The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She woke up in darkness.

In itself this was not too surprising, as it had been late when Cynthia and her daughter Pam had got back from the luau. But it was total darkness. Bizarrely, she could not tell the difference when she opened or closed her eyes.

She was also clothed in some sort of robe or shift. This wasn’t right; she knew that she had worn her pajamas to bed.

Pam seemed to be clothed in a similar robe. Cynthia knew this because she was spooning behind Pam, one hand nestled in the deep valley between her daughter’s breasts. That was definitely wrong. Cynthia was no longer in the habit of snuggling up next to Pam—and anyway, their hotel room had twin beds.

It was that thought that stabbed through the fog of sleep and woke her up.

“Pam, wake up! Wake up, wake up!”

“Uh, Mom, wha, um—what?”

It was then that the lights came on, and revealed where they were. A cell. There was a recess where the mattress, a surprisingly comfortable one, sat directly on the concrete that was of one piece with the wall. There was a toilet. A sink. Paper cups. That was it, except for the large pane of glass, flush with the wall, next to the sink.

Pam bolted upright. “MOM!” Her voice was shrill with terror. “Where are we? What is going on?”

Cynthia desperately struggled to remain calm. They had been kidnapped. They were stuck in some sort of dungeon or cell. Nothing good was going on. But it wouldn’t help to panic. “I don’t know, Pam. I just—”

Suddenly the pane of glass came alive with color and noise. Pam shrieked and huddled up close to her mom. As they both shook with fear shapes and colors and noise came from what was evidently a TV monitor.

Cynthia didn’t hear anything after that, or rather, she didn’t remember hearing anything. Within seconds her mouth had fallen open, slack. Her hand, which had been tightly gripping Pam’s hand, relaxed. Her other arm, which had been wrapped around Pam’s back and cradling her head, slid limply down.

Pamela too stared, glassy-eyed, at the screen. A couple of times her mouth twitched as if she were trying to say something.

The two women, still hand-in-hand, stared blankly at the screen. The shapes turned and twisted, morphed into each other, grew and shrank. Music played, fading in and out. Words appeared on the screen. Those same words also played in a hidden speaker, loud in the room—not that the two women knew that.

Obey. Be calm. Do as you’re told. Obey. Be calm. Do as you’re told.

Obey. Obey. Obey.

Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.

Cynthia and Pam were still staring vacantly when the screen finally clicked off, and a man entered the room and nudged them back down on the bed. After the man left and closed the door, sounds played on the speaker as the women slept.

Some time later (they would never be able to tell time in the windowless room), Cynthia woke up again. Still dressed in the strange clothes, basically a thin, one-piece cotton dress, and nothing else. Still spooned up against Pam, although this time her hand was on her daughter’s belly. Cynthia shook her daughter awake again, although this time she did not feel the blind terror so intensely. Pam was saying “Oh God oh God oh God we’re still here I thought it was a nightmare” when the video monitor clicked on again.

It was all the same. The colors and shapes moving and twisting on the monitor. The music fading in and out. The words. The man, who once again entered after the words and colors went away and tucked the women into bed.

When they woke up again they were wearing collars and shackles. Leather collars, with obvious rings for leashes, and leather shackles with the same. Pam and Cynthia both scrabbled away at their collars and shackles but they were securely locked. They were also still dressed in the simple white cotton shifts, which cinched at the waist to reveal their body shapes—other than that, they reminded Cynthia of baptismal robes.

Once again the fear rose in Cynthia but she had an easier time tamping it down. Be calm. Be calm.

Pam spoke first, after each of them had found that the collars wouldn’t come off. “Mom. What’s going to happen to us?”

Cynthia observed that while her daughter had seemed about to lose her head and start screaming with panic, before—wait, what had happened before?

Well, Pam was calmer now than before.

“Sweetie, I don’t know. Somebody brought us here, maybe, maybe, maybe we can get them to let us go.” There was no conviction in her words.

