The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Welcome back Miss. Anderson.”

Samantha smiled at the sound of the receptionist’s Scottish burr. She always came to this small hotel, ‘The Turret’ when she was working in Edinburgh. It was a quirky place, apparently built in the 1930s but modelled on the Victorian Gothic style in terms of architecture and much of the interior style. Unlike many budget hotels Samantha stayed in, she would always know precisely where she was when she woke up in this one.

“Mrs. Beazley. Nice to see you again.”

“Remember, you should call me Fiona.”

To Samantha, Mrs. Beazley’s warm tone always seemed to contrast with her rather intimidating appearance. She was quite a bit taller than Samantha, with long white-blonde hair always scooped back severely from her face. She was broad and there was something that Samantha occasionally detected in her manner which told her this woman was strong and knew it.

“Sorry, yes, Fiona.”

“We’re having some refurbishment done, so I’ve put you in a room you’ve not had before, it’s the Douleuo Room, on the second floor.” Mrs. Beazley gestured to the rear of the hotel, an area which Samantha had not been to before. “It’s bigger, but at no extra cost. We like to treat our regulars well.”

Mrs. Beazley smiled broadly and Samantha smiled back. She had never given it much thought but it was nice to think that the hotel staff appreciated her staying there. She guessed that compared to some guests that she was no trouble.

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Beazley handed Samantha the key. It was another little thing that she found quirky and charming about this place. The names of each room were impressed on something that looked like an Egyptian cartouche and was made of brass. A rather chunky chain ran from this to the key itself.

“If there’s anything you need just call.” Mrs. Beazley said and went to the door to the side of the reception, she opened it and ushered Samantha through. She found herself in a short corridor, terracotta in shade and lit by ornate lamps that seemed to bear out the Ancient Egyptian theme of the key fob.

Samantha was soon up the stairs and at her room. It sat opposite another called the Ragiax Room and Samantha wondered what they were named after. Perhaps they were Scottish mountains or some islands off Spain, she had no idea. In minutes she was inside the one she had been allocated and it had all the elements that she loved about this hotel. It was difficult to define the overall shape as there were so many nooks and crannies. The window in the main area looked out over a small courtyard. Off the main bedroom there was an old fashioned bathroom one side and off the other a kind of lounge area at the back of which was a door that was locked. Though the key was in the lock, Samantha resisted turning it, imagining that it simply held bedding or other domestic supplies. Back in the main area there was a free-standing wardrobe of dark, waxed wood with an aroma that Samantha loved. Beside it, set into the wall, and outlined with a wooden frame of a similar shade, was a full-length mirror.

Samantha looked at herself. For a successful woman of twenty-four, who had spent the day travelling, she was not looking too bad. She turned side on to the mirror. Of course, her breasts could have been a little larger, but she guessed that if they had been, then the men she worked with might have taken her a little less seriously. She was sure that she would look and feel better after a shower. She quickly shed her clothes and was soon in the large bath, its shower curtain closed and enjoying the warm water that came from the brass head.

Wrapping herself in towels Samantha went back to the bedroom. When on trips like this she only brought her suit and a change of underwear and blouse. She sat on the edge of the bed drying herself. She let the towels fall away, and a little as she had done when still dressed she stood and looked herself over in the mirror, seeking to suppress any sense of inadequacy in her body and to assert her individuality. Then something caught her eye. At first she could not really make out what had attracted her attention but then realised that the long mirror seemed to rippling. For a moment she wondered if it was caused by some vibration, perhaps the boiler in the basement or a heavy vehicle passing. However, it did not cease and increasingly it looked something like a mirage.

Samantha walked closer to the mirror. Though the mirror was rippling she could still make out her reflection in it. However, as she looked it seemed to be changing. She could see her face, but it increasingly looked different as if she had suddenly put on more make-up. Her hair looked blonde, the rich honey shade she had once considered dyeing it in place of her natural almond brown which she found so dull. The cut seemed altered to and in place of the neatly trimmed style it now looked like she had a rock chick style shaggy cut. Now she her reflected image was not naked but dressed in tight black clothes. This seemed incredible. Samantha scrabbled for a rational explanation for what she was seeing. This had to be a dream or some kind of hallucination. It unnerved Samantha and she stepped back. Blinking a couple of times and walked away, telling herself she must be tired. What she needed was a snooze before she went out and found herself some dinner.

