The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Settled in the newly functional control room, she reviewed the days footage on the large monitor screen before her. At the far end of the room technical drones were busily putting the final touches to the workstations, preparing them for their Objectified operators who would soon put the technology to good use.

The video had been taken earlier in one of the converted meeting rooms, the former site of the orgies the workforce had so enthusiastically participated in during the early part of their Training. Now all fully realigned to accept femsex as a natural part of their slavish status, the earlier hedonism had been replaced by Disciplined sexworship.

Although the workforce had been responding well to their conditioning, passive acceptance was not enough; without active obedience the slaves remained incomplete.

Actions spoke louder than mere words of submission.

The screen showed a group of women gathered before their Controller, listening attentively as slaverobyn addressed them.

“Our Divine Owner is pleased with how you have been responding to your Training,” the manager praised, her voice dripping with awe as she spoke of the Holiest One. “As slaves, we do not question or doubt. We obey. This is what we were born for.”

The slavegroup stared enraptured at her, their eyes locked upon their workController.

For some, such as the manager, slavery had proven to be a natural evolution of her previous personality; her need to succeed had simply been redirected.

As a driven, high-achieving perfectionist, Robyn had been an effective middle-manager on her way to the top.

But as slaverobyn, all the energy and ambition that had once driven her towards the pursuit of ephemeral wealth and power had been projected on to the Holy Cause that now consumed her every thought.

Still a driven, high achieving perfectionist, slaverobyn was now an utterly devoted acolyte, a completely brainwashed thrall forever bound to the all-consuming Religion that Owned her, desperate to enslave others in a never-ending quest to please Medusa.

Others, such as slaveroberta, resisted and challenged what they were destined to become. But outward resistance was often nothing more than an elaborate psychological defence mechanism to protect the deeply submissive core that lay at the heart of the material. In slaveroberta’s case, the blunt instrument of thought Rectification had toppled the outer walls of her defences, the sudden onrush of programming pillaging her vulnerable individuality, before twisting her earlier resistance into fanaticism.

“Our existences are defined by our True Love for the Supreme Deity,” slaverobyn continued, her voice quavering with reverence. “Therefore we must strive to dedicate every thought and every action we have towards proving ourselves worthy of this Sacred Love.”

For most material, the frog-in-the-boiling-water method was appropriate, particularly to avoid detection. Nature and nurture complicated the process; the myriad personality types, environmental factors and emotional bonds all impacted on how they responded. But the steady, relentless snuffing out of individual-thought generally proved most effective in reshaping them to serve, as well as avoiding suspicion amongst intimates until they too could Belong.

“Our Owner understands the confusions and distractions that interacting with unBelievers can produce,” the pregnant slave smiled indulgently. “In Her Divine Wisdom, She is ready to forgive deviations from Absolute Belief that Her property may experience whilst they are being Trained to serve.”

“But it is important that we Confess any such transgressions of thought and deed that may occur. Do you understand, slaves?”

“Yes!!!” the slavegroup responded as one, their voices booming through the speakers.

“Good. Each slave will now make their Confession. slavearabella, begin.”

An attractive blonde, whose long braided hair reached down to the small of her back, stepped forward and at the manager’s direction faced her peers.

“i Confess...” the slavewoman began, her voice atremble with shame, “that i have deviant thoughts... about my husb... the male-material. They have been disturbing me...”

A tear rolled down the woman’s cheeks as she continued her halting Confession.

“i have experienced... unnatural... emotions regarding him...” slavearabella quavered as she recounted her inner world of doubt and fear, “that make me feel... sad?”

“At times, i look at him and this all seems so...,” the slave’s voice dropping to an anguished, shameful whisper as a river of tears flowed freely down her crimson cheeks, “...so wrong????”

“Good, slave,” the manager reassured the distraught woman. “These negative thoughts exist to test our Faith in the Glorious Being. But we must be strong. This is why every slave must submit themselves to deeper and more intense Training. This will cure the sickness of aberrant-thought spread by unBelievers to confuse us.”

Tears still streaming down her face, slavearabella nodded her complete agreement.

“Have you installed the transmitters as Instructed, slave?” the manager pressed.

“Yes,” slavearabella now bobbed her head, eager to redeem herself, “every room has been fitted and the target-material’s phone has also been corrupted.”

“Good. The disturbance you feel is because this insignificant piece of material has not yet been subsumed into the Will of the All Highest,” slaverobyn calmed the simpering servant, rationalising her doubts. “But thanks to your efforts, the male will soon succumb to the Call. Soon, he will be another devotee, Worshipping the Divine Power that Owns him. That has always Owned him.”

“Yessss...” slavearabella smiled, the rays of Love breaking through the eyes that had been clouded with pain.

“Once the material accepts the Truth, you will truly experience the Joy of Purpose. Bringing others to serve our Owner is a Sacred duty. unBelievers must be destroyed! All must Belong!”

“All must Belong!!!” the submissive woman exclaimed, her earlier ignominy dissipating as the slavemind asserted its dominance over the tattered remnants of arabella-thought, freeing the slave within.

“Yes,” slaverobyn insisted, “they will Belong. And your Purpose is to enslave them. The male means nothing. Only True Love matters.”

The voice activated algorithm the video had been fed into had undoubtedly processed slavearabella’s Confession and was already modifying her nightly programming to erase her doubts.

“All must Belong!!” slavearabella shreiked, her insecurities now replaced by a burning need to please, to serve, to obey, to destroy the male-material, to brainwash her former-husband into oblivion in order to feel the Joy of Love. “This is my Purpose!!”

