The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Salvation’

(mc, f/f, nc)

Synopsis: A team of commandos sets out to rescue a group of new-made slaves. But one of the rescuees has other ideas.

DISCLAIMER: This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.

INTRO COMMENTS (Tabico): So after the luscious ‘Someday My Prince Will Come’, I harassed thrall about her needing to write more. To which she offered me the chance to put my money where my mouth was, generously sharing a really hot story idea and a chance to work on it with her.

You are all very welcome.

INTRO COMMENTS (thrall): There’s nothing like cooking up a story in tandem with someone you trust, watching your ideas bounce off of hers and hers off of yours, each absorbing some of the other’s spin and energy. It’s exhilerating. This story marks the second collaboration between Tabico and me. I hope she enjoyed it as much as I did.

* * *

‘Salvation’

part One

* * *

There was a large water drop on Nissa’s night vision goggles, and she didn’t know if she ought to wipe it off.

The zodiacs were skimming across Lake Huron. The lake was choppy tonight; each time the prow smacked into the next wave, spray blew over the five women in the boat.

They were all wearing night vision goggles; the island’s guards patrolled all night, so the rescue team had come during the dark of the moon. Kimball, back in Chicago, had found them the goggles. Russian army surplus. The Society wasn’t made of money.

They worked quite well. Except now there was this big damn water drop in the center of Nissa’s left eye, and she didn’t know if wiping it off would screw up the goggles somehow.

She needed to know. Leaning to the side—rolling, actually, as they were all prone—she hissed in Timea’s ear.

“Hey, can I wipe off my goggles?”

Timea, who had been staring forward, looked back at her. She didn’t say anything, and suddenly Nissa realized how stupid the question had been.

Her shoulders slumped, and she wiped off her left lens with the heel of a glove.

Timea patted her on the shoulder. She leaned back to whisper in Nissa’s ear. “First time jitters. We all get them. Everything’ll be fine.”

Nissa smiled back. She was glad that Timea couldn’t see her blush.

They were nearing the island, a low shape looming up out of Lake Huron. The pebbly beaches slipped gently into the waves; beyond them was a wall of fir trees, spiky light green outlines in the goggles.

There didn’t seem to be any guards on the beach, but Nora cut the engine anyway. There was a breeze moving the trees, and anyone inside the mansion would never have heard them, but they weren’t going to take any chances. Nora had been on too many of these missions for that.

Nora. She was the survivor, the one who knew what it was like from the inside of a slaver’s den. Tonight, she was just here as backup. Lynn had come down with the flu, and the team had to go while the moon was gone. Jane, the leader, had made the call. Now she was in the prow, scanning the dark shore.

They lay motionless until Jane made a quick slash with her arm, and then the paddles came out. Like she had practiced, Nissa dipped hers into the water, quietly, no splashing, and pushed in concert with the other women. Timea in front of her, Jane and Carole opposite. Nora, by the engine, kept her paddle in the water, steering.

The waves were against them, moving perpendicular to the shore, and the boat was too large for just five people. Of course, both those factors would be a plus when they left. The waves would help them get out to the pickup ship quickly, and the poor girls they were here to rescue would need the space.

They didn’t know how many there would be. Four to six was Jane’s guess—women who had been here longer than a few weeks would almost certainly be eager slaves by now. They could only save the ones who had gotten here the most recently, those kidnapped within the last month. Longer than that...

Nissa shivered, and it was not from the cold. Longer than that, and they’d be like the guards the rescue team was trying to avoid: brainwashed, devoted slaves. They could be rescued, too, of course, but only by force, and deprogramming them took months.

She snuck a glance at Nora.

Not tonight. Tonight, they were rescuing the girls that their informant said this particular Mistress had brought in recently. Snatch and grab.

What allowed for it was Miranda Garrett’s presence in Chicago. Mistress not at home. Just a few guards. The Society had sued her—she had to be in court today. In Chicago. Until late. Not enough time to fly home to her private island.

The zodiac grounded with a hiss, and Nissa jumped into the thigh-deep water before she realized she was doing it. They hustled the boat up the shore. No one appeared to have seen them.

From the bow Jane whipped out the camo tarp, and they got busy securing it. The mansion was on the other side of the island, near the middle of the kidney-shaped land mass. It had its own docks and dock houses, so no one landed over here on the exposed side. Of course, the airstrip had cut down on boat traffic anyway.

