The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The bored guard held out his hand to the two plump babushkas pushing their cleaning cart past his security station. They fumbled in the depths of their clothing—the building was poorly heated—and finally retrieved their identity cards. He barely glanced at the photos before returning them.

The babushkas covertly drew breaths as the guard grudgingly rose from his desk, and poked carefully into the depths of the cart. Apparently satisfied, he wiped his fingers, and settled himself back by his desk with the sports section of his newspaper.

The babushkas trundled their cart down the corridor, turned at the end, and entered one of the dimly-lit rooms. One of them started to fill a bucket from a handy tap, while the other pulled out some cleaning fluid and mixed it in.

“This wig is really itchy,” one of them complained, in a low voice.

“It kind of suits you, Saskia,” said the other, amused. She pulled out a mop and plunged it into the water, giving it a good squeeze to draw up the moisture. “Let’s get to work.”

“I’ve always hated cleaning.” Saskia took her own mop, soaked it, and started to work on the tiled floor at the left side of the room. “How long, do you think?”

Katrina, the other woman, glanced at the digital watch tucked under her sleeve. “If we figure the patrol goes on the hour, they should pass here in about ten minutes.”

They mopped in silence, doing an acceptable job of cleaning the floor, and even getting into the corners which—by the look of them—were generally neglected by the regular cleaners.

Finally, they heard the clicking of boot heels on the floor outside. They didn’t look up from their work, but Saskia managed to keep enough of an angle on the door’s window to see when the patrol peered into their room. Apparently unconcerned at the cleaning crew, they barely stopped before continuing down the hall.

They cleaned for another five minutes, then Katrina propped her mop in a corner. Saskia followed her.

“Game time.” They peered out of the door window, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing visible, they slipped out of the door, much more agile than their previous shambling walk had indicated.

They went further down the corridor, and followed a short stairway down to the basement. There, a solid door with numerous hazard warnings blocked their way.

Saskia pulled a set of narrow tools from her pocket, and went to work on the lock. Two minutes later, it clicked open, and they slipped inside.

Katrina checked her watch. “Eight minutes, starting now.”

They both removed their outer clothing to reveal a number of plastic bags, about the size of a bag of flour, hanging from a harness over their shoulders. Detaching the bags, they looked around the room. It was a fairly expansive industrial facility, apparently set up for the production of some kind of liquid that was to fill the array of thousands of small plastic tubes that sat in racks on the conveyor belts.

Saskia pointed at a corner. “Pressurized cylinders. I’ll take them.”

Katrina shone a red-covered flashlight around, settling on a set of large covered vats. “Solvents. Those will go nicely.”

The plastic bags were wedged next to their targets. The women then took long, thin sticks and inserted two of them into each bag, connecting them up to small black plastic boxes.

“Detonators in place,” confirmed Saskia.

“Arm them.” The women flicked switches on the black boxes, causing an orange LED on each of them to glow.

“Two minutes.” Katrina pointed at the door. “Let’s split.”

They left the room and proceeded cautiously up the stairs, peeking around the corner. With no sign of a guard, they walked quietly back to their original room, and took up their mops again.

Another hour of desultory cleaning, with the patrol passing once again with no incident, and the two women emptied their bucket and drained their mops. Reassembling the cart, they pushed it back to the security desk.

The guard looked surprised at their arrival. “That was quick.”

“She’s sick,” grumbled Saskia, pointing at Katrina. “Probably from some bad fish. We’re going to have to finish tomorrow.”

“I think I’m going to barf,” confirmed Katrina, swaying a little on her feet.

“Not here, you’re not.” The guard pointed to the outside door. “Get out.”

“Thank you, Comrade.” Saskia pushed the cart outside, with Katrina following behind, giving occasional moans of complaint.

They manhandled the cart into the rusty van they’d parked in the lot outside, then sat inside and fired up the engine. The heater wasn’t much, but it at least took the edge off the cold.

“All ready?” Saskia retrieved another black box from the vehicle’s glove compartment, and pulled out an antenna.

“As we’ll ever be.” Katrina flexed her fingers on the wheel.

“Arming... three, two, one, fire!” Saskia flipped a cover from a switch, and depressed it firmly.

