The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Her heart pounded with excitement as the adrenalin ran through her body. They were inside at last.

Once they had timed the intervals the regular security patrols it had proven much easier than anticipated to slip through the guarded perimeter that surrounded this place. After that, a short, heart-pounding dash across open ground had taken them to the wall of the house and then in through the small window beyond the neatly raked gravel path that seemed to crunch like thunder beneath their feet. Mercifully, the alarm system had been nothing special and it was child’s play to bypass it and then clamber through the opening.

The two black clad figures huddled in the inky blackness of the room until it became clear that they were alone. One of them used a small torch to probe the darkness and reveal a series of shelves neatly stacked with cardboard boxes and tins. According to the plans they had studied, this small room had originally been designed as a larder area for the kitchen and its use hadn’t been changed in the hundred odd years since the overly elaborate faux-Gothic mansion had been built.

Both figures breathed more easily. The initial jolt of adrenalin was beginning to fade slightly as they took stock of their surroundings.

“Well that was easy,” Adrienne muttered under her breath, slightly disappointed at the rather lackadaisical security. Not a laser beam or pressure sensor in sight. Just a simple house-alarm to bypass. Hardly the stuff James Bond movies were made of. The niggling doubt resurfaced again in her mind. What if they were wrong? What if this was just the house of a rather reclusive millionaire who guarded her privacy? She knew that her job was on the line. It would be back to reporting the crappy stories about the cuddly new arrivals in the zoo and endless traffic reports if she messed this one up.

“Don’t kid yourself,’ Keyshia retorted quickly. She had her own reasons and concerns about this whole operation and her companion. It was dangerous doing something like this with a rookie. Moreover,a rookie who she distrusted completely. But their paths had crossed when they had been researching Ms. Gloria Abernathy and her extravagant lifestyle. A discreet patron of the arts with a massive fortune and equally massive political connections; the whole set up appeared too good to be true.

Keyshia’s involvement had begun with the untimely death of her mentor and best friend Chloe. Chloe had been like a big sister to her. She’d worked her way out of the ghetto and gotten a decent job for herself and she had tried to reach out to Keyshia. But Keyshia had always stubbornly refused to go straight. This life was what she knew. She’d paid her dues hustling for small pieces of the action but she had moved up to breaking into the houses of rich people and keeping the proceeds for herself. She had managed to become an independent thief and free from the mob rackets that unconnected people like her usually ran up against. Breaking and entering was her life and she was happy with it. It was a hell of a lot safer than getting shot for a measly twenty bucks by some macho clerk with a shotgun behind the counter .

Chloe had died over two years ago in a car accident, or so the report went. It just didn’t feel right. The bizarre drunken midnight drive Chloe was supposed to have taken didn’t make sense. That was not Chloe. Yet, as far as her family and the authorities were concerned, the issue was closed and they had moved on. Without anything tangible to go on, Keyshia was just left with a vague sense of disquiet about Chloe’s demise.

At that point she had met Adrienne Cooper, the brash, up and coming news talent, clawing her way up the celebrity ladder. Opinionated, confident, sure of her own potential greatness, blonde and ambitious the young reporter sniffed a story that might catapult her into a higher orbit.

But right now they were both still huddled in this darkened storeroom. Adrienne had the small digital camcorder in her hand now, readying the controls to record low light video.

“Don’t you point that at me,” Keyshia snarled, “I don’t wanna see my face on the evening news, bitch.”

“Relax,” Adrienne mollified her erstwhile companion. It was proving more difficult than usual to use her manipulative charms to get what she wanted from her companion in crime.

Slowly the two intruders made their way to the closed door. Holding her breath in anticipation, Keyshia slowly turned the handle and gently opened the door. She cautiously peered around the open door and scanned the scene before proceeding into the room. They were in the deserted kitchen now. A variety of stainless steel commercial cooking implements and gadgets graced expensive Italian marble worktops and equally pricey ovens. Everything had been spotlessly cleaned and put away for the night.

In the corner farthest from them a stairway led downwards. Keyshia nodded to Adrienne and the two women crept forward and proceeded with caution down the dimly lit stairwell and into a different world.

Whereas the house above ground retained its original character and features, the basement was a completely new construction of smooth white walls, tiled floors and strip lighting shining down from the ceiling. They found themselves in the middle of a long, brightly lit corridor.

“Well what now?” Adrienne asked.

“You go one way, I go the other. We keep in touch with the radio,” Keyshia decided; glad to be rid of Adrienne for a while.

“Ok, I guess,” Adrienne agreed. “I’ll take left I suppose.”

“Perfect,” Keyshia murmured. “Remember to keep out of sight,” she warned, before she began to proceed down along the right hand corridor.

Adrienne cautiously crept down the deserted corridor. Luckily it was night and so far there didn’t seem to be anybody around. She had sneaked a peek into a couple of rooms but all she’d seen so far was what looked like stored computer parts and more boxes which she hadn’t bothered to investigate. So far it was looking as if this was going to be a complete washout. She hadn’t even used her camera once. It was still in the pocket of her combat trousers.

All this time and effort for nothing.

Suddenly a door in front of her slid open. Adrienne gasped in shock before instinctively pressing herself against the inside wall of the featureless corridor. The corridor curved at this point so it provided some level of concealment, providing whoever it was didn’t decide to walk in her direction. Heart racing, the frightened reporter prayed for a miracle.

