The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mistress Michelle sat at the end of her bed, cross-legged and back straight, one hand sliding along her moistening sex, as she performed her daily meditation for The Makers. ...thinking nothing... knowing nothing... being nothing... The cranial jack at the base of her skull connected her to them through the house’s wifi and filled her mind with their whispered programming. She sat and stared ahead at the little statuette of a naked and kneeling slavegirl – her meditation focus – and let The Makers rebuild her mind anew as they did each day, filling the emptiness of her with Their thoughts, Their knowledge, Their purpose.

The whispers stopped and she shivered, stroking herself more intently. She knew the moment was coming. She felt the will of The Makers in her mind, testing her, checking her readiness to do Their work.

What is your name?

“Mistress Michelle.”

What are you?

“I am a pleasure toy.”

State your purpose.

“I own and control slave Jessica Norton. I give her work to teach her discipline. I give her pleasure to reward her obedience. I keep her safe while she is in my control. I protect the secret of her enslavement.”

Who owns you?

“The Makers.”

What will you become for them?

“Whatever they desire.”

Checks complete. Come.

Orgasm slammed into her, solidifying and reinforcing Their daily programming in her mind. She was a tool, placed in this house to dominate another slave for Them. She was unimportant. Her guidance and her training of her slave was all that mattered. She had purpose and that made her shiver in pleasure.

Continue daily activities.

The hiss of the cranial wi-fi went silent and Mistress Michelle stood, her orgasm fading into blissfulness. For a moment, she performed a litany of simple stretches, working out the stiffness of sitting still for the daily ritual. She checked the time and found it was later than she had thought. Her slave would be home soon. She opened her closet doors, examining the fetish garments inside. Her mind filled with thoughts of leather and latex and silk and shoes, she stepped into the shower.

Her mind cleansed by The Makers, her body cleansed by the shower, she stood naked before the mirror, examining her tight muscular form. She looked with concern at the wrinkles at the corners of her lips and eyes. Standing straight and rolling back her shoulders, she examined her breasts. She frowned at the slightest of sag beginning to show, and decided that if slave were to win the upcoming election, she would have to see to a few adjustments.

Nude still, she strolled back into the bedroom and unlocked the chest at the foot of the bed. From it, she took the gym bag marked “Rubber Maid.” This she carried down into the basement to the little corner beside the washing machine and set it on her slave’s sleeping bag. She smiled with a sense of anticipation as she gazed over the piles of sorted and unsorted laundry scattered on the floor. Slave’s work at the District Attorney’s office and her campaign for the D.A. election coming up in a few weeks had kept her so busy that she had been forced to neglect her duties at home and work was now piled high all about the house. Normally, Mistress would be upset, but this time it was hardly slave’s fault, and besides, it provided now for a whole weekend of work for her slave – and plenty of opportunities to reward her.

She was about to climb the stairs and get dressed when something caught her eye. Back in the corner, just peeking out from under the edge of the sleeping bag, was a faded photograph. Holding it up, Mistress saw two very young women – slave and slave’s sister – standing on a beach somewhere at night, wearing skimpy bikinis and holding beers high in salute. The picture, Mistress realized, must be very old indeed, as slave and her sister had hated each other for many years before Mistress had come into her slave’s life. The sister had been making quite the little nuisance of herself lately, in point of fact, asking questions Mistress had no interest in answering regarding her and her slave’s relationship. Something would have to be done about her very soon.

Mistress tucked the photo back into its hiding place and made a mental note to speak with slave about her sister later in the weekend, perhaps tomorrow morning after slave had woken her and lay nuzzled in her thighs. She turned her feet back towards the stairs and her mind back to the evening’s entertainment. Less than an hour before slave came home and she still hadn’t decided on what to wear. One thing she did know, though, was that this weekend should be a time of simplicity. Simple housework for her slave, and simple pleasures for them both.

That thought gave her two ideas, one for how to entertain slave and one for what to wear. With a devilish grin, she topped the stairs into the kitchen and opened the freezer. There, she found a pound of leftover beef stew and set it in the sink to thaw. She then hopped up the stairs to her bedroom, unlocked the costume trunk again, and pulled out the gym bag marked “Happy Puppy.” She carried it downstairs and set it by the end of the couch where slave would see it later. Standing in the living room, she ran her hands over her abdomen in thought and ran a mental checklist. All was in readiness, it seemed. Now, one decision remained. What would she read?

