The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The ride in the service elevator was quick; Dr. Rhinde watched in silence as the flashing white light darted back and forth, illuminating numbers on the panel. Her mind reeled between the chaos of remembrance and the lust of obedience.

Christine stood perfectly still on the right, but Hannah leaned on Alexis, still floating in the trance that kept her focused. She was a good head shorter than the doctor; moaning against Alexis’ shoulder and repeating the words Christine had implanted in her mind:

“I am a slave, and I obey Mistress... I am a slave, and I obey Mistress...”

Alexis blinked, feeling her own awareness slip away again as the mantra filled her mind. It wasn’t the words that deepened her trance, so much as Hannah’s dreamy voice.

The cart slowed, stopped. The door slid open.

Alexis still wore the lab coat. Her eyes fluttered, and she gasped as air rushed between her legs, teasing her naked pussy underneath. Lingering thoughts vanished in a long, heavenly sigh, and she was back to being the loyal, submissive slave, too dazed to even question the moist heat that suffused her loins.

She grasped the handle of the heavy black suitcase she carried a little more tightly. It contained numerous files, blueprints and data-disks, as well as control devices stolen from the storage vault in the heart of the underground complex.

Marvels of depraved, technological brilliance.

Gifts for Mistress.

With a shudder and a step, Alexis stood on the main floor of the company building. The service elevator was located near the entrance reserved for department directors.

Alexis took a look around.

The steel support beams suspended far overhead were barely visible in the dimness, but the wide and spacious lobby, designed with feng shui precision and graced with enough trees to fill an arboretum, was sheltered from the outside world in a majestic expanse of sloping, tinted glass.

Even at night, the vast, cathedral-like hall never failed to overwhelm—a monument to power pursued and attained—but the show of grandeur was utterly lost on Alexis as she scanned the area for signs of human presence.

The others came up from behind.

Christine, nude save for her collar, took long, barefooted strides upon the faux granite floor. There was grace in the brunette’s entranced, mind-fucked poise, a lithesome elegance that softened the minds of the other two, reminding them of how slaves ought to be. The brown tuft above her glistening pussy was a shade darker than her hair, and scarcely trimmed.

Alexis thought of how new, how fresh she was in her obedience to Mistress.

Hannah appeared equally dazed and happy as she carried a heavy satchel bag on her shoulder, filled with other stolen gifts. She wore the same faded-white T-shirt—the cotton stretch around her round breasts cupping the flesh more closely with her bra removed and forgotten; the flimsy layer made her all the more beautiful, all the more entranced with nothing but air kissing her below the hips.

Christine’s ultrasonic programming—coupled with a few more doses of the neurospray—had smothered Hannah’s awareness of her own nudity, but there was still enough of her mind left to dampen as she followed the others onto the lobby floor. Alexis watched the pair move in perfect synch, and yearned to slip out of the lab coat, to fall in step, as nude, as lithe—as owned—as they were.

The depth of obedience in those slave eyes made her nipples throb with pleasure; Alexis did not resist... did not want to resist. She was recruiter 472, and she belonged to Mistress Felicia, just as Hannah and Christine did. She had no collar at her neck, no mark to identify her as a servant of Mistress, but something slicker, warmer than lust teased its way deeper in her pussy when she realized her enslavement did not require one.

The trio moved like shadows across the lobby, making their way past tall sculptures and commemorative plaques bathed in pools of golden light. In this place, the careful illusion of corporate responsibility needed to be maintained, reminding the outside world of the company’s humanitarian work in the fields of technology and medicine. The trappings of deception were elaborate, to better hide the dark truths hidden away underneath.

Alexis barely glanced at these reminders of her old life.

How strange that she had once desired to be a Mistress.

Suddenly, she wished her will and resolve had been stronger—perhaps it would have made her a more valued prize. Mistress Felicia might have welcomed a protracted struggle, amused by the challenge of a would-be usurper whose thoughts she could bend for her own purposes.

The heat inside Alexis’ stuffy lab coat rose up deliciously against her flushed skin. Again she wanted to take it off—yank it open, let it slip off her shoulders, let the world see her in nothing but heels and lustful adoration.

Christine’s whisper came over her shoulder. “472. Enable.”

Alexis halted in mid step, loving how her body became stiff with attention. “472, Enabled.”

“Where is the nearest security station located?”

Alexis swayed only a little in her heels as the requested factoid rushed forth in her mind. “Near the exit. Down the East end of the hall, right fifty meters and right again.”

She pictured the massive round desk staffed with guards, and knew that getting past it would involve more than a nod of the head and the wave of a security pass.

No matter. She knew what came next. There was ritual to follow. The board of directors would piece together what had happened, but beyond all other considerations a show of power to humble them was necessary. Mistress Felicia had reached into the heart of their domain, brainwashing three females whom She now owned.

Theft and sabotage were of secondary importance. The slaves of Mistress now obeyed Her every whim. There was to be no question of this.

Alexis’ right hand dipped into the coat, felt the grip of the light pistol even before Christine instructed her.

The commands sank into her mind and flared into love and lust and purpose—she was entranced again, barely aware when she gave a shudder and strode off.

Hannah and Christine flanked Alexis, their lips curved in mirror smiles, aroused by the knowledge of displaying themselves as the drones they were. The trio walked briskly, the sound of Alexis’ heels making dull echoes, striking a tempo that soothed all their minds.

Unseen cameras would track their presence from far above, recording flashes of them as they paced along, passing from darkness to light to darkness. Perhaps the directors would conclude that Dr. Rhinde had betrayed them of her own free will, parading a pair of hypnotized sluts as she strode out of the building and disappeared forever. Only after expert analysis had recognized telltale signs of trance in all three would they know the truth.

Many of the women on that board would watch with a special sense of horror. The security tapes would be a warning to them. This could be you.

A promise too, if Mistress is so inclined. Alexis felt another shiver as a mental picture of collared director-sluts, gazing at each other across a conference table, floated in her mind.

The trio reached the next corner, tensed as they went around it. Up ahead was the security desk, centered underneath a faint spotlight, about ten meters away. The exit—a series of steel-reinforced glass doors—stood beyond it, affording a partial view of the executive parking lot.

