The Pajama Game—The Tax Lady Cometh
by Big Daddy Five
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. If you really want this kind of stuff to happen, you obviously haven’t thought the consequences through and need to stop reading these kinds of things.
Oh, yeah: Trademark, copyright, and ground-you-walk-on by Big Daddy Five.
“HEA-ther!” Sandy whispered in a whiny voice. “Sit up straight.”
“Fuck off,” Hypnotic Heather said, slouching in the chair even more, if that was humanly possible. She peered through her dark sunglasses at her girlfriend’s dejected expression and smirked. Heather didn’t know why she was attracted enough to Sandy to live with her, but she was. In high school, Sandy was the kind of girl Heather and her “rude girlz” group had delighted in torturing. In fact, Sandy was one of the girls specifically that they had treated cruelly. Maybe that was it, because deep down Heather had always been attracted to whiny little store-bought princesses like Sandy. She was just loathe to admit it. Their relationship was mutually exclusive, sort of. At least in the sense that Sandy was remarkably faithful and Heather was too, in her own fashion. That is to say that she never slept with the same girl twice, unless she really, really wanted to.
“Don’t be like that, kitten,” the dark-haired Sandy pouted as she spoke in the little girl voice that always made Heather wet. “You know I love you.”
Yeah, Hypnotic Heather thought to herself as she moved into a more straightened position. I guess you do at that.
Sandy could get Heather to do a lot of things she wouldn’t normally do, including wear regular clothes. Since becoming a super-being, Heather started wearing her sexy S.V. costumes more and more, even when she wasn’t working. Sandy talked her into at least putting on some of her old goth clothes for this, and Heather had on black mary janes; striped, multi-colored stockings; a tight miniskirt; a low-cut top and denim jacket; and a large, cheery button on her jacket that said “Ask Me About Satan”. For Heather, it was pretty conservative. Sandy had even managed to get her to come down to the IRS office and talk to someone about their taxes.
The large room was full of couples, although Heather hadn’t noticed any more lesbians. She saw a couple of gay guys in the back arguing over one of their forms, but all of the women there were with men. Too bad. Heather was horny and Sandy was holding out on her until they got home, even though the building had a perfectly suitable elevator for a quickie. At the snail’s pace that people were being called, Heather imagined that it would be a long time before she got any action.
A tall, willowy blonde walked out into the lobby. She was about 30, with long, straight hair almost to her waist, high cheekbones, and a perfectly made-up face. She wore a gray tweed jacket with matching skirt that came to mid-thigh and a pair of black pumps. Heather was noticeably drooling, which got her a poke in the ribs from Sandy. The blonde peered through her thick-framed glasses at the paper she was holding. “Compton and Marx?” she called out. “Compton and Marx?”
“Here!” Sandy chimed in, waving like a fool.
“This way, please,” the blonde said, not even bothering to see if they were following her into the back.
“Now behave,” Sandy chided her girlfriend as they walked behind the blonde down a long corridor.
“I’ll be a regular Kelly Ripa,” Heather whispered back.
The blonde woman led them into a small room just big enough for a desk, a couple of chairs in front of it, a filing cabinet, and the woman and her two guests. “I’m Mrs. Twila Thornton,” the blonde said with a smug little expression. “Are you Compton and Marx?”
“No,” Heather sneered. “We’re Abbott and Costello. Why the fuck would you wait until we got all the way to your office to ask us that, you dipshit?”
The blonde sighed but held her composure. “Which one are you?”
“Heather Compton.”
Twila Thornton made a small check mark on her paperwork. “Noted,” she said.
“Um... Please forgive Heather, Ms. Thornton,” Sandy interjected, staring daggers into her girlfriend. “She was raised by wolves.”
“No doubt the wolves ran away from home at the first opportunity,” Twila said. “Please have a seat, ladies.”
“So, is this a domestic partnership?” Thornton asked.
Sandy kicked Heather before the other woman could make a smartass comment. “Yes.”
“And how long have you two been together?”
“Since high school,” Heather told her. Mrs. Thornton looked at her blankly, awaiting the correct response. Heather sighed. “Two years.”
