The target’s name is Sandra Torres, a college student at the local city college. Reyna made the rules simple: I couldn’t use force. I couldn’t tell her about the game. I could slow Maria down, but I couldn’t tell Sandra about Maria. Reyna was going to have me followed by one of her sluts. I had to put a tracking app on my phone (she would give me cash to buy a new phone afterward because I will never ever use a phone touched by her again). Apparently, the app is also recording audio, and her spies will be following with cameras. She wants to relive this later.

I don’t think Maria has suddenly gained magic powers from Reyna, but I don’t understand how any of this works. Honestly, I can’t worry about what Maria’s doing. I can only focus on what I’m doing.

How the hell do you get a stranger to become your sex slave?

The good news is that I wouldn’t have to manufacture some attraction. I was afraid Reyna would choose someone unattractive to abuse us, but of course, that doesn’t make sense. That isn’t Reyna’s taste, and this is all for Reyna in the end.

Reyna’s file had several pictures of Sandra and some basic background information. I guess Sandra was picked for convenience as well as appearance. She’s already a lesbian, she lives alone, and she looks like a perfectly fuckable college girl. I’m still getting used to my preferences in women, but I can say for sure college girls are a thing I’m into. Young enough to look flexible and naive, but old enough to not be clumsy in bed.

Sandra has long brown hair. It’s normally in a high ponytail, and even then the end of it reaches her perfectly tight ass. She wears large glasses, they look more like a fashion statement than functional, but it makes her eyes seem large and adorable, like a cartoon character. That would make her feel young, but she has long legs and wears skinny jeans or tights most of the time judging from these pictures. That does wonders to elongate her and draw attention to her ass. I’ve never been an ass person, not for men before and not now for women. It’s not the ass I adore, but it seems to be a signal for other things. It tells me about their legs, their stomach, their tits. It’s an indicator of all the things I do love about women, or I guess that I’m learning to love. Have already loved? Always loved? The timeline doesn’t matter. What matters is that Sandra has an adorable ass.

She’s thin, not curvy. It’s not that she’s flat chested or has no waist, but it’s more like those haven’t come in yet. She’s still developing. Though personally, I’ve found nipples more important to me than the actual size of flesh on a woman’s chest. It’s what she does with the tits that matters, not the size. Besides, overly large breasts get in the way and feel like they’re compensating for something. Women with huge tits, to me, feel like men with sports cars. I know some women can’t help it, but I don’t have to subject them to my will. I get to pick cute little things like June and Sandra and Maria.

Without much of a plan, I end up at Sandra’s apartment. I have no plan or alias. “Hi, I’m Sarah, would you like to be a slut for me?” That’s about as far as I got. Thankfully, she wasn’t home. Her roommate, also cute, but not yummy looking, told me Sandra was at the gym for a yoga class that was going to start shortly.

It hits me: yoga is perfect. Relaxed? Check. Sexy? Check. Suggestible? Check. At least I could start there and see how susceptible she is in her mind. Besides, her in yoga pants? Yes, please. I ask the roommate (Clara, she tells me) where the gym is. Clara tells me and even gives me her gym card to get in without a problem. Such a doll.

I don’t know how much time I have. Does Maria have a head start on me? I try not to worry about that. I head home and grab clothes to do yoga in. My plan (now that I have one) is to pretend to take the class and watch her. Then, maybe I can befriend her. Get invited back to her place? Get her drunk? Talk to her about the mind. Maybe bring up hypnosis and ask if she wants to try it. I’d have to know how to do hypnosis, but that’s beside the point. One step at a time. The most important step is the next one, and that’s the gym.

The gym is full of gorgeous people, like all gyms. There should be more people like me, slightly out of shape and trying to improve themselves, but no. Instead, models and Olympians flood the gyms of America to remind us, mortals, what we can never have. This must look like a buffet to Reyna, but to me, it’s a reminder of how inadequate I am. Luckily, no one hardcore is in the yoga room. Yes, they all look like statues and magazine advertisements come to life, but they don’t look like they’ve come here to show it off.

The room is darkly lit and covered with mats. I immediately find Sandra by the far wall from the door. A spot is open on the floor behind her, and I go stand there awkwardly. I make a show of looking lost and confused (I don’t have to do much acting for that), until Sandra turns around and smiles at me sympathetically.

The girl is adorable. She’s part sex-kitten in all the right parts, but a total sweetheart in the eyes and smile. I guess real life hasn’t ruined her dreams yet. She looks like she comes from the Midwest or somewhere idyllic and hopeful that raised her to be a perfect angel. Reyna’s notes mentioned she’s not a virgin, but looking at her, it’s hard to believe that. She practically glows from the innocence in her face. Part of me (my lower half) warms with the thought of that angelic face moaning with pleasure serving her goddess. It doesn’t matter if it’s me, Maria, or Reyna, she’s going to be unstoppable once she’s broken of that naïveté.

