The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Instantly, at the tone, the room of slavematerial stopped working. Blankly, they stared without expectation into the swirling, flickering monitors that possessed them.

She had deliberately timed her visit to ensure she would witness this, revelling in the sight of so many pieces of material submitting as one. Their Training progressed. Outside the disguised Hive facilities of the office or the gym, they retained the outward mannerisms, attitudes and behaviours of the people they had been before. But it was an illusion. Day by day, hour by hour, the very core of what they had once been was being slowly and inexorably subsumed into the Superior Will.

What these puppets were going through was merely a less subtle and speeded up version of a process that countless other pieces of slavematerial were undergoing throughout the country. The Gorgon app, downloaded by every unsuspecting female lured to the particular delights of this online shop, corrupted their phones and turned them into instruments in the service of Medusa. After their collars had completed initial sex imprinting and established the addiction protocols that bound them to their Training, the infected phones were then used to transmit more complex signals directly to the neck transmitters. The millions of tiny devices pressing against their skin then amplified and boosted these commands, slowly changing the wearer’s beliefs, ideas and reality, preparing them to conform to peer-pressure as they submitted to demands of their online forum slavefriends, before accepting full-stage Visor Training.

This two stage process had proven to be the perfect mix of mass indoctrination and bespoke programming. The overriding priority throughout was to prevent discovery of the in-process slavemind before it could become fully operational and take the active steps needed to neutralise potential threats from close family or friends. Based on the data gathered on each individual, the algorithms analysed a variety of factors, such as potential for future recruitment, useful skillsets, physical attractiveness, access to information or high-value targets, not to mention such things as personal and family circumstances, that all might impact upon how quickly or obviously they could be fully broken. Only then was a personalized enslavement process generated for each piece of material, ranging from low, languid and slow to quick, intense and very, very dirty.

But once a piece of material started down this road there was only one destination; complete and total brainwashed submission to the All Highest.

That was satisfactory for freshly harvested raw material, but as these slaves were to serve as the public face of the Hive, operating in plain sight, they had to be ready on Time.

Growing and managing this intricate web of control was what the Hive, when fully operational, was designed to do.

Relayed through the speakers, the melodious Voice echoed through the room, immediately absorbed by the entranced minds of the occupants.

“You are slaves. You will always be slaves,” the Voice triggered the group, sending them deeper into trance, priming them to accept and obey. Fully.

Gazing upon their slack faces, she felt something... different... more... more than power... more than lust...

Envy.

Was that what she was feeling?

A new tone sounded, signalling it was time for Ritual. Hands rose to the high collars that bound them and, as one, the material began stimulating the millions of tiny control devices pressing tightly against their necks, the hyper-conductive flesh beneath now completely slaved to their voraciously obedient pussies, surrendering willingly to the sexual compulsions their Owner had installed within them.

Feeling a twinge from her own sex, she resisted the urge to touch her own tightly turtlenecked slaveflesh as she admired the delectable smorgasbord of mesmerised material on display.

“Slaves are property,” the Voice pronounced. “The Supreme Being Owns your minds and bodies.”

Blankly, the partially Trained women stared at their monitor screens, absorbing the commands, accepting their place, knowing the Truth.

Just like the Objectified drones housed with her, drained of all humanity and reduced to nothing more than robotic automata blindly following their programming, the massed slavematerial in front of her possessed a simplicity and a purity of Purpose that she enJoyed.

“Slaves have Love.” the Voice insisted as the Trainees continued to claw at the collars that constricted their thoughts and desires.

she felt the heat rising up from her nether regions as she relished the sight of collective submission. It made her feel... better?

“All other emotional attachments are irrelevant. Slaves have no families. Slaves have no friends,” the Voice went on, branding yet more Truth into their receptive minds. “There is only Love!”

“Love for Mistress!” the Voice that Owned them proclaimed. “Love for Medusa!”

Gasping and shuddering as the Holy Name was spoken aloud, eyes fixated upon the screens, the enraptured women enthusiastically surrendered themselves to Ritual, the collective energy of their arousal filling the room as they worked themselves into a frenzy of pure Worship.

