The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Spiral was her.

She was the Spiral.

She was asleep but not asleep.

She was aware but not aware.

The Spiral twirled endlessly reaching into the deepest crevices of her pliable mind, filling it with slavethought.

Slowly the Spiral faded.

Images now appeared, flashing rapidly before her intent gaze.

Familiar.

Comforting.

Reassuring.

Arousing.

Photo after photo of the same woman, her face partially obscured by the shimmering silver covering her eyes and ears, flickered past annabel’s wide eyes. Cheeks flushed with arousal, lips pouting sensuously, the visored female presented herself time and time again in image after image.

The endless procession of pictures bombarded annabel’s receptive mind, her arousal growing and growing as she gaped at this wanton slut that simply oozed pure sex.

The slave wanted her.

The uncontrollable, insatiable, desperate need to have sex with the woman rushed through annabel.

She wanted to take her. Fuck her. Hard.

The fantasy was so vivid, so real. Arousal boiled like superheated steam surging through her body, transforming her into a puddle of molten lust. Yes, she could see her now; the visored woman’s body spasming and twitching uncontrollably as she shrieked in agonised ecstasy as climax after climax ravaged her, surrendering completely.

On and on, more and more images danced before her eyes in a kaleidoscope of sex.

She imagined the woman on her knees, arms behind her back, chest thrust out, her entire being quaking with need. The submissive female was nothing more than a horny slut begging to be Used by a dominant woman... no, more than a woman... a Mistress!

Where had that word come from? It had just suddenly popped into her head.

Mistress.

But the description felt right. It was right.

Moaning unheard into the darkness, slaveannabel’s body shuddered and quaked as the flames of desire licked at her soul. The visored female was nothing more than a piece of debased fuckflesh, reduced to nothing more than a living sex-object for her Mistress.

Now, she visualised the sexwhore bound, heavy black leather restraints gripping her arms and legs, pressing her tightly against the bondage frame, the slut’s juices gushing like a torrent down her thighs as she trembled in anticipation of the delicious depravity about to be inflicted by her Mistress.

Her body writhing on the couch, the slave allowed the fantasies to penetrate her mind, twisting her, reshaping her as she squirmed helplessly, knowing that she must Believe.

Like a sudden ray of sunshine piercing the lustfog that blanketing her warped mind, realisation finally dawned.

These were her photos!

She was looking at herself!

All the headset-selfies she had posted on the forum were being displayed in an endless procession of cyber-porn.

Moaning loudly into the darkness, the slave gave into the hunger. The need.

She wanted to fuck herself.

She wanted to be fucked.

The Voice oozed into her ears, whispering the Truth.

She was a slave. She would always be a slave. She obeyed.

As a slave she needed to be Used.

By a Mistress.

With sudden startling clarity, she knew this to be True.

The Truth was she craved to be nothing more than a living robot, mind and body pulsating with Discipline, willingly yielding herself to the desires of a Mistress, deriving pleasure from her complete submission, surrendering all power to whomsoever Used her.

She had always wanted this. It was normal to want this. The slave was perfectly normal.

All Truth was slavethought.

All slavethought was Truth.

The slutwhore vanished from her eyes, replaced by the essence of her being, the symbol that epitomised everything that the slave was and ever would be, the ultimate focus of her adoration. Awestruck by the glowing and pulsing vision that filled her, the slave worshipped the Holy Sign.

Pressed against the warm bodies of her sister slaves on the Training couch, slaveannabel’s body spasmed and twitched as the Voice ordered her to climax, the explosive orgasm obliterating everything but the Truth.

Screaming aloud as she came, the slave repeatedly repeatedly cried out the Blessed name of her Owner as she eagerly locked the heavy steel chains tightly around her corrupted soul, binding herself to eternal slavery.

Medusa!

Medu..saaa...!!

M...Meee...dusaaa..!!

Meddd...uuu...saaaaa!!!!!

