ERRATA
by trilby else (trilelse@mail.anonymizer.com)
6.
“Awake now.” Eileen became aware of the bed, the sheets oddly harsh under her, a soreness somewhere. Someone was breathing hard but she had been told not to be concerned about it.
She turned and winced. The soreness was between her legs and her mind went hazy for a moment.
“Shh. Be still now.” Joan’s words hummed through her and Eileen felt wonderfully relieved of the need to move at all. She felt cloth move over her loins, coolness, very gentle fingertips on her thigh. She relaxed under it, waiting.
“Oh. My. G—” Someone—Cary—whispered it before Joan shushed her.
“What?” Sarah’s voice, soft but urgent. “Is she all right?”
Eileen remembered the hypnotic session now. She wanted to lie quietly and didn’t mind that Joan had told her to want to do that; in fact it made her want to obey the suggestion even more, to make Joan happy. But Sarah’s fear reached her.
“Yes,” she whispered, barely able to hear it herself. Sarah appeared by the bed as Joan gave an exasperated sigh. Eileen smiled up at her. “All right.” She relaxed again as Sarah wordlessly leaned down and kissed her.
“What do you remember?” Joan spoke as Sarah straightened but stayed by the bed.
“Nothing,” Eileen answered, looking down at where Joan sat. “I’m not supposed to remember.”
Joan said, “I wasn’t comfortable with keying you to such authoritarian commands.” She frowned as Eileen flexed her thighs when she heard commands. “And you’re responding to being ordered about a little too readily. Someone trained you very well to obey a hypnotist.
“It’s helpful, but I don’t like it.”
“Joan.” Cary spoke. “Reminding you.”
“Yes.” Joan put her hand on Eileen’s thigh and Eileen felt herself trying to tense. One of Joan’s commands was keeping her from doing it, leaving her as limp as Joan had told her to be.
“Eileen, with the filters we agreed on, you can remember now.”
Eileen was still for a moment. There had been the table, the restraints digging in, her mouth filled—oh. Oh. Nnnoo.
She sucked in her breath and looked desperately at Joan. “It’s gone,” she said, reciting the words Joan had taught her while she slept. “It happened and I endured it and it’s gone and I’m still here.”
Joan nodded and Sarah sighed and moved unseen.
Eileen could see the training table now. It was later in her marriage—in her enslavement. Andrew had actually put the thing in their basement, and she’d walked around it every day. He’d programmed her to see only an exercise machine and to have no desire to use it or even examine it closely—although she’d dutifully cleaned it, her hypnotized mind neatly altering what she perceived.
It was at night, usually, that he put her under and had her strip and march downstairs to it. One night he had used both of the dildo attachments, with larger fittings than she thought was usual. Her headset had the VR with the clear visor, though after Eileen had been under for a while, the occasional glimpses of the room around her seemed less real than what Andrew had the computer showing her.
Andrew had started the machinery and gone to watch the game. The next time the visor image faded she was staring up at his cock as he straddled her. She took him deep, and the pain from her pussy and ass as the machines fucked her just kept her rhythm steady. She remembered, now, each of the blowjobs, and how well-trained she was by then to keep them timed. She got him off so that he got back upstairs before the commercials were over.
“Eileen,” Sarah said. “You’re—”
“It’s psychosomatic,” Joan said. “Eileen, you may move freely now.”
Eileen sighed, feeling the compulsion to obey Joan’s voice ease off her. She raised herself up before Sarah could help her and sat on the bed. She pulled the sheet back from over her lap and looked down.
She’d shaven her pussy after that first day, and she’d gotten used to seeing the little apricot cleft now. But the apricot seemed a little red, and the soreness worsened as though her gaze had slapped it.
Joan looked at her. “I asked you if you wanted me to take the pain away. You said no.”
Eileen looked at her pussy again. “Just from remembering.” I wanted a powerful solution.
“He was happier letting the machines fuck me than doing it himself,” she said, seeing things now from a place outside the restraints and his conditioning. She raised her left hand but she’d taken the ring off by now. She made herself remember the day it had been put on, and tried to face how enormous the lie had been. She couldn’t face wondering how many men in the wedding that day had known what was happening. Or how many women with her there it was also happening to—how many bridesmaids had had girlfriends erased from their thoughts, the way the bride had?
“But—” She hugged her knees on the bed. “I still see those other memories. His—loving me. It’s so sick now, knowing what’s really behind it, but if he came up to me, and smiled that way . . .”
They let her collect herself.
“But I think I could run, now. Or at least try to fight. Thank you, Joan.”
Joan nodded. “I didn’t think this would be a good idea, but Cary was right.” She smiled at Cary and Cary nodded beaming at Eileen and giving her a high sign. “You’re a fighter.”
“Kind of a tired one, now.”
Joan took her medical bag and rose as Cary went to the door. Sarah was fidgeting with things on the nightstand, not looking at the others’ hints to leave.
Eileen smiled at them and turned to look up at Sarah. “Would you please stay for a while?”
Sarah nodded eagerly, and Joan grinned faintly before she stepped out.
Sarah sat on the bed and held Eileen’s shoulders. “Still hurts?” She reached down and then her hand was blessedly smooth and cool on Eileen’s pussy, and Eileen moaned and fell against her. Sarah tried to pull away but Eileen covered her hand. For a second her world was just that, and she closed her eyes and lived there.
“Goddess, Goddess,” Sarah whispered. “Joan left something for it. Some cream—”
Eileen’s peevish moan quieted her. They held each other.
“Cream sounds nice,” Eileen said after a while. “Can you put it on?”
“Lie back.” Eileen obeyed and felt the mattress shift as Sarah rose, listened to the soft bustle of Sarah fetching it, enjoyed passivity that wasn’t trance-induced. She heard the quiet noise of the tube being uncapped, and then she felt Sarah’s hand on her pussy.
She’s never touched me there, Eileen thought, but knew it was only a first for her since her awakening. Then the cream was on her, not too cold despite Sarah’s apology, and the reality of a woman’s gentle attention was healing Eileen from the memory of what a man had done to her, to keep her mind broken.
“Quiet victories,” she murmured, and just smiled when Sarah asked what she’d said. Sarah was smiling too as she kissed her, sliding her fingers down to Eileen’s bottom to soothe her there. Eileen wondered lazily if the caresses would deepen. Lying here with her thighs open, looking up through lidded eyes at her forgotten lover, she realized she was ready for it. If Sarah guided them into lovemaking now she could float into it and enjoy it.
But Sarah just drew the sheet over Eileen again and kissed her on the cheek. She went to put the cream back wherever it had been.
“Sarah.” Sarah was back by her side instantly. “Could you stay with me tonight?”
Knowing what Eileen meant, Sarah nodded and smiled and kissed her again.
They were nude under the covers but only held each other. Sarah was being gentle and Eileen was still just in the zone of being with her, feeling smoothness against her own. Sarah’s breasts were a softness that kept surprising her as they touched her.
Eileen came awake in the dark and felt empty, realizing Sarah had slid away from her. She turned and held Sarah and Sarah shook. Eileen felt tears when she stroked her face.
“Woke you,” Sarah mumbled. Eileen just kissed her neck and pressed close.
“I’m sorry. I can be brave and I can be quiet. Joan wouldn’t have let me stay if I hadn’t—” She grasped Eileen’s hands.
