The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hattie Tanaka arched her back as her slave, detective Tracy Dixon of the Veneba City Police Department, did what she did best: lick her Mistress’s pussy. It was early Saturday morning, and both women were naked in Tracy’s bed. Hattie watched herself in the mirror she had made Tracy install in the ceiling. It was egocentric, she supposed, but Hattie had always been impressed with her body. Although she was of Japanese descent, she did not have the stereotypical Asian body. Her 34E breasts were flawless, and topped off an impressive and athletic 34-24-34 that would have made anyone attracted to femininity turn their heads.

Although her body looked like she spent hours in the gym shaping and toning it, she in fact rarely worked out, apart from sex. She didn’t need to. It was a strange phenomenon. Well, several strange phenomena, truth be told. This was not the way the world was supposed to be, nor was it the way the world once was. But after the Event, everything changed.

Nobody knew for certain what the Event was or what had caused it. Even Hattie Tanaka, known as one of the most aggressive and uncompromising investigative reporters in VERGIN, the most dogged news organization in Veneba City, had not been able to dig up much about it. Some time, about thirty years ago, the world had somehow lost almost three days. Nobody re what happened during that time. Those old enough to have been there said that they were just living their lives, then “something” happened, and all of a sudden, 69 hours were just gone. Everyone was fine. Everyone was still doing whatever they had been before, but it was nearly three days later.

It was the commonly accepted theory that whatever happened during the Event triggered the appearance of the meta-humans. People who had been perfectly ordinary human beings started to manifest strange abilities or appearances. There were not many of these metas, maybe a couple thousand, but it changed the world. Those who came forward as meta-humans were distrusted and sometimes outright hunted at first. Some manifested abilities immediately, others manifested later, and still others were not even born yet, but have been born since. Some turned to a life of crime. Others became heroes. Still others did everything in their power to hide their abilities.

Hattie Tanaka fell into this third category. There were very few people who knew she was a meta-human, and she liked it that way. It was not always easy to hide. For some reason, the meta-humans were almost all ludicrously attractive. The men, by and large, were muscular and handsome, and from all first-hand s, were hung like particularly proud horses. The women were almost all thin, large-breasted, and beautiful. There were some exceptions, of course, some metas whose manifestations related directly to their physical forms. But even the most mundane of metas were, generally, phenomenally sexy without really having to work at it.

Hattie had only been about five years old when the Event happened, and her physical beauty did not become apparent until high school. The moment her parents started suspecting that she might be a meta, they took every step to ensure that their only daughter would be protected. They started dressing her in unflattering clothing and threatened to pull her out of school if she didn’t listen to them. At the time, Hattie didn’t understand why they were doing it, and it caused a rift that was never healed. Her parents were killed in a car crash out of state when Hattie was eighteen, three weeks before she graduated high school.

The young woman didn’t even find out what her meta manifestation was until her third year at the University of Veneba City. Due to her parents’ over-protectiveness and their insistence that she focus on her studies, Hattie was socially awkward and terribly shy for her first two years in college. It wasn’t until her third year that she started to relax and cut loose, and maybe a bit too much. She had money that other college students didn’t, owing to her inheritance, and so she bought herself a house off-campus and started throwing parties. It got so bad that she was in danger of failing out of her journalism program in the fall semester.

It was after one of her parties in mid-November that she discovered her power. She had yet to date anybody, but there was one college boy named Mitch. He was on the football team, although he wasn’t a star player or anything, and as she eventually found out, he had a real thing for Asian women. She liked him, and he stuck around after one of her parties. One thing led to another, and they started making out on the couch.

After a few minutes of increasingly heavy kissing, Hattie’s tongue started feeling strange. She tried to ignore the sensation, but she got so excited from Mitch’s attentions that her tongue almost seemed to orgasm. It secreted a strange fluid that mixed with her saliva, and by nature of the kissing they were doing, some found its way into Mitch’s mouth. Hattie drew back suddenly, horrified and embarrassed, and covered her mouth, but Mitch didn’t seem to notice. In fact, his eyes seemed dazed, and he looked happy and satisfied.

