The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Melody arrived at her office building in the morning, for just another typical workday. It was back to the grind for her.

She hadn’t actually been at work for a few days; she’d had the previous week booked off for personal time, and today was supposed to be her first day back. Her return was off to a bad start already, because she’d shown up late.

She wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting up there and going back to work. It was true that all booked vacation time had to end eventually, but Melody’s acceptance of this truth was begrudging.

Melody had been disappointed to find her vacation time ending, even though she’d known that was the way things had to be. She’d been so disappointed that she’d been slow getting ready that morning. She’d found it hard to motivate herself to go back to work after having so much time off.

As a result, she’d left way too late, and she was almost an hour late on her first day back. There was no way that would have gone unnoticed, by her coworkers, or her boss— she was likely to hear something about her lateness when she got up to the fifth floor.

Still, there was nothing to do but go up and accept those consequences. If she tried to avoid it and put it off any longer, she’d only make herself later, and make the consequences to her lateness worse.

Melody got into the elevator. If she had arrived on time at nine o’clock, there would have been a crowd riding up in the elevator with her, but since it was almost ten o’clock instead, she was the only one in the elevator.

That made for a quick ride up to her floor; which was a good thing, because it shaved a little more time off of her lateness. She was late, but not as late as she otherwise would have been if she’d have to wait for the elevator to stop at each of the first four floors.

But when Melody got out onto the fifth floor, she could tell right away that something was wrong.

The fifth floor elevators let out into their own room, which was separated from the rest of the floor by two sets of doors, one on each wall and parallel with each other.

There was nothing in this ante-room that was obviously out of place. But Melody could still tell something was wrong, because there was no light coming through from under either door. There was only a gap of blackness beneath each.

She shook her head. Maybe she was just seeing things— or maybe the lighting in the hall was somehow playing tricks with her vision. She crossed the elevator ante-room to the set of doors on the one side; and opened them.

It had not been a trick of the light, or her imagination. The fifth floor on the other side of that door was completely dark; just pure blackness.

That wasn’t right. Melody checked the time on her phone again— it had just ticked over and become ten am. And it was a weekday.

The office shouldn’t be darkened and abandoned right now. Where were her coworkers? Where was everybody? They were supposed to be inside, working… where were they? Why did it seem like she was the only person on the floor?

Melody closed that set of doors— then she crossed back the other way, to the other set of doors. She opened those too, just to make sure— and, like the first set, there was only blackness waiting behind them.

Melody squinted as she looked over the floor from her position in the doorway. She tried to make out the cubicles, and the people who should have been seated behind them.

There was just no one there— all the lights were off, and all the desks were empty. It didn’t look like anyone had been there at any point that day. It looked like, when everyone had left the night before, they had shut the lights off and shut everything down. And then they hadn’t come back today.

Melody felt relief on one level— she’d been thinking all the way here about how much trouble she was going to be in when she arrived. She’d been thinking of how her boss was going to chew her out. But there was no one here to even notice that she was late— there was no one here to care that she hadn’t come in at nine, and there was no one here to care that she was here now.

There should have been. By this time in the morning, all the lights should have been on, and everyone should have been at their desks already at work. But they weren’t.

Melody frowned as she stood looking into that darkness. It was a gaping void before her, and though she was still standing upright, she almost felt like she was looking down, looking below at something she was going to fall forward into. It was so dark in there that it was disorienting.

The light from the elevator room behind her was not enough to do anything more than cast a little illumination a few inches past the doorway. It was too feeble to make any substantial impact on that blackness, and beyond those few inches, it frayed and faded into nothing.

It was so dark that it seemed like every light was shut off on the floor; like not even one person was there, but Melody wanted to be sure.

She stepped forward through the doorway, holding onto the frame. She wasn’t completely willing to go in— but she would peek in.

“Hello?” She called out over the empty fifth floor. “Is anyone here today?”

No response came back to her— but she had the uncanny experience of hearing her voice pass through over the empty space, uninterrupted— undisturbed— unanswered.

She could go in and turn the lights on, and walk the whole floor by herself. But she was really doubting that there was anyone inside to find.

Melody wasn’t sure what to do. But the situation was so strange to her that she wondered again if, somehow, she had come to work on the wrong day. She had already checked the time and date once, but the absurdity of what was happening to her was so stark that she was doubting her recent memory of checking. Maybe it was a weekend, or a holiday, and she had only somehow forgotten to notice? Maybe she had only been imagining what she wanted to see when she’d looked just moments before?