Nothing happened.

Saskia ran through the sequence again. Still nothing happened.

“It’s powered on,” she reported. “The batteries are fresh. For some reason, the signal isn’t reaching the detonators.”

Katrina chewed her lip. “Too much building in the way?”

“Could be.” Saskia pointed down the side of the building. “If you go that way, we should be right outside the room.”

“Worth a try.” Katrina shifted the van into gear and slowly drove down the side of the building, with the vehicle lights off.

“Here.” Katrina pointed at a vent in the ground. The two women left the van, and crouched down, peering into the darkness.

“That’s as good as it’s going to get.” She pulled out the control unit. “Three... two... one... fire!”

Still nothing.

“Do we have to go back in, and trigger it manually?” Katrina looked worried.

“I think we might.” Saskia shrugged. “I’ve got good long lengths of magnesium strip to use as a fuse—they should give us a good few minutes before the thermite goes.

“We just have to deal with the guard.” Katrina pulled out her tranquilizer dart pistol. “This might get messy.”

The two women walked silently back to the main door, re-opening its electronic lock with their passes. The guard was deep in an article about Dynamo Moscow, and didn’t notice until the women were within a few yards.

“Oh, you’re back.” He gestured at Katrina. “She feeling better?”

“Much,” confirmed Katrina, flipping the safety off the gun behind her back.

His brow furrowed. “Hey, where’s your cart...?”

Katrina smoothly lined up the gun’s sights, and fired the dart into the guard’s neck. He gasped in surprise, flailing at the injury, before the heavy dose of sedative took effect, and he slumped in his chair.

“He won’t stay out for long. Let’s move.”

They jogged down the corridors until they reached the stairs to the basement. There they paused, listening for the patrol, but there was no sound.

“I hope you’re as quick with that lock the second time,” muttered Katrina.

“So do I.” Saskia slipped down the stairs, and got to work.

Katrina was intent on watching Saskia, and did not hear the soft footsteps behind her. The first she knew of an intruder was an impact on her back—and then an agonizing pulse through her nervous system as the Taser darts discharged their voltage. Her body locked up completely, and she fell to the side, banging her head hard on the wall. Colors exploded in her vision.

“What...?” Saskia’s question ended in a muffled scream, and she too fell to the floor as the Taser crackled.

Dazed from the impact on her head, Katrina was only partly aware as someone pulled down her thick skirt and underwear, and shoved something sharp into her left butt cheek. The sedative was fast-acting, and she drifted away without having time to wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Katrina woke, slowly, to find herself in a green-tiled medical room. She was lying on a table of some kind, covered by a sheet, and surrounded by a range of medical equipment. Was she in hospital? What had happened? The side of her head still throbbed.

“Hello, Katrina.” A Russian voice, a woman’s. She sounded amused.

Katrina turned her head, carefully. Sitting next to her was a smiling middle-aged woman. Her piercing ice-blue eyes felt like they were stripping the layers off Katrina and looking directly into her soul....

“I am Senior Colonel Tatiana Orlova, of the Committee for State Security. But you, Katrina,” she dimpled, “can just call me ‘Tanya’.”

Katrina swallowed. This was not good: They knew her real name already.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Cat got your tongue?” She picked up a long metal instrument from a tray, and examined it critically.

“My... my name’s not Katrina. It’s Olga.” At least, her identity documents would support that.”

Tanya laughed. “Bravo, my dear Katrina, but I’m afraid that Saskia was quite certain of your real name. We had a lovely long conversation, she and I. I learned many things.”

So, that was how it was going to be. Katrina steeled herself.

“If you tortured my friend, I am going to get off this table, and then I’m going to kill you.”

“Such loyalty!” Tanya clapped, ironically. “And bravura. But unnecessary, my dear. Saskia is completely unharmed. I just have... a way with people, let us say. We would have woken you earlier, but you had quite a blow on the head, and the doctor recommended we let you recover for a couple of days.”

“I thought your agency shut down years ago?” Katrina was looking for something to create space, and distract Tanya, while she figured out how to escape. Unfortunately, none of her limbs appeared moveable, which severely cut down her options.