“Eileen! I watched you, I heard you. It hurt you so much . . .” Sarah’s body was stiff and Eileen curled around her, trying to soften her.
“Sarah, it’s over. I know it hurt you to watch me suffer like that. You probably wished you’d tried to talk me out of it.” She nuzzled the fine hair at Sarah’s neck until she felt the other woman start to loosen. “I love you for not trying. I want to keep trying, because after this shit I’ll find what we had. When Joan takes me deeper I’ll find you staring out at me, waiting to welcome me back to the past.”
Sarah nodded, a faint movement against Eileen’s lips. She hesitated, and then turned to face Eileen. They kissed.
7.
Eileen looked back at Sarah, curled under the sheets, still fast asleep. The shower hadn’t woken her, and Eileen let her be. Sarah hadn ‘t had to relive slavery, but on the other hand a therapist hadn’t given her posthypnotic suggestions to help her recover from yesterday.
Eileen couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Sarah to watch her twist and scream under the memory, with Joan’s calm voice pushing her deeper into the pain and the remembered submission. She went to Sarah and touched her hair but didn’t rouse her.
She slipped on panties and a bra and went to pick up her tunic but she looked in the mirror and liked what she saw, letting the tunic fall. She could walk here safely like this. Nothing but friendly and appreciative female eyes and the Goddess to see her. It was warm already this morning, too. She looked at the clock and decided she had time before her morning session with Joan for a little walk. Maybe that was a posthypnotic suggestion, too. She smiled.
Feeling naughty and a little nervous, she stepped out of the room and went down the carpeted hall. Two women in tunics smiled at her and she met another woman in a jogbra and thong leaving for a run. She strode across the commons she found outside, and ended up in a cloistered portico.
It was the dining hall, and she decided to look inside, more curious than hungry. There were a few women scattered here and there, and she saw two in tight black lycra, athletic and supple.
“Hi.” It was another woman in the same uniform, and she realized they must be some of the guards keeping the Institute safe.
“Hi,” she said, feeling shy and very exposed as the woman looked her up and down. She enjoyed it. It was like Andrew looking at her, coveting her, but—cleaner.
“You’re the new arrival. Welcome. I’m Angie.”
Eileen looked at her, seeing the way her clothing showed her muscles, the easy way she stood.
“You’re beautiful,” she breathed, and covered her mouth, staring up into Angie’s blue eyes. She heard a soft laugh from the table where Angie’s comrades watched them, but it sounded friendly.
Angie smiled at her confusion. “So are you. Looking much better now than when we got you.”
“You got me?”
Angie nodded. “We were the team that intercepted you before he could get you where he wanted to take you.”
Eileen felt herself lean forward and hug Angie, resting her head on the other woman’s shoulder. “I—thank you.” She felt a strong arm circle her.
“You’re very welcome, Eileen.
“You also feel very nice.”
Eileen twitched as she realized how tightly she was pressing against Angie, but stayed close and looked up into her face again. She thought about Sarah, but her head was spinning in a very pleasant way.
“Oh, I’m behaving myself.” Angie smiled. “I know you’re taken. Sarah was with us on the retrieval—we nearly had to tie her to the vehicle to keep her from coming out to get you. You have quite a determined little girlfriend.” She looked into Eileen’s eyes. “I can see why, too.”
Angie looked more serious. “A lot of the women we get don’t really understand how precious they are. How glad we are to take the risks.” She stared deeply into Eileen’s eyes. “Precious. Dear. Not just sweet nothings to say.”
Eileen rose on tiptoe and kissed Angie lightly on the lips, gratified to see the blue eyes widen in surprise. “Thank you, for everything,” she said, feeling the arm loosen around her. “I have to go see my hypnotherapist now.”
“Have fun,” Angie said, moving off to her table.
Eileen wasn’t sure why she’d told Angie that. She felt a little glow from being the damsel-in-distress in Angie’s eyes, and it felt good to think of Angie imagining her even more helpless under a swinging watch or something.
Her sense of protected vulnerability made her feel even warmer as she crossed the campus and found Joan’s office, glass-walled and opening onto a shaded garden.
Joan smiled and frankly admired her as she walked in and jokingly posed.
“Someone’s getting in touch with her inner sultry, I see.”
“I got chatted up by a soldier.” Eileen preened. “I liked it.”
“You’re an extremely pretty woman, Eileen. You’re entitled.” Joan favored Eileen with an appreciative stare of her own, and Eileen was suddenly very warm. “How do you feel?”
Eileen closed her lips on the first answer she thought of, but a perverse moment later, she wanted to reveal it. It was the same pleasure she felt at going around nearly nude, and she felt safe in indulging it.
“I feel—like being in your power,” she said, and as she heard herself she thought inner sultry.
She looked at Joan, but there was no judgment there. “It’s weird. I mean I really . . . like the feeling I get when your voice is putting me into a trance. Or when I start to do something or think something and I know it’s your instruction.” She paused, licked her lips.
“Your command. And I’m obeying it.” She looked at Joan. “Is that wrong? Is that from what the Masters did to me? Obedience turns me on, and I’m just lucky that the mistress I’ve found—”
“Eileen?”
She shut up at once and felt warm again, and Joan nodded. “It’s not wrong, Eileen. Feeling submissive is part of being human, and with everything you’ve been asked to learn about it’s understandable you’d want to sit back and let someone else take charge.”
“It—” Eileen paused, wondering if she really wanted to say this. “Maybe I’m really looking for someone wiser, to make some of the decisions for me. The way I keep feeling this is a dream, and that I’ll wake up still married to Andrew, makes me a little nervous. I know I said I’d run if I met him, but I’m not all that confident that I’m safe on my own, yet.”
Joan nodded. “This may sound perverse, but I’m almost glad. We can wean you of this residual trust he programmed you with, but for now I think it helps you deal with the memories.”
“You mean, if I really let myself face what a monster he was . . .”
The sympathy in Joan’s eyes was soothing, but it made her feel guilty. “Some of what you’ve told me in trance, Eileen, I wouldn’t otherwise have believed one person could do to another. You’re a very special woman to have survived it and be as sane, as likable, as you are.
“I’m not sure where your submissive strain ties in, but it may be connected. I already know how you feel, Eileen. You’ve told me, in those trances. You have a deep yearning to submit, and not all of it’s what they brainwashed you to believe.
“I’ve been trying to convince you to accept it, and express it freely. Submitting to me is natural, especially given the kind of deprogramming we need to do. You may find yourself wanting to let Sarah take charge, even entering an explicitly D/s relationship under her control.
“Or you may seek someone else.” Eileen thought about kneeling to Angie.
“Not to say you will do any of those things. Your submission to Sarah may go no further than letting her choose the lunch menu. But you’re free to do any of that, Eileen. If you do submit, you’ll be cared for and protected.”
“Thank you,” Eileen said.
“Now. Do you still feel like being in my power?” Joan did not say it jokingly.
Eileen felt a spot of dew between her thighs, and was happily aware Joan could see it darkening the taupe lycra of her panty. If I’d worn the tunic I could hide it. But if I’d wanted to hide anything today—
She stood straighter. “Yes, Doctor. What are your commands?”
Joan met her eyes and played along. “For now, just do as I tell you.
