. “She will do some more work on me.” She watched Frances jump a little and blink. She was probably deciding that she’d just had another naughty daydream about her nubile daughter.

Meredith smiled down at her mother and then undulated out of the water, letting Frances see the play of her muscles under wet skin. The cool air stiffened her own nipples and she stood in profile as she dried, so her mother could see. She breathed a goodbye and padded out.

68.

She thrilled to the way her programming made her taut as she closed the door, feeling the simpering look drain from her face when she heard it latch and there was no need to be anything but Mistress’ hypnotized drone again.

Her trance was lighter on the way back, enough for her to see how much emptier the house was. The servants kept out of the way, and the new guards her mother had contracted for under Mistress’ guidance stayed outside the main house. Even their shift commander worked from a trailer parked out on the grounds, and the men and women had seemed almost timid from the little Meredith had seen of them.

Meredith didn’t concern herself with them. All was under Mistress’ control now. As she was.

Entering the bedroom of her suite, Meredith had a hot, blurred awareness of Mistress in the bed she shared with Leslie, wearing only a feline smile and the oil that Leslie was smoothing on her limbs, and that Leslie as she served was naked in a collar she usually put on Meredith.

Then Meredith, her face as blank as Leslie’s, was out of her clothes and sliding up between Mistress’ fragrantly slick thighs to spice the massage for her.

She and Leslie were Resort SlaveGirls again, minds bound to pleasuring the guest who’d taken them to bed and drained of anything else.

Mistress enjoyed them. Soon there was another command, and her massage girl turned to worshipping her breasts. She controlled herself as well as her SlaveGirls, using the free will they lacked to keep from losing herself in what their willing tongues were doing to her.

In time she stopped them, and they trooped after her into the shower. Still SlaveGirls, Meredith and Leslie became bath attendants, lavishing attention on their guest with a reverence and submissive heat that they didn’t have to feign. When either of them weakened, and the loofa or the spray dropped from slackening hands as she bent to kiss or suck, Mistress needed only a soft word over the hissing water, or to flick a finger on the erring SlaveGirl’s expressionless face, to bring her back on task. Meredith juiced invisibly under the waterflow at how easily the pretend-training reclaimed her and Leslie, and made them both behave.

Then both girls stood still for a while, staring at Mistress as she shone gloriously in the spray. She spoke and they listened, deaf to the shower’s whitenoise even as it helped pull them deeper. Now and then a spike of desire would half-rouse Meredith like a knot flaring in firewood. She’d be aware of how rigidly she stood, how spellbound her girlfriend was, how utterly beautiful the woman was who’d hypnotized them both into her unresisting slaves.

It would last only a moment, until she realized that Mistress was still speaking, and the commands were slipping into her without her conscious mind being needed at all.

The lust would flare into hypnotic submission, and Meredith didn’t last a heartbeat more before her thoughts went back to sleep.

When she next half-woke, she was in an erotic distortion of after-gym wear: a pair of loose but indecently brief shorts and a crop-T. She was moving into a position her body already knew to take, as she and Leslie arranged themselves into another diorama of healing trance.

This time Leslie, demure now in jeans and a light top, was to remain and watch as her lover was hypnotized again. Meredith didn’t know if the scenario was to involve Leslie softly hurt as Meredith whispered through a flashback of the attack, or perhaps slipping inadvertently into chaperone’s trance, paying too much or too little attention to Mistress’ induction until it had already overcome her.

It didn’t matter. She and Leslie were just props. It thrilled her to function so well.

There was a quiet but urgent knock on the outer door.

“Ah,” Mistress said, and with a gesture sent Leslie to answer it.

Frances had come straight from the spa, in nothing but the obscene silver bikini and a couple of towels. Her hair was still atop her head, but a few locks had come loose to hang adorably by her face.

She was in Meredith’s line of vision, so Meredith could remain as the passive hypnotic subject and still enjoy her. The bikini had been salacious enough in the humid otherwhere of the spa, but here in the normality of her own rooms, her mother looked even more like a bewildered pinup girl.

Meredith was able to wonder which of the servants had seen their patroness wander distracted and naked through the manse. None of them would have dreamed of interfering, but . . . mmm.

