The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“My name is Amanda Doyle, and I am a slave.”

My words sparked are round of polite greetings from the circle of strangers in front of me. Their words felt hollow, but were sincere enough. Unlike most people these days, there was no undercurrent of contempt. Understandable, since every one of them was just as enslaved as me.

Today was my first meeting of the school’s “Support For Unemancipated Students” group. It met the second Tuesday of every month, and my attendance was mandatory for the rest of the school year.

There were forty or so of us altogether, and even a quick glance showed a clear division in the room. Even at first glance, there was a clear division in the room. Looking out, I could see at least three distinct groups in the room.

The largest of the three was remarkable only for its unremarkability. They looked like perfectly normal students, no different from any other college student you might. I could have passed them in the hall, and I would have never known they were chipped. In fact, I think I did recognize one or two from class, and had no idea that had been slaves all along.

The second group wasn’t so fortunate. Their clothing was so obviously old and secondhand, given only the absolute essentials needed to get by. Their owners were in it for the money, I guessed, gambling that their purchase would earn enough to make up for their expensive education.

Shortsighted idiots, as far as I was concerned. The chips could do a lot, but they weren’t omnipotent. No matter how hard they worked, a happy, healthy student was going to be more successful than one living in squalor. Even if money was all they cared about, a few creature comforts would go a long way toward recouping their investment. Given how much they had already paid, a few extra dollars for clothes and food would have paid dividends later.

The third group was all too sickeningly familiar. In them I saw everything I had been living since that first awful morning. I could see it in their dress, their demeanor, they were just like me. The others were dressed normally, or even modestly, but not us. We were dressed to show off the one thing our owners prized most: our bodies. More than a few of us bore obvious signs of enslavement, collars or cuffs, or whatnot. I still wore mine, even if Victor had allowed me to forgo the leash for now. I wasn’t the only one.

They were an eclectic bunch, whose clothing was as unique and eccentric as anything I had seen. Take that guy in the front row, for example. He wore an absolutely ridiculous looking silk shirt whose open V front was cut almost to the bottom. His pants were so tight that I couldn’t help but commiserate. I may not have had balls myself, but his larger than average bulge was so constrained it made me wince. He was in ridiculously good shape, though. If I’d have met him back when I was free, I’d have probably chuckled at his ridiculous outfit, but only after checking out his abs. I’ve seen tables less solid than those things. A shame I didn’t really feel much anymore when I looked at guys.

Besides Victor, that is.

The girl next to him was also like us. Her outfit wasn’t quite as slutty as mine, but still left little to the imagination. Her long, skintight leggings may not have revealed as much as the short skirts I normally wore, but they left little to the imagination. Speaking of well toned abs, her midriff was totally and completely bare, and it was impressive.

There weren’t that many of us, we were the smallest of the three groups, but we sure stood out in a crowd.

If I’d expected some kind of mutual commiseration, I was sorely disappointed. Five minutes in, and it was clear that this group existed to reinforce the system. After the initial meet and greet, we sat down for a long, dull speaker that talked at seemingly unending lengths about “contentious service”. I would have zoned out completely, but something in the way he described obedient servitude really got me worked up. I bit my lip and tried to deny it, but the thought of obedience was really making me horny.

I shifted in my chair, wondering if I could excuse myself for a couple minutes of alone time without getting in trouble.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

I looked over to see a girl dressed like a cat slip into the formerly empty chair next to me. Her outfit was ridiculous, a patterned, skintight full body jumpsuit with a long tail trailing off the back. It should have been uncomfortable to sit with, but she managed to slip into the chair without it getting tangled up underneath. Practice, I suppose. She wore a set of cat ears atop her head, and if I looked closely in the darkened room, I swore I saw whiskers painted on her face.

“Go ahead, it’s ok,” she whispered. “No one’s going to notice.”

She couldn’t possibly mean—but then I looked down and saw that her own hands had slipped down to her lap.

“I can’t,” I hissed, just a bit too loud, “It’s too weird.”

“Why do you think they turn down the lights?”

“There’s no way that—”

But then I looked. It was hard to tell, in the dim light, but she was correct. Not everyone was touching themselves. In fact, most weren’t, but we weren’t the only ones getting turned on by the talk.

Even so...

“I don’t know...”

“Here, let me help you.”

“Wait, I—”

But her hands had already slipped over mine, guiding them between my legs. A moment’s hesitation, and then my fingers pushed into my slick opening. I looked around, sure that the others would catch me, but no one even noticed. For the most part, all eyes were on the speaker, staring in rapt attention as if his dull lecture was the most mindblowing thing in the world.

“Way more interesting this way, isn’t it?” she said as her fingers pushed aside the tight lycra covering her crotch.

My head swiveled about, sure that at any moment people would turn in shock. But if I was hoping to make a scene, I was in for a disappointment.

I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. That I had even considered frigging myself off in a crowded room was a sign of how much I had already changed. Actually going through with it would have been unthinkable once, and yet here I was.

Worse still was what got me off now. I wasn’t just playing myself in public, I was playing with myself as a speaker lectured me about how to be a better slave. That should have been a thing of horror, but it was way too hot for any outrage. With each pulling stroke of my pussy, I thought about all the humiliations Victor had forced upon me, both great and petty, and gasped as they drove me to new heights of pleasure.

I hated this, just as I hated him, but I could not deny that being Victor’s obedient sex pet brought an erotic charge beyond anything I had ever felt. Just being in the same room with him was enough to put me on edge, and actually carrying out his will, no matter how degrading, was like a thousand teasing caresses spread across my body.

At some point, her hand returned to my lap, and mine to hers. Together, we pleasured one another to blissful thoughts of absolute servitude. The speaker ended and lights came back. I hurried to clean up the puddle on my chair, having long since started carrying a towel for just such an occasion.

“Wow,” I said, still a bit in shock. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

She laughed.

“Why do you think I come here every month?”

“Dunno, I didn’t have any choice.”

“Well I do, but I still show up. Wanna bet that you’ll do the same?”

“Bet what? They already took everything from me.”

“We’ll think of something,” she said with a sly grin.

“No bet,” I told her.

“Darn.”

“I’m Amanda,” I said, reaching out. Least I could do was a handshake and introduction, considering that I’d already fingered her.

“I know,” she said.

“Oh right, the whole meet the newbie thing at the start.”

“That’d be it,” she laughed.

He hand wrapped around mind, and I tried not to think about the slight damp on it. Mine probably wasn’t any better.

“My name’s Katherine,” she said, “Kat, to my friends.”

