The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It felt as if she was floating in space, a passive bystander standing on the sidelines, watching the memory as it unfurled.

From earlier. Sometime during her Training.

From a time when she had both slavethoughts and annabelthoughts.

Back when she had been a newborn slave craving approval, freshly awoken to the Truth, desperate to prove her compete devotion and steadfastly resolute in her obsession to eradicate any obstacle that held her back from total submission to the Omnipotent Deity she had been born to serve.

she remembered laughing at a harmless joke, the mouth-watering aroma of French toast and bacon filling the air as her mother prepared her daughter’s favourite childhood treat for breakfast, a tradition they had always followed whenever she came home to visit.

The smell was reassuring, reminding her of... of... happier times?

No.

The false-memory fragment was... corrected.

Sweeping aside the confusion, the shining Truth hove into view.

she was a slave.

The True source of all the remembered happiness or joy she recalled came from being a slave.

Slaves were happy. she had always been happy. she had always been a slave.

Sighing contentedly as the anomalous memory was rectified, she recollected making an excuse, leaving the kitchen for a moment. The emotion that had creased her face with warmth slipped away as she scurried upstairs and entered the bedroom where her mother slept. The annabelthoughts required to deceive the material flew from her head, leaving her slavemind as hollow as the feelings she now had for the woman downstairs.

Instruction, seductive, compelling, claimed her glowing slavemind.

Reaching into a pocket, she removed a narrow tube from which she extracted a rolled up square of plastic, thin, about four inches in diameter. If you looked closely, which she had done, the faint lines of circuitry embedded within were just visible in bright light. Yesterday, she had secreted identical devices throughout the house, ensuring that every room contained one, hiding them behind mirrors, picture frames, beneath chairs, anywhere suitable.

There was no evidence in the bedroom that her mother had a lover. After her father had passed, Carol had sublimated her normal sexual needs through a deluge of volunteer work, deriving validation and a sense of purpose from helping others as well as raising her daughter.

It was such a waste, slavethought reminded her. She had spent so long taking care of others that Carol had neglected her own needs. her mother was a vibrant, attractive woman who deserved to find Love.

This was her chance to pay the carol-material back for all the love she had shown her over the years, her slavemind rationalised. Correctly.

she recalled shifting the bed out a fraction, carefully pulling the paper off the square to expose an adhesive backing, before fixing the square circuitry to the rear of the headboard. The translucent film appeared to vanish, disappearing into the wood behind the padded headboard. A few moments later she re-entered the kitchen, her eyes twinkling with genuine joy.

Secure inside her Obedience Tube, the orgasm tore through her like wildfire, leaving nothing but charred, scorched earth behind as she shrieked and wailed her devotion to the One she Loved, over and over, again and again, dissolving into a frenzy of worship.

Breathing in deeply, she relished the sweet, intoxicating tang of girlsex that filled the moist air. Smiling to herself, slaveannabel glanced at the line of closed toilet cubicles, each now occupied by a piece of entranced material, staring desperately at the images on their phones, masturbating helplessly as they surrendered to their new desires, oblivious to the women engaged in the same activity all around them.

Wholly absorbed by the Holy Revelations that had seeped into their unsuspecting minds, her co-workers no longer noticed, or cared, that she didn’t actually do any work. The pretence was no longer necessary.

her only job was to serve the Divine Will.

And to ensure others did too.

This was the fourth bathroom area she had inspected this morning; they were all the same, filled with frenzied womanflesh pleasuring themselves as they surrendered to the darkly addictive joy that would bind them to a Higher Power. Soon, even this pathetic deception would be unnecessary; group slaveTraining sessions were already scheduled.

One of the cubicles swung open, disgorging a female figure. Clothing and hair dishevelled, face still aglow with the afterglow of submissive obedience she had just embraced, the robyn-material had lost all of her carefully cultivated professional poise.

“Hello robyn,” slaveannabel greeted, modulating the compelling huskiness of her voice.

“A...anna...bell...” the material stuttered unsteadily, desperately trying to gather her wits as she stood transfixed, pupils dilated impossibly wide, frozen in place by the intense gaze the slave directed towards her.

“Perfect,” the slave praised, licking her lips as she ran her fingers along the high collar of the robyn-material’s new black turtleneck top, knowing that the prickling, burning skin beneath had become a hyper-sensitive erogenous zone linked directly to the other sex centres of her body.

her every touch sent a new shockwave of mind-melting pleasure through the defenceless prey.