The zodiac was tied down and camoed, and Jane motioned them into the woods. They formed up single file, and began their incursion.

A hundred yards later, they were on their bellies (again), looking at the mansion.

It had been built in the twenties as a resort hotel. It had gone bankrupt in the fifties, when the rich decided that the Carribean was a more amenable destination than the Great Lakes. Ms. Garrett had bought it a decade ago.

Whatever else could be said about a woman who kidnapped and enslaved innocent girls, she had good taste. The whole structure was in flawless shape, white wooden beams under an immense glass dome.

Of course, having an army of slaves to do the restoration work didn’t hurt.

Jane gestured, and Nissa kept her intake of breath quiet as she saw the guard. The drone.

She was patrolling the gravel path that led around the gardens. Her long hair was in a ponytail, and she was dressed in a tightly-fitting military uniform. In the goggles, it was as light green as anything else.

She had a pistol at her hip, and a baton.

Jane gestured and Timea slid away into the foliage.

Nissa tried to not hold her breath.

The guard walked down the path towards where they lay in the bushes. Far too soon, Nissa could hear the gravel crunching under her boots.

Then there was movement, and the metal darts struck her. With a sharp electrical crack, she dropped to the ground.

Timea scuttled out of the bushes over the guard’s prone form. She lifted a headpiece from her and waved. They crouch-walked over.

Timea was frowning and held the headset—an earpiece and a microphone—towards Jane. Jane took it, listened to the earpiece, and also frowned.

She passed it to Carole, who gave it a listen and passed it to Nissa. Nissa put it to her ear.

“I am a slave,” it recited. “I exist for my Mistress.”

The recording rolled over and over.

It was silly, and weird, and very, very scary, because Nissa knew that the woman lying immobile on the ground before her believed those things with all of her heart.

She offered the headpiece to Nora, who declined with a flat wave.

Timea was already binding the guard. Carole pulled an anestheic mask from her satchel and slid it on the woman like a feed bag. She wouldn’t wake up until the mask was removed or ran out of anesthetic. Eight hours, at least.

Jane had risen on her haunches and was scanning the manicured boxwoods of the garden. She moved her hand back and forth, three fingers extended.

All clear.

Timea dragged the guard into the bushes, and they all crept towards the mansion. There were two more guards, a tall woman with straight hair and a short one with a close crop at the front door, but the team wasn’t going in that way.

Jane waved again, and they froze. She pointed at a camera under the eaves.

Carole pulled something that looked like a radar gun from her satchel and aimed it at the camera. She stared into the readout. A moment later she gave a curt wave.

They scuttled over to the house.

Another gesture, and Carole was handing Jane the glass cutters. There had been a ballroom along this side of the hotel, according to the plans that the Society had been able to get, and they were hoping it wasn’t currently occupied.

In total silence, Jane cut a neat circle the size of a beer keg in the glass, slid it out, and laid it on the ground. No guards came running.

Timea formed a stirrup and Jane vaulted in.

Nissa waited as Carole went in, and then it was her turn. She’d done this plenty of times in practice. Foot on Timea’s clasped hands, through the hole, and roll onto the floor.

She swallowed and leapt.

The jump went fine, and the roll, but the damn goggles slid down her face to her mouth. Uncurling on the floor, she grabbed at them. The room was dimly lit, though, and instead of pushing them back on, she dropped them to her chest.

Then she stared in wonder.

It was still a ballroom, or at least ballroom sized. But it was filled with big metal... eggs. No, pods. Each was the size of a small closet, smooth and round, sitting in a nest of cables and wiring.

As Nissa stared at them, she realized that Nora was vaulting in, and that Timea would follow, and that she should help Carole secure the room, instead of staring like a hayseed. So she slid quietly, quietly, down the room, to the door that the plans said was at the far end.

The pods hummed.

The door was there, and closed. Turning, she saw Carole at the other door and gave her the thumbs-up. Carole had taken off her goggles, too. She returned the thumbs-up, and they both walked quickly back to the entry point.

Timea had simply dived through the window and was brushing off her knees.

“Okay,” Jane whispered, “we’re in. This is our point of entrance and exit. We need to find the girls—everyone has photos. We’re going to break into teams and search the mansion.”

“Jane,” Nora asked, running a hand down one of the metal eggs, “what do you think these things are?”

Jane shook her head. “Generators?”