I looked her outfit up and down. In open light, it was even more outlandish than I’d realized. Her bodysuit was patterned in overlapping stripes that covered her entire body, save for a white patch around her belly, but were styled in such a way as to accentuate her breasts and hips. Her face did indeed have whiskers painted on the cheeks. Not just that, but her nose was painted as well. Even her eyes were changed, with colored lenses that made them look more catlike.

“Is your name seriously—”

“Yes, it really is,” she said flatly. “Nevermind that I was class president and valedictorian. The sole reason I could afford a good college was because a spoiled rich girl wanted a sexy kitty, and my name happened to sound like ‘Cat’.”

“That’s...”

“Sad? I know.”

“I was going to go with awful,” I told her.

“I’m used to it.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but that’s the first time I’ve heard a single word of criticism today. Everyone else seems to buy into this whole messed up system.”

“Hey, I call em like I see em. I adore my mistress, and I’d do absolutely anything for her. But holy crap is that girl spoiled.”

“Right...”

I thought of my own “master”, and all of his myriad flaws. Spoiled was there, but it was just the beginning. Maybe Kat’s situation wasn’t so bad. Though from the way she was dressed, I think “spoiled” might be an understatement.

“Come on, let’s meet the others.”

She grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the back of the room, where a fairly decent refreshment table was laid out. Most of the Neglecteds were off on the far end scoping out the punch and sweets, but Kat led us down by the fruit and veggies, where we found the bare chested guy I’d seen earlier munching on a celery stalk.

I felt out of place here. Even with the outlandish clothing, they were all so incredibly attractive, both the men and the women. Why shouldn’t they be? That’s what they’d been chosen for, after all. What was I doing here? I wasn’t some breathtaking beauty like they were. I might dress like them, and serve like them, but only because my owner was a sadistic prick I’d been stupid enough to jilt once.

Mmmm... Victor’s prick. I shook my head, trying to clear away that annoyingly persistent image. I’d seen more than enough of it to last a lifetime, and yet I still kept wanting more.

Kat introduced us.

“Brian, this is Amanda. Amanda, Brian.”

I reached out to shake his hand, but instead he enveloped it gently and brought it to his lips.

“Enchanted, madame,” he said. I giggled, rolling my eyes, but a part of me was touched. It had been a long time since anyone had shown me that sort of gentile respect. If the chip hadn’t damped down my attraction to every man who wasn’t Victor, I think I might have found the gesture something other than amusing.

“Brian likes to consider himself a charmer,” Kat said.

“I’ll have you know that I was quite the ladies man, once.”

“Right, keep telling yourself that,” Kat said. “And this is Sue. She and Brian are something of an item.”

“Oh?” I said looking between the two of them in surprise.

Although both were incredibly good looking in their own way, they were something of a mismatched set. Brian had all the buff size of a full time bodybuilder, and the height to match. Sue was at least a third of a meter shorter than me, and was more than a little petite. Besides, if they were keyed like me and Kat...

“I hadn’t gotten the impression that your kind—I mean, our kind were allowed to—“

“Mistress like to watch us fuck,” Sue broke her silence in a blunt deadpan. She made no other acknowledgement of my presence.

“Sue used to be a raging lesbian,” Kat told me, earing a glare from the smaller girl. “Wouldn’t even accept the contract unless she picked the owner herself. Lucky for her she was good enough to be choosy. Unlucky that the smoking hot girl she chose turned out to be a committed bisexual with a voyeuristic streak miles wide.”

She nodded fiercely, but for all that didn’t move from his side. Whatever she told herself, I suspected that there was more to the relationship than she was willing to admit.

“So what about you?” Brian asked. “How are you liking your master so far?”

From the interested look he was giving me, I could tell that his desires towards the opposite sex hadn’t been tapered down.

“I hate him,” I said, earning more than a few shocked looks.

“How’s that work?” Kat asked, “I know it can be a bit rough at first, but—”

“We knew each other. Before all this, I mean. He kept hitting on me, but even then I couldn’t stand him. When I had to sell myself, I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I never imagined that it would be him.”

“Poor you,” Kat said sardonically, “I bet that didn’t stop you from cumming your brains out the first time, did it?”

I blushed, but she was right.

“Grow up, Kat,” Brian scolded her. “Remember how my first night went?”

“That’s because you’re just a giant drama queen,” she said.

Brian just rolled his eyes.

“Well you were.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He made a huge ass of himself,” Kat said, but then she kissed him on the cheek and I could see in Brian’s expression that there were no hard feelings. Instead they treated it something like a joke, albeit one they’d all heard before.

“Growing up, I always dreamed of being an athlete,” he began. “I was the big man in town, local hero, always picked first for every sports team. All my life knew that one day I was going to hit it big and be the star on every holovid. Sure, I’d have to get chipped to make it through school, but as long as you’re a starter that barely matters. Just an extra push to help focus on your workouts and keep out of trouble. No sweat, really.”

“So what happened?” I asked. He shrugged, an act that sent his thin shirt slipping off to the side.

“Didn’t cut it. Turns out that the best in my little town still wasn’t good enough for the big leagues. I was pretty down when that happened, thought my life had just ended. I’d staked everything on making it to the next level, only to fail. But then a buddy of mine had this bright idea. There’s still a way to go through college, he tells me. See, I may not have been good enough to play, but I was still in really great shape. Not bad looking, if I say so myself. There are other ways I can use my body to go through school, he says. Not as good as being a player, but I’d still be loaded once I graduate and earn my fee back.”

He chuckled darkly.

“Not sure what I thought was going to happen. In my head, I guess I was picturing some wealthy heiress looking for a younger boytoy. Pictured myself lounging shirtless by the poolside next to some hot middle aged woman who still rocked a smoking bikini bod. Instead I wake up and learn that I’m about to start sucking dick for a living.

“I flipped out. Went mental and started knocking shit over. I refused to go with them, told them to take the chip out, told them there was no way I would ever get with some man. They tried to calm me down, but I wasn’t having any of it. Until they called him in.

He paused, reminiscing, and despite the sorrowful tone of his speech I saw him harden through his skin tight pants.

“You have to understand. Growing up, I was always the biggest, strongest kid around. The leader, the guy who takes charge. I didn’t really think about it, I just took it for granted. So understand when I say that I had never been so utterly intimidated as I was when he walked in that room. From the moment I saw him, I knew that he was someone I couldn’t browbeat, who I could never, in my wildest dreams, ever hope to challenge.