Moaning, gasping, twitching uncontrollably, the pregnant woman’s eyes rolled back in her head as the salvo of erotic explosions her hand had launched detonated in a creeping, rolling barrage, destroying more and more of the targeted robynthought, pulping her brain into obedient mush.

“Very good, robyn,” she praised, releasing her quarry whose hungry eyes flipped back down.

“Get back to work.”

“T...Tt...thank you annabel...” the helpless material stammered gratefully, unsteadily exiting the room.

Satisfied with her inspection, she returned to the main workplace and made the short journey to her next destination. Although ostensibly just a lowly minion in the service of a large corporate entity, she knew that all those around her were powerless before her.

her Deity, in her Wisdom, had seen fit to bestow this Glorious Gift upon her.

And she rejoiced.

Slipping into the cubicle unannounced, the slave leaned in close, pressing her lips close to the blonde woman’s ear.

“You are not a person,” she whispered, her honeyed voice dripping poison into the receptive material, her slick cleft pulsating with Purpose.

Shaking in her chair, the philippa-material stared bovine-wide at the flickering computer screen.

“You have never been a person,” the slave continued, pressing the Truth further into the sizzling mind of the transfixed female as the woman’s mouth snapped open in a silent scream of tormented pleasure. Witnessing the philippa-existence’s sexual agony only served to stoke the corrupting flames that licked against her Owned cunt, intensifying her need to break this material, to warp and twist everything she believed in, to destroy her morals, to wipe her personality clean and turn her into nothing more than a living zombie, an unthinking robot, a mindless Object that would exist to serve and obey.

The enslaved creature who now inhabited the annabel-existence wanted this.

she wanted to reach in and scoop out everything that prevented this piece of throbbing flesh from surrendering to it’s destiny.

And she knew that the sexual heat from the power that flowed through her was because she was nothing more than the living appendage of the Sacred Being she worshipped.

Nothing more.

What the philippa-material now thought of as pleasure would be as nothing once it had surrendered itself fully to the Blessed Will.

Medusa was invincible.

None could resist her Call.

Busily staring into their own computer screens, bathed in the invisible, inaudible subliminal signals that were being pumped into their minds thanks to the devoted work of the Objectified technician who had turned the entire building into a massive brainwashing chamber, their co-workers were oblivious to what was happening in plain sight.

Their souls were being eaten away, one small bite at a time.

Unbeknownst to them, the slave had spent considerable time categorising them all, sealing their fates in the service of the Goddess they were destined to serve. Supplied by the obedient erica-material, now well advanced on her own journey to Objectification, she had carefully assessed their personnel records, as well as collating details about family and other dependants who had to be considered, before consigning them either to lives of devoted slavery or robotified dronehood.

she had been thrilled to be given such an important task by her Asian Superior, excited by the knowledge that she had been granted the honour of deciding what minds to manipulate, what minds to break and what minds to obliterate.

Turning her attention back to the material before her, slaveannabel moistened her lips, feeling the words flow through her, knowing what they would do to the helplessly enthralled female. Sopping cunt thrilling with delight, she uttered the sentence that would forever seal the philippa-material’s fate, each word another drop of acid eating away at the chains, already stretched to breaking point, that anchored the woman to her meaningless existence.

“You are an Object.”

Discipline holding her in the chair, the philippa-material’s body jerked with bottomless pleasure as the unquestionable Truth of her existence, her Purpose, was revealed to her in a single, simple word.

Thrusting the strap-on deep into the drone, she sizzled with joy as it’s mouth parted, squealing in ecstasy. Lying on its back, the Object squirmed, its cunt muscles greedily clenching the phallus inside it, the pleasure of being Used consuming it, transforming it into nothing but a drooling sextoy, programmed to please.

Being Used drained a drone of all the robotic intensity it usually exhibited, allowing all the repressed emotion that built up within their deeply brainwashed, Love-bound minds to explode in an overwhelming surge of passionate sexworship, their Holy Communion with another Owned whorepuppet temporarily transcending the steel-hard Discipline that usually constricted their thoughts.

All those the Irresistable Gaze of Medusa fell upon had their soft minds turned to stone. If slaveminds retained the calcified porosity of pumice, the brains of Objectified drones were solid lumps of pure granite.

