The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Master PC – The Protector

By TechnicDragon

Part 4: The Users

Chapter 38: Arrival

The corridor at the bottom of the stairs was long. Soft light played with our shadows as we passed through. The walls were completely covered by long heavy dark red drapes. If there were doors or other tunnels, we didn’t find any. Then again we were all too scared to touch the drapes. Anything could have been hidden behind them and it was far too late before I realized it was a perfect place for a trap. It could have been our own fears, amplified by the fact everyone was touching and feeding off one another, or it was just how the opening at the end of the tunnel looked. It was a doorway, like any other, but for some reason it held a foreboding none of us were prepared for. I could feel everyone’s fears dance along our line. That’s how we walked, in a straight line, because the drapes lining the sides of the tunnel made it too narrow for us to precede two or more at a time without so much as grazing those rich, unadorned hangings.

About ten feet from the open doorway, the light was stronger. The tunnel opened into a much larger, much taller room. I could also see why the doorway looked wrong. It was cut off by the curtains. The tunnel had been wide enough for us to approach almost three abreast, but our hosts had seen to it that we didn’t go looking behind them. All the mystery and fear plagued us just by being asked to be there for no other obvious reason than they wanted it. It hadn’t helped when the messenger had said to follow the instructions and all would be well. I felt like a fool to fall for such a simple ruse. It was so elegant and it had worked perfectly, but as I stepped out of the tunnel, I let my self appear perfectly calm, controlled, and even comfortable with the surroundings. I did this all the time, met total strangers for no reason at all whenever they called.

Yeah, right.

I helped the girls to calm, passing that feeling of togetherness, of rightness, of goodness down the line through our touch. It was already going to be a long night. Feeling afraid of something for possibly several hours would wear us out. We needed to stay on our toes, but not jump at every small thing that happened by. It would look bad in the face of those who could be just as bad as we feared.

Once all of us were in the room, I took in the setting. The dark red drapes continued around the room, engulfing it with the rich warm feeling of someplace one could be comfortable. It would have been a better effect if the floor had carpeting instead of white tiles. The ceiling must have been twenty feet high with plenty of lighting. The room might echo or it might not; with the contrast of softened walls and hard floor, it would be difficult to tell until something made some kind of sound. There was something unusual about the room and I figured it out. The drapes, like in the tunnel, hid any other doors or passages from the main hall. There was no way someone would put together such a wondrous underground space without something else to go with it. However, the drapes were complete in hiding those other portals.

My gaze finally settled on the center of the room, the main feature of our visit. There were four large chairs. I immediately thought “thrones” because of the elaborate decorations carved into the legs, arms, uprights and on the backs. The chair seats and backs, for where a person would sit, were covered with a similar dark red and richly comfortable fabric with gold symbols or lines or something embroidered into them. The seats and backs were also cushioned and looked to be as inviting as any recliner. However, the heavy wood or metal that made up the frame was certain to not have a recline feature.

Those four chairs were facing each other, centered on the sides of an enormous mural rug. From the distance and with the back of one of the chairs centered between us and the rug, I couldn’t tell what the design was, but from the ends, it looked to have been something regarding bodies, nude bodies. It was edged with heavy gold fringe and the primary color in the background of the mural was again, dark red. It matched the drapes. Other designs bordered the fringe and the main image captured. I was sure it was a fascinating bit of art. The problem was we weren’t standing close enough to enjoy it.

The next thing that I studied was the figures on the sides of the rug to my left and right. To my left, a large man sat in one of the four chairs. He was large as in seven foot or taller and very well built. He could probably pick up me and all mine without much effort. His skin was dark. Not the dark that looks purple with some African-Americans, more like dark chocolate. He was bald and wore only a pair of white slacks with a black leather belt and highly polished black dress shoes. Around him sat three Caucasian women who not only had the same mid-back length straight blonde hair, but the same outfits. All three were dressed in black latex halter tops that completely covered any cleavage and hugged them close. Compared to what my girls were packing, they didn’t have much up top, but those shirts helped their appearance. Black latex skirts covered their bottoms and upper thighs. Black thigh high leather boots with three or four inch heels completed their outfits. All three had mascara and some eye shadow, bright red lipstick and nails. They curled around the man on piles of pillows on the floor in similar positions, feet folded back to one side near their butts and arms up to keep a hold of his chair. It was like seeing triplets, but I was fairly certain they weren’t.