“You get your mat from the room back there,” says Sandra. She points behind me, and I see others girls and a few guys walking into a supply closet and walking out with mats and little colored blocks.

“Thanks,” I say, and give her my best smile to show I’m lost and overwhelmed and appreciate it (again, little acting required). I offer my hand for a shake. It’s a little forced, I know, but I want to touch her. “I’m Sarah.”

“Sandra,” she says and takes my hand. The shake is awkward, but her skin is soft. “First time?”

“Yeah.”

“Here or yoga in general?”

“Yoga. Ever. Exercise ever? I don’t know, it’s a new year’s thing. You know?”

“Yeah, totally. We get tons of new people in January. Don’t worry. Yoga should be relaxing. If you aren’t relaxed, you’re doing it wrong.”

“But if I’m doing it wrong, I won’t relax.”

“Then relax,” she says with a smile. Something about her simple, girlish manner reminds me of Reyna. I could kiss her, but that won’t help. I need a sex slave, not a girlfriend.

“I’ll try,” I mutter.

“Just keep an eye on me, you’ll be fine,” she says. She doesn’t need to tell me twice. “And make sure you get one of the blocks, those help out beginners.”

I go to the back and grab my blocks and mat. I find that not everyone at yoga is welcoming like Sandra. Some people must think they’re Gandhi and others think they’re at the world championships of calming down and breathing. Either way, some people aren’t here to find fun or inner peace.

Sandra is doing some preliminary stretches before the teacher comes in, and I mimic her. I abuse the hell out of my permission to stare at her while she stretches. God bless whoever invented yoga pants. Each cheek gets the spotlight and each bounce or bend of her flesh is for my eyes to devour. Sandra’s hair must have grown because her ponytail now goes slightly past her ass. Her yoga pants are grey and her tank top is purple. The top slides up frequently to show me a flat tummy. The girl still doesn’t have the tits of a lingerie ad, but all of her is one tight string. My mind imagines her stretching without the clothes on, and it becomes the most erotic thing I’ve seen. It’s a simple dance showing flesh and flesh and more flesh and the life behind the flesh and the power inside the flesh. I wonder what all that flesh could do for me, and what all that flesh must taste like, and how long she could go. Longer than June?

June. I’d forgotten about her. Reyna brought her up so quickly in the deal that I was caught off guard and agreed before I could think. If I fuck this up, I have to hand over June to Reyna. Would June like that? She was devastated to leave Reyna the first time. But what we have is special. Of course, it won’t last forever, but it’s easy and beautiful. Nothing in my life has been easy or beautiful, and now I have both with this crazy girl. I can defend that, if nothing else.

The door to the studio opens and the instructor walks in. I hear her setting up her music, but keep my eyes on Sandra. Candles are lit. People take their places. Sandra and I stop stretching, and she smiles at me. Is she flirting? Is this flirting? Or is she just being nice? I know she’s a lesbian and single, but that doesn’t mean she wants to bang the overweight new girl in a studio full of hot women.

“Alright, everyone,” says the instructor. “Patricia is sick, so I’ll be subbing in for her today.” I look up. I know that voice. Shit.

There, in a hot little yoga outfit of blue and black yoga pants and a black midriff top, is Maria. She’s making her first move at the same time as me. I haven’t seen in her in weeks, and she looks good. She’s lost some of her twigginess, and she’s put on muscle. She looks almost like a professional runner, lithe and strong. I guess she does yoga now, and maybe that accounts for her muscle mass. Her hair is black, but a bright stripe of fuchsia runs through it. It’s in a cute asymmetrical bob. She looks good, but foreign. It’s like she went off to sex slave camp and came back a lean, mean, yoga machine hell-bent on beating me in this game.

“My name is Maria. I’m a little new to this, so be patient with me.” Our eyes meet. She winks at me, then her eyes dart over at Sandra. “We’ll start with simple stuff. I’ll mix in some fast change routines to get in a bit of cardio for some of you, but I want to focus on stretching and digging deeper into some of these poses. We’ll call it a medium difficulty. Beginners should be able to keep up, but veterans shouldn’t be bored.”