It took her a long time, and a lot of experimentation, but she learned that the strange fluid her tongue secreted seemed to put people into a sort of trance. She got to the point where she could control the secretion, and produce it at will instead of only when excited. She found that one or two deep kisses could get most people to obey a brief command or follow a simple suggestion. A five or ten minute make-out session would allow her to give them a more complex string of commands. But the real breakthrough came when she went down on Mitch for the first time in early December.

By that time, Hattie had basically lost interest in Mitch as a potential boyfriend, but she had plenty of interest in him as a test subject. The first time she blew him, all she did was time his trance. She would have thought that using her fluid in his mouth would have been more effective, but no. That first trance lasted over twenty minutes, and when he came to, all he ed was a great blowjob. The second time she sucked him off, she filled those twenty minutes with instructions. To this day, slave mitchell is single, jacks off to pictures of Hattie Tanaka nightly, and sends her half his paycheck.

Hattie did not consider herself an evil person. She didn’t use her powers for world domination or to steal vast sums of money or anything like that. She just used it for a little bit of personal advancement. That next semester in college, she made sure to visit each of her professors. Some were easier to convince to let her go down on them than others. Two of them probably would have just given her a ing grade for a blowjob even without her powers. For the others, she needed to force a little unwanted make-out session on them before they agreed. Or, more accurately, before she ordered them to agree.

The most difficult, and the most life-changing for Hattie, was Professor McKenzie. McKenzie was her only female instructor that semester, and Hattie had, at that point, never been into girls. With the male professors, she was able to pretend they were young, athletic guys. But with McKenzie, she would need to kiss another woman, to lick another woman’s pussy. She wasn’t sure she could do it. As it turned out, though, Professor McKenzie was not only a knockout that all the guys in her class lusted after. She was a horny lesbian who, like Mitch, had a thing for Asians.

Professor McKenzie was even more willing than those first two male professors had been, but she didn’t want to start with kissing Hattie or having Hattie go down on her. Professor McKenzie wanted to taste her first. Not wanting to seem too eager to go down on her teacher, Hattie agreed. Hattie had ordered a few of her mind-fucked test subjects to perform cunnilingus on her, so she knew what it felt like, but it had never been as good as it was with Professor McKenzie. She was the best pussy-eater Hattie ever met, until she met Detective Tracy Dixon, that is.

Once Tracy had brought Mistress Tanaka to the reporter’s third orgasm of the morning, Hattie finally stopped her. She considered returning the favor, but it would just put the poor blonde into another long trance, and Hattie already had her so brainwashed that she could basically do anything to her. In fact, one of Hattie’s favorite things to do was to make Tracy forget she even knew Hattie, until triggered, of course. Detective Tracy Dixon was the perfect little informant within THEcinct, the police headquarters of Veneba City, and she never even knew it.

But Hattie was also a romantic at times. A personal or sexual relationship between a police detective and an investigative journalist would have been frowned upon, and likely would have cost Tracy her job, especially when people realized that Dixon must be their leak. Therefore, their relationship needed to be kept secret from everyone, including Tracy. So every time Hattie visited, she triggered Tracy to and worship her, and every time she left, she triggered her to forget.

Today was a lazy Saturday morning, and Hattie just wanted to cuddle up with her adoring and sexy slave and stream a few shows. After Tracy cleaned herself and her Mistress up, they got dressed in comfortable pajamas and snuggled together like girlfriends on the couch. They binged a show throughout the morning, ate a small, lazy lunch, and decided to switch shows after their break. A little after 1:00, Tracy’s phone rang.

Before Tracy could answer it, Hattie snapped her fingers and said, “Trance, slave.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Tracy said automatically.

“When you wake, tell me who this is. I will tell you if you should answer it or not. You will not consciously hear my voice or I am here. Wake.” SNAP.

Tracy blinked a few times, trying to clear her head, then looked down at her phone. “It’s Veronica Cain, my old college roommate and friend.”

“Very well. Answer it, but , you are alone.”

Tracy sat for a moment as her orders sunk in, and then she answered the phone. As she half-listened to Tracy’s part of the conversation, Hattie found herself thinking. She knew who Veronica Cain was. Everyone in Veneba City knew the Cain family. She had even interviewed Darren Cain a few times, trying to prove that he was corrupt and that his company was up to something. She had never been able to pin anything on him, though, and she had never been able to get him alone long enough to try to kiss him to bring him under her control. But if Tracy knew his wife, maybe this was her opportunity.