Maybe Clare had seen Frances drift by. Had Clare thought just for a heartbeat about trying to mesmerize her employer? Or would seeing Frances as mindless plaything trigger her to other tasks?

Meredith lost that train of thought as Mistress went to her mother, who dazedly apologized for breaking into Meredith’s session. Mistress was all solicitude, soothing and reassuring her, touching her. She clucked over Frances’ coming so hastily that she was still wet, and ever so gently helped her towel off.

When she was done she held both towels and stepped away with them. Frances swayed and blinked, now in nothing but three tiny silver triangles. Before she really knew it, Mistress had nodded to Leslie, and Leslie had efficiently swept the towels to the bathroom to dry.

Frances watched them go, and then looked at her hypnotized daughter. She turned to Mistress, and Meredith could almost see the will to object seep out of her. Desire for the way Mistress was looking at her body made her stand straighter.

“Please, Frances dear. You came at absolutely the best time. We’ve made wonderful progress and reached a stopping point.” Mistress’ cadence was oddly singsong, but Frances didn’t seem to notice. “In fact, her visit with you earlier was just the quiet breakthrough I’d wanted. Meredith was especially receptive to my instructions when I returned her to deep trance.

“You were very useful, Frances.”

Her mother nodded, and glanced once more at Meredith. As before, her gaze drifted down Meredith’s body, and then she shivered and turned back to Mistress.

“Now, dear one.” Mistress’ voice was heartbreakingly gentle. “Relax, and tell me what you need.”

Frances’ eyes widened. “I . . . I’ve been resisting being hypnotized. I want to, I want to be, it’s so relaxing and soooo . . .” she whispered “. . . sensuous . . .

“So tempting just to sleep and listen and believe.” She swallowed, and moved a little as though newly conscious of how she wasn’t dressed.

“And to—obey.”

Mistress said nothing, letting the silence draw the rest from Frances like a patiently flicking tongue.

“I fought the need for that. It was pride—I want to think I control my own will—and I had to do my duty, not lapse into trance and leave the hard decisions to someone else.

“But—” Her throat corded, and though her eyes stayed fixed on Mistress they filled with tears.

“But my decisions are wrong, too. I almost lost my most precious treasure, my baby, twice because I decided wrongly. I was too restrictive and drove her to break loose, out to where kidnappers could get her.

“I know that now.” Her eyes glazed and her tone flattened as she remembered the software that had etched that into her.

“Then I put my trust in someone whose judgment, whose—”

Frances opened her palms and held them out toward Mistress without seeming to know it. She lifted her chin. “I know my duty now. I can’t ever escape my responsibilities—but I am too weak-minded, too unwise, to trust myself to make the decisions they involve.

“I need to put myself under the guidance of someone who can make those decisions for me.”

Her face twisted with remorse and fear, but her hips were already starting to sway in excitement. “Someone to take control of me.

“Please, Alice. I need to submit to hypnosis. I need—

“Please hypnotize me.”

69.

Frances stood there appealingly, her flesh pink and smooth from the long soporific bath, in nothing but the silver suit her lover had chosen for her. She blushed again, but pride and need kept her there, even as the silence lengthened. Her breathing was quick, and it seemed to be the loudest thing in the room.

Mistress looked at her thoughtfully, and it was a while before she spoke. “I think I understand, Frances. I can see that you feel you need this. But you have been very resistant to the idea. With a subject as willing to be hypnotized as your daughter is, and as obedient to commands under trance, it’s one thing, but—”

“But I will be!” Frances writhed but didn’t try to go anywhere. Her eyes were fearful now, seeing Mistress reluctant to try. “I will obey your trance commands, Alice. I need . . .” She knelt slowly, beautifully, spreading her thighs and keeping her back straight, like a well-trained concubine.

“It might be better, dear Frances, if you underwent hypnosis with someone else. Someone not so emotionally—”

“Alice.” The whisper was raw and frantic. “Please. God. Alice.

“I have to surrender my will, and I need, oh, I need to surrender it to you. You’re the only one I can trust, the only one who tells me the truth.” Her eyes glazed over. “Whatever your voice says to me is the truth and I will believe . . .”