“Generators my left tit,” Timea whispered. She gestured at the bottom of one of the pods and stepped across the aisle to pull aside some cables.

There was a small glass window, which had been hidden by the cable.

Visible in it were a pair of naked feet.

“What are they?” Nissa asked.

“Slaving pods,” said Timea grimly. “We’ve found our victims.”

* * *

“What kind of shape are they in?” asked Jane. “Nora, have you seen this sort of thing before? What can you tell us?”

The survivor stepped forward, her mouth a grim line. She ran a hand over the face of the pod, walked both ways around the outside, and traced the cables and cords with her eyes. “Not much,” she admitted. “I didn’t really expect a medical chart, but I could hope at least for some monitor screens or dials to tell us what’s being done to the girl in here.” She shook her head. “But we won’t know anything until we get her out.”

We won’t even know who she is, thought Nissa, staring at the motionless feet. She imagined the girl inside, swathed in metal and tubing, completely cut off from the world. Were her eyes open or closed? Did she dream, or was her mind as still as her body? What was that thing actually doing to her?

Jane’s eyes followed the cables across the room to a glassed-in area of computer banks. “Timea, you, Nora and Nissa open the pods. Carole, follow me. Let’s see if we can get into the computer files.”

Timea kept her weapon pointed upward, Nissa and Nora covering her, as she pressed the button to open the pod door. It slid to the side with a hiss, releasing a cloud of musk and revealing a nude blonde, her eyes and mouth half open, her body still shuddering as the humming dildo between her legs ground to a halt. She sighed gently.

“Tammy Sturgeson,” said Timea, recognizing the girl’s face from the pictures she carried. She reached into the pod and unhooked the I.V. from the girl’s arm, then snapped her fingers under her nose. “Tammy? Tammy, wake up.”

No response.

Timea took her by the arm and shook her gently. Tammy’s eyes rolled up and her head swiveled on her neck, lolling backwards. Timea shook her a little harder, and Tammy’s head snapped upright. Her eyes flew open and she gaped at her rescuers. “Wh—? H—? Muhhhhh....”

“It’s all right, Tammy,” said Nora, holstering her gun and stepping forward. “We’ve come to rescue you.”

Tammy’s eyes focused on the commando for a moment, then slid up in her head again. She collapsed into Timea’s arms.

They lowered her to the floor and Nora set her head gently into her lap. “She’ll be fine with me. You two get the next pod.”

* * *

Tammy’s eyes opened again and she stared up at the woman who held her. Her comforter had dark eyes and hair and a pale, foxlike face. “Pretty,” she murmured as her thoughts reassembled themselves. “Who are you?”

“My name is Nora,” said the stranger. She smiled and brushed Tammy’s hair away from her eyes. “It’s okay; we’re going to get you out of here.”

Get me out? thought Tammy. A cold thread of fear laced her belly. But why? What did I do? The last thing she remembered, she’d been warm and snug inside her Mistress’ womb. Pretty pictures had danced on the walls, while soft voices whispered the secrets of life and love. Tammy had never understood her destiny before, but the womb had assured her that she belonged to the kindest, smartest, most beautiful being on the planet. She was Mistress’ bed slave, and nothing else mattered.

Until now. Suddenly she found herself thrust out of her womb into a strange, cold world where oddly dressed women threatened to take her away from her beloved. The only reason that Tammy could think of was that Mistress had rejected her. Tears filled her eyes.

“Shhh,” soothed Nora, pulling her close. “It’s all right now. Everything’s all right now.”

No, it’s not, thought Tammy. Nothing’s all right at all. Her eyes wandered away from Nora to watch the strangers opening the womb next to hers. Lisa’s sleeping face appeared in its depths, and the strangers put away their weapons to help her from the pod.

Suddenly Lisa’s eyes snapped open. She stared at the women lifting her from her pod.

“Intruders!” she shouted, and launched herself at the nearer woman. One swipe of her arm knocked the gun from the stranger’s hand; a kick drove her back into her companion and sent them both tumbling to the floor. “Intruders!” shouted Lisa again, and clambered past the fallen women to reach the nearest weapon. Tammy felt herself dumped on the floor as Nora rose, drawing her own gun.

Suddenly there came a zip zip from the direction of the control room, and a pair of darts bloomed in Lisa’s neck. She turned, and reached for them almost lazily. Then her eyes dulled and she toppled forward onto the victims of her wrath. Before Tammy could think, two more strangers stepped around another womb and strapped a bag over Lisa’s face.

