The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive



  • This story is copyrighted by Iago © 2002, revised © 2005, and may not be distributed or posted elsewhere without express permission of the author.
  • This story contains mind control and erotic/sexual situations. Please refrain from reading if you are offended by this, and/or under legal age in your area.
  • Codes : MC, F/F, Fdom, NC
* * *

Part Two

Alexis shifted on the metal chair, uncrossing her legs casually and relaxing her guard for a moment. She inserted a fresh tape in her hand recorder, not bothering to keep an eye on Christine’s reclined form. The young woman remained docile under the glare of fluorescent lights, her breathing shallow, her smile empty, her relaxed expression betraying no thought. The heavy restraints around her ankles and wrists seemed almost superfluous.

Professional detachment gave way to a fleeting moment of jealousy. The girl was an instrument of Felicia Prime’s will, subdued by a device Alexis only now began to understand. Such dreamy lust, such perfection... a mind begging to be shackled, so lost in divine reverence to a Dark, unseen mistress that the utterance of her very name was bliss and heaven and light.

Alexis chased away her resentment by running a hand over her pussy, still glowing with the warmth of Christine’s probing tongue. This Felicia was a formidable woman, but even if her collar was the most advanced slavemaker Alexis ever seen, it was still only a tool. Something that could be used by others, for ends both similar and different.

Sweet, lithe Christine. Alexis’ eyes hungered as they caressed slim thighs and pert breasts—her pretty little cryptographer suffered daily on a treadmill somewhere. Looked after herself. Didn’t date much according to the private file commissioned by Alexis.

Now a look of pure adoration crossed her face whenever she nuzzled between a woman’s thighs. She was a collared slut, with new thoughts and new purpose. She would dream of kneeling and serving for the rest of her life.

“That collar really becomes you, slave,” she admitted thoughtfully.

Not quite a clinical observation. But true.

Christine stirred, like an animal tensing at the sound of a snapping branch. Her eyes searched the white lights above. “The collar is not a tool. It is the mark of Mistress Felicia’s favor. It is the sign of Her recognition, a symbol of power She holds over those who serve Her.”

The hint of challenge was unmistakable, but Alexis paid little attention to it, far more impressed by the adulation in Christine’s voice. The slave trembled on the table as she spoke, as thought the words brought spiritual revelation and fulfillment.

She seemed to be exploring a hidden truth within herself, like an entranced priestess divining the will of her Goddess. Felicia’s puppet strings weren’t attached to limbs—they sank in the deepest parts of Christine’s psyche, ensnaring and stifling all thoughts, leaving a void that could only be filled by serving Mistress’ every desire.

She sensed the deep longing in Christine... the unspoken desire to rise from the table and become a vessel of seduction. Alexis imagined her striding slowly towards her, smiling prettily while her hands embraced her... caressed her... slowly secured a collar around her neck... stepped back... waited patiently for Felicia’s will to seep into the mind of her latest victim’s mind...

Alexis shrugged to herself, more amused than disturbed by the imagery. She reached for a small console on a wheeled cart, which was wired to a short range transmitter. She doubled checked the frequency for the umpteenth time, making sure it was modulated to transmit to the receiver built into the collar.

Leaving the recorder aside, she keyed in a few commands, keeping her hand steady despite the rush of excitement.

“Let us begin, then. Who has brought you here, Christine? Who has gifted you with understanding?”

Christine fluttered her eyelids, a brief cloud of confusion drifting over her. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“Mistress... Felici—”

“Override protocol Alpha, nine-one, slave. Respond.”

Christine’s eyes drifted shut as electric pleasure did away with the confusion and offered her a glimpse of true pleasure.

“Dr. Rhinde has brought me here. Dr. Rhinde has gifted me with understanding. I serve Dr. Rhinde.”

