The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Joe woke with a naked Jane beside him; her back reassuringly pressing into his torso. He draped his arm leisurely across her body as they spooned, and felt the warm underside of her breast on the back of his hand.

Sunlight streamed in through a gap in the curtains. It was late morning, or afternoon. Joe didn’t know what time the party had ended; only that it was very late. He’d seen the eastern sky start to lighten for the oncoming dawn as tiredness claimed him.

Life wasn’t all sweetness and light, though. Joe had a monster headache from the drinking. That was about it, though, and it was a small price to pay compared to the prospect of waking up next to such a beautiful woman every morning. In fact, Joe’s pain seemed to melt away just thinking about her. Seemed to, but not quite.

As softly as he could, Joe ran his fingertips up and down Jane’s side, from her shoulder right down to her leg. He knew from past experience that Jane loved this and this time was no different, an exhaled sigh signalling her approval.

“Good morning, dear. I think,” Joe was the first to break the silence, “Sleep well?”

“Yes, Master.” Jane turned round to face him, but stayed in contact throughout, “I always do with you next to me.” She pulled him closer and planted her lips on his in a long, lingering embrace.

“Wow,” Joe exclaimed, once his access to oxygen had been restored, “If I can wake up to that every morning, I’d die a happy man.”

Jane giggled, lowering her eyes for a second before returning her gaze to her master.

“You know,” Joe continued, carefully moving a lock of Jane’s hair behind her ear, “You were absolutely stunning last night, and you’re just as beautiful now.”

“Thank you, Master,” She kissed him again. Her intentions were clear.

Fortunately, his intentions were exactly the same. Within a couple of seconds, Joe was on top, and his hangover was completely forgotten...

“Good morning, you two,” Felix exclaimed jovially as Joe and Jane entered the kitchen, “I wondered when you’d make an appearance!”

“Sorry, mate. We were, erm, tired!” Joe exchanged a knowing glance with Jane, “Busy night last night.”

“Good morning, Master,” Layla made her presence known, “Would you like anything for breakfast?”

“Apart from you, you mean?” Joe asked suggestively, taking the time to kiss his other slave, “Just coffee and toast, please.”

“Jane?”

“The same, please.”

Joe’s provocative reply wasn’t entirely unjustified. Despite the presence of half a dozen couples in the house, Layla had apparently chosen to prepare the breakfast naked, save for a white cotton apron and the high-heeled shoes from last night. At least this time she was fully aware of her nudity; not that it mattered. The other girls, not to be outdone, also remained unclothed, making their current Masters’ lives as comfortable as possible. The net result was a group of men sat round the kitchen table, thoroughly enjoying their morning coffee.

“So what happens now?” Paul asked, breaking the silence.

“What happens now,” Felix replied, “Is that the winner claims his prize. It looks like I’m going to have a good week...”

“Woah, woah, woah. I don’t think so!” Joe interrupted, “By my reckoning, it was yours truly who won that game. Nice try, though!”

“Worth a go!” Felix shrugged, much to the amusement of the group. “But you’re right. Ladies, if you’ll gather round. Layla and, er, Jane, I don’t need you for this If you don’t mind going into the next room for a moment please...”

“Actually, Layla,” Joe added, “That black catsuit and corset of yours; the ones you wore for that video. Put those on for me, please, or something with the same... attitude. Oh, and the little presents I bought you both,” Joe felt a stir as his slaves’ eyes widened, “Well I think you can guess what I want you to do with those. Jane, give Layla a hand. I imagine that putting on that corset takes two.”

The pair left the room, Layla slowing slightly to shoot Joe a worried, almost plaintive glance. It was only for a fraction of a second, though, before she regained her controlled composure. The others crowded round Felix, awaiting their next order.

Felix looked at Joe, an eyebrow raised and a wry grin on his face, “Video? Present?”

“Technically it was a DVD rather than a video. Present? Well, a gentleman never tells.”

“It’s a good job you’re no gentleman, then.”

“Ha! No, I’m afraid these lips are sealed.”

Felix turned to the assembled men, shrugging his shoulders, “Hey, I tried!”

Returning his attention to the ladies, “Anyway, back to business. Code five, four, zero, zero, three. The game has been won and you are the prizes. Aren’t you lucky! For the next week you are to serve Joe as you would your own master. Joe will return you to your permanent masters by twelve noon in seven days. The game prize protocols are to remain in place until then. Do you all understand?”

