The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Nnnngh, don’t hang up, don’t hang up . . .!” Waking up to a ringing phone is the best way to make me wake up frazzled. I don’t even know who it is, but I know that it can’t be good news. My alarm already wakes me up at six, and I don’t usually get to sleep before eleven – but that seven hour window is when my phone rings the most.

My hand knocks the receiver out of the cradle, and I whine before almost falling out of bed to grab it off of the carpet. I wish that when you bought a phone you could hear it ring first. The phone sounds like its whining and begging for me to help, and the thought makes me feel sick.

Finally I fall back flat onto my bed and click the talk button with my thumb. “Whoever you are, if by any chance you could hang up and let me fall back asleep I would thank you forever.”

“I really can’t! If I could, you know I would. The only time I ever bothered you when I didn’t absolutely need your help was to make sure that you hadn’t ended up pulled into the mess I’d gotten myself pulled into. And that time, it was while you were still awake.” Great. Its Sarah, Silver, Patina, whatever. It’s not that I don’t like her or would like her to crash that motorcycle of hers just so she’d stop calling me at ungodly hours, but whenever she calls I do know it’s serious.

I also know that if she would just call Jade I have the feeling I’d get less of these calls.

Groaning I sit up and reach over to turn on my bedside lamp. “I know . . . You know I wouldn’t turn you away . . . I’ll try to wake up. I can meet you at my office . . . Nnn . . .” Slowly I flutter my eyes and gaze down at my alarm clock.

It’s only one o’clock. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some more sleep after taking a second to fix whoever got something in their head that just doesn’t belong.

Who am I kidding? Now that I know I’m going to be fixing someone up in the middle of the night I’m wide awake. I won’t be able to sleep and Gladys will be paging me twice for every client after noon. Maybe I should accept that job the city keeps trying to give me. It might not pay as much but the hours might be a little bit saner than working two jobs in one.

“Thanks a lot Mystic, thanks . . . I would give you more details, but this is the second situation in the past three days, I’m still trying to relax about The Project . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if my phone was being monitored. I’ll see you when I get there and . . . sorry.” It’s really hard to be angry when I can hear how sorry she is.

Carefully I replace the receiver in its cradle before stumbling into the bathroom to clean my glasses. My fuzzy reflection in the mirror looks a little more frazzled than I like, but it doesn’t look bad. Maybe thirty is the new twenty.

On second thought, no – I don’t want to be twenty four again. That was not a fun year.

After my glasses are clean I slide them over my nose, onto my ears, and start brushing my teeth. I don’t have time for a shower if Sarah really needs my help, but I can freshen myself up at least a little. After I’m done with Sarah I can take a shower, or get a nap and then get a shower, or . . .

Spitting out the last of the toothpaste mingled with saliva I run my brush through my hair just enough to make myself look manageable. I’m too tired and not quite showered enough to look as professional or as proper as I like to look but if Sarah even noticed the last time she called me in the middle of the night I’d be surprised.

I know I’m going to change so I don’t bother to put much effort into choosing from my wardrobe. A red turtleneck, some black slacks, and my favorite black flats should do well enough.

Just in case another emergency emerges from the depths of exhaustion to make sure I’m even more exhausted tomorrow I grab my cell, pull on my jacket, and make my way down from my apartment to the driver’s seat of my car.

As upset as I like to pretend I am every time this happens, I would actually love it if this turned out to be a false alarm.

It’s not surprising that by the time I get there, Patina is already waiting. I park beside her bike and yawn as I pop open the door. “What happened? Is everything okay besides what I need to fix? Have you called Jade yet? You know I might not even come down here next time if you don’t.”

“Mystic . . . You know, I’m just not eager to call someone who shot me in the shoulder with an arrow. I appreciated it when she did it for me, but I didn’t like it happening at me . . . and I don’t know what’s wrong. The police doctors are trying to figure out what happened to the officers that were there, but . . . I hoped that you might be able to take a look at her.” Patina gets off of her bike, and the woman who apparently became her partner after I helped patch up her head isn’t standing next to her, but is in her arms.

