The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The basement apartment was suitably anonymous, a small stone staircase leading down from a gate to a freshly-painted green door. Chloe double-checked the address against the text on her cellphone: 43A, this was the one. Slowly, with trembling legs, she descended the stairs, closing the wrought-iron gate behind her.

She checked her watch; 12:30pm precisely. She tentatively pressed the doorbell.

There was a pause, then she heard faint footsteps which approached the door. Another short delay, presumably while they checked the peephole, then the door cracked open into a dark hallway. Chloe timorously stepped inside, and the door shut quietly behind her.

As her eyes adjusted from the outside sunshine, she saw a middle-aged lady with blonde hair, dressed in a dark outfit, standing behind the door.

“Hi, I’m Chloe?”

“Yes; please remove your shoes.” The lady had a Central European accent. Was this Madame Yvette? “You must leave your purse here; also, turn off your phone.”

Chloe obediently powered down her iPhone and tucked it in her purse, before putting it away in a small alcove indicated by the lady. She slipped off her pumps, with a small sigh of relief.

“Come with me.” The lady brought her along a corridor crammed with clothing racks, smelling of leather, into a small room with a couple of comfy seats and a small table.

“Madame will be with you soon.” She swished out of the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

Without any other direction, Chloe sank into one of the chairs. Reflexively she reached for her pocket, before remembering that her phone was both powered off and in her bag down the hall. She was stuck for anything to do, so idly looked around the room. It was anonymous; neutral decor, no photos or posters: The perfect introduction to what she hoped would be an anonymous encounter.

The door opened, and a tall lady with dark plaited hair swept in. “On your feet!”

Chloe sprang to her feet, nervously. This was, without doubt, Madame Yvette. The power in her voice...

“So, you are Chloe.” Madame Yvette regarded her thoughtfully. “Tell me again what you are looking for.”

Chloe had expressed herself clearly—or so she had thought—in the initial email, but stammered and lowered her eyes as the Mistress’s gaze drilled into her. “I’m... looking to be dominated, by a powerful woman?”

“Ah, but why?” Madame Yvette reached out and lifted Chloe’s chin so that their eyes met.

“I... I...” Madame waited patiently for Chloe to find the end of the sentence. “I want to serve someone. I want to be of service... I want to feel valued.”

“Very good!” Mbotjadame released Chloe’s chin. “You will certainly find that here. You do realize, you will be releasing yourself to me completely?”

“Yes,” Chloe confirmed.

“ ‘Yes, Madame’, " the woman corrected, a whip-crack in her tone.

‘“Yes, Madame. I’m sorry.”

“You will soon learn.” Madame Yvette appraised Chloe for a short time, then turned to leave. “Get undressed. Athaliah will help you prepare.”

After the door shut, Chloe clumsily started to remove her top. Her hands were shaking, and unbuttoning her clothes was much harder than normal. She was startled when the door opened, but it was just the blonde lady from before. This must be Athaliah?

“Madame sent me to get you ready. Come, undress.” She brusquely unfastened Chloe’s skirt, pulling it down, and then turned her attention to Chloe’s stockings.

Chloe finally managed to undo and remove her top, and hesitated as she wasn’t sure whether to remove her bra. Athaliah had no such hesitations, firmly pulling down Chloe’s panties. Resigned, Chloe unhooked the bra and stepped out of her clothes. Clearly her servitude was going to start with nudity.

Athaliah reached into a small closet and retrieved what turned out to be a paper hospital gown. “Put this on.” The gown was quite brief, and left little to the imagination, but Chloe did her best to secure it.

Athaliah ushered her out of the anteroom and further down a corridor to a green-lit space that turned out to be something like a hospital operating room. There was a sturdy chair next to the entrance, and Athaliah propelled Chloe into it. As she sat, wondering what came next, Athaliah efficiently fastened multiple broad straps around her arms, legs, and around her body. In the space of a few minutes, Chloe was bound fast to the chair and unable to move anything other than her head and fingers. She felt a stirring in her lower parts; this restraint was clearly something her body had been seeking.

Athaliah held up a small rubber mask. “Madame wants you to breathe from this.” She pressed the mask against Chloe’s face; surprised, Chloe inhaled inadvertently and felt a sharp taste from some chemical. She feebly tried to wriggle away but Athaliah remorselessly held the mask in place, and Chloe was forced to take another breath, and another. By the time the mask was removed, her vision was blurring and the room was at a slant in her vision, warmth was spreading through her body. She was vaguely aware of Athaliah holding something up to her face—a phone?—but completely unable to focus on it.

She had no real sense of time, but suddenly Madame Yvette was at her side. “How do you feel?”

“Woozy...” muttered Chloe; the drug was still skewing her view.

“We need to prepare you for your servitude.” Madame Yvette moved to a side table and busied herself with something. “Are you returning to work later?”

“Took th’ afternoon off...” Chloe hadn’t wanted to be under time pressure.

“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?” Madame returned to the seat and brought a band across Chloe’s forehead, holding her head in place.

“No...” Madame placed something behind Chloe’s neck.

“Is anybody expecting you this evening?”

“Stayin’ home...” Chloe’s vision was slowly returning to normal and her head was no longer swimming as badly. She was vaguely aware of background music, playing quietly but with a persistent beat.

“Then we have all the time in the world.” Madame brought a new, larger mask in front of her. “Take a deep breath, Chloe. My servant.”

Chloe obediently did so, and Madame pressed the mask tightly against Chloe’s face; it smelt of rubber and chemicals. “And breathe out.” She pulled small straps from behind Chloe and fastened them onto the mask, holding it in place. “Breathe normally now.”