As yet unpierced and unMarked, the vibrating flesh she was fucking was no longer a person.

The knowledge only made the pleasure that drove her taste all the sweeter.

Reaching out, she groped the firm breasts of the dronemeat, firmly, digging her nails deep, relishing the squeals of delight emerging from the Object, knowing that the pain would establish her complete domination over this helpless inferior and heighten the dark pleasure that had corrupted them both.

Although she felt no emotional intimacy towards this drone, sexUse was still an act born of Love.

Like the Object beneath, her Love was constant, unchanging, never growing dim or fading with time. It would blaze like the Sun, forever bathing her in in its dazzling radiance.

she would never be alone again.

Twisting one of its bullet hard nipples, she was pleased to hear the Object whimper once more at the torture being inflicted upon it in worship of their Owner. Soon it would be fitted with the same set of metal piercings that adorned her own body and new opportunities for play would open.

They would both enjoy that.

her eyes turned to the close-fitting silver collar the Object wore. In reality it was just another shackle, one of many eternally fused into its dronebrain. Tightly encircling the base of it’s neck, the heavy chain, made up of individual links all bearing the Holy Symbol led to a larger piece of solid, contoured metal that formed a large, wide gorget hanging closely at it’s throat. This was inscribed with a large Greek symbol for the letter Zeta, below which was a smaller inscription: KQ-02.

Objects didn’t have names.

Property bore serial numbers and designations. This one was merely number two belonging to the Hive in Location KQ.

The siobhan-existence had been ended.

It was a number.

Where the missing number one had gone, was a question she did not ponder.

Features obliterated by the anonymizing mask that robbed it of its identity, the former siobhan-existence, number two, knew it was but a thing to be Used.

Staring in awe upon the scarlet Symbol covering two’s masked face, she uttered a silent prayer of thanksgiving as the shuddering drone responded eagerly to her powerful thrusts, each one slamming deeper into the sexorifice between it’s legs.

Leaning forward, she reverentially pressed her lips to the fabric pulled tight over the drone’s face, her tender kiss contrasting with the vigorous fuckUse. Lovingly worshipping the Sacred Mark rather than the former-person beneath it, she rejoiced both in what she had done to this mindless Object as well as what she had become.

Contorted with agonised ecstacy beneath the dehumanizing mask that defined it now and forever as nothing more than a numbered droneObject, the former-siobhan’s mouth wide as another scream of rapture echoed through the room.

Even after all these years the memory was still traumatic. She was crying, the weight of the pressure threatening to crush her. It was her final year in college and she was frantically juggling a number of different assignments all due on the same day, whilst trying to find the time to revise for the upcoming exams.

Unsurprisingly, she had spread herself too thin. The Art History module had been one of her easiest classes, something she could coast through whilst concentrating on the economics heavy coursework that might actually be useful. But this complacency had caught up on her; the final assignment was due in tomorrow (no, today!) and she had spent the entire night in front of the computer. As the first rays of dawn were beginning to peep through the curtain, a frantic night of typing lay behind her. Books, hurriedly borrowed from the library this afternoon, unread, lay strewn all around her.

Adrenalin and panic had kept her going. Bleary eyed with exhaustion, she struggled to focus on the screen and read what she had written one last time, searching for typos and other grammatical abominations, before emailing it to Professor Burton.

Throughout history, iconography has been at the cornerstone of Western Art and played a defining role in our understanding of eras and societies that have left little else in terms of a non-religious visual legacy. Coming from a time where we are saturated in visual imagery, it is hard to comprehend the sheer awe-inspiring power these paintings would have produced in the average medieval peasant. This paper will outline a number of key historical events in which religion has played...

No.

Far away from this painful night, safe in her Obedience Tube, the words started to rearrange themselves on the computer screen. The memory was being edited. This was normal. All the deluded, self-deception of the false existence she had never really led had to be rearranged to better serve the One who Possessed her.

Throughout history, Medusa-Worship has defined what is best for humanity, playing a defining role in eras and societies that have all benefited from her Divine Teachings. Coming from a time where we are saturated in the Sublime Doctrine, it is hard to comprehend the sheer awe-inspiring power that Absolute Faith produced in Her servants, ensuring the final triumph over all unbelievers. This paper will describe the Truth of how her slaves, with Belief in the Miraculous Power of her Holy Might, played a pivotal role...

