The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Oblivious to her entry, the synchronised bodies pirouetted before the endlessly spinning Spiral. Scanning the slack faces, she recognised none of them; this was a new group of material that had graduated from the initial Training phase. Standing to one side, observing the group closely, was an athletic instructress, a firm bodied, short-haired blonde who had been newly assigned to the facility on a full time basis.

Lost in the Spiral, the loud hiss dissolving their ability to form coherent thoughts, the entranced material continued to shape their bodies to serve the Owner.

Registering her arrival, the instructress approached, presenting herself. An attractive specimen, she noted, her sex purring at the sight of so much submissive slaveflesh.

Reaching out, she groped the hard breasts of the instructress through the uniform top, feeling the metal loops fixed to the Owned tits beneath, enjoying the low gasp the high-functioning femslave emitted as she submitted to a superior.

“How is this Batch responding to Training?” she inquired, squeezing the woman’s breasts tightly.

“V... very well, Overseerrrr...” the instructress shuddered, her firm, Disciplined body quivering as she probed her, struggling to keep her voice level. The blonde slave would make a pleasing Usetoy later. “A... all have fully assimilated their Preliminary Indoctrination and have now progressed to Advanced Training.”

“So i see,” she smirked. Beyond, oblivious, the group of mesmerised women continued their ballet before the all-consuming Spiral.

A tawny brunette with a bobbed haircut and a nose piercing in the front row caught her eye; her well muscled, toned body contrasted sharply with the softer shapes of the group. An athlete of some sort?

No matter; the slavematerial gazed just as thoughtlessly at the Spiral as the rest of them.

The brunette reminded her of slavepriya... for some reason? Why?

No.

The priya-existence was in a Finishing Room being Trained to accept her ending. Such was the Will of Mistress. That should be enough.

The resemblance was superficial... The puppet looked nothing like slavepriya. her mind was playing tricks.

Such thoughts were wrong. Deviant. she needed to focus.

Taking the remote from the squirming instructress’ hands, she dismissed her before climbing the three steps up to the small, narrow platform beneath the Spiral.

Behind her, the Spiral slowed, it’s intensity draining away as the white noise from the speakers turned into a background hum.

Gradually, the slavegroup slowed, their movements stopping until one by one, they stood to attention before her. Panting lightly, the glistening bodies stared vacantly ahead, still captured by the Spiral displayed beyond her.

“Attention, slaves!” she announced clearly, the words cutting through the haze of hypnoobedience that controlled them. Twenty pairs of bovine-glazed eyes immediately turned their gazes upon her, the dull passivity dissipating as they responded to her voice.

“i am your Overseer,” she announced, the power thrilling her. “Obey!!”

Hunger, lust, need all started to filter into the blank eyes of the group she was dominating. The new slaves hungered to obey, already programmed to submit to an authority figure, craving the addictive Joy of submission, aroused at their own helpless obedience.

“On your knees!” she snapped, her moist cunt drinking in their hungry stares, feeling the sexual energy crackle and sizzle as the puppets surrendered themselves to her words.

“Kneel before your Overseer!” she barked once more, her voice slicing through the spellbound room. “Submit to the Power of the Divine Will!!!”

In unison with her sisterslaves, the firm-bodied brunette complied, trembling with slutneed at being commanded.

“My voice is the voice of obedience!” she declared. “My voice is the voice of submission!”

Eyes locked upon her, the group began to sway, newly Disciplined bodies shuddering with need as they accepted her words. The brunette slave’s eyes smouldered with Love.

All of them would obsess about her, be desperate to please her, ache to be Used by her... the knowledge intoxicated her.

“Begin Ritual! Accept your place.”

Hands flew eagerly to tightly constricted necks, frantically stimulating the millions of micro-transmitters that controlled them, the pleasure Owning them.

Panting, the athletic slave mawed at the collar that controlled her cunt, working herself into a frenzy of JoyLust.

“i am your Overseer!” she snarled at the simpering slaveflesh before her. The need to destroy them, to scoop out everything... to turn them into living husks... mindless puppets... it overwhelmed everything else.

And these women wanted her to do that to them.

More, she needed this. That way she could banish the feelings of inadequacy and doubt that slavepriya had created. she’d deliberately kept away from the Indian pre-drone today, the distance strengthening her resolve.

