Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 04

"Yes," Cindy said in a small voice, not able to look the other girl in the eye.

"Hey, Cindy, it's okay," Bonnie said, reaching out and putting her hand on the other girl's. "I'm different, but I understand. I've been with an awful lot of boys, and that's the kind of girl they all WANTED to have. It just wasn't ever me, you know?" She watched closely as her companion nodded to see if she really did understand. She seemed to think Cindy was being sincere, because she let the subject drop and changed topics.

"Hey, want to see what I do in here all day?" She bounced up and went over to a draped easel. She pulled the cloth off of it and displayed a still-life oil painting of the bedroom window and the meadow beyond. Cindy got up and studied the picture.

"This is good. This is really good."

"You're not just saying that?" asked Bonnie, standing back and canting her head, studying it herself. She paused a moment, and went to the closet, pulling out another oil painting of the same scene. "What about this one?"

Cindy frowned. "You were having trouble with perspective," she answered. "But you've fixed it with the new one." Bonnie grinned, as if Cindy had just passed some sort of test. "Was

Art your major in college?" Cindy asked, not looking away from the painting on the easel.

That earned a frown from Bonnie, though Cindy didn't see it. "No. I took a few courses. Aced them all, too. But Mom wanted me to major in Business. She doesn't even know I'm interested in this shit."

Cindy walked back over and plopped down on the bed again. "Do you really hate her that much?" When Bonnie didn't answer, she asked: "Do you want to hate her? I mean, if you could make things up with her, would you want to? Or do you think the relationship is just too far gone?"

"I'm not sure I like the psychoanalysis shit anymore, Cindy."

Cindy shrugged. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." She looked back at the painting. "Have you tried human form yet?"

But Bonnie just frowned and sat quietly for a long time, thinking. "Mom has never really hidden the fact that when I was born, it was a big mistake. I don't think she even has a clue who my real father IS."

"Yeah, me too," Cindy said, shrugging again. She spoke for ten minutes about her own mother, and how she came to be in the orphanage all her life.

Bonnie listened intently throughout the discourse. "That's some really deep shit." She gave Cindy a sidelong look. "Or are you just trying to win the awful-story contest?"

Cindy barked a laugh and stood up. "I'd better get back to work," she said quietly.

"Hey! You said that you'd do whatever anybody in this house told you to do, right? That includes me, right? If you can put out for all the guys, the least you can do is sit here with me and listen to some tunes and talk for awhile!"

"I've run out of Sunday," Cindy said, shrugging. "I have to work all day tomorrow, making up for the time I lost with Pablo ... and the time we spent altering my clothes ... and the time I've already spent here. I'd like to stay. I really want to stay ... no kidding. But I can't. I have to start in the morning at eight o'clock as it is. I'm sorry, Bonnie."

"You won't even consider playing hooky, just for one day, will you?" Bonnie taunted. "You won't consider that, because you're all trustworthy, loyal, helpful, and all that other boy scout shit, right?"

Cindy smiled ruefully. "I'd REALLY like to stay," she said meekly.

"Get out of here!" Bonnie barked. However, when Cindy turned toward the door, she yelled: "Hey!" and then smiled. "Thanks for listening, Cindy."

And Cindy smiled, too.

But the biggest shock of all ... the biggest thing that had happened to Cindy in the two months that she'd been there, occurred the next morning at precisely eight o'clock, when Bonnie showed up just as Cindy was finishing the last of her fruit and non-fat yogurt. She was dressed in a ratty-looking sweat suit, and she had a pair of rubber gloves clutched in one hand. Once she could find her voice, Cindy protested rather stridently, but Bonnie was not to be dissuaded. And so, together, Cindy and Bonnie finished the rest of the weekly cleaning schedule. They talked as they went from room to room; sometimes whispering to one another as they scrubbed one of the bathroom floors, side by side; sometimes yelling over the roar of the vacuum. They shared a couple of gossip magazines as they waited for the dryer to finish with the last of the clothes. They talked through their salads at lunch. They talked while working out during their exercise period. And, since the work was all done early because of the helping hand, they had the whole afternoon together in Bonnie's room, listening to music, surfing the internet, reading magazines and talking even more.

At the end of the day, Cindy couldn't think of one really meaningful thing that had been discussed, but she had NEVER talked to ANYONE so much. And, she had to admit, it had been just about the best day of her whole life! The one thing Cindy had never expected to possess had somehow miraculously come her way.

