Coming Home

Notes:

This piece was inspired by "Asking for It" by SensualFiend. If you enjoy the premise of this story and also enjoy M/F pairings, please check out their story as well.

While I have placed this story in the Mind Control category, I believe it would be most accurate to describe it as equal parts mind control and non-consent. If either of these genres is upsetting to you, I would advise you to skip this piece. Otherwise, thank you for reading.

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Ruth stood completely still as she looked up at the brownstone townhouse from the adjacent sidewalk. She stood this way, unmoving, for well over half an hour before she managed to take the first steps towards the door. It wasn't that she was nervous, but rather that she had practiced walking up these steps, practiced knocking on this door, dozens of times in her mind. Seeing them in person, only feet away from her now, made it all seem much more real than it ever had before.

When Ruth finally arrived at the door of the brownstone, she made exactly four sharp raps on the wood, just as she had practiced. She rolled her shoulders back to straighten her posture and appear taller, holding her hands firmly at her sides instead of playing with her hair or fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

When the door opened, Ruth looked straight ahead into the eyes of the woman who she found centered in the doorway. It had become a nervous habit of Ruth's to cast her eyes at the floor when someone tried to meet her eyes, but this situation did not allow for the luxury of shyness.

"Ruth."

The woman's voice was firm and calm, even as surprise tinged the edge of Ruth's name on her lips.

"I need to speak with you." Ruth felt a flutter of pride in her chest at the firmness of her voice: there was no wavering, no stuttering, nothing but confidence. Practice, after all, does make perfect.

"Oh. Well I'd be happy to speak with you, Ruth. Maybe we could schedule a time--"

"No!" Ruth said, only realizing how forcefully she had spoken when the woman raised her eyebrows in alarm.

"Sorry, I just meant..." Ruth sighed in frustration. "I need to speak with you now. Right now."

The woman in the doorway nodded quickly, stepping to the side and gesturing Ruth in. "Of course, Ruth, whatever you'd like. Come in, we can speak in the living room."

The woman, while surprised at the intrusion, seemed perfectly calm as she led Ruth down the hallway and to the living room.

"You can sit on the couch if you like," the woman told Ruth as she herself sat down in a green velour armchair in the corner of the room.

Ruth sat down on the couch, smoothing out her skirt and rolling her shoulders back again to sit up straight when she looked across the room at the woman in her green armchair, pretending not to be thinking about the last time she had been on that very couch. The woman had crossed her legs at the ankles and had sat herself down at a slight angle, as if she were sitting down with Jackie O. for tea.

"I'm surprised to see you, Ruth." The woman's voice was like velvet, smooth and luxurious in the most pretentious of ways.

Ruth flicked her eyes up to meet the woman's, offering her an acrid smile with her response.

"Why on Earth are you surprised? You don't think I had forgotten about you, did you?"

The woman's face didn't change, but Ruth could have sworn the woman drew a breath that was just a hair sharper than the last.

"I can't blame you, I suppose," Ruth continued smoothly. "I did forget. I forgot all about you, at least for a time. But I've remembered now. I've remembered all of it."

The woman shifted in the armchair very slightly, leaning an elbow on one of the arms of the chair and bringing a finger to rest against her lips, as if trying to put together a particularly fascinating puzzle.

"What do you remember, Ruth?"

Ruth's face darkened. She hadn't scripted this part. In all the scenarios she had imagined, the woman had done everything from laughing in her face to gloating over Ruth's extended torment. She had never asked for a retelling.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ruth's every word dripped with disdain. "Y-you can't possibly pretend like you don't know exactly what I'm talking about." Ruth silently cursed herself for stumbling over her words at the very central moment of confrontation.

The woman smiled gently, encouragingly. "Of course, Ruth. Even still, why don't you explain what you remember to me. Let's make sure we're on the same page about the past before we discuss why you have reappeared in my home in the present."

Ruth glowered, but didn't have a substantial retort at the ready to dispute the woman's logic. At the very least, detailing what she went through would leave no doubt that the woman understood, without a shadow of a doubt, what she had done to ruin Ruth's life.

"Fine." Ruth said, clearing her throat a bit more aggressively than necessary. She collected her thoughts, reminding herself to avoid looking at the floor as she spoke.

"You took advantage," Ruth began. "You took advantage...of me."