Melody fished for her phone in her purse again, hitting the unlock button on the side of it to see, and looking at it without taking it all the way out of her purse. No, it was a workday; the date was the same as the last time she had checked, though the time had advanced five minutes further. There was no good explanation for why she had found her office floor abandoned.

She wondered if anything had happened in the past few days to cause this. Something must have happened. Things like this didn’t just come out of nowhere; there had to be some reason behind this change. Something had instigated it.

She’d been away, after all. She’d been out of the loop for an entire week. She hadn’t checked her work email once, and she’d left her work phone shut off. For her entire block of booked vacation time, she hadn’t spared her work more than a stray passing thought. So if something had happened— if some sweeping changes had been made, the kind that could explain this situation— it was understandable that she might have missed them.

She’d so completely unplugged from her work— she’d left it behind her for the the duration of the past week. But when she’d left it, she’d expected it would be there to return to when she came back.

Her workplace should be waiting for her, just the way she left it. Its office should be illuminated, its employees should be present. Everything should have been waiting for her, the way she remembered it. The way it always had been any other time that she’d ever taken a time off from work. What could possibly have happened in just one week to cause everyone to abandon this floor? Had their company suddenly liquidated and dissolved itself with no warnings ahead of time? If that had happened, had someone just forgotten to tell her, since she hadn’t actually been in the office, and it had happened so fast?

There was no explanation that seemed quite possible.

Well, whatever Melody was going to do next, she couldn’t just stay standing here. She’d been standing here staring into the darkness long enough. She needed to make a decision. She either had to go in and walk around in the hopes of finding another person, or she needed to leave and go elsewhere.

A thought occurred to her. There were renovations going on, up on the seventh floor. Or at least, there had been renovations going on when she had left for her time off. Melody couldn’t remember… Had last week been the week that all those renovations had been scheduled for completion?

Melody felt a spark of hope. That was a plausible explanation. It was the first plausible explanation she’d thought of— the first one that made real sense to her, the first one that she could almost bring herself to believe.

Last week the renovations had been completed— of course. They’d been completed, so everyone had moved their offices upstairs, and no one had remembered to tell her. So right now, they were all up on the seventh floor working hard, and she could go up there, and her boss would be there, and if she went, her boss would confront her about her lateness and the day would go on the way it was supposed to.

It sounded so plausible and so likely that it filled Melody with relief. Yes, this was right. No one was here, they were all up on seven. She just had to go up and meet them there.

Melody turned back from the second set of doors to go back to the elevators. She pressed the button eagerly, to call the elevator to her, and when the elevator came, stepped in through the doors and watched them shut behind her.

She pressed the button for seven, feeling excited in her own way about the idea of seeing the newly renovated floor. It had been under renovation for a long time— she was curious to see how it had turned out.

But more than anything, Melody was eager to see her office running as usual, after the strangeness of finding the abandoned floor. She wanted to see people hard at work there— even wanted her boss to reprimand her, now.

Sometimes Melody found her work and her workplace boring, even bordering on annoying; but she wouldn’t be ungrateful today. There’d be no grousing or complaining from her.

She’d just be grateful to find that her workplace was still there— that her coworkers were still there, that it was all still there and not vanished into nowhere with no explanation. She’d be perfectly content with her work, and her workplace today. When she found it all there, only two floors up, she would be so grateful that nothing else would matter to her then the fact that it existed and she was in it.

The elevator let her off onto the seventh floor. The lights were on up here— she could see them from under the door this time. This was better: this was the way things were supposed to look, how they were supposed to be.

And the lights were a good sign. They meant there had to be people on this floor, and if there were people on this floor, it meant that Melody’s theory was correct. The office had moved up two floors, and in just a few minutes everything would be back to normal, when Melody got to her desk.

Melody walked from the elevator to the door, and she wondered where her new desk would be. She wondered what the layout of the floor would be, wondered if the newly renovated floor had been furnished with new office furnishings. She passed through the dividing door, leaving the elevators behind.

But when Melody went through, the space she found on the other side of it was not what she had expected.

It didn’t look like an office at all anymore; there were no desks. There was only a lot of empty space. It was like walking down a very wide and spacious hallway.