Cindy had a friend.

There had been no "mental conditioning" session on the weekend; but though she could never remember what was said during one of Stepmother's little sessions, she must have mentioned something during Monday's session that Bonnie was helping with her chores. At first, the elder lady was beside herself to think that her daughter was working alongside the hypnotically enslaved house-cleaner. She also seemed to think that her offspring's friendship might somehow threaten her hold over Cindy. But, while Cindy sat in the office chair and listened to her rant after her "session," Stepmother seemingly began to talk herself into the idea that this wasn't such a bad course of events, after all. With a "friend" in the house, Bonnie was probably less likely to run away. And Cindy, herself, seemed just as dedicated and loyal as she'd always been. The house was certainly as clean as always, too ... the laundry was all done ... the two men seemed blissfully satisfied, sexually. Stepmother desperately wanted to talk to Bonnie herself, but still greatly feared another confrontation.

And so, a new "norm" had been established. Bonnie didn't help every single day, and she always "stepped aside" and let the men of the house have their sexual fun with Cindy when those "chores" needed doing. She also seemed to have a morbid fascination in these affairs, and pressed Cindy for facts following each of these little trysts, sometimes demanding particularly embarrassing details. There was never any doubt about who the dominant personality was in this odd friendship, but Cindy appeared to relish that part of the relationship, never arguing, always giving minutiae when pressed to do so (though usually blushing crimson during those explanations).

Cindy's first outing came during the next week. Bonnie had helped her four of the six normal workdays, rewarding both girls with afternoons together in Bonnie's room, relaxing and doing "girl stuff," fixing each other's hair, doing each other's nails, reading, listening, talking. Even with the two hours Cindy lost servicing Pablo, they found themselves all caught up with the week's schedule at Saturday's end; and with the prospect of an ENTIRE Sunday at their disposal, Bonnie risked an argument by going to her mother and demanding that she and Cindy be allowed to go out together. Oddly, the woman had simply agreed. And so, they went riding at one of the nearby horse farms Sunday morning, went to a putt-putt golf course in the afternoon, and out to dinner and a movie that evening.

The first real crisis to the friendship came on Thursday evening during the next week. Following dinner, Bonnie had asked Cindy to come to her room to listen to some blues music and read the latest Hollywood gossip magazines. They had both taken off their shoes and were sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading, when Bonnie started the conversation that would eventually change things forever.

"You've never asked me why I dropped out of college," she commented.

"You're right, I haven't," Cindy replied, not looking up from her magazine. She didn't say anything further, and the silence dragged on for a long minute.

"Most friends would be really curious," Bonnie pressed.

"I AM really curious," Cindy said, still not looking up. "You'll tell me when you're ready. If you're never ready, you never have to tell me. I can live with being curious."

There was another long silence. "I think I'm ready now," Bonnie said, barely above a whisper. "If I don't talk to somebody about it, I think I'm going to go crazy."

Now Cindy put the magazine aside and gave the other girl her full attention. "Whatever it is, I don't think it's as big a deal as you're making it out to be. Most things aren't."

"It's pretty fucking big." Bonnie took a deep breath. She was shaking slightly. "I tried to kiss my roommate."

Cindy regarded her curiously. "I take it from your expression that did not go well with her."

Bonnie barked a laugh. "Well, THAT'S an understatement. She screamed blood-fucking-murder and then proceeded to tell all of her friends ... AND all of mine. She even complained to a couple of the campus counselors. I left before anybody took any official action."

Cindy sighed. "Why did you try to kiss her?"

"I don't know. She was ... well, I THOUGHT she was ... giving me signals that she was interested in me. You know ... little smiles, little touches, an occasional hug ... that sort of thing. She was also acting really shy around me. Innocent. But afterwards, she wasn't shy at all."

"It sounds to me like there's a distinct possibility that she set you up," Cindy said. "She was probably after the attention she'd get if she could convince people that she'd been a 'victim.'"

Bonnie shrugged. "Yeah, I thought of that. No way to prove it, though."

"I'm sorry it happened to you," Cindy said solemnly. "I don't know what you can do about it now. You just have to move past it."

Bonnie regarded her for a long minute. "Aren't you going to ask the obvious question?" she said, almost accusingly.