She’s not golden either. I don’t keep up that closely on current events, but I keep up enough to know that a passed out flesh toned heroine whose power makes her skin another shade is not a good sign. “I’ll open up. You can tell me what happened on the way in. What was her name again?”

My glasses slide down my nose and with a tired grumble I press them back up before grabbing out my keys and opening up the front. Sarah follows me in carrying her friend and my mind keeps filling with possibilities.

Didn’t some of the members of The Argentum Project get away? I really hope this isn’t related to that. Sarah starts talking, but I’m almost tempted to cut her off. Jade shot her in the arm?

I really hope she hasn’t gone that far into the antihero archetype. If she has then she’s still hiding from being Sarah behind just refocusing who she perceived herself to be when she was still called Silver. She’s not really as hardnosed as her bike, her outfit, or her posture would want me to believe. If I thought she would listen I would ask her to swing by for a few sessions, or refer her to someone else.

On the other hand, after what Jade told me about Yanuka, it’s a wonder she didn’t need any help just to get up the courage to find her way to me.

“Aureus . . . Olivia, her name is Olivia, when she’s like this anyway.” Once we’re in my office, Sarah carefully sets her down on the couch and she really is a sad sight. Is her top ripped? “We were responding to a call on the police radio for backup, and when we got there this woman with a pen-sword . . . thing . . . was there. Aureus wanted to try taking her on, one on one, with me driving off to come back, preferably silently on foot, after I could think up a plan.”

“Plan didn’t work out so well?” I check the clock and sigh. This doesn’t sound like anything that will end quickly. Is that a cut on her forehead? She really looks like she should be in a hospital and not in my office.

Sarah shakes her head and keeps stroking Aureus’s cheek. Her eyes look so worried, I’m sure she’s blaming herself for this. There’s a healthy way to take responsibility for your actions, and then there’s blaming yourself for the lack of breathable oxygen in space. “After I parked Sylvia I ran back and watched just to get a feel for the villain. She was a fencer, and the only flaw in her technique I could find was a flare for the dramatic. Aureus had specifically told me not to use any of my Blue Dreams because of the headache it gives her when she’s in the crossfire, and I knew that I couldn’t get her with a dart without getting in too close . . .”

If letting her explain the situation wasn’t therapeutic I would tell her to get to the point. I don’t need a recap of every little thing that happened, but she does. She needs to put this into perspective and realize that this wasn’t her fault and that even if she’d swooped in at just the right moment Aureus could still be like this.

Sometimes the best you can do to help someone is to not do anything at all and just let them know that you’re listening. And wait a second . . . isn’t Sylvia what Valerie told me that the other Sarah had wanted to name their daughter? I’m going to hope I’m just still half asleep.

“And then before I knew it, she had Aureus on the ground with the tip of her sword . . . from the angle I was at, it looked like it was right through her skull, I was frantic . . . I ran to get closer, and figured out that I could use the woman’s own skill against her . . . So anyway, I disabled the fencer, and just like the last crook that we . . . Aureus . . . took down, all of the black just melted off of her into this oozy black substance and just melted into the cement before I could do anything.” Sarah’s voice starts to crack just a little, and her eyes start to fill with tears that glitter even more compared to the black of her mask surrounding them.

“Wait, wait, back up, tell me about this black substance, and about the other victims.” Carefully I pull a chair up next to the two of them and hesitantly reach out to feel the wound on her forehead. It feels superficial, less than a paper cut, but it shouldn’t be black, it should be red . . .

Licking my thumb and rubbing it off of her forehead might not be safe or especially painless. “The other night, two days ago, there was this woman, the Poetess . . . She got into my head, and after Aureus came and stopped her, all of the black melted off of her, over the carpet, and then it just . . . The police in the patrol car, they were covered in it, but after the black melted off of the fencer the black seemed to absorb into them. They wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did, neither would Aureus . . . I waited until the cops showed up for the two of them, and then I called you.”

