(Authors note: This story was in part inspired by Trilby Else's superb mind-control story PURPOSE, one of my favorite pieces in the Erotic Mind Control Story Archives. )
Joan's philosophy was that when you want something, you should simply lay out the steps to achieve it. Make yourself a plan and follow it to the letter, that's what Joan would always say.
She'd done exactly that in her quest to become a registered nurse. She'd researched the field, learned what degrees were needed, picked out a college to get them, and applied for admission and financial aid. She'd also read 'how to' guides for applying to a college, and it had paid off-- her admission was accepted, and she'd received a generous scholarship.
Now all she had left to do was to find a job for the summer, to earn a little pin money for when classes began.
She had no formal skills, so she could only apply for a few low-paying positions she circled each day in the want ads. But on the third day of her efforts, a cryptically-worded ad caught her eye--
BABYSITTER-- SPECIAL NEEDS CASE. Must be responsible adult with some background in medical care. Full-time love-in for 3 months while guardians are in Europe.
Joan chuckled at the typo-- full-time love-in indeed!
'Special needs case'-- that sounded like a disability of some sort-- she could handle that! As for a 'medical background,' she'd just have to persuade then that her future studies made her qualified. She was confident at least that she could persuade them she was a 'responsible adult.'
In fact, the whole matter was settled over the phone. A woman's voice, grave in tone and very reserved, questioned Joan for only a few minutes before offering her the job.
'If you can arrive tommorrow at 1:30, we'll turn over the keys to you before we have to catch our plane. Unfortunately our schedule is very tight, and we won't have time to give you a tour and explain your duties. But we will have it all written down for you, which should suffice.'
'Very well,' said Joan, 'I'll see you at 1:30.'
After she put down the phone, Joan wondered-- what kind of 'guardians' would leave their sick loved one in the care of a stranger they'd never met while they went gallavanting off to Europe? But she shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't her place to judge-- especially since she'd almost fainted when the woman had quoted a 5-figure salary!
------
Joan expected her clients to be wealthy, but was still surprised by the sprawling mansion she pulled up to in her well-worn Honda Civic. When she identified herself via intercom, the motorized front gate opened quietly, then shut again almost on the metal of the car's bumper.
Another surprise awaited Joan at the door, when she met the owner of the telephone voice. Mrs. Divergent was a strikingly beautiful woman in her late 40's. She wore a gold necklace that flashed enticingly against the backdrop of her coppery Mediterannean complexion. She obviously had a subtle touch with cosmetics, and her entrancing eyes only underscored her cold, disinterested demeanor. The woman's elegant attire made Joan feel a bit self-conscious in the sweat shirt and denim shorts she wore.
'So pleased to meet you, Joan,' she said. 'won't you come in?'
Joan quickly assessed that Mrs. Divergent had a commanding presence. Joan 'observed' this, and hence objectified it. She did not, as some would, feel compelled to obey Mrs. Divergent. If it came to a confrontation with the woman, Joan would be able to decide rationally whether to assert herself or back down.
'This is Mrs. Paul,' said Mrs. Divergent, introducing another dark-cast beauty in the living room. The woman appeared very similar in looks and demeanor to Mrs. Divergent, but Joan detected some Korean ancestry in her. She also seemed more solidly built and athletic, more 'butch' as Joan thought of it.
'Sarah,' said Mrs. Divergent. 'do you have our instructions for Joan?' Just then the doorbell rang. 'Excuse me,' said Mrs. Divergent, rushing off to answer it.
Mrs. Paul handed Joan a ringed set of keys and several typewritten papers. 'Here's everything you'll need to know about the house. If you'll sign here for the bond...' Joan took a pen and signed.
Mrs. Paul indicated another sheet. 'Now here's a list of rules for our little Penny. Follow these very strictly and I'm sure you'll have no trouble.'
'Can I meet the little girl?' asked Joan.
'Of course, she's out on the patio taking a swim. This way...'
Just then Mrs. Divergent entered. 'Our driver says if we don't leave now we'll never make it to the OHare in time!'
Mrs. Paul turned to Joan and smiled. 'I'm afraid we'll have to go. Good luck-- we'll call you in about a week.'
'Don't you...' said Joan. But the other two had left the room. In the next instant, Joan heard the front door slam. In the quiet that followed, she comprehended that she was alone in the house. How remarkable!
She turned towards the doorway to the back. As she proceeded that way, she took in the full measure of her surroundings. This was the living quarters of some wealthy individuals! The decore was splendid, the accomodations modern and spacious.
She traveled through several rooms linked together before she was at the back of the house. Through the window she could see a patio, and the blue expanse of an olympic-length pool. At the far corner was a diving board, and Joan glimpsed a swimsuited figure taking a dive. The 'thung!' of the board and a splash were the only sounds.
'Assuming that's Penny,' she thought, 'I'll have to scratch the assumption that she'd disabled. Barring that, what are her 'special needs' anyway?'
She found the door and stepped out onto the patio. She walked over to the pool, where the diver was just reaching the near side. As the diver peered up, Joan could see that she was not in fact a child, but a young lady.
Then the diver climbed from the pool, and confronted Joan with the biggest surprise so far.
The young lady was in fact a fully-grown adult woman.
A woman wearing a bikini.
A woman filling out that bikini very well...
...With beautifully large breasts, and an hourglass figure that swelled into luscious wide hips, and tapered into long, shapely legs.