“He was hot, too, and wasn’t that a shock. Look, I’d never had any trouble with folks who swung that way. More ladies for me, right? But it simply wasn’t for me. Women were hot, women found me hot, that was the natural order of things. The end.

“But just one look at him, and boom—I had never lusted so hard after anyone.

“I sucked him off right there in the recovery room, in front of all the doctors and nurses. It was... incredible. Like nothing I had ever imagined. After he finished cumming in my mouth, he made me go up to each and every person in the room and offer myself to them. None of them took him up on it, some nonsense about medical ethics and whatnot, but it was still pretty humiliating. Hot as hell, too, but that’s beside the point. After that we went back to his place, and he fucked me in the ass. I loved it.”

“Then you know,” I said, “You know how fucked up this all is.”

He reached up and tousled my hair until a scowl put an end to that.

“You’re missing the point,” he told me. “I loved it, even that first time. I love everything about it. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. All those twisted notions I started with just kept me from realizing just how wonderful servitude actually was. You’re lost and you’re scared and you don’t understand what is happening to you, but I’m trying to tell you that it’s all going to be ok. We’ve all been there, and we got over it. Another few weeks, and you’ll understand. Before you know it, you’ll be glad that it happened.”

Around me, the others looked in expectantly, their gazes judging, and in a way, almost pitying. I laughed nervously, and nodded my head.

“We’ll see,” I said, trying to inject enthusiasm that I didn’t feel.

“That’s the spirit,” Kat said, the broad grin returning to her face. She pulled me in for a hug.

“Whatever brought you here,” she said, “we’re glad to have you.”

There was the trap.

I liked these people, liked them in a way that I really shouldn’t. Coming here today, the last thing I had expected was to make friends, but I found in these people a welcome acceptance I hadn’t realized I yearned for. A few platitudes aside, my old friends had abandoned me soon after my change. Some had scorned me, and others had avoided me as if slavery was suddenly contagious. A few acted like they wanted to stay friends, but they were too afraid of what the others would think. One by one, they all went away. Except Adam, but I had done everything in my power to push him away. There was a gaping hole in my life, and these people could fill that for me.

Part of me wanted what was offered, hungry for that lost sense of belonging. Humans are social creatures, and I am no exception. It would feel good to have friends again, a group that would welcome me and accept me, even in the face of everything that had happened. These people would welcome me wholeheartedly if I let them.

Then, one encouraging step at a time, they would convince me to become Victor’s plaything entirely. Mind, body, and spirit.

There was no support to be had here, not if I wanted to remain myself. They would see me reduced to Victor’s unthinking love slave, and call it an act of kindness. I wanted to like them, but there was absolutely no way I could trust them.

If I wanted help, real help, then it couldn’t come from them. But if I couldn’t find salvation in friendship, then maybe I could find it in someone who wanted to use me.

I remembered a card I had thrown away, and a number I had memorized. I sent my message.

The old library was rarely crowded, and today was no exception. The clerk at the front desk gave my outfit a funny look, but shrugged it off and went back to her reading. The few students around were scattered across the common room tables, and most didn’t bother to look up. A reminder that however dire my situation was, the world didn’t revolve around it. Life went on, and classes continued to assign schoolwork. If they even knew about me, there were still other things going on with their life that didn’t involve gawking.

It was a refreshing break, I suppose, from being a spectacle of mockery. Yet at the same time, it raised in me a profound sense of isolation. My life had been ruined forever, and not one of them cared. Nobody was going to save me. Nobody but myself.

Hope’s directions took me to an unused office just off the bowels of the main stacks. Three turns past the nearest place any other person was likely to be, with all the seclusive romance of a clandestine tryst.

Which, I suppose, was what this was. But that was her doing, not mine.

There was no sign of her when arrived, not that I’d expected to see her. My call had caught her in the middle of something, and she’d told me it might be a few minutes. I settled into the waiting position. Knees down, parted ever so lightly, ass back, head bowed. I must have been kneeling there for ten minutes before I realized that I had unthinkingly dropped straight into Victor’s preferred posture. Nobody had ordered it, nobody would have even seen it. I had simply done what was natural, and what came naturally was submission. Already, memories of freedom felt like another lifetime, belonging to a completely different person.

No. I wasn’t going to give up so easily. That was why I came here, remember.

Forcing myself to rise, I got up and looked for a chair. A few minutes’ searching revealed a stack of faded armchairs in an unused storeroom down the hall. It was a bit of a pain to drag it back, but I made it work. Each time the chair squeaked against the floor made me jump. I froze, expecting at any moment that someone would come to punish me, but no one ever did. I sat down next to the office door and tasted victory.

Then I fidgeted in my seat.

Funny, the chair should have been more comfortable. Scratch that, it was more comfortable than pressing my aching knees into the hard floor. It’s just... hurting less should have made it feel better. Instead sitting in the chair felt almost wrong, like I was cheating horribly. Kneeling, I could have ignored the pain and sat patiently for hours, but after a few distracted moments I started to eye the ground next to me and wonder if I’d be more comfortable in my proper place.

Screw that! I was keeping that chair. I’d earned it.

The moment Hope entered I leapt to attention. Sure, I realized what I’d done the moment I was on my feet, but by that point it was too late to gracefully sit back down. There was no helping it. As a free woman, Hope was my innate superior, and she deserved my deference and respect. Or at least, that was how I had begun to see her.

Another fun side effect of my chip? Or just a natural instinct after so much time spent debasing myself? Did it make any difference, in the long run? There was so much I didn’t know about this process, but that was why I was here, wasn’t it.

“Whew! Looking good, girl. Get all dressed up for me, sweet tits?”

“What? No! Of course not. My ma— I mean, this sort of thing is all I’m allowed to wear these days.”

She laughed it off.

“Don’t sweat it, hot stuff. Either way, you’re lookin great.”

“Right... thanks,” I deadpanned.

Speaking of looking good, I must have interrupted something special, because Hope was dressed a whole lot better than the last time I saw her. Ill fitting jeans had given way to a chic knee length skirt that matched her tight fitting blouse. It dipped down at the neck, proving that she actually did have some cleavage after all. The labels were hardly designer, but beyond that I couldn’t fault her taste.

Her hair was neatly styled, a far cry from the messy ponytail that I’d first met her in. The flickering overhead lights glistened off of bright red lips that called to mind the cocktail cherries Victor’s bar had stocked. Would they taste as sweet? She caught me staring, and I turned away.

“Show some enthusiasm, sweet tits. We’re here to have a good time, aren’t we?”