Whatever that black gunk is, there’s a very good chance that it’s inside of Aureus or otherwise affecting her. I can’t remove something from her actual brain tissue, but I can try to unwind it from her mind if that’s what’s really keeping her like this.

“The last thing she said before she passed out was that she loved me . . . Then her eyes shut, she whimpered and . . . didn’t do anything else. She’s breathing, but she doesn’t respond to anything. It’s like she’s in a coma.” Sarah kisses her forehead a ways above the wound and keeps stroking her cheek.

Reaching through my single hand touching her forehead I try to reach into her mind, to see whatever alien influence is at work. It’s a slow search. If I went too quickly I could miss . . . “Yikes!” A flash of something strong, something black, fills my vision and I fall out of my chair. The carpet is soft under me, but I can still feel whatever it was inside of her pulsing like an after image in the back of my mind. Whatever is in there is strong, and I don’t think it likes me very much.

Before that I was thinking about telling Sarah to take her to a hospital. I don’t think a hospital would be able to do much for her. This isn’t some shock induced coma. This is definitely something inside of her mind.

Normally things put into people’s minds just have a single purpose: to make them obey. Whatever this is, it is much more intelligent. It was actually protecting whatever has been done to her. This won’t just be a simple reversal. I’ll need to neutralize it and then see what I can do about getting her back to normal, if I can get her back to normal. I haven’t failed yet, but it would be stupid to think I’m unbeatable.

“Are you okay?!” As soon as I gather my thoughts away from that darkness in Aureus’s mind I hear and see Sarah right beside me, helping me back up into the chair. “You just fell like a house of cards hit by a semi. Can you help her, Mystic?”

Heroines and hyperbole really do go hand in hand. Maybe that’s why they make every small little mistake into proof of their perceived uselessness. I should definitely bring that up at the next convention . . .

After I dust myself off a little I stare down at Olivia and sigh. “Probably, but it’s not going to be simple as the times I’ve popped you back to normal in the past, or the last time I fixed her. This isn’t mental conditioning. It’s going to take me at least a couple of hours to be sure I’ve cleaned out all of it.”

“Do you think there’s a risk that it could spread? That whatever this is, if it’s what controlled The Poetess, who had no memory of what happened to her, and that fencer that did this to Aureus . . . do you think it could possibly spread and infect others?” She’s trying to act strong as if this isn’t affecting her at all, but it doesn’t take a mental health professional to know that’s a joke at best.

I’ve only had to deal with something like this at most five times before. There’s not a lot of readily accessible information about things like this, but . . . “There are a few cases I know of where something like this did spread, but the range was quite minimal.”

Instantly Sarah springs to her feet and starts to move for the door. She doesn’t even stop to watch where she’s going and almost trips over her own feet but gracefully regains her balance.

“Where the heck are you going? You can’t just leave her here! This is an office not an infirmary!”

“I have to get to the hospital!” Sarah stops in the doorway, the door already half closed. “If this can spread, I need to make sure that the police know about it. I have every faith in their ability to keep the peace, and the doctors to diagnose anything physically wrong with their patients . . . but I can’t take the chance of letting some sort of mind control parasite spread across an entire hospital! I’ll be back as soon as I can, you know my cell if anything goes wrong . . .! Sorry Mystic, you know the drill, needs of the many . . . I promise I’ll be back as soon as I make sure this is taken care of.”

Even if I would try to argue with her, she’s out the door before I can think of an argument, and shortly after that I can hear her tear away on her bike. Great. I’m left here alone with a wounded super heroine with god knows what imbedded in her mind in the middle of the night.

The wound on her abdomen is the same shade of black as the mark on her forehead. It doesn’t look dangerous, though I bet it hurt like heck.

To actually accomplish her goal, Sarah will need to track down the hospital they were taken too, determine if it’s already spread, and deal with it from there. She won’t be back for a few hours even if she’s blowing this out of proportion, so I might as well get started on fixing her girlfriend now.