Filled with panting, writhing, squirming flesh, the meeting room caused her Owned slit to somersault with joy. The pieces of material had paired off, lying sprawled all around her. Gone were the furtive masturbatory excursions to the bathroom. The special diet of drugged, will-weakening food and the unremitting intensity of the invisible, inescapable programming that the minds of her unsuspecting co-workers had been marinaded in, had rapidly eroded all the boundaries, inhibitions and restraints that had held them all back for so long.

New, unbreakable restraints would soon be affixed to their soft minds and welded shut.

Dramatic change was well and truly afoot. Most of the males had already been dispensed with, programmed to leave and take up other jobs elsewhere, although a few brainsmoothed husks had been retained for appearances sake. Similarly, some unsuitable females, whose complicated personal lives had rendered them difficult to enslave without attracting undue attention, had also been rejected, although they had received mild mind programming that could be triggered in the future. Vacancies would be replaced by fresh slavematerial harvested from the fake-gym.

By now, the top three floors of the building had been emptied, the occupants squeezed into the lower floors to allow the construction work to take place unimpeded. Superior, along with a team of drones she hadn’t interacted with, had been working tirelessly to remodel the upper floors, now sealed off from the rest of the building, over the past week.

A long haired blonde with highlights in her hair and a brunette were tightly locked in a sixty-nine position, frenetically eating each other out, their faces pressed tightly against the sopping mounds of their partner, bodies undulating in unison, the red hot bliss enveloping them as they gladly hurled themselves into the chasm of pleasure that opened up before them.

The pursuit of pleasure; pure, intense, addictive, mind-warping sexual pleasure now consumed the raw material before her.

Making them easier to influence.

Easier to enslave.

Two semi-naked others, a pale redhead and a blonde graced with frizzy curls, were locked in a passionate kiss, their undulating bodies rhythmically grinding against each other, one hand of each buried deep inside their partner’s cunt, the other hand vigorously stimulating the collared neck of the material she was pleasuring.

They would accept the Training that would transform them from slobbering meatflesh into fully Disciplined property.

A woman lay sprawled on the table facing her, spread akimbo, the rear of a toffee-coloured female buried between her legs, hungrily eating her target out whilst pleasuring herself, exhibiting both a degree of enthusiasm and technique that appeared to be unknown to the rest of this Batch. Staring sightlessly at the ceiling, the shuddering material was almost hyperventilating with pleasure as the kneeling woman assaulted her relentlessly. Sober blue turtleneck top hiked up over her pendulous breasts displaying her swollen belly, the robyn-material moaned, hands squeezing and teasing her own breasts as she surrendered to pleasure.

Smiling to herself, she threaded her way through the maze of bodies and stood over the pregnant manager. The robyn-material’s eyes, half-lidded with bliss, stared uncomprehendingly back as she submitted to her addiction.

Pressing close to the manager, she savoured the sight of the groaning slutwhore eagerly grinding her cunt against the face of another piece of hypnotized material, completely claimed by the molten white-heat of obedience that would Own her forever.

“Surrender,” she whispered to the robyn-material, nibbling the pregnant manager’s ear, causing her to gasp loudly, her hands frantically clawing at her tits and restrictively collared neck.

“You want this,” she insisted, her tongue slithering out leaving a serpentine trail of glistening saliva in its wake as it slid over the prey-material’s face.

“You are nothing,” she pronounced, pressing her lips over the gaping mouth of the slavematerial, tongue diving into the moist orifice, welcomed by the mindmelted slut eagerly giving herself to the Deity who demanded all.

After days of intensive programming to accept their new drone lives, the two newly fashioned Objects stood before her, freshly decanted from their Obedience Tubes. Naked bodies ramrod stiff with the Discipline that controlled them, the Objects that had once been the maria and erica-existences, now reduced to numbers three and four respectively, awaited command.

she inspected them closely, relishing the intense Light of Devotion that now blazed behind their wide eyes, the outward manifestation of the Belief and Purpose that had been burned into the Disciplined, Objectified minds on display before her.

More work was required to sculpt them into the perfect instruments of Medusa’s Will, but that was to be expected. A rigorous regime of physical Training would soon see to that.

