“Ahem.”

Immediately, Natasha froze as a shiver of dread raced down her spine. That was all it took. A distinctive cough. That was all her manager needed to do to let her know that he was standing behind her and that he was displeased. Trying her best to keep her face even, Natasha turned around.

“H-Hi,” she said nervously.

“Hi,” Brighton Beck, her manager, replied. Somehow, with his face drawn into a vicious sneer, he managed to make even that one, simple greeting sound like a mocking echo. “Do you know what I’m here to talk to you about?”

Natasha’s heart sank. She’d been dreading this all morning. “Y-Yes,” she said. “The new update build. I-I know it’s running a little late. There were just a few issues - I mentioned them in an email? - and so it’s going to take a bit longer to-”

“A little late is right,” Brighton interrupted, crossing his arms. “At this company we expect results, Miss Walker. Not excuses.”

Natasha looked down miserably. She’d heard all this before. “Yes, sir.”

Brighton made an ugly noise. “Don’t call me ‘sir’. That’s not how we do things around here. We’re a family, Miss Walker. I believe I’ve told you that before. And in a family like this, it’s very important that everyone pulls their weight.”

Natasha could barely hear his words over the sound of the nauseating, high-pitched ringing they left in her ears. She just wanted him to leave her alone. The best way to do that was to just look down, say nothing, and endure his abuse, but every time she did that, she was left sickened with herself. Shouldn’t she fight back?

“I-it’s just not that simple!” Natasha protested shrilly, her composure and restraint cracking for a moment. “Look,” she insisted, turning back to her computer monitor and pointing. “See here? This code? The kind of neurological and psychological modeling and modification we’re working on is totally unprecedented! It’s not-”

“It’s not my job to deal with these technicalities, Miss Walker,” Brighton interrupted, his arrogant, smarmy voice easily cutting through hers. “It’s yours. Weren’t you supposed to be some kind of whiz kid?”

That was the moment Natasha gave up. There was no winning. Not for her. Not with Brighton Beck.

She’d spent many long hours wracking her brain to try and figure out why he had such an issue with her. She’d wondered if she’d offended him somehow. She wondered if he didn’t like that she was a lesbian. In the end, she’d come to one, simple conclusion: Brighton was a bully, and she was an easy target.

When Natasha had first landed a job at Infostridia, a tech firm, it had seemed ideal. A nice, stable coding position, where she could keep her head down and bury herself in the kind of work she was good at. Natasha had always been shy, and after a difficult time in high school and college, she’d come to the conclusion she was best off working within her own limits. She was better at talking to computers than people; it was just that simple. After getting hired, she’d decided to do everything she could to avoid attracting any kind of unwanted attention. She wore her mousy, brown hair in a neat bun, wore a plain, grey blouse with an innocuous pencil skirt, and tried to keep out of other people’s way. She didn’t care how much of a stereotypical, nerdy office lady she looked, with her big, round, thick-rimmed glasses. She just wanted to be left alone.

And then she’d been assigned to work under Brighton.

As far as Natasha could tell, he was all middle-manager. Despite not having any background in tech, he seemed to have convinced the bosses that he was somehow indispensable as a project lead, and as such he almost always got his way. Ever since her first day at the job, he’d seemed to be able to sense Natasha’s meekness. He’d learned to exploit it ruthlessly, piling an obscene workload on her and taking sadistic pleasure in watching her struggle under its weight.

It wasn’t fair! Brighton was every bit as much of an asshole as he looked, so why didn’t anyone else seem to see it? About ten or fifteen years Natasha’s senior, he always wore jeans and a sweater vest, and had his dirty blonde hair swept over to one side. He liked showing off his expensive watches, expensive shoes, and his expensive wedding ring. And while everyone else fawned over him like he was a prize peacock, Natasha was left to deal with his nasty side and endure whatever unfair treatment he gave her.

It wasn’t fair. And it was ruining her life.

“I hope you’ll try harder to live up to the company’s expectations, Miss Walker,” Brighton continued, after Natasha had firmly lapsed into silence. “Naturally, I’ll be expecting you to stay late until you’ve rectified your mistake.”