(In unison) “Yes,”

“Over to you, Joe!”

“Thanks Felix,” Joe took control of the proceedings, “In that case, I think you all should give your Masters a goodbye kiss; remind them of what they’ll be missing when they return home without you. There’s no need to hold back.”

Joe watched keenly as the men were keenly pleasured by their slavegirls. He wasn’t particularly bothered about giving his friends one last fling before their week apart. With at least one ‘spare slavegirl’ at home, it wasn’t like they were going without! With the obvious exception of Dave, and his music-induced celibacy, of course.

The main reason behind Joe’s ostensibly generous order was much more mundane. He was just stalling for time. Time enough for Layla to get dressed appropriately for her next assignment. Something which became clear on her return to the gathering.

Layla returned clad head to toe in shiny black. The latex of her catsuit strained under tension from her breasts and accentuated her rear. Joe could never tire of that. The black leather corset wrapped tightly around her emphasized these features further, and the ubiquitous high-heeled boots were practically mandatory at this stage. The shiny silver cuff currently wrapped around her wrist was a little unusual, but Layla had obtained a matching cuff and collar, and the ensemble now looked suitably menacing.

It was Layla’s steely gaze, however, that completed the look in devastating fashion: a stare that could cut glass and reduce its victim to a quivering mass. She had guessed what Joe had in store for her and, although nervous about the slave vibrator currently lying dormant within her, she relished the opportunity.

Jane was much more simply, if immodestly, dressed. Other than a single pair of white latex panties keeping her slave vibrator in, and the silver cuff, Jane had remained naked. Joe most definitely approved.

Joe summoned the slavegirls from their now former masters, and asked Layla to sit on his lap for a moment, “Right, Ladies. I believe you all know Layla and Jane. For the next week, Layla is going to be your Mistress, and my second in command. I want you to obey Layla as you would me. She will handle the day-to-day logistics, won’t you, my dear?”

“With pleasure, Master.”

“And I assure you girls, she is extremely strict, aren’t you dear?” Joe held one hand round his slave/mistress and ran his free hand over her latex-covered body. He paid particular attention to her crotch, feeling for signs of the vibrator. Satisfied, he let his hands wonder.

“Oh yes, Master,” Layla cast her eye over each of the slaves in turn, “I maintain particularly high standards for my slaves.”

“Very good,” He tapped her ass and motioned her to stand up, also instructing Jane to take her place on his lap, “Please, Layla, continue. I’m sure you’re brimming with ideas on how to... entertain... our new guests. Give them a taster if you like. Maybe a few lessons in submission, and how to please their master on their return.” With that he returned his attention to Jane, kissing her gently and fondling her through the latex panties.

“Thank you, Master,” Layla’s excitement was clear to see. So many new toys to play with! “Well, for a start I think we ought to have you all in a line. Over here, please, girls. Facing me. Arms behind your back. Tits out. Come on, I haven’t got all day!”

The girls assembled themselves into a parade, ready for inspection. The transfer of control seemed to have been effective, Joe noticed as he tapped at his phone. There was apparently no problem with taking orders from either Joe or Layla. They were obeying her as quickly and as naturally as they had previously obeyed their own masters. It remained to be seen just how far that power transfer went; whether the girls would obey Joe over their own masters. Joe was tempted to try it, just as a test, but not just yet. Besides, he had another idea.

“Sorry, Layla. Before you start,” Joe interrupted.

“Yes, Master?”

“I don’t want Jane to feel left out,” Joe turned to his other slave, currently enjoying his caress on her crotch, “Get in line, dear.”

If Jane looked shocked, it was only for a second. Less than an hour before, she had woken up with Master and shared a moment of intimacy. She had watched the others with a mixture of relief and amusement, knowing that she was special because Master was enjoying her physically. Now she was relegated to the role of mere slavegirl; just one in a line up. That thought stung more than any other. It soon passed, though. Those sorts of thoughts did nowadays. Replaced by lustful urges at the idea of submission to Master and Mistress.