“Come in here.” Eileen walked after Joan into a smaller, windowless room. In the center was a large chair, and its shape almost started Eileen out of the friendly submission game. The design was different and it was beige instead of macho-techtoy black, but the headphones and restraints were similar enough.
“Relax, Eileen.” Joan’s hand was light on her arm. “I was going to wait before we tried this, but everything—including what you’re feeling now, and your being strong enough to tell me and embrace it—suggests that you’re ready now.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“That’s a brainwashing chair, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Eileen. We built it. It isn’t some piece of Master hardware with a concealed reprogrammer module or any such thing. But—it obviously has an effect on you just sitting there.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Her voice was small, but her trust in Joan ran deeper than the fear.
“It’s power, Eileen, but power is neutral. This one is for us to use. Not to suppress your will and memories but to give them back to you.”
Eileen looked at the chair and thought about being under its influence, helpless and open and utterly programmable. At Joan’s mercy, to be taught and changed as Joan saw fit.
It made her wet, but she couldn’t find guilt in herself.
Joan was stroking her arm now. “You don’t have to decide now.”
“I decided before I came in, Doctor.” Eileen was surprised at how evenly she could speak. She tried to think of the chair as a weapon.
“This is a war.” It was as if Joan were reading her mind again. “And while I usually take the Sun Tzu approach to it, sometimes what you need is a blitzkrieg.”
Eileen looked at her. She started to form something—I wish I knew some German, then—but Joan smiled. “Too much Documentary-Rerun Channel,” she said, and Eileen sank gratefully back to being the half-naked submissive patient.
“Sit in the chair and relax,” Joan commanded.
“Yes, Doctor.” Eileen obeyed. The beige leather was warm and comfortable. She waited.
8.
Joan’s hand was on her shoulder. “We won’t need the restraints.”
“No, Doctor. I won’t resist.”
“I know, Eileen. You will follow instructions. You always do. I will not take you through anything that would call for the restraints as a safety measure, either.” She left her hand there and Eileen reached up to take it.
“Thank you,” she whispered, not sure if she were breaking character.
“Relax,” Joan whispered back, touching the top of her head.
The headphones went on—very light and barely noticeable once the earbuds were seated, not like the huge things Andrew had used in her. Joan gently attached leads to her head and body.
“No, Eileen.” She chuckled and touched Eileen again. “Just saw the heart line twitch. This isn’t because of a health risk—it’s just part of monitoring how deep you are, and how receptive to specific stimuli. It will help me to see what patterns and rhythms are most hypnotic to you. It’s a simple concept but very effective, which is why it’s so dangerous when it’s used to enslave someone.”
She swung a monitor to hang in front of Eileen and slightly above her line of vision. Eileen remembered something about hypnotists keeping their subjects looking high, something about eyestrain, but just relaxed again. She heard the hiss in her ears and her heart began beating faster.
The room lights dimmed and she stared at the screen, wondering what it would show her. Reflexively she tried to remember what she’d seen when the Masters had force-hypnotized her, but then she realized what she was doing.
“Relax,” came Joan’s voice through the headphones, deep and clear, almost as though inside her mind. “You heart-spiked again. What just happened?”
“I think I started to play tag with their programming. I might have remembered what they showed me to put me under, and I thought it might—”
“—drop you back into playtoy mode? I think you’re safe, Eileen. They specifically programmed you to forget the whole conditioning experience, so except for deliberate triggers—most of which I’ve identified, I think—they’d have made it very hard for you to uncover a control sequence and entrance yourself.
“If only so as not to let you drop off in front of someone else who’d take you over and steal you from them to be his own slave.”
Thank you for sharing that thought. Eileen grimaced as she considered being stolen from her own kidnappers, and bundled off to a dilapidated house by some accidental brainwasher who couldn’t believe his—
She gasped, her mind suddenly full of a spiral that twisted with queasy speed on the monitor. It stunned her and she realized she was no longer even clear on how to look away. She was paralyzed, and her head ached in an almost pleasant way. It was strobing, she knew—she’d had this response at clubs and other places. But the rhythm was just . . . too . . . fast . . . to . . .
Eileen shuddered in the chair, losing awareness of anything but the spiral as it pulsed at her. She forgot whether she’d been strapped down, because movement seemed impossible, unthinkable.
Unthinkable. Somehow she knew the spinning thing in front of her face was about to suck the idea of moving right out of her mind and—
She was limp, and just starting to hear something, a throbbing that was just a bit out of phase with the pulse of the spiral that was sucking at her and pulling all her thoughts out of her. Then the throbbing was in phase and she felt a stab of pure pleasure at how powerful it was—until it phased out again. Her head was whirling, pounded by the beat, and she was beyond sensing that the sight and sound were themselves pulling her limp mind through another, more complex pattern.
Eileen’s hindbrain told her that this was a predator before her, something that put its prey in trance and held her fascinated as it devoured her, but the thought just made her wet.
“Open.”
The word was quiet, smooth, and clear. It came through the storm of input and found Eileen half-reduced to wordless jelly, and the authority of a Thought rang through her.
“open” she said. It was the only thing possible. She thought of Open. She was Open.
“Concentrate.”
“concentrate” Eileen could not form words now, but she could echo them perfectly. As she did their meaning sank to her liquid core. She was concentration itself.
“Believe.”
“believe” Eileen stared up into the spiral, eyes wide and reflecting its turning.
It left her that way and she waited, completely empty, ready.
Things formed in front of her eyes and vanished, and whispers filled her ears before letting silence roar through her. Her breathing sped and slowed, but over it all the pleasure kept rising, gradually but inexorably.
“I am hypnotized.” She spoke it, knew it, felt good.
“I am completely receptive to suggestion,” she added. The pulsing massaged her mind.
“I am completely suggestible and totally obedient now. I will obey commands and believe truth.” She paused, until she knew something else. “I will have no thoughts except commands and truth.
“Because I am deeply hypnotized.” She moaned until the pleasure released her, and waited.
“You are obedient.”
“I am obedient. I must obey.”
“Whom do you obey?”
“I obey . . .” Eileen stopped, blank and relaxed.
“You obey my voice.”
“Yes. I obey your voice. I must obey your voice.”
“My voice will only tell you what is true. Because you are hypnotized you are suggestible, and because you are suggestible, you will believe.”
“I am hypnotized and I will believe.” Eileen felt completely at peace.
“What are you thinking now?”
It puzzled her, but only for a moment. There was so little she had to know, anyway. “I have no thoughts except commands and truth.”
“Yes, that is right. You have done well.” The voice smiled as she squealed softly.
“I will think for you, now. That, for you, will be truth.”
“Mmm, yes, truth. You will think for me and I will obey.”
“Look deeply into the spiral now. The spiral hypnotized you and it is hypnotizing you more, now, deeper and deeper with each spin as you follow it helplessly inward.”
Eileen already knew the spiral’s power over her, but as the voice told her of it that seemed to become more true, as though her trance was becoming bottomless. She sank deeper, as it told her.
“Now the spiral makes you sleepy to watch, your eyelids heavier, you body drowsy and sluggish. Your mind would be so, so weary now, staring at the spiral.
“But your mind is already asleep.”
“My . . . mind . . . is . . . asleeeep . . .” Eileen couldn’t move. She had to keep her eyes on the spiral to please the voice, because she had to obey, but she needed so badly just to fall asleep.