Tanya smiled. “Yes, indeed. That was what we wanted everyone to think, including our government. The buildings were shut down, the people reassigned—oh, but the ethos, and drive! That, my dear, kept together a core of believers.”

She held up a photo. “I’m sure you recognize this building?”

Katrina peered at it. It wasn’t worth lying. “The pharmaceutical factory.”

“Indeed. Ours, as it happens. A most profitable investment, or so our finance director tells me. And not something we wanted burned to the ground by thermite. What a naughty girl you are, Katrina! It was fortunate that we had picked up rumors of your plans, and as soon as we detected your intrusion into the entry system it was child’s play to monitor your entry—and block your detonator signal.”

Tanya rose, and started pacing. “Of course, it wasn’t your choice—your director targeted the building. Still, we need to discourage such activities. While I’m sure your director is ruthless enough to keep throwing bodies into the fire, I think we need to deter other agents like you from accepting such assignments.”

She held up a finger. “Now in the olden days, we would simply have shipped you off to the gulag. No-one would see you for a decade, or longer. But that seems rather old-fashioned, and boring. We reserve that”—she made a face—“for moron foreigners who try to bring cannabis vapes into the country.” A second finger joined the first. “We have occasionally performed lobotomies, transforming a highly intelligent agent into someone who can barely function, but the scars from that would be such a shame for someone as pretty as you.” A third finger. “But now, I think I have the perfect answer.”

She opened a door, and a second woman entered. She was older, graying hair tucked under a surgeon’s cap, and steel-rimmed glasses framing sharp green eyes.

“This is Doctor Amarova. You are very fortunate—she is reputed to be one of the best cosmetic surgeons in the greater Moscow area. The siloviki accept no-one else to handle the cosmetic improvements of their wives and daughters.“

Katrina watched fearfully as Amarova picked up a syringe and approached her.

“This will help you relax before the procedure.” Katrina saw that someone had put a port into the back of her hand, now restrained on a pad by her side, and Amarova carefully inserted the syringe into the port before depressing the plunger.

“I don’t need cosmetic surgery...” Her voice trailed off as she realized the futility of what she was saying.

“Oh, my dear, you just don’t realize that you do.” Tanya took her seat again. “I think we can make several improvements, don’t you, Doctor?”

Amarova selected a marker pen from a tray and leaned over Katrina’s face, frowning in concentration. She took a firm hold of Katrina’s jaw, and made several small marks along the boundary of her lips. Then she folded back the sheet covering Katrina’s chest, to reveal the girl’s bare breasts.

“They do look a little small, don’t they?” Tanya commented to the Doctor. “I’m sure there’s something you can do about that.”

Amarova carefully moved each breast around, feeling and poking around the edges. Eventually satisfied, she started to put more marks around and across them.

“Why are you doing this?” mumbled Katrina. The pre-med was starting to affect her mind.

“All in good time, my dear.” Tanya helped the Doctor fold back the sheet covering Katrina’s legs. Peering down, she could now see that they were fastened in stirrups and spread open. The Doctor took a seat on a small stool between her legs and leaned forward with her marker, adjusting her glasses. Tanya felt firm fingers start to spread her lips, and whined in discomfort.

“No, not there...”

“Shush, my dear, don’t interrupt the Doctor’s focus.” Tanya patted her shoulder. “We’re nearly done.”

The door opened again, and three more women entered. Dressed like the Doctor in surgical greens, they went to various pieces of medical equipment and started to connect it to Katrina. She felt a cuff go around her arm, electrodes attached to her chest and side, and a cap cover her hair. The pre-med was in full effect now, and all she could do was stare up blearily at their masked faces.

Finally, the Doctor appeared satisfied, and stood, nodding at Tanya.

“I’ll leave you in their capable hands,” Tanya said, smiling. “But don’t worry: We’ll have lots to talk about in a while.” She rose from her seat and backed away, allowing one of the women to approach with a black anesthetic mask.

Katrina feebly tried to move her face away, but the mask was pressed firmly against it. She felt a sharp taste in her mouth, and her vision started to gray.

The last thing she saw was the Doctor’s green eyes, scrutinizing her face. Then everything went black.