Those lustful thoughts brought with them a feeling of nervous excitement. Jane had no idea what would follow, but she had seen the look on Mistress’ face before. The glint in Layla’s eye was usually followed by some diabolical punishment, designed to overload the senses and humiliate the victim. Jane didn’t know which was worse: the idea of imminent torment, or the relish with which she looked forward for receiving it!

“Before we get going: you two. Mercedes and Ferrarri, isn’t it? I know all about your little clique, and I will not tolerate any unauthorised fraternisation in this house. You are not on holiday here; you are here for Master’s pleasure. From now on you can stand at opposite ends of the line.

Joe’s pride in Layla’s insightfulness was matched by Felix’s admiration, and Mercedes’s dismay.

So, my fellow sluts,” Layla continued, casually strolling in front of the group and running her finger down the line of breasts, “For those that don’t know me, I am Mistress Layla, but you are to address me as ‘Mistress’. We only have a week together, so we’ll have to make every moment count. Now you may all think you are the perfect slaves for your Masters, but from what I’ve seen so far there’s a hell of a lot of work to be done,” Picking one of the line-up seemingly at random, she pinched and twisted the poor girl’s nipple, “Now stop slouching, and stand up straight! Feet apart! Eyes front! I mean now!”

The assembled women strained to attention. Jane also complied, desperate to please Mistress.

“Better, I suppose. Now for your arms. You sluts can do better than that. I’d bet that each of you has had your hands tied behind your back, while your master fucked you six ways from Sunday. So, wrists together, elbows as close as possible. Don’t worry if you can’t get your elbows touching; it takes a lot of flexibility.” Layla’s hands migrated towards her crotch, “I want to see you try, though, and I’ll know if you’re... err... you’re not!”

Jane could feel the tension as she struggled to comply. Part of her mind silently begged Mistress for release, knowing fully that none would be forthcoming. The other part—the part that was slowly taking over her mind—enjoyed the struggle, and took visceral pleasure from following Layla’s commands.

Something else, though: Jane could see that Mistress Layla was becoming distracted. A slight change in her demeanour now and again. One too many pauses in her speech. She quickly realised what else was going on: Mistress was trying to maintain an aura of dominant superiority, but Master had activated her slave vibrator. Master’s smile and intent gaze at Layla told Jane everything she needed to know, even if the rest of the group was oblivious.

Jane watched as Mistress attempted to retain her composure. Her technique was simple: take it out on the slaves, “You can do better than that!” Mistress sneered, driving the point home to the less eager with a few breast slaps, “I know when my slaves aren’t giving their all, (SLAP) and I love to punish them for it. Oh yesss...” She leaned into the body of the slave she had just punished, groping the girl’s breast with one hand, rubbing herself with the other and passionately kissing her on the lips. To the onlooking crowd, it just made Layla seem more dominant; more sadistic, but Jane knew that Mistress had her own cross to bear at this point.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Jane’s own slave vibrator started its infernal torment. Jane saw Master’s gaze turn to her, and their eyes locked for a moment. It was all Jane could do to prevent a gasp escaping, but any surprise had given way to other, stronger instincts.

“Good. Now we’re getting there. This is what I want to see when I call for attention,” Mistress pulled herself together. Her vibrator must have stopped, “By the way, the position with your hands behind your back like that is called ‘Strappado,’”

Layla stopped in front of Jane and ran her hand across Jane’s latex-covered sex. The vibrator had been on for a few minutes now, and Jane’s desperation was rising. In a single stare, the two of them shared a moment of understanding of the vibrator’s power.

Returning her attention to the group, Layla continued her speech, “I want to see you practicing this position in whatever free time I allow you, along with any others I teach you. The harder the position, the more I want to see you practice. By the time you return to your masters, the body language of submission will be as natural to you as your mother tongue. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” The delightful chorus of slavegirls in unison.

“Sorry lads,” An apparently amused Joe announced, interrupting proceedings with absolutely no hint of remorse, “I’m afraid I have a busy day ahead of me, so if you don’t mind... Thanks again for coming, and if you want a rematch any time, you know where I am. Layla, would you see to our guests, please?”

“Of course, Master.”

Despite the frustration of an orgasm denied, Jane allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction as the vibrator ceased. She could see Master’s game. The other men had watched Layla’s display with keen interest, and more than a little arousal. Now that the stage was set, he was ending the show. Jane knew from past experience how good Master could be at getting others wound up. She was glad that, for a moment at least, his efforts would be focussed on others.

