The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Patina! Can we slow down a little?!” When Sarah is happy, she drives too fast just to tease me. When Sarah is frustrated, angry, upset, or on the outside chance pissed off, riding on the back of Sylvia feels like suicide. “When we get home, we can talk about this . . . come on! I know that this is bothering you, but you’re taking it too far!”

If she were wearing a helmet I might feel better. I could fall off of this thing or slam into a brick wall and just have a crick in my neck. Cleaning her off of the sidewalk is not my idea of relaxing after work.

She takes a hard left, and I swear how far she bends us over feels like she’s trying to tear the flesh off of our legs until she straightens back out. Sarah apologizes all of the time when she’s depressed or sad but she really needs to work on her anger problems or she might not be on the right side of the law forever . . . especially knowing that The Domina no doubt had the exact same issue before she switched sides. We’d be fresh out of LaSilvases to stop her if she were to – I don’t think we could wait till Valerie’s daughter grew up!

“If I slow down, it will take us longer to get home. You may disagree, but I view this choice as the lesser of two evils.” Patina has to scream to be heard over the roar of Sylvia and the wind rushing past my ears, but somehow her voice sounds calm.

Oh, it doesn’t sound happy or even not-angry, but it manages to sound calm.

Her reasons for feeling like this are good ones. If only the ways she let out her aggression were better . . . “Fine!”

Normally I’d try to rattle off some bad cliché or turn of phrase but I just don’t feel up to it tonight. Being the comic relief isn’t very fun when your girlfriend won’t even let herself break a smile. It can be at first, but after awhile it just gets old.

We almost ram into a street sign. The only good part about that is that she slows down long enough to center herself again and I get to figure out where we are. We’re only a few minutes away at the speed she’s taking us. Even if I don’t agree with her logic, it is accurate.

Her body against mine is more tense than a cornered cat. Her speed and driving skills do make being a little tense just good sense but she felt like this when I first got on tonight.

It’s frustrating to think the only thing I’m going to get off tonight is this bike.

The breaks slam on so hard that if this were a cartoon I know that I’d be imbedded in something, but reality’s belief in gravity prevails over fiction’s. Not waiting for a second to go by I pull away from my not-so-lovely-at-the-moment lover and step towards the apartment building before turning to look back at her. “Put this anger away with Patina, huh? I don’t care if I see Lucia or Sarah in the apartment, but she’d better treat me better than Patina does.”

Whether she gives me the hurt puppy look or the stubborn bitch glare, I don’t know. I’m already closing the door and leaning back against it trying not to scream at the top of my lungs. Sarah might be one of the sweetest, most giving women that I’ve ever met . . . but sometimes I just want to deck her.

Admittedly it helps me resist it by thinking that at least some part of her would probably find some way to enjoy it, the kinky bitch. The thought always makes me grin even if I’m madder than hell.

Every step up the stairs I let more of my golden façade melt away. It feels so nice, like how I imagine stripping out of a wetsuit would feel. It seems like when Sarah lets Patina melt off of her she’s a different person. If she’s a happier person or if she’s just pretending to be a happier person afterwards I’m not sure. Sometimes I get the feeling she’d rather not even have Sarah.

Lucia . . . I think she loves being able to be Lucia. She gets to mock and pick at her own flaws. She’s too much of a masturbational masochist not to get off on that.

Either something is following me, or I’m just paranoid. If something is following me, I’ll find out when it tries its luck on me. My luck I’m just letting Sarah’s rants of the world going to hell in a hand basket finally get to me. She always says I’m so upbeat, but sometimes its hard when every time she says that I can see a part of her saying “I wish I could be too, but I’ve seen things you haven’t.”

She might have been a cow, but I was a statue.

Who is to say which is worse?

The door opens up about half an hour after I’m done eating dinner. Sarah is still in full Patina gear and looks as miserable as a cat rubbing a recently swatted nose. It’s hard to stay angry with someone who looks like they just spent every moment since you saw them last repeating “I will not be such a fuck up” under their breath.

I could see Sarah doing that, too.