The next few days were foggy. She remembered being in a bed, and parts of her body aching. People came by to give her medicine, clean her, and sometimes change bandages on her chest or waist, but nothing really stuck. From time to time someone would patiently feed her something that tasted like sweet porridge, then she’d lapse back into a fitful sleep. There were vivid dreams, but they made no sense to her, and the contents quickly evaporated from her mind like dew from the morning grass in her grandmother’s garden.

The first thing that she really remembered was a return visit of Doctor Amarova, accompanied by one of her nurses. The Doctor didn’t speak to her, but carefully examined her face before instructing her nurse to remove the bandages on Katrina’s chest and waist. Too tired and confused to resist, Katrina nevertheless squeaked in pain as something was pulled out of her pee-hole before the Doctor bent down, frowning, to examine that area.

Apparently satisfied, she straightened up, and addressed the nurse.

“Wean her off the medication. She will be fit for the Senior Colonel tomorrow.”

Later that day, an attendant helped a very unsteady Katrina to the bathroom. She sighed in relief as she sank onto the seat, half-leaning against the wall for support. It took a while, but eventually she felt pee trickle out of her, stinging a little. That achievement was apparently important, since the attendant made a note on her clipboard before helping Katrina clean herself and stagger back to bed.

As she lay drifting off to sleep, something occurred to her. That bathroom had no mirror, not even behind the sink. Why not...? But the extra thinking proved too difficult, and she sank back into the comforting arms of Morpheus.

“In the chair, please.”

The words made it sound like a request, but the tone did not. Katrina turned in bed to gaze blearily at the attendant nearby, indicating an empty wheelchair.

She groaned, and carefully pushed herself to a half-sitting position before sliding her legs out from under the sheets. The attendant adjusted the wheelchair position, locked the brakes, and dexterously pulled Katrina to an unsteady standing position next to it. A careful shuffle, and Katrina slumped into the seat.

Pushing her along the anonymous corridor, the attendant was silent, as normal, but Katrina almost welcomed it. Her head was feeling somewhat clearer than yesterday—in as much as days had any meaning here—but she still didn’t really feel up to a conversation.

Had she drifted off? Suddenly, she was in a brightly-lit white room, lying on a couch.

“Hello, Katrina.”

That familiar voice... She turned her head, with a little effort, to see Tanya smiling at her. The woman was dressed in a white smock, sitting on a small stool next to her.

“Welcome to my room. How are you feeling?” Her tone of voice made it seem as if she were genuinely concerned.

Katrina blinked, trying to adjust. “Okay, I think? Not hurting much, any more.” She struggled to bubble a nagging thought to the top of her mind. “What’s happening?”

“Oh, my dear, we’re just going to have a little talk. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Katrina felt something cold on her left arm, and looked to see a masked nurse carefully swabbing her elbow. Once apparently satisfied with the cleaning, she slid a needle into Katrina’s vein, making the girl gasp.

“It’s okay, my dear. Just a little prick, and we’re done. You’ll feel so much better soon.“

Katrina couldn’t help but notice that her arm was systematically secured to the couch by a series of straps, and now she came to realize that the same was true for the rest of her body. She looked down to see that her nightgown was folded back to expose her sex, and her legs were similarly held in place spread open. She gulped.

The nurse moved from her arm to a position near her waist, and started to spread out a number of instruments on a small cart.

“What are you doing?” She tested the straps, but they had been competently applied and tightened.

Tanya tutted, and stroked her hair.

“Haven’t you ever wondered, Katrina, what it might be like to be someone else? Someone more... interesting, let’s say. Someone with really strong desires, that take over your personality on a whim?”

The nurse selected a small wand with a trailing wire and bent over Katrina’s sex, frowning in concentration.

“We have the understanding of the mind to give you that. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Wouldn’t it be... freeing?”

At that word, the nurse applied the wand to Katrina’s clit. The shockingly intense and sudden sensation caused the girl to scream, tensing against her bonds. Her vision briefly went red. As it faded, she panted in an attempt to restore her breathing, and saw Tanya quietly laughing. The woman stroked her face.

“As you can see, my dear, we’ve made a few improvements. Dr Amarova has tripled the sensitivity of your clitoris with her expert surgery. You should send her a ‘thank you’ card one of these days.”

