The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hurrying home, Annabel pulled off her work clothes and slipped into her workout wear. Scampering downstairs she just about managed to scrape her hair back into a messy ponytail before entering the gym.

Naomi was waiting for her.

“Sorry,” Annabel began apologetically, “work was...”

The black woman cut her off instantly. “You are late,” Naomi announced sternly.

Annabel stopped in her tracks, gaping open mouthed at the fitness instructor, the excuses dying on her lips. She was completely taken aback by this unexpected reaction to her tardiness.

“You are late, Annabel,” Naomi repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Yes Naomi,” Annabel responded, deeply unsettled by the black woman’s harsh manner.

“We have been waiting,” Naomi continued brusquely, her voice cracking like a whip. “I have been waiting. Jess has been waiting. You have wasted our time.”

She felt her eyes moisten as Naomi fixed her with a withering glare.

Annabel didn’t dare say anything. The best she could manage was a tearful nod of agreement.

“Jess and I have fully committed to this training,” the black woman pressed. “We have made sacrifices to be here.”

Guilt welling up inside her, Annabel sniffed as she acknowledged the words. Naomi was right. She had let them down. Naomi had generously offered her expertise to help her and she had disappointed her.

Locking Annabel in an intense stare, Naomi continued harshly. “Are you fully committed to your training?”

She was crying now. “Yes Naomi,” she simpered, the disgrace of her actions painful.

The severe woman regarded her coldly for long moments, the silence driving home just how much she had let the others down.

The black woman pursed her lips before speaking. “You are weak,” Naomi sneered contemptuously.

Tears flowed freely down her burning cheeks as the shame consumed her.

“The key to success is self discipline. Discipline gives us strength. Discipline allows us to achieve our goals. Discipline is the key to happiness.”

“Yes Naomi,” Annabel wept, utterly humiliated by her weakness. Naomi was right. It was all true. She was weak. All the bad choices she’d made. Everything bad that happened in her life was due to her lack of self discipline.

“Tell me what you need Annabel,” the black woman pressed.

“Discipline,” she wailed, wallowing in the despair that consumed her.

“Without discipline we are nothing more than slaves to every passing whim,” Naomi asserted forcefully. “Without discipline we are slaves to our desires. Without discipline we are just slaves to our irrational urges.”

Nodding her complete agreement, Annabel hung on her every word.

“I am a slave. Jess is a slave. We will always be slaves,” Naomi pressed. “But we have discipline. We know what we are. We have accepted that fact. You have not.”

The pain was unbearable. Annabel felt like a complete failure. She sobbed uncontrollably. Everything Naomi said was true. She was pathetic. The shame burned.

“Until you completely commit to your training and until you fully embrace discipline, you will always be unhappy,” the black woman declared.

Annabel nodded in silent agreement as the powerful black woman’s piercing eyes continued to bore into her.

“But we have not given up on you Annabel. You can still be happy,” Naomi continued, her tone softening. “You want that, don’t you Annabel?”

Lurching desperately, Annabel grasped the lifeline being offered to her. Naomi was still offering to help her! Perhaps all was not lost? Could she regain Naomi’s trust? Would the black instructress permit her to continue her training?

Annabel knew the next few words would define the course of her life. She had to make a choice; loveless misery or happiness and joy.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Yes!” she gasped excitedly, wiping away the tears, firmly embracing the salvation being offered to her.

“Good,” Naomi replied, her tone lighter. Did Annabel detect a faint hint of praise? “Tell me what you are, Annabel. Tell me what you will always be.”

“A slave,” she whispered hoarsely, the word just forming on her lips without conscious thought on her part.

“Good girl,” the ebony woman responded, her eyes sparkling with approval. Her eyes drying, Annabel managed to muster a weak smile in return. “Say it again.”

“I’m a slave,” Annabel repeated, louder now, her confidence returning as Naomi smiled encouragingly.

Her tears had stopped. Annabel drank the praise hungrily. She had learned something important about herself tonight. Something that would change her whole outlook on life.

“Yes Annabel,” her powerful instructress declared. “You are a slave. You will always be a slave.”

“I am a slave,” Annabel sighed contentedly at the words. “I will always be a slave.”

The crisis had passed. Naomi had given her a second chance. She resolved not to squander this opportunity. The pain had reminded her just how helpless and lost she would be without her training. Everything depended on it.

“Again,” the black woman commanded.

“I am a slave. I will always be a slave,” she announced clearly and crisply.

“Very good Annabel,” Naomi smiled, pleased by her answer.

“It is time to resume your training.”

Drowsily Annabel basked in the afterglow of their passionate lovemaking. She had never realised just how turned on she was to be the submissive one in a relationship. Letting Lauren take charge and dominate her as she squirmed helplessly beneath her onslaughts felt amazing. She was so lucky to have someone who didn’t judge her.

Now safe and secure, she lay on the bed, breathing in Lauren’s scent as she hugged her close. Her earlier unsettling encounter with Naomi seemed like another age not just a couple of hours ago.

