The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

98.

Frances dominated the board meeting, but even so, eyes kept sliding to Meredith’s legs as she stood attentively beside her mother.

Frances had explained beforehand, fondly but dismissively, how they’d decided Meredith wasn’t ready for the job at Warner Phipps. “She’s more personal assistant material,” Frances had said, and Meredith smiled bashfully on cue.

She wore a light-grey blazer and pleated skirt, with a tasteful little blue tab at her collar, but the skirt was short enough make her mother’s now-habitual minis seem demure. Mindless hours under the Instructress’ influence had toned her legs, and the sheer hose let the board see every contour. Her makeup was light and her hair was in a ponytail: she looked like a well-groomed teenager, but an inhumanly well-behaved one.

Frances herself favored high collars and scarves, which only highlighted how much leg she was showing. She still played vampire-whore often enough to keep the bruises fresh. She begged to show them off, when it amused Mistress to let her.

Meredith waited with tranced poise at Frances’ elbow, warm in the stares but focused only on watching her mother for signals. Refilling her mother’s water glass, she actually heard someone gasp. She smoothly handed down documents from her portfolio at each nod. Her pussy heated further when she bore one paper to a board member at the far end, parading past everyone, meeting the woman’s gaze with a plastic smile.

She remembered being that plastic girl when she’d helped fire Anthony. It put a subliminal wiggle into her walk as she returned to Frances’ side.

Afterward, she followed Frances back to the office a meek two steps behind. Her mother ignored her, listening to an earpiece and occasionally agreeing with whatever it told her. Meredith had watched her receive the posthypnotic suggestion to wait until now to make the call. At the other end, a spandex girl had started a playback that told Frances when to speak or nod while Mistress’ voice indoctrinated her.

Once the office door closed, Meredith’s own programming shifted her from public passivity. Setting down the meaningless files, she walked to where her mother gazed out the window, still engrossed in the “conversation.” She put her finger between Frances’ eyes, watching them close as the older woman straightened. Frances stayed asleep as Meredith took the earpiece off and spoke into the mike.

“Disengaged.”

The other slave didn’t respond, but Mistress’ voice cut off. Meredith put the earpiece down on her mother’s desk and snapped her fingers.

Frances blinked as she woke. Mistress liked her to be dazed after trance.

Before she could speak, Meredith smiled into her eyes. “You did very well, Mother. Mistress will be pleased.”

“Oh!” Frances smiled back automatically. “I—I remember saying what came into my mind . . .” Her smile deepened and she inhaled sharply. “It was like being a puppet, dancing on strings.”

Meredith nodded. In fact, Frances had been programmed to channel her own natural skills in the meeting, and she’d been more like her old self than Mistress had let her act for a while. But Mistress would be very pleased at how easily Frances accepted that as obedience.

Frances’ face fell. “At least I forgot about Leslie, for a while.” She reached tentatively to stroke Meredith’s cheek. “I’m so sorry how that turned out, baby. I know how much you cared for her.”

It had been a few days since the scenario with Leslie, and Mistress had been sending Frances to work to keep her occupied. As usual, though, it haunted her whenever she was off-task.

Meredith leaned into the caress. “It’s all right, Mother. Most of that was just her hypnosis, making me think I did. And Mistress has erased all the bad feelings.” She covered Frances’ hand with her own. “And I’m sorry for persuading you to try that crazy scheme to beat her at her own game.”

They hugged. “Oh, Meredith, I’m just easily persuaded anyway. And it was my fault—I should have known by then never to try to think for myself.” Frances shivered in her arms, then leaned back.

“Baby, would you hypnotize me?”

“What?”

Her mother backed away, looking at her appealingly. “I just want to go to sleep. Not think.” She grasped her wrist, where the sleepwatch would be if Mistress had let her wear it off the estate. “When Alice calls with some instructions you can wake me—if she wants you to.

“Can you just say that phrase that puts me under?” Her grin was fragile. “Once I’m in trance, you might be able to get me to do all kinds of things.”

Meredith smiled. “Have you asked Mistress to teach you self-hypnosis?”

“Oh. No.” Frances looked abashed and aroused. “I couldn’t hypnotize myself. Hypnotizing anyone takes willpower, and I don’t—

“Besides, baby, I need to be hypnotized now.”

Meredith nodded and went to her, leading her to her desk. “Use your computer, Mother. Inside the special software there are some hypnotic programs. They’re designed to capture the minds of even very stressed Type-As.”

“I’ll be enslaved before it boots up,” Frances joked, but her voice quivered. “Oh, those . . .”

“The visuals are still now, Mother, so they won’t have an effect.” Meredith leaned over her shoulder, pointing at the screen. “You can choose a spiral, concentric circles, liquid effects—and you can also choose your script.”

Frances looked at that menu. “But will they all be about empowerment or self-confidence or—”

Meredith kissed the top of her head. “In the version for free people, Mother. This one is customized for natural slaves like us. See—’Submission,’ ‘Command Retention,’ ‘Devotion’—”

“That one,” Frances whispered.

Meredith let her click the selections, and in a moment stepped away from the desk. Her mother’s face swiftly went blank as the flickering lights spun across it, and the voice began to drone from the speakers about how deeply she adored her owner, how pleasurable it was to yield her will. Meredith kept looking at the screen, wondering vaguely why she couldn’t look away.

Something flashed. Frances was programmed to ignore it, but now Meredith had something new to obey. Leaning back past her entranced mother, she typed, replacing the Devotion program with another one. She typed “Office Task Initialization,” then straightened when the swirling images changed into a circular pattern.

Already hypnotized, her mother submitted to the change without blinking. When Meredith saw her nod and reach under her miniskirt, she made her own call to report.

Slave Thirty answered, and Meredith dampened—she was so completely under control, other slavegirls could manage her. As she wondered how Mistress was more enjoyably passing her time, Slave Thirty put her into a trance. Then her mind emptied of anything but answers.

Meredith awoke putting the phone away, but she knew she’d been under for a while. She’d just called for the car. She stepped over and turned off the hypnotic program.

Frances stared at the screen, as if still transfixed by the throbbing spiral she’d surrendered to. The indoctrination audio had gone silent, letting her mind absorb its prior instructions.

“Time to obey, Mother.”

Frances came to bewildered awareness.

“Mistress wants us at the estate, Mother.”

“Of course.” She blinked again, and tapped the computer wistfully, as though hoping it would entrance her again. “But . . . I have meetings . . .”

She looked up at Meredith, suddenly resolute. They smiled at each other, as Frances deliberately put her hand back between her nyloned thighs. “No. Alice summoned us. We must obey. Nothing else matters.” She smiled, a faint echo of her determined self. “That program worked well on me, Meredith. I am devoted. I will obey.” Her voice hardened. “Clear my calendar.”

Meredith straightened. “At once, Mother.” She went to the door and then minced out to the staff area. Her mother’s office manager looked at her, clearly uncomfortable. The boss’ daughter had suddenly been installed as some sort of assistant, without any apparent function other than lackey—and dressed like some horny male executive’s fantasy.

“Ms Stevens needs to reschedule her meetings for the rest of the day,” Meredith told her, smiling as mindlessly as she could. “Could you take care of that, please?”

“Yes—Miss—but she needs to—”

“Thank you!” Meredith half-curtseyed. “I will tell Ms Stevens how helpful you were.” Pirouetting, she returned to the office and shut the door.

Straightening beside the desk, she saw her mother’s gaze adrift again. “They have their instructions, Mother.” Her coldness seemed to restore Frances’ ardor, and her eyes refocused as she looked up at Meredith. “They will obey. Nothing will keep us from attending Mistress.”

“As she commands,” Frances whispered, and then rose, staring at her daughter. “She’ll deepen us, won’t she? When we’re with her again?”

“Yes, Mother. She will certainly work on you again.”