The two women clasped hands. And almost as if that were a cue, the door to their cell opened.

Cynthia was not sure what she was expecting, but the man that entered wasn’t it. He was casually dressed in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Late twenties, dark brown hair, slender build. Friendly smile. He could have been a tour guide. The two burly men who stood behind him, however, looked much more like they belonged in this setting.

The man raised a hand in greeting. “Hi. I’m David.”

Cynthia bolted upright from the bed. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

She was shouting but the man seemed hardly bothered. “Well, I don’t really need to tell you much about who I am besides my name, except that I am your caseworker. I’m here to supervise turning the two of you into sex slaves.”

Pam, who was still sitting on the bed, moaned in despair. Cynthia gathered her courage. “What? What the fuck are you talking about? What is this place? What are we doing here?” Panic was again rising through that strange calmness—be calm—and she could hear her voice getting hysterical.

David raised both hands in a gesture that in other circumstances would have come across as reassuring. “Everything will be fine. Be calm.” Be calm. “What is this place, you ask. Well, this place is what you might call a training center. An educational camp. You, and your daughter, will be mentally conditioned into sex slaves.“

For an instant Cynthia thought to launch herself at this man, but the two big beefy guys behind him stood as mute warning. “Are you crazy? What—how did you find us?”

“How did we find you. Imagine an array of computer servers, trawling Facebook and Instagram and other social media, searching for all instances of people who said they’re going to Hawaii. Imagine that those computers winnowed their search fields to women who were unattached, single, divorced, or in your case widowed, who were between sixteen and forty-five. Imagine that the computers had facial recognition software sophisticated enough to mostly pick up women who were objectively attractive...well, it’s not too hard for someone we process to send a letter to her employer saying that she’s decided to stay in Hawaii forever. Like you will. Kidnapping people from their hometowns would be too risky. Sometimes we do custom orders... anyway, ‘sex slave’ is a pretty niche product and we find the Hawaii operation is enough to meet demand.”

The thing about this that most worried Cynthia was his chipper, upbeat manner. He could have been pitching her a time share.

When he raised his hand Cynthia saw what he was holding: two leashes. Pam’s leash was blue leather, which matched her collar and shackles. She whimpered as David hooked the leash to her collar. To Cynthia he hooked a red leash, which matched her shackles and, presumably, her collar as well.

Next, David cuffed their wrists. With a nod to the beefy guys, he led the two women out the door, holding both leashes in one hand. Cynthia saw that there was a hallway with a dozen doors. No windows anywhere; she had the strong impression that the whole complex was underground. He led them down the hallway, the beefy guys following mutely behind.

Cynthia felt a trepidation which, given the circumstances, was much milder than the desperate fear she should have been feeling. Be calm. He hadn’t hurt them. He hadn’t raped them. Yet. Maybe there was a way out.

As her bare feet padded down the cool tile of the floor, she gathered her courage. “Listen—David. I’m a lawyer. I make a lot of money. My husband left me a lot more money.” It was all true. “If you let us out of here, I could pay you. I could pay you a lot.”

He chuckled. “First of all, Cynthia, you should call me ‘sir’. You will soon.” The leash was a constant, if gentle, tug at the collar at her throat. “It’s a very nice offer, but I’m afraid I can’t accept. I’m very well compensated by our operation here. I have two slaves of my own! Plus, well, if I betrayed my employers by letting you go, they’d make sure I regretted it.”

Cynthia’s mind whirled. “Maybe—maybe we could be your slaves. You’d have the two of us and all my money too.” It wasn’t a genuine offer, and Cynthia was sure that David knew that, but she had to try.

Once again, his tone was gentle. “I’m afraid not. You two are a tempting offer. I do like blondes with big tits like you and Pam. But I couldn’t afford you. They pay me well but not that much.“

They passed through a door. Inside were four chairs that look like dentists’ chairs. An Asian woman was sitting in the far chair. She was wearing a baptismal robe identical to what Cynthia and Pam wear wearing. Electrodes were attached to several spots on her skull. She stared up at the ceiling vacantly, her chest rising and falling evenly.