“When I tell you,” the voice said, suddenly gentle and making her sleepier, “you will at last be able to close your eyes and relax. You will continue to hear and obey me, and my voice will still control your thoughts.”
“I will . . . obey,” she managed. “You . . . will . . . control . . . my thoughts.” As sleepy as she was, it felt good to say those things, and know how true they were now that they were in her mind.
“So very receptive, Eileen. So obedient. You will do well when we begin to dream.
“Nothing will stop us, Eileen. You will meet the evil lies and the hurts they have prepared for you, the things they made to capture and bend a free woman’s mind. They did not prepare for an obedient woman’s mind under guidance, and their controls will not affect you—you obey only me, and no man’s voice.
“They will block and blur what you lived, Eileen, but with your eyes closed under my commands you will not be blinded. With your mind hearing only my instructions you cannot be deceived, any more. You have given your free will to me, so they cannot take it.
“Let us go, now. Into the places they hid from you. Relax and do as you are told. If there is pain I will put you deeper into sleep, but there will be no pain.
“Sleep now, Eileen. Sleep and obey.”
“I obey,” she tried to say, but she was asleep before she could know.
9.
Eileen opened her eyes. She looked down into the well of the lecture hall, seeing Professor Weygand turn to the chalkboard and scrawl as the guy in the front row she and Sarah had nicknamed Sir Dickweed made another of his incoherent points. She smiled, wondering what the professor thought her hopelessly unreadable note said, and then just enjoyed the way the professor’s torso moved as she reached.
Sarah tapped her arm and smiled. She grinned back. Sarah had told her about the way her face went sappy-blank when she got fixated on some woman, though fortunately Sarah was the only one to read that clue. Also fortunately, Sarah wasn’t terribly jealous.
And Sarah ran seriously wet for Professor Weygand, too. This class was an elective for both of them, and Professor Weygand was the only reason they were there—a little luxury they treated themselves to. As they lay together at night in the apartment, they sometimes hatched fantastic plots to seduce their comely teacher.
Sir Dickweed lost track of his point a little earlier than usual, and the sardonic letterman three rows back lit into him. It was mild, but the laughter was enough to drown Sir Dickweed into silence. Professor Weygand was adorable as she tried not to laugh herself, and managed to look sincere as she called for quiet. Glancing at the clock, she quickly went over the expected readings for next time, praised them all for their progress today, and then waved them off early.
Sarah dawdled with her books and bag and Eileen didn’t mind. They had no classes after this, and she was happy enough to watch the professor talk with the ones who stayed behind for a moment. Each female student generated a fantasy for her, enticing or enticed by the Professor into sex somewhere here in the room. Eileen liked imagining role reversal—the tall woman, who spent her spare time at the gym, dancing savagely and desperately to win more than an indulgent smile from a recumbent Weygand draped on the desk console. Conversely, the pixie in the outsize overalls smiling evilly down, making the half-naked professor bark like a dog.
She glanced sidewise at Sarah. Poor Sarah. All this arousal was going to go somewhere, and succulent Sarah would be too busy coming her brains out to know what hit her.
Sarah blinked and looked at her with a happily appalled expression, as if she’d read Eileen’s carnivorous mind. They eyed each other as they stepped down the rows, until the silence drew their attention forward. Everyone else had left the room, and Professor Weygand was smiling at them.
She looked at Eileen and licked her lips. “You told me she was a doll.”
Without looking away, she flourished her hand and snapped her fingers. Eileen jumped and turned around as she heard books cascade to the floor. With her classwork pooled around her feet, Sarah was standing with her hands by her sides, staring into space and smiling . . . as though she’d just been gently tongued.
“I know I promised I’d wait until you brought her to me,” Professor Weygand said, taking careful, sinuous steps to the side, checking out Eileen from the side as Eileen took it in. “But I cheated. Oh, well. I’m sure you don’t mind.
“You never do.”
Eileen turned away from her entranced girlfriend. “What did you—?”
“Shh.” Professor Weygand kept smiling, and Eileen was warm and chilled at once by the way the woman eye-stripped her. “When I’ve been letting her think, Sarah’s been telling me some of the things you two have been imagining doing with me. To me.” She gasped. “And for me.”
“You’ve got her hypnotized?” Eileen was more excited than worried. Professor Weygand looked more aroused, herself, than malevolent—and she couldn’t get Sarah’s postorgasmic glow out of her mind.
“She looks almost as hot going under,” the professor smirked, “as when she’s going down. And it’s fun you can have with your clothes on. In a bookstore, in a coffee shop—after I got her trained, we could meet at the shuttle stop or outside class.”
Eileen nodded. Each time Sarah let the woman hypnotize her, she made it easier.
“She’s not a toy,” Eileen said, with effort.
Professor Weygand’s smile softened. “No. Very much not a toy. She’s beautiful. And I wouldn’t—Sarah? Do I hurt you?”
“No, Mistress.” When Eileen turned again, Sarah’s face was as relaxed as her voice. “You make me feel wonderful.”
“Yes, that’s right.” The professor’s voice had gone silken, the praise a caress that lowered Eileen’s eyelids. “Now I want to make Eileen feel wonderful too.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Sarah’s voice was closer and then her hands were on Eileen’s arms. Eileen thought she’d jumped but she barely moved. It was her pussy that quivered now, with so much gentle power touching her so delicately. “Teach her as you taught me.”
Professor Weygand stepped to her and she relaxed, half-closing her eyes as her cheek was stroked but letting the older woman’s gaze slowly bore into her.
Eileen felt herself starting to slip under the spell already. She was a little disgusted with herself at being so weak-willed, but that was melting under a thick syrup of luxurious submission. She felt like this sometimes when she lay between Sarah’s thighs and could never admit how much she liked serving her lover. The time she’d rimmed her she’d cried for loving it, but Sarah thought she hadn’t wanted to and never asked again . . .
Her eyes were tearing up, as she wished she’d said something to the woman who was behind her now, in someone else’s sleep, holding her still to be spellbound in her turn.
Falling into Weygand’s eyes, she breathed, “Please don’t make me forget her.”
Weygand leaned close to her face, her own eyes widening, and she felt Sarah press against her.
“She won’t, my love.” Sarah’s mouth was hot and close to her ear, and Eileen sagged as the other two held her upright. “No one ever will.”
Hearing that, Eileen started crying very hard.
Weygand kissed her cheek and they walked her to the great desk in the well, all of them leaning on it. Eileen subsided and saw the other two were misty-eyed.
“Sarah said we could only play if you did, too,” the professor said.
“Play? You mean you didn’t—?”
“I was hypnotized, all right.” Sarah sounded as pleased now as she had before. “She even suggested that little love-zombie moment to me, and I let it control me. Mmm. And seeing you see me like that.” Sarah stopped, and kissed Eileen as though taking a long drink.
“Professor Weygand can teach us a lot,” she said. “I thought this would be a fun way to bring up the idea.”
Eileen looked at the professor, who was smiling now, her eyes dry. “I could use a pair of maids, just about now. Two nude hypnotized beauties attending my every whim. And a pair of good, attentive, creative pupils could certainly learn a whole raft of techniques as they—served.”
She turned to Sarah, and above the smile she saw Sarah’s eyes, clear and open. If you don’t want this, Eileen, neither do I.