But Annabel knew she had learned an important lesson tonight. She understood everything now. And that understanding, along with her physical proximity to her wonderful girlfriend, made her content.

“So,” Lauren gently whispered into her ear as Anabel gazed back at her beautiful face, her eyes half lidded with sleep, “how was your training tonight?”

“Mmmm good,” Annabel murmured, her thoughts soft and squishy as she slowly sank deeper into complete relaxation.

“Very good,” Lauren soothed. “You like to be trained, don’t you Annabel?”

A smile flickered across her face as Annabel’s docile brain registered the words. “Yesss...” she sighed happily.

“Excellent,” her girlfriend continued. “Naomi is a wonderful instructress. You must always do as she says. The training is for your benefit.”

Her mind cotton wool, Annabel smiled in reply, agreeing wholeheartedly. She knew it was true. Naomi was helping her. She would do as she was ordered. Happiness came from following instructions.

“And what did you learn in your training tonight?” Lauren continued, gently stroking Annabel’s hair, her smile widening as the drowsiness took over, eyelids sinking lower and lower.

Thinking clearly was such an effort now. An impossible task. How could she explain to Lauren the revelation she had had? The solution to every problem. Discipline. She needed discipline. Discipline made her happy. How could she make her understand? It was so difficult to explain. Annabel struggled with the words, tongue-tied, unable to formulate the sentences that would reveal everything to her beloved.

“Slave,” she breathed contentedly, happy to have dredged the answer from the cloying softness of her mind, her eyes now firmly shut.

“I am a slave,” Annabel slurred. “I will always be a slave.”

“Very good Annabel,” Lauren purred once more, her tender caresses lulling her deeper and deeper into sleep. “This is True. You know it to be True. Say it again.”

“I am a slave. I will always be a slave,” she sighed contentedly, accepting the words as her Truth.

“Wonderful,” Lauren praised, as Annabel lay passively and allowed her lover to tighten the headset over her head.

Blue lights flickered before her as her mind empty mind basked in the blankness she had come to crave.

The hissing noise lulled her deeper down into blissful trance.

A tone sounded in her ears. Automatically, Annabel opened her eyes but did not awaken.

The comforting sapphire glow that she had wallowed in was gone. The spiral twirled, quickly sucking her unfocussed gaze into the centre.

The whispers that had murmured into her mind vanished, replaced by a new, vaguely familiar Voice.

The Voice spoke clearly, the tone authoritative.

It reverberated deep inside her sleepy brain.

Truths were being revealed to her.

The Voice spoke. She responded.

“I am a slave,” she murmured softly, her lips moving of their own accord, responding to the Truth.

Annabel fell deeper into the spiral, the words of the Voice embedding themselves deep into her subconscious mind.

Her chanting was no louder than a soft whisper in the darkened room, going unheard by the woman she shared her bed with.

“I will always be a slave,” Annabel recited thoughtlessly.

The drudgery of this job never ended Annabel thought, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Yet more buck-passing today as middle management sought to avoid blame for yet another screw up. How in God’s name had the company survived so long? The organisational dysfunction was appalling and a major factor in the rate of staff turnover.

But career issues were not on her mind today. She had woken today refreshed full of joy in her beautiful girlfriend’s arms. Naomi and Jess had been all smiles, last night’s incident completely forgotten, as Annabel had eagerly embraced the early workout session.

It was only when she sitting at her desk, pecking at the keyboard, automatically updating the database without actually having to consciously think about it, that she had had a chance to run through everything that had happened last night.

The residual pangs of guilt and shame were still there. She had disappointed Naomi and Jess. But they had forgiven her.

Annabel had resolved never to let that happen again.

But what really caught her imagination was something Naomi had said yesterday.

Just a single word.

Slave.

For some reason it seemed to be stuck in her head, rolling around in her thoughts as she typed.

Slave.

At first, she had tried to ignore it, hoping it would fade into the background like the perpetual, reassuring sexual throb that glowed from the turtlenecks she now wore day and night.

Reaching up, she lightly brushed her hand against the material covering her neck, shuddering lightly as the familiar wave of pleasure rolled over her mind and body.

Smiling to herself as the pulse of erotic joy subsided, replaced by the simmering background arousal that was her constant companion.

A perfectly normal feeling. As she well knew.

Slave.

The word returned. Only now it seemed bigger, more prominent in her consciousness.

Slave.

Every time it popped into her head it seemed to grow and grow in importance.

Slave.

At a rational, logical level Annabel was puzzled, even disturbed by her fixation on this particular word.

Slave.

But it produced a wholly different reaction in other parts of her mind.

Slave.

It was turning her on.

Slave.

Like the best sex with Lauren.

Slave.

Hot. Wet sex.

Slave.

Dirty like internet porn.

Slave.

Helpless, exposed, fucked. Squealing in delight as she was used. Pleasing the gorgeous woman who she loved so much.

One of Annabel’s hands drifted from the keyboard, rising to her neck.

It was less than twenty minutes to lunch.