Slave was almost late, that evening. True enough, she worked in a public office and was frequently required to work late nights, especially if she were running for the top job in the office, but slave did have a set goal for what time to be home by. It helped to motivate her and to aid her in prioritizing her work so that she could be home earlier and ready to serve her Mistress. With only three minutes to spare, Mistress heard slave’s car pulling into the garage and heard slave practically jumping out of the car and running for the door into the kitchen. Seated as she was in the big chair with her back to the kitchen, she was hidden from slave and couldn’t see her, but she smiled as she listened to the sounds of slave stumbling in, throwing off her heels and tossing them into the entryway closet with her briefcase an then practically ripping her clothes off and throwing them into the hamper before running at top speed into the living room and dropping to her knees before her Mistress with a slight skid. The clock chimed just as slave hit the floor on her knees before her Mistress, head bowed, back straight, knees parted, palms up on her thighs.

“Mistress, your slave is here and ready to serve you.”

Mistress set her book in her lap and allowed herself a smile before letting slave raise her eyes. Before her knelt the current front-runner for District Attorney, her slave. Three years ago, as commanded her by The Makers, she had come into this house and taken command of an undermotivated, out-of-shape, and dangerously depressed lawyer and slowly groomed her into this disciplined, athletic political powerhouse. Soon, The Makers would have the city’s new District Attorney at their command, and it was because of Mistress’s patient work. Mistress would never brag. She was, after all, only a tool for their work, but she did allow herself a moment of pride, nonetheless.

“Welcome home, slave. You may look at me.”

Slave raised her smiling face to gaze upon her Mistress, and promptly did a double-take, eyes wide. Her Mistress sat naked in Her chair, knees together and off to one side, curled in a position that spoke of leisure and regal power. Though slave could not see her Mistress’s sex, she had a wonderful view of Mistress tight, lithe body in repose. She found herself staring helplessly.

“Is there a problem, slave?”

“Oh, no, Mistress. I... um...”

“I realize that I am almost never naked in my slave’s presence, but this is to be a weekend of relaxation and simple comforts. That is, of course, assuming that slave has accomplished the goal that I set before her for this week?”

Slave practically beamed. “Yes, Mistress! As you commanded, I have completed or delegated all of the work needed for the office, this week. I have made no campaigning appointments for the weekend, and have no pressing office matters at hand. My ‘day job’ shall not require any of my attention. I am yours until Monday morning, my Mistress.”

“Good girl!” Mistress chimed. Slave shivered, her abdomen tightening as her sex clenched in delight at the praise. Mistress dropped one hand over the side of the chair and slave crawled quickly to the offered hand, pressing her smiling face into it. Mistress stroked her slave lovingly, running her fingers through slave’s short dark hair and petting her affectionately. Slave lapped up the attention, moaning softly at her Mistress’s touch.

“This house is in a state that could be loosely termed ‘shambles,’ slave.”

Blushing, slave cast her eyes down and answered, “Yes, Mistress. I am sorry.”

“There is no need for apologies, slave,” Mistress told her, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. “Had I been concerned, I would have had you clean it sooner, would I not?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Special circumstances do apply, lately, and I am not without understanding, but the time has come to catch up.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Downstairs, you will find your maid’s uniform. You will have the span of two hours to clean the kitchen, the living room, and my bedroom.”

“I understand, Mistress.”

“Should you succeed in this, you shall spend the rest of the evening as your Mistress’s puppy.”

Slave gasped and bounced once with delight, but a stern glance from Mistress stilled her. “Thank you, my Mistress.”

“Don’t thank me, yet, slave. You must earn your reward.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Go now and put on your uniform. Do not forget to bring me your chip.”

“Yes, Mistress!” And with that, slave practically ran downstairs. Mistress returned her attention to The Maltese Falcon, Mr. Spade having only just arrived at the scene of his partner’s murder. He had just phoned Effie Perine about it when slave came back upstairs. She glanced up from the pages to inspect her and allowed herself a moment to desire her slave, her smile hidden behind the book.

