Pixie Isobella

‘I think I might call you Mittens,’ the man continued. He tightened the grip on her hand. ‘As a little joke if you will. For your decision not to wear gloves tonight,’ he laughed softly, squeezing her hand again.

‘Mittens?’ Natasha asked, confused. ‘I don’t…’

‘It’s a perfect pet name,’ the man said, smiling at her. ‘You are going to be my pet, aren’t you, Mittens?’

Natasha wanted to learn embroidery and make pretty things. But when she signs up for a women-only online embroidery club, she finds her world going off the rails. Who are the men she keeps going to meet and why does she get the sense that soon she won’t be able to stop?

Following the Pattern: Chapter 2

[‘Following the Pattern’ contains non-consent erotica, mind control, personality modification, bimbofication and female submission. All characters are over 18. Chapter 1 is here.]

‘Y-yes, P-patron,’ Natasha stumbled over the words. She felt a flush of fear running through her as she called him by his preferred title again.

‘That’s a good girl,’ Mr Battenborough smiled at her.

Suddenly, she had the weirdest sense that he and she were just going through the motions. He smiled and he was pretending to be nice, but the softness in his voice didn’t reach his eyes and it didn’t feel genuine.

‘I expect you to wear gloves next time,’ he chuckled, winking at her. ‘I’ll give you some to take home with you when I let you leave. You’ll look very pretty in lace gloves and matching lace lingerie, won’t you, Mittens?’

‘Yes, Patron,’ Natasha muttered. The oddness of the evening’s assignation was confusing her again. Why was she here, and what did he mean by letting her leave?

‘I think I should go home,’ she said cautiously. ‘You’ve been very kind Mr…’ her voice trailed off as she realised she couldn’t quite remember his name. ‘But I think I should go…’

‘No,’ Mr Battenborough said flatly. ‘You’re not leaving until I let you, Mittens,’ he laughed softly but beneath his feigned amusement she could hear solid, rigid iron. ‘You’ll learn that that’s one of the basic rules for all our dear little club members like you,’ he laughed softly, a wide smile on his face.

‘Stop thinking about leaving,’ he added, and Natasha could still hear that disturbing touch of silken steel in his voice. ‘I haven’t had my fun with you yet. You’ll stay here as long as I’m enjoying you, won’t you, Mittens?’

‘Yes, Patron,’ Natasha whispered, blushing hotly with sudden embarrassment.

This was such an odd situation — she knew she didn’t really understand commerce but still this didn’t really make sense. Why would a sponsor meet her in a car late at night like this? What did he mean by enjoying her? She had assumed a sponsor would either want to see her embroidery or hear some pathetic sob story that would prove to him what a magnanimous person he was for donating and lending his name as a sponsor to the club.

‘Take your top and your jeans off,’ Mr Battenborough continued in the same steely voice. ‘You’ll wear a nice short skirt next time we meet, is that clear? We expect our sweet little club members to be accessible at all times.’

‘Y-yes,’ Natasha stammered, blushing as she felt herself removing her tank top, her soft pink cotton bra the only protection for her breasts from his gaze. Removing her jeans was harder but the back of the car was very spacious and soon she had kicked off her shoes and socks, and pulled the stiff fabric of her trousers down her legs and off past her feet.

Sitting beside him in just her bra and panties, she felt suddenly far too exposed, overwhelmed. Why was she nearly naked again?

‘What… what you going to do?’ she stammered, noticing how the man’s eyes ran up and down her body, clearly enjoying the sight of her.

‘You’re such a sweet little darling,’ he chuckled as he loosened his tie and shirt cuffs. ‘So innocent. What do you think I’m doing to do?’

She could tell he was laughing at her.

Natasha just shook her head though, still hoping he would explain. Nothing about this assignation made any sense — why had she just left her house like that when she had finished the embroidery pattern and why was she just doing what this man said with absolutely no objection?

