The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

7.

Jessica felt the stares as she walked across campus. She seldom wore skirts—and never anything this short, unless she was clubbing. Partly out of dread over class, she welcomed the distraction of wondering whether the ones watching her legs under the brief denim were unnerved friends or leering strangers.

Her heart sped. Some of them were women.

She’d done none of the reading. She could barely account for the last couple of days, actually. They’d swirled away in the strange, compelling girl-girl fling with Sandy, between dreamy sessions of sleep, in Sandy’s bed or in the sun in her backyard.

Going up the steps, she tried to shake it off. When she tried to clear her head and remember what had happened, she just got sleepy. Last night she’d focused on why she fantasized Sandy was hypnotizing her into doing it—and why that made it hotter. But she’d just masturbated herself to several piercingly sweet orgasms and then deep, dreamless sleep.

This morning she wasn’t sure why the miniskirt had appealed to her. She’d bought it with Dan in mind but never worn it, shying away from becoming that much of a sex object just to draw him. Today it felt deliciously crazy, and the vulnerability that came with showing the world her thighs just kept her simmering. It felt almost like a bribe, as if making school an exhibitionist foray was a way to tempt herself away from spending the day in bed with the wand.

But she hadn’t prepared. Today at least it wasn’t Prof Dochmann but soporific Dr Quade, so there’d be no public self-destruct. Still, for those who could even stay conscious for it, the solemn old woman’s lecture would make little sense without having been over the text.

What the hell am I doing here?

Her thighs spasmed pleasantly as she sat. She was wearing nothing under the skirt. She got out the laptop and booted up, amazed she’d even remembered to charge up the battery.

She wanted to leave. Then she had a numb vision of something shining, a pendulum before her eyes urging them closed. She blinked, and then she knew that the more she wanted to leave, the more turned on she’d be if she stayed.

Jessica squirmed on her seat, enjoying the denim under her thighs and ass as she waited foe class to start. She thought about the pendulum, and easily imagined it as a pocketwatch. She smiled to think of herself being hypnotized with that cheesy old cliche . . . and then smiled to imagine being the helpless short-skirted victim, naively obeying the hypnotist’s soothing command to follow its swing.

Her hand was creeping to her hemline when she pictured Sandy holding the watch, smiling at her as her eyes glazed over.

“I must obey and sleep,” she murmured. A girl two seats over looked at her quizzically.

Jessica blushed and woke from the daydream, hoping the girl hadn’t actually heard it. But even wide awake, sitting without underwear in a class she was wasting, it still felt hot to imagine Sandy putting her under.

She glanced back at the laptop, and her screensaver. It would be so embarrassing to have a spiral instead, a stereotypical Hypnodisk, and to sit here in her miniskirt, while everyone watched her forget and stare into it, caught.

That would be hot.

Something throbbed at her hip. Jessica swallowed a yelp of surprise and pleasure. She remembered the cellphone on her belt. It was fun to imagine she’d been hypnotized to forget it until now.

Hmm. When had she set it to Vibrate?

Jessica had no idea, but clearly remembered that it had the headset attached. She’d forgotten that, but understood that it was time for her to know it now. The hidden wire crept under her blouse and up her back, to the earpiece under the hair she wore long today. The mike was folded back, but Jessica felt no urge to bring it forward. She couldn’t speak to her caller during class, but she could listen. Right now, she wanted to. Very badly.

Like moving sluggishly underwater, she reached to the phone and tapped the button.

“Hello, Jessica.”

She smiled. Sandy’s voice relaxed and excited her at once.

“I’m glad we arranged that I could call you now. It’s good to know that you got yourself into position for it. I know you can’t answer me, but that’s all right. You feel much more comfortable just listening to me and accepting what I tell you, don’t you?”

Jessica nodded, subtly.

“Good girl. Now, this is Quade’s class, isn’t it? Yes. You told me. She’s probably coming in now.”

In fact, there she was, moving fretfully up to the podium.

“Try to stay awake, Jessica. I know it will be hard. I’ll speak to you and guide you if you grow sleepy as she drones on. Just drones on.”

Jessica felt her eyelids droop. Droning, yes. Quade’s voice would lull her into a stupor if she let it.

She watched as the older professor set down her books and arranged her notes, peering out at the class. Jessica was suddenly aware of how pretty she was, slim and birdlike, like a gracious and dainty old aunt, gentle and soft-skinned and sweetly perfumed . . .

Sandy said nothing. Jessica just sat there, sheepishly happy to be unable to act until Sandy told her to do something. Hearing Sandy now had reminded her of that. She found it hard to imagine how she’d even made it across campus without Sandy’s voice to guide her and command her.

Dr Quade was chalking up some notes on the smudged brownboard. Jessica could almost feel her own interest in the words slip from her mind as she watched the woman stretch and scrawl. What it would feel like trying to seduce Dr Quade? Jessica was too spacey to be more than bemused at the thought.

Then she thought of kneeling in Sandy’s yard, eyes snared by the sweep of her landlady’s ass, watching it gleam as she anointed it. Smelling Sandy’s pleasure. Jessica whined a little, like an anxious bitch on her leash.

Sandy heard it through the mike, and laughed richly in her ear. It was better than a kiss.

Dr Quade greeted the class and then began, sounding monotonous even by her own standards. Jessica made a valiant attempt to focus, thinking that as long as she’d made it here she’d take some notes and reverse-engineer the subject with the text. She sat up straighter and put her fingertips to the laptop.

She tapped out i’m wearing a miniskirt and no panties and i feel sooooo hot and stared at it.

Jessica wanted to be horrified, but it was just so true. She squeezed her thighs together and looked up. The suddenly-sexy professor was well into her spiel, and Jessica felt giddy despair. It was already too late. She’d lost the thread and Dr Quade’s voice was just a soporific drone from the sound system.

She tried to listen, but yielding to the dull meaninglessness of the sound made her wet.

“Just droning on,” Sandy told her. Jessica twitched and her head spun as Sandy’s voice slipped into her like a familiar hand. She didn’t question how Sandy knew Quade was speaking now.

“You’re getting sleepy just listening to her, Jessica. You can’t resist. She’s hypnotizing you into submission.” Sandy’s voice had a joking lilt and Jessica let it fool her before it darkened into something real, and very arousing.

Jessica wanted to be afraid, but it felt too good. Now she really was the short-skirted ingenue, lulled and tricked into falling into the hypnotist’s power. She couldn’t help herself. Could anyone else—?

