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Phantom Ch. 02

By: Julie20



The Nightmare

In the first part of our story we saw how Trish visited the derelict Victorian reformatory and was brutally taken by an entity which was horribly real in every sense apart from being invisible. The traumatised young woman flees to her flat and a warm bath where she is introduced to the fact that her attacker has accompanied her home.

Feeling very uneasy Trish towelled herself down after her bath and slipped into her longest nightdress; she wanted to be as fully covered as possible so she put on the white gown which reached almost to the floor. When her mirror gave her a glimpse of herself in the long gown she thought of those unfortunate Victorian girls who had been imprisoned in that dark reformatory where their screams went unheard by the outside world.

She pulled the bedcovers over herself and sank into the sleep of exhaustion but her sleep gave her no rest.

Her arms were painfully pinioned to her sides by the broad leather straps and she was standing in the dock with a hard faced wardress just behind her. There were iron shackles on her ankles and the shackles had been locked in place by a male guard. She had not at all enjoyed the experience of having a man handle her delicate ankles which were normally decently covered by long clothing. But by far the worst indignity had come when that huge leather gag had been forced into her mouth and buckled at the back of her slim neck.

As she looked over the iron spikes which ran along the top of the timber dock she heard the clerk of the court explain that the accused had been gagged to stop the tirade of obscenity which had been pouring from her mouth. Trish desperately wanted to say that this was completely untrue but all she could do was to dig her teeth into the hard leather which was forcing her mouth so painfully wide.

Reading the charges seemed to take an eternity. The packed courtroom heard how she had seduced stable lads, how she had sported herself naked on the river bank for all to see and how she had splayed herself on the morning room carpet with her fingers deep between her thighs much to the horror of the under-housemaid. Of course not a word of this was true. Trish was desperate to shout out how she was a decent girl and how the charges had been invented by her cruel and lecherous Uncle Andrew who had become her guardian and whose immoral advances she had spurned. 

She looked at her uncle across the courtroom as he sat there giving a perfect impression of a decent citizen who was so saddened by his immoral niece's antics. As the charges went on the all male jury gasped in horror as worse and worse crimes were recited. The process seemed interminable but it dragged inevitably to the Foreman of the Jury solemnly pronouncing the verdict.

"We find the accused guilty as charged on all counts M'Lord." 

Trish almost fainted in horror but the torment of the courtroom was not ended for now the judge had to pronounce sentence which he did at very great length and the final sentence was clear in all its finality.

"And so we have no choice but to condemn this depraved young woman to an indefinite term in a secure reformatory which exists for fallen women like herself. Take her down."

The wardress grabbed her shoulder and propelled her down the steps back into the subterranean world of tiled corridors and the smell of sweat and decay. They went along a narrow passageway with an arched roof and Trish was pushed into a tiny dark cell with a very high barred window. The door crashed shut and the key turned in the lock as the defeated girl sat back on the hard wooden bench against the wall. She was to sit there alone in the dark for many hours still restrained and gagged as she tried to come to terms with her dark and hopeless future. At one point she heard footsteps outside the cell and the door was unlocked to admit a wardress with a lantern and behind the woman stood Uncle Andrew who simply looked at her with a vicious leer of triumph then he turned and she was again alone in her dark world.

Two men came to fetch her and their hands gripped her forearms as they took her along passageways to the back door of the court building where she was one of three girls being loaded into the back of a small black carriage with a barred window set in the rear door. The loading was watched by a jeering crowd but all Trish's attention focussed on a small girl who asked her mama where the ladies were going. The woman's answer stayed with Trish throughout the journey.

"They are going to the place where bad girls go."

It was a very long journey and they soon left the noise of the city as the cart bumped over unmade roads and the wooden bench bruised her buttocks as they jolted along in silence although only Trish was gagged. Trish was hungry, thirsty and exhausted as the cart pulled up and the door was opened to reveal that they were in a bleak yard with high, grim walls rising above them. Men in black uniforms manhandled the girls down from the cart with no regard at all for which parts of the young female bodies they touched. Keys jangled, doors clanged and they found themselves in a large space with bright gaslight and a high ceiling. It was cold and stank of detergent which stung the nostrils. There seemed to be a lot of people around them all in black uniforms; some guards were male and some female but all carried long stout canes.

The trio of girls stood together as they were harangued by a long, loud speech which Trish did not take in then men removed their bindings and shackles but left the cruel gag in place and a loud male voice shouted at them to undress.

The girls looked at each other and at all the guards in horror. Surely there would be a screen to cover their disrobing. A very large wardress put her face an inch from that of the smallest girl and barked at her to strip. The girl stood open-mouthed and shook her head whereupon the wardress lashed her cane across the girl's shoulders and a second guard began to lay into her until she was curled up on the floor. Then the unfortunate girl was dragged to her feet and two men began to strip off her clothing. When the girl was naked, white and shivering her wrists were strapped behind her and the wardress asked if the other girls were ready to undress.