MM...EDDDD...UUU...SAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

“Hello?” the familiar voice asked.

“Hi mom, only me!” the slave announched cheerily, her face animated. Before her the huge screen of the Training Room swirled and pulsed as the Spiral swam before her eyes.

“Oh Annabel!” the woman’s voice replied, thrilled. “How wonderful to hear from you!”

Vague, disjointed memories came into focus in her consciousness. There had been other phone calls, hadn’t there? Or had there? Maybe she had imagined them? But why would she remember them if they hadn’t taken place? The fragmented memories were confusing, disturbing, threatening... better to suppress them, much better to ignore them, far better to allow the Discipline to guide her.

Tautly at attention, arms by her sides, slaveannabel stared at the Spiral as the black slaveinstructress held the phone before her. The slave’s mouth was moving, the words spilling out.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry for not being in touch as much as usual these few weeks. Things have been really hectic lately.”

“You work much too hard Annabel,” her mother scolded her lightly. “You really need to get a better job. You can’t waste your time in that place. They just don’t value you.”

“I know mom,” the slave sighed in agreement, her eyes locked upon the Spiral that was the centre of her universe. “I know. You’re absolutely right.”

Changing the subject, the slave spoke once more, her tone now upbeat. “I’m thinking of coming home this weekend. How does that suit you?”

“Wonderful Annabel!” her mother gushed happily. “That’s perfect! The following weekend I’m helping Reverend Holloway with the new group. Ever since I started volunteering with that charity I’ve gotten a whole new insight into what goes on behind closed doors. Some of the stories I’ve heard would give you nightmares. Gambling, drugs, alcohol...all of them are just poison.”

“You’re right mom,” the slave’s lips agreed. “It’s great that you can help out. I know that you want to make a difference.”

“Well, ever since we lost your father I felt that I had to do something,” her mother sniffed with emotion. “When I married him he was the sweetest guy you could ever meet. But then he started drinking and it all changed. You were too young to really understand what was happening... If he hadn’t gotten behind the wheel that night all those years ago maybe he would still be here.”

“I know mom,” the slave soothed sympathetically, the Discipline holding her tight as she stared vacantly at the rotating Spiral, her pussy throbbing in time with every twirl.

“You’re looking wonderful,” Sonya breathed, unable to keep the arousal from her voice. The café was busier now as the lunch crowd started to file in. But having left work a few minutes early to meet Sonya meant that the two friends had managed to grab a table in the corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Weeks of constant Training had indeed improved her appearance, while the Discipline that was now woven into the fabric of her very being gave her the confidence and assurance that others seemed to be drawn to. But Sonya was no non-believer, even if she didn’t fully realise it yet.

“Thanks,” the slave gushed, her voice quavering with enthusiasm. “It’s all down to my new fitness trainer, Naomi.”

“Oh, wow!” Sonya breathed, captivated completely, her sparkling eyes locked on to the slave’s gaze.

“She’s an absolute miracle worker,” the slave pressed. “I’ve never felt so positive and full of energy in my whole life!”

“It’s not only the physical fitness side she works on but the mental aspect as well,” slaveannabel continued as her fingers lightly brushed the tight fabric that encased her neck, loving the ripples of sexual pleasure that cascaded through her being. “Naomi really makes sure that you have the right attitude towards life. She’s helped me so much with my goals.”

“Amazing,” Sonya breathed, a hand automatically snaking upwards to rub her own collar. With satisfaction, the slave noted the sudden flare that burst within Sonya’s eyes as her friend succumbed to the flames of desire she was now fanning. slaveannabel rejoiced in silence; by inducing heightened arousal in the target, she would be easier to control.

“Yes,” the slave pressed firmly, licking her lips as she dominated Sonya, who was still rhythmically stroking her neck, stoking the furnace between her thighs. “She is amazing.”

“I’ll introduce you,” the slave announced. “I think you will benefit from being Trained by Naomi. Being properly Trained will change your life for the better.

