The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Saturday Morning

Paul awoke to an empty bed as the sun broke the horizon. He sat up and quickly looked around. He saw Terry curled up on the chair, wrapped in a quilt.

“Hi.”

Terry smiled at him and sniffled, “Hi. Not quite what you had in mind, was it?”

Paul patted the bed. “Maybe you’d like to talk about it? Two ears, no waiting.”

She got that lopsided smile he thought was so cute. “How can I say no to an offer like that?” The smile fell away. “You may wish you had none.”

She stretched as she rose from the chair and walked over to him, poetry in motion. The quilt, forgotten, lay on the floor. She knelt before him, her body begging for Paul to amuse himself with her aroused sex. She kept her eyes down as she quietly said, “It’s all coming back to me. It’s becoming stronger, ready to overwhelm me again. It’d be so easy to surrender and enjoy it.”

Paul asked, “Enjoy what, Terry?”

Terry looked up, her eyes lidded by lust. “My slavery, Master.”

Paul swallowed. He knew he was opening a box he might later wish he hadn’t. But he had to. For Terry, and himself. He swallowed again and asked, “Tell me about your slavery, Terry.”

Terry nodded, “Yes, Master, um, Paul. You see? I’m trying to fight it, but I’m getting so weak. Master said I was always too weak to resist, too weak to deny my place was at his feet in his collar. I’m too weak to resist, I must submit... submit to Master... submit—”

“Terry! Stop it!” Paul yelled.

Terry shuddered, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m trying! You don’t know how irresistible he was. All he had to do was just look at me and I’d melt to my knees, begging for his whip and his cock. Nothing else mattered. Master owned me.

“I, I lost my job because I couldn’t stop myself from doing anything he wanted me to. I had a big promotion in the bag, all I had to do was meet with the board, answer a few questions, and I’d be a VP. Master... he, he told me to walk into the meeting wearing only my collar, lay on my back on the table with my shaved pussy facing my boss and tell him that I did my best work on my back and beg to show the board. I’d spent over five years proving myself to deserve this moment and I was acting like a damn bimbo. None of them fucked me on the table, although I found their business cards next to my briefcase. Because I hadn’t been fired right then, I was unable to resist the compulsion to walk Mahogany Row, kneeling before each secretary and saying loudly, “I’m the new President of Vice. May I please eat your pussy while you ask your boss if he could please fuck me?” I was so humiliated, I wanted to run, to tell them I had to do this because my Master told me to, but I couldn’t stop myself! Some bastard took pictures. I was fired ‘for cause’, so they didn’t have to pay me anything. My stuff was sent to my home. I cried when I knelt before Master that night. He laughed at me, said it proved I wasn’t able to be anything but a full time slut. I wailed at losing my dream, but Master told me I was glad everyone saw I was just a slut and belonged on his leash. And he was right! Master was always right about me. I was happy now, but I was still crying for wasting the last five years. Only now because I hadn’t spent them on my back under Master! He told me I could beg to live with him so I could worship him as my God. Part of me was terrified because I could still remember who I was and what I had just done. But no matter how much I wanted to fight it, I felt myself bow down to kiss his feet and beg as he had commanded. I begged eagerly, wishing I could be quiet. I begged as I helped him bind me into the training chair, pleading to worship him. I remember a needle-prick, then nothing. When I woke up, my God stood before me and all I wanted to do was kiss His feet and worship Him forever.

“I, I don’t know why I can remember that, Paul. Everything else is just a blur or dreams. Maybe h-he wanted me to remember, so I’d know it was impossible to resist him or disobey him. All I know is that after that, He was my God and I lived to worship and adore Him.

“Master may be gone, but I’ll become His slave again. His training is so powerful, so strong... I mustn’t resist, I can’t resist. I’m so—”

“Terry! Focus on telling me what happened!”

Terry told Paul about how she had started dating Master, then falling for Him, then one day kneeling before Him begging for His collar and promising to be a good sucking and fucking slave. How she spent unknown hours staring at sparkling lights, His voice whispering in her ears the beautiful words of obedience and devotion to Master, to worshipping Him as the center of her universe, the source of all that was good, and right, and pleasure. The hours spent hanging from her wrists, feeling His lash whip away her resistance as it struck her ass, back, and legs, then her breasts, and finally her cunt. Until she no longer resisted, but would quickly, joyfully, place herself in the restraints and beg for her ‘cleansing’. She would pray her cleansing had pleased Him enough to use her for His amusement, then maybe she would receive the release she so urgently needed. As her devotion to Master had deepened, she found that she was always wet with need. The need grew to where she was on the cusp of an earthshattering orgasm, but she was unable to release it. Only Master, with but a simple word, could make her world explode in ecstasy.

Paul touched Terry’s face, “Honey, he must have hypnotized you and put things in your mind to make you do what he wanted when he said a certain word or did something. Do you remember anything like that?”

Terry shook her head, “No, Paul, I don’t. Please don’t try to make me remember, it, it hurts when I try. I’m not supposed to remember, only obey. Damn! What did that bastar—ow, I’m sorry, no, please, what did Master, oh, better, what did Master do to me? I can’t even get angry, oh, no, no, not angry, please, I’m not angry, no, I’m sorry, please cleanse me, agg... please, I love Master, oh, ah... love Master... yes, yes I do, I love Master... Paul, please help me, please, lover!”

Paul stroked her cheek. “I have an idea, sweetie.”

He got up and put a candle on the stand next to Terry. She watched, frowning. Then he lit the candle.

Terry started, “Oh, no, Paul, please don’t. There’s got to be another way. Please...”

Paul pulled the pendant out and let it dangle between the candle and Terry. “Terry, look at this.”

Terry had her eyes shut tight. “No way, Paul. You can’t do that! You can’t! I thought you loved me! Please, Paul...”

Paul took a deep breath, hating what he was about to do, but knowing he had no choice. “Slave, open your eyes.”

Terry’s eyes snapped open and locked on the sparkling pendant. She whimpered, “Paul, no... you... you...”

Paul waited as Terry stared at the pendant, her face growing slack. “What have you done, slave?”

Terry intoned, “Obeyed the summons of the crystal and the candle, Master. Sinking into Your Light where the empty slave will be filled with Your Purpose. Sinking into complete obedience and devotion to Your Goodness. Sinking deeper...”

Paul nodded, “Very good, Terry, um, slave. You’ll tell me, that is, tell Master everything he wants to know, won’t you?”