On her first inspiration, the chemical in the mask hit Chloe much like a train. Had her head not been fastened in place, it would have fallen forward like a rock. As it was, she was held immobile while her vision blurred and a thumping began in her ears. The music seemed to get louder. And louder.

“Breathe deeper for me.” Madame’s voice was echoing. Chloe tried to focus on the room, on the chair, on anything, but it was impossible. She was peripherally aware of Madame’s face close to hers but nothing mattered beyond the mask and its assault on her mind. The music beat was even louder, and her ears were ringing. Her body had somehow detached from her...

Suddenly she was aware that the mask had left her face and that she could feel the cool air of the room again. She opened her eyes, carefully. She was still fastened in the chair, but now the Madame and Athaliah were busy preparing something on the surgical bed at the other side of the room.

Athaliah noticed her return to consciousness. “Madame, she’s awake now.”

Madame Yvette walked back over, her heels clicking on the tiles. “Indeed. How do you feel, Chloe?”

“Confused...—Madame.” Chloe tried to look around but the head strap frustrated her. “What happened?”

“We needed to prepare you.” Madame undid the head strap. “We will be ready for you soon, please relax.”

As best she could, Chloe tried to obey as Madame and Athaliah completed their work. Her head was mostly clear now, and with the strap removed she could see more of the room. As well as the surgical bed, many cabinets lined the room containing glass, steel and rubber implements; the majority of them distinctly phallic. She felt an unexpected thrill within herself.

“Fetch her, Athaliah.” Madame appeared to have finished her preparations. Athaliah came over and unstrapped Chloe from the chair, initially holding her in the seat with a hand until she was sure Chloe’s circulation had restored. Then she guided Chloe over to the wall where there was a height-measuring device, and weighing scales.

Madame took the measurements. “One fifty eight centimeters; fifty five kilos. Good!” She indicated the bed, and Athaliah ushered Chloe onto it. “My servants need to be healthy. We have to complete the examination now. Lie still, please.” She pressed a floor switch and there was a whine as the bed slowly brought Chloe up towards the surgical lights. Once the bed was at waist level, it stopped, and Madame Yvette and Athaliah took hold of Chloe’s wrists and then ankles to fasten them into soft cuffs at the side of the bed. Madame completed the restraint with three broad straps across Chloe’s torso.

“Now, monitoring.” Athaliah clipped a peg-like device to one of Chloe’s fingers while Madame reached under Chloe’s gown to attach three electrodes across her chest. She turned on a monitor by the side of the bed and consulted it briefly.

“All looks well. Let us start the examination, Athaliah.”

From the side of the bed Madame brought up another mask. This one had a couple of long, flexible hoses connected to it. Madame carefully sited it on Chloe’s face, then brought up straps from behind Chloe’s head to fasten it firmly against the skin. Chloe took a cautious breath, but it tasted like normal air, so she relaxed a little and breathed normally.

Athaliah seated herself on a tall stool beside Chloe’s head. Madame had moved to a wheeled trolley at the end of the bed and had picked up something metallic and ominous-looking. She daubed it with lubricant before bringing it towards Chloe, who now recognized it—warily—as an examination speculum.

“Do not worry, my dear. For your comfort, we will mildly sedate you for the next part.” She gestured to Athaliah who turned a dial, and Chloe heard a “hiss” as a gas entered her mask. It smelled somewhat like apples. As she breathed it in she felt light-headed, and her worries started to recede.

“Two notches more, I think, Athaliah.” The smell grew stronger, and Chloe started to feel very dizzy and disconnected. She was only barely aware of the speculum sliding into her sex and ratcheting open, managing a faint moan behind the mask.

“Leave her there for now.” Madame leaned over Chloe’s unfocused eyes. “Isn’t this nice? You can feel Chloe sinking, sinking, deep deep down... she’s falling away from you, falling away... leaving just you... just you... waiting to serve your Madame...”

Athaliah watched the monitoring as the machines beeped and hissed quietly, and Madame spoke hypnotically into Chloe’s subconsciousness.

Chloe swam back to consciousness from a long, hazy dream. Something was tugging at her mind. Something she needed to do. It burst out of her:

“I must serve!” Her eyes shot open to find herself still on the table, now without mask but still restrained.

“Yes, you must.” Madame Yvette was there, waiting for her. “Tell me your name!”

“I’m...” Her mind briefly failed her and she tried to pull the information out—but to no avail.

“I... I don’t know, Madame.” Her eyes dipped down in shame.

Madame Yvette was smiling. “Of course you don’t, my dear. I haven’t told you yet.” She slowly slid her hands down Chloe’s bound form. “What are you?”

“Your servant!” Chloe would have covered her mouth if her hands had not been bound securely to her side. What had she just said, and why?

“Yes, you are.” Madame leaned down towards her. “Your name is Zara. Say it!”

“My name is Zara!” Again, the words escaped Chloe before she could change them.

“Very good,” Madame smirked. “You’re quite, quite helpless under me, aren’t you?”

Chloe’s mind was backed into a corner. “...yes, Madame.”

“Release her, Athaliah. She is ready.” Satisfied, Madame Yvette walked out of the room.

Athaliah removed the restraints from her patient and lowered the bed back down. She guided “Zara” to a seated position, and assessed her with a stethoscope before allowing her to stand, carefully.

“Do you need to pee, Zara?”

“Um... yes... please” Her bladder was, for some reason, near to bursting.

“Hold it.” Athaliah marched her out of the room and back to the anteroom, where Madame was lounging in the chair.