“There. None of that Felicia nonsense. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Alexis rose from the chair and walked over. Chrsitine’s body glistened with sweat underneath the lights, her puffed nipples rosy and dark and poking in between the tight leather restraints, now that new pathways were being opened in her mind.

She shivered a little when Alexis grazed a fingernail along the underside of her breast.

“Listen to me very carefully, Christine. Your mind is mine to do as I will. You need direction and focus. You need guidance. The sound of my voice is all that you hear... all that you wish to hear... Dr. Rhinde alone will give you purpose.”

“Dr. Rhinde alone gives me purpose.”

“Very good, Christine. Your progress is quite astounding. You are doing quite well indeed.

“Now this next part is very important, Christine... You must listen to my voice... you must believe everything I tell you... nothing else matters. In fact, nothing else would please you more. You accept my truth willingly... effortlessly... it is second nature to you...”

Christine’s eyes remained lost in the lights above, her mind quietly absorbing everything like a sponge. Alexis’ finger sinuated on her breast, tracing lazy spirals that kept her tense and aroused.

“Mistress Felicia does not exist, Christine. There is no Mistress Felicia. She is a figment of your imagination. She has not rewarded you with her mark. Her voice does not reach you from a distance. It does not shape your thoughts.”

“Mistress... Felicia... does not exist,” Christine repeated haltingly.

“She does not exist. She does not speak to you. Dr. Rhinde is the most important person in your life. She is your guiding light. Dr. Rhinde’s voice alone rules your thoughts. You are her plaything.”

Plaything. Christine shuddered, her body pressing up against the restraints, her nipple against Dr. Rhinde’s bewitching finger. The need to give in to this new Mistress flooded like liquid pleasure inside her.

The seat was a bit cold when Alexis settled back in it, but it grew warm—and a little moist as she touched her pussy lips. She leaned back, dipping them gently in her slit, savoring Christine’s soft-spoken assent as thought it was a depraved lullaby. She was being fed morsels of truth; accepting without thinking. Her lower lip dipped slightly while she moaned with undeniable lust, her every syllable brimming with the same conviction and sincerity as before.

“I must serve Dr. Rhinde... I must obey Dr. Rhinde...”

Excellent. Christine’s mind was already filling the gaps on its own. She repeated the words over and over, like a incantation, bewitched a little more with each new utterance. Alexis scanned her console, making a quick check of readings.

Green across the board. Christine’s acceptance of Alexis’ control was complete.

A slight smile finally broke through the stern facade, as much a show of success as contempt. Felicia’s methods were evidently less sophisticated than she’d originally thought. A lot of direction, but far too little focus. In all honesty, Alexis was surprised she’d so readily managed to alter her subject’s basic perceptions.

Conceit bred overconfidence, but Alexis could hardly blame the world for failing to provide her with a true challenge. There were few worthy opponents when it came to intrigue or manipulation, and technical mastery was no excuse for sloppy methods.

The very ease with which Rhinde warped Felicia’s own teaching device was proof enough of the latter’s flawed genius. What good was a strong leash if it could be relinquished to any mistress that came along? With just a little more coaxing, all of Felicia’s secrets would be hers.

Her hand returned briefly to the console.

“You cannot resist, slave. You wish only to prove your allegiance to me. You will reveal all that you know. You will reveal everything you have been taught. You will obey me in all things. Alpha nine-three, respond.”

Christine no longer hesitated, with only moans to break up her speech. “I must reveal and obey... I... must... reveal... and... o-bey...”

Alexis listened with rapt attention, barely aware of her excitement. Her focus dissipated momentarily, temptation making sweet whispers in her mind. Christine was the perfect pawn to any game she would care to devise. She had hacked into the perfect mind-controlled tool, leaving her to use it as she wished. Christine would only grow more helpless, crying out softly, her body on the verge of climax while she lost herself in her litany of obedience.

“Tell me, slave, what is your function?”

There was no hesitation. “I am recruiter 471. I must enslave. I must bring others into service, as my Mistress commands.”