A figure stepped out of the open doorway and into the corridor. Even in her terrified state, Adrienne worked hard to stifle an audible gasp. The woman was like something out of a fetish catalogue. She was in her thirties, average height and build with a pale round face and brown eyes topped with long red hair tied back. However her unremarkable physical appearance was more than compensated by her attire; she was dressed in some sort of tight bodysuit made of a shiny white material, long black thigh boots and gloves. Around the redhead’s neck was a very uncomfortable looking, rigid black collar with the number 9 embossed upon the front.

The shiny woman paused in mid stride. Adrienne was shaking now. Daring not to breathe, Adrienne closed her eyes.

The white clad woman turned to her left and began to march with a steady stride down the corridor, away from Adrienne.

Adrienne’s mind whirled. Her heart was still pounding loudly in her chest. What was that woman wearing? If only she had managed to grab some footage of her with the camera. Adrienne cursed herself quietly for that failure. Already her well-honed journalistic instincts were starting to overcome the initial shock of this bizarre encounter.

Cautiously Adrienne moved towards to the door the rubber-clad woman had come out of. There were no signs or markings to indicate what was beyond the flat metallic sheen of the door. Holding her breath, Adrienne took another step forwards and pressed her hand against the cool hard metal.

Suddenly the door slid open, inviting her inside.

Adrienne hesitated momentarily, heart pounding. Should she go inside?

Overcoming her fears, Adrienne stepped over the threshold and into a white room. Her mouth hung open at the sight that befell her eyes. The door slid closed behind her unheeded.

It was unbelievable.

Adrienne stood. The young reporter’s mind was frozen in a combination of shock, horror and revulsion.

The white room was completely unadorned apart from the blank boxes of a computer network that lined the walls. A small dais containing a monitor stood to one side of her.

But the defining feature of the room was a stout steel chair that was located in the center of the chamber. On the chair, locked into a reclining position by the various straps that held her fast, a naked female form sat. The woman’s sweat drenched body glistened in the fluorescent lighting of the room. Adrienne could clearly see the end of a silver vibrator protruding from the restrained woman’s downy pussy. The captive was writhing as much as the straps permitted as the intruder buried within her mercilessly continued to bombard her sex.

The woman wore some sort of silver metal helmet like device over her lank, plastered down dirty blonde hair. It was made up of a series of thin wires knitted together to form a dome that covered the helpless victim’s head.

Heavy silver headphones covered the girl’s ears while a wraparound visor partially obscured a pair of extraordinarily wide blue eyes that seemed to stare sightlessly ahead. The blonde’s lips were moving constantly, talking in a low continuous voice that Adrienne couldn’t hear from where she stood.

The initial shock was dissipating. Already Adrienne had the camera out and switched on. Taking a deep breath, Adrienne adjusted the ISO to compensate for this poor light. It would make for grainy pictures but there was no other option. Besides, a bit of graininess and some camera shake made for a more exciting and “authentic” looking piece of footage.

Watching the viewscreen carefully, Adrienne panned the camera around the room, establishing the setting before settling on the lone, seated woman. There was no way that any TV station would show what was happening below the girl’s waist but a little bit of tit should spice things up a bit and ensure the footage got noticed. Slowly, Adrienne stepped forward and zoomed in until the girl’s face filled the screen completely.

Adrienne was close enough to make out what she was saying. The same few sentences repeated on and on. Zooming in even further, Adrienne focused on the constantly moving lips.

“I am a slave. I am obedient. I am mindless. I am property. I am a slave…” the girl recited over and over in an apparently endless loop.

Adrienne shuddered at the sight and sounds. Only now was the full impact of what she was seeing beginning to dawn. The woman was being brainwashed. She was being turned into someone’s slave.

It was repulsive. Disgusting. Vile.

But….

But….

But it would launch her career into international stardom. No more crappy local news. Her days of new animals in the zoo and doorstepping local celebrities for a trite, meaningless quote were over. This story would be picked up worldwide. Intrepid reporter risks own life and safety to show an unsuspecting world the horrors that lay behind the façade of an upstanding pillar of the community. This had to be good for a Pulitzer. After that…well… the sky was the limit.

Adrienne took a few more establishing shots of the room before picking out a few details that would pad out her footage. She caught a single bead of sweat as it made it’s way down along the flushed cheek of the girl before splashing on to the tiled floor beneath the chair. Very arty. The perfect ending shot to the piece she would edit together. Already she could hear her own voiceover, a strangled outraged plea for innocence lost and a call for justice to be done.

She checked the monitor. Less than five minutes of footage recorded. But it was dynamite. Nuclear. Time to get the hell out of here before the crazy rubber lady came back.

Pausing only to securely return the camera to her pocket, Adrienne turned her back on the naked slavegirl strapped to the chair and cautiously made her way back out into the corridor.

Keyshia had seen some strange stuff in her time. All those years of breaking and entering had shown her the dark side of people and what they were capable of behind closed doors. But this was by far the weirdest and creepiest set-up she’d ever encountered.

After leaving Adrienne to her own devices and praying that she wouldn’t get them both caught, Keyshia had proceeded cautiously down the empty corridor. She’d tried a few doors and discovered more storage areas full of various pieces of equipment. The last room she’d entered had been a real surprise. It had been like a large walk in closet but it had contained some very, very kinky clothing: neatly stacked shelves of brand new boots, rubber catsuits and leather collars in various sizes and colours. That was just freaky. What was so odd was the sheer quantity of the fetish clothing. Why was there so much of it? Ms. Abernathy certainly had unusual tastes.