Samantha slumped back on the bed and closed her eyes, resting like that for a few moments. She felt warm enough for now not to need to get beneath the covers. She tried to relax, but, for some reason Samantha still felt unsettled; she had the feeling that she was not alone. She guessed that was not a surprising sensation in a hotel when other guests might be moving around in the next room just a wall’s thickness away. Suddenly, however, she heard a squealing sound that seemed to be close by. She looked up and almost exclaimed, but found she could not speak with surprise. Before her stood an attractive young woman, dressed in a skin-tight gloss catsuit, her legs were coated by matching thigh-high boots, that glistened in the light. Her hair was that blonde shade that Samantha thought she had seen reflected; the woman’s face was heavily but sexily made up.

The woman pursed her glossed lips and spoke with a husky voice that somehow seemed familiar to Samantha. “Do not worry, there must have been a mistake and I have been sent the wrong way, I should be at Senjar Har’s hunting lodge. My slave-mistress will recover me soon, I will wait here until then.”

Samantha stuttered and then snapped, bemused. “Who are you?”

“I am Lyssa, a sex-slave of Senjar Har.” The woman said with apparent pride.

“A sex-slave?”

“That is why I am in these glossy clothes. they make me sexy and my collar makes me a slave.” She indicated the glossy black collar at her neck, with a ring at the front apparently ready for a leash, as if everything she said made perfect sense.

Samantha looked at the woman standing there casually swaying her hips covered in the skin-tight rubber in a provocative way. Samantha groped for the towel and wrapped it around her, feeling slightly vulnerable sitting there naked. She did not know how to handle the situation. There seemed to be no rational explanation for this exotic looking woman being in her room. The only thing she could imagine was that, somehow, a woman in town for some convention, something connected with sci-fi or some sex trade fair had come into her room by accident and was here remaining in role, possibly just to see how Samantha react, perhaps hoping to shock her.

“This place seems familiar.” Lyssa said, strutting around the room on her high, sharp heels as if she owned the place.

Samantha found herself watching Lyssa walking about, fascinated at how the rubber clung so tightly to her body, making it shiny and slippery all over, showing off the sleek lines of her legs and the tapering waist. Her bum was a pristine hemisphere of glistening black. Her firm breasts were clearly straining in the gloss, erect and aroused. Of course, Samantha would never have even considered wearing clothes like these, but she found that she had to admit they seemed to suit this woman so well and undeniably made her look incredibly sexy.

“Ha ha!” Lyssa laughed abruptly. “Of course, now I know what happened. I didn’t think that Ytrenn could do it. That cunning old sorcerer. He said he would. Now I know where I am, why I have been sent here; it was no accident, it was deliberate.”

“You were sent here? From another world?”

“Yes. I will let you work out why.”

While Samantha still believed this woman was somehow acting out a role, there was something about Lyssa that made Samantha think that what she was telling the truth. Of course, she had seen television and movie stories about alternate worlds and using mirrors as portals was a well-established approach. Could such stories really have a basis in truth?

As Samantha pondered these things, Lyssa sat down opposite her and drew one long booted leg across the other. As she did Samantha was stunned to realise that this woman’s face was indeed the one she had seen in the mirror; the one that had seemed so like her own. Unless someone was using very sophisticated technology that seemed to blow away all the explanations that this was some practical joke or a conference attender playing with her.

Lyssa said nothing, but drew out a black shiny dildo from the top of her boot. Samantha noticed now that she wore glossy fingerless gloves and for some reason she found herself wondering what it would feel like to press such a gloved palm on to her sex, on to her breast. Unashamedly, Lyssa unzipped a thin zip over her pussy; it was clearly juicy and she was able to slide the dildo in immediately. Samantha watched, speechless at what was happening, as the woman tossed back her head and shuddered her rubber bound body as thrust the dildo back and forth until she reached an orgasm. She purred loudly as she was filled with pleasure. Finally she withdrew her dildo and wiped it across her slippery thigh, she left her slit open, juice running from her naked pussy.