She blinked and focused, not even aware that she’d recited another lesson the hypnotic software had burned into her mind.

“You conquered me, Alice. I never knew how sweet it could feel to give myself up to a woman and worship her. You’re my religion now.”

Frances looked at the younger women and went crimson to say this on her knees in front of them, but the tight silver bra showed how turned on she was. And her voice grew stronger.

“I tasted a woman for the first time. I tasted her on my knees, with my hands bound, and I begged to be allowed to do it.

“I tasted paradise.”

She was crying and looked only at Mistress. “You have my heart, Alice, and my body”—she shivered—“my body belongs to you. You should have my mind as well.

“I must surrender to you, love, please. You’re the only one . . . the only one . . .” She shook with the sobs but kept her posture as she knelt, bowing her head.

Mistress went to her and brushed her hair, then put a finger out to lift her chin. Mistress remained standing and Frances knelt meekly before her, gazing up and blinking through the tears.

“I understand, Frances. I only want your mind to be at peace. I will take your worries away.

“I will hypnotize you.”

Frances jerked once with another sob but didn’t look away, and when Mistress stroked her face she kissed Mistress’ hand like a pet.

Mistress stepped back and turned toward Meredith. “First, I will put your daughter deeper into sleep and ask Leslie to leave.”

“No,” Frances said quietly, wiping her eyes and staying on her knees. “I mean—I’m sorry. I don’t mind if they see. I want them to see me give myself to you. I love . . . I love you.” The tears started again, and her eyes shone like pearls as they widened once more.

“Oh! I’m—I didn’t mean to . . . you are the hypnotist and I mustn’t try to control how you . . . put me . . .”

Mistress let her subside. “That’s completely fine, my dear. Whatever makes you most comfortable will only make it easier for you to relax and yield to the hypnotic state. And having a loved one present can be reassuring for everyone.

“But I must ask you to stand, Frances, dear.”

Frances blinked, but she obeyed quickly rather than question Mistress.

“Thank you. Since you came here as a free woman to give your will to me, you should stand.

“Though you make a very pretty slavegirl when you kneel.” Mistress laughed pleasantly to see Frances tighten her thighs and blush to hear that.

“But I still need to work a moment with Meredith. This way she can be awake when she sees you fall into trance.”

Frances nodded. “Should I . . . leave for a while, Alice?” Even in trance, Meredith felt the longing there. Her mother was pleading to stay but she would obey, to please Mistress, if she were sent away.

“No, Frances. I’d like you to remain here.” Mistress smiled at her subject’s joy to hear that.

“I’m going to be taking absolute control of what goes into your mind, Frances. That begins by taking control of where you go and what you think.” Mistress’ voice changed cadence again, and Meredith could see her mother’s eyes start to glaze again. “Nothing will distract you from submitting to trance if you remain here, within the sound of my voice, watching how I control my other subjects.

“Do you understand, Frances?”

“Yes, Alice,” Frances whispered, quiet in her silver bikini. “I understand. I will remain.”

“You are being very cooperative, dear. That will help me hypnotize you more easily. For now, just stand there and wait until I tell you what to do. Do you understand, Frances?”

“Yes, Alice.” It sounded sleepier this time, more ritualized.

Mistress turned to Meredith and spoke quietly, and Meredith sat up as though leaving her own trance.

“Thank you, Alice,” she murmured submissively, looking up at Mistress. “I feel much better now. Your voice has removed all unpleasant thoughts.” From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother tremble.

“And what thoughts will you think now, Meredith?”

She stared back up into Mistress’ eyes without blinking. “I will think only the happy thoughts you put into my mind for me to think, Alice.” She stopped.

“Very good, Meredith. Now, I’m going to hypnotize your mother. She would be happy if you and Leslie watched her go under for me. Will you be comfortable with that?”

She turned now, seeing her mother at attention, erotically not quite nude, delightfully nervous.

“Mother? May I?”

Frances’ face lit up. “Yes, baby, I’d love you to.” Then it clouded. “But—Alice? Could she be hypnotized again, watching you”—she licked her lips—“put me into a trance?”