The guests were despatched with Layla’s typical ruthless efficiency. Layla instructed the slavegirls to help the men with their coats and shoes, and insisted that no girl service her own master. She also informed them that on their return home, each girl should help her master with even this mundane task, and would do so in as erotic manner as possible: “When you return to your master, even this will be a show for his pleasure. You will caress his leg. You will hold his feet to your bosom as you tie his laces. You will kiss each boot one you have placed it lovingly on his foot.” For the time being, however, the only Master getting special treatment would be Joe. When it came to the art of the tease, Master was a skilled amateur, but Layla was truly gifted.

It was a bit of a wrench, leaving eight stunning women in the house, but Joe had work to do. He would just have to do his job and get out as quickly as possible. Layla had been left with instructions to sort out the details of hosting the six temporary guests: minor things like picking up a weeks’ worth of clothes, sorting out the spare bedrooms and so on. Joe was determined to enjoy his week the sexy sextuplet, and Layla’s organisational skills would serve him well.

Despite it being the weekend (Sunday to be precise), Joe went to his usual job at Sat Tech. In his briefcase, a signal generator was waiting to be installed in the broadcasting firm’s servers. One of the devices that would lace hundreds of channels with the group’s subliminal signals, it had been designed specifically to be used with Sat Tech’s equipment.

The little black box represented the culmination of months of work by the group. Nobody knew this more than Joe. Success would bring untold power, women and wealth. Failure… discovery... the mere thought conjured terror in Joe’s mind. There was a little something else in there, though: the thrill of clandestine operation. Even taking the incredible events of the last few months into consideration, Joe had never felt as alive as he did now.

“Hey, Joe. We don’t normally see you here on a Sunday!”

“Hi, Len. You scared the bejesus out of me! No, I’ve just got some work to do on one of the servers. I didn’t get it finished on Friday.” Joe had deliberately left one of his jobs unfinished at the end of the week. Bearing in mind his current workload at Sat Tech (ie not a lot), it had been difficult not to finish it, but it did provide a good pretext for working Sunday. It also allowed him access to the necessary equipment, and the lack of staff gave him the privacy to get on with it alone.

“No problem. You wanna coffee?”

“No thanks, mate. Just had one.”

Joe set about his task. He had a few things to do before he could install the signal generator, and little time in which to do it. This was actually the first time that Joe had been given sole access to the device; another security policy from Felix. Joe was the only group member with access to Sat Tech, though, leaving Felix out of options. Joe knew he was on the clock, but he had to make use of this one and only opportunity.

Out of sight of the security cameras, Joe donned his latex gloves (no fingerprints) and retrieved the generator from his case. It wasn’t large; the size of a personal stereo, and even had the logo of one of Sat Tech’s suppliers on, lending the item an air of assimilation with the rest of the equipment. That was IF it was found inside one of the many TX1000 transponders that did Sat Tech’s digital heavy lifting. Felix did pay attention to the details, Joe mused.

Setting it up on the oscilloscope, he started analysing the output. “That’s odd,” Joe said to himself.

In its current mode, the device was meant to emit a single signal at 18.5kHz. This was the frequency that, according to Felix and Sam, activated the subliminals. Felix had once called it the “Mind melty channel”, and the name had stuck in Joe’s head. He could see a signal at 18.5kHz, but it wasn’t staying at a constant level like it was supposed to. It was varying in intensity. It wasn’t going to be a problem, Joe thought, tests had shown it worked. It just annoyed Joe that he didn’t know what was wrong.

Opening up the module, Joe checked the connections to the chip supplying the frequency. Nothing wrong there. He looked at the chip itself. It was the same one he’d soldered on himself, and one that he knew had the right frequency. Perhaps it was one of the other connections on the circuit board? After much examination it didn’t look like that was the case.

Perhaps there was interference with one of the other parts of the module. The problem with checking that was that Joe hadn’t designed most of it, that job had been shared with the others, particularly the decryption circuits.

Remembering his current circumstances, Joe reassembled the module. The risk of exposure, either by Sat Tech or Felix, grew with every moment he had this in his possession. At any rate, his watch was beeping, and he knew what that meant.