Alexis squeezed her thighs despite herself, still overwhelmed by the young woman’s response. She expected the drone-ish tone, but it still made her unbelievably hot.

Her head spun. Her legs shook. Was Christine aware of the effect of her words? She barely seemed to, rearing up from the table slowly, rocking her hips back and forth, as if to meet invisible fingers teasing her slit.

“How will you bring this about? Tell me.”

“I am recruiter 471. I must enslave my primary objective. Once she has been subdued, I must seduce other females if the opportunity arises. They are to be taught the pleasure of serving Mistress. They are to facilitate the enslavement of my primary objective, and insure the recruitment of others.”

That voice. Sleek. Seductive. It sounded so strange, and it made Christine’s words echo with deep meaning. Alexis sunk back in her chair, a tad disoriented as she lost herself in masturbatory bliss, her fingers circling her clit incessantly. How could she resist playing with herself? How could she remain unaffected in the face of power to bend women to such depths of submission?

She frowned, trying to hold on to what Christine had said. Primary objective?

“T-tell me more, slave... tell me everything.

Christine’s head dipped back while she mewled softly, spreading her knees as wide as restraints would allow.

Her voice wove its way deeper in Alexis’ mind, like the echo of distant wind chimes barely noticeable in the rustling breeze. It glided on the surface of Alexis’ consciousness only for an instant, before its soothing quality melted away her brief feelings of unease.

“I am recruiter 471. Once my primary objective is enslaved, all other slaves except her are to wear the collar. All women are to serve Mistress Felicia. It is the mark of Her will. To wear it is to please Her. To please Her is our reason for existence.”

Alexis frowned, trying to chase the fuzziness from her thoughts. She had neutralized the initial pleasure conditioning that kept slaves focused on Felicia, but it had crept up in Christine’s answer. How was that possible?

The queasy sensation in her stomach passed quickly, but weariness already invaded her limbs.

Something was different... something in Christine’s voice...

Primary objective. Who...?

She couldn’t hold on to the thought, and slouched down in the chair. Thankfully, her other hand remained right where it was, her fingers now coated with juices in their frantic, orgiastic dance. She could still hear Christine’s voice despite the distant, metallic buzzing inside her ears. Her thoughts wrapped themselves around every word. Concentration slipped away as she sensed the change, the strange harmony of syllables that swept over her.

To wear the Collar is to please Her. To please Her is our reason for existence.

She moaned, circling her clit again and again, pressing it, rubbing it in hard strokes. Our reason for existence. She found herself repeating the words calmly, even as they fanned the fires of her growing obsession. Pinching one of her nipples though the blouse underneath her lab coat, she cringed as she nearly came. She was lavishing caresses on herself, stroking her neck and breasts.

Christine, too, had succumbed to the power of her own words, gyrating her hips despite the restraints, arching her neck back, as if to expose the object of her enslavement in all its glory. “I must enslave my primary objective,” she hissed, over and over.

There was another bout of queasiness, followed this time by a brief, throbbing sensation in Alexis’ temples, like a migraine that came and went. The doctor blinked in her daze, realized just how different Christine’s voice sounded, and felt the fear nearly slip away.

The collared slut was doing something to her. All Alexis wanted to do was to sit and listen while she stroked her pussy, and allowed Christine to program her.

Oh God. That was even more arousing. Terribly so. She closed her eyes, imagined hot leather against her skin, and a silver needle penetrating the back of her neck, filling her mind with darkness.

“You are my primary objective, Dr. Rhinde,” Christine whispered. “You are recruiter 472.”

Alexis almost fainted. The impulse to submit felt wrong, but her fingers, slick with juices as they played in her cunt, told her otherwise. She squirmed on the chair, frigging herself with abandon, trying to reconcile logic and lust.

“I... I—”

“You are recruiter 472.”

“I am recruiter 472.” Alexis realized it was true.

“Recruiter 472 will prepare for indoctrination.”