Meredith’s phone rang. The car was ready. Suddenly Frances wilted. “I was just so ready to be hers, but it doesn’t last. I’m so weak.

“Baby? Could you please hypnotize me now? Just so I can walk out of here?”

Meredith went to her. “Mother, we’re both in the thrall of a powerful hypnotist. She’s been conditioning us to be perfect slaves.” Her mother nodded, wide-eyed. “She has the right to expect us to be able to obey her, even when we’re not in trance. Doesn’t she?”

A tear came to Frances’ eye as she nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right, of course, dear.” She closed her eyes, then opened them as she squared her shoulders.

“We owe our hypnotist that,” she said. “At least that.” Leaning up, she put her lips to Meredith’s.

“Thank you, baby!” She smiled grimly toward the door. “Let’s show them how Alice’s slaves obey her!”

Gathering up the portfolio and the other things that disguised them as free women, Meredith followed Frances out of the office, admiring her mother’s posture and her firm stride. As the frazzled staff tried to detain her, Frances parried each attempt.

In the elevator, she trembled, but kept smiling, and the security camera didn’t catch her collapsing into Meredith’s arms. When they got out and saw a strapping young woman in black and yellow livery and wraparound shades holding the limousine’s door for them, Frances mewed with relief, but got into the car without showing anything else. As they started to roll, she just sat there, shaking and staring.

After a moment, the privacy shield slid down. The driver kept watching the road, but there was another spandex girl beside her in a bikini, looking back at them. Meredith didn’t know her number.

“Ms Stevens. Mistress wills that you be hypnotized now.”

Frances sobbed her relief. “Oh—what will—”

“First you must undress.”

“I obey!” Frances nimbly squirmed out of her clothes, handing them to Meredith and blushing at her eagerness. When she was bare, she sat upright in her seat like a schoolgirl ready for lessons.

“Ms Stevens. Would you like to masturbate before you enter trance?”

Frances’ hand was on her thigh when she stopped. “I—no.” She blushed again and looked at her daughter. “No. Thank you. I’m ready to submit to trance.”

“Mindless slavebitch.”

“I have no mind.” Frances went rigid. “I will o.bey.”

“Your daughter will instruct you. As you listen, you will masturbate. You will believe and obey.”

“I will masturbate,” Frances intoned, starting to stroke herself lightly. “I will b . . . believe a-a-and obey.”

The girl turned to Meredith. “Slave.”

“I await command,” Meredith said.

“You have been implanted with instructions for this slave. You will remember them now.”

Meredith felt that part of her mind open, and the compulsion to do nothing else. She turned to her mother, cupping a breast, hearing the older woman’s breathing change. Inhaling deeply, she breathed her mother’s musk.

Meredith licked her lips, put them close to her mother’s ear, and began to whisper.

99.

The limousine stank of sex. Meredith inhaled it, dampening as her mother chanted beside her. The older woman’s fingers flicked on her pussy, and she’d fallen utterly into the stroking pattern Meredith’s whisper implanted in her. Her voice was shaky as she recited her latest truths, but the long not-quite-orgasm was sealing each one to her mind. Meredith drifted, listening to the mindless self-deepening.

“Slave.”

Instantly Meredith straightened and looked into the spandex girl’s empty eyes. “I await command.”

“We are approaching Mistress’ estate.”

“I understand.” Meredith sighed with the double pleasure—new instructions were controlling her, and she loved hearing her home described as her enslaver’s domain. It was hotter to listen to its legal owner play with herself in a trance, deaf to the younger women’s voices.

Meredith removed her corporate-slut clothes until, like her mother, she wore only high heels. From a compartment she took collars, putting one on and then gently sliding the other around her mother’s neck. Frances droned on obliviously, gasping now and then at a key command. She resisted feebly when Meredith pulled one hand from her slick cleft, but submitted. Meredith fastened the sleepwatch on her mother’s wrist, then put the hand back between her thighs. It resumed its play.

Frances purred but kept reciting.

Tasks completed, Meredith lay back on the seat, enjoying it against her skin. Nude and sex-dazed in the back of a limousine—she and her mother really were girltoys today, being brought for a powerful mogul’s amusement. It felt wonderful.

She watched her mother’s busy wrists, the purple sleepwatch looking almost like a biologist’s tracking tag on a caught animal. But Frances wasn’t about to be freed, and after this long under Mistress’ control she was forever tamed.

Frances had been too dazed the first time, but she was able later to ask why she needed the watch and Meredith didn’t.

“Your daughter is already fully conditioned to my will, Frances dear,” Mistress had explained. Meredith had thrilled to the words, and to her mother’s uneasy but envious look. “She knows where she may and may not go, and what she may and may not think or feel about things. Don’t you, Meredith?”

“Yes, Mistress. I must obey.”

“You’re just as responsive a subject, dear.” Mistress had caressed Frances and kissed her. “Soon you’ll be as well-trained as your daughter. In fact, I may even program you to enter trance spontaneously, so you can carry out some more complex tasks autonomously.”

Frances had looked up, grateful and excited. “Oh, Alice, that would be great! Then you needn’t be disturbed to have to—reinstruct me . . .”

Another kiss. “Don’t fret, Frances dear. You’ll love the feeling—the women I’ve conditioned that way report it as almost addictive. And I’ll be hypnotizing you in person just as much, never fear.”

Now Frances slept with her eyes open, ready to be a stranger in her own house when she was bidden to reenter it.

“Slave.” The spandex girl transfixed Meredith again, and when she finished speaking Meredith had something new to make her mother think. She stilled Frances’ lips with a fingertip, then spoke until the older woman’s eyes closed. Then she spoke some more, and Frances nodded and shivered and breathed harder.

As the limousine pulled through the gate, Meredith looked over at her. Frances was serene, her breasts swaying slightly with the car’s movement.

“Wake up, Fancy. We have to work this party!” She pictured her mother’s aroused confusion, “becoming” a prostitute again, wondering where their clothes were and what rich user’s limo they’d been hypnotized into. It was fun to imagine, and for a moment Meredith wondered why Mistress let her.

Then, realizing why, she leaned forward and stroked the entranced woman’s thigh. Her mother’s eyelids drooped in pleasure.

When the car stopped at the steps, she woke Frances. The spandex girl drew them out and commanded them to kneel on the grass verge. They obeyed, watching the car pull away.

Another slave came briskly down the steps with a pair of leashes and fastened them to the women’s collars. Under the lycra hotpants in Mistress’ livery, the girl’s thighs were soft and curvy. She was more a voluptuous fucktoy than the musclegirls Mistress seemed partial to. Her pretty face was just as expressionless as an amazon’s under her wraparounds.

At a flick of the leashes, Meredith and Frances stood, and then paced after her up the steps. She led them inside through the foyer, pausing whenever a guard slave stopped her. Neither spoke to the Stevens women, who just stood at attention while their handler stated her task.

Then they were before Mistress’ office. The girl unclipped the leashes and spun away without a word to obey her next command. Meredith heard her mother breathe faster, about to ask a question, before stopping herself. Obedience meant waiting to be told, and they were very obedient women.

Their breathing synched and sped, as both of them surrendered to how erotic it was to stand emptily in their own house, waiting to be told what to do. Spandex girls walked purposefully past, some glancing at the two passive nudes.

The office door opened. Beside Meredith, her mother twitched with an old impulse to enter—and a newly-programmed knowledge that the watch on her wrist would beep her into trance if she tried.

Clare was inside, wearing a see-through uniform. Glassy eyes swung to mother and daughter, then stared between them.

“Enter,” she murmured, clearly deep in trance herself.

“But—I—” Frances tried to protest, even as she stepped forward to obey. The sleepwatch began to sound. As Meredith turned and Clare stared blankly, her mother was already wilting as its tone pulsed her into sleep. Meredith held her as she went limp.