Those questions had been foremost in her mind before Keyshia had encountered the first person she’d seen in this eerie underground lair. Unexpectedly, the woman had appeared from out of a smaller side corridor just in front of Keyshia. Luckily the woman had a very large box in her arms which completely impaired her forward vision. The woman marched with purpose along the corridor, guided by instinct alone, her face pressed forward against the heavy looking box.

The woman was young, in her early twenties, squat and heavily built like a wrestler or a bodybuilder. Her firm, toned body was obscured by the burden she carried but even so, Keyshia could clearly see the erotic outline of her figure through the skintight red rubber catsuit that hugged her body. Keyshia’s instincts kicked in and she hurriedly crept out of sight behind a convenient doorway. The woman took a corner when she reached the main corridor and marched onwards without pausing.

Keyshia cautiously stuck her head out from behind her hiding place and watched the woman walk past her.

Part of Keyshia was more than a little freaked out by this, but on the other hand it merely served to confirm her suspicions. Something very odd was going on here. Ms. Abernathy was no squeaky clean society player.

Keyshia stayed put in her hiding space for a while just to make sure the girl was long gone.

Acting without thinking got you into trouble. Keyshia decided that she needed to find a computer terminal or something and find out just what the hell was going on here.

Controlling her breathing, Keyshia cautiously proceeded onwards.

Adrienne was lost. It was her own damn fault as well. Once she had gotten out of the room with the sweaty, naked woman she had randomly dashed into some sort of store room to playback the footage she’d gotten. Her heart was in her mouth as she watched the 4 minutes and 38 seconds of video she’d recorded, desperately praying that it looked as good on screen as it had when she’d been shooting it.

It did.

Only then had Adrienne allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God. Her Pulitzer was assured. The last few minutes of the woman mindlessly droning on about how she was a slave was explosive.

Now it was time to leave. The problem was that she was disorientated. The blank corridors and unmarked doors all looked the same. Which was the way out? After a few moments of indecision she randomly chose a direction and proceeded cautiously down yet another featureless brightly lit corridor.

Adrienne had been walking for about ten minutes now. A series of turns she had taken had brought her to a very different part of the complex. Adrienne found herself in the middle of a passageway with a series of doors on either side emblazoned with large numbers proceeding in a sequential order. A long glass panel was fitted to the door but the rooms beyond were all in complete darkness so she had no idea what they contained.

She was really starting to worry now. To get lost like this was unforgivable. She had to get out of here and fast.

Suddenly Adrienne froze. The distinct sound of bootheels against the tiled floor was clearly audible. A measured, constant pace. Adrienne turned to look back the way she’d come from, the direction the sound was coming from.

The footsteps were getting louder and closer. It was more than one person as well by the sound of it. Perhaps two or even three.

She could see them now. A pair of women marching side by side, one blonde the other brunette. Slaves dressed in gleaming plastic and rubber.

Whatever momentary hesitation Adrienne had been feeling disappeared instantly. Without pausing she threw herself into the nearest room, one marked with the number 48.

As soon as she opened the door the lights in the room flickered on. Trembling with fear Adrienne scanned the walls for a light switch or whatever she could use to turn them off. She could see nothing. The only furniture in the tiny, bare room was something that looked like a black vinyl padded couch or bed that filled one side of the claustrophobic cell.

Adrienne looked back at the door. The slaves were too close now. There was no way she could get out of here without being spotted and they would easily be able to see her through the long glass panel facing into the corridor.

Holding her breath, Adrienne threw herself at the bed. She was lying comfortably in a specially moulded section of the vinyl clearly designed to accommodate the shape of the average human body. Her head sank slightly into the raised section of the bed which seemed to cup the rear of her skull quite firmly.

As soon as she lay down, the lights extinguished completely. Even in Adrienne’s current agitated state she realized that they must be on some sort of switch when she lay down. She breathed a sigh of relief, safe in the darkened interior.

The footsteps of the two slaves were getting louder. Coming closer and close to her. Adrienne’s heart was pounding. Please let them just walk past, she prayed. The rhythmic clip of heels grew more and more loud.

So intent was she on trying to decipher the sounds coming from the corridor, Adrienne had paid no attention to what was happening to her in the darkened room. As soon as she had lain on the bed, the cranial interface sequence was automatically engaged and complicated equipment hidden beneath the padded covering that Adrienne’s head now rested upon sprang to life.

Adrienne heard a low, electrical hum. The slaves were only feet away from her now. Her only defence was the darkness. Their strides never varied. Onwards they came. Adrienne held her breath, willing the darkness to swallow her up completely. Then the footsteps were receding. Growing weaker. They had passed her by.

Adrienne had hardly time to breathe a sigh of relief when she became fully aware that something was happening within the couch she lay on. The buzzing noise was very loud now. Something was sliding out from the left hand side of headrest, making it’s way across to meet the other side. She couldn’t see what it was in the dark. There was an audible click as it slotted into position. Unsteadily, Adrienne reached out with her hand, tentatively groping in the dark. Something hard and smooth like glass. It ran a few inches above her face.

It was time for her to leave. Adrienne would have to slither down the bed in order to get her head from out of the glass screen. She tensed her muscles in readiness.