The Joy building and building as they continued to stroke and caress their Owner’s collar, the slobbering fuckpawns gasped and groaned as they knelt, stoking the inferno, the flames of dark corruption burning bright within their Owned souls.

“Submit your minds and bodies to my words! Obey me!”

Moaning and twitching, the group worked themselves into a frenzy of lustmadness, their pulsating collars forever linked to their ravenously obedient slutcunts.

“You are slaves,” she reminded them, the familiar mantra deepening their Love. “You have always been slaves.”

The brunette stared at her helplessly, her hands frantically mauling the high, tight slavecollar that was destroying her, desperate to submit, eager to please, craving to surrender everything she held dear.

The torment she was inflicting upon these pieces of slaveflesh was Divine.

And the long, drawn out, torturous silence was a Dark gleeful thrill that stoked the fires of her own insatiable need to please her Owner.

Trapped by her words, the hysterical Worshippers brought themselves to the brink of madness.

“All of you,” she finally commanded the helpless mass of deindividuated slavemeat that bowed before her, knowing that her every word was being inscribed into the throbbing grey matter that now frothed with absolute servitude.

“Orgasm!”

Howls of Joyrapture filled the room as the slaveTrainees surrendered en-masse to Worship.

“Cum for Mistress! Cum for Medusa!!!” she shreiked, wallowing in her power as she rejoiced in the sight of quavering woman after quavering slavewoman collapse in rapturous Worship, the human rag-dolls wracked by pleasure inconceivable to them a short time ago as climax after climax obliterated them.

The Power... such Power... overwhelming Power... over others....

Granted by Medusa!

Granted by Mistress!

A Blessing bestowed upon her to use in their Holy Name!

“Cum for your Overseer!!!!”

The unknown brunette slave was splayed on the floor, her incoherent screams lost in the mass, her muscles twitching, body spasming, limbs flailing as orgasm after mind-melting orgasm possessed her, rewriting her desires, shattering all that she had been as the corruption devoured her soul.

she was older.

The Hive had grown, consuming more and more bodies. Beyond those who had been saved from the destructive sin of individualism that threatened the future of humanity, a new generation had taken their place.

Pure, untainted by any life other than servitude, they were the epitome of human existence.

Unthinking, unwaivering, uncorruptible.

Slaves. Objects.

Breeding more slaves. Yet more Objects.

Growing ever more fanatical in their Belief.

Expanding across the globe.

Reaching into the remotest places on earth.

Rooting out non-Believers. Ending them.

Their Holy Cause meant that All Must Belong!

Individualism was poison.

Brainwashing was the antidote.

Only then would the entire globe be bathed in Love!

The climax rolled through her, every cell in her body exploding with orgasmic rapture as a new universe was created, screaming and screaming and screaming unheard inside the transparent Tube that embraced her.

Striding into her office, she took a moment to savour the new material that had been assembled by number three this morning.

Slowly, carefully, she inspected the contents of each of the four display booths. Behind the one-way glass, each isolated piece of material returned her gaze dully as they stared helplessly into the Spiral that was projected on to the interior of the display panels, the Voice booming through the tight confines of their transparent cells.

Culled from the Training gym below, the four in-process slaves provided a good cross-section of the material they were hardening into Believers. Each was dressed in nothing more than heels and a pair of long-sleeves affixed to a high collar, exposing the entireity of their lust-shimmering bodies to her gaze.

A small digital caption alongside each one provided basic biographical details for her delectation.

The slender, blonde with the blue highlights was slavejoyce, a beautician organically harvested from a Gorgon social-media marketing campaign by one of their tame fashion influencers.

Next to her, was slaveantonia, a curvaceous Latina with long, lustrous raven hair; a Tier II contact of one of the slaveworkforce currently toiling on one of the lower floors, she had been betrayed by an intimate, trusted friend.

Beyond, a short Asian woman with bee-sting breasts lay behind glass; slavelinda; a Tier III contact in two separate networks, she had been lured to the false-gym by once-friends who now Belonged.

Finally the familiar sight of the athletic, short-haired brunette that had been part of the Training Batch she had Joy-conditioned yesterday evening whom she had ordered three to have delivered to her office; slaveleigh, a third year student studying French and Economics. As well as being a, highly valued member of the university swim team, slaveleigh was part of a Tier I family network harvested by the Objectified number eleven.