One beefy guy took hold of Cynthia’s arm and leash. The other did the same for Pam. The women were each ushered into a dentist chair. Cynthia had the sudden urge to jump up and run. But where to? And how could she even escape the very large man who was locking her wrists into restraints? Be calm. Obey. Obviously the only thing to do was to resist whatever programming these crazy people thought they were going to put in her mind. If she and Pam were going to be slaves, that meant they’d have a master, and that meant they’d get out, and they’d have a chance to get away.

The beefy guy pushed Cynthia into the chair in a manner that wasn’t that rough, but suggested that he could get rough if she resisted. She looked him straight in the eye and said “Please don’t.” He said nothing.

Cynthia made no further resistance as her ankles were also locked to the chair and her head was placed in a restraint. She didn’t even resist as the electrodes were placed on her temples and forehead. Be calm. Obey. Do what you are told.

Pam resisted, though. It was entirely ineffectual, but she pulled and pulled on the wrist and ankle shackles. As the electrodes were attached she spoke for the first time out of their cell. “Fuck you, asshole. This will never work.”

Cynthia’s mouth opened to urge her to be quiet but David, who was tapping at a computer keyboard, spoke first. “Well then you have nothing to worry about. Ladies, I promise this will not hurt. You will feel absolutely no pain. You’ll just take little naps, the both of you.”

Pam said “You can’t—", but then Cynthia heard David hit a key on the keyboard. He was telling the truth; she felt no pain. She felt nothing at all, as her consciousness simply clicked off.

Cynthia woke up in a daze, her vision blurred. When she came back to awareness she was already back on her feet, being held, firmly but not roughly, by one of the beefy guys. She felt a rock-solid trunk against her, and a thick, muscular arm holding her up. She had memories of her husband, killed in a car wreck, embracing her. She felt very feminine, womanly. She felt her pussy start to get wet. Then she realized where she was and what had happened.

“What...what...", she tried to speak. She realized that her wrists were cuffed behind her back.

David’s polite, calm voice sounded in her ear. “All done with session 1. You’ll get your legs back in a second.” Her vision came back into focus to show David’s face as he hooked the leash on her collar. Right behind him, the second beefy guy held up Pamela, who looked as out-of-it as Cynthia felt.

“OK slaves, let’s go.” Once again David took both leashes in hand and tugged Cynthia and Pam out of the room.

They marched down the hallway, the two women awkwardly with their arms were bound. Cynthia, now feeling curious as well as strangely calm, ventured to ask a question. “David, what just happened? What did you do to us?”

He answered without hesitation. “That was the beginning of your real programming. The subliminals from the video left you with a compulsion to obey and remain calm, but that was really just temporary, surface-level conditioning to make you easier to handle. It prepares the groundwork, so to speak, but on its own would soon fade away. This is the real deep programming. This is the first step in truly turning you into a slave.”

“Is that really possible?” Judging by her tone, she might have been asking about any technological innovation.

“It is. How do you feel?”

She considered this question. “I feel fine.” She did. She felt—relaxed, which given the circumstances, was bizarre.

Pam spoke up as they approached the door. “I feel like I’m watching a movie. Like this is happening to someone else. How did you do that?”

David answered promptly. “A mild dissociative state. Not really part of the programming, but a common side effect.”

One of the beefy guys opened the door to their cell and all five of them entered. “Goodnight, ladies!", said David, and the three men left, leaving Pam and Cynthia alone.

The lights dimmed, which Cynthia already understood to be the signal to go to bed. Obey. As the two women crawled into bed Pam said “Mom, how are we going to get out of here?“

Cynthia thought. “Well, sweetie, I think we have to play along. We’re still alive. They haven’t hurt us. Maybe at some point we’ll see our chance.”