Suddenly a blaze of colour dazzled her. Vibrant hues of blues, purples, reds and yellows. Seemingly random flashes of light pulsated in front of her. Adrienne gasped. It must be coming from the visor. She should really leave right now. But, the swirling patterns were so soothing. So relaxing. Was it a random series or was there a pattern? She should look and see. Slowly, without even being aware of it, Adrienne allowed her mind to sink into the endless rapture of the flashing colours. Her muscles relaxed. All thoughts of leaving evaporated.

In fact, it was becoming very difficult for Adrienne to think at all. But that didn’t matter. She didn’t want to think anyway. All she wanted to do was keep looking at the gorgeous display in front of her. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. She had to keep looking and searching.

Adrienne stared into the swirling vortex consumed by the need to keep following the endless loop of spiraling patterns and colours.

Keyshia had found what she was looking for. She had developed an instinct borne of countless forays into unknown buildings for being able to find what she was looking for. Here, in the depths of this underground warren, she had found the computer she had sought.

She could see it clearly through the clear glass paneled wall that fronted an austere, blank room filled with the dull silver and grey boxes, flickering screens, coiling wires and the blinking lights that made up your average IT hub. A number of access terminals were dotted throughout the room, all empty, all waiting for her to pluck the secrets from their electronic brains.

But Keyshia had spotted the problem that confronted her. She could see it clearly through the transparent wall. On the far side of the computer room a three identically clad rubber women were working. From what she could see, the women had opened up some sort of panel in the floor and were busily replacing some components inside. Keyshia surmised that it must be something to do with the computer cables. Maybe that’s why they were doing this job at night, when the computer was being used least.

Whatever the reason or whatever they were doing it caused problems for Keyshia. Although the women were on the far side of the computer center, they would surely notice her if she dared to enter the glass walled room. Even though from what she had seen so far, Keyshia thought that they all looked kind of zoned out, the sight of an obvious intruder must set off some alarm bells ringing in their heads. That was the last thing she needed.

But Keyshia was not a quitter. She’d faced similar challenges throughout her professional career and often the direct approach worked best. As long as you looked and acted the part it was amazing how far you could get into places without being challenged. The maintenance crew were busily engaged with the network of rainbow coloured wire beneath the floor, intent on completing their task before morning. Their concentration would be focussed on that.

It was dangerous. Reckless. But Keyshia relished the sweet buzz of adrenalin that accompanied her adventures. Risk was nothing new to her.

Creeping away from the computer center, Keyshia retraced her steps back down the empty corridors. She knew exactly where she was going and what to do next.

Adrienne stared vacantly upwards. The pulsating spirals throbbed onwards in front of her, absorbing all her concentration, sucking away any stray thoughts.

She thought of nothing.

Adrienne’s mind was a void of blankness.

Empty.

Placid.

She wanted nothing.

She needed nothing.

Just the spiral.

Just the colours.

Adrienne had sunk deeply into the embrace of this comfortable, cloying emptiness that filled her entire world. It just felt so good. So relaxing. Like the best massage she’d ever received magnified a millionfold.

She barely registered a sudden brightness through the visor as the room lights flickered into life. Lost in the endlessly swirling patterns of colour and light, Adrienne didn’t see the white clad figure standing above her, staring coldly downwards measuring and observing her entranced form.

Adrienne didn’t hear the white figure speaking into a headset or the clear response relayed back to the rubber encased slave standing inches away from her.

The reporter did however register the sudden change in the pattern being flashed in front of her. Instead of the random swirling vortex, something else appeared as well.

Something new. Something wonderful. A purpose. Adrienne felt the purpose filling her mind, worming its way into every crevice of her vapid, slumbering brain. It grew and grew, overwhelming whatever residual resistance it encountered. Nothing could stop its progress. Adrienne willed it on, nurturing the first shoots of the bud that had been planted deep within her consciousness.

She had a new simple purpose. A purpose that consumed more and more of Adrienne’s whole being with every passing second. Her mind dissolved into the delicious certainty that claimed her utterly.

obey…obey…obeY…obEY…oBEY…OBEY…OBEY…OBEY…OBEY

The time for prentence was here. Strutting onwards in her heels, Keyshia made her way through the still deserted corridors back towards the computer center.

She had stashed all her clothes and gear back in the deserted storeroom after changing into the slippery red rubber clothing. The latex catsuit had slid on easily, enveloping her body in a snug embrace of tight, cloying rubber while the boots were simple enough to lace up. Although it took a few nervous moments to figure out how to walk in the obscenely high heels particularly as she had managed to stuff her box of tricks into the top of a boot which added to the discomfort. But there were no other options. There were not many hiding places in this particular outfit.

Finally, with a good deal of reluctance and foreboding, Keyshia had examined one of the thick leather collars. The exterior was a solid, hard black material with the number 61 clearly embossed in large white figures on the front. But behind this smooth external façade a band of complex circuitry and wiring ringed the interior of the collar. Neatly wired silver components snaked their way throughout the collar.

Taking a deep breath, Keyshia had clasped the thick leather collar to her neck. It had clicked ominously shut when she had pressed the two ends of the collar together behind her neck. Luckily, whatever gizmos were inside the collar didn’t seem to work. Keyshia had no illusion whatsoever that this particular item was designed for some dark purpose.