Maybe if instead of just trying to find whatever it is I start out by forcing the healing energy into her mind and scan like that . . . it will take considerably longer, and I’ll need to be careful not to hurt that golden presence I sensed before, but it sounds better than busting my head open the next time that it decides to overload all of my senses at once.

Sighing I scoot the chair closer to the couch and place both of my hands carefully onto her forehead to get started. I don’t know why I didn’t just do it like this in the first place . . . I must really be tired.

Besides, I’m a healer not some soldier of fortune. Not everyone who can wiggle their fingers and mess with someone’s mind puts on tight shiny outfits to go around throwing kicks and riding on expensive Italian motorcycles. I’ll admit, I’m envious, but only a little bit.

Slowly I start to melt my focus into her forehead, and sigh at the soothing feeling of not being immediately assaulted.

Most people think that all I do is put my hands on someone’s head and bam, they can think like they used to again. It’s not that easy. I have to focus my consciousness inside of theirs, and it feels almost like I’m not even in my own body. It’s like floating in a void of confusing imagery and stimuli.

A lot of minds I just perceive as color or sound or touch, but Aureus’s mind is much more complex. I can hear something, something struggling in something sticky. All around me is color, all dark reds and blues. Maybe the strongest sensation of the inside of her mind is a feeling of . . . fascination. It’s almost like an empathic echo reaching out from somewhere in her subconscious, as if something in her mind is just so full of wonder and satisfied curiosity.

Hopefully that curiosity isn’t satisfied because of whatever is being done to her mind.

Carefully I maneuver myself towards the viscous sound. It’s quiet at first, but the closer I move the louder it gets, and quickly. It’s so loud that soon it’s overwhelming. Everywhere, all around me, inside of me I can hear it, something, something struggling so passionately to break free, to tear away, to . . . to get away from whatever is trapping it, to . . .

To sink deeper into it’s dark embrace . . . To indulge in the sweet helplessness of obedience to one’s own darkest desires . . . To surrender to my own desires, my own needs . . . To slide into it, so thick, and slick, and black . . . to feel it coating me, filling me, showing me the-

“No, bad . . .” By the time I realize what’s happening and pull back from the sensation my breathing is so much faster, my chest is almost aching with how hard my heart is beating, and I’m . . . sticky. My skin is slick with sweat. I’m not going to acknowledge the rest of it. It’s just an after effect of whatever is inside of her mind trying to get me. It’s nothing I did or wanted to happen.

Whatever it is, it’s definitely good. I almost didn’t feel the difference in its thoughts and mine. This is definitely a parasite, and if it didn’t just feel like an echo of conditioning I’d removed from a thousand women’s heads before I would be sure that it was more than just a simple parasite.

Obviously if I let her mind overwhelm mine I’ll just succumb to whatever she did. I haven’t done anything like that in years! I’m not a reckless teenager anymore sure she can fix the world’s problems so easily.

It would be nice if I could, though . . .

Cautiously I pull my hands off of her forehead and stand up to try and center myself. I am Rae Keeneson, otherwise known as Mystic. I am a healer, and a woman led by logic, knowledge, wisdom, and common sense. I do not let my hormones dictate my actions, or my desires. I will not let this thing take over my mind, and if all of my attempts fail, I will call for backup.

Sometimes after almost losing yourself inside of someone else it’s good to just remember who you are. I had a colleague once who got so lost in another woman’s head she was convinced they were the same person for a week. Her mind was not fun to untangle.

Carefully I sit back down, and place my hands back on her forehead. Either she’s sweating, or I am. Before I dive back in, I take my hands off, wipe them on my slacks, and then replace them.

It’s easier to go into a mind I’ve already been inside of. The stimuli are already familiar, and the mind almost feels like it’s welcoming me back in. This time, instead of waltzing towards the sounds, I try to carefully study the colors. The darker blues look like parts of them are being crossed out with the red, and other pats are being underlined, underlined three times . . . circled . . .