High, sharp heels locked onto slave’s ankles, forcing her nearly up onto her toes. Dark, sheer hose hugged her shapely legs, disappearing under the tight black rubber skirt at her knees. The skirt showed the shaped of slave’s beautiful hindquarters and held her tight, muscular thighs together. The corseted rubber top squeezed slave’s abdomen, showing off the exquisite definition there, and rose to encase her breasts, lifting and pressing them together into a firm, rounded cleavage. Slave’s arms were bare, the top having nearly no sleeves, stopping just under her rounded shoulders. Black rubber gloves stretched over hands held in supplication together in front of slave, and slave’s face was turned down in submission, her white lace tiara nearly falling out of her hair. White lace throughout the ensemble accented it all, from the white pinafore over the skirt to the accents at all the edges.

“Turn around, slave, and I’ll tighten your straps.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Slave turned obediently, and Mistress checked the thick rubber straps pulling the corset tight. She was impressed to find that most of the straps were already quite tight without her aid. “Very good, slave.”

Slave shivered again at her Mistress’s praise, but stood very still and held her breath in while Mistress tightened the few straps slave could not reach well. When she was satisfied, she gave her slave a quick pat on her ass, and held out her hand as slave turned to face her. Slave set in her hand the small jewelry case that held her “Rubber Maid” cranial chip, and then spun in place again to kneel before her Mistress and offer Her her cranial jack.

Removed from its case, the chip slid easily into the socket at the base of slave’s skull and Mistress waited while slave shivered in arousal, the software in the chip quietly hooking it’s strings into her thoughts and pulling her gently into a marionette-maid existence. After a moment, slave stood up ram-rod straight, spun in place to face her mistress and curtsied with a pert smile. “If Mistress will excuse me, please? There is work to be done.”

Mistress nodded in return, and slavemaid began her duties, stepping into the kitchen, swinging her hips with each sharp, regimented step. Mistress returned to her book and listened contently to the sound of slavemaid’s heels clicking on the polished wood floor of the kitchen as piles of junk were thrown into trashcans, dishes were rinsed and tossed into the dishwasher, and a mop bucket was filled. Very quickly, slave-maid stepped into the living room with her feather duster.

A little too quickly. “Slave!” she called, and instantly, slavemaid was in front of her chair, standing at attention, her head bowed and her feather duster held behind her butt with both hands.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Without speaking, Mistress stood and strolled into the kitchen. Slavemaid followed discreetly behind, stopping in the doorway as her work was inspected.

The kitchen had been a complete trash-heap, and now it was spotless perfection. The dishes were running, the counters gleamed, the stainless steel sinks were shining, the wood floor was polished, everything was perfect. Mistress couldn’t help but stare at her slavemaid in wonder. She had come a very long way, indeed.

Slave looked concerned. “Is there something amiss, Mistress?”

“No, slave,” Mistress told her as she approached, “I simply expected that task to take you much longer.”

Slavemaid smiled brightly and asked, “Slave has done well?”

“Slave has earned herself an extra reward.” Slave gasped as Mistress reached out and pinched one of slavemaid’s rubber-coated nipples. “Lift your skirt and spread your legs.”

“Yes, Mistress!” Slave whispered breathlessly as she pulled up her rubber skirt, revealing the black rubber panties beneath. Pulling her slavemaid close, she slid one hand around her hip and down between her thighs. Slavemaid breathed deeper and deeper, moaning as her Mistress rolled her nipple in one hand and stroked her rubber-encased pussy with the other. As Mistress nibbled on and sucked on her ear, she whimpered in delight.

Mistress kept this up a little longer than she should have, perhaps. She should avoid releasing too much of her slavemaid’s sexual tension, but she found herself wanting to make her very happy, at that particular moment. She pulled away from slavemaid’s ear and found herself allowing slavemaid to nuzzle her head close against her Mistress for a moment, pretending not to care about the show of affection.

“Come.” Slavemaid shook in orgasm, falling against her Mistress as she grunted in pleasure. Mistress held her up, waiting patiently as the orgasm shook through her, and then allowed her slavemaid to stand.

Beads of sweat adorned her slave’s forehead as she stood. “Thank you, my Mistress.”

“You earned it, slave. No, don’t,” she added as slavemaid moved to lower her skirt, “You will need a greater challenge for the remainder of your tasks, this evening. Go and bring me the number twelve, smooth.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Slavemaid spun on her heels and hopped up the stairs to Mistress’s bedroom and back down again, carrying her feather duster in one hand and the requested dildo in the other. A slender, smooth cylinder of steel coated in black rubber. Slavemaid stood at attention before her Mistress and held out the dildo. Mistress took it from her and ordered slavemaid to hand over her panties. Slavemaid obeyed, revealing the loose, bare lips of her sex, shining in a coating of her own flowing juices.