“No one else can help you, Jessica. She’s got you all under her spell. She wants the pretty girls but she hypnotizes the whole class with her dull, drooooning voice and her mind . . . numbing . . . caaaadences . . .” Sandy breathed audibly, as if excited to think of Jessica and her classmates so helpless there, tranquilized and unaware of their danger. Dr Quade’s voice hummed on: it was real.

“She’s conditioned you. Even the strongest ones surrendered, and none of you has the least little memory of what she really drones into your minds—not until she triggers the girl she wants.”

Jessica sat there and stared numbly at Dr Quade, not even trying to fight the woman’s hold on her mind. I can’t resist her. She’s got me hypnotized. I’m under her control.

Dr Quade droned on. Jessica heard the click of keyboards and the scritch of pens on paper, and felt a little sorry for the ones so bamboozled they still thought they were being lectured instead of brainwashed.

She felt her own fingers dancing pliantly on the laptop and knew herself for a stooge, too. She juiced.

“Falling . . . deeper . . . droning . . .” Sandy narrated the spell and Jessica felt herself submit more deeply.

“Now the boys are fast asleep and she’s teaching the girls to dream of her pussy.”

Jessica’s eyes were barely open but they were locked on Dr Quade.

“To serve it by obeying her.”

“Obeying her,” Jessica mouthed, and wanted to touch herself. But she couldn’t, because Dr Quade was hypnotizing her.

The droning turned in her head As Sandy told her what it was doing to her and the others, Jessica trembled with the urgent need to come.

“Now that you’ve all become her adoring puppets again, she’ll decide whom to keep after class to lick her, and who’s to follow her helplessly to the athletic center and be her locker-room toy. And who’ll obey the impulse to meet her at home, later, for a night of enslaved sex only she will remember.”

Jessica’s eyes grew wider, and now Dr Quade was looking at her, her mesmerizing cadences slowing, quieting.

She’s got me.

Jessica stiffened, almost feeling the implacable hypnotist’s will penetrating her.

“What a ruthless predator. Poor Jessica. You never had a chance—so lovely and so easy to hypnotize. You’re probably her favorite sexual appliance. Just think of what she’s used you for. Whom she’s shared you with.”

Sandy laughed. “Oh, that’s right. She’s hypnotized you not to think.”

The class was silent now. Jessica was paralyzed. She’d been chosen. Dr Quade had sent her classmates to deeper sleep, and would now summon Jessica to her feet. While the others sat lost in their trance, knowing only the obedience mantra Dr Quade had implanted for today, she would use Jessica for her pleasure and then empty her mind again.

Jessica awaited her command, blank and eager.

Holding Jessica’s gaze without a shred of pity or shame, Dr Quade opened her lips. Jessica tensed, ready to submit to her will.

“Is something wrong, young lady?”

Jessica snapped out of it, and then every eye in the room was open and aware and on her skin. For a terrifying moment she imagined they all knew what she’d been daydreaming, and that she was a sneer away from sleepwalking to the front of the class and . . .

No. They’d be laughing, or something. But they were all looking at her, seeing the un-routine miniskirt and the stunned expression. She tried to ride it out, blocking what she’d say when class let out and she had to face them.

Someone gasped and giggled behind her, softly.

Jessica looked at her laptop.

yess yesss pussy want must obey i yes yes want to lick her slave im pussyslave i will i must

It went on across the screen, down the screen. She saw the scrollbar and how much she’d . . .

She was able to close the laptop gently, and to grab her books without spilling them across the floor, and to get out of her seat without stumbling.

She wasn’t able to keep from running headlong out of the building.

8.

Jessica squeezed her thighs around her hand, cooing. Languidly she turned her head on the pillow and looked at the books piled neatly on the desk.

I need to study.

But need made her think of pussyplay again, and yielding to it felt even better than the last time.

Jessica replayed her wetdream in Quade’s class. It still made her hot. Sometimes the sinister playlet of being selected from a mind-controlled harem lit her fire; other times it was the scorching humiliation afterward.

She knew the part about Sandy on the cellphone was just a fantasy.

Dr Quade, the dear, had actually called her, concerned that she might be having a breakdown. Just hearing her voice on the message—so pleasant one on one, animated by concern—sent Jessica to sprawl on the sheets again and stroke herself.

Getting off on Dr Quade’s voice made Jessica feel dirty, as if she were humping Dr Quade’s leg. She got off on that too.

She tried to put it all aside and catch up on her classes. She stayed home and told friends she was digging in, to catch up.

She told herself that, too. After fleeing Quade’s lecture, she’d set the books down and taken off every stitch of clothing. She’d sat patiently, until Sandy called her cellphone and mock-solemnly invited her downstairs to sunbathe. She managed to complain about her studying, and Sandy suggested letting herself be hypnotized.

Sandy was oiling her for the sun as she said this, and she’d felt Jessica twitch.

“Yes, please,” Jessica whispered. Sandy had somehow known to bring her pocketwatch . . .

The next day Jessica gritted her teeth and sat herself down at the laptop, resolved to do some research she’d procrastinated. It was mostly just to make herself do it, but she had to fight the weird lethargy before she fell too far behind.

She was clicking into the free porn site instead, before she could even wonder how she’d known its URL.

Jessica tried to wonder, but all the naked pretty women dazed her too quickly. By the time she knew what she was doing, what she was doing was jilling off. This was how she learned she’d sat down to study wearing only anklestrap heels and a French-cut panty. In a moment, the panty was tangled down by the anklestraps, and Jessica was stroking herself again.

None of the women were as beautiful as Sandy, but as she clicked through the pictures, hearing herself breathe, Jessica saw they were all in some sort of trance. Sandy wouldn’t be.

Sandy was a hypnotist, not a hypnotist’s victim, like those girls.

Like Jessica. She whined and strummed her clit and could not look away.

Only climaxing freed her from the images’ thrall. What set her off was imagining all these girls as the mindslaves of one woman.

The woman who was hypnotizing Jessica into submission, more deeply every day.

“We obey Sandy,” she panted into the screen’s glow. The other slavegirls, staring or sleepy or white-eyed, seemed silently to agree with her, together. It was the only thought Sandy had left in their heads.

Jessica rode through a smaller, tighter orgasm. But now the pictures weren’t enough.

Something round and shiny and transfixing swung through her thoughts, stopping them. She blinked.

She had no idea what to ask Sandy, but she couldn’t help calling her. It felt so abject that she knelt as she listened to the rings, and touched herself again.

Sandy laughed and told her the sun was down. Jessica was confused, but Sandy sympathized. It was warm out, a hot sleepy night. They could moonbathe, and she had a special lotion to put on Jessica.