“Would you like a go?” Lyssa said encouragingly as she offered Samantha the dripping dildo.

“No I don’t.” Samantha said, shaking her head, bewildered by what had just happened.

Samantha wondered why she was not more shocked or more offended by what was going on. She guessed that in part it was because it was so impossible. Thoughts that this was some kind of lurid television programme set-up with hidden cameras had now gone and she could only accept that her weariness had led her to have this waking dream.

“Not yet.” Lyssa laughed, “You’ll soon learn to love it.”

“What do you mean?”

Had this woman come here, somehow to seduce her or to encourage her to buy sex toys? Those suggestions seemed hardly more believable than any other explanation.

“Think about it. I look like you, I know this place ...”

Samantha struggled to deal with the implications of what the woman was saying, they seemed impossible, yet surely a lot of what had happened in the past few minutes was incredible, why should this be any different?

“I, erm, you...” Samantha stuttered as she tried to articulate, to believe, what she was thinking.

“I am you. You of the future.” Lyssa said calmly.

“But how?” Samantha said, trying to cope with what Lyssa was saying, not because it seemed like the latest in a line of unbelievable explanations, but because, part of her felt she had to accept that it was indeed true.

“You may not believe it but people can travel between different worlds, worlds where things are very different. After you accept that anything is possible. I happened to end up on Xylae. Probably not surprising given the connections between this place and that world. Anyway it was probably the best place for me after what I had become. Or maybe it made me what I became.”

“What was that?” Samantha asked with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“Well on the way to being as you see me now.” Lyssa replied casually.

“With that blonde hair?” Samantha observed, curious how the shade matched the one she had been thinking of.

“Of course, just the honey shade you like. Admit it, that is true isn’t it?”

“Yes, the shade is nice, but, well, I never colour my hair.”

“Neither do I, this is permanent.” Lyssa shook her head to cascade her hair. “Yes, it was altered, like a number of other things.” Lyssa cupped her full and firm left breast and playfully spanked her curvy latex-clad bum. “You’ve been thinking of cosmetic surgery haven’t you, breast augmentation?”

“Erm, no.” Samantha felt a little guilty now about what she had thought when she had inspected herself in the mirror.

“Well, you will do once Robert leaves you for that woman.”

“Robert Meredith? But we only started dating last month.”

“I’ve come back further than I thought. The principle is still the same. I am the woman you desire to be; I am the you that you want to be, need to be.” Lyssa said with force, seeming to believe she had won the argument. “You have to see how easily they can craft your body to make it as sexy as possible.”

“But you’re, I’m a slave. Don’t you want to escape?” Samantha asked, curious that she could accept being owned.

“No, why should I? I quickly realised that I wanted to become a sex-slave. There is nothing as liberating as being owned. I am a prized possession, I am treated that way. No more dull meetings, boring travel, staying in places like this. I chose to go into bondage. As a sex-slave I get to fuck horny women, I am erotic, all I have to be concerned with is being sexy, my mistress cares for everything else.”

“But how did... do, I become like that?”

“I forgot, of course, you still have to learn the delights of lesbianism. Don’t wait until Robert and Duncan and Ian have finished with you before you find out.”

Samantha had never had any sexual thoughts about women and, in fact, the more that Lyssa said, the less she believed there was any connection between her and this woman. Then she realised she was actually trying to tell herself that, but that some stronger sense kept insisting that this was truly what she would become.

“Erm, er, no, I meant more how did I, you end up a slave?”

Lyssa smiled as if it was a foolish question. “Well, dressing like this, it is so pleasurable and it let my body’s urges take control. Clothes like these let out your true nature and, if you don’t know it yet, that is sexually submissive. They will allow you to understand that you are happy to become a sex-slave, that’s your true character that you are currently suppressing. Once that character is released you will become this one sexy bitch.”

“But, but, I’ve never worn anything like that. Why would I start dressing that way? It’s not my kind of thing.”

“Tell me that you have not thought about going out in those tight shiny leggings you bought but never wear? And the pairs of long boots you find yourself looking at in shops but dare not buy? Do you remember how much you enjoyed being the best of the gang when you tried pole dancing on Melissa’s hen night?”