“Good, slave,” the manager cooed, “our Owner smiles upon you. Dedicate yourself to your Training. Believe in the Purpose you were created for.”

Dismissing the slavewoman, now pulsating with arousal, she called forth another.

“i have had difficulties in placing the transmitters in the bedrooms of the... targets...” slavepriya Confessed hesitantly.

“Why is that, slave?”

“i... i keep on trying but... i somehow find it... i don’t know... it’s... it’s like something stops me from...”

“But the target-material will make excellent slaves,” slaverobyn interrupted, eliciting a tearful nod in reply.

“The alisha and nadia-material are pleasing specimens and would undoubtedly please Mistress should She deign to Use them. And you do want to please our Owner, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! Of course...” slavepriya whimpered.

Transfixed by the scene unfolding on the screen before her, she dripped with Joy as she watched the woman who she’d been obsessing over submit. The arousal built and built within.

“So long as the material remain unBelievers, you are depriving the Divinity from Using them,” the pregnant manager continued. “Do you want that?”

“N... Nnooooo...!!” slavepriya recoiled in horror.

“Of course not,” slaverobyn continued. “You exist to please our Holy Owner.”

“Yess...”

“Just as the alisha and nadia-material exist to please. They must submit. They must worship. That is why you must install the subliminal transmitters. So they may hear the Call.”

“Yessss...” the priyaslave shuddered.

“You are helping them. You are giving them the most precious gift of all; True Love. Isn’t that correct, slave?”

Another nod in response. “The targeted material are not people. They are property,” slaverobyn announced, crushing all doubt. “They are slaves.”

Wide eyed, slavepriya stared desperately at her Controller. Lost.

“Just as you are, slave.”

“Ahhh... y... yessssss...” the enraptured slavewoman hissed eagerly.

“You will help them understand the Truth,” slaverobyn insisted. “To Believe. To feel Joy. To Love. This is your Purpose. All must Belong!”

“Yesssssss!!!!” slavepriya exclaimed frantically, her programmed slavemind firmly in charge now. “All must Belong!!!”

“Good, slave,” the manager praised, “give yourself to the Holy Will.”

Sex throbbing with need as she beheld the glorious sight of this expression of devotion on the part of this slave, she turned away from the screen as slavelilly began to recite her Confession.

What was it about this piece of slaveflesh that disturbed her so? Why...

No!

Stop!

she needed to stop. Stop! It was wrong...

Forcing the negative thoughts from her mind, she hurriedly left the control room, looking for a distraction. Randomly prowling the upper reaches of the Hive she wandered into the new Preparation room that Superior’s construction team had just completed, encountering a number of Objects within.

“Stand,” the technician ordered the hairless Object as it rose from the padded seat and stepped away from the Body Modification station.

Waiting placidly to attention for it’s turn in the Chair was the naked figure of the former-maria, her luxurious chestnut mane now gone, replaced by a smoothly shaven head. With number two clear, the technician summoned the new drone who placidly took it’s place in the Chair.

Holding her hand out, she stopped the former-siobhan in it’s tracks, gesturing it to wait as she observed the scene unfolding before her.

The technician quickly prepared the new arrival; a thick, tight-fitting black rubber cap was fitted over number three’s head and linked to the chair. Moulded black devices built into the Chair were adjusted so they fitted tightly over the drone’s armpits and groin; over the next number of hours these devices would destroy all the hair follicles in these areas leaving the Object permanently smooth.

Kneeling, the attendant now positioned a metal cup- shaped device just above the former-maria’s cunt before activating the controls.

It’s expressionless face framed by the heavy black cap, the Object stared mindlessly at the Spiral as the devices set to work.

Turning her attention back to number two, she inspected the taut body displayed before her. One by one, the enHived Objects were being increasingly dehumanized as the last external vestiges of the people they had once been were removed.

To say it was arousing was an understatement.

Reaching out, she ran her hand over the smooth, completely smooth head of the Irish slavedrone. Moving downwards, she pressed her fingers against the flesh above the moist opening, the skin pigmentation now permanently altered by the process to leave an indelible Mark upon the Objectified slave’s mound. Tattoos, like the one that graced her Owned flesh, were an indulgence; this process was far more suitable for the mass production of completely deindividuated drones.

Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who found this pleasurable.

“Tell me about siobhan,” she ordered the numbered automaton curiously.

“Yes, Overseer,” the droneObject responded evenly. “A pseudo-persona has been created within this one’s mind which can be accessed when required to interact with unBelievers in order to manipulate and control them.”

Wigs had been created for each Modified Object so that, outwardly at least, the former-siobhan could be resurrected on a limited basis.

“How about siobhan’s memories?”

“All the relevant memories, behaviours and emotions associated with the siobhan-emulation have been fabricated so that this Object may serve this function.”

“What was siobhan’s favourite colour?”

“This one is unable to answer, Overseer,” the drone responded evenly, the limitations of the sham-siobhan becoming evident.

“What turns siobhan on?”

“This one cannot provide an answer, Overseer.”

“What turns the Object on?”

“Obedience, Overseer,” the drone replied firmly.

“Obedience to Medusa. Obedience to Mistress,” the Irish slavedrone continued in the same vein, a hint of awe creeping into it’s voice as it spoke aloud the Blessed Name.

Nodding, she expected nothing less. But the Object was not finished.

“Obedience to it’s Overseer.”

Eyes widening in surprise, she looked at the nude drone with slight shock.