Alexis drew the pistol from her coat pocket and kept it close to her side. The metal felt cold against her naked thigh, but she moistened between her legs as her dazed expression shifted to a friendly smile.

She made her way towards the station without altering her pace, keeping in the dark as much as she could. The two gray-uniformed guards present at the station looked up as they heard the click of her heels, but neither took a hostile stance, waiting patiently as the trio of silhouettes approached. Some of the high-level researchers often kept unusual hours.

One of the guards, bald and broad-shouldered, stood up from his seat and slowly rounded the desk, a nightstick jiggling at his hip. He held up his hand, bidding his colleague to remain seated.

Then frowned, as he scrutinized the shadows in the dark.

“What the—”

Both men froze as the women emerged into the light. They recognized Dr. Rhinde, but the other two...

Eyes glazed over. Staring off into space. One of them wearing a studded leather collar on her neck.

Jesus, both of them fucking naked-

Alexis remembered the heavy pistol in her left hand and raised it. The trance sharpened her senses, relaxed her muscles. She aimed the weapon with ease and perfect clarity.

“Mike, she’s got a fucking—”

Phfftum. Phfftum.

The two guards stared in wide-eyed shock at the tiny, yellow-feathered darts protruding from their chests, and the surprise remained frozen on their faces as they collapsed. The one who had been sitting slumped into his chair and was still, but the other went into convulsions as soon as he hit the floor. Alexis observed his thrashings, her mind suddenly clear as she coldly weighed possibilities ranging from an allergic reaction to tranquilizer overdose.

White foam dribbled out of the guard’s mouth, but the gasping sounds he made only lasted a few seconds. Then the convulsions stopped.

Alexis stood still, the tranquilizer gun held high. There was little doubt that security cameras had recorded everything, and she squeezed her thighs together, her pussy crying out in pleasure. She savored the revelation of her total obedience to Mistress almost as much as knowing she had been blooded in Her service.

Hannah went to the corpse lying on the floor, her movements languid. Her legs parted a little as she bent down and snatched the white rectangular card clipped on the belt, but Christine’s eyes remained focused on the glass doors beyond the security desk. Somewhere out in the parking lot, twin headlights flashed briefly.

“Mistress has made arrangements for our recovery. We must leave the premises at once.”

Her charges stiffened in unison, and surrendered to the slow orgasm. Alexis remembered to look up, hoping the unseen security cameras captured the depth of their submission—the power Felicia held over each of Her slaves.

Hannah went to the door, swiped the electronic key inside the lock. A light flashed green, and she leaned against the handle.

Moments later, Christine and Alexis were following her outside, in the brisk night air.

Alexis’ heels now rasped as she walked on the newly paved asphalt, the white parking lines almost incandescent underneath the buzz of neon lights. She kept her back straight as she walked, remembering that exterior cameras would track her as she vanished in the dark.

Once she and the others had cleared a line of decorative bushes that drew a halfway mark across the lot, they came to a standstill.

The black limousine parked at the far end rolled forward, moving like a glossy shadow. Lights caressed its obsidian exterior and glided on the surface like the limpid thoughts off Alexis’ brain; it turned into a lazy arc, and came to a halt before them with the precision of a taxiing aircraft.

Hannah swung the massive door open and climbed inside.

Alexis’ heart was beating faster, her hard nipples swelling against the lab coat as she followed.

She had no trouble easing her way inside the spacious confines. Two stretch seats faced each other; Hannah had slid on the right, staring towards the back of the vehicle. The satchel bag she carried rested at her feet.

Alexis settled in the opposite seat, dropping her suitcase on the right-hand side. The beige saddle leather felt cool against her bare ass. She kept her knees together, but knew it wouldn’t be long before she juiced underneath. Seeing Hannah facing her, so entranced and obedient, was enough to leave her breathless.

Christine climbed in at last, pulled the heavy door shut and cuddled up next to Alexis.

The limo drove off. Alexis sank into the seat, and marveled at the strings Mistress had pulled, knowing that she herself dangled on one of them. She waited patiently, cradled in the tangle of Christine’s arms, enjoying the feel of her controller’s nude breasts pressing against her side.

Any other thought she had vanished as Christine’s warm breath glided against her neck.

After a moment, Christine turned to Hannah. “We shall soon bow in the presence of Mistress. Her instructions are clear: no slave may come near without first receiving Her gift of mindless trance.”

The woman who had been Hannah Demsky tore her eyes from the collar, and moaned as Christine’s dominant glare melted her into submission. Her legs parted slightly, her lovely, auburn-tufted pussy slick with need.

“Kneel and prepare yourself.”

Something like gratitude flashed across Hannah’s face, but it was lost in the swell of desire. She slid off the seat and fell to her knees in one liquid motion, though the limousine swayed a little as it swung onto a large boulevard, heading for the nearby expressway.

Christine untangled herself from Alexis and shifted towards the edge of the stretch seat. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, shuddering a little as her hands reached up behind her neck, touching the collar.

There was a moment of hesitation. A reluctance to act.

Then there was a tiny snapping sound, as though metal was being sheathed, and Christine’s hands came away.

Holding the collar.

Alexis mewled, caught between envy and desire as Christine gingerly raised Hannah’s chin with two fingers, and slipped the control device around the young woman’s neck. Her fingers withdrew and-

Snap. Hisssss.

Hannah’s eyes lit up instantly. Her lips curved into a slow, gradual smile, as if a profound revelation had taken place. She straightened at once, rose up and fell back into her seat. Crossing her legs with the same grace and poise Christine had shown only a moment ago, she raised a hand and stroked the leather collar around her neck.

“I,” she breathed, “am recruiter 471.”

“You have been a most cooperative subject, Dr. Rhinde. Mistress will be pleased.”

Alexis snapped out of trance at the sound of Hannah’s voice, but the wave of submissive pleasure did not leave her. She had no idea how long she’d been under—hadn’t even realized she had been under—but a quick glance towards the tinted window told her they were dashing down the expressway, getting very close to the local airport.

