Mistress Massage

The room was warm. Sunset didn’t need instructions anymore. She let Sonata know she was here, took off her clothes, and laid down. No more shyness with the panties.

Behind her, the door opened.

“Good afternoon, Miss Shimmer.”

“Hi, Mistress Adagio.”

It wasn’t weird to call her that. Just the theme, ‘Mistress Massage and Oils.’

It was ‘Adagio’ when she talked about the place to her friends, of course. Mistress Adagio didn’t want to give people the wrong impression, and asked Sunset not to.

Or… was that a dream? Hidden with her face down, Sunset squinted. Her four (or five?) visits were hazy in her memory. It was so easy to relax here, to let thoughts slip away. The faint wood and spice scent of the incense was already reminding her how good it was to be with Mistress. And if any part of her remained tense, uncertain, or worried, it all fell away the moment Adagio’s fingers touched her needy shoulders.

Her body and mind remembered what came next: pure bliss, and Adagio’s lovely voice. “Relax… relax...”

It took Sunset less time with each visit to fall fully into the touch and words, gliding down to a thoughtless place of comfort and warmth. No worries, cares, or stress. Just her body, existing happily in timeless present, and Adagio’s voice from above.

“Drop… drop…”

“...Obey.”

Sunset turned at Adagio’s command. Mistress Adagio. No distracting doubts or arousal. Her blissed, sleepy smile turned to the ceiling.

It all was blurry, unfocused. Even the wide, white smile of her mistress. Until a blue gem slipped into sight. Perfectly clear, catching the light in such a bright, pretty way as it swayed gently above her gaze.

She tracked it, back and forth. This was normal. The mind massage, to go with her body massage. Helping her become even more perfectly relaxed and obedient.

“Obey Mistress Adagio.”

Repetition. Old lessons remembered. New ones given. Obey, worship, and serve the sirens.

Mistress Adagio had been giving her commands. Little things, always followed. Make the next appointment. Skip school for a morning session. Leave off the panties and towel – it pleased Mistress Adagio to walk in on her naked ass, free of modesty.

It all made sense. Mistress Adagio. It was there in the name. So strong, so beautiful. So good, giving Sunset such pleasure. She deserved to be mistress.

She said Sunset was doing well. Soon, Sunset would be given some very important things to do for the sirens.

But there was something she could do for them now. Adagio strode naked to the couch and sat down. Sunset got up from the table, knelt, and crawled to her on all fours.

The plan, anyway, was for Sunset to give complimentary coupons to lure in her friends, one by one. Five more thieving little brat Rainbooms, then their dumb pony princess.

The bell at their door jingled unexpectedly. Sonata sat and Aria leaned on the reception counter, engaged in a bored argument simply to pass the time.

Aria rolled her eyes at the noise, and Sonata irately cracked her gum. Once, maybe twice a day, some human rolled in expecting to turn imaginary money from a plastic card into a massage from ageless virtuosos of touch and song. Flippant excuses of ‘Appointments only – and sorry, we’re booked’ were always on the sirens’ lips. They didn’t need money. They needed their magic.

There was no clear view from the entryway. While the scenery was tranquil, the dim lighting perhaps made one wonder if the place was open.

A cultured, dainty, familiar voice emerged. “Hello, darlings? Anyone home?”

Aria and Sonata froze, gazing to each other in shock for one instant. Sunset wasn’t supposed to be recruiting yet. Was there a change in plan? What should they do?

Their expressions mirrored, falling to calm and peaceful smiles. Aria stood up from her lean, hands clasped gently in front. Sonata smoothed out her robe.

It was obvious. They needed their magic.

They needed the Rainbooms.

“Over here,” Aria called, the model of effortless grace.

A few footsteps of heeled sandals brought the speaker to sight: a slim, porcelain-skinned beauty, followed obediently by…

...By a yellow girl with pink hair.

No cruel leer or even twitch broke Aria’s placid expression. She bowed, speaking with flowing serenity. “Greetings, guests. Welcome to Mistress Massage and Oils. I am Aria, and this is Sonata. How can we help you this day?”