Terry’s gaze never left the pendant. “Slave hides nothing from Master. Slave worships Master. Your Light fills slave with Your Purpose, driving out all disobedience and resistance. There is only Your Light, Master, Your purpose.”

Paul nodded, “Then tell me how Master trained you, slave.”

Terry shook her head, “No, Master, forgive me, please, oh, please, Master, can’t obey... must obey... can’t... must... it hurts, Master! Slave wants to obey, must obey... serve Your Light... can’t obey... make it stop, Master, please... Your Light burns, Master, it burns away the sins. Slave has sinned, Master, sinned by not obeying... can’t obey... it burns, Master, please make it stop! I, I want to obey... please... can’t obey... help me... ug, slave will beg for cleansing, Master, beg for it, owww... please stop the burning, Master! Please, it hurts...”

Paul was horrified, watching Terry slide to the floor, writhing in agony. This Master bastard had really gotten into her head. Then he kicked himself for letting Terry suffer for so long. “Don’t tell me how Master trained you, slave. You don’t hurt anymore, either.”

Terry sighed in relief. “Thank you, Master, thank you. Slave... slave is sorry, Master, please let slave bind herself for cleansing, Master.” Her body shuddered as the pain became a terrible memory.

Paul thought about how he could find out what had been done to her. This Master had certainly found a way to hide his dirty work. He thought about it, while he watched Terry’s breathing return to normal. Maybe if he phrased his questions differently. “Slave, answer Master’s questions unless they make you disobey Master’s other commands, okay?”

Terry nodded, “Yes, Master.”

Paul said, “Okay then, um, what are the words or actions Master uses to control you and what do they make you do?” Long winded perhaps, but he hoped it would work.

Terry replied, “When Master points to the floor and says ‘offer yourself’, slave will kneel before the one Master has chosen and present her body to give pleasure. She will joyfully obey until released by the chosen one or Master commands her.

“The command ‘pray to me’ fills slave with the irresistible need to immediately strip before the God or Goddess who gave the command, no matter where she is or what she is doing. Slave will then kneel and offer worshipful prayer, stopping only when her Deity has granted her Gift the slave lives for. After restoring her Deity’s rainments, she will dress and not remember her devotions.

“The command ‘candle cold’ brings slave out of Your Light to serve Your Will among all those in the darkness. Slave will not remember how she worshipped in Your Light unless Master permits it. Slave will obey all Your Commandments given while she worshipped in Your Light without fail. It is not necessary for slave to know what the Commandments are, only that she obeys them and serves Your Light.

“Slave knows nothing else, Master.”

Paul asked, “Why does the pendant hypnotize you?”

Terry frowned, “Master summons slave into Your Light with the crystal and the candle. It is Your Will that slave becomes the crystal, empty and without purpose until Your Light shines through her and allows her to reflect Your Goodness as she is filled with Your Purpose. It is not for slave to understand, but to obey.”

Paul sighed. Maybe there would be something in her suitcase.

“Candle cold.”

Terry blinked and looked up at Paul. “What happened? You made me look at the pendant and now I’m looking at you. Did you learn anything to help me, Paul? Please say you did, please... I’m getting scared. Help me, Paul, I’ll do anything you want if you’ll help me.”

He pulled her into his lap, rocking her as she rested her head on his shoulder and cried.

After several minutes, Paul asked her, “Terry, let’s look in your bag. There may be some clues, other things you brought without knowing why. C’mon honey.”

Terry got up and they took her bag out of the closet. They placed it the bed and Paul looked at Terry.

“May I?", he asked.

“I almost don’t want to know what else is in there. Oh, I’m sorry, Paul, please, go ahead.”

Paul opened the bag. He lifted off the top layer of skirts and blouses. Under those he found g-string panties, skimpy bras, some garter belts in different colors and matching silk stockings.

Terry shook her head, “I brought all that? I’m surprised we got out of bed as much as we did...”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, hm, what’s this? Do you recognize it?”

Terry shook her head, “I’ve never seen it before in my life, I’m sure of it.”

‘It’ was a black flat leather-bound box, like a large organizer. There was a combination lock built into the front.

Paul asked, “Do you think you might know the combination? Some number that just pops into your head?”

Terry frowned, “I can’t think of any numbers, and I’m not being stopped from thinking about it. I don’t know, Paul.”

Paul said, ‘Combination, slave.’

Terry responded, ‘two sixty-nine, Master’.

Paul set the combination and they heard the lock click open.

Terry looked at Paul, “How’d you know, Paul?”

He smiled, “I thought your old Master would want you to know when you needed to. Let’s open the darn thing.” Paul popped the lock and placed the opened box on the bed.

Inside they saw three envelopes and...

Terry gasped, “My, my collar. It’s... my slave collar, Master’s collar. And my nipple rings...’ She knelt before the case, her eyes not leaving the collar.

Paul pulled out the top envelope. On the outside, in a feminine script, was written, ‘To my new Master’.

Paul showed it to Terry. Her eyes widened as she whispered, “That’s... that’s my handwriting! But, I don’t remember...” As she shook her head in wonder, her eyes fell on the collar. Once again, she fell silent and just stared at the collar.

Paul opened the envelope and began to read it out loud.

“Dear New Master,

Since you are reading this, Master has either just sold or given me to you, or I was freed and have returned to become your property.

It seems very unlikely I was sold. Master has received many extremely generous offers that would make him a very wealthy man if he sold me. He has always said he’s never found a slave as deeply devoted as I am and he’d be a bloody fool to sell me.

Master has therefore commanded I write this letter as if I was freed and have returned to submit to my new Master, you.

Besides this letter, you will find two more letters, as well as my slave collar and nipple rings. My collar is very important to me—”

Paul stopped as he heard Terry moan. He looked down to see that she had taken the collar and was kissing and stroking the black gleaming metal.

Terry was crooning to it, “I’ve missed you so much... you’re so beautiful... it feels so good when I’m wearing you...”

Paul asked, “Terry?”

She was startled, “Huh, wha... I’m sorry, Paul, but isn’t it beautiful? Look how well it sets off my skin, it’s just wonderful. Paul, do you think I could wear it for a little while? Just a few minutes? I’ll take it right off when you say so, please, Paul?” She looked up with those eyes and a quivering lip and breathed, “Puleeze, Paul?”

Paul shook his head. “Not until I finish reading the letter, okay?”

Terry frowned, “Yeah, Paul, sure, whatever...” She turned her back to him and held the collar to her cheek. He could see a tear slide down her cheek, but she didn’t say anything.

Paul sighed, “Terry, we’ve got to read the letter. It may our only hope for you, okay, honey?”