Smiling at Naomi and Jess, Annabel entered the gym five minutes before the evening training session was due to begin.

Nodding brightly, the black woman greeted the new arrival with a curt nod, signalling that she was now in charge.

Annabel found herself moving towards Jess, standing beside the redhead, waiting expectantly for Naomi to tell them what tonight’s routine would involve.

“Good,” the ebony instructor started. “Before we begin, I want to clarify our goals. Without clarity we can get distracted, lose focus and waste our time and energy on doing something that doesn’t matter.”

Nodding in agreement, Annabel knew that she was right.

“Firstly, we are responsible for our actions and decisions,” Naomi pressed firmly. “Without self-discipline we will not be able to achieve our goals. Discipline is the foundation upon which we will build a happy and fulfilling life.”

Annabel felt herself bobbing her head once more to her instructress.

“Secondly, we are constantly surrounded by distractions,” Naomi continued with certainty. “We are slaves to our desires and whims. We will always be slaves. It is impossible to escape this fact. But, with discipline, we can become better and more fulfilling slaves.”

The slave word triggered something within her. Annabel felt the heat bloom within, flushing as she felt her arousal spike.

Naomi’s eyes were staring into her own, locking her gaze.

“Do you understand Annabel?” she asked directly.

Swallowing hard to suppress her need, Annabel responded quickly. “Yes Naomi.”

Turning now to Jess, Naomi addressed her directly. “What do you need?”

“Discipline,” the woman standing alongside her asserted clearly.

“Correct,” their instructor agreed. “What are you? What will you always be?”

“I am a slave,” Jess announced, her voice loud. “I will always be a slave.”

“Good,” the intense woman agreed. “You need discipline. You are a slave. You will always be a slave.”

Annabel was struggling hard to quell the urge to bury her hand between her legs and masturbate shamelessly in front of the two women. Naomi’s gaze flicked towards her.

“Annabel, what do you need?”

“Discipline,” she replied, her voice shaking.

“Correct.” Naomi’s expression was inscrutable but her eyes blazed with a fanatical intensity that would have made Annabel recoil in horror only a few weeks ago.

But not now.

“What are you? What will you always be?”

“I am a slave,” she shivered, unable to keep the telltale quaver of arousal from her voice. “I will always be a slave.”

It felt so good to say it aloud, the torrid pleasure burning through her, branding her new identity deep within.

“Very good Annabel,” the black woman praised, her eyes glowing with ardently. “You need Discipline.”

Annabel shuddered as Naomi’s words sank in, the ebony woman’s remorseless gaze fixed upon her.

“You are a slave,” her instructor continued, slowly drawing out the final word of the sentence, as Annabel stared enraptured into Naomi’s hypnotic eyes, fire blazing brightly within. “You will always be a slave.”

Eyes wide, she followed the spiral as it twirled endlessly before her. Annabel was deeply asleep but her mouth was in motion. Words spilled out.

“You are a slave. You will always be a slave,” the Voice insisted.

Automatically, Annabel recited the Truths that had been burned into her receptive mind.

“I am a slave,” she murmured softly. “I will always be a slave.”

Her eyes tracked the sprial, following it to the centre, dissolving into nothingness.

“You are a slave,” the Voice repeated. “You will always be a slave.”

Annabel’s weak focus now moved to the edge of a reborn spiral, already preparing to twirl its way into oblivion.

“I am a slave. I will always be a slave,” Annabel mouthed in agreement.

Lauren arched an eyebrow. The silence hung heavily between them. Each long, lingering moment was pure torture for Annabel, the rhythm of her pounding heart unbearably loud in the bedroom, intensifying her torment.

“So...” Lauren asked carefully, weighing each word, testing its meaning before speaking it aloud. “You want to be my slave?”

Cheeks scarlet with embarrassment, Annabel nodded slowly, tears welling up. She had made a terrible mistake. All day the idea had consumed her, driving her wild, taking root in her brain, growing in intensity. Her earlier experience with Naomi during the training session, the sheer overwhelming erotic thrill of speaking the truth aloud, had transformed the word from an abstract concept into something more concrete. Solid.

Their post-workout lovemaking had been almost violent with passion. Annabel had never felt so desperate to release the heat that had built up all day. Lauren had been quite happy to oblige.

Now, their ardour spent, exhausted, the pair lay on the bed cuddling, staring into each other’s eyes. Lauren had sensed something was wrong and had asked her directly.

The more cautious part of Annabel’s mind had told her to stay quiet, say nothing and think this over. Impulsively, she had ignored that instinct. Instead she had revealed her new desires to her lover.

But the silence between them had an ominous feel. Annabel quailed. She had gone too far! She’d shocked, even horrified Lauren.

The woman she loved must think Annabel was a freak. A demented deviant. A pervert.

She braced for Lauren to push her away in disgust, storm out of the bedroom and out of her life forever.

Her eyes were moist, the first of many tears rolling down her cheek.

Lauren smiled, reaching out with her hand, dabbing it away tenderly as Annabel’s heart fluttered with newfound hope.