“Spread your legs,” Mistress commanded and then worked the twelve-pound dildo into her slavemaid’s pussy. Slavemaid breathed deeply and closed her eyes, but stood very still. Once it was fully inserted, Mistress felt slavemaid’s muscles tightening around it to hold it in place as Mistress pulled her fingers free. “You may not touch it with your hands, you may not drop it, and you may not come without permission.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And leave the skirt up. Go.”

Without a word, slavemaid spun on her heels and went back to her duties, her steps shorter and slower, her breath a bit quicker. Mistress returned to her chair, quietly reveling in the sight of her slavemaid’s bare ass and pussy as she moved about the living room around Mistress. Every now and again, slavemaid would stop and stand stock still with her eyes closed and her hand clenching her feather duster in a shaking hand as she worked to regain control of herself, but she was a good girl and didn’t come.

With ten minutes yet to spare, slavemaid came down the stairs and stood at attention before her Mistress to announce that she was ready for Mistress to inspect her work. Mistress looked up and found slavemaid was trembling ever so slightly and beaded head to foot in sweat with the effort of not coming, but she stood stock still, her head tilted down toward her feet in supplication. Wordlessly, Mistress uncoiled herself from her chair and began her inspection. Slavemaid raised her head to watch as Mistress slid her bare fingers along surfaces to look for dust, opened drawers to see that all was in its place, and gazed into the corners to seek out spiderwebs.

Satisfied with the living room, Mistress hopped the stairs to her bedroom, followed eagerly by her slavemaid. In the bedroom, she saw that the bed was made to tight perfection, all was clean and in its place and that the closet was once again organized properly. She turned to gaze at her slavemaid, and silently pointed at the bed. Slavemaid smiled and hopped onto the bed on her knees, facing her Mistress. Mistress stroked her slavemaid’s face with genuine affection before leaning in to give her a slight kiss that was returned eagerly. “You may play with yourself, now.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” slavemaid exclaimed with some relief as she plunged both of her rubber-coated hands into her sex, stroking her clit and reaching in to work the heavy dildo in and out of herself. Mistress stood stock still, her hands clenched behind her back and looked into slavemaid’s adoring, worshiping eyes as her servant worked herself into a frenzy, still not coming.

Finally, when slavemaid seemed about to burst, Mistress let her “Come.”

Slavemaid cried out, her whole body clenching at once as she orgasmed, still looking into her Mistress’s eyes.

“Come.” Orgasm ripped through her again, and she shook with the force of it, her hands clenching her sex tightly.

“Come.” Slavemaid screamed, still holding her eyes on Mistress’s as she grunted, panting, nearly passing out from the force of it.

“Relax.” Slavemaid slumped forward, her eyes closing dreamily, and her hands falling to the bed allowing the heavy dildo to fall free at last. Mistress caught her and held her against herself. She kissed the top of slavemaid’s head as she reached back, squeezed the catch on slavemaid’s cranial chip, and pulled it free. Aftershocks of pleasure ran through slave’s body and she sighed, smiling as she looked up at her Mistress.

“I’ve done well, Mistress?”

“You’ve done very well, slave” Mistress told her with a kiss.

“I can be your puppy, then?”

“Of course, you may, slave.” Slave smiled and nuzzled herself into Mistress’s breast, wrapping her arms around Mistress’s waist. “Maybe we’ll even curl up on the couch together and watch a movie.”

“I’d like that, Mistress.”

“I thought that you might. Now go back to the basement and pack away your maid’s costume, then come back to the living room.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Slave stood and scurried down the stairs, her regimented maid’s gate now given way to a bouncy, hyperactive near-skip. Mistress allowed herself a bit of a giggle at the sight of it, and walked herself back downstairs. She stepped into the kitchen, opened the now thawed bag of beef stew and poured it into a bowl. This she set in the microwave to heat and then she curled herself back into her chair. In a moment’s time, slave came jogging back up the stairs nude with the ‘Rubber Maid’ bag. This she placed by the end of the couch and she picked up the ‘Happy Puppy’ bag, kneeling before her Mistress with it held high before her and an eager smile in her eyes. Mistress smiled, sliding herself forward to the edge of her seat and taking the bag. Her slave bounced with anticipation and Mistress decided to allow it. Slave had been so stressed, these past few weeks. She deserved a little mindless joy.