Then all eyes turned to her.

Tammy blinked stupidly, trying to process what had happened. Lisa, she knew, was one of Mistress’ amazons, programmed to protect Her property and keep Her slaves from harm. But these strangers had shot her down. That meant they weren’t here by Mistress’ will; Tammy hadn’t done anything wrong after all! These, these intruders must be here to do evil! They had to be stopped!

But what could Tammy do when Mistress’ amazon lay unconscious on the floor? Tammy was just a bed slave, and not even a finished one at that. She’d only been Mistress’ property for three weeks and had yet to receive her final programming. She still retained some memories from her old life, some capacity for free thought and action. Mistress would smooth most of that away in the end.

Or She would have, if these strangers hadn’t shown up.

But, Tammy realized, she might be the only one left who could protect Mistress’ property. The guards outside should have kept these intruders from ever reaching the ballroom, yet they’d failed somehow. As Lisa had failed. Tammy could only assume there was no one left to help her, and do the best she could on her own.

She stared up into the grim, strong faces of the intruders, who were talking to each other in voices too low for her to hear; and she found it easy to cringe. “Don’t hurt me,” she whispered. “I’m not an amazon.”

“Is that what she calls her warriors?” asked the one called Nora.

Tammy nodded. “They’re amazons. I’m... just a bed girl. Please don’t hurt me. I can’t do anything to you.”

Nora’s face softened, though the other four remained stern. “We’re not going to hurt you, Tammy,” she said. “We’re here to rescue you. You want to go home, don’t you?”

Tammy paused. This was her home, but she’d had another one once; she remembered it a little. Was that where the intruders wanted to take her? She didn’t belong there any more. Mistress had told her so. Well, she supposed she’d better play along until she could think of something to do. “To... Madison?” She swallowed. “That’s right, I want to go home.”

“Good girl,” said another of the strangers, a tall redhead with a bristly haircut. “We’ll get you out just as quickly as we can, Tammy. But we have to rescue as many abductees as possible. And you can help. What do you know about the women in these pods?” She gestured to the line of wombs, thirty in all. Most were occupied—Mistress had put the bulk of Her property in storage during Her trip to Chicago.

Chicago...Tammy remembered that, too. But it was better not to think any more than she had to. Mistress wouldn’t approve of her trying to remember things she was supposed to be forgetting she even knew. “I- I know some of their names, but not all,” said Tammy. “Is that what you want to know?”

“We’re trying to rescue these girls in particular,” said the redhead, handing a small stack of pictures to Tammy. “Do you recognize them?”

Tammy nodded. She knew them all by sight; they’d been saved from the world at about the same time she had.

“Do you know where they are?” asked the redhead. “Are they in any of these pods? Which ones?”

Tammy hung her head. She remembered seeing two of the girls in these pictures climb into wombs near her own, but something told her it was better not to reveal that. “I don’t know where they are,” she said. “They might be here, but I don’t know which, which pods they might be in. Mistress didn’t put us in any particular order.”

“You can stop calling her ‘Mistress’ now,” said the redhead, not unkindly. “The woman who kidnapped you is Miranda Garrett. Oh, and my name is Jane, and that’s Nissa and Timea and Carole. You already know Nora.”

“Thank you,” said Tammy. “Thank you for rescuing me. I’m going to help you any way I can.”

“Thank you,” smiled Jane. “We have some idea what you’re going through. Can you stand?”

Tammy crawled to her feet and found her legs almost too shaky to support her weight. She really shouldn’t have been taken out of the womb so soon. She could still feel the dildo thrusting between her legs, hammering her mind flat from beneath. It had been at the peak of its cycle when they “saved” her, and she’d missed out on her scheduled orgasm. She yearned for it with a passion that surprised her.

“I don’t think she’s in any condition to walk,” said Nora. “Why don’t I wait here with her until she’s steadier?”

“Good idea,” said Jane. “Carole, you stay, too, and work on that computer bank. I’m going to take the others on a tour of the estate. I don’t want to risk opening any more pods until we have a better idea of what we might find inside. We aren’t prepared to fight thirty more ‘amazons’. In the meantime, I want to check for slaves in other rooms.”