The two helpless girls began to denude themselves their faces burning with shame as the men stood watching every movement and taking in every intimate fold of forbidden feminine flesh. Trish hated removing her drawers and knowing that the men were looking at her dark triangle of hair and her puffy little lips between her thighs. She stood helplessly as she felt their lecherous eyes boring into her undefended neat white breasts. As soon as all three girls were nude and vulnerable they were pushed into a sort of low metal tunnel which had a bar along the centre so they had to shuffle along one behind the other with their legs either side of the bar. The far end of the tunnel was closed by an iron gate and another gate clanged shut behind them and then the spray began to come from tiny holes all around them including in the top of the bar between their legs. The spray stung like acid and covered their bodies and their hair with a yellow powder which, Trish learned later, was intended to kill lice. They were locked in the delousing tunnel for a long time until every inch of the girls was covered by a thick film of the stinking, stinging powder and they were coughing which was especially painful for Trish due to her gag.

When the gate was opened the girls stumbled out of the tunnel with eyes and noses running and barely able to see and hands propelled them into a large communal shower which made them shriek as the freezing cold water covered them. After the cold shower more shouted commands had the girls sit side by side on a wooden bench and the girl on the end was pulled off the bench and made to sit in a large chair. The two girls on the bench watched in horror as huge scissors, more like shears, were produced and the poor girl in the chair had to endure huge hanks of her hair being carved off to fall to the floor around her chair. She was weeping as she was pulled back to the bench and a large male guard dragged Trish to the chair for her once beautiful locks to be sheared off. Once this indignity had been performed and Trish found herself back on the bench she felt utterly defeated and dehumanised. What further torments could await her in this terrible place?

When the third girl had been shorn a barked command had the trio stand before a wooden counter onto which were placed three brown smocks which the girls were made to put on. The garments were rough sewn in some coarse material and were indecently short coming to just above the knee and lewdly allowing the unprotected breasts to press against the fabric. Sewn across the chest of each garment was a white strip bearing a black number and Trish noticed that she alone had a red line beneath her number. At last Trish's gag was now removed and her mouth bled as the leather was dragged away. In halting, fearful speech she asked why she had the red mark on her front.

"You're special Dearie. Your guardian told us you are violent so you will be kept restrained starting now."

So Uncle Andrew could still torment her even here. Trish was commanded to hold out her hands and heavy black manacles were locked onto her wrists in front of her. It seemed that everything here happened at the double and with the maximum of noise; barked commands made the girls jog, with breasts bouncing, down a corridor, past more guards and through iron grilles which were locked behind them. Then it was a narrow corridor lit by faint lights and each girl was locked up in a tiny cell with a mattress and a bucket.

Shortly afterwards there was the rattle of a trolley in the passage and a guard placed on the floor just inside the door a tin tray bearing a lump of stale bread and a large mug of water. The night was not quiet; it was broken by the sounds of weeping, the rattle of keys and the laughter of the guards but Trish did fall into a doze.

She was roused by rough hands on her bare arms and the smell of beery breath as a heavy dark shape came down on top of her and she felt her inadequate garment being pulled up above her waist. As Trish's scream was silenced by a slap to her cheek a hand found its way up her dress to painfully squeeze her breast and then there was pressure between her legs. At first her mind tried to tell her that this could not be happening but then the tearing agony in her deepest part filled her world and the weight of the man's body on top of her almost stopped her breathing. When he eventually left her she was curled up in a helpless, shaking, wet little ball of pain and fear. Trish was to learn that any of the guards could use the girls at any time of their choosing and in the weeks to follow she experienced every indignity and humiliation which it is possible for a man or woman to inflict on a helpless, chained captive.

Every day was long and driven along by shouted orders and the lash of the cane or the whip or a hand thudding into her cheek and making her head ring. The day began before it was light with naked physical exercise as over a hundred girls stood in rows stretching and bending to shouted orders. Then they had to sit without talking at long tables as they were fed bowls of nameless grey sludge before embarking on a day of hard labour at domestic chores or scrubbing rust from iron using brushes with metal bristles. If a girl was thought to be slacking her steel brush would be used on her leaving her bleeding as the skin was stripped from her body. Trish's manacles were only ever removed for long enough to allow her to remove her one garment when ordered to do so and then she would once again be humiliatingly chained with her wrists bruised and sore.

Sometimes as punishment and sometimes as entertainment for the guards there would be a public flogging with the victim strapped to a frame as the lash landed again and again on her bare flesh until she was dragged back to her cell barely alive. The girls were always cold and always hungry and often a girl would simply disappear; no-one asked where these girls had gone as any questions would be met with a very severe punishment.