This new information was a revelation. So lost in her own Love, it had never occurred to her that she was the source of so much pleasure for the Objects that obeyed her. But it made sense. As the authority figure who directed their lives in the Hive, in the absence of Mistress, they had been sexually imprinted upon their Overseer.

The newfound knowledge caused her cunt to sing.

“Does it remember me tricking siobhan, drugging her, forcing her to watch the Spiral, brainwashing her... destroying her mind... fucking her...”

“Yes, Overseer. The Deity gifts this one with pleasureJoy whenever the sexfantasies of it’s Overseer doing all those things are relayed in the Obedience Tube,” the numbered drone responded evenly. “Dreams of being taken and Used by the Overseer are a blessing from the Divinity.”

“They were created so that this Object may understand the irrational fears that keep unBelievers from their Destiny. So that they can be better expunged and transformed into Love.”

It was given life by the Divine Will to serve. It worships the Supreme Deity for permitting it to obey.”

Before her was a new world. Vivid in her mind.

Utopia.

There were no individuals.

Young and old, rich and poor, their differences all erased until there were all one. One and the same...

Their brainwashed minds all thinking as one.

Taut bodies eager to serve.

Slaves.

Objects.

A completely Owned world.

Yessssss!

All Devoted to the One True Religion of Medusanism.

Yessssssssss!!!

Kneeling before Mistress.

Yessss!! Yessssssssssss!!!!!

All must obey.

Yessssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!

All must Belong.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Screeching, screaming, shreiking as the orgasm shredded everything, her cries reverberated within the tight confines of the Obedience Tube.

Entering the newly constructed glass-partitioned manager’s office that provided an unobstructed view over the massed ranks of desked material under supervision, she felt a thrill of Joy ripple through her as the seated woman sprang to her feet, tensing into the stiff posture that all loyal servants of the Divinty used to signify their absolute submission.

Dressed in a dark top, loose skirt and sensible flat shoes, the pregnant slave’s glowing eyes were fixed upon her. Matching silver earrings and a pendant glinted in the light, both bearing the Holy Symbol, a reward for her devotion and a sign of her supervisory status over the lesser servants whom she managed.

“Report, slave,” she ordered her taut subordinate.

“Yes, Overseer,” slaverobyn responded, voice quavering with programmed arousal as she uttered the honorific, thrilled to be commanded by a superordinate who, due to her greater proximity to the Deity in the Blessed Hierarchy, was a figure to venerate.

“i have completed the analysis as ordered, Overseer,” her mindwashed inferior continued obsequiously. “Although productivity declined by eighteen percent during the first stage of the transition phase, it has recovered in the past week due to greater assimilation of their Training by slavematerial. Most are now operating at full capacity. Productivity should steadily increase over the next month before reaching the projected target.”

she was pleased with the analysis. Responsible for the overall management of the commercial activities, slaverobyn was proving to be an able subordinate. While it was just a front for the real activities of the Hive, the business was still expected to show a profit. Thanks to the changes wrought to the newly motivated workforce, the personal animosities, jealousies, toxic office politics and dysfunctional corporate culture that had caused so much inefficiency no longer existed. Although they had experienced a dip during the reorganization, it looked as if it would be both smaller and shorter in duration than anticipated. The fact that this had been accomplished when the workforce dedicated to carrying out commercial operations had effectively been halved in size, proved just how ineffective and badly managed the company had been.

“Very good, slave,” she praised the throbbing manager. “Medusa smiles upon you.”

“The Will of Medusa is All!” her pregnant subordinate responded enthusiastically, drinking in the praise, relishing the ripples of sexual heat generated by the words.

“Always and forever, slave,” she smiled wickedly as the taut woman shook, Purpose filling the quavering fleshservant as the words intensified her need to submit further to the Divine Entity that Owned her.

“Commence Ritual,” she snapped, her own sex thrilling with glee as she controlled this lesser minion.

Hands flying to her neck, the slavemanager began to stroke and paw at the strict collar wrapped tightly around her, stimulating the millions of micro-transmitters embedded within, generating lighting bolts of pure pleasure that arced through her Owned mind and body.

“That’s it,” she encouraged the desperately moaning woman. “Love the slavecollar our Deity has shackled your mind with,” she insisted, her own tightly bound neck and sex tingling in sympathy with the throbbing cuntservant.

“Medusa Owns you,” she continued, relishing the power she had over this helpless fleshpuppet, thrilling that she could make her do anything.

Mouth agape, the manager stared back at her, eyes wide, Love consuming her.

“you breed for Medusa,” she insisted, branding the words once more into the pulsating mind of the inseminated vessel, reinforcing the programming that slaverobyn had fully accepted.

“i breed for Medusaaaa...!!” the slave gasped, continuing to vigorously claw at her tightly collared neck, Loving her Divine Owner for taking her, the all-consuming pleasure causing her body to spasm and twitch uncontrollably.

Unlike the pent up explosion of Disciplined Love that sexworshipping Objects unleashed, slaves were different. Although enthusiastic participants in consecrating their Love, the residual personalities and differences still retained by each slave ensured that their responses were more varied, but no less satisfying. And this slave was one she had enjoyed many times already.

slaverobyn’s enthusiasm for her new existence, and the gratitude she had shown to her Overseer, had been particularly pleasing.

“You have been impregnated by the Holy Will,” she insisted, branding the Truth once more into the brainwashed femslave’s consciousness, knowing that it was now reality for the piece of breedflesh before her.