Melody had never come up to the seventh floor much before they’d closed it for the renovation; she had nothing to compare it to, but she still knew that it was wrong. All the furniture was gone; and the decor was off, too. The walls had been painted a dark blue color, along this section of the floor. Office walls were not meant to be a real color— they were supposed to be shades of neutral, an unobtrusive background to overlook.

This color did not conform to that style. It was the kind of color that was meant for residential decor: the kind of color someone might paint their living room walls.

The floor was different too— it wasn’t a gray office carpet anymore. It was an even darker color than the paint on the walls; the colors were deep, so there should have been a steadiness to them, but instead they made Melody feel unsettled. They were too dark; they didn’t belong in a space like this— Melody didn’t like them.

Still, all the lights were on— and there were more lights on ahead, like a beacon through the painted darkness, so Melody kept walking forward, through the wide empty space to the corner up ahead. She’d come this far; she might as well try to solve the mysteries of this strange floor, and the sudden office changes in general.

There were still no people around in this stretch of the seventh floor, only a lot of empty space; so there was still no one for Melody to ask questions of, or seek explanation from. And with the strange new decor around her, Melody was doubting her earlier theory. The renovation was done, but how could everyone have moved up here in the way Melody had been hoping for? There was nowhere up here to work.

Her mind was already trying to put together alternate explanations for her, since her last theory had failed her. Maybe her company had sold the floor to some kind of residential developer, and they had only bought one floor in a building that was otherwise zoned for business; even as she tried to think through that hypothetical, it seemed to collapse around her.

She tried again. Maybe some wealthy person had bought the floor themselves to live in, and no developer had ever been involved at all; maybe Melody was trespassing right now in someone else’s living space.

This didn’t sound very likely to her either. And she was running out of possible theories. What explanation was there? What explanation could there be for this unnatural state of affairs? She only hoped she would be able to find an answer somewhere up here.

Melody spotted a corner up ahead. This was the part of the floor that gave way to a great big open concept area— if Melody remembered right. She hadn’t actually been up to the seventh floor, but she had overheard things about its layout in passing. It was supposed to be the same as the fifth floor two levels down— two side sections that both connected back to a central open area.

The open concept area was there as Melody had expected as she came around the corner— but it was as devoid of office furniture as the other section that Melody had passed through.

It was not empty of furniture entirely, though— up ahead, at the other end of the floor there was a large chair that could really only be accurately described as a throne. On it sat a woman that Melody had never seen before, with several other women kneeling around her; the rest of the space was empty.

This seemed ridiculous to Melody: so much unused floor space. Maybe she really had stumbled into this woman’s living space— but if she lived here, where was all her furniture?

There was nothing standing between Melody and the woman on her throne, so when Melody came around the corner, the woman’s eyes latched on Melody. Melody shivered in response— she didn’t know anything about this woman, but even just in sharing a look with her, Melody had the strong feeling that she didn’t like her.

The woman shifted her hand on her armrest— Melody couldn’t see what she was doing from here, but after she had shifted her hand, the floor in front of Melody opened up.

Melody looked down to see what was happening— the entire floor had not opened: only one square panel had opened itself, and it was sending wiry bonds out and upwards.

Melody realized what was happening too late— the bonds had gone around her wrists and her ankles, suspending her off the ground, and restraining her in place.

The woman shifted her hand again— the bonds, which were still attached to that unseeable space beneath the floor, moved, and moved Melody with them.

Ahead of their movement, panels opened in a straight line towards the throne. The other end of the bonds seemed to be on some kind of track beneath the floor, and the track was pulling Melody across the empty floorplan, stopping her just a few steps back from the strange woman’s throne.

“Who are you?” The woman asked, with a frown, once Melody had come to a stop in front of her.

“Melody…” Melody said, shakily. She wasn’t sure why she’d answered honestly; shock seemed like the most likely explanation to her. It had been strange enough to find that the fifth floor was abandoned, but there had been a few theories that Melody had been able to put together to try and make sense of what was happening.

There was nothing that could make sense of this: she’d stepped around the corner, and found herself in a seemingly other world. A world in which she was now restrained and suspended in front of a throne. Her mind was blanking out.

The woman didn’t look very appreciative of Melody’s answer; though maybe she was frustrated with herself for not asking a more useful question. “What are you doing here?” She pressed.