Hattie was able to pick up enough of the conversation to understand that Veronica was inviting Tracy over for dinner. Hattie grinned, and leaned over to whisper into Tracy’s ear, “mute the phone, slave.”

Tracy obeyed, and once she had done so, said, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Why is Veronica Cain inviting you to her house tonight, slave?”

“She is trying to set me up with a friend of hers, Mistress.”

“Perfect!” Hattie said. “You will unmute yourself and agree to go. You will be excited to go, and when you are there, you will be wearing a wire. I’ll be down the street, listening. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Then obey, and forget about me.”

Tracy shook her head to clear the fog, then unmuted the phone. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I accidentally muted myself. You know what? Sure, I’ll come to your dinner tonight and meet your friend. It sounds like fun.”

Beside her, Hattie smirked. This was going to be an interesting night. Either the Cains would spill some dirt to their long-time friend, or, at the very least, Tracy would be able to get an in with them. If Tracy were to start dating this friend of the Cains, then eventually, she could get her back to Tracy’s house. And that meant that Hattie would be able to take control of her, find out what she knows, and maybe even eventually get Veronica or even Darren under her spell. Either way, tonight was starting to look like the break she’d been waiting for.

The Cain Manor was as monstrous as it was beautiful. Located in an area of Veneba City unsurprisingly referred to as the Hills, it was a house designed to say, “We have more than you” even in a part of town where everybody was loaded. The Cains lived on the fabled Goldman Road, usually called the “Golden Road” by the rest of the City. Most of the city’s ultra rich lived along this street, on sprawling lots so that none of them were too close to one another.

Hattie Tanaka had been in this area before, but never for long. She was always surprised to see cars parked on the street. This was the sort of neighborhood where she assumed everyone took limos everywhere, or parked their imported sports cars in ten-stall garages well beyond their walls of stone, brick, or metal. But there were actually cars here, and no six figure ones, either. She saw a few SUVs, some small four-doors, and even a work van of some sort parked near the gate into the Cain Estate. The reporter shrugged. Maybe they belonged to servants.

She smiled at the thought. Maybe, after all, there would be a few new servants in this part of town soon, and she would be their mistress. She looked over at Detective Tracy Dixon, staring slack-jawed out the windshield in Hattie’s enger seat. They were parked just a short distance from the gate. Tanaka unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over, talking to her slave softly.

“Now, listen carefully. In a moment, I am going to awaken you from your deep, deep trance, and you will walk up to the gate and proceed through the evening as instructed. You will not me consciously, nor you that you have a microphone in your purse, until you see me again. You will only that you got a ride from a friend. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. I understand. Your slave will obey.”

“Good girl. Now, step out of this car and walk toward the gate. With each step, you will begin to come out of trance, and when you reach the gate, you will be fully awake. Go.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Tracy opened her car door and stepped out. She took four or five steps, and Hattie watched with domineering satisfaction as Tracy shook her head slightly before continuing her journey without any thought of looking back where she had come from.

She wondered absently if this kind of severe brainwashing might one day cause permanent damage to Detective Dixon. She hoped not. Despite the fact that she was using Tracy, she did have some fondness for the woman, and didn’t particularly want her hurt. But ultimately, Hattie’s desire for a story was stronger, and so she simply sat back, put in her earphones paired to the microphone in Tracy’s purse, and waited.

Tracy paused for a moment at the gate, likely to reorient herself after the extended trance Hattie had put her in, and then pushed the gate open and entered the sprawling Cain estate. For a while, then, there was silence in Hattie’s ear. Then she heard a woman’s sweet voice say, “Hello, Tracy!” There was a pause, and then the voice said, “It’s so great to see you, Tracy! You could have pulled your car in, you know.”

Hattie smiled as her slave effortlessly delivered the excuse she had provided for her. The other woman, presumably Veronica Cain, invited the detective in, and the two made small talk for a short time, none of it of any interest or use to Hattie Tanaka.

She had been a bit worried that the signal would break up at some point, but she had spared no expense—of other peoples’ money, of course—to get some of the best surveillance technology available. Even as the other two women journeyed deeper into the massive Cain home, Hattie could hear everything clear as a bell.

