A variation on a theme.
They’d been right. He’d had too much for this; the only mark he would leave tonight if he danced would be the last eight shots on the floor. The club was loud, fog and strobe lighting made for difficult navigation.
She collided with him, clearly an accident, one of the stunning dancers from the club crossing the floor. She was tall and more legs than anything else. His eyes fought to focus and in his professional life as a real-estate agent he may have crudely described her as being double fronted and well proportioned.
“Huh?” He couldn’t hear what she said, the music was too loud, her face thrown in and out of shadow by the swaying lights making any lip reading he could have done impossible. She tugged at his arm, laughing and happy with locks of blond hair swaying, leading him through the throngs of strangers towards the bar.
“She’s buying me a drink!” he slurred to himself excitedly while his phased mind slowly pondered, and it seemed she was. She spoke again and laughed, her eyes alive with youth and vigour but he could only nod unable to hear, stumbling after her, admiring her attractive form and powerful perfume as she led him astray. Passing him a glass of some transparent liquid he assumed was Vodka she raised hers while he downed his in one.
“That always impresses” he thought to himself, but as the glass came down she was gone, vanished into the maelstrom of party goers.
“Damn, did I black out?” he checked his breath, nothing wrong there. “Well you win some you lose some,” stumbling toward the exit he belched to himself “Time for a taxi home”, but the doorway seemed so distant, as if the world were stretching away from him, recoiling from his drunkenness.
The colors shifted and changed, sections of his vision ballooned and shrank, he stumbled through a world like a hall of mirrors unable to make sense of the shifting nature of his vision. Feeling dizzy and sick, his perception began to spin as he moved ever closer to the floor, leering faces and voices formed of unnatural sounds filled the world around him, backed by the endless thud of the music that seemed to shake his very bones.
Suddenly strong hands were upon him, their faces blurred and their bodies dark and vague. Cold air. He was outside, then exhaust fumes and the creaking doors of some vehicle, the plastic smell of a mask pressed against his face and the hiss of gas. The bitter air filled his lungs.
“Get off me!” he struggled but could barely lift is head, wherever he was going he had little choice.
The journey was a strange collage of sights and sounds, starts and stops, rolling left and right on a greasy mattress as the van cornered sharply. Snippets of conversations, the feeling of his clothes being cut off, of nakedness and vulnerability. The gas kept him hovering between worlds, the dark and the light, sleep and the twisting world he was enduring now.
“…She’ll be pleased we found him…”
Bound and cowed over they carried him from the van down a long winding stair into her chamber, all the time the gas rendered him weak and incapable. Into the chair, legs up and spread as far as they would, his arms tied over his head. His body exposed and open, ready for her to begin her work.
“Don’t resist me” she was at his ear, a clinical tone in her voice, the gas still holding him thrall in its grip, the mask still pressed tight. Her fingers stroked his bare chest, the gas barely suppressing his terror.
“Let the drugs work on your brain, don’t fight or it will only take longer,”. The world still churned, her words a constant echo in his skull, spinning round and round as his mind absorbed them.
With the mask removed he began to recover in time to feel the sting of the first of many needles, the beginning of multiple penetrations he would endure that night. Again, the voice was at his ear while he was dizzy, his vision blurred, the soft voice reaching into his mind. He looked up, groggy and unfocused, seeing the shifting sight of a skintight nurses uniform covering a shapely body and wondered what it was made of,
“PVC? Rubber?” he muttered to himself.
“You had an accident, your wife will be here soon to collect you,” a confused look of fear and trepidation passed over his face. “No need to worry, we just need to do a few basic checks,”
“You’re quite a prize,” She groped at his muscular body, lustfully running her hands down his chest to his abdomen.
“Hhmm..clearly a frequent gym user,” her hand slipped lower.
“Leave us.” She dismissed her helpers, biting her lip until they were gone for with excitement and growing desire she was drunk on the power and control she now had over her latest victim, with an evil smile and a firm grip on his balls.
His head was tipped up and he dimly saw the approach of a long metal arm stretching the length of the table towards him. From the end of which a monitor unfolded before his face, just inches from his eyes, the edges curving slowly inward until the entirety of his vision was filled. He blinked a few times just able to make out a dim spiral that was now displayed upon it.
“No!” he cried weakly, his mind slowly grasping the reality, she’d sold him out, she knew his deepest fear was losing control, of being dominated. Not a fear of any kinky game but of real oppression, of having his self-control taken from him and the pinnacle of his fear was hypnosis.
