Objects In The Mirror 1

The slave in the mirror couldn't escape. And so of course, neither could Kay.

All she could do was stare into those cloudy blue eyes, so vacant and unfocused as they gazed helplessly back at her. All she could do was watch her own fingers as they moved languidly to caress the soft, lush curves of her pendulous breasts and she moved right along with them. All she could do was smile in sleepy rapture at the sensations of pleasure that each slow, sensuous touch elicited from her own body. The slave in the mirror looked so happy to be hypnotized and brainwashed and compelled to play with her own heavy tits. Kay wanted to be that happy too.

And then she remembered that by definition, she was. When she looked into the mirror, she saw another blue-eyed blonde girl with big tits and a vacuous grin on her bubble-gum pink lips, and even as hypnotized as she was to the very point of disassociation, Kay understood that the slave in the mirror was the same person who was tugging on her nipples until they stood up stiff and proud and tingled with hot, heady bliss. It only seemed like it wasn't because Kay was in such a deep and profound state of trance that her perceptions were distorted and her thoughts moved with the sluggish laziness of a weak, wriggling kitten. Kay looked in the mirror and saw a slave. Who else could that slave be but her?

And who else could she be, but that slave. Kay knew Mistress had brainwashed her into placid, mindless obedience; she remembered every wonderful second of her descent into hypnotic oblivion, or at least every second she was allowed to surrender, but nothing compared to the visceral impact of staring at another obedient slut whose vapid, drooling compliance perfectly matched hers and realizing that the object in the mirror was her. And then realizing it again, again and again, the realization hitting her stupefied brain just as hard each and every time. Kay wasn't thinking very clearly right now, and her thoughts kept wandering the same mazy path to wind up at the same blissful revelation each time. The empty, brainwashed plaything she kept staring at was her. The notion kept dragging her back to that same moment of astonished ecstasy until it became a part of her.

And god, she looked so happy to be brainwashed and enslaved. Kay could see it in those fluttering eyelids, the thoughtless smile, the slow rise and fall of the impressive chest as the girl in the mirror sank ever deeper into Mistress's control and took Kay right along with her. Once again Kay got the inescapable impression that she was staring at a stranger, and once again her sluggish brain came to the realization that she'd gone into a trance so deep and helpless that she'd become a stranger to herself. It was hypnosis that made Kay feel like she was only watching the hand in the mirror move down from her tits to her slick and leaky pussy, just as it was hypnosis that made her confused and befuddled mind feel like the motion of her echoed self happened before she felt the sensation in her own cunt. She was too dazed and dumb and horny to think straight anyway. Mistress had already told her that.

Mistress was telling her things right now, in fact. Kay only occasionally noticed it--her slow, sleepy mind could barely hold onto the notion that the girl in the mirror was her, let alone keep track of her surroundings--but the soft, smooth, infinitely hypnotic voice Mistress had used to induce Kay's trance was also commanding her to do things. And think things. And say things. Kay watched her own lips move, hearing even her voice echoed by the mesmerizing mirror until it seemed to come from outside her body. That didn't seem possible, but then Kay reminded herself that she was nothing more than a silly, helpless little girl and it was so very easy for her to get confused about even the simplest things.

Or at least, she thought she reminded herself. It might have been Mistress's voice, intermingling with Kay's thoughts until she no longer knew how to separate them anymore. Kay's cunt tingled with deep pleasure at the idea. Whoever it truly belonged to.

She only gradually realized just how much pleasure she was truly experiencing at the moment. The needy, whimpering slut in the mirror looked like she could barely contain it all, and Kay had been so lost in voyeuristic excitement that she could barely even acknowledge the heavy throb of her own swollen clit... but somehow, when she felt herself struggle and fail to comprehend even the simplest aspect of her own experiences, the quasi-orgasmic haze of arousal settled onto her like a weighted blanket and she found herself brushing the ragged edges of a climax so intense it would absolutely obliterate her consciousness.

The moment she thought it--or the moment it was thought for her--Kay found herself suddenly struggling to hold back the unbelievable rapture that built inside her dripping cunt. It would blank her brain out, leave her an empty and obedient toy for Mistress to program and take the slave in the mirror right along with it. Only--only she was the slave in the mirror, wasn't she? Of course she was. Kay's eyelids had narrowed to slits and her head drooped forward onto her chest as her trance deepened into utter cataleptic paralysis, but she could still see the other blonde slut mimicking her every motion. They were one and the same, perfect playthings for Mistress to mindfuck and brainwash and use.

And the moment was coming when Kay would be perfectly mindfucked. She could feel it, the orgasm beginning to overwhelm her despite her best efforts to fight it, and she knew deep down that it would be worth every bit of the control she gave up to Mistress when she finally fell into the void of mindless ecstasy and opened herself completely to obedience. She didn't care anymore that she wouldn't be able to resist anything Mistress told her when she was cumming her brains out like that. She didn't care about anything but pleasure.

As she finally squealed in helpless ecstasy and her eyes slipped shut, Kay could hear the slave in the mirror screaming with pleasure right along with her.

* * * * *

The slave in the mirror couldn't escape. And so of course, neither could Elle.

Not that she wanted to escape. Why would she want to escape, when the slave in the mirror looked so thrilled to strum her stiff pink nipples with her fingers and sink deeper into hypnotic compliance to Mistress's will? Elle caught herself smiling at the absurd notion of desiring freedom from the spell of obedience that captured her so completely, her own hands moving in time with the girl in front of her as they played with their own lush, pendulous tits together. The other Elle's eyes relaxed into glassy, mindless bliss and Elle knew hers were doing exactly the same.