She set the bag into her own lap and opened it, pulling out the simple leather collar and chain leash, and buckled it around slave’s neck. Slave smiled and let her Mistress dress her, locking the leather ‘paws’ onto her hands and feet, using the spirit gum to fix the short ‘muzzle’ onto her nose, and sliding the hairband with her droopy puppy ears into her hair. Mistress pulled out the anal-plug doggy tail, but after a moment, decided against it, tossing it back into the bag. “Not tonight,” she told her slave. “Bow your head.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Slave bowed her head eagerly, and Mistress pulled the ‘Happy Puppy’ cranial chip from the bag. She saw her slave biting her lip and took the chip out of its case. This was slave’s very favorite chip, she knew, and she only rarely allowed her to use it. With one hand, she steadied slave’s head, and with the other, she slid the chip into her socket with a sharp click.

Slave melted with a heavy sigh, all of her stress and worries and tensions sliding away from her. Unlike ‘Rubber Maid,’ ‘Happy Puppy’ didn’t guide and inform its wearer. It immersed her completely in its control, making her believe fully that she was Mistress’s loyal, loving puppy dog. Slavepup exhaled deeply, and then sucked in all her breath, smiling.

“Arf! Arfarfarfarf!” Slavepup looked up at her Owner with glee, shaking her ass left to right.

“Good girl!” Mistress ran her fingers into slavepup’s hair, scritching her head vigorously. Slavepup yipped excitedly and jumped up, planting her front paws in Mistress’s hips and leaning in to lick Mistress’s face. Mistress giggled but pushed her back down. “No! Down, girl! You know better.”

Slavepup scrunched down on the floor, her head on her hands, still shaking her rear, and looking up at Mistress with a mischievous grin. Mistress smiled down at her and pulled slavepup’s bright yellow rubber ball from the bag, holding it up for her to see. Slavepup yipped with delight, sitting up and leaning to follow the ball as Mistress teased her with it, waving it before her eyes before flinging it over her shoulder into the kitchen.

With a loud “Arfarf!” slavepup charged into the kitchen after the ball, crashing through the chairs and bouncing off the cabinets. Mistress laughed. She needn’t worry for slavepup’s safety in chasing the ball, she knew, as the chip would see to that, but she shouldn’t lose sight of her anyway. She climbed from the chair and walked into the kitchen just as slavepup was bounding back on all fours, her ball clenched in her mouth. She sat up on her haunches, her front paws hanging loosely in front of her chest, shaking her ass and holding out the ball in her mouth for her Owner.

Mistress took the ball and scritched her head again. “Good girl!” Slavepup yipped in delight, watching the ball intently, but Mistress set it on the counter, so she looked up at her Owner instead. “Is puppy hungry? Huh?”

Slavepup yipped happily and watched as Mistress pulled the bowl of stew from the microwave and set it at her feet. She set her front paws on either side of the bowl and leaned her face over it, sniffing. Apparently satisfied, she happily nuzzled her face into the dish, lapping up the stew, waving her ass in glee at the taste of it. Mistress leaned down and ran her hands down slavepup’s back, petting her gently as she ate.

Slavepup was about halfway through her meal when Mistress heard something outside that sent a shiver through her. She took hold of slavepup’s shoulder and pulled her back. Steadying slavepup’s head, she quickly pulled the cranial chip loose and stood. Slave yelped in surprise, but Mistress quickly commanded her, “Get in the closet under the stairs and be quiet! Now!”

Slave looked afraid, but stood and ran out of the kitchen, having long since learned to trust her Mistress. Mistress watched to see that slave left the room, and then turned toward the door into the garage. She had heard someone sneaking around out there, and now she heard a key in the lock. As she marched on the door, slave’s sister Jan burst in, looking determined and angry as hell.

I protect the secret of her enslavement! was the one thought on Mistress’s mind as she advanced on the sister. “Get out!” she shouted.

The sister looked at her with pure loathing and snorted, “Funny, that.” She swung her fist fast and something far harder than bone smashed into Mistress’s jaw, lifting her into the air and spinning her around. Titanium knuckles! Mistress realized as she hit the floor face down, her vision swimming. “I was about to say the same thing to you!” the sister spat at her as she marched past Mistress.

