Raine’s eyes widened at the realisation, Esther’s lipstick coating the side of her jaw with an air of dark victory. The ginger vixen’s expression was far too gleeful to make room for guilt. “You… it was you the whole time?” Even as she spoke the words, Raine could feel her entire world begin to shrink. Her perceptions were shifting into a shape better suiting the kissing criminal’s designs, ego remoulding into one of a true, subservient footsoldier.

“You were my best friend, Rainey. You’ll make an even better slave. Lights out, pet.” With a blown kiss, Esther Young bid adieu to her outdated cover story and claimed her property at last.

The raven haired detective sagged, and Mistress Esther caught her with the benevolence of a true queen. Her eyes dimmed, and when she blinked the young detective’s light had gone completely—snuffed out and replaced by new, perverse desires. Raine wasn’t a lesbian before that fateful kiss, but in the dawn of a new and terrible future, she was reborn as little more than her owner’s dyke slut fucktoy.

And so, the case regarding the disappearance of the hero Mist suddenly went cold. The detective in charge just seemed to run dead end after dead end. Every time she threw her division off the trail, she’d be rewarded back home with more pleasure than a pent up plaything like herself could have hoped to understand before Esther. Her mistress was everything to her now; serving her was better than sex.

But… well… the sex was good, too.

A tiny rectangle of white light, littered with lines of black, sat inside reflective glass lens. Gold framed the round cut of glass, and through that reflection of the screen was an eye—aquamarine—staring wide at the monitor ahead of it. The room was void of all other light and the girl, Veronica, was void distraction. She read the final line of the story several times before deciding to tab out and open her private messages.

Veronica hesitated, a shy blush kissing her cheeks as she let her hastily dried fingertips hover over the mechanical keyboard in her lap. She was sitting cross legged on her desk chair, sweating through just a tank top and hotpants, with a sticky-scrunched up tissue resting feet away from her where she’d missed the wastebasket again. Her hesitation was no mystery to the fangirl, who was about to message her favourite smut author a glowing review of the woman’s latest work. Tara might as well have been Vee’s favourite author in general, because the girl barely made the time to read anything but the most depraved lesbian fantasies she could source on the internet.

Eventually, she plucked up the courage, arousal still clinging to her body like a free high. Free for now, maybe, but trial periods always have to end eventually.

Veebee: oh my goshh… Tara! i just finished Raine Falls and it was unbelievable >/////< as always ehehehe. like, god. im pretty sure you know my own kinks better than i do at this point, the drugged lipstick stuff was so hot im dying here sjkfnjkgnsklgnlkjfn

Tara: I’m so glad you liked it, doll. Your feedback is always so lovely, but remember what you agreed to call me in our private exchanges?

Vee bit the corner of her lip and looked around the dim room irrationally, before replying with mounting excitement.

Veebee: yes Miss Tara… god, im squirming now >.<

Veebee: i saw that youre doing commissions now!!! congrats ehehe, i might have an idea to run by you when i get paid

Tara: Sounds to me like you definitely do, girl. Looking forward to hearing from you, don’t want to keep your favourite author waiting too long right?

Veebee: you make me so flustered when you say things like that… awawa

Tara: I know I do, you’re too easy. I’m pretty busy right now, but feel free to gush into the void and I’ll make sure to read up later~

And just like that, their conversation had ended. Vee only realised after the fact that she was typing with just one hand; she really was too easy. She’d already gushed into the void once that evening, making a mess of her shorts in the dark of her room, but for Tara, she’d gladly do it again; the woman’s stories just had a way of getting into her head.

Soon, she’d have the money to commission the woman for a new piece, written just for her. Veronica got ready to gush again, wantonly, at the thought of such fiction.

Ronnie stared at the spiral, slack-jawed and stupid. Her resistance felt so juvenile in the face of the mesmerist’s pretty array of colours. The sight simplified her, and a giddy smile was pulled onto her simple little lips—painted on with spittle and sunshine.