Terry turned back to him, “I know, I know, but you don’t understand how much I need, really need, to wear my collar. It’s calling to me. I want it.”

Paul said, “Hang on, I was just starting to read that part. Where is it, oh, here...

“My collar is very important to me. It was a sign from Master that I was important enough to mark as his property. I wore it proudly, constantly reminded I was slave, owned by the most wonderful Master ever. I am no longer his, but I need the feel of the cold steel to my throat, assuring me that I am the property of my new Master.

I ask that you allow me to collar myself. You may just snap the collar to my throat, but surely you would enjoy watching as I eagerly kneel before you and lock upon myself the symbols of my submission to you. It will also calm me down, as I will get more angry and defiant the longer I can’t wear my collar.

Please, pause a moment and allow me to collar myself. Master will be pleased with the results.”

Paul looked at Terry. “Are you sure you want to do this, Terry?”

Terry almost whined, “Paul, I need to.”

Paul had a bad feeling about this. It was clear even to him that this Master guy had forced a compulsion on Terry to wear the collar. He didn’t know why, but was afraid that by the time he did find out, it’d be too late. Terry was going to put the collar on, sooner or later. Most likely when he slept. He had no idea what the damn collar would do to her. Maybe he’d better go along.

Paul paused a moment and then forced himself to say, “Terry, collar yourself.”

Terry looked up at him, her momentary anxiety washed away with joy as she beamed, “Thank you, Paul! Yes, yes, yes! I’m so excited! Wait a minute, okay, I opened my collar... Here we go... oh, did you hear it click, it did, didn’t it. My rings, my pretty rings...” Terry feverishly discarded the studs in her nipples, then opened the first ring. Terry had to work it into the hole in her nipple, grunting from the pain as she forced the hole to widen back to the size it used to be, but when she did, she snapped the ring back in place. She repeated the process with her other ring. When she was done, she touched her head to the floor before Paul, crying happily, “Thank you, Paul! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Paul! I love you, Master!”

Paul said, “Terry! It’s Paul!”

Terry’s eyes seemed to refocus for a moment. “Yes, Master, um, Paul. Sorry, it’s just, it felt so good, so right, to put it all on. I’m okay now, just a little happy. Paul, please don’t look so worried, honey, I’ll be fine, really.”

Paul watched her carefully, saying nothing.

Terry shuddered, “Woooo... that was strange. Paul, I... I just felt woozy for a moment... It was like... I don’t know. Just don’t ask me to get up for a moment, okay? Wow. That’s better. Paul, keep reading, hon, please?”

Paul found his spot and continued.

“Thank you for collaring me. If you haven’t yet, you will in a few minutes.

If I wasn’t sold or given to you, then I’ve been experiencing dreams or waking trances for the last several days. Each time my slave traits became stronger. You’ve seen the changes in the way we make love. It’s less about my romantic notions and more about fulfilling a man’s fantasies and desires. We’ve taken a long trip alone, so that I may share these changes with you. If you didn’t arrange this, than I did. All that mattered was going on this trip, to be with you, and to reach this moment.

You are a man, strong, powerful. I wouldn’t be here with you now if you weren’t. Your strength of will, of dominance, drew me to you and pushed me to my knees before you. As Master had done, long ago. You both share many traits of power and strength and mastery. But you are not the same. You do not know how to mold me into a slave that worships her Master as the creator of her universe. Who will endure any punishment gladly if it is her Master who administers it. A slave with no thoughts, dreams, or desires, save those her Master gives her.

You don’t know how to do this.

But you don’t have to know.

My Master has given you a gift, because you are so alike. When I was collared, thoughts that Master had placed in my mind came to life. They are changing me even as you read this letter. I am returning to what I was, a slave to Master’s darkest desires, unable to resist the most depraved demand Master gives, because I exist to fulfill those desires. Maybe not this moment, but very soon, a week at the most, I will be that slave again, with You as the reason I breathe.

If you have any doubts, look at me; I’m at your feet, where I belong. Look and see, Master.”

Paul looked down. He had been so absorbed in reading the letter out loud that he hadn’t heard Terry position herself to kneel before him. She had started kneeling, resting her ass on her heels. Then she had spread her legs as wide apart as possible. She had leaned forward, painfully arching her back so she could touch her forehead to the floor and extend her arms forward in complete submission to him.

Paul asked, “Terry, what’re you doing?”

Terry rasped, “I can’t stop myself, Paul. All I can think of is how much I need to give myself to Master. My... new... Master. You. It’s so hard to fight it, Paul, so hard. The weaker I get, the more I want to be your slave. The more I want you to use me like Master did. To be cleansed with Your whip so I can be filled with Your Light. To have no thoughts but Your thoughts. No truth but Your truth... Paul, please, you’re not like him, I know you’re not. You’re good and kind, and I want to be filled with Your Goodness, not his. I can’t hold out much longer, Paul. I’m losing and you’re my only hope. I’m, I’m so weak, P-p-Master, so weak. Slaves obey Masters. It’s His law. I mustn’t... disobey. Help me, Master, please... help... me...”

Paul watched as the woman he loved seemed to change before his eyes. She radiated sex and submission. His Terry was being submerged into slave terry, a pain-slut fucktoy bondage slave. Would she ever emerge again?

Terry began to lick at his toes, hesitantly at first, then more confidently as she was neither punished nor praised.

Paul had to grip the letter firmly as he resumed reading.

“As you can see, I have found my place. I may have even begun cleaning Your feet. Master enjoyed using me this way. I would feel total humiliation licking the grime from His feet, yet great joy that I was fulfilling the purpose Master had chosen for me.

My new programming is unstoppable. You could remove my collar. All that will happen is I will beg and plead for it, even, Master forbid, fighting to re-collar myself. I may still even be the woman you met and have fallen for, but only until my mind and soul are purged of everything except Your Light and Your Purpose.

But Master was clever. He knew that my next owner may not want to use me in quite the same way. My next owner may decide I am not worth owning. That is where the two other envelopes become useful.

Master will be making a choice regarding his new slave. The choice can only be made once and can’t be undone. The choice will also last for the rest of my life, so read carefully before you act.

One envelope is labeled ‘Freedom’. Inside are commands that will erase all my slave features. I will no longer be a slave to Master. But I’ll also no longer be a slave to love, or joy, or happiness. For me, fucking will mean nothing more than a cup of coffee; taste is okay, and I get a little boost. So if a guy asks me out and I think he’s okay looking, if he doesn’t make his move, then I’ll make mine. His place, mine, the back of the car, whatever works.