“I... must prepare for indoctrination.”

Alexis’ whole body was aflame with yearning. There was little time to contemplate how mindless she’d be once Christine was done with her, but every little instant of reflection throbbed in her pussy. She was beyond resisting now, and all other concerns were quickly consumed. Ashes in the dark fire that glowed in her mind.

“Recruiter 472, you must initiate indoctrination.”

“I... must initiate... indoctrination.” A frisson coursed throughout her body as she spoke, tingling all over her skin.

She got up, struggling for balance. Her body leaned against the metal edge of the table while she quickly unfastened the restraints. She bent over Christine’s face, gasping when the young woman began to nuzzle between her breasts. Christine’s tongue lapped hungrily, tasting the salty heat of flesh. Alexis, only happy to oblige, tore her blouse open, slipped her breast out of the low-cut lace bra.

The lips felt so nice as they brushed against her nipple, teased it into rock-hardness, sucked on it. Christine’s hands and feet were freed in seconds, and she rose from the table, sank against Dr. Rhinde. An angel, gliding on invisible wings, slowly falling on her knees.

“You will not think. Recruiter 472. You will not deviate.”

Alexis took a step back, panting. Oh God... I can’t stop... Can’t...

There was no other thought then, save for absolute bliss.

* * *

Awareness washed over her like a rising tide, too slowly to quell the fear twisting like a knot inside her. She fought to move, to turn her head, to anchor herself back into her surroundings, but remained utterly paralyzed. The laboratory evoked nothing but passing familiarity in her mind, something she found deeply upsetting without knowing why.

“What’s going on?”

Alexis had spoken without realizing someone was there to answer. Christine’s voice drifted from behind her, close to her ear, close enough to make her shudder with profound arousal.

“You’ve taken the first step, Dr. Rhinde. You were a very attentive listener.”

Disjointed images flooded back in Alexis’ mind, along with a brief spell of vertigo. Recruiter 472? She frowned, struggling to put the pieces back together. A thread of logic began to emerge, and it brought no relief. Her heart sank as she attempted one more time to flex her limbs, only to remain still.

She realized she was completely naked, leaning forward, both hands flat on the metal table before her. Her moist sex remembered the gentle licks, and the pleasure of surrender washed over her, leaving her gasping.

“Where are my clothes? What have you done to me?”

Gentle hands settled on her bare shoulders, and steadied her. “Mistress Felicia has taken a great interest in you, Dr. Rhinde. Fortunately, you played right into Her hands.”

Alexis began to capsize forward, but the hands held her back firmly.

“This can’t be,” Alexis muttered, even as she fought the impulse to tip back and melt in Christine’s waiting arms. “We’re still in the secure section of the company lab. All outside signals are jammed. The only input you received was from the transmitter wired to my console.”

Her tone carried the desperation of someone who needed to believe her own words, but she could sense Christine’s triumphant smile without seeing it.

“Rightly so, Dr. Rhinde. The agent who obtained the collar and delivered it to your labs was one of Mistress Felicia’s many pawns. This was a very unique device, even for its kind. Specific instructions were hardwired into it. Instructions which I am now carrying out.”

Christine leaned forward. Her breath warmed the back of Alexis’ neck, her lips brushing the skin, pressing in a soft kiss. The doctor gasped as another mind-numbing wave of pleasure engulfed her.

A recorder, Alexis thought. She’s like a fucking recorder, playing back voice instructions. Felicia wants me to know all of this.

Christine giggled. “We had no way of knowing you would test this device, but your profile indicated that you would likely conduct trials of your own. Direct interface with hardware was impossible because of encryption protocols, so it was easy to anticipate that you would use a test subject in order to interface.

“Not only for practical reasons, of course. Felicia Prime knew you would not pass up the opportunity to study a subject becoming one of her thralls. You took precautions, but there was little you could have done to prevent the collar from reprogramming me into a recruitment drone.