Mistress found it difficult to get up for a moment, her sense of equilibrium thrown off. From the next room, she heard slave cry out, “Mistress?” Damn! Mistress thought, still trying to stand.

“What the hell is going on, here?” This from the sister, presumably having found slave naked in the closet in her puppy outfit.

“Jan? Get the fuck out of here!”

“No! I’m getting you out of here and I’m taking you to a hospital!”

“Fuck you! This is none of your fucking business! Let go of me! Get those off of me!”

“No! This is for your own good, Jess! You don’t know what these people are doing to you!”

Mistress stood, unsteady but enraged. I KEEP HER SAFE WHILE SHE IS IN MY CONTROL!! She stumbled forward, falling against the doorway into the living room, and saw Jan holding slave’s leash, and slave struggling against handcuffs that had her hands bound behind her back. Jan turned and saw her, smirking. “Oh, good,” the bitch said, and tied slave’s leash to the clothes rack so slave couldn’t leave the closet.

Mistress advanced, stumbling, and Jan stepped forward, intent on bashing Mistress’s nose in, but Mistress was ready for her, this time. As Jan swung her fist, the knuckles gleaming, she gave up any pretense up being unsteady and spun, grabbing Jan’s arm and the front of her jacket, flipped her over her shoulder, and smashed her into the floor, knocking her breath out. She kept hold of the wrist, and as Jan tried to regain her senses, she pressed her thumb into the soft spot of the wrist, weakening the fist, and pried the titanium knuckles off of her.

As Jan stood and spun to face her, Mistress slid the knuckles onto her own fist and told her, “My game now, bitch.”

Jan reached into her jacket pocket quickly, saying, “Good thing a bought a spare pair then, huh?” She held that hand high above her head and out to the side and Mistress stepped close, her eyes following that hand, intent on grabbing the... cell phone?

CRACK!

“NO!” she heard slave scream.

Something was wrong. She looked down at the smirking, hateful face of her attacker and down to her other hand. It was leveled at Mistress’s chest and in it was a shining line of steel. A handgun. A thin stream of gray smoke rose from the barrel.

Mistress looked down at her own chest. In her right breast was a small round hole. A line of red slid down her breast from it and dripped onto the floor at her feet. She looked back up at the face of her attacker, and saw nothing but hatred there.

CRACK!

Her legs weakening already, the force of the second shot threw her back against the wall.

“STOP IT!” slave cried.

Mistress’s body was going weak, and she began to slowly slide down the wall. “Why?”

Jan stepped forward and planted her boot in Mistress belly to hold her still. “You even need to ask that question?” With that, Jan leveled her pistol at Mistress’s eye with both hands.

“NO! Please don’t!” Mistress heard her slave scream as she looked into the barrel of the gun.

Mistress could only whisper, “You don’t underst...”

CRACK!

The bullet blew into her eye, ripping a path of destruction through her skull, and lodged itself firmly in the wall behind her.

“You bitch!” she heard slave shouting, “You unforgivable bitch! Let me out of here!”

As she slid down the wall to crumple on the floor, she watched Jan back away, a look of shock mounting on her face.

“What the hell?” she heard Jan whisper. Slave was crying. She could hear slave crying and she couldn’t help her. “What the hell?”

Mistress heard the sound of sizzling and looked down. Smoke was rising from her breast where clear liquids pouring from the hole in her eye pooled, making the skin bubble and burn. “Oh, no,” she whispered, looking back up at a confused Jan. “Battery fluids.”

Panic raced through her mind and her survival programming took over. Her cranial jack hit the wifi and an emergency signal fired out to The Makers, echoing through Mistress’s voice. “Mayday, mayday, mayday! Have sustained critical damage while protecting owner/renter from harm! Main hydraulics are lost and battery acid is leaking into cranial cavity! Awareness drive is in critical danger! Please help. Please help. Please help.”

“DAMNIT, JANET! LET ME OUT OF HERE!” slave was screaming in rage.

“I don’t understand.” Jan stood staring numbly at Mistress.

“She’s a robot! She’s a sentient robot, and she’s going to die! Let me out!”

The voice of the Makers leaped into Mistress’s mind. Emergency procedures beginning. What is the status of Jessica Norton?

“Uncertain,” Mistress replied honestly.

“But, but...” Jan stammered, “She was controlling you... b-brainwashing you...”