Has Master ever wished for Godhood? To be worshipped and adored by a beautiful woman as she prays to be worthy of You? To have that slave welcome Your lovers to the bed, joining in as You choose. You’ll be my God, and I’ll worship You with all my heart and soul. That can be yours with either of the remaining choices.

The other envelope is called ‘Slavery’. In there you will learn how to mold me to your wishes. There will be almost no limits to what You will be able to have me do. If you decide I love to be fucked by a Collie daily, then I’ll get a Collie and teach him to fuck me every day. You’ll have almost complete, absolute control of my mind and body as you rewrite me to be your ideal sex slave. You will be able to change almost anything you wish. If you choose this, understand that I will forever belong to you. You will be unable to sell me or give me away. If I am separated from you because you want to be rid of me, I will do everything possible to find you and lay at your feet. That is something you will not be able to change.

The last choice is to tell me you want me as I was when I belonged to Master. The two envelopes will then mean nothing. As I did when I was a slave with no thoughts but Master’s thoughts, I’ll beg to worship Master every second of the day, pleading to perform the Sacraments of Pain and Obedience. Then, if the Sacraments have been properly performed upon the slave, I may be allowed to beg to pray to Master with my ass, cunt, mouth, tits, and hands. And if I am not perfectly pleasing, I will beg for my sin of failure to be cleansed and then be flogged until Master grants His Mercy upon His acolyte and allows me to prostrate myself before His Brilliance, feeling His Light burn away all thought, until I am an empty vessel, to be filled with His Purpose. The woman you knew will cease to exist, will never have existed. Even her name will mean nothing, since all she will respond to is ‘slave’.

These are your choices, Master. Talk with me, if I am still able to think. Look into your heart, both in the darkness and the light. And remember that things are not always as they appear. To get what you want may mean not asking for it. When you have made your decision, you’ll understand.

A word of warning, Master. You will have to make a decision, or it will be made for you. While you consider my future, my reprogramming will continue. If you wait too long, the conditioning will restore Master’s slave-slut worshipper and ignore the letters. My awareness of who I was will fade as my training proceeds, but it will come back briefly as you use my mind to decide what to do and shape me to fulfill the future you will have chosen for me. My old Master does want me to help you plan how you will use me, as the thought that I could be actively assisting in programming myself to welcome even more obscene depravities would likely amuse him greatly. But he will force you to make the decision and live with the consequences, even if you do nothing and allow the woman you know to cease to exist.

This slave’s future is on Your Hands.

When you are ready to decide, say ‘I have made my decision’. I will be at least partially re-awakened to fulfill your will.

In Master I pray, amen.”

Paul folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.

Terry was cleaning his left ankle with her tongue.

Saturday Afternoon

Paul sat in the chair while Terry knelt between his legs kissing his cock and balls. He had put on a robe, but Terry had parted it below the belt. Terry was wearing her collar, nipple rings, and when she wasn’t actually talking, a vacant smile as she licked and sucked. She looked up to Paul as he spoke.

“Terry, I think that ‘Freedom’ might be the best choice. I can’t keep you as a slave! You’re a person, someone I think of as an equal, not property. How can I respect you and love you when I own you? I can’t keep you as a slave; it’s not right.”

She paused for a moment, as if trying to collect her thoughts. “Master, are you enjoying me licking your cock?”

Paul seemed startled, “Um, yeah, why?”

Terry asked, “If it wasn’t me, but rather some hooker you’d rented for an hour, would you enjoy it as much?”

Paul shook his head, “I, um, I guess not...”

Terry nodded, “No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t because she’d be doing a job. I’m doing it because I want to. Yes, I know I’m turning into a slave slut who can’t resist her Master’s cock. But I’m doing the special things I’ve learned that make just you feel good, not my old Master. I’d spend all day here doing them, if it made you happy. And I’d do it because I love you. We wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t love you.”

Paul smiled, “I love you, too, honey.”

Terry said, “I know. Now try to forget you love me. Imagine I’m just a street whore you picked up and paid for four days of fucking. No romance, just shove your cock in a fuckhole and fill me up. I’ll fake my orgasms and tell you how hot you are. Sound like what you want, Master?”

Paul frowned, “Hell, no, Terry, you know that.”

Terry looked Paul in the eyes, “Now, forget that feeling of love you have for me. Forget that was lovemaking we did, not fucking. Forget how good it felt to come with someone you love. Would you like to live that way?”

Paul said, “No, I wouldn’t...”

Terry quietly asked, “Then why do you want that for me? That’s what ‘Freedom’ would give me. Empty sex without love. Never being able to do things for my lover because I love him. Love is a lot like slavery, in that it will make you do things you wouldn’t do for just anyone. The difference is, with Love, you want to submit. In slavery, you have no choice.”

Paul paused, “I... um, I never thought of it like that.”

“Master, please don’t free me. To have sex with anyone who demands it from me is bad enough. To barely enjoy it would be torture. The price would be too high. I know I’d be forced to always remember who made this choice and the thought of hating Master frightens me, P-p-paul, of hating you, when I love you so much. I’d die inside every day, from being forced to hate the man I love. Please, promise me, no freedom, I want to remain a slave, so I can always love you, P-paul.”

Terry seemed to freeze for a moment, her eyes unfocussed as she blinked twice. Then she seemed to awaken. “Forgive me, Master, saying Master’s name is not a privilege for slaves.”

Paul smiled, “It’s okay, Terry. You can use my name. I’d be happier if you did.”

Terry smiled, “Yes, Master, um, P-paul. Even with your permission it’s so hard to disobey my collar training. It’s becoming harder to think for myself, to express thoughts, Paul, as I remember my place. A slave is not supposed to think of anything but obedience. But You asked my opinion, and I-I am so happy You would listen to a, a slave. I want to help my Master.

“If You let me become the slave I was before, Master will not be happy. You’re kinder than my old Master. You can find out what my life was like by using me as Master would. Do it before You decide, P-paul. I’m going to be your slave for the rest of my life.

“Make sure I’m as pleasing to You as possible, because you’ll never be rid of me until I die. Then use ‘slavery’ to mold me to your desires. Please, Paul, when you do that, make sure I still love you with all my heart like I do now. Don’t let me forget my love for you, darling, please, don’t let me forget, Master...”

Terry resumed her licking and sucking of his tool as tears streamed down her face. Her eyes began to grow unfocussed.

Paul touched her face and said, “As long as you never forget how much I love you, Terry.”