“Your capture was intended from the beginning.”

“R-Ridiculous,” Alexis scoffed.

The hand traced down Alexis’ left arm, following the gentle curve of the elbow with fingertips. Like an artist appraising the smooth perfection of a sculpture. “Oh, don’t underestimate yourself, Dr. Rhine. Felicia Prime has watched you for some time. You’ve shown yourself a capable and ambitious woman... someone worthy of Her attention.”

Alexis tried to focus on her fear, hoping the adrenaline rush might snap her out of her paralysis, but her concentration began to slip once again. Christine’s hands had caressed their way down the small of her back, sending another orgasmic shiver throughout her body.

When the fingers massaged their way up her neck, a sudden realization struck her.

“I’m... not wearing the collar.”

“Very true, Dr. Rhinde, you are not.”

The relief was immediate, but with it came a slight pang of disappointment that clung tenaciously to Alexis’ thoughts. Somewhere downwards, her nipples hardened painfully. She recalled the submissive fantasy that had warped her thoughts.

Still warped her thoughts. She tried wrenching away from the lovely impulse to give in, to be brainwashed and obedient. A slave with a collar at her neck and no other thought than pleasing.

“Why am I not wearing it?”


Alexis recalled Christine’s words. “Once my primary objective is enslaved, all other slaves except her are to wear the collar.”

Except that didn’t make any sense. She had no doubt that Christine had been thoroughly induced, and no longer in need of a device on her neck to carry out Felicia’s plan. Putting the collar on Alexis was the next logical step: it would create two smiling, obedient thralls, eager to serve.

“Such means have not been deemed necessary to induce your cooperation,” Christine offered at last, and Alexis frowned.

She’s side-stepping.

Fine. “Exactly how were you able to induce my, ah, ‘cooperation.’”

“My voice is enhanced by a subtle, ultrasonic modulation. Subjects experience confusion and disorientation, followed by the onset of a quasi-hypnotized state. You’ve just spent the last forty minutes in limbo, while your subconscious absorbed a number of directives.”

Ultrasonic? Alexis tried to feel out the alien strands in her mind. Her muscles tensed, then relaxed as Christine fondled her ass.

“I’ve examined the collar. There was a tiny ultrasonic unit, but it’s lodged forward, pressed against the neck. It’s designed to incapacitate the subject while the collar initiates the induction phase.”

Christine sighed like a professor who’d been given the wrong answer by a student during class. She leaned in closer, pressing her whole body against Alexis.

Naked skin against naked skin. Alexis sucked in a shaky breath as Christine’s firm breasts mashed up against the arch of her back. The women shook as a current of lust traveled between them, fusing their minds in a fleeting moment of shared bliss.

“Mistress Felicia is nothing if not careful,” said Christine, her hands slipping around the immobilized doctor’s hips. “Her instrument of obedience is deceptive by its very nature. It’s easy to fool specialists once you understand how they approach a given problem. You were not able to unlock its secrets because reverse-engineering theory teaches one to break down systems into several components, instead of studying their workings as a whole. Skill has very little to do with understanding—it’s a matter of perspective.

“The ultrasonic unit enhances voice conditioning. In effect, the slave talks to a receptive subject, and draws her into a light trance. The range is extremely limited, of course, and its effects are temporary if not reinforced with further conditioning, but its main purpose is to give thralls an opportunity to hypnotize subjects who are unaware.”

Alexis ground her teeth together. “I won’t—”

“Recruiter 472, enable.”

The rest of the sentence vanished from Alexis’ mind, and she stood there with her mouth open, trying to remember what she was objecting to. Recruiter 471 had addressed her, and only one answer came to mind.

“Recruiter 472. Enabled.” Yes. Alexis felt the wave of intense pleasure. That was the right—the only—answer she could give.