She softly stroked Katrina’s stomach, her fingernails tracing patterns on the skin. “You’re very fortunate, my dear. Your agency is happy to use you, and lose you, aren’t they? You don’t see them galloping to your rescue. But we—ah, we just want the best for you, Katrina.”

Tanya’s voice was seductive, and it took a lot of willpower for Katrina to force her mind to think back to the original reason for her mission. “No... we needed to stop you... The safety of our country was at stake?”

“Was it?” Tanya asked softly, her nose inches from Katrina’s. “Was it really?” Katrina smelled her perfume, a subtle and complex scent, and gulped. “Tell me, Katrina, why was it necessary?”

Katrina cast back in her mind, but a thick fog was descending there. “I... It... Had to escape....”

“And yet... here you are.” Tanya lowered her lips to Katrina’s, and planted a soft, delicious kiss. Katrina moaned, her head now spinning.

Tanya stroked her forehead. “Oh, Katrina. If only you knew what awaited you on the other side.” The nurse re-applied the wand, at a much lower power, and Tanya laughed quietly as the girl moaned and strained at her restraints.

She became business-like. “Look straight up for me, Katrina.”

With few options, Katrina obeyed. She felt a pair of straps applied to her head, holding it firmly in place so that she had no option but to stare up at a bank of lights on a mount above her face. Though stationary, it seemed to spin in her vision.

Tanya nodded at the nurse, who pulled out several more instruments and bent to focus on her work area. Tanya herself focused a red light in the ceiling array onto Katrina’s left eye.

“That’s right, my dear. Let your mind go completely open, like the wide blue sky. Float away, let your body be carried by the river....”

Katrina felt like she was floating up towards the ceiling. The pulsing of the red light in her left eye had fallen beyond the notice of her conscious mind, and now the only stimulus she was aware of was the low murmur of Tanya’s voice in her ear. Even the stabs of muscle-contracting ecstasy from around her sex were but a dim accompaniment to the seductive tones of the voice that was filling her mind.

“...How does this make you feel, my dear?” There was a soft stroking of the tips of her breasts, and she all but whinnied like a horse in response. A soft laugh. “Of course, of course. You’d like more of that wouldn’t you?” Katrina shivered in her restraints. “All you have to do... the tiniest thing... all that you have to do is open yourself to me. You want to, don’t you?” Katrina, dumb, nodded in vigorous agreement. “I know, I know. You love these feelings in your body, don’t you? You want me to show you how good they can make you feel...”

Tanya carefully draped a gauzy cloth over Katrina’s nose. “Breathe in, my dear. You’ll like this scent.” She nodded at the nurse, who stepped up her stimulation, and Katrina whined in pleasure, her hands shaking.

Tanya bent closer to her subject. “It’s so hard, being an agent, isn’t it, Katrina? Wouldn’t you like to be someone else? Someone more... satisfying?” She stroked Katrina’s bare tummy. “You know, you don’t have to be so serious, so focused. Isn’t it more fun to just... let everything go?” The lights started to strobe more quickly. Katrina had completely forgotten where she was, or what was happening; her body had taken over her mind, and now she was merely a passenger.

A smile crept across Tanya’s face as she registered the final relaxation in Katrina. The door was open, and all she had to do was to walk in.

Katrina rose slowly from a confusing, deep dream. As her physical control came back, she blindly felt around herself for some kind of reassurance or comfort. Fortunately, there was a soft and warm body next to her—with a near-irresistible scent—and she snuggled closer to it, temporarily reassured.

It was almost automatic for her arm to slide over the other person, and, as she did so, feel the comforting wobbles of a large pair of boobs. She sighed in happiness, hugging the body against herself, and—almost idly—playing with the firm, broad nipples between her fingers.

There was a moan of pleasure from the other, and then a pair of plump buttocks pushed against her pussy and started to grind into her. Katrina gave a groan of her own, and reached up to taste the back of the woman’s neck. It was delicious, compelling, and she came back for more....

