Part 1 — Thrall W
Body and mind singing with obedience, Thrall W stepped out of the shower area and proceeded towards the medium sized room alongside. Padding on the balls of its feet, it halted outside one of the many of doors that lined the walls and stepped into the walk-in closet where Tracy kept her clothes. A pair of purple trimmed panties and matching bra went on first, followed by dark jeans and a tight black sweater, which it pulled carefully ensuring the turtleneck collar did not smear the newly applied make-up. Finally, the Thrall slipped its small feet into a pair of boots with low heels.
Inspecting itself in the mirror the Thrall ascertained that its appearance was acceptable. The petite young woman who returned its gaze had been a Thrall for over two years and had long since accepted that everything it was belonged to the Owner. Unlike much of Her property the Owner preferred to keep Thrall W’s hair short, which combined with its willowy physique gave it a rather masculine appearance. This resemblance was broken by the subtle enhancements made to its naturally flat chest, outlined by the tight embrace of the sweater.
The pretty, oval shaped face that stared back from the mirror was utterly devoid of all emotion. The high turtleneck reaching up to its chin resembled somewhat the deliciously tight and restrictive embrace of the Owner’s heavy collar it was blessed to wear. Wide hazel eyes shining with Purpose, the Thrall’s impassive demeanour masked the ever present throbbing of its sex that constantly reminded it of what it was.
Leaving its closet, the Thrall made its way to the elevator, descended to the garage level and approached a delivery van. The off-white coloured van was grubby and worn, deliberately designed to blend in. Beside it were two other Thralls dressed in full regalia; a small, heavy-chested Asian Thrall stood rigidly to attention alongside another slave, a taller, light haired Thrall. Both Thralls had firm hard bodies, the result of a ruthlessly demanding exercise regimen. Thrall W positioned its softer body beside the taller female and adopted the same rigid stance.
Blankly it stared ahead, pussy singing, certain in the knowledge that it was obeying.
A controller, tall, lithe, coffee coloured skin cinched into regalia, approached the three passive slaveThralls.
“Thralls,” their controller announced, “initiate mission protocols. Obey.”
Three voices replied as one. “It obeys.”
The Thrall felt it’s conscious mind filled with instruction as its Persona was triggered. Like smoothly slipping into the familiar crotchless latex slut-suit that the Owner often had it wear during sexfun, Thrall W felt the Persona-facade slide into place.
The Persona masked the Thrall whilst it interacted outside the Community, allowing it to manipulate others to better serve its Purpose. Suppressed knowledge returned of its preThrall existence when it had considered itself to be Tracy Mallory. But the memories felt light and ephemeral, mere fragments of information devoid of the emotional context that gave them meaning. Tracy was a mask, nothing more. The Persona was a faint echo of a former life that no longer mattered, divorced from the obedience that pulsated endlessly deep in the very core of the Thrall’s deeply brainwashed mind.
Now fully activated, the three slaves clambered into the van; the acquisition Thralls in the back whilst the Tracy Persona climbed into the driver’s seat. Moments later the nondescript van was threading its way through the early evening traffic towards the suburbs.
A short time later Tracy expertly parked the van in the destination that the mission programming had guided her to. The narrow alleyway was dark, dimly lit by a single weak streetlight that only served to accentuate the sinister shadows and oppressive gloom. The rear fire-exits of a number of businesses and shuttered properties backed out on to the alleyway. Dumpsters, overflowing with waste littered the narrow passage. Beside them was the only other visible sign of life; a tabby cat content to observe them from afar.
Leaving the engine idling, they waited. Behind her, should she have cared to peer through the small window behind the driver’s seat, Tracy would have seen the shapes of her two sister Thralls. Sitting calmly, hard bodies clad in glossy plastic, faces blank and empty of all thought other than the mission programming that filled their minds, the two acquisition Thralls appeared deceptively at ease.
In reality they were a pair of coiled snakes.
All three slavewomen sat silently in the van as the evening grew darker.