Soon Tammy and Nora were alone on the floor, with Carole out of sight behind the tall computer banks. Tammy knew this was a golden opportunity, but to do what? Still resting in the intruder’s lap, she curled in on herself and whimpered. She was feeling every bit as inadequate as her programming had taught her to feel.

“Don’t be afraid,” murmured Nora, smoothing Tammy’s hair back from her eyes. “I’ve been in your situation too, you know, and I came out of it all right.”

Tammy frowned up at her, confused, and Nora smiled.

“I was a slave once, too,” she said. “My... Mistress had a ranch in Wyoming, and dozens of girls like you. Like me. But the Society rescued me, and I came to work for them. For you. You’re going to be okay now, Tammy. You’re safe. You can become a real person again.”

The bed girl stared up at her in awe. What a slave this proud, strong creature must have been! An amazon, surely, one of her Mistress’ favorites. And yet she gave it all up—or lost it—to become a stealer of other people’s property. If only she could remember the glory of what she’d been.

At that, a new thought struck Tammy. Maybe she could make Nora remember what she’d been. The woman must still have trigger words buried in her brain. Tammy did. If Tammy could find them, and if she could gain access to some of Mistress’ conversion supplies.... Her eyes lit up. Not only could she re-enslave Nora, but with her help, she could conquer the other invaders, as well! That was it! That was how she’d save Mistress’ property!

Hope shone in her eyes.

* * *

Seeing the glow on Tammy’s face, Nora hugged her close. “You feel better now, don’t you?”

“A lot better,” said Tammy. Her mind, such as it was, worked feverishly. “But I can’t believe anyone as strong as you could ever be a slave. How did your Mistress capture you?”

Nora sighed. Her hand, which had been stroking Tammy’s hair, came to a stop. “I was young, and foolish,” she said, looking at the open womb but not really seeing it. “She came to my college, giving seminars on women’s empowerment.”

She looked down into Tammy’s eyes. “She said that we were all slaves of the patriarchal male establishment, even if we didn’t think we were. And she offered... offered to hypnotize us, to wake up our minds so that we could see the truth.”

“And did you?” Tammy asked.

Nora laughed. “Oh, I saw the truth all right. I saw exactly the truth she put into my head. And she programmed me to need to see more truth, and more, until all I wanted was for her to make me into whatever she wanted me to be. And she did.”

It sounds glorious, Tammy thought. My Mistress is doing that for me!

“So I dropped out of school, and moved to her ranch with all the other pretty girls who had fallen under her sway, and I became... well, whatever she wanted me to. I’ve forgotten a lot of it.”

“Nora,” Carole hissed. Come here a minute.”

Nora smiled at Tammy. “I’ll be okay,” Tammy said, raising her head. She sat up as Nora stood. “I’ll just sit here.”

Nora was still smiling, but Tammy could see that she was making up her mind whether to trust Tammy or not. After all, Lisa had obeyed as she was supposed to. But then Nora nodded and walked over to the computers.

Tammy thought hard.

Ambrosia. That’s what Mistress had called it. That clear liquid that she had used to put Tammy into trance, back before... Tammy frowned, and pushed the old thoughts from her mind. Ambrosia. If you put it on someone, they would go into a trance.

Tammy had to find some.

Nora looked over at her from the computers, and Tammy smiled at her.

Where did Mistress keep it? It was so hard to remember, when Tammy knew that what she should be doing was forgetting, forgetting all these things forever. But Mistress was depending on her.

Her downstairs bedchamber. Tammy had seen some there. In the drawer by the desk. Mistress had had some of her slaves anoint Tammy with it... before.

She dismissed the memory. What was important now was that she get that Ambrosia. But how could she get to it?

Ah.

Slowly, both because she didn’t want to startle the intruders and because her legs were still wobbly as taffy, Tammy stood up. She walked slowly over to the other women.

Nora had seen her coming. “What is it, Tammy?”

“Um,” Tammy said. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Carole snorted, but Nora looked sympathetic. “I bet you do. Do you know where one is?”

“Yes, I think so. It’s just out there,” she pointed, “and down the hall a few doors. In a bedroom.”

“Carole,” Nora said, “I’m going to take Tammy to the bathroom.”

“Hold on,” Carole said. “I need you to go through these lists. You’re the only one who knows enough about the traffic to figure out some of these names.”

Nora sighed. “Okay. Tammy, you’ll have to wait a few minutes.”