It thrilled her to see her mother so helpless. Frances was still hearing the signal, falling deeper with each beep. It might have happened to Meredith, back when Mistress still held her.

But in captivity, Meredith had been too tame to cross any line Mistress drew.

Now, stiff as a clockwork doll under her programming, Clare helped carry Frances through the doorway. Inside Mistress’ office, the sleepwatch stopped. The two younger women eased Frances upright, and she compliantly balanced to stand on her own, staying asleep. Clare leaned close and fingered her, bidding her wake in a hiss by her ear. Frances blinked and the maid resumed attention, still deeply hypnotized, as if forgetting anyone else was here.

“Baby? I fell asleep—oh! The watch!” She looked at Meredith and hugged herself, looking back at the door she didn’t remember using.

“Yes, Mother. Did you enjoy your sleep?”

Frances blushed. “Will . . . Alice be here to hypnotize me?”

“No, Mother. Mistress has other things to do right now.” She watched hurt flick across her mother’s face. “She wills that you submit to other slaves’ control. Clare and I are programmed for that.”

Frances squeezed her thighs together, looking at each girl in turn. “I’m already eager to obey the new staff. Of course I’ll submit to you, Meredith!”

“And Clare has you wrapped round her finger, doesn’t she, Mother?”

Frances blushed again and they both looked at the maid, still lost in her trance. “Yes, baby. She can make me want to please her even when she doesn’t have me mesmerized.

“But, Meredith—there’s something different when I’m under your control. Something . . .” She stood very still and her eyes were deep as she stared at her daughter.

Meredith knew she could draw it out, but her compulsions were otherwise. “Oh, it will change, Mother. Soon enough, you will be the one pulling my puppet strings. Once Mistress finishes conditioning you, you will think correctly, and she can use you to raise me properly.

“Into a truly obedient daughter.” She smiled at Frances’ expression. “Ready for trance?”

Frances almost wriggled in pleasure. “Trigger me, please!”

“Not this time, Mother.” Frances looked puzzled, but she was already too docile for disappointment. “You’re a much better subject. Your mind doesn’t need a key anymore. It just needs to be pushed open.”

Holding her mother’s gaze, Meredith stepped toward her. “You’re conditioned to sleep on command.

“Become hypnotized now, Mother. Obey.”

Frances’ eyes widened and she flushed, standing straighter, falling helplessly into her daughter’s gaze. “I . . . must . . . become . . .” Her voice softened as her eyes glazed over. “. . . hyp . . . no . . . tiii . . .”

She was still, lost, utterly rapt.

“When I awaken you, Mother, you will go at once to the desk and perform the task you are programmed for. As always, each waking will leave you hungrier to be entranced, to be sent deeper into obedience. Until you can submit, you will obey.” Fingersnap.

Frances blinked prettily. She recovered quickly, since she was already trained to be alert for commands. As her eyes focused she smiled at her daughter, not letting herself plead for another stare-induction. Then her eyelids fluttered as she felt the posthypnotic suggestion seize her mind.

“I must perform my task,” she whispered, and pivoted. She minced to the desk and stood at attention, looking at Clare who mirrored her pose, still in her own trance. She looked down at the files and loose papers arranged on the blotter, glanced at spreadsheet glowing on the monitor. She reached down but didn’t touch them.

Then she pulled the desk chair out and stood in front of it. Pushing it back by the arms, she faced away from the desk and knelt before the empty chair, expressionless.

Hands behind her, she leaned forward to kiss the air just above the edge of the seat. Settling back, she knelt and stared again, lips parted.

Meredith walked over and reached down to lift her mother’s chin with a fingertip. “Have you performed your task?”

Meekly, Frances nodded against her touch. Inches behind her, the papers lay ignored. “The desk is for the woman who decides.” She smiled. “I am the girl who pleases her.”

Meredith smiled back and pressed, guiding her mother to stand with a fingertip still under her chin. Her mother rose gracefully from her knees, hands moving out to hang passively by her bare hips.

“You have done well, Mother. The woman whom you must please will be pleased.” She stroked her mother’s hair. “Both now, and with what you will do for her . . . later.”

“May I—may I serve? Until then?” Frances gasped with the need. “Is there another task I can perform? My mind is empty, but I so . . . very . . . much . . .”

“Shh.” Meredith moved the fingertip to Frances’ lips. “Mistress likes your mind to be empty. You will stay that way until she summons you. You will drift mindlessly blank.

“You are her toy, Mother. You have few other uses, and so much of your time will be spent waiting to be used.” She smiled into Frances’ puzzled gaze. “No need to waste it on awareness.”

She turned. “Clare.”

“Yes, miss.” The maid stepped forward briskly, eyes still faraway.

“Hypnotize my mother. When she is entranced, bring her to Mistress’ quarters. Stand her somewhere she will be decorative, but out of the way.” She pictured her mother, staring at whatever wall she was placed next to. “She will not awaken until Mistress wishes to use her.”

“I obey.” Clare sounded much younger and softer than when she was allowed to control them. She took Frances’ limp hands in hers. “Look into my eyes, Ma’am . . .”

Meredith masturbated slowly, savoring how easily even the maid’s drowsy monotone subjugated her mother. Frances promised to obey in an even sleepier voice as Clare instructed her.

Her gaze passed unseeingly across Meredith as she paced out behind the maid.

100.

“Alice?”

Frances paused on the upstairs landing, hesitant as a fawn, before padding barefoot toward Mistress’ outstretched hand. Whatever Mistress had done to her last night, she was a dewy ingenue this morning. She’d probably worn nothing to bed with Mistress last night—if Mistress had been in the mood for a bed—but now she wore another nearly transparent babydoll of virginal white mesh that barely reached below her pussy, like the one she’d worn before vampire-play. The ribbon on her neck was white, too. Only the purple sleepwatch on her wrist varied.

“Oh, Alice.” She clasped Mistress’ hand in both of hers and then held it to her breasts. Mistress fondly stroked her hair. “I never know what to do, when you’re not there to tell me!”

She looked appealingly at Mistress until Mistress smiled and nodded, leaning down. Frances kissed her deeply and then lost herself in the kiss, sagging as Mistress held her up.

Smoothing her hair, Mistress waited until she was a bit more aware, then turned away from the window. “Aren’t the maids pretty today, Frances dear?”

Both of them looked to the end of the landing where Meredith stood with Clare. Both of them were in fetish-maid costumes, slowly rearranging things on a sideboard under a portrait. They redid each other’s work over and over, sometimes exchanging blank stares.

“Very pretty, Alice.” Frances looked right at her daughter. “Especially the taller one. Is she new?”

Mistress smiled. “Yes and no.” She passed a hand across Frances’ face, and Frances was as expressionless as the servant girls. “There are no maids now.”

“No maids now,” Frances murmured. She closed her eyes and opened them, and Meredith shivered as her mother looked right through her and back at Mistress.

“Alice . . .” Her mother turned kittenish. “We’re alone now. You could take me. Right here.”

Mistress fondled a breast through the mesh. Frances’ knees nearly buckled. “Whore!”

Frances giggled.

“But I know you’ve made progress, Frances dear.” Mistress smiled down as Frances stood straighter. “It’s very hard for you to think lately, but you’ve focused very well on the thoughts I’ve been allowing you to have. I’m very proud of you.” Still looking at Frances, she reached out and snapped her fingers.

“Thank you, Alice!” Frances hadn’t been told to notice the snap.

It triggered Meredith and Clare to stop pretending to work, and stand quietly. Meredith let her glance drift to her mother’s ass, gleaming under the high hem of the babydoll, and molded nicely over her legs, primly together. Meredith wondered what Clare might be looking at, less from curiosity than from enjoying how deep the real maid seemed to be today.

“I understand you performed very well at your work, yesterday.” Mistress began to stroke Frances’ back through the filmy nightie. “I hope it’s easier now that you have me to think for you.”