“Oh, I love this place already,” Rarity gushed. Her companion meekly nodded. “Look at the ambiance. The outfits! Fluttershy, this is the real deal. I can see why Sunset was impressed.”

“Ah, then you know Sunset?” Aria let her smile grow a little wider, as though letting humor slip through her professionalism. “She helped little Sonata here quite a bit, and has since become good friends with our proprietor.”

“I suppose then we’re all friends of Sunset.” Rarity gestured to herself, then her follower. “I’m Rarity, and this is Fluttershy. I love your robes, darlings. Is that charmeuse silk?”

“You have a sharp eye,” Aria said.

“Not at all,” Rarity said, though clearly drank in the praise. “But yes, I do, don’t I? At any rate, Fluttershy and I are ‘spa buddies’ as it were, and this is our day. Rather than the usual, we decided to pop on by and check out this place Sunset likes so much. I can tell you she is very happy with her care here, nonetheless because you all are so kind to her. The least we can do is see if you’re interested in our business.”

Fluttershy spoke up, more to Rarity’s back than the hosts. “I don’t see any cars outside. I think they’re appointment-only.”

“Yes...” Aria began, and slowed thoughtfully. Adagio was crafting incense now, and couldn’t really interrupt. She might get mad if Aria and Sonata made the next move without checking first.

Which made this even better. “But we are clear for the rest of the day. Would you like massages? Sonata and I can service you.”

“Spa treatment, actually,” Rarity said. “If you do those.”

Sonata spoke with calm professionalism. “We do. But we are a small place with a small staff, and might not have as many options as you’re used to. I assure you, we exceed the difference in quality. Aria and I are masters of our trade, not bored part-timers. We have our own specialties.”

Obvious bait, at least to the sirens. Rarity swallowed it. “Something unique would be lovely!”

“I like to relax,” Fluttershy mumbled. “Not try new things.”

“The two are not exclusive,” Aria said with an amused tone. “I believe our parchment wrap would meet all requests. It is not unlike a seaweed wrap, but we instead use very thin cloth that remains soft and warm when wet. We soak them in our custom oils to rejuvenate and relax, and lay a cloth on the face to open pores and enhance beauty. The procedure is passive and relaxing compared to massage, with only a light foot and hand rub involved.”

The description sold them, even Fluttershy. They happily waited while the sirens prepared, then allowed themselves to be escorted to Mistress Massage’s spa room.

Rarity squealed upon entry, though Fluttershy seemed unimpressed. The place lacked the rock formations and babbling streams of other spas, traded instead for a roman-style bathhouse with pillars and stone floors. Spa veterans, they stripped readily and climbed onto the tables, reclined rather than flat on the padded top.

Sonata lit the incense, chancing a quick, cruel smirk to her partner. The sirens worked with ancient practice, removing damp, thin towels from special ovens and wrapping them around their prey. Snug and tight, from the ankles to just below the shoulders. Arms and legs were wrapped individually, exposing nearly all their skin to the sweet-smelling press.

Another home-made oil, a bit different than what they used in massages. This one had a paralytic to slowly trap the girls in their comfortable bonds. And a hypnotic aphrodisiac, for what came next.

Aria moved to place a treated washcloth over Rarity’s face, but she turned her head. “No-no, darling. We like to chat while we relax.”

“It’s part of the treatment,” Aria tried.

“We’re fine without it.” Rarity wiggled in her wrap and tittered. “Goodness me, this feels marvelous. At any rate, Fluttershy, has that arbor school written back to you yet…?”

The sirens busied themselves. Perfumed water on the coals, releasing drugged steam into the air. Gentle massages at the girls’ necks, hands, and soles.

And Rarity did not. Stop. Talking.