The moon was full, and Sandy used it to hypnotize Jessica very, very deeply.

The next day . . . or was it? . . . Jessica lost track fairly easily. She spent much of the daytime asleep or in trance, and much of the night with Sandy. Sometimes they were in Sandy’s bed and Jessica wondered if she were falling in love with her landlady.

Other times, they had sex elsewhere—on the lounge in the sun at first, but soon Jessica was asking to go down on Sandy differently. She learned she loved to kneel submissively and worship Sandy. Sandy was amused when Jessica pleaded to kiss her ass, and Jessica found herself soul-kissing it, tempting the rosebud.

Jessica had many hot ideas like that, especially after Sandy had just hypnotized her. It meant she was especially horny and more than a little perverted, but Sandy was sweet to let her do it.

Periodically, Jessica remembered schoolwork, coldly jolted out of sextrance. Once, she kept herself on-task for nearly half an hour—then celebrated by clicking to a hypnosex site she’d bookmarked.

When she snapped out of it, dripping and panicked, her first impulse was to call Sandy.

Sandy triggered her over the phone. Jessica felt better instantly. She was so grateful that she begged to please Sandy, and after she started crying Sandy relented.

Jessica woke up the next day on her knees with her head between Sandy’s thighs, her mind full of Sandy’s pussy and Sandy’s pocketwatch, equally lovely and equally mesmerizing. She’d licked Sandy awake until Sandy shouted, and then grinned and reached for the watch . . .

Jessica looked at her books.

I need to study.

She didn’t dare question why it became easier, then, to get out of bed and pad over to the desk. It felt wild to study naked, and she gasped pleasantly as her bottom and thighs touched the cool varnish of the chair.

Deliberately she set Dochmann’s textbook before her. She reached for the syllabus without looking away from the book, but then forgot it was there.

I want to open it to page 69.

The thought was alien, and she knew it. It tempted her like a sexy foreigner. Why page 69? She giggled nervously. Why indeed?

I must open it to page 69.

Jessica jerked in the chair. Her foreign seducer had just pushed her against a wall, and she was too turned on to mind.

“I must.” Just hearing her submissive purr snapped her resistance. She opened it. On page 69 all she could see was a single Post-It.

In big block letters it said OBEDIENCE.

Jessica stiffened.

“I am hypnotized now,” she said, and wanted to come.

The trigger let her relax and wallow in the knowledge of control. She knew what she must do.

Peeling the note off, she ignored the book. It had served its purpose. Now Jessica must serve hers. She went to the mirror, tingling with anticipation, and carefully applied the note to her forehead. It had been clipped to fit between her hairline and her brows.

Jessica stood at attention and looked at the naked expressionless girl with the inverted word on her head, and knew what she must do next.

“I must obey,” she said to the room as she left it.

At attention, she rapped on Sandy’s door and then knelt, back straight.

Sandy opened it and looked down at her.

“I must obey,” Jessica said hopefully. Sandy raised an eyebrow and nodded in agreement. “I need to be hypnotized,” Jessica went on.

“What are you now, Jessica?”

She considered, feeling the floor under her knees, the way her ass felt her heels. “I am hypnotized.” Still looking at Sandy, she couldn’t resist putting down a hand and flicking her clit.

Sandy nodded approvingly through Jessica’s squeal. “Then—?”

Jessica caught her breath. “Then I think I’m ready to be brainwashed.”

“All right, Jessica. I can do that to you. Come in.”

Jessica crawled after her as she turned away, and seeing Sandy’s ass in her slacks made Jessica moan softly for the memory of adoring it.

“Moonstruck again?” Sandy asked, and made a pleased sound at Jessica’s little cry.

Then she turned and snapped her fingers. Jessica felt permission to stand slide over her skin, and rose fluidly so Sandy could see all of her.

Sandy looked at the note on her head and nodded. She reached up and Jessica tensed, ready to gasp.

“You don’t need ‘Obedience’ on your brain, Jessica. Not even in your brain.

“Obedience is your brain.” She pulled the paper off.

The touch trigger sent Jessica deeper. “You will come with me to be brainwashed.”

“I will come with you to be brainwashed,” Jessica breathed, following her.

Sandy led her to the guest bedroom. Jessica stood at attention again.

She felt permission to notice the intravenous drip stand beside the bed, hung with bags of fluid.

“Jessica? Do you know about ‘drug-induced hypnosis’?”

“Yes, Sandy. The hypnotist—” She had to swallow. “—the hypnotist drugs the subject to make her less resistant.”

Sandy smiled. “It’s usually not that much fun, but yes.

“So far, you’ve been receptive to my commands. One was to find hypnosis deeply arousing. I’ve used it to condition you to want to obey me. How do you feel about me, Jessica?”

Jessica looked at her. “I love to let you hypnotize me, Sandy. And I want to have sex with you almost as much as I want to obey you.” She smiled and arched her back. “It feels so nice. I need to be hypnotized. Deeply. A lot.”

“You’d do anything I told you to, Jessica. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Sandy!” She wiggled her ass while keeping position. Sandy’s smile rewarded her.

“Mmm. You’ve tried to resist some of it, but when you finally gave me your access passwords you came very hard.”

Jessica nearly came again, hearing it.

“But I’d rather be sure. You let me into your mind and it let me weaken you over time. You’re susceptible to sexual domination, and that let me program you—it’s hard to argue with a truth that makes you wet. Like mindlessly obeying my smallest whim.”

She laughed as Jessica shivered. “But you don’t want to argue anymore.

“Oh well. It’s not enough, though. I don’t own you completely. But the drugs will paralyze your ability to decide, so when I decide for you, that will be it. I can reach into your core and change what I want.

“When I hypnotize you then, Jessica, it will be forever. You won’t be consenting—you’ll be utterly helpless to resist.

“When I’d done with you, you’ll think only what I tell you to, when I let you think. I’ll erase who you are and what you believe in. I’ll replace them with a robot-jessica that lives to please me.

“What do you think of that, Jessica?”

Jessica felt hot and cold. After all the time she knew she’d been kept in trance, she felt hyperaware. Sandy was letting her remember. She started to realize what Sandy was going to do to her. To make her want.

Now she was terrified.

Sandy watched her eyes.

“But you’re under my hypnotic control now, Jessica. I think if I told you to, you’d fuck your best friend or a total stranger.” She smiled. “Or kill them.

“But to make you my slave, I don’t have to give you a command you might be able to disobey.

“And you’d much rather obey me, wouldn’t you?”

Jessica mewed. She had to nod.

