The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PROLOGUE

Ingrid glanced at her map screen. The bright dots, one indicating her present location and the other marking the cabin she was approaching, confirmed that she had about three more kilometers to go. That last bit would be the most difficult; up until now she had been able to follow the road, but from this point she would have to travel cross-country to be sure of arriving unseen.

Fortunately, the brush covering this part of the Serennine Hills was just right: thick enough to provide useful cover but open enough to allow passage at a normal walking speed. She settled into a steady hiking rhythm and mentally reviewed the mission briefings.

A routine cross-correlation had pointed to Sofiya Barthal as a common element in several local investigations. On at least four occasions this year, some valuable industrial secret or rare Old Earth antique had been stolen here on Belenius IV and fenced on a nearby world in a pattern that fit the comings and goings of Barthal’s one-crew tramp spacer. In each case, someone with access to the stolen goods had gone through starport security to the dock where her ship was berthed, but had not taken passage.

That didn’t necessarily prove anything, of course. If anything, it seemed a bit amateurish for a theft and smuggling operation. However, it was notable that Barthal, even more so than any of the other suspects, had suddenly done very well for herself. After six years of barely making ends meet, she had suddenly become wealthy enough to pay off the mortgage on her ship, buy a hunting lodge, and even install a private landing field. That last part, in particular, would be most convenient for a smuggler.

It still wasn’t exactly an ironclad case. However, there was a new development. Some prototype components for a new hyperspace navsystem had just gone missing, and the most likely suspect, EridaniCorp junior executive Hui-Na Duvall, was already suspected by the Federate Investigative Agency in connection with one of the previous thefts.

And so Agent Ingrid Sanchez had been dispatched here to surveil the place, in the hope of catching Duvall or some associate of hers bringing the goods here to be loaded onto this ship.

She peered over a ridge and saw the cabin, about a quarter klick down the hill. Off to the left was the ship, parked on the new landing field; stretching toward the horizon to the right was the access way leading to the property. She found a sheltered spot and stretched out on the ground.

Satisfied that this was as good a place as any to settle in for the duration, she opened her phone and activated the encrypted line to headquarters. “This is Agent Ingrid Sanchez checking in. I’ve found a lookout point with a good view of the site and the road.”

“Very good, Agent Sanchez. Check in every four hours; we’ll send a relief in twelve.”

“Acknowledged. I’ll call back at—” She moved her phone from her ear to read the time. “—1400 and 1800 and expect to be relieved at 2200.”

“Nice try. It’s fifteen after.”

Prick. “Ah... that’s check in at 1415 and 1815, and expect my relief on the site at 2215. Sanchez out.”

Ingrid sighed as she ended the call. The Belenius IV office was short-handed at the best of times, and lately they were stretched thin dealing with a pro-Secessionist faction that was threatening to disrupt the upcoming Landing Centennial celebrations. The Agency was fairly sure that they were only going to make a public nuisance of themselves, but they had to keep an eye out for extremists who might cross the line into rioting or outright terrorism.

Oh, well, it meant plenty of overtime pay, and another take-one-for-the-team moment on her record that might get her a bit closer to a transfer off this mudball.

She put the phone back into her pocket and settled down to watch and wait.

Ten seconds later, the world exploded into a cacophony of sounds and colors, then dissolved into dark nothingness.

Her shoulders were stiff and her mouth felt like it had an old sock stuffed in it. Her head... no, her whole body... felt like it was floating.

She opened her eyes. The whole world was a lavender pink blur. She closed her eyes again for a few seconds. When she looked again, things came into focus. She was in a small room, about three by four meters. Every surface was covered with lavender and pink fabric, with a grid of indentations suggesting a thick padding.

“What the—?” she started to mutter... and heard only vague muffled sounds as she felt the resistance of a cloth gag against her lips.

She reflexively tried to bring her right hand to her mouth. It didn’t move. She turned to look to her right, and then her left. Thick black bands circled her wrists. Each of them was fastened to a cord leading up to the ceiling and another leading out to the wall. She looked down and saw similar fetters on her ankles, each triple-tied to the floor.