Mistress smiled. “The girls are very well-conditioned to my voice, dear. I’ve already programmed them to respond to it by succumbing to hypnotic sleep only when I command them to.

“They’re quite safe. They’ll stay awake as long as I want them to. The only one who’ll fall under my spell, dear, will be you.”

Frances swallowed and nodded, and kept standing that way, hands by her sides, already submitting to her hypnotist as much as she could.

“I understand, Alice. Thank you.”

“Yes, dear. Be still now. Relax until I tell you what to do.”

“Yes, Alice.” Frances stared forward. “Relax. Until you . . . tell me . . .”

Meredith dampened at how submissive her mother was.

The door opened and Clare walked in with a tray to clear glasses from a table. Meredith barely remembered when they’d been used and left there.

Frances twitched when the maid came in but continued to obey Mistress, not breaking attention. The blush returned as she felt her servant looking at her, seeing her motionless and staring in the decorative swimsuit. Clare set the tray down and examined her employer avidly. She glanced once at Mistress, who nodded. Then she stepped closer to Frances.

“Ms Stevens?” The maid sounded deferential, but there was a puzzled laugh underneath it.

Frances stayed at attention, eyes locked in front of her. “Yes, Clare?”

“Ma’am? Is there something I can, um, get for you?”

“No, thank you, Clare.” Even now she didn’t look away.

“Are you all right, Ma’am?”

“Yes, Clare.” Frances was breathing faster. Meredith saw her nipples clearly under the silver. “I am going to be hypnotized. Ms Holloway told me to wait here and relax. She will tell me what to do.”

Clare just took her in as she stood there, staring and vulnerable. “She’ll be doing it?” she asked after a moment.

“Yes—hhhh—Clare.” Frances shimmied a little. “Ms Holloway will hypnotize me.”

“I see. Ma’am.” Clare watched the blush deepen and spread. “Will there be anything else?”

“Frances, dear?” Mistress watched as her voice vibrated through her subject’s body. “Why not just have the girl follow my instructions for now? Let me take the responsibility. That way you needn’t worry, and you can relax, as I told you to.”

“Yes, Alice.” Frances sighed. “I will relax.

“Clare?” Her voice was hesitant, as if it were already strange to her to be giving orders instead of obeying them.

“Yes, Ms Stevens?”

“You are to obey Ms Holloway while I’m under her—while I’m under hypnosis.”

“All right, Ma’am.” Clare looked at her, nostrils flaring. “Until when?”

Frances swallowed. “Until Ms Holloway tells me.”

“Yes. Ma’am.” Clare licked her lips. “And while Ms Holloway has you hypnotized, and you obey her—I must obey her also? Ma’am?”

Closing her eyes for a moment, Frances tried to slow her breathing. “Y-yes. Clare. While . . . while I am hypnotized, both you and I must obey Ms Holloway.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Frances opened her mouth to speak.

“Relax, Frances.” They all watched her tremble as Mistress’ voice subdued her. “That will be all for now, Clare. Thank you.”

“Yes, Ms Holloway.” Clare smirked at her dazed employer, curtseyed to Mistress, and collected the tray before she left.

Mistress turned back to Frances.

“You’ve been very obedient so far, my dear. You’re an excellent hypnotic subject. I’m so very pleased with you.

“Now I’m going to put you into a deep, deep trance, and you won’t resist me at all, will you?”

Eyes now trapped in Mistress’, Frances shook her head slowly, drowsily. She stayed as she was while her hypnotist walked slowly toward her.

70.

Mistress stopped a few steps from Frances. It might have been so she could see the other woman’s entire body as Frances stood at attention. It might have been so Frances’ longing to be close to her dominant lover could rise and rule her. Frances was already enough under discipline that she didn’t even try to move closer on her own. Mistress smiled.

“There are a number of ways to put a woman into a deep hypnotic trance,” she murmured. “Ways to seduce her attention, snare her mind. Pretty things like crystal pendants and candle flames. Rhythmic movement—the ticking of the clock as she tracks the way its pendulum back, and forth, back, and forth . . .