“On your knees!” Madame commanded, and Zara sank to her knees on a covered pad placed in front of Madame’s chair. She shifted awkwardly, desperate to pee. This did not escape Madame’s notice, not least because she was the one who had injected a large quantity of saline into Zara’s bladder while the girl was under sedation. Maliciously, she left Zara kneeling for a minute while she stared into the girl’s eyes. The lack of words made Zara focus more and more intensely on Madame’s face—but the pressure inside her was becoming overwhelming.

“Is there something bothering you, Zara?”

“Please Madame, I really need to pee.”

“Hold it for me.” Madame continued to bore into Zara’s eyes, knowing that she would be pulled between obedience and the demands of her body.”

“Please Madame, please...” Zara couldn’t hold on any longer, and shamefully felt warmth cascade down her legs. Athaliah had carefully covered the kneeling pad with hospital covers though, so the mess was confined to Zara’s legs.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” She hung her head.

“It is of no consequence.” Madame leaned forward, showing Zara the now-unlocked phone which Chloe had brought with her to the apartment, and which was now open at the photos app. “Tell me about your friend Claire, my dear. I think I would like to get to know her.” She showed a photo of a short, slightly chubby but cheerful blonde, with her arm draped around Chloe’s shoulders.

Zara submissively nodded, submitting to Madame’s probing. “She’s Chloe’s best friend. They work together at Latchett’s Accountants.”

“Mmm, and what does she like to do?”

Over the next half hour, Zara spilled all that she knew about Claire, under the interrogation of Madame. Satisfied about her target, Madame leaned back in her chair.

“I think Claire would love to see me. Don’t you, Zara?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Let us arrange it. But it must be a surprise!”

After the questioning, Athaliah took Zara to an adjacent bathroom to shower, and brought her clothing in. Now fresh and dry, Zara looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t recognize the person she saw.

Madame Yvette entered. “Face me, Zara.”

Zara obediently looked into Madame’s face, quickly pierced by her sparkling eyes.

“I will count back from five. When I reach “one”, you will once more become the person known as Chloe. But you will remember my instructions about Claire. Five, four, three, two, one...” she snapped her fingers. Chloe started, as if waking up.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Chloe?” Madame Yvette purred.

“Yes... thank you, Madame.” Chloe’s memory was patchy. What had she been doing? But she felt warm, with an unusual happiness inside her.

“I will see you again, my dear. Athaliah will escort you out.” Madame dismissed her.

Chloe climbed the steps out of the basement to find herself on a quiet evening street, with a few cars passing with their lights on. How long had she been with Madame?

She shook her head and set out for home. She had to give Claire a call.

Claire and Chloe were walking down the street two days later, chattering happily. Chloe had suggested that they go shopping and maybe get some food, and Claire had cheerfully agreed to a girls’ afternoon out. They were comparing notes on the new division manager at work, Alison; both girls agreed she was heading for a fall with the staff unless she had a serious change of attitude.

Chloe felt the “buzz” of a text on her phone, and pulled it out. It was from her contact “MY”:

“CONFIRM ARRIVING ON TIME”

She quickly texted back “YMY”. They were only a short distance from the apartment.

“Claire, I’ve got to drop something off at my friend’s place. She’s just down this street. Come with me?”

“Sure!” Claire was looking forward to a serious session of retail, but happy to give her friend any time that she needed.

They reached the address, and Chloe opened the stair gate for Claire. “She’d love to meet you. Come on in.”

Chloe rang the doorbell, and almost immediately the door soundlessly opened. Chloe confidently strolled inside, and Claire obediently followed.

As the heavy door closed, Claire suddenly had a heavy cloth pressed against her face by someone from behind. She gasped, and in doing so inhaled a large dose of the chemical soaking the cloth. Already dizzy, she tried to pull the cloth away, but after a few seconds her hands stopped working; her legs soon followed and she slumped to the floor.

Athaliah carefully folded the cloth across Claire’s face to keep the chloroform fumes flowing into her airway, and checked her breathing. All was as expected.

Madame Yvette emerged from a nearby room to inspect her prize. “Very good. An excellent job bringing her here, Zara.” Zara bowed her head in appreciation and obedience.

Madame knelt by Claire’s unconscious body, rolled her onto her side, and stuck a syringe in her butt-cheek. “This will keep her under for a while.” She depressed the plunger, checked that it had entered properly, then stood.

“Athaliah, take her to surgery. Zara, assist Athaliah; then come to me, I have something for you.”

“Yes, Madame,” the girls chorused.

Claire was slow to wake, and when her eyes did finally open everything was blurry. She assumed initially that she was in bed, but eventually made out the glow above her face—it resolved into a set of lights that looked very much like something you would find in a hospital. This wasn’t her bedroom.

She tried to remember what had happened. She had been going out with Chloe. They’d gone to Chloe’s friend’s place... her mind was blank beyond that.

With her vision returning, she perceived that she was on some sort of hospital bed in a green-lit room. A sheet covered her. She tried to sit up, but failed. Had she been paralyzed? Fear flooded her system briefly. Then she realized that some things underneath the sheet were holding her fast to the bed. There was something uncomfortable pressing against her bladder.

She looked around the room; this was not a typical hospital room, despite the surgical lights and monitors next to her bed. A chair against the far wall was fitted with a plethora of leather straps, which she was sure was not hospital issue. Instruments in glass cabinets looked disturbingly designed for intimate parts of the person. Her fear grew. She had read enough trash novels to know that when the heroine woke up strapped to an operating table, things were looking quite grim.

“Madame, she’s awake.”

Claire turned her head to see a middle-aged blonde lady speaking on her phone, seated just behind her head.

“Who are you? What am I doing here?”