How could it be otherwise, really? It was a mirror that held the image of the perfect slave Elle knew she was becoming, and that meant Elle was seeing herself descend ever deeper into drowsy trance for her Mistress. If she got confused by what she saw, if she watched the needy slut in the mirror squirm and whimper and felt a dazed sense of incongruity that made her sluggish brain struggle to process something she was far too dumb and muzzy to fully understand, that was only because she was so deeply hypnotized that she no longer saw herself as herself. She looked at the blue-eyed blonde with the perfect blowjob lips and saw a stranger, even though by definition she knew it was Elle looking back at her.

And every time she remembered that, the pleasure it elicited grew more and more perfect. She couldn't resist the example of empty, compliant bliss in front of her because it was, in fact, her; Elle only forgot that inherent, inescapable truth because her brain had fallen so deep down the rabbit hole of hypnotized bliss that even the simplest of thoughts were difficult for her now. And so she swirled around and around the spiral inside her head, each time wondering why she felt such a kinship with the brainwashed fucktoy in front of her and each time realizing with the same rush of excitement that she was staring at herself. And every time, the sheer emotional impact of realizing that the drooling slut who was helplessly pawing at her tits was in fact Elle hit her with the same profound and powerful weight. She knew she was a deeply conditioned plaything, she'd even begged for it... but somehow seeing herself like that made the truth of it that much more inescapable. And who would Elle be seeing if not herself?

The question answered itself before Elle could even think it, coming to her in Mistress's smooth and sensual voice that overwrote all of Elle's dumb, slow, lust-drunk thoughts. She was seeing a masturbating slavegirl, a hypnotized fucktoy whose hand moved down inevitably and automatically to tease her soaking cunt so that she could masturbate herself ever deeper into trance for her owner. And if the action seemed to echo and distort, happening just a little bit before or a little bit after hers, that was only because Elle was so profoundly fractionated and so deeply disassociated that she seemed like a stranger to her own self. But the mirrored Elle looked just as relaxed, just as brainwashed, just as mindlessly happy to be enslaved as she knew herself to be. Nothing else mattered beyond that.

Elle needed to let go of the things that didn't matter, because her small and simple mind could only hold onto so much--especially now, when her own masturbating hand made her feel so weak and stupid that she got confused about which one of her was the person and which was merely the reflection. It sounded like her reflection was talking, whispering mantras of obedience that sank into Elle's blank, hypnotized brain... but that had to be wrong, because she could see her lips moving in the mirror and she knew that meant it was her reciting Mistress's programming back to the woman she could hear but not see. Mistress talked to her constantly, brainwashing her while she teased her wet cunt and made herself dumb and horny, but Elle couldn't turn to see it because that would mean looking away from her reflection and Elle's reflection kept her captured and compliant and submissive. And the voice in her ears kept dropping out of her conscious mind as the pleasure grew stronger and stronger.

Unless the pleasure was growing stronger because she was forgetting for Mistress. That always made Elle's cunt so wet to imagine, being so completely and totally brainwashed that the very awareness of her obedience faded away, leaving only an automatic and helpless compliance that felt better and better the more she surrendered to it.

Until there was nothing left of her at all, just a mindless object that came and came and came until whatever fluttering remnants of her consciousness struggled and failed under the weight of Mistress's inexorable, inevitable power. Elle could see it on the face of her reflection, that same intense arousal that left her needy and helpless and whimpering and utterly unable to contain the powerful climax that waited just on the other side of complete surrender, and seeing it there made Elle realize just how much pleasure she was truly experiencing at that exact moment. The slow, dawning astonishment at her own impending orgasm made her gasp with the force of it.

But of course they were experiencing the same pleasure. They were the same person, identical in every detail right down to the slumping head and the fluttering eyelids and the helpless descent into brainwashed ecstasy. Elle was the slave in the mirror and the slave in the mirror was her, two mindless objects that were one and the same and each one deepening the other's obedience. When Elle came, her reflection would cum too, and Elle wouldn't be able to resist the mind-melting orgasm that would open her up completely to Mistress's control because her reflection was already showing it right back to her. Elle didn't know if that was her own thought or Mistress's, but she knew it was true and she knew that her token efforts at resistance only happened because it felt so much better when she struggled and failed.

That was all she cared about, really. Elle cared about that moment of hot, wet pleasure when she finally realized she was too weak to resist and began cumming her brains out for Mistress, and everything else was already tumbling down into a void of mindless ecstasy that left her blissfully blank and obedient and overjoyed to surrender to the orgasm that was building between her thighs. Her fingers strummed her clit, knowing she only had moments left before she became a perfectly mindfucked toy just like her own reflection.

As Elle heard the squeals of her mirrored self falling into orgasmic oblivion, she let out a scream of helpless pleasure and allowed her eyes to slip completely shut.

* * * * *

And Mistress watched from across the room, drinking in the sight of the empty wooden frame and the two women--similar, yes, but only identical in their own hypnotized minds--cumming themselves into blissfully mindless surrender as they gave up on the entire idea of identity and became nothing more than toys for her to play with. She loved using them to deepen each other like this... and when they woke, when she finally allowed Elle and Kay to remember what she'd done to them, they would love it the same way they always did.

Until then, she had plenty of things she wanted her playthings to do. She got up, crossed the room, and slid the frame out of the way to allow them to mirror each other's worship of her body.

THE END