“I have a name, you know!”

She giggled, and I could feel her breath against my face. I stood stiff against her closeness, but I needed her help and we both knew it.

“Yeah,” she said, still giggling, “but you also have some sweet tits.”

As if to prove her point, her fingers yanked down my skimpy top. I shuddered as she bent to lick her way across my exposed nipple, and not entirely from revulsion.

“Can we get started already?” I snarled.

“See? I knew you were eager.”

“That’s not what I—fine, you know what, you win. Let’s go.”

“I always do,” she said slyly as her palm print unlocked the office door.

“Sure,” I said as I surveyed the office, “Right up until you don’t.”

It called to mind my last conversation with Victor, back before everything had fallen apart. I’d thought I was the winner that time, but fate had a different story in mind for me.

The office was like something out of a period piece. Even back when it had seen regular use, this was where old furniture came to die. So far as I could tell, it had probably been at least a couple of decades old back then, and that was probably a good six years ago before the school’s last big downsizing hit. In all the time since, I doubted that more than a handful of people had come in here. Hope hadn’t been kidding when she said she knew a place where we could find some privacy.

A shabby, armless two seat couch stood against the wall, its style jarring with the rest of the office’s functionally plain decor. From the scuff marks on the floor, it looked like it had been dragged in here sometime more recently. Private room in the deepest parts of the library? I don’t think I wanted to ask why someone had gone through the trouble to bring it here.

Whatever the case, Hope had no reservations about plopping down on it. Her thighs parted in open invitation, but I knew that there was nothing optional about what was going to happen. Either I could do this for her, or do without her help entirely. Help I so desperately needed.

With a sigh, I lowered to my knees, steeling myself for what was to come. It was no worse than many other things I had been forced to do.

Eyes closed and lips parted, I forced myself to lean forward. A hand caught me on my bare shoulder.

“Not yet,” she told me, “I’ve got something to show you first.”

With a slight heave, she had me next to her on the couch. There wasn’t much room, but she still looked disappointed when I sat on the far end, as if those couple centimeters between us was a terrible gulf rather than a normal amount of personal space. Her bare calf slid sensually against mine, and I recoiled from the touch.

“What is it,” I demanded impatiently. Not that I was in any hurry to eat her out, but there was only so much time to work, and so much to do.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she said enigmatically as she reached into her purse. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Who knows, maybe I had misjudged her. Maybe she had started her research without me, maybe she had found something useful.

Except that what she actually pulled from her purse turned out to be a long, thick rubber monstrosity covered in pink and purple studs.

“You ever seen one of these babies before?” she asked me.

“A dildo? Of course I have.”

It as so huge. She couldn’t possibly expect me to use it, could she?

“Oh no, honey, what you see before you is no mere dildo. This little number is a true work of art.”

“You call that little!”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Oh come on! The inquisition would have had it outlawed for being cruel and unusual.”

“Its surface is covered by over three hundred and eighty two individual haptic sensors that monitor and adjust performance based on nearly a dozen independent variables, from temperature to cervical pressure. This baby responds to your needs before you even know you have them. Sure as heck beats any puny little man. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

“There is no way you’re getting that thing anywhere near me.”

“That so?”

From the twinkle in her eye, she took it as a challenge. From the very start, she’d been all about pushing my boundaries.

“I’m serious, Hope. You want me to get on my knees and lick you off, then fine. But there is absolutely no way I’m going to let you stick that—”

She snapped her fingers right in front of my face, so abrupt that it cut my words off in an instant. She grabbed me by the chin, pulling me forward until our faces were only a couple inches apart. Hazel eyes burrowed into mine, and I could feel my resolve whithering.

A few weeks ago I would have risen to the challenge in an instant. Who did she think she was, interrupting me like that? But there was something softer in me now, something that shrank back from open conflict. It recognized in her a free woman, and demanded that I-a slave—give way to her will.

“You like being a slave, then?”

“Of course not,” I said softly “but—”

“Then shut up and spread ’em, sister.”

My head shook, but she was right. I needed her help, if I was to have any hope of resisting Victor. What was one little indignity here compared to years of them from him.

“Fine,” my voice was soft, unsure. “I’ll do it.”

I spoke louder as my confidence returned, but I held out my hand for it all the same.

“Oh no,” she grinned, still flush from her victory. “I get to do the honors.”

My fists clenched, but I leaned back anyway, eyes closed in queasy anticipation as I waited for what was to come. She teased me then, trailing it along the sensitive flesh of my thigh. I shivered at the touch. This couldn’t be all that bad, could it? I mean, I’d already been forced to take Victor inside of me, so how much worse could some hunk of rubber and plastic be? It was just an object, it couldn’t possibly compare to feeling yourself speared open by your most loathsome, hated enemy. Forced to feel him fill you up as he thrusts inside of you again and again and—

Fuck! I was still doing it.

Think of something else. Anything else. Cold water. Winter skiing, your old elementary teacher. Adam—

I froze. The awful realization swept through me. When I tried to think of the most dull, unsexy thing I could come up with, his face appeared. Worse, it had helped do the trick. No matter what I felt about him, Adam, the love of my life, held not even the tiniest shred of attraction anymore. Victor had taken it from me. Disgusting, sexy Victor who I hated more than anyone in the world, but whom my body craved more than any. I would do just about anything to feel him inside of me.

That was when Hope’s vibrator slipped its way inside.

It was big, almost too big, but when it buzzed like that—Whoah! There was no steady vibration, instead it was a strong, constant constant pulsing. Rhythmic, but not repeating.

“What did I tell you?” Hope smirked. “I knew you’d like it.”

“It feels strange. I’m not sure that—Oh!”

My breath caught as it pulsed inside me. A shivering, toe curling buzz that surged deep inside of me and momentarily took away my breath. I gasped, eyes rolling back in my head as sensation ripped away my train of thought. It subsided, returning to “merely” a slow, aching stimulus.

“Ok,” I gasped, my breath still ragged, “That does feel good. But seriously what the hell.”

“Oh yeah,” Hope giggled, “Forgot to mention. It’s got a remote control too.”

She waggled a small black box perhaps the size of her palm.

“Cute,” I said, reaching for it, “but—”

Her fingers flicked over the surface, and the vibrator let out another achingly powerful wave.

“That’s... a bit.... much” I managed to gasp.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?”

“Yesssss”

I closed my eyes, savoring the slow, pulsing rhythm that stirred inside of me. Soft, pliant lips pressed against mine, and I returned their touch in time with the soothing vibration. When had I last been kissed? It felt like ages. Her soft hand closed upon my breast, and I surrendered to her touch, far gentler than the rough pawing I become accustomed to.