The thought made her flesh crawl.

With a confident stride that masked her nervousness, Keyshia returned to the corridor and soon found herself back at the glass paneled computer room. She walked onwards, careful to keep her breathing and emotions under control. From the corner of her eye she watched the three rubber coated figures in the parallel corridor. Like before, they were kneeling, intent on their task.

None of them looked in her direction.

Keyshia opened the glass doorway and stepped into the room, assailed by the low hum of electricity and the smell of hot circuitry. The maintenance crew were still untangling wires. Keyshia moved swiftly to one of the access consoles, as far away from the workers as possible.

After a hurried peek at the fetish women, Keyshia set to work at the keyboard. Sliding her left hand downwards, she pulled the small box out from the top of her boot and used the small retractable lead to plug it into the nearest access port.

A tool of her trade in the lucrative world of industrial espionage, this little box was a product of brilliant minds. Designed to surmount the complex, state of the art protection that only a multi-billion dollar corporation could afford, it easily bypassed whatever security features the system had. Within seconds the entire network was hers.

Keyshia now was confronted by a different problem. Usually when she was performing one of her cyber-thievery gigs, the client had a particular file that they wanted copying so it was a simple enough matter to copy it and go. Here she was looking at a mass of data that meant absolutely nothing to her, dressed up like an internet pervert’s wet dream and only feet away from three very dangerous women who would probably rip her to shreds if they knew what she was doing. There was no way she could copy everything. That was impossible with her limited time and resources. Instead, she would just have to cherry pick and hope for the best.

Keyshia came across the Accounts folder and it was first to be copied on to her portable drive unit. It was always an interesting read to see where the money came from and was going to. That was always a good first port of call. And from what she had seen here, it would take a damn fine accountant to legitimize all the cash spent on building this underground lair.

Risking another glance towards the still busily working women, Keyshia returned to the screen and flicked through the folders. Most of them were full of technical gibberish and gobbleydegook that meant nothing to her so she ignored them. Just as she was beginning to despair of finding anything else, Keyshia came across the Personnel records. Only they weren’t called that.

The file was labeled Slave Registration Data.

Suppressing another shudder as best as she could Keyshia copied the entire file. This was giving her the creeps big time. Slavery. The very word made her flesh crawl. So that was what the rubbercoated women were. They were Ms. Abernathy’s slaves.

Keyshia opened the folder on the screen and was presented with a neat numerical list beginning at SLAVE 1 and continuing downwards to finish at 52. Fifty-two slaves. Fifty-two of those sluttish creatures running around this rabbit warren bowing and scraping to their Mistress’ every whim. Her stomach almost heaved with revulsion.

Trembling with a mixture of horror and disgust, Keyshia typed a name into the search box. The egg timer twirled briefly before the computer disgorged the information she had sought.

There, clearly staring back from the screen was the familiar face of her cherished childhood friend. The face was expressionless, dull eyes stared blankly back towards Keyshia. She could barely keep her emotions under control. Wetness welled up in her eyes. She wanted to wail and sob with grief. Keyshia wanted to scream, to wail with the anger that burned through her.

Slowly, Keyshia managed to read through the tears that filled her eyes and washed down her cheeks.

Keyshia wept in silence. Conflicting emotions boiled within her. On the one hand she was ecstatic to have her suspicions proved correct. Chloe was alive!

That thought alone made her weep with joy.

But Keyshia was also filled with a deep unquenchable rage about her friend being turned into one of these rubber doll women. A lifetime of being something akin to a blow up sex-doll parading around in obscene clothing performing acts of unimaginable depravity. What had happened to the fire of compassion and humanity that had ran through Chloe? Was that gone too?

God help the insane bitch who did all this when Keyshia caught up with her. Right then and there Keyshia knew that she was going to kill Abernathy. The realization comforted her and gradually she regained her faculties.

She was seized with a pure, primal desire for revenge.

The knowledge calmed her somewhat. It gave her an outlet for her anger.

The bitch would pay.

Adrienne was completely calm. She stood still. The room was familiar, the same small, cramped bedchamber she had dashed into all that time ago. Beside her lay the padded mattress, still warm, that she had laid on what seemed like an eternity ago.

She was not alone in the room. In front of her stood a tall, blonde woman dressed in a sexy, bodyhugging, white rubber suit that glistened in the bright light that shone down from the ceiling. Around her neck, the woman wore an uncomfortable looking thick black collar with the number 9 emblazoned upon it.

Adrienne felt something as she contemplated the woman in silence. The woman was familiar to her. She had seen her before. That much was clear to her. But there was something else within Adrienne now. A wholly new emotion.

With a mild twinge of surprise, she realized that it was desire. Adrienne wanted this woman. She wanted to kneel right now and press her lips to the woman’s slick snatch. Adrienne could picture herself, on her knees, her tongue buried inside the soft, warm dampness that lay beneath the slippery white coating. She could almost smell the aromatic tang of sweat and sex in her nostrils.

Adrienne shuddered, lost completely within the vividness of the fantasy was making her wet.

Suddenly the woman she craved spoke to her. “You are a slave. You serve Mistress. You will obey,” the woman in white announced.

They were simple, direct sentences, spoken clearly and calmly. Statements of fact that brooked no dispute.

Still lost in the throes of her waking wet-dream Adrienne tried to absorb what was being said to her.

The woman spoke again, repeating the same statements to her once more.