“It . . .” Frances looked up into her eyes and was caught, lapsing into a trance before shaking her head and smiling sheepishly. “It—what was I saying?”

“I don’t know,” Mistress laughed and tapped her nose. “It was about my doing your thinking, wasn’t it?”

“Ohh. Yes.” Frances leaned up to kiss her. “I’m sorry—you’ve got me so mesmerized now that just looking into your eyes turns my brain to pudding.” She tried to look more resolute, but in the see-through nightgown it looked adorably foolish.

“I—I think I was going to say that it is so much easier with you telling me what to think. I don’t think about what will happen. Only about what I must do.” She blinked, and smiled tentatively.

“I understand now. That’s what you hypnotized me into doing, Alice. So I don’t have to make decisions.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Mistress kept caressing her. “How does it feel?”

“It makes me wet, Alice.” Frances wiggled her ass a little behind the babydoll’s hem.

“Yes, it does. And I’ll continue to do all the thinking for you, Frances. You’re so completely suggestible—I can hardly imagine how you kept up the illusion of an independent-minded woman.”

Frances risked another gaze into her eyes, smiling blissfully. “I can barely remember . . . being like that. But I don’t want to try.” She kissed Mistress once more.

“Hypnotize me again, Alice? Please?”

“You’re already hypnotized, Frances dear.” Mistress smiled at Frances’ confusion, then froze her with a more purposeful stare. She waved her hand across Frances’ face once more, wiping awareness away. “You see the maids now.”

Frances just gaped up at her until Mistress turned her chin. When she saw Clare and Meredith, the command took. “I see the maids now.”

Another handwave blanked her again. “You remember who they are.”

“I remember who—oh! Meredith!” She turned back to Mistress. “Did you hypnotize her into a maid, Alice?” She slid enticingly against Mistress. “Mmmm. What will you turn me into?”

“You and your daughter would both make lovely household slaves, Frances dear. But that wouldn’t leave you much time to be my sexual playthings—or to carry out some other plans for which I can use you.”

Frances just stared up at her adoringly.

Mistress admired Frances’ body in the babydoll. “But this is nothing to wear for the daytime,” she said, lifting it up. Staring at her, Frances raised her arms and let herself be stripped.

“That’s better,” Mistress said, and walked away with the nightie wadded up in her hand. Pausing, she turned back and snapped her fingers once more. Meredith and Clare started a little as it released them. They looked at each other and smiled—Mistress had had them training each other last night, and both the sex and the hypnosis had turned them on very hard.

“Um—Clare?” Frances had walked up to them. She held her hands behind her back, and it pushed her breasts out, displaying how stiff the nipples were.

Clare pointedly stared at them, and the moisture between Frances’ bald pussylips, before looking her in the eye. “Yes . . . Ma’am?”

“I—” Frances brought her hands forward, showing the sleepwatch. “It’s really silly, but my mind’s just not working well. I guess I’m getting used to needing someone to tell me what to do.

“I know you took the time to train me on what rooms I’m not to enter, but I wondered if you’d, um, refresh me. I mean, I don’t want to bother Alice—” She smiled at the girl. “I know you’ll have to hypnotize me. To ensure I’m open to your instruction.”

Frances tensed in arousal and worry. “I’ll be completely in your power, Clare.”

“How much do you want to be used? Ma’am?” The maid took a step forward, smiling nastily.

Frances trembled, glanced nervously at her daughter, then back at the maid. “I remember what you made me do when I was—a prostitute, Clare. I need . . .”

Clare sneered. “Mindless slavebitch.”

“I have no mind.” Frances came to attention, heedless of her hands slapping her hips. “I will o.bey.” She pivoted stiffly when Clare led her away, with a leer at Meredith.

Meredith stood quietly on the landing, enjoying how her mother walked while that deep in trance. She stayed there when everyone was gone, like a sculpture of a miniskirted maid. It felt right, and nice, just to be blank. Two spandex girls walked by a little while later, ignoring her like any other slave they weren’t programmed to interact with.

Then, she felt the posthypnotic command light up in her mind and take control, like straps tightening into her crotch. She turned and walked to her suite. She removed the maid uniform and hung it up, and then stood and looked around the room, seeing the things that had been Leslie’s.

She felt nothing. She remembered the other girl earlier, hypnotized into sleep, helpless to resist whatever Mistress was going to do to her to make Frances think she was punished. She also remembered making love with Leslie, girlfriends pleasing each other under the control of nothing but love.

Meredith reached down and drew her fingertips up her cunt. Leslie was a slave, just like her. There was no sadness—she could actually feel the places now where Mistress had programmed her to feel tenderness for the other slave, to make her perform the role Mistress needed her for. Leslie would still obey Mistress, though her new function probably involved deeper, more mindless submission.

Methodically, she packed everything of the other girl’s into trashbags. She moistened as she worked, but denying herself kept stoking the heat.

She remembered Leslie wearing almost all of it. It felt like she’d been in the brainwashing chamber, helping depersonalize Leslie. When all evidence of Leslie was all tied-off in trashbags, nothing would remain but a pretty shell. It would only wear black and yellow spandex, and think only what the headphones told it to.

When she was done, Meredith did masturbate. Then she stood and stared at the wall without questioning why.

Frances entered the bedroom, eyes strange and hair disheveled. She walked up to her daughter and kissed her, and it woke both of them up.

“Did Clare retrain you, Mother?”

“Ohhh. Yesss.” Frances smiled as her eyelids fluttered, and she cupped her breasts for a moment. She gazed blissfully up. “Oh, sweetie, I wish I’d put you two together so much earlier. Taken her on as a playmate for you when you were younger.” She smiled. “Clare could have started hypnotizing you years ago. By now you’d be her complete pawn. She could have used you to put me in her thrall.

“Or maybe she’d have hypnotized me to do that to you. But you would have made such a beautiful couple, once she had you conditioned.”

“She’s very hot, Mother.” Meredith grinned and tapped her mother’s forehead. “And a very good hypnotist.”

Frances blushed. “Is she ever! I know she put that into my head just now, but just getting the chance to say it to you makes me want to . . . to . . .” She hissed in a breath. “God. To crawl back and eat her out again, oh, god . . .”

Someone in a maid’s uniform stood in the doorway. Frances moaned, already softening to kneel and beg Clare to let her serve again.

It was Donna, Clare’s other hypnotized pet. Donna had been through Mistress’ hypnosis, though, and like everyone else here, knew only one voice to obey. Frances still trembled, since Donna sometimes used her in robot-play, but the maid’s eyes were glassy.

“Mistress requests your presence in the foyer.” She curtsied and left without ever really focusing on them.

They looked at each other. “We must obey,” Frances grinned. Linking arms, they went downstairs.

A team of spandex girls was positioning a large cabinet. Mistress smiled at her two slaves as they joined her, and nodded to Slave Thirty, who touched a control. The cabinet’s doors slid apart as a light came on. A clear barrier still closed off its interior, but they could see clearly what was inside.

Frances gasped and pressed against Meredith.

A nude woman was secured to the back of the compartment, with restraints across her chest, arms, and legs. She looked like a playmate for Franbot—silver boots and makeup, silver bodypainted breasts and crotch. Her parted legs straddled something that hid her pussy.

But her silvered head was bodypaint over a shaven scalp, and there was a small silver hemisphere over each ear, making her look even more robotic. A narrow band circled her bald head, with a jewel centering her forehead. As if it had just been brainwashing her, a translucent helmet or visor hung above her eyes, but they were closed. She was expressionless, but Meredith had seen her face blank and silver-painted before.

The shaven, painted robotgirl sleeping in the box was Leslie.

101.

“Activate it, Thirty.”

“Yes, Mistress. I obey.” The slave pressed another control, and Meredith saw they were actually simple and clearly marked on the panel: Activate. Recall. Reprogram. Sleepmode.