Headlights flashed in the mirror. Tracy checked and saw the police cruiser slowly driving up the alleyway towards her. She could sense the suspicion of the occupants as the vehicle warily crawled towards the van.
Turning to the small opening she faced the two passive Thralls, seated behind. “Activate,” she said clearly.
Even though the van interior was a dark void Tracy could sense the two blank Thralls tense, readying themselves for action. Purpose claimed them.
Turning back to the mirror, Tracy watched the police car and its uneasy occupants continue its cautious creep forward. Finally the car came to a stop behind the van and two figures emerged. Flashlights in hand they approached the van, hands hovering near their holstered guns.
A beam of light pierced the driver’s side window of the van and Tracy quickly turned to face it. There was a brief tap on the glass and Tracy lowered the window.
“What are you doing here?” the figure with the light questioned curtly.
Smiling nervously, Tracy squinted through the beam of light and addressed the silhouetted policewoman.
“Oh, hi officer,” she greeted, her voice high-pitched and trembling nervously, “is there something wrong?”
“Why are you parked here ma’am?” the policewoman continued, ignoring the question. Her eyes adjusting to the light, Tracy could just about discern the familiar features of the redheaded target.
Standing behind was another police officer, hand also resting on her firearm, ready to cover her partner.
“I’m just waiting for a friend,” Tracy explained weakly, inflecting just the right amount of quaver into her voice. It was important to get the tone just right so the target would remain wary but wouldn’t call for back up. The programming guided Tracy well.
“We had a report of a robbery near here,” the redhead went on authoritatively. “A vehicle that matches the description of yours was involved.”
Tracy nodded dumbly as the policewoman stared at her suspiciously.
“What do you have in the back of the van?” the cop pressed on.
“Oh, nothing at all officer,” Tracy reassured her questioner quickly. Too quickly. The policewoman’s face was impassive but her body language told a very different story.
“How about you slowly get out of the van and show us,” the police officer insisted, “then you can be on your way.”
Smiling weakly, Tracy eased herself out of the driver’s seat. The target took a step back as the door opened and Tracy got out. Hand resting over her holster, the policewoman followed behind as she moved towards the rear of the van.
Ever vigilant, the second policewoman now took position some distance behind her partner to provide cover.
Risking a brief glance behind her, Tracy pulled open the rear van doors and quickly stepped aside.
The redhead’s focus was now on the dark interior of the van into which she swung her flashlight, illuminating the two Thralls concealed within.
“What the.….” she gasped in disbelief.
Both Thralls sprang, launching themselves at the target.
But she was ready. With practiced ease the policewoman rapidly stepped back to put distance between her and the two assailants. Eyes never leaving the Thralls, she continued to retreat towards the safety of her partner as her flashlight beam reflected off the gleaming vinyl uniforms of the two Thralls.
“Erica!!!” the redhead alerted her partner, reaching for her pistol.
Standing to the side Tracy watched the drama unfold. Closing the distance swiftly, the other policewoman came up from behind. “Right here,” she called out. There was no panic. Just well trained policework.
The redhead had the gun in her hand.
The Thralls wouldn’t reach her in time.
She was starting to level her pistol, index finger moving towards the trigger.
They would be too late.
Tracy didn’t see her pounce. Letting out a half-strangled scream, the target collapsed bonelessly to the ground, her pistol falling harmlessly aside. The flashlight bounced off the asphalt, its beam dying.
Standing over her was the other policewoman, a stun gun in her hand.
The two abduction Thralls immediately took hold the redhead’s limp body and pulled the woman upright.
Calmly, the enThralled policewoman set about collecting the gun and radio from her unconscious partner. Next, the insensible material’s arms were positioned behind her back and handcuffed before a gag was stuffed into her mouth. Now fully restrained, the two muscular Thralls briskly hefted the redhead into the back of the van and Tracy closed the doors.
The whole abduction had taken less than three minutes from start to finish.