That had been a perfectly normal sight compared to the group to the right. A woman sat in that chair. I knew that because the only things she wore were a pair of black thigh high boots very similar to the blondes grouped around the man on the other side. However, that was where normalcy for her ended. She had been using the program. I couldn’t tell if the guy to my left had made many changes to himself, because he could have been born that large, but the woman in her throne moved without moving. At least, that’s the way it seemed. To start, her skin was blue. Yes, blue, as in the color of bluebonnets or a really nice sapphire. Her skin also moved. Not off of her body or anything like that, but lines and images seemed to be alive on her skin. It was like watching a busy anthill, the shapes moved and shifted, never making the same pattern twice, never stopping. Her lips were a dark blue in contrast to her skin. Her eyes looked like they had no irises, but it was how light the color of blue her eyes were, like a husky’s eyes. Compared to her skin, they looked so light that you could easily miss them altogether. Her eyebrows looked black but they were probably like her long straight dark hair, a blue so dark it looked more like black with blue highlights. I’ve heard of black and blue all over, but that was taking the term way too far.

The woman had her own attendees and they were keeping up with what she apparently thought attendees should be doing. Three men were around her. One red head, one blonde, and one brunette, all of them very muscular but none had the sheer size like the man on the other throne. All three were also wearing similar outfits, nothing. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing on any of them, not even shoes to keep their feet from getting cold on the tile floor. I did mention that all three were busy with attending her, with their tongues, and hands and straining manly organs. All three bore absolute salutes for the blue woman. One was busy with his face buried between her legs, the second knelt to her side handling and sucking on her very round and full breasts, and the third was pressing his organ to her cheek. She may have enjoyed the taste and texture of his straining organ, but her attention shifted to us when we entered. She very steadily studied us as we studied her.

I could tell there was someone seated on the far side of the rug. For one thing, there was a woman standing over there. To my lack of astonishment, it was the same tall brunette who had delivered the invitation that morning. She stood tall and rigid, as if at attention. Her back was arched, probably more than required if standing at attention in the military, but it wasn’t the military. Her pose presented her immense bust just at the top of her bustier. Bust was the right term, because it looked like she was ready to bust free of the outfit. What held her in place was beyond me. Her long muscular thighs clenched and relaxed as she shifted ever so slightly from one foot to the other. If she was expected to stand there like that all night, then she would probably be sore from the effort. She looked uncomfortable and given the way the bustier cinched down on her waist, I couldn’t say I blamed her. Opposite from her it looked like someone else was lying on the floor. Whoever it was had their head covered. All I could really tell was they wore what looked like some kind of fur lined outfit, but nothing else. Between them, there was probably someone sitting in the chair, but the chair with its back to us was in the way.

I finally resigned to the fact that we would have to step up and join the meeting we had been called to. I stopped next to the throne that had been facing away from us. It was empty. I looked out to the mural rug to see the artwork that had presented nude bodies. It was similar to mine in that it was a pile of bodies, but where Nadia had chosen a pile of tigers in abstract, this was a work of exacting detail. Women were in an orgy on the floor. Licking and feeling each other, some frozen as they called out to the pleasures the other women applied, others busy sucking or kneading some part of another. It was quite erotic, highly suggestive, and presented a certain state of mind. The man to my left liked women and the woman to my right liked men. So this had to be what the person in the throne across from me liked.

As I concluded, the person sitting in it was another woman. She was just as beautiful as any of my own women. She sat with one leg crossed over the other at the knee. It showed off the curve of her calves fabulously, and the styled pearl colored high heels that made her feet look that much closer to perfect. The skirt across her lap was a soft material with a pattern of squares in various colors. It reminded me of either Mexican or Native-American styles I had seen at the mall. Her tanned thighs were exposed on the sides and I could tell that the skirt tied at her hips. Her top was made of the same material and it too showed off her womanly assets. Her breasts were full and if she raised the long sleeves too high, her breasts would spill out for everyone’s viewing. The sleeves were trumpeted and the neck was wide. It looked just as comfortable as the skirt. Her hair was a long wavy chestnut brown, her face chiseled from Greek Mythology with high cheek bones yet soft jaw line, lips full and soft, red and wet, but her eyes. Her eyes were gray and cold.

She was the first to speak. “Welcome, Ral. We are The Users.”