Tanya sipped her tea, and watched the monitor with a smile as the two plump bodies entwined, lips and fingers seeking out tender places. The heavy dose of aphrodisiac, coupled with the mutually attractive programming of feminine desire associated with each other’s scent, left no room for any conscious intervention by the brain. Katrina and Saskia were on full autopilot, rutting against each other with nothing to distract them.

She turned to the technician sitting at a laptop. “Is the audio coming through properly this time?”

“Perfectly,” the tech confirmed. “All three mikes are getting a clear signal.”

“Very good. I look forward to the final production version.” Tanya smirked, returning her gaze to the monitor. “I wonder when they’ll notice the toys... oh, there we are.” A hand had encountered the tray of sex toys placed conveniently next to the double bed, and after a few moments of confusion, Saskia had selected a soft purple dildo and started to explore Katrina with it.

“Is that the aphrodisiac driving it, Comrade Senior Colonel?” The tech was carefully monitoring the audio feeds, but everything seemed on balance for now, so she could express her curiosity. “It must be very potent.”

“You’d think so, but actually, not.” Tanya refilled her cup from a small but elegant samovar. “It’s not a particularly large dose. We just need it as a kick starter, to get the body’s senses interested. Once they scent each other, the conditioned reflexes take over, and...” She gestured at the monitor, further words superfluous.

One figure—Saskia, by the look of her—was straddling the other, and now pushing her sex into the other’s mouth, neck arched as she gazed up at the ceiling. The topmost camera framed a wonderful expression on her face of total abandonment to lust.

Tanya stood, apparently satisfied. “I think our work here is done. Get the cosmetician to come in first thing tomorrow morning, and book their plane tickets for late tomorrow afternoon.

“Yes, Comrade Senior Colonel.” A clerk picked up her phone and started to dial.

“I’ll be at the station for the evening shift. Call me if there are any problems.” Tanya checked her watch. “But I might check in on our other guest first.”

Director Kisik had had an uncomfortable couple of weeks. Two of her top agents had dropped out of communication—initially, as planned—but their target building had stubbornly failed to burn to the ground, or even smolder, and they had not got back in contact to explain why not. After a week of silence, Kisik had directed the station chief to start shaking branches, but so far she had not reported back either.

Kisik swallowed her second anti-ulcer tablet of the day, chasing it with a shot of coffee, and stared out of her window. In two days she had to report to her government oversight committee, and did not relish the prospect.

Her desk phone buzzed, and she picked it up, still looking outside. “Kisik.”

“Director, it’s Saskia and Katrina. They’re back!”

“We have them in contact? About time!” Kisik snapped, angry, but undeniably relieved. “What’s their status?”

“Ummm... they’re back here, Director. They just walked into the building reception. I got called because there was a problem with their IDs.“

“What the hell are they doing here?” Kisik paused momentarily. “You know what, never mind. Tell them to get their asses up to my office, this minute.”

“That, er, may not be a good idea, Director. Can you come down to holding room C? You’ll see what I mean.”

Kisik’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be coy.”

“Seriously, Director, you need to see this with your own eyes.”

“On my way.” Kisik took her data pad, and strode out.

Ten minutes later, she was leaning back in a chair with an expression of shock on her normally iron face.

“And they’ve been like this the whole time?”

“Haven’t stopped,” confirmed Hana, her operations officer. “They behave like we’re barely here.”

“And you’re certain that these are Saskia and Katrina?”

“I can understand why you ask, Director, but yes; prints, iris, most other biometrics match. The facial features clearly don’t, but there’s obvious extensive and recent surgery there—quite high quality, by the look of it. Silicone in the lips—and, I suspect, in the butt too judging by how they’re sitting. Hair recently bleached, and dyed that awful shade of blonde.”

Kisik looked again through the one-way glass, still unable to process fully what she was seeing. It had taken some time to see through the cosmetic changes, but the two women there were undeniably Katrina and Saskia. Her formerly highly disciplined agents were, however, acting like teenagers on heat. They were all over each other, kissing, nuzzling, hands sliding into clothing, and barely paying attention to the increasingly stressed Internal Security agent who was trying to debrief them.

“What the hell...” Kisik shook her head. “All right, let’s split them up. Maybe being away from each other will help. But how did they get this way?