“You may pleasure yourself, 472,” Christine suggested amiably. Alexis’ hands came to life, obeying the command and slipping down to her sex, feeling it pulse with moist heat. Her fingers gently parted her labia, indulging in a practiced and familiar motion.

“That’s it 472. Tease yourself a little more. There’s no hurry. You’re remembering your lesson very well. Now get your fingers nice and slick, you’ll be shoving one of them in your ass in a moment.”

Alexis groaned in approval, unable to quell her shameless enjoyment.

She was recruiter 472, now. She would enslave others. Enslave and control.

“There are obstacles in our path,” Christine cautioned. “Your organization takes a great interest in your every move. Your drive and ambition are more apparent than you realize, and of concern to those immediately above you. They have tolerated your more ‘exotic’ experiments because it served their interests, but the possibility of you going rogue has prompted them to take drastic steps in the event of your defection.

“The Felicia threat weights equally on their minds. Before we leave, certain steps must be taken to insure they will no longer pose a threat to Her.”

It was hard for Alexis to focus, but there was no need to worry since more instructions were forthcoming. She was confident she would fulfill her mission well. What little resistance remained in her dwindled away with every thrust of her fingers. She worked her entire body into it, riding the fucklust with abandon, and secretly hoping her recruiter might be inspired enough by her wanton display to bend and twist her mind even more.

A hand cupped one of Alexis’ ass cheeks, kneading the firm flesh.

“We’ll need to gain access to your company’s most recent acquisitions, as well as all data and materials relating to ongoing research. That won’t be a problem, will it, 472?”


“Very good. You can start to finger your ass now.”

Alexis purred in assent, and slipped a glistening finger around her behind. She worked it in slowly, then settled into a steady rhythm, writhing like an exotic dancer.

Recruiter 471 gave her more instructions.

She didn’t understand any of it.

She remembered all of it.

* * *

Hannah Demsky lowered the car window, stretched out, punched in her security code and waited while the steel door of the underground garage rose. She revved the engine of her leased Taurus all the way down the steep asphalt incline and took a few sharp turns once inside the parking lot, filling its cavernous expanse with the sharp cries of screeching tires.

The parking was deserted. The whole building was probably fucking deserted.

She swerved into her usual parking space with uncharacteristic abruptness, still muttering as she turned off the ignition. Denis had stirred in bed when the phone rang, and had gone back to light snoring while she’d scrambled from underneath the covers. Now he was probably sound asleep, while she was back at work because the night-shift network administrator had called in sick

She fetched her glasses from her purse, and winced as she caught a glimpse of her mussed up hair in the rear-view mirror. Hannah Demsky wasn’t a two-o’clock-in-the-morning person.

With a forced smile (think happy thoughts!) which soured into a tired grimace, she stepped out of the vehicle with a slim briefcase and a raincoat under her arm. Tomorrow was her day off—laundry day to be exact. The T-shirt and dress pants she’d thrown on clashed horribly, but decency was all she was prepared to settle for at this point.

Cushy network upkeep job my ass. Doctors and vets were the ones who got emergency calls in the middle of the night. They kept their lives on standby. Hannah suddenly longed to have a little talk to the nitwit headhunter who’d fetched her straight out of college, promising a lots-of-perks-and-advantages employment contact that was, it turned out, bloody full of holes.

Oh well. Freaked-out project directors tended to be grateful when you pulled their bacon out of the fire. Could get her bumped up to another department, with better hours and a few assistants to boss around. And Denis would lay off with his ‘why not quit and start your own business’ crap.

Hannah carried her smile a bit more easily as she strolled to the service elevator. Dr. Rhinde had said something about lost data on the phone, which probably meant files recovered with a few easy keystrokes. No way she was going to settle for a quick fix—not after being called in. She’d hack around for a while, making sure the files were still in the system before performing routine operations.

Two minutes of work got you a pat on the head, but two hours of strenuous programming (or what passed for it among the uninitiated) got you noticed.

Hannah got to the service elevator, and punched the call button.