Ten? Fifteen minutes? The distant whine of jet engines rumbled overhead, as the limousine switched lanes in order to take the next exit.

“Don’t worry Dr. Rhinde. I’ve merely taken an opportunity to deepen your conditioning. The confusion will pass in a moment.”

Alexis tried to focus on what had put her under and wondered, half-hoping, if the memory would sink her back into trance; the last thing she remembered was Hannah’s husky voice, telling her and Christine to listen and sleep.

Hannah. She still sat across from them. Still smiled. Her hands covered one another, resting casually on her knee.

The collar had transformed her from slave to seductress.

“Thanks to you,” Hannah continued, “your company has been effectively neutralized. The most advanced control devices, developed or stolen by you, are now in our possession. We have copied and erased all useful data on your network. Funds used to finance your research efforts have been transferred to one of our secret accounts.

“Mistress Felicia will be delighted by the offer of such gifts of course, but they pale in comparison to the acquisition of three very devoted slaves.”

Alexis legs twitched as the lust simmered between them.

“I... am pleased that Mistress is pleased, but...”

The guilt she felt at making a request was too much. She bit her lip and looked down.

“What is it, Dr. Rhinde?”

Alexis stole a side glance, saw Christine, wide-eyed and slumped in the seat beside her, and said, “No slave may come near without first receiving Her gift of mindless trance.”

Hannah laughed.

“Do not worry, Dr. Rhinde. A number of precautions have been taken. You have been rendered fully obedient. Of course, wearing this collar would deepen your devotion to Her a thousandfold, but it would almost certainly twist and bend your thoughts in a most permanent fashion. Even when it is removed, a slave’s every thought revolves around the worship of Mistress. Isn’t that so, Christine?”

Christine’s answer came from somewhere inside the dream that held her captive. There was the faint hint of distress in her voice.

“Yes. I... want... can’t stop thinking... about...”

Her fingers reached up, touched her neck, searching for something.

“You remember your old life, don’t you?” Hannah pressed.

“Yes.”

“Your family? Your friends? Your job at the company?”

“Yes. I remember. All of it.”

“But you don’t want to go back to that life, do you?”

“N-nooo.”

“And why is that, Christine?”

Christine’s lips trembled. She squirmed on the seat, her knees drifting apart a little, as if to allow invisible fingers to ravish her.

“My old life means nothing. It is a meaningless existence. I belong to Felicia Prime. I live to serve and to obey Her.”

“But you were tricked, weren’t you? You remember what happened—what Dr. Rhinde did to you, back in the lab?”

“The manner of my enslavement is unimportant,” Christine breathed, each word making her hips jerk in pleasure. “I am a slave. The only thing that matters is that I belong to Her.”

Hannah smiled back at Alexis, pleased by the demonstration. “As you can see, the collar is a powerful instrument. In a real sense, it is more unique than the slave it controls. Each device is designed, fitted and programmed for a specific purpose, while slaves can serve in a variety of functions. Identity and selfhood are trivial concepts; they lose all meaning once the slave wears her collar—the device reshapes her into whatever instrument Mistress desires.

“Soon, Christine and I will be properly, thoroughly induced, and we will join the legion of women who already worship Mistress Felicia. Perhaps we will be selected as recruiters, perhaps not. It matters little what tasks we perform.

“It matters only that we obey.”

The words made Alexis gasp, and she felt a nudge as Christine swooned against her. The two quivered in a long, slow orgasm, Alexis biting her finger and stifling moans while Hannah’s words carried them both deeper into bliss.

The limousine slowed as it exited the expressway, leaving traffic behind and swerving onto a stretch of dirt road.

Flashing pinpoints of light circled the night sky above the distant, illuminated airport ahead. The vehicle passed several rusted signs cautioning against intrusion before reaching a lone, unmarked gate. Once through, it accelerated along a narrow, fenced-off road that stretched on for miles through open fields, heading towards an unlit part of the tarmac.

In the heartbeats that followed, Alexis slouched against Christine, weak with lust and anticipation of what was to come. Up ahead, she saw the silhouette of an unmarked private jet, prepped and ready for boarding,

Hannah leaned over and spoke: “We’re nearly there, Dr. Rhinde. Mistress Felicia now wishes you to sleep and to forget most of the journey that is to come. You have been programmed according to Her wishes. Hours from now, you will emerge from a deep and soothing trance.

“Once you do, you will regain full awareness of your surroundings. You will be free of all influence, save for a few commands implanted deep in your mind to avoid unpleasantness.

“There you will await the fate that Mistress has chosen especially for you.”

Had she been in lighter trance, Alexis might have stirred in panic at the thought of being free to think, but her eyes merely glazed over. She accepted the will of Mistress.

The limousine came to a stop, a dozen feet away from the jet plane.

Hannah made no move towards the door. Her gaze was fixed on Alexis, inscrutable.

“You may not remember any of this, Dr. Rhinde,” she said, her voice suddenly soft with emotion, “but Christine and I wanted to tell you just the same.”

She slid off the leather, kneeled on the carpeted floor between seats, and leaned forward, seeking Alexis’ lips with her own.

Their tongues danced languidly, Alexis losing herself into the kiss though she was too dazed to know why it felt so nice. Hannah’s fingers slipped between her thighs, searching for her cleft, and Alexis yielded to them, too.

The embrace continued for a long time. Finally, Hannah drew away, the taste of her still sweet on Alexis’ lips.

“Thank you, Dr. Rhinde,” she whispered. “For making us Hers.”

In the end, she remembered.

She remembered the kiss, followed by the snap of fingers. The gentle whispers that left her too entranced to resist. The dreams that sifted through her mind as she boarded the plane, and the moans that passed her lips as slaves more mindless than she commanded her obedience.

She remembered the flight. The long hours passing by, until darkness was chased away by a golden sunrise that filtered through thick, oval windows. She remembered the smooth approach and touchdown on a deserted landing strip, surrounded by miles of hills and forest.

She remembered the faint morning chill as she stepped out of the plane. The jagged, snowcapped mountains surging along the horizon. Remembered the way she breathed—shallow and fast—and not knowing if it was the high altitude, or the voice of Hannah, telling her how aroused and submissive she’d become.