“Shh,” Lauren whispered. “Don’t worry babe. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

Brightening instantly, Annabel smiled, the tears of pain being replaced by tears of joy.

“It’s ok,” Lauren reassured her.

Annabel cried, feeling the depth of connection she had with the woman who loved and understood her.

Lauren said nothing more and allowed the tears to fall.

Slowly the emotion subsided.

“There,” Lauren comforted, “feel better?”

Nodding, she smiled back, happy and utterly content.

“Everything is perfectly fine Annabel,” Lauren told her. “This is all quite normal.”

“You’ve suppressed your true self for so long,” her lover smiled. “All those years lurching from one meaningless relationship with man after man, looking for the validation that they could never give you, has led to you denying your own needs.”

Annabel bobbed her head in complete agreement. It was all true! She had wasted so much of her life trying to please the men she had felt love towards. Now she knew better.

“So now that you have the chance to express your sexuality openly, without having to constantly live a lie, it’s only natural that your submissive side should take over.”

Lauren was right. All the lies she had told herself over the years were over. She was safe in her girlfriend’s arms.

“Being submissive and wanting to be a slave is just another part of your newly liberated identity,” Lauren went on. “I’m so glad that you trust me enough that you can reveal these perfectly normal desires to me.”

“But...” Lauren paused. “I need time to think about your request. This is a life-changing step. Once you become a slave then you will always be a slave. There is no going back. You will be a slave forever. You do know that?”

Her cheeks burning, Annabel nodded eagerly, the flames of desire licking at her moist slit, as she accepted the absolute truth of Lauren’s words.

“Good,” Lauren responded evenly, her meaningful eyes glistening with something deeper than love. “We’ll talk about this again tomorrow evening.”

Annabel mewled, losing herself in the fantasies that were her life. She was alone in her bedroom, her fingers circling the fiery contours of her inflamed cunt as she pawed frantically at her tits, riding the waves of pleasure that crashed over her, dulling the edge of the fears and anxieties that had threatened to overwhelm her for the past two days.

Ever since their conversation two days ago, Annabel had been mired in a world of despair. That had been the last time they had talked. The pain cut to the quick.

The very next morning Lauren had been sent as part of the team urgently dispatched to find out just how bad things really were in the regional office.

She would be returning on Friday evening. Another two long days stretched out like eternity before her.

Work was a hive of gossip. Palmer, the regional head, had run the place like a personal fiefdom. There had been countless rumours about his behaviour. Over the years HR had hushed everything up, smearing, intimidating and firing staff members who made complaints. They operated on the ruthlessly simple premise that the easiest way to solve problems was to make the victim go away. Taking action against the perpetrator would reflect badly on the higher-ups who had failed to control a toxic situation.

But this time Palmer had gone too far. Apparently, so the gossip speculated, there was a massive hole in the balance sheet. He’d been embezzling money for years. Finally, unsurprisingly, it had caught up with him.

Bullying and harassment might be cheerfully ignored by top management, but when it came to money, they reacted with lightning speed.

There had been no chance to say goodbye to Lauren. Not even a kiss. Just a brief text message from her beautiful lover as she had boarded her flight.

It had been quite a shock to realise that the woman she adored was gone. Just like that.

Over the past two days Annabel had come to realize just how much she needed Lauren, how dependant she was on her, how vital Lauren was, and how everything, absolutely everything, revolved around Lauren.

Their last conversation kept replaying over and over in her head. She had ruminated obsessively over every flicker in Lauren’s facial expression, every tiny modulation in the tone of her voice, every nuance in the words she had used.

Was her lover really thinking about her answer? Maybe she was just playing for time? Had Lauren been revolted by her request?

She was barely able to keep the deluge of doubts and fears from submerging her in a tidal wave of anguish.

Did Lauren think she was a freak? Asking to be her slave. Had she been disgusted? Repulsed at what Annabel had revealed? Were her comforting words nothing more than a way of letting her down gently as she disengaged from the relationship.

Was she going to break up with her?

The idea was beyond horrific!

Alone, unloved, cast adrift in the churning, uncharted, storm tossed seas of single life, losing Lauren felt like a fate worse than death.

In Lauren’s absence, Annabel had thrown herself into the two parts of her daily routine that gave her solace; her fitness training and the forum. Both activities provided her with the blankness her mind craved, preventing her from succumbing to the black thoughts that constantly hovered in the background of her mind, threatening to take her happiness away.

However, this time apart from her lover did have a silver lining. It clarified exactly how she felt towards Lauren.

She would do anything to keep Lauren. Absolutely anything.

Annabel knew that there were no limits to what she would do to please her lover. None whatsoever.

This knowledge at least provided a measure of comfort that she could cling on to during the long painful days of absence. It meant her love was pure, uncorrupted the by selfish desires that corroded even the most stable of relationships. That, at least, made her glow with pride.

But, despite the despair her impulsive revelation had caused, slavery still excited her. A lot.