She pressed forward, and I retreated. Not denying her advances, but yielding to them. How different the touch of a woman’s body was. My hands roamed across her, finding fluid curves and soft flesh. Such a change from the hard, muscled bodies I was used to, but I found myself unexpectedly carried away by the things I was feeling. A side effect of the chip, perhaps? Pushing my libido into overdrive until I was ready, and even eager to accept the embrace of another woman? Or was this something that had been inside of me all along, just waiting until the right moment to be unleashed? There was no way to tell, and in the end what did it matter? I felt what I felt, and knew only that I wanted more.

“Do you see now?” Hope whispered in between butterfly kisses across my neck. How good a woman can be? Who needs those rough, clumsy hands when you could have a gently, beautiful girl at your side. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded, and felt the vibrator pulse in response. But even as it did, an image of Victor came to mind. Good as this felt, I knew it could be better still if only he were here. How much better would three be than two?

Then there was Adam. I had loved him once, hadn’t I? Maybe I even still did. She was wrong about men. Adam had cared about me, he had been gentle. He hadn’t been trying to use me the way Hope was, or Victor.

But maybe I liked being used?

Slender fingers slid across the back of my neck, a light pressure lowering my face. I kissed my way down her long neck, across raised collarbone and onto heavy breasts that I could scarcely remember uncovering. I reached the bottom, and for the second time this week found myself face to face with Hope’s bare pussy.

My tongue flicked out. Not from necessity this time, but desire. I wanted her, I wanted to please her, and this was the only way I knew how. She spoke to me. Teaching, instructing, guiding my hands and mouth as I sought to please her better. All the while, the pulsing continued deep in my pussy. Heavy, aching thrums in time to the rhythm of my tongue, rewarding me with each impassioned lick.

In time, her instruction ceased altogether, as she lay back on the couch and writhed under my touch. The more she gasped and groaned, the stronger my pussy buzzed, until I lost track of the number of times I had climaxed. I licked until I could lick no more, until we were both sopping puddles of lust and exhausted fulfillment.

Awareness blurred into a contented daze. I found myself lying at her side, feeling her stroke my hair as my lips wrapped around her soft nipple. She spoke soft, soothingly, telling me gently what a good girl I was, how well I had done. Patronizing, like I was some kind of pet that existed only for her pleasure, but I found that I liked it. Her arms were warm, safe, and in that moment I felt that I could lie there forever.

“Ready to get started?”

Blinking, I looked up at her. What did she mean? We were well past “started”, weren’t we? If that was nothing but foreplay, then my mind couldn’t encompass what the real thing might entail.

She reached over and brought out a portable console. Oh, right. I had come here for a reason. Something besides whatever had just passed between me and Hope. How could I possibly have forgotten?

I had traveled a step down that road today. Though I had come here to learn, it had proved so easy for that awareness to fall away during my lovemaking. While we coupled, there was no room for thought or gain, only a rush of pleasure. Even now, after awareness returned, I found it far too difficult to leave her side. My problems could wait, I found myself thinking, no harm could come to me if I just lay here a while more. Had Hope been content to do that, I might have listened to that voice, but she did not. How pathetic was that, if she cared more about my freedom than I did.

How lucky I was that I had found her, that I could trust her.

“There was something I noticed last time,” I told her as she pulled up the reference material. “See what you can find on chip implanted spies.”

She pulled up the database, and I did my best to explain what I had found about spies trained to resist their implants. My thoughts were scattered, my voice trailing off, as I tried and failed to maintain my focus. The lovemaking we had so recently shared played a part, as did Hope’s continued nudity beside me, but the greatest distraction was the still throbbing vibration buried inside of me.

Hope had insisted on leaving it, and I had done little to argue. Its pulse was slow now, lazy and sedate, but still served to keep me on the edge of insensibility. Especially when she stopped to run her fingers across my thigh.

Most of the references were well classified, hidden beyond our reach. What data we found was out of date, belonging to those second and third generations of spy where success had been partial at best. Still, partial success was better than none. Some of them had resisted conditioning. For months, years they had funneled data from behind enemy lines, while still retaining enough of themselves to escape and seek extraction.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t exactly left behind a detailed set of instructions for me to follow. Most likely, it wouldn’t have been legal to publish even if they had. The whole point of the chip was that the subjects’ loyalty would always be beyond reproach. There was far too much invested in the system to risk upsetting that.

What we found was mostly buried in memoirs and newspaper articles. From there, we did our best to piece it together. The core of it seemed to center around regular meditation. One of the spies told a story about that, how he had trouble getting in his morning meditations and almost lost himself before he learned to meditate while knee deep in the middle of a rice paddy. Every morning he would sneak out before dawn with the indentured farmhands. There he would meditate, his movements regular and mindful, until he had found whatever peace he sought. That interview shed little light as to what he was meditating over, but others did.

It made little sense to me.

“Doublethink,” Hope said from behind me, reading over my shoulder as she slowly groped my chest.

“Come again?”

“Mmmm.... maybe if we have time.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

I turned to frown at her, but a well timed buzz in my pussy broke the focus of my glare.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I accused.

“Maybe,” she grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll get to the point. Doublethink. That’s what they’re referring to.”

“The problem is in my brain, not my ears. I heard you the first time. What the hell does that even mean?”

Now it was her turn to glare at me, disappointment written across her face. Hope’s arms folded beneath her bare breasts, and I had to fight to keep my gaze upon her face.

“Come on, haven’t you ever read the classics?”

“Not exactly a lit major here.”

“Neither am I,” Hope said, “but that doesn’t mean you need to be illiterate.”

“Was there a point to all this?”

“Sigh.” Not the sound. She actually said it, the word sigh.

“You are such a geek,” I told her, more than a little fondly. She just stuck out her head and turned the dildo up another couple settings.

“But I’m the hottest damned geek you know, aren’t I?”

Another hard pulse hummed against my inner walls, and a sudden moan stole away my answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.

“Cheater.”

“Still not a no.”

“Hope!”

“Fine. Doublespeak, it’s from an old Orwell book.”

“Oh, right. He’s the one who wrote that zoo book, wasn’t he?”

“Farm, silly,” she twisted my nipples playfully, “You’re thinking of Animal Farm.”

“Oh, right. I knew it was something about animals.”

Another level stare.

“What?” I protested. “Oh come on, I read it years ago.”