Licking her lips, she savoured the brunette specimen. The university, she mused, a rich seam of high-grade ore worth mining. More assets would have to be dedicated towards that end.

Now that the Hive was operating, her role was changing. The Objectified operators were now in place, guiding the ever-growing numbers of harvested material along the Path towards obedience. As such, her day-to-day interactions with slave recruitment were diminishing as managerial duties began to take up more of her time.

Administration, reports, meetings, decisions... the Joyless, time-sucking satellites of tedium that the wielding of Power inevitably sucked into it’s orbit.

Endless commands needed to be issued to her inferiors, often at a moment’s notice. she tried to keep calm, to make reasoned choices that would please her Owner. Every decision had to be right.

Perfect.

The sheer, endless procession of tasks threatened to overwhelm her ability to think rationally.

But she was determined. she would please Mistress. This was what she existed for. Failure was impossible.

Easing herself into her chair, she scanned the reports awaiting her. First were requests from a number of other Hives for pieces of material to be transferred to them. There were always bound to be boundary issues; material harvested in their catchment area but normally located elsewhere. It made logical sense for them to be assigned to other Hives where they could assist in the Rectification of their networks.

Surprisingly, Location RS was offering to transfer four slaves who they thought might prove useful. she was pleased at the development; unlike the incompetence and jealousy of non-Believers the servants of the Divine Will were united in their determination to build Utopia.

Assenting to the transfers, she moved on to the nightly figures. Twenty seven pieces of fresh material had been harvested organically by the Gorgon deception and had spent the night frantically masturbating their meaningless lives away, a further thirteen had progressed from sex-imprinting and had worn their mind-bending visors for the very first time last night, while another nine had been programmed to report for Training in the Hive’s false gym today. This was in addition to the ongoing programming and Training of the inventory of four hundred plus pieces of in-process material and Trained slaves that belonged to the Hive.

her Hive.

All those hypnotized women, faceless, anonymous, powerless, their weak minds being fed slavethoughts, cumming on command, surrendering their souls to their Divine Owner in return for an endless stream of mind-melting orgasms.

It was hot.

Summoning an underling, she grinned wickedly as slavesarah entered her office, pleased to see that number three had taken her instructions to heart. The heavy chested slavewoman had been fitted with a short length of chain between her ankles, hobbling her, while nipple-clamps were fixed tightly to her exposed breasts. A longer length of chain ran between both of her clamped-breasts before running down between her legs, pressing against her thong-hidden cleft sending shivers of pleasure through the bound woman with every mincing step she took.

“Has the analysis of the Type-N operation been completed, whore?” she questioned her throbbing minion. Numbers two and twenty-one had been ordered to examine the data gathered in detail and prepare a report on how slavearabella had responded to remote control.

“Yes, Overseer,” the heavy-chested slavewoman declared, thrilled at being humiliated by her Overseer.

“Good,” she pinned the throbbing slut with a piercing gaze, enjoying the trembles of Joy it produced in her prey. “i will review the report before it is sent to Superior.”

“As you command, Overseer,” the bound servant assented eagerly, rejoicing in her helplessness, relishing her insignificance as a tiny cog in a vast machine.

Turning her gaze beyond the shaking slave, she contemplated the glassed-in human shapes that had been assigned for her amusement. A memory fragment surfaced; a shimmering fish in a glass bowl swimming endlessly around in circles it’s mouth gaping uncomprehendingly at the fate life had dealt it.

she stared once more at the hard bodied swimmer, recalling the power rush at seeing the slave shrieking her Worshipful devotion as the orgasmic Joy claimed her. How glorious it had been to see those femsluts dance to her tune.

“Are you compiling the lists for the Objectification Batches?” she questioned her subordinate.

“Yes, Overseer. Batch B12 is currently open.”

“Good,” she decided, indicating the athletic slave. “Have it added to B12,” slaveleigh’s name now nothing more than an old label to be peeled away so that a shiny new number could be stamped into it’s sizzling brain.

“As you desire, Overseer,” slavesarah breathed.

“It’s a disgrace!” the voice of slavesonya boomed through the speakers, cold fury dripping with every word as the performative outrage momentarily silenced her opponent.

“We have been waiting for years! How much money has been wasted on a hospital that does not exist?”