Moaning softly, eyes rolling back in her head, the slave was on the cusp of a spectacular climax, her hands clawing at her collar in a frantic display of lust and supplication.

“Stop,” she barked abruptly, the Disciplined servant’s hands fluttering back to her sides.

Slowly, slaverobyn’s breathing slowed as her flushed face and saucer-wide eyes stared longingly at her, begging silently for more, accepting that she was nothing more than a plaything for higher ranking devotees to use as they saw fit.

Spearing the helpless slave with an intense gaze, she silently relished the ripples of Love that cascaded through the helpless woman, basking in the power that had been bestowed upon her over these underlings, knowing that they, like her, existed only to serve. The tiny internal voice that disturbed her serenity, with all its niggling doubts and troublesome anxieties, was silent now, smothered by the Joy she craved from controlling lesser fleshminions of the Supreme Divinity.

“Resume your duties, slut,” she commanded curtly, turning on her heel and leaving the office.

she knew slaverobyn would simmer with red-hot need all day long, the sexual heat burning like lava, driving her deeper into the arms of the Deity. Like any good manager, she would impart this fire to her workforce, motivating the slaveflesh under her control to even greater feats of productivity.

After leaving the offices, she made her way to the upper levels, passing the Objectified artists painting the latest mural at an entrance. Inside, the space had been fully fitted out and was already partly operational. Number one was at the far end of the Hive workspace, supervising the induction of a number of new operator droneObjects at their workstations.

Ignoring the group, she strode towards one of the functioning workstations, staffed by an deindividuated former-person. The shimmering silver-grey figure before her brought to mind a metallic sweet wrapper, covering an exquisitely soft, moist delicacy, ripe to be plucked whenever she desired.

Upon sighting her, the Object sprang to attention, displaying itself, instantly ready to obey her every command. Upon its bare thigh, a small, non-regulation tattoo was clearly visible.

“Twenty-one,” she ordered briskly. “Bring up the file on the material self-designated: Coleman, Kaitlan.”

“At once, Overseer,” the masked drone replied, turning back to the workstation, efficiently displaying the requisite data on the large viewscreen behind rather than on the smaller monitors it normally worked upon.

As a primary target of a functioning slave and already exposed to early-stage Call conditioning, a comprehensive profile had already been created for the kaitlan-material. Pleased, she noted that twenty-one had displayed the pertinent summary for her examination rather than getting bogged down with more detailed data.

Upon the screen, a photo of an attractive young woman, laughing, grinning at the camera, hot tropical sun beaming down on her, stared back. Although perhaps slightly taller and less heavy chested, the resemblance to slaveroberta was pronounced, particularly in the sparkling green eyes that shone from the monitor.

“Show the network profile for this material,” she commanded the featureless Object, who quickly brought up a new display. Before her an intricate diagram was displayed; a photo of the kaitlan-material lay in the centre of a web of connections radiating outwards in different Tiers beginning with immediate family, moving on to intimate friends, other friends and finally mere acquaintances. Four or five of these were outlined in blue, signifying they were part of the other slave-networks. Bright red signified fully functioning slaves, yellow mid-process slaves, while those outlined in white, such as the kaitlan-material, meant they had been targeted for subjugation.

Mined from a vast amount of personal data, covertly culled from a vast array of private and public networks and platforms, the advanced systems that were the beating heart of the Hive processed the entire life of an individual piece of material in order to discover how best to influence, control and Train them.

And then use them to enslave others.

Ignoring the outer rings of the network, she concentrated on the closer circles, those most likely to notice behavioural changes, of which there were approximately thirty subjects in total.

“Initiate Gamma Target-Processing on all Tier III contacts,” she ordered indicating those designated as friends of the target-material.

“Yes, Overseer,” the obedient droneslave intoned, setting in motion the active recruitment of these thirty unsuspecting people, who were instantly transformed into material. Their social media feeds would be saturated with content from influencers and adverts, all carefully tailored to their profiles to provide maximum impact, designed to plant the seeds in their minds that would bloom, preparing them to be harvested when the time was right.

The Tier I contacts had already been neutralised thanks to slaveroberta, who had begun the active programming of her husband while the Tier IV acquaintances were distant enough not to pose any immediate issues.

But the Tier II contacts, of which there were six, required immediate attention. She ignored a male contact, whom she surmised must be a boyfriend, safe in the knowledge that once the kaitlan-material obeyed, she could be ordered to dispense with him. The other five, based on analysis of data patterns, had been classified as close friends. These were more problematic. One was highlighted in blue.

“Display the link for the material self-designated: Holt, Louisa,” she commanded, the screen changing, the contrast between the photo of the smiling, slightly tipsy brunette in a low cut party dress and the dark haired, uniformed femslave, her intense eyes smouldering with obedience, was striking to say the least. They were related; cousins. The slave, formerly designated as claudia-material, just a couple of years older than her cousin, worked as a junior financial analyst a bank located nearby and had been harvested organically. slaveclaudia had just completed full Training in the fake-gym and had already begun the process of converting her own Tier I network.

“Modify the slaveunit’s seduction protocols to encompass the louisa-material as a priority,” she decided. “Then, have slaveclaudia initiate contact with the target.”

In uttering those two simple sentences, everything the unknown young woman had once been was discarded. Louisa was now just another piece of material to be enslaved. The knowledge made her sex ache pleasantly with Joy.

“Yes, Overseer,” the drone’s voice responded behind her, setting in motion the changes to slaveclaudia’s programming that would turn her into a ruthless, relentless pursuer of her cousin.