“Maybe,” said Pam, doubt in her voice. After that, the lights went out completely, and soon the two women were asleep.

The lights came on again. Not long after, David and the two guards arrived. Once again their wrists were cuffed behind them, and the two women were led down the hallway. No one spoke. Cynthia could not think of any questions to ask and she was quite convinced by now that neither threats nor begging would do any good.

They entered into the programming room. The Asian woman was again strapped to a chair, electrodes taped to her head, but this time she was naked. Cynthia’s stomach lurched with horror as she saw the woman’s breasts heaving up and down, her eyes unblinking, her lips slightly parted.

Pam started to cry as they were unshackled and strapped into their chairs. Pam whispered to David in a desperate voice, “Please, please let us go. We won’t tell anyone. Just let us go home.”

David was already at the computer’s keyboard. “I’m sorry, Pam. It’s too late for that now. Besides, soon you won’t really mind.”

That was the last thing Cynthia heard before her consciousness blinked out again.

She came to as before, being supported by one of the beefy guards. The two women were again handcuffed and leashed, and led back to their cells.

This time Cynthia tried drawing David out. “Sir, don’t you think that what you are doing is wrong?”

David answered politely, not looking back as he tugged on their leashes. “Cynthia, we provide a service. Everybody wins. Wealthy men get sex slaves, we make a lot of money, and you, you’ll be happier than you ever were before.“

Pam spoke up. “That seems hard to believe, sir. I certainly don’t feel happy right now.”

David said “It may be hard to believe but it’s true. How do you feel now, after two treatments? You don’t feel scared anymore, do you?”

Pam thought before answering. “No sir, I guess I don’t. Maybe because I still don’t believe you can do what you say you can do.”

They were at their cell. David unhooked their leashes and said, “Are you hungry?” As he opened the door Cynthia realized that she was ravenous. She had no earthly idea how long they’d been there, not after sleeping and having two sessions in the chair.

The two women stepped inside. Before them were two styrofoam bowls holding some sort of mashed potato concoction with greens mixed in. The bowls were sitting on the floor. Their wrists were still shackled behind them.

“No...", Pam whispered. David’s only answer was to say “Kneel.” They both did, although Cynthia saw out of the corner of her eye that Pam needed a little push from the beefy guy. David then cheerfully said “Eat up!”

“Please, sir,” said Cynthia, but David’s only response was a calm, but firm, “Eat your food.”

So they did. Cynthia leaned forward. A hand held her wrist shackles to support her as she lowered her face to the mashed potatoes and ate. Like a dog. Like a bitch. Her face, her whole body flushed red with embarrassment, and, she realized as she pushed into the bowl, excitement. How easy would it be for one of her trainers to flip up the skirt of her cotton dress?

Finally, when she was tonguing the bowl for what potato she could still reach, the hand pulled her wrists back. “Stand,” said David, and she did. Her beefy guy produced a paper towel and cleaned her face. Then her wrists were unshackled. She stood next to Pam and took her daughter’s hand as David looked at both at them calmly but sternly. “You will never use your hands to eat,” he said. “Repeat.”

Their voices in unison, calm, Cynthia and Pam said “We will never use our hands to eat.”

“You will address me as sir.”

“Yes, sir.” Again in unison.

David smiled, and Cynthia could not stop herself from feeling a glow of pride at that smile. “Good girls. Now, bedtime!”

The three men left and the door shut behind them. Within a few minutes the lights clicked off in the cell and the two women were holding each other in the bed.

With the lights off it was utterly black in their cell, so Cynthia could not see her daughter’s face. But Pam’s voice had none of the terror Cynthia had heard before; instead there was uncertainty and curiosity. “Mom. They can’t really turn us into slaves, can they?“

Cynthia answered with far more certainty than she felt. “No. No they can’t. But we can pretend in order to get out of here.”