Samantha blushed as she was reminded of those facts that she could not deny. She might never have envisaged herself dressed the way Lyssa was, but certainly in some of her fantasies she had come close.

Now Lyssa stood up and strode into the lounge area and over to the locked door; curious, Samantha followed. Lyssa turned the key to reveal a walk-in wardrobe behind it in which hung catsuits and thigh boots just like she wore. “You would have found it eventually. One particularly dull evening, three or four years or so from now, you would have been tempted to look in here.”

“What is this place?” Lyssa’s revelation that ‘The Turret’ was somehow involved in what was happening opened up a whole new set of questions for Samantha.

“Oh, this hotel is a foothold for a merchant company from Xylae, a slaving company. This world might disapprove of what it does, but there are some things which are easier to get here, such clothing, for example.”

“Mrs. Beazley?”

“Yes, she is from Xylae. Of course, not every young woman who comes here will end up a slave, they’d not want to attract that much interest, but a few leave without having paid their bills, well not in the usual way. A volunteer, well, they would certainly not say no to her. And when Mrs. Beazley gets no answer to her knock and walks in to find you splayed out here, dressed like a new slave, with your fingers jammed in your pussy. Well, then, she is simply going to fulfil your wish.”

“If all of this is inevitable, if I am predestined to become Lyssa, the lesbian slave, why are you here? You said you asked to be sent here?”

“Yes, three, four years from now, maybe longer, you will become as I am now. But, if you had found that your life could be far better, sexier, would you not love the chance to get your younger self to pick that option as soon as possible?”

“You don’t even look two years older than.”

“Precisely. I doubt I will look much older when I am retired. Think, if they can make your hair your favourite shade and your breasts as ample as you dream of them, well, slowing ageing, even reversing it a little, is no challenge.”

Samantha walked as if entranced to the wardrobe, it seemed to confirm what Lyssa had told her. Yet she still could not believe that she could be transformed into an erotic sex-slave.

“Try them on.” Lyssa gestured to the latex clothes. “I know you are curious, your body is hungry to feel it against your skin, to be bound in the rubber, shiny and slippery all over.” Lyssa said seductively. “Or even better, try one which we know will fit snugly to your body, well, to the body you will soon have.” Lyssa said.

Lyssa began to ease down the zip of her own catsuit, quickly releasing her firm breasts. She unzipped and then slid one leg and then the other out of the long shiny boots before peeling off the rest of her catsuit, leaving her shapely body naked, bar the collar at her neck. Aside from the hair on her head her body was otherwise hairless. Her skin seemed to have sheen to it too. Samantha wondered if these were other changes that had been made to Lyssa’s body, no doubt to appeal to whoever owned her. Presumably they helped her ease into the latex clothing that seemed to be what such slaves wore.

Whilst Samantha speculated about these things, Lyssa walked slowly towards her, holding out the catsuit,

“Go on, you know you want to try it.” Lyssa said, pushing open the towel that Samantha clung to her and pressed the catsuit, still warm from her own body, against Samantha’s skin.

Samantha tried to deny it, but she could not, her body felt a yearning to try these clothes on. She was aware that Lyssa’s words had aroused her even more, but even before that, she had to admit she had been intrigued. Confused, she turned away and back to the bedroom but Lyssa stepped up beside her. For the first time Samantha noticed the rows of silver studs in her ears and one in her nose. She found she was entranced by them, imagining herself as a woman with such jewellery. Lyssa seemed so much to be her alter-ego, though, if she was believed, one that Samantha would not avoid becoming.

Suddenly Lyssa grabbed at Samantha’s towel from behind and threw it off. Samantha gasped as she stood there naked. Lyssa came close to her and wrapped herself around Samantha. She stroked her body up and down Samantha’s flesh, her nipples rubbing across Samantha’s. She thrust her sex out and rubbed it rhythmically over Samantha’s own. Lyssa’s gloved hands found Samantha’s bare breasts and stroked them until they were hard and shiny like her own. Samantha had no power to break free, she had never dreamt that she could feel so erotic, so aroused. She panted breathlessly as Lyssa purred in her ear and began to stroke at the lips of her pussy, then slowly eased her fingers inside. Soon Samantha’s moans of pleasure matched Lyssa’s, breath for breath.