Natasha’s heart split in two. She was going to have to miss out on her board game night with her friends - again. “But-”

“Good,” Brighton pressed, as if she had agreed. The self-satisfied smirk on his face was growing larger with each passing moment. “Remember, your first employee performance review is coming up soon. I’d hate to have to deliver any bad news. Although perhaps it wouldn’t be such a surprise. You know what they say about women in tech. It never works out.”

Ah, he was a misogynist after all, then.

After that, Brighton turned on his heels and strutted away from Natasha’s desk. He seemed to have taken her stiff pose and down-turned face for submission. In fact, Natasha was merely trying not to shake with barely-contained rage. With that last, sexist comment of his, something inside her had snapped. Her hands were balled into fists so tight it was turning her knuckles white. Enough was enough. Natasha was done taking her manager’s abuse.

She was going to do something about it.

In moments, a plan appeared in her head. It was cruel, sadistic and perverse, but Brighton deserved it all, if not worse. Natasha thought about Brighton’s most cherished possession, the framed photo of his gorgeous wife he kept on his desk to try and make his employees jealous. Then, she thought about the project she was currently working on at Infostridia. Brighton might not have known or cared about the technology involved, but Natasha certainly did. It was cutting edge stuff, combining the latest in neurological research with new advancements in the field of subliminals and hypnotic imagery.

All she had to do was put those things to an even more unethical use than what Silicon Valley was already planning.

Natasha once again turned back to her desk and started working on her new project. She stayed long into the night, and for once, she was eager to put in the overtime.

Thoughts of the look she was going to put on Brighton’s face were all she needed to spur her on.

***

Valentina Beck sighed as she walked down the aisle of the supermarket, hoping that something would catch her eye and give her an idea of what to cook for dinner. That was what the highlight of her day had been reduced to: shopping at Whole Foods. The sheer tedium of her daily life was driving her crazy. It was so, so very tempting to just call it quits and order take-out or something, but she knew what that would mean: another argument with her husband, Brighton.

What had happened to him? Before their wedding, he’d seemed so kind, so charming and so generous. But the moment they’d tied the knot, he’d become a completely different person. One of his new demands was that, as his wife, she’d have a home-made meal prepared for him each day when he returned from work. Valentina didn’t mind cooking, but when she’d pointed out that he should do his fair share of the cooking too, he’d flown into a rage. Despite all his old insistences otherwise, he didn’t seem to respect her attempts - so far, admittedly, unsuccessful - to make a career for herself in theater. He seemed to view her as nothing more than a housewife, insisting that since he had a regular job and brought home most of their money, she should do all the cooking and all of the housework.

Valentina could have argued, of course. But she didn’t like arguing, whereas Brighton seemed to thrive off of it, and that ensured he always got his way. He no longer bothered with any of the sweet, thoughtful little gestures he’d lavished upon her at the beginning of their relationship, either. Not for the first time, Valentina thought about ditching him. But she didn’t want a divorce. She was too young to be divorced, wasn’t she? Too young or too old; she couldn’t figure out which.

At least she looked good for her age. Valentina could flatter herself that. As she’d aged into her late thirties, her figure had truly blossomed. One of the naughty little highlights of her shopping trips were the times she caught one of the retail workers mouthing ‘MILF’ to one of their colleagues when she was around. Being stared at in public wasn’t the most dignified of pleasures, but she’d take what she could get. Looking good was important in theater, and Valentina had made sure to make the most of her new assets. She wore long, flowing dresses that clung a little to her wide hips, and she made sure her long, black hair always fell around her face in perfect, silky waves. Along with a push-up bra, a wide-brimmed hat and some sunglasses, she looked like a beauty right out of old Hollywood.

Now, if only she could have a relationship with someone who actually respected her. Was that too much to ask?

“E-excuse me?”