It was such a strange situation that the only thing Melody’s body seemed able to do was to answer on auto-pilot, as if this was any other normal conversation.

“I work here,” she said. Internally, she was in a free-fall of confusion. “I came looking for my coworkers.”

“You don’t work here,” the woman said with a frown. “Everyone who works here has already been converted.”

Converted? What did that mean? Melody only felt her confusion increasing; converted to what, converted from what?

Whatever it was, it sounded bad.

“I do work here,” Melody insisted defiantly. “Look, I have an ID badge clipped to my jacket.” She jerked her head in the direction of said badge, and at the same time wrenched her shoulder against her bonds to cause the badge to swing slightly in place, where it was clipped to one lapel of her dress suit jacket.

She seemed very invested in proving herself to this stranger. More evidence of the shock controlling her; more actions taken while on auto-pilot. If she had better control of her actions and reactions in that moment, maybe she would have thought twice before insisting on the truth. Did she really want to prove her employment to this woman? Who knew what she would do with that information, or how she would use it?

The woman made a gesture with her hand; one of the women kneeling beside the throne rose, and moved to Melody. It was not a woman she knew— none of the four kneeling there were. It was a big office, so it didn’t surprise Melody that she had some coworkers she’d never interacted with before.

The woman reached her. Then she unclipped the badge almost before Melody even noticed, and carried it back with her to the woman on the throne. She passed it to her, before retaking her kneeling position. The stranger looked down at it, and as she looked down at it, she opened her mouth to speak.

“laura-slave!” She called; one of the other women kneeling stood and stepped forward, closer to the throne. Her name must have been Laura before she was… converted.

The stranger looked up at her. “I thought you told me everyone had been converted over— you showed me a list of names that were all crossed out.”

“I did,” Laura stammered. “I thought everyone was converted.” She looked distressed. “Goddess, I’m sorry to have failed you. If I’ve made a mistake, I’m so sorry. Believe me, I—“

The woman that Laura had called “Goddess”— and this was only one more strange detail that Melody’s mind didn’t know what to do with — held up her hand. “Never mind,” she said. “Where did you get the list of names you were working from?”

“Someone in HR— I told them I needed it for a special project, the name of everyone in the office who was present; and I specifically asked if anyone was out sick.”

“But I wasn’t out sick,” Melody chimed in— drawing the eyes of the two other women back to her. “I had some personal time booked off. That’s why I’ve been away for the past week— personal time.”

Melody thought of that personal time with longing. She’d been wishing in an abstract way that it had never ended— now she was wishing very actively that she had never come back to work. She’d had no idea this kind of nightmare was waiting for her here.

Laura and her Goddess both ignored Melody’s contribution, and left it unresponded, then looked back to each other.

“I asked if there were other any other absences besides sick leave, too,” Laura said, her voice urgent. “HR told me no one was missing— they must have forgotten about Melody when I asked them.”

The stranger shook her head, and gave a sigh. “Even the most careful plan can’t guard against thoughtless mistakes. You clearly did your best; it’s not your fault that the HR employee forgot to tell you about her.”

Laura looked extremely relieved by this expression of forgiveness from the seated woman. “Oh, thank you Goddess, thank you for your mercy—“ She was saying, and dropping back to her knees.

Laura was trying to get closer the woman, like she was trying to put her face between her legs—

Melody flushed when she realized what Laura was trying to do. “Let me express my gratitude to you Goddess— please let me—”

The “goddess” stopped Laura with a press of her hand to her shoulder. “You may repay me later. My focus is needed elsewhere.”

Laura, already on her knees, scuttled back from the throne to kneel by its side again.

The woman was looking at Melody again— Melody liked her even less. She’d called that woman Laura… “laura-slave” and had clearly reduced her to an abject crawling and kneeling creature from the independent free woman she had once been. That must be the conversion that the stranger had mentioned before— so this meant that everyone— everyone in the office was— everyone but her—

It was too horrible. Melody couldn’t even think it.

“Since you’re the last employee left free, I will have to oversee your conversion myself.”

There was that word again— convert, used as a verb, applied to her. This woman was going to… convert her. Make her like Laura, make her like the other girl who had retrieved Melody’s ID badge (which had since been discarded onto the floor). Melody had living proof of what the end result of such a process looked like— but she had no idea what the process itself would entail. What did it mean, that this stranger was going to convert her— how would that feel?

Would it hurt?