Her feet were bare. Her shirt sleeves and pants legs had been roughly cut off, ending in ragged edges at the elbows and knees. Taking a second look, she recognized that they weren’t the same clothes she had been wearing earlier—she was now dressed in a slightly different khaki hiking outfit. Oddly, she still had her FIA vest on over the new shirt—not that it mattered, since the vest had no pockets and she had no way to get at them anyway. “It’s doing me just as much good now as it did when I got hit by whatever it was,” she grumbled to herself.

Her arms were extended out and slightly upward, and her legs were widely separated, like that ancient drawing by... Leonardo da Vinci or Michelangelo, she couldn’t remember which but was pretty sure it was one of those two. How could she be standing up like this, especially while she was unconscious?

Then she realized that she wasn’t really standing up at all. Her feet were not touching the floor; taking a closer look, they were about ten centimeters up.

She was in zero gee. Either this place had the kind of high-end grav generators that could override natural gravity, or she had been taken offworld. How long had she been out?

No time to worry about that now. She had to get out of here.

The cords holding her arms and legs in place were no thicker than shoelaces, but they reflected the distinctive iridescent shimmer of composite synthsilk. It took power tools to cut or break that stuff. She could only hope that some of them ended in poorly tied knots or weakly secured attachment points.

Ingrid tugged at the shackles as hard as she could. The lack of gravity and inability to anchor herself made it difficult. She kept flailing about, bouncing in midair as one cord and then another reached its limit and snapped back. She tried putting everything she had into a sudden yank on the right-hand manacle. The tie lines stretched slightly, then pulled at her arm and sent her lurching around worse than ever.

The cords were synthsilk, all right, and there was no sign that any of them were loosening. This was not good.

Ingrid closed her eyes to shut out the careening background. She paused and took a few deep breaths while she tried to think of something.

She heard a sound in front of her and opened her eyes again. Fortunately, the worst oscillations had damped down.

A portion of the far wall was hinged outward. A brunette wearing a black leather bodice, miniskirt, and knee boots stood in the corridor. Ingrid immediately recognized the face of Sofiya Barthal.

Apparently her target had somehow been tipped off, or perhaps had good security sensors. One minute, Ingrid was out on the hill; the next, she’d been taken by surprise and knocked out. She realized that she had been hit right after reporting in to headquarters. Her attacker must have been shadowing her, watching and listening for that in order to maximize the time until she was missed. “Damn it,” she cursed at herself, “I got caught like a rookie.”

Her thoughts were interrupted as Sofiya carefully stepped into the room. Judging from the way she moved, the threshold marked the transition between normal and zero gravity. A black shoulder bag drifted slightly away from her body as it became weightless.

She took a step forward, and then another. Her boots made a soft tearing noise and pulled up the floor slightly as she lifted them, and scrunched the padding with a crackling sound as she set them down again.

“Welcome aboard my ship, Agent Sanchez,” she finally said.

She reached into the shoulder bag and held up a metal circlet. It was about twenty centimeters across and one wide, with three four-centimeter disks set into it.

Sofiya noticed the agent scrutinizing the object. “No, it’s not in any of your stolen-goods reports. I salvaged this fair and square... from an alien ship that’s been adrift for Galaxy knows how many centuries.”

The knot in Ingrid’s stomach tightened. As if being captured wasn’t bad enough in itself, she was at the mercy of a space-happy loony case.

Four hundred years of starflight and two centuries of occasional radio searching before that had turned up no solid indication of anybody else out there. A few contrarians still held out hope, and a few conspiracy theorists invented paranoid cover-up scenarios. As far as everybody else was concerned, “aliens” had gone the way of “Here Be Dragons”.

“Well, perhaps they weren’t aliens, strictly speaking. The pictures and the skeletons show that, biologically speaking, they were human. Maybe the real aliens picked up a prehistoric Earth tribe and dropped them off on another planet for some reason.”

“And maybe you found some perfectly ordinary derelict ship, and your mind snapped and concocted this story to distance itself from the horror,” Ingrid mused, wishing she could say it to Sofiya’s face. “And maybe if I’d studied more psych, I’d have some idea of what that has to do with what I’m here to investigate.”

Sofiya shrugged. “Well, that mystery doesn’t matter. What does matter is that their brain-interface devices work just as well for us.”

Ingrid resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was literally a captive audience for this woman’s delusions.