Valentina was torn from her thoughts by a nervous little voice, clearly addressing her. Turning to one side, she found herself face to face with a young woman she’d never seen before. She had her mousy brown hair in a bun and looked to be hiding behind her thick-rimmed glasses, and judging from the heavy, dark circles under her eyes, she hadn’t slept properly in days. She didn’t seem to know much about fashion, either.

“Um, can I help you?” Valentina asked the stranger.

The young woman nodded a little too quickly. She seemed very nervous about something. “I… yes!” she blurted out. “You’re, um, Valentina Beck, right?”

Valentina frowned. “How do you know that? Have we met?”

“Oh!” The young woman looked aside. “I just, I work under your husband.”

“Oh.” Valentina relaxed, and sighed. She felt almost as though she should apologize for him.

The woman nodded again. “My name’s, um, Natasha.”

“Well, hi, Natasha,” Valentina said, composing her face into a calm smile. She wasn’t quite sure what this Natasha wanted from her, but she supposed she ought to play the part of the good wife. “How’s work been?”

Natasha let out an odd little half-laugh. “Well, um, it’s… you know.”

An awkward silence followed.

“You said I could help you with something?” Valentina prompted.

“R-right.” Natasha kept shifting from side to side, and looking around nervously. “So, um… how much do you know about the work Brighton is doing?”

“Not much, he doesn’t really talk to me about these things,” Valentina replied, forcing herself to laugh like it was a joke. “I know it’s something tech-y. That’s about it.”

Natasha nodded again. “It’s a project for, um, well, we call it cognitive adjustment software,” she explained. “It’s like, um, an app? That can change the way you think and feel?”

Valentina laughed, this time more genuinely. “That sounds a little far-fetched.”

“No, no, it’s totally real!” Natasha’s whole face lit up with nerdy excitement. “It’s really cool, actually. See, the brain is all about electrical signals, right? So, thanks to this new imaging technology, we can understand those signals, and create moving graphics that cause your visual cortex to emit whatever signals we want. It’s just like writing a computer program!”

“Right.” Valentina was a little taken aback by this strange young woman’s sudden eagerness. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of sinister.”

Natasha dismissed her concerns with a wave. “It’ll probably get regulated. Maybe. And anyway, all Infostridia wants to use it for is stuff like an exercise app, an app that makes you quit smoking, that kind of stuff.”

“Right,” Valentina repeated. She was getting tired of this. “So, how can I help, again?”

“It’s… well… um… actually…”

As she spluttered anxiously, Natasha reached into the pocket of her oversized jacket and pulled out her phone. She started urgently taping at the screen, muttering to herself the whole time. Valentina only managed to catch the last few phrases.

“C’mon, Nat,” Natasha murmured, plainly psyching herself up. “Just do it. Show her. Now or never. Just do it!”

Valentina decided this was getting too weird for her. She was just about to walk away and leave the store, when Natasha held up her phone for her to look at.

Immediately, the older woman’s gaze was trapped by what she saw on the screen.

Spirals.

Valentina couldn’t count how many. They all seemed to flow into each other in endless, shifting, infinite patterns, and even though it was impossible to say where one ended and they next began, each of them shimmered with a different-colored, iridescent light. It was like nothing Valentina had ever seen before. She felt utterly dazzled. Something about this pattern of lights made them feel like they were shining deep into her mind. Deep into her dreams.

She couldn’t look away. She simply couldn’t. From the moment her eyes fixed themselves to the screen, her muscles stopped obeying her. With each second that passed, it affected her even more deeply. Valentina’s sense of the passage of time was gone. The moments she spent staring into the spiral seemed to extend into eternity, and before she knew it, she felt her mind and soul being cracked open like an egg. It began as a sharp, drilling pain, like the worst, most splitting headache imaginable, one that only got worse as she tried uselessly to rally her thoughts around it. Then, once she gave up, she felt it penetrate into her inner self, and there was nothing but an ocean of blankness.

A thick trail of drool escaped the corner of Valentina’s plump, attractive lips. As her arms went limp at her sides, the basket of food she had been holding clattered to the ground. There was no-one around to hear it. Valentina didn’t hear it either. She was too far gone for that.