“That’s right, girl, just get lost in it. Really lost, like a ship taken by the storm. It’s okay, dear, I’ll be your beacon in the rough night. I’ll help you navigate the turbulent waters of your mind, steer you into the safety of… servitude.”

“Servitude…” Ronnie repeated dumbly, giggling again as the spinning colours and gentle words pried deeper into her vulnerable head.

“Servitude. You want to submit to me, Ronnie. You need to be good for me. You can’t help yourself but blush like a schoolgirl when I pay attention to you. You crave more. More. More. More. Repeat that word for me now, Veronica. More.”

A tiny rectangle of white light, littered with commanding prose, danced against the lenses of Vee’s glasses. The brunette sighed, fingers buried inches deep into her cunt as she wistfully imagined herself as the victim in the story she commissioned.

“More…” She repeated, as obediently as the girl in the story. She was in sync with this fictional counterpart, not so subtly named, the darkness of her room helping her escape into the story that told her what she was: craven. “More… more…”

It became obvious to Veronica that she needed more.

veebee: holllllllly shiiiiiiiit Miss Tara, i just finished reading the story and… fdgdfghfdghdf its PERFECT! maybe the hottest thing ive ever read <3 <3 <3

Tara: I’m glad you liked it, doll. I’m quite happy with it, and now that I’ve got the commission slot free again I’m excited to see who else I can please just as much as I have you.

veebee: ohhhhh yeah well. >////< i maybe kind of want more?

Tara: More?

Veronica shifted in her chair, tugging lip between teeth as she remembered the way that the story made her feel, the strange bliss that blossomed in her tummy alongside the usual heat in her loins.

veebee: more. yeah! like, i have the money to pay for another comm! or a few more, ehe, if thats not too annoying Miss?

Tara: You're such a fangirl, huh? Aren't you a writer yourself?

veebee: i am! im still learning, but your stories really inspire me

Tara: I can see that. Guess you should keep paying for them, then.

veebee: its so hot when you put it like that, Miss... ill keep paying, okay? i need more... vee needs more >~<

Tara: That's a good girl, I can work with this arrangement! We don't need to pretend you're anything but my pathetic little finsub who gets off to giving me money for smut she wishes she could write. Tell me I'm wrong, that you don't aspire to be just like me. Hey, maybe that's what your next comm should be about~

veebee: iiiii god, im out of breath. i swear im not usually this much of a pushover, and i didnt think the findom stuff was hot before but with you its just... i really want to please you, Miss Tara. you uh, if you wanted to choose what my next comm is i wont say no to that either >~<

Tara: Read this first one a few more times while i think about what's best for you then, pet.

veebee: pet??? im mmelting omg, youre too much ehehe

Tara: Pay-pet, needing more of my words no matter what I charge for them. Maybe I'll up my rates, dear, just for you though. And maybe you should thank me for it.

The flustered prey sat ensnared, staring at the screen which reflected off its glasses into the darkness of the killing floor. She was being bled by praise and temptation and teasing words that the prose had primed her for. Taking a few deep breaths, Veronica attempted to tell the author she looked up to that things were moving too fast here, even typed out a full message suggesting as much, before feeling that fuzz of subspace in the back of her head that hit like nothing else she knew... and responding properly.

veebee: thank you, Miss Tara. im so lucky to be able to pay extra for future words, because theyre worth so much more than my own. more... just like in the story, right? ehe...

Tara: God. You're nice and stupid for me already, huh? That was such an endearingly pathetic response I think I have to keep you. As a supporter, I mean. I have to go write now, okay? You should try too, I do love supporting up and coming talents. I'm doing you a service. Talk tomorrow <3

With another slow exhale, Vee placed her keyboard back onto her desk and wiped her brow. She'd become so nervous she began to sweat, hopping onto her feet and pacing around her room with a look of confusion worn plain on her mousy face. What had just happened? The smut author she had been following for years just said such humiliating things to her with the confidence of a god, and Veronica found herself unable to deny the truths in that firm seduction.