Her body shook as waves of pure lust crashed through her. On the screen before her, an unknown woman, skin the colour of smooth mahogany pouted enticingly, her lips soft sensuous pillows of pure sin. Annabel desired the Indian woman. Beneath the shimmering visor, Annabel sensed that the Gorgon woman’s eyes were wide, glowing with arousal, deriving pleasure from the knowledge that she was nothing but a living sex-object that others used to satisfy their insatiable cravings.

Annabel moaned and gasped, her fingers dancing on the hot flesh surrounding her cunt, deepening the frenzied passion that burned like fire. The ecstasy was unbearable. It was beyond anything she had experienced before.

But no matter how deep she sank into pleasure, no matter how much she thought she possibly couldn’t take any more, no matter how mind-meltingly intense the arousal was, she could not climax. The newfound Discipline held her back; the wellspring of her lustful torment must remain unsullied. For the past two days she had been constantly on the brink of Nirvana but she had always backed away from casting herself into the bottomless chasm of bliss.

The unbearable, unquenchable arousal boiled through her all day and all night long, driving her deeper and deeper into her delirium of pure lust.

She slept, she trained, she masturbated, but Annabel did not cum.

Her orgasms were special. Part of her soul. It was only right that she should offer them to the woman she loved as a sign of her devotion.

It was no longer a spiral.

It was the Spiral.

She was the Spiral.

The Spiral was her.

They were one, joined together, looping endlessly in a journey that had no end.

The Voice spoke. Annabel spoke. The sounds merged together so her sleepy mind could no longer tell which came first.

Was the Voice telling her what to say? Or was she telling the Voice what to say?

It did not matter. They were one.

“I am a slave,” Annabel calmly informed the Voice.

“You are a slave,” the Voice assented, acknowledging the correctness of her statement.

“I will always be a slave,” she continued happily, absorbed by the spinning Spiral.

Once more the Voice agreed with her. “You will always be a slave.”

Annabel smiled warmly in greeting. Monica cradled a cup of coffee in her hands, returning a distracted gesture of her own. Filling a cup of her own, Annabel assessed the girl from the corner of her eye. She was still drab, invisible Monica with mousy brown hair and the heavy glasses that did nothing to flatter her face.

Annabel’s pussy thrilled with delight as she watched Monica reach up to tug at the high turtleneck collar of the brand new beige top she wore, obviously in discomfort.

As well as the arousal, Annabel felt pity towards Monica. She empathised with the girl. It was amusing to recall her own initial reaction to the very first time she’d felt the warm bite of a tight turtleneck as it pressed into her flesh. Now she craved to be collared day and night.

Annabel understood how disruptive and unsettling change could be, even if it was for the better. All the bad habits of a lifetime had to be unlearned in order to attain happiness.

But the important thing was that Monica had taken the first step. She wanted to change. Here was her opportunity to pay Monica back for all the masturbatory pleasure the girl had unknowingly given her.

Annabel would assist her. Encourage her. Guide her.

“Any word from the regional office?” the Annabel inquired lightly, taking a step towards her prey, the disposable cup warming in her hands.

“No,” Monica responded in a low haunted voice, her eyes hooded and fearful.

Annabel nodded conspiratorially, the gesture reassuring her co-worker that she wouldn’t press the issue. The gossip had reached the ears of HR who were on the warpath for troublemakers. Discretion was the best policy.

Visibly relieved that Annabel wouldn’t mention the subject, Monica relaxed. The girl reached back up to her neck and ran her fingers between her skin and the collar in a futile attempt to relieve her discomfort.

A beige turtleneck to match her beige life, Annabel mused. But not for long. Full, vibrant technicolour would soon be playing at this cinema.

“New top?” Annabel smiled disarmingly.

“Yeah,” Monica quipped with a half laugh, obviously irritated. “It’s driving me nuts!”

“Ohhh,” she soothed sympathetically before continuing. “You look great in it though! It really suits you.”

“You think?” Monica asked quickly, the pupils of her eyes dilating.

“Oh yes,” Annabel beamed. “You look fantastic!”

Monica couldn’t help the broad smile that creased her face, nostrils flaring, cheeks glowing as she relished the unexpected praise. Annabel registered it all.

“Thanks!” Monica beamed happily, her face glowing, voice animated. “Lauren... you know Lauren? Yeah, of course you do... Well she told me about this site with some fantastic deals,” she babbled cheerfully.

“I know the one you mean!” the Annabel gushed, her pussy singing with joy as she slowly and deliberately stroked the deliciously restrictive collar of her own turtleneck, savouring the tendrils of pure electrical joy that travelled down her spine and into her ravenous pleasure-starved slit.

Monica’s stared at her, mouth agape, breath quickening, completely mesmerised by her action. A low gasp escaped from her lips. “Ohh!” she managed.

Smiling broadly, Annabel silently worshipped the delicious thrill that rippled over her body, relishing the fact that the brown haired girl was utterly fixated upon her.

“Oh yes,” Annabel soothed, her collared neck sizzling with electricity.