The woman smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in mild surprise. "How, Ruth? How did I take advantage of you?"

Ruth bit the inside of her lip. "We were at a bar, do you remember?"

The woman gave a noncommittal nod before Ruth continued.

"We were at a bar, I had been drinking...dancing. I was tired, I remember. I was just going to use the bathroom before I caught the bus home. But then... I was still in the hallway and all of a sudden you were just...there. You were there and you made me... you made me touch myself right there in the hallway."

"How did I make you touch yourself, Ruth?" The woman's voice was still velvety, but it was now coated with something close to condescension. "Seriously, Ruth, explain it to me. Did I ever lay a finger on you? Did I force your hand underneath that little red skirt you were wearing? Did I somehow push your fingers inside your panties? Squeeze your arm until you groped your own breasts? Because the way I remember it, you were doing all those things to yourself in that little dive bar downtown. I don't recall making you do any of it."

Ruth's lower lip trembled in confused anger. "No, no but you..."

"But I what, Ruth? I want to make sure we're remembering the same moment, that you haven't had some kind of mental break and fabricated a moment in your mind that simply didn't happen."

"You didn't touch me, you never touched me. But... but you told me to do all those things. I... I had to."

"Oh." The woman nodded, looking pleased. "So we do remember it the same. I didn't force you to do anything. I saw a pretty girl in a bar and asked if she wanted to have some fun with me."

"But you did! You did force me to do it!" Ruth insisted, blinking rapidly, her eyes darting everywhere but the woman's face.

"Tell me exactly what I did, Ruth," the woman chastised her gently.

"You told me...you told me to...to finger myself. And..."

"And what, Ruthie?"

"You told me to finger myself and tell you how it made me feel. How... how you made me feel."

"Hm." The woman nodded in approval. "Alright then, I remember that bit. It seems as though we may be on the same page after all. Very good, Ruth."

Ruth inhaled sharply, pins and needles slowly creeping up her limbs.

"W-well... well then after that--"

"No, no, no, Ruth, now hold on a moment. I think you're moving on a bit too quickly here. Now, you just told me that I had asked you to tell me how you felt as I watched you touch yourself, right?"

Ruth just nodded, feeling control of the conversation slipping through her fingers like dry sand.

"Alright, very good. And did you do that?"

"Did...did I do what?"

"Did you tell me how it made you feel to finger fuck yourself in that shitty little bar while a complete stranger watched?"

Ruth nodded again, her cheeks warming.

The woman smiled, leaning forward very slightly in her armchair.

Well, go on, Ruthie. What did you tell me?"

"I...I...I don't remember."

The woman pouted in disappointment. "Oh. Well I'm sorry to hear that. That was my favorite part. Perhaps I'll fill you in later." She gave Ruth a wink, as if they were in on a mutual joke. "Though... if your goal here is to unmask the truth, Ruthie... well, that is your goal, isn't it?"

Ruth gave a sharp nod.

"Right then. If the truth is what you're after here, then why don't we shoot for a bit more accuracy, at least for the parts that you do remember, hm?"

When Ruth didn't respond, the woman continued.

"Come on now, Ruthie, don't worry, I'll help you find your place again. You were saying that you were finger fucking your pussy in a bar while telling me how a stranger witnessing your self-degradation made you feel, right? But I think there's something missing from your little retelling, don't you? You know, I find acting things out can help me remember the past so much better, don't you? Go ahead, Ruthie, if you're here to tell me about how I made you feel, you might as well complete the picture for me."

Ruth's face, which had been slowly turning pink, suddenly drained of its pretty peach color. She swallowed, sitting completely and rigidly still for a few moments, dragging her eyes to meet the woman's. The woman, for her part, didn't speak, smiling silently, waiting for Ruth to proceed.

In spite of herself, in spite of her reason for coming to the brownstone in the first place, Ruth very slowly lifted herself up from off the couch and hiked her skirt up to her hips. She only barely realized it was the very same one she had worn the night she first met the woman as she sat back down, the cool leather on her thighs making her tense up.

"Almost there." The woman whispered, though Ruth could have sworn for a moment that she imagined it.

Ruth leaned back until her shoulders were resting against the back of the couch, her eyes never leaving the woman's face as she slipped her left hand down the front of her panties, now on full display.