"I don't even get to choose what the story I'm paying for is, now? God, what have I signed myself up for?" Even as she spoke the sobering words, Vee was beginning to turn herself on with the mere thought of actually going through with this. She was going through with this. When her mind registered that, in a delayed reaction that would only serve to prove the merit in Miss Tara's remarks about her intelligence, Veronica opened up the story she had let goad her into needing more and slid a hand into her shorts with a relaxed sigh. This was okay, she was simply having some safe fun with somebody she admired, and trusted, more than anyone. Tara would never take advantage past Vee's comfort zone, right?

As if she knew where that zone currently resided herself.

“S-Seriously? But… but that’s all I have!”

“Poor thing. Then I suppose this’ll be our last outing, you only made it a few months. Disappointing to the end…” Kara snickered, counting the bills in her hand while she addressed her well-bled pig. Her eyes did not bother to flick up and assess the damage she was doing to her little fangirl’s psyche, the trembling flower balling fists by her side and hovering close like a bad smell you just can’t get rid of. That’s all these girls are to Kara once their well runs dry: a nuisance to dispel.

“You’re… there has to be something I can do… I-I don’t get paid until the end of the month, but I’m so behind on my payments for—”

“Gina, honey. I do not care. You’ve got a week before I delete you entirely. Sell your clothes, that bag, your laptop—hell, steal from your folks for all I care… I’m just not interested in a sad little girl who cannot even pay for her superior’s meal.” The dominant woman curled her lips into a cruel, yet ultimately indifferent smirk. Gina knew she wasn’t the only one suffering from Kara’s hooks, but she simply couldn’t help herself.

The weakling wilted, carving the skin from her nervous lip with the cannibalistic fervour of one who knows she has nothing left but this. Kara came back into her life several months ago, her old bully from those best-forgotten highschool days, and she wormed her way into every facet of the meek thing’s tepid existence as she had once before. Rumours were spread—as though their days of cliquey bullshit never truly ended—and before long Kara was the only friend Gina could rely on to be there for her in the loneliest days of her life; Kara was a saint, liberating the socially departed from the hell that devil on the other side of the coin had caged her into. Gina was aware of the manufactured nature of her dependence, a loyalty that would soon commit her to financial ruin, but she would do naught to stop it. Kara’s attention simply felt that good; she really was back in highschool, and the cool girl was picking on her again. Finally, she thought, laughing at the state of her overdraft.

Gina was back in her fucking place.

Veronica shuddered. The screen’s glow taunted her glassy eyes, which fixed upon a scripture that slowly changed the inner workings of her mind behind the scenes. Every story, a new draft of Vee. After recovering from the haze of yet another enlightening work from her favourite author, one she paid good money for despite having no say on the content of, the first thing the girl did was sheepishly check her bank account. It was almost like the story she just read was about her, she thought, letting out a shy little cackle into the stuffy air of her bedroom.

“I’m not that… it’s not that bad yet, ahaha…” She assured herself vocally, a quiver in her voice at the compulsion to include the word ‘yet’; even in the privacy of her spineless whispering Vee had felt a strong need to be honest.

Another compulsion struck her, and Veronica found herself automatically opening her private messages with a hopeful little smile on her blemished lips, which were busted by the same nervous toll as Gina’s.

veebee: hi Miss Tara... >////< i finished Know Your Place and ahaha, im not normal. your writing really has a way of getting into my head yknow, you just push all my buttons... even the ones i didnt know i had! i was thinking a lot about kara and gina and like, me and you and there sure are some concerning parallels there huh XD

Tara: That's quite the active imagination you have, hon. Picturing yourself in her place? Sorry to disappoint but I'm not half the bully that Kara is, I'm very nice aren't I? I put your money to good use, I think, and I'll do it again very soon. There's a new pair of boots your next commission is going towards I just have to get my hands on. I might even send you a picture if you're good. From the website, I mean. Glad you're happy with the story!

veebee: ahahahrfdsghbh okay but i am actually getting a lil low on cash at the moment so maybe i have to hold off a littttttle on the next one? boot pics do sound so good though... i was going to say i could pay extra to see them on you ehe because thats really hot but aaaaa im being serious lol. you gave me such a finsub kink im so cooked >~<

Tara: Poor thing. Then I suppose I'll have to stop giving you such special attention, I typically don't indulge my private messages this much but well, you have been fun. You only made it a few months, though, I won't say I'm not a little disappointed.