“Olivia . . .” Her hands fall to her waist, and she starts to work at her belt. Sometimes I debate if the body suit or the leotard look fits her better . . . the body suit certainly hugs every curve—well, more like melts into every curve and clings for dear life. Mmm. “I’m really sorry. The words are cheap, but I mean them.”

“No, they’re not cheap. You do mean them, and that makes them worth at least me hearing you out. You want to talk now?” Lucky for her, dinner was just blue-box macaroni and cheese. If I’d actually made an effort to make her something that took effort… “I can reheat you some food.”

She shakes her head and carefully sets her belt down onto the coffee table. She insists that she wasn’t thinking of a certain caped crusader when she got her hands on it. All I can say is that it sure is full of utilities . . .

A moment later she collapses onto the couch next to me like a sack of grenades and starts working off her boots. “No, I’m not hungry. I’m just angry . . . It’s hard not to be so angry . . . Twice in a row . . .? And this . . . This was aimed at me. I don’t know if she gave your friend the tickets, if she got to your friend, or what, but I just know that was personal. That was not wrong place at the wrong time, and . . .”

“And you want someone to suffer for trying to hurt you.”

“Yes!” Sarah throws her boot hard against the floor and even she’s surprised by how hard it hits. It takes her a moment to work back up to her previous level of anger, but when she does it’s back in full force. “Is it too much to ask that when someone hurts me they don’t get away with it?! Is it too much to ask, that for once, even just once, I don’t need to take all of the law into my own hands to get some justice? This isn’t even a matter of bad prisons, bad justice system . . .”

Tears start to swell in her eyes and she stares down at her boot. She’s already thinking the exact same thing that I am. That sort of thinking lead to The Domina. I know that her experiences have made sure that she would never follow that road but I’m not sure if she does.

Carefully I wrap an arm around her and nestle as close against her as I can. “Sarah . . . Don’t think about that part of this. Think about the actual reason you’re upset, okay sweetie? Ignore what happened with—“

“Why?!” She looks like she wants to shove away from me, but all she does is cling tighter and sniffle loudly. “Olivia, they let her go! Sure, you smashed up the camera, but the film . . . it was still . . . we had proof . . . They just let her go . . . We might never know what that black gunk was that oozed off of her, but just because she was being controlled, even though there’s proof in that building that she’d committed plenty of crimes prior—“

“—You’re not innocent either, baby! But that’s still not the point, don’t you get it? The point is that someone hurt you, and you want them to hurt too. That’s not about justice. That’s just vengeance.” I press my lips to her forehead, and let my arms around her slowly coat with a little of my gold for that extra firmness. “You don’t want vengeance. You’re just a little confused right now . . .”

She shakes her head and tries to pull away for only a moment before turning limp again. “I’m not confused, and that’s why this scares me, and why this gets me so upset. I know what all of this means . . . I want The Poetess to pay . . .”

For just a moment the look in her eyes is nothing but rage. All of her sweetness, all of her innocence, all of her compassion . . . all of the things I love about her aren’t there . . .

But the next moment she’s crying and clinging to me tight as can be, and the flash of her eyes before they seal tight is full of the tenderness she showed a woman who just wanted to be treated like a woman. “. . . I just . . . just . . . wish I could be . . . be the one to make it happen . . . so sick . . . of feeling so powerless . . .”

“You’re not powerless baby . . . You’re not powerless at all. If you want to prove that to yourself, just look into my eyes and say any of the words you’ve put into my mind. If it’ll help you feel better to feel in control, then, well, take control of this situation. Take control of me.” For a moment I wonder if that was the smartest thing to say but when her sniffling quiets I know that it was.

Her beautiful brown eyes, looking so much like deep dark chocolate pools, fix their gaze on mine. I’ve lost myself into those eyes too many times not to feel the pull when they look into mine like that. It’s not a predatory look, it’s not a sexual look, it’s just a look of . . . belonging – that is, me belonging to her.

It’s not like a statue belongs to a collector of fine art, it’s like a woman looks into the eyes of the woman she only owns because the woman wants her to. “Fall into me, Olivia . . . Let go, and fall into me . . .”