A deep-rooted fear of being put into a state of total suggestibility, he knew the claim that he couldn’t be forced to do anything he didn’t want to was false, he knew in that state his mind would be open and conquered. His captor could plant in his mind whatever she wanted and he would have no knowledge, he’d simply believe it was true. His worst fears realised he writhed and fought, all the time the spiral grew brighter, consuming his vision and chipping away at his resolve.
His wife had betrayed him, exposed his worst and most intimate fears to a vulturine stranger who now made the cruelest use of them.
“Look at the spiral,” she snapped at him harshly, adjusting it, moving it closer to his face while he struggled to look away.
“Ssshhhhh…don’t fight, look at the spiral” her words were now restful but he knew they were a deceit, a kind voice on a predator luring its pray in for the strike.
The hum of the shears filled his ears and stroke after stroke of hair fell from his head, clearing the way for the electrodes that would soon be strategically placed in the assault on his very being. Thrashing, he tried any means to escape, but his bonds held him tight, her hand holding and pushing his head to and fro as she surgically removed his hair, stripping away his physical identity as readily as she would soon strip away his mind.
“No..no..no…don’t…please don’t” but those efforts were in vain against the manacles, his mind reeled, blurred and weak from the gas. Her voice, so indulgent, whispered in his ear again as she attached the electrodes.
“Let me hypnotize you…all you have to do is look at the spiral for a while, it’s so calm and comforting,”, she gently stroked his hairless head, mopping the fear from his brow like a concerned nurse should for a feverish patient. He made the mistake of taking a glance, “That’s it, doesn’t it look so nice?”, her voice was now melodious, a soft rhythm, a lullaby to carry away his will.
“Look right in the center, look how deep and safe it feels, you can look away if you don’t like it,” one glimpse at the Gorgon and his eyes were fixed like stone upon it.
With the push of a button the wires connected to his head thrust minute currents through selected areas of his brain, his eyes forced open and unblinking, pupils dilating, set upon the screen before them and opened wide to absorb her will.
The deeper he looked the more his body relaxed, all the time she was coaxing, encouraging, drawing him deeper, rewarding him with a soft “Good boy” when he unwillingly did as he was told. Now his mind was the spiral and nothing else, the words that flashed upon the screen began his forced reeducation.
With both hands she slipped the heavy helmet onto his head, pushing it tightly into place over his shorn cranium, a grin of triumph splitting her face.
“There we go, ready for brainwashing like a good boy.” With the throw of a heavy switch the electronics sprang into life. His captive brain felt like slow roaming hands were massaging it, vibrations moved around his skull, a deep feeling of serenity and calm began to take hold.
“…no…” he pitifully whispered, his mind being washed away.
He tried to resist but what she’d told him was true, the more he watched the deeper he fell, his mind and will being sucked out through his eyes, the helmet keenly erasing the thoughts she deemed he needed no more.
He reacted badly to the second needle, more time was required to captivate him thoroughly so he was left to watch for longer, more soft words in his ears. Another injection, a series of twelve different mind bending drugs all administered in a well-timed and ruthless conversion. The spiral on the monitor still held his attention, deep in trance he was unaware of the world around him, his mind was being drained, it would soon be numb enough to accept her will over his, to be under her spell forever if she so chose.
A well lubed electro probe slipped easily into his relaxed body, the lack of resistance made her smile, his will subjugated to hers. Adjustments to the electro stim box were made and more injections administered in to his arms while the spiral faded and new even more intricate patterns emerged, tightening her grip on his brain as the hours passed.
“Time for your mind to go,” without hesitation or remorse her finger flipped the last switch and the machinery went into overdrive, devouring the last of his free-will, subjugating is mind forever. She hovered by him, keenly observing his subsiding struggles, watching the lines on the monitors flatten out as his brain was washed clean, the patterns of light still reflecting on his blank face and eagerly absorbed by his dead eyes.
“No more will, no more ‘me’, no more ‘I’.”
With a ping the machines began to shut down, their tasks complete, only the periodic spasms from the electrode buried deep within him remaining.
She moved between his legs, his testicles were tight up against his body, his penis disengaged and waiting for the call to action. The rising electro pulsations caused contractions and he began to leak, a long string of viscous fluid stretched from his penis breaking as it reached out for the floor. The next pulse brought forth another. His prostate was giving up, unable to contain the buildup within him it overflowed, the final sign of his body’s capitulation.
“Easy, another pathetic man reduced to a mindless toy.” she sneered, throwing the psychological evaluation papers so carefully gathered by his wife into the shredder and her long glistening PVC gloves into a bin.