Ten minutes later she was sitting opposite Saskia. With effort, she disregarded the smeared makeup on the girl’s face, and tried to see past the pouting lips and inflated boobs to the woman she’d sent on the mission to burn the pharmaceutical factory.

“Saskia! What happened to you?”

Saskia sighed. “Oh, we met this lovely lady. She wanted us to be so happy, and she helped us connect with our inner selves. You know, I’d never really seen myself as blonde but once she’d given me these boobs and this butt, it seemed like so natural, you know.” She giggled. “And Katrina loves it so much. And I love her so much! I never knew! Can I see her again, now?“

Kisik swallowed her initial response, feeling the burning in her stomach. “Saskia, the factory. What happened?”

She shrugged. “Oh, we shouldn’t have tried to do that. Tanya said we were so naughty!” She smirked. “Maybe she should have spanked us—I’d have liked that. You’d like Tanya, Director. She’s so nice, so friendly.” She sighed, wistfully. “She knows how to make me feel so good...”

Kisik paused. “Tanya—can you tell me more about her?”

“Oh, she gave me a note. Hang on...” Saskia dug around in her purse, and finally pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Here you go.”

Kisik carefully unfolded the paper, and read the note; it was hand-written in elegant cursive Russian.

“Dear Director Kisik; a small gift in return for your interest in our affairs. Tanya.”

Kisik ground her teeth, and turned to her assistant. “Let’s get these two analyzed by our medical team. See if we can dig out the agents that I used to have from underneath the two bimbos that we have now.”

Her phone buzzed, and a short message popped onto the screen. Apparently the head of the oversight committee had also just heard—from what source, who knew?—about the agents’ return, and was demanding an update.

Kisik chugged another anti-ulcer med, dry. This week appeared to be on course to kill her.

Yelena, Moscow station chief for Kisik’s intelligence agency, stood on a street corner outside an upscale fashion store. It was nearly 7pm, and she wanted to get home before the streets started to be filled with nightclub-goers.

She kept awareness by periodic glances around her, looking for anyone with a path intersecting her position. Although this part of Moscow was relatively safe—due to the exclusive stores and their security—it was no guarantee. She had booked a Yandex Go ride back to the area of her apartment, though tradecraft dictated that she never actually went direct to her address, and indeed varied her arrival point on each journey.

The app pinged her for a 1 minute arrival, and she stared out along the street, while still flicking occasional looks over her shoulder to check for nearby pedestrians.

There! Modern blue-white lights, and the car was slowing down, obviously looking for a passenger. She raised a hand, and tried to see past the lights to the car’s shape and color.

It was a dark blue BMW, as specified. A quick check of the front number plate and she opened the rear door, poking her head in but going no further.

“Tanya?”

“Yelena? Come in, please.”

Satisfied that the driver knew who she was, she gracefully swung herself into the back seat, and closed the door.

“Nice to meet you, Tanya.”

“Likewise.” The driver swung back out into the traffic, expertly matching speeds. “It’s about ten minutes to your destination; is that okay?”

“Lovely.” She clicked her seatbelt secure and looked around the car interior, approving of its cleanliness and styling. “You have a nice car, Tanya.”

“Thank you, my dear.” She accelerated through a junction. “I hate driving Russian cars. I got this from a friend—an American at the embassy was sent back early, and he needed to get rid of his car quickly, so my friend picked it up for a song.” She giggled. “It’s probably riddled with CIA spy devices.”

Yelena laughed. She enjoyed her rideshare trips—it was a good way to take the pulse of Moscow—and having a requirement for only female drivers meant that they tended to be more chatty, and less likely to hit on her.

She noticed something sticky on her fingers, and frowned, holding them up to the light from the street. Whatever it was, was at least clear, not dirty. She wiped them with a handkerchief, managing to remove most of the substance, but her fingers still felt somewhat tacky.

“Everything all right?” enquired Tanya, slowing to take a corner.

“Yes, it’s just...” Yelena’s tongue suddenly felt as if it was three times its normal size. She fumbled her phone, dropping it on the seat beside her, and her hands now felt as if they were encased in mittens.

“Just a touch of nerve agent gel on the door handle,” Tanya said, reassuringly. “Perfectly safe.”