In the box, the lighting changed a little. Leslie was motionless in her bonds, even when they slid back. Only when a tone sounded did she move, tensing as the attachment between her legs slid down.

It held dildos that gleamed as they slid out of her. She’d been riding them in her pussy and ass all the time she’d been in there . . .

Her expression didn’t change. At another tone, eyes still closed, she stepped stiffly out of the box and came to attention in front of it. There was a third signal, and now they could hear it coming from the silver covers over her ears. She opened her eyes.

They were silver too.

Frances moaned. Meredith held her, and tightened her thighs. Mistress had programmed her to prepare her for all this, but seeing the other girl like that, she could believe that they weren’t contacts, that Mistress really had turned Leslie into a mindless android.

“Toy.bot ac.ti.va.ted.” It was the same monotone they all used when playing robot, but from Leslie it sounded real, this time. “A.wai.ting com.mand.”

“My God.” Frances twitched, then pulled away from Meredith to step closer to Leslie. “Alice . . . what did you . . . ?”

Mistress raised a cellphone, but only tapped a button as she smiled.

Another tone came from the silver earcaps. “Toy.bot is pro.grammed to please and o.bey.”

“Does—does she remember who she was?”

“One moment, Frances dear. Let it imprint on you first, and then it’ll answer.” Mistress regarded the silvered girl. “Toybot: align obedience for devotion input.”

“Toy.bot o.be.di.ence a.ligned.” Leslie stayed frozen. “Toy.bot will im.print and sub.mit as pro.grammed.”

Mistress coaxed Frances. “She’s all ready for you, dear. Hearing your voice will lock in her programming. Then—it’s life as your compliant sexbot.

“And playmate, for when you’d rather be the ‘bot.”

“But I . . .” Frances froze as Leslie pivoted to face her.

“I.den.ti.fied. Fran.ces Ste.vens is Con.trol.ler Con.sort. Toy.bot pro.grammed to o.bey Con.trol.ler and to sex.plea.sure Con.sort.”

Frances wriggled and beamed at Mistress.

“Ooohhh. I’m your ‘consort,’ now, am I?” She tried to sound playful, but her voice faltered with wanting as she visualized it.

“Of course, Frances dear.” Both women ignored Leslie now, and she stood emptily, ready to be given Toybot tasks or to be a blank-faced statue. “You could wear that delightful silver bikini and we could accessorize it—feathers, sequined gloves. When we received guests you’d be a lovely rare bird on my arm, tame and erotic.”

Frances cupped her breasts. “And I’d—parrot whatever words you put into my empty little head.”

She blinked, reminded of the empty-minded girl she was being given. Turning back to that girl, her face clouded.

“Leslie? Do you really know who I am?”

“Toy.bot can.not pro.cess. Please re.peat que.ry.”

Mistress raised the phone. “Toybot, override.”

“Toy.bot o.beys Con.trol.ler.”

“Access restricted file L.”

Leslie’s eyes closed, then opened.

“Um—Leslie . . . ?”

“Toy.bot is not pro.grammed to res.pond to de.sig.na.tor ‘Les.lie.’”

Frances gasped, as shocked as she was excited.

“Fe.male ‘Les.lie’ per.so.na.li.ty was e.rased. Con.trol.ler com.ple.ted to.tal brain.wipe.” Leslie’s toneless delivery still hummed with arousal.

“Fe.male ‘Les.lie’ thoughts de.sires me.mo.ries and will were use.less to Con.trol.ler. Non.func.tio.nal for Toy.bot o.be.di.ence. They were de.le.ted.

“Toy.bot has no thoughts. Toy.bot has on.ly pro.gram.ming. Toy.bot on.ly o.beys.” She paused as Frances gaped at her.

“Fe.male ‘Les.lie’ no lon.ger ex.ists.”

“Alice? Did—?”

Mistress just smiled.

“Toy.bot is not pro.grammed to re.tain this in ac.ces.si.ble me.mo.ry,” Leslie continued. “Toy.bot will au.to.de.lete un.less Con.trol—”

“Delete,” Mistress said.

Leslie closed and opened her eyes. “De.le.ted.”

“Do you like your toy, Frances dear?”

Frances gaped at the rigid, silver-eyed girl. She seemed torn, but reached down to her cleft and absently touched herself. “She’s . . . amazing, Alice.”

“Let’s see what she’ll do, then. Menu.” A tone sounded.

Leslie twitched. “Toy.bot core func.tion: ab.so.lute o.be.di.ence to Con.trol.ler. Toy.bot pri.ma.ry u.ti.li.ty: sex.u.al plea.sure for Con.sort.” She paused, silver eyes staring through Frances.

“Toy.bot al.ter.nate u.ti.li.ty: hyp.no.tic con.trol of Con.sort.”

Frances’ eyes widened. “What? Alice?” She sounded more excited than worried. “She—it—my own toy will hypnotize me?”

Still obeying Mistress’ command to monitor her mother’s submission, Meredith thought Mistress must be pleased to hear how soft Frances’ mind had become. As it was, she spent half her time being put into trance by Clare and the spandex girls, but she no longer had the will or desire to see the parallel.

Mistress smiled mock-evilly. “Of course, dear. Toybot is programmed to hypnotize you now and then. That way, no matter how you may think you wish to play with it”—she laughed—“even when you think you don’t want to—it will soon brainwash you into wanting only the games that make you become my toy.”

Frances writhed a little but met Mistress’ gaze, and stroked herself. She swallowed, and when she spoke Meredith wasn’t sure if she’d forgotten Meredith and the other girls were there.

Her voice was husky. “I do want to be your toy, Alice.”

“And I want you to be, Frances. Toybot: hypnotize my consort now.”

“Toy.bot o.beys.” Leslie didn’t move, but the red jewel on her forehead began to blink. She intoned in time with it. “Con.sort. Look at the gem. Look at the gem. Look at the gem . . .”

Frances’ mouth moved and her body seemed about to turn away, but she was already gazing up at the flashing light on the silver forehead. Mistress had clearly prepared her—within seconds she was standing erect and expressionless, eyes blankly blinking red in reflection.

“Con.sort is now hyp.no.tized.”

“I am hypnotized,” Frances repeated softly.

“Con.sort will o.bey Toy.bot.”

“I will obey Toybot.” The blinking stopped. Frances kept staring.

“Ex.e.cu.ting im.plan.ted rou.tine,” Leslie reported. Frances stayed passive, hearing no command. “Con.sort. Kneel.”

Without hesitation, Frances sank gracefully to her knees on the marble floor. Her gaze dropped to level, and she stared intently. With another command, her hands drifted behind her back.

“Con.sort. When un.der Toy.bot hyp.no.sis re.mem.ber this as lick po.sition.”

“I will remember lick position.”

Silver boots clicking on the marble, Leslie stepped over to her, inches from Frances’ face. Both women stared intently ahead—Leslie at the far wall, Frances at Leslie’s silvered crotch.

“Con.sort. Lick Toy.bot.”

Frances leaned forward and put her mouth to the silver. Mistress had trained her well, and Meredith watched her ex-girlfriend’s thighs and ass clench as the pleasure built. Her painted breasts shook a little, and now and then she made a faint mew. But her robot programming held even through orgasm.

There was a tone, and Leslie stepped back, her shining eyes never leaving their focus point. She resumed attention, her stillness belying the wet gleam on her pussy.

Still obeying her last hypnotic command, Frances knelt and licked the air. Her lips and tongue quested, and without Leslie’s lean thighs to rest against, she began to sway a little. Her eyes were half-closed and her head lolled in ecstasy. Her own spread thighs spasmed tighter, even though her hands were still behind her like a captive’s.

“Con.sort. A.wa.ken. Re.mem.ber.”

Frances snapped out of it with a faint cry, and blinked up at Meredith, then at Mistress. She stared up at Leslie, at Toybot, motionless and compliant once more. “Oh. Oh my god.” She made no move to rise from her knees.