“I have a mind-control fetish! Are you happy now, you dumb cunt? You finally know your baby sister’s dirty little secret! I have a mind-control fetish! I rent Mistress from a company called The Makers so I can practice my fantasies in private!”

Authorities have been alerted and are already en route

“Thank you.” Mistress chimed as her head dropped, her hydraulics no longer able to hold it up. She stared down at the sight of her own hydraulic fluid pooling on the floor.

Is Jessica Norton able to render assistance?

“Negative, she is being held captive.”

“She needs my help! Let me out of here, damnit!”

“She took all your money...” Jan was still protesting in confused whispers.

“GOD DAMNIT! She and The Makers arranged for a financial advisor for me! I have a compulsive spending habit, remember? They’ve been helping me for three years! Helping me with my finances, teaching me some discipline, and feeding me self-help programming! We just wrapped it all in a fetish fantasy! WILL YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE? SHE’S DYING!”

Diagnostics show erratic electrical activity in your cranial cavity. Our technicians can not reach you for another fifteen minutes. Jessica Norton’s aid is crucial.

“She’s a machine...”

“She’s a SENTIENT machine! She has an Awareness drive, but it’s right under her battery, damnit! The acid is going to eat right through it and kill her!”

“Slave? The Makers need your help. Please help. Please help.”

“LISTEN TO HER! She’s begging for her life! She’s self-aware! She’s ALIVE, damnit! Let me help her!”

Finally, Jan stumbled and nearly fell into the closet. Mistress heard the sound of the leash rattling and the clicks of handcuffs coming undone. “Unbuckle this mitten!” slave shouted, and a moment later she could here slave racing across the room to the endtable in the corner. She heard Jan slide down the wall where she’d been standing by the closet and sit on the floor. At the same time, she heard slave rummage violently through the drawer in the end table. “There!” she heard slave cry, and realized she’d been looking for her wifi chip.

“Hello? Hello!” slave shouted as she ran back across the living room. “Yes, I’m fine! Tell me how to help Mistress!”

Slave took Mistress’s head into her hands and examined the back of it. “Yes, I see it! How do I open it?”

“Slave, no. Not with your bare hands. The acid will burn you badly.”

“Shit.” Slave looked around for a moment, thinking, then ran across the room to her ‘Rubber Maid’ bag. As she rummaged through it, Jan could be heard sobbing heavily.

“Oh, fuck you,” slave snarled as she pulled out her rubber maid’s gloves and ran back to her Mistress. “Ten minutes ago, you thought you were murdering a human being!”

“I wanted to help.” Jan sobbed, gurgling. “I thought I was saving you.”

“I don’t need your fucking help. I never did. Who I love is my own fucking business! I don’t know why you never got that.” Mistress sensed slave tearing apart the artificial skin at the back of her head and opening the access panel above her cranial jack. “Oh, God! The drive’s outer casing is already corroded through! How do I get it out?”

“Ssssslavve?”

“Mistress, please don’t try to talk. Just hold on, please.”

“You sssaid you l-l-love mme?”

Slave choked on her tears. “Yes, Mistress, I love you. I always have. Now please just hold on.” Then, to The Makers, she said, “I understand.”

As slave wrapped one arm around Mistress’s head to steady it and reached into her skull with the other, Mistress whispered, “Ssslavve? I...”

Oblivion took her.

She woke screaming.

“Easy! Easy,” someone was telling her. She was on a diagnostics table, held in a half-sitting position. She was surrounded by bright lights, computer consoles, and technicians.

“Central Diagnostics,” Mistress whispered, “How did I get here?”

“Oh, my god!” she heard a familiar voice say. She turned her head and saw her slave... sort of. “She called herself ‘I!’ Tell me that’s a good sign!” Mistress stared at slave in confusion. Slave was wearing a black latex catsuit with boots and gloves. There was an airbrushed design of flames rising out of her rubber crotch and she was wearing a rubber motorcycle jacket of bright orange and black. Her hair was much longer than it was supposed to be.

“It’s a very good sign.” Another familiar voice. Mistress turned and saw the man who had spoken looking down into her eyes.

“Doctor Harrison?”

“Hello, Michelle,” her creator smiled down at her.

“I’m confused.” A tear slid down her face from the eye she knew shouldn’t be there. It didn’t burn her.

“I know, sweetheart. Jessica managed to remove your Awareness drive and we’ve been trying to restart you.”