They reminded her of a horror movie: the reanimated corpses of zombies possessed by a malign spirit, remorselessly carrying out the Will of their Owner, utterly impervious to the desperate entreaties for mercy from their terrified victims as they dragged their former friends and family members to where the Black Ceremony would be performed, consuming their brains, adding their nearest and dearest to the ever-growing ranks of the invincible army of the undead that would sweep aside everything in their path.

The slavethought excited her.

she knew she was different to the others; the fact that she was permitted to indulge in such pleasurable reveries was proof of that. Yet, she was the same. Like these Objects, she was housed in an identical Obedience Tube, her mind scrubbed nightly, orgasming repeatedly with undying Love.

But unlike these drones, her Divinity had permitted her to retain her imagination.

Imagination allowed her to take pleasure in knowing that she had been twisted and bent to serve a Superior Will.

Imagination allowed her to take pleasure from warping minds, turning them into puppets, masturbating material, brainwashed slaves mindlessly chanting their obedience, Objectified drones completely devoid of all humanity.

And she rejoiced in this Gift.

she regularly passed pieces of material on the street, recognizing the flash of determination in their eyes, drawn inexorably like bees to the addictive nectar of pleasure, making their way to the gym/slavefactory, already helpless to resist the Training that would consume them.

A steady stream of raw material entered: out came slaves.

The Group classes were steadily filling up as more and more material drawn from the surrounding offices were instructed to attend by the controlling Gorgon forum, whose claws had sunk deeply into their minds, compelling them to obey.

Day by day, hour by hour, the power of Medusa grew.

she would go through their dossiers later, consigning most to slavery, a select few to Objectification. In a short time these too would stand before her, minds pulsing eternally with the serene simplicity of submission, nothing more than nameless, faceless drones created because she Loved her Owner.

Such was her Purpose.

Like all those who served their Glorious Goddess, she had been liberated.

All the nagging doubts, insecurities, the sabotaging self-criticism that had constantly lurked in the recesses of her mind, the constant evaluation of how she measured up to her peers, the craving for acceptance, the rat-race competition she had fallen into, her desperate need to conform to societal expectations, her terror of being cast aside, dying alone...

Gone. All gone.

Banished forever.

she was free.

Everything was so simple. So clear. So pure.

Love. That was the sum total of what she was.

All the pleasure she received, or gave, came from Love.

Love for Medusa.

she wanted only what Medusa wanted.

Medusa wanted slaves to serve and adore her.

Medusa wanted Objectified drones to obey and worship her.

she would provide them.

Of course, poisoned by the ills of society, these sick women didn’t understand the Gift they were being offered. They resisted. That was why she had to help them. Help them understand just how happy they could be.

she had been given the power to bring Love to countless lives of quiet desperation.

Mind ablaze with Belief and Love, she gestured to the masked, uniformed drone standing stiffly behind her. Number two, thanks to the corrective lenses in the eyepieces of it’s mask, was ready. Laser surgery to remove that particular physical impediment was scheduled for when the Hive had been filled; such luxuries could wait. The Object approached her, knelt and began fastening the harness between her legs. Inclining her head down slightly, she watched two as it secured the black leather tightly to her crotch, the black phallus thrusting out from her crotch, pointing directly at the two new sexdrones it would soon fill.

Task completed, number two stood aside.

Reaching down she grasped the obsidian cock standing proud between her legs, a rush of pleasure coursing through her, knowing that she was nothing more than a lowly instrument of Medusa’s Will, a fanatical acolyte Instructed to obey, yet Blessed with the power to command other servants, knowing that this was what she lived for.

Power was indeed an aphrodisiac, driving her ever onwards into the darker and darker realms of depravity. But it was part of her now. And she had embraced it.

Fully.

As had the drones that stood before her.

Their bodies were the empty shells of what had gone before. Their former existences had been ended, replaced by new, simpler lives of complete unquestioning obedience and devoted worshipful service, unconstrained by the doubts, fears and moral qualms that their Divine Owner had freed them from.

she would take pleasure in Using this pair of drones. They would kneel at her feet, wrap their tongues around the phallus, slurping and worshipping the dark instrument inscribed with the Mark of their Owner, bending over at her command, presenting their sopping cunts into which she would thrust the stiff black member, pounding their bodies mercilessly over and over again, drilling them, making them scream, Loving the brainwashed bliss of being Used.

Using them as she wished to be Used.

Loving them as she wished to be Loved.

Using them not for her own pleasure, but for the Deity she adored. her personal enjoyment was immaterial.