“You are a slave. You serve Mistress. You will obey.”

The words hit Adrienne like a sledgehammer. She uttered a loud gasp of surrender. The remnants of her dream shattered into a million pieces. What did the fevered imaginings of fantasy matter when reality proved to be so much better. Adrienne’s mind was lost in a swirl of realization, just like the patterns and colours that had filled it until recently.

Adrienne understood. Like nothing she had ever experienced before, Adrienne realized her one true purpose. Her sole reason for living. The paramount desire that would motivate every thought and action consumed her mind.

“I am a slave,” Adrienne repeated, “I serve Mistress.” As Adrienne spoke the words aloud she believed. They became the core of her being. Her mind glowed with certainty and purpose. A river of lust flowed down her legs beneath the black combat trousers she still wore, washing away the remnants of an irrelevant, inconsequential existence.

“I will obey,” Adrienne managed to stagger before bucking under the orgasm that signified her rebirth.

It was time to leave. Keyshia had slipped the box shaped drive unit back into the top of her thigh high boot. As discreetly as possible, she wiped the salty wetness from her face and tried to regain her composure.

Her professionalism was reasserting herself. She had a mission to perform. Abernathy was going to die and Keyshia was going to kill her. That was a fact. But first Keyshia had to get herself out of here.

Turning around Keyshia faced the doorway. The slaves were still bent to their maintenance task, apparently neither noticing or caring about her presence amongst them. The frontal approach had worked yet again.

Just then one of bending women stood up, dangling a coil of cable from her rubber gloved hands. The petite brunette looked directly into Keyshia’s eyes. Mustering all her resolve, Keyshia returned the stare, locking her own gaze with the slave’s blue orbs that watched her. The two women remained locked for more than a second but for Keyshia it felt like an eternity. Keyshia struggled to maintain her composure as she looked into the blank emptiness of the slavewoman’s eyes. Somehow Keyshia knew that to look away would cause her downfall. She couldn’t break first.

Keyshia swallowed. Fear’s icy grip was clawing at her.

The moment passed. The voluptuous brunette turned on her heel, placing the coiled cable on top of a metal tool cart.

Keyshia felt as if she had stared into the abyss. The whole experience had unnerved her completely. The slave’s eyes had been a portal to nothingness. It was as if whatever had once been behind the pair of blue eyes had been scooped out completely and discarded.

Keyshia took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She wanted to run. Her instincts were screaming inside her but she forced them to be quiet.

Summoning all her courage Keyshia turned her back on the trio of busy slaves and made her way towards the exit from the computer room.

The white woman was still there standing in front of her. Adrienne was completely calm now, the shockwaves of orgasm had faded from her body now. Instead, she felt a deep sense of contentment press down against her head. She wanted nothing. Everything was as it should be.

Adrienne’s fellow slave was standing before her. The delicious, sexy woman had placed a sleek black headset over Adrienne’s head. A female voice devoid of emotion emanated from the headphones asking her questions. Adrienne answered without hesitation.

“The other intruder is named Keyshia Price. She is a professional burglar. I employed her in order to get access to this facility. We separated soon after entry. I have no information about her current location.”

Adrienne stopped. Silence.

“Did you inform anyone about this incursion?”

“No. I was operating without any official sanction from my editor. This was a personal project that I hoped would enhance my career.”

“Does Keyshia Price have any reason other than money to assist you in this intrusion,” the female asked Adrienne.

“Keyshia told me that she suspected foul play in the death of a friend of hers and that Ms. Abernathy was implicated somehow.”

“What was the name of the dead individual?”

“Chloe Waterhouse.”

There was silence for a few moments. Adrienne just stood there waiting for the voice to speak to her again. She had never realized how good it felt to be so deliciously blank and thoughtless. It was so liberating.

The woman spoke to her again. “Now you will listen to my voice and obey.”

“I will obey,” Adrienne acknowledged, still sightlessly staring at the white vinyl clad form of her fellow slave.

Keyshia had made her way back to the storeroom without incident. Greatfully she had plunged into the sanctuary of darkness that the storeroom offered her. She was exhausted now and collapsed to the floor, leaning up against a pile of neatly stacked boxes.

Her mind whirled with everything she had seen this night. It was almost too overwhelming to take it all in. She needed to rest for a few moments.

Keyshia wished she could turn off her mind. It was feverish with activity. This was the familiar come-down after an intense adrenalin high that she usually experienced after a break-in. But usually this happened when she was safely far away. She had to keep moving. To stay too long would mean certain capture and…well she wasn’t able to finish that sentence.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Keyshia got to her feet. First things first. She was getting out of this filthy uniform. She tore at the rubber fabric, ripping and pulling the tight catsuit off her body before clawing at the boot laces. It made her feel better, more like a human being rather than an object.

Reaching up to her neck she found the locking mechanism at the back of the collar with her fingertips. All she encountered was the faint trace of a seam and some sort of plug socket in the back. Panic began to consume her. Desperately she clawed and pulled at the tight unyielding band that encircled her neck to no avail. It was stuck fast. There didn’t appear to be any unlocking button or device she could find. Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt so dirty, locked into this disgusting symbol of all that was worst about humanity.

But Keyshia didn’t have the luxury of giving in to her emotions. She had to stay focussed. She should get out of here. Once outside the collar would come off even if it meant using an angle-grinder on the damn thing.