“After I found the first one, I put it on, assuming it was just an interesting decoration. I think I fainted, but instead of blacking out I was bombarded by colors and sounds and smells and memories. When I came to, everything was normal... except that I knew how to use the device, and understood that it had just taken a calibration reading of my brain and downloaded its ‘user guide’.”

She raised the circlet and placed it around her head just above her eyes and ears. Ingrid couldn’t quite make out what happened next, but the circlet seemed to reshape itself slightly to fit snugly against her brow, with one disk in the middle of her forehead and the other two at her temples. “Fortunately, that only happens the first time.”

She firmly planted her boots to the flooring as she stepped forward to stand face to face with her captive.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

She suddenly thrust her left hand behind Ingrid, then brought it forward to grasp the back of her head. With her right, she reached into the black bag and extracted another circlet.

The agent instinctively dodged, but it didn’t make any difference. Weightless and unable to grab hold of anything, she was helpless to evade her well-anchored captor. She felt the headband press against her forehead and then clamp itself into place.

Then, the world went mad. She saw a million stars of every color she’d ever seen and quite a few she hadn’t and then she was playing at the fourth-grade piano recital but it sounded like laser fire on the Academy target practice range and then she pulled keys off the piano and ate them and they tasted like bananas and then she was in high school giving Ahmed Loewenstein his very first blowjob and then time stopped and started and went backwards and then there were no words for the millions of impressions flooding over her mind all at once.

After an interval that somehow seemed both eternal and instantaneous, it stopped. She somehow managed to compose herself. The room and her bonds and Sofiya looked just like she remembered them. For a moment, that was a relief.

Then, she paled as the realization sunk in. It was true. This thing really had interfaced itself to her brain.

Sofiya was still cupping the back of Ingrid’s head in her left hand, and intently staring into her eyes. “Welcome back to the real world,” she finally commented. “I realize that it’s confusing and disorienting.” She paused and reached up to peel a little sticky label from Ingrid’s headband. “Especially when the user guide download is turned off.”

User guide or no user guide, the agent understood one thing. This was how Sofiya Barthal had recruited people to assist in her crimes... and how she intended to turn her into a mole within the FIA. “Well, that’s not going to happen,” she told herself firmly. “I was trained to resist brainwashing.”

Then she remembered that one of the suspects was a lieutenant in the Patrol, where presumably she too had been trained to resist brainwashing.

Ingrid felt Sofiya’s fingertips moving, stroking her scalp and tousling her blonde hair. She bristled at the contact.

Sofiya murmured, “It’s all right, dear. I’m going to cure you of your frigidity.”

The outraged yelp “WHAT?!” came through the gag as “MMMRT!” Sofiya chuckled.

“It’s quite simple. Just honestly answer this question.” Her expression became serious as she placed her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Do you feel any desire to make love with me?”

Ingrid’s eyes widened. She shook her head.

“You see? From my point of view, you’re frigid.”

It made sense, in a way. Being “frigid” meant not having enough sexual desire, and “enough” was an inherently subjective concept....

Ingrid shook her head again. Where the hell had that ridiculous train of thought come from?

She shook her head harder as she realized the answer. The damned headband was fucking with her brain, injecting nonsense into it to confuse her. She jerked and tossed as hard as she could, hoping to dislodge the device.

“YOU CAN’T SHAKE IT OFF. STOP BEFORE YOU HARM YOURSELF.”

This time, it was an obvious voice out of nowhere inside her head, commanding like the voice of God in an old Bible-story vid. Ingrid found that her neck and shoulder muscles had gone limp and would not obey her desperate attempts to get them moving.

After a few breaths, she quit trying. She didn’t think she had any real chance of throwing off the circlet, anyway. She lifted her head and turned it back and forth, slowly, as she felt muscle control return.

Sofiya spoke slowly, soothingly. “That’s better. Now, just relax and think it through calmly.”

Ingrid took a deep breath and tried to focus, to marshal her own train of thought against the interloping suggestion. “I’m not frigid,” she told herself. “I have plenty of libido. It just happens to be turned on by men, not women. There’s nothing wrong with that. Is there?”

She paused, unsure whether that last flicker of doubt had been interjected by the device, or had bubbled up from within.