Something about their back and forth reminded Veronica of a recent and profound memory she could not quite place, her face heating up the room as she pulled her knees up to her chest and wriggled like a fish on the hook. She felt as though she was on the edge of epiphany, and every one of Tara's well placed words were pulling her closer to that unknown brink.

veebee: youre… there has to be something i can do… i-i dont get paid until the end of the month, but i have bills and... oh my god im gina arent i. youre kara. why is that so hot... what the fuck is wrong with me. i cant stop thinking about hot it would be to get lost in it like her... gina i mean. ahaha im rambling, gosh. just. is it too weird that i picture the dom and sub in every story as... me and you?

Tara: It's not weird; it's by design. Now put your keyboard down and read my next message carefully, okay?

veebee: yes Miss Tara

Tara: My stories seem to be affecting you a lot, hm? They're really getting into your head. Remember Ronnie? You're her too. And Raine. You're every weak, pathetic, obsessed little girl I write into my fiction. You're the prey, the damsel, the subject. The finsub, the servant, the victim. You imprint yourself onto the losers I write because you know, deep down, that they're the most honest reflections of your own pathetic, needy psyche, that hates the way it's forced to live without a lord. You're not well without a hand to guide you, firm and uncompromising. You're wasted without a strong presence in your life to remove all the material anchors that weigh you down into a mundane little world, within which the height of your existence is fingering that shallow cunt of yours into the early hours. To my writing, or maybe my messages, but only ever me. Your reliance on me has grown subtly but surely, don't think I can't fucking smell your need through the screen. You need my attention to feel seen. You need my stories to get off. You need my fingers in your finances to alleviate the burden of adulthood and choice from your life. You need my cock on your breath to tell you you're not really a person worth society's concern. You're just a thing that dies and dies and dies against the words that bring it back forever changed, more useful to functions it no longer has the individual will nor pride to question. You're dead weight, and I'm the only one who can salvage you, so stop fucking complaining about mundane concerns from a life you don't really lead, and ask me nicely how I'm going to save you from it all.

Veronica was completely breathless, hugging her knees tight as her eyes scanned each and every word at least three times before she dared to blink. Her heart was pounding irregularly in her wastrel chest, and the girl died again and again and again, only to be reborn just as her writer-saint had promised. A part of her understood how terribly self-destructive it would be to surrender to this narrative and let Tara tell her what she was from now on, but then she remembered the way Gina secretly revelled in Kara's tyrannical rule, or the strong sense of servitude and yearning for more that bound Ronnie to her mesmerist; the dumb, puppy love of a hypnotised detective; the natural resignation of prey as fangs sink into its neck; the unravelling of a fangirl, beholden to her better's prose.

veebee: please, tell me. Miss Tara... how are you going to save me?

Tara: The next commission will cost you extra. I want you to pay the invoice when I send it. I know you can't afford to, and I don't care. My material comforts are worth more than your rent and service bills. Repeat that back to me now so that I know you understand.

veebee: your comforts are worth more than my essentials...

Tara: That's right. Good girl, Veronica. The next comm will save you, it'll prime you to ask me for the change in your life you really need. You'll understand, because I only write words that fit into your thoughts like matching puzzle pieces. It's all going to be okay, girl, because I've got you now. And I'll remake you in my image <3

veebee: hhhahahahhh thanks Miss Tara... i cant wait <3

The moment she pressed down on the return key and sent the final message of her most fateful correspondence yet, Veronica felt the intensity of her all-consuming subspace increase tenfold. She thought long and hard about Miss Tara's message, the mention of a cock that poor Vee had already begun to salivate over and the dehumanising words that felt just right for her somehow. Personhood was fucking hard, Veronica conceded, and the fantasy of letting her favourite author simply take all of that stress away for good was making her red and giddy with need.

