“Welcome back, Mrs. Douglas,” the petite young white woman murmured as she walked casually around the couch to stand uncomfortably close to Clara. “Do you remember what this does?” she asked, clasping her perfumed fingers over Clara’s mouth and holding them in place despite the older woman’s sudden attempt to struggle free. Clara’s brain had just enough time to register the familiarity of the scent before her muscles went loose and lazy and her vision began to swim with deep, drowsy exhaustion. Her thighs, so carefully tensed together just moments ago, relaxed into wide open catalepsy, and the stranger leaned down until her long dark hair was tickling Clara’s shoulders and caressed the exposed panties.
“I see that you do!” she cooed, rubbing the delicate silken fabric until Clara could feel herself soaking through to make a damp spot just over her pubic mound. “Deep breaths, Mrs. Douglas. Let’s get every last little whiff of that scent into your lungs, shall we?” Clara couldn’t help herself, she sucked in great heaving gasps of air at the stranger’s suggestion. Her mind responded with ever deeper confusion, ever greater lethargy until her struggles were more pathetic and amusing than meaningful. The whole time she tried to figure out where she recognized that particular perfume from–it felt so intimately familiar, and yet she could no more recognize it than she knew why she’d walked into this particular club tonight instead of the dozens of other establishments up and down the Strip. It was… she was… Clara lost her train of thought and simply stared into the flashing, flickering lights that strobed down onto the dance floor. Her hips began to rise and fall in time with the other woman’s touch.
The beautiful brunette knew exactly how to play with Clara’s soaking cunt, rubbing her pussy with a confidence that left the moaning, whimpering woman on the couch quivering with pleasure. “It’s always so good to have you again, Mrs. Douglas,” she whispered as she stroked and petted the wet panties. “It’s always so good to remind you who you really are, and what your place really is. Don’t you just love it when I drug you into obedience like this, pretty girl?” It wasn’t a drug she was breathing in, it couldn’t be, but Clara couldn’t seem to convince her drowsy subconscious of that fact. She associated this particular scent with deep, helpless exhaustion of mind and body, and she had ever since… since… since always. And now she was slipping away into it. And she was going to forget again.
As soon as the thought popped into her head, Clara instantly forgot it, just like she forgot everything else that was happening to her. Even the warm, soothing voice in her head slipped instantly down into the memory hole, joining the deep and drowsy orgasm that hit her the moment she obeyed. Clara didn’t need to remember those things with her waking mind, because she was a good girl and good girls always felt their memories instead of thinking them. As long as Clara obeyed, she would experience pleasure. And as long as she returned here for reinforcement, she would stay perfectly obedient. The perfect, euphoric illogic of it made her cum all over again on the brunette’s fingers, and then right away it was gone.
“That’s my good girl,” the stranger murmured as Clara went limp. It was only once her slave achieved perfect, mindless vacancy that she reached down between her own legs and dipped into her slick folds for another dose of Clara’s very special, very hypnotic drug of choice.
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