“But Mom, I...when they led us back here I didn’t really mind at all. It was like walking a dog except I was on the other end of the leash. And eating. I didn’t want to, but when I was eating it was fine. It felt fine.”

“Don’t worry sweetie. Don’t pay attention to any of that. They can’t change who we are. Now let’s try and go to sleep.” Cynthia closed her eyes. Despite the reassuring words she had just said to Pam, she was starting to believe that David and his nameless employers actually could change who she and Pam were.

After a certain time, the lights came up again, and an alarm bell chimed to wake them up. Cynthia wondered again just how long they had been in this strange place. She unentangled herself from Pam, sat up, and stretched her arms. It occurred to her that being locked in a cell felt strangely normal now. Normal, except for the two bowls of mashed potatoes and two water bowls that sat on the floor of the cell.

She looked down at them. Pam woke up, rubbed her eyes, and looked down at the floor as well.

A few moments of silence passed. Finally Pam broke it. “I guess we’re supposed to eat.”

“Yes,” answered Cynthia. Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap. “They told us not to use our hands.”

“Mom, maybe we shouldn’t eat. Maybe we should go on a hunger strike.”

Cynthia shook her head. “No. We need to eat.” Obey. Do what you’re told. You are a slave. “Not eating won’t fix anything. We need to get out of here and the way to do that is to cooperate. So let’s eat.“

“Without using our hands?”

“Yes sweetie. We will never use our hands to eat.”

“We will never use our hands to eat,” Pam repeated.

They both got on all fours and ate the potato mush. Cynthia wondered if there were any cameras in the room. Surely there must be, somewhere. Were they watching? Could they see her tits hanging down, brushing the floor as she gobbled up the mush and slurped up the water? What would it be like if they were standing there? What would it be like to look up from her dog bowl and see David’s feet? Would he pet her like a dog? Would he stroke her hair?

They both finished their food and water and cleaned themselves with toilet paper. Soon David and the two beefy guards appeared at the door and escorted them to what Cynthia was now thinking of the training room.

Obey. Obey. Do as you are told. You are happy to obey. You want to obey. You are a slave.

Once again Cynthia woke up woozy, being held by one of the guards, who had never once said a word. She melted into him. He had muscle like granite. She wondered how big his cock was. She realized that she was no longer scared of this place at all.

David led Cynthia and Pam back to the cell as usual. He unsnapped the leashes and handed them to a guard. Then he turned to Cynthia and said, pleasantly but firmly, “Take off your dress.”

She gaped at him. “What?”

“Take off your dress.”

The cotton shifts were all that they had been given to wear. She didn’t have any underwear. “No...please, sir. Please, no.”

“Cynthia, I want you to take off your dress now, and I want you to give it to me.”

“But, uh, sir, I can’t.”

“Cynthia, you are a slave. A slave obeys.” Obey. Slave. “A slave does as she is told.” Do as you are told. “Take off your dress.“

“Please, sir. I don’t want you to see me. I don’t want them to see me.”

“Cynthia. Be a good girl.” You are a good girl. “Dress. Off. Now.“

Her lip trembled. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach. David frowned and stared into her eyes. Finally she reached behind her back and undid the two buttons that held the shift together. It was easy to shake out of the dress, which she picked up from around her ankles and handed to David, her hands shaking only a little as she did so.

She stood in front of David and the two beefy guards, nude. How did she feel? Scared? No, she still wasn’t scared. Embarrassed? No. She felt proud. She knew she was sexy, she knew that she was 40 but could pass for ten years younger, she knew that men still stared at her boobs. It was hard to find bras that fit them...she remembered that one time in college, when she and her friends went on a trip to the beach, and she’d wanted to look sexy so she wore a tiny bikini. She’d instantly regretted it when she saw the men leering. Now she felt like—a bitch, a slut?—no. Well, she did feel like a slut, but she didn’t feel bad about it. She felt like a prize horse, a thoroughbred that was on display for people to ooh and aah at.