"Alright, Ruthie. Much better. Much more appropriate. Now, where were you? Why don't you continue explaining...oh goodness what was the phrase...how I took advantage of you."

Ruth exhaled a shuddering little breath as she began to rub her clit with her index and middle finger.

"After I... after I had played with myself for a while in the hallway, I...I came. Right there...in the bar. I...I remember...I remember telling you I was terrified of what was happening. I felt so...so violated, being made to do...that in the back hallway of a bar simply because you wanted a toy to play with."

"See, Ruthie, I knew some tactile stimulation would help your memory!" The woman clapped her hands together as if she were watching a puppy do a new trick for the first time. "Though again, I want to remind you that I didn't make you do anything. Of course, your feelings and thoughts on what happened are your own, but I just want to be clear with you: did I ever lay a single finger on you in that bar?"

Ruth just shook her head, pressing her lips together to prevent the groan building in her throat as she continued playing with herself at the woman's behest.

"Well then, I didn't make you do anything, did I? The way you're spinning the story is a bit disingenuous...don't you think?"

Ruth shook her head again, distracted enough now to need a moment to collect her scattered thoughts.

"I...I'm sorry. I'll... I'll start again. I played with myself and...and came in the bar, telling you how I was terrified...b-because I couldn't believe how eager I was to finger fuck myself in a back hallway simply because a pretty lady told me how pleased she would be if I did."

The woman nodded, giving Ruth her permission to move forward, seemingly satisfied with the accuracy of the revised version of events.

Ruth took a moment before she was able to continue the story. She had inexplicably shifted so that she could press her index and middle fingers inside herself, her thumb taking up the task of playing with her clit.

"Y-you...you took me home then. I remember... I remember I wanted to push my skirt back down after you made me-- after I chose to finger fuck myself in the bar. I was... I was so worried someone would see me...so worried they would think I was a slut."

"Why didn't you push your skirt down before we left, then?" The woman's tone seemed to suggest that the question was rhetorical.

"I don't know," Ruth responded, close to tears as a little moan escaped her. "I...I just couldn't. And...and then you called a cab for us. And I... I rode the whole way with my skirt around my waist because..." Ruth gasped softly, some memory returning to her as she curled her fingers inside herself. "...because I thought...I thought you'd like it."

The woman smiled. "I remember that bit very well, Ruthie. You looked so lovely that night in the cab."

Ruth moaned again in spite of herself, a sudden jolt of pleasure corresponding with the woman's voice.

"When...when we got here, there were people inside... so many people, everywhere. It was... it was as if you had thrown a party and forgotten to show up until the last moment."

"Mm. Yes, I got a bit distracted at the bar and arrived a bit later than intended. But I'm not going to judge myself too harshly for that. You were a fine distraction, you know."

The woman's tone was playful now, jovial, as if she were enjoying herself immensely.

"I saw... I saw all the people and wanted to leave so badly. I was so embarrassed."

"Oh Ruthie, why on Earth were you embarrassed?"

"B-because they were all dressed...all in...in suits and dresses and I... and I... and I was..."

"You were dressed like a little girl who had gone clubbing and gotten fucked hard in the bathroom. Yes, I remember, go on."

Ruth cringed at the woman's words even as her fingers moved faster at the memory of feeling so small walking into the living room with her skirt around her waist, her face flushed, and her thighs wet.

Distracted as she was, Ruth couldn't manage to come out and say aloud what had happened next.

"What's wrong, Ruthie?"

Ruth's eyes snapped up to the woman, shaking her head as tears stung her eyes. "I can't...I can't say it. I can't s-say what I did next." Ruth's uneven breaths made her confession seem even more desperate than it was.

"Oh Ruthie, that's okay, it's okay," the woman cooed, keeping Ruth placated enough to keep from crying right then.

"Do you know what I think would really help, Ruthie?"

Ruth just shook her head in shame.

"Why don't you show me first, okay? I bet you that will make it much easier to explain. You've been so brave, I would hate for something as trivial as this to keep you from finishing your story."

Ruth just stood up from her seat and, without a word, moved to the end of the couch. The arms of the couch were high enough that Ruth had to stand on her toes as she sat herself on one of them, facing her hostess. Only when she had perched herself on the edge did she begin to grind against it, her head dipping forward in an intoxicating mix of arousal and shame at recreating her movements from that night.