“Joe. Joe? You still here?” Len had returned.

“Over here.”

“I’ve just had a phone call from Ops. Channel 157’s gone down. Have you been working on that?”

“No. I’ve just been having a look at this spare module over here. I haven’t touched the TX for 157. I’ll have a look at it though. If I don’t do it now, I’ll just end up doing it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, mate. I’ve switched the feed to another channel for now. Will you give me a call when you’re done?”

“No problem.” Len left the room, apparently satisfied.

Joe had to hand it to Felix. Every operation was planned meticulously. The phone call in question hadn’t come from Ops, but from Felix himself, using technology from his cohorts in the phone department. Now that had his excuse to remove that module from the rack, which he did with practised ease. A few moments later, the generator was inside the module, all the necessary connections had been made, and the module had been resealed. All that remained was to reinsert and reconnect the module on the rack, and the job was complete!

“So what was the problem?” Len asked, on hearing that Joe had sorted it out. Seeing Joe’s hands, he continued his questioning. “And what’s with the gloves?”

“Oh, these?” Joe looked at his hands. “Anti static. The module was overheating. Loose connection on the fan, I think. I’ve replaced it with the fan from the spare TX. I’ll sort the rest out tomorrow.”

“Thanks for that. I’d never have found it.”

“No problem. Anyway, I’ll see you later, mate. Going to enjoy what’s left of my weekend.”

“How’d it go?” Joe asked, in their meeting place, a quiet corner in a bar near the office.

“Everything went smoothly,” Joe neglected to mention his test with the oscilloscope, or the fact that he’d been spotted with gloves. “The first unit’s installed and ready to go. As soon as I’m happy that it’s not been spotted, I’ll bring the other device in as discussed. Obviously the first unit won’t be doing anything until then.”

“That’s fine. Did you use the code on your guy?”

“Len? Yeah. Five six two eight. Will it work on him?”

“It should do,” Felix took a sip of his pint, “By now he’ll have completely forgotten you were there. He should also have changed over the security tape showing you accessing the equipment. You’ll know tomorrow that it’s worked if he hands you that tape.”

“And then?”

“And then, nothing,” Felix leaned back in his chair and reached for his coat pocket, “As far as anyone over there is concerned, you were never there. You never logged on to your computer, so that won’t show anything. Apart from your gloves there’s no physical evidence linking you to that unit. You’ll need to dispose of those, by the way. He’s the one who isolated it after my phone call, not you. You just spent the day with the girls. Speaking of which, I imagine you’ll want to be going home about now to enjoy the fruits of last night’s labour.”

“That would be... errr... nice!” Joe grinned.

“In that case I won’t you up any further. Say hi to Maria for me!”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“Not even a hint, mate,” Felix’s smile gave nothing away, “I think I’ll last the week with just the one woman. Catch you later.”

Joe smiled as he left the bar. He’d learned two things from that reply. The first: Felix was pissed at losing that game. Joe had figured he would be: Felix was competitive as hell and possessive of his women. The second: Felix’s induced tell still worked. As Joe walked by he saw Felix with his hands on the table; his fists tightly clenched.

“Good evening, Master. May I take your coat?”

Joe entered the house to find a solitary woman stood in the centre of the hall. One of his temporary houseguests for the week, it seemed, and apparently responding well to Layla’s training. Despite her au naturel state she showed no modesty. Instead she posed on her tiptoes; her arms behind her back as if tied, one leg bent slightly in front of the other and her body completely on display.

“Of course you may. Sorry, my dear, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Slave Katie, Master. Although you may call me whatever you wish,” Katie helped Joe with his coat and hung it up, before returning to her holding position.

“I’ll stick with Katie for now, thanks. Where’s Layla?”

“Mistress Layla said to tell you that she’s in the lounge, and to escort you through there... if it pleases you.”

“By all means! Please, lead on!”

Following Katie into the lounge (and taking time to admire the view), Joe smiled as he saw how Layla had been filling her time in his absence. Maria and Mercedes stood, one each side of the roaring fire like a pair of living, sexual ornaments. Clad in luxurious lingerie; Maria’s white, Mercedes pink, they waited patiently, arms behind them, for their master.