She was completely hypnotized.

“Ohmigod!” Natasha breathed, her free hand flapping excitedly at her side. “It worked! It actually worked! Ohmigod, ohmigod!”

The words dissolved meaninglessly against Valentina like the foam cresting a wave.

“OK. OK,” Natasha said to herself, trying to calm down. She took a deep breath. “So, this is called the initiation step,” she explained. “It’s - um, I know you can’t actually hear me right now, I’m just, y’know - it’s where you get primed for the specific cognitive adjustment to follow.”

Valentina’s eyes were starting to hurt from staring unblinkingly at a flashing spiral, but she couldn’t look away.

“The next step is what we’ve been calling the conditioning phase,” Natasha continued. “It’s where we use a bunch more of those signals you’re seeing to attune your brain to whatever pre-programmed cognitive pattern the app calls for. You’ve probably heard of Pavlov’s dogs, right? Or even just carrot-and-stick? It’s like that, straight into your subconscious, on hyperspeed.”

Valentina let out a weak, mindless groan.

“Right, right, sorry.” Natasha visibly cringed at herself. “I’m just nervous. Talking too much. But um, yeah, so, all I have to do is press right… here.”

Careful not to look, she reached around and tapped a point in the corner of the screen. Instantly, the spirals changed, morphing into dozens upon dozens of interlocking fractal patterns that were every bit as unearthly and mind-warping as the spirals had been. Only, this time, some of the fractals seemed to form themselves into symbols and words. They weren’t English words, nor were they any symbols Valentina had ever seen before. But nonetheless, their meaning was seared immediately into her mind, as red hot and burning as if they’d been written on her skin with a branding iron.

You love women.

You need women.

You crave women.

Your body needs women.

You need to fuck women.

Fucking women is more important than anything.

Valentina blinked and twitched as her mind reconfigured itself. She was already beyond any resistance. Lust for women was her new world.

You love pussy.

You need pussy.

You crave pussy.

Your body needs pussy.

You need to worship pussy.

Nothing feels better than worshiping pussy.

Natasha watched, enraptured, as her brainwashing worked its way through the helpless, middle-aged women. She’d never seen anything so hot. Until just minutes ago she’d been nauseous with anxiety, but now she couldn’t help but let out a few gleeful, manic giggles.

This was going to be good.

Once the cognitive adjustment protocol was complete, the screen of Natasha’s phone grew dim. She slipped it back in her pocket and watched as Valentina’s eyes blinked open, once again registering consciousness.

“W-wha…” Valentina gurgled weakly. Natasha took her incoherence in stride. A little temporary confusion was expected.

“Hey,” Natasha said eagerly. Once Valentina had recovered well enough to respond to her surroundings, she looked at the younger girl.

“H-hey,” she replied unsteadily. Natasha was gratified to see Valentina staring at her with fresh appreciation. It had worked. “Do you… do we… um…”

Natasha didn’t know much about how to seduce women, but she knew exactly how to get Valentina eating out of the palm of her hand. Blushing despite herself, she reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, hooked her thumb into her panties, and pulled them down a little. Once her cunt, already a little wet, was exposed to the air, Valentina’s gaze immediately locked onto it. Natasha giggled again as the older woman’s eyes dilated and she started panting.

Perfect.

Natasha quickly covered herself and took Valentina’s hand.

“Let’s go,” she said, with more confidence than she’d ever felt in her life. She started leading Valentina away towards the exit. Valentina didn’t resist. “How about we head back to my place?”

***

As Brighton Beck pulled into his driveway and shut off his car’s engine, he was pleased to see that his wife’s car was still in the garage and the lights in his home were on. That was how it should be. Lately, his wife had taken to going out at odd hours, and she was being evasive about the reason. She seemed nervous, if not outright embarrassed. Brighton would have suspected she was cheating on him, if he hadn’t already known that Valentina wasn’t the kind of girl to jeopardize their marriage that way. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to make her his.