Of course days blurred into weeks and weeks blurred into months and none of the girls could keep track of time as it passed in these vaulted and dark stone passages. The only measure of time was in the growing of their shaven hair but usually a girl whose hair had grown to any length was shaven once again. There came a time when Trish's hair, lank and greasy, reached almost down to her collar and she expected to be shorn any day but that did not happen.

She was in the labour room sitting on her hard bench at the long table and bent over her work scraping rusty iron as guards strolled around looking for a girl to punish. She barely noticed a guard enter the room and speak to the Head Overseer but then two guards stood beside her and she was ordered to stand to attention which she did instantly although her manacles prevented her hands from going to her sides.

There were more barked commands and she was marched from the room expecting to be once again raped which could happen at any time. One male guard was ahead of her and the other was following as they went up a staircase to a part of the building where Trish had never been before. Here there was carpet beneath her bare feet and wallpaper on the walls. They went into a well-decorated bedroom and one guard left them as the other took up his position just inside the closed door. The room was dominated by a large man standing beside the bed. He wore a black suit and a dark green velvet waistcoat with a gold watch chain. Trish stood before him in her filthy short brown uniform very aware of her semi-nakedness and the cold fetters on her wrists as he addressed her in smooth, smug and patronising terms.

The man asked her if she enjoyed being at the house and Trish did not dare to tell him what a stupid question that was. She knew that it was not a real question and the man was only speaking so that he could enjoy the sound of his own voice and the power which he had over the young woman. He told her that she was very fortunate and that there was a way for her to leave the care of the institution but this way depended upon her total obedience. When asked if she would pledge this unquestioning obedience of course Trish did so knowing that she had no real alternative. The man grinned and nodded to the guard at the door who came forward and unlocked her manacles.

Trish looked at her marked wrists and stood there taking in the feeling of being able to once more fully move her hands as the man ordered her to remove her uniform. Despite so long of being stripped and abused by guards it felt very threatening to stand here in a bedroom and expose her body to a gentleman who was standing a few feet in front of her but she dragged the stinking cloth over her head and allowed it to fall to the carpet. Trish stood naked and exposed not daring to put her legs tight together and feeling his eyes travel over every inch of her abused and violated flesh. The man did not deign to speak to her but he again nodded to the guard who opened a side door and beckoned Trish into what proved to be a bathroom. 

There was steaming water in the bath and beside the bath was a shelf bearing soaps, scents and shampoo. The man uttered the one word "Wash" and left her alone but she noticed that he left the door wide open.

Lying in the bath drew all the aches from her body and it felt she was washing away the many weeks of abuse although the memory of that torment could never be washed away. When she had been in the bath for a while the gentleman came into the room and Trish instinctively put her hands over her breasts. He told her that as soon as she was clean she was to come back into the bedroom and dress in the clothing provided.

Trish had been convinced that her bathing was a prelude to being used by this man but now he had told her to dress. What could be going on? What fate was in store for her?

When she left the bath it seemed almost pointless to cover herself against the eyes of the man who had so recently seen her nakedness but she still wrapped herself in a large white towel before making her way back into the bedroom where the man was sitting down looking out of a window. He stood and grinned at her and waved towards the clothing which lay upon the bed. Of course she now had to remove her towel and when she picked up the clothing her puzzlement increased and soon turned to disgust.

With her every movement being watched by the man she dressed. There were white stockings but no corsets or stays. She simply wore a white shift embroidered with pink roses and a frilly petticoat trimmed in pink. Her white dress had a pink frill around the bodice and the hem and it came down to just below her knees. Of course no grown woman would wear such a short gown but Trish realised that she was being dressed in the manner of a child albeit a child of five feet tall. She sat on the bed and buckled on flat white sandals then, after a glance at the man, she moved to the dressing table where she tied wide pink ribbons in her hair. In the mirror she could barely bear to look at the vision of an overgrown poppet and she felt a sort of numbness as the man pressed a rag doll into her hands.

The man kissed her cheek and took her hand to escort her downstairs to the front door. They went down the steps to a small carriage just large enough to carry two persons and she looked back at the grim building where she had been treated so badly. The carriage took them through the countryside to a large mansion and the man bade her to enter the house. It seemed he was not going to accompany her but his parting words were chilling.

"If you just once refuse a command you will be back in your cell and things will be much more unpleasant than you have so far known them. Remember this is your one and only chance."

She entered the front door of the house in a dreamlike state laced with a feeling of horror. Her stomach felt uncomfortable. She stood in a large entrance hall lit by a huge chandelier and coming down the stairs was...............

This was the point where Trish awoke from her dream and sat bolt upright in her bed as her scream filled the bedroom.....