At Layla’s leather-clad feet, another slavegirl lay prostrate and immobile on the carpet. Joe instantly remembered her as the wearer of the “slut” collar at the party. The woman’s legs were bound together with intricately laced rope-work; a rhapsody in red cord. Her arms were similarly treated, crossed and bound behind her back with the same red rope. Other than that, Layla’s current victim was naked.

The scene reminded Joe of a cat presenting a mouse to its owner, occasionally toying with its still alive prey. The similarities were definitely there, as Layla prodded the girl’s ass with the shiny stiletto heel of her boot. Each prod and poke elicited a high-pitched squeal from the helpless slave cum footstool, which only served to amuse the mistress further.

“You started without me, then!” Joe quipped as he bent over to kiss his dominant slave’s cheek.

“Good evening, Master. Did you have a good day at work?”

“Not as good as you, it seems!”

“Oh this?” Layla thrust her heel into the slave’s already red ass cheek and mocked the resulting squeak, “I’ve just been having a little fun with Chloe down here. I don’t often get to use my favourite whip so, when I do, it’s a real treat. For me, that is. Not for her.”

Joe didn’t have to look hard to see the results of Layla’s ‘fun’. Even against the backdrop of the red lacing he could clearly make out the marks of Layla’s whip. She was practically striped! Joe wondered how long Layla had been at it.

“My apologies, Master. Where are my manners? If you’d like to sit down Katie can remove your shoes. I’ve been teaching her how to look after her master, and she’s keen to show you what she’s been learning.”

Joe relaxed into a chair, and Katie immediately sank to her knees in front of him. Lifting his first foot up to her chest, Katie made a show of untying his laces and slipping the shoe off. The two lingerie-clad lovelies joined him on the chair, thrusting their barely-covered breasts in his face. They picked up his hands, one each, and ran them tenderly over their bodies. Maria guided Joe’s hand straight to her breasts, where his fingers played with her nipple piercings. Mercedes brought Joe’s other hand to her face, licking and sucking lovingly on his fingers. Wrapping her lips around his thumb, she did her best to give her master of what she could do with other parts of his anatomy.

Marie leaned in to Joe, “What would you like to do with us, Master?” She whispered into his ear.

“Lots of things.”

“Naughty things, Master?”

“Very naughty things.”

“Please, Master. You do naughty to me,” Mercedes purred into Joe’s other ear in her sultry Russian accent. As Maria unzipped his trousers, she continued, “Use me for your pleasure, Master. Please, Master, fuck me hard...”

Like the previous morning, Joe woke up with Jane beside him. He could never see himself tiring of the feeling and smell of her as she slept, naked again, pressed against him. As the drowsiness lifted, they shared a fumble and a giggle under the duvet.

“Good morning, Master.”

Joe stopped, startled. Who the fuck was that? He threw the duvet aside to find Layla standing at the foot of the bed, gazing intently at him and Jane. She had that look on her face: the one where she had plotted something deliciously evil, and was enjoying every last second of it.

She was not alone. Beside the bed, each of the new slavegirls knelt; three on each side. Their poses were identical: sat on their feet, knees apart and arms crossed behind their backs, wrists against elbows. According to Mistress Layla this was the “box” position, and one they should adopt every morning to greet their master.

As well as being identically posed, the girls were also identically clad. Each wore transparent smoky latex stockings and long gloves, but it was the black latex hoods which stripped them of any element of individuality. The only facial features showing were the slaves’ eyes and mouths, whose lips were lined with deep red lipstick. Other than that, the slaves were naked, their torsos proudly on show and their bodies on offer to their master.

As if that wasn’t enough, Layla had numbered each of the slaves as well, marking their hoods in white. Another ploy in Layla’s efforts to remove their personality and replace it with that of a sex doll, it seemed, and one which was working.

Joe stared in stunned silence for a moment, greedily lapping up the sight of six women so blatantly offering themselves to him.

Jane stared in silence, too. Her silence, however, was more through nervous anticipation. The numbers on the six women read from two to seven, which meant only one thing.

“You don’t mess about, do you?” Joe asked incredulously.

Layla laughed, “No, Master. I just love surprising you with gifts, and it was too good an opportunity to miss. Do you like what you see?”

“Like it? I love it!”