There had been no witnesses.
Tracy turned to the policewoman standing before her. In the gloom she made out the firm, athletic features of Thrall T, a member of her own Thrallgroup.
Even in the dim light she was able to make out the Thrall’s eyes sparkling with joy. Tracy knew that the Thrall’s pussy was singing just like her own.
“This one will return to the police station,” Thrall T informed her, brown eyes glowing with Purpose, dancing with the bliss of obedience they both lived for.
Tracy felt more programming unspool within her mind. Thrall T would register the call as a false alarm before returning the target’s equipment to the police stores and logging the abducted woman out for her arranged vacation. They didn’t check who actually turned in what particular gun; the alcoholic sergeant in charge of the stores department didn’t care as long as all the weapons and radios were accounted for.
In the hustle and bustle of the nightly shift change the freshly acquired target-material would not be missed.
“Yes,” Tracy responded, relishing the delicious throb of sexual energy that buzzed through her entire being.
Tracy was to transport the captive back to the Community for enThrallment.
With that, both Thralls turned away. The two vehicles crept out of the alleyway and merged into the traffic.
For most of the journey, the abductee remained docile. Still stunned, she had been easy to manage. But by the time they reached the park turn-off the material had recovered somewhat. Glancing back, Tracy reassured herself that the two Thralls had the red haired female under control.
A few minutes later found the delivery van descending on the elevator into the loading garage of the Community.
Tracy saw two stiff Thralls in full regalia awaiting their arrival; one was tall and pale skinned, the other slightly shorter, but prettier, with chestnut brown hair.
The brown haired Thrall walked towards the van and gave her instructions. Sex tingling with pleasure, Tracy positioned the delivery van and followed the Thrall’s commands.
Looking back through the small window, she watched passively as the four Thralls removed the struggling slavematerial from the van and carried her to the elevator.
“Tracy,” the attractive Thrall announced. “You will park the van, and proceed upstairs to shed Persona and become Thrall.”
“Yes,” she replied, her pussy quivering joyfully.
Once she had done so, Tracy returned to the Community she called home.
Upon exiting the elevator, Tracy found herself in the presence of her controller. Stopping in her tracks, Tracy awaited instruction. Gesturing to the blank wall beside the elevator, the controller spoke. “Wait here.”
Tracy calmly marched over to the indicated position, turned to face the ebony controller and stiffened to attention.
Happily pulsating, she patiently awaited further instruction.
Soon afterwards the elevator doors opened once more and the two abduction Thralls emerged and joined her to form a short line.
“Thralls,” the black woman spoke, “deactivate mission protocols. Obey.”
Registering the words of her controller, Tracy felt the Persona slip away, the disguise discarded immediately. From behind the impenetrable mask it used to hide in plain sight, the Thrall’s true self emerged.
Chanting in unison with the two other taut slaves alongside, Thrall W recited the words that now filled its rePurposed mind. “It obeys.”
Following in the wake of their controller the three Thralls marched in silence until the group reached a familiar chamber. The room was large and completely white with three black frames placed in the centre. A number of rigid Thralls stood facing the procession as they entered.
Once more lining the three new arrivals up to face the group, the controller gestured some of the taut Thralls to step forward. A curvaceous Latina, a lithe brunette and a hardbodied blond approached the controller. The Latina and blond Thralls carried items of regalia in their hands.
“Prepare this Thrall,” the controller directed.
“Yes,” three voices intoned.
Thrall W stood still as they approached. The brunette Thrall, who it recognised as Thrall O, set to work. Kneeling, the brunette took hold of the boots it still wore, slipping them off with ease. Freed from these, Thrall W rose to the balls of its feet gracefully. Now Thrall O was fumbling with the jeans, sliding them down before discarding them on the floor. The sodden purple panties went the same way. Standing now, the brunette had Thrall W raise its arms and pulled the black turtleneck off, adding it to the small pile of clothing. Finally, the bra was removed.