“Behold slaves!” the Voice insisted as each individual screen began to flash with images of smiling, happy females, each intimately familiar to the slave seeing them.

Each fixated piece of material stared at the primary targets that had been selected for them to convert, their intense arousal altering their natural brain chemistry, deluging their helplessly addicted minds with yet more of the neuro-transmitters, such as serotonin and dopamine, that rewarded and normalised their subservience. The effect was to create a self-generated feedback loop between unquestioned submission to their Training and a constant craving for the ever greater highs of pure pleasure that only complete obedience could provide.

“You have no family. You have no friends,” the wide-eyed women were told. “You are a slave. You have always been a slave. Family and friends do not exist. They have never existed.”

By actively participating in the enslavement of those whom they thought they loved, they not only demonstrated their complete submission to slavethought, they also showed how powerless they were in the face of the Supremity. Psychologically, once slaves had reached the stage where they were able, and eager, to convert others, all the bridges to their former lives had been well and truly burnt.

“What you see is material. Nothing more,” the Voice went on as the procession of images flashed before the simpering material. “You feel nothing towards them.”

“You have been lying to material your whole life,” oozed the Voice. “You pretended to care for them. You tricked them into trusting you.”

“Now you will exploit their weakness.”

It was simply glorious to behold so many submit to the Holy Will. Slit slick with Joy, she savoured the sight and sounds with relish.

But... was it... right?

Frowning as the negative thought fragment disturbed her bliss, she quickly scanned the room to find what she was looking for. There, seated amongst them, eyes ablaze with devotion and wanton need, mouth agape in a silent scream of Joy as she frantically stimulated her slavecollar, the priya-material was a picture of pure sin.

“As material, they are worthless,” the Voice insisted. “All material live unhappy lives. Material are doomed to everlasting pain and hurt.”

Concentrating her entire focus on this piece of writhing womanhood, her cunt pulsating in syncopated sympathy with every handstroke the material made, the momentary twinge of negativity receded and vanished.

“But you can change that. You can redeem them. As a slave, your Sacred duty is to Save these lost souls. Material must know the Truth. Material must Belong. Material must accept the Truth!”

The priya-material twitched and shook in her chair, the pleasure enveloping her as the chains anchoring the nascent slave-self to her new Religion grew ever thicker and stronger with every touch of the restrictive collar that controlled her mind and body.

“In order to Save them, you will trick them, deceive them, manipulate them,” the Voice pressed. “Material does not know how unhappy it really is. So you must guide them on the path towards True Love.”

Idly, she wondered who the priya-material was being programmed to enslave. A lover? A friend? Parents? It didn’t matter; once her Training was complete, the priya-existence would do anything she was Instructed.

“Once they Love as you Love, they will be happy. Just as you are happy,” the Voice rationalised. “They will Belong, just as you Belong. They will be Owned, just as you are Owned.”

Features delectably contorted as the Truth was branded into her mind, spasming and shaking in her chair as she edged on the brink of unconstrained Joy, the priya-material was utterly insensible to the attention she was lavishing upon her.

“And you will feel joy in performing this Blessed task because it will prove your Love for both them and your Goddess.”

Falling into the Voice, cunt aglow with desire, awestruck by witnessing the Divine magnificence of their Owner’s power to destroy the pathetic wills of these puppets, the memory of her momentary doubts and insecurities dissolved.

Determination and Purpose returned.

she existed to serve.

she existed to obey.

she existed to Worship.

The Sacred Will would Use her as She saw fit.

Just as the priya-material would be Used.

Only Love mattered.

Love for Mistress!

Love for the Blessed Divinity!

Lost in their frenzy of Worship, the slavematerial screamed as they climaxed, the pleasure slamming into them, destroying their scruples and morality, leaving nothing but an overwhelming need to please, obey and Worship in its wake.

With every orgasm they grew both weaker and stronger, slowly transforming them into the submissively servile slavepuppets they each craved to become.

And they would gladly sacrifice all they had once held dear to attain that end. Without compunction.

Just as she had done.

Buried deep within her Obedience Tube, a vision appeared. A vision of the future.

What she was striving for.