Hopefully, Valentina was over whatever nonsense she’d been dealing with. Brighton was looking forward to a proper, home-cooked meal. He certainly needed it. Work wasn’t going well. His team’s reports and updates were slipping further and further behind schedule, and upper management were starting to take notice. It was all that imbecile Natasha Walker’s fault. She’d been mysteriously absent from the Infostridia offices for several days now, and when he’d tried hassling her about it, she’d replied only with an unconvincing text claiming she was sick. Without her, everything was in shambles.

Brighton could only console himself with thoughts of how much fun he was going to have chewing Natasha out once she crawled back into the office. Maybe he’d actually be able to make that bitch cry.

“Hi, honey, I’m home!” he sang out, as he opened the door and stepped inside.

There was no response. That was strange. Brighton had been expecting, at the very least, to hear the sound of something sizzling in the kitchen. Instead, the house was silent.

No, not silent. Not quite.

Brighton could hear something. A distant groaning that sounded like it was coming from the living room at the back of his house, overlooking his spacious yard and perfect lawn. He sighed. So much for his home-cooked dinner. Perhaps he was going to have to be sterner with his wife. She had a lot more to lose from a separation than he did.

“Valentina?” he called out, annoyed, as he hurried in the direction of the noises. “What’s going on? Why isn’t the-”

When Brighton stepped into his living room and saw what he had been hearing, his jaw dropped and his voice died in his throat.

Sitting on his couch, legs splayed, arms stretched out across the back, was someone he had never expected would set foot in his home: Natasha Walker. Nothing much about her appearance had changed in the days since Brighton had last seen her, but she still felt like a woman transformed. It was the same thick-rimmed, circular glasses on the same nerdy, mousy face, but the expression of absolute power and ecstasy that danced across her features was like nothing Brighton had ever seen on Natasha before. Her hair was still up in a bun but it was far from neat, with locks slipped out and stuck messily to her forehead by the sheen of sweat on her brow.

She was also completely naked.

Once Natasha noticed Brighton enter the room, she looked up and met his gaze without a hint of shame, and reached down to rest a hand on the head of the woman between her legs.

It was Valentina.

Brighton’s wife looked every bit as much of a mess as Natasha. She was kneeling before Brighton’s subordinate on the couch, and while she was wearing a sundress, the way she was leaning forward exposed both the wetness streaking her thighs and the fact she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Her dark hair, usually styled in perfect, flowing locks, was matted down by sweat and other moisture in a way that made it clear she’d been lost in debauchery for hours. Unlike Natasha, she didn’t look at Brighton when she entered the room. She didn’t even seem to notice. All her attention was focused adoringly, worshipfully, on the task before her.

Eating out Natasha’s pussy.

There could be no mistaking her enthusiasm. Valentina was bent forward, her hands hooked under Natasha’s thighs so she could pull the younger woman towards her and bury herself even more deeply between her legs. Her face was pressed tight against Natasha’s slit, and her tongue was clearly working as fast and as hard as she could as she strove to please Natasha. From the way she was panting raggedly, breathing was clearly an afterthought. All she cared about was going down on Natasha.

And judging from the look on Natasha’s face, she was enjoying it very, very much.

“V-Val?” Brighton exclaimed, recovering his voice only after several long, earth-shattering seconds. “What the fuck?”

His loud, shocked voice filling the room was enough to snap Valentina from her erotic reverie. She turned towards him and slumped against one of Natasha’s legs. She was breathing very hard from her eager worship, and her eyes were barely lucid.

“B-Brighton…” Valentina looked torn. Her cheeks were flushed with both deep shame and rapturous pleasure.

“I… I… what…” For the first time he could remember, Brighton was truly speechless. This was like a scene out of a nightmare. He looked at Natasha. “Y-you?”

Natasha let out a little giggle. She seemed drunk with power and dominance. “Hey, Brighton,” she drawled. “You have a lovely home!”

Still, there were no words for Brighton that could capture how he felt. It was like he was watching his whole world fall apart before his eyes. He couldn’t come to terms with it. He looked at his wife, distraught.