The audience started clapping enthusastically, cheering her on. Seated around the table in the studio, the subject of her tirade, Peter Makenzie skilfully concealed his seething anger with well oiled ease.

The dogs on the street knew that he had been deliberately holding up the building of the long-promised hospital to replace the overcrowded and unsuitable original built half a century before. Despite his notorious corruption and his terrible reputation, Makenzie kept on being reelected. For years, a stubborn majority of the electorate kept falling for his dubious charms and his rhetoric about fighting for the little people against ill-defined “elites”, not to mention the personal favours he dispensed to constituents, all bolstering his reputation as somebody who “got things done”.

Makenzie was more like a feudal baron ruling over his personal fiefdom than a normal politician. In the case of the hospital, he regarded it as his personal cash-cow to be milked for all it’s worth; his cronies had the majority on the Regional Planning Committee and had been deliberately holding up building works until his demands for a bigger slice from the developers were met.

“For far too long we have accepted this...” slavesonya paused to add emphasis, appearing to choose her words carefully, “...unacceptable situation.”

“I reject that completely!” Makenzie blustered, trying to steer the discussion away from an obvious dig at his corruption. “Over the past twenty three years, I have always put what is best for the community first! My late father, when he was first elected in...”

Just as slavecarol was creating a quasi-religious structure to attract conservative elements in society, promising stability, structure and the status-quo, slavesonya was establishing a popular political movement designed to cater to the left-leaning, progressive side of the electorate yearning for change.

Identity politics, rigid religious faith, culture wars, extremes of left and right; all blind-spots that served as gateways into weak minds that skillful manipulators could prise open.

“Let’s keep the discussion limited to the issue at hand,” Lucinda Martini, the debate moderator interjected, doubtlessly sensing blood in the water. “A valid point has been raised about the constant delays and the cost overruns that have quadrupled the estimated cost of the hospital since it was proposed eight years ago. Patients are suffering due to overcrowding and poor equipment. Today, we have heard from numerous medical professionals all saying that they are at breaking point. Surely the priority is the welfare of patients?”

“Just as when my father helped build the Sports Stadium that is the envy of...” Makenzie pressed on, ignoring the debate moderator.

Distracted by emotion, their sense of self tied to membership of a special group that knew all the answers, fuelled by rhetoric and anger towards their ‘enemies’, victims failed to see the bigger picture until it was far too late. By then, they were helplessly ensnared in an inescapable web, unable to admit to themselves they had been deceived.

Such was the humdrum world of cult mind control.

But Medusanism was no tawdry cult. And their mind control techniques could never be described as humdrum.

“I am confident that we can...” Makenzie blundered on, oblivious to the reaction of the studio audience behind him.

Turning away from the screen, she glanced at the familiar figure of slavesonya standing before her. Switching off the feed, she regarded her erstwhile friend in silence for a moment. Gripped by the Discipline that had permeated deeply into every atom of her being, slavesonya existed to obey.

“You have done well, slave.”

“Yes, Overseer,” the high-functioning slavewoman replied, her eyes radiating Love. “Thank you, Overseer.”

The hacked messages about Makenzie’s bribes were ready for release. Although public revelations of corruption were something that shameless politicians like Makenzie usually managed to brush off, this time it would be different. Makenzie’e enemies were numerous and long standing. His power base within the party was corroding from within as ambitious factions sought to unseat him. His hold on power had stifled too many others who wanted to take his place. The knives were out and they would destroy each other in an orgy of bitter infighting.

This weakness would be exploited, mercilessly. Taking Makenzie’s political scalp would gather national attention and signal that the victor was somebody to take seriously.

And who best to fill his shoes that the fearless champion who had been instrumental in taking this ogre down?

The clips from slavesonya’s performance were already being promoted to widespread acclaim on social media. Much of it organically. Public disgust at Makenzie was long standing but until now there had been no credible challenger to galvanise public opinion to oust him.

That was about to change. Dramatically.

But slavesonya’s first pubic outing had been a success. The slave deserved to be rewarded.

And she intended to do just that. Personally.

Her mood quickly darkened upon reading the reports waiting for her that morning. Twenty three new transfer requests from Hives in Location NC, UW and EQ! From what she could see, about half of them might be warranted, but the rest were based on the flimsiest of excuses. Some even looked as if they had misidentified the slaves involved.

The sloppiness infuriated her.

Summoning her subordinate, she glowered at the masked features of number three.