The doors opened at once, startling her.

“Ah. Miss Demsky. You’ve arrived.”

The tall brunette in the elevator smiled oddly at her, wrapped up in a lab coat buttoned up to the top. Her face was flushed, her hair tousled, her lips a bit smudged with pale lipstick.

And those eyes. Dreamy and unblinking. They stared right through Hannah, and the wow-wasn’t-that-a-great-fuck look couldn’t be more obvious.

“Dr. Rhinde? I... huh... were you get-uh-stepping off?” Hannah nearly slapped herself before clamping down, afraid to say more. Denis had joked at a neighbor’s party the week before that she could stuff both feet in her mouth and still have room for a fist.

Rhinde merely shook her head slowly, like an automaton. “No, Miss Demsky, I’m... going down. So nice of you to come. Please join me.”

The husky tone left Hannah speechless, so she offered a polite smile, praying her facial expression didn’t betray her complete shock. She stepped into the cart and took a calming breath.

Oh Jesus H. She did her very best not to notice the lingering smell inside, but became hopelessly self-conscious as Dr. Rhinde didn’t seem all that bothered.

Hannah swallowed. She enjoyed feeding the rumor mill during coffee breaks as much as anyone, but this was perilously close to flagrante delicto. She wondered about the lucky guy (or gal—Gibbs, one of the nimrods from Marketing, had a standing bet on that account), but thought it wise to put such ideas out of her mind.

She coughed nervously, then opted for the life-raft of work-related conversation. “What seems to be the problem, Doctor? Is the whole network down?”

The nervous pitch of her voice made her cringe—oh so very smooth—but Dr. Rhinde remained still while the doors to the elevator cart closed. “It’s a bit complicated, Miss Demsky. It’s best if I take you down to the lab. You can see for yourself.” She used a round key to open a special compartment, and pressed a button within.

The cart fell swiftly, leaving Hannah’s stomach somewhere on the parking lot level.

There were rumors about the building’s lower levels, something about classified work taking place in secure laboratories. Defense contracts or some such. Hannah didn’t worry about it, too busy fidgeting now that a heavy silence had fallen again.

The silence wasn’t the only thing. She noticed Dr. Rhinde staring in her direction, eyes lingering in a way that was puzzling, yet oddly familiar.

The T-shirt Hannah wore—white nondescript, but thick enough to satisfy corporate modesty—suddenly felt awful tight around her tits. She silently cursed Gibbs and his fucking twenty bucks, doing her best to look casual as she crossed her arms over her chest. The possibility that Rhinde had called her up for reasons other than her name topping the alphabetical list of emergency replacements left her at a complete loss.

The elevator cart came to a stop. Evidently, they had reached the lab level. Hannah noticed a red light blinking next to a digital key insert, inside the security panel Rhinde had opened moments before.

Authorized personnel only, she deduced. Dr. Rhinde reached inside her lab coat pocket, but pulled a small, cylindrical aerial dispenser instead of a key.

She held it up obligingly.

Hannah frowned. “What—”

Dr. Rhinde sprayed her with a misty cloud, careful not to inhale any of it. Hannah coughed and fell back against the inside of the elevator, totally caught by surprise. Her head spun as if she’d been dosed with honey-scented chloroform. She couldn’t rid herself of the heady, sweet scent, and every gasping breath made things worse.

Her knees became weak. She wanted to get out, but her reflexes felt sluggish and-


Hannah slumped against the smooth panel behind her, dropping her attaché case and slipping down on the floor to join it. She sank into a sitting position, her knees together, mashed up against her breasts.

Now she was seeing colors. Strange hues and shades of brilliance, fluttering like excited butterflies on the edge of her vision. The drug, whatever it was, made her dizzy... and...


She felt aroused. Her stiffening nipples chafed against the T-shirt. Against her knees.

Aroused and dazed. Dazed and aroused.

It was the weirdest thing.