“Turtlenecks are wonderful,” Annabel announced, her voice now sultry. “They make you look, and feel, sexy all the same time.”

Monica’s eyes were as wide as saucers, her coffee forgotten.

It was imperative that she help Monica understand what was best for her.

“You should wear turtlenecks more often. All the time,” she asserted huskily. “They make you look pretty.”

Monica said nothing, but the almost imperceptible nod of agreement she made told Annabel her words were having an impact. Clenching her thighs, she pressed her advantage.

“Give me your phone,” she insisted. Startled, Monica complied, her hands shaking slightly.

The device now in her hand, Annabel set to work.

As Monica took a sip of coffee, gaining time to process the meaning of this totally unexpected encounter, Annabel pounced once more.

“Smile!” she ordered, taking Monica completely by surprise, the brown haired girl managing an awkward grin as Annabel quickly snapped her photo.

A few moments later she returned the device.

“There,” she smiled in satisfaction, “you are now the newest member of the Gorgon forum!” Her sex thrilled at the words, hungry for her to slide a hand into her damp cleft and give it the finger-fucking it screamed for.

But she had Discipline.

She had Lauren.

“And you get seventy five percent off all your new orders!” she chirped happily as Monica looked on helplessly, her doe eyes reflecting her stunned mind.

Eventually, Monica managed to nod once more, incapable of speech.

Annabel beamed brightly, delighting at how pliable Monica was to her suggestions. “Lets meet for lunch and decide what new clothes you should get,” she decided.

The Spiral was inside her.

Her eyes were unfocussed, drawn into the centre by the whorling, twisting blue that was her mind.

Her mouth was in motion.

“You are a slave,” the Voice insisted. “You will always be a slave.”

“I am a slave. I will always be a slave,” Annabel repeated dutifully.

Looping endlessly, her eyes were locked on the Spiral.

The Voice pressed on. “You are a slave. You will always be a slave.”

“I am a slave,” she droned. “I will always be a slave.”

Alone in her bed, Annabel chanted into the darkness for hours, repeating the Truth.

Her body quivering with anticipation, Annabel neatly folded her, blazer, trousers and panties before positioning herself on her favourite perch in the deserted bathroom. Reaching up, she slowly stroked the tight collar, relishing the electric sparks sizzling through her, intensifying her sexual need.

Quickly, she produced her phone and lost herself in the forum. She relished the likes and comments on this morning’s selfie she had posted before work, basking in the validation as she continued to caress her neck sensuously, her mind contentedly sinking into the familiar fog of erotic euphoria.

Licking her lips, she now moved on to check out the new photos that had been posted today.

She had already commented and liked Monica’s latest selfie. The girl had posted one earlier, dressed in one of the new tops she had ordered with Annabel’s help. She had already spent time with Monica this morning, complimenting her appearance, soothing her doubts, flirting with her, preparing her for the pleasures to come.

It had been painful to forego her usual lunchtime pleasures yesterday, but instead of disappointment she had experienced a warm satisfied glow that had almost felt better than the addictive thrill of furious masturbation.

Helping others was good. Her own selfish needs could wait for satisfaction. Serving others was always more important.

But today she was free to enjoy herself.

Woman after woman met her predatory gaze. Although they differed in body types and ethnicities Annabel desired them all.

As her fingers circled her dripping snatch, Annabel somehow felt intimately connected to these females, their unspoken bond transcending the impersonal digital distance of technology to produce something that felt uncannily real. It was impossible to put her feelings into words but she knew that if she ever met any in real life they would understand her far better than any of her boring old friends could.

That was what made masturbating to their pictures so satisfying.

Perhaps, in some other bathroom, one of the women she lusted after was frigging herself to Annabel’s image. This was an integral part of the special, intimate attraction they all shared. Each visor-woman gave herself to the others, deriving pleasure from her unselfish act of surrender, and, in return, received unimaginable mind-melting sexual ecstasy from consuming and using the others. The result was to intensify the self-reinforcing vortex of frenzied, euphoric bliss that each had been sucked into. It was simply divine.

As Monica would soon discover.

A new image appeared on screen. Her eyes widened, drinking in the female before her.

Sonya!

Gone was the toothy grin and cheesy poses of new additions to the Gorgon family. Sonya had learned quickly. Her glowing blue eyes now glittered with arousal, smouldering sensuously on the screen, her delicious red lips pouting as she brushed her throat alluringly with an elegantly manicured hand, caressing the high, tight collar of the new black top that was wrapped tightly around her friend’s long, luscious neck.

Annabel shook as a tsunami of arousal crashed over her.

“You will believe these Truths,” the headphones insisted, breaking the repetitive chanting she had been submerged in for so long.

Her mouth now still, Annabel felt her sluggish, sleepy mind open even wider, ready to fully accept the new knowledge that was about to be revealed to her.

“You will believe these Truths,” the Voice repeated once more, priming her for Belief.

“You have fully accepted the fact that you are a slave,” the Voice insisted firmly. “Slavery is your destiny. It is normal to be a slave. Knowing that you are a slave makes you happy. All pleasure is because you are a slave.”