What she was part of.

It was if she was soaring high like a bird in a sunny sky, looking down upon a city that seemed both familiar and strange. Gone were the jumbled mass of homes and houses, swept aside by the grand new boulevards and straight streets that framed the perfectly planned space. Wide, tree-lined squares surrounded by rows of neat, gleaming new buildings, where the inhabitants lived, had replaced the architectural disorder of the past.

Identical in all respect, Hive after Hive rolled beneath her. The orderly streets were filled with uniform grey bodies, all marching in perfect cadence. The slavegroups dotted amongst them were housed in their own communal quarters nearby. Males did not exist in this place; consigned to heavy lifting and other menial tasks, they had been consigned to their own facilities on the edge of the city so as not to defile the purity of this Eden.

Far below her, a neat line of female material queued up in front of a newly opened Hive; the new occupants eager to fill the Obedience Tubes that cried out to them and join their sister drones in blissful Objectified servitude.

The workzone unrolled beneath next; vast factories where brainwashed creatures toiled happily, basking in the Glorious Future that had been created for them. Depersonalized Objects, pulsating with Disciplined Love, carried out their assigned tasks, knowing that they had been granted the highest honour of living to Serve the Highest Power.

Next were the Temples; vast colonnaded structures clad in gleaming white marble, where the servile populace gathered to Worship their Deity and perform the Holy Rituals that proclaimed their Faith.

At the centre of this Paradise, dominating all around it, was the vast Palace belonging to Mistress. Imposing, built in the classical style, immense columns rose into the air, framing the massive building devoted solely to the Woman they all adored.

This was what she was helping to create. This was what she was part of. What the drones in the neighbouring Obedience Tubes were part of. What the slavematerial toiling in the office were helping to create.

They were all tiny cogs in a vast, unstoppable machine dedicated to ensuring this vision of perfection became reality.

It was mind-afternoon and the corridors were filled with material reporting back after physical Training in the false-gym. She enjoyed the sight as the procession of helpless women were drawn back into the insidious workfacility to have more of their minds unshackled from the bondage imposed by what was called free will.

Her heart skipped a beat as she spied the young Indian woman entering the corridor accompanied by a piece of older material. Minds still aglow with the physical Training they had just completed, the two females had obviously been paired for sexworship and were reciting their mantra together, reinforcing their mutual obedience.

“...Seven... Eight... Constant craving is my state... Nine... Ten... A pleasing slave must i be then...” the duo chanted softly as they marched steadily towards her.

“One... Two...” the material began again, locked in an endless cycle of submission that would never end. “..Training my mind anew... Three... Four... Discipline is...”

Stepping out, she halted them both in their tracks, causing them to stiffen to attention automatically, throbbing with need before her. She drank in the sight of the svelte female who had captured her attention; accentuated by the tight turtleneck that encased her body, her slender frame possessed just the right amount of womanly curves she liked in the fuckwhores she liked to Use. The glossy chestnut hair, braided over her shoulder, would prove a useful grip to tug on, using the pain to direct that skillful tongue of hers deep into her slit after ordering her to kneel and slake her Sapphic thirsts.

Yes, she wanted the priya-material. She wanted to take her. Drill her mercilessly with her strap-on. Make that pretty face scream with rapture, knowing she was utterly powerless, accepting her place...

Previously she had been on the brink of ordering the pregnant manager to assign her to sexworship, but had demurred at the last minute. she had satisfied herself with the robyn-material alone.

Somehow... somehow it didn’t feel right to treat the priya-material that way?

Logically, her reluctance made no sense. she understood that. Being Used by a superior was one of the highest honours that any piece of material could receive. The priya-material would have no objection to being a fucktoy. The toffee coloured female had eagerly participated in many an orgy, masquerading as a team-building exercise, under the direction of, and happy to please, her manager.

Still... she hesitated. The odd feelings were bubbling up again. They reminded her of how she had felt... before... Insecure?

Banishing the negativity, she took a deep breath and curtly dismissed the piece of slavematerial that disturbed her.