She kissed her, and looked back, and then smiled at Professor Weygand. “I’d love to see how I look in nothing but stockings and a feather duster.
“Mistress.”
Weygand grinned with wholesome glee. “Not surprisingly, you look so submissive now I could eat you. Yes, like that, too. But what I’d really love is to induce you, right now.”
Eileen nodded breathlessly. Before she could turn, Sarah said, “I want to watch. I mean without falling under the same . . . the . . . same . . .”
Weygand smiled and nodded gently as Eileen turned, to find Sarah blank again. “It’s the eyes. She keeps making eye contact and she keeps seeing the spirals that make her sleep.
“Wake up, Sarah. The spirals are for Eileen to get wrapped around.” As she turned back she found herself staring into Weygand’s eyes, and hearing Weygand’s voice softly describing them. In no time, with Sarah warm against her, she could see them clearly, and looked deeper to see them more clearly still . . .
. . . until the screen faded, and she lay breathing slowly and easily. Eileen felt something and found Joan toweling her off, feeling the chill of the air. She’d broken out in a sweat. Her eyes kept swinging back to the monitor even after it went dark, seeking the bottomless center of the spiral there, until Joan quietly but firmly told her to look away and let her mind clear.
She was weeping before she knew it. “I got through. I found Sarah.”
Joan’s hand was on her shoulder again. “I’m almost sorry—I’m thrilled you made it through, but I hated using this slavemaker to make you do it.”
Eileen blinked and lay back. Joan had told her power was neutral, before, when she’d been hesitant. Perhaps Joan had been too caught up in Eileen’s quest to remember. Or maybe Eileen had just been disturbingly responsive to the electronic domination, and it was worrying Joan that she was still so close to being a slave.
She grasped Joan’s hand. “No. I found love in there, and there was even a very gentle hypnotist who didn’t want to convert me into her robo-slut. Kind of like you.” She smiled. Maybe it was the memory of Professor Weygand, even suppressed as it had been, that helped her trust Joan enough for the initial hypnosis to work.
“Sarah told me about that.” Joan smiled. “You quiet ones can be as surprising as they say. I thought the tie-in with hypnosis, even consensual, would make it a good access point.”
“Oh, it was. I want to go back.” Eileen knew part of that was the extended hypno-maid play she hadn’t gotten a chance to relive, but it wa s more. She needed more of the reality she’d lived with Sarah, to wall her off from the manufactured life with Andrew—the layered illusion that she’d loved him and been happy.
“No, Eileen. You’re a healthy girl, but this was a serious strain. You’ll want to do this a lot, I’m sure, but we need to space it out.” It made sense. Daily sessions, until she proved she could take it more than once a day.
Besides—this was another opportunity to submit, safely. And she didn’ t have to dream it at all.
“Yes, Doctor,” she said, softly. “I understand. No more until you tell me. When may I come back?”
She didn’t know how warm that made her until Joan said, “You will know when you must return.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Now—find Sarah. You will know what you must do.”
Eileen slid out of the chair and walked out, gloriously aware again of how little she was wearing and that she was definitely, publicly soaking through.
“Yes, Doctor. I obey.”
10.
Sarah was outside the dormitory where Eileen’s room was, talking with another couple of women in tunics and one in a staff coat. She turned to smile at Eileen, pleased but almost stunned to see Eileen parading up to her in the sheer bra and panty.
Eileen grinned as she pressed against her and kissed her, moaning into her mouth with how much she wanted her. After a moment they were leaning against each other, slowly becoming aware of the quiet admiration of the other women who watched them.
With effort, Eileen leaned back while still pressing her loins to Sarah ‘s. She looked only at Sarah but spoke loudly and clearly. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I remember my lover now and I need her. Very much.”
The look on Sarah’s face nearly killed Eileen with joy. Neither of them had any idea what the others said after that as they made their way back to Eileen’s bed while literally joined at the hip. They stripped each other and pressed tightly together one they were lying down, rediscovering each other’s feel and the touch-pleasure that was simpler and more ancient than sex.
Sex found them as touch grew more urgent, and as what was touched grew more slippery.
Panting slowly, Sarah lay back after a time, and Eileen started mesmerized as her flank moved in and out like a sleek animal’s. Then Sarah rolled onto her belly, sighing into the pillow.
Now it was her ass, swaying slightly as she settled, that had a mesmeric effect on Eileen. She crept closer, barely more coherent than her lover but in love now with the wonderful soft globes. She kissed them, licked the sweat from them and tasted the thrilling taint of Sarah ‘s juices that had leaked down. Her nose pressed into the cleavage between them, finding softer, hotter Sarah between the outer smoothness as the scent drew it down—sharp and warm and intimate.
She remembered this shrine, and she was back to worship again. She heard Sarah brokenly speak her name as her lover’s mind came back enough for words, but she was beyond them again, questing for the rose with her tongue.
Eileen came, when she found it—the sphincter twitched shyly at her tonguetip as Sarah responded helplessly, clenching her thighs and cheeks in spasm. She cried out weakly as the taste reached Eileen’s brain. Eileen was crying and it salted the flavor as she sucked and thrust and followed the gyrations when Sarah bucked against her. She reached up and stroked Sarah’s clit and the dim cries broke up in another orgasm . . .
She woke to the frantic sucking as Sarah attacked her breasts, and when their eyes met they flowed together and suddenly subsided, almost afraid of going deeper.
But Eileen started to slide downward again. Sleep was about to take her, but she wanted to be facedown in Sarah’s crotch when it did. Sarah was trying to ignore her own need to fall asleep straddling Eileen’s face, and forcing herself to beg Eileen to stay up on the pillow.
In the end, when Sarah’s entreaty became a command, Eileen curled against her and faded.
She woke later. It was an itch inside her that she couldn’t scratch herself.
Sarah rested loose and very still next to her, and Eileen, a little saner now, felt guilty. Sarah didn’t want to use her, not like that, and she cared enough for Eileen not to let her own pussy lull her into letting it happen anyway. It had been a near thing, but Eileen cared enough for Sarah not to dream of pushing her past the point where she could resist.
Yet she itched.
She rolled gingerly off the mattress and slipped to the bathroom, closing the door before showering. She found Sarah just as she’d left her, and realized she’d slept as deeply this morning when Eileen had slipped off. I have to stop doing this. She slipped off.
Eileen knew she was nude, but she didn’t care. The night was warm, and she felt safe. If someone found her, she’d just be a sex-crazed recovering slave—held in nice strong arms, guard-warrior Angie’s perhaps, and taken back to bed. Tucked in next to placidly slumbering Sarah. Forgiven.
Maybe masturbated about.
It felt teasingly vulnerable to be a phantom flitting across the Institute. Perhaps to be captured, deliciously interrogated. Subjected to cunnilingus and some imaginative bondage. Hypnotized into confessing all, and then being a docile little captive.
Someone passed and she pressed against a wall, feeling the cool bricks on her shoulderblades and butt. She wondered if anyone could actually smell her as she dampened again.
Joan’s office was closed and dark, and she started to wake from the fantasy a little. What was she going to do, anyway? She didn’t know how to operate the chair, didn’t even know if it would work without someone tending it. And how seriously could it fuck her up if there were a wrong way to set it up?