“What are your sources of income?”
“I’m a pharmacist’s assistant,” Sandy said cheerfully, “and Heather is an S.V.”
“An S.V?” the blonde asked. “What’s an S.V.?”
“Supervillain,” Sandy said, “but we’re not supposed to say it because of trademarks.”
“All right, we’ll put it down as an S.V. then.” the woman looked at Heather. “You do realize that you are not a city employee, don’t you? You’re a contractor and must file a 1099 form with the federal government and an ST-220 form with New York state.”
“Whatever,” Heather muttered, bored.
At that point, Hypnotic Heather stopped answering questions and let Sandy speak for them. Heather just wanted to get this over with so she could have some fun, and looking at the rather attractive Twila Thornton, Heather knew exactly who she wanted to have fun with.
She considered hypnotizing Sandy and having her sleep in her chair while Heather made Thornton lick her, but Heather had never hypnotized Sandy. She had promised Sandy that she wouldn’t do that when she came back home with her powers that first day. Heather didn’t know what had gotten into her that made her agree to that. It was a stupid promise, she decided. Still, maybe she could have some fun without breaking the letter of that agreement if not the spirit.
As Twila Thornton rattled on about tax forms, Heather peeked over the top of her sunglasses until the IRS agent glanced at her. Heather winked at her, then shot her with a blast of hypno. Mrs. Thornton stopped dead in mid-sentence, her eyes turning pure white and a vapid smile settling on her face.
“Hey, what?!” Sandy snapped. She looked at Twila then back to Heather. “Hey, you hypnotized her, Heather. That’s unfair!”
“She was boring, Sandy. At least this way we can cut this thing short.”
“Okay, I agree that this little meeting is boring,” Sandy admitted, “but how can we cut it short? It’s a necessary evil, like seeing the dentist.”
“Not really,” Heather said. “Watch this...” She looked at the pleasantly-smiling woman. “Twila, why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell us why we’re here?”
“Your names were pulled at random,” Thornton said smiling, “from last year’s filing.”
“Take your panties off, bitch,” Heather commanded.
“HEA-ther!”
Sandy looked in shock as Twila Thornton stood up, hiked her skirt and lowered her panties, dropping them to the floor. She stepped out of them and gently placed them on the desk, then sat down at her desk and awaited her next command.
“I’ll never get used to that,” Sandy said.
Heather grabbed the IRS agent’s panties from the desk and sniffed them. “Ha! I knew she was getting off being an officious little twit.” She handed the panties to Sandy. “Take a whiff.”
“No thank you,” Sandy said, turning her back as she sat in the chair and crossing her arms.
“Sandy,” Heather sighed, “she’s perfectly fine. It’s not like I had her walk off of the building roof.”
“It’s still not right, Heather.”
“I don’t care about ‘right’,” Heather insisted. “Hello? I’m an S.V.?”
No response.
It was time for Heather’s little ‘letter of the law’ trick. “Hey, Twila, look this way.”
Mrs. Thornton stared at the two women. Sandy turned slightly and looked at the IRS agent as Heather closed her eyes, concentrating hard. Suddenly, she was looking at herself and Sandy through Twila’s eyes. It was like she was looking through a pink, convex mirror. Twila’s eyes suddenly had spirals in them, like Heather’s own, and Sandy looked deep into them, fascinated. Her own eyes turned milky-white and a silly smile appeared on her lips.
“Wowwwww,” Sandy breathed, “The colors are so awesome!”
“Aren’t they, though?” Heather smiled as she opened her own eyes. Twila and Sandy were staring at each other, both with empty eyes and empty smiles on their faces. Heather had learned that she could do this trick the first time she hypnotized The Gray Panthra. She was supposed to report any and all powers to the city tourism department, but she decided to keep mum about this little ace in the hole. Technically, since Sandy was looking deep into Twila’s eyes when it happened, Twila had hypnotized her. Heather knew that wouldn’t stand up in a court of law, but in the court of Hypnotic Heather, it was perfectly kosher.