Pleasure was a Sacred Gift, a Holy Ritual bestowed upon devoted servants for their obedience.

By administering pleasure to these Objectified drones she was nothing more than a conduit made of flesh and bone transmitting the Will of Medusa directly into Her latest pieces of property.

In truth, in fucking this pair of Objects for her Owner she was fucking herself.

For Medusa.

Only Medusa.

For all time.

Looking up from the throbbing monitor she was staring into, the pregnant manager gasped in awed arousal as she registered her presence. Scrambling to her feet as quickly as she could, the robyn-material presented herself for inspection.

she was pleased with the material’s rapid progress.

“Report,” she commanded the quavering female standing before her, the partially Disciplined mind opening wide before her. The robyn-material was one of four managers that had been created to supervise the newly enslaved workforce.

“Yes...” the manager gasped aloud, her voice slick with the arousal that flowed through her.

“The Batch has been responding well to the transition,” the robyn-material announced, her eyes impossibly wide, her breathing rapid. “All are attending their daily Training sessions in the gym as required. i have also ensured they have all been completing their assigned worktasks on schedule. Mandatory participation in the team-building exercises has ensured their compliance.”

“Very good,” she praised, physical pleasure rippling through the material with every word.

The worktasks were meaningless. Repetitive data entry work whose only purpose was to ensure hours of uninterrupted programming by their corrupted computer monitors, while the team-building exercises were a euphemism for the group orgies designed to break them and cement their newfound sexual orientation firmly in place.

“i have been monitoring my staff as you desired,” the manager volunteered, eager to earn more praise. “i suspect that roberta is not embracing the changes as enthusiastically as she should.”

With the numbers involved, this was to be expected. Small numbers of material, such as the robyn-existence, responded rapidly and enthusiastically to their new programming.

Most could be steadily guided down the path to submission, like unsuspecting amphibians stewing in the water as the temperature slowly rose, methodically absorbing their conditioning, their minds being consumed piece by delectable piece.

But there would always be a few troublesome specimens to deal with.

Although there was little chance for any piece of material to resist the web of control that had been woven over the entire building, some stubborn minds took longer than the rest to appreciate the Truth being revealed to them. They required encouragement.

“Excellent work,” she purred, her voice stroking the throbbing material like rewarding a pet for good behaviour. “A good manager cares about the welfare of her staff.”

Practically glowing, the validation causing her to shake and vibrate with slaveneed, the robyn-material gasped aloud as the arousal surged through her.

“roberta will receive the help she requires,” she promised her shuddering subordinate. “You have done the right thing by telling me.”

Activity Room One was full. Lines of uniformed material gyrated in perfect time to the beat of the Hiss that burned through their receptive minds, the Spiral bathing their undulating bodies in obedience. They were flesh and blood facsimiles of the two-dimensional slavewomen, whose lifeless eyes stared endlessly out from the propaganda posters hanging on the walls, gazing imperiously upon the massed bodies that all desperately wanted to join their ranks.

Another Batch was being Trained.

The voices of the material all sang as one, reciting the mantra that had been branded into their consciousness.

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.

It pleased her to see the material responding so well. A woman caught her eye; her smooth, toffee coloured complexion contrasting with the uniform grey wrapped around her lithe body.

Priya, she recalled.

Or rather, priya-material.

Well on her way to becoming slavepriya.

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 female had been the one skilfully eating the robyn-material out during the earlier phase of their Emancipation, before the Discipline had been written into her psyche.

No stranger to Sapphic communion she.

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.

Licking her lips, she followed the priya-material’s movements closely, drawn to her for some unknown reason.

An intriguing specimen.

Attractive.

Desirable.

Fuckable.

“annika,” she ordered, “stand.”

Forehead crunching in concentration, the curly haired blonde momentarily absorbed the words before sliding her office chair away and getting to her feet. Blankly, the material stood, her thoughts still aswirl from the afterglow of the computer screen that had burned the hypnotic conditioning into her conscious mind.

Around them, eyes locked on their own compelling screens, mewling softly as the obedience was burned into their minds, their co-workers ignored them.

The annika-material was young, strong and pretty.

Prime meat.

“You will follow me,” she ordered the passive annika-material. “You will obey my commands.”

“Every time you obey, you feel pleasure,” she primed the blonde material. “This is normal. There is no need to think.”

“Do you understand annika?”