The longer I watch the colors the more they start to take a coherent form of lines of symbols. They’re incomprehensible, probably because they aren’t any language but the internal symbols used by her mind to process thoughts. If I was a telepath I might be able to decode them, but I’m not so I don’t have that advantage.

As the red continues its work on the symbols, more symbols start to be added that I do recognize. Small carrots crop up and add new symbols into existing lines. A symbol closely resembling an ampersand replaces an odd symbol looking like a circle with a line through it diagonally.

If I didn’t know any better, I would swear that the inside of her mind was being edited like copy. It reminds me of my last paper I let a peer review – covered with “suggested” corrections.

Is this parasite somehow . . . rewriting the fundamental parts of her mind? The slicking sound could be her mind struggling against it, some noticeable sound to reach out desperately, and the feeling . . .

Maybe that’s why all of this is so interesting, why I was so easily ensnared before. Every detail of her mind is being filtered through her own almost childlike delight. It’s so infectious! This really is marvelous, being able to be inside of such a strong mind that’s not only able to resist complete assimilation, but is also able to exhibit so many warning signs.

Most of what I see in a mind is the result of an internal conflict. If control is complete, it’s harder to see, but this . . . it’s so remarkable! The control is being worked into her, but at the same time it’s an addition. It’s so fascinating!

The colors are covered more and more with that red. Every time that all of the red finishes with a line, the red turns to black . . . and then so does the blue. It’s so amazing, so . . .

Dizzying . . .

It almost feels like watching a scrolling marquee when driving by in a car, only it’s a deeper sensation. I can feel it in my pussy body, not my projection but my wet, sopping, needing cunt actual body . . .

Something about it is just so interesting. Maybe if I watch it just a little longer I’ll be able to feel the source of it, see where it’s coming from. I’m already pressing my energy against it, but it’s not doing anything. There’s more and more of the black letters though, and the black letters feel nicer to see than the blue ones . . . I wonder why . . .

Her mind feels humid . . .

It’s like something is dripping around everywhere and then kind of hanging in the air, just sort of floating . . . Maybe it’s whatever is making that sticky sound . . . Every time I try and move closer to the symbols to make them out better I feel a little bit more stuck . . . I wonder if . . .

It almost feels like I should be remembering something, but I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing! I’m supposed to be figuring out what’s going on so I can cure Aureus! I need to know as much as I can, watch as much as I can about the situation to get the best feel for the situation, even if it is making me feel so sticky, covered and dripping, especially between my pretty pretty pussy lips . . .

Mmm I feel so drippy dizzy, that sticky sensation keeps getting louder the more and more I try to move and try to squirm out of it but all it does is pull at me and slide deeper, melt deeper and . . .

Oh god no, I let it pull me too deep into her headspace!

My energy must have just been feeding that active part of Aureus’s mind! It would be like filling a gun aimed at my mind with bullets while walking closer and closer to it. I need to pull back into myself!

Fiercely I pull and struggle, but all I feel is the sweet, savoring, slick wetness pulling and clinging tighter. It’s sliding around my legs and pulling me deeper into it, towards the louder slicking sound, its starting to get so loud again, and I can feel it sliding perfectly into my pussy, oozing over my clit and filling me better than anything has ever filled me before.

I can’t even tell what’s . . . What’s real and what’s . . . What’s just in her head, what’s just mine inside of hers . . . I never think like that, I’m not like that, I’m chaste . . . Not a dirty, filthy slut wishing she had a hand free to spread herself wide to get as much of the sweet sticky bliss inside of her as she could

“No!”

The sound doesn’t help me pull away, it just . . . “Yesssssss . . .!” Oh god, it just teaches it how to use my voice . . . I can feel and hear my own voice start to moan all around me as more of the sweet inky bliss reaches up past my hips, mmmm, reaching closer to hold up my nice firm tits and pull at my long hard nipples like pieces of hot slutty mind candy.