I can’t do anything. I can’t interrupt or tell everyone this is a scam or Maria is dangerous. Instead, I do yoga. I learn a lot. It’s more about breathing and awareness than it is about being flexible or strong. I kind of like it. My favorite part is the music Maria chose. It’s not monk chanting like I thought it would be. It’s simple electronic with gentle beats. It doesn’t make me want to get up and dance, but it makes me want to close my eyes and relax. And fuck. But lately, everything makes me want to fuck. Besides a new favorite genre of music, I learn I have terrible balance. I learn that my abs suck. Also, forward folds are not my strength, so I spend most of that time watching Sandra forward fold in front of me.

Throughout the routine, there isn’t much suspicious activity from Maria. She emphasizes us paying attention to our breathing. We have to breathe in through our nose as far as we can, ideally for ten seconds, and then breathe out through our mouths as long as we can, ideally for eight seconds. She asks us to envision the breath traveling through our bodies to ideal destinations. If my abs hurt, I should envision the breath leaving my lungs and traveling to my abs. It actually helps. She spends a lot of time on breathing with us, but nothing about all of us bowing our will and tongues to serve her body.

The whole thing is relaxing and invigorating at the same time. It’s like my body is waking up to itself and my mind is falling asleep. All the stresses of life flood out of me and instead I become more and more aware of my body and my breathing. I’m more aware of the soreness in my wrists when we do planks or table or downward dog. I’m more aware of my heavy breathing as we transition between the different warrior poses and plank over and over. I’m more aware of the dampness in my panties. My pussy is slick and only aching for more. I’m more aware of Sandra’s body. I notice the smell in the room that can’t just be my lust. It must be Sandra and her lust building as well. Each of us has hungry and energetic bodies with heavy and thick minds, following each pose Maria gives us.

As we reach the end of the hour, Maria starts to talk more and more. She’s no longer talking about breathing or visualization, but leading us down some type of manifesto about one of the poses.

“A lot of people don’t do downward dog correctly. Some people obsess over getting their heels on the ground. Other people try to go on their toes. The focus of the position is the hips. More important than straight legs or anything else, is the proper fold in the hips. Try to find a place where you feel the stretch in your hips and not your back or legs. Then settle into that place. It should feel comfortable there. This is a rest position. I’m going to come around and help each of you individually. If you don’t want to be touched, just tell me, and I’ll pass you. But once you feel the proper pose, it’ll change downward dog for you forever.”

Downward dog is your hands and feet on the mat, but your body is making almost a triangle with the floor. You bend at the waist at an angle and distribute the weight from there. I personally can’t straighten my legs or put my heels on the floor, and the pain in my wrist is almost unbearable. While I hold in this personal hell of a pose (there is no way this is a rest pose), Maria goes around the studio and directs other people on what position they should be in. She walks from behind them and resets their position in the hips or feet or hands, adjusting how far apart the legs are from each other or how far apart the hands are from the feet.

She comes to me before she comes to Sandra. She approaches from behind and says loud enough so my neighbors can hear, “do you mind if I touch you to help?” I do mind, but don’t want to start a scene or warn Sandra to anything strange. I’m not sure what Reyna considers interfering with Maria, but I’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to the Spanish psychopath.

“It’s fine,” I mutter, my wrists are shrieking in pain from the downward dog. I feel Maria come behind me. She spreads her legs and lets each leg press against each of my legs. She puts her hands on my hips and pulls up, mercifully easing the pain in my wrist and legs. She pulls back on my hips, pressing me into her, and then slowly lowers them. I imagine myself as less of an isosceles triangle and more of a right triangle, folded in half but stopping to get my hands on the mat. The pressure in my wrist eases, and I relax into the pose.

“There you go,” says Maria, soothingly. Then I feel her hand slip through the waistband of my pants and panties as her hand cups my pussy. I gasp, and press back against her, grinding my ass into her crotch. I try to stand up, but her other hand presses down on my back, pinning me in the position. Her fingers press hard against my clit, but then lower to my soaked pussy. She slides one finger through my folds easily, and then another. She repeats the process, almost cycling her forefinger and middle finger through my pussy.

My breath, which I’ve been paying close attention to, goes ragged. It’s all in through the mouth and out through the mouth as I pant. My ass wiggles against Maria, this time in delight, and I feel her chuckle quietly.

“Like that, do you?” she asks.

“Yesss.”

“Goddess, you are too easy. Reyna said you’d be a challenge for me.”

“This is cheating,” I get out between gasps.

“I’m not interfering with your plan, love.” Her fingers stop swirling inside me and press eagerly against my clit, giving it long strokes. I get louder and a man to my left looks over at us. Maria must give him some look because he nods in understanding and goes back to his pose. “It would be cheating if I interfered. Giving you a good fingering is just being polite.”

She pulls her fingers out of my...