Stepping out of the pool, the lovely adult woman smiled innocently at Joan and said, 'Hi, I'm Penny.'
------
Joan sat with Penny on the patio, her mind confounded by one question-- 'Why on Earth does this gorgeous centerfold model need a babysitter?!?'
But of course, Penny wasn't a centerfold model. She merely looked like one. Or, to be more precise, she looked like the photographs of centerfolds that Joan secretly horded as a teenager. Joan had always understood that these models weren't quite so striking in real life, but were 'photogenic' when shot from the right angles and with the proper makeup, lighting, and photographic retouching. Not to mention a little padding or surgery.
Penny, on the other hand, was presumably not wearing any makeup that hadn't washed off in the pool. And, makeup or not, she was beautiful from every angle. She was, by a wide margin, the most beautiful creature Joan had ever laid eyes on.
IJoan found herself feeling dizzy, tongue-tied and nervous in the presence of the extraordinary loveliness now reclining in a lawn chair right next to hers. Try as she might to concentrate on the questions she needed answered, Joan was sorely distracted by the impulse to reach out her hand and lay it upon the tanned skin of Penny's long naked thigh... to run her hand slowly up and down that thigh... to feel the fine soft texture of that skin, and the firm muscles of Penny's leg...
But that would be counterproductive. She had been given a position of trust to watch over and protect this young woman, and that was exactly what she was going to do.
'Penny, my name is Joan. I'm going to be taking care of you while your guardians are traveling.' Penny attentively nodded at this and smiled.
'Now Penny,' continued Joan, 'I'm afraid I didn't have any time to discuss your case with Mrs. Divergent or Mrs. Paul. So, can you help me out a little? To start, can you tell me anything about yourself?'
Penny smiled. 'I'm Penny.'
Joan smiled patiently. 'Yes, I know, dear. But I need some details. For example, how old are you?'
Penny looked perplexed. 'I'm Penny.' Joan sagged in her chair and sighed.
'I'm sorry,' said Penny, a regretful expression on her face.
'That's alright, dear,' said Joan. 'At least I know you're Penny!'
'I'm Penny,' said Penny quietly, smiling. then she got up and dived into the pool.
Joan watched the girl's round behind bobbing in the water as she swam towards the other side of the pool. Then the luscious woman lifted herself from the pool, walked over to the diving board, mounted it, and, giving Joan a friendly smile, dived once again. Joan found herself staring at Penny every step of the way, every inch of Penny's beautiful womanhood.
By a force of pure will, Joan lifted herself from the patio chair, turned from the pool, and went back inside.
Her heart was racing. She was having trouble breathing. She was barely able to stand...
Suddenly, she burst into giggling, and did a little dance on the carpet.
This was turning out so much better than she'd thought! She'd come here expecting to spend three months patting the hand of some pathetic, disfigured child-- not attending to the needs of Miss Universe! The poor thing appeared to be profoundly inarticulate, and presumably was mentally impaired somehow. But dealing with Penny's problems would be an absolute joy!
Joan hugged herself to try to quiet her excited trembling. Yes, there was one enormous downside-- how was she going to keep her hands off that sweet body for three entire months? It was all she could do right now to keep herself from going out on that patio, pulling Penny bodily from the water, and raping her right there on the concrete tiles!
Joan what not particularly concerned about what this impulse revealed about her. She was sensible enough to be completely self-accepting. It didn't matter a fig to her if she were labeled a lesbian or a bi-sexual. All she knew for certain was that from this day forward, she would be a Penny-sexual through and through!
But she couldn't let her feelings interfere with her duties. Gaining a few moments of pleasure at the expense of her professional integrity would be foolish, however exquisite those moments might be.
The only proper course was to do what was expected of her. After the three months were up, she could always ask Penny out on a date, and if all went well, Joan would have the pleasure of consensually raping Penny behind a locked motel room door...
The instruction sheets-- she should begin studying them to calm herself and channel her thoughts. Penny was a mystery Joan was obliged to solve-- even if she hadn't much help from Penny's guardians.
In the living room where she'd first met Mrs. Paul, Joan sat and studied her instructions. They dealt with the property succinctly but thoroughly-- Joan had no doubt she could manage the house.
But about Penny, there was only the rules list. No description of her condition, nothing about medication or doctors.
Not even Penny's last name!
The rules list itself was written in the same succinct style that spelled out Joan's duties clearly and sufficiently. But the rules themselves raised more questions than they answered. For example--
'5. Penny will not misbehave deliberately; but when she does, it's imperative that she be spanked.'
Did they really expect her to spank a full-grown woman?
Another rule seemed counterintuitive--
'11. Penny should not be interfered with in the kitchen.'
Yet if Penny were mentally impaired, should she be allowed to play near a burning stove without being interfered with?
Some of the rules seemed aimed towards caring for a much younger individual, such as--
'14. Penny should be cuddled for at least one hour before putting her to bed.'
Other rules were strictly unconventional under any circumstances. The list specified a schedule of times when Penny should be 'permitted clothing.' The proper shaving of her body was detailed obsessively. Several rules appeared to be lifted directly from a pet-owner's manual. And the final rule literally caused Joan's jaw to drop--
'32. Penny needs to share a bed with her caregiver at least once a week.'
It was upon reading this rule that Joan became convinced. She knew without any doubt that she actually was, at this very moment, sound asleep and having a particularly outrageous nightmare.