tagMind ControlHypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 05

Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 05

byblacknight99©

Chapter Five

Cinderella at the Ball


They were both right. Cindy had feared that the encounter would change them ... and it did. However, she was forced to admit that she and Betty were, if anything, even closer friends than before. Betty had sworn that this would be their only sexual encounter ... and she was as good as her word. She continued to help Cindy with the housework three or four days each week so that they could spend more leisure time together ... they even had another Sunday outing. She continued to be a bit of a slave-driver in the workout room ... and she DID increase the speed on the machines ... although Cindy found that, even though the periods left her gasping and drenched, she could STILL manage to finish the cycles without stopping.

But now, even though their time together was never spent in the act of sex, Cindy found that the topic of sex was ever more in their conversations. Betty wanted to know how Cindy's newly denuded pussy was received by her two lovers, and she had to relate the encounters in excruciating detail. Daddy had found her so irresistible that he had licked her to two crashing orgasms ... the first time that Cindy had ever experienced multiple climaxes. Even Pablo had been insistent on performing orally ... and when Cindy explained that encounter, Betty had commented that he had raped her with his tongue ... an observation that probably wasn't too far from the truth.

But the real topic of discussion was Betty and her newly discovered proclivity toward lesbianism, for she now had little doubt that was the direction in which her love life must proceed. Neither girl had any experience with the tender dalliances into Sappho's art, and so they engaged in a lot of "what if's" and various other forms of pure conjecture. They surfed the internet, but found that most sites were pornographic in nature. Betty didn't want masturbatory fantasy ... she wanted to find the real thing; but if there were any bars or social organizations in the city that catered to lesbian interests, they didn't seem to advertise.

Cindy certainly couldn't go bar-hopping with her; not at her age. And so, even though Betty longed for her friend's companionship in her quest for finding a potential partner, she started spending more and more time just going out. She would often leave in the late afternoon and not return until near midnight, most often after Cindy was already asleep in bed. It made her friend nervous. And it made Stepmother almost frantic.

During the second week of these little outings, Cindy began to notice that her "mental conditioning" sessions were changing. Over the months, Cindy had been putting herself into trance by setting and starting the metronome, and then simply allowing herself to sink down and down and down into the familiar state of being that was a wonderful dream-like condition she had rapidly become addicted to. She looked forward to these moments ... she desired them with an almost sexual intensity. She never remembered what Stepmother had told her when she was in her trance ... and more than once, she had noticed afterwards that her ears were rather damp with sweat and her hair had been pressed in on the sides, indicating that she might have been wearing headphones ... and so, she decided, Stepmother's hypnotic instructions to her might have been recorded in advance. Perhaps she was simply re-living the same trance state over and over again. However, each time she awoke from these sessions, she felt alive and happy and energetic.

But now, she found herself struggling up from the depths of especially profound levels of sleep ... like trying to awaken after taking a sleeping pill. She had the strange impression that she and Stepmother had been arguing about something, and this left her feeling disturbed and uncertain. Finally, after having awakened from what she somehow knew was the deepest trance she had ever experienced, she asked in meek supplication what the matter was. Stepmother seemed to be pouting, but finally appeared to give her a weak smile.

"I have discovered a willful streak in you, Cindy. It bothers me exceedingly."

"Willful?" Cindy pondered aloud. "Stepmother, I will do ANYTHING for you."

"Will you tell me what you and Betty talk about while you are together in her room?"

"Oh my," Cindy exclaimed aloud, looking troublingly down at her hands on her lap. "You ... you want me to ... to tell you what has been said to me in confidence? You want me to act as a spy against your own daughter?"

The woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You ... um ... have a way of making my request sound rather sinister."

"Oh, Stepmother, PLEASE don't make me do that! Betty is the only real friend I've ever HAD!" Cindy took a deep breath. Her eyes were threatening to spill over. "Can I just tell you that she is trying to work out her problems? That I think she's going to be okay? I really, really don't think that she's going to run away ... not any more. But ... but if she finds out that I betrayed her .... Oh, please don't make me!"