There were other flashes too. Climbing into a dark gray SUV, with Christine and Hannah flanking her. A long drive down a winding road of gravel, past electric gates and cameras.

A lone complex beyond the trees, standing on top of a hill.

An oddly-shaped mass of concrete, steel and glass.

She saw no slaves outside, only the peaceful wilderness around them, as they stepped out of the vehicle.

But inside, the hive of Mistress thrived.

Three slaves waited to greet them on their knees in the wide, cavernous entrance. Behind them, a swarm of other females went about their tasks, wearing lycra and collars and empty smiles. The whole collective throbbed in one shared pulse of obedience, each slave ensnared in the hypnotic rhythm that commanded Mistress’ pleasure.

Christine and Hannah were quickly whisked away by a pair of lovely fetish chaperones, with knee-high stiletto boots and painted nipples.

The remaining slave, similarly attired, was a pretty girl with ash-bond hair—young enough to be her teenage daughter—who bowed ceremoniously, as if welcoming an honored guest.

She remembered following this pretty blonde girl, turning her back on the other slaves who hustled about the complex. Remembered the swell of confusion as she went down the gray, featureless, utilitarian corridors. She couldn’t think clearly because she wanted to leave the girl. Wanted to go back and join the other slaves. She belonged with them.

She remembered entering the White room. Being told to sit and wait.

She was puzzled. Confused. The pretty blonde girl with painted nipples bowed to her once again, before leaving her.

Alone.

She remembered the dreadful rush of full awareness that came moments later. It snapped her out of thoughtless obedience like an open-handed slap.

She remembered the way she’d been tricked. Seduced. Entranced into betraying everything she’d struggled to achieve.

She remembered it all.

Dr. Alexis Rhine, former scientist—and now slave—sat in a white room, on a white chair.

She glanced around, studying her surroundings with fresh eyes. What she really needed to do was to stand, to run, to escape this place while she still wanted to, but she couldn’t bring herself to move from the chair.

Evidently, she had not been left in full control of herself—only free enough to know that Mistress Felicia’s invisible leash was still tight around her neck.

Alexis tempered her cold rage. It would be of little help here.

The room was encased in white marble, veined in royal blue, stretching from floor to ceiling. A raised dais, positioned in the center, held a lone and ornate curule chair. Its curved legs were elaborately carved, its seat a cushion of ivory satin.

The grand entryway through which she had entered had been fitted with double doors of paneled oak, but Alexis couldn’t see them now without turning her head, since the dais and the chair faced the opposite wall. Statues stood in alcoved corners, provocative female nudes sculpted in sweeping, elegant curves, their hands and fingers frozen in unabashed, lustful adoration.

The forms were classical. The style, most certainly not.

Goddesses of Greek Myth, as owned as the slaves that worship Felicia, Alexis reflected sourly. Each figure was fitted with a control collar, shiny and black against ivory-pale necks. Not even statues were permitted the luxury of free minds in this place.

Alexis paused her observations to reflect. This is an audience chamber.

She puzzled over the conclusion, trying to isolate the impulse-trigger in her mind. She clearly recalled being told to sit on the chair, but that made little sense.

Christine and Hannah had been led somewhere else—a place where what was left of their minds would be erased before they were turned into slaves—but she’d been told to sit. Here.

She still had heels on. And the buttoned-up lab coat, which covered her down to her upper thighs, if she stretched it hard enough.

Her place wasn’t on the chair, it was on the floor, nude and collared. Dreaming of fingering herself while Mistress Felicia sat from above and watched, trying to decide how much of a mind She’d allow Her slave to keep before teaching her games of tongueplay.

Alexis sucked in a breath, sensing the surge of mindless desire and fleeing the image before it could sink her into trance. The need to yield and serve Mistress was still there, throbbing between her legs like a cello.

She tried to concentrate, but the flush of arousal, barely stymied by her awareness of the danger, teased its way back into her loins. The fact that she was helpless would only make things worse—it would remind her how wonderful it felt to be owned... controlled...

No! Focus!

She swallowed. Perhaps the fierce will she held on to was illusion. Christine and Hannah could have implanted so many triggers in her mind—hidden impulses and yearnings which would have her back on her knees, begging for enslavement even before she realized what was happening.

What if her awareness, her ‘free mind’ was now the artificial construct? A shallow layer of consciousness that existed only on the surface of her brain? Maybe her core identity had already been deeply altered and reshaped, into the servant she was destined to become. Her slave-mind would take over the moment Felicia appeared and snapped her fingers.

Or sooner, if I give in to the lust now. All she needed was to unbutton her coat and play with her nipples—the ecstasy of submission alone would have her sinking off the cushion and cumming in moments.

Perhaps Felicia wouldn’t have to snap her fingers after all. She’d find an already mindless and obedient slave by the time she arrived.

Something like relief washed over Alexis when she heard the heavy doors swing open behind her.

The slow, measured clap of glass platform heels on marble announced Felicia’s arrival as plainly as a resounding gong, and yet, when the stunning redhead strolled into view, Alexis wondered if she’d guessed wrong.

The sensual stance. The dazed smile. The nipples, painted in glossy red...

Alexis caught a glimpse of rich, flame-red locks, and sat transfixed.

The tall woman was a revelation of grace and beauty, making her way around the dais with the patient ease of a stalking predator. Her skin was as pale and smooth as the statues around them, her delicate, freckled shoulders rolling ever so gently, matching the sway of her hips. Her firm, tear-shaped breasts rose and fell with each panther-like stride, ensnaring the eye in voluptuous curves.

She didn’t flaunt jewelry so much as she displayed it. A golden necklace—a thick band, really—was fastened around her neck. Diamond earrings found matching sets at the tip of silver half-moon rings that pierced each of her nipples. Two more pairs of round silver hoops hung around her nether lips, as shiny as her shaved, glistening slit.

She came to a standstill before Alexis, her arms at her sides, before pivoting effortlessly on her heels.

Her nether rings jingled like tiny bells. With a slight bow, she smiled over her shoulder, and indulged Alexis with a long view of her ass. The smooth, rosy flesh begged for the softness of lips and tongue, but Alexis remained frozen on the chair.