It’s so unreal . . . . but it’s more real than anything has ever been in my life, it feels like hands and tongues at once as it kneads and claws at my ass. It feels like everything I’ve ever denied myself, it feels like everything I would want if there were no consequences . . . and I want it . . .

It’s so good . . . It’s irresistible . . . I can feel red lines moving through me . . . underlining . . . moving . . . It feeeeeeels so goooood, so deeeeep, soooo . . . so . . . like what I was meant to be..

Nothing about it is unnatural . . . If I tried to use my own power on myself it would just, oooh it would just incubate it, just warm it up, just make it worse . . . I’m just being revised, updated, enhanced into a hot wet fuckable little mind slut and I love it!

All of the slickness surrounds me, it’s all I can hear, all I can feel, and everything melts into black as I feel my doubts cum out of me harder than I’ve ever felt in my life.

When I come to I’m laying on the couch . . . Feeling so dizzy and confused. A few minutes ago I could swear that I was inside of someone’s mind . . . And then someone’s mind was inside of me . . .

It feels like it was just a dream, but the dildo my hand is still moving lazily in and out of my dripping pussy feels real enough to help me wake up. When I look down to see it, it looks like . . . huh . . . cute . . . it looks like a pen . . . but I don’t remember ever owning a dildo, much less one shaped . . .

Mmmm but it’s hard to care . . . It’s special, somehow . . . It feels like there’s something inside of it, at the point, something that’s oozing into me, something that’s melting something so deep into me . . . Wait it’s . . . It actually is a pen . . . God my pussy must be an inky mess right now, I should stop this and clean up-

But I can’t stop thrusting it inside of myself, moving it around to get the angle juuuust right . . . fill myself with the ink, make it overflow . . . The pen is black, and a click pen, clicked out, but it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable or cold. It’s the best feeling I’ve ever had . . . I’ve never had a lover, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, always . . . just satisfied myself . . . but this time I . . . I can feel . . . It’s . . .someone else is guiding my hand . . .

And it feels unbelievable! It feels somehow intellectual, spiritual, and sexual! It’s like something I’ve devoted so much of myself to for all of my life is fucking my brains out . . . or fucking ink so deep into my brain that I’ll be cumming black for a week

My head won’t stop spinning and its so hard not to scream as my orgasm shatters through me, and I whimper loudly as I desperately pull at my top to get my fingers around a nipple. God I just need to pull and tug and twist and thrust and groan and mmmm . . . bliss!

“Mmm . . . Is the newest convert to Her will enjoying herself . . .?” The voice is familiar, but It’s hard to pull my thoughts away from my dripping, aching, screaming pussy, not that I mind overmuch, it feels too good to mind much at all . . . mmm, mind . . .

I nod frantically as I quicken my wrist again, pulling hard at my nipple and trying to grasp as much of my breast in my hand at the same time . . . mmm . . . I can feel the ink in my breast as I knead. “Yessssss . . . It feeeeelsss soooooo hot . . .! I want moooore . . . Oh I want all that I can get . . . I need . . . so bad . . . need . . . want . . . pleeeeeease!”

The other voice, the one besides mine, laughs sweetly, and I feel lips latch onto my nipple before I can react. My whole body arches into it as I whimper and plead for more, but the lips only give me as much as they want to give me, no more, no less, mmmm and I don’t think that I could ask for any more when it all feels so goddess damned good . . . feels so hot . . .!

“Mmm . . . I can give you the last of what you need sweetheart . . . You have such hot tits . . . We need to make sure you show these off a lot more, not hide them behind things like sweaters and conservative blouses . . .” Firm fingers hold my bre . .. no .. . my hot aching tits. and start to knead as those lips suckle. Mmmm I could sell my soul for more of the feeling of those hot lips on my nips! Mmm . . . I feel so delirious with pleasure but I couldn’t give less of a fuck!

“What I need . . . Mmmm you’re giving me what I need . . . a good fuck . . .” Mmm I’ve been so repressed, denying myself so much . . . controlling how I thought, how I spoke, how I felt . . . I’ve been twisting myself into some parody of a proper woman, with no desire for companionship or selfishness.