“Then be my slave, Jessica. Fall into a helpless obedient trance.”

Jessica’s fears and memories dissolved. She started to forget everything but her beautiful hypnotist.

“Now: want me to brainwash you,” Sandy commanded.

She smiled to see Jessica obey.

Jessica felt it happen. She did want Sandy to hollow her out and destroy who she was. She did want to be a blowup doll with no horizon but Sandy’s clitoris.

On the bed, as the drugs hit her, she felt herself lose count and succumb. Sandy’s voice tolled like a lovely, distant, deafening bell.

Jessica never felt herself stop thinking.

9.

slave padded into the second-floor apartment, which was never locked. she stood at attention, in nothing but a collar and a small wristband, waiting for her new task to fill her mind.

Coming here no longer felt strange, though slave did not know why it had before. There was a faint mental caress of being in this apartment only to masturbate, waiting to leave it and go downstairs to be hypnotized again.

There had been lulling days of sunbathing, when she had lost herself in worshipping firm oiled flesh. The weather had been warmer then. As it cooled, her sleepy days shifted indoors to the self-hypnosis of cleaning a room, slowly and thoroughly, in the nude.

There was the long slow thrill of hypnosis just by itself. Merely thinking of the swinging pocketwatch could suck slave back into the depths and keep her there.

But slave had been hypnotized not to think until told, so she could obey, blankly, without succumbing to deeper trances.

Sometimes slave remembered that. Sometimes she was told to remember, so she could give herself to the dark joy of feeling her memory being erased.

There was a faint image of having been doing something in this apartment, before, when she wasn’t downstairs staring at the watch, or bending her body to serve the voice behind it.

slave didn’t actually even recall living here, but that contradiction meant nothing at all to her.

i love to be hypnotized. slave had murmured it before—hadn’t she?—other times she’d come up to do Mistress’ bidding here.

i love to be hypnotized.

she felt no need to say it lately. slave had been well-trained. she was always hypnotized now.

If this place still triggered those thoughts, that was Mistress’ will. slave had been told not to wonder, and she was a very obedient girl.

her duties here were more restrictive than in Mistress’ rooms, and slave had been sent here in deep trance before.

Today’s task was simple.

she went to the table where the phone sat with the CallerID box, uncapped the pen beside it, and neatly listed the names, numbers, and times of the callers on a pad. None of them made any impression on her. As she read one or two of them, there was a brief flicker in the back of her mind and a matching one in her clit. she knew she’d just suppressed a memory and been rewarded, but she wasn’t programmed to care. Finishing the list, she recapped the pen and carefully tore the sheet off the pad.

The telephone, under a light dressing of dust, did not catch her gaze. her gaze did pass across a stack of textbooks, also gathering dust. Dusting was among the ways she served Mistress, but slave was unable to question why she had not been sent to clean this place for Her. Mistress did not spend much time up here, but—

slave stopped trying to use her mind. In her mind, instead, the beautiful pocketwatch began to swing back and forth.

“Only the watch,” slave whispered. Standing nude in the room, she smiled softly. Soon the watch’s perfect swing had swabbed her mind of the attempt to think for herself. she hadn’t meant to, but that was all right. Mistress understood that Her obedient girl was not perfect, and needed Her hypnotic guidance as much as she craved the pleasure of it.

There was a watch on slave’s wristband, but it was small and still and she never thought about it. Sometimes it did things to her, but she never remembered.

slave felt properly blank once more. Calmly she surveyed the apartment for more triggers. Someone had lived here, but most of their things had been cleared. slave had no memory of doing it, but she might have. she knew her memories were regularly gapped. That felt nice.

Aside from the books, there was little left here to show who the tenant might have been. The whole subject slipped out of slave’s mind as she waited for a new compulsion. But there was nothing more here she was primed to respond to.

slave felt the basic commands resume control. she turned and walked out to return downstairs.

A half-memory distracted her like soft breath on her shoulder. Idly she wondered how it would feel to walk on this path with her arms in front of her, like a sleepwalker in an old movie. It felt oddly arousing, but less so than feeling the urge leave her. slave was completely without a will, and there was no place in her for urges to grow.

Compulsions were different, she nearly had time to think. But then the new compulsion had her, and under it she paced robotically through Mistress’ quarters to Her study, to report.

slave came to attention inside the door, half-blank and half enthralled by how unbearably lovely Mistress was. she did not announce herself or beg Her attention: in her mind Mistress had prepared sequences when that would happen for emergencies, but not otherwise.

Still and nude and blankly awaiting Her will, slave was as she should be.

“Yes, slave?”

“i performed as instructed, Mistress.” Attending Her in a room was the baseline thrill. Being able to voice her submission aloud spiked it. It all trembled out in slave’s soft voice. “i recorded the numbers. i await command.”

“Good. Bring them.”

slave stepped forward to Her chair, sinking to her knees as she spread them. she held the sheet of names and numbers in both hands and extended it up as she bowed her head. Mistress took it and, as She’d trained her, slave looked up again.

Mistress liked to watch slave when She reviewed these call lists from the upstairs phone, every day or two, and the ones from the cellphone She never used otherwise. She did the same when She read the mail, after slave fetched it from the box on the inside of the richly carved oak front door she never wanted to open without orders.

“Well. Some telemarketers who’ll probably claim they’re nonprofit. Hmm, and the university registrar again.” Mistress smiled and slave felt nice.

“Their letter came yesterday. Which of course you don’t remember at all, do you? Good girl.” She patted slave on the head.

“I wonder if it’s a last appeal, before they drop you. Their tolerance amazes me—unless they’re that desperate to keep students on the rolls and pop out generous alumnae.

“Whatever. They’re more persistent than Prof Dochmann was.”

She watched slave closely as slave moaned softly through another forget/reward cycle. But the programming worked, and as slave returned to focusing on Her, the name meant nothing. she just knelt and stared placidly up at Mistress. That seemed to please Her, and slave was happy.

“No Ms Chips, she. She hardly tried to reach you, even when you’d missed class so often. She wasn’t just pretending not to care.” Mistress smiled, since this seemed to please Her too.

Then she frowned, but in an almost amused way. “Louise called. First time in”—She cocked an eyebrow—“three months.” She looked at slave, but after blinking through her reward, slave just kept looking at her.

“It seems you’ll need to be more insulting this time, when you speak to her. I’ll adjust your programming after tonight.” She peered at slave, smiling crookedly. “Or maybe that’s the wrong approach. Maybe you should invite Louise to JJ’s to see you perform. you could place extra stress on letting her know she’d get a private dance from you. She’d just need to pay for drinks.”