If the slave was disappointed, she didn’t show it. She twirled again, stood still for a flurry of heartbeats, and feathered down to her haunches in one sweeping motion.

She arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, poised like a hypnotized gymnast entranced by her own sensual routine. Her platform heels almost elevated her on a level plane with the dais; she parted her knees, slowly revealing the inside of her thighs.

And waited patiently for Alexis’ hungry gaze to caress her between the legs.

The woman’s oval face, warm and endearing underneath the fiery deluge of her hair, held an expression of blissful contentment. Her delicate mouth was parted slightly, the lips painted in the same glossy red found on the tip of her breasts.

Her gorgeous eyes gleamed, gray and fathomless as the moonlit ocean.

She reached out, slipped her delicate hands between Alexis’ thighs.

It was beyond erotic. Alexis felt her legs opening of their own accord, felt her mind doing the same. The slave’s agile fingers roamed over Alexis’ skin, teasing their way upwards, brushing the undersides of her quivering thighs.

The awareness that she might slip back into trance only deepened Alexis’ pleasure. Maybe her pussy would beg for the climax that would melt her thoughts and make her Felicia’s.

The slave looked up in silent adoration, perhaps sensing the effect of her touch. She leaned forward, resting her knees against the dais. Her fingers slipped underneath the lapels of Alexis’ lab coat; the shadow of a smile passed her lips when Alexis’ hushed moans became more insistent.

A few more minutes of this and there would be no command or word-trigger spoken by Mistress. Alexis would be spellbound, juicing on a slave’s finger, entranced beyond all hope.

The slave withdrew her hand.

Alexis groaned and snapped her head down, too dazed to know if she’d cried in relief or frustration. It took all of her resolve not to glide off the chair as rich, red curls flowed like silk between her legs.

The pointed, rosy tongue began to lap up and down her slit, gently probing, tasting her essence and finding her ready to submit. Alexis knew she was being readied for Mistress, entranced by tongueplay and pleasured into thralldom.

Her whole body began to writhe on the satin cushion, caught in the ecstasy of worship. Soon came the short, strangled cries as the slave nuzzled her throbbing clit out of its sheath... drew it forth between her lips, sucked on it gently... so gently...

Oh God.

Alexis had become an instrument, obeying the Will of Mistress, mindfucking herself into slavery. She bucked in the chair, gripping the sides, crying out as she rode the slave’s face. She might have fallen off, but for the hands that circled around to grab her ass, holding her firmly in place.

Something inside Alexis still fought, but it was too late. No... no... yes... oooohhhh...

The climax engulfed her, and she cried out. The part of her that could still think—barely—waited for the Truth of Mistress to bind her at last. She rammed her hips forward, cresting on the wave of pleasure, tipping her head back while the slave’s tongue impaled her.

The moment of revelation never came.

Alexis’ crash back to reality left her quivering on the chair. She looked around, flushed and speechless. The fog in her brain had lifted, leaving her clear-headed.

She shivered as the slave blew tender kisses on her cleft, and remembered to look down. The slave confounded her with a smile of mischief, her red curls soft against Alexis’ leg, her cheek warm as it rested on the inner thigh.

Her gray eyes sparkled in delight.

“Welcome, Dr. Rhinde. I am Felicia Prime.”

The tense silence might have welcomed laughter, but Alexis merely stared.

Felicia Prime?

“You’ll forgive my skepticism, but I find that hard to believe.”

The gorgeous redhead wasn’t vexed at all. “I assure you it is the truth.”

Alexis nearly scoffed. “Then our positions would be reversed.”

She steeled herself and waited, unconvinced by this sudden, improbable twist. “Felicia” remained unperturbed. Delighted, even. She nuzzled Alexis’ nether lips, grinned when Alexis gripped the edges of her seat once more.

“Oh, how to convince you?”

The spark of mirth hadn’t gone away. She took a moment to compose herself, and closed her eyes

Her voice took on a dreamlike quality. “As we speak, Christine is in one of our processing nodes on level seven. She has already been secured to a table, and will be undergoing mindwipe in a matter of moments.

“Drones sigma nine and seventeen are supervising the session. They have undergone reinforcement programming earlier, and have been directed to make Christine fully obedient. Sigma nine herself will then be slated back into the processing queue, to be reassigned as pleasure drone along with Christine. Seventeen will assist them both in their entrancement phase.”

She paused, eyes still closed, frowning in concentration.

“Hannah has been taken to one of our lower sub-sections. She is now unescorted, controlled only by means of trance vectors, which reinforce subliminal impulses and guide the various slaves to their assigned brainwashing stations. Her reorientation will involve deeper pleasure conditioning than what is usual at this stage. She will be released very soon.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and settled back on Alexis. “Convinced?”

Alexis gave a neutral shrug, hoping it might hide her astonishment. “You’ll be releasing Hannah, then?”

Felicia smiled. “Most certainly. She presents us with recruitment opportunities that outweigh other considerations. She will have no memory of her stay here, of course, but at night she will dream of the sluts she is to enslave for her Mistress. She’ll wait patiently until she’s properly activated.

“She ought to be fully inducted, of course, but I confess I enjoy releasing girls who still have minds of their own. In many cases, the slave impulses slowly reassert themselves, and the girls find new ways to intensify their conditioning. In fact, they embrace the pleasure of submission; by the time they return with mesmerized females ready to be processed, most of them need very little adjustment.”

“And Christine?”

“Technically speaking, she was already primed for the second stage of enslavement by the time she arrived; however, she still retains a sense of self, which must be purged before she is assigned a collar. All our slaves are completely brainwashed before they are given one—the devices control them, but layers of redundancy insure total obedience. It is a delight to feel their thrall minds, pulsing in unison as they strive in their various tasks.

Alexis gripped the edges of the curule chair a little tighter. Felicia’s matter-of-fact tone belied the evil, seductive process she described, and that turned her on even more than Felicia’s tongue-teasing.

At least I can still think. Even with a Mistress’ mouth inches from my pussy.

“A delight to feel them, you say?”