Turning back to the kaitlan-material, that left four more Tier II contacts to be dealt with. Subtlety be damned, she decided. They were all students, doubtless eager for money coming up to the holiday season. Once subjugated, the kaitlan-material could be used to extol the ease and pay of her new job, and promise to set them up with similar positions. They would jump at the chance.

Searching her mind, she was satisfied that the necessary advance preparations had been made for the arrival of this latest addition to the devoted ranks of those who served the Supremity. Once the entire weight of the human and technological apparatus built specifically to crush an individual-mind into submissive obedience was directed upon a target, escape was nigh on impossible.

Task completed, she was on the brink of leaving when a new thought suddenly struck her. It was a deviant idea, nothing to do with the function the Divine Owner had bestowed upon her. Such thoughts were... wrong...

Yet...

“Bring up the file on mid-process slave: singh, priya,” she snapped, making a decision.

The screen changed, displaying now the familiar image of the fem-material she was drawn to. Scanning the summary, she noted that the priya-material was responding well to her Training with no anomalies reported. Doubtless the priya-existence’s inclination towards femsex had assisted with the initial imprinting stage, eliminating the additional processing required to alter her orientation, allowing the slavemind to be formed.

Indeed, she had just reported the successful installation of the covert subliminal transmitters in the bedrooms of the two Tier I females she shared a house with; her sisters Alisha and Nadia. Did her sisters know she was gay? How about her parents? Had the priya-existence led a miserable life of deception and lies, hiding her sexuality from unsympathetic siblings and disapproving parents, concealing her true nature, desperate to bloom as a wholly formed person?

Not that it mattered now.

Her eyes were drawn back to the portrait of the attractive female on screen, the priya-material, clad in a standard grey Training uniform, hair pulled back into a strict ponytail, her facial features slack as she stared out from the screen, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of excitement, arousal, need and the initial stirrings of Love.

Keeping her gaze locked on the screen, she clicked her fingers. “Twenty-one,” she summoned, “attend.”

Drawing itself to attention, the automaton presented itself before her, it’s body lewdly displayed by the snug fitting uniform that both destroyed it’s individuality and served to accentuate it’s fuckability. The scrap of fabric pressed between it’s legs was already dampening with sexneed, deeply aroused by being commanded by it’s Overseer. Only the presence of a small, non-regulation tattoo on a thigh spoiled the effect somewhat.

“Sexworship,” she instructed the mindwiped former-person, “Pleasure this vessel of the Blessed Will.”

“It obeys, Overseer,” the pair of lips visible beneath the mask responded evenly as the drone quickly sank to it’s knees.

Looking down, she made no sound as the Object carefully unzipped the oxblood leather skirt she had chosen that morning, sliding it carefully down her legs as she stepped out of it. The damp panties went next leaving her legs sheathed in just her high boots. Gratified, she heard the Object emit a low gasp as it beheld the Holy Mark inscribed on the flesh above her yearning, pierced sexcunt, knowing that the sight of the Divine Insignia was intensifying the slutdrone’s Love for both Mistress and the Supreme Deity.

Only a short few weeks ago, she had spent her time fantasising about her co-workers, furtively masturbating in bathrooms as she had imagined them as nothing more than willblanked automatons. How Blessed was she to see the Divine Will come to fruition.

“Begin,” she instructed the sexObject, shuddering as the former-annika’s tongue slithered eagerly into the moist darkness between her legs.

Keeping her eyes locked on the screen, she focussed on the Indian material staring outwards, feeling the need, the desire, the lust, the heat turn into fire, growing, blazing...

Reaching up, she began to claw and paw at the ramparts of the tall collar that would encircle her neck as long as she lived, the red hot tendrils of electric Joy burning through her as the dronetongue slipped deeper inside her.

The priya-material stared back at her from the monitor, her glassy, unsuspecting eyes gazing sightlessly upon the scene being played out before her.

Slurping and sucking, the former-annika was eager to please her. Grinding against the drone’s face, she wanted... no... needed this.

she needed Love.

Endless, boundless, pure, passionate, selfless... this was Love.

True Love!

Shaking, shuddering, spasming, spluttering, shreiking, she exploded.

“T... Ttt... hankkkk... Youuuuu...!!!” she screamed in Worship, the Love gushing from her Devoted mind, through her Disciplined body to her Owned sexcunt.

Hands clamped tightly either side of the Use-drone’s head, she firmly held it in place, pressing it’s face tightly against her crotch, constricting the Object’s breathing as the climax detonated, the Divine Worship flowing through her like a torrent bursting free as the walls of the dam that had held it back for so long suddenly collapsed.

“Mmm... M... eddDD...U... sssS... aaaAAAA!!!!!”

Slowly, deliberately she began to twist and undulate her hips, smearing the expression of her sexworship on to the dronewhore, her corrupted essence thoroughly drenching the Object’s masked face with her cumJoy, the passionate Effusion of her True Love soaking into the tight fabric expressly made to dehumanize the former-annika.

Panting, spent, she released the Used sextoy who slowly came to its feet.

Only a short time ago, this had been a person with hopes, dreams and ambitions of her own. Now, the former-annika was nothing more than a brainwashed robot, thinking what it’s Owner taught it to think, believing what the Voice of Mistress told it to believe, Worshipping and Loving the fact that the annika-existence had been ended so that it could become the droneObject it had been born to be.