Yelena heard the words, but they barely registered. Her head lolled to the side, and her vision started to gray out.

“Don’t worry, Yelena. We’ll take good care of you...”

Yelena woke on her back, looking at multi-colored lights above her. There was a dryness in her mouth.

“Some water?” A familiar voice. The soft nipple of a bottle slid into her mouth, and she took grateful sips.

It didn’t take long for her to realize that she was deliberately being held immobile. She felt pressure from restraints across most of her body, and the only movement she could achieve was a wiggling of her fingers or toes. Even then, several fingers on her right hand seemed to have limited mobility, and something pressing on them.

“You don’t need to hold out, Yelena.” The same voice, amused.

A face came into her vision; smiling, female, well made-up.

“I am Senior Colonel Tanya Orlova, of the KGB. You are Yelena, station chief for Moscow for your intelligence agency. Among the agents you controlled previously were Saskia and Katrina.”

The woman’s tone did not admit any doubt.

Yelena swallowed, and tried a gambit. “Comrade Senior Colonel, I appreciate your diligence to your duties, I’m not sure that I know what you’re talking about...”

Her voice tailed off as Tanya mounted an iPad on a frame within her vision, and pressed the Play button on-screen. There was Saskia’s face, held immobile with colored lights reflecting off her pupils, while she dreamily but accurately described her last few meetings with Yelena.

Tanya smiled at her. “Like I said, Yelena, you don’t need to hold out. We already know practically everything.”

Yelena had an urge to pee, but fought past it. “Then, why am I here?”

Tanya nodded. “A fair question. Here, let me show you...” She tapped the iPad skip-forward button a couple of times, and stood back.

It took Yelena a few seconds to orient herself to the new video, but then it became clear that it was a carefully-shot montage of two plump, busty, and very naked women pleasuring each other on a bed. The sound track left no doubt as to the enjoyment being experienced by both of them.

The camera cut to a different angle, and Tanya paused the video. “You recognize your friends, of course.”

“No... Oh!” Yelena’s voice faltered as she saw past the silicone-injected lips and lust-filled expressions to perceive the underlying faces of her agents.

She tried to lock eyes with Tanya, but the woman was standing slightly too far back—no doubt, deliberately. “What did you do to them?”

“The human mind is such a malleable thing,” Tanya mused. “With so many untapped predilections! All we have to do, in many cases, is point it in the direction we desire, and give it a gentle push. Saskia and Katrina were already close; we just had to encourage them to be a little... closer.” She giggled. “I must confess, I would love to see the face of Director Kisik when we send those two back to their headquarters.”

She stroked Yelena’s brow. “Now you, my darling, have been spying on the Rodina for nearly five years, haven’t you? Such transgressions, such an abuse of our hospitality, really can’t go unanswered.“

Bright lights started to sparkle in Yelena’s vision, and Tanya’s voice was oscillating in tone in her ears. With effort, she demanded: “What was in that water?”

“Something to help you start to see things our way.” Tanya paused, and her face became sad. “You know, Yelena, my father never let me have a puppy?”

Confused at the change of theme, Yelena made a neutral noise, while trying to fight down the confusion that was bubbling up into her mind.

“Ever since I was seven, I’d wanted a puppy. My class mate Svetlana had the cutest little Dachshund, and I’d play with her every time I visited her apartment. But my father said that we didn’t have room for a puppy, or time for it, and he wouldn’t buy one.”

Her face brightened, and she leaned forward.

“But you know what, Yelena? Maybe I can have one after all.”

She held up a pink dog collar, with a small tag. Carefully dangling it in front of Yelena’s eyes, despite her confused mind, the woman had no problem reading the word “YELENA” embossed on the tag.

Tanya leaned over her, and slipped the collar around her neck, fastening it just tight enough for Yelena to feel a slight constriction around her throat.

“Wouldn’t you like to be my puppy, Yelena?” She started to adjust a cluster of lights above Yelena’s eyes.

The drug was surging through Yelena’s mind now, with her ears ringing and fingers tingling, but all she could do was stare upwards at the lights which were starting to pulse at her.

She felt Tanya’s hands caressing her face. “My pretty, pretty little puppy. I can’t wait until you bark at Director Kisik....”