I can let myself relax – I can feel pleasure – I can think about me, me, me . . . and enjoy every moment of it. I can think about the woman squeezing my tits and feel good about it, feel proud of it, and want to do the same right back to her without any shame at all. Sex is sex. It’s a human need as much as food, maybe more than food. It’s certainly a deeper, wetter need than food.

It feels so good to know who you really are and to embrace it, to embrace loving yourself and letting others love you too . . .

Mmm, and sometimes a little lust is okay, too.

“No, sweetie, no I’m not. There’s one last thing you need before everything will be perfect . . . and you can wait at your desk while I take your place on the couch . . .” There’s a sound of something unscrewing, something opening up . . . but I’m after glowing too much to want to open my eyes. “Open wide, sweetheart, and embrace yourself . . .”

My lips part wide as I can manage, and something that tastes dark, and sweeter than chocolate syrup melts over my tongue and down my throat. My wrist picks up it’s pace again and I let out a sharp cry at the crescendo of pleasure. It all feels so precisely hot, perfect, desirable, sweeet! I can feel the ink poured into my mouth melting inside of me, solidifying what I’ve accepted of myself . . . it’s so . . . perfect . . .

When my next orgasm hits me I just feel sleepy as my whole body shakes . . . “Just sleep baby . . . It’s all that you have to do for now. Then you can wake up . . . and make everything even more . . . perfect.”

My eyes flutter open, and I see the same thing I did when they were closed: blackness.

My eyes flutter open again, and I mewl as my lips curve into a smug grin. I feel so powerful, so alive! I’m not on the couch anymore; I’m sitting back in the chair. I’m still holding the pen inside of myself, but I quickly pull it out and suckle all of the ink and cum off of it. It tastes so sharp and tangy, but still smooth and sexy.

I’m also nude. That’s a good thing, because if I woke up in that dorky turtleneck, those sensible shoes and loose slacks I was going to have to scream. Or, I was going to have to tear my clothes off in a huff of an unsatisfied urge to actually look as good as I feel.

Aureus looks so hot passed out on the couch, so innocent but . . . Mmmm . . . A look can’t tell you everything you should know about a person. Though Sarah won’t need to know that . . . That’s not what She wants . . . Not yet . . .

Purring I slide my fingers through my brown hair and revel in arching out my chest, slowly sliding my fingers around my own curves, squeezing, mewling . . . I look way too good to be hiding myself behind such drab cloth. As I stand up and look around the room I see clothes spread out along my desk and can’t help but grin.

Strolling over leisurely, I hold up the barely there lacy black thong, and slide it up along my legs to just barely cover my still wet, and still slightly dripping with ink, pussy. It feels so good to be clothed in something that could only barely be called clothing. Right next to it on my desk is a matching flimsy looking but well supporting black bra, and I slide it on just as eagerly.

I feel like such a knock out! I am a knock out, this isn’t just a feeling – this is who I am. Right next to where the underclothes sat is a modest looking skirt with a long slit along ether side. Every step will show off so much of my perfectly curved legs . . . that look much more defined than I remember, but who am I to complain?

Grinning more I slide the skirt up over my legs, and barely pause before sliding my arms through the sleeves of the silky black blouse. It has a button too few, but that suits me just fine. Just enough pale cleavage to scream when surrounded by so much shiny black fabric . . . and a black hair tie to keep my hair from obscuring any of the beauty of my face or my slender neck. After my hair is up I slide my fingers slowly along m neck, and then down along my body before looking to where I’ve placed the pen.

With a sigh I grab it and start suckling on the very tip just imagining what’s coming next. Valerie has an appointment today . . . Sarah will be back, but I’m to let her take Aureus, after all, there’s nothing more I can do.

Everything is going just as She wants, and that almost feels better than sliding the pen back into it’s holder positioned snugly between my thighs.