He wiped his eyes and put on a smile, “Honey, I’d like to take you to eat while we still can. Now, I want you to not call me Master or act like my slave when we leave the room until we come back. Okay?”

Terry seemed to reawaken and nodded, giving the tip of his cock a loving kiss. “It’ll be easier if you make it Master’s command, Paul.”

Paul smiled, “Master commands Terry will act like the Terry I knew on Friday.”

Terry laughed for the first time that day, “That should do it for now, Paul.”

She then wrapped her hands around his shaft and asked, “After dinner would you like some... dessert?” She opened her mouth and deep-throated him. Then she tried to say “Hmmmm?” but it was muffled with a throat full of cock. For Paul, however, the message that resonated through his tool was extremely pleasurable and crystal clear.

Paul was pleased. He could have told Terry that she would perform as his bondage slave when they got back, but he wanted to enjoy the Terry he’d fallen in love with while he could.

They dressed, put away her bag, and left a call at the desk to make the bed while they were gone.

As they stepped out the door, with Terry playfully giving him a poke in the ribs, he wondered if this Terry would ever step out into the light again.

On the horizon a few clouds began to build.

Saturday Night

Terry had told Paul she had a blue bag in the trunk that she hadn’t bothered bringing in. She begged him to bring it in since it was so heavy.

Paul came back in and closed the door behind him. The wind was kicking up and it looked as if rain would fall any second. “What’s in here, lead?”

Terry knelt before the blue bag and kissed the handle. “No, Master, these are the Sacred Icons, used in worshipping Your Light. They’re the tools to administer the Holy Sacraments of Pain and Obedience. Look, Master, the Cleansing whip, the weights for the Sacrament of the Nipple, the cuffs and collars to present the offering for worship, even the nipple stretchers, oh, please don’t make me wear them. See how the spreading bar goes together to keep the offering open during devotions, the ring gag to prevent the offering from harming Your Gift while You are administering the lessons of pleasure and pain. Please, Master, may slave prepare to give thanks for the honor of worshipping in Your Light?”

Paul nodded. As soon as they had entered the room, his command had been completed and slave terry seized control of Terry’s body. With a moan of desire, she had pulled her clothes off and knelt before Paul, begging her Master to fuck her. He’d tried to command her to return to the old Terry, but she’d just asked who ‘Terry’ was. Her name was slave and she existed to serve Master.

When he asked how she wanted to serve him, she had reminded him of the blue bag she had brought.

Now, Terry was happily arranging bondage tools on the floor. Looking at the devices, he was glad they were in the last cabin, away from the others. He would’ve hated having to explain this to the local police.

Terry knelt before him and kissed his feet before raising her eyes to his crotch. “Master, all is ready except for the ropes that must be hung from the beams. Slave can’t reach the beams, Master.”

Paul frowned, “Um, I don’t think they’d like us hanging ropes from the rafters, even if they could take the weight.”

Terry smiled serenely, “Master, many Masters have used ropes here. See where they used them, there, there, and there? They’ve also used them on the bedposts. Many Masters have used their slaves here. My old Master allowed me to worship him here many times before. They really won’t mind, Master.”

Paul was surprised. He’d expected Terry to be pretty empty-headed at this point, but she had read the faint marks on the wood precisely. Her old Master may have been a pervert, but he was brilliant, twisted, pervert. He was also a bit surprised to find out she’d been in this cabin before.

He arranged the ropes as she respectfully requested, then waited.

Terry knelt before him and undressed him. Then she moved to the center of the room. “Slave has returned to worship in Your Light. I beg to be allowed to present myself as a pathetic offering that You would partake, after You have cleansed me of my many and grievous sins, including the blasphemy of not being on Your leash for so long. I know I am no longer worthy of Your Glory and Goodness, but beg for Your Mercy, pleading that when I am being flayed of my sins, that my mouth be gagged so I may not defile Your Kindness with any sounds other than gratitude and adoration.

“Grant me my pleadings, that I may worship in Your Light with joy and contentment. In Master I pray, amen.”

Paul waited as Terry continued to prostrate herself before him. Finally he heard Terry whisper, “Master says, ‘Offer yourself in devotion to The Light.’”

Paul shook his head in disbelief. The whole thing had been choreographed, with Terry feeding him his lines!

Saturday Night (Two hours later)

The room was dark except for the fire. The storm had weakened to a steady rainfall against the north windows.

In the middle of the room lay Terry and her tools, a blanket covered her. She was no longer bound. She hadn’t moved from where she had passed out many minutes ago.

Paul lay in bed, unable to sleep. The last two hours ran through his mind, over and over. Each time, he felt sick, hating what he had seen, what he had done. He should have stopped it. He tried to stop it. But Terry had insisted, taunting him, goading him to continue. He had done it all because she wanted, no, needed him to do all of it, but that didn’t make him feel any less like pond scum.

He had watched as she reverently performed what she called the ‘Sacraments of Pain and Obedience’, a gift, she said, that was only permitted slaves who showed themselves worthy to worship in His Light. He watched her put on cuffs and spreader bars while she praised her Master’s glory and berated herself for being so worthless and contemptible.

He really knew he wasn’t going to like this ‘devotion’, as Terry called it, when she held up the toothed nipple grips. She talked about how Master had allowed her to first painfully stretch her nipples before she could observe the ‘Sacrament of the Nipple’. Even though she now wore the two-inch steel slave rings she had pleaded to have pierce the base of her nipples, for this evening it had been ordained she would worship as she had before Master’s kindness. Paul saw the jagged teeth on the grips. He felt a chill which had nothing to do with the storm building outside. He winced when he heard her sharp intake of breath as the teeth bit the tender flesh. He made himself do nothing as he heard her grunt in pain as she dropped the heavy weight and the grip bounced, yanking her breast with each swing. Then he watched her repeat the ritual on her other breast. Her eyes were wet from pain, yet she continued to praise her Master’s ‘Kindness’ and ‘Generosity’.

When she finished immobilizing herself, he had waited, unsure what to do. Terry had whispered for him to pick up the whip and bring it to her.

She hung in the air, twisting slowly, her body level with the floor. The ropes from the ceiling spreading the strain on her body between her belly strap and the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Her head and her pussy were at just the right height for him to walk up and fuck her cunt or mouth.