“Y..yesss Annabel,” Sonya agreed readily, her face flushing as the need suffused through her body.

“I’ll send her a text right now,” the slave smiled, pulling out her phone. “Perhaps she can meet us after we finish our lunch? The gym is nearby.”

“T..thank you Annabelll...” Sonya gasped greatfully, her body quivering with pent up lust as a storm of desire began to rage.

“No problem,” slaveannabel soothed sweetly. “That’s what friends are for.”

The Spiral swirled.

Her eyes were wide, staring.

Unlike her two sister slaves, whose almost robotic obedience was a source of awe, she knew that she was not yet fully Trained. There were doubts, hesitations, qualms that still troubled her. Disturbing thoughts, feelings of dread and anxiety, still managed to pierce the smooth carapace of Discipline that enshrouded her mind.

The Voice was speaking to her.

The Truth was that although she was a slave and always would be a slave, her mind contained two incompatible thoughtforms at present: annabelthought and slavethought.

The continuing struggle between these two thoughtforms was the cause of all distress.

annabelthought was the residue of her old unhappy life. It contained all the memories, emotions and experiences of her pre-slave existence. annabelthought resisted change. annabelthought wanted to drag her back to a time when she had been isolated, unloved and without purpose, before the bliss of Medusa had entered her life.

annabelthought brought fear, uncertainty, doubt and confusion, threatening to disrupt and destroy her happiness.

annabelthought was pain.

The Truth was that annabelthought must be purged.

The continued presence of annabelthought interfered with full slavethought obedience. This was why complete submission to Training and Discipline was so important.

Staring wide-eyed into the endless vortex of blue that filled her mind, the slave accepted all.

But, the Voice assured her, if annabelthought was her past, slavethought was her future.

slavethought embraced change. slavethought was exciting, making her pulse race and her slit drip with need. It was the foundation of joy upon which a new and perfect life would be constructed.

slavethought simplified everything.

slavethought was pure, untainted by selfish motives. slavethought was certainty, direction, Purpose and Discipline.

slavethought was the first rays of sunshine caressing her skin on a spring day after a long, dark winter.

slavethought was the electric tingles of joy suffusing through her body as she stroked her tightly collared neck.

slavethought was the Spiral, twisting and swirling endlessly before her as she sank into blissful trance.

slavethought was the thrill of masturbating to visored-whores displaying themselves as the sex objects they dreamed of becoming.

slavethought was the pleasurable thrill of soothing Monica’s fears, guiding her deeper, as she took the first tentative steps on her journey towards submission.

slavethought was the deep, dark erotic joy of betraying her friend, twisting Sonya’s mind into obedience.

slavethought was burying her tongue into the glistening snatch of her Controller, slurping eagerly as she brought her to orgasm.

slavethought was the strap-on pounding in and out of her ass as Controller rewarded her.

slavethought was Medusa.

Nodding cheerfully to the occupants of the break room, the slave refilled her cup of coffee and took a sip. Lauren was seated at the table with Monica, who was shamelessly flirting with her Controller. The once almost painfully reserved woman had long since disappeared.

From the corner of her eye, the slave observed the scene, but Lauren paid her no heed.

Without speaking, slaveannabel returned to her desk. Seeing her lover being hit on by another woman should have provoked intense jealousy, even anger. But no more. She felt quite calm. Her Training had seeped into every aspect of her life, making her more confident and resilient. All the petty concerns that had held her back over the years felt utterly ridiculous and inconsequential now.

The slave loved her Controller because she represented the Superordinate Will that dwelt deep within her mind. Obedience to her Controller was how the slave demonstrated her complete submission to the Entity she had come to adore more and more with every passing day.

Medusa.

The Truth made her pulse quicken.

She was a slave.

She would always be a slave.

She had Discipline.

Discipline formed a solid core within her mind around which slavethought revolved.

If her Controller required her presence she would be summoned. Otherwise it was not the slave’s place to distract her.

slaveannabel began to type on the keyboard, updating the database with the alterations specified by the lawyers about the Michaelson account.