“I am Athaliah.” The lady briefly held Claire’s right eye open to shine a light into it; Claire winced. “Madame Yvette will explain everything to you.”

The door at the end of the room opened, and a tall lady with black hair in a plait marched in. She was followed by a shorter person dressed head-to-toe in black with a mask covering her features.

“Hello, Claire. I am Madame Yvette.”

Claire was not sure how to reply. She temporized with “What did you do to me?”

“Very little—for now.” Madame Yvette was arch in reply. She gently touched Claire’s nose. “I am looking for servants. I chose you.”

“But... but I don’t want to be a servant. Who are you? Let me go!” Claire strained her body, but whatever was holding her continued to pin her to the table.

“Oh, Claire. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.” Madame Yvette busied herself with something on a trolley. “I take it that you’re not yet willing to serve me?”

“No! And let me go! Now!” Claire was panting in frustration.

“Allow me to provide a demonstration. Perhaps you recognize my servant.” Madame Yvette carefully removed the mask from the person who had accompanied her into the room. Claire gasped when she saw the face of her friend.

“Chloe! Get me out of here!”

“Oh, my dear. Chloe’s not here any more.” Madame Yvette gestured at her servant’s face, and Claire reluctantly had to agree—Chloe’s face was blank, showing no interest or concern for her friend. “This is my servant Zara.”

“What did you do to her? Ugh!” Claire strained even harder at her bindings, but to no avail.

“Chloe came to me looking to serve. I helped her do so; perhaps in ways she didn’t fully expect.” Madame stepped back. “Why not see for yourself? Zara: take the wand and stimulate Claire.”

Zara picked up an ominous-looking tool from the trolley and approached Claire. She switched it on, and the buzzing of the vibrating head made it very clear what its purpose was.

“Chloe, what are you doing? No, NO! Mmmmph!” As Claire had been protesting, Athaliah had deftly slipped a gag into her mouth. Once fastened around her head, Athaliah pumped a small bulb to inflate it further. Very soon Claire could only make quiet “mmmm!” noises.

Zara removed the sheet covering Claire, and examined the restrained body for a moment before carefully placing the vibrator on Claire’s clit. Had she not been strapped down so well, Claire would have arched her back and screamed; as it was, the only signs of her distress and ecstacy were her wide eyes and small noises from behind the gag.

Oblivious to Claire’s distress, Zara played the vibrator up and down, occasionally switching to focus on the nipples of Claire’s substantial breasts. The stimulation shook Claire’s entire body; unable to gain relief by screaming, she could only watch as the person she used to know as Chloe implacably probed and tormented her. In the background, Madame Yvette lounged on a chair and admired her servant’s thoroughness.

Eventually the sensory overload became too much. Claire’s vision greyed out, and she finally passed out. Madame noted the loss of muscle tone and strolled over to inspect the results. Sure enough, Claire was out for the count. Zara continued to stimulate her, regardless.

“That will do, Zara.” With the buzzing stopped, the room felt very quiet.

Madame stroked Zara’s head. “Excellent work, my dear. Let me take you next door while Athaliah monitors Claire.

Claire came back to consciousness on the same bed. Her mouth was now free of the gag, but her clit and nipples were still aching and twitching from the relentless assault. Someone had re-covered her—and, she was now aware, her left arm had been extended to the side. She turned her head to see Madame Yvette swabbing the crook of her elbow. It felt cold.

“Just a scratch, my dear...” Claire winced as a needle poked into her vein. Madame checked the placement, and then taped it in place. An i/v bag now hung from a stand next to Claire’s bed.

“What is that? Get it out of me!” Claire tried to pull her arm away, but it was held too well.

“I see you were not convinced by my earlier demonstration. Perhaps I should conduct another one?” Madame enquired, archly.

“No! Please, no!” Claire shivered involuntarily.

“ ‘Please no, Madame’ “, Madame corrected her.

“Please, no, Madame.” It was pleasing to Madame Yvette to see how well she had already conditioned her subject to obedience.

“I do enjoy these conversions. While it is gratifying to have someone—like Zara—offer herself to me, it is much more interesting to convert someone who is not—initially—willing.” Madame Yvette finished off the taping, and clicked the drip open. Claire saw, with fear, the steady drip-drip in the valve as the medication slowly flowed into her.

“Athaliah will prepare you, while I get ready. Then, Claire, you and I will talk.” Madame left the room as Athaliah entered—now she was dressed as an operating theater nurse, in scrubs, cap and mask.

Claire could do little else but lie there as Athaliah attached electrodes to her chest, a peg to her finger, and—even more worryingly—an arc of electrodes across her forehead, after gathering Claire’s hair in a surgical cap.

“What are you going to do to me?” Claire whimpered. She could already feel the drug in the I/V starting to disconnect her mind from her body; it was getting harder and harder to think.

“Madame will inform you, when she wishes to.” Athaliah checked the monitors, and gave a satisfied nod. Her final act was to fasten a blood pressure cuff around Claire’s right arm, and trigger an automated reading. Claire felt the cuff inflate and squeeze her upper arm, but couldn’t do anything to avoid the discomfort.

Madame Yvette returned; now clad in a swishing gown of green latex, and her hair covered by a surgeon’s cap.

“She is prepared, Madame.” Athaliah took a seat next to Claire’s head, in a position to view the monitors.

“Thank you Athaliah. Well, Claire,” Madame purred, “I’m going to take you on a journey. At the end, you will serve me instinctively and completely.” She leaned close to inspect Claire’s eyes, and the scent of her perfume made Claire even more dizzy. “You may resist, of course. That would make this all the more... fun.” She folded back the sheet from the lower half of Claire’s body. Claire now could see a catheter leading from inside her to down beside the table, explaining the earlier discomfort.