“I drilled this into them yesterday. These slaves have all been taught that, when they’re in this uniform, they are nothing more than a pleasure machine for use by you, me, or anyone else we deem fit. Inside these hoods Katie, Mercedes, Petra, Chloe, Maria and Ferrarri no longer exist; replaced by Slaves two to seven, as you see before you.”

“You get me the nicest presents!”

“Thank you, Master. It’s not quite complete yet, though,” Layla turned to Jane, who returned her stare with a fearful glance, “There’s a space here, at the front of the bed for slave number one,” Returning her attention to Joe, she held up a hood, “So would you like Jane… or Slave one?”

“Mmmmmm.” Joe took a moment to consider his options.

“Please, Master…” Jane caressed him, attempting to be seen as lover rather than slave. The ’Master’ bit certainly didn’t help, but she couldn’t resist that: it flowed so naturally, almost automatically.

Oblivious… or perhaps due to the look of anguish in Jane’s eyes, a plan was forming in his mind. He took his time, looking at Jane and the kneeling slaves one at a time before responding, “Slave one, please!”

Jane’s eyes lowered.

“Marvellous. Over here, Jane. Your uniform awaits.”

Jane pulled the duvet to one side. The other slaves restricted access to the side, leaving her no choice but to crawl to the front of the bed, a sight that entertained Joe greatly. Sitting on the edge of the bed she carefully rolled the stockings, first up one leg, then the other. Mistress Layla had taught her the care that needed to be taken when donning latex attire, and the value of the performance that went with it. “Everything’s a show, my dear,” Mistress had repeated time and again, “When you’re with your master. You are the entertainment!”

The gauntlets followed the stockings. Jane had stood up from the bed by now; her transformation visible to all. The other slaves, however, stared straight ahead, as though the mere act of turning their heads to watch was verboten. This provided comfort and unease to Jane in equal measure: comfort from the reduced audience and unease from the fact that she would soon be in the same anonymous state.

Mistress amused herself by playing with the hood. Dusting and shining it in an exaggerated way, she taunted her victim with her usual relish. When the time came, she stepped closer to Jane, holding the focus of Jane’s torment right in front of her, “Look at it, my dear. See it, feel it, smell it. Say goodbye to your Master, dear Jane!”

“Good… Goodbye, Master.”

“Goodbye, Jane.”

Jane pulled the latex over her head, ably assisted by Mistress. Zipping up the back stretched the rubber tight, dramatically framing the features of the face and lending an air somewhere between slightly intimidating and completely submissive. Mistress helped her with straightening the material and tucking in her hair, completing the otherworldly appearance.

“Master,” Layla announced on the completion of her work, “May I please present Slave One. Say hello to your master, One!”

“Hello, Master.” Her voice was calm and deliberate, lacking any trace of emotion.

“Hello, One!”

“Number One over here, is an unthinking sexual machine whose only purpose is to serve your needs. Number One doesn’t have needs of its own; other than those you give it. Now, One, adopt the position. There will do.”

Without a second’s thought or hesitation, One knelt down at the foot of the bed and copied her contemporaries. In just a few moments she had gone from naked lover to sex statue, and if he didn’t know better, Joe would have had a hard time telling her from the others!

“I’ve got to admit, Layla, I’m impressed!” He pointed to his erection, “And so is he! Come onto the bed and do something about that. You can leave your clothes over there.”

“With pleasure!” Layla replied gleefully, hurriedly removing her clothing.

Slave One watched as Layla joined their master on the bed. She wanted to join them, but all autonomy had been stripped by the mistress. No emotion showed on her face, but on the inside there was turmoil. The pain of Master’s choice had not diminished, but now there was no outlet. No pleading, no facial expressions, not even any tears. Even closing her eyes or looking away was impossible without direct command. The rest of the world dissolved away, leaving the sight of Master being pleasured by another. By Mistress, no less. So instead she watched; every last second.

Joe collapsed onto the bed, enjoying the afterglow of some of the hottest sex he’d ever enjoyed. Layla lay next to him, still a little out of breath from their exertions, but not apparently finished.

“You two. Three. Six. Get up on here and clean us both up. Use your mouths only. I want us both completely clear of cum and pussy juice by the time you’re both done.”

The expressionless drones moved up to the bed as directed. Three set to work on Joe, heading straight to his juice-covered cock and taking it eagerly between her lips. Six went to Layla, burying her latex-covered face between the domme’s legs.