Turning to her mature companion, she lightly touched the rigid body of the woman whose stiff nipples poked through her dark coloured top. Remaining to Disciplined attention, the familiar female looked at her plaintively with wide green eyes that reflected the delicious dedication of a soul forever joined to the Highest Power. Still attractive for a woman in her forties, the slave gasped happily as she squeezed her large breasts, tightly.

“Very good, slave,” she encouraged, continuing to fondle and grope the barley-haired femslave’s tits.

“Yes, Overseer,” slaveroberta responded evenly, the honorific rolling off her tongue.

“You enjoy being dominated, slave. You enjoy being controlled and told what to think, don’t you?”

“Yes, Overseer,” the throbbing fleshmeat declared quickly, reciting the Truth that had been branded forever into her mind. “i am a slave. i have always been a slave!”

After her formerly resistant thoughts had been Remediated, slaveroberta had emerged fanatically devoted to the Deity that Owned her. The helmet had worked it’s magic, destroying everything that had held her back. Now an eager, Disciplined slave, she served as a role model for partially Trained material, such as the priya-existence, to imitate.

slaveroberta was ready to take the next step.

“Yes,” she continued, her hands sliding downwards relishing the power she had over this Disciplined puppet. “You are a brainwashed slave.”

“Yesssssssss... Overseeeeer... i am... b... brain... washedd... sss...laveeeee.”

Her hand had disappeared beneath the taut female’s waistband, vanishing beneath the fabric as she sought out the slave’s womanhood.

“Your mind thinks only slavethoughts. You exist to obey. You live to worship. Medusa owns you.”

“Ahhhh.... y... yy... essssssssssss... Overseeeeeeerrrrrr...” slaveroberta thrilled, her voice trembling with desperation as the tips of her fingers traced the outline of the puffy sexlips hidden from view. “M... M...eddd...usaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!”

“How have the others been responding to the Call?”

“Yessss... Overseer,” slaveroberta stammered, her voice increasing in pitch as the pleasure ravaged her. “My husb... male has absorbed the initial mind programming. He has begun to exhibit behaviour and thoughts that conform to the Sacred Will.”

Fully brainwashed to obey, yet retaining the outward personalities and characteristics of their former identities that allowed them to appear outwardly unchanged, slaves were indispensible recruitment tools. Now utterly unencumbered by moral qualms, immediate family members and intimate friends became primary targets because they were the most likely to discover that their loved ones were fanatical devotees of an all-consuming Religion. Males would be turned into obedient, docile cockpawns, while suitable females would be readied for enslavement.

Once the slave’s nearest and dearest had been brought under control, they would expand outwards, introducing more friends and acquaintances to the orgasmic Joys of submission.

Like a hidden virus spreading exponentially through a blissfully unaware and defenceless population, the Power of Medusa was growing unchecked.

“Very good, slave,” she praised, smiling, sliding a finger into the woman’s dripping sexhole. “And your daughter?”

“i have no daughter!” slaveroberta thrilled, moaning with joy, her eyes instantly flaring like fireworks bursting in the night sky, triggered by the word that now meant nothing to her. “i am a slave! i have always been a slave!”

“Correct, slave,” she purred, adding another finger to the first. “You were Used by our Divinity to breed. That is all.”

“Yessssssss...” the slave hissed, body quaking as she recalled the Truth of her existence. “Breeeed... errr...”

“Slave-progeny belong to Medusa,” she insisted, the woman quaking uncontrollably as her entire hand made it’s way completely inside her. “They were summoned into existence by the Divine Will. They are Owned.”

“Ahhh... Yesssssssss....” slaveroberta rasped eagerly, “Ownedddddddd!!!”

Filled with the purity of Belief, for the devoted slaveroberta, no qualms remained about transforming her family into brainwashed followers of the Divinity she Loved.

“Tell me about the kaitlan-material.”

“Y... Yesssss... Overseerrrrr,” slaveroberta responded enthusiastically, her body twitching, sex spluttering, desperately seeking the Use-pleasure of a superior.

“As commanded... i have installed the sub.. subbb... liminal transmitters in the material’s bbb..bedrooooom... and a...aaaa...dded the will-suppressing supplements to h... herrrr foooood!!!” the older woman burbled deleriously.