Mistress grinned at slave, then looked more severely at the clock on Her desk.

“Speaking of JJ’s, slave, it’ll be time for you to pay the rent soon enough.” When She snapped her fingers, slave rose smoothly to her feet and braced to attention, staring at the charcoal sketch of ballerinas limbering up.

“i await command,” she murmured, and hissed with the arousal.

“Go to the brainwashing chamber and condition yourself—the yellow CD, tracks 2, 3, and 5.”

“Yes, Mistress. i must obey.” slave turned neatly and padded out of Her study.

she went to Her kitchen hallway and opened the door to the cellar. A switch lit part of the lower floor with a pair of low-watt bulbs. There was a faint musty smell and other things, oil and old fabric, none of which bothered slave or even caught her notice. As she closed the door behind her and faced forward on the top step, the actions triggered slave into a trance that would have been familiar if its effect didn’t put her mind into such a fog.

“Each step down the magic staircase sends me deeper to sleep,” she said into the quiet dimness. It was true, and the need to take that step and deepen her sleep was irresistible.

Which meant little to slave. she hadn’t resisted anything for as long as she could remember.

she stopped moving and speaking when both bare feet were together on the swept concrete of the basement. she came to attention again and let her eyes close.

Then they opened, cold and full of purpose. she walked to a pile of discarded doors and other lumber, old but still sound, and passed it to turn and go behind it. In its shadow was another door, this one real and set into the wall. Her fingers worked a simple cipher lock and then she was inside, flipping on a slightly-brighter fluorescent light.

slave ignored the closet that took up some of the little room’s volume, and paid no attention to the IV stand and the little drug cabinet tucked into the corner behind the door. There was nothing on the walls but a mirror, and slave ignored the nude, expressionless woman it showed. Later, she might dance and masturbate to the sight of her mindless self in the glass, or stand transfixed by the pulsing pattern the headphones told her to see on the wall.

That would be what Mistress intended to bend Her slave’s mind. slave herself didn’t anticipate how she would be brainwashed tonight. As she slid out the yellow CD and loaded it, she had no memory of what was on it or what it would do to her. The tracks she tapped into the control panel were simply what She had selected.

what thrilled slave was just the chance to obey Her again. With no awareness that what she did next was a conditioned response to seeing the yellow CD, she fitted the headphones and then, lips moving in a silent and unnoticed count, pressed some buttons on the strobelight above the sound-system stack. she lay down on the foam-mattressed cot that took up much of the rest of the room, staring up at the ceiling to wait.

This room was where Mistress kept slave, when slave wasn’t doing Her bidding elsewhere in the house. slave was programmed to return here whenever her other orders lapsed, though serving Mistress kept her fairly busy.

Though Mistress had put clothes in here for when She needed slave to be dressed, and slave spent most of her sleeptime here when she didn’t serve in Mistress’ bed, she never thought of this as “her” room any more than she thought of something as “her” collar or “her” dishcloth. This was Mistress’ brainwashing chamber, and every moment slave spent here, aware or in trance, made her more obedient.

Being with Mistress was best, but otherwise this was where slave felt happiest.

Just as the tone in her ears stunned her into a much more receptive state, her widened eyes began reflecting the staccato pattern of the strobes. she was too far gone to notice her hands move to her pussy and breasts, ready whenever the stimulation cues hit her.

When the voice began to instruct her, slave was completely open.

10.

Mistress enjoyed having slave emerge in a daze from her brainwashing sessions. Sometimes, slave had awakened to Mistress fucking her there on the cot. She let slave remember things like that, and those memories made slave hot. Part of it was just being a brainwashed toy, but knowing that Mistress found her as much of a turn-on was a special feeling for slave beyond that. When slave could remember being fucked, she was usually more deeply hypnotized than her usual trance of service.

Tonight, though, as slave was putting the headphones back and savoring the buzz of whatever they’d burned into her brain, the faint tone and the summoning light over the chamber door snapped her into alert compliance. Briskly she turned off the light and left the cellar, going to Her study again to present herself.

“Mistress, i await command.”

Mistress was at Her computer, but She looked hungrily at slave as slave stood nude and docile before Her. “Mmm. Of course you do, Jessica. Always.”

slave felt the pleasing twinge of forget/reward, but this time it was faint. Mistress called her by name sometimes, but slave was so clear on the fact that she had no identity that it made barely any impression on her. she paid more attention to the cruel joy Mistress seemed to take in it.

“I’d love to have you answer the door like that, but we can’t startle Cecile when she gets here, can we? And she will be—she called to say she’s running early.”

slave stood quietly and waited for orders.

“Greeting mode, slave.”

“Yes, Mistress. i must obey.” slave went out to the foyer. From a drawer under a marble-topped sideboard she pulled a faded green T-shirt and a pair of brief running shorts. she put them on and checked herself in the mirror. When she opened the door, anyone outside would see not a naked slavegirl but a young woman interrupted in some casual activity.

Mistress had once laughed at that. She had said that it was ironic for a mindstripped slave to masquerade as someone with a personal life, and She had never bothered to purge it from slave’s memories. slave remembered it now, and as usual thought little of it. It was good to hear Mistress laugh, especially with that edge She sometimes had, but otherwise it did not affect slave’s obedience.

The bell rang, and slave went to the door. Through the peephole she saw Cecile grinning in at her, and undid the locks.

“Hey, Jess.” Cecile looked at her clothes with mock dismay. “Not ready yet? Oh-em-gee.”

slave heard the name without blinking. Just seeing Cecile was a trigger Mistress had implanted, and slave could pretend flawlessly to be someone called Jessica if that pleased Her. slave made no link between the name when Cecile used it, or Mistress did in front of Cecile, and when Mistress used it to sneer at her before. slave was not programmed to think of it.

The appropriate responses operated slave from inside. “Hey, Ceci. Well, you know. I couldn’t decide between the black G-string and the dark lavender G-string. C’mon in.”

slave felt a friendly smile soften her mouth and relaxed, letting her body find the gestures. Like everything else, it was easy when she let go and submitted. It let her focus on how sexy the other girl was. Mistress, of course, was perfect, but Her conditioning made slave conscious of pretty women generally. Anyone seeing Cecile and watching her move would guess she was a dancer, and slave wanted to stare at the way her hips swayed on those skintight black jeans.

“Hello, Cecile.” Mistress’ voice wafted out from Her study.

“Hi, Sandy,” Cecile called back. “I’ll just see if we can get some clothes on the fashion diva here and we’ll be off.”

