The Brainwashed Shopgirls Enslave a New Customer
Hypnosis has never been so trendy.
“I just want to feel like a different person for a while.”
The shopkeeper nodded, her gaze distant and fixed. Caroline frowned. What was up with this place? Sure, the clothing was amazing, but everyone seemed so zoned out! She glanced at the other shopgirl, a hottie lingering near the display windows, staring into space.
“She can do that for you,” whispered the shopgirl. “She designs for everyone.”
“The store. The brand. The woman. She.”
“Okay.” Caroline sighed, fingering the haute couture ribboned blouse in her hands, red and rough as an evisceration. “I’m not sure I even know how to put this on.”
“You should try our AR stylist,” breathed the shopgirl, glassy-eyed and barely clad. Was the new style just...skin? The shopgirls wore skimpy bras and low-rider jeans over heeled boots, but nothing else. They didn’t seem to mind, but Caroline couldn’t imagine doing that for a job. At least they had the looks for it.
“What’s that?” she asked, too distracted by the busty shopgirls to be interested in gimmicky tech.
“Our brand-new augmented reality tech can show you which of our pieces you’ll look best in before you even try them on!” The shopgirl looked ecstatic, almost as though she were having a religious experience. Or a sexual one. Yeah. Definitely a sexual one. “You have to try it. Oh god, you have to!”
“Okay!” Caroline backed away, holding up her hands. “Sure. If you want. What is it? Like an app?”
“It’s an experience!” The shopgirl was drifting to a black-curtained changing booth, still glowing but now more purposeful. Her hands were shaking. “You have to see. You have to!”
Cautious, Caroline approached the booth. “Do I need to take anything in?”
“No! No. Just please. Please. Enter.” The shop girl's face was flushed and her breasts rose and fell in rapid, sharp pulses. Caroline pokes her head into the room. It was completely dark. She didn’t see any mirrors, which was what she was sure would be inside. She ventured all the way in, curious now. What could the harm be?
The black curtain slid closed with a sharp whoosh and Caroline found herself alone in complete darkness. Not for long, though: a flashing pattern appeared on the wall before her, eliminating the darkness with its glow. It was simple, but oddly fascinating: a vector image of a bra surrounded by an eternally cascading swirl of black and white. The bra flashed black and white every time Caroline tried to focus her eyes on it. The more she tried to focus, the more she had to try to focus. It was tiring. Oddly satisfying. She felt a little dizzy and sat down, not wondering how she was so sure that there would be a chair behind her. The image of the bra was invading her mind, driving out all other thoughts as she struggled for any words to describe her situation. Soon words were gone too. Her body sagged in the chair, her eyes fixed on the bra that was now the only thing in her head. She could look at it forever. She could look at it and feel sexy. She could watch the bra and the spiraling shapes around it as she fell deeper and deeper, feeling sexier and sexier as she watched. The bra she was wearing was so confining, so ugly. She would take it off. Yes. She was completely obedient to the bra on the screen. Caroline’s hands worked independent of her will as they stripped off her blouse and bra.
In the darkness, a curtain twitched and a single green eye assessed Caroline as she kneaded her boobs with both hands, reveling in their firmness and size. The woman behind the curtain, beautiful, hidden, observed as Caroline, helplessly entranced by the screen, flicked and twisted her nipples like a sleepwalker trapped in a wet dream. But there were no dreams here.
The hidden woman leaned toward her microphone and whispered, “You want to serve. You want to come hard. You want to serve. You want to come hard.”
Caroline’s mind registered nothing consciously anymore. It was as empty as a cleared room, responding only to the prompting of her invisible mistress. Her hands wandered down her taut belly and opened her jeans, revealing barely-there panties laced in black. Still captivated by the screen, still enslaved by the voice, she slipped her fingers into her hot, wet snatch and began to caress her secret spot.
“Faster,” whispered the hidden woman. “You want more. Say it.”
“I want more,” Caroline said, pupils wide as her body responded to the pleasure of her masturbatory fervor.
“You want to serve. You want to come hard. You want to serve.”
“I...I want...to...serve!” Caroline’s body shook as she came on her hand, ejaculate running through her panties and ruining her pants. She gasped, then screamed, as the spasms of her arousal overtook her and crushed her under the wave of her orgasm. Still, her fingers moved faster and faster, the screen flashed, and her mind obeyed the whispered command: “Faster!”
When the hidden woman finally relented, Caroline flopped in the chair like a broken doll. Her blank face stared into the darkness, empty of all volition. Except for the rise and fall of her breasts, she might as well have been a doll.
The curtain slid open and the shopgirls stood before her. “Get up,” they said in unison.
Caroline rose and stood before them, her breasts bare, her pants halfway down her thighs.
“It is time to serve,” the shopgirls said.
“I love to serve,” Caroline responded. One of the girls gave her a bra, a turquoise version of their own. Caroline accepted it, her hands performing the ritual of snap, slide, rest. When she was done, she stood and stared.
In the darkness, the hidden woman smiled as the two shopgirls led Caroline away. The tingle in her pussy was stronger now, but she could wait. Nothing was sexier than watching her girls walk the floor, serving. Now she’d have one more to enjoy.