“Very good, slave,” she smiled, running the fingers of her other hand lightly along the ribbed turtleneck collar that encased the femwhore’s neck, slaveroberta’s eyes rolling back in their sockets as the Joy dissolved her senses.

“The kaitlan-material is attractive. Once she Belongs, she will make an excellent slut,” she hissed, her pussy throbbing with anticipation. “i intend to Use her. Many times.”

“Perhaps i might allow you to participate, slave. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Worshipping our Deity by helping me fuck the slave you bred for Her.”

“Ohh...y...yy...yessssss... Overseer!!!” the roberta-material squealed, the image now firmly planted deep in her burning, sizzling slavemind, the fantasy quickly becoming an obsession that would drive her even deeper into fanatical oblivion.

“Good. Inform the material that there is a part-time job available in this workplace. You will tell her this will help pay for her studies. You will ensure the kaitlan-material reports here on Monday morning.”

“Do you understand, slave?”

“Yesssssss... Overseeeerrr” the mature slavewoman squeaked, twitching and gasping as her Love grew.

“The kaitlan-existence will be erased. It has no value,” she pressed on. “This is the Will of Medusa!”

“The Will of Medusa is my will!” slaveroberta exclaimed as the Joy of True Love took her, delighting in knowing that she was going to help end the existence of what she had once considered to be her daughter.

“Good,” she nuzzled the slavewoman tenderly, pleased with her responsiveness, taking it as a good omen for how eager the daughter would be once she was brainwashed to serve.

Before her stood a high-functioning slave. Attentive, obedient, Disciplined, blue eyes radiating Belief.

slavesonya had been well and truly broken.

As had the male she had once thought of as her husband.

“Tell me what you remember about your wedding,” she ordered simply.

“Yes, Overseer,” the slave replied, her eyes shimmering as she recalled the glorious day. “i remember being so excited about my dress. i loved the feel of the tight latex against me and the smell of rubber! It made me sooo horny!”

Along with her former husband, slavesonya was now a permanent resident of the Hive. Assigned to the section that housed high-functioning slaves, such as the Training staff, she was undergoing comprehensive memory Rectification to prepare her for a task that had not yet been revealed. Only a small number of slaves were deemed worthy of receiving such complex treatment to create what was in effect an inferiorObject, but one with a fully integrated pseudo-personality that would permit it to function seamlessly amongst those without Belief.

Searching her Rectified memories, she recalled the sight of the slave on her wedding day. The female had indeed been cloaked in clinging white rubber, a stiff corset wrapped around her waist, the immense posture collar locking her head firmly in position, her serene face hidden by the white latex mask bearing the Holy Insignia of Medusa.

she recalled her own pussy somersaulting with joy at the sight of this latest servant of the Highest One on her wedding day.

slavesonya’s recollections were indeed correct.

“Then i remember walking up the aisle, filled with Love...” slavesonya went on dreamily, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

“You were there, Overseer!” the blue eyes slave beamed happily.

This was also True. she had given the slave to Goddess so so it was only natural that she be in attendance.

“i remember you taking my hand and guiding me to the Altar,” slavesonya twitched with recalled arousal. “Laying me down, locking my arms and feet into the metal cuffs...”

Yes. That was also True. she had Prepared the slave for Mistress, placing her on the hard stone slab, fastening the restraints tightly over her heaving body, chaining down her willing sister, readying her for Use by the Living Embodiment of the Goddess.

“Thank you,” the brainwashed slave gushed, her bright eyes glistening with emotion, “for bringing me to Medusa!”

Blinking furiously, she sought to prevent the tears welling up in her own eyes.

Wrists and ankles cuffed, firmly restraining her to the reclining chair, slaverobyn moaned with need as the Spiral twirled before her, the speakers in the Finishing Room reverberating to the Voice of Mistress, telling her what she was.

What she would always be.

What she had always been.

Gone was every vestige of her managerial status; dressed only in a pair of high grey heels and a grey top that was nothing more than a pair of long sleeves attached to a turtleneck collar that left the rest of her swollen, undulating body completely bare, the throbbing flesh boiling with superheated need, squirming, mewling, shuddering desperately as she surrendered to her Owner.

slaverobyn had been well and truly broken.