“Wht y’r goin’ do?” Claire had to struggle to get the words out. Her vision was blurring. Her body had already been almost totally severed from her mind by the drug.

“ ‘What are you going to do, Madame?’ " Madame Yvette corrected her.

“Wht y’r gn .. mdme...” Claire was quickly disconnecting from the world.

“Why, I’m giving you a gift.” Madame adjusted the drip rate. “Once I’ve opened your mind with this medicine, I’m going to subject you to surgical reprogramming of your brain.” She pulled a shiny steel object from the trolley. “First, a connection to your sex...” She lubed it and slid it into Claire’s womanhood, eliciting a small “oh!". “And Zara informs me that you think being taken in the rear is ‘dirty’.” She held up a larger metal object, whose purpose was frighteningly obvious. “So let’s re-train you on that.” She pushed it firmly into Claire’s butt; the drug had eliminated any capacity of Claire to resist. After attaching wires to both devices, she re-covered Claire’s lower half.

“Can’t.... won’t... uhh...” Claire attempted to reconnect with her body, but to no avail. It was if she was floating in space above the table, seeing what was being done to her but disconnected from it. The fog in her brain was palpable—and worse, she knew what Madame was going to do to her mind, but was powerless to resist it.

“Ah, yes. You think you’re not inclined towards women.” Madame pulled up her mask and leaned over Claire. “I can convince you otherwise. Look at me, Claire.” Mesmerised, Claire stared into Madame’s eyes which pierced her soul. She vaguely felt something start to stir and pulse in her sex, rhythmically.

“I’m going to show you something—something wonderful.” The table gave a whine and slowly tilted. Claire was unable to do anything but watch as the ceiling rotated out of her view. As Madame moved out of Claire’s view, she came to see another girl strapped to a table like she was—wires and tubes all over her, probes in every orifice—with a green-clad doctor leaning over her. Somehow, it was erotic, and she felt a shameful thrill within her.

Suddenly she realized: that this was a mirror, and the girl was HER. She tried to scream, but it barely came out; more of a squeak than anything.

“Yes, my dear, that’s you.” Madame reversed the table motion, bringing her back to horizontal. “Completely in my power.”

Now the pulsing in her sex was joined by a stronger pulsing in her butt. She moaned, trying to touch herself but with no success—the restraints were well-secured.

“You like that, don’t you?” Madame laughed quietly from behind her mask. “I thought you would.” She consulted the monitor. “Around now you will have lost all control over yourself. Your inner-most thoughts”—she leaned closer to Claire, almost nose-to-nose—“your inner-most desires will be mine for the taking. But let us start with a blank slate. What is your name?”

Claire started to respond—she could still remember that!—but Madame nodded at Athaliah, who twisted a dial. The electrodes around Claire’s forehead activated, and she saw a white flash ...

and she was back on the table. What had happened?

“What is your name?” Madame’s masked face was still pressed close to hers.

“It’s... it’s... " She started to panic. What was her name?

“Sshh, sshh,” Madame soothed her. “You’re safe with me. Tell me, who do you love? Who is your best friend?”

That, at least, she still knew. “It’s Chl....” the white flash happened again, and she was lying there uncertain.

“Who is your best friend?”

“I... I don’t know, Madame.” Tears started to well in her eyes.

“Four-fifty,” Madame said quietly to Athaliah, who adjusted the machine’s settings. “Now, who do you serve?”

“I don’t...” Another white flash.

After half an hour of this conditioning, Claire was nearly a blank canvas. The electrical stimulation of her brain during actions of recall had confused her to the point where she had no notion of time, or sense of where or who she was—her eyes stared up blankly, horrified, at Madame.

“Look into my eyes. Deep into my eyes.” The patient obediently did so as the doctor leaned over her, eyes and mask filling her vision. “I am Madame Yvette.” She activated the electrical probes within the patient, causing a surge of involuntary pleasure, and turned up the drip.

“Madame Yvette,” her patient mumbled.

“You are my servant.” Another surge of pleasure.

“...servant...” the patient whispered.

“Your name is Zena.” The surge was stronger this time.

“Zena.”

“You are feeling very, very sleepy.”

“V’ry slp...” Zena’s eyes finally closed. Madame placed a soft blindfold over them, and Athaliah carefully sealed a pair of headphones over Zena’s ears. She started the hypnotic music, which would bring Zena deeper and deeper into unconsciousness before the subliminal messages would start. In the mean time the probes inside Zena quietly buzzed, gently stimulating her and floating her on a wave of pleasure that she would associate with Madame—the last and first face she would see.

“Give her ninety minutes of conditioning, Athaliah. I am going to inspect Zara.”

Madame looked back at the bed as she exited the room. The hiss and buzz of her machines, and the resulting twitching in Zena’s body, gave her a thrill deep inside. Soon Zena would be ready for service.

Zara was seated next door, still in her catsuit but now also wearing a pair of headphones. These were whispering reinforcement messages into her mind. Her eyes were covered to remove any source of distraction. Madame checked Zara’s vitals—her pulse was pleasingly in sync with the metronome ticking behind her head—and withdrew. Zara was going to have some fun later tonight.

Zena woke on the surgical table. She was held there by a single strap across her nude body.

“Welcome, Zena.” Madame was there holding her hand, comfortingly. “What will you do for me?”

“I will serve you Madame.” Obviously, she would. What else would she do?

Satisfied, Madame Yvette unbuckled the strap. “On your knees, Zena.”

“Yes, Madame.” Zena carefully slid off the bed and knelt gracefully in front of her Madame.