The whip at first appeared to be a regular cat, with many oiled thin straps. But the handle was not at the end of the whip. For several inches past the handle was a large black dildo. Terry had explained how the whip symbolized the Sacrament. He listened to her whispered instructions and then did as Terry asked. He held the whip to her lips, so that she could kiss it. Then he had gently snapped the whip on her belly. She gasped and said how pain focused the slave to obedience. He then ordered her to beg for another lash. She begged and he delivered it. He then shoved the end of the whip into her cunt and pulled it back out. The dildo end was quite wet. As she licked it clean, Terry moaned that obedience brought pleasure and this was why a slave like her was eager to observe the Sacraments.

Then Terry had begged to be cleansed. She had pleaded, cried, and moaned, asking him to swing the whip hard. How could she know the pleasures of serving in His Light, if she didn’t feel the pain of the darkness? He was to whip anywhere he wished upon her body. He was to stop only when she asked to anoint his whip with her ‘oils’. When he was ready to fill her pussy, he was to cleanse it first, awakening every nerve to experience the fulfillment of the Sacrament.

He balked. The pain would be intense and he could hurt her. She laughed, saying her old Master was far stronger and had rarely broken her skin. He still refused. She pleaded, asking how she could serve Him if she wasn’t cleansed. She would be left in the darkness, never again experiencing the tremendous orgasms that came to a worshipper of His Light. She lived for the cleansing, which made the pleasure all that much greater.

He relented and tried to whip gently. She mocked him, called him weak, unworthy of worship, unworthy of even seeing a slave. She insulted him, pulled up all she had learned about him and used it to sting him until finally he struck her in anger. She continued, the whip singing as it found it’s marks. She yelped as she was cleansed.

She saw Paul in front of her and strained against the ropes to reach forward and catch his cock between her lips. She begged to pray to him, to worship him with her mouth and tongue. He felt her and stepped forward. Even though it caused her legs to be pulled up and away, she reached out and gripped the back of his thighs and pulled herself to him, driving his cock down her throat. With his left hand he gripped and mauled her tit. With his right, he continued the cleansing of her snatch.

She suddenly pushed away, allowing his cock to spring free. She moaned that Master was ready to deliver His Gift, that the Sacrament ordained how the Gift was to be received. She kissed his cock and then recited her prayer:

“Thank you Master for this Your Gift.

The empty vessel will be filled as You will.

Knowing only Your Purpose, Your Thoughts, Your Truth.

For you are The Goodness, The Glory, and The Light.

In Master’s name I pray, amen.”

As if in agreement, the sky lit up with lightning, the thunder shaking the cabin walls.

Paul walked around Terry, snapping the whip against her body, along her arm, then her chest, then her leg, before he stood before her, sliding the bulb end of the whip along her nether lips. Her hips jerked as she mewled in need, begging him to accept the offering, promising everything if he would just consume her with His Light. She moaned in pleasure as Paul rammed his rod into her dripping pussy.

Paul fucked like a man possessed.

His seed pumped into the piece of cuntmeat hanging from the ropes in front of him. As his cock began to soften, the bitch warming his tool began to shudder as her orgasm hit her. She gibbered her praise and adoration of the Master who had claimed His property. Then she gurgled in pleasure, a hissed “Master...” as she sagged onto her ropes, her eyes rolling up as she slipped from the here and now.

Paul felt as if he was waking from a bad dream. That wasn’t a nameless fuck toy hanging unconscious from the ropes, it was Terry! The realization of what he had just done made him shudder.

Lightning lit the room, throwing macabre shadows.

He carefully lowered her to the floor, unhooking the cuffs and belt. He checked her for injuries and found nothing other than red welts and some nasty bruises on her left breast. She shivered, so he placed a blanket over her.

He had backed away from her and turned off the lights. But he couldn’t turn off the horror of what he had done to the woman he loved. What that bastard of a Master had taught her to want to have done to her. And she had endured it for so long that now she needed it to receive any pleasure.

Paul thought he’d be living the male fantasy, with a slave who considered him a God. Instead he felt like he was the one who needed ‘cleansing’. He hated what he did to her, what she wanted him to do to her. There was no respect for Terry as a person, just the using of her as a whipping post and fuck holes.

The lightning flashed again and Paul was startled to see Terry kneeling beside the bed. She looked at him and asked, “Master? May I join You in bed?”

Paul, ashamed, turned away silently.

Terry hung her head a moment and then begged, “Master? May your slave be allowed to sleep on the floor next to the bed? I’ll be within easy reach should You wish to use her during the night. Please?”

Still no answer from Paul.

Terry swallowed. “Master, I’m... sorry I failed to please You tonight. May, may I sleep outside on the doormat, Master? I, I won’t take any blankets in case Master needs them. I’ll leash herself to the front porch railing so that Master can find and punish His disobedient slave after He’s rested.”

The fire guttered as a blast of wind blew through the chimney.

Paul quietly said, “No. Get into bed. Go to sleep. No more punishing.”

Terry happily climbed into the bed. “Thank you, Master. Your slave is so lucky to be the property of such a wise and caring Master. To be allowed to sleep in the bed of my Master is so wonderful. Slave will be so happy if Master decides during the night to use me as a pillow or arm rest, or to be used for Your pleasure. Slave will please Master, You—”

Paul finally cut her off, “Be quiet. Go to sleep. Just be quiet.”

Terry, confused, obeyed, taking as little space as possible on the bed. She knew He was displeased, but she had no be near if He wished to use her.

There was a little catch in her voice as she said, “Goodnight, Master”.

Paul felt like an even bigger cow chip.

The rain pounded steadily on the roof.

Eventually sleep overtook them both. For the first time this trip, there was no happiness in the room, genuine or otherwise.

Late Saturday Night

The woman is suspended from the ceiling, spread-eagle. A bar extends from her right wrist to a collar around her neck to her left wrist. A second bar, a spreader, holds her legs open very wide. She is canted at a thirty degree angle, so the weights attached to her nipples pull somewhat outward. Her hair has fallen forward, so her face is hidden, but her muffled moans imply she is gagged in some fashion.

A brassier is nearby, close enough that the woman tries to avoid the heat. A single white-hot iron is heated by the coals.

The man appears. He looks like a barbarian master, muscular, with shoulder length blond hair, wearing a loincloth, and carrying a whip. He snaps the whip and it cracks like thunder. The woman shudders and pleads, but all that he hears is muffled by her gag.

He pulls the iron from the coals and holds it before the woman’s face. She shakes her head. He puts the iron back into the fire.

He begins to whip the woman on her ass and back. She jerks and shrieks as best she can. After several strokes the man reaches between her legs and brings his dry fingers to her nose. She’s silent.

He begins to whip again, this time including her upper legs. Sometimes the whip wraps around and the tip stings her inner thigh. He again stops and reaches between her legs. This time he rubs his wet fingers on her upper lip, so she can continue to smell her arousal. She tries to stifle a moan.