The sirens traded an annoyed glance early on. Then a worried one. Their treatments were subtle and slow, designed to work down victims in tandem with hypnosis. If the girls remained too awake to be fully vulnerable…

At least Rarity consented to a cloth blindfold over her eyes. “But really, cashmere is a wintertime cloth. Obviously, I know, I know, but some people don’t get it. They hear it and think famous and expensive equals fashionable, equals a good idea. Even Suri Polomare knows that to...”

The sirens looked desperately at each other. What to do? No chance of progressing things while she was fully awake. They could wait for her to wear out and treat the spa like a damn spa, but that could be hours, and questions would come if the pair were missing for too long. Maybe end it and try again later? Or… ask Adagio to bail them out? That seemed like the best, if cruelest option.

Sonata pointed. Aria traced her finger to the second guest, the ever-quiet Fluttershy. Her one-sentence answers had become one word as the session progressed, and it hit Aria that even those had faded away.

Her bright blue eyes were half-closed, with a thick blush beneath them as her body took in the entrapping oils. Her chest shifted the wrap with slow, steady beats.

Both grinned, liberated and evil. With one blind and the other zonked, there was no risk.

Sonata walked around behind the girls, shrugging one shoulder out of her robe. It was hot here in the spa. She leaned down next to Fluttershy and whispered, so softly that Rarity couldn’t hear.

“Sleep...”

Fluttershy breathed slowly: a long breath in, then out.

“Sleep… sleep…”

The subtle drugs were at work, breathed in through the incense and absorbed in the towels. Long minutes of Rarity’s droning had rendered Fluttershy totally susceptible. Her eyelids fluttered, and any sense of wrongness was drowned down by the simple, obvious suggestion to do as her body bid.

Fluttershy’s eyes closed. Aria went next, speaking primly to the other. “Miss Rarity, other guests are trying to relax. I strongly request that you become quiet. This is a spa, after all. Tranquility is best achieved when one allows the mind to drift peacefully.”

“Oh!” Rarity squeaked. “A thousand pardons, darling. When my own mind drifts I tend to prattle, you know, giving voice to...”

Aria folded down the blindfold cloth, covering Rarity’s nose and mouth with scented submission.

She seemed to take the message, falling silent. A moment later, her breathing slowed to gradual, even waves.

Aria and Sonata shared a grin.

Then, “Why washcloths, darlings? I do understand the need to treat the whole skin but I don’t want my face to become pruny.”

“It won’t,” Aria assured, only remembering at the last instant to keep frustration from her voice. Her and Sonata each began rubbing a white hand, and soon Rarity drifted once more into quiet.

One minute, two, three. They stopped rubbing and stood to each side.

“Sleep,” Sonata said.

“Pleasure,” Aria intoned.

“Sleep.”

“Pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” Rarity said. “I admit I am a bit… flushed under here but that’s still an odd word choice. Maybe it sounds more appropriate in the original language.”

Aria quickly, silently, and angrily ran to their supplies.

Rarity turned her head and the mask began to slip. “What do you think, Fluttershy?”

“...Fluttershy?”

Rarity tried to sit upright, making a confused noise when she found she couldn’t. Aria barreled up from behind with a dripping cloth in hand.

Still, she lead with words on her return. Guile, not force, was the sirens’ way. “It is time for the next part, Miss Rarity. It will seem unconventional, but please leave it to us.”

Rarity blinked slowly. So full of chatter a few minutes ago, breathing through the cloth left her woozy and tired.

“Okay. Goodness, I’m… I’m so...”

A wadded cloth entered her mouth, laced with something sweet that immediately sent her thoughts spinning out of reach. With latent instincts she tried to pull her arms free, and nothing happened. Two sets of hands gripped her carefully, stopping her brief, frantic wiggling from carrying her off the table. Two voices shushed her gently, and soon her muffled protests fell away.

Fluttershy’s eyes blinked quickly at the noise, through remained mostly closed. She spoke as though sleepwalking. “Rarity, what…?”

Aria had brought two cloths. One went into Fluttershy’s mouth.