“Or,” she grinned as Frances caught herself falling to it, “or, rhythms as deep and enthralling as native drums throbbing her into a mindless dance.”

She paused while the images poured through Frances’ mind, each one lubricating it a bit more. Soon, they faded and Frances was lost once more in the greater fascination of the hypnotist herself.

“But those are ways to woo a mind that’s still free, and can say no to trance. The mind of a woman who could resist. The mind of a woman who would never accept simply being summoned or claimed, being commanded to submit.

“A woman strong enough to make decisions and think for herself.

“A woman, Frances dear, wholly unlike you.”

Frances sighed and sagged a little, but she said nothing to object.

“A woman like you, Frances dear, a woman who is too weak and sleepy to decide anything for herself, is much easier to hypnotize, and she is much more controllable once she is hypnotized. A woman like you who cannot think for herself slips easily, pleasantly into letting someone decide for her and tell her what to think. Your obedience can be commanded, Frances dear, and there is no reason to pretend that it is anything but conquering you. All anyone must do to hypnotize you, Frances dear, is dominate your soft little ‘will’ and bid you to obey.

“Look into my eyes, Frances.”

Meredith saw her mother quiver once.

“I am hypnotizing you now, at last, and there is nothing in you that can resist me.”

Frances stood still, arms straight by her sides, staring raptly at Mistress. Her silvered breasts moved with her rapid breathing, and her hands by her bare hips flattened and bladed as her stance stiffened. Her eyes grew wide, as each breath went by with no more word from her hypnotist.

“You will look into my eyes, Frances. You will hear only my voice. You will hear nothing but the sound of my voice. You will hear nothing else.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Alice.” The tone was warm and submissive. “I understand. I will hear nothing else.”

Meredith could see that her mother had lapsed back into the daze Alice had lulled her into before. Frances was primed to repeat, and utterly believe, anything she heard as a command.

“You will look into my eyes and relax and let go of all your worries, all your fears. You are safe with me, Frances, dear one. You trusted your body to my touch and my arms and you went to sleep in my arms, spent with pleasure and feeling only peace and soft, quiet submission.”

Frances’ eyes stayed wide and locked on Mistress’, but a loose, silly smile turned her mouth, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

“You surrendered to me in bed, Frances. You opened thighs and lips and pussy to my probing, and when I was gentle and sweet and put only pleasure into you, you softened and opened further.”

Frances whimpered a little.

“Yes. Relaxing as I stroked your lovely body, relaxing now to joy as my voice strokes your soft, unresisting mind. You will relax under my control, Frances.”

“I will relax under your control.”

“I controlled you completely last night, Frances. When you had opened to me, given me your mouth, your slick little pussy, your tight, tight, tender little rosebud . . .”

Frances whined and gasped and even as she kept pose she moved her hips a little.

“. . . when you let me have you, gave me all your soft moist secret places, I gave you an orgasm to reward you.”

“. . . uhhnnn . . .”

“After that, you were mine.”

Frances gaped at Mistress. The yearning on her face almost hurt Meredith to see it, but she knew it how much meant her mother already belonged to their hypnotist.

“You were ready to do anything I asked of you. Anything I commanded you to. You were controlled and obedient. You could not resist, or even think. You could only obey.”

“I could only . . . o . . . obeyyy . . .”

Mistress took a breath, savoring a calmness the helpless woman before her no longer remembered. “You are opening your mind to me, Frances, as you opened your body to me.

“The pleasure you feel as you soften and submit is washing away any guilt, any fear, any thought for how I will treat you or what I will make you do. You are helpless, and the only greater joy is knowing that you are in my power.”

She let Frances steep in that, and enjoyed how erect her subject stood.

“Open the petals of your mind to me, Frances. Feel my touch on each trembling thought. It enslaves you just to do that, to feel my fingertip on what should be yours alone.

“Focus on my voice. Feel it along your nerves. My voice and my eyes are all you know. The truth of everything I say is already part of you. Nothing diverts you from believing that truth.”

Frances swayed, and her head began to nod just a bit in time with Mistress’ soothing cadence.