Was there any way she could stop it from happening to her? Was there still time for her to resist it?

Laura and the kneeling others were a damning presence. If they were anything to judge by, resistance was not possible. Melody imagined that they must have all tried resisting, too— that everyone in the office had probably tried to resist. And yet they had still all ended up like this. And by the end of this process, Melody would be just like them— calling the sitting woman “Goddess” too.

Would she be naked and kneeling by the throne, when this was over? Or would she be off with the rest of the employees— wherever they were?

“This is a good opportunity for me to take advantage of, actually,” the woman went on. “I haven’t had the chance before now to try out all of the new technology I’ve had installed up here. There’s been no one new to convert yet, until you; so this will be a good chance to try some of it out.”

Melody didn’t want to be a test run for this woman’s technology. She’d already tested her restraints out for her. Those restraints were still suspending her, and she hadn’t liked trying them out very much. Her wrists were sore in the bonds; the muscles in her arms ached from supporting the weight of her body. This part of the experience had been bad enough; Melody knew she didn’t want to be part of any more of it.

She tried pulling against the cords holding her, hoping she could get some of them to loosen. But even as she pulled against them, she didn’t entirely believe she would be able to break free; they were mechanized, after all. What impact could her struggling really make against them? All she was really doing was making her wrists more sore, and making her arms more aching.

The woman had lowered her hand to the armrest of her throne; but from this closer position Melody could see the inside of it was dotted with buttons. That was one mystery solved, at least. Melody remembered seeing her shift her hand before the panel in the floor had lifted up. She’d pressed a button to bind Melody and bring her here. Clearly the entire floor of the main area was made of a series of panels like that first one. Who knew what else those buttons could do? There were so many of them.

“My name is Valentia,” the woman named herself. “But that information won’t be relevant to you for long. You’ll be calling me Goddess soon enough, the way all the rest of my thralls do. You’ll be one of them; just like all the others you see here.”

Valentia pressed another one of the buttons on the throne’s armrest; there was a flash on the wall just behind and to the side of the throne.

Melody’s eyes followed that flash involuntarily— her head turned to allow them.

She couldn’t see what its source was, but there was a spiral projected there on that wall— it was eye-catching; it spun, and spun, and seemed to erase everything else in the room.

Melody’s attention was totally taken up with the spiral as it moved. Her eyes were affixed to it, and it called her inwards. She couldn’t look away from it— she was following its every movement so closely, watching it— watching it spinning down… Melody remembered opening the door to the darkness of the fifth floor, and feeling as if she were standing above a hole and about to fall in. She had the same feeling now, watching the spiral spin.

“I can put these up all over the room—“ Valentia said, but Melody found it hard to focus on her words. All her focus seemed to be with that spiralling color— that pull downwards into something she didn’t understand.

But it was pulling her— pulling at her like gravity, inviting her to fall into an unknown. That process, whatever it was, that was going to convert her… the journey to becoming like the others who kneeled on the floor where she couldn’t see them…

“Or I can send this out instead—“ There was a pause in which Valentia was presumably pressing another button. The spiral was gone— but then there was more color again.

This time it wasn’t constrained to one spot; it was arcing out in rays, streaking across Melody’s field of vision. It took Melody a second to realize it was a strobe light— its arrival was so disorienting that for that first second, Melody felt like the colors had somehow been streaking through her head, on the inside.

They were just as captivating to Melody as the spiral had been— maybe more. Her eyes followed the color wherever it streaked; followed it around the room. It was making her dizzy. There were so many color beams, and they all seemed to branch out from each other, and split off and become new iterations of their originals; there were too many, and Melody’s eyes moved even faster, catching one beam and then getting caught up by another.

“I think my investment in renovating this floor was well worth it,” Valentia said. “I’ve only used two buttons so far, and look what they’ve done to you— and so quickly.

And look at how well those restraints are keeping you. It’s almost too bad you didn’t bring a few friends up with you— I can send up multiple restraints at once to catch a group and line them up in a row. But I suppose that will have to wait for another day. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and have some intruders stumble in some time. Then I could bind them up just like this, to do what I wanted with them.”

Melody’s eyes were still trying to follow the colors as they streaked around— but then the spiral was back on the wall. It was there, spinning— but the colors kept streaking at the same time.