It wasn't just a fantasy any more, though. She believed those words as though they were irrevocably premonitory. What Tara says shall come to pass. It was as simple as that. Nothing in this world could change her mind, least of all her own financial instability and dwindling self-respect. Nothing could change her mind but Her.

Veronica waited for the coming invoice like a puppy sitting pretty for its treat.

"My name? What's..."

"I'm taking it, dear. It's the last part of you holding onto this falsehood of a life you lead. Your identity is nothing but an obstacle in your path to becoming someone worthwhile to me. Something useful." Tyra gave her budding property a knowing smirk, twining fingers through the impressionable subject's tawny brown hair. "You know you don't really want it, silly girl. Your name hurts you. It is a poison. You should be begging me to take it from you."

Vera pursed her lips, leaning back into the arms of her idol—the woman whom she adored more than any other. Tyra performed every night, and Vera was captivated from the very first show; she had not missed a single performance since. Here she was, the lucky fangirl, sitting in the dressing room with the gorgeous starlet playing with her hair and telling her how things were going to be. The words seemed wrong, but how could they be when spilled from such an angelic, hypnotic voice as hers?

"I uhm... I-I never really liked my name, I suppose? But... if you're taking it, what will people call me? I need a name, don't I?" She was little more than a lost lamb, sinking into shepherd arms. Thinking for herself became an impossibility; it did not seem worth the bother when lovely Tyra was there to do it for her.

Tyra kissed her glittering lips against the starry-eyed fan's sweaty forehead and giggled, manipulating the new possession better than any mother knows how to trick her children. "Of course, dear. But... well, isn't it obvious? You have a role model, yes? Someone you wish to be just like?"

"Y-Yeah... I have someone in mind..." The weakling grinned, feeling so terribly meek, and owned, in this private backstage council. She could stop pretending to be anything but a hopeless fangirl, a spare.

"Then you know exactly what to ask for, Veronica. Don't keep me waiting."

In the dim light of Veronica's bedroom, within which there were no spectators save for those set within reflections of light, it was impossible to determine whether her slack-jawed face held a look of horror or enlightenment. In truth, the two were hand in hand like sisters; heading into the unknown together, come what may.

She pried the fingers from her slickness like she was negotiating their release, as desperate to continue getting herself off as she was to message Miss Tara and make that final request. Her digits got out on good behaviour, and Vee smiled wryly at the fact that her self control was a facade; her obedience to Tara was a stronger a compulsion than those petty urges stirred within her body—not a person's, but a spare's. The concept made her giddy, as Tara's mesmerising prose always did.

She was such a Vera.

veebee: good afternoon Miss Tara... thank You so much for the latest comm, im so sorry my payment was declined at first that was an oversight on my part >~< im really honoured to be able to give You the money, truly! i think i understand now, Your stories really were changing me. i know because... just like vera, veronica, in the story... i know exactly what to ask for

Tara: And what is that, pet?

veebee: to take my name away, and to give me a new one based on the person i admire most. i love you, Miss Tara, your stories make me so happy and... id love to be your spare. my life heres falling apart because i cant focus on anything but you and your stories and gosh im really just not cut out to be anything but your... copy? your lesser? im not exactly sure

Tara: Of course you don't, let me explain it to you. I read some of the works you sent me, they're not half bad with a little editing pass. The pictures you keep sending me, too, not half bad. I'm going to be very honest with you and tell you what you are, and what's going to happen. You're either already being evicted for failing to pay your rent or soon to be sent the notice, that money belongs to me more than your fucking landlord as I'm sure you agree. I like this utter dependence on me that you have, it really makes me hard, so I'm going to let you live under me. A spare, as you correctly surmised. Clever girl, tara. I'm taking your old name away, you're just a lesser copy of me now. Make sure to change it with a lowercase t <3

tara: im clever... i... ehehe, i feel so pathetic right now. i didnt used to be such a loser, i dont think?

