Container
by Sara H
* * *The lips.
The lips are all.
The lips move.
The mouth speaks.
The words come.
The words bring change.
I do not choose.
I do not see.
I do not know.
The changes are not changes.
I have not changed.
I have always been here.
I have always been now.
I obey.
Sheila walked quickly through the maze of cubicles, finding her own desk thanks to the ritual of four years of working in the same space, filing the same reports, managing the same information. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it wasn’t so bad, either. As she set her purse under her desk and checked the small mirror she kept in the back corner, she appraised herself casually. She pulled a few times on her bangs, pushing them gently back and forth, until she was satisfied with how they lay on her forehead.
She was still mostly alone in the large room—her day started an hour earlier than most of the women who worked near her. She turned on her PC, and as it booted up she looked through the small stack of papers she had left from the day before.
She reached for the telephone headset and pressed the button that switched it from the regular handset to the one she wore on her ear.
The headset was disconnected still, and the short cord lay on her shoulder as she hummed briefly, waiting for the logo on her monitor to give way to the animated desktop she had designed for herself.
Finally, the PC chimed that it was ready for her. She took the wire from the headset control box and pulled it towards her. Lifting her shoulder length hair with her free hand, she took the tiny plug and connected it.
She winced slightly as she gently pressed it into a port set into her skin just behind her left ear.
She took the dangling cord of the headset and plugged it into another port just below the first.
Her eyes became vacant and sightless as her fingers typed commands, opening a program that appeared in the upper right corner of her screen.
The abstract symbols displayed there reflected in her dilating eyes. Her lips moved silently, as if she were gently talking to herself. Eventually, even the movement of her lips stopped. Their moist swelling as her mouth sat slightly open, was silent witness to her arousal.
She did not move again for nearly an hour.
Sheila finally came to herself in the bathroom. She was in a stall, sucking on her fingers. The taste of her womanly essence was still fresh on her lips and tongue.
She stood, straightened her skirt, and opened the stall door. She walked over to the sink and checked her face in the mirror, fixing her disheveled hair before turning to look down at the body of the woman that was lying on the floor. She quietly regarded the face of the woman as she knelt down, gently lifting the head and wiping the small bit of dried blood from behind the young brunette’s left ear.
It was the face of Kathleen, her best friend.
It was also the face of the newest Container, the newest member of the Fold.
By now, the filaments had bonded with the brain and nervous system. Sheila pulled two sets of wires from inside her jacket, attached one set to the new ports in the woman’s neck, and the other set into the ports on her own. She took the loose ends of both sets and plugged them into what appeared to be small bottle of perfume.
She pressed the applicator button on the bottle and waited for the pleasure beyond pleasure to consume her, and to consume Kathleen. She smiled at Kathleen briefly as she waited. The pleasure would pour into every neural circuit of the woman’s conscious and subconscious mind. It would seal her new programming into her psyche, just as it had Sheila’s two weeks before.
And then, as the plasma flame of orgasm rose and washed through and over her, she let every other thought fall from her grasp as she fell into convulsions of pure ecstasy.
She did not choose.
She did not see.
She did not know.
She obeyed.
She had always obeyed.
She would always obey.
And now, so would Kathleen.
“Container Matheson-001 has passed her final simulation with no anomalies,” reported the woman behind the console.
“Very well, Ashley,” answered a female voice from the intercom. “Nicely done. She was a tough case, yes? She took nearly three days.”
“Yes, Mistress. But there was nothing I couldn’t push through.”
“Is that pride in your voice, Ashley?” teased the voice.
“Only in serving Your will, Mistress,” answered the beautiful woman.
Looking slightly dissatisfied, the woman emerged from the shadows, barking, “Status report!”
Ashley’s face went blank as she flatly recited, “Container Williams-002. Pleasure and conditioning protocols in place and operating at 92% efficiency. Arousal factor seventy-three. Container is secure.”
Smiling with just a hint of amusement, Mistress spoke more softly again. “End report.”
She regarded the beautiful slave for a moment before adding, “Return her to her programming chamber and feed our newest convert her final instructions. Then prepare the conference room for the ending session.”
“As You desire, now and always, Mistress,” replied Ashley, bowing softly as pleasure tingled up her spine with the words of submission.
Soon, perhaps tonight, Mistress would allow the Container to pleasure Her again. Ashley felt her pussy darken her panties with wetness at the thought.