“Oooh . . . Fall . . . ing . . . ‘to . . . you . . .” My whole body shudders and squirms before I feel myself melting against her. The gold over my arms melts away, because when I fall into her, everything else falls away. When I fall into her, what matters is her. What is hot, what is special, what is tender and delicious and . . . oh . . .

She slowly moves me back against the couch, and straddles my body. She’s so much bigger than me, so much warmer than me . . . and I’m falling into that warmth . . . can’t pull my eyes away from hers.

Her hands stroke along my sides, and then reach up under my top, kneading me as she grinds against me and speaks with a voice that isn’t normal Sarah, isn’t Patina . . . is just . . . dominance and lust . . . “Fall into me Olivia . . . And feel me devour you . . . Feel me devour all of you and leave you with nothing but love . . . nothing but bliss and joy . . . Let me reward you for reminding me of the gift I have laying beneath me . . .”

“F-f . . . eeeeeel . . .” My lips will barely move . . . Sinking . . . Falling . . . Mmmm devour . . . Her words are so strong, and her voice is just . . . It’s just so sexy when she talks like that . . . It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard . . . felt . . . melting me so I can fall easier and easier and . . .

Her teeth and tongue trace their way down my ear as her fingertips twist and pull my nipples like hard dough. Dough for her to devour just like the rest of me . . . God I feel so wet and my thighs won’t stop shaaaking . . .

So warm, she keeps grinding herself against me in the same rhythm that she always does, I can always feel when she’s really, really into devouring me, making me fall, making me feel good . . . so many women have just anted to make themselves feel good, but she really . . . really could get off just watching me cum . . . Mmm cumming myself away into her . . .

“Let’s be whole together . . . let’s not worry about what’s wrong or right . . . let’s just . . . be us . . . here, together . . . That’s what matters . . .” One of her hands slides down my body, I don’t know which one, but oh . . . her right . . . and it slides under my sweatpants, under the band of my panties . . . and ooooh along my slit . . . “Is you . . .” Her finger grinds a second pass and I scream, but it’s just incomprehensible sound . . . “And me.” Right when she says that word her finger finds my clit and gooood starts to rub in her perfect hot little circle she always . . . mmmmm always does when she’s wet as I am . . .

“To . . . gethhhher!” Sarah makes a gasp of pleasure at my words, and starts to grind quicker when my breath quickens. Her finger moves quicker to match, quicker and quicker and mmmmm . . . so fucking nice . . . “Usssssss . . .!”

Falling, falling into her, but I can feel, I can hear her breathing just as hot and quick as mine . . . She’s falling too . . . being devoured too by the moment, hot, slick, wet moment . . . mmmmm . . . !

Can barely feel . . . feel where she ends . . . where I begin .. . Love this . . . love being her’s like this . . . makes me feel safe . . . really wanted . . . like . . . right now . . . we’re the only ones . . . only ones in the whole world that have ever . . . ever mattered . . .

Her voice moans into my ear louder than I’ve heard it in maybe a week and her finger curves in just, just that right way . . . “Fall into me . . . fall with me . . . Mmmm oh goddess Olivia, cum, cum with me!”

“Yesssssss!” My whole body is on fire, so tender, so sensitive, so needy, so fulfilled, but so . . . so everything, so everything I could ever want, ever need, ever be . . .

She’s screaming with me, shuddering with me . . . and when we’re both done shaking, when we’re both done squirming, just melted, just close . . . her own moans of afterglow sound just as lost as do mine . . . mmmm . . . I can think a little clearer but . . . only to know that we’re both going to sleep like this again . . .

At least we have a really cozy couch . . .

“Ready to kick some outlaw ass, Patina darling?” Sylvia is already purring under me and Sarah is already purring in front of me. Well, Patina. Damn it. If I call her Sarah in my head too much while we’re out I get too tempted to call her Sarah and it could slip.

She nods, and revs Sylvia to accentuate her point. “You bet I am Aureus. Time to take control a little more, you know? Not let the world push me around?” I can hear the smile in her voice and it makes me glow, and tingle. Does last night count as make up sex and therapeutic sex? She doesn’t only fuck me like that when she’s coming down from an anger issue though, or I’d need to find a way to egg her on as much as possible.