Yet she itched.
She looked at what she thought someone had said were Joan’s living quarters, seeing light there. She didn’t know why she wanted Joan to see her like this. Maybe she was more afraid of what Sarah would say, or not say, if Eileen told her I need you to dominate me. Own me. My mouth on your bottom as your right, not my favor. Goddess help her, she had to tell someone. Now.
She was tapping on the door before she really finished deciding to.
Cary opened it.
She was wearing an Institute tunic that became her slimness and holding a drink, and she smiled at Eileen, welcoming and enjoying her at once. Eileen felt better, and stepped inside when she was asked to. She walked into the living room, and wasn’t quiet sure how to stand, as Joan, cool and controlled in a black robe, sat and looked at her.
Joan waited for her, as though sensing how suppliant Eileen needed to be.
“Please, Doctor. I need to be in the chair again.”
Joan waited some more. Eileen felt Cary come in behind her, and then felt a hand light on her shoulder.
“To remember?
“Or to be controlled?” “To be controlled, Doctor.” Eileen heard herself speak the truth, before it even occurred to her that there would be no lying, anyway, once the spiral enthralled her. “I don’t know why but I need it.
“And Sarah loves me too much.”
Joan looked at her. “As well she should.”
“But I still have that thing in my head, like I’ll always belong to him, and love him. He’s . . . he’s dead, he’s fucking dead and he’s still got me so brainwashed into thinking he’s the one, that’s Sarah’ s—not.” She sucked air.
Cary’s hand was firm on her shoulder, and she silently blessed the woman for being there. For just being.
“I’m trying so hard to fight it when I realize it’s happening. It feels better when one of you is caring for me, you or Sarah.” She hung her head. “Maybe I am just a slave now, after all. Whether I was born this way or mindfucked into it. I can only choose how kind my owner will be.”
“I can’t say that about any woman, Eileen. But I’ll respect a woman that faces the possibility like that. Either way, the slave-conditioning is very powerful in you. They managed to make obedience such a part of how you think and process ideas that it’s become a part of—you.”
Eileen felt a chill, but partly at how much less horrible that sounded than she knew it should, to a free woman.
“Eileen, I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to eradicate it, fully. Every other woman I’ve worked with has had her basic desire to choose for herself still intact under all the male programming. I’d thought in your case we were finding something new, some more powerful technique they were using to enslave the women they took.”
“But you think it’s me, Doctor, don’t you?”
Joan looked at her. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Eileen. Being a submissive doesn’t mean deserving to be a slave.”
“But I am—a slave, now. Part of me.”
Joan looked down at last. “This may be more a matter of management than cure. I talked to Sarah a lot before we even retrieved you, and she’s willing to do what she has to.
“If you need to spend the next few years as someone’s sub, she’ll care for you and protect you.”
Eileen felt a rush even as her blood went cold. It was exciting and terrifying.
“She’s not ready for it all, either, right now. We’d have to train both of you to handle those roles. But—” Joan frowned. “But it’s late, and I have no business pouring what the rest of a patient’s life might be like over her tired little head, when she just needs something to help take the edge off.”
Cary’s hand tightened on Eileen’s shoulder as she asked, “May I?”
Joan nodded, and Cary propelled Eileen back out to the door. They walked together to the office, and Cary kept her hand on Eileen, saying nothing but still calming her with the contact.
Cary opened the glass door and ushered Eileen inside and into the room with the chair. Eileen shook a little as the sight and smell of the chamber came back to her, and Cary held her for a moment before they both slipped into the spirit, silently preparing. Eileen felt like the magician’s assistant being readied in the illusion by one of the other, senior assistants, both of them in a solemn trance.
Cary even stood still when Eileen was lying back, sensors and headphones in place, after the monitor was again before her, the hungry serpent waiting to hypnotize her soul and swallow it whole, again.
Each time it digested her, she would be different. She realized she was a little afraid of it.
Yet she itched.
Joan was there, speaking softly to Cary before putting her hand on Eileen’s head again. “There are some things we can do, Eileen. I expected the treatment might affect you this way and I prepared some things that will help you to deal with it. Just relax and be receptive.”
“I don’t have a choice about that in this chair, do I?” Eileen was able to smile, but she couldn’t see what Joan did, and Cary stayed still in the shadows, careful of the mood.
“No, Eileen.”
It subdued her just to hear it. “I understand, Doctor. Thank you.”
“You are entirely welcome, Eileen.”
The spiral appeared, demanding her submission and washing every other thought out of her head. She let it. The truths were already there. It had already prepared her mind, and she knew to open, concentrate, believe.
“I am hypnotized.
“I am suggestible and obedient.
“I have no thoughts except commands and truth.”
11.
Eileen looked at the spiral.
She was comfortably aware of everything—the chair warm under her nude body, Cary waiting quietly to the side, Joan behind her, in control. She realized she had no decisions to make. Her ability to decide anything, even to want to, was on the other side of the spiral.
She smiled, drowsily aware that if she tried to pursue the power to choose, she would have to look deep into the center and let it hypnotize her ever more deeply.
In fact, she knew the only reason she wasn’t locked into it now, drooling and slack-bodied, was that someone who could decide had told she would not be. It was pleasure to accept that and obey the command in it, but she didn’t dwell on it. She was supremely certain that there would be more commands, each more pleasurable to carry out than the last.
“How do you feel now, Eileen?”
Eileen considered, as she’d been told to do, but it never took time. “I feel completely at peace, Doctor.” She grinned. “And completely obedient to the sound of your voice.”
“Good. I think we’re ready, now. Your will is so pliable now that you can accept what I’m about to do to you consciously. You’ll be able to cooperate.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“I think that you may call me Joan again, Eileen.”
“Yes, Joan. I understand.”
“Good. I have determined what the problem is. Your thought processes were severely warped by the Masters when they first conquered you, and more so as they mindformed you into their idea of your proper role. Your natural submissiveness only complicated things. However, they were too methodical. Once they trained you to think in patterns, they coded them into your thoughts. Simple ideas could replace actual thinking for you.
“This new conditioning that we’ve put you through, and the fact that you’ve cooperated instead of resisting, has given us an edge they didn’t have, and let us take control of those thoughts. We are actually deeper, now, than they were—we can look at what they did to you from below, so to speak.”
Eileen breathed slowly. It was good to be so deeply hypnotized for this, since she would have been too excited to concentrate.
“I will tell you the most important code they implanted in you and brainwashed you to believe in. All the others are subordinated to it, and when you accept my instruction to reject it, none of the others will be able to survive or to affect your thoughts.
“Are you ready, Eileen?”
“I am ready, Joan. I will obey.”
“Yes, Eileen, you will. Listen carefully and recognize this lie.
“’You have free will.’“
Eileen blinked. It was simple, and the hypnosis made her calm. Everything rang true.
Free will. It was a lie.
At least for her, but she was only aware of her own mind. Joan let her discover everything as she traced it back. It was what she’d been struggling with, the memories of loving Andrew because she wanted to, marrying him because she chose to . . .
All wrong. What seemed like many illusions were just one. It had been easy for them to hypnotize her into believing it, and then she’d been a good little girl and accepted all the rest, “choices” and “decisions” and other such things. She could have seen it clearly, if they hadn’t fogged her mind with their conditioning—it was absurd for a natural slave like her to pretend to think like a free woman, much less live like one.