Several minutes of silence passed, with the woman watching Ruth attempt to find friction against the leather through her panties.

Ruth was panting, balancing on her toes as she humped the couch when the woman finally told her to continue.

Ruth's words became as erratic as her breathing as she tried to explain what happened next.

"Y-you...you had me do... this. You had me do this f-for all of the people there to watch. And I...I couldn't... I couldn't stop myself. I didn't...didn't w-want..." Ruth paused, trying to catch her breath.

"What didn't you want, Ruthie?"

"I didn't w-want to enjoy it," Ruth panted. "B-but I...I did. And...and all the people watching..."

"Did you like the people watching, sweetheart?"

Ruth nodded frantically. "Y-yes. I liked them w-watching...I needed...I needed you to watch me. I remember... asking you...asking you to touch me...to touch me while I fucked your couch."

"And?" The woman's eyes had turned sympathetic. "Did I touch you, Ruthie?"

"N-no," Ruth moaned mournfully. "Y-you didn't touch me...you wouldn't touch m-me. Even wh-when all your friends laughed and told you that you were being cruel... you wouldn't touch me"

The woman smiled and looked up as if trying to remember. "Hm. No, I suppose I never did let you touch me, did I? I had almost forgotten about that part. But still, you make me seem like such a brute, Ruthie, making you pleasure yourself all alone in a sea of good company. I did give you something, did I not?"

Ruth nodded, the tears returning, this time running down her cheeks as she humped the couch, recounting her own violation.

"You had two of them...two of the...the men.. you h-had them..."

"Good girl Ruthie, I know you're trying, keep going, almost there."

"Y-you had them f-fuck me. They fucked m-me on the couch," Ruth said with a tearful moan.

"On the very couch you're humping like an untrained puppy right this moment, Ruthie?"

Ruth nodded, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. "Th-they fucked me...r-right here. A-and I d-didn't w-want them to...at least...at least I don't think I d-did."

"Oh darling..." The woman sympathized with Ruth even as she watched the girl very likely ruin the couch through her panties. "Why didn't you tell them to stop?"

The question seemed to stump poor Ruth for a moment. It was only after several shallow breaths that she managed to answer.

"M-m-maybe I did...maybe I did want them to...I...I don't remember. I...I just remember th-that I liked it wh-when..."

"You liked it when what, Ruthie?"

"I...I...I...I liked knowing y-you were w-watching."

"You liked knowing I was watching what, Ruthie? Be specific darling, now isn't the time to skimp on details."

"I...I...I liked knowing y-you were w-watching me g-getting fucked on your couch," Ruth cried, growing closer and closer to release as she revealed the most shameful parts about that night.

"Go on, Ruthie, what were you thinking about when they were fucking you on my couch?"

"I w-was th-thinking about you...w-w-wishing it was y-you who was t-touching me. I k-kept thinking that if I let th-them f-fuck me, y-you would see how g-good I could be and you would l-like me enough to t-touch me."

The woman nodded as if she had known the answer even before Ruth did. "And now, Ruthie? Do you still want me to touch you now? After all of this?"

"Y-YES!" Ruth moaned loudly, so wildly grateful the woman had asked her instead of making Ruth speak it herself.

"Yes? Yes you do want me to touch you?"

Ruth nodded feverishly. "Y-yes... p-p-please...that's why I came!"

"What do you mean, darling? Come on now, you're almost done, I promise" The woman's voice was soft but sharp as she rose from her chair and stepped towards the poor thing humping her couch.

"I...I c-came to ask f-for forgiveness. To b-beg you to accept m-my apology."

"What should I forgive you for, Ruthie?"

"F-for being ungrateful...f-for embarrassing y-you in f-front of your guests and r-r-running out."

"Alright Ruthie. Let's say I forgive you, right here and now. Do you think you should get to touch me then?"

Ruth's mind was spinning, driven mad by the idea that a single touch from this woman was within reach.

"I...I...I m-mean....I... uhm...I th-think..."

"Come on, Ruthie, you can do it. Plead your case for me, darling, help me understand."

"I-it was r-really hard for me to c-come here....and...and admit... admit I was wr-wrong."

The woman just nodded kindly. "Wrong about what, Ruthie?"

"Wr-wrong f-for ever... for ever leaving."