"No."

Bonnie sulked. "What kind of friend ARE you?"

"I'm the kind that doesn't care about trivial shit like this," Cindy said earnestly. "I'M the one who's the household sex slave! And somehow, YOU seem to be able to get past that little fact."

"Ask it," Bonnie demanded.

Cindy breathed a deep sigh. "Golly-Gee, Bonnie, are you a lesbian?" she said, her eyes wide in a too-obvious, faked look of shock.

Bonnie glared at her, but then seemed to deflate. A tear trickled down her left cheek. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. "That is the real problem here. I really, really don't know."

Cindy's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, Bonnie. I didn't know you were struggling with this. I didn't mean to make light of it. Of course we can talk about it. We can talk about it all you want."

Bonnie reached out and took Cindy's hand, looking at it as she did so, seemingly surprised that her friend didn't shrink back or pull her hand away. "I've been with a dozen guys in my life," Bonnie began quietly. "More than half of those times I was sober, so I remember them pretty well. I have NEVER had the sort of reaction I saw you have with Pablo in the shower that time. In fact ... I don't think I've ever really LIKED sex." She shrugged. "It's not repulsive or anything ... well, not really. But almost every time I've ever done it, I wound up wishing I hadn't. You know what I mean? You LOVE giving up control during sex ... I could tell, just by watching you. But ... I don't! I hate that! Do you understand?"

"Yes," Cindy said honestly. "Yes, I understand perfectly."

"Seeing a girl act all shy and submissive is a real turn-on for a guy," Bonnie explained. "But that's the problem, you see. Because it's a real turn-on for ME, too!"

Cindy couldn't look her friend in the eye anymore. She looked down and took a breath. "And I turn you on," she said in a half-whisper.

"Oh, yeah. You really do."

Cindy tried to talk, but there was a catch in her throat. She took a breath, swallowed, took another deep breath. "Is that what ... THIS is about? Us, I mean. Our ... 'friendship.'"

Bonnie gave a little laugh. "Is that what YOU think it is?"

Cindy smiled, despite herself. "NOW who's being all psychological?" she accused.

"Will you help me?" Bonnie begged. "Will you help me figure out what's going on in my warped fucking brain?"

"What do you want me to do?" Cindy asked in a whisper. She still couldn't look up and meet Bonnie's eyes.

"Well, first of all, I really, really, really need to kiss a girl that I'm attracted to. I need to see if there's anything actually THERE, you know? I need to act out one or two of the fucking fantasies that have been stuck in my head for so long. I need to DOMINATE a submissive girl. I need to see what it's like. I need to feel the power that the men in this fucking house feel whenever they're with you. Just once, I need to see if I get the same sort of sexual rush that THEY get!"

"You want to make love to me," Cindy said, crying now.

"Is the idea of doing it with a woman that abhorrent to you?" Bonnie asked, concerned.

Cindy shrugged. "I've never thought about it. I suppose that I've never really WANTED to think about it. But I know that we'll never be the same again. No matter what happens; whether I like it or not; whether YOU like it or not; I don't think we'll ever really be the same kind of friends anymore."

"Friends TRUST each other," Bonnie said patiently. "Will you trust me?"

Cindy sighed. "Yes. No matter what I think is going to happen, I will trust you. I'll obey you. I'll submit to you. I'll be your sex slave. I'll do whatever you tell me. You have my word."

Bonnie was still holding her hand. "Thanks, friend," she said quietly. They were silent for several long minutes. "We'll do it tomorrow night, after dinner. Come back here then, just like you did tonight."

And without another word, Cindy got up and left.

The next day, Bonnie didn't help with the housework, and there didn't seem to be an opportunity for the two girls to talk. Even during the workout session, they only communicated in short, monosyllables. They both seemed nervous and distant, but Cindy especially appeared to harbor a deep-set melancholy. On a whim, she decided to walk to Bonnie's room wearing only the robe she wore in her own, and she padded down the hallways in bare feet and knocked on the door. Bonnie herself was only wearing a bathrobe, and her short hair was still damp from a shower.

"Well, YOU look ready for action!" Bonnie said brightly, but Cindy couldn't return the smile, and found it difficult to even meet the other girl's eyes. "You really don't trust me, do you?" Bonnie continued, more subdued.