“It’s one of the greatest satires of the twentieth century!”

“So sue me!” now it was my turn to stick my tongue out at her. “What do a bunch of animals have to do with my condition, anyway?”

“Different book, similar theme. He called it doublethink, the act of believing two completely different, totally contradictory things at the same time. In the book, it was a tool of political brainwashing, a way for the ruling party to get people to gleefully swallow the mess of self denying lies that made up the party doctrine. From what we’ve read, it sounds like these agents found a way to almost weaponize doublethink. The spies had to believe, and I mean really believe, that they were somehow serving their masters with every action they took. Even when they were running away.”

She paused for an appreciative whistle.

“Now that’s some high level mindfuckery right there.”

“So what, I convince myself that this is all for my own good, and everything will be ok? That sounds like the opposite of help. It sounds like giving in.”

“No, see, that’s the trick. Like I said, two things at once, both contradictory. In one thought, you’re giving in, but in the other, this is just one step on your master plan to screw him over.”

I bit my lip. It all sounded so reasonable when she put it like that, but still I found myself afraid.

“You don’t know what it’s like, Hope,” I told her, “Every second is just so... intense. It gets into your head, every part of it. I don’t know if I can do that, not when he’s standing over me.”

She leaned back, eyes closed as she thought. It proved hard not to stare at her naked body. What had awoken in me that I found this desirable? Soft curves and roundness drew my eye now, though even a passing thought of Victor told me that these desires were not to the exclusion of my lust for men. Hope was no toned athlete, that much was clear. A preference for reading had left her bereft of muscles, and with perhaps a bit more around the belly and hips than was normal, though it had made her breasts all the more stunning. Not quite plump, at least to my eyes, but neither was she lean. Whatever she was, it was surprisingly pleasant.

“Maybe that’s what the meditation is for,” she said, “A way to contextualize what you’ve experienced, without all the baggage that goes along with it.”

“Perhaps,” I admitted.

“Why don’t we try it now?”

“What, here?”

“Why not? It’ll be easier if you have someone to talk you through it, at least the first time.”

“I guess,” said, reaching towards my snatch to remove that distraction.

“No, leave it.”

“But—”

“Distractions are everywhere, especially for you. If you can’t deal with this one distraction, how will you manage others? At least it’s not a meter of dirty rice water.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “Especially with how horny I get, or whenever I’m around my own—whenever I’m around Victor. I can hardly fight it.”

“You can’t fight it,” she told me, massaging my shoulders gently. “Not directly. It’s inside your head. You can’t outsmart it, because it’s your brain that’s being used. What you can do, at least a little, is decide what obedience means. Don’t think of refusal, because it will strip that down in a heartbeat. Think always on obedience, and it will be up to you what that obedience means.“

“I have to give myself to him? That’s your answer?”

“Only a part,” she said, her soothing voice barely above a whisper in my ear. “It’s the only way to hold back the rest.”

What meager promises she made me. No sooner had offered a hint of hope than she told me it required sacrificing myself upon the altar of Victor’s desire. A fine game that would be, to eagerly revoke any hint of independence in hopes of playing at some hidden spark of rebellion that might never manifest. What good was that while I remained his plaything?

But I remembered how happy I became whenever Victor commanded me, how gladly my body surrendered to his every desire. How long could I hold out, when I loved giving in? Was there really any alternative to what Hope offered? If I was bound to surrender no matter what, then why not do it on my terms, in a way

So long as there was still a part of me that desired freedom, then not all was lost.

“Then let’s begin,” I told her. Hope’s smile told me that she had expected no less.

I sat back and closed my eyes, feeling awkward as I did so. Right, so I’m dressed like a five dollar streetwalker—and only half dressed at that—but it’s the meditation that makes me feel ridiculous. Keep it classy, subconscious.

“How’s this work? I just sit back and what, think of nothing?”

If anything, that only made the thoughts come all that faster. The more I tried to clear my head, the faster they flowed. Random crap, mostly. That first night with Victor, my upcoming biology exam, or that shopping trip I took to Paris three months ago. The dress I’d bought then was really cute. Ruined now, though he still made me wear it sometimes. It was so thin, especially once the underlining was cut away. Victor’s hardon felt so obvious whenever I sat on his lap wearing it.

“That’s actually a myth, or at least a misconception,” Hope said. “You’re not trying to make your mind empty. The point is more about paying attention to what you are thinking. Mindfulness, they call it. Don’t just let your thoughts rush past you, or get caught up in them. Look at each thought, examine it, consider what it means. Then finish with it, set it aside.”

“Ok. Mindfulness. I can do this.”

Strangely, it was harder to call my thoughts into being now that I was supposed to have them. Was my head clear now? It didn’t really feel that way, more like my skull was so clogged up that nothing could squirm its way into the forefront.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of.”

“Honestly, the meditation itself.”

“That’s fine,” Hope said, giving my bare shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Think on it, examine your thoughts. How you feel about it, what reactions it evokes. Consider why you feel that way.”

“I’m scared,” I admitted, “Worried that this is a fool’s hope, that I won’t be able to do it. That I’ll do it wrong.”

“And do you know why you feel that way?”

“Because so much else has gone wrong so far. Because I couldn’t resist him that first time, and I’m not sure I ever will be able to.”

“Good,” she told me.

“Good?”

“You know why you feel that way. Now you can set it aside and move on.”

It’s funny, but she was right. I could continue forward. It wasn’t that my fears had vanished. I was still terrified that this was all a useless gesture, one vain attempt that would end in my inevitable surrender regardless. The fear was still there, but I knew it now, I could comprehend it. The fear I could set aside for now, it would still be there to deal with later.

Again, my first night with Victor came to mind. I did as Hope had instructed, and viewed it once more from afar, dissecting my memories and feelings with a dispassionate eye. The horror I had felt at seeing him was crystal clear. No trouble understanding where that emotion had risen from. The lust that face evoked had proved an unexpected horror at the time, but now that I had grown used to it I could examine it with a more dispassionate eye. Yes, I lusted after Victor. There was no denying that, and any protests to the contrary were self delusion. The urges he had instilled into me were real, all the things I felt were. Artificial, yes, but they were a part of me now. Even here, I wished that he would come and—

“I don’t think it’s working?” I told her.

“Why not?”

“Because, well. I’m staring to feel, I mean, the things I’m thinking are making me... horny.—Er, hornier.”

“That’s fine”

“It is? I thought the whole point was supposed to be all dispassionate. Think, not feel.”