“So, my little marionettes,” Heather said, smiling. “Let’s have some fun, but quietly, in case someone’s within earshot. Sandy, Twila here has her panties off already, so why don’t you have a little taste. Twila, you let Sandy have some creampie.”
“Yes, Heather,” they both said at the same time. Heather got up and locked the door as Sandy crawled, drooling, behind the desk where Twila had pulled her chair back and spread her legs as wide as the small space allowed. Heather pulled her trusty vibrator from her purse and crawled on top of the desk to apply it to Twila’s clitoris as her girlfriend lapped eagerly at the IRS agent’s wet slit.
Twila couldn’t believe what she was feeling. She’d never even kissed another woman and now one was performing oral sex on her... and she liked it. In fact, she loved it! Her husband was always joking that they should add a second woman to their bedroom play. Twila could tell that even though he said it jokingly, he really wanted it. Maybe she’d let him next time he broached the subject, if the other woman could make her feel this way! Twila was getting off on being hypnotized, too. She never knew it could be so erotic. Somewhere in her totally fucked head she decided that she should get hypnotized more often. Combined with the sex, it was absolute heaven.
Sandy, for her part, was enjoying lapping at the IRS agent’s more than willing pussy. Like Heather, she had been attracted to Twila the second they met her. Unlike Heather, she wasn’t going to act on it. But under her girlfriend’s control, she could do anything she secretly wanted and not be responsible for her own actions. It’s not me doing it she sighed into Twila’s wet slit. It’s Heather. Not me, Heather. I’m just a fuckdoll; some empty-headed little marionette. God, that’s so hot!
Twila’s mouth trembled as she came, small mewling noises escaping her lips from Sandy’s ministrations. Then Heather had them switch positions, bringing Sandy to a beautiful climax. For the topper, she had both women service her own lascivious needs at the same time.
Once Heather came off of her orgasmic high, she looked at the two women kneeling before her and said, “Okay, time to get back into your boring clothes, girls.”
As they were getting dressed, Heather addressed Mrs. Thornton. “Bitch, instead of asking us a shit-load of useless questions that you already have the answers to, why don’t you just fill it out for us using last year’s form and only bother us when you come to a question that you really need our input on?”
“Okay,” Twila said, still smiling.
“Oh, and to make it interesting,” Heather told Twila, handing her the small vibrator, “you should play with yourself while you fill out the form. The more questions you answer without our help, the more sexually excited you’ll become. Think of it as getting a gold star, like in grade school.”
“Anything you say,” Twila agreed.
“Now, Sandy,” Heather said, sliding a finger along her girlfriend’s jaw, “we came in here, answered a bunch of boring questions, and left. As soon as we walk out of the lobby and get into the elevator, you’ll wake up and that’s what you’ll remember.”
“Yes Heather.”
Hypnotic Heather thought for awhile as Twila finished off their information in record time. Twila had played with herself until she had cum multiple times and her desk chair was wet and messy. “Finished,” she sighed contentedly, looking at Heather with complete fascination and submission.
“Very good, Twila!” Heather enthused. She clapped her hands, then stopped and looked at the other woman intently. “Now I know you’re just a cog in the machine, bitch, but a cog is part of the machine as a whole and if that cog breaks down, part of the machine breaks down too.”
“Yes, Heather.”
“So for being such an officious little bureaucrat when we first came in,” Heather said, “and just to strike a blow for taxpayers everywhere, here’s what’s going to happen, bitch: The next time you hear the number ‘1040’, you’re going to become sexually excited. And the more times you hear it in the conversation, the more excited you’re going to get, until you just have to pull down your panties and frig yourself until you cum. You won’t give a damn who’s there or what’s going on, you’ll just have to do it. Is that clear?”
Twila actually smiled wider at that. “Yes, Heather.”
“Come on, Sandy,” Heather commanded as she stood up. Sandy stood up too and walked out of the office with her vapid smile. Heather stopped before she closed the door and looked at the mindfucked woman sitting at her desk, still playing with herself. “When I leave the room, you’ll put on your panties, wake up, and forget all about this. See you on the unemployment line, bitch.”
Twila smiled and grabbed her panties and the file for her next appointment. She hoped it was a 1040 case!