‘Girls like you have one purpose,’ Mr Battenborough said flatly, showing a hint of teeth as he talked. ‘As you’ll discover, Mittens. Bra and panties off now, darling. You’ll learn to get quicker — or you’ll learn that club sponsors like me will slap you for keeping us waiting,’ he laughed softly under his breath, an unkind laugh this time that suddenly scared her.

Natasha knew her eyes were wide with shock. ‘I don’t…’ she broke off. ‘I don’t want to,’ she muttered, some obscure, instinctive part of her already knowing that she had no real choice.

She was already obeying him, unclipping her bra as if in a dream, pulling the minimalist fabric off her so he could see her breasts, and then doing the same for her panties.

The man ignored her soft-voiced complaint, his eyes devouring her body as she sat next to him on the leather seat, her body gently outlined by the dim street lights from outside the car.

‘You’re a pretty darling, at least,’ he chuckled, making her gasp again as he stroked a finger down the outside of her breast. ‘And obedient enough, given how new you are. Do you know we used to take our time with the new girls, assuming that we had to take it easy at the start?’

He was still loosening his shirt and then Natasha watched mesmerised as he loosened his belt buckle and trousers. She shook her head in silent reply to his question, wondering again what on earth was happening and why she couldn’t seem to resist him. Hell, she couldn’t even seem to bring herself to want to resist him.

‘Heh,’ the man continued, curling his lip. ‘What we learned eventually was that once the first real pattern is done, it doesn’t matter how brutal we are with you, the leash holds firm.’

Natasha frowned, trying to concentrate, trying to understand, because his words made no sense. From his dismissive snort, she guessed he recognised her confusion — and thought it was hilarious, in a patronising, superior kind of way.

‘In fact, early brutality may even assist the bonds to grow more quickly,’ he winked at her. He loosened his trousers and she watched, mesmerised, unable to look away as his stiff erection came into view, held in his hand as he started to pump as if bringing himself to full hardness. ‘Get astride me, Mittens,’ he snapped, his brow creasing as if with sudden, intense arousal. ‘I want to feel you.’

Natasha obeyed, feeling somehow limp and stringless, unable to resist him. It was so weird to be naked around a man she didn’t know, to feel him so close to her.

‘You’re going to fuck me,’ she spoke slowly, her voice wondering, her eyes wide, still unable to fully comprehend it.

‘Of course,’ the man agreed. ‘That’s the arrangement, darling,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We sponsor the club, you get all the fun of your pathetic little artform,’ he sneered, ‘and my brethren and I get all the sex we want from you and your fellow whores.’

‘I’m not…’ Natasha broke off, confused. ‘I don’t want…’

She was fully astride Mr Battencourt by now, his hands moving to her hips, closing around her, gripping her soft flesh tightly.

‘You’re not a whore?’ he sneered and she flushed at the discrimination in his voice. ‘Of course you are,’ he chuckled as if she was being unbearably silly. ‘You’ve been my whore ever since you set your first stitch. Get down onto me now, I want to feel you.’

‘I’m not… I don’t want…’ Natasha tried to muster her thoughts into words. She held back, trying to resist him, though she could already feel that he was far, far more powerful than her. ‘I’m not wet, I’m not ready,’ she said eventually, feeling humiliated to have to say the words.

‘I’m ready,’ Mr Battencourt spoke flatly, then he was pulling her hips firmly downwards towards his erection.

Please follow me for more stories! In the real world, remember to always play safely and practise positive, informed and enthusiastic consent that is respectful of all genders.

Please read my books!

I have 18 books published on All These Roadworks and Smashwords!

I recently uploaded 3 titles (Vanessa’s Sacrifice, Ashley’s Mistake and Molly’s Collar) onto Smashwords if that’s your preferred platform.

It’s not a manifesto

I write a lot of M/f non-consent erotica, including enslavement of women, degradation and forced breeding. They are not an expression of how the world should be. Everything I write should stay in the hot world of fiction and play. It should absolutely not become part of the real world.

© Pixie Isobella