She knew she didn’t want to look, not really— but she found it impossible not too. She couldn’t stop herself. Those colors were everywhere; so if she tried to look away from the spiral, they would catch her. But if she tried to avoid seeing those other flashing colors, she would inevitably find the spiral again, and it seemed to very effectively hold her attention, whether she wanted to look at it or not.

Melody found her eyes unfocusing; there were so many colors washing out the room, and they pulled her attention away. But then her eyes would refocus on the spiral, and she felt that teetering feeling. Her eyes unfocused… they refocused… they unfocused… She was starting to have a hard time telling the two apart… were her eyes unfocused, and letting her see the spiral that was inside her, or were they focused and seeing the spiral on the wall that was really there?

Was there even a spiral inside of her? Where had that idea come from? She’d never thought it before… had she?

“Let’s see… what else shall I try?” Melody couldn’t direct her vision any longer— when Valentia spoke, her eyes went to her, without Melody deciding to send them there.

Valentia’s hand was hovering over the buttons on her armrest, as if she were deciding which one to use.

“The useful thing about all of these is that they work on their own, and they also layer over each other very effectively; as you’ve already seen with the spiral and the other washes of color. But I can add a little more to this experience for you—“

Valentia’s fingers pressed down on another button; this did not change the movement of the colors, or anything that was happening visually.

The button lifted another panel, on one of the walls, exposing what looked to be speakers; and Valentia pressed another button. Melody had no visual for it, but she felt exactly what happened, though she couldn’t see it. A wave of sound came forth, sent by the pressing of Valentia’s button: it struck Melody so physically that it felt like a blast of air in the face. Or it made such a united front that it felt like she was the one moving towards it— and she hit into it like it was a wall she was crashing into. It was disorganized sound, and Melody couldn’t make any part of it out. There was nothing in the sound that was discernible as language— or musical tone— but when it had passed, Melody found herself thrown even more off her internal balance. And it left strange impressions behind her when it went.

For a moment she was so confused she didn’t know where she was, or why she was there— she sought certainty in her confusion, and her eyes found the spiral. There it was, spinning steadily, even as so many other colors flashed around it. It was a steady constant; and more of that relief from confusion was waiting inside it— Melody only had to watch it and ignore everything else. Or she could watch everything else closely, and feel more disoriented. The more disoriented she felt, the more comforting the spiral’s spinning would be. Getting further confused would be a positive thing, if it would increase her need for the spiral’s presence. She just needed to keep watching…

Melody shook her head. No, she didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to change. It was already changing her, but she needed to stop it before it could change her more. She had to try and hold onto her mind somehow, even as it seemed to be slipping away from her. Valentia was using so many different tactics on her at once that it was hard to defend against them. Even as Melody was shaking her head, Valentia had pressed a button again, and sent another wave of sound crashing over her.

Again, the moment of complete disorientation came. She could no longer tell if she was upright or upside down; if the sound had knocked into her and knocked her over, or if she was still suspended in place.

She had been no better able to make out any characteristics of the sound the second time it had hit her. It was only a blast of presence— and then an absence again, in which Melody was completely thoughtless for a second, completely unaware… and then she emerged from that silent moment to try and put her mind back together.

It worked, partly; but Melody also felt that she hadn’t completely come back from it. The disorientation left traces. Even when Melody remembered where she was, why she was there, and who she was— she found that confused, off-balance feeling stayed with her.

“There are other extensions that are more tactile,” Valentia said, but Melody was losing focus again. First the spiral, the flashing colors, then the sound waves— what could be next? “Extensions that can layer physical pleasure over everything else here— but I think there’s a place for manual participation even when technology is involved. Slaves, attend to Melody, and help her to see how pleasurable it is to be brainwashed.”

So there was a word for Valentia’s process… it struck Melody as fitting, given how the colors had seemed to smooth things out in her head. It was one more answer to a mystery: Melody had come looking for answers up here, and by now, she thought she’d found them all— but they were all terrible, and though she felt hazy from the brainwashing, she still wished that she’d never learned any of them.

She wished she had just turned around and gone back home when she’d found the fifth floor abandoned.

But the thought of home confused her again— did she have a home? Wasn’t this place where she belonged, the place she was in now? If anything, wasn’t the spiral ahead of her her home…?

The women who had been patiently kneeling as Valentia had been focused on Melody rose when Valentia gave her instruction— but before they had reached her, Valentia had pressed another button which sent other extensions up out of the floor to cut Melody’s clothing away.