"She's been home for more than four months now," Stepmother groused. "I AM going to find out why she dropped out! I AM going to help her! Why does she confide in YOU and not in ME? And what could be so onerous that you ... who I thought I had broken completely to my will ... won't answer a few simple questions about her, even when I take you to the deepest levels of hypnotic control?"

Tears were streaming down both of Cindy's cheeks now. "There's NOTHING onerous! But Betty is my sister! She's my FRIEND!"

"Sister?" The word seemed to physically shake the woman. She sat back and regarded Cindy in new light. "Sister?" Cindy couldn't make herself look up. She tried to silently command her tears to stop. "Alright, Cindy," Stepmother said quietly. "I'm sorry I upset you. You may leave now."

And Cindy fled. She tried to find Betty, not really sure what she was going to say. Somehow, despite all the openness and honesty she shared with her, she had never actually TOLD Betty that she was being hypnotically controlled ... that most of her actions, sexual or otherwise, had been directed through a sort of consensual mind control. But Betty had gone out again, leaving a note in Cindy's room that she was going to meet up with some girls she'd met the previous week, and together, they were going to some bars downtown. She would be back late, the note said. Cindy finished her daily chores, worked out alone, and tried to listen to Daddy at dinner as he talked about some old British stamp he had won on an online auction. She resolved to read her novel (another of Stepmother's romance books) until Betty returned, but she kept nodding off. She stripped off her robe and climbed into bed, where she immediately saw her metronome in her mind, and just like always, she was instantly asleep.

The next morning, Betty rushed into the dining room while Cindy was pouring the skim mild on her cereal and hugged her. "I've FOUND her, Cindy!" she squealed, jumping up and down in girlish excitement. She was still wearing the clothes she's had on the day before. She stopped and looked around nervously. "Can we go up to my room? Can we talk?" Cindy looked forlornly at her breakfast, but smiled and followed her friend upstairs.

"It's her!" Betty cried as soon as the bedroom door was closed. "Absolutely! Beyond a doubt! Cindy, I'm in love!"

Cindy grasped the girl by the arms and led her to the bed, sitting down next to her. "I believe you! Tell me!"

"I met these girls last week, and we had a few drinks, and so yesterday, one of them called me up and they all wanted to go out again. And so, we had a drink in the Hyatt bar downtown, and then we left and we went to this upscale bar next door ... I don't even know the name of the place ... some yuppie pub that had ferns hanging all over the dining area, and I spotted her on the other side of the room, and she was with a bunch of girls, too, and she looked up and our eyes met. Have you ever seen West Side Story? It was like that, honest to God! And I got up and she got up and we walked toward each other and we met in the middle of the room. And I said: 'Hi, I'm Betty.' And she said: 'I'm Juno.' And ...."

"Juno?"

"Yeah, like the city in Canada. And ...."

"Alaska. It's the capital of Alaska."

"Whatever. And we sat down at a table that was open ... right there where we met ... and we both ignored the girls we were with. And we just talked and talked and talked. And Cindy, she's so SMART! I mean, she's got a degree in Electrical Engineering! But the job market being what it is, she's only got a job as a tech support person for some big software firm downtown. But ... oh, Cindy, I don't know what to tell you next! She's fucking PERFECT!"

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong next," Cindy hinted quietly.

Betty paused and seemed to shrink a little. She regarded her friend almost shyly. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

Cindy paused a few seconds. "What is it, Betty?" she asked tenderly.

"Damn, girl, you can see right through me, can't you?" Betty fidgeted and wrung her hands together.

"Whatever it is, it's probably all in your mind," Cindy said calmly. "Nothing is ever as bad as you think it is."

"It's pretty bad." Betty took a deep breath. "She's black."

Cindy couldn't help it. She barked a loud, single laugh before she could stop herself. "You mean she's African American?" She smiled askance at Betty. "Are you out of your mind? This is the Twenty-first Century! This is OUR generation! Nobody gives a shit about race anymore!"

"Louisville is in the South, honeychild," Betty said bitterly. "Or it THINKS it is, anyway. And oh yes, it does matter. You should have seen the girls I was with! You should have seen the girls SHE was with! They all sat there scowling at us. One of the gals I was with came over and confronted me ... wanted to know what if I was going to come back and sit with them or stay there and make sweet-talk with the black girl ... only she didn't call her black, if you know what I mean."