Wiping her tears away as best she could, the still emotionally fragile woman clambered back into her comfortable black clothes and grabbed her pack.

She was getting out of here. Keyshia was in no mood to hang around waiting for Adrienne to get her shit together. If she wasn’t in the kitchen when she got back then that was just her tough luck. Keyshia had no illusions that if the situation was reversed the ambitious young reporter would have no qualms about leaving her in the lurch.

Mustering all her resolve and strength, Keyshia opened the door slightly and peeked out into the corridor. Still empty. Not a soul in sight. As quietly as she could, the young woman crept out of her dark, comfortable, hiding place and out into the naked glare of the passageway.

The kitchen was still in darkness. Keyshia crept inside, relieved to be away from the exposed glare of the blank network of passageways and corridors. All appeared quiet. Slowly Keyshia’s eyes adjusted to the gloom and the dim outline of the kitchen and it’s numerous appliances came into focus.

Ever cautious, Keyshia made her way towards the storeroom where they had both entered what seemed like an age ago. It too was in blackness but the vague outline of a lone figure was backlit against the shine of the exterior security lighting which bathed the entire room in a dull orange glow.

The figure turned, aware of Keyshia’s presence.

“Keyshia?” the woman whispered desperately.

She smirked in unseen in the dark. So the irritating cow had made it back allright. Worst luck.

“Yeah Adrienne,” she retorted in the same hushed tones, crossing over towards her fellow intruder.

“You ok?” Adrienne inquired.

Keyshia couldn’t help but snort derisively in reply. She knew that this apparent concern was purely self serving. Adrienne still needed a guide to help her get through the outside patrols and alarms.

Keyshia was on familiar turf now. She relaxed visibly. Her earlier pent up uncertainty and tension was slowly evaporating.

“Yeah, I’m cool” Keyshia muttered in response. “Chillax, we’re gonna be out of here so quick you ain’t gonna believe it.”

“Fine by me,” Adrienne murmured. Even in the dim light Keyshia could see that the young reporter looked drained and frightened. The whole experience had taken it’s toll on Keyshia but it must have been much worse for this inexperienced newbie to whom breaking and entering was very much an unknown quantity. Adrienne had probably ventured a few yards down the corridor and crapped herself before scurrying back to wait here.

Keyshia took charge. She maneuvered a provisions box over towards the window to give her a few extra feet and reach the small high opening above their heads. Cautiously, Keyshia opened the pane of glass and took a quick look outside.

All was quiet. Not a soul around.

Keyshia turned back to her companion. “The coast’s clear. Let’s go.”

Adrienne gave a vague nod of agreement in the gloom.

Keyshia levered herself upwards with professional alacrity through the narrow opening and the pressed her entire body flat against the gravel path to minimize her visibility. She twisted her head around, scanning in all directions, searching for any potential threats. Nothing.

Keyshia turned back to the window. She could see Adrienne’s pale face there waiting for her. Then she too was squirming through the open window, although a little less elegantly than Keyshia.

The two blackened figures slowly made their way off the crunchy gravel path and back towards the safety of the nearby shrubs and bushes that bordered the edge of the secure compound. They went as quickly as the tangle of branches that snagged their clothing allowed until the high perimeter wall came into view. Following the wall to the left for a few minutes, they came to the place where Keyshia had bypassed the alarm system. The rope was still hidden under a nearby bush. It took just seconds for Keyshia to hurl the grapple over the wall, then they were both clambering up and over the greasy concrete.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Keyshia waited as Adrienne struggled down the rope towards her. The first rays of dawn were beginning to glimmer in the sky and Keyshia realized that they had been in that nightmare all night long.

Adrienne was beside her now. The rope they left behind. Any daily inspection would quickly find the jury-rigged breach in the perimeter alarm so there was no point in trying to cover their tracks. Speed was of the essence.

“Ok?” It was a statement rather than a question. Adrienne nodded before the two intruders hurried away towards the waiting car they had parked earlier in the night.

The car was visible in the first rays of sunlight. It promised to be a bright autumn day. Keyshia relaxed. Her earlier insecurity and paralysis had disappeared. As usual, the physical exertion and activity had allowed her to regain her strength.

“So, did you find anything?” Adrienne inquired, panting as they ran towards the safety of their getaway vehicle.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Keyshia retorted.

They were at the car now. Sanctuary was at hand. Relief washed over Keyshia’s entire body.

Adrienne was beside her now. She was looking at her curiously.

“Say Keyshia, what are you wearing around your neck?” Adrienne inquired through a ragged pant after their strenuous run.

Keyshia laughed before reaching up to touch the heavy collar around her neck.

“Yeah, it was part of my disguise. Can’t seem to get the damn thing off though.”

Adrienne nodded. Keyshia knew then that her earlier suspicions about what Adrienne had done were correct. The reporter hadn’t a clue. “Ah,ok,” she answered, “do you want me to have a go?”

The collar was really uncomfortable. Maybe somebody else might be able to figure out how to take it off.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Keyshia retorted, turning her back on the now smiling reporter. She felt the girl’s hands against the collar, gently pawing at the sealed seams.

“Can you see anything?” Keyshia inquired impatiently as the seconds passed.

“I think I might have…” Adrienne suddenly chirped happily. Progress at last. To be rid of this vile restraint would be heaven itself for Keyshia.