Felicia nodded underneath the lush of red curls. “Yes. The transmitter module you so wisely apprehended. Every collar is fitted with one, and it allows me to peruse, monitor and adjust the thoughts of all my slaves. The carrier wave conveniently matches that of most wireless networks, allowing all of the modules to be linked to one Master device from a great distance.”

She paused, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

Alexis reflected for a moment. A faint grin spread across her face.

“Of course. The golden collar you’re wearing.”

Felicia positively beamed.

“Quite correct. With the flick of a thought, I can oversee the enslavement process of a given drone, direct a recruiter to initiate conditioning of her intended victims, or reward a servant with instant pleasure. The process is very similar to the synaptic override that is built into the control collars—a needle insert, linked to a central processor—but far more complex. In essence, I can virtually experience all of a slave’s sensations and thought processes.

“And I have. Many, many times.”

She gave a small, involuntary shiver.

Alexis sensed the unfulfilled longing behind it. Felt it, in the heat that flowed over her pussy in a long, dreamy sigh.

The sudden, intuitive flash came to her like lightning.

“The collar,” Alexis breathed softly. “You merge with the minds of thralls constantly, and it allows you to feel everything they feel.”

Understanding made her shift with excitement on the chair. Whatever precautions one took while using the collar wouldn’t amount to much. By its very nature, the device was a window into the souls of slaves who lusted only for obedience.

“You created the ultimate control device... ”

Alexis couldn’t bring herself to say and it enslaved you.

But Felicia was shaking her head.

“I wasn’t the one,” she said.

“We have no record of her name. It was purged from all databases long ago.”

Felicia Prime looked serene. “All that remained were schematics, control protocols, a well-developed methodology of enslavement, and a rather lengthy list of financial and real-estate assets. Whoever she was, her genius when it came to technology was uncontested. She studied the human brain for years before conducting her own private experiments.

“Had her pursuits been noble, she might have achieved great things. She was, however, a Mistress-to-be, and yearned to subjugate other minds.

“Early successes led to a number of key breakthroughs, and soon she owned her first slaves. Her marked preference for controlling women, and her desire to rule over them as Mistress, fueled her resolve. She refined her induction techniques, expanded her research, and eventually engineered the first control collars. She used them to leash unsuspecting victims, turning them into obedient, loving sluts.

“She reveled in the process of sexual conversion—lived for it, you might say. She was brilliant and dangerous and seductive, and ruled over an ever-increasing number of adoring slaves. Through careful planning she increased her wealth, expanded her recruitment activities, and furthered an agenda of enslavement and control.

“Her slaves obeyed her. Worshipped her. She wore her instrument of control—a golden collar which allowed her to shape and reshape slave minds as she wished.

“We don’t know why there was no feedback compensator built into the unit. The early blueprints make no mention of one. Perhaps she did not suspect of the dangers of melding her thoughts with those of slaves who had been thoroughly brainwashed. Perhaps she yearned to experience the bliss that comes with knowing that one is owned and obedient. In any case, years after her position had firmly been established, she selected her most valued, capable servant—a woman whose mind she had stolen in the early days of her rise as Mistress—and made arrangements for her own enslavement.

“On this point, we can only speculate. Some records mention a special addition to the drone lists, but no tracking information is provided. Other records flatly contradict this information, so it’s impossible to say. Perhaps she is still part of the organization she created, lusting and obeying as we speak, fulfilling her duties as a nameless drone. Perhaps she was sent elsewhere to expand the organization, again in a drone capacity.

Perhaps the information we have is a lie, and she was never enslaved at all; she could be orchestrating another conspiracy, waiting for the right time to return home and claim us all as her loyal servants. If she incorporated special subliminal safeguards in the base induction protocols she developed, all the drones in this facility—in all of our facilities—belong to her, and don’t even know it.

“In any case, the slave she selected became Mistress the moment she was given the golden collar. It mattered not to the other slaves that she had once been a drone, that she had been recruited as they were, that she had served and serviced Mistress as they had. She wore the control device, therefore she was Mistress.

“In her old life, she had been brilliant. Like her enslaver, a woman of science, of great intellect and skill. In some ways she was even more dedicated than her predecessor, having experienced firsthand the pleasure that is Mistress’ gift to each and every slave. In the years that followed, she devised new refinements for the collars. Streamlined the induction process. Experimented with new entrancement methods. She incorporated new advancements in technology to facilitate the command and control of the slaves she now ruled over.

“She took the name Sandra Prime.”

Felicia shuddered again. The mere utterance of the name filled her eyes with a longing Alexis could barely fathom.

“When the time came, she too, vanished. The golden collar was a reminder of a life spent enthralled, and it subtly reinforced her initial conditioning. She came to relive her own experiences as a drone, over and over. It was only a matter of time before she longed to join her sisters once again, embracing her former existence—but she knew the perils of doing so without safeguarding the organization’s direction and purpose.

“The search for the ideal candidate was surprisingly short. Many potential Mistresses were identified; one proved particularly apt at deciphering layers of conspiracy, before a slight misstep brought her at Sandra Prime’s feet, wearing a collar she’d stolen from one of the slaves sent to keep her under observation.

“Despite her initial (and most accidental induction), she proved remarkably able when the time came to replace Sandra Prime. Once programmed into the ideal Mistress, she continued the work begun by her predecessors.

“She wore the golden collar, and ruled over us as Erin Prime. She expanded our activities, oversaw the creation of new facilities such as this one. And as with the others, her recollections of thralldom—though short-lived—remained at the forefront of her mind. She had been instructed to take charge of Sandra Prime’s permanent enslavement, and witnessed her moment of surrender; that look of pure, undiminished joy at becoming a slave was something Erin Prime herself understood all to well.

“And yearned for.”

Felicia looked up meaningfully in Alexis’ eyes.

“Like all the Mistresses that came before her. And since.”

Alexis held Felicia’s steady gaze.

“How many?” she breathed. “How many Mistresses?”

Another shudder. Another dreamy stare.

“I am the seventh. Recruited three years ago, I served Tamara Prime as personal slave for one, before she selected me as a replacement. Her last command to me was to purge all of her thoughts and memories, and to assign her to the experimental conditioning wing of this facility.”