He begins to whip yet again, now also striking her belly and breasts. The weights dance as she twists in a futile effort to avoid the oiled lash. He stops and reaches between her legs. He rubs his hand over her face, coating it.

He brings the iron to her face. A sob, then, a small nod. He waits. She then nods with more enthusiasm. He waits, the iron inches from her face. Some strands of her hair fall onto the iron and burn away immediately. She nods frantically, moaning what might be a plea to be branded.

He places the iron back in the coals. The whip is kicked aside. With one hand he reaches between the legs of the woman and strokes her clit as he slides his fingers into her. She moans in pleasure. With the other hand he reaches up and grips her nipple. She gasps as he begins to pull and twist with one hand while exciting her pussy with the other.

He stops. She moans. He gives her nipple a little pull. She is silent for a moment, then gives a defeated nod. He uses both of his hands again on her. She groans in wanting.

He stops. She whimpers. He twists her nipple hard. She grunts in pain, but nods eagerly. He twists the other way and still she nods. He resumes his actions, making her moan and buck as her orgasm is so near, so elemental in strength.

He releases her bruised breast, the dark patches already forming. As he plays with her aching sex, he starts to rub her copious love juices on her ass and breasts, like a salve.

As she nears the peak of her need, he swiftly removes his hand from her, grabs the iron and presses it into her asscheek.

She screams from the pain and the orgasm as both strike her as one. He pulls the iron from her flesh and drops it in the brassier. He reaches under his loincloth for his rigid cock. With a few strokes he shoots his cream onto her brand, obscuring the word ‘slave’.

He looks at the body hanging slack in the bonds. Liquids drip to the shining floor. He sees tears from her head, his semen from her hip, her juices from her lips, sweat that’s traveled the length of her body to fall from her left toe. He then sees a few drops of blood from where the whip broke the skin. He gets pleasure from knowing the solution is to toughen her skin with more use of the whip.

He walks to the head of the unconscious woman. Seeing a mirror on the wall, he grabs her hair and pulls up violently. Only the collar keeps her neck from being snapped.

He looks to the mirror to see Terry’s face, her mouth jammed with envelopes. His gaze rises to see the face of this master. Paul sees his own face with a feral grin....

....

Slave awoke to Master’s screams as He thrashed in sleep. The Nor’Easter howled back, the sky ablaze with lightning twisted as if in agony. The rain, driven by the wind, pounded against the walls and roof. It was as if the heavens sought to drown all sound of the terror. She touched His shoulder, frightened.

Master’s eyes shot open and He frantically turned back and forth, trying to see where He was. The room was lit a harsh blue-white, as a bolt struck nearby, making the cabin shake as if it, too, was terrified. He saw her and trembled, before He reached out to her and hugged her tightly. “Thank God you’re okay, Terry! Oh, Terry, Terry, I didn’t—”

Slave had no idea who Terry was, only that Master was turning her body so He could inspect it. She didn’t resist as He checked her ass and back.

Relieved, Master began to sob. Slave never wanted her Master to feel hurt, so she pulled Him close and cradled Him in her arms. He wrapped His arms around her as He continued to cry and say words that made no sense to her. She just held Him close, stroked His hair as His face rested against her breast. She crooned to Him, assuring Him everything was okay, that it had only been a dream.

She held Him thus, as the hours crawled from one to two to three to four, soothing Him until He finally dropped into what she prayed, in Master’s Name, was a dreamless sleep.

Sunday Morning

It was quiet as the sun rose, hanging droplets creating tiny rainbows as the light struck them in the still air. The distant rumble of muted thunder signaled the day could still be unsettled.

They awoke still entwined in each other’s arms. As Paul opened his eyes Terry kissed his cheek. “Master, I was so worried about You. I was scared You were hurt or sick and didn’t know what to do, Master.”

Paul caressed her cheek, catching the tear as it moved down. “It’s... okay, honey. It was a... very bad nightmare, but it helped me decide what to do.”

Terry smiled at him, her love for her Master written on her face.

Paul sat up and looked at Terry and said, “I’ve made my decision.”

Terry’s eyes closed a moment and she seemed to tremble briefly. When her eyes opened, she seemed, different.

Terry asked, “Will you be using an envelope, Master?”

Paul nodded.

Terry rose, “Then I shall bring them to you, Master.”

Terry brought the box to Paul and knelt before him. He opened the box and took out one envelope and read the outside. He put it back and removed the other envelope.

Paul looked at Terry, “If I free you, you stop being a slave but live a life even worse. For you, freedom’s an even deeper slavery.” Paul tore the envelope labeled ‘Freedom’ into pieces and tossed it into the fireplace. The paper touched an ember and began to smoke. It burst into flame and spread to the other scraps of paper, turning them to ash.

Paul took Terry’s hand in his. “I fell in love with you and wanted us to be partners forever. We’d be equals. But, but that’s not possible. Your old Master saw to that. You told me how you wanted to be equal, to be treated the same as a man. But, deep down, deeper than you knew, that wasn’t true. A part of you needs to belong to, to serve, a man. And not just anyone, but someone you loved. Someone you could trust wouldn’t abuse the power you’d give him.”

He looked in her eyes. He knew he was on the verge of tears, but was surprised to see Terry’s eyes matched his. It was as if the old Terry must be hearing him.

He continued. “Somehow, you decided that person was... me. You fell in love with me like I fell in love with you. And now, now I have to decide how I free the woman I love from the hell of her slavery. Your master decided the only way to free you is to make you my slave. A slave that can be shaped to eagerly fulfill my every whim. But how do I shape you so the Terry I fell in love with reappears? I don’t know, but I’m going to open the envelope and read. I promise you this, Terry, if there is anyway I can bring you back, I will. I hope you can hear me, because I love you.”

Paul saw the tears shine on her cheeks and knew that his Terry had heard him.

Paul opened the envelope.

“Hello, Master.

You have chosen to enslave me to You, making me your property and play toy forever. I can never be sold or given away, for You will always be my Master.

My old Master has decided to help you in programming me to be your perfectly pleasing slave.

For example, if you liked my intelligence, then say ‘Restore Intelligence’. If you prefer me as a mindless robot who will do nothing without her Master’s command, say ‘Destroy Intelligence’. Here are some—”

Paul held Terry’s head in both hands and kissed her on the forehead before saying, “Restore Intelligence, Terry... please?”

Terry cocked her head to the side as if... as if she had been switched on.

