The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There’s More Than One Way to Skin a Traitor – Chapter Four (Betrayal)

Emma didn’t realise that her keeper had returned to its original black coloration until she found herself seamlessly blending into the shadows. The suit seemed to augment and sharpen her movements. She almost danced across the metal floor, hardly making a sound. It was a little unnerving, but she had to admit that under the circumstances this was exactly what she needed.

All the while, her keeper was whispering quietly. Perfectly mimicking the tone of her thoughts, the weapon twisted and pushed. Nudging her gently when necessary but perfectly happy to just sit back and let her imagination do its job for it.

She was going to enjoy trapping Melissa in a cocoon. She knew now that she had made a serious mistake when she left Samantha for the machines. Even if the other woman had turned traitor, she still needed to be interrogated. The resistance had to find out what she had told them. The fact that Samantha was innocent made it all the more unbearable, but Emma turned that anger towards Melissa, promising that she would pay.

The other soldiers would have to be taken care of as well of course. She would need to have Melissa’s confession if there was to be any chance of regaining their trust. As she planned, the weapon emphasised each correct decision with an almost imperceptible thrill of pleasure. It still intended to honour their bargain, even though it knew that Emma had no intention of doing so. She would come around to its point of view soon enough, but until then a little encouragement wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

Although she hadn’t visited the bunker before, the layout was familiar enough. By necessity they tended to be built to a similar pattern. Choke points were required in case of attack, and key areas had to be protected. By using her heightened senses to their full, Emma was able to sense anyone approaching. For the moment no one seemed to have noticed her escape and this made hiding all the more simple.

Emma knew that ideally she would have to “pacify” the entire bunker. It occurred to her that this was exactly what her keeper wanted. The difference, of course, was that she did not intend to hand the captured soldiers over to the machines. All she wanted to do was to capture the traitor and at the same time, make sure that no one else ended up being hurt.

There would be a great deal of risk if she tried to pick the soldiers off, one by one. Either of them might be injured, or worse still, the alarm might be raised. Idly she wondered if there might be some way of dealing with them all at once.

“There might be a way”, the voice prompted, making Emma jerk in surprise.

She felt unsettled, this time she was sure that it must have known her thoughts. Could it read her mind? What else did it know? Panic began to rise as she contemplated what she had done. If it could read her thoughts, could it influence them? Was she thinking clearly, or was the weapon making her dance to its tune?

“This is not helping”, the voice soothed, “You are no use to me if you lose control, you have to calm down”.

Emma couldn’t breath; she was sucking in tiny gasps of air but her chest felt so tight. Pins and needles played over her extremities and belatedly she recognised that she was hyperventilating. She tried to ignore the voice whispering in her mind but it was not as though she could block out the silken words.

Very gradually she could feel her tension begin to evaporate. Stubbornly she tried to cling to it. But each worry seemed to drift away, slipping from her grasp before vanishing completely. An unnatural sense of calm descended. She wanted to be afraid. She knew that something was being done to her, but she quickly found that she couldn’t find the energy to care.

“There’s a Good Girl”, the voice told her after a few minutes, “Isn’t that so much better?”

Reluctantly Emma found herself agreeing, she had been in no fit state to do what was needed. Emotionally she had been a wreck, the day’s events having taken their toll on her. But now she could analyse dispassionately. Concern flickered through her mind, before draining away. The young woman turned her attention back to the task ahead of her.

“So”, she asked, “tell me how we can finish this quickly”.

“Emma, if you can find me sufficient raw materials, I can send a legion of seedlings out into the base. They will then tag each occupant and await our signal. Until then, they will remain bound to their hosts, hidden from sight. At the signal they will attack, cocooning them all, just like your friend Samantha”.

At the mention of Samantha, she again felt her emotions trying to surface. Despite this, the strangely detached sense of calm remained. This plan seemed to be a good one. She wasn’t really sure what a seedling might be, but did not doubt that her keeper could do what it suggested.

“Keeper”, she suddenly asked, “Do we still have our deal?”

“What deal might that be Emma?” replied the voice, amusement evident in its tone.

“That you wont pacify me until I ask you to”.

“Oh yes”, the voice agreed, “I promise to wait until you ask me. You still want to help me pacify this outpost don’t you?”

Emma recognised the barbs in the question, by now she had convinced herself that it could read her thoughts. But, she also knew that her plan did involve letting the weapon have free reign inside the base. It would not be a lie if she said that she wanted to help.

Of course, it was more than likely that her keeper knew what she intended to do after she had dealt with Melissa. The weapon was playing games with her, but apparently they still needed one another. In the maelstrom of thoughts, Emma didn’t notice that she had used the word “until” where before she would have said “unless”.

* * *

“What have you done to me really?” Emma asked after she had discovered enough debris for her keeper to set about its task.

“What do you think I’ve done?” was the voice’s infuriating reply.

She decided to leave it for the moment, even had the weapon answered, she was not sure if she would have believed it. Instead she concentrated on the transformation that was taking place before her eyes. The pile of refuse was rapidly diminishing, melting into the same tarry fluid that coated her body. Every so often, a small liquid globule would break away from the main pool and then slither quickly from sight.

Emma assumed that these were the “seedlings” of which her keeper had spoken. She knew that she should feel horror or guilt at sending these out after the unsuspecting soldiers, but whatever had been done to her; those emotions were denied her. In her mind’s eye she could imagine each tiny weapon seeking out a victim. They would attach themselves unobtrusively, awaiting the signal. No one would know until it was far too late.

Suddenly a thought struck her, and she cursed herself for not having wondered about it before.

“But once they are sheathed in their own keepers, how will I be able to find Melissa?”

The voice didn’t respond immediately. It was almost as though it too had forgotten this important detail. When it did finally answer, it seemed almost embarrassed.

“I confess”, it began carefully, “I had not thought beyond the need to pacify everyone. Once the process begins it is not possible to pause or halt it. You will have to wait until you friend emerges before you will be able to talk with her”.

For a moment Emma actually registered shock, before it was eased away again as control was re-established. All of these soldiers would go through whatever the keepers actually did? She couldn’t believe it; she had nearly condemned every person here to that fate.

“What exactly is this process?” she asked.

“Ah”, the voice sighed, “Did I not explain this before? They will be returned to the fold. The pleasures of obedience and submission will be explained. In the end they will understand that they have been fighting pointlessly”.

“But”, Emma began.

“Don’t worry”, the voice suggested, “In fact, you should probably just relax while I finish what needs to be done here”.

She guessed what was about to happen, but by then it was too late. Her keeper had obviously learnt while it was integrating with her. There was no clumsy fumbling this time. Instead, she found herself suddenly ecstatic. The suit stroked and rubbed, massaging and relaxing. Its outer surface seemed to shimmer and flow. Emma groaned heavily, feeling her tension released. She did not want this, but no matter how hard she tried to resist, it was too damn relaxing.

Her head seemed to be filled with a faint buzzing. When she tried to listen she could almost make out words, but there were too many distractions. Somehow she knew that if she could just make sense of it, then she would be able to fight off the effects. But each time she tried, it was becoming more and more difficult. Her body felt so heavy by now and she registered surprise when she realised that at some point she must have dropped to the floor.

“That’s a Good Girl”, the voice teased, “I’ll wake you up when it’s all over”.

“No”, she managed to slur as her eyelids began to droop.

“Shh you don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing”, was the last thing she heard before she felt her thoughts relax into helplessness.