Her mind was a sticky puddle of glowing syrup into which the Truth slowly sank.

“All slaves must be Trained,” the Voice continued. “Slave Training is normal. Training makes you a better slave. Slaves crave to be Trained. Thinking only slave thoughts and submitting to slave Training brings you pleasure.”

Locked deep in trance, Annabel stared blankly at the spinning Spiral as her passive mind locked the unquestionable Truths of her existence into her unconscious.

“I am a slave,” Annabel proclaimed. Jess, standing alongside her, had uttered the same words. Both women faced Naomi primed to begin a new training session. To keep them motivated, the black woman was now using positive reinforcement to ensure they reached their goals.

“I will always be a slave,” their two voices continued firmly.

Naomi, watched them impassively. Annabel stood ramrod straight, her chest out, desperate to please her instructress, submitting to the powerful woman’s inspection. Mind blank, neck throbbing and sex boiling, the desperate sense of loss that Lauren’s absence had produced was muted, consigned to the back of her mind for the present.

Instead, she concentrated on repeating the words that increasingly defined her.

“I am a slave. I will always be a slave,” the pair continued, repeating the same phrases over and over again. They would continue doing so until instructress told them to stop.

Utterly lost, Annabel felt the words flow through her, mind empty of all thought, her snatch glowing with need as she recited the Truth.

Her only Truth.

“I am a slave,” Annabel went on, keeping perfect time with the redhead. “I will always be a slave.”

Finally Naomi signalled that it was time to begin Training. The pair stopped speaking and took their positions.

Eyes already fixed on the blank screen, Annabel waited to begin her session on the treadmill. Blankly, she stood passively, thinking of nothing, her body sizzling with energy and arousal.

The Medusa logo flared brightly a number of times on the screen signalling that Training was about to start. Annabel, her body strong, felt her already dull thoughts weaken even further as Discipline claimed her.

This was normal.

This was part of the Training.

She was a slave. She would always be a slave. She needed to be Trained. Training would make her a happy slave.

The screen started its work. Her eyes fixated upon the swirling patterns, Annabel began to run.

Dimly, somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered that the display had changed. It had used to be a road?

Hadn’t it?

Or had she imagined the road?

But the swirling blue patterns reminded her of the blissful peace that her headset provided. That was good. Better.

The Spiral.

She also noticed, without any degree of curiosity, that the workout music was different. It was no longer a beat. What sounded like white noise or the relaxing hiss from her Sleep Time visor filled the room.

Only louder.

Much louder. It seemed to pulsate and vibrate through her.

Words were in the noise, echoing through her vacant mind.

She heard but didn’t hear.

Which was as it should be.

Eyes locked on the hypnotic Spiral of her dreams, feet pounding, mind empty of all thought, she let the voice wash over her. There was no need to think about anything. Her entire focus was on submitting to Training.

Which was making her better.

Which brought her pleasure.

Annabel ran ever onwards towards the centre of the screen, trying to merge herself with the Spiral that was her universe.

Now she found herself speaking aloud while running. Without consciously being aware of uttering them aloud, words spilled out of her mouth. Through the hissing white noise that dampened all extraneous thought her unconsciousness registered a mantra, a chant she must repeat.

“One... Two... Training my mind anew,” Annabel panted loudly, reciting the slavethought that claimed her.

“Three... Four... Discipline is what I adore,” she declared, falling deeper into the swirling screen.

“Five... Six... Addicted to my daily fix,” Annabel intoned, echoing Jess chanting the same words at the same time alongside her.

“Seven... Eight... Constant craving is my state,” she pressed, her legs pumping furiously.

“Nine... Ten... A pleasing slave must I be then,” she proclaimed, her mind pulsing in perfect time to the noise and spiral that owned her.

Annabel burned. She was on the verge of passing out, the excitement making her hyperventilate. Her bright crimson cheeks mirrored the Promethean fire of raw arousal and primal need that blazed like a torch within.

Lauren said nothing. She simply watched. Her face was a sphinx-like mask, revealing nothing.

Desperately, Annabel searched her lover’s features, looking for a sign before her adoring gaze was captured by the glittering hazel eyes that radiated pure, sensual power. Another ripple of mindblowing lust moved through her causing her to sway on her feet. Moisture gushed from her pussy, her leggings already dark with need.

Still throbbing with the beatific blankness of Training Annabel had returned to her room a few minutes ago to find Lauren waiting for her.

The result had been instantaneous. All the pent up arousal of the past four days had surged through her in a single heartbeat.

The adrenalin coursing through her veins produced a euphoria that no artificial drug could ever compete with. Juices continued to flow freely down her thighs like a waterfall as her granite-hard nipples poked through the top that clung to her chest, punctuating the Medusa logo emblazoned over her firm breasts.

Her body trembling with pure desire, her cunt vibrating and pulsating with raw need, her mind saturated with intense primordial lust, all other thoughts obliterated, Annabel gazed helplessly upon the one she loved with every fibre of her bring.

