Sindra kept taking pictures, trying to ignore the growing wetness in her panties. She didn’t know what was up—she was a professional, and she’d photographed tons of models, with all sorts of bodies, clothed, naked, and in-between. But there was something about Victoria… she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She wanted to put her fingers on it, though. All of them. God, it was so hard to do anything but pan her camera up and down Victoria’s perfect body, she had to remind herself to actually take pictures and not just stare, drooling, at the viewfinder. She wondered if the other photographers in the shoot felt the same way, but couldn’t take her eyes off the buxom blonde long enough to check.

Sindra had never seen anything like her. Every little toss of her hair, the way she parted and pursed her lips, the flicker of her eyelashes; every tiny move Victoria made was a flirtation, every whisper and giggle and tiny moan, enthralling.

If she hadn’t had a job to do, Sindra would be on her knees, crawling over to Victoria and begging to suck on the perfect pink nipples sticking out of the silly mesh “bra” the model wore.

The feelings didn’t make any sense, so Sindra just gritted her teeth, squeezed her thighs together, and did her job.

Then Victoria locked eyes with her. Sindra stiffened and stopped taking pictures, just staring through the viewfinder, hypnotized. It was only for a second, and then Victoria looked over at one of the other photographers and simpered prettily, and Sindra’s mind was free again.

But her panties were truly soaking now, because in the second that Victoria held her with her huge dark eyes, a thought had echoed in Sindra’s head that wasn’t her own.

Stay behind after the shoot, puppet. I’m going to have some fun with you.

Somehow, Victoria had spoken right into her mind, and it had felt like the woman’s tongue had lapped her pussy. Sindra didn’t understand Victoria’s strange powers, but she knew there was no way she could resist them. She couldn’t think why she’d even want to.