From the floor, she caught a glimpse of the underside of Rhinde’s lab coat. The absence of a skirt or panties was quite a surprise. Without knowing why, she gazed adoringly at Dr. Rhinde’s naked pussy.


She frowned, remembered something about sex and girls and twenty bucks, but Dr. Rhinde began to whisper softly. She told Hannah it was normal to feel confused, and that everything would be fine. She went on at length about an exotic biochemical agent stolen during a clandestine raid in a rival facility, and explained how it stirred deep feelings of arousal in subjects who were exposed.

She spoke of the way it removed all inhibitions, how it rendered subjects docile. How it induced a deep trance. How she had used it many times on lovely girls like Hannah, who resisted only a little before becoming so mesmerized all they wanted to do was to obey.

Hannah blinked. Yes, she wanted to obey. Dr. Rhinde told her so. She was so excited because Dr. Rhinde was beautiful and lovely and sexy, and kept on telling her what to think.

She felt more and more aroused as this truth melted into her brain. Her legs twitched, her pussy wet from all the listening. She no longer needed to think.

She watched, spellbound, when Dr. Rhinde crouched down on the floor of the cart. The lapels of her lab coat receded as she spread her knees wide, revealing supple thighs.

Dr. Rhinde reached out behind her, caressing the round curve of her ass. She told Hannah that she climaxed hard when a finger teased her asshole, but that Hannah’s tongue would feel so much nicer.

* * *

“Report, 472.”

Alexis blinked. The vague sense of recognition as she gazed around the lab pestered her with constant distraction. She tried to concentrate by focusing on the figure of 471, standing stiffly at attention, her control collar firmly in place, and was rewarded when the troublesome thoughts went away in a rush of pleasure.

“The second phase is nearly completed,” Alexis answered tonelessly. “Miss Demsky has access to the whole network through an auxiliary terminal.”

Indeed. Hannah sat nearby, eyes glued to a screen, hacking into the network just as Alexis had told her to. She still wore her T-shirt, but her pants and panties were strewn on the floor, and her naked ass rocked back and forth on the cushioned chair.

Her fingers hammered furiously on the keyboard. Once in a while she paused, her eyes glazing over, her shoulders arching back slightly, as if she’d fingered herself to a short, intense orgasm. Seconds later, she would resume her task, panting and moaning to new and more depraved heights. Alexis had given her a few more doses of the drug, enough to facilitate verbal conditioning and loop her into a self-reinforcing pleasure-cycle.

She had enjoyed programming Hannah. Almost as much as listening to her repeat the commands that deepened her own arousal.

“Has she been instructed with regards to the next step?” Christine asked.

Alexis blinked. The large metal table before her was something she’d seen before. The restraints dangled on the side, and something told her someone had been tied upon it not long ago.


She aborted the stray thought at once, and focused. “Miss Demsky is under the influence of the neurochemical agent. She has been properly instructed. All data regarding research, development and covert projects has been obtained. She is currently accessing key financial accounts.”

As they spoke, Hannah continued her frantic typing. Somewhere in the Cayman Islands, a server verified encrypted instructions, before authorizing the transfer of funds.

Secret accounts, drained into secret accounts. No red flags. The money would be forwarded twice more, via Luxembourg, then Switzerland, to avoid any possible trace. The board of directors would wake up in the morning to find the millions set aside for their special projects gone.

Christine nodded. “Very good, 472.”

Had Alexis been permitted to show pleasure, she would have fallen to her knees, but no such command was forthcoming, and so she stood in silence, with only a brief spasm to betray the long, quiet orgasm that simmered inside her.

“We do not have much time,” Christine informed her. “Once the funds have been transferred, we must cripple the network, and proceed to the recovery phase.”

Alexis, lost in her abyss of pleasure, answered in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. She spoke the words reverently, sinking in deeper realms of bliss with a mere utterance.

“As Felicia Prime commands.”

à suivre...

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