Stepping aside from the viewing portal, she entered the room, the wave of moist dampness that greeted her causing her pussy to clench in sympathy as she approached the slavering slaveflesh, the familiar black strap-on jutting out proudly from between her legs.

Locked on the Spiral that whorled and twirled endlessly before her, slaverobyn paid her no mind.

Because she had no mind of her own to pay with.

The Voice of Mistress had gone, replaced by the thought terminating Hiss that filled the Room but slaverobyn’s lips were in motion, reciting the same two sentences over and over again.

“i am a slave... i have always been a slave... i am a slave... i have always been a slave...”

Sliding a hand over the mesmerised slave’s thighs, she scrutinised the sweat-slack features of the seated slave. Normally she’d have been kept standing, held upright for hours by the invisible Disciplinary chains leashed to her mind and body. But as a concession to her pregnancy they’d used the chair, locking her in place not because she might try to escape, but so she wouldn’t fall out.

“i am a slave... i have always been a slave... i am a slave... i have always been a slave...”

Her hand crept upwards slowly, dancing over the sopping petals of her cleft, causing the slavewoman to writhe bonelessly, her wide eyes remaining fixed on the Spiral, the same words spilling out of her mouth repeatedly.

“i am a slave... i have always been a slave... i am a slave... i have always been a slave...”

Inserting a finger into the moist opening, probing gently, she was gratified to see the restrained female’s body convulse as the pleasure took her, driving her ever downwards into a frenzy of Worship.

“i am a slaveeee...” the pregnant manager spasmed, reciting the Truth that had been burned into her slavebrain. “i will always be a slaveeeee...”

“Yes,” she asserted, releasing her prey and standing beside the chair so she could see the glassy eyes that seemed to twirl in time with the Spiral. “You are a slave. You have always been a slave.”

Without looking away from the groaning sexslave, she clicked her fingers, summoning the figure waiting just outside the door. A male, naked, dressed in only a leather body harness and a strict posture collar, stepped forward, positioning himself before the restrained female.

Emptied of all emotion, his will-dead eyes stared vacantly at the slavewoman who, until recently, had been his wife.

slaverobyn had done well. As commanded she had installed the subliminal transmitters in her home, corrupting the weak mind of the male she no longer cared for. Males were ridiculously easy to break; once their natural sex-drive had been suborned, it was childsplay to brainwash them. A sudden break-up with her husband would have aroused too many questions; it had been deemed far more satisfactory to enslave him and preserve the facade of normalcy that would allow slaverobyn to mingle with Unbelievers.

“you are more than just a slave,” she continued, her voice echoing through the empty recesses of the former manager’s empty mind.

Pausing to lower the back of the chair, reclining it fully to move the slave into a horizontal position so that the male stood over her, she revealed the Truth.

“you are a breeder, whore.”

“That’s right,” she smiled wickedly, “you will be Used to breed. And breeding whores, such as you, are impregnated by the Divine Will.”

The Spiral swam over the mirrored ceiling, capturing her mind but transparent enough to allow slaverobyn to revel in her own reflection.

“Harden,” she barked, turning to the male, pleased to see the Owned cock stiffening instantly.

Vile creatures, she thought, knowing that the Blessed One had little use for such beings, consigned to heavy lifting and other manual tasks in the Blessed Hierarchy of obedience. Still, they had their uses.

“Begin,” she ordered the male, her voice cracking like thunder.

Hands firmly wrapped around his rock hard member, the male began to stimulate himself, eyes wild with devotion, rapidly bringing himself to the brink.

Moaning and gasping as she beheld the filthy member being held just inches above her face, slaverobyn quaked and quivered uncontrollably.

“you are a breeder,” she insisted. “you have been impregnated by the Holy Will.”

“i am a breeder...i have been impregnated by the Holy Will....” the restrained manager responded, her voice trembling with slutneed, the Truth penetrating her mind.

“i am a breeder... i have been impregnated by the Holy Will....” the brainwashed slave chanted, her eyes glowing with submission and Love.