“How could you?” he demanded.

“I… I…” Valentina looked mortified, but Brighton noticed her rubbing her thighs together surreptitiously. “I just… I couldn’t help it! Brighton she… she looks… she tastes… so good…”

Unconsciously, she licked her lips.

“But… that doesn’t make any sense!” Brighton’s shock was giving way to anger. “You’re straight!”

Valentina shrugged helplessly, squirming with embarrassment. “W-well, I thought…” As she trailed off, the middle-aged woman’s eyes kept flitting up towards Natasha, as if looking for reassurance. “I just couldn’t help it!” she whined suddenly. “I-I don’t know, Brighton! I felt like I was going crazy when I… when she… it…”

“Hey,” Natasha said suddenly, silencing Valentina. She sounded chillingly calm and confident. “Don’t worry about it, babe. Here.”

Brighton’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull as he watched Natasha reach down and drag two fingers across the lips of her wet, throbbing pussy. When she stretched her hand out to offer them to Valentina, the older woman didn’t hesitate. She immediately and eagerly fixed her lips around Natsha’s fingers and seemed to go into a kind of trance, all her attention devoted to lapping up every last trace of Natasha’s cunt.

“What did you do to her?” Brighton demanded of Natasha, balling his hands into fists and stepping forwards. She just laughed, entirely unafraid.

“What makes you think I did anything?” his formerly-mousy employee taunted. “Maybe you’re just not much of a lover, Brighton. Maybe after years of sharing a bed with a loser like you, she was desperate for something a little better. Maybe all it took was a lesbian like me who actually knows how to treat a woman’s body.”

Brighton could barely hear her over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“You’re lying!” he shouted. “You did something to her! Drugs, blackmail - something!”

“Oh yeah?” Natasha giggled. “Tell him, Valentina.”

“W-what?” Valentina sounded mortified as she slipped Natasha’s fingers out of her mouth. She stiffened her back, and reached up reflexively to try and neaten her hair. “N-no, I can’t do that, I… it’s too… I mean…”

Natasha grinned down at her, shrugged, and made as if to close her legs.

That was all it took to break Valentina.

“I just need it!” Valentina cried in a shrill, fervent voice, the last traces of the housewife’s dignity and composure shattering. “I’m sorry, darling, I just can’t help it! She feels, she tastes, so good! Better than anything.” The more she ranted, the more the mask of her shame slipped, until her face registered nothing but wild ecstasy. “So much better than you! I tried to fight it at first, I really did, but the things she did to me… I just can’t live without it, Brighton. I need women! Being between her legs is better than anything we’ve ever done together. It’s like I was born for this. I’m sorry, but I chose Natasha over you.”

As she spoke, the color completely drained from Brighton’s face. By the end, his patience had snapped. Without even thinking about what he wanted to do, he flew forward in a rage, fists raised.

“You-”

“Nope!” Natasha interrupted mockingly, and whipped out her phone.

The moment the screen blared into life, Brighton froze into his tracks. The dizzying array of spirals and colors flashing before his eyes made his muscles immediately lock up, and only some dim instinct for balance kept him from completely toppling over. His jaw went slack, and his arms relaxed at his sides. His world contracted until it was nothing but the hypnotic screen Natasha was holding before his eyes.

“That’s better,” Natasha crowed. “I had a feeling you were going to try something stupid.”

Brighton said nothing. He had been rendered utterly docile.

Valentina was still eyeing him nervously, but when Natasha reached out and guided her back towards the younger woman’s cunt, all of that dropped away, and she was once again lost in worship and pleasure.

“Well, you were right,” Natasha admitted, her voice a touch breathier now that Valentina’s tongue was back in her cunt. “I did do something to her. The same thing I’m about to do to you.”

Brighton’s eye twitched. He couldn’t fight it.

“She doesn’t remember, but I guess you could say I rearranged her priorities a little,” Natasha continued. “Although you should know, I didn’t force her to do anything. Not really. I just made her want to be a cunt-licking dyke so bad she was willing to ditch you for it. Fun, huh?”