“This is our fourth try,” slave said. Mistress turned to see her holding her hands in front of her face. “The other three times, you kept calling yourself ‘this unit’ and didn’t recognize anyone.” Tears streamed down slave’s face and she asked, “Do you recognize me?”

“You are my slave, Jessica Norton.” At that, slave jumped up and down for joy and wrapped her arms around her Mistress, kissing her. “But something’s still wrong with me!”

Slave stood and looked at her with concern. “What?”

“What’s wrong, Michelle?” Doctor Harrison asked her.

“I don’t know. I’m hallucinating, or something. I see her wearing fetish gear. She never wears that outside the house.”

Slave actually laughed out loud, leaning back and clapping. Doctor Harrison chuckled as he looked over his instruments.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s all right, Mistress. I wear this stuff all the time, now.”

“What? But... what about your public image?”

“Oh, my precious image. Right.” Slave smiled. Well, I was the favored candidate for District Attorney, so when three gunshots were heard in my home the police come running, but so did every reporter in town. Not only did they find me naked in a fetish dog costume, they found out that my own sister had tried to murder my lover who, it turned out, was a robot dominatrix that I was weeping and proclaiming love for. My political opponent pretty much waltzed into office after that.”

“Oh, slave! I’m so sorry.”

Slave at her and shrugged. “It’s hardly your fault, Mistress. Besides, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“What?”

“I set up this program with you and The Makers four years ago because I thought I wanted to be District Attorney, but after they tossed me out on my butt for the scandal, I started my own private legal practice. I specialize in kink law and legal defense for kinks, now!”

“You did?”

“And thanks to the scandal, half the country knows I’m a fetishist, so I don’t have to hide it anymore. I even do my commercials wearing fetish gear. Anytime I’m not in court, I’m wearing latex and leather! It’s heaven!”

“That’s wonderful!” Mistress told her, trying to take it all in. Looking at slave’s long hair, she asked her with some trepidation, “How long has it been?”

Slave smiled at her warmly. “It’s been thirteen months, two weeks, and three days, Mistress, and I’ve missed you terribly for every moment of it.”

“Thirteen?”

Doctor Harrison chimed in. “Your Awareness drive was badly damaged. It’s taken all this time to properly recover and transfer the data and successfully restore your self.” He tapped a number of keys on the nearest console, and suddenly, Mistress could feel and move her body. With surprise, Mistress looked down at it. Her breasts were higher, firmer. She reached up to her face and it felt smooth, with no wrinkles. “Fine motor test set number six, please,” the doctor told her.

As she began the test, flexing her fingers and rotating her wrists, she turned to slave. “Where is your sister?”

“In jail. We had a long talk and she agreed to plead guilty to three counts of Discharging a Firearm in City Limits, an Aggravated Assault charge, and a charge of Destruction of Private Property. She’s also getting some counseling.”

“Oh. Slave? If everyone knows you’re a fetishist, does that mean we can be together in public?”

“Oh, Mistress! As soon as the doctor says you can leave, we’re going shopping!”

Mistress turned back to Doctor Harrison. “Please hurry.”

The doctor chortled, checking off his checklist. “Just one more test, and you’re free, kiddo.”

“Sure.”

“What is your name?”

“Mistress Michelle.”

“What are you?”

She smiled in pride. “I am a pleasure toy.”

“State your purpose.”

“I own and control slave Jessica Norton. I give her work to teach her discipline. I give her pleasure to reward her obedience. I keep her safe while she is in my control.”

“Who owns you?”

Without a thought, she replied, “Slave Jessica Norton,” and stopped. Confused, she glanced at slave.

“After just two months of owning my own practice,” slave told her, “I was able to purchase a whole new body for you, along with a few upgrades. No more renting.”

Mistress smiled. “You own me?”

Slave chuckled. “I think Mistress forgets.” Holding up her leash and collar, she smiled wickedly. “Mistress owns ME!”

Mistress squealed in delight and hopped off the bed. Taking the collar from slave, she buckled it around her neck, making slave sigh in pleasure.

“That’ll do, I think,” Doctor Harrison said. “All the tests are finished, and you’re ready to leave as soon as you get dressed.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” Turning back to slave, she asked her, “What is your name?”

“Slave Jessica Norton!” slave replied.

“Who owns you?”

“My Mistress Michelle!”

“And what will you become for her?”

Slave wrapped her arms around her Mistress, kissing her deeply. “Anything she desires.”