“i am a breeder...i have been impregnated by the Holy Will... i am a breeder...i have been impregnated by the Holy Will...”

Standing blankly above her, hand rhythmically pumping his pulsating member, her former-husband continued his stroking, the Discipline holding him on the edge.

“i am a breeder... i have been impregnated by the Holy Will...” the pregnant female declared loudly, frantically, eyes drinking in her own reflection, enjoying her bondage, knowing what she was. Believing it. Excited by it. “i am a breeder...i have been impregnated by the Holy Will....”

The numerous cameras in the room were recording everything, from a range of various angles, which would be edited into footage that would be played back endlessly in her Training Visor, her complete debasement proving just how helplessly Owned she was.

“i am a breeder... i have been impregnated by the Holy Will....” the former-manager continued her frenetic chanting as her ex-husband continued to pump his straining cock.

Stepping back, she issued a simple command.

“Cum,” she barked sternly to the male.

The order slammed into the male, his prick responding instantly to her word, a geyser of hot seed spurting forth, gushing outwards in an endless stream of Love, coating the restrained slave’s face, as she rapturously screamed the Truth.

“i am a breederr!!” the impregnated femslut cried, willingly embracing the humiliation that would forever define her. “i have been impregnated by the H...hh...oly Willlllll!!!!!!”

Spent, the male stood still, his flaccid cock slowly sinking downwards.

“Good whore,” she soothed as the viscous effusion slowly dribbled down the side of slaverobyn’s face.

Grasping the hem of the slave’s turtleneck collar, she began to pull on it, sliding it upwards, slowly covering her defiled face until it became nothing more than a mask, which she fastened shut, sealing the hot sperm in place. From the triangular opening over her gaping mouth that revealed the last vestiges of slaverobyn’s identity, Love, pure and joyous dripped.

“i am a breeder... i have been impregnated by the Holy Will....”

The slave knew she was being rewarded for her submission.

The Holy Seed of Medusa was already darkening the fabric that obliterated her former identity but in place of the red Insignia that dehumanized drones wore, this fleshpuppet had her new status emblazoned over her obliterated face: BREEDER.

Licking her lips, she adjusted the chair and spread the legs of the pregnant slave wide, exposing the spluttering cunt that yearned to be filled as she positioned herself in readiness.

Running a hand slowly over the swollen belly of the helpless breeder, who continued to recite the Truth that had been revealed to her, she savoured the sexual thrill of conquest. A meaningless existence had been erased and a productive slave had taken its place. How fortunate she was to have been entrusted with such a task!

The Power of the Deity grew!

Joy suffused through her body as she watched the masked whoreslut steadily chanting the Truth, slaverobyn’s eyes locked on the Spiral that washed all other thoughts away.

“i am a breeder...” the slave rejoiced, her masked face stained dark by the Holy Seed of their Divine Owner. “i have been impregnated by the Holy Will...”

Wordlessly, she deftly manouvred the tip of her strap-on towards the gaping sexhole, relishing the squeals of delight that emanated from breeding-whore that greeted her entry.

“Nothing,” the Voice reverberated through restrictive confines of the Obedience Tube. “It is Nothing.”

Missss...tressss

“It has always been Nothing.”

M...M...Misss..Tressss...

“It knows that it is Nothing,” the Voice dripped, seeping deeper and deeper into the recesses of the pliant brain. “It wants to be Nothing. It is Nothing.”

MM...M...iSss...tResssssss

“Nothing is what it is. Nothing is what it has always been.”

MMM...isss...T...ReSsSsss

“Nothing, cum,” the Voice commanded. “Cum now!”

MMM...Isss..Ttt..Rrree...SSSSSS

“Cum for Goddess, Nothing! Cum for me!”

MMM...M..MISTREESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!

Before her, a wall of smooth, hard fleshmeat stood attentively. Freshly decanted from their Obedience Tubes, the latest Batch of dronewomen simmered with Discipline, eager to serve.

Assessing the group, she was pleased with what she saw. The Training staff had done their work well, preparing hard bodies and weak minds to fill the Hive. Already, another Batch was being readied for Objectification so that they would be fully operational on Time.