“That’s it. Get right in there. Oh yes, keep going,” Layla growled as Six’s tongue made its way around her body.

Joe has having a similarly enjoyable experience at the hands (or mouth) of Three. In fact, her attention was breathing new life into his erection. When the inevitable happened, it was Three who was able to take advantage of it, and suck Master to his second climax of the morning. Her reward: a latex face covered in cum.

“Oh look, what you’ve done,” Layla responded with mock disappointment, “You’ve created even more mess! Come up here and clean her up, One. Show your master what you’re good for!”

One immediately complied and set her tongue about Three’s face. Master’s cum tasted divine, and she was glad to feel Master’s hand on her ass as she licked her fellow slave clean. One didn’t even think of stopping or pausing until every last drop had been licked from the shiny latex hood. All that mattered was following the order, as best she could

“OK, you three,” Joe sat up and reasserted his authority once the cleaning duties were done, “Take your positions by the bed. Layla, stay here and make yourself comfortable. Good. Now, you seven on the floor, lean your heads on the bed for a moment. Feel free to use your hands if you wish. That’s it. Now, sleep! ”

Joe smiled as all eight women instantly fell asleep. “Good. Now I’m talking to all of you kneeling on the floor. All of you currently known by numbers. You have been taught to react only to your number. From now on, when you are in that uniform, you will BE that number, not even recognising your original name. You will be the very perfection of slavehood. Nothing but a mindless slave whose only function is to take orders. All that Mistress Layla has taught you regarding your slave status will be your entire reason for being. Your own thoughts, feelings, desires and fears: everything in your head will melt away, leaving only the orders you are given. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Seven voices in unison.”

“When you remove your slave uniform, you will return to the state at which you woke this morning. You will be known, and know yourself by your original name. You will also remember your time as a numbered slave as a peaceful time, when all the problems in the world disappeared, leaving only you and your Master or Mistress. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Again, seven voices in unison.

“Very good. I’m now talking to you, Layla. You have heard me talking to the others. You know that their status as numbered slaves is more than mere orders. It is their very being while wearing that uniform. They are not acting like mindless drones. They are mindless drones. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. And that thought excites you doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Exactly. The possibilities are endless, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Master. Endless.”

“Excellent. Now everybody, wake up in five, four, three, two, one and zero. Assume your position, slaves! And Layla, how are you?”

“I feel wonderful, Master. Just thinking of all the ways we can enjoy your slave.! In fact, Master, I think I’m getting wet again!”

“Tell me all about it, my dear.”

Joe had barely finished his shower with number Five when Layla came into the bathroom. The smile and the excited glint in her eye had completely disappeared, though, replaced by a look of concern.

“Everything alright, my dear?” Joe asked as Five rubbed him down with a towel.

“Master, Felix is here. He’s waiting downstairs in the lounge. I told him you were busy, but he insisted on coming in and waiting for you. I… I couldn’t resist letting him in.”

“Don’t worry about it. Four and I will be down in a moment.” He motioned to the other slave; still kneeling quietly and holding a pile of Joe’s clothes.

Joe quickly dressed, Four didn’t, and the pair headed downstairs to the lounge.

“Four, please welcome our guest in the usual manner, and take his coat and shoes. Can I get you a coffee?”

“No, and don’t bother with the shoes. I’m not staying long,” He turned to the practically naked slavegirl, “Can you excuse us please?”

Joe nodded his approval for her to leave the room.

“Number Four? You didn’t waste any time, did you?”

“Layla’s idea, with a little reinforcement from me. So, mate, what can I do for you?”

“Well,” Felix took a sip of his coffee, “I wanted to share with you something I learned today. It seems that I’ve developed a bit of an affliction: an unconscious need to clench my fist in certain circumstances. Somebody has been adding commands to the subliminals, and I’ve been exposed to these.”

Joe’s relaxed disposition evaporated, but he tried not to let it show. Images of Dan, slumped over his steering wheel in a mangled car flashed through his mind.

“Now the obvious questions are who did this, how and why. I think I know the answers to the first two. As for the third... well that’s why I’m here.”

Putting his coffee on the table, Felix leaned forward and looked Joe straight in the eyes.

“So… why did you do it?”