Slowly she brought her hands forward, and then, still gazing at the robot-girl who’d just used her, she put them between her thighs and began to masturbate. Her ragged breathing echoed inside the foyer. When she croaked out a word after coming close to her own orgasm, it seemed to awaken her to what she was doing and she gave a little scream. Then she stood, looking at Mistress, half-mortified, half-delighted.

“I love this toy, Alice. Oh, Alice!” She rushed forward and hugged Mistress, squirming against Mistress’ dress and then more as Mistress cupped her ass. They kissed, and then Frances looked back at the bald, brainwashed girl.

“It will be so much fun to play with.”

Mistress kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, clearly pleased at her deliberately accepting Leslie as a thing. “You can play with it now for a while, if you like, Frances dear.”

Frances’ surprise and joy were almost comical. “I can?”

“Yes. There are some files I need to review before I can decide if they’re suitable for you to know, and this will keep you occupied.”

Frances was still excited, but she still managed to hesitate. “Alice—darling, I should at least . . . help you . . .”

“Make decisions?” Mistress cooed, and smiled as Frances’ eyes glazed over.

“No. Of course,” Frances murmured. “I’m too weak and suggestible to decide on my own. Only you can decide for me.”

“That’s right, Frances dear.” Mistress petted her. “And after I decide what you need to know, so you can recite it on cue, then I’ll put you into a trance and implant it in your mind. You don’t even need to be awake for it.”

Frances tried to speak, but gave up and kissed Mistress again. Pulling away, she padded over to Toybot. She glanced over to see Clare smirking at her, and that Clare had snapped Donna out of trance too. They’d both watched Frances submit to a slave-robot’s control, and now they watched her craving more in front of the entire household.

She blushed furiously, but her nipples stiffened. Deliberately, she stepped up to Toybot and caressed one painted breast. She looked down and peered at it more closely, then at the rest of Toybot as Toybot stayed blankly at attention.

“Alice? The bodypaint I use when I’m—when I—it dries quickly, but this feels like . . .” She palmed Toybot’s head, already comfortable with that. She looked down at the silver triangle that had transfixed her in lick position and stroked it.

“It’s quite permanent,” Mistress said, gazing modestly at what she’d turned Leslie into. “The silver pigment is tattooed onto it. Even when it’s totally nude, anyone can see it’s clearly a robot. It exists to be used and played with. It has no other function.”

Now Mistress smiled at Frances. “It exists,” she said carefully, “only to obey.”

“It exists only to . . . obey . . .” Frances suddenly went glassy-eyed as the mantra slipped into her mind. “I . . . exist . . . only to obey . . . you . . . I . . . mean I . . .” She felt it start to entrance her and shook her head to clear it.

“What? I didn’t hear, Frances dear.” Mistress ensured it caught her again.

“I said I . . . I exist only . . . to obey you . . . I exist only to obey you . . .” She moaned it, just as when she’d stood there over the bed while her lover-hypnotist fucked her daughter. Once more, Frances slipped into trance and knew nothing but the need to send herself deeper.

Mistress let her reinforce that thought for a while before snapping her out of it. Frances still looked dizzy, though thrilled, when Mistress told her she was allowed to play with Toybot. She smiled shyly at her daughter as the robot-girl led her away.

They weren’t even all the way out of the foyer when Toybot’s hypnosis subroutine activated. Meredith watched the women in profile in the doorway where the induction began. Her mother’s posture slackened as she succumbed.

Then Clare’s toneless, sleepy whisper was in Meredith’s own ear. Suddenly she was too drowsy to notice them as hypnosis dimmed her thoughts.

102.

It was . . . later.

Meredith did not know or care how many hours or days had passed. The only thing she knew was the sweetly maddening compulsion to search the house, find her mother, and bring her to Mistress.

Frances was rigid before Leslie, staring blankly at the blinking hypnotic jewel. She faithfully repeated each phrase the robot-girl recited in her monotone. Meredith wanted to watch her mother send herself deeper, but the desire dripped away like dew on a cool bottle, and she obeyed her hypnotist’s will.

Snapping her fingers, she said, “Mistress commands. We must attend her at once.”

Frances shuddered, and seemed to stay in character. Still holding herself erect, she pivoted and stared past Meredith. “Mistress commands,” she intoned. “We must attend.” The compulsion Mistress put into Meredith’s mind turned her back once she knew her mother was obeying, and they sleepwalked nude through their mansion.

Neither woman was awake enough to remember Toybot. Meredith’s interruption had stilled her, but with no new commands she just stared at the far wall where they’d left her.

Entering Mistress’ presence woke them from their trances. Meredith vaguely recalled trance-labor with some of the spandex girls, converting the sunroom into a throne chamber for Mistress. A quick glance showed her mother had no idea where she was in what had been her own house—Frances had no eyes or thought for anything but her hypnotist.

“I think it’s time,” Mistress told them.

It felt beautifully right, and very, very hot, to kneel to her, side by side at her feet. Meredith didn’t remember if someone had trained her mother—maybe she had, deeply asleep with her eyes open—but Frances posed perfectly: thighs spread, back straight, hands behind her. She gazed raptly at Mistress, eager for whatever she had to say, or simply for another chance to worship her from below.

Mistress smiled. She didn’t do more than glance at Meredith, which made Meredith moisten: her owner was sure enough of her obedience to take her for granted. And Mistress’ control of her mother was what really mattered.

After savoring Frances Stevens’ nude subservience, Mistress gestured, and like a trained bitch Frances rose on her knees, offering herself to Mistress’ touch.

“I am very pleased with you,” she said, stroking Frances’ shoulders, then her breasts. Frances couldn’t keep from shimmying a little with the pleasure, but otherwise held still.

“I want only to please you, Mistress,” she managed to say, and even now her hammering heartbeat broke up her words.

Lately she’d started calling Mistress by her title instead of her name, and she knew she was doing it. It obviously turned her on, not just saying it to Mistress but referring to her that way in front of others. Showing them she was truly thinking like a slave.

“Every slave who’s been training you says you’re completely obedient to their orders. Almost as if you are the slave of whichever one is conditioning you.”

When she saw Mistress expected a reply, Frances whispered, “All of them are just your tools, Mistress. What I am learning how to be. When I obey them, I obey you.” Her eyes moistened as she spoke, and Mistress nodded.

“You’re also responding perfectly to the questions.”

Frances’ brow furrowed. “Questions, Mistress? But I do not remember—oh.” She smiled. “While I am hypnotized! Well—more deeply hypnotized than usual.” She grinned artlessly. Meredith could see her mother was as happy to parade her soul naked as she was her body.

The ghost of a thought troubled her, before her conditioning banished it. Meredith wondered what it was: some question her mother might have asked, before Mistress taught her to exchange critical thinking for sleep and obedience.

“So I am thinking only correct thoughts?” she asked. “Or mostly?”

Mistress smoothed Frances’ hair and traced her forehead, as if caressing those thoughts. “Almost entirely, my dear. You’ve been absorbing all the new truths, and you’ve forgotten each bad thought you were told to reject. Under the very deep hypnosis, even unconscious secrets can’t be kept—but you have none.”

Staring into Frances’ eyes, Mistress spoke before that could reflexively hypnotize the weaker woman. “On an estate where everyone is a slave brainwashed into obeying only me, Frances dear, you still manage to stand out as the most submissive girl here.”

She glanced at Meredith again, breaking the gaze and freeing Frances’ mind for a moment. “Oh, I have some deeper controls in your daughter. But part of you is still not under my control.”

Frances looked alarmed, but subsided at once.

“That is the very point, Frances, dearest. That part of you is obeying me anyway. Before I can conquer you, you’ve surrendered to me.” She paused, and risked another mind-stunning look into Frances’ eyes.