“I’m not asking you to turn yourself into a robot,” Hope laughed. “Your emotions are a part of you just as much as your thoughts are. Think, feel, but don’t let them dominate you. Acknowledge them, examine them, understand how they effect you, and then move on.”

“I’ll try.”

“There is no try, do or—”

“Hey, I thought you were supposed to be a book nerd.“

“Just because I like books, doesn’t mean I can’t watch classic vids, too.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Ok, back to meditating.”

As she said, I left my thoughts alone and made a show of examining how the thoughts had made me feel. Thoughts of Victor set my whole body afire with pleasant tingles. Down between my legs, my pussy swelled with the heat of my desire. The vibrator Hope had left there still buzzed faintly, recalling the many times this week that Victor had taken me in that same hole. My breasts felt full and heavy, yearning to be touched. In my mind, I could all but feel Victor’s hands upon them. Rough and grasping as his grip was, it felt as though my body had been made for his touch.

Examining my thoughts as the passed, it was easy to see my focus in action. Sooner or later, all desires led to Victor. I might find satisfaction from a casual tryst, and my time with Hope told me that pleasure could be found there as well, but true completion came from him, and him alone. I saw these thoughts and knew them, then let them pass without bothering me. They were true, there was no denying them, but that mean they were unchangeable.

Moment by moment, I examined my time with the chip, brining to the forefront each petty trial and humiliation. Throughout it all had been my evergrowing sense of helplessness, an emotion that kindled a deep and needful lust within me. It still did, in fact. The mere thought of my helplessness was enough to stoke a heat within. Helplessness fed desire, and desire primed helpless surrender. A self fulfilling cycle, no less powerful for being noted, but noted nonetheless.

“When you look back on this week,” Hope said, breaking the long silence, “Would you say that you were a good slave?”

Another surge of thoughts swept past, almost too quick to catalog, or even comprehend. Images of submission, of delightful capitulation that I had so utterly enjoyed.

“Hope, stop.” my words were half moan. For all my newfound control, those thoughts still had the power to move me deeply. “Those are... dangerous thoughts. I can’t, I mustn’t.”

A good slave. Just the merest hint of that thought drove me wild. In those words lay my true and ultimate purpose, the culmination of my entire being. They stirred in me a new desire, one that could only be truly slaked through utter and abject surrender of all that I was.

“Answer the question.”

“I—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I was a good slave. I am a good slave!”

The weight of that admission—to myself as much as to her—pressed down upon me. It threatened to drown all that I was under the force of those words.

“Good, now let it go.”

A good slave, that was what I was. What else was I? Nothing seemed to matter, not next to the stark reality of my new identity. All else seemed weak and inconsequential besides that truth.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“You can! You must!” she snapped. “This thought is no different than all the others. Acknowledge it, and then release it.”

Acknowledge and release, was that something I could do? Perhaps. I was a slave, a good slave. That was fact now, unassailable truth. But... just because it was true, didn’t mean I needed to worry about it now. It could go to the side with the others, and still remain just as true as before.

“I think I’m ok,” I said at last. “At least for now.”

The thought still tugged at me, seductive in the simplicity of its surrender. It required effort not to turn towards it once more. Something was needed to replace it.

“Now look back on this week again,” Hope spoke.

“I can’t. I already did it, I can’t go back there.”

“Look back on this week, would you say that you took your first steps towards freedom?”

It was painful to examine, but again her words spoke true. I had come to the library of my own accord. I had given myself to Hope in an effort to find a solution. A promising lead that I was following at this very moment.

“Yes.” Another admission, even more reluctant than the last. “I took my first steps towards freedom.”

The words were true, but they sat ugly in my mouth. That wasn’t what I was meant to do, or meant to be. It was what I wanted, yes, but now that I spoke the words, it seemed wrong of me to want it so. How wretchedly deviant must I be, that I would wish to deprive myself so, when instead I might seek bliss in joyful surrender to my master.

“It feels wrong, Hope. Why, why does it feel wrong? It shouldn’t!”

Tears ran from my eyes, and soft sobs broke apart my words.

“Shhh...” Hope said. “Now picture both ideas, and hold on to them. They’re still both true, aren’t they?”

“I guess”

“Go ahead and say it, say them both.”

“I’m and good slave,” I said, voice trembling, “and I—”

The words stuck.

“and I’m working to free myself.” Hope prompted.

“I’m a good slave and I’m working to free myself.”

It came easier this time.

“Now believe,” Hope said. “Remember that they’re both true. Don’t worry about how they fit, how they interact. Just keep telling yourself that those are both true facts.”

“They are, aren’t they,” I said, in wonder.

“Sits a little easier that way, doesn’t it?”

“You know, I think they do.”

They really did, contradictory as the two ideas seemed. The fact of my slavery no longer threatened to bury my identity, but it did keep my chip from stamping down on resistance whenever I imagined a way out.

“It won’t always hold,” Hope warned me. “There will be times when you slip, when one side takes over, but that’s what the meditation is for. You don’t need to be perfect in every moment. What matters is that you can come to grips with it later, and hold on to that balance when it counts.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, I actually believed that it might be possible. That there was a chance to strike that balance and hold on to even that much of my self.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I admitted.

“You don’t have to,” Hope said “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Thanks,” I said, kissing her. “I appreciate it.”

Once again our lips melt, and I drank in the sweet taste of her. My arms wrapped around her body, and I clung to her as salvation itself. Her fingers traced down my back until they met the still suffocating corset I had been forced to wear, and whose removal had been refused. Another thing that I could not bring myself to escape, only to live with, yet there was still hope for its removal later.

“We need to get you presentable again,” she said with regret in her eyes.

“What? Don’t like seeing me this way?”

We both chuckled.

“You know I do,” she said, impishly circling her finger around my bare breast. “But you might have a bit of trouble. Besides, people will stare.”

“They’ll stare anyway,” I said, frowning as I pulled on my cut-off shirt.

Just as I’d grown used to the garment’s tightness, I was surprised how strange the vibrator’s absence felt. To think, that I had once been afraid to use it. A quick trip to the washroom removed most of the mess and scent of our time together. It couldn’t remove everything, of course, but at this point Victor must have grown accustomed to evidence of my near constant arousal. If anything, it would probably please him to imagine my embarrassment at dripping so much in front of my classmates.

Our parting was more reluctant than I’d expected back when I first called her. At some point, our relationship had blossomed into more than just a desperate transaction.