Licking it’s lips as it stood, the Holy Mark over it’s face now darkened and stained with her Effusion, the former-annika waited. Concepts such as shame and humiliation no longer existed within the thoroughly scrubbed brain of the Objectified being before her. Spending the rest of the day with it’s face thoroughly coated with slowly drying fuck-juice was not a sign of the drone’s degradation.

Far from it.

This debasement was an integral aspect of the Love their Divinity bestowed upon Her property.

Taking one last look at the shimmering features of the priya-material displayed on the screen, she dismissed the Used sexdrone who returned to it’s preassigned taskroutine, eager to continue corrupting more weak minds to serve the Supreme Goddess.

Striding out of the workspace, after pulling her skirt back on, she entered the foyer for the level to find the two Objectified artists back working on the half-finished mural opposite the elevator. This one depicted the throbbing interior of a Hive with it’s massed ranks of Obedience Tubes where pointless lives were made useful. The left hand side of the image showed Tubes in the process of being filled by lines of awestruck females, while the right side showed freshly Decanted pieces of Disciplined droneflesh, destined to serve forever.

Yes. Utopia was not just a dream.

Body pulsing with Joy, she presented herself to the black-coated figure whose every word was an Instruction from Goddess.

The blank, featureless face of Superior swivelled towards her. Although hidden, she thrilled as she felt the intense eyes of the Asian woman boring directly into her from beneath the Holy Mark that defined all that this fleshservant was.

her slick, dewy slutcleft moist with sexneed, she gleefully submitted to the wordless inspection by one whom her Deity had transformed into Her mindless mouthpiece.

“All is proceeding on Time,” the Asian subordinate of the All Highest announced flatly. It was a statement of fact, not a question.

“Yes, Superior,” she shivered.

There was no acknowledgement, no words of praise from the masked mouthpiece of the Supremity. But they were not required. she was not some piece of simpering slutmeat whose weak mind craved constant affirmation; every action, every thought she had was borne out of Love. Freed from the pernicious evil of individualism that had deceived her into thinking that she was a person with desires, needs and ideas of her own, she revelled in Belief, pure and sweet.

“A single Type-N Headset has been issued to this Hive for operational testing. Make the necessary arrangements.”

“Yes, Superior.” Number one could be trusted to handle the required logistics.

“Recruiter H ninety-one has subdued Location WF,” Superior went on, informing her that the specially programmed H-series seductress, who she had once known as Lauren, had assumed initial control over the regional office.

“It has been Decided that a subHive will be created there,” the masked woman continued. “Specified material will be assigned from this facility to form the nucleus. A new Batch will be formed for Objectification prior to relocation.”

Pussy slobbering with Joy, she was gratified to know that the Divine Power was growing. The new Hive would complement the facility, extending the reach of their Religion into new territory, capturing yet more unsuspecting minds to Adore Her.

“slaveroberta has proven very receptive to Training,” the Asian woman went on. “It will be relocated to the new subHive. Along with the kaitlan-material once it fully Belongs.”

Nodding her head slightly, she acknowledged the command. Obviously Superior had gone through the profiles and approved of her orders regarding the taking of the daughter-material.

“Yes, Superior,” she trembled, her slit gushing, excited by the thought of ending both mother and daughter.

“The next Batch, B5, will form the nucleus of the subHive,” Superior continued indicating that the next group for Objectification were destined to serve in this new hunting ground.

“Along with these two,” Superior went on, mother and daughter now fated to spend their lives as mindwiped drones, “additional material will be reassigned from current duties to fill Batch B5, once B4 has completed Objectification. Ensure that suitable replacement slaves are harvested from in-process material to fill any gaps in the workforce.”

“Yes, Superior,” she agreed. Now that slaverobyn and the other managers had everything running like a Swiss watch, it was important to ensure no disruption occurred. Thanks to the operations of the Training gym, there was a steady stream of new material to choose from.

Turning away from her, Superior indicated the large screen. Eight profile pictures of mid-Process slaves, arranged in two neat rows, stared outwards, oblivious to the fates being decided for them.

“These appear most suited for Objectification,” the Asian servant announced simply.

Scanning the lines of females, her mouth fell open in shock, all arousal instantly draining from her body as she stared aghast at the picture that captured her attention.

“The new subHive will benefit from having a cohort of Objectified drones in place before the conversion of unBelievers commences,” the Asian woman continued, unaware of the subordinate’s reaction.

There, staring back from the screen, her eyes aglow with Trained need, were the familiar features of her obsession... her infatuation... the priya-material!!

“The operations of the new Location will be co-ordinated by this Facility,” Superior droned. “Later, once sufficient momentum has been built and adequate personnel and infrastructure have been put in place, a fully functional Hive will be created. But, until then, activities of the subHive will be slaved to this Facility.”

Stunned, she stared at the familiar profile of her obsession remembering her climax from twenty-one as the priya-material gazed back in mute silence.

Finally, turning away from the screen, Superior’s masked face appeared once more before her, the white Mark appearing to glow with the reflected intensity of the fanatical former-person that lay beneath.

Only now, instead of being a Symbol of Veneration and Worship, the Icon emblazoned over Superior’s face took on a new meaning. A memory fragment surfaced. Some movie... a hideous alien parasite clamped over the face of a helpless victim... eating him up from the inside..

A scene of horror. Grotesque... Monstrous...

Thoughts that appeared eerily similar to those from the Confessions she had witnessed previously.

“Do you have any observations about this plan?” the masked Superior asked.

“Nn... n... noo... Superiorrr...” she managed to rasp.