The memory of that senior-year party resurfaced. She and Lauren had chatted up some guys, but nothing serious. After they’d both had a few too many drinks, Lauren had thrown an arm over Ingrid’s shoulder and given her a peck on the cheek. Impishly, she’d responded with a kiss on the lips.

Matters had progressed from there, egged on by an eager group of male onlookers... until Ingrid felt a hand sliding into her panties and fingers tickling her pubes. Somehow, things had gotten completely out of hand.

She had immediately stormed out. At first, she was furious at Lauren. Later, she was even angrier at herself. She should have politely but firmly stopped the game long before it reached that point; instead, she had kept pace with Lauren in escalating it. She felt like she’d unfairly led her friend to expect something she wasn’t willing to give, then painfully slammed on the brakes.

Not knowing what to say, she had never spoken to Lauren again.

Was this device capable of sifting through a lifetime of memories and selectively evoking the one that made rejection of a lesbian sexual advance seem like an occasion for shame and regret? Or had she done that on her own?

Her attention was finally jerked back to the here and now by Sofiya’s voice. “I can tell that you’re feeling guilty about something.”

“Shit,” Ingrid thought, “have I totally lost the ability to keep a poker face, or is this fucking contraption telling her what I’m thinking?” Either way, her one hope of escape—finding some way to trick or outpsych her captor—was shot to hell.

The hands on Ingrid’s shoulders began to slide down her body. They lingered at the outer curves of her breasts for a long moment, then continued to her flanks.

Sofiya spoke in a tone of wounded reasonableness. “But then, you have good reason to feel guilty, don’t you? It was terribly naughty of you to skulk around my property and spy on me like that!”

The agent glared at her captor. She continued nonchalantly, “I admit, that paper I found in your shirt pocket does appear to be a surveillance warrant, but the technical legality of it doesn’t change the fact that it was terribly rude, now does it?”

Ingrid felt a sudden flush of embarrassment. She fought it down. “No! I’m not the one who did something wrong!”

That, she recalled, had been her reaction when she first started to consider that her own actions had contributed to the incident with Lauren. She firmly pushed the notion aside, and was relieved to find herself able to do so.

Damn, that stupid memory was really screwing with her attempts to reject the thoughts and feelings being fed into her brain.

“Some people just don’t wear authority very well.” Sofiya remarked, as she unsnapped the side catches of the agent’s FIA vest one by one. “It goes right to their head,” she punned as she lifted the vest over Ingrid’s head and pushed it away. “Doesn’t it feel good to get rid of unnecessary baggage?” she quipped, as she tossed her shoulder bag off in the same direction.

Ingrid took a deep breath. It felt much easier without the heavy vest.

She remembered that the vest wasn’t ‘heavy’ at all in this weightless environment. Was that an illusion born of real memories of how uncomfortable the vest normally was, or just another artificially inserted thought?

Sofiya looked Ingrid up and down. “The civilian look suits you. I’ll bet you feel positively naked, though.” She stuck an exaggeratedly thoughtful pose for a moment, then lifted a finger as to emphasize a point. “Well, there’s only one way to fix that. I’ll just have to show you how it feels to be really naked, so you have a better perspective.”

That certainly sounded rational and scientific. Ingrid knew that she didn’t really like the idea for some reason, but being an adult meant accepting some things you didn’t like.

But it didn’t make sense, she began to realize. She already knew what it felt like to wear civilian clothes and what it felt like to be naked. And yet it had seemed perfectly reasonable when she first heard it. She had felt no doubt, no suspicion that her captor was simply amusing herself at her expense.

“How long until I just don’t know which thoughts are mine?” she wondered. The fact that she couldn’t tell whether that pessimistic question arose from within or without just made matters worse.

Meanwhile, Sofiya had undone Ingrid’s shirt buttons. The shirt floated slightly open, just enough to show that her bra was gone.

Ingrid expected Sofiya to immediately reach out and grab her breasts. It suddenly seemed like an obvious way for one woman to entertain another. She knew that there was something not quite right about that idea, but her mind somehow got sidetracked into the question of whether it was the woman with the available bosom entertaining the woman with the roaming hands, or the other way around.

The question was moot for the moment, as Sofiya instead moved to the side and around behind her. A moment later, Ingrid felt a tug at the back of her neck and heard a zipper sliding open. She felt two hands on her back, moving sideways and then forward beneath her shirt. They paused just below her ribs, then slowly slid upwards until each breast was gently but firmly cupped.