....Striding down the stairs wearing a look like a little boy at a sweetshop window was her Uncle Andy who knew that he had won.

Phantom Ch. 03



Chapter 03: Mind Games

He lived in her neurons and he had ridden in her mind as she brought him home with her away from the shell of the Victorian Institution where his rule had been law and life and death to the fallen women who had been brought to him. As she slept he had perfected his hold on her and he had drawn strength from the fear and humiliation which had been engendered in her by the dream which he had inflicted upon her.

Trish awoke that Sunday morning feeling weak and hungover after her troubled night. She dragged herself out of her perspiration soaked sheets noticing that the duvet was on the floor where it had fallen as she lashed about in her sleep in a desperate attempt to fight off the horrors which were being perpetrated upon her. The dream was still very real to her in all its horrible detail as she pulled her robe around her over the long white nightdress and made her way to her kitchen to make coffee. And all the while he rode with her in her head seeing through her eyes and, at the same time, exploring the mind which he had made his home. As he roamed around her deep subconscious he plumbed every memory and every pain and humiliation which she had ever experienced. There was much here which he could use.

The woman was unaware of what he was doing in her mind but it would have been impossible for him to probe so thoroughly without his host feeling something. His exploration amounted to running his fingers over very old scars and when a wound is touched it causes pain. Trish sat on her kitchen stool not far from tears and feeling slightly nauseous. She had inexplicable feelings of helplessness and bitter embarrassment as she found memories were seeping back of things which were long past and which she had thought were buried and long forgotten. It had been a horrible weekend beginning with her visit to the grim derelict reformatory where she had been subject to such a shocking attack made all the more horrible by her attacker remaining invisible and then she had spent the whole of Saturday night in unspeakable nightmares. She told herself that it was natural for her to feel groggy and she would return to bed and sleep it off. Carrying the half empty coffee cup she retraced her steps to the bedroom and discarded her robe onto the bed. As she did so she caught a glimpse of the long mirror and froze as the coffee cup fell from her paralysed fingers spilling hot coffee down the front of her gown and onto the carpet. 

Instantly she clamped her eyes tight shut to push away the image of the large man in the black suit and dark green waistcoat with gold watch chain. He was from her dream; he could not possibly be here but when she opened her eyes he was still there leering at her from the mirror. She just stared at the awful image as she summoned the courage to look behind her but when she risked a glance over her shoulder there was no one there. Relief flooded over her but was snatched away when she heard her name rasped out in a harsh whisper; looking in the direction of the sound she beheld him on the opposite side of the bed where he could not possibly be reflected in the mirror. He was between her and the door.

Her fear was now overwhelming. It was not merely the fear from the old building or even the terror from her nightmare last night but it was loaded with the things which he was using from her own mind. It was the way she had felt so many years ago when Jimmy Parker had..had done what he had done to her and then there was her Uncle Andy and the things which he had done.

We rely on our memories for our knowledge of the past but what if someone tampers with our memory? As he was becoming more skilful in manipulating this mind in which he had taken residence he found that he could plant memories to order.

As Trish stood hypnotised by the vision of the man who could not be there she was wilting under the shame of what she had done for her Uncle Andy. She had promised him a treat and had gone into his kitchen shutting the door behind her. When Andy had heard her soft call he had gone into the kitchen and found his niece naked and spread-eagled on the floor. There was half a litre of strawberry ice cream on her pubic mound and melting down between her labia. A broad line of cream led up her belly to her pert breasts which were glistening with honey and her face was smeared with lemon curd. Her own free will had desserted her. She was truly a tart and she knew that she could not blame her uncle for falling upon the obscene gift which she was offering to him.

The man ordered his victim to come and stand before him and she obeyed without a word then he issued his next command still in that terrible, soul-searing whisper.

"Take off your gown."

Her mouth fell open and her eyes turned downwards but her arms were no longer under her control as they slipped the nightgown from her shoulders and it fell about her ankles leaving her nakedly displayed to the man from her nightmare. Obeying a command which operated in her mind without the need for words her left hand began to caress her small breasts and her right hand went, despite her efforts to prevent it, between her legs. As she stood there inches from the man she dug her own fingers deep inside her cleft and began to vigorously work herself to climax. She hated what she was doing; she hated the way that she was debasing herself in this way but she was powerless. Her knees were weak and she was moaning loudly as her juices ran down her hand. She knew that her legs would not support her for much longer and it was his will, not hers, which was keeping her standing. He allowed her legs to fold and she collapsed on her back on the bed into the midst of the tangled sheets where her legs came wide apart and she began to writhe as her feet thrashed about beating the air. All the time he was looking down at her as she begged for release. Her buttocks lifted from the bed and her left hand joined her right between her legs as she came to climax and over the edge into total unbridled lust and ecstasy. She was shouting as if to burst her lungs and all her neighbours could surely hear her unmistakable cries of passion and then, after an impossibly long climax she sank back onto the bed with her skin shining and dripping with perspiration and the whole room stinking of hot girl. 