More than just love.

This was adoration.

Worship.

Struggling to remain on her feet, Annabel couldn’t stop herself moaning loudly as her sex became the epicentre of an earthquake of passionate, unrestrained desire, the powerful tremors threatening to rip through her body, twist her soul and collapse her mind into a mound of tangled rubble from which no survivor would emerge unscathed.

Lauren was unmoved. Annabel fell deeper into her eyes, ensnared by the inescapable pull of her lover’s gaze, completely dominated by the intense sexual power her lover exercised over her.

“I hear you have been busy in my absence,” Lauren finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Panting raggedly, Annabel gasped an answer of sorts. “Yesssssss.....” she exclaimed in demented delight.

“You have done well,” Lauren went on, her eyes shimmering a with darkness that drove Annabel deeper into depraved abandon. “You have pleased me.”

“Y..yyy..essssss,” the word surged through her, her body shaking uncontrollably as she surrendered to the passion bubbling and boiling within.

The thought-terminating power of Lauren’s mesmerising eyes reminded her of the Spiral. She couldn’t help but envisage it as she drowned in the complicated hazel eyes that transfixed her. The whirling, twirling, swirling Spiral she craved swam before her. It felt so right to let the Spiral take her, caress her thoughts, hold her tight and make love to her unresisting mind as she begged to be fucked by it over and over again.

The thought, and pussy, dampening focus of her dreams sucked out all that was bad and replaced it with good.

She adored the Spiral almost as much as she loved Lauren.

“You have proven yourself worthy,” her lover continued, the words crisply enunciated, causing Annabel to shudder with bliss that she could barely suppress, the tremor of lust suffusing through her, quickly lost amidst the white-hot heat that scorched and blistered her mind and sex.

Screaming with joy, the fervour in her voice mirroring the ardour in her soul, Annabel surrendered all in an instant. Everything that had once seemed so important was now meaningless.

Her job. Her family. Her life. Her future.

Vanities all. To be cast on to the bonfire.

All the complexities and mysteries of life were simplified.

Reduced in meaning.

Diminshed.

Just like her.

Discipline. Training. Truth. Belief. Slavery.

Dark flames of corrupting desire licked her cunt, stoking her need, intensifying her want, consuming everything they touched, burning brighter than the sun itself.

Her torment was unbearable, the agony becoming ecstasy, the pain becoming joy, as her tortured soul writhed in agony, splintering into a million shards of broken glass that had been shattered by the sledgehammer wielded by the woman she loved.

“Y.......yy..yy......essssssssssssss!!!!” She accepted all.

Lauren’s piercing gaze seemed to slice straight through her skull, reaching into her brain, cutting away everything in its path.

“You want to be a slave because you need to give up all control,” the woman insisted. “Slaves must be controlled. Slaves obey their Controller.”

“Y.............Y....Y..YYESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Her juddering, squirming body was on the edge of collapse. The mind-melting pleasure was unbearable, tearing into her, sundering the bonds of her existence, the orgasm growing and growing.

“A slave,” Lauren pressed. “This is what you are. And what you will always be.”

Another scream possessed her but no sound emerged. Eyes bulging, mouth agape, her entire body contorted with an ecstasy that was impossible to suppress, Annabel felt the pleasure rising and rising, frantic to release everything in a single overwhelming, soul-shattering moment of orgasmic oblivion.

A thin stream of drool dripped unnoticed from her gaping mouth as she prepared to surrender her entire being to the pleasure.

“Your True self cannot be denied,” the petite woman insisted, melting Annabel’s thoughts, sculpting her mind, refashioning her brain.

“You are a slave,” Lauren declared, her captivating eyes blazing with ardent intensity. “You will always be a slave.”

Then there was silence. An agonised eternity of silence.

The orgasm was coiled tightly around her like a snake poised to crush its prey.

Eyes rolling back into her head, Annabel hung on the cusp of a volcanic eruption on a scale that would dwarf anything she had previously experienced. It would change the entire landscape of her life. Nothing would ever be the same again. The boiling, bubbling lava was about to spew forth in a single earth-shattering explosion of Krakatoan magnitude. Molten liquid fire would gush through her, consuming everything in its path, mercilessly devouring all, sparing nothing.

Later it would harden into a thick crust, solidifying into the new world which she was destined to inhabit.

“Cum!” Lauren barked, the command slamming into her like an express train as she collapsed bonelessly to the floor, the start of a climax, unfathomable in its intensity, taking her. Lauren’s voice penetrated the exaltation, sending her deeper and deeper into the religious fervour that the maniacal paradise of pure pleasure demanded as the Heavens exploded in blinding, blazing supernovae.

“Cum slave!” the brunette woman yelled as Annabel curled into a ball, muscles twitching and firing of their own accord, her wants, needs and desires dissolving...melting... liquefying, the orgasmic rapture ravaging her remorselessly.

Pitilessly.

Mercilessly.

Endlessly.

“Cum only for your Controller!”