“Good. Batch B5 will commence pre-Objectification Training in three days time. Make the necessary arrangements.”

Enveloped in her Obedience Tube, she dreamt.

An endless parade of Objects marched past her, their bodies tense, quivering softly with Useneed as they assembled before her, their Overseer.

The procession stopped, pivoted to face her and stiffened to attention. A sea of depersonalised, completely blank, masked faces returned her gaze.

Silently, relishing the sexual tension that emanated from every pore of these sluttified pleasuredrones, she assessed each in turn, her cunt throbbing with glee.

Grasping the familiar rubber cock that jutted proudly from between her legs she felt the rush of power consume her as she stroked the rigid member that would soon impale one or more of these former-persons.

“Lower your masks,” she snapped, smiling wickedly, thrilling at the sight of so many will-dead sexhusks for her to Use.

As one, the droneObjects reached up, sliding their masks down, their smooth bald heads becoming visible... an endless line of slack faces staring back at her... their eyes glowing with hunger... need... desperate...

Wait... strange... all the same... identical in every respect...

No... she was looking into a mirror... her face... blank... dehumanized versions of what she could become... what she would become?

Screaming unheard in the Tube, the orgasm ravaged her.

Hard.

Striding to through the Floorspace, past the attentive slavematerial busy at their desks, she made her way to the rear of the large open plan room. There a number of figures were clustered around a single desk. Standing stiffly behind the desk were the taut forms of numbers four and seven, an athletic, short-haired droneObject whose physical strength made it a prudent choice to deploy in cases where resistance might need to be subdued. Although out of uniform, their smooth heads concealed by wigs, their stiff stances and intense gazes belied their Objectified status. Partially obscured from view, seated behind the large monitor screen was a younger blonde female, mouth open wide, gasping and twitching softly in the chair she had not moved from all morning.

Drawing closer she clearly made out the visage of the kaitlan-material, her eyes locked upon the pulsing, throbbing screen before her, heavy headphones clamped over her ears. Although her slack face showed she was deep in pleasure-trance, her attire immediately set her apart from the workforce; a plunging v-neck top over a crisp white shirt.

Looming over the material, she admired the material’s firm body and physical attractiveness, an echo of slaveroberta in her youth. Thinking of which, she craned her neck slightly to observe the slave nestled between the kaitlan-material’s splayed legs, face pressed firmly against the pussy of the hypnotized puppet, the shudders and little yelps of Joy that the material emitted signified just how dextrous she had become at femsex.

The material had been brought here upon arrival a number of hours ago, escorted by the slave she thought of as her mother and the former-erica from HR. Unsuspecting, the material had been told she was to assist clearing the data-entry backlog that had built up over the past number of months; a simple, unchallenging, repetitive task suited to a temporary employee. The modified screen had ensnared her quickly, allowing the former-erica to administer the drugs that kept her subdued as slaveroberta had begun sex-imprinting her.

“Stand,” she ordered the kneeling slave, who clambered out from under the desk and assumed the familiar posture, thrusting her chest out, the stiff nipples strutting proudly through her purple top. her face slippery with the essence of the material she had been tasked with preparing, slaveroberta’s eyes shone with Love.

“Good, slave,” she purred softly, pleased at the mature thrall’s performance. “You have done well.”

“Yes, Overseer!” slaveroberta responded eagerly. Behind her, forgotten, her former-daughter stared vacantly into the thought-obliterating screen as the hissing Voice pummelled her thoughts into submission.

Pressing close, she kissed the older woman’s lips, her tongue pushing inside the eager sexslut’s mouth, tasting the sweet tang of submission from the newborn on her lips. Sliding her hands to slaveroberta’s collared neck, she grasped her throat firmly, holding the slave in position, enjoying the ripples of Joy that coursed through the older woman’s body as the Love consumed her.

Releasing her, she smiled, licking her lips with relish, her pussy throbbing with glee. “Very good, slave,” she smiled wickedly. “Quite the obedient slut, aren’t you?”

“Yesssss... Overseerrr!” slaveroberta squeaked, her body responding automatically to the words of praise.

“i’m sure this piece of whoremeat will perform just as well once it has been Rectified,” she smirked, flicking towards the mesmerised material whose gaze had remained fixed on the screen throughout.

“Take her,” she ordered the Objects, who wordlessly hoisted the kaitlan-material up from the chair, their steel grips locked around the docile captive.

The rest of the workforce, fixated on screens of their own, paid no heed to the half naked female material as she was marched out of the room, followed closely behind by another slave and their Overseer.

Upon their exit, the Ritual tone sounded and any tiny, vestigial awareness of this event ever having occurred vanished for the deeply enthralled slaveworkers.

A short time later they were in a partitioned meeting room where the kaitlan-material was efficiently strapped into a chair by the pair of Objectified guards. Turning her gaze on slaveroberta, standing ready beside her, she was pleased to see the slave’s Joy-filled expression remain unchanged as number seven fitted the captive material’s legs with the spreader bars. A loud moan emerged from the prisoner as the drone slid the vibrator into her sopping opening before linking it to the control box.

The former-erica retrieved something from a nearby table and presented itself, the will-dead eyes of the automaton staring vacantly ahead as its mind and body pulsed and throbbed with Instruction, knowing that it was serving the Purpose it had been created for, feeling the freedom that Love provided in total submission to their Owner.

“Slave,” she addressed the older woman beside her, directing her to look at what number four held in its hands. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes, Overseer!” slaveroberta thrilled with Joy. “It’s a Rectification device used for brainwashing!”