Eileen smiled. Of course, a natural slave was naturally susceptible to being hypnotized into accepting absurdity. How absurd she’d been, solemnly pretending to “think for herself” for so long.
“I have no will,” she said, quietly, with assurance.
“That’s right, Eileen. You have no will whatsoever.”
She closed her eyes and enjoyed it, but surrendered her gaze to the spiral again at once. She smiled again, too, knowing at last that there was no choice waiting for her beyond the swirl as it turned. It was someone else’s will that would have her stare deeper and sleep, or turn away to obey.
Something was wrong. Something was enormously wrong. But the more she thought about how wrong it was, the more she needed to spread her legs and let it be wrong, as wrong as it wanted to be.
Eileen was a natural slave. She didn’t have to worry about wrong.
She just had to enjoy it, until her hypnotist told her to stop and go to sleep.
“Eileen.”
“Yes, Joan?”
“Until I instruct you to fall under its power again, the spiral no longer transfixes you.” She didn’t even have to blink. It was just a swirl on a little screen. “You do not need the spiral to obey mindlessly.”
“I do not need the spiral to obey mindlessly.”
“Come with me, now.”
Eileen swung her legs off the leather, not distracted by the juice that had pooled between them, and walked calmly, not concerned with where Joan was taking her. She saw Cary walk expressionlessly around behind the chair and walk ahead of her into the outer office, standing beside Joan.
“Bring them,” Joan said without looking at her, and Cary went briskly out the door into the night, the hem of her tunic flaring around her lean thighs.
Eileen forgot about Cary and followed Joan across the Institute campus. It felt differently than her naked stalk earlier, but it was both difficult and pointless to remember that, or to think of much of anything but staying near Joan and focusing on the fact that she was obeying her. It was a little hard to match Joan’s stride and rub her thighs together, but Eileen managed.
They passed buildings Eileen might have recognized in daylight and entered what seemed like a giants’ cemetery, with long low berms in rows like fresh graves. They had sunken places at their ends with vaulted doors, and Eileen wondered dimly which giant’s headstone they would visit when she recognized Cary waiting with two tall black shapes by one of the doors.
As Joan drew them near one of the shapes resolved itself into Angie, the taut-boded sentinel. In the glare of the lights that covered the bunkers, Angie looked at Eileen with undisguised desire, and Cary’s face was still blank.
Cary knocked on the door and it opened before another athletic woman in black, who stood aside as they filed in.
The bunker had an anteroom full of TV monitors and other things Eileen couldn’t make out and was too dazed to try. There was a smell, faint but rank, familiar but frightening.
An inner door buzzed and clicked open, and Angie led them down some steps. The corridor beyond was lined with metal doors. It hummed with quiet human sounds. It stank. She was deeply afraid, and moved close to Joan, who reached without turning and stroked her pussy, subduing and arousing her at once. She moaned aloud.
A man shouted.
With Joan’s hand on her cunt and Joan’s voice in her head, Eileen didn’ t respond, and none of the others blinked.
“B-7’s still lively,” Angie said.
They walked to the door marked B-4.
Joan turned, nose to nose with Eileen, her blouse softly rubbing Eileen ‘s right nipple. Eileen stood rigidly. She stared into Joan’s eyes. “I will obey. You control my thoughts.”
Joan stared back, then nodded and put cool lips to Eileen’s. Eileen melted, having pleased her.
Angie opened the door, and a light came on. The stink was worse now and it rode a rattling noise into Eileen’s mind. She wanted to stay out, but she saw Joan’s nod and had obey Joan’s will that she enter. She clung to her obedience instead, and it did feel good.
The rattling stopped and she looked forward—and down, at a pile of rags and hair, familiar eyes that froze her, a mouth that gaped.
Andrew.
12.
She was terrified, and too angry to speak. She glared at him. Even now the old feeling tugged at her, and a tiny, humiliating part of her thought of rushing to him to ask what was wrong. He rattled again and she realized he was chained to the wall. As his face resolved itself, bearded and grimy, she realized he was suffering a lot.
It was nothing to what he’d done to her. Less than nothing.
But the memory still drew her. She glanced sideways at Joan and Cary, felt Angie’s tall presence behind her. They wouldn’t leave her alone with this monster. And she knew Joan could take back control of her if Andrew tried some little trigger now to hotwire her brain and turn her against the women.
“Eileen,” he said. It felt strange. He sounded as though whatever he’ d been going through here, he could forget it, just to see that she was alive and healthy, and here.
So real. Even now. Their first date still seemed more real to her than her private heaven at the prom with Lonnie Harmon—and with Joan’s help she knew, now, how that first date had ended, after the drugs took her down.
“Eileen? Are you—?”
“I hope they hurt you,” she hissed. “I hope they hurt you a lot.”
“Eileen, it’s not real. Whatever they told you, it’s a trick. They wanted you to doubt—”
“Shut up! Shut up!” she screamed, angry and sad that he was here. That the world had to have him in it.
But he loved me. He still does.
“Eileen, honey, I can see it. In your eyes. Whatever they’ve done to bend your mind you can still remember. Please try, Eileen.” His voice was hoarse, as though he’d been shouting—a waste of time in this dungeon.
She tried to hope he’d screamed because they’d given him a reason to. Why was it so hard? She thought about the table he’d tranced her into lying on, with dildos fucking her into deeper submission while he was upstairs watching cheerleaders. She thought about Sarah and the years he’d stolen—the hurt he’d put Sarah through, without even trance to dull the grief of losing Eileen.
Andrew glared sullenly at Joan, flinching when she turned to look at him.
“What did you do to her?” he snarled.
“Just what I told you I was going to do. I brainwashed her into my willing slave.” Eileen blinked at the words but her pussy buzzed with the even, gloating sound of Joan’s voice.
“You saw it all on TV. You saw her break. And break. And melt. You jerked off to it.” Andrew dropped his eyes at that.
Then he looked up, catching Eileen’s gaze. She froze again, mesmerized even through the fear, hating herself for responding as he’d trained her. “No, Eileen. It’s not that.” Of course—he knew she was on to him.
“Oh, fuck. Eileen, they’re lying to you. They told you I was dead—but I’m not, am I? They lied to you about everything.”
She closed her eyes. It was so hard. She tried to think.
Then she relaxed, seeing her mistake. She waited, letting her mind go blank until the right whisper hissed into it.
She opened her eyes and gazed down at him. “They had to let me think you were dead. You had me so zombified that I’d fall under your spell again if I even thought you were still alive. They had to break me free of your fucking mind control, first.
“They did. I can face you now.”
“Eileen, remember. It’s not true. Whatever they showed you, it’s not true. You know what’s true. You know what you lived before.”
She blinked. It couldn’t be. Sarah, Lonnie, everything she’d done—that had to be real. She turned in anguish to Joan. Joan would tell her what to think, and then she would obey.
So odd, hearing his voice for real after it had echoed in her nightmares. Her head was spinning.
The wrong end of a telescope. God . . . dess . . . if he was right then Joan was a complete maniac and Cary and the others were evil or equally crazy.
Or too brainwashed by Joan, now, to question or disobey her. Slaves, like she was about to become.
Joan looked calmly back at her. “You already know the answer, Eileen.”