“No,” Carole said, leaning away from the computer. “I’ll take her.” She looked at Tammy with an assessing eye. “You think she’s clean?”

“She’s only been here a few weeks,” Nora replied. “She should be. Just be careful.”

“Always.” Carole patted her gun. “Okay, Tammy, lead the way.”

Tammy smiled at her and walked across the room. The floor was cold on her bare feet. As she passed through the rows of wombs, she envied the girls inside them.

* * *

She touched the door at the far end of the room, but Carole put a hand on her shoulder. “Hold on,” she said quietly. Taking hold of the doorknob, she turned it slowly, then eased the door open.

The hallway beyond was dark, but enough light came in through the windows that Tammy could see. There was no one there.

“Okay, lead on,” Carole whispered.

Tammy walked down the hall. It was like walking through a place she had seen in a dream; she didn’t remember parts of it at all, but there should be another hallway... where was it? Just as she was getting nervous that she was in the wrong place, she saw the other hall branching off into the building.

The hand materialized on her shoulder again, and she obediently stopped. Carole checked out the hall, then told her to go ahead.

Two doors down, and Tammy hesitated. Was it this one? No, that one. “I think it’s in here,” she whispered.

Carole nodded, and tried the knob. Unlocked. She opened the door; it was dark in the room. Carole reached down, pulled her goggles back up over her eyes and stuck her head in. Then she took them off again.

“Okay, go inside.”

Tammy did so. It was pitch black. Carole came in behind her and closed the door.

“I’m going to turn on the lights,” Carole said, and Tammy closed her eyes while the lights came on.

She opened them and felt relief. This was the bedroom. A big four-poster bed with a scarlet coverlet. A painting of a nude woman on one wall and of a waterfall on the other.

Now she just had to get to the nightstand.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Tammy said, pointing to a small door. “Do you want to watch?”

“Uh, no thanks. I’ll just have a look first,” Carole replied. She walked over to the door and opened it in the way that she seemed to open all doors. She looked inside, then looked back at Tammy with a half-amused expression.

“This is a closet,” she said.

“Oh,” Tammy replied. “Uh. I thought it was a bathroom.”

Carole had turned and was rifling through the closet. “Nope.” She reached into the closet and let her hand shuffle along the hanging garments. With a chuckle, she pulled out a leather bustier with the nipples cut out. “Kinky.”

This was her only chance. While Carole was poking through the closet, Tammy walked over to the small dresser by the bed.

She slid it open. Her heart was racing, and it jumped when she saw the three vials.

“Did you want something to wear?” Carole asked from the closet. “It’s kind of cold to be running around naked.”

“No thank you,” Tammy replied, picking up one slim flask. But how could she hide these? Maybe she did need clothes. “Uh, actually...”

“What are you doing?” Tammy looked up quickly and found Carole already walking towards her. “What the dickens is that stuff?”

“Uh, I was just looking...” Tammy lied, her eyes wide. Oh no! She couldn’t let the intruders know about the Ambrosia! That was her secret weapon!

But Carole had reached her and took the vial out of her hand. She held it up to the ceiling light, and peered at the clear liquid.

Tammy’s eyes dropped to Carole’s waist.

She snatched at the stun gun.

“What the fuck?” Carole shouted, and twisted away from her. But Tammy had managed to grab the handle, and she held on as Carole spun backwards.

The stun gun snapped out of the holster into Tammy’s hands.

Carole was a few feet away. “Tammy....” she said, raising her hands. The vial was still in one of them. “Just take it easy. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to rescue you.”

“No,” Tammy said. “You’re here to take me away from my Mistress. How could you?”

She pulled the trigger, and the little wires sprung across the few feet of air between her and Carole. With a sharp cry, Carole crumpled to the floor.

Tammy looked at her, then down at the gun in her hands. Her certainty evaporated like water on a hot stove, and she tossed it onto the bed. The wires slithered back in with a click.

She had never shot anyone before.

But this... intruder had come to take her away from Mistress!

Carole moaned, and Tammy realized that she was only lightly stunned. Fear of her getting up pushed Tammy into motion. Quickly she dropped to the floor and began pulling at Carole’s clothes. Carole’s arms slid weakly upward as Tammy pulled her shirt open, but they had no strength.

“ssssstoppp” Carole slurred.