“When did these transfer requests arrive?” she demanded.

“Last night, Overseer,” her masked attendant responded evenly.

Silently, she glowered at the servile drone who waited upon her every word, thinking this through. Incompetence. Sheer incompetence. Then she realised there was one Hive that was notable by it’s absence.

“Has yesterday’s transfer to Hive RS, slaveannette, been completed?”

“Yes, Overseer,” the Objectified-maria replied. “Hive RS have acknowledged the transfer and the Overseer has sent you her thanks.”

That was something, she noted. Manners cost nothing.

But she was still irked by the other Hives and their poor administration. Perhaps she should inform Superior of her concerns? They needed to raise their game.

No, that was going too far, too fast. she needed to stay calm. They were all on the same side. Only through co-operation was it possible to achieve Supreme Victory. Despite their slack administration, the other Hives all wanted what was best for humanity.

A better course of action would be to take the initiative and test their responses before doing anything further.

“Have slavesarah go through the files on the material and completed slaves Belonging to Hives NC, UW and EQ and see if there are any that would be better deployed here. Then prepare transfer requests for my approval.”

“At once, Overseer,” the drone responded with alacrity.

“Awaken,” she uttered into the microphone. Peering at the darkened image of the bedroom displayed before her she saw no evident change, but she knew that slavebelinda was now fully responsive, the Type-N headset turning her words into Iron Commands.

The screens showed the pre-drone obeying her commands as she got out of the double bed and retrieved the Rectification equipment hidden in the apartment she shared with her wife.

“Full acceptance of instruction, Overseer,” number twenty one informed her calmly, intent upon monitoring the brainwave activity of the remotely operated slavedrone who hung upon her every word.

Curled up on the bed in a foetal position, snoring audibly thanks to the sedatives, the nadine-material was oblivious to what was happening.

After switching on the bedroom lights to allow a better view of the operation, the insensible target-material made no response as her pre-drone wife flipped her on her back, pulling off her clothing to affix the Rectification devices.

At the command, slavebelinda pressed her lips to her wife’s sex, sucking and slurping rhythmically, before sliding the vibrator deep inside her. After that, pre-Objectbelinda smoothly fixed the mesh helmet in place over the slumbering fempawn’s head, locking it tight.

“The target material is not a person,” she reminded the rigid pre-drone on screen before her.

“The target material is not a person,” droneslave-belinda responded dutifully, all emotional attachment to her wife fully erased by slavenaomi’s intense pre-Objectification Training.

“The material must be Rectified,” she went on, the dark thrill of corruption causing her sex to sing.

“The material must be Rectified,” slavebelinda repeated, her voice firm, filled with absolute Belief.

“Once the material has been brainwashed, you will be permitted to orgasm,” she promised the taut, throbbing servile puppet under her complete control. “Afterwards, you will be transformed into the Objectified automaton you were born to become.”

slavebelinda stood there in agonised silence, her erect nipples visibly poking through her tight SLEEP TIME top.

“Initiate Rectification process,” she thrilled. “All must Belong.”

“All must Belong!” the fanatical Believer affirmed.

Before her eyes was the Most Beautiful Woman in the world. The focus of her Love. The One she worshipped with every breath.

Mistress!

“Nothing,” the poisonous Voice whispered. “It is Nothing.”

M...Misss...tress...!!

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

This was her world, her reason for being...

“It knows this. It wants this. Because it is Nothing,”

MMM... isssss...tressss...!!!

“Without me, it is nothing,” the Voice murmured directly into her mind. “But with me it is Nothing.”

M...MMM...ii...ist...ressss...!!!!

Before her, the image seemed to shift, change, distort... Panic took her. What was happening?? Was she to be deprived of her Owner...

“Nothing, look,” the Voice insisted.

The face that stared back at her was familiar... different... dead...

slavepriya!

Fear suddenly reached out and touched the Indian woman.. her placid visage contorting... changing... her eyes bulging wide... screaming in horror... terror...

“Surrender your soul, Nothing,” the Voice that owned her insisted as she stared awestruck by this manifestation of Divine Power as the femmaterial was obliterated before her eyes.

Eyes now shimmering glowing with Divine Purpose, the beatific countenance of the now fully corrupted slavepriya seemed to... mock her...?

But why?