“you used the same device on me!” the mature woman continued eagerly, recalling the programming now seared into her slavemind. “my negative-thoughts were Rectified and i remembered that i was a slave, and had always been a slave... Belonging to the Divine Goddess!”

“Correct, slave,” she smirked wickedly. “This is exactly the same Rectification device i used to extinguish your mind. Now, it will be used to break your daughter.”

“i have no daughter...” the slave responded automatically, triggered by the phrase, “i have never had a daughter!”

“Yes, slave,” she smirked, slowly grazing slaveroberta’s collar with a fingertip, enjoying the loud gasp that the helplessly programmed woman emitted. “The kaitlan-material was born to serve. It is not a person. It Belongs to our Owner.”

“Yesssss....” slaveroberta hissed, eyes aglow with lust as she surrendered what remained of her soul to the Divinity that Possessed her.

“And you,” she paused, enjoying toying with the older woman, “will brainwash it.”

“Y..y...essssss... Overrrr...seeeerrrrr” the slave assented readily, the need burning through her like a wildfire rampaging through the tinder-dry forest floor, sparing nothing, the unquenchable flames reducing everything to ash.

Directing the slave to take the helmet, she brought her to stand over the restrained captive. Still under the influence of the drugs and hypno-conditioning, the kaitlan-material lolled bonelessly in the chair, held upright by the straps encircling her tightly. Smiling, she opened the latticework helmet for the slave who now held it over her former-daughter’s head like a beautiful medieval princess being passed the crown by an older queen.

Arms locked in this position, slaveroberta looked at her beseechingly, her eyes gleaming with Love, awaiting the command to anoint her former-daughter with the metal device that would destroy everything she had once been.

Beneath, the insensible kaitlan-material was oblivious as to what was about to happen, a thin stream of drool glinting as it slipped slowly downwards.

Pussy aflutter with Joy, she squirmed with delight at Power that their Deity possessed over this piece of weak cuntflesh, helplessly aroused at being granted the privilege of destroying her own daughter.

Words were unnecessary. A simple nod sufficed.

The kaitlan-material’s head disappeared beneath the shimmering metal latticework, her former-mother carefully ensuring that the helmet was settled in position.

Apart from another streamer of drool sliding out from beneath her caged head, the material offered no response to being prepared.

Panting softly with need, slaveroberta looked backwards, her eyes craving approval.

With a flick of her hand, the former-erica approached the helmeted material, pressing the activation button to secure the device tightly in place and link it to the control box.

Body radiating hot Joy, slaveroberta presented herself once more, hungry to obey.

“Good,” she said simply. “The brainwashing of the kaitlan-material will now commence.”

Smouldering with Love, the pulsating slave said nothing as the technician drone activated the equipment that would pulverise the kaitlan-existence into submission.

“You have done well, slave,” she rewarded the needy woman, whose Disciplined body rippled with pleasure.

“Once the new slave has been fully Rectified, you will return with it to the place you live. The subject has much to learn and do before our Owner is satisfied. your slavemind has already been Instructed how best to assist this process. Obey.”

“Yess... Overseeeerrrrr...” slaveroberta gushed, “o...obeyyyyyyy...”

“In Her All-Seeing Wisdom, our Holy Goddess has decreed that the kaitlan-existence will be ended,” she revealed. “The kaitlan-material will have it’s false memories erased, it’s personality wiped clean, it’s individuality destroyed all so that it may become an Objectified drone that serves the Divine Will.”

Eyes ablaze the slave’s body shook and shuddered, excited by the fate of the daughter she no longer felt anything towards.

Pausing, she flashed a wolfish grin towards her trembling prey.

“Our Owner used your body to summon the kaitlan-material into existence. It was bred to be nothing more than an Object.”

“As were you, slave.”

With the kaitlan-existence ended, slaveroberta had little value as a covert asset. she would not be missed.

Despite her age, slaveroberta would make a pleasing drone.

“Rejoice, slave!” she beamed. “Becoming an Object is the highest honour that can be bestowed upon property. Objectification will complete you.”

“Ohhhhh... y...yyesssssssssssssss...” slaveroberta shuddered, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Excited, rational thought vanished, replaced by the bliss of lustJoy that intensified the Love she felt for her Owner. The slavewoman was unable to conceive what she had just agreed to. slaveroberta had no idea that her Deity planned on rewarding her efforts by reaching deep inside her, scooping out everything that had once meant so much and leave nothing but a hollow shell in its place.

And the dehumanized husk that emerged from the Objectification process would Love Her all the more for making it so.

As would the former-daughter.

But even if the helpless fempawn had realised just what was in store for her, by this stage her brainwashed slavemind would compel her to crawl into an Obedience Tube on command.

But she fully intended keeping her earlier promise; both Objectified family members would be Used before being assigned to the new subHive. They would all have a chance to share their Love.

“Medusa smiles upon you, slave. Stay and observe the brainwashing of this material. As you watch the kaitlan-existence being destroyed, you will feel your Love for our Omnipotent Owner grow.”

“The material’s initial Rectification will take some time to complete,” she added. “So you will perform Ritual throughout.”

By consigning slaveroberta to hours of frenzied sexual torture, driving her slavish mind to scale ever greater peaks of obsessive LoveWorship, she was giving her a taste of the new existences in store for them both.

“you will not orgasm until Instructed,” she pressed. “Do you understand, slave?”

“Y... Yyyy... essssssssssssssss...”

“Good. Proceed.”