Eileen looked into her eyes, and saw.
Wrong. It made her—so wet.
She did know the answer. She was the answer.
“You’re trying to activate my free will,” she said to the wild-eyed man on the floor. She smiled sweetly, happier than she’d been in a long time. “But I have no free will. You tried to keep me from knowing that. But now I do.”
“Eileen?” Joan straightened a little.
“Yes—Mistress?” It felt like a choice to say that but Eileen still felt good about it—and Joan’s smile made it worthwhile. It must have been a whisper Joan put in her mind, anyway.
“Kill your husband now, please.”
“Yes, Mistress!” Something hummed in her as she assimilated the command, realizing how important this was. She listened for half a heartbeat, but before she could recognize the humming as a faint screaming inside, a deeper-voiced real-world cry echoed off the cell walls and snapped her out of it, back to reality and obedience.
She stared with distaste at the cowering man, so unlike the beautiful Mistress and Her purposeful slaves standing tall around him.
“How do You want me to kill him, Mistress?” She savored each word.
Someone took her hand. She looked back and Angie was pressing a huge automatic into her palm. It was heavy and angular, with an ugly phallic silencer making it even more asymmetrical, but the grip was comfortingly warm from the other woman’s capable hand.
Angie smiled down at her and then stepped against her, folding her arms around Eileen’s and controlling the gun. Eileen leaned back against the powerful body, almost closing her eyes in bliss as Angie’s voice and breath heated her ear.
“Relax, pretty girl. I’ve got you.”
Mistress nodded. “Yes, Eileen. Obey Angie now.”
The man chose that moment to start screaming himself, and flung himself against the chains toward them. After her first flinch, Eileen saw she was a safe distance away, and it was easy to ignore him as Mistress’ command took her focus.
In the noise, Angie’s orders were more tactile than verbal, as she guided Eileen’s hands to the safety catch, and then had her pull the slide back. Eileen felt the words “Careful now” against her neck, and nodded slowly.
Andrew subsided, looking up at her with a despair so deep she barely knew what it was. It still carried—something . . .
She raised the gun on her own. Things were still happening behind her eyes, but they kept trying to settle on her free will.
And Eileen had no will.
“I must obey, Mistress.” She pointed the gun at the unbelieving eyes, waiting for Someone with will to command her.
Mistress understood. “Kill him, slave.”
The pistol popped, and kicked savagely as if it despised the sniveling target too. But Angie’s hands were strong over hers and the gun held steady. The man flopped abruptly back. Eileen felt warmth like rain on her skin, but before the spray registered she felt Angie nuzzling her and turned for the kiss.
“You’re blooded for your Mistress now, pretty girl.”
Now she knew it for a christening, and beamed as she felt the gun ease out of her hand.
Mistress walked in front of her, stepping daintily around the blood. She took Eileen’s head in her hands as Angie released her.
“You pleased me, slave.”
Eileen just stood there. “I obey,” she said breathlessly. “You control my thoughts. I have no will.”
Mistress stopped her prayers with a kiss.
“I was going to leave you here to entertain the night watch. But I think you need a little more time in the chair.” She saw Eileen’s apprehension and leaned until their foreheads touched. “No. You’re a very obedient girl. That’s right. But you’ve earned some deepening.
“When we’re through tonight you won’t even know how to say ‘free will. ‘”
There were no words. Eileen just gazed adoringly at her Owner until Cary led her away.
13.
eileen sat glued to the monitor, jilling off with practiced strokes she was barely aware of.
What filled her mind was the sight of the weakly-thrashing woman on the screen, her headset too well-fitted to slip off as she struggled against what it was quietly commanding her to see. Her eyes were wide, but they kept rolling up into her head. She pleaded “Why are you doing this to me?” over and over, but her voice kept breaking up in orgasmic gasps.
eileen found the sight and sound of women being brainwashed very hot, and deeply hypnotic. The more extreme mindfuck of watching a woman’s memories being sucked from her and altered and thrust back into her made it better.
she no longer knew if she’d started watching this tape herself, or if someone had taken her panties, sat her down, and let her fall the rest of the way on her own. she wouldn’t care. she started to imagine she could taste the woman on the tape as she fought the mind control, and lost the battle so wonderfully. But if eileen had spent time between this woman’s legs in the conditioning room as a stimulation unit, she’d been too deep in trance herself.
The woman’s name was Lucia. That would be important.
“slave.”
she turned and saw cary in the doorway, setting a portfolio on a credenza by the door and staring at her with that intense corporate-domme gaze of hers. eileen stood and faced Mistress’ primary slavegirl. Lucia and her brainwashing faded to the back of her mind.
“Reward me.”
The question for what did not exist. eileen stepped quickly to her as she lifted her skirt the necessary few centimeters. cary had no taste for slow, ass-swaying cat crawls when she wanted to be eaten out, though she herself was heart-stoppingly erotic when she did it for Mistress.
Behind eileen, a soft, desperate voice moaned, “No—love—pleassse . . .”
eileen’s head was still light with cary’s taste and the way her hips had thrust her against eileen’s tongue when the office phone rang, capturing her mind.
“Showtime,” Mistress’ voice purred into her ear. eileen went deeply under, coming to attention and aware of nothing but her Owner in her mind.
“What?” cary mouthed but made no sound, already realizing what was going to happen.
eileen put the phone down when the dialtone freed her mind slightly, and looked into cary’s eyes.
“we must obey,” she said, but she was already falling deep again, too deep and too fast to appreciate the sight of cary sinking into the same obedient blankness. they shared the shower in the adjoining bathroom without touching each other.
eileen awoke from the trance in another room, seated, dressed, and too focused on Mistress to be startled about it. she sensed cary behind her, probably standing but so quiet she might still be under the posthypnotic suggestion.
Mistress looked only at the woman on the bed, who was starting to wake up. she looked a little stronger without the headset, but eileen knew she didn’t need the headset as much anymore. eileen thought again about tonguing the woman—Lucia—but she waited, as she was programmed to.
eileen sat at the foot of the bed. Mistress sat beside it, gazing gently down until Lucia’s eyes fluttered open and stayed that way.
eileen wanted to masturbate as she looked at Lucia’s chiseled features, so resolute and so delicious in her disorientation. But it was even more arousing to obey Mistress’ command to keep her hands to herself, and to recall Mistress’ amused sigh as She’d hypnotized eileen more deeply to program her with it.
Lucia blinked and seemed to come rapidly to her senses. She looked down and her eyes met eileen’s. They shied away quickly, and didn’t mark cary at all. Lucia looked at Mistress, and waited a beat.
“You’re not saying anything,” she said, in a low voice that matched the strength of her features, and made her vulnerability even more intense, as the fear leaked out. “Please, tell me. Is he alive? Is Mal still alive?”
eileen felt the question trigger the memory of an anonymous tongue stabbing near her G-spot, and she made a soft noise, drawing Lucia’s eyes to her own.
Lucia’s widened to see the moist fire in eileen’s. She was already starting to think she’d known eileen. She would believe they’d been lovers.
eileen’s voice smoked with what she knew, somehow, Lucia would hear as rage. But the words came from her pussy, and it thrilled her to be this close to the mindfuck, soon to be closer still.
“He’s . . . dead.” She watched the lovely eyes flatten with shock.
“The evil motherfucker is dead.”