“Your own thoughts are only empty sound to you now, Frances. They mean nothing. They are nothing. You will not hear your own thoughts. They cannot distract you from being hypnotized. You will not hear your own thoughts. You will hear only the sound of my voice. You will not hear your own thoughts.”

“I will not hear my own thoughts,” Frances declared. Her face went a bit blanker.

“You will not hear your own thoughts.”

“I will not hear my own thoughts.”

Meredith watched her mother stand wide-eyed and repeat it. It turned her mother on so much that her nipples were now taut enough to cast little shadows on the silver.

“You have no thoughts, Frances.”

“I have no thoughts.”

“Your mind is blank and open now, Frances. You are open to whatever suggestions I choose to place into your mind. You are giving up your will to me and I will keep it safe where no one will ever find it. You will not remember where I have taken your will, and that way no one else can ever make you give it to them or even tell them where it is.

“You have no will, Frances.”

“I have no will.”

Meredith nearly climaxed as she heard it. She kept listening as her Mistress altered her mother’s mind and her mother, when she was bidden to speak, pleaded for more of it. Mistress implanted triggers and some of them blurred in Meredith’s own thoughts. Mistress had already prepared her, and Leslie, and their minds would remain blank to some of the ways Mistress would control her newest slave.

But Meredith ran wet knowing that Mistress would find it useful for her to continue controlling her mother’s mind with the triggers she was allowed to hear and remember.

“Come to me.”

Frances took a step toward her hypnotist and then another, resuming attention within easy reach of the woman who held her spellbound. Mistress put out her hand and stroked her willing subject’s ear and then her breast as Frances stood passively to be handled.

Mistress withdrew her hand. “Meredith.”

Meredith went to her at once. This close, she could scent arousal, and wondered which of them was dampening as Frances sank into slavery. Then she stopped wondering and waited for command.

“Fetch the blade.”

Even as she turned to obey Meredith remembered where she’d put it, in trance, and returned with the sharp little dagger across her palms.

“Frances, dear, turn and see your daughter. Look into her eyes. She is already my hypnotized slave, as you are becoming.” Meredith felt her own heart race as her mother swiveled to gaze at her, seeing her own obedience mirrored in the eyes she’d known all her life.

“Take the blade she offers and prepare to do my will.”

Frances’ eyes never left Meredith’s. She reached up, and her fingers were warm and unhurried as they lifted the hilt of the dagger and held it before her, point-down. She looked like a barbarian priestess, under her goddess’ thrall, about to plunge it into a sacrifice.

“Face me again.” Frances’ head rotated and she lost herself in Mistress once more.

“Whom do you obey?”

“I obey only you,” Frances intoned.

“What will you do with that blade?”

“I will do whatever you tell me to.”

“What are you?”

“I am your obedient slave.” Frances’ voice shook.

“Bring the knife to your chest, slave.”

Frances raised it a little and canted it back, gazing adoringly at Mistress.

Mistress smiled. “Cut the top between the cups,” she said, and in a silver flicker Frances’ breasts were bared to their owner and the shining bra snapped back to become a pair of manacles embracing the hypnotized woman’s biceps.

“Bring the knife to your loins, slave.”

Frances obeyed. This time she was told to cut the waistband, and sliced through the silver to the other side. It vanished, and the blade reflected light onto the wet, pink pussylips it had covered without concealing.

Frances held the dagger and waited for the next thing her hypnotist told her to do.

“Meredith, take the blade from my slave.” Meredith slid it from her mother’s unresisting grip. After a moment, Frances let her hands float down to her sides. Mistress frowned and then smiled, and with a couple of soft commands Frances had moved and the parted bra had fallen behind her, already forgotten.

“Now, slave, you may kneel to me.”

As her mother sank to her knees, still rapt in Mistress’ gaze, Meredith saw Mistress move her skirt, and saw a cleft that glistened as her mother’s did.

“And you may worship.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Frances’ eyes glazed over as they dropped slowly down, until the sight of her Mistress’ sex captured them again. She leaned forward, licking her lips.

“I must . . .”

The word was the first warm breath she lavished on it.

“. . . obey . . .”