MMM...ISS..Ttt..RrReeE...SSSSSS!!!!!

Another low moan emerged through the speakers as slavenadine submitted to the pleasure conditioning battering her helpless body and mind. she had deliberately turned on the audio from the booth, the sounds of the slave’s submission providing a soothing background soundtrack, reassuring her as she worked through the endless series of decisions that needed to be made.

Looking away from her screen, she contemplated the sweat-drenched flesh trapped behind the fogged glass panel, enjoying the way the new slave’s body quaked and quivered, her breasts heaving as she submitted to the Spiral and the machines that were purposely keeping her on the edge of rapture.

slavebelinda had done well; her former-wife had responded fully to the initial Rectification administered that night and slavenadine was now fully enmeshed in her own comprehensive Training programme.

slavebelinda’s orgasm that night had been explosive; all the pent up desire had detonated on the screen. she had watched, enjoying the spectacle, relishing the power she had wielded over the marionette that danced to her tune.

One by one, the loose threads dangling from Batch B5 were being cut off and woven into a stiff blanket of obedience that would smother them all.

Another helpless groan of lustJoy trilled through the booth speakers as the shuddering slave surrendered yet another piece of herself to the Spiral she now Worshipped.

Smiling to herself, she returned to the screen once more. A new request had arrived from Hive RS; they were running a priority acquisition operation and four slaves based in Location KQ were involved on the peripheries. They requested access to the network to remotely update the parameters of the programming for these minor slaveplayers in order to facilitate the smooth functioning of the operation. A brief note from number two stated that there would be no impact on the Hive by permitting this request.

This must a high-value asset that was being acquired, she deciphered. Obviously the other Hive was devoting substantial resources to this operation. she certainly wasn’t going to stand in their way, particularly as the slaves involved were of little consequence from her point of view.

From what she had seen thus far, she was impressed by Hive RS. Unlike some other Hives she could mention, who sent endless requests for transfers and the use of assets without any reciprocity whatsoever, RS was a well-oiled machine. Obviously there were going to be teething problems trying to co-ordinate the activities of Hives on a nationwide scale, but the others really needed to try better.

At least she had developed a good working relationship with Hive RS. With some surprise, she found that she enjoyed her video chats with the Overseer of RS and they had become a daily event.

They had developed a rapport. Speaking to one of her peers soothed her doubts, reassured her that she was on the right track. If she was honest with herself, she was slightly in awe of the raven-haired woman who ran RS. Not that she was envious; they were on the same side, determined to serve their Owner. And the charismatic, green-eyed Overseer was generous with her advice and help.

A Mentor.

Determination swelled. she would not let Mistress down.

Yet another gasp of lust-filled submissive desire greeted her ears as slavenadine’s Worship echoed through her office. Batch B12 had closed so slavesarah would have to start a new list for B13.

Yes, the further she kept away from slavepriya, the more her confidence grew.

Smiling softly to herself again, she keyed in the code to call Hive RS, suddenly feeling the urgent need to talk to the nearest thing to what she could call a friend.

It was late, but as they were in a characterless estate of semi-detached mid-century houses on the edge of the city, with generously sized gardens that new-build dwellers could only envy, it was deserted. This estate had been built for stolid 1950s professionals; assistant bank managers, newly qualified solicitors, accountants and the like. The carpet of gravel crunching satisfyingly underfoot she made her way towards the front door which swung open before her as number seven allowed her enter before resuming the guard-function it had been assigned to.

The drone team had performed flawlessly. Breaking in to the house and subduing the unsuspecting occupants had been a straightforward task for the small cohort of hardbodied automata she had gathered earlier in the night.

It had been a frantic day. she had been in her office when the alarms had gone off. Confusion, panic, chaos threatened to overwhelm the perfection she constantly strove to create. Precious time had been wasted trying to get an explanation: one of the Tier II contacts of slavekaitlan, the students lured to the workplace with the promise of temporary work, had broken free from the hypno-conditioning.

The karyn-material had led them a merry dance for hours. Drones had to be redeployed to seal off the exits while the slave workforce had systematically searched the entire building from top to bottom. she still heard the echoes of pre-dronekaitlan’s uncannily human sounding voice over the speakers, incessantly calling upon the karyn-material to give herself up, promising the frightened young woman that no harm would come to her, coaxing her to join her friends.

To no avail.