Gently Lyssa stepped back, leaving Samantha shuddering as the thrill subsided. Samantha knew that now she could not refuse Lyssa anything. Samantha let out a moan as Lyssa picked up the catsuit again, knowing what Lyssa would want from her. Lyssa lowered the catsuit to the floor and indicated for Samantha to step forward. Lyssa looked up at Samantha and ran her tongue across her glossy lips provocatively as if to hint at the delights Samantha could experience if she only took this step. At first Samantha could not make herself move, but slowly she lifted her leg and stepped into the gloss, one foot and then the other. Gently the slippery interior touched her. She shuddered with the delight which flowed all over her body. Samantha stroked the gloss with her feet, the pleasure increasing. Now she could not pull away.

Slowly Lyssa eased the catsuit up Samantha’s legs, the rubber went on surprisingly easily, but once it place the gloss clung skin-tight to her. Lyssa made Samantha wiggle her hips so that her bum sat perfectly into place in the rubber, holding it firmly, making it so shiny and slippery and Samantha was reminded of how Lyssa had appeared strutting around the room dressed just like this. Then Lyssa slipped in first one of Samantha’s arms, then the other into the catsuit, coating her back. Lyssa’s fingers grasped the zip and then slid it up right up to the top on her neck, sealing Samantha into the catsuit. The outline of her excited, rising, breasts were increasingly visible in the black shiny rubber though, clearly, there was room for the augmentation Lyssa had mentioned. Elsewhere, the catsuit fitted as closely as if it had been made for Samantha, as if, in fact, it had shaped itself to her over time. That fact seemed to Samantha, to hammer home that everything Lyssa had told her was true; sooner or later she was destined to become Lyssa. Samantha was unresisting as Lyssa guided her glossed legs into the glistening polished latex thigh boots as zipped the long, thin black zip closed. With her legs so sealed; Samantha rose on the high sharp heels, feeling her whole posture altered, her bum and breasts thrust out provocatively, emphasising the glossy clothes that now coated them. Finally, Lyssa took off her glossy gloves and eased them onto Samantha’s hands. Now Lyssa stood back proudly.

Samantha turned to look in the mirror hardly believing the reflection showed herself. Then, the realisation that this was real, swept over her. She tried to speak but she could only groan and moan in blatant sexual pleasure. She reached for the thigh boots to remove them but instead she began stroking her slippery bum and swaying sexily. She tried to undo the zip but her body would not let her, she began rubbing her hard gloss-covered breasts, groaning like some sexual creature. She began to thrust out and gyrate her body. Samantha could not stop herself, her mind was confused, but her body loved how she was dressed. Unashamedly, she began fingering herself through the slit Lyssa had left open. She orgasmed and then slumped back on the bed, her glossy clothes squealing as she did.

Samantha rolled around lazily on the bed exploring the rubber which clung to her body. She was powerless when the naked Lyssa clambered on her and began stroking at her rubbered breasts and up her thighs to tease her pussy and then her clitoris. Lyssa pushed through the open slit and her fingers now penetrated deep as she bent over Samantha so her tongue could trace Samantha’s nipples, erect in the rubber. Samantha writhed, hardly believing the pleasure, she could not stop herself grunting and moaning as she was swept with ecstasy. She orgasmed once more and shuddered pleasurably for long moments afterwards.

“Excellent.” Lyssa said with clear pleasure.

She eased back off the bed; Samantha looked up to see her smiling encouragingly. Lyssa reached round and unbuckled the collar from her neck. Then she held it tantalisingly in front of Samantha. Samantha knew now for certain that everything Lyssa had told her had been true. She had been right, there was no need to wait three or four or more years when she could become Lyssa right now. Samantha looked up at her with yearning, knowing that if she took the collar she would be finally transformed and she would become a sex-slave to a mistress she had yet to meet. Her body was hungry, however, eager to feel even more erotic, to become a beautiful, prized possession. Giving up her liberty to become such a being seemed just to add to the sweetness of such a change. Once Samantha might have asked for the collar, but now understanding a little more of the kind of life it would lead her into, she just knelt up, her hands begging like a bitch, making a purring sound that seemed so much more appropriate than words. Lyssa reached forward and closed and buckled the collar around Samantha’s neck. Samantha climaxed involuntarily and fell back exhausted on the bed.