After a short time, Hattie heard a powerful male voice in her ear. She recognized it immediately. Darren Cain. Her lip curled briefly into a snarl. She had never liked that man. A man that rich, that intelligent, and with those kinds of connections was always neck-deep into something dirty.

He had to be doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, embezzling, running guns, dodging taxes, something! But Hattie had been investigating him on and off for years, and he was cleaner than any whistle. She hated to it it, but busting Cain for anything was becoming something of an obsession.

That was undoubtedly why she was willing to take this risk. If Tracy were discovered, it would beg questions, questions that Hattie’s mind-fucked sex slave was not equipped to answer. And if Tracy realized that she was being used, she might be able to break Hattie’s control of her, slim though her chances were.

Hattie suspected that she had pumped Tracy’s sweet pussy full of enough of her tongue juice to basically rewire the poor woman’s body chemistry. But if the Cains found out what she had done, they would pull strings. There would be an investigation. Hattie could be outed as meta-human, and that could ruin everything.

Hattie shook off her introspection as she realized that a new voice had entered the conversation, a dulcet voice that undoubtedly belonged to the mystery woman Veronica was trying to set Tracy up with. Hattie silently cursed her lapse of concentration as she realized that she had not caught the woman’s name. She had hoped to pull up some dirt on the woman while she waited. Fortunately, she was recording everything, so she would be able to go back later and check. She was just hoping to have something to the time.

As it happened, she found herself wishing even harder for something to break the tedium of other peoples’ meals. She listened to them drone on and on, always directing or redirecting the conversation back to Tracy’s work. To the mystery woman’s credit, she sounded engaged in the dialog, and Hattie began to form the opinion that the Cains just wanted this woman to be impressed by Tracy. Finally, as the sounds of dinner started to die down, Tracy finally managed to get the woman to start talking about herself.

The woman claimed to be in acquisitions, but the investigative reporter in Hattie Tanaka picked up on the fact that she did not say what, or for which company. Immediately, Hattie’s suspicion of this woman jumped to new heights, and she actually felt a sudden tingle in her pussy at the thought. If this woman was sketchy, and she was a close friend of Darren Cain, then maybe there was something there after all. If Hattie could break the story that Cain was not the public saint that everyone seemed to think he was, it would make her career for the rest of her life.

“I suppose,” the strange woman said, “one of the stranger things would have to be the snakeskin lubrication aardvark venereal enzymes.”

Hattie felt her eyelids flutter and her head, just slightly, rocked backwards. What had that woman said? Something about snakeskin? Or aardvarks? Maybe she dealt in illegal or endangered animal products? Tracy stammered out a response to that, but Hattie ignored her. It was the woman who she wanted to hear. She wanted to believe her.

“I am a very interesting person,” she heard the woman say, and that checked out to Hattie. From her voice alone, the reporter guessed that she was stunning. She found herself hoping that Tracy’s date with her went well, so that she could taste her sooner rather than later. “In fact,” the woman continued, “I am utterly fascinating. Don’t you agree?”

Hattie moaned slightly. She did agree. She needed to know everything about this woman. What secrets did she hold? What did she know about Darren Cain? This fascinating woman might be the secret to everything in Hattie’s life. She heard her talking again, directly to Tracy, but she did hear her say, “…you are starting to get so horny you can barely think.”

For just a moment, Hattie tried to question this thought. On her investigations, she was usually all business. Oh, sure, if she could get someone alone in a quiet enough place, she would kiss them into submission and then suck their dicks or lick their cunts until they told her everything she wanted to know, but that was just business to her. But as she thought about what the woman had said, she realized that she should believe her.

The proof was fairly irrefutable, after all. Her pussy was tingling. Her clit was throbbing. Her panties were soaked, and one of her hands kept drifting downward to play with herself. As she bit her bottom lip, she momentary forgot why she was there, or even where “there” was. She heard the woman say, “…you don’t think, at least not very well. Not while I’m around.” For a moment, the street vanished to Hattie’s perception. She hiked up her skirt, moved her panties aside, and plunged two fingers into herself while she fondled her breast with her free hand.

A moment later, the woman’s voice broke through her lust-addled fog. Hattie heard her say, “You are a horny, desperate pussy-licker. You are incredibly submissive to women you find attractive. You want to devote the rest of your life to a beautiful, sexy mistress like me.”