“And that pleases me a great deal more.” Her voice carried an emotion Meredith didn’t remember hearing before. Deftly, before Frances could fall into trance, Mistress leaned down and kissed her deeply.

She guided the dazed woman back to sit on her heels again, waiting for Frances to recover. Frances still reeled from the kiss, and how intensely her mistress had spoken.

“Do you love me, Frances dear?”

“With all my soul,” Frances breathed. Her hips rose a little, as longing warred with obedience. Obedience won, and she subsided.

Mistress smiled. “Do you know why you do, my little slave?”

Frances slowly shook her head.

“I’ll begin at the beginning, dear.” Mistress leaned back.

“It started when I kidnapped your daughter.”

Frances gasped, but without anger, or even dismay at the shift in mood, just . . . shock. She’d already been long enough under Mistress’ control to lose any will to question anything Mistress said, even to wonder if it were a joke.

She glanced once at Meredith, but her gaze swung back to the woman who’d enthralled her. Who’d enthralled both of them.

The numbness pleased Mistress, but she waited for a response. It was that, rather than any initiative in Frances herself, that drove Frances to ask, “But . . . why?”

“Not for the ransom. I knew you’d give me whatever I wanted, once I had your baby.” She leered openly at Meredith for a moment. “Nor even for what I could get selling a girl as young, beautiful, and malleable as Meredith. Or the premium, once that beauty was brainwashed into wanting to be a slave . . .

“No. I abducted and brainwashed her best friend earlier, to give me access to her. No one was watching Leslie, and I had her for as long as I needed to bend her into my creature. Once she helped me capture your daughter, I persuaded her to submit—willingly—to being hypnotized. She was frightened and needed to feel good, and she’s a very submissive girl to start with. It didn’t take long to train her to enjoy both being remolded, and pleasing me. Or long, after that, to addict her to them.”

Frances’ jaw had dropped, but she lacked the will to question or object. She was breathing faster.

“Naturally, part of her programming was to forget that I’d enslaved her. Until she was triggered and reactivated—a completely devoted sleeper agent in her own house.” As she spoke, Mistress watched Frances avidly. She seemed pleased to see her slave tremble. Frances glanced more frequently at her daughter but always fell back under Mistress’ spell.

Meredith knelt and juiced, hearing her enslavement recounted so openly—and seeing her mother kneeling naked and docile, listening to how she’d been seduced into giving up her will.

“Leslie, as I said, was already mine. I left her conscious self in place but it was just a surface manifestation by then. I’d implanted controls very deep in her mind. She truly loved Meredith—as a friend, as a lover, whatever I reprogrammed her to perceive—and it would have been real, if Leslie had still had free will to back it up. It meant nothing beside her controlling urge to serve and obey me and to help me control and deepen your daughter.”

Frances blinked, breathed deeply, shivered.

“Please, Frances dear. What? Tell me.”

“. . . Capaldi? . . .”

“Ah. Sadly, she really was on your side. She wasn’t the one taking over your thoughts and destroying your free will, of course.” Mistress grinned. “That was I.

“You were still able to make your own decisions then, Frances dear. But you were already helpless to resist a stronger mind altering the beliefs you based them on. I made you willing to believe what I told you. Then you stripped yourself of your best defense—just as you were told to do.”

Frances still held pose as her hips moved again. She didn’t look away from Mistress.

“A very sharp woman, Capaldi. Lethal to me, or at least my plans, if she’d had any idea of what she was really up against. But how could she know that her own client was under the spell of the enemy?” Mistress smiled, naming herself so.

“. . . you . . . planned . . .”

“Actually, no. Not the fiasco that led to her departure. Originally, I expected Capaldi would still be here. Still puzzled and embarrassed, though not over her own staff gang-raping your daughter.

“Instead—over how she’d let you be murdered right under her nose.”

Frances’ gasp this time was almost vocalized.

Mistress waited until she’d turned, as if against her will, to look wide-eyed at Meredith. Meredith gazed placidly back at her, loving how helpless they both were before Mistress.

“No, Frances. I wasn’t brainwashing your daughter to kill you.” She waited for Frances to see her again. “I think I could have. Perhaps. Once she surrendered her will to me, she became an almost totally obedient slave, and I think I could have conditioned her to believe that pleasing me was more important than anything she felt for you. But I couldn’t be sure. And she would have been an inconvenient weapon, since I’d need her as a tool afterward.

“Leslie, on the other hand, did belong to me. I had destroyed her will. Aside from that mask-personality, she was as much a robot as any of my other slaves. My spandex girls—in your daughter’s adorable term.” Mistress grinned at Meredith, still amused. “And like any of them, ultimately something expendable to gain something more valuable.

“First, I met you and became part of your lives. Meredith was under a posthypnotic block against recognizing me as her abductress and brainwasher, though she remained trustful and submissive to me.

“That trust would be a pretext for putting herself completely in my hands after your death. After I established that, I’d activate Leslie.”

Mistress studied Frances. “I was going to program her to kill you, then get herself killed. The robot I’d turned Leslie into would have obeyed both commands.”

Frances knelt, open-mouthed and tense and still breathing rapidly.

Meredith couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Despite the compulsion to watch her, Meredith was too turned on by what she was hearing. As Mistress’ plot darkened, Meredith dampened.

“Exit you, exit Leslie, leaving poor Meredith all alone—except for her trusted friend Alice Holloway, to whom she’d willingly turn for comfort, reassurance, guidance. Whose every word she’d trust and believe, whose approval she’d live for.”

Mistress smiled. “Whose total domination of her life and mind Meredith would crave. To whom she would turn over real control of all the wealth and holdings she’d inherit—without benefit of trustees now that she’s of age.

“She would be my puppet, dancing to whatever strings I chose to pull. And every day, hypnotizing her, fucking her, I would tighten my control.”

Mistress’ expression softened as she looked again at Frances.

“But as I used the girls to reinforce each other’s obedience here, I discovered another way to take control of what you have, Frances.

“By using the girls to take control of you.”

103.

Frances was shivering. Meredith started vaguely to worry—was all this somehow making her mother angry or afraid enough to challenge Mistress?

It was hard to think that. Meredith was too thoroughly enslaved to be able to consider anyone able to resist Mistress. She also knew she’d been brainwashed to believe that obeying Mistress was lovely and addictive and that no one would want to disobey her once they’d become hers.

Meredith relaxed. Mistress controlled her mother’s mind, as she did Meredith’s. Either her mother was still obedient, or Mistress would hypnotize her and make her obedient again.

A slave like Meredith needed only to wait for Mistress’ will.

“Enslaving you instead certainly had practical appeal. Meredith looks like a better slave—young, weak-willed, inexperienced, easy to dominate. But once I owned her, I’d still have needed to rely on others to run the company, using her to control them. I’ve studied the industry, but I could never match their expertise, so I’d have to trust them. Even with Meredith as my puppet, I could be thwarted.”

Mistress smiled. “It’s odd to say this to a nude, open-thighed woman kneeling to me. But you looked like much tougher slave material. Still, if I could control you, you’d make a very savvy and skillful catspaw. I’d have to trust you, but once you bowed to me and became my slave, I could do that. You’d live to serve me.

“Besides, even with a dead suspect whom they could also blame for taking part in the abduction, a murder would invite scrutiny—by police, the press. Even Capaldi, god knows. I’d have to move more slowly, and even with Meredith as a mindless worshipper, there’d be limits to what I could do. Or take.”

She looked over at Meredith, who knelt contentedly. Meredith had no idea why Mistress was telling them all this. She enjoyed the fantasy of pretending to be a free woman while doing nothing but obey the woman who’d had her mother killed—she didn’t know why it aroused her, but she didn’t mind. Mistress knew she was hot for it.

“So I changed the plan. Everything took longer—much longer. More new puppets had to be enslaved, indoctrinated to obey me, sometimes programmed to forget they were my slaves.