“As a test subject?”

“Of course. She had devised some of the new enslavement procedures herself, and longed for the opportunity to experience them firsthand. I’m pleased to say it led to an unqualified success—she became the first of a new breed. I’ve grown quite fond of using her since.”

Something flashed in Felicia’s eyes. Amusement? Nostalgia?

“Naturally, she’s quite happy to be used. To pleasure and serve anyone and everyone, in any way that her Mistress sees fit. The experiment she devised led to further refinements in our induction methods, and are now standard for the deep conditioning of pleasure drones.

“It’s a lengthy process to be sure, but one that holds very special rewards.”

Alexis’ head was spinning again. This complex, this whole conspiracy had taken on a life of its own. It fed upon itself, but also replenished its ranks with new talent.

And enslaved it.

Thralls embracing pleasure. Mistresses embracing slavery.

Caution forced Alexis to pause. Felicia’s intent, her whole mise en scène... all of it was becoming painfully obvious.

She looked down at the woman—the slavemistress, she decided—who was kneeling before her.

There was only one question left to ask.

“Do I have a choice?”

Felicia grinned. “Mistresses always have choices.”

In the prolonged silence that followed, the very statues around them seemed to be holding their breath.

Alexis finally nodded. “Tell me.”

Felicia rose up on her knees; still leaning upon the dais, she tilted her body forward a little, pressing between Alexis’ open legs.

She was tall. Despite the fact that one of them sat in the curule chair, Felicia’s ringed nipples brushed against the undersides of Alexis’ breasts.

“Your first choice is freedom. You may leave this room if you wish; an escort will be provided so you may safely exit the complex, and transportation will take you to the airfield. From there, you may request the destination of your choice. Arrangements have already been made to provide you with papers should you wish to leave the country.”

The pause was long enough for Alexis to arch an eyebrow.

“There is more to this, of course.”

Felicia nodded. “When you arrive at the airfield, one of the slaves that accompanies you will speak a verbal trigger. You will find yourself in trance one last time, and the memories you have of your travels to this place will be erased from your mind. This will not affect your recollections of the complex itself, or of this conversation—you will simply forget the how and the where.”

“A reasonable precaution.”

“In addition, you will be provided with a portion of the funds we stole from your employers. The total sum was sizable, and your allotment will insure a most comfortable retirement. It is a small price to pay for the data and material you so readily provided.”

Not that I had a choice, Alexis thought wryly.

“The funds will be transferred to a private account under your name, and there will be no hope of tracing anything back to us. All attempts to find your way back to this place, to uncover clues or connections pointing to a location, will be a futile endeavor.”

Alexis thought it over. “My former employers aren’t the forgiving type. They take a dim view of betrayal, even when the traitors happen to be helpless. Going back would be a death sentence for me, no matter where I choose to hide.”

Felicia shook her head. “The board of directors has been targeted for enslavement. Even though their clandestine programs have been crippled, they remain a possible threat. They would not alert the authorities about the thefts, of course, but they have other means of retaliation at their disposal.

“They will be dealt with in short order. The company itself will become one of the many fronts used to shield our activities.”

That brought a faint smile—ironic, as endings went—but a shiver of fear lurked behind Alexis’ thought. At last she was beginning to understand the scope of what she’d stumbled into.

“And my second choice?”

Felicia ran a suggestive finger along Alexis’ upper thigh. “Why, enslavement, of course.”

Alexis went stiff on the chair, then forced herself to relax. “Go on.”

“The process can be as simple, or complex as you desire. You may demand slow, gradual hypnotic conditioning, which will reshape your thoughts one at a time, or you may opt for more forceful methods, which will quickly break down any resistance and prepare you for full induction.”

Felicia lips had curved into a blissful smile.

“The memories of your old life will linger for a time, if only to remind you of the choice you made. Of the pleasure that comes with having chosen to become a slave. As time goes by, the memories will vanish, and you will sink deeper into your thrall’s existence. Never again will you think of, or dream about, the outside world.

“Your willingness to submit will translate into the deepest, most thorough obedience. In essence, you will become the perfect slave.”

Alexis tried to ignore the lust flaring in her sex. “You... speak as if this has taken place before.”

Felicia nodded. “Three other Mistresses-to-be came before you, in my tenure as Prime. All were recruited in circumstances similar to yours. One wore the collar at one time during her capture, but the other two did not.

“In the end, they all declined the first and third options offered to them, and chose enslavement instead.

“They live happy, entranced lives, and are among our most valued slaves. We take special care to shape them into jewels of obedient perfection.”

Alexis felt a dark shiver as the finger traced sensuously back and forth on her thigh, and wondered what kind of answer she’d give with Felicia’s tongue pressing against her cleft.

The fog of arousal obscured her thoughts anew. She tried to think past the dreamy longing, but three women had preceded her here—‘Mistresses to be’ who’d chosen to be thralls, becoming servants to a conspiracy where submission pulsed in the minds of slaves and Mistresses.

Heat bloomed between Alexis’ open legs, and she relished juicing before Felicia, knowing that the bliss she’d experienced in the last few hours would be nothing compared to what awaited her if she gave the word. If she meticulously outlined the manner of her enslavement... the way in which each of her thoughts would be crafted and reshaped... layers and layers of conditioning she’d submit to—willingly—until nothing but her desire to please Mistress remained.

She would serve. She would obey.

Mistress Felicia... Take me...

“You mentioned a third choice,” said Alexis, her voice strained with effort.

Felicia remained perfectly still. The smile had vanished, replaced with faint hope.

Alexis knew. They both did.

Hundreds of slaves—thousands—living, breathing drones who lusted for new direction and purpose. Who would take Alexis as Queen and Goddess, who would live to fulfill all of her dreams and aspirations. Who would do anything to please her every whim.

Who would bend and twist and shape the minds of other females, until they worshipped her, too.

Alexis struggled with herself. Her pussy yearned for Felicia’s mouth again, but she didn’t know where the climax would take her... what choice it might lead her to make. The woman kneeling before her would obediently lick and suck and tongue, so far gone in her own mindless pleasure she wouldn’t care if she created a new Mistress or a new slave.