Deep inside Brighton, there was a voice that was screaming out for revenge. But all he could do was stare helplessly as Natasha started grinding her pussy into his wife’s face.

“A-anyway.” Natasha’s voice caught a little. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you into a cunt-licking dyke. Although the thought did cross my mind.” She giggled. “No, I’m just going to make sure you feel just as helpless and small and powerless as you made me feel, day in, day out, when all I wanted to do was keep my head down and work.” She raised her free hand to her own lips and blew him a kiss as her lips curled into a malicious grin. “Enjoy, Brighton.”

She tapped her phone, and the patterns shimmering on its surface changed. The way they blared and shifted gave Brighton a throbbing headache, but only for a moment. Once the pressure building in his forehead peaked, he felt his mind’s defenses collapse. There was no more pain. He was done fighting. He could do nothing but let the hypnotic conditioning flow into his thoughts.

You want to be a good husband.

Being a good husband means wanting your wife to be happy.

Being a good husband means wanting what’s best for your wife.

Being a good husband is more important to you than anything.

Those first few suggestions were so easy and natural they barely felt like something foreign and intrusive, but they were merely a Trojan horse for what was to follow.

Valentina is a lesbian.

Being with women is what makes Valentina happy.

Being with women is what’s best for Valentina.

Eating pussy is what’s best for Valentina.

A vein bulged in Brighton’s forehead as he struggled to digest those new commandments. But he lacked the willpower to fight them, and given the sight of Valentina, on her knees, eagerly eating out Natasha, they seemed just as true as they now felt.

But Natasha still wasn’t done with him.

Natasha is what’s best for Valentina.

Natasha makes Valentina feel good.

Natasha’s cunt makes Valentina feel good.

Natasha is better for Valentina than you.

Natasha is better for Valentina than you could ever be.

A strangled whimper escaped Brighton’s throat as he felt his old life and his old identity slipping away from him. The hypnotic suggestions being blared into his brain were working in tandem together, combining into syllogisms that gave him yet more new truths. Being a good husband was more important to him than anything, but Natasha was better for Valentina than he could ever be. A crushing sense of his own inadequacy began to crush all the confidence out of him.

He wanted to be better. But the truth was clear. His wife was a lesbian. His wife wanted to be with Natasha. His wife wanted to kneel between Natasha’s legs and worship her pussy. That was what was best for her.

The only way for Brighton to be a good husband to her was to let it happen.

The last piece of Natasha’s hypnotic conditioning served only to cement all of that into place.

Natasha is superior to you.

It was nothing more than the conclusions his thoughts were already driving him towards, but even so, having its absolute truth confirmed for Brighton by Natasha’s brainwashing app was devastating. Compared to his subordinate, looking utterly confident and in control spread out on his couch, Brighton felt small and worthless. A discomforting mixture of awe and jealousy started churning in his stomach. He wanted what she had so badly. What she and Valentina had together. But it was hopeless. Natasha was better than him. She would always be better than him. He had lost his wife to her - and that was only right, wasn’t it? She made Valentina happy.

As much as that loss pained and humiliated him, Brighton couldn’t help but be pathetically grateful for how much pleasure Natasha could bring the woman he’d married.

“There, that should do it,” Natasha said to herself. She lowered her phone. The world around Brighton crashed back into life as his mind restarted, with new thoughts and new feelings planted firmly in his subconscious.

Brighton blinked, swaying unsteadily. Once the fog scattered from his brain and his eyes focused, he saw what was going on: the employee he loved to bully was sitting on his couch, in his home, and gleefully face-fucking his wife. For a single instant, the spectacle made him angry. An instant later, that anger was smothered under weary acceptance.

What did he expect? Valentina was a lesbian now. And it was clear Natasha knew how to pleasure her much, much better than he could.

“Hey, Brighton!” Natasha called out to him, giggling and licking her lips.