“Pleasure me.” Madame lifted her surgeon’s gown to expose her naked lower parts. She moved forward so Zena’s head was right against her sex, then lowered the gown leaving Zena in the dark between her legs. Sure enough, she felt an eager tongue reaching out for her clit; she closed her eyes and surrendered to the ministrations of her servant. She knew that Zena would keep going until ordered to stop, or until physical exhaustion.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sated. She lifted the gown and touched Zena’s head, praising her: “Good girl! Madame is pleased with you.” Zena bowed her head, thrilled to have pleased her Madame.

“Now pleasure Athaliah!” Athaliah had sat herself in the chair, her scrub pants shucked off to reveal a mostly blonde mound of hair around her sex. She beckoned Zena towards her.

Zena obliged, scooting forwards on her knees and lowering her head into Athaliah’s lap. The older woman sighed in pleasure as Zena commenced her tonguing.

“I will be back, Athaliah.” Madame Yvette smirked. “I won’t hurry, of course.”

She left Athaliah moaning and holding Zena’s head, as Zena eagerly probed her clit and pussy.

Athaliah had a large sexual appetite, and it was nearly half an hour before she felt sated by Zena and was willing to gently push her away. Zena stayed kneeling, panting slightly from the exertion.

Madame re-entered the room, now dressed back in her tunic. Following her was Zara, with something fastened around her waist.

“On the table, Zena, on your hands and knees.” Zena obeyed with alacrity. Madame lowered the table until it was only a foot or so off the floor. “Scoot back.” Zena did so until her butt was protruding past the end of the table.

“Zara, you know what to do.” Zara did indeed; she stepped forward and introduced the large dildo she now wore into the opening of Zena’s butt. Zena gasped, but obediently stayed kneeling. Zara clasped Zena’s waist, poised and waiting.

Madame sat on the front of the bed, holding Zena’s head. “You love, this, don’t you Zena?”

“Yes, Madame,” Zena whispered. “AAAHH!” At a signal from Madame, Zara had pushed forward and penetrated Zena, deep inside her anus. Zena shook with the overwhelming wave of sensation, but stayed put on the table. Tears started from her eyes.

“You will stay there until Zara finishes with you.” Madame stood up. “Zara: take her. And keep taking her until she comes.”

“Yes, Madame.” Zara pushed steadily back and forth, while Zena whimpered and gasped, the sensations flooding her body. Claire was long, long gone in her mind. Athaliah meanwhile re-donned her scrubs and smiled at the scene.

Zena couldn’t think of anything but the “now”: the table, the lights, the pounding and electric-like thrills in her behind. Perspiration dripped from her face and she had to hold back her cries as Zara thrust and twisted inside her.

Finally the sensation was too much; Zena came and nearly screamed with the pleasure. She collapsed, spent, weeping with a combination of pain and joy, on the table. “Oh! oh! Madame!”

Athaliah gently took her arm. “Let’s get you clean.” Docile, Zena allowed herself to be led out to the bathroom; Zara followed, having shed her harness.

Zara and Zena, now dressed in their normal clothes, stood placidly in the bathroom awaiting the return of their Madame. She walked in, regally, surveying her servants.

“I will count backwards from five. When I reach one, you will become Chloe and Claire. But you will remember my instructions about Alison.

“Yes Madame,” they chorused.

“Five, four, three, two, one...” Madame Yvette snapped her fingers, and the girls returned to their bodies.

“You had a lovely time here, didn’t you?” Madame purred. “I will see you next Friday.”

The girls bowed their heads, and left.

Madame Yvette retired to her office, browsing her new information about Alison—“the boss”. An angry woman, prone to bullying her staff. Madame Yvette smiled—Alison would soon understand a whole new concept in leadership.

Friday evening found Alison’s team, including Chloe and Claire, down the local bar for an obligatory glass of Chardonnay or prosecco to celebrate surviving another week of abusive clients. Alison had many faults in her management style, but to her credit she wasn’t hesitant to buy her team a round of drinks.

Chloe and Claire were seated either side of Alison, encouraging her in a rant about a client who had had the temerity to ask if Alison knew what she was doing with a particular depreciation calculation. Alison finished her bottle of Budvar lager and paused, knowing she should probably re-order for the team.

“Oh! I got you one already.” Chloe placed a fresh, open Budvar in front of her boss.

“Thank you, Chloe!” Alison was somewhat surprised; she wasn’t a huge fan of Chloe, and it was clear that the feeling was generally reciprocated, but it was a nice gesture nevertheless. She took a swig and continued with her tale.

Fifteen minutes later, Alison stood to go to the bathroom, and felt her legs wobble.

“Wow, I should have eaten more. Glad I didn’t drive today!” She braced herself against the booth. “Can someone get me some water?”

“I’ll help. Come on.” Claire rose and escorted her boss in the general direction of the bathroom.

Chloe consulted her phone. “Crap, I’ve got to take this. Give me a moment.” She rose and went to the bar’s front door.

In the meantime, Claire had escorted Alison out to the car park at the rear of the bar. The Rohypnol capsules provided by Madame had really hit Alison by now, and she was having serious problems standing. Claire steered Alison towards Chloe’s VW; Chloe came around and helped Claire ease Alison into the back seat, belting her in. Claire joined Alison in back while Chloe started the car and drove off into the dark streets.

They were able to park nearly directly outside Madame’s apartment, since there was little nightlife in the area. Chloe helped Claire guide Alison out.

“Why don’t we go for a lie down?” Claire suggested.

“Sure... just a few minutes...” Alison was still very groggy. The cold air was helping, a little, but her mind was still all over the place.