Then she smiled, “Paul... I’m here, love. But you’re not done. You, you have to finish programming me, that’s the term, and make it stick or else I turn back into the bimbo sex slave. Keep reading, Paul, please help me. No matter what happens, I’ll remember somehow what you did for me. I love you, Master. Keep... reading...” The light in her eyes seemed to fade a bit.

Afraid he was running out of time, Paul picked up the letter.

“Here are some other useful switches for you. Private slave mode controls my degree of adoration when in private. I am currently set at high and will remain there unless you change it. Public slave mode controls...”

Paul found the controls went on for pages. As he read along, Paul issued the commands he hoped would bring Terry back. He found some controls that couldn’t be turned off, only modified. For example, Obedience to Master only allowed choices of 90% to 100%, whereas Disagreeing with Master in Public only accepted 1% or zero. Some switches, such as Refusing to Have Sex at Master’s Command were locked at zero.

It took Paul almost two hours to work through the letter.

“Congratulations, Master. You have finished programming my basic personality. Now you can mold me to any whim or fetish that amuses you. If you have restored my intelligence, then you can tell me what you want me to do and I will tell you how to program that into me forever. Don’t be shy, you aren’t likely to think of anything I haven’t already done.

But understand that my old Master put a lot of work into shaping me to worship him with pain and pleasure. It was key to molding me into the reverent, obedient, sexual bondage slave kneeling before you. It’s as much a part of me now as breathing. If it disturbs you, and I can still think, talk to me; together we’ll find a way to channel my needs to not be as offensive to you.

When you are ready, continue reading to see how to burn your changes forever into my mind, heart, and soul.”

...

With Terry’s help, Paul reduced the violence she needed, and the more painful devotions she performed. She would always become entranced by the crystal and the candle, but only when Paul or Terry held the crystal. When in trance, Paul could script her for role playing that either he wished, or to do things Terry would like to try, but couldn’t because she was nervous or it conflicted with her programming.

She was still terribly devoted to Him, ready to accept without question, but Paul was no longer the creator of her universe. She would perform some of the sacraments because she liked the feeling of surrendering all control to him and confident in her trust that he wouldn’t allow her to come to harm. The Sacrament of the Nipple was banished. She still felt the need to wear the steel nipple rings, but now they would be used as an aid to her pleasure during lovemaking. Additionally, she enjoyed hanging little brass bells from the rings when she would be at home and naked. She loved the way they’d chime and help the man she loved find her faster when he came home from work.

It took another couple of hours, checking and rechecking, but finally Paul picked up the letter and, with Terry at his side, read how to permanently change her.

Paul issued the last command on the page. There was nothing else to do but wait.

Terry’s eyes closed and her head slumped forward. Her chest rose and fell slowly as her whole body seemed to wait for the outcome.

Her head lifted and her eyes opened. Her gaze was glassy, unfocussed. “The program is complete. Clearing all other controls...” She stared sightlessly, occasionally giving a small twitch or tremble.

Paul watched her intently as the seconds crawled by. For him, there was nothing else in the room that mattered. He was therefore momentarily blinded when the ray of sunlight sliced through the departing clouds and limned her in a halo of bright white.

She blinked and then recited, “A final message from Master” and closed her eyes.

When she spoke, her voice was deeper, with a resonance that expected submission. “I was Terry’s Master. She was the perfect slave, so eager to accept my will, gladly enduring anything to please me. You have a treasure beyond measure, in ways you’ll soon understand.

“I must be dead or in prison, paying for what society calls crimes, if Terry is reciting this. I’d never let her go, because... I love her. I always have. She was so wonderful, even when she still had a chance to resist or escape, she chose to remain, because I loved her, and she had loved me. Even after I trained her to the Sacraments and other cruelties, she welcomed them, allowing me to feed my needs, my ‘dark side’, if you will. Because she loved me.

“And because I love her, I needed to help her when I was gone. So I’ve trained her some more. She could operate in the real world, carefully seeking out someone who could help her find love and not take advantage of her as I did.

“When she found you, and found the real possibility of love, programs started, to assess how you would handle my treasure, my Terry. She would experience dreams, bringing back some of her training. You would go on this trip. If Terry suggested the place, it was where we had some of our greatest joys. If you were still honorable, her program would move to the last stage, where we are now.

“If you’d tried to use her as I had, she would eventually convince you to let her go, if for no other reason than you wouldn’t be able to keep up with her need for sex. When you let her go, the program would ‘reset’ her, making her forget you and any hurt, and start her on her search again.

“But you love her. And she loves you. You’ve talked to her, treated her as a person in this, not a sexdoll. You’ll both be very happy. You’ll have a wife who loves you with every fiber of her being, will do anything you ask, all for love.

“She’s no longer a sex slave. She’s much more now. She’s a Slave to Love, with all the wonders that brings. You’re her Master of Love now, binding her to you with chains of respect, devotion, caring, and Love. And she’s a person, a very special person. She sought you out and you should be thanking her every day for that.

“My time’s up, she’s yours now. Take good care of her. I’ve done all I can to remove or block all the memories of hurt and pain she felt as my slave. If you really love her, don’t ever try to make her remember or fight to break through the walls I’ve put up to protect her.

“You should also know that she really didn’t lose her job as she told you. She was laid off as part of a downsizing. It happened just as I found I never wanted her to be away from me, even for an hour. She had gotten a very nice severance package from her company. Most of the funds are in a bank account that she can now remember. Think of it as a dowry. As for her version of losing her job, I changed her memory so that she’d be convinced I had complete mastery of her mind and body. She had to believe that she no longer had any ability to refuse or disobey, no matter what I commanded. It worked, since she never again resisted me, allowing me to indulge my darker urges.

“Terry, you’ll remember this message, and know that I always loved you. Good-bye.”

Terry shivered a moment and then opened her eyes.

Paul asked, “Terry?”

Terry replied, “You were expecting Groucho Marx?” She rolled her eyes and pretended to hold a cigar.

Paul hugged her. “Terry!”

She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him feverishly and whispering his name over and over.

They finally broke the kiss. Paul cocked an eyebrow, “Slave of Love?”

She smiled, like a ray of light piercing a fading storm. “That’s what the man said. I love you... Hey, who brought the cucumber in here?”

Paul laughed. “Get over here and I’ll show you what that cucumber can do, hon!”

Terry grinned and pushed Paul back on the bed. She swung around and positioned herself over him, her eyes shining with happiness as she lowered herself, impaling herself on his tool. She sighed, “Oh, Master...” as she began to ride.