“Then high ho Sylvia . . . away!” She laughs, and we start to speed off. It’s barely a moment before she begins to click through the police radio frequencies.

Most of the time if we find something it’s because we went to an area the police weren’t. After all, if the police are there we aren’t needed as much. The calls for backup can turn up some situations where we’re helpful, but the last thing someone right on the line of the law needs to do is get in the way. Back in California I saw a good couple of heroes get themselves jailed for awhile because they took down the cop’s inside man.

To be fair, he was still breathing, and not all of us trying to make the world a better place with a little bit of super human touch are so careful.

“Suspect is dressed in all black, what appears to be a body suit with a cape, and is wielding what appears to be a giant pen we’re at the . . . corner of Murray and Schocktty . . . request back up . . . !” The radio cuts out right after the last words, and the sound of it cutting out is not the signal just cutting out, it’s the sound of the radio transmitting all that it can of it’s own demise.

The bike stops, and then in classic perfect-for-the-silver-screen action Sarah revs Sylvia’s engine and speeds us off towards Murray and Schocktty. It’s not that far away – at the speed we’re going anyway.

“What’s at that intersection anyway, Patina? There’s no bank, no jewelry store . . . why would someone strike there?!” I have to yell just for her to hear me, but it’s not out of anger. Besides the rush of the wind, she has to pay such close attention so that a pothole doesn’t send us through a wall.

For a moment we’re driving right next to a car before she takes a hard turn, and the look of the man driving it is as much one of wonder as of fright. Poor guy, scared about half way to death . . .

“There’s a post office a little ways down the road over there . . . A few thrift shops . . . It’s on my old patrol route, I should know this!” We take another hard turn, and unless it’s in another city than Midas we’ll have to be there within another few minutes or I’m overestimating our speed. “That’s it! There’s a book store . . . but . . .? Why the hell would someone rob a second rate used book store?!”

“Maybe they think it’s only fair considering the price of unabridged dictionaries!” Sarah doesn’t laugh, but it wasn’t the kind of joke that is meant for laughter anyway. I hope she really doesn’t think I think every joke I tell is actually funny . . .

Sure enough, just another too sharp turn . . . and there’s a police car parked diagonally in the middle of the intersection. The windshield has a sizable hole in the middle of it, and all of the windows are dripping with something black and goopy . . . okay, this is not a coincidence.

It looks just like the gunk that oozed off of The Poetess.

The bookstore’s doors are pulled wide open, and both of the rusty knobs are laying on the ground. No sooner do I look up from the knobs than a figure in black walks into the door way. Her boots look like handworked leather, black with drooping cuffs that remind me of something ancient, and her body suit, it’s definitely tight and black clinging to a modest figure, but there’s something special about it that I can’t put my finger on.

Ah! That’s it! Over what must be the body suit covering her is a leotard or . . . no, it’s a fencing uniform, just enough of a different shade of black to be visible if you look really hard. The cape she’s wearing doesn’t look especially sleek and falls in a very regal way.

Under one arm she has an old looking book. In the other hand, she has a . . . pen . . .? It looks like a fancy fountain pen, but . . . no . . . What would usually be the part that would keep the pen anchored between papers or something similar, is a hand guard, and when she reaches up her other hand and clicks the body of the pen to the side, what comes out from the top is not nicely rounded, but rather looks very, very sharp and pointy.

The woman looks over at us, and slowly bends down to place the book onto the sidewalk. “I’d really hoped you’d shown up after I’d finished delivering the book to my Mistress, but . . . I can just as easily deal with the two of you now and deliver you right along with the cargo.”

Sarah revs Sylvia’s engine just once, and I start my dismount. If she wants a fight, then I’d much rather her try and pierce through gold than Sarah’s flesh. “Patina . . . I’ll go for a frontal assault, go around the block and come back with something good, but nothing blue, please? I’d rather not have to call in sick for work tomorrow if I’m still hung over.”

“I swear, never met anyone else with that kind of reaction but . . . you bet. I’ll come up with something. You keep her from getting away. Feel free to knock her out before I get back.” As soon as both of my feet are on the ground, Sarah drives off and out of sight around the corner . . . and I face the fencer, duelist, whatever she is.