Tara: That's right, you don't think. I do that for you. And while I made you like this, it wouldn't have worked if you weren't already desperate for the escape. You really are this much of a loser, my little tara, don't shy away from it. Embrace it. You're like my shadow now, right? Then you should learn to get used to being stepped on~ Use the last of your money to pay for a one way flight, pack light I don't intend to litter my house with some inferior version of myself's junk from a past life.

tara: wait is this like, really happening?

Tara: What's your name, girl?

tara: tara!

Tara: and the one that you had before? The one that I took.

The room became colder, and tara pondered for a moment. What was her name? tara, with a lowercase t, of course, but she had one before that until very recently. She had an entire life attached to her old, outdated name, with friends and family and qualifications and... none of it came to mind. Doors were closing in her head, slamming shut with every message sent and received. The ongoing correspondence was a curse, and a kindness.

tara: i dont know... why dont i know, Miss Tara?

Tara: You really are hopeless, it's a little cute to be honest. I'm a hypnokink author, dear, you don't think I might base my induction scenes on real hypnosis techniques? You've eagerly filled your head with so much conditioning, and even a few good triggers, while cementing it all with those presumptuous fingers of yours filling out my fleshlight. No more touching yourself without permission, tara, that body is mine. Holes and all. Don't worry, I've been stressed lately with all this payment trouble you put me through, so I'm sure they won't go neglected.

tara removed the digits that had inexplicably found their way back into her cunt, and swallowed back the excess of saliva in her mouth. Her world was unravelling much faster than it usually did; she found herself unable—and unwilling—to deny the absolute power in her new owner's words. At least tyrants tend to cast a tall shadow, thought the obsessive fangirl who felt as though her head was in the sky.

tara: conditioning? hypnosis... like, real hypnosis? but i dont think it works like it does in the stories in real life, right? i mean i shouldnt question You of course, but im surprised >////<

Tara: And why shouldn't it work just as powerfully? All it truly requires is a willing subject, and focus. Like I said, tara, you're pathetic. It's what makes you perfect to be mine. You agree to every change I make to you, whether consciously or not. Every brick of conditioning I placed to wall up your name, and everything else from that life you choose to flee from, was cemented by your own traitorous touch. You wanted to be mindfucked, because being my shadow is a higher calling than being Vee.

tara: vee... is that my name?

Tara: Is it?

tara: no, Miss Tara. im just tara... im so excited to live with you! under you... ehe...

Tara: And let me clean up your work to publish under my name? To dot the i's and capitalise the t?

tara: yes Miss! it'd be such an honour, omg >~<

Tara: Answer me properly, spare.

The brunette's eyes gently crossed, glasses sliding down her face as her bangs made a poor attempt to hide the show of uncompromising submission that crossed her dulling face. Sucking back the drool, tara felt that dormant conditioning in her head pull itself taut, and the facade of personhood snapped out of existence for a while.

tara: yes Miss Tara, i exist to be useful to you. it would be my honour to be allowed to write fiction for you to gain profit and renown from. it brings this spare joy to please you...

tara: what was that???

Tara: Raine, Ronnie, Gina, Vera. They all taught you new things about yourself. Raine's servitude. Ronnie's yearning. Gina's self-hate and Vera's epiphany that she can escape from herself by asking for help. It left me with a slave. Do you know what implied triggers are? I know you do, because I've written about them and you're my biggest fangirl. If you can register the hypnotist's intent with a trigger you were never implanted with, and are susceptible/primed enough to respond, it can activate as though it truly were a pre-established posthypnotic trigger. That's what that was.

Licking her lips, tara sat forwards in her chair and moaned. Her fingers were being good, but her thighs were grinding here and there. She couldn't help herself, this was easily the single hottest experience of her entire life. Miss Tara could now control her mind better than she could.

tara: im... so happy to be your property, your spare... im looking at domestic flights now. i love you <3

Tara: Don't keep me waiting, I'm sure there are others who would jump at the opportunity to play my double. I'll give you a week, tara, before I write you off. No refunds~

Light began to creep over the tops of tara's toes from beneath the blinds in her room, which would not continue to be her room for very long, and the girl sighed out longingly with a stillness in her chest that told her everything would be okay. Life with Miss Tara would give her no room for doubt ever again, she'd know what she was at all times and let that warmth take her senses forever.