Tonight’s session had been a celebration. After ten days of grueling self-examination, soul-baring and realizations that bordered on spiritual, the women who had attended the “Empowering Women in the Workplace” seminar were reaping the rewards of hard-fought battles and illuminating exercises.
Sheila looked around at the fifty women from across the United States and smiled, and saw them smiling, too. Their eyes glowed with self-assured determination and purpose, ready to return to their jobs and careers, knowing what they had to offer, and what rewards awaited them.
Edith Prolznyck, the Facilitator, was speaking, and Sheila returned her attention back to the small riser from which the aging but still vital woman spoke.
“... and from where do our ethics and motivations come? Our sense of individual purpose and strength? How do we recognize the difference between reality and the hallucination society has placed upon us? From the secret knowledge inside the Containers we call our bodies. From that secret place inside where we all hold our most cherished thoughts and dreams which make up our most sacred knowledge. That secret place that we have brought to life in you, nurtured in you, and given as a gift to you, over these last few days.”
Edith paused and looked around, smiling. “What are we?” she called.
“POWERFUL!” shouted the chorus of fifty women.
“And with what power do we live?”
“PASSION!”
“And how do we overcome??”
“WITH POWERFUL PASSION AND PERFECT PURPOSE!!!”
“Excellent! Congratulations! You have just graduated into the world! The real seminar begins.... NOW!!!”
Music blared from the speakers throughout the room, and, although not one of them noticed, all fifty women simultaneously touched their crotches, their breasts, their foreheads, their lips, and then reached back to lightly graze one hundred tiny ports, perfectly aligned behind fifty left ears.
As they talked and laughed, leaving the conference room, they each took the packets they were given and headed to the post-seminar party.
Sheila had been waiting for fifteen minutes when Richard picked her up at the airport. It was a little odd... her brother was always punctual to a fault. She let it go with her happiness at seeing him.
They gave each other a big hug and got in the car to take her home.
“So, how was the big workshop?” he asked. “Learn anything new?”
“Oh, more than I can ever tell you, Richie,” she enthused. “I had no idea how much there was to learn. But I found out!”
“So did I,” he said looking straight ahead.
She barely had time to see the shape moving in the back seat before the needle sank home and she lost consciousness.
Richard grimaced, guilty about what he had done, even though it was necessary. He looked at his sister slumped beside him and then into the rearview mirror. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“You saw the ports, right? Mr. Matheson, the BSI has been working on this for long enough to know that surprise is the only way. She would fight—even kill us, without ever realizing why. She is a Container... she lives to serve her Mistress, regardless of the cost. Now get to the motel so we can get the thing out of her, and get her back to normal.”
Richard was about to say something when he felt the nuzzle of a gun touch the back of his head.
“No backing out now, Mr. Matheson.”
“Richard...?” croaked Sheila as her eyes opened slowly, still rolling from the powerful anesthetic.
“I’m here, Sheila,” he answered, sitting on the side of the bed, holding her hand. “It’s all over now.”
“What...” she said, cut off by dryness. Starting again, she continued, “What’s over?”
“They put something in you, sis. Something to control you. Something to control your mind. Agent Randall was able to remove it, though.”
“Agent Randall?”
“The man who brought you here with me. Do you remember anything?”
“Sort of,” she rasped. “I remember feeling really, really good. And then blackness.”
Agent Randall broke in. “That was the device. They had you wired for pleasure. Stronger than any drug, and you would have killed us to keep it.”
“No...”
“See for yourself.” He held up two half inch flesh colored tiny cylinders with a small silver square attached, and several tiny hair-like wires protruding from the other end. “These are the ports, and this is the processor. These filaments are wired through your nervous system. We can’t take them out... they’re much too complex. But we can defuse them, so to speak. Free you.”
“I... don’t know what to say...” she said, looking over at Richard in confusion.
“It’s true, sis. I didn’t believe it for sure until I saw him take these fuckers out of you.”
“I guess I should thank you...”
“Time enough for that when you rest up. For now, just go on to sleep.”
“Okay,” she said, closing her eyes. Within moments, she was asleep, breathing deeply.
“Maybe we should leave her be for awhile, huh?” asked Richard, his eyes pleading with the agent.
“Okay... it’s safe now, anyway, I think. Let’s go get some coffee,” said Agent Randall. “This kind of thing wears me out.”