She shifts her weight onto her left foot as she slowly slides the right in front of herself and holds the pen out in a perfect fencer pose. “I’ll do my best to keep this brief, Aureus . . . It is not Her will that you be harmed, but you cannot be allowed to interfere this time.”

Frankly, I don’t care if she wants me hurt or if she wants me dead. I’m going to stop her and try and figure out what I need to do to help the poor cops in that car and- how the hell did she know my name?

Slowly stepping closer I slide into my own posture and try to figure out just how good her reach is. If I can get her to try and stab at me with that thing, then just dive to the side, grab the blunt part of it and break her nose . . . she won’t be able to react nearly as well, and I should stay unharmed.

It can’t be that easy, but well, I have to try something. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing here? Can’t afford to grab some Harry Potter without a five finger discount?” Can’t acknowledge that what she knows has taken me off guard or that I desperately want to know who her Mistress is. I can’t give her any advantage. It’s times like these that I wish I’d accepted her idea for a belt of my own, but it felt too . . . matchy-matchy.

“You may call me Pen, my golden adversary. As for what I’m doing here, and your cute attempt at levity? Well . . . That’s neither here, nor . . .” She’s barely moved in the whole time I’ve seen her, so there’s no way I could have guessed she’d be so fast! She cuts the distance between us, and dashes past me in the same moment. “There!” Her sword doesn’t skewer me. It could have so easily. She’s on the other sidewalk now, and my top has a lovely tattered gash.

It hurts, she must have grazed me . . .

I look down for just a moment to try and figure out why it hurts when she grazed me with a metal sword and I’m in my gold form. It should feel like a bruise, and not a paper cut. I’m not torn open, but under the raggedy part of my uniform is . . . pink flesh surrounded by gold . . . and the slight graze I have is coated with black . . .

This is most definitely not good. She’s faster than me, and that sword is not just a sword, or a pen, or . . . something!

“Nnngh . . . You’re fast, Pen, I’ll give you that . . . but you’re not that tough . . . Patina and I have taken down bigger lugs than you and your ‘Mistress’ . . .” Borrowing a move that Pandora taught me before she zoomed back to Dolores, I kick off of the ground, and with my limited thrust, I push all of my energy into flying my fist into her.

“You have . . .Alas, we’re no mere lugs.” Just as I’m maybe two inches from colliding, she slides like silk just far enough to the side, and then hops back away. When I turn back to look at her and try to stop myself from the building in front of me, her sword is again expertly moving against me – this time all due to my own momentum, and this time across my back.

It takes a lot not to scream , but it’s impossible not to collapse. The pain is blinding, and I can feel it all along my spine even if it’s only across one thin line. I could feel it pushing apart my gold this time, parting it like a hot knife sliding its way through butter, but . . . more . . .

I fall on my hands and knees before flipping myself to stop her from getting the advantage of being able to move unwatched. She’s just standing there though, just far enough back to look innocent but still seem threatening with her sword held just slightly at an angle towards me. “You can feel free to surrender at any time, Aureus. If you surrender and simply leave, the Mistress has granted me permission to allow you to leave and have that be that. If you persist . . .”

“If I chose to persist . . .?” Carefully I bend my elbows and then extend them in one quick fluid motion, and use force of that and my own lift to propel myself up onto my feet. “You seem to have a problem with my clothing . . . But you haven’t done much else.”

“You’re hardly an unarmed opponent, but you are at the disadvantage. Giving an opponent the chance to yield is simply chivalrous; it is not a sign of weakness.” Just as I’m about to open up my mouth again she kicks off and shoves herself towards me again, but this time I can see where her arms are going to move before they do. She has a very lithe body, and no doubt toned, but the cape rustles a little bit too much whenever she moves her right arm.

I knock the sword away just below the point with my wrist, and spin around to give her some golden knuckles across her jaw. . . only my knuckles don’t connect.

During the spin, I must have lost track of her, because suddenly she’s behind me and shoving me forward. I try to regain my balance or turn towards her, but the rounded length of her sword slides between my knees at just the right angle and pulls hard. Once again I sprawl forward and don’t manage to withhold the scream as I fall onto my hands and her sword cuts down along the center of my back.