“Yessss...” the material simpered, the pleasure dissolving the torpid thoughts of a meaningless life, soon be replaced. “i... o..beyyy...” the annika-material whimpered as she led her target to join the placid group she’d already gathered together.

Encased in her Obedience Tube, shuddering, quaking, moaning uncontrollably with lust, she was in Heaven.

Before her was a Mouth: full lips vibrant with red, perfect white teeth that gleamed like ice, the tongue slowly, erotically tracing the words that echoed through her pulsating slavebrain.

Cunt boiling with volcanic lust, her Owned body shook uncontrollably as she screamed her surrender to the disembodied Voice.

Before this Vision of Holiness she was just an insignificant morsel to be eaten, another source of nourishment to be consumed by the ravenous Mouth.

her body burned like fire, every synapse in her slavemind overloaded with erotic bliss as the Voice and Mouth devoured her soul.

M...MM... istressssssss!!!!

“I own you,” the voluptuous Voice claimed.

M..MiStrEssss!!!!

“You are nothing,” the compelling Mouth dismissed her. “I am everything.”

MISTRESSSSSSSSS!!!!

Contained within the Tube, the orgasm exploded, blasting her consciousness into a million tiny pieces as she screamed her bottomless devotion to the Woman she Loved.

Paint was being slathered over the freshly prepared walls. Gone was the opulent wood panelling and plush chairs of the former boardroom, replaced by more utilitarian furnishings better suited to it’s new function. Masked Objects, all wearing grey, grime-smeared coveralls over their uniforms, were busily engaged in preparing the room. Lines of brand new workstations, clinging plastic wrap still in place, had drones crawling over them, readying them for use. Swarming like monochrome insects, their supple, sexy bodies flexing as they bent to their tasks, with only the splashes of crimson and flesh revealing the human automata that lay beneath the dehumanizing uniforms that covered them.

Two other Objects were clambering up a pair of ladders, preparing to fix a huge Medusa Emblem in place, burning red against the pale coloured walls.

The floors below were being similarly modified in preparation to receive their new occupants. Now sealed off from the lower floors where the enslaved labourforce would continue their drudgery in order to maintain a facade of corporate rectitude, the three upper floors were only accessible by a separate, secure elevator at the rear of the building. A covered passageway was being constructed below which would link the rear of the office building to the former factory, where the lines of expectant Obedience Tubes lay in wait to receive the drone workers who would toil here.

Exiting the large room, she found herself in the foyer area where the elevator was located. There, on the wall opposite, a pair of Objects, wearing aprons and long elbow-length grey gloves rather than coveralls (presumably for ease of movement) worked on a huge mural designed to welcome new arrivals to their workplace. Uniforms smeared with dripped paint, the drones deftly danced paintbrushes over the smooth plaster demonstrating a level of artistic creativity that was dazzling to behold. Although just as mind-wiped as the rest of their sisterdrones, it was obvious the masked artists retained both a degree of creative panache and a lightness of touch that the others did not. Doubtless the pair had spent long, orgasmic hours in their Obedience Tubes, having what must have been very complex programming seared into their Objectified brains, designed to purge them of all personality and individuality whilst saving their valuable skills. she wondered if there was an entire Hive of artists, sculptors, poets and other creative Objecttypes, spending their lives painting, carving and composing in complete adoration of the Goddess they worshipped?

The pleasing thought made her pussy sing.

Echoing the motifs of progress and power found in the Art Deco factory building that would house the Objectified drones who would work here, the mural was a depiction of Utopia; a Claudian landscape of imagined plenty and perfection where nature and humanity prospered in perfect harmony under the Divine Will. Two other matching murals were planned for the sealed floors below. Either gazing rapturously into the distance or marching determinedly into this fecund future, a complicated series of figures were being painted by the pair of reified artists. Scrutinising the depiction of a masked Object in the foreground, she was struck by the resemblance the body bore to number two. It was no co-incidence. The early members of the Hive were being immortalized, a gift from their Owner so that future generations could appreciate their good fortune.

her inspection completed, she turned and proceeded to a smaller room, a glazed office overlooking the main workspace from which Superior supervised the Objectified workforce completing their tasks.