Hope had awoken something within me. Walking through the campus, I found that my perspective had changed. Seeing the women walk past, my eyes no longer stopped at noticing the cut and style of their clothing. I looked now to see how chests filled out those designer tops, how skirts followed the curved line of a hip. Bare legs were not merely an invitation to judge skin hygiene, but also a thing of interest.

I turned my eyes away, hoping they had not noticed my interest. Surely this was some new thing in me, wasn’t it? What had happened to turn me in this way?

Silly. I knew full well what the answer was, and it could be said in a single word: Hope. She had awakened this in me, and although it was a newfound source of awkwardness, I blessed it. Here was something that Victor could never be a part of, that I could share with her untainted. Wherever this had stirred from, it was another outlet for my desires, and one that he could not touch.

He was alone when I returned home that evening, and he was not happy to see me.

“You’re late,” he scowled. Remorse blossomed in me immediately. His disapproval might as well have carried a physical weight, so hard did it strike me.

“I was at a—”

“Yes, a study meeting,” he sneered. “For how many hours?”

“I—”

“Did you come straight back?” he demanded “Do not lie to me.”

“Yes,” I spoke flatly.

This was no lie. I don’t think I could have lied to him if I’d wanted to, and right now I didn’t even want to. This was no lie, I had returned home immediately. He had not asked me to account for those hours before I had left. That this answer served my own ends was unimportant, I was telling him the simplest, most direct truth in response to his question. I was being a good slave.

Prying eyes scrutinized my face, but whatever he saw there satisfied him. After all, everyone knew that slaves could not lie to their masters. They were obedient, just like I was.

“Fine,” he said, “and since I am not allowed to interrupt your studies, then I will give you something to think of instead. Come here!”

I did as he instructed, standing practically naked before him, wearing nothing save the humiliating clothes he had bade me earlier. My knees felt week, and I had an urge to prostrate myself before him. The only reason I still stood was because he had not yet ordered me to my knees. Eyes downcast, I found my gaze drawn to his lap. How easy it had been to forget how uncontrollably attractive I found him. A drop spilled from my pussy and onto my clenched thighs, I felt it run down my leg.

“Bend over,” he commanded, and I obeyed. Grabbing me by the hand, he soon had me sprawled across his lap.

“Lift up your skirt”

I did so, exposing my bare rear to his view. I trembled then, and not just in fear. Proximity alone was a tremendous aphrodisiac, and it was running through me in full tilt. Hope had predicted this, that there would be times when balance fled from me. In that moment, when fear and lust and anticipation swirled together in an intoxicating mixture, there could be no sense of balance. I was his to use, his to discipline, and although I dreaded it, I yearned to feel his hands on me.

SMACK

A sound escaped my lips, half cry and half moan.

“Do you know why you are being punished?”

“Because I was late?”

SMACK

“Because you were not there when I wanted you.”

SMACK

“Understand, pet,” he said, “You are not important. There will be many times when I do not want you. But when I do desire you, I expect you here.”

SMACK

Tears ran free now, as did remorse. I had failed him, what use was I? Was I still a good slave? I vowed to be a better one in the future.

“Think on that, the next time you go out. I cannot stop you, but think hard on this. Do you really wish to disappoint me again?”

SMACK

“Never,” I cried, “I’ll be good. I won’t disappoint you again.”

SMACK

His hand descended upon me again, but maybe a little lighter this time. Or was I imagining it? Did it even matter? I had displeased him, it was no less than I deserved.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” he said as another blow slapped against my rear. I cried out in dismay, but his hand stirred more than pain in me. Fuck me, I was so damned horny. His every touch just made me need him all the more. I wanted him, I needed him, I would do anything for him. All I wanted was to give him whatever he desired.

My ass was red and sore when he was finished with me, but that could not compete with the ache it left in my pussy. I gazed worshipfully at him, silently begging him to use me as he would.

“If you had been here earlier,” he said, “I might have fucked you.”

That alone hurt nearly as much as his blows had.

“But you weren’t,” he continued, “so that means you aren’t getting off at all tonight. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Master,” I replied. No need to tell him about me and Hope, or how many times I had cum there. Still, it would have nice to have a few more times, especially if I could have done it with Victor’s cock inside of me.

“Where are you going, slut!”

He said as I got up and started to fix my scuffed clothing.

“I thought you didn’t want—”

“Just because you aren’t getting off doesn’t mean I’m not. Hurry up and start sucking, pet.”

“Yes, Master!” I said with much greater enthusiasm. My lips wrapped around his shaft, and I was grateful for it.

There was still homework to be done, especially considering what my “study session” had actually produced, but that could wait. It wasn’t nearly as interesting to me as Victor’s cock. I couldn’t swish my tongue around it, the way I did as my head bobbed up and down on his lap. He paused for a moment to pat me on the head, telling me what a good girl I was, and my cunt buzzed in appreciation.

He finished inside my mouth, and I swallowed it down like the good slave I was, grateful at any chance to serve him. Afterwards, my lips remained wrapped around him, even as he softened between them. How long would it take for him to harden once more? If nothing else, it would be a pleasure to remain here and serve him, to touch and please him in any way I could. There was nothing else I would rather be doing. At least not until he was hard once again.

Instead, he tossed down his vidpad with an exasperated sigh.

“Why the hell am I wasting my own time with all this crap,” he said, “Pet! You’ve finished your finance and accounting credits, haven’t you?”

“Yes Master, though I’m sure I’m not as—”

“Cram it! Here, you handle this now. Just get everything neat and orderly, ok?”

“Of course,” I said, happy to be of service, though I was sad to leave his cock behind.

He left without a word of thanks, but I had grown used to it by now. Though I missed him immediately, his doings were his concern. All I could do was appreciate the times when I could serve him directly. I picked up the vidpad and looked it over. What awaited me was a dizzying ledger full of random expenses and payments, which I soon came to realize were his own financial statements.

They were an absolute horror, far beyond even the worst practice example I could remember in class. There was little categorization, and almost everything was hidden behind at least a half dozen different dummy accounts. It was clear that he had done little to organize the system. Just telling which balance went where was going to take me ages.

The amounts here were breathtaking. Calling me pocket change had seemed an act of bravado, but I saw here numbers that would dwarf the tuition payments that had taken so much for my family to gather. Even those had little order to them, with those astronomical sums sitting right next to his normal drinking tabs with little to differentiate the two.

Then again, a few of those tabs were little short of astronomical themselves.

It was getting late, I’d had a long day, and I was tired, but there was a job to do, and so I got to work. It was what my master ordered, after all, and I was a good slave.

And maybe, just maybe, something in here might also help me find my freedom.