She lay there wrung out, humiliated and spent but some vestige of her own fighting spirit remained and she looked up at the man who was towering over her and told him that he could not possibly be real and she wanted her mind back. He could not countenance any defiance and he pressed on some synapses in her memory and her imagination.

The small bedroom melted away and she found herself on her back on a hard wooden table. Her hands were being pulled back above her head and her ankles were shackled at the foot of the table. In her helplessness she could only look upwards at the low vaulted stone roof in this dark dungeon lit only by the flaming torches set in sconces on the wall. Turning her head sideways she saw a small man like a goblin clad in a dark hooded robe. She could smell his body and hear his cackling voice as he turned the wheel and caused the rack to stretch her tortured muscles even further. Beside the cruel rack was a black brazier containing bright red coals and she tried in vain not to think about the hot irons whose handles protruded from the coals.

The laws of physics do not apply inside the human mind; that is why there is no limit to what can happen in a dream so he was able to keep her tightly restrained in the dungeon for many weeks during which she endured an endless stream of torments. And throughout this time she was visited by a flow of people plucked by her tormentor from her memory. Her A level tutor from school looked down at her and shook her head. Her entire university study group stood by and jeered that she was finally getting what she deserved and her father pressed his warm hand to her most intimate parts and reminded her that she had been unable to keep her legs together sufficiently for her own good. 

Then the scene changed and she was face down over a wooden horse with her hair hanging over her face. Her wrists were strapped to the front of the horse and her ankles were wide apart and strapped at the rear of the huge ugly piece of furniture. She could feel cold air on her pussy lips which were on display to anyone who chose to stand behind her and a broad leather strap was buckled over her back keeping her body secured to the top of the horse so that her tender breasts were uncomfortably squeezed against the slight padding atop the wood. Looking sideways through her tears she saw that she was in the hall of her school on the platform with the entire school watching. The man in the dark green waistcoat was standing in front of her flexing a heavy cane and grinning.

Then he moved out of her vision and she knew that he had gone behind her. She could not help tensing up and she suddenly felt the cane rest oh so gently across her naked buttocks. It only stayed there for a second then it lifted away and she heard the swish through the air. The first stroke caught her where her left buttock met the top of her leg and her piercing scream drowned out the gasps of the watching school. Another stroke landed before she had fully absorbed the agony of the first and then another and another. Every muscle burned as she was involuntarily pulling against the straps and tears and mucus ran down her face. He was using all his considerable strength and his technique mastered in many years of punishing young women so that every stroke was a masterpiece of pain. She willed herself to lose consciousness but she remained terribly awake and aware of every stroke on her once white body and also aware of the warm blood as it began to run down her legs.

She had no idea of how long the beating lasted. It cannot really have been the many hours that it felt like but when it ended the horse was turned around so that her classmates could see the vivid scars on her flesh and the bruises on those tender puffy lips where the cane had fallen between her buttocks.

Slowly her bedroom seeped back into being but the tears which she was crying were real as her merciless overseer sat on a chair beside her as she lay on the floor beside the bed. All she could see of him were his shiny black shoes and the hem of his trouserlegs.

Speaking inside her head he asked if she were ready to accept his total mastery of her mind, body and soul or if he needed to send her back again into the darkest recesses of her own mind. As a token of her subservience and utter defeat she reached out her tongue and polished his shoes and later on, laying backwards over the bath, she shaved her own pussyhair as he watched.

Now he was speaking in a cold, quiet manner as he set out what was going to happen. For the hours between now and Monday morning he would grant her perfect rest and restoration so that she was fit for her meeting back at the old reformatory. As a project leader for The Consortium she would be meeting surveyors and contractors to discuss whether the building was to be converted into luxury flats or demolished to make way for a new build. It had been preparation for this meeting which had taken her to the property on Saturday morning and her overwhelming sense of the evil in the place had convinced her that it must be destroyed. But now she would argue for conversion and he would ensure that she carried the day. His presence in every meeting would give her access to the private thoughts of everyone around the table so she would know their bargaining positions and where to apply pressure to overcome any objections. Where necessary she would give sexual favours to ensure that every vote went the right way; her morals or her likes or dislikes were not a factor here. All that mattered was that the building was converted and when it was finished families would move in and he would have free access to their minds and their lives to do as he pleased.

She was horror struck at what she was being made to do. Through her actions how many innocent people would suffer to give pleasure to this monster who now lived inside her own mind? And yet she knew in her misery that she would not fight him any more. He had won and he would continue to win.