"What did you do?"

Betty reflected for a moment and shrugged. "I hit her, of course."

Cindy grinned. "Of course."

"And then Juno and I got out of there, and we went to another bar down the street. And we just talked and talked forever."

"And did anybody give you any shit in THAT place?" Cindy wanted to know.

That made Betty pause. "No."

"That's because: IT. DOESN'T. MATTER." Cindy said, punctuating each word. "And, it's red-neck bigots that REALLY don't matter. Ignore them. Love matters. Is it love, Betty?"

The girl smiled. "Oh yes. Yes, it is."

"Then I'm really happy for you."

Betty seized Cindy's hand and held it in both of hers. "Oh gosh, I can't even explain it! We split a sandwich and we had a couple drinks, and then I told her that I wanted to take her to a hotel room; and she got all nervous and smiled and said that she'd never ever done anything like that before; and I told her that I hadn't either, except that I'd kissed my stepsister because we were best friends and I just wanted to see what it was like; and I think that maybe she was getting a little tired of hearing about YOU, because I'd already mentioned you more than a few times; but anyway, we went to the big hotel next door and I got us a room; and we went upstairs; and she just stood there while I undressed her; and then we kissed; and oh, Cindy, it was just PERFECT! And she didn't know what to do; and I didn't know what to do; and we just kissed and touched and caressed and stroked and nibbled and licked; and she makes this funny little noise when she cums; and her body just seemed to melt into mine; and she was almost frantic because she just HAD to please me sexually, but she didn't have a clue what to do; and God, she's so fucking CUTE!"

"It's going to work out, Betty," Cindy said encouragingly.

The slender brunette shrugged. "We're like those two families in Romeo and Juliet."

"The Montagues and the Capulets?"

"How do you KNOW all this shit?" Betty said admiringly. "First geography and then lit. Anyhow, I'm afraid we have a forbidden love."

That made Cindy laugh out loud. "Give me a break! There may be a few religious wackos out there hung up on the lesbian thing that might call it 'forbidden,' but only social Neanderthals still worry about race, trust me."

Betty sighed. "Whatever. It doesn't really matter. She says her mom is going to freak. Hell, MY mom is going to freak!"

Cindy shifted nervously. "And speaking of your mom ... Betty, you have GOT to start talking to her. She's really, really worried about you. She's asking about why you left school ... but I don't think that's actually what she's concerned about. She's concerned for YOU! For your happiness! You don't have to TELL her anything ... but if you don't start TALKING to her pretty soon, she's going to flip!"

"Yeah. You're right. It's time to bury the hatchet. It's just that her idea of happiness is two ex-husbands, pre-nups that pay big, and the freedom to go get porked by somebody else."

"You think she has a lover?" Cindy asked, shocked. That had never dawned on her.

"Oh, you'd better believe it. I don't know who the guy is ... somebody she's been seeing for a long time, I bet. Probably since before husband numero uno. She's been sneaking out at night for as long as I can remember."

"Wow."

"Okay, I'll go talk to her. Juno and I are meeting again tonight. I can't WAIT!"

And so it was that Cindy's routine changed yet again. Betty was busy with her newfound love, and so cleaning duties were lonelier, as were her afternoon workouts. The hour-long sessions in Stepmother's office went back to their old custom, as well, since now mother and daughter were speaking again, at long last. There didn't seem to be any substantive communication going on, but oddly, that didn't seem to matter. They were pleasant, and that was enough to establish an uneasy contentment. Three times per week, Cindy had sex. In the evenings, she sat and tried to keep herself interested in her novel, and she wondered what the characters in the book were getting that she was not. Something was lacking, she felt. The sex was most certainly satisfying ... it made her body shiver and tingle. She liked the men she was with, even though they were so amazingly different. And, at the end of each day, she would get up, strip off her robe, and crawl into bed, only to be plunged into her hypnotically-induced slumber until morning and the start of another day.