Warm breath tickled the back of Ingrid’s neck. With each exhalation, the hands flexed, stroking, fondling, gently squeezing, never quite the same way twice.

It really was a pleasant massage, as long as she didn’t think about the implications.... and, really, those could be set aside for the moment. Whether she liked men or women was irrelevant; her companion, hands and all, was hidden away out of sight. She knew it was Sofiya, but that was all right; Sofiya was being very clever and courteous and considerate to caress her from behind and allow her to maintain this ambiguity for the time being.

And if Sofiya was doing this because she intended to make love with her, that was all right too. This felt so much nicer than the grabbing and pawing she got when she let a man put his hands on her. Maybe that meant that sex with a woman would feel better than sex with a man. At least she should try it and find out.

Ingrid was fuzzily aware that any or all of these thoughts might have been put into her head by the circlet. In fact, she had a vague suspicion that each and every one of them had been. She realized that she could no longer find any clear line between her own thoughts and feelings and the ones being introduced by the headband. That was the only thought that she felt sure was truly hers.

It occurred to her that the device was probably continuing to fine-tune its map of her brain, thus increasing its ability to blur that line. Was that her own insight, or had the gadget introduced that idea to convince her that resistance was ultimately futile? Or was that question itself.... It was like running through a maze of mirrors. She felt hopelessly lost. It was so much easier to just let go... nestle into the warm arms around her... enjoy the sensual kneading of her breasts... watch the fascinating way they jiggled in zero gravity....

She managed to force herself to focus for a moment. How had she gotten into this situation? She had been abducted and tied up. She had wanted to know what it would be like to make love with another woman. She dithered over those two memories... they were both utterly certain and undeniable, but they really didn’t seem to go together.

Suddenly, the puzzle fell into place. She was bound and gagged so that she wouldn’t back out the first time she felt a twinge of nervousness. She’d badly hurt herself and someone else by doing that, once. She never wanted to do that again. It wouldn’t be fair to pass judgment on this experience until after it was done. She was so lucky to find someone as skilled and as beautiful as Sofiya to give her this opportunity.

She closed her eyes and sighed into the gag. It all made perfect sense. Trust Sofiya, and let things take their course. Sofiya knew just what to do. Cuddle up to Sofiya, and enjoy her attentions.

She slowly arched her back. The back of her head brushed against her partner’s temple. Ingrid saw Sofiya’s face out the corner of her eye, then felt her left ear being gingerly licked and nibbled. It felt very nice.

One last qualm flickered across her mind. This isn’t right.

Whoever was giving her this pleasure deserved pleasure from her in return, she decided. Tied up like this, she couldn’t properly return Sofiya’s embrace. That must be why this felt wrong. It would be all right, though. Somehow she knew that she’d have her chance soon enough.

For now, she could just let her mind go blank and enjoy the massage. It seemed to go on forever, always changing but always the same pleasure. The playful licking and nibbling moved across the back of her neck and settled on her right ear for a while, then stopped.

She heard a whisper, “Delightful, isn’t it?”

Ingrid nodded.

“It feels just as good to me. Thanks to our headbands, I’m sharing your sensations, your responses, your feelings.”

Ingrid felt a thrill of pure joy. Being tied up wasn’t preventing her from giving pleasure after all.

The thrill intensified when she heard Sofiya murmur, “Oh, darling, that’s so sweet!” She felt a soft kiss on her cheek.

Sofiya spoke again, in a more sultry tone. “And this is only the beginning, my dear. It’s going to get a lot better, for both of us.”

“Mmmmm...” Ingrid murmured into her gag.

The hands dropped away. A moment later, they reappeared, reaching between her legs. Fingers explored until they found the handle of her pants zipper. The zipper was pulled down... and back between her legs... and up between her butt cheeks. How very clever, she thought.

The next thing she knew, Sofiya had returned to stand in front of her. She hooked a finger into a little loop of cloth at Ingrid’s shoulder and tugged. A concealed zipper opened the top seam of the shirt all the way to the end of the sleeve. She did the same on the other side of the shirt, then bent down to unzip the inseams of her pants legs.