But a dark thought surfaced. He could give her the power to get her way in any meeting which she ever had with anyone. With power like that she would not remain a junior project leader; she could become a senior executive despite her comparative youth and after that she could have a seat on the board. The Faustian pact was made. The price would be unspeakable but if she must suffer at this man's hands perhaps she could take some rewards as well.



Phantom Ch. 04



IV Control

The spirit of the deceased Victorian Reformatory Overseer found that the longer he inhabited Trish's mind the easier it became to find his way around. Moving around a mind is not like being in a city as thoughts are not neat and separate like buildings. It is more like being in a forest and finding one's way between bundles of synapses and thoughts some of which are ragged and unwieldy while others are neat and self contained like low bushes. Doctors reckon that if all the nerves and capillaries in a human mind were stretched out they would cover many thousands of miles but, as The Overseer had no human body of his own, distance meant nothing to him and he could think himself instantly into any part of his new home.

He explored her memories and unearthed the way that she had felt when she had pleasured herself at night on a college night away and then realised that five other girls had overheard her involuntary moans of passion. Every sexual encounter, the satisfying and the humiliating, was laid bare to his questing. One night as Trish slept he found his way blocked by the psychological equivalent of a door. This was not a natural part of the mental landscape; he knew that Trish had deliberately placed the barrier here to shut something away but nothing could bar his way. He slid through the door and found a picture memory of Alycia who had been a fellow eighteen year old sixth form student. Trish was holding a memory of Alycia emerging from a shower with her thick black pubic triangle shining wet and rivulets of water running down her perfect young body with its flat stomach and pert, upturned breasts. The body was alabaster white and so slim that the skeleton was very visible in the ribs and the pronounced collar bones. There was no mistaking the tint of guilt and lust which surrounded this picture. So Trish harboured thoughts like that; he was sure that he could use this snippet at some point.

While his host slept he explored her motor centres and found that he could flex her fingers and move her limbs. If she had been awake she would definitely have fought against him controlling her in this way but he knew that if he practised enough he would be able to manipulate the body when Trish was awake. He saw to it that she always awoke in the morning to find her fingers pressed to her labia. If he could keep her mind awash with endorphins she would find it harder to organise her resistance to him.

It was important that he build up his skill in controlling her and also that he should be able to measure how successful she was in resisting his control. To this end he planned a series of experiments.

The first experiment occurred when Trish was in a bar socialising with a group from work. They were all seated around low tables in one corner of the very respectable establishment where conversation was muted and civilised. Trish was one of three women present and one of the others, called Sasha, was slim and dark haired so she bore a passing resemblance to Alycia. The Overseer drew memories of Alycia to the front of Trish's consciousness and combined them with fantasies involving Trish; he noticed that Trish kept looking discreetly at Sasha and her temperature and blood pressure were both slightly raised. It was only a small step to place Sasha into Trish's own erotic fantasies about Alycia and now Trish was increasingly uncomfortable. She was trying to push the unwanted thoughts from her mind but the more that one centres on something, even on suppressing it, the more powerful it becomes. 

As the evening progressed The Overseer applied pressure to Trish's passion centres and twice her speech faltered as she sensed that she was losing control. He noted with satisfaction how she crossed her legs and pressed them together as if trying to squeeze out the pressure which was building up in her sensitive nerve endings. She was becoming moist now and he planted the fear in her that those around the table might pick up the pungent scent of hot girl. Trish was working really hard at regaining control but she was failing and then she excused herself from the group and quickly made for the powder room where she locked herself in a stall, pulled up her dress, stripped down her underwear and began to urgently attend to the tension between her legs. 

Her hands worked with great vigour and she could not suppress small groans from the back of her throat. The Overseer rested and took in the picture of his victim perspiring, panting, red faced and exhausted as she came down from the storm of passion which he had created. Now he would wait for the opportunity to press the young woman further.

During this period Trish had been successful in defeating any suggestions that the old reformatory be demolished but there had been an interesting development. The government, concerned about rising crime, had set aside some funds for the building of new penal institutions and they had made enquiries of the Consortium about the old reformatory. Of course no-one in the twenty first century would want to build a reformatory but the government wanted to build "Secure Accommodation for Women with Challenging Behaviour". The original plan had been to convert the building into luxury flats but now Trish, under the direction of The Overseer, began to push for accepting the offer from the government. Converting the property to flats would be very profitable but also very expensive. Trish argued that simply converting the building to a modern equivalent of its original purpose would be cheaper and, as they were dealing with Civil Servants who are not noted for commercial acumen, leasing the completed building to the state would be more profitable than selling flats.