Her mistress was everything to her now; she needed to be good for Her; she was finally in her fucking place; she could stop pretending to be anything but a hopeless fangirl.

A spare.

Tiny black circles slowly expand against the image projected into them, and concentric blue rings fight to house the quickly dilating pupils. A girl named tara sweeps the long, wavy blonde hair over her shoulder and skips over to the woman that has her heart all aflutter and her gaze softening into darkness.

"Miss! L-Like what You see?" The lesser of the two blondes—who must appear as twins to those passing by—strikes an embarrassing pose for her Owner's approval, paying no mind to the fact that they currently occupy a public street. tara holds two fingers out in a sideways V over her eyes to draw attention to her lack of glasses. Vee had never loved having to wear them, but she didn't mind the fashion; Miss Tara needed her spare to match, though, so that was that.

The superior blonde grins and grabs her double by the waist possessively, pulling it closer and drinking in the sight of those freshly-lasered eyes up close. "You look more and more like me every day, starting to get the hang of writing like me too. Do you want to see how much I just made from the last commission I had you draft for me?"

tara melts into the touch, staring up into the smug, sapphire eyes of a real goddess. Miss Tara is a mirror that corrects her every failing, a perfect version of her lower self. Sometimes tara worries she isn't really good enough to be a spare, but Miss reminds her that she's not really going anywhere. "Y-Yes Miss... ehe... here?"

The author chuckles, her hand groping the fangirl's ass as she speaks in that firm, authoritative voice that makes her poor shadow wilt. "Ah, that's right. I'm usually pounding you like a fucking sex-toy when I read out the money you made for me. Very astute, fuckdoll, suppose it'll have to wait then. I want to take you to dinner first, you're still too underweight to be my mirror."

With a worshipful smile she does her best to hold back on in public, tara leans into that hold around her waist and sighs. For a moment—just a single fleeting interstice between real, appropriate thought—the lesser tara wonders what her life was like before this; she simply isn't able to recall who she was, and when she's not being silly in these lapses, she understands that to be for the best.

In truth, Veronica was an addict, hooked on attention and escape. tara's not permitted such vices, not on her own accord anyway. Whatever she is told is law, it's just that simple. She loves simple.

"C'mon, simple. Dinner's on you, maybe the bill will give you a hint to how hard I mean to fuck you later. Lucky little life you lead, huh?" Miss Tara admires her girl one more time, loving the way that Veronica has almost completely disappeared, sinking inside an image of the author who unravelled her.

"Yeah... I-I mean, Yes Miss Tara!"

"Look in the mirror, girl, and gaze upon the pair we make." Miss holds her subject's shoulders tight, and the brunette stares. Really stares. Her straight brown hair falls away to reveal soft regal curls of blonde. Her nails are painted a glittering pink, and her waist fills out just a little, with hips you could ride on. She looks, and she smiles.

"I look so pretty as your twin, Miss Kute." The girl sighs, staring at the hands that wrap around her chest and grope it like the woman's handling her own body; there's only one person in the room right now, with two vessels.

"You're running out of budget, Mars... any last requests? I'm feeling generous, so I'll let your money speak one last time. What's it say?" The mistress chuckles, sliding a hand down her timid wallet's hip.

"I..." The girl whose hair remains brown outside of the mirror's loving confines blushes fiercely. She's squirming incessantly, and her Miss deigns it appropriate to shush the poor thing with a finger against its lips and choose for her after all. It's better that way.

"Hush now, doll. I know what you want." The blonde smirks into the mirror's meek reflection, and she pulls the girl back

by her hair, throwing her property onto the bed and watching those dyed blonde spirals spread over the sheets in a flow of molten gold. Miss Tara mounts the girl on the bed, pushing her arms down into the plush covers and peppering her inferior reflection's face with kisses that maim its sense of self again and again.