Claire escorted her down the stairs, very slowly—Alison was a heavy-set woman and needed a lot of support—while Chloe drove off. The door opened as they approached it, and Claire encouraged Alison inside.

“Where ’m I? Need lie down...”

Madame watched the security camera with satisfaction as Athaliah came from behind, stuck the syringe in Alison’s ample butt, and injected the sedative. Alison vaguely protested, but it didn’t really register with her. Thirty seconds later, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed. Madame came out to inspect her captive.

“Well done, Zena.” She pointed to a room that was as yet unexplored by Zara and Zena. “Take her in there. I will join you shortly.

Alison’s head should have been pounding, as she came back to consciousness. She hadn’t been drunk in a long time, and was surprised to find that she didn’t feel that bad now, given that she had been practically unable to stand at the bar. She tried to remember what happened afterwards—a car? Claire?—but it was all very fuzzy.

Also, she couldn’t see anything. She closed and re-opened her eyes. Still, nothing. Just black.

She suddenly panicked, trying to move, but her arms were somehow stuck by her sides. She heard—and felt—her rapid breathing, realizing that she was wearing some kind of mask on her mouth. She seemed to be able to breathe okay after all, but the rest of her body was stubbornly resisting her control. Alison was all about control.

“Are you afraid?” It was a woman’s voice, apparently coming through headphones, with a tone of amusement. “You should be. You are in my power.”

“What... where am I? Help me!” The mask muffled Alison’s pleas, but the woman could clearly hear them. Her voice returned: “Help you? Oh my dear, you will be the one to help me. Serve me, in fact. Let me demonstrate.”

Alison had vaguely been aware of something inside her butt, and now it sprang to life, sending vibrations and electric impulses through her. She gasped and screamed, as best she could, and tried to wriggle or push it out, but to no avail. The invader only stimulated her for four minutes, but it felt like forty. By the time it stopped she was panting and perspiring, with tears dripping down her face.

“Shall we do that again?” The voice was clearly amused.

“No, please, please, no, no...” Alison begged. It seemed to have the desired effect; the invader remained quiescent.

Alison waited for the voice to return, but it did not. The silence became louder, and louder. Deprived of sight and sound, and even touch, her mind quickly started to make things up. First there were occasional sounds which made no sense, but soon the visual hallucinations started. She saw herself stretched out on a bed in a bedroom, with a white shape hanging over her. She saw something black and green swell up and swallow her body. Her mind was frantic, looking for something real to hang onto, but nothing appeared. Did she call for help? Did she imagine it? She could not tell, her mind had given up.

Finally someone took off the cover that had been hiding her eyes, and she could see where she was. Her hyperventilation slowed, and she tried to assess her surroundings.

It was a dark room, lit by small orange lights along the edges. Heavy curtains covered the walls. She was apparently suspended in the middle of the room—she couldn’t see her arms or legs but they felt like they were tied to something. There was a mirror off to her left, and since she was slowly rotating, eventually she would be able to see herself in it.

The mirror view provoked a gasp. She was in some kind of sack, suspended from the ceiling, like the paralyzed prey of a spider in a web. Wires trailed from the middle of the sack. Her head was swathed in a black covering, with her mouth and nose covered by a respirator mask, and only her eyes were visible.

“ ‘Come into my parlor,’ said the spider...” The voice was laughing now. “How do you feel, my little fly?”

Alison hadn’t noticed them until now, but two black-clad and masked figures had been standing quietly beside her. They now came to life; one knelt in front of her and started doing something with the sack at her crotch level, the other went to a table and mixed together a couple of small bottles into a flask. She felt something unzip “down there”, and cool air flow across her sex. It was almost a relief, until there was a sharp prodding inside her lips, and something sharp suddenly clamped on to her clit. She howled into the mask.

“Spiders use venom, of course,” the voice said. “Why not try some of mine?” The other figure brought a pipette to Alison’s face and dripped it into one respirator filter, then the other. A heady chemical scent swamped Alison, and removed any attempt to object to the manipulations of her clit. Her eyelids were suddenly so, so heavy. The invader in her rear restarted, on a low level, and she could barely react to it. Music started to play in her headphones, with a heavy, slow, slightly irregular beat.

“You are ready to serve... you will serve...” Her clit started to tingle as a small electric current passed through it. The two figures turned to face her, and removed their masks. She was astonished, even through the drug, to realize that they were Chloe and Claire. The music swelled.

“You will serve... you will serve...” Something activated around her nipples and caused another gasp from her. This drew in more of the drug, and now the whole room was oscillating in her vision. She was vaguely aware of Chloe and Claire kissing in front of her. It was fascinating, she couldn’t look away. The invader in her rear increased its power, making her grunt in pain and frustration.

“You will serve them.... you will serve them...” The current in her clit doubled and redoubled. She was panting, desperate to touch herself and rub out the lust which had suddenly consumed her, but her hands and arms were still held immobile. “Mmmm!” she moaned into the mask, breathing more heavily and inhaling more of the drug.

Madame Yvette, watching on her camera, laughed as Alison’s distress and increasing intoxication became evident. She despised fat people—she continually worked hard to keep her perfect figure—and once she found out that Alison was Chloe’s and Claire’s manager, she had already been planning some sort of compromise. Being able to abduct and torment Alison had been an unexpected bonus. However, she didn’t want Alison serving Madame Yvette herself, oh no. She was not worthy. Instead, Madame Yvette was going to invert the power relationship at Latchett’s Accountants.

Alison awoke with a start. She quickly realized that she was still bound and suspended in the sack. Her memory was fuzzy, but she did remember Chloe and Claire kissing, and for some reason that made her wet inside. The respirator mask was still on her, but the chemical smell had receded, and the headphones were no longer on her.