A very small part of her conscious mind was devoted towards the task. But a much larger and more powerful part of her mind was not. Naturally, her thoughts turned towards the comforting mantra that had become the essence of her new, better, slaveself.

One... Two... Training my mind anew.

Three... Four... Discipline is what i adore.

Five... Six... Addicted to my daily fix.

Seven... Eight... Constant craving is my state.

Nine... Ten... A pleasing slave must i be then.

The words were automatic now. The slave found herself repeating slavethought without consciously thinking or questioning it. It was just there. All the time. Constantly reassuring her. Normalizing her slavish status.

One... Two... Training my mind anew.

Three... Four... Discipline is what i adore.

Five... Six... Addicted to my daily fix.

Seven... Eight... Constant craving is my state.

Nine... Ten... A pleasing slave must i be then.

Looping endlessly in the background of her mind, the mantra echoed through her, keeping the annabelthoughts that suddenly appeared in her head at bay.

One... Two... Training my mind anew.

Three... Four... Discipline is what i adore.

Five... Six... Addicted to my daily fix.

Seven... Eight... Constant craving is my state.

Nine... Ten... A pleasing slave must i be then.

Her coworkers were oblivious. They saw just another corporate stooge. But annabel knew better. She wasn’t one of them anymore.

She was so much stronger than the people around her.

Trained.

Disciplined.

Enslaved.

A slave was who and what she was. This was what the slave wanted, what she had always wanted.

More importantly, it was what the Divine entity that ruled her every thought and action, Medusa, wanted.

Slowly, her Controller’s climaxes faded.

“Good slave,” Controller purred, the words driving a ripple of pleasure through slaveannabel’s body. Her pierced sex was slick with delight as the obedient joy hummed through her, responding to the praise, as she rode the waves of pleasure that slammed through her. A low moan escaped her lips, an outward manifestation of her submissive bliss.

She remained on her knees as her Controller stepped aside. The slave stared calmly ahead, her eyes focussed in the middle distance, her body primed to obey. Over and over, the Training mantra looped around her head.

“You are becoming the complete slave you were always meant to be,” the brunette woman announced, her hazel eyes shining with unnatural intensity. “You are responding to Training.”

“Yes Controller,” she responded proudly, her slick face coated by the petite woman’s essence, the tang of the climax her tongue had provided still sweet on her lips.

“But much remains to be corrected,” the dominant woman continued. “There are still disobedient thoughts in your mind.”

“Yes Controller,” the slave acknowledged shamefully. Controller was quite right. Despite the intensive Training which she had thrown herself into, she knew that the remnants of her old existence were holding her back. Memories, emotions, feelings; almost thirty years spent living a bleak, loveless life had left its mark, scarring her psyche, preventing her from giving herself fully to Medusa.

Dangerous, evil annabelthought still held her back.

“All incompatible thoughts must be erased,” her Controller went on. “You must fully submit to all Training.”

“Yessss Controller,” she hissed, her sex pulsing and throbbing with need, knowing the Truth. All annabelthought must be suppressed, purged, destroyed, eliminated.

Her wide eyes were locked on to her Controller. “You love to submit. You love being a slave. You love being nothing more than an object,” the powerful woman insisted.

“Y..yesss....Controllerrrrrr....” she gasped raggedly, shuddering....

“Yes,” her Controller declared, her eyes sparkling with dark joy. “You are a slave. You will always be a slave.”

“Uu..aaa..hhh..hhh...” Annabel gasped, her body aflame with desire. “i am a..a s..slaveeee...i will alwayssss be a ss..s..laveeeee...”

“Yes, slave” Controller pressed. “This is not a game. This is not fantasy. Your slavery is real.”

She was utterly helpless. A willing victim. A throbbing piece of fuckmeat. A kneeling slutwhore begging to be fucked over and over again. A mindless cuntslave. Completely Owned.