Naked, Thrall W stood proudly on its invisible heels as the coffee hued controller looked on, its eyes bright with pleasure.
From the Latina Thrall, the brunette now took a heavy black bustier which was carefully wrapped around Thrall W. As it was laced tightly into the restrictive garment rivulets of sexjuice trickled down its legs.
Taking a heavy black collar from the arms of the blond slave, Thrall O approached the partially clad drone. Holding it reverently with both hands the brunette held it up towards the throbbing Thrall. Lovingly, Thrall W stared at the rigid collar, the symbol of its absolute submission and devotion to the Owner. Pussy twitching, the Thrall pressed its lips to the black collar and kissed it tenderly.
Wrapping the collar around the throbbing Thrall’s neck, the brunette began to tightly buckle it to the bustier.
Their task complete, the three Thrallslaves stepped aside as the controller approached. Grasping the two ends of the black collar that hung loosely at the front of Thrall W’s neck, eyes aglow, the Thrallcontroller now closed them tightly. Sizzling with joy, Thrall W relished the sexual energy that sparked through it as the wide eyed controller turned the key in the strict collar, locking it shut. Head resting atop the massive collar that completely enveloped its neck, Thrall W vibrated in silence.
This felt so right.
This felt so good.
This was Purpose.
Every last outward vestige of the Tracy Persona was gone.
Only Thrall W remained.
The controller issued new instructions. Thrall W, along with the other two abduction Thralls now moved to the X shaped frames where the other slaveThralls set about securing them in place. Although upright at present, the frame could, and would, be pivoted in all directions to allow full access to all of the restrained subject’s orifices. Arms and legs splayed wide, Thrall W felt the heavy straps bite into its wrists, torso and legs, pressing it against the padded apparatus.
Thrall W, now firmly pinned against the sexframe, gushed as the three blank Thrallwomen, their task complete, snapped to attention.
The other two abduction Thralls were now similarly restrained and waited on by their own attendants.
Their controller surveyed the scene, checking to see if everything was in place. Satisfied, it activated the chamber and left.
A low hum began, growing gradually in intensity. It slowly seemed to fill the room. The lighting grew dim as the drone grew louder and louder. Now reverberating loudly through the entire chamber, the insistent noise seemed to penetrate deep into every pore of the Thrall’s being. There was no escape. It consumed everything. Mind and body now singing in cadence with the insistent beat, the Thrall surrendered completely.
Giant images of the Owner were now projected on the walls, ceiling and floor.
Her radiance filled the entire chamber.
Thrall W gasped and moaned as it gazed helplessly upon the One that Owned it. Body encased in hard plastic, tight against the bondage frame, cunt dripping with love, the enraptured Thrall sank deeper and deeper as the humming grew and grew. The intense vibrations dissolved all thought as the tempo built.
Flickering and undulating in time with the powerful sonic pulses, the huge images of the Owner gazed benevolently down upon Her brainwashed property.
Transfixed upon the Divine visage of the One it lived for, the Thrall cried aloud as its yearning cunt spasmed euphorically. An unquenchable flame of arousal consumed Thrall W utterly. It hungered desperately for the Owner. It would do anything to please Her.
There were no limits. No boundaries. Now and forever there was only Her.
Its sole reason for existence.
Fixated upon the shimmering image of the Owner, the Thrall surrendered to the cycles of ecstasy that ripped through it. The entire room seemed to be twisting and vibrating, throbbing and undulating in time with the pulsing hum that sliced through its conscious mind.
Thrall W’s enslaved sex sent wave after wave of intense, desperate need into its sizzling mind.
The frame was now tilted so that it lay horizontally. No matter, the Owner stared down from above. Dimly Thrall W registered its sister slaves positioning themselves around the frame, readying themselves to begin fucking it from every angle.
Heart pounding, Thrall W mewled as its Owned body quaked uncontrollably in anticipation of what was to come.
The Owner filled it completely.
This was obedience.
This was Purpose.