With sudden, daring resolve, Alexis raised a hand to Felicia’s slender neck. Her fingertips brushed the golden band. Felt its cool against her touch.

Slave. Mistress.

Both. Neither.

Felicia, still on her knees, waited patiently. To claim, or be claimed.

Leaning forward, Alexis thought of Hannah as she rewarded Felicia with a chaste kiss. She pulled away just a little, and their lips warmed in the heat of each other’s breath.

A storm of lust now raged inside Alexis, and she could feel her heart drumming inside her chest, matching the pulsing pleasure inside her pussy.

She pressed a finger against Felicia’s lower lip. Slid it down to caress her chin.

And decided.

“Give me your tongue, slut,” she said.

Alexis Prime took a long, pensive look around the board room. This will take some getting used to.

She sat at the head of the table, but no one present was in a position to object. Dr. Barthelme, hunched over the polished mahogany surface, looked like he was having a heart attack. His flabby cheeks had gone purplish, his eyes bulged from their orbits as if ready to explode; the white shirt he wore was torn open, his red silk tie bouncing in his lap like a frenzied snake.

The low rasping sound that escaped his lips could have been mistaken for a strangled gasp, but the control collar—though fastened tightly around his trunk-like neck—did not interfere with his breathing.

The handful of other males who remained around the table made similar noises. A few rocked back and forth in their executive chairs; others slumped in their seats, their hands shaking like wet noodles at their sides.

Alexis savored the moment. Years of answering to her arrogant superiors had left a bitter taste in her mouth. From now on, things would be different.

A nude, collared christine stood at attention behind Alexis’ chair, whispering the enslavement mantra that kept her dazed; she was happy to be near Mistress, if only to emphasize the point. Things would be different indeed.

Of course, some of the men would have to be kept on for the time being, until their positions could be filled with a minimum of fuss. The collar interface wouldn’t make it easy, but this was trouble Alexis would have to put up with. Evidently, physiological differences between males and females accounted for very poor motor function control—Vice-Director Wallace had confirmed as much when he’d passed out.

Perhaps the strain of conversion had been too much. He made an occasional gurgle as he drooled on the gray carpet floor.

Intended design flaw? Alexis thought so. Her predecessors had been quite gender specific in their pursuits. Vindictively so.

Then again. Maybe Alexis’ takeover just didn’t sit too well with Wallace and the rest.

The ladies, on the other hand, were faring much better. A few of them were already fully enthralled, responding well to induction commands from their collars; Alexis did a quick head count, noting with satisfaction how doctors Salinger and Nakera sat upright in their chairs, dreamy smiles etched on their faces, their minds awash with glee as Mistress commanded their will and attention.

The others moaned in their seats, their limbs twitching as they attempted to resist. Eve Wiedeman seemed especially cognizant in her struggles, her frantic eyes riveted on Alexis as she fought the evil pleasure building up inside her.

“Can’t... won’t... let you... get away... with this...”

Alexis smiled back at her, impressed. “Most of the others have already begun to accept the change. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you Eve. Your resistance is worthy of reward.”

She concentrated. The golden band around her neck was a snug fit—identical to Felicia’s, save for its size and a few key improvements. The slender needle that ran through the back of her neck tingled as the device responded instantly to her mental command.

Eve gasped in her chair and went stiff, her mouth curving into a silent cry of orgasm.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said Alexis, turning her attention to the others, “Thank you for attending today’s meeting. I’m sure my return comes as a shock to all of you, but I trust that in a few moments, all of you will be quite used to the idea.

“I’ve taken the liberty to dismiss my other slaves for the moment. A few of your subordinates will need control collars as well, in order to insure a smooth transition; they won’t be back for a while. slave christine will remain here with us, and the others will return in time to escort some of you to nearby recruitment facilities.

“Sadly, I must inform you that a number of changes will be implemented shortly. Gender policies, for one, will undergo drastic revisions, in keeping with our new objectives. A number of you will not be coming back.”

Wallace moaned and flapped around on the floor. Alexis ignored him.

“Those of you who are staying will be assigned to new tasks. The whole process will involve quite a bit of reorientation of course, but I know you will all be quite thankful for this once I’ve changed your minds.”

She paused, glancing at the few empty seats around the table. Vacancies would be filled easily enough. The right kind of technical and managerial talent could be lured by generous job offers—career women who would make fine additions, once they were properly indoctrinated.

It wouldn’t all be outside talent, of course. At Alexis’ behest, slavemistress felicia had begun a thorough search of the Prime database. Somewhere in the organization, former mistresses obeyed and served in a variety of menial tasks. Alexis was determined to find them.

Reshaping their minds would probably pose a difficult challenge, but one Alexis was eager to take up. Each mistress had her own unique skills. Each had ruled competently over her slaves. Each had expanded the ranks of the organization, improving induction technology and techniques. That kind of expertise would not go to waste.

With luck, once their conditioning had been readjusted, they would be happy to serve as personal assistants—slavemistresses all—to Alexis Prime. Their drive and genius would provide her with an invaluable tool.

And there were other useful secrets too, buried somewhere in the Prime database. Information on choice slave candidates. Detailed files on a host of rival organizations. Intricate projects and recruitment schemes shelved by her predecessors. A whole history of enslavement, waiting to be discovered.

And I’ll be the one writing the next chapter, Alexis thought.

A few of the women cried softly as they shook in their chairs. Others moaned—“Oh, Mistress!”—as they succumbed to the pleasure.

Alexis paid them no heed, too engrossed in her own thoughts.

The road ahead was nebulous, but then, she had no illusions as to where it would lead. Somewhere inside her, the memory of her own enslavement had left its mark. It throbbed softly, and filled her with longing. In the years to come, the collar she wore would tempt her with the lure of hypnotized, brainwashed minds, pulsing in a chorus of obedience.

Returning her attention to the table, Alexis felt the faintest trace of envy for the sluts who would soon worship her.

Felicia lied after all. Mistresses don’t really have choices.

Alexis sighed. She would believe the lie.

For a little while, at least.