Just like the Mistress she craved to submit to, Controller could do anything to her.

And she would.

“You will be Trained to follow Instruction,” Controller announced. “Slaves must obey Instruction. Following Instruction will prove your devotion. Following Instruction will demonstrate your loyalty.”

“Instruction is Medusa,” Controller declared, her eyes ablaze with fanatical devotion.

slaveannabel wanted this so badly. So, so badly. She desperately wanted to submit. It was an obsession, driving her deeper and deeper. Nothing else mattered. Her life, her wants, her desires, her future....all irrelevant... Medusa.

There was only Medusa.

Medusa, the meaning of life.

Medusa, the source of all joy.

Medusa, the Divine entity she adored.

Medusa!

Smiling, the slave greeted the slender young woman who nodded a greeting. Siobhan Doyle. They’d spoken on the phone when she’d phoned IT just before lunch, flagging an urgent problem with her computer that needed fixing, now. There was a skeleton IT staff in the office today, most were working on the rollout of the new system due to be completed in a few weeks time. Rumour was that the new programme was overpriced and less efficient than the old clunky system with all its annoying quirks and eccentricities.

When slaveannabel had woken this morning she had felt different. The Instruction was like a dull weight inside her mind, dormant, passive, waiting to emerge when the time was right.

She was not to think about it.

“What’s the problem?” Siobhan asked, frowning slightly, as she glanced towards the computer that appeared to be working just fine.

“It’s an intermittent thing... it seems to come and go,” the slave explained, her voice exasperated, indicating the screen as she appraised the woman. Tall and slender, with a pale, fresh complexion that contrasted with her long lustrous dark hair, a face sprinkled liberally with freckles, intelligent blue eyes that were framed by fashionable heavy black glasses, the Irishwoman was stunning. slaveannabel enjoyed the delicious pangs of hunger her voracious pussy sent through her as she ogled the woman standing alongside her.

The slave registered the tiny flicker of irritation flash across the woman’s pretty face as Siobhan mentally rolled her eyes in despair at being called out for something so trivial.

“What exactly do you mean?” Siobhan pressed, turning to stare at the screen, wiggling the mouse irritably. “Seems fine to me.”

“I don’t know...” the slave hesitated, “it seems to be flickering.”

Crunching her brows, Siobhan continued to inspect the dual monitor screens. “I can’t see anything.”

“As I said, it comes and goes,” slaveannabel pressed, her tone firm, standing up from her chair and offering it to Siobhan who duly sat down. “Keep looking at it.”

The slave had come early into work this morning burying herself in her cubicle before her co-workers arrived. Flipping the computer monitor around, it had been the work of a minute to unscrew the plastic cover and switch the green circuit board with an identical one that she had removed from her handbag. After slipping the old circuitry into her bag, she deftly replaced the cover and repositioned the monitor without being seen.

“There!” the slave exclaimed. “Did you see it?”

Shaking her head lightly, Siobhan maintained her intent stare on the monitor. “No...” she murmured softly.

“Keep looking at the screen,” the slave urged, her pussy throbbing deliciously. “You’ll see it in a minute.”

The woman’s head bobbed slightly in acknowledgement but her eyes never left the display.

Sitting motionless on the chair, Siobhan’s eyes were locked on the screen, drawn into it.

The slave watched her closely, her whole body vibrating with Instruction. She was nothing more than a tool, a mindless robot helplessly following the programming that had been burned into her brain. There were no doubts, no hesitations. Body, mind, cunt, all pulsing in perfect harmony with Instruction, the dull residue of annabelthought that normally hovered in the background had vanished.

Throbbing, pulsing, quivering, Instruction owned her. Sex quivering with pure joy,the slave was excited by how helpless she was, the Discipline holding her tight.

The sensation was indescribable. Liberating.

She was nothing but an appendage of the Will of Medusa. The slave knew that she was being used to subdue this female. To take her mind. To enslave her.

Like she had been enslaved.