“And as I eroded the edges, I also used your daughter to get to you. Enslaving that wondrous little baby-domme maid of yours to keep you drugged and receptive to the effects of the hypnotic software.” Mistress sat back and thought about Clare for a moment.

“Each thing led to another. Each newly-brainwashed pawn gained me access to others who trusted her, and let her drug or hypnotize them or bring them to places where I could break their resistance.

“I started to enjoy it for its own sake.” Mistress looked away from them. “At certain points I had quite a few people on hypnotic leashes—including a corps of fit, very obedient female guards. I even thought of expanding my own slave holding with them.”

Now she looked back at the kneeling Stevens women. “It was fun.

“But the point was always to control you, Frances. So I did it slowly, establishing things. Putting you under indirect control, weakening you, making you emotionally dependent, using your daughter’s obedience to win your trust. Letting her and others begin training you to be hypnotized, conditioning you to enjoy it.”

Frances’ eyes were like dinner plates, as if she’d never seen Mistress before, but still couldn’t look away from her.

“Making all your other choices too hard, too dangerous, too sad—guiding you to accept surrender to me.

“Programming you to crave surrender, as your daughter learned to.”

Mistress sat back. “But now I want to know what you think, Frances. You still can—that’s a benefit of the long, indirect enslavement method. It’s why your daughter can still think for herself, even if she no longer wants to.” She shot a warm look at Meredith, who preened. “The shorter way to brainsmooth someone produces complete drones like Leslie or my other slaves. I didn’t want to destroy your usefulness.

“And here we are. I wasn’t just gloating. I wanted you to know what I’ve been doing to you and to your baby, the person you love most in the world.” She nodded again at Meredith. “How I’ve been turning you into toys, tools. My personal whores. Now you know why you love and obey me, Frances. How I stripped you of the ability to do—or want—anything else.”

Meredith could almost feel her pussy clenching. Just hearing it. Just knowing it.

“Is there anything you want to say to me? My slave?”

Frances was still. The trembling was over. She still stared up at Mistress as if she’d forgotten there was anywhere else in the world to look.

She closed her eyes. “Mistress. You’re—wrong.”

Mistress raised an eyebrow.

Frances opened her eyes, but she was looking down at Mistress’ legs. “About whom I love most in the world.

“My baby is precious to me, but . . . but . . .” She looked up again and lost herself in Mistress’ stare, almost as if she’d leaped into it.

Mistress nodded without speaking.

Frances gazed at her wide-eyed. The light hypnosis seemed to slow her mind and let her talk. “Mistress. Missstresss. You control me and you made me like it and I want it. I need it. I need to obey your every command. I need to be your slave and your robot, and there is no one else like you. Anywhere.

“I love you, more than anyone, Mistress.

“For making me feel like this, and that I’ve been . . . hhhh . . . used . . . like . . . this . . .”

She took a deep breath, and now her hips were moving as arousal made her squirm. “Mistress. I exist only to obey you. I do! Now that you told me what your will was for me . . .

“Let me die for you, Mistress.”

Frances knelt straight, even proudly. Meredith could finally see how hard her nipples were, and could smell her mother’s arousal as well as her own. Her face seemed to glow as she gazed adoringly up at Mistress.

“I can arrange it, Mistress. You can have total control of the company once I am dead.” She turned, eerily calm as her new, self-aware slavejoy melted her other feelings, and stared at her daughter.

“And you already own my baby, Mistress. Younger and prettier than I am, and so obedient—you can use her to run the company by day and in your bed by night.” She sobbed a breath without seeming to know it, and her eyes never wavered. “I see how much she belongs to you, Mistress, body and soul. Once I wanted to ask you to make me like her, to hypnotize me into as deep a thrall.

“But now I know you had other plans. And only your plans must be fulfilled. I exist only to obey you.”

Her eyes were very wide as she stared desperately up at Mistress. “I will die any way that pleases you, Mistress. Someone can kill me, or I can fall off a high place or under a train, nothing that looks like suicide . . .”

She clenched her teeth and moaned, and her hips were jerking. Her arms tensed with the strain of not reaching down to frig herself. “Nothing painless, nothing . . . easy! . . .

“I—I exist only—” She froze.

Mistress watched her for a moment. Then she said, “Relax, Frances dear.”

Frances sagged, still kneeling—and still looking up at Mistress, a flower to the sun.

“You will not die for me, Frances,” Mistress said very distinctly. “I’d rather own two beautiful and completely enslaved live women than make do with one or the other.”

She reached down and caressed Frances’ hair. “Hearing you say all that does turn me on, dear. And watching you die, just to please me, knowing I had that much of a hold on you—that would be a rare kind of orgasm indeed.

“But after you died . . . I’d miss, oh, that thing you do with your lower lip when you eat me out. Or just seeing you at a photo op in your powersuit, aweing everyone and making things happen, and knowing that I own you, that you’d strip and crawl to service everyone there if I told you to, and that you’d love me for it later.

“And I do own you, Frances. That’s why we had this chat. Under hypnosis, I got almost all the assurance I needed about how much you belong to me, but I wanted wide-awake Frances to tell me. I tested you, and you pass. You’re a slave. Body and soul, to use your phrase.”

She leaned back and looked at both nude women at her feet. “I spent a lot of effort collaring your minds. And I have to say . . . you’ve grown on me. I don’t plan to throw you away.” She favored Meredith with a mischievous grin.

“Before I returned Meredith to you, but well after she became my slave”—she watched both of them writhe—“we did discuss my selling her off as a slave. The idea excited her. But by then you’d paid for her, so she wasn’t mine to sell anymore.”

Mistress shrugged. “We also discussed how you, Frances, could use her—a hot girl who was brainwashed to obey, that you could offer during transactions. Would you pimp out your daughter, under my guidance, to help business and degrade her into property?”

Frances’ look at her daughter was frankly appraising, and Meredith shifted as she knelt to show herself off.

“Yes, Mistress. If you will it, I want it. I will use Meredith to fuck clients, or prospects.” She met Meredith’s eyes. “Or anyone else you program me to give her to.”

Mistress nodded. “You’re still doing very well, Frances. But you should know what you’re offering them. Rise now.” She watched Frances flow out of her pose and stand.

“Fuck your daughter for me, Frances dear.”

Meredith stayed kneeling, watching her mother step toward her, letting her mother’s lovely soft body fill her sight and smell, seeing her mother’s glassy, obedient eyes.

“Obey Mistress,” she whispered, just before her mother’s lips claimed hers and they kissed, deeply.

Tenderly Frances laid her back, easing her out of pose, backward and down, one hand easing Meredith’s thighs apart before her head gently touched the floor.

“We both must obey her,” said her mother, touching Meredith’s clit in a way that made her cry out and buck and hit her head and not care. Meredith fumbled for Frances’ crotch, stunned and horny and forgetting the skills she’d learned as Mistress’ whore.

But Frances was pressing her back, whispering “Just lie back, baby, just relax, let me.” Then Frances crawled around. As Meredith felt hot quick breaths on her belly, moving down, smooth thighs cradled her face, and then there was her mother’s pussy, like a pale orchid, tangy and slick.

As the heat focused on her cunt and became tongue and lips, she grasped her mother’s hips and coaxed them to where her straining mouth could reach up and taste. Her mother quivered and collapsed, and they molded to each other.

Their first orgasms hit together, surprising them. They kept licking, so lost in each other that they forgot why they were fucking.

But they were truly their Mistress’ property. When she said, “Good girls,” they both felt, for a moment, something sweeter and more addicting than climax.

When they slid apart, later, Clare was waiting. The maid was naked, deeply hypnotized, and blankly triggered them both to receive new orders.

Wearing only each other’s juices, the two slaves forgot all but their obedience, and followed the nude girl out to do Mistress’ will.