Sofiya gave each of the separated pieces of clothing a gentle push, and stepped back to watch them float away from the blonde’s body. Ingrid looked down at herself. Except for the headband, the wrist and ankle cuffs, and a little panty thong, she was naked.

It felt good. Why should she bother with clothes, anyway? They were useful if she needed protection from the cold or the dirt or from things that might injure her, but none of that was a problem in this soft warm padded room. She wondered why Sofiya was still wearing all that black leather.

As it happened, Sofiya was about to remedy that situation. “You’ve shown me yours; now I’ll show you mine,” she declared.

That certainly seemed fair enough, Ingrid mused. The brunette looked very attractive in tight black leather, but it would be interesting to see what she looked like without it.

Sofiya undid the top fastener of her bodice, and then the next. Slowly, she worked her way downward until the front of the garment was completely open. She saucily licked a finger, then used it to unsnap the waist of her skirt. She did a slow twirl, gently casting the garments into the air.

Ingrid watched intently. She appreciated that Sofiya was putting on a very entertaining show for her benefit. It was fun to watch each new feature being revealed: the slender midriff, the smallish but well-defined bosom, the perfect curves of her trim butt, the small dark patch of fuzz between her legs.

Sofiya paused and grinned over her shoulder at Ingrid. She made a final half turn, then stepped closer.

She put her hands on the blonde’s hips and hooked her thumbs under the thong waistband. “Just one flimsy little bit of cloth left between your pussy and my tongue,” she leered. With a quick yank, the panty tore apart and fluttered away.

Ingrid’s crotch tingled. She vividly recalled the delicious sensations of lips against her pubes, a probing tongue exploring her snatch and finding her clit, the simmering pleasure building toward rapturous release. A spark of irritation with her previous lovers, not one of whom had ever actually given her cunnilingus, came to mind for a moment and was immediately forgotten.

“I’ll confess that I’m going to cheat a bit,” Sofiya purred. “Once your headband takes a read on the orgasm I’m about to give you, it will amplify and sustain it, and then repeatedly echo it back to both of us.”

Ingrid shivered as she grasped the implications of that. She could hardly wait.

“But enough talk, darling. Again, allow me to demonstrate.”

Sofiya carefully bent her knees and hips, slowly lowering her body while keeping her boots flat on the floor. Suddenly, she paused and stood up again. Ingrid moaned into her gag.

“Sorry; I didn’t mean to tease. I just got a better idea. This will only take a minute.”

Sofiya turned aside and took a step toward the wall. She firmly planted one foot onto the wall, then slowly rotated her body backwards until she could secure her other foot to the padding alongside it. A few steps later, she repeated the maneuver and established a foothold on the ceiling.

She shook her head. “No matter how much you practice in zero gravity, you never really get used to walking up here.” She closed her eyes. “It’s so much easier if I’m on the floor and you’re hanging from the ceiling... and all it takes is the right frame of mind,” she declared. She opened her eyes, and took a confident stride forward. “Yes, that’s much better. I hope the blood doesn’t rush to your head,” she joked.

Ingrid actually felt dizzy for a moment as the power of suggestion caused her to imagine herself suspended upside down. The uncomfortable sensation was quickly set aside in favor of a powerful rush of tingly anticipation as Sofiya approached.

Ingrid’s field of view was filled by Sofiya’s thighs and pubes, so close that she had to strain a bit to focus her vision. Sofiya was wet, and her scent filled Ingrid’s nostrils. By force of a habit she somehow couldn’t recall actually practicing until now, Ingrid waggled her tongue behind her gag, tantalized by her inability to taste Sofiya’s arousal.

She felt heavy breathing tickling her pubic hair. Fingers combed through it, sweeping it out to the sides. Hands grasped her buttocks and pulled her lower body forward. Her crotch pressed against something, and then her pussy lips were gently but firmly pushed apart. Somehow, it all felt both strange and familiar.

Ingrid inhaled sharply as the tip of Sofiya’s tongue brushed her clit. There was a long pause... and then she felt the licking and prodding begin in earnest. The strokes on her clit and the grasp on her ass settled into a slow steady rhythm. Soon, her hips were thrusting forward to the same beat. Sofiya’s hips also began to gyrate, rubbing her snatch against Ingrid’s gag. Ingrid tilted her head forward to press it against Sofiya’s body, wishing she could do more.