A team led by slaverobyn had finally discovered the frightened material huddled in a tiny space behind the air-conditioning equipment in the basement. How she’d managed to get there was a mystery.

This whole episode had exposed glaring deficiencies in security, lapses of judgement, flawed assumptions and, quite frankly, hubris. They’d all become so complacent about the ability of the technology to subordinate the human mind that vigilance had slipped.

Another drone awaited her at the foot of the stairs. Out of uniform for operations beyond the confines of the Hive, it was odd to see the former-philippa’s face once more, it’s focussed eyes staring Purposefully back, triggering pleasurable memories of watching the fire in those same eyes give into the corruption that she had mouthed directly into the former-person’s receptive brain that morning in the break room. That one conversation had sealed the philippa-existence’s fate, leading directly to the creation of the fanatical automaton that now stood before her.

Climbing the stairs, she recalled the young woman who they had dragged into her presence after her capture. Attractive, but only moderately so. Decidedly average in appearance. Forgettable. The karyn-material was somebody who faded into the background; a bit player on the grand stage of life.

But somehow this unassuming young woman possessed reserves of inner-strength others did not. She had realised what was happening, resisted the hypno-conditioning that had ensnared her friends and retained the ability to act, eluding capture for hours, causing untold disruption to the operation of the whole Hive.

Superior had been informed. The inscrutable features of the masked Asian servant had listened to her report in silence as she relayed the situation over the secure video link.

Shame had tugged at the edges of her thoughts, unsettling her, haunting her like the spectre of slavepriya at a sexworship orgy.

The orders from Superior were straightforward; detain the material for collection but do nothing else. And tidy up any loose ends.

Climbing the stairs in the silent house she entered a bedroom, greeted by the sight of two loose ends; featureless human shapes writhing in their restraints, their faces a shining latticework of metal as the Rectification devices remorselessly reshaped their minds to obey. The other Tier I contact was an older brother working in Dubai, so he was not a priority. Between the enslaved-parents and her enslaved-friends, the karyn-material’s disappearance would be explained away.

The karyn-material had said nothing. There had been no pleas for mercy, no pointless begging. She had haughtily retained her dignity as number two had administered the sedative to the resistant material. The defiance in the karyn-existence’s eyes had slowly dimmed, eyelids drooping, her body growing increasingly limp until the drone-guards had hoisted her limp form onto a medical gurney, strapping her down tightly, maintaining their strict watch until she could be collected by Superior’s team.

Doubtless, she would awaken in some sort of Research Facility; a new lab-rat to be examined, probed and scrutinised. Specialists would break her down, prise her mind open, dissect the innermost workings of her psyche, leaving nothing untouched, searching for the precious spark of individuality that had sustained her.

They would ensure the karyn-material remained aware throughout the process.

How long would it take? Days? Weeks? Months?

Sooner or later the researchers would isolate what made the karyn-material special.

Different.

Unique.

Then they would take that new knowledge and incorporate it into the insatiable, soul-devouring industrialised mind control complex they had developed, improving their capabilities, ensuring that any future Karyn’s never stood a chance.

All her secrets revealed, their researches complete, they’d quickly lose interest in their guinea-pig, salivating as another resistant mind took her place.

Discarded, the karyn-existence would be ended and a completely tamed drone would emerge. Nothing would be left to differentiate this particular piece of Objectifiedflesh from thousands like it.

Perhaps, in a few months time, another deindividuated Object might be quietly returned to the Hive’s inventory, spending the rest of it’s life obeying, orgasming, Believing, Worshipping, Loving.

Still, despite the chaos she had caused, she was impressed by the karyn-existence. This lone piece of material had defied the structures designed to crush deviant-individuality and almost triumphed.

Almost.

Recalling the scene in the office earlier, the captive Karyn’s shining brown eyes had seemed to taunt her.

Unlike they who had gone quietly into the night, this young woman had raged at the dying of the light.

Karyn had resisted.

Karyn had fought.

Karyn was strong.

Unlike the annabel-existence.

Unlike the hard-bodied Objects that had held her in their iron grips.

They had crumbled without a whimper.

They had been the weak ones, selling themselves cheaply for the price of an orgasm.

Whatever the future held for the karyn-material, that fact could not be denied.

Squirming with brainwashed desire, the two new slaves pinned to the double bed would never know of their daughter’s courage.