Melody was still feeling so dazed from the combination of Valentia’s tactics that she had no room for embarrassment, even though she was now as naked as the rest of the other slaves. But that dormant embarrassment woke in her when she felt hands touching down on her— hands cupping around her breasts, teasing at her nipples, ghosting over her stomach, stroking through her folds and encouraging slickness between her thighs.

Melody tried to struggle in the bonds; but there was nowhere to go, and she couldn’t move her body in any direction.

There was another button-press; then another wave of sound. It made Melody forget all about the struggling— made her forget how to do everything but just hang there, so she hung. She hung, and she felt the pleasure the hands were giving her… she hung, and she saw the truth the spiral was revealing to her— realized too slowly that the spiral was still spinning, and her eyes had found it again.

Her mind was still in chaos from the last pass of sound. And Melody forgot to pull herself back from the edge, because she still wasn’t thinking yet— instead she just fell. Fell down into all those colors— but even as she fell, she was still aware of her body. Her mind was getting lost, but the sensations happening in her body were still clear to her— she felt the hands that were teasing pleasure out of her breasts, kindling it between her legs. The pleasure was washing through her body as surely as the colors were still washing the room around the edges of her vision, smoothing out all roughness and all resistance. It was washing through her body as surely as it was washing out her brain.

Yet still Melody found part of herself was trying to fight its way back into place— she was trying to remember who she was even as the spiral was further disorienting her. She was Melody, wasn’t she? — only something about that didn’t sound quite right to her anymore.

She tried harder to remember. Melody was close— Melody something, Melody… slave… melody-slave— that sounded right to her.

There was a feeling of relief when her name settled into place; and this only amplified the pleasure in her body further.

When she remembered her name, she found herself remembering so many other things too: why she was here, what her true purpose was, and who was behind all of this, who all of this was for. Her Goddess… she was here to learn obedience to her Goddess, so she could please and serve her all her days— please and serve her with pleasure, either given to her directly, or to her other thralls at her command… or to thralls who didn’t understand their thralldom yet. She would give it in service whenever and however she was told, just like the thralls standing around her were doing for her right now.

She wanted to serve— she wanted to learn her lessons of obedience as thoroughly as she could learn them. She let herself sink deeper into the spiral— though she felt something in her was still trying to fight free. She was trying to remember herself, from before she had been given the understanding of her own thralldom. Some part of her was stubbornly trying to hold onto that; trying to come back out of being a thrall. Somehow, some part of her wanted to escape the bliss of Goddess’ obedience.

That part of her needed to understand— it didn’t understand the perfection of bliss, even as her body was being filled with it, and it needed to. She wanted that old side of herself to understand; wanted to show it. It was a desperate feeling within her. Her old self needed to see more of the colors, so it could fade away with them— it needed to feel more of the pleasure, so it could dissolve into it…

melody-slave looked to the very center of the spiral to help the process. She moved her body in time with the hands that were manipulating her, to help the pleasure on. There was more of it, and she felt more confident in her true identity and her true purpose. The old was slipping away from her, getting more and more distant, dissolving into the pleasure and fading with the colors. Getting washed away… All resistant thoughts were draining out of her head, until the only thing that she could think of was the pleasure she was feeling, and the colors of the spiral.

This was what perfect devotion to her Goddess felt like— and it was perfect. She wanted to go on feeling it forever; she was so glad that Goddess had changed her to make her into this. And she wanted to help Goddess however she could, in thanks for this gift; and she wanted to share this gift with anyone else Goddess wanted to send it to.

She was a thrall, and this was her purpose: it felt so right to her— she would serve her Goddess willingly, and with everything she had, and help others to serve her too. Through her methods, Goddess was showing her how, and melody-slave was taking all of this information in so intently that she knew she was learning everything perfectly.

The obedience was solidifying in her, and becoming permanent. It was exactly what melody-slave wanted to have happen; and it was happening. She was so lucky.

She gave herself over to the pleasure again, basking in her feelings of luck, and gratitude. Goddess’ gift of obedience was so perfect— and she’d been lucky enough to receive it.

In celebration, she moved more eagerly with the hands that guided her. She reveled in the pleasure they brought to her; and understood, with a great feeling of happiness, that whether they were there or not, she would never have to be separate from the pleasure of obedience ever again.