“To take our clothes off anyway,” slave said. Cecile raised her eyebrows and nodded, as though slave had made a really cogent point, and they laughed. Cecile looked upstairs, to the second-floor apartment.

slave didn’t know what to do if Cecile went there and saw that no one occupied it, but she did nothing. Mistress would command her.

“Jessica,” Mistress called. “I’m a little busy right now. Could you do the honors?”

“Sure, Sandy.” slave felt nothing as she called her Owner by Her name. It was Her will that she do it.

Cecile looked at her quizzically. slave smiled at her and stepped forward, cupping Cecile’s cheeks and then stroking her temples.

“Sleep, Cecile,” she said, watching the other girl’s eyes glaze over. As Cecile’s body went slack, slave guided them to their knees together. Cecile slid into the submissive pose with the ease of practice.

slave felt a fleeting moment of understanding with Mistress Herself. It was erotic to send a beautiful woman into trance. she thought of leaning forward and kissing Cecile’s half-opened, freshly-glossed lips. As always, slave’s lack of will kept her still, and now she felt the specific commands sliding into her mind.

she knelt until they were complete. When she leaned toward Cecile, her own lips sought the entranced girl’s ear. slave whispered tonight’s obedience mantra to Cecile, then activated her with a slow, light lick on the rim of her ear.

With a gasp and a sigh, Cecile began reciting. “I am hypnotized. I obey Sandy. I remember nothing that happens when I am in trance except what Sandy commands me to remember. Tonight while Jessica got dressed, I had a great conversation with Sandy about movies. She’s so smart I don’t even know what we said. I love being hypnotized by someone so smart and attractive.

“I am hypnotized. I obey Sandy. I remember nothing that happens when I am in trance . . .”

slave no longer really remembered helping Mistress to hypnotize Cecile. she knew, in a general way, that Cecile thought they were friends, and it was how she was programmed to behave when she was being “Jessica” for Mistress. But Cecile was Jessica’s friend, and slave knew much more specifically that there was no Jessica.

slave, of course, had no friends.

she remembered how pleased Mistress had been when Cecile finally submitted to Her domination. It had taken a while, and slave knew that Cecile was harder to brainwash than she had been. Mistress had not had constant access to Cecile, as She did with the woman slave had been. After each session, too, Mistress had restored Cecile to awareness, though she was posthypnotically compelled to forget the session.

Mistress commented that letting Cecile regain free will each time made breaking her a slower process, and that was another remark She had not bothered to erase from slave’s mind. She had worn one of Her cruel smiles when She said it, though.

slave had fairly easily convinced Cecile to let Sandy, Jessica’s friend and landlady, hypnotize her to relieve stress and stay on her diet. Once Cecile had let Mistress into her mind, she’d proven to be a very compliant and suggestible subject.

But Cecile had been less receptive to surrendering her free will. Finally breaking her had taken some of Mistress’ special drugs, and a sleepover weekend that Cecile didn’t remember spending in the brainwashing chamber, under the strobes, with slave’s head between her thighs.

Mistress had toyed with other uses for Cecile. She wondered aloud about programming the other girl to buy herself breast implants. Cecile had been adamant about eventually earning a desk job somewhere, and even as a joke she’d rejected the idea of enhancements.

“There could be a desk in Ceci’s future,” Mistress had mused. “Busty receptionists sell pretty well.” But She had really only wanted to keep slave’s one remaining close acquaintance under control, and settled for being able to alter Cecile’s memories and desires on a small scale.

It was enough for slave to watch another woman turned into Her creature, and to see Her so pleased with it.

Now, slave left Cecile sending herself deeper into trance and went back to the cellar to dress for JJ’s.

When Cecile woke up, her eyes still glassy, they called their goodbyes to “Sandy” and went out to Cecile’s car.

11.

The dark club throbbed. slave lost herself in it and let the beat control her. It snapped her body into moves that made it look like the music itself was fucking her hard, and to the extent her trance left her aware of the people around the stage, she could tell they smelled her.

When slave looked back at them, she sometimes tried to smile and glare and vamp at them the way the other girls did, but she sensed that she just gaped at them like someone had literally screwed her brains out. Sometimes she blinked as if a little disoriented, conveying that she might not even be certain who’d fucked her.

It seemed to help with the tips.

So did the way slave opened herself sometimes, for the hands that slid inward to grope after sliding some scratchy green under her waistband or garter. slave was always slick enough by then that no one could grab her firmly before she was up again. Then she’d writhe, or strut, or whatever else the pounding music told her to do.

Between sets, with the other dancers and staff, she could pretend to be friendly and unassuming Jessica. Most of the girls were cool with the way Jessica was more interested in them than in any of the guys, and one or two even made passes. There was even some misunderstanding at first that she was Ceci’s girlfriend.

But there were a couple of them there who knew that another woman had brought Jessica to the club and auditioned her for the owners, and seemed to be her domme. Fewer of the other dancers wanted to play with her then.

Some of them called her College Girl. A couple of them even seemed disappointed somehow when they learned she’d dropped out. They seemed taken aback that Jessica was happy enough to be here, shaking her ass for what was really small money. One of them even tried talking her into going back to it, and took it hard when she wouldn’t. Jessica was grateful for the encouragement, though.

slave, of course, did not care. she reported these things to Mistress, and it seemed to please Mistress a great deal. That made slave happy, whether or not it made Mistress want sex with her right there.

Tonight, slave knew she was dancing well. she didn’t wonder why. she knew Mistress’ deal with the owners gave Her the playlist for slave’s sets in advance, and some of the songs she felt more than heard seemed erotically familiar.

she was a slave dancing naked for strangers, earning money she’d never see anywhere but against her skin. Her paycheck went to Mistress and she’d offer Her the tip cash on her knees. Every so often as she posed and thrust and humped the pole, she realized the men and women watching her and wanting her had no idea how much of a sex object she really was, and that she danced for the joy of that.

The set pulsed to an end and slave swayed offstage. she was wide-eyed and sheened with sweat like a whore who’d taken one busload too many, and they were still cheering and pushing bills at her as Kylie came on and her music started.

Kylie was hot, though—slave could get lost in watching her, when she was waiting to come on after her—and she made them forget Jessica quickly enough.

slave headed to the back to towel off and change before checking her makeup, but she saw Reggie signal her. Someone wanted a private dance.

she nodded. More money for Mistress. That excited her most of all, but her pussy tingled. Being the focus of one guest, or even a couple, turned her on in a slower-burning way than being up in front of them all. It made her feel more clearly paid for.