And then ... catastrophe. Juno had shown up for one of their trysts, and she had told Betty that it was over. She had evidently confided in her mother, and the woman had come unglued. Betty didn't know if it was racial or the sexual orientation of the affair or simply the idea of sex at all. It must have been a horrible argument, for Juno (according to Betty) had been so upset that she seemed on the verge of emotional collapse. In her angst, Betty had insisted on driving Juno and confronting her mother along with her, but that had not ended well at all. In fact, Juno's mother had met them on her front porch with a loaded shotgun. When last Betty had seen her one true love, Juno was crying hysterically at her mother's feet, screaming at her lover to leave. Now, Betty was certain that her love life was over forever.

In the following week, Betty stayed mostly in her own room, moping and crying. She refused to eat until Cindy and Stepmother had joined forces and taken a tray to her room, refusing to leave until she had eaten something. Stepmother still had no clue that her daughter's lover had been another woman ... but, Cindy reflected, it didn't seem to matter anymore, now that the relationship was over.

It is important, in this, the next portion of our tale, to realize that the idea of the masked ball was Stepmother's, and hers alone. Neither Cindy nor Betty knew what had prompted her to start making plans for the affair. And anyway, it wasn't really a ball ... or even an actual party. There were to be only three guests, but Cindy was never made privy to any further plans, other than the cleaning of the main library in the south wing of the first floor. Stepmother DID press Betty into service for the event, and oddly, the girl seemed to come out of her melancholy shell and support the matter in the end, though she was rather unenthusiastic. Cindy asked her friend for details, but now even Betty refused to let her become involved in any way.

Betty and her mother spent a few hours in the woman's private office, discussing this and that. Phone calls were made. Pablo was sent to a costume shop to pick up hanging bags and wrapped parcels, and later, he was also given the task of fixing the hors d'oeuvrs. The event was set for Friday night. Thursday, Cindy tackled the library ... a room she had only been in twice before, since it was one of those odd places that nobody ever used, and so it was never actually in need of cleaning. She vacuumed, dusted and used furniture polish on the various library tables. The worst task of her tenure here, in her opinion, was the dusting of the books themselves. To her, it was as if she were an underpaid cashier who was forced to handle large sums of money, knowing that none of it would ever come her way. She loved books ... longed for books ... possessed an emotion akin to lust for books. The only volumes she was actually allowed to READ were those "loaned" to her by Stepmother; and their choices of genres were evidently vastly different. Cindy sighed and tried not to read the titles she was dusting, hoping only to finish her task and leave.

And still Betty seemed to be avoiding her.

The afternoon of the next day, things really started getting frantic. Daddy seemed to have no knowledge that anything was happening in his household at all. He spent the day in his Stamp Room, doing whatever it was that he did all day. Pablo pouted. This was his day to take Cindy sexually ... usually in his room. But now, his duties preempted this luxury, and he was busy in the kitchen the entire day. Cindy stuck to her schedule, altering it only to include two of the downstairs bathrooms, a sitting room and a den, none of which had ever been used during her tenure there. She was told to forgo her daily workout in order to include the extra tasks. Then, after dinner, Stepmother told her to go and bring Daddy to her office. He seemed peeved to leave his stamps, but answered the summons without comment. Cindy was surprised, moments after he had gone in and closed the office door, to hear the metronome clacking away at what she now recognized as his special rhythm. The goal of this occurrence was evident; he would sleep while the party was going on downstairs.

The doorbell rang about eight-thirty while Cindy was bringing up the laundry from downstairs, and since no one else seemed to be around, she went to the door and answered it. A tall, slender blonde in tight halter and miniskirt stood on the threshold, looking around. "Ho-lee shit, will you look at this place!?" the blonde exclaimed, stepping into the foyer, her eyes wide. She turned to Cindy. "Do you LIVE here!?"

"I work here," Cindy said calmly. "Can I help you?"

"Are you alone?" yelled Betty, walking down the big stairway. "Where's the other one?"

The blonde shrugged. "I don't know. She might be late."

"What do you mean, late?!" Betty screamed. "I thought you two were coming together!"

"Well, we didn't," the girl said defiantly. "Am I going to go to this party like this?" She held out her arms to indicate what she was wearing. "You have some sort of costume, right? Where do I change?"

Betty gave her a sour look. "Follow me!" she ordered, and led her up the stairs, Cindy following with the laundry basket.

"Hey," the blonde said, walking along. "Do you guys have any blow? You know ... just something to take the edge off?"

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