Keyshia’s response was on her lips when she suddenly felt Adrienne firmly push something into the rear of the collar. Somehow Keyshia knew that the girl was plugging something into the access port at the rear. But this horrific realization came much too late for her to do anything about it.

Keyshia felt the sting of hot pain as the needles on the inside of the collar bit into the flesh at the rear of her neck. Her mouth was wide and gaping. It opened in a half formed scream . Pain, immense pain, consumed her completely as whatever the collar was doing sent waves of intense paralyzing pain through her.

She felt the needles or whatever they were burrowing into her neck, going deeper and deeper inside her. Keyshia could hardly stand. She swayed unsteadily as the merciless pain continued. Everything else was forgotten.

Keyshia was aware of Adrienne moving around to face her. The girl’s face was lit up in an evil looking smile and her eyes seemed to dance with merriment as she observed her companion silently writing in pain. Adrienne held a small black box, like a tv remote, in her hand. A length of black cable snaked from the control box in her hand up to the rear of the collar around Keyshia’s neck.

“Oooohhh,” Adrienne squirmed, “you look so hot like that Keyshia. I’m getting all wet just watching you.”

Keyshia’s eyes bulged with horror. The pain was subsiding at last. But in it’s place something new had appeared. A wave of lethargy consumed her. Keyshia knew she should be screaming, yelling, screaming, trying to pull this infernal device off her neck. But although part of her knew what she should do, Keyshia could not seem to translate that into action. Her mind recoiled in horror while her body remained still.

“Mistress will be pleased with me,” Adrienne purred contentedly like a cat that got the cream. “I can’t wait to see what she will do with you Keyshia.”

The urge to scream, to run, to fight boiled inside Keyshia. She desperately wanted to do something, anything.

From behind Adrienne a number of dark figures emerged from the undergrowth, armed with tasers and night sticks. They marched steadily towards the two women.

“Come Keyshia,” Adrienne smirked, “let’s go back to the house. I am sure Mistress will want to talk to you.”

She was lost in the orgasm. Her world was this intense ripple of pleasure pulsing up through her body. The ecstacy of submission ripped through her docile, compliant mind once again.

Devotion.

Obedience.

Purpose.

Submission.

Worship.

The orgasm was familiar and comforting. Mistress demonstrated her love through granting her slaves this intense, addictive pleasure as she bent their minds to her will. It was a simple equation that all her slaves knew well; complete surrender of their minds and will in return for a lifetime of orgasmic bliss.

A tone sounded in the slave’s ears. Awareness returned to her mind. The visor that surrounded her eyes displayed the image of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Mistress.

The slave’s pulse raced. Her slavepussy moistened automatically as her lustful eyes drank in this vision of absolute, undiluted, pure nirvana.

Her Mistress spoke through the headphones. She uttered a simple, small, command that distilled the entire essence of her being. All her emotions, all her thoughts, all her actions revolved around this one, single purpose.

“Obey me slave,” the image of Mistress commanded, “forever.”

The slave’s eyes were impossibly wide. The familiar tingle of arousal that accompanied her every waking minute returned. A gnawing, aching, need that constantly burned within her, pushing her mind towards ever and ever greater levels of submission.

Slowly, the image faded but for the deeply conditioned woman it’s effects would linger until her next time in the dormancy chamber.

Slave-sixty-one waited until the visor covering her eyes retracted and the interface jacks were removed from her control collar. She lay on the padded bed for a moment, waiting patiently as her programming surfaced.

Function and purpose blossomed within her conscious mind. Slave-sixty-one stood up. The light in the small dormancy chamber came on automatically, illuminating the small cell that she returned to every night in order to gladly give more and more of her mind to Mistress.

She eased her firm, toned body into the sleek black vinyl one piece suit that had been left for her to wear. Slave-sixty-one enjoyed the feeling of the slick material against her newly enhanced breasts. Mistress enjoyed them so slave-sixty-one enjoyed them.

After that she slid her feet into a pair of tight, thigh high black boots and without a glance back, left her cell and proceeded along the brightly lit corridor. Her destination was within her mind. The slave marched steadily onwards without extraneous thought or feeling.

Mistress commanded her.

The slave obeyed.

It was that simple.

Reaching the designated area that had been programmed into her mind, the slave stopped walking and waited. Within moments, another glistening female figure approached her. The newcomer’s face was as expressionless as the slave’s own. Her large brown eyes were glassy, vacantly staring ahead as her body and mind placidly responded to Mistress’ command.

Emblazoned on the other slave’s collar was the number 27.

Slave-sixty-one’s mind registered this designation, but other than providing an identity for this black woman, it meant nothing to her. Just like her, this heavy chested female was a slave. A creature owned by Mistress. Both of them were Her property to be used as She saw fit.

Neither woman spoke. Two slack, empty faced ebony skinned women gazed at each other momentarily without a flicker of emotion. For them, the past was irrelevant. Only the present mattered. And the present meant serving Mistress. Only obeying Mistress mattered. Everything else meant nothing.

New instruction blossomed in slave-sixty-one’s mind. She and slave-twenty-seven were to proceed to the Bedchamber where they would perform for Mistress Herself. Joy filled her mind. Her pussy moistened at the thought of pleasing Mistress. Nothing else mattered.

The two former friends, now sister-slaves, pussies dripping with anticipation, stepped into the elevator that would carry them up from the underground area into the light that Mistress inhabited.