JJ’s quietly but effectively made sure the dancers did nothing illegal in the private rooms, and slave was already under Mistress’ iron compulsion against sex with anyone without Her command. slave liked coming close to it, though, and she liked feeling that the customers she slid on and teased were fairly sure she’d be an easy lay if she weren’t afraid of management.

It was better when they said so aloud.

slave slid into a tiny and translucent gold-mesh bra and panty set and then pulled on a yellow latex minidress, high-necked but fitting her like the sweat of her dancing. she left on the black anklestrap heels and looked for Reggie. she twitched her hips to avoid being groped—it aroused her to be handled by strangers like that, but she wanted to stay unbruised for the one who’d be renting her now.

Reggie took her in at a glance and nodded, and slave silently praised Mistress for training her so well. slave melted a little at how professional he was—he was aware of her as a sexy woman who pleased people with her body, but more than anything else she was merchandise. It wasn’t quite like the way Mistress thought of her, but it was close enough to make slave’s pussy warm.

“She’ll tell you what to do, Jessica. In Six.”

Ooohh. She.

“Yes, Reggie,” she chirped like a good girl. Pete would send her off with a friendly (and bruiseless) slap on the ass, but Reggie just nodded and turned to the next thing.

Like a man in a candy store, slave thought as she walked to Room Six. He’s had his fill of us.

I’m not any sexier than any other five pieces of candy. It put something more into her strut.

she went inside.

The dimly blue-lit room had a comfortable chair for the customer and a plainer one the girl could pose on. slave minced over to the prop chair and stood to show off her legs. she looked up at the woman who was paying for her, and while her conditioning kept her calm, a little flare of surprise sparked up inside.

Prof Dochmann sat up and looked at her.

The other woman’s identity slid up from nothingness into slave’s mind. slave relaxed. Mistress had programmed her for things like this but there’d been no need for her to know. Right now she was obeying the new protocols before she’d had time to be anxious.

Dochmann’s look was indecipherable but she clearly recognized slave. slave felt herself adapt to that contingency and wait for cues: Mistress’ command and Reggie’s were momentarily the same.

“They weren’t kidding,” the professor said. Then she seemed to remember that she was in control in this place, too. “Come closer. Let me see you, Jessica.”

slave pranced forward to obey, posing a little.

“What happened?” Dochmann asked, hesitantly. “Why are you down to—this?”

Moving her hips, slave smiled down at her. “i like it. Actually I love it.”

Dochmann looked relieved as she leered at her former student. slave realized Dochmann hadn’t known if Jessica had run out of money or gotten sick or otherwise been a victim of circumstance.

“Do you like me?” slave asked, moving a little more now. Music started, low and slow, capturing most of her attention. Only Mistress’ special instructions kept slave from submitting to the music completely and starting to serve this customer.

“Stand still,” Dochmann said with some of her classroom lash. slave froze.

“That’s better. When did you start this?”

“A year ago—something like that.” slave savored the other woman’s contempt for her vagueness. “It was a way to make some money, but i found i wanted to do it anyway.”

Deliberately she thrust her pussy forward, then back. “i’ve always jilled off over it,” she went on, stroking her breasts with her index fingers, “but pretty soon when i’d come home from here i’d kick the books under the desk and frig myself to sleep.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she smirked, “but i’d do this for free.

“Now, what can i—?”

“Take off the dress.” slave submitted to the beat as she started to unpeel herself.

“No. Don’t twitch like that. Just take it off.”

slave felt her cheeks start to burn. Mistress had left a few pieces of Jessica inside, and there was enough of the student the drugs and strobes hadn’t scrubbed out to feel the sting of whoring for her teacher.

As she exposed herself in the see-through lingerie, stepping out of the dress, slave felt cheap, and let the inner Jessica feel it too. Prof Dochmann watched avidly, and seemed as pleased as another customer would have been with slave grinding herself on their lap.

she imagined another girl, even Cecile, getting impatient. But slave had forgotten ever being entitled to impatience. her voice was submissive and eager as she murmured, “What would you like me to do for you?”

“Beg to come back,” Dochmann said, too quickly. “Beg me to help you get reinstated.” slave juiced to think the woman had planned this scenelet, maybe masturbated over it. Knew she was here, found out what nights she was on, and then came here to watch her get paid to get naked.

she dropped to her knees, letting what was left of Jessica shift her face into desperate hope under the shame.

“My god, Professor! Could you? Could you do that?”

Dochmann stared, unsure whether her private dancer was being a skillful roleplayer or had just shown her throat for real.

She let Dochmann see her breasts for a moment. Then, slowly, she eased forward and rested her hands on the arms of the chair, moving her head closer to the other woman’s lap but still looking up earnestly. “I really would do anything.”

slave let her eyes start to moisten. “Anything . . .” she whispered, and moved one hand off the chair and inward, gently palming the professor’s thigh.

“I’m not like that,” Dochmann snarled, shoving slave with her leg. slave fell backward, still on her knees, against the prop chair. she let her face fall.

“I don’t go with women.” Dochmann’s intensity told slave this wasn’t denial. She really meant it. She’d only come to watch Jessica crawl.

slave crawled toward her but not too close. she smiled. “Was the pleading good for you, at least?”

Dochmann glared at her—and then smiled, not willing or perhaps able to be bettered at this.

She stood up and slave tensed, but Dochmann only smiled. Of course—even a tenured professor wasn’t likely to get herself caught beating up strippers.

“The pleading was worth every penny,” she sneered, holding out what slave saw even in the dimness was a worn one-dollar bill. She leaned down and pushed it under the mesh of slave’s left bra cup. slave felt it on her nipple.

Dochmann caressed her cheek and went to the door, looking back at slave where she knelt.

slave took out the bill and locked eyes with the professor. Rising to her feet, she licked it, then kissed it and pushed it under the waistband of her cheap-looking gold mesh thong.

she let the music enslave her at last, lifting her arms and swinging her hips next to the prop chair.

“Come back soon, Prof Dochmann,” she crooned. Enough of her wanted it to happen to make it sound real. she turned and twitched her ass.

Dochmann fled.

12.

“Is Louise there?” slave knelt in the second-floor apartment. “It’s Jessica. Jess—sure. i’ll wait.”

she stared at the pocketwatch that hung off the edge of the desk. she was aware of Mistress sitting there, watching her, but She had put slave into a trance before handing the phone down to her, and the only thing in slave’s mind now was disposing of this call.