She felt Sofiya’s grip tighten, and heard a soft ripping sound overhead. A moment later, legs wrapped around the back of her head. The two women’s bodies pressed together, crotch to face and face to crotch.

Sofiya started licking again, slower and harder than before. Ingrid bucked her hips into the strokes. She could feel herself thrashing around in her bonds, gyrating even harder than she had during the escape attempt. For a moment, she wondered why she’d wanted to leave, and then the sensations overwhelmed all thought.

Ingrid’s body tingled and shivered. She felt Sofiya shudder. She moaned into her gag when the tongue touched her clit again; but the contact was cut short as Sofiya gasped. She closed her eyes tight, knowing that she was close to the edge.

She heard Sofiya take a deep breath and felt her press her face into position tighter than ever. Her tongue pressed forward, firmly, relentlessly.

The world exploded in ecstasy.

There was shouting and shaking and gasping and trembling, but she barely noticed. Her attention was filled by the waves of delight coursing through her. They occasionally faded for a moment, just enough for her to hear a voice in her head but not enough to understand it, and then intensified again until she was aware of nothing else. The cycle continued over and over and over.

Finally, her mind settled down enough for her to make out the words. “I love Sofiya. Sofiya is beautiful. Sofiya is sexy. I trust Sofiya. I could never betray Sofiya. I want to help Sofiya, serve her, protect her. I love Sofiya....”

Her pussy tingled again, even though she didn’t feel anything touching it. The more she listened to the declarations of love and lust and loyalty for her lady, the more intense the sensation became, until pleasure burst over her again and swept away all else.

She finally became aware of the sound of her own gasping breaths, and of the voice speaking new words. “I am Sofiya’s lovergirl. I lust for Sofiya’s body. I cannot resist her. I am happy to share with Sofiya’s other lovergirls. I am Sofiya’s lovergirl....”

A montage of sights and sounds and sensations flashed across her consciousness. She was lying on a huge bed... Sofiya was kissing her, embracing her, making love with her... Another woman joined them in a menage a trois... More women arrived, and she was writhing in the middle of a lesbian orgy... She made love with each of them in turn, their faces and bodies intimately familiar even though she couldn’t recall their names or where they had met.... She could clearly hear both the sounds of lovemaking and the repeating words.

The images were so arousing that she climaxed again. Even as shudders ran through her body, the images and the voice kept playing through her mind. The details blurred together into a general impression that Sofiya’s lovergirls, and especially Sofiya herself, were irresistibly beautiful, remarkably talented, and delightfully creative.

Finally, the erotic visions faded, and the voice shifted again. As the world came back into focus, she heard the new statements.

“Sofiya trusts me. Sofiya wants me to use my own good judgment. It’s all right to go against the letter of her wishes for a good reason. Sofiya trusts me....

She felt a flush of satisfaction and self-confidence, mixed with the afterglow of the orgasm. She was determined to be a good partner to Sofiya, in every sense of the word. She would make herself and Sofiya proud.

Finally, the voice faded out. Another voice intruded on her reverie. “Ingrid, darling? Are you ready to start the rest of your life?”

Ingrid opened her eyes. Sofiya was standing in front of her, right side up with her feet back on the floor, smiling beatifically.

She felt something fly loose from her forehead; at the same moment, she saw Sofiya’s headband spring free. Sofiya deftly caught both of them, then stepped away for a moment to retrieve the shoulder bag and put them back inside.

The brunette returned and bent down to unclip the legband lines, nicely presenting her rear to Ingrid’s view. She then stood up and undid the gag. Ingrid opened her mouth to speak, but “Oh—” was all she got out before her tongue was otherwise occupied.

Finally, Sofiya pulled out of the kiss and stepped behind Ingrid to detach her wrist lines.

Ingrid stretched her newly freed arms and turned to Sofiya. She tried to speak again, but couldn’t seem to find the right words. “Oh... Sofiya, you’re so...".

“Shhh...” Sofiya responded. “We can talk later. For now, I’d like us to get better acquainted.”

“Just one tiny little thing to take care of first,” she continued, as she flipped back a section of padding and slid a cover plate aside to reveal a control panel. A time display read 1240. “You’re supposed to call in by 1415, right?”