They turned out the lights, closed the door and walked to the diner across the street.
Sheila blinked as the lights came back on.
“Who are you?” she said to the young woman in the motel room.
“I’m here to clean the room,” she said. “Say, are you okay?”
“I think so... I don’t know. They say something happened to me.”
“The guys you are here with? Did they do something bad?”
“No... one is my brother, the other one is some federal agent. It’s really okay. You can clean.”
“Well, in a minute. First, I have something for you. Hold on a sec.”
The maid went to her cart and reached into one of the pockets on the side. She pulled out two pronged pistol shaped object and loaded it with two small cylinders. She walked over and turned Sheila’s head to the side, looking closely at her neck.
“They did a clean removal. That’s good. That means this won’t hurt at all. They didn’t even scratch the cyst.
“You do want to return to the Fold, don’t you, lovely one?” said the maid, smiling sweetly.
“Yesssssssss....” hissed Sheila. “Hurry... they won’t be gone long...”
She shivered as she pulled her head further to the side and exposed her neck for insertion, and the pleasure that would come with it.
Sheila lapped at the pussy of Container Andrews-006 with the reverence of a slave worshipping a Goddess. Of course, Mary wasn’t Mistress, but in serving this way, Mistress would be honored. Besides, Mary had done the same for her.
Her head glided up and down, tongue rasping across the clit of her lover, making it swell with need and hot tongues of fire. The warmth in her own belly told her she was doing exactly what was needed... the direct connection between pleasure centers and the amplification would allow nothing else. Her finger found Mary’s nipples and she pulled on them hard, as she nibbled her clit, listening to the mewls of the woman as they tingled all the way from the top of head to the toes of both women.
Her hips began to buck in unison with the young maid’s, both of them chanting their sexual need, gasping and screaming in unison. “Fuuuuck yes! God yes fuck it lick it eat it make me cummmmmm!!! Fucking my clit yes suckingsuckingsucking yesssssssssss god FUCKING FUCK YESSSSSSSSSSS NNNNNNNNGGGGGG AAAAAAAAIIIIEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!”
They both lost all thought as their bodies and minds become one pulsing, blazing light of pure pleasure, nothing but lust, but need, but cumming each climax feeding the next, over and over, unable to stop until all programming was restored.
Deep inside her sex-fogged mind, Sheila hoped there was much more programming to do. Even the part of her that had once resisted now clutched and begged for more instruction, shouted her obedience deep into her mind... she had not changed... she had always been here... she had always been now... she obeyed...
She looked over at Richard and Agent Randall, and came again as she saw Richard lower his lips to the agent’s throbbing cock, swirling around the head with his tongue. They were both sporting erections that looked like flesh steel, and the wires running from their newly installed ports to the programming box assured that they would never again be a nuisance, or cause Mistress trouble again.
In fact, men sometimes made the best recruiters of all. They were less suspicious in certain circumstances.
It’s kind of too bad, she thought, that they will never be allowed the intellect to be more than breeding and recruitment drones...
She felt another climax approaching fast and corrected her thoughts obligingly. Fuck it, she reflected, they serve the will of Mistress...
It was a long drive home. Richard sat quietly, despite the lively conversation Sheila offered. She smiled and nodded, as if she could hear his answer. It was a fun game, made even more so by the lusty moans that Richard would let escape when she mentioned Agent Randall.
She pulled into the Happy Go Lucky Food Mart at the corner of her street and went inside to buy some sodas.
“Well, where have you been, girl?” asked Joan, from behind the counter.
“Hi, Joan,” Sheila answered, smiling. “Out of town. I needed a break from here. By the way, are you out of Lucky Colas? I couldn’t find them.”
“No, they should be back there. Let me look for you.” Joan came out from behind the counter and walked toward the back of the small store. Sheila began to rummage through her purse as she followed.
“I understand about this place getting to you,” she said. “Ellington may be close, but here in Rowansville, it’s always dead. Hmm, maybe they’re behind these newspapers. I always have to remind Eddie not to cover the merchandise.”
“I don’t know,” answered Sheila, smiling, standing behind and slightly to the left of the cashier. She pulled out the small device for which she had been looking and held it near the woman’s neck, just behind her left ear. Joan was too busy looking for Lucky Cola to notice.
“I have a feeling things are going to be changing quite a bit around here.”