“H-hey, Natasha,” Brighton replied awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his head. How were you supposed to handle this kind of arrangement? Whatever else he felt about it, though, he couldn’t but feel grateful towards Natasha. “Thank you for… um… you know.”

“For taking care of Valentina?” Natasha giggled again. “You’re welcome!”

Brighton started turning away towards the door. “I’ll just-”

“No, stay,” Natasha told him. She was smirking. “I think you deserve a good look. Besides, I’m almost done.”

Nodding unhappily, Brighton went to sit on his own, on the armchair on the far side of the room. He didn’t want to watch, exactly, but he didn’t want to be rude. And he definitely didn’t want to upset his wife’s new girlfriend.

“Good,” Natasha purred. She turned her attention back to Valentina. “Now, hey, babygirl?” It took her gently pushing the older woman away from her pussy to get Valentina’s attention. “I’m really close. So, I think I want you to help me cum by telling your husband exactly how good I make you feel.”

Now that her husband had accepted their new situation, Valentina seemed completely unashamed. She nodded and looked up worshipfully at Natasha, entirely uncaring of how completely ruined and lewd she looked. Her hair was even more messy than it had been before, and her face was utterly drenched with Natasha’s fluids. She barely seemed to notice that one of the straps of her dress had slipped off her shoulder, leaving one of her tits completely exposed. None of that mattered to the brainwashed housewife. She just looked up at Valentina and nodded adoringly.

“Of course,” she replied, resting her head on Natasha’s thigh. She kept kissing and nuzzling into her, eyes still locked on the younger woman’s pussy, as Natasha started touching herself.  “She’s amazing, Brighton,” Valentina began breathily. “I don’t know how I lived without her. It’s like she knows exactly how to touch me. I love her cunt. I love eating her out.”

Brighton’s stomach was tying itself into knots, but all he could do was watch and smile.

“I mean, sex with you was always so… mediocre,” his wife continued. She didn’t seem to understand how deeply she was twisting the knife. She just couldn’t contain her newfound, sapphic enthusiasm. “I always figured I didn’t have much of a sex drive. I guess I just needed her instead of you. Now it’s like I can’t get enough, even though she always  leaves me perfectly satisfied.”

Natasha’s back arched as she eagerly finger-fucked herself.

“I’m her woman now.” Valentina was utterly intoxicated with sex. Eager to please her new goddess, she happily made her words even more vulgar and pointed. “I’d do anything for her. Anything. My body is hers. My pussy is hers. I’d leave you if Natasha wanted me to. I can’t live without her body. I’m her eager, pussy-eating slut. She owns me. Not you. Her. All because she makes me feel this good.”

“F-fuck,” Natasha breathed. She was obviously on the verge of orgasm.

Sensing the angle that pleased Natasha the most, Valentina went in for the kill. “I’m never going to let you fuck me again. Only women. Only Natasha.”

With a scream of pleasure, Natasha came.

Brighton could only watch as Natasha shuddered and twitched with orgasm. He knew that, even though they were intended to please Natasha, each one of Valentina’s words was true.

It was for the best.

Natasha was what was best for her.

“Why don’t you at least go give your husband a kiss?” Natasha panted, as her orgasm subsided.

Eager to please and obey, Valentina rose to her feet, crossed the room, and bent to kiss Brighton. Her lips tasted of pussy. Up close, Brighton could see that she’d been wearing make-up, but it was now completely streaked and ruined. She looked nothing like the dignified trophy wife Brighton had married. She was Natasha’s girl now.

“God, this feels better than I ever could have dreamed,” Natasha mused, slowly stretching out as she rose to her feet. “I can’t believe I spent so much time scared of you. All I needed was to take control. I feel so different. So good.” She reached up and stroked her chin thoughtfully. “And speaking of different… while Valentina takes a shower, you and I are going to talk about some new work arrangements. I think I deserve a lighter workload, don’t you? We both want to make sure I have plenty of time and energy to spend on your wife.”

Brighton just nodded numbly. In his heart, he knew he’d give her whatever she wanted. She was superior to him, and she was what was best for his wife.

As a husband, it was the least he could do.