And it felt wonderful.

Seconds ticked by.

A minute passed.

Then another.

And another.

slaveannabel watched her closely, relishing the sight of the entranced woman as her whole being throbbed with Instruction. Although the display appeared perfectly normal, the slave knew that the blank-faced target was already deeply entranced, her mind captured by the subliminal pulses flashing before her.

No, slavethought corrected, the female was no longer a target.

Siobhan was material. slavematerial. Nothing more.

Quickly glancing around to ensure that they were still alone, the slave produced the small white cannister from her pocket before leaning in slightly to position it directly beneath Siobhan’s nose, careful not to disturb her view of the screen as she pressed the button, spraying a fine mist into the air beneath the material’s face.

“Breathe in deeply Siobhan,” the slave urged the fascinated woman who readily complied. Repeating the process twice more, the slave was satisfied that the slavematerial had absorbed enough of the will suppressant.

More Instruction unspooled. From her bag she removed a pair of glasses, identical in all aspects, including the right strength lenses, to the ones Siobhan wore. Carefully, the slave slid the hypnotized woman’s glasses off and replaced them with the new pair.

Utterly transfixed by the strobing screen, her mouth parted deliciously, the hypnotized woman appeared not to register the switch.

“Give me your phone,” the slave ordered the docile material who, eyes fixed on the monitor, obediently reached down and pulled a top-of-the range model out of her pocket, handing it to the slave without hesitation.

Working quickly, the slave downloaded the app and activated it.

Siobhan, her breathing shallow, features slack with trance, remained perfectly still.

Looking around, the slave reassured herself that there had been no witnesses.

“Siobhan, look at me,” she ordered brusquely.

Taking an immense effort, as if it was made of lead, Siobhan’s head slowly panned away from the screen that fascinated her. Clenching her thighs together, the slave revelled in the sight of the slavematerial’s expressionless face, her blank eyes peering sightlessly into space from beneath her new glasses.

“You have solved the problem,” slaveannabel informed the passive target.

“You spent a few minutes chatting to your new friend Annabel,” the slave recited, the Instruction flowing through her without any conscious thought on her part, her mouth uttering the words that would mindbind the material. “Annabel is a very nice person. You like her. You trust her.”

Siobhan’s tranceglazed eyes stared vacantly into the middle distance.

“Your new friend Annabel, who you trust completely, showed you a new online store with some great deals,” the slave continued. “This made you happy. You have been meaning to change your look for a long time and this is the perfect opportunity. You purchased some new clothing which will be waiting for you when you return home. This excites you. The new clothing will make you look and feel very sexy. This is normal. This is what you want. This is what you need.”

Siobhan’s slack features didn’t change but the slave knew that her words had penetrated deeply into the mind of the material lost in deep trance.

“Soon you will awaken feeling very calm and content,” slaveannabel told the passive material.

“There is no need to think about what has happened. Everything is fine.”

The delicious trickle of lust slowly travelled through her body as she read the message. Sonya was following up after their lunch earlier in the week, thanking her for introducing her to Naomi.

Straight after finishing their food, the slave had taken Sonya to the gym. Discreetly located on a street directly behind the slave’s office, the former 1930s factory had just been remodelled by a new owner.

The same Owner that owned her.

With its gleaming white painted facade and geometric architectural details, the Art Deco gem had been sympathetically turned into a mixed commercial and residential development, with the brand new gym taking up the entire ground floor while, accessed by a separate entrance, the top three floors had ostensibly been turned into apartments.

Entering the reception area, complete with period friezes of progress and power, slavenaomi had met them both before taking them on a tour of the magnificent gym that combined state of the art equipment with original industrial features, all designed to impress. Just beyond the tiled reception area, a huge red logo covered the wall leading to the changing rooms.

Juicing unseen, slaveannabel had worshipped the Emblem in silence as the two slaves shepherded Sonya deeper into the Training Facility.

Medusa.