"Mmmh, you're such a slut. I love using you like this. Let's carry on where that scene you were writing left off, hm? It's your fault for getting me all hot and bothered, looking over my good little writer-pet's shoulder to find her writing almost exactly in my style. So well tamed, all because you couldn't stop fucking yourself to my words until you let them fuck your head too." Tara slides out of her jeans and drags her excited cock down the fangirl's belly, smearing it with anticipation. "Your head's just another hole for me to fuck, understand? You're an effigy of my making, built in my image, and I'll store every ugly feeling I have inside of you—ready to be burnt off in the proceeding workout."

tara pants vigorously, vision blurring and back arching as the woman she's based on lubricates her fleshlight mind with such wisdom. "Ggggoood... I-I'm... ahh... gosh... I'm ready for it, M-Miss Tara!"

"Of course you fucking are, you're my biggest fangirl. You'd be begging for my cock like a drooling bitch in heat if I weren't content to use you as an easy outlet for the time being. You like being a stressdoll, tara?" The ego-tripping author presses the head of her cock up against the only part of her double that differs in design; another mark of her inferiority to have willingly given up her greatness.

"I... ahaha... yyyesss... ahhhnn!" Without warning, a sudden thrust has the twin Taras meeting at the hips in a warm kiss. tara buries her overheating face into the pillow and Miss Tara clicks her tongue.

The sound is a trigger, telling tara she's not allowed to act in the way she currently is. The girl unlearns the compulsion to hide her embarrassment, turning her face back towards her Owner's as it burns hot against the room. Tara hold the toy by its cheeks and revels in that heat, pulling her hips up and pounding the girl like she's tempering steel; refining her tool.

"Be a good girl and act like the submissives from my stories, even the ones I delegate to my shadow." Miss Tara's lips kiss against the girl's jaw as that hand on her face slides down to grip the plaything's neck. "Moan, and squirm, and tell me how much you need my love like you need air to live. I mean, it's all you have now."

tara sinks deep into the heaven provided to her: a mattress kingdom in the clouds when in her golden Goddess's presence. Her legs lift up high into the air over her Owner's shoulders, and she does as she is told. Simple as a shadow.

When Miss Tara groans after a cathartic pound, the lesser tara moans out like a pornstar. When Miss Tara grabs a fistful of her twin's hair and pulls the girl close, she sucks on her Owner's nipples like a babe in need of sustenance. When Miss Tara smacks the girl's own chest, small, inferior tara gasps and splutters and squirms like a puppy being teased.

The outlet is used for as long as it is needed, left breathless with the bedsheets clinging to its back via hot sweat and more. Her mind is reeling, some of it spilling out between her lips as her Owner's tainted love seeps out from between her legs and paints her breasts.

tara sits up after a short while and steps back over to her desk. Her sore buttocks—marred by open-palmed affection—meet with sun-heated leather seat, and she grabs a tissue from the nearby box to dry her fingers after dutifully sucking them clean. Once she's ready, the girl closes her eyes and repeats her mantra.

"I am a good writer doll. I am Miss Tara's tool, her spare, and I need to be useful to her. I will perform my function... ehe..." A giddiness overtakes the naked doll, body hot and sore from being used, as she opens the scene back up and realises that her Owner just told her exactly what to write.

"Ahhhnn... I-I love you so much, Miss Kute!"

"I know you do, you fucking slut. Now get back to it, girl. My next story isn't going to write itself!" The woman, the muse, lifts up her good doll's chin and gives her a simple peck that turns the poor fangirl into a blushing mess on the bedsheets. Her thoughts begin to muddle, and spread apart. She and Her, You and I.

Obsession really is so good, it's a love that eats you whole.
And when you're ready to be eaten again, it'll be back for seconds.
I'll be right there by your side, my fangirl, grinning like the devil herself.

The end.