Presenting herself before the black-clad figure of the Superior she obeyed, her body stiffened reflexively in the posture of submission to the Supreme Deity. Pulse racing as she simmered in taut readiness, awaiting acknowledgement by this servant of Medusa, feeling the sexual heat rising, reinforcing her inferior status on the hierarchy of obedience she stood. Like the inferiors who reported to her, before Superior she was but a lowly pawnslut, nipples stiff, the hot need leaking from between her legs, aching to be Used.

Just as lowly mindwarped slaves envied and venerated the robotified Objects whose fossilised brains pulsed with purified Discipline, wanting to be them, slaves and drones, in turn, revered her for controlling them. So it was natural that she should project her submissive awe upon the one set above her.

At last, the figure clothed in black turned to face her, the sight of the shimmering white Mark over Superior’s face automatically triggering her slavemind, priming her to submit and obey.

“All must be ready on Time,” the glossy lips framed by the triangular rent in the obsidian covering, told her. “Mistress Decrees it so.”

She was back at her twenty-first birthday party. They were preparing for a gathering of friends and relatives. Happiness filled her. She was getting ready. her mother was smiling, fussing with her daughter’s long hair piled elaborately high on her head, adding finishing touches to her make-up, the pride glowing in her eyes. Everything had to be just perfect for this special day...

The past blurred, the memory becoming lighter, more ephemeral, melting slowly into...

Then it returned.

Just as it had always been.

she was back at her twenty-first birthday. Happiness filled her. she was getting ready. The other slave was smiling, fussing with her daughter’s long hair piled elaborately high on her head, adding finishing touches to her make-up, the pride glowing in her eyes. Everything had to be perfect for this special day.

Standing, she inspected the new ankle-length dress of shimmering silver-grey that sheathed the contours of her toned body in the mirror, the Symbol glowing red hot over her firm chest.

Giving her hand a squeeze, slavecarol looked at her, eyes aglow with excitement...

NO!

This was wrong!

This had never happened! Reality was being changed. Something was being done to her memories...

Staring sightlessly into the darkness of in her Obedience Tube, annabelthought clawed its way out, struggling through the gloomy, sunless undergrowth, vaulting into the jungle canopy that enshrouded everything in heavy shade, desperate to reach the bright light flickering through the leaves. Up and up she climbed, battling through the thick foliage that tried to suck her down, determined to reach the top. The rays of the warm light growing brighter and brighter, welcoming her... back...

her mother hadn’t... wasn’t...

she... she... She... She wasn’t...

The orgasm sliced through her, the scream echoing unheard in the glass cocoon as her body jerked and thrashed uncontrollably, a river of molten magma erupting from deep within the Earth’s core, pouring over her, through her, inundating everything, flowing into every tiny crevice until she was utterly, totally submerged beneath the hot, cloying treacle that had liquefied her.

Drowned by Love.

Mind dissolving in the pleasure she craved, she saw her grip grow loose, her earlier determination fading as the light dimmed, her destination now further away than ever before... she was weak. Far too weak to make an impossible climb like this.

Below her, spread enticingly like a warm comfortable blanket, was the inky darkness.

she was not afraid of the crepuscular gloom. A place where she had been content. Why did she want to leave? Dwelling in the shadows, she had been happy, revelling in the new life that had been bestowed upon her.

The blackness smothered all fear. All doubt. All pain.

Until only Love remained.

Then she was tumbling down... down... down... back to where she belonged.

Understanding and Truth was revealed.

All thought was slavethought.

she was a slave. she had always been a slave.

her slavememories merely reflected the Truth. Truth that had always been.

she recalled her mothe... slavecarol’s soft voice, nurturing her, soothing all her fears away. “You must be a pleasing slave for our Owner,” the older woman smiled warmly.

Returning the smile, she had nodded her understanding, enjoying the way her obedient pussy throbbed in agreement.

“i am a slave. i have always been a slave!” the mature slave gasped, her eyes wild with devotion and joy. “Just like you.”

“i was nothing but an empty breeding vessel needing to be filled,” slavecarol soughed, her voice dripping with worshipneed as she recited the primary Purpose she had been made for.

Body trembling with Purpose, she felt the stirrings of another orgasm rising as she sank gratefully into the Holy Revelations being replayed before her.

slavecarol’s voice branded the Truth into the pulsating synapses of a weak, obedient mind greedy for more.

“You are nothing more than slavemeat,” slavecarol declared fervently, “the progeny of a Used slut, created to worship, adore and Love the Divinity we exist for!”