Hattie thought—or tried to think—about this. She had always thought of herself as a dominant woman, not a submissive one. Even before discovering her meta manifestation, she had always envisioned herself as one who would lead, not follow. But there was a part of her—several parts, really, counting the ones she was currently attacking with her fingers—that simply wanted to believe her. After all, didn’t that make everything so much easier? So much simpler?

Then she heard the woman speak again. She said, “opulent benedictory exclamatory yielding.” It vaguely ed to Hattie’s sex-mad mind that this string of words made no sense, but she felt like she was so lost in lust that her own full name would sound like gibberish to her. The next thing she heard through her earpiece, however, cut through the haze and hit her dead-center in the brain in a way that would change the entire trajectory of her life. She heard the woman say, “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced. I am Insinua. And you are my willing, obedient, loving slave.”

A powerful orgasm rocked Hattie Tanaka, and if anyone had been out on the street, they likely would have seen her car rocking and, likely, heard her scream of ecstasy. But the reporter was too far gone to care if anyone saw or heard her. She suddenly knew, with absolute certainty, what her purpose in this life was.

She had had it all wrong. She was never meant to be a dominant, mind-controlling mistress, like she had tried to make herself for the likes of Tracy or slave mitchell. She was meant to serve this woman, this mysterious goddess whose voice alone told Hattie she must have been the sexiest woman alive. All Hattie could think of was falling to her knees in front of this peerless, amazing being.

She was still rubbing her snatch when she heard her new mistress give her her first order. “Remove your clothes, slave. I want you completely naked.”

She was already reaching to pull off her blouse when she heard Tracy say something about “Yes, Mistress.” She did not dwell on this comment, however, as she was too busy removing the rest of her clothes. By the time she was completely nude in the front seat of her car, on a public albeit low traffic street, Hattie could no longer hear voices. She thought she heard her mistress’s voice, but she could not make out the words. With no orders to fulfill and with her thoughts still clouded with insatiable lust, Hattie Tanaka, once a well-respected investigative reporter and now loyal fuck-slave to Insinua, returned to her mindless masturbating.

It was quite a while later, and the mindless, horny Hattie had no idea how long exactly, that she finally heard the divine voice of her mistress again, and to her great joy, it was an order. “Crawl to me, slave,” she heard Insinua say. “Crawl to your Mistress. And every inch you crawl will deepen your devotion to me.”

Without even bothering to turn her car off, Hattie opened the door and sank to her knees on the hard asphalt of the street. The road was rough and uncomfortable on her knees as she crawled, but it didn’t matter to her. She was on her way to her Mistress, to the bliss of total, sexual devotion. She crawled, naked as the day she was born, from the street to the boulevard, the boulevard to the sidewalk, and the sidewalk through the gate to the path up to the Cains’ front door.

Hattie heard some conversation in the earpiece, but she was so focused on her crawl to her new mistress that she didn’t a word of it. Her pussy was crying out for attention, but it was more important to follow her Mistress’s orders than to satisfy her own selfish desires. She merely crawled on slowly, barely ing the discomfort from the hard pavement on her unprotected skin. With every motion forward, she fell even deeper in love with the goddess she had yet to even see.

After what felt like a torturous eternity, Hattie finally made it to the steps. “Well, well,” she heard that immaculate voice say. “It looks like someone’s been listening in on other people’s conversations without being invited. What have you got to say for yourself, slave?”

Hattie felt a surge of shame and fear at the thought of disappointing her Mistress. Despite this, she forced herself to look upward at the vision of loveliness looming above her. The woman was gorgeous beyond description. With her flowing red hair and dress to match, her piercing emerald eyes, her perfect breasts, and her smooth, shapely legs, this person truly was the most beautiful woman Hattie had ever seen.

“Please forgive me, Mistress,” Hattie said. “I just wanted to dig up some dirt on Darren Cain. I didn’t mean to do anything to you, I swear!”

“I see,” Insinua said. “And now you’re ready to be a good girl for your Mistress, is that it?”

Hattie nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Mistress! Ever since I heard your voice, I knew it was my purpose in life to serve you!”

“I do have that effect on people,” Insinua itted with a brief laugh. “But why should I accept you as my slave? I already have two millionaires and a police detective. What do I need an investigative reporter for?”