"I know that you think this won't matter to us," Cindy replied sullenly. "That it won't matter how we act toward each other, I mean. But if I've learned anything since I've been here, it's that sex changes everything."

Bonnie stepped closer to her and grasped her by the shoulders. Cindy shivered. "I'm your friend. You should trust me, okay?" Cindy nodded. "Now, drop the robe." Cindy shook nervously again, then undid the belt on the robe and dropped the garment on the floor between them. Bonnie stared at her unabashedly. "Holy shit, I can't get over how great your tits are!" Bonnie breathed. "You've been losing weight in your waist and hips and legs, but I don't think you've lost anything at all up top." She shook her head in amazement, stared for another long minute, then reached up and slid her own bathrobe off of her shoulders, letting it bunch up around her waist, where the belt of the robe held it.

Cindy swallowed hard, staring at Bonnie's slim, streamlined figure. She had never seen Bonnie like this, and she was surprised to find that the brunette's breasts were substantially larger than she'd imagined. The difference was that they rode high on her chest and appeared very firm, pointing straight in front of her. They seemed to fit her perfectly ... solid, no-nonsense boobs, for a solid, no-nonsense girl. It took Cindy several seconds to realize she was staring.

"This is it, Cindy," Bonnie said huskily. "I'm going to kiss you now. Please just let me take charge, okay? Let me kiss you the way the old man does ... or Pablo does. Let me dominate you ... do what I want, okay? Just let it go on for as long as I want it to, okay?"

"Okay," Cindy whispered.

Bonnie's hands slid down Cindy's shoulders to her upper arms, then further, to her elbows, and then her forearms. She lifted them without any resistance, and placed them on either side of her own head, then took another half-step forward, so that their breasts were pressing into each other's. Cindy couldn't help but gasp at the feeling, and then she gasped yet again when she felt Bonnie's hands on her bare sides. They were both shaking in anticipation. "Look at me, sis," Bonnie ordered. Cindy wasn't sure if she was simply reacting to an order, the way she reacted to ALL orders, or if this first use of that particular verbal endearment had shocked her into looking up at her; but their eyes met, and then the next second, their lips met, as well; and Cindy closed her eyes the way she always closed her eyes during a passionate kiss. And oh, this WAS a passionate kiss. Yes indeed, it was.

Looking back on it (as she did from time to time), she could never really remember when certain things happened during the course of the next thirty seconds ... or a minute ... or two ... or ten ... or twenty. Time just sort of stopped. At some point there, she realized that her hands, which had been so strategically placed on the shoulders of her friend, had snaked around the girl's neck, and then, further, one of her hands had gone to the back of Bonnie's head, her fingers in her hair, holding her there, trying to pull their lips, their heads, their bodies even closer. She was aware that Bonnie's arms were around her waist, her hands on the small of her back. And she was oh so aware that those hands could be moving elsewhere ... roving anywhere their owner wanted to touch, or to stroke, or to pet ... but they didn't. Oh, WHY didn't they?! But, they didn't. She became aware that their mouths were open (though she couldn't remember the precise moment it had happened), and that their tongues were stabbing, sparing, licking, roaming freely. But she DID remember the precise moment that the kiss ended, because she had just wished that this would go on forever ... and as if in answer to her wish, it had been promptly denied.

They remained in each other's arms, panting deeply, holding each other, their noses touching, their lips touching, their nipples touching, their bodies shuddering. Bonnie got her breathing under control with a sort of gulping sigh, and then she brought her hands back up to Cindy's shoulders and pushed her away. "And THAT answers that," she said, resolutely. She looked steadfastly into Cindy's eyes. "I will never do that to you again," she told her. "Ever. But now, I know. Thanks, sis."

"Sis," Cindy repeated quietly, swaying a little on her feet.

"The closest kin there is," Bonnie told her. She pulled her robe back up and around her shoulders, then turned and picked up something from her desk. "However, I'm not through with you yet. I still want to see what it feels like to dominate you physically."

Cindy looked at the length of rope in the girl's hands. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to hurt you."

"Hurt me?"

Bonnie smiled. "Do you trust me, sis? You trusted me before, and you didn't seem to mind too much. Put out your hands."

"W ... Why do you want to hurt me?"

"I'm not going to tell you. Not yet, anyway. Do you trust me, Cindy? Give me your hands."