I can feel the cloth fall away and the gold recede from that single line, but it feels . . . it feels so strange. I can feel where my gold was parted start to try and knit, not smooth together like my gold has always done before, like a liquid, but like . . . like something else is pulling it together and . . .

No time to worry about that! I bend my elbows again, but the hard surface of her boot on my back uses my own momentum to shove me down into the pavement. My head reels, but I don’t feel any bleeding or any real pain besides that knitting, burning sensation where it feels like something is trying to dig into me and pull parts of me together, burrowing and sewing the severed gold, then tugging as it dives deeper . . . it doesn’t so much as hurt as it burns, and tingles, like . . . like . . .

Nothing I’ve ever felt, I can’t place it, I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life.

“This is your last chance Aureus. Surrender.” For a second, it sounds like a good option, a really good option. “There’s still time for this to all come undone . . . and for you to go home like none of this ever happened . . . proceed any further and I’m afraid there will be no going back . . .”

My whole front is stinging from the force she used to slam me down. Even if I managed to get back up, I wouldn’t be much competition. I can’t just surrender though I . . .

She shifts her other foot, and I can hear it so clearly. At the same moment I try to press up again, I bring my legs together hard to try and trap her foot, and make her fall just as embarrassingly as she managed with me.

Again, instead of what plays out perfectly in my head, she actually uses my movement upwards to kick off of my back, and lands in front of me, with the very tip of her sword eased carefully just a little above that spot right between my eyes. I can’t move, or I might actually make her thrust that thing . . . if my gold isn’t keeping it back at all, then . . . I can’t be sure what it could do.

“Okay, I . . .”

“No . . . This is too late for surrender, Aureus. This, is time to succumb.” She twists the point against me, and I feel it cut, just a little, just enough to feel the gold recede, and I can feel the pen . . . pouring into me!

It burns, oh goddess it burns, but it feels so good at the same time. It’s like pure void, pure . . . loss . . . I can feel my other wounds burning and twitching as it pours into me, and over me. I can feel the blackness drip and slide down along my face, across my lips . . . and it feels so good, so dark, so . . . like a deep part of me is being sealed, being locked . . . something is being clicked into place, something is . . . it feels so hot, so good, so . . . oh it feels so . . . so . . . bad . . . so dark . . .

Dark thoughts keep . . . . forcing . . . Patina, bound and gagged, spread eagle, wearing only her mask and those silly contacts, moaning and screaming as I fucked the last of the resistance out of her their way into my mind, keep . . . Pinning Amethyst down . . . locking lips, letting the black melt from my lips to hers, through her, she’d never look at my Sarah the same way again . . .

“Nnn . . . o!” I try to pull away from it, but it’s hooked into my brain. The ink . . . it’s ink . . . good . . . feels good to know its ink . . . keeps pouring over me, pouring into me, and I can’t . . . can’t help but . . . love it . . . I can feel my pussy clench and shudder and twitch as more of it keeps . . .

Shove down that silly Alyssa, sit over her face in a tight short skirt, just gyrate my dripping panties above her face long enough and she’d lose herself, suck the ink right out of my cunt, lose herself in the goopy haze . . .

Not . . . they’re not my thoughts, but they feel . . . feel like things I could . . . They feel like things I could do if I just gave into it, to something, to Her . . .

Black eyes . . . I can see them . . . black eyes, they can see all of me, they can feel all of me . . . I can feel it sliding through my gold, over my gold, into my gold . . . into my miiiind . . . and it feels better than cuming, but I can’t make a sound, I can’t make myself twitch, all I can do is just shudder like a fish caught on a hook . . . and I love it!

She knows everything . . . and she can change it all, edit it all, make it fit whatever vision she desires, but me . . . I have . . . I have some greater purpose now . . . And I can feel it thrumming in my clit, pounding and screaming as the hook twists just a little, and more of the ink falls onto my lips.

Greedily I slide my tongue out to grab all of it, to feel it slide along my tongue, playing over my taste buds, and then playing into them . . .

