No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Also test if the spell worked and whether you have control of Ms. Erikson

Ms. Erickson has a dubious expression on her face, but she lowers the phone. “Really? You can explain? I’m looking forward to hearing that.” She takes a step towards you. Her face is flushed, and her breathing is fast. You can’t tell if that’s because she’s angry that you collared her **** daughter, alarmed that you broke into her house, or aroused because the spell is making her attracted to you. It’s probably some combination, and you hope at least partially the last one.

You realize that to test whether the spell worked, you should tell her to do something, and see if she’s compelled to obey. You probably should start small, though. In case it didn’t work, you don’t want her to think you make a habit of ordering women to do insane things. Then she’d be even more sure that Tracey had a breakdown when she agreed to be your pet.

You edge slowly towards the couch. “Please sit down,” You say, trying to sound non-threatening, “and let me tell you about me and Tracey.” You settle down on one end of the couch.

“I don’t recall inviting you to stay and have a seat.” She says, but she sits on the other end of the couch, turned to face you. “Go on and tell me.”

You swallow hard and continue. “Well… we… we’ve kind of known each other, by sight, for years. Seen each other around school. This year we have English Lit. class together. We got to talking, and there was… I guess you’d call it a spark. We hit it off.”

Tracey’s mother smirks, “Hmmph… I’ve been a teenager; I know about meeting in school. I understand how sparks happen,” she says, leaning towards you. You think you catch her eyes moving over you. Maybe the spell worked. “I would like to hear, in detail, how my daughter ended up wearing a collar with a tag declaring her your property.”

“It was entirely consensual... mutual,” you try to assure her. You feel like you need to get the conversation on a different track, something that the spell would latch onto if it’s working. “Ms. Erikson, your daughter makes me very happy. I want to make her happy to. We agreed together that… the kind of relationship that collar symbolizes is the sort of thing that would make us both happy.”

At your mention of Tracey making you happy, her mom’s posture changes slightly. She leans in a bit more towards you. You notice her blink a few times, and shake her head slightly, as if she’s trying to clear her thoughts. She pauses to collect herself before she responds. “I’m sure making my daughter into your ‘pet’ would make you happy,” she says scornfully. “I think a young man like you would be happy with a collection of pets. Wouldn’t you? And you could certainly get one.” Her face reddens a bit more, she frowns as if she’s confused that she just said that aloud.

“I don’t think my daughter is thinking clearly about what would make her happy right now. She certainly seemed very happy before — when she wasn’t interested in boys. When she came out to me and told me there was a girl she really liked, she was happy. Tracey’s… been through something devastating since then, and that girl was there for her. So it was quite a shock when I saw that tag, and then Tracey told me she was leaving her girlfriend… so she could serve you. I think her… experience… might be causing her to make self-destructive decisions. I don’t want her to be taken advantage of or hurt.”

The blonde woman shifts a bit closer to you on the couch. “Tell me — is my daughter special to you, David? Does your happiness depend on her being yours? Or is she discardable to you, replaceable? Would another woman as your pet make you just as happy? Happier, perhaps?”

You hold out your hand. The website said physical contact was important in the first 24 hours, and whether she gives you her hand would make for a convincing test. “Ms. Erikson, take my hand,” you tell her. “I promise you; I have no intention of harming Tracey.” She hesitantly reaches out and places her hand in yours. You hold it tightly and notice her shiver. You smile at her as you continue. “I don’t intend on discarding or replacing her either. I wouldn’t be happier trading her away for another woman. I will keep her, and be happy with her, for as long as she wants to be with me.” You think you see a brief expression of disappointment and longing on Ms. Erikson's face as you tell her you wouldn't take another woman in Tracey's place.

“What you said about me being happier with a collection of pets is true, though.” You try to turn your smile into more of a sly grin as you look Ms. Erikson in the eye. “I hope that doesn’t shock you too much — that you can accept that my relationship with Tracey won’t be traditional monogamy, or a conventional egalitarian partnership. I fully intend to have other pets, and to allow Tracey to play with other girls, of my choosing, of course.”

Tracey’s mom does look shocked that you are telling her this so openly, but she leans closer. Her breaths come faster. “I… I can see the appeal… the excitement of that kind of relationship, David. I really do. It’s not what I expected for my daughter at all, but… I can’t deny it has a dark allure to it. I can understand how she could… give up her old life to have that… with you.”

“I’m glad you're starting to understand Tracey’s choice, Ms. Erikson,” you say in a low voice, as you raise her hand to your lips and place a kiss on her palm. She lets out a gasp. “I think you understand me, too.” You kiss the inside of her wrist. She moans low. “Tell me your first name. I don’t want to have to keep calling you Ms. Erikson. I’d be happier if we weren’t so formal.”

“I… I’m Eleanor.” She stammers out.

You smile wider, “Ellie… Now that you understand why Tracey is with me, and wearing my collar, I want you to drop this idea of having her evaluated by a psychiatrist. Don’t you think that’s an overreaction to two young people exploring the bounds of their relationship?”

Eleanor trembles as she nods. “You’re right. I won’t bring it up again.” She licks her lips. “If you want to be… more familiar, should I call you Dave?” she asks hesitantly.

“I think that would be fine when other people are around. In private, call me Sir.”

She shudders. “Yes… Sir.”