“Lyssa, Lyssa.”

Samantha awoke to the sound of a voice. For some reason it seemed familiar. It was not loud, but its rich sultry tone stirred something in her: she felt aroused to respond to the call of that name. As she got up from the bed, she glanced in the mirror, and admired the silver stud in her nose, matching those in her ears. She pouted her glossed lips and looked at her sexily made-up face and shaggy honey blonde hair. She stepped out of the main area and took the few steps into the lounge part: it was from here that the voice had come. While the voice seemed familiar she knew it was not Lyssa and then she realised Lyssa that must have had gone. In the doorway Samantha hesitated. Her mind felt confused, she was finding it harder to think clearly and to remember who she was. Increasingly images of a luxurious court filled with courtiers and erotic sex-slaves like Lyssa filled her mind. The hotel around her felt increasingly strange, somehow wrong.

“Lyssa.” The voice came again with a soft, seductive tone.

Samantha strutted on, going fully into the lounge. A young woman with a sleek body, dark tan skin and long, jet-black hair was lying draped provocatively, not that was not the right term, Samantha decide, this woman lay invitingly, that was it, on the sofa. She was dressed just in a bra top, tight shiny cycling shorts and long clinging boots all of that lovely polished latex. As Samantha strode in, the woman looked up excitedly, seeming to recognise Samantha. She knelt up on the sofa and Samantha and moved her legs apart to show the slit in the rubber open to her sex.

“Jenna.” Samantha said, not questioning how she had known the name.

Jenna smiled and purred, she ran her hands over her shiny coated breasts and down the gloss to her naked pussy. She ran her tongue provocatively over her lips and gestured for Samantha to approach. Samantha walked hesitantly forwards, realising that she could not deny that her body was being tempted by this woman. While rationally she believed that she should have no sexual interest in Jenna, physically she felt a real desire to be kissing and stroking this woman and having Jenna do the same to her. Despite her concerns about what was happening, Samantha could not stop her pussy softening signalling that this was genuine arousal. Rather than walking away she found herself, without thinking, stepping in closer until she was standing right by Jenna.

Jenna took Samantha’s hand and stroked it over her own breast, then took it down to the slit over Samantha’s sex. Jenna slowly eased down the zip to expose Samantha’s naked, smooth pussy. As Jenna ran Samantha’s own fingers across the soft skin at her pussy lips Samantha realised that she was no different to Jenna. Increasingly she felt certain that she knew her, and more than that, not only was she aroused by Jenna but that they had already been lovers. She gently pushed Jenna’s hand across and stroked at Jenna’s own pussy lips. Jenna smiled, pleased that Samantha seemed to be learning her role. Jenna stood and her hand stroked Samantha’s firm bum. As she did Samantha realised she was wearing skin-tight rubber. It had felt so natural that she had not noticed. She glanced down at her body coated in the slippery gloss and the long boots she wore.

“No, I can’t. I have to leave.” Samantha blurted, her identity trying to regain control and stop her yielding to the change.

Jenna pulled back with an admonishing look.

“I must get out of here; out of these things.” Samantha said, rather panicked.

Jenna rested her fingers on Samantha’s lips, as if telling her there was no need to speak. She began purring and then stopped as she took her hand from Samantha’s mouth. She started purring again, looking eagerly at Samantha, encouraging her to copy.

Samantha hesitated, then, automatically, slowly began to purr and her body was lit up with excitement. Uncontrollably, she grunted, there seemed no need to speak. She felt so animal, so erotic. Jenna, smiled apparently pleased that Samantha was accepting the change and becoming just like her. She began to stroke Samantha’s glossed breasts. For some reason they seemed different, perhaps larger and firmer than she was familiar with.