Tammy ignored her and snapped open the front clasp of her bra. With another pull her shirt came out of her pants, and Tammy slid it back off the shoulders, leaving Carole’s torso naked from the waist up, her arms tangled behind her in her shirt. Then Tammy fumbled with the her belt.

Tammy knew she probably didn’t need this much flesh to make the magic work. She’d built up a lot of immunity, herself, but Mistress was still able to trance her with a liberal coating between her legs. Carole would probably go under with just a quick smear across her hands or face. But Tammy felt sorry for the commando, so cold and unmastered, and wanted her first experience of Ambrosia to be a good one.

Besides, she had to be totally sure Carole was under for a long time. Her will might be—probably was—a lot stronger than Tammy’s. Better safe than sorry.

She yanked Carole’s belt open, popped the buttons on her pants, and tugged them and her underwear down below her knees.

Carole tried to curl over and reach the walkie-talkie, still attached to her belt, but Tammy put a hand in the middle of her chest and pushed her back flat to the floor.

“What’re you doinnn” Carole gasped.

Tammy didn’t bother to answer. Keeping one hand on Carole’s chest, she stretched out with the other hand and grabbed the vial of Ambrosia that Carole had dropped. She pulled out the cork with her mouth.

Tammy always felt like it should have had a scent—roses or sandalwood, perhaps. But Ambrosia was as scentless as it was tasteless.

She slid her holding hand to a bare shoulder, and very carefully poured a line of Ambrosia from Carole’s neck to her brown-furred pubis.

Carole tried to sit up again, but her arms trembled as her eyes lost their focus. Yes, thought Tammy, she was right about the doses. She probably hadn’t even needed a full vial even for a strong new slave like this. But the Ambrosia was on her now, so Tammy started rubbing it in with both hands, sliding her fingers into the line of oil and pushing it around in long greasy strokes. Her hands slid over Carole’s breasts, up to her shoulders, along her sides, then down along her muscular thighs, covering as much flesh as Tammy could reach with the glistening liquid. Tammy could feel it tingling on her hands and her eyes began to swim, but she was serving her Mistress and that gave her steel.

“Sstoppp” Carole whispered, pushing at her. But Tammy threw one leg over her body and straddled her, the hair of Carole’s exposed bush tickling Tammy’s naked slit, and shoved her back to the carpet by both shoulders.

“Relax,” Tammy said. “Just relax. Be calm. Placid. You are feeling very, very calm. Very relaxed.” Her hands continued to swirl, cupping Carole’s breasts, then sliding down her sides to reach underneath and slick her lower back. “Everything is fine. You are fine. You are very calm, and relaxed.”

She watched her words wash over Carole. From nearly recovered, her strength was now almost gone, her attempts to sit up all but forgotten.

“What have you done... to me?” Carole asked in a quiet voice.

“Very good things,” Tammy soothed. She just had to keep talking now. “Things you like. You like it when I stroke you. You are really enjoying this. It’s soothing, relaxing. Pleasurable. You are feeling so relaxed, so calm, you don’t want to do anything but listen to my voice and relax. You are calm and happy and relaxed. So very relaxed.”

Tammy’s eyelids dropped, and she realized her own voice was affecting her—she quickly wiped her hands through Carole’s shirt, and forced her eyes to focus.

Carole had stopped struggling now, and was staring at the ceiling. Her breath, which had been coming in quick pants, had lengthened and slowed down.

Tammy sent a quick ‘thank you’ to her Mistress, wherever she was. The Ambrosia had worked perfectly.

The walkie-talkie beeped suddenly. “Carole? Carole?”

Tammy jerked back, afraid she had pushed a button or something.

“Carole? Are you there?”

Carole’s glassy eyes stared at nothing. Her breathing was slow and even.

She was here, but she was beyond answering.

Tammy looked at the walkie-talkie, dismayed. She had to act fast, now. The other intruders would start searching for them right away.

“Carole,” she said, speaking a little more quickly now, “you are feeling calm, happy, relaxed. Open. You are feeling very open, and happy, and relaxed. You are just listening to my voice, and it is making you relaxed, and calm, and open. Tell me, Carole, are you calm and open?”

“Yess,” Carole said.

“Yes, you are. Placid and open and happy to believe whatever I tell you. You are totally relaxed now, totally open. Whatever my voice tells you, you believe. Do you believe my voice, Carole?”

“Yesss.”