While this was going on The Overseer had the opportunity to further test his control over his host. One summer evening Trish went for a walk in the local park and The Overseer planted the instruction in her mind to go into the dark space between the cricket pavilion and the fence. He had taken the woman by surprise and she was half way down the side of the pavilion before she realised what was happening. She tried to turn back but The Overseer shouted into her mind an order to keep walking. By now she was so accustomed to obeying his orders in business meetings about the reformatory that she obeyed and found herself in a dark narrow space with a few beer cans on the earth floor amid tangled vegetation.

The Overseer used Trish's own fingers to drag her t shirt up over her head exposing her small white bra. Now she began to fight him but he grabbed a knot of pain receptors and Trish fell to the floor doubled up as a sharp pain took her between her legs. She was speaking aloud in a hoarse whisper.

"No don't do this, not here, let me go. Stop."

As she writhed on the ground he used her fingers to drag her bra free of her breasts so that it bunched up around her neck and he unzipped the back of her skirt and pulled it down. She was covered in dirt now and still writhing as she tried to recover her modesty but the skirt was free of her feet and he threw it a few feet from her. The young woman was terror stricken that she could at any moment be discovered by the people who were walking dogs or eating ice cream just a few metres away and her terror increased as she saw her hands go to the waistband of her black panties.

"Not my knickers. No. Please. Leave me alone."

But he had control and he was not going to give it up. Anyone watching would have seen Trish squirming in the dirt as she pulled off her briefs and threw them into the bushes then lay on her belly with her hands going to the bra clasp behind her back. The bra also went into the bushes and her hands went underneath her body to claw at her pussy.

He pulled out of her memory banks a selection of erotic fantasies which she had used in past masturbation sessions and he filled her mind with shame at what she was doing but he also pressed her pleasure centres so that her shame only added to the ecstasy. Her hard nipples were being painfully pressed into the earth, her legs were flailing around and her head was bouncing up and down as her hands rammed into her pussy and became slaked with her juices so that the dust on her hands turned to mud.

She could hear snatches of conversation from people out in the sunshine and she was overwhelmed with the fear of discovery but she could not break off from her lust fuelled assault on her own body. It was all she could do to keep her mouth tight shut so that the moans deep in her throat did not break out as orgasmic howls.

Eventually the dam broke and she rolled onto her back gasping for air and getting dirt into her sweat soaked hair. Her whole body shone with perspiration and was streaked with mud. Both shoes had come off and her white ankle socks were now grubby. She was laying with her legs apart and her bare breasts rising and falling as her body slowly returned to normal. Of course she was floating on endorphins and had that feeling of simply wanting to lie here forever.

Trish did not know how long she lay there before dragging herself to her feet and gathering her skirt and top. She could see her bra caught on some brambles but she did not feel inclined to go into the dense bushes to recover it. When she looked around she found that she could not see her panties. Obviously they had to be nearby but finding them would have taken too long. She pulled on her skirt and top and worked her feet into her shoes as she ran her hands through her hair trying to repair the worst of the damage.

She sniffed, took a deep breath and cautiously made her way back to the sunshine which was now fading as dusk fell. She was telling herself that now the best of the evening was past there would be a good chance of no-one being around to see a dirty and dishevelled young woman coming from behind the pavilion so she blushed scarlet when a child's voice cut through her senses.

"Daddy what was that lady doing in there?"

Trish looked straight ahead and fled from the park. 

The Overseer was greatly encouraged by the success of this latest experiment and he began to prepare for the next phase. This involved continually putting Sasha at the forefront of Trish's mind and prompting the young woman to increase her contacts with Sasha. Sasha was aged nineteen and a secretary at The Consortium. She had a bubbly and fun-loving personality and her slim five foot tall body and long dark hair made her very attractive to men. However she had only recently moved to the area and was still finding her way around. This made her cautious about becoming involved with anyone so she would often accept an invitation to a night out but had avoided any deeper relationship until she had a better picture of whom she could trust.

One Friday evening Trish invited Sasha to have a meal with her at her flat as an opportunity to get to know each other better and have a girly chat about how Sasha was settling into her new home. There could not be any harm in that could there? The young girl was flattered that a rising star in The Consortium was being so welcoming so she accepted the invitation.

Sasha arrived at 7pm wearing a deep red summer dress which was quite short and covered by a thin black jacket. The Overseer was pleased to note the guilty thought in Trish's head that Sasha looked good enough to eat. The two women sat opposite each other at the dining table and Trish kept refilling the younger girl's wineglass so that she drank roughly twice what Trish drank. After the meal they both cleared the table, put the crockery into the dishwasher and sat down on the sofa for easy conversation aided by alcohol. The Overseer made sure that Trish noticed her guest's subtle perfume and fine curved legs. They talked so easily that it came as something of a shock to notice that the time was just past mid night. Sasha remarked that her head felt "a bit swimmy" and perhaps she should order a taxi instead of driving herself home.