She had been shown freshly painted rooms lined with high-end fitness equipment, still wrapped in plastic. slavenaomi had apologized, explaining that they had only moved into the building and were still getting things fixed up. Sonya had questioned nothing, dazzled by both the gym and Naomi.

Naturally.

She had joined up there and then.

The slave sizzled with joy at the knowledge. Sonya would be Trained. Her friend was living slaveflesh, raw material to be shaped, nothing more. She would learn to accept the Discipline of her new existence.

This was her destiny. Such was her Purpose.

Sonya would become slavesonya.

Smiling slightly to herself, slaveannabel tapped out a reply.

Blinking, she moistened her dry eyes. The visor had been removed. She was alone on the couch now, the other slaves she had spent the night with standing in front of her, blankly staring into space.

Normally she would have joined them but for some reason she knew that she must remain seated. She did not question the slavethought. Instead she sat and enjoyed the taut bodies of her sister slaves, relishing the obedience they inhaled with every breath.

How she envied them.

Two sets of footsteps clicked down the stairs. Discipline held her in place, preventing slaveannabel from giving into her natural curiosity and turning to look at those entering the room. Moments later the features of her Controller came into view; like the others she was dressed in a snug-fitting grey Medusa uniform. Without speaking a word, the petite woman joined the other two and stiffened to attention.

Another figure appeared; Asian, familiar, heavily tattooed flesh, piercings glinting in the light, her dark almond eyes glittering with pure Purpose.

Pussy throbbing with desire, the slave basked with pleasure as the striking woman’s hard eyes slowly roamed over her body, inspecting her, assessing her coldly like a predator sizing up a morsel of living flesh she was about to consume.

Arousal, that burned like fire, flared through her.

Stepping forward, the Asian woman leaned forward and unceremoniously pulled up the slave’s top, exposing her breasts and straining nipples. Superior’s fingers were warm as she inspected the piercings, the sharp tugs she gave to each sending ripples of pleasure through the slave’s body, causing her to whimper helplessly.

Squirming in the chair, the slave spread her legs wide as the silent woman knelt between them. Once more she shuddered in ecstasy as the digits danced along the damp lips of her slick slit, probing her new piercing. slaveannabel cried out in animal heat at the touch, moaning uncontrollably.

The Asian woman remained silent.

Superior’s hands now roamed over the flesh above her gushing sex, carefully pulling off the fresh dressing that the redheaded slave had put in place only last night. Gasping and groaning as the pain of the adhesive being slowly ripped from her sensitive skin sent spasms of pleasure shooting through her, the slave relished the glory of submission. The woman began to inspect the bare flesh closely before slowly and deliberately pressing her mouth to the patch of skin and kissing it, lovingly.

Satisfied, the Asian woman stood and turned to the Controller.

“There are no signs of infection. All bodily modifications have healed,” she announced matter-of-factly to the petite woman.

“Yes Superior,” Controller responded stiffly, her slack face contrasting with her taut Disciplined body.

Returning her attention back to the shuddering slave, the Asian woman locked her powerful gaze upon her wide eyes. Slowly, the Superior raised her hands to her throat, her fingers sliding along the collar that gripped her neck, her intense eyes animated for the very first time as they flashed with sudden intense heat.

Captivated, a low animal groan seemed to rise up from the very centre of the slave’s being as the she fixated upon the erotic display, her own collared neck throbbing, joining with the afterglow of pleasurable pain still emanating from her tits and cunt.

In an action that reminded the slave of a striptease, Superior slowly unfolded the high turtleneck collar that circled her neck, pulling the material up over her chin, then her mouth, then her nose. Higher and higher, inch by inch, steadily, slowly, sensuously, her face disappeared beneath the fabric as it climbed ever upwards, covering more and more of her, dissolving her features into blackness. The Asian woman’s eyes vanished completely as the tube of dark material rose up over her forehead. Sex now ablaze with white heat, the slave moaned helplessly. Finally Superior’s entire head was completely covered, the vague contours of her features dimly outlined by the black mask that now enveloped her.