She knew she had competition, there were other more capable ladies out there, some with significant backing. Numbers where the way forward, the more slaves one had the more your influence could be spread. At least that seemed like a sound theory, in the meantime some freelance work would bring in the required capital, research and development isn’t cheap.
A light flashed on the far wall indicating she was here, Jane, his wife and a fiend rendered into flesh. Some unseen hand allowed her to enter and with all the confidence in the world she strolled in.
“How’s it going?”
“He’ll be ready soon, perhaps you’d like to do the honours?”, she handed Jane a syringe, “The last one, with this he’s yours.”
“His programming?” Jane enquired with indifference, leaving even the heartless and cold dominatrix with a chill at the calculating and pitiless nature of the wife into whose web this unfortunate man had fallen.
“Completed to your specification, he’ll imprint on whoever he sees after the last injection”. With a wry smile, she took an envelope from Jane, uncertain if she might get her hand back. A considerable payment but a worthy investment given the return.
Much to her surprise Jane began to strip, throwing her hair to the side as she reached round for the zip of her dress. The dominatrix retreated into the darkness, but remained close enough to watch the show. Jane had a body that turned heads.
Secure in the darkness she watched Jane for she was not immune to beauty, her fingers slipping below, in anticipation of the scene about to start.
Jane surveyed her handy work, on her orders he’d been drugged, kidnapped, anaesthetized, stripped, restrained in bondage, hypnotized and had his mind torn apart by cutting edge-brainwashing technology against which he could have had no defence. The shell of the re-programmed man he had become was almost hers, but she needed one last victory, so with care she climbed onto him.
Reaching behind her she examined her prize, his testicles hard and full, his penis soaked with its own lubricant. She worked him to hardness by hand knowing he would readily surrender all she needed. In a single drive she took him inside, hot, wet and unprotected while he stared blankly into nothingness.
“Bastard!” she stabbed the needle into his leg, her final vengeance, how dare he deny her a baby. She’d have him, the baby and the copious inheritance that would soon be his due. She pushed the plunger forcing the murky orange liquid into her would-be lover, grabbed his head and in a schizoid change of voice spoke kindly to him,
“Good boy” she cooed, “Such a good obedient boy for me”. His eyes registered her presence and focused, he felt her weight upon him and the strong grip with which she held him tightly within her but his mind thought nothing. An empty mind but still it accepted the vision of the one that would own it, control it, be Mistress of it, forever and without question or doubt.
She rode him knowing he was unable to move, her motions meant nothing as his mind was still looking upon the wondrous being to serve and serve until his last breath.
Proficiently she rode, his head pushing against her g-spot, fingers working to bring forth the orgasm she needed, feeling the parting of her most intimate place as his erection buried itself deep inside on each downward stroke, stretching her wide. Each thrust bringing forth more and more fluid from them both.
Finally, she reached her crescendo, her primal grunts and screams filling the dark void around her as she convulsed on top of him. With two hands Jane lifted his head, staring deeply into the blank wells of his eyes and satisfied there was no will behind them she issued her first command.
“Orgasm”. She felt the throbs within her, the hot wetness and all he had became hers. As he gave up his semen she drove down, forcing his glans onto her cervix, the last spurts pushing their way into her egg-primed womb. She held him tight inside her, resting a while on her trophy.
When the first chills began, Jane climbed down, exhausted. He was soaked with their juices, his member still firm while they slowly dripped from his body. She dressed, shuffling into her needlessly tight figure-hugging dress, her breasts jumping as she did, pert nipples pointing from spread areole signalling her bodies recent fulfilment. A deep ache insider her satisfied by maternal knowledge the union was a success.
Jane heard the sound of heels clicking on the stone floor foreshadowing the dominatrix returning from the darkness.
“Have him prepared, I want him back at our flat…” her thoughts were interrupted by calendar considerations and she checked her diary. “Appointment at 7, oh yes, have him delivered at 9”. Dressed, she simply walked out the way she came in, muttering some complaint about no phone signal.
“Arrogant bitch!” thought the dominatrix, clicking her fingers to summon the removal squad.
He was a new man, a final injection cleared the last torturous hours from his memory and he awoke in his own home thinking he must have made it back and just collapsed onto the stairs. A close call he considered,
“It must drink a bit less if allowed out again.” he chastised himself while picking up the first delivery of many, box after box of his beloved wife’s new shoes, overjoyed at being allowed the evening with the pleasure of diligently polishing them all.