Trish replied that Sash could stay the night and the tired young girl did not raise any serious objection. It was only when it had been agreed that Sash should stay that they went into the bedroom and Trish informed her that she had no spare room and no spare bed. Sasha did not have time to suggest sleeping on the couch as Trish was bustling around digging a nightshirt out of her drawer. It was lemon with large pink letters on the front announcing "To know me is to love me" and on Trish it would have been indecently short but on Sasha it reached to just above the knee. Trish left her guest to change and she went into the bathroom.

Sasha was really tired and she stripped off her clothes, pulled on the thin nightshirt and collapsed into bed. She was surprised when Trish came back into the room completely nude.

"I always sleep like this in the summer and it's all gals together isn't it."

Although Trish had not drunk as much as Sasha she had definitely taken enough to loosen some inhibitions and the lodger in her mind was subtly pushing her to experience her fantasies. Trish slipped into bed beside Sasha and their hips pressed against each other. Trish giggled that it was like being schoolgirls having a sleepover and she snuggled up so that her body moulded itself to Sasha's and her lips were less than an inch from the young girl's ear. 

Although none of this had been expected Sasha was feeling very warm and comfortable in the bed and being close to Trish did feel "nice" so she raised no objection when she felt a bare arm gently fold around her shoulders pulling her even closer. Trish was breathing into Sasha's ear and perhaps it was an accident that her lips touched Sasha's earlobe. The hand around Sasha's shoulder slipped down to the top of her breast and Sasha tensed slightly but Trish was murmuring to her that she should relax.

Under the bedclothes Sasha felt Trish's other hand on her thigh from where it crept up under the nightshirt and the tip of a finger found soft, intimate flesh. This was the point at which Sasha uttered the clear word "No" but Trish was bigger and stronger and Sasha was still affected by the wine she had consumed. That questing finger was joined by another and a girl knows exactly how to stimulate a girl.

Trish did not have to use force; her ministrations caused Sasha's legs to part and the flood of endorphins weakened any resolve which Sasha might have had to resist. Soon the two bodies under the sheets were moving as one to the accompanying music of gasps and entreaties to do more. Lips, tongues and hands found sensitive zones and both girls orgasmed again and again with each climax exceeding the one before. In the course of this ecstasy the nightshirt ended up on the bedroom floor as skin moved against skin.

During a lull when Trish was lying back gathering her strength for a further foray into the heaven which was Sasha the younger girl awkwardly slipped sideways out of the bed and knelt naked on the carpet.

"This is not me. I don't do this. I have to go home."

Trish was too full of fun to have a serious conversation and she giggled that Sasha would look very silly running down the road naked. Sasha tried to find her way across the dark room to her clothes but Trish knew her way around this room and she leapt out of bed, grabbed the pile of clothing and ran from the room. Sasha followed her into the lounge where she had left her clutch bag and she grabbed the bag as she pleaded for her clothes. Trish ran, giggling, back to the bedroom where she threw herself on the bed expecting her playmate to join her but she heard Sasha run into the bathroom and slam the door.

The elder woman lay on the bed waiting for Sasha to come out of the bathroom but that did not happen. Was she so scared that she was going to spend the rest of the night locked in the bathroom? After a while Trish drifted into sleep and was awakened by a loud hammering on the door. She sat up.

"Open the door. It's the police."

Sasha, still in the bathroom, had her bag with her and in the bag was her mobile phone. After that it all became very confusing. Trish let the two policemen in and Sasha came from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. There were questions, explanations and accusations. Trish wore only a thin satin robe as they all sat in the lounge and she began to understand that she was facing charges of false imprisonment and sexual assault.

The horror struck woman was allowed to dress and she found herself in the back of a police car. Then it was a succession of rooms and procedures. Trish was photographed and finger printed and placed in a small bare tiled cell after having been humiliatingly strip searched. Then there were long embarrassing interviews in a featureless interview room with several officers working in pairs interspersed with long hours locked in her cell. Trish had only the clothes which she was wearing and only one set of underwear for her long days in police custody. At some point a woman inspector told her that having her in custody gave them the right to search her flat and on her computer they had found "certain images" which it was illegal for her to have. She tearfully protested that she knew nothing about any images but she could not tell them that for long periods of her recent life her body had been controlled by The Overseer who was quite capable of downloading items from the web and then erasing her memory of the event.

The following weeks are a blur of journeys locked in a police van, being on remand in HMP Holloway and standing trembling in court to hear the long charge sheet and her sentence.

Trish was to be sent to a new secure institution recently built in the shell of a Victorian reformatory and, as she sat in her cell, peering through the narrow slit windows she heard The Overseer gloating that he was back where he belonged and where he would have unlimited access to a new generation of incarcerated girlflesh to torment, humiliate and chastise.