“Oh, please, Mistress! I can be so useful to you! I enslaved Tracy, didn’t I? I can do that to others for you.”

“You think you are a more powerful mistress than I am?”

“No, Mistress! No, you’re a goddess! You’re amazing! But you can send me out to claim others so that you don’t need to bother! I’m a meta-human. My saliva can control people. Please, let me serve you and convert more people to your worship!”

The red-haired woman cocked an eyebrow. “Well, now, that explains some things. And you would be my first meta slave. Hmm. Sit up. I want to see the body you are offering to your goddess.”

Hattie quickly shuffled around from her crawling position to a seated one, her perfect but bare ass seated right on the pavement. She knew her body was a great asset. If anything would convince her Mistress to accept her, surely it would be that. She arched her back, putting her physique on full display. Her magnificent 34E tits hung perfectly on her slender frame, her hips widening into a satisfying curve. She made sure that Insinua could get a good look at her pussy, too, tantalizingly dripping at the thought of serving her Mistress.

“Hmm,” Insinua said, considering. “Very nice, I must it.” She seemed to consider something. “Slave Veronica, did Slave Darren get the items I asked for earlier?”

For the first time since reaching the door, Hattie noticed that she and her new Mistress were not alone. To Insinua’s right, about a step behind her, was a stunningly beautiful black-haired woman that could only be Veronica Cain. To her left, stood Hattie’s former sex slave, detective Tracy Dixon. Both were stark naked and looking down at Hattie with expressionless faces.

“Yes, Mistress. As you commanded.”

“Good,” Insinua said. “Bring me the collar I ordered him to get.”

Veronica nodded and turned, disappeared back into the mansion. Insinua refocused her attention back on the nude woman supplicating herself on the ground in front of her.

“If you are to be my slave, slut, know that you will be expected to obey me, instantly and in all things. If I say ‘jump,’ you say ‘how high,’ ‘on whom,’ or ‘off which cliff,’ understand?”

Hattie’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Mistress! Anything you say!”

“Very well. My first command is for you to sit there. Do not speak or move until I command it.”

A few minutes went by as they waited. Insinua ed the time iring the Asian woman’s flawless body and stroking Tracy’s hair.

“I can see why you fell under this one’s spell, slave Tracy. But don’t worry. The tables will be turned tonight. You will get to play with your former mistress. Aren’t I generous?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Tracy said immediately. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Hattie said nothing, because she had been commanded to stay silent. Eventually, Veronica returned and, in her hand, held a black studded collar complete with a leash. Wordlessly, she handed it to Insinua, who smiled and held it up.

“I am going to have my slave Tracy place this around your neck. This will represent your total submission to me. You will not resist. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Hattie said with a euphoric smile. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Insinua handed the collar to Tracy. “Attach my slave’s collar, pet. Make it as tight as you like, as long as she can still breathe.”

Tracy stepped out into the cool night air, shivering unconsciously. She was unaccustomed to being outside naked, but the unfamiliarity of the circumstance was nothing compared to the thrill of obeying her Mistress’s command. She stepped forward to her previous mistress and put the collar on her, smiling at the thought of another order carried out. She then returned to the side of her Mistress and handed Insinua the leash.

“Very well, slaves,” Insinua said as a wicked grin formed on her perfect red lips. “Let’s break her in.” She turned around and gave the leash a harsh tug. “Heel, bitch!”

Hattie quickly moved to stand, but Insinua stopped her instantly.

“No! You will continue to crawl until I tell you otherwise. Slave Tracy, go get the strap-on that I ordered Darren to buy. I was planning to use it on you, but I have a much better idea. You are going to fuck your former mistress’s ass with it while Darren pounds that wet, sloppy little slave cunt. Slave Veronica, you will satisfy me with that tongue of yours while I watch my slaves play for me. I assume nobody has any complaints?”

“No, Mistress,” three voices chanted in chorus. Insinua grinned, and glanced over at Veronica Cain. “Good. And tomorrow, when your daughter finally comes home, you will help me enslave her, as well. And from there, who knows? All of Veneba City will be lining up to lick my pussy!” She pulled cruelly on the leash. “Come, slaves!”

And, several times throughout the night, they did.