The sirens stood up from their work – the dupes yet moved, but their struggle was over. Paralyzed arms only gently rocked each girl, trapped in their cocoons. Their feet twitched, the only parts of the body nor marinated in the oil. Toes flexed and strained, wiggling frantically to escape. It was adorable.

“Pleasure.” Aria, on one side.

“Pleasure.” Sonata, on the other.

Back and forth, they said the word. Lulled by long relaxation, massage, and subtle drugs, their victims’ minds tumbled into the word. Only flagging instincts kept up the struggle, for neither could remember why.

“Pleasure.”

The word uncorked something not realized before. Subtle and slow, the wrap had heated their bodies in all the right ways. Both were moist. Their legs feebly began rubbing together. The slow, sleepy breaths became jagged.

“Pleasure.”

Neither girl was particularly well-endowed. The wraps squeezed tightly around their small breasts, with dark nipples hard and visible beneath.

The toes kept wiggling, trying to break free. Some deep part of them realized something was wrong, but their conscious thoughts were consumed by the word. With their minds now turned to aching, desperate pleasure, no room was left for anything else. Their eyes rolled back, straining for release that would not come. Their muffled mouths groaned with building arousal.

“Pleasure.”

“Pleasure.”

“Pleasure...”

On, on. One minute, ten minutes, twenty. No motion, no release. The eyes half-closed and the feet fell still, spent and exhausted. No more instincts save burning, growing, need.

“Pleasure.” Aria.

“Submit.” Sonata.

Back, forth. Ten minutes, twenty.

The helpless girls watched as the sirens stripped before their eyes. A loosed bow here, a tug at the robe there. Sensuous beauties. Fluttershy squeaked when Aria released her breasts, while Rarity gave a long, longing moan.

“Pleasure.”

“Submit.”

Naked, the sirens climbed up to straddle their prey. Aria climbed above Rarity, setting her crotch on the woman’s belly. Sonata did the same to Fluttershy. Rarity begged with her eyes for release, relief. For pleasure.

“Submit to pleasure,” Sonata whispered.

“Submission brings pleasure,” Aria breathed.

A new mantra, back and forth. The girls could only listen. They could only understand what they needed to do. Their eyes followed the sirens’ breasts, swaying gently above them.

Ten minutes, twenty, sixty. Submit to pleasure. Slaves to pleasure. Slaves to mistress.

The sirens peeled back a bit of the towels, revealing hard, swollen nipples. Fluttershy’s were brown, while Rarity’s a dark purple. The sirens pinched and twisted them.

They pulled out the gags. “Beg for pleasure.”

“Please, Mistress...” Fluttershy mewled. “Please give me pleasure.”

Rarity was too far gone. “Please...”

“You’re not yet good enough for us to give you what you crave,” Aria said, affecting stern disapproval at odds with her evil smile.

“But if you do very well...” Sonata breathed. “We will let you give it to each other. If and only if you submit.”

“Submit to pleasure.”

“Submit to the sirens.”

More commands. Worship the sirens. Obey the sirens. Slaves to the sirens.

Forget the pleasure. Only remember a fun spa. Return next week.

Their exhausted, mushed minds drank it in. The sirens had stripped them bare and neither noticed.

Both girls were hypnotized beyond thought or memory. Only pleasure. When Mistress Aria moved Rarity’s body to a kneel and turned her, Rarity did not see Fluttershy by her side. Only a blank eyed girl with erect nipples and a warm mouth.

The sirens pushed them to each other. Their mouths met, wide open. Their tongues grappled in utter desperation, and their nipples brushed with lightning effect.

After such torment, the end came in seconds. They moaned in each others’ mouths. Their fluids gushed to the table, mixed, and gushed again.

They collapsed against each other. Spent. Exhausted. Relieved – so relieved.

All because they had submitted to pleasure. To the sirens.

Mistress Sonata hugged Fluttershy backwards. Embraced her gently, spoke sweetly. “So good.”

Aria did the same to Rarity. “Forget.”

“So good.”

“Forget...”

“...Return.”