I can feel all of my gold receding . . . and then the sword pulling away. I slump helplessly onto the ground and just giggle to myself as thick drool slides out of my parted lips. I can feel her inside of me; I can feel her . . . approving.

This wasn’t her original plan but it . . . it’s . . . better . . .? She’s . . . so happy about me, so happy . . . so . . . I want to make her smile, want to . . . Kneeling, bathing in the ink, rubbing it into every pore, every tender and needy part of my body, bathing in it, drinking it in, swallowing it, becoming a part of it, no end, no separation, ink and Aureus . . . Olivia just gets to watch . . . and wait . . .

It’s like . . . I can feel something, dark, black inside of me . . . Sliding between the parts of my brain . . . drawing lines through words, thoughts, circling others, writing new ones . . .It feels . . . like I’m something that was unfinished, unperfected . . .

A woman not quite made perfect, needing just one or two more revisions . . . one or two more . . .

“Welcome back, Patina . . .” Slowly I try to look up, and Sarah is standing there, across from Pen . . . Guess she couldn’t come up with a plan, figured that the last thing smart to do was go head on . . .So I’m sure she hoped that would take Pen off guard . . .

She doesn’t respond, she just reaches into her belt, and pulls out her gun. She fires once, and Pen actually hits the side of the small shaft in one swift stroke as it dives towards her. “You’ll need to do better tha—!”

“Why stop using what works . . .?” Pen drops her sword, and clutches at her shoulder, gasping sharply. There’s a dart buried there, well, sticking out of there, and she throws it aside but it’s already way too late. “See, if you’d been content just to, I don’t know, move the hell out of the way, instead of be so showy, you wouldn’t have given me the time to reload and fire a second shot. Note to self, get a dart gun styled like an old fashioned revolver, a good eight shooter or whatever they’re called.”

Pen’s dark . . . black lips start to quiver, and part as she falls to her knees. Already I can see the black starting to melt off of them. Pen’s job is done. This is all that She wanted her for. She can go back to whatever she was doing before the Mistress found her. There are other women with other tasks.

The cargo was important, but going after it again wouldn’t be a good idea. Once everything is complete the book can be seized easily. A little bit of patience can go a long way . . .

Pen falls onto her back with her knees bent, and makes a choking sound as the black drains off of her. Her hair was black, but now it’s blonde . . . clothing was white, brown boots, before the black had gotten to her, too . . .

“Olivia . . . Olivia what the hell did she do to you . . .? It’s the same black, the same . . .” Patina kneels in front of me, and strokes my hair before pulling me up into her arms. I’m not sticky anymore, all of the ink must have absorbed into me. “I’ll call us some help, figure out what happened to you . . . Don’t worry, just try and rest, okay baby? I love you, you have to be okay, okay sweetie . . . Please . . . be okay . . .”

Mmmm . . . Before my revision this would have felt awful to do, but now . . . It makes me steam, clench . . . I can feel some of the ink mingling with the wetness that melts out of me at the thought, the knowledge that what’s coming next . . .

Every part of my mind, of my body, feels so perfectly soothed, so perfectly captivated, stimulated . . . My thighs feel so sticky, and so does my frontal lobe.

“I love you, Sarah . . .” My eyes fall shut . . . and the ink fills my vision, coaxing me away from myself, swirling, twisting into sweet spirals of slick oily black ink behind my own eyelids . . . pulling me away from her, trapping me inside of myself . . . falling asleep, into myself . . . My hips shudder and my thighs clench – I can’t help it, it’s just too hot to hold back the pleasure of obeying Her, of knowing it goes against my character, Her word not mine, and . . .

Oh . . . Just . . . The world feeling like it’s going down the drain, I can hear . . . feel something . . . Just barely . . .

Good little plot twist . . . Sleep now . . . And when I awaken you . . . You’ll make everything fall into place . . . Mmm, it’s true what they say, little one . . . It wasn’t the sword that beat you . . . it was the ink from my Pen . . . and any pen of mine . . . is mightier than any sword . . . or any mind . . .

I drift into sleepless sleep . . . and dream of dark ink raping my body and mind away from me . . . and converting them for Her.