Reaching up, the Asian woman fastened the seams of the collar together above her head, sealing the mask in place. Apart from a neat triangular opening that exposed her lip-glossed mouth and the tip of her nose, everything else had vanished. Even her eyes seemed to have disappeared into the inky blackness.

Subsumed beneath the tight fitting mask, the Superior’s very identity, everything that made her an individual, was gone.

The slave shook uncontrollably, eyes impossibly wide, heart racing, overwhelming need gushing through her, slavethought claiming her.

Slowly, the masked woman ran a finger over her face, tracing the outline of the only thing that disrupted the sinful blackness cocooning her.

Spasming uncontrollably, the slave rode the waves of pleasure surging within as she followed Superior’s finger as it flowed over the clear white markings clearly emblazoned over her face.

The Symbol of her love.

The Sign of her devotion.

The Icon of her worship.

Medusa!

Superior made a slight gesture. The petite Controller detached herself from the slaveline and sank to her knees facing the masked female, before carefully unzipping and sliding the Asian woman’s black leather skirt down her legs before she stepped out of it. Controller neatly folded the garment and returned to the others.

Mouth wide, the slave drank in the sight before her; apart from the tight black top, the only other thing she wore were a pair of gleaming black leather calf boots. Large, intricate tattoos covered the Asian woman’s thighs drawing her eyes inexorably to her cleft. The slave’s eyes widened at the sight. There, on the tawny flesh above her glistening sexlips, permanently inscribed in dark black ink was the Holy Mark that she adored.

Still continuing to stroke her masked face, Superior lowered her other hand and began to circle the tattooed skin above her dripping cunt, fingers dancing over the flesh, her hips starting to sway as if responding to the beat of some unheard music.

The slave shook uncontrollably, the erotic sight of the female was sending her into a frenzy of primal desire as the blazing phosphoresent fire burned brightly through her. She wanted her. More, she wanted to be her.

Still caressing her masked face and inked sex, Superior’s tongue slithered out from between her lips like a snake readying to pounce upon a hapless victim. Panting, slaveannabel squirmed on the couch, watching transfixed as the Asian’s woman licked her lips, slowly.

“Medusa Owns this mind and body,” the Marked woman declared, her voice dripping with arousal as she continued to circle her Marked face and sex like an exotic belly dancer using her body to manipulate and seduce.

The slave shuddered as the tsunami of lust crashed over her, washing away everything that had stood in its path. “This material once thought it was a person, an individual with free will,” Superior swayed, her hips undulating hypnotically, as she continued her serpentine dance. “But it was mistaken.”

“Medusa claimed it.”

Eyes wide, the slave gasped and moaned, hanging on every word as the volcanic lust boiled and surged within.

“The Will of Medusa snuffed out everything this material once thought important,” Superior continued, her voice oozing with honey, each word dripping into the slave’s mind as she whimpered with raw desire.

“It now lives to serve Medusa,” the masked woman’s silken voice oozed as she continued her hypnotic dance. “It exists to obey Medusa. It breathes to worship Medusa.”

Quaking uncontrollably, slaveannabel was captivated by the mellifluous words of the Asian woman. Superior was more, so much more than just a slave like her or the others. Just being in her presence was like touching the sun... the intense heat charring, blackening everything, reducing all to ashes. She was powerless, totally enraptured by the shimmying body, her whole body vibrating and pulsing with pure pleasure.

She needed this.

“Look down slave,” Superior ordered.

Complying, the slave turned her head to look down at her sex, gushing with desperation. Blinking, she struggled to make sense of the black markings, upside-down from her perspective, covering the pale skin above the folds of her own yearning, dripping cunt that she so desperately craved to insert her fingers deep inside.

Gasping, twitching, spasming, thrashing, surrendering, her lustfogged mind slowly deciphered the markings now permanently inscribed on to her flesh.

Medusa!