Samantha tried to resist what Jenna was doing to her, to question all that was happening but the feeling was too arousing for her to be able to challenge it. She stepped back a little and closed her eyes trying to make some sense of all of this. Then she felt Jenna coming back close to her, her fingers stroking Samantha’s pussy whilst her tongue teased her breasts through the tight rubber in which her nipples were so prominent. Samantha opened her eyes and allowed Jenna to slowly lead her back to the sofa. Samantha realised she could not stop what she was becoming, what she was doing, and, as Jenna pulled her down, Samantha willingly entwined with her. As Samantha found herself wrapping her rubber-coated arms around Jenna and heard the rubber of her catsuit squealing with the action, she began to realise where Lyssa had gone. The complexity of her present and future selves, of travel between worlds, were too much for her disentangle. She realised that she was becoming Lyssa or perhaps was already her. Whichever, the last few minutes had shown that there was nothing she could do to stop the transformation.

As Samantha writhed with Jenna, their mouths and tongues chasing each others, Samantha’s pussy juicy, she began to feel her will to even question, let alone struggle against what was happening, fading away. She knew she had to break free, but her body would not let her stop the pleasure, it was keen to yield entirely. Slowly she began to feel her identity drift away, as she tried to think clearly, to keep a grip on who she was she remembered that her name was Lyssa. At that, her body shook with the thrill, Lyssa was a sex-slave, she was Lyssa, a sex-slave toying with Jenna, like her, a slave, but also her lover.

Lyssa had no sense of time passing, just of entwining with, pleasuring and being pleasured by Jenna’s body. In turn they toyed with each other until, with Jenna’s mouth locked on her pussy and Lyssa’s on her lover’s they climaxed loudly. As she slumped back on the sofa, panting, Lyssa barely heard the sound of her slave mistress, Cazine, entering the room.

“Jenna.” Cazine said and Jenna rose quickly from the sofa and knelt at her mistress’s heel, purring as she was stroked.

Knowing how to be a good slave, Lyssa knelt up, ready to be commanded. Cazine smiled, apparently pleased at Lyssa’s attitude.

“Lyssa.” Cazine said softly as if a little uncertain how the sex-slave would respond.

At the sound of the name, something in the slave seemed to rebel. Samantha shook herself and struggled to resist the urge to jump to her mistress’s heel, to purr her obedience. Slowly she did slide from the sofa and stood beside it, but did not move any closer to Cazine. She knew that her very identity hung in the balance. Her whole future would be decided in the next few seconds.

“Lyssa, come to me.” Cazine said gently. “Come to me, my beautiful slave. Come with me to where you truly belong.”

Samantha looked down at her shapely body so sexily dressed in the clinging glossy clothes. Tentatively she reached out to touch the shiny collar at her throat and feeling it there knew for certain that she was nothing but a sex-slave and her body keen to respond to her collar name. She could not stop herself: she slowly moved one step then another towards her mistress. As she stepped forward her resistance was swept away and in seconds she was striding in her long boots to her owner’s slave mistress. Lyssa fell to her knees and looked up into that woman’s eyes.

Cazine smiled, clearly delighted with Lyssa’s response. She reached down and Lyssa heard a quiet click and knew that a lock had been closed on her collar; she liked that. Then, taking a leash from her belt, Cazine reached forward to attach it to the front of Lyssa’s collar. With another leash she did the same to Jenna.

“You know Jenna, Lyssa had been such a good slave that she came here to collect a special reward. You’ve been a good slave too which is why I sent you on ahead to celebrate with Lyssa. Now, Lyssa, your task here is complete. It’s time for us all to head to the hunting lodge of your mistress, the illustrious Senjar Har. I am sure she will have much use for you two at the party this evening. Rise. Ready yourselves”

Like Jenna, Lyssa stood up. She closed the zip over her pussy and wiped the sexual juice from her thigh. With her gloss-gloved hand she checked that the dildo in her boot was securely in place. Cazine then turned and led the two sex-slaves by their leashes back to the bedroom. Standing in front of the mirror she waved her hand, and the glass went hazy and then seemed to ripple like some vertical pool of perfect water. Moments later, she stepped forward, passing through the changed mirror. Close behind her the two sex-slaves, Jenna and Lyssa, followed. In seconds the mirror had returned to plain glass. The only signs that anyone had been here were a bed with a rumpled counterpane and the suitcase of some guest who had left without paying, well, not with money.