“Jessica? Are you OK? You haven’t—”

“i can’t believe you’re still calling me.” slave nearly cringed, herself, with how cold she sounded. “What part of ‘fuck off’ did you not understand?” There was a little gasp on the other end, and slave felt a pang inside. her free hand moved over her cleft and she slid a finger along it. Conditioning kept her breathing steady as she primed herself.

“I wanted to apologize, Jessica. For whatever I did to you. For not knowing what made you so angry you didn’t even want to talk to me.” The voice was quiet with raw hurt. “Please, Jessica, just tell me what I did wrong.”

slave had no memory of the girl on the other end. Not even a face came to mind. There was only the watch, just the sight of it emptying her mind even when it hung motionless. she didn’t understand either the pain in the girl’s voice or the odd ache that stirred in her own chest to hear it. she only enjoyed them and touched herself.

“That’s so you, Louise. Center of the universe.” slave arched her back as Mistress stroked her, fingertips on her neck under her gathered hair. It thrilled her to be so pleasing, and she made her voice nastier for both of them, as she obeyed the next phase of the program.

“i’m just not seeing the obvious, though, am i? Louise? Louuuuiiiiissse.” she made a kiss into the phone.

“What?”

“Why don’t you come and watch me, Louise? At the club? That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“Jessica! What are you talking about?”

“i saw you there once,” slave smirked, and heard another gasp. It had been a random comment, but now she sensed it was true. Tonight’s session under the strobes had prepared her for this, too. she relaxed and stared glassy-eyed at the dangling watch, ready to obey whatever the cues told her.

“I . . . just couldn’t believe it. That you dropped out. To be a stripper, for god’s sake, Jessica—if you needed anything, money, just someone to—”

“Bullshit, Louise. You knew it was true. You just wanted to see me do it. Didn’t you? You were too shy to sit near the stage and touch me, smell me, Louise, but you dreamed of being that pole.”

There was nothing on the other end.

“Maybe you didn’t have any folding money to slip me, though, Louise. Got past the cover charge because pretty girls can, but you couldn’t pay for a close-up.

“Money, Louise? Get real. If i needed money i’d have hit up Marilyn or one of the rich girls. Not you.” Something turned over in slave as she said this. she let her mind go blanker, falling deeper into the watch’s heartless gleam, to keep the moan inside.

“i’ve left the stage with more cash in my pussy than you have to play with.” Saying it, she felt Mistress’ shoe make circles on one asscheek as she knelt, but Her control kept slave from responding.

The next command bloomed inside slave’s mind and took control. “i know! Why not come with me Thursday afternoon when i go in to pick up my check?” slave had a blurred composite memory of those trips—deep in trance, almost visibly on Mistress’ leash as She reminded the club’s owners Who owned this dancer.

“They do walk-in auditions, and i’ll bet you could get a spot.” she smiled so Louise could hear it. “i’m just stage ass for them, Louise, so it’s not like i can ‘put in a word’ for you, but they always know how to use another cute girl.” slave did remember that JJ’s actually preferred its dancers to vouch for new talent, but the watch easily blanked that from her thoughts. “Maybe they’ll put you in a mesh top to wait tables.

“And you can always let them do you. A blow job can do wonders.” she licked her lips audibly. “Besides, you can make a lot on the side, as long as they don’t catch—”

“I was wrong, Jessica.” Louise’s voice bled now, but slave could hear her hardening behind it.

“I—I won’t bother you . . .”

She took a breath. “Fuck you, Jessica.” There was a loud sound as Louise nearly sobbed, but she held it in, and the phone clicked deliberately as she hung up.

slave waited for the dialtone. she stayed in pitch with it as she intoned, “Call completed, Mistress.” she kept kneeling and stared at the watch, with the phone by her ear. The dialtone numbed her empty mind, but she would sit there until bidden to act. Not even the off-hook tone would rouse her.

When Mistress leaned down and took the phone from her, slave’s hand stayed curled by her ear. Mistress chuckled and it added a layer to slave’s intense arousal.

“Position,” Mistress commanded, and now slave rested both hands palm-up on her spread thighs, arching her back a little. her gaze was still trapped in the glitter of the watch.

“Tell me, slave. Do you think Louise will bother us again?”

“No, Mistress.” slave could think, when commanded. her mind was clear, since she only used it on what Mistress wished her to, before She put it to sleep again. “She is angry now, and she is letting that frame how she thinks of ‘Jessica.’” slave had no trouble knowing ‘Jessica’ was someone else.

“Very nice,” Mistress said, walking around the uninhabited bedroom. “It helped a lot to know about that sensitivity she has about finances. you were so cooperative to tell me that, slave.”

slave knelt quietly, not remembering but content to have pleased Her.

Mistress was next to slave now, and slave trembled, awaiting Her will. She squatted next to slave, and slave felt Her breath on her skin.

“you did very well, slave.” slave felt the reward-pleasure flood her, reinforcing her obedience.

“Louise was one of Jessica’s dearest friends and confidantes.” Her hand felt slave’s stiff nipples and slave whined, unable to help herself.

Mistress laughed softly. “In fact, if Jessica had been a lesbian, I think she might have fallen completely in love with Louise.” She was pinching slave’s left breast, and slave gasped with how good the pain felt. she stiffened in her position but was unable to break it.

“But my brainwashed little slave just got wet taking a piece out of Louise’s soul.” She released slave and slave knelt, panting, staring wildly at the shadowed expanse of metal that her caged eyes could see. If slave had had the will she would be pleading now, to be used.

Mistress’ breath was hot in her ear, and then She kissed it. slave gave a little gasp.

Her hand caressed slave’s hip and then slid into her crotch, dipping into her pussy and bringing the gleaming prize fragrantly past her face.

“So very obedient, my slave.” The words were warm on her ear, her throat.

Mistress’ hand, lubricated with slave’s own juice, slipped between slave’s buttocks and found her ass. Moaning, slave parted for her and raised up as much as she could under the invisible chains of position.

Her other hand found slave’s pussy and She worked both ends as slave writhed. slave’s hands, unbidden and nerveless, lay open on her tensing thighs as she knelt and endured the pleasure Mistress’ skillful hands inflicted.

“Obey,” breathed Mistress in her ear just as She applied the magic touch, and slave jerked between Her hands, coming and shrieking.

slave was saying the only thing in her mind as her mind burned up, “i obey i obey i obey i obeyyyy—!” But the orgasm blew away speech as well as thought, and nothing but a fading scream left her as she spasmed and then sprawled limply to the floor, sobbing against the hardwood.

Later, unless She erased this from slave’s mind, slave would know her obedience had been etched deeper into her.

For now, slave could only lie there in dumb worship.