“Yes, you do. You are open to it, to whatever it tells you. And it tells you that you are enjoying your relaxation so much, you don’t want it to end. Don’t want anything to interfere with it. What you want is to relax and sleep, to ignore whatever happens around you and to just relax and sleep. What is it that you want, Carole?”

“Relax and sleep.”

“Very good. I have a place for you to relax and sleep, a place where no one will find you. Because you do not want to be found; you only want to relax and sleep. You don’t want anyone to find you. Do you want anyone to find you, Carole?”

“No. I want to relax and sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Tammy stood up and held out her hands. “Take my hands, Carole, and we will find you a place to relax and sleep, relax and sleep.”

Carole’s glassy eyes rolled down from the ceiling to look up at Tammy, and she held up her arms. Tammy took them and pulled her to her feet.

She was heavy!

“Just come with me, Carole, you are very relaxed, very open, and all you want is to relax and sleep. All you want is to curl up and never be found so that you can relax and sleep.”

As she kept talking, Tammy led Carole over to the closet. Carole’s pants had slid down to her ankles, hobbling her, but they weren’t moving very fast. Tammy tried to keep her mounting fear of discovery out of her voice as she kept telling Carole how relaxed and open she was.

Shuffling, they walked into the closet.

The steamer trunk was inside where Tammy had remembered it. It was open. Still talking, trying to keep a calm, even voice—they would be here any second, she was sure—Tammy scooped the toys out of it.

“There,” she said, stepping back. “The perfect place for you to relax and sleep. It looks perfect to you. It is the only place you want to be, a safe place to relax and sleep and hide away. Crawl inside, Carole.”

Obediently, Carole crawled into the steamer trunk. It was just big enough for her, lying on her side in a fetal position, her arms behind her back, tangled in her shirt, her pants and panties snarled around her ankles, and her torso glistening with Ambrosia.

“Relax and sleep, Carole,” Tammy said. She darted back out to the bedroom and looked in the dresser. Two vials left—but how long would only one keep Carole subdued? If she woke up...

Tammy decided. Mistress’ potion would be strong enough to keep Carole docile. Tammy snatched up the remaining vials and ran back to the closet.

“You are a very good girl, Carole,” she told the commando, “and you have earned the right to relax and sleep. You will hide here and not let anyone find you. If someone calls out your name, you must be very quiet, because you do not want to be found. You only want to relax and sleep. What will you do if someone is looking for you, Carole?”

“Be very quiet,” Carole replied, her eyes staring at the side of the trunk. “Relax and sleep.”

“Very good, Carole. Relax and sleep.” Tammy pulled the lid down. Both latches had little keyholes next to them. Tammy pushed them shut and heard them click.

Mistress would know where the key was.

Tammy piled the toys on top of the trunk. She hoped there was enough air getting in.

But she didn’t have time to worry about that. Quickly she walked back out into the room, eyeing the other two vials. She had to hide them.

She held one up to her eye. The glass looked plenty thick.

Spreading her legs and crouching, Tammy eased one of the vials into her pussy. With the lubrication from the dildo still coating her, it slid in without a problem.

The one in her ass was more difficult, but she swapped out the slick one in her pussy and slid it into her ass, then put the other one in her pussy in place of the first. She flexed her internal muscles, wiggling the vials into the most comfortable position.

Awkwardly conscious of her walk, she closed the drawer and walked to the bedroom door.

She scanned the bedroom quickly—the stun gun! It was on the bed still. Quickly, she darted over to grab it. The vials felt strange and hard inside her.

She looked at the gun, then lifted the sheets and slid it in between the mattress and the box spring. She wiped her hands off again on the mattress cover—wishing she could wipe them on her face instead—and then carefully tucked the sheet back down over it all. As she stood up, she looked at the solid bedpost and an idea came to her.

Tammy swallowed, gritted her teeth, and bashed her head into the bedpost.

It hurt a lot.

She did it again. And a third time. When she reached up to feel her forehead, there was some blood there. Tammy quickly wiped it off the bedpost.

She stumbled to the door, still feeling the vials. Her head hurt a lot, but she slowly opened the door and looked out into the hallway. There was no one there.

Quickly she slipped into the hall, closed the door, and staggered another twenty feet down the hall to the next intersection.

Then she lay down, closed her eyes, and waited for her rescuers.

It hurt less to let herself fall asleep.

* * *

End part One

* * *