Ingrid nodded. She guessed what Sofiya was getting at, and regretted thinking ill of the dispatcher back at HQ who had insisted on that extra fifteen minutes.

Sofiya set an alarm for 1345. She pressed another button, and the synthsilk lines began to retract. Once they had all disappeared into small holes in the padding, she closed the cover plate.

She bent down and began unzipping her boots. “OK, we’ve got an hour to do this ‘by the book’—no ropes, no gripcloth, no magnets, no nothing.”

She leered broadly. “Ready to be properly initiated into the Ladies’ Auxiliary of the Zero Gee Club?”

EPILOGUE

The alarm beeped. The two women disentangled themselves from their midair sixty-nine and got their heads and feet properly oriented. A minute later, gravity slowly returned to the room, just enough to gently draw Ingrid, Sofiya, and various loose objects and articles of clothing down to the floor.

Sofiya gave Ingrid a quick kiss, one that was almost innocent and chaste. “Much as I hate to say it, you’d better get dressed and head back up to where you’re supposed to be spying on me so you can tell your bosses that nothing at all happened here.”

It would be the first of many such deceptions, no doubt. Ingrid knew that she could really help Sofiya as an ally inside the FIA, feeding misinformation to the authorities and providing useful tips about how to avoid unwanted official attention.

Sofiya pulled back another section of padding to reveal a small drawer set in the wall. Inside was the outfit Ingrid had been wearing that morning. “It should be easy enough to find; the ship is still parked right where you first saw it.” she commented as she handed over the bundle.

Ingrid nodded and began putting her clothes on. As soon as she finished buttoned up her shirt, Sofiya guided her through the gravity transition at the doorway and led her down the corridor.

Sofiya hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes. She walked two paces ahead of Ingrid, with a little extra swing in her stride.

“You’re such a tease.” Ingrid finally quipped.

The other woman chuckled. “You eyes have been glued down there ever since I took off the skirt, dear.”

Finally, Ingrid followed Sofiya’s ass into a alcove that ended in a door labeled “AUXILIARY AIRLOCK”. Sofiya started the door-opening cycle and pulled Ingrid in for another kiss, one that was not at all innocent or chaste, while waiting for it to finish.

“Hurry back, darling; I’ll be waiting,” she finally whispered.

The agent cheerfully complied, heading up the hill at a jog so that she could get this taken care of and return to more interesting activities. When she arrived, she immediately grabbed for her phone... and remembered just in time that she was supposed to sound calm and bored, not excited and out of breath. She spent what felt like the longest two minutes of her life resting, and then called to inform headquarters that she had seen nothing worth mentioning.

She then turned back down the hill at a brisk walk, torn between the desire to quickly return to her lover and the expectation that she would need all her stamina once she did.

Finally, she arrived at the ship. The airlock door opened when she pressed the button, but Sofiya was nowhere to be seen. She somehow managed to retrace her steps from what little she had noticed of the ship’s interior until she almost bumped into a plastic storage box that had been left in the corridor just outside the door to the little room. It hadn’t been there earlier; perhaps Sofiya had left it as a landmark and forgotten to mention it.

She remembered the gravity transition, and stopped just short of the doorway while she got her bearings. However, the sense of deja vu induced by what she saw inside was even more dumbfounding.

Sofiya stood in the place where Ingrid had been a few hours earlier. She was wearing the zip-away khakis and the agent’s FIA vest. The black leather bands were fastened around her wrists and ankles; both legs were tied to the floor. She waved for Ingrid to come in, and pointed to the cords hanging from the wall and ceiling.

“Your turn.” She grinned sheepishly. “I just need a little bit of help... could you finish tying me up, then go away for about fifteen minutes?”

Ingrid stepped up and quickly fastened the last few lines. As she raised the gag to Sofiya’s mouth, the other woman spoke. “One more thing... I was going to personally show you my toy collection, but I decided that it just wasn’t fair to leave you waiting with nothing to do. Feel free to take a look and borrow anything you like.”

Ingrid smiled. “Thanks! Anything else?”

Sofiya thought a moment. “No. Like I said, just give me fifteen minutes to get into a proper damsel-in-distress frame of mind.”

Ingrid secured her partner’s gag and made a beeline for the box.

Fifteen minutes had never seemed so long, and yet so short.