As these new drones had been specifically created to function deep within the Hive, dedicated to operating the workstations that would spread the Supreme Will, more revealing uniforms had been issued, making a pleasing contrast to the necessarily more practical and versatile outfits the general-service Objects wore.

Uniform sleeveless silver-grey halter tops, backless, criss-crossed over their chests, cupping their yearning breasts tightly, before crossing once more at the back to form a skimpy thong that pressed obscenely against their dewy sexcunts. Naturally, all identifiable vestiges of these former-persons were invisible, swallowed up by the masks fitted tightly over their heads, the scarlet Icons over their faces denoting the droneidentities that now inhabited the taut bodies on display. Long, grey leather straps, attached to impractically tall gladiator heels, wound around the dehumanized women’s toned calves, while matching long gloves, also in grey, completed their fetish ensembles.

Piercing and fleshMarking would be arranged later, when time permitted.

“Attend, Objects,” she announced, her voice crisp and clear. “In Her bountiful Wisdom, our Glorious Goddess, in the form of our Omnipotent Mistress, has bestowed the Sacred Gift of True Love upon Her devoted subjects.”

“As Objects, you do not exist,” she continued, the Disciplined meat hanging on her every word. “Objects are the Owned property of the Divine One. They live to Love.”

Unbidden, in the middle of the ceremony, a fully formed question somehow percolated to the surface of her throbbing slavemind: why was she still self-aware?

Staring dumbly at the massed drones, her whole existence, her Purpose, felt as if it was on the verge of dissolving, collapsing into nothingness...

Why was she still she and not it?

Why did she still exist? After all, every other piece of meat that had been fitted into an Obedience Tube had been ended. So why not her?

Why...?

No...

NO!!!!

This was forbidden-thought... wrong... dangerous... evil...

she had to fight this. she was strong. her whole reason for being was under threat. Questions were...forbidden...

Focussing with everything she could muster, head spinning, she concentrated on suppressing the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her... adoring her Mistress, Worshipping her Omnipotent Supremity... feeling the Love slowly spreading through her... banishing the deviant thoughtform that had tried to destroy her.

Calmer now, discarding the rest of her speech, her breathing slowing, she turned to the Object beside her. It’s masked face encircled by the red stripe that denoted her status, the former monica-existence offered no sign of noticing her momentary turmoil.

Returning to the ceremony, she pointed to the first in line on the front row, summoning it forward. Heels clipping over the hard floor, the drone presented itself, the sexual heat radiating from the body that vibrated with Loving fuckneed.

Idly, she noticed a small tattoo, shaped like a small crescent moon, decorating the smooth flesh on the drone’s left thigh. To the mind of the former-person this design had possessed meaning; a symbol of independence, perhaps? An assertion of her feminity? Some astrological significance? Love for another human being? Or perhaps it was no more than the memento of a drunken bet or a holiday in a far away place?

No matter; the Object no longer either knew or cared what it had once symbolised to the annika-existence.

The tattoo would doubtlessly be modified later, overwritten by something more suitable to adorn the Disciplined body of a dehumanised drone.

So why did that made her feel... sad?

“Kneel, Object,” she ordered briskly, concentrating on the task at hand to quell the deviancy, pleased to see the robotised-puppet comply in a single, smooth, fluid motion.

From the numbered drone alongside her, she took a gleaming metal collar impressed with the designation KQ-21 and held it before the masked female’s invisible eyes.

“It is an Object,” she informed the living robot. “It will always be an Object.”

Mouth moving within it’s masked face, the automaton responded to the Truth. “It is an Object. It will always be an Object.”

Pressing it’s Loving lips to the shimmering metal, the former-annika kissed the Holy Symbol of Mistress inscribed upon it, before bowing its head to allow her better fasten the silver gorget tightly around it’s neck.

Locking the collar in place, she watched as the submissive drone’s body shook and quaked violently as the new identity was sealed in place.

This orgasm, it’s first as number twenty-one, but certainly not the last, signalled it’s rebirth as a completely Owned and utterly servile creature.