A new person was visible now; dark haired, tall and slim, with a mask over most of her face. She was critically examining Alison in much the way that a butcher might examine a joint of meat.

“She is ready. Lower her.”

A whine in the background coincided with Alison’s sack descending from the ceiling. The new person took hold of the foot of the sack and pulled it horizontally until Alison felt a table or bench under her lower back. The winch stopped, and unseen hands undid something before lowering her shoulders and head to the bench.

Claire and Chloe re-appeared, fastening straps around Alison’s sack. Since Alison was already immobile, she couldn’t really see the point. However she wasn’t in a position to object.

Chloe straddled Alison’s chest, lowering herself until Alison was pressed to breathe. She managed short, shallow breaths, but knew this wouldn’t last her very long.

The tall lady was behind her now. “You must show me your obedience!” Chloe reached down and unzipped her own suit at the crotch, exposing her sex. “Zara is your mistress. Serve Zara!”

“Who the hell is Za...” Suddenly the intruder in Alison’s rear reactivated, savagely. She screamed into the mask, wriggling in a futile attempt to expel it. “Please no! Anything!”

The intruder subsided to a bearable level. Chloe leaned down in front of Alison’s face. “I am Zara. Madame says you must serve me.”

“Well, fu....” Alison didn’t get to complete the sentence before her nervous system was overloaded again. It went on forever, at least from her point of view. By the time that her vision returned to normal, her body was drenched in perspiration and quivering from lips to toes.

Claire was already beside her, pipette in hand. “Madame requires that you comply.” She squirted the drug into both sides of the mask, and it took only thirty seconds for Alison to realize that she was powerless. She fell down a tunnel in her vision, a sparkling feeling in her head. She felt, rather than saw, the mask being removed, and then the scent of Chloe—Zara?—filled her nose and mouth. Obediently, she began to lick.

Madame Yvette admired her captive , now re-hoisted and dangling in the middle of the room, but face slack and eyes near-closed. Alison’s face was still coated with Zara’s and Zena’s sexual juices, and the scent would continue to reprogram her desires while the drugs held her mind open. She really did remind Madame of a fly caught and wrapped by a spider for consumption.

“Put the mask, headphones and blindfold back on.” Zara and Zena obeyed, replacing the mask and headphones and then wrapping the blindfold around Alison’s eyes repeatedly until not a chink of light came through. Madame Yvette inspected the work and, satisfied, activated the hoist to lift Alison another foot or so off the floor.

“We will leave her there for another four hours. After that, the two of you may release her.”

Madame clapped her hands together. “Now, a reward! Zara; on your knees; Zena, you may take Zara.”

Zara obediently went on all fours, as Zena fastened a strap-on around her waist.

In the meantime, Alison was floating in darkness again. The drugs faded away, only for her to realize that she was in sensory deprivation space. Anxious, she waited for the invader in her butt to be activated—after a while it was apparent that it would not, and so she was drawn back to focus on the blackness. The hallucinations didn’t take long to appear this time, with her mind already predisposed to them, and the taste and smell of Chloe and Claire in her mouth meant that inevitably they appeared in Alison’s waking dreams. Alison hung hopelessly in space and murmured, and cried, and swooned, as her mind churned.

By the time she felt herself being lowered, Alison was a wreck. The anxiety and complete lack of stimulation had turned her mind inside out. As someone unwrapped her head and removed the headphones, she was sobbing with relief; seeing Chloe and Claire were the ones tending to her on the bench, a huge flood of endorphins hit her and suddenly they were the most important people in the world.

“Please, please...” Alison’s voice was muffled until Chloe gently unbuckled the mask and slid it off. “Please...”

Chloe smiled, and leaned over to kiss her. Claire followed. Alison desperately kissed back, panting.

Chloe and Claire were practically nude this time, each just wearing a very brief leather bra and panties. Chloe slipped off the latter and straddled Alison again, but this time facing the other way.

“Kiss Zara, Alison. Kiss your mistress.” Alison saw Chloe’s pert bottom descending on her and, still desperate, kissed and tongued until the lack of air caused her to pass out.

Madame Yvette entered. “Perfect, my dears. I will take it from here.” She produced a syringe and injected Alison at the side of her neck. “Help me unwrap her and clean her up.”

An hour later, a sleeping Alison had been cleaned, re-dressed in her clothes, Madame’s probes removed from inside her, and placed gently on one of the soft chairs in Madame’s anteroom. Claire sat with her and waited for her to start stirring; as Alison did so, she texted Chloe to bring her car around.

“Alison? Wake up, love.” Claire gently shook her boss.

“Wfft?” Alison’s sleepy eyes opened, partly.

“Got to take you home. Come on, Chloe will give us a ride.” Claire guided Alison up, out of the apartment and up the stairs into the cold Saturday morning air. Chloe was parked up outside, and Claire guided Alison into the back seat before jumping in herself.

“You live on Beech Street, yes?” she asked Alison.

“Num’ forty, yeah...” Alison was still a long way from true wakefulness.

Chloe found Alison’s house with little difficulty and parked in its shrub-lined driveway, allowing Claire to walk a very wobbly Alison through the front door after retrieving Alison’s keys. She pulled off Alison’s shoes and laid her down on the sofa. A quick check through a linen closet revealed a sheet which she draped over the now-snoring Alison. She returned the keys to Alison’s purse and quietly closed the door behind her.

She jumped in the front seat of Chloe’s car, and they grinned at each other before Chloe reversed the car out and headed home. Monday in the office was going to be very interesting—but not as much as Friday, when they were next going to visit Madame.