The guards remained impassive but David obviously enjoyed the view. Unconsciously she thrust her tits out at him. Her puffy nipples were as erect as they’d ever been. He reached out and cupped a breast and Cynthia moaned with pleasure, her pussy going wet.

David squeezed and fondled her boob. Cynthia’s knees shook and she struggled to remain standing. He said “Thank you, slut, you have pleased me.” With those words, the knowledge that she had pleased him—I want to please my master—a feeling of joy washed over Cynthia, and with it an orgasm. Her knees buckled and she fell against him, and David held her as she shook with climax.

David caressed her naked body while Cynthia breathed raggedly. After a moment he stood her back up on her still shaky legs, then he turned to look at Pam. Pam was watching this scene with her mouth parted—in astonishment? In excitement?

“Pam, why did I do that? Why did I tell her to take her dress off?”

“Um, because, um, because sir, because you wanted to see her naked. Because you wanted to touch her boob.”

“That’s true, but I didn’t need to ask her to do that, did I? I could have torn her dress off.” Another moan escaped from Cynthia’s throat as she visualized this, and she could feel a trickle of moisture run down her thigh. While keeping eye contact with Pam, David jerked his head towards the two guards standing behind him. “I could have had those gentlemen tear her dress off.” Now Pam was breathing heavier as well. “So why did I ask her to do it?”

Pam struggled for a response. “Because...I don’t know. I’m sorry sir, I don’t know.”

David smiled gently. “Because the point was for her to do it herself. Because the point was for her to show that she’s a slave. Because the point was for her to know that she is a slave. If I had torn her dress off, she might have been able to pretend to herself that she didn’t want to. Now she knows that she did want to. Now she knows what she is.“

“Yes sir,” said Pam. Pam was practically panting now. Cynthia slid a finger into her pussy.

“Yes,” said David. “Now, Pamela, take your dress, off, and give it to me.”

“Yes sir,” said Pam throatily. Without hesitation she undid her buttons, took her dress off, and gave it to David.

Cynthia marveled at her daughter’s body. Pam looked like her but 20 years younger, tits as big as her mother’s but more perky, jutting out proudly like they were begging for a cock to go between them.

“Thank you, Pamela. You have pleased me.” Pamela moaned again. She closed her eyes and a dreamy smile stole over her face.

“Well, slaves, it’s dinner time.” A third guard that Cynthia had never seen before appeared in the door with a tray bearing two bowls of potato mush and two bowls of water. He set the tray down on the floor.

The two naked women bent down to eat without using their hands. Cynthia thought that if David were behind them he’d see their asses pointed up at him. Maybe he’d fuck one of them, or both of them. But he was in front of them, so he saw their smooth, bare backs, and their hair spilling around the tray.

When they were done they stood up. The guard took the tray, and all three guards left. Cynthia and Pam looked at David, their faces smeared with potato.

“Don’t clean yourselves off. Cynthia, you clean your daughter off, and Pam, you clean your mom.”

So they did. They stood facing each other, breasts touching. Cynthia took a wad of toilet paper and gently cleaned off her daughter’s face. Pam did the same.

When they were done, without moving, they looked at David again. “Good job, girls. Now it’s bedtime. Time to go to sleep.”

The lights dimmed to a very low level. Cynthia and Pam crawled under their blanket, their breasts touching again as they held each other.

Pam broke the silence. “Mom, it’s working, isn’t it? He’s turning us into slaves.”

Cynthia tried to use her most calming voice. Be calm. “Yes. Yes, I think it is. But we’ll be ok, honey. Eventually we’ll get out of here, and maybe, maybe then we can escape, and maybe, and then we can get changed back. Now it’s time to go to sleep. David told us to go to sleep.” Obey.

“OK, mom.” Pam closed her eyes. Cynthia did too, but as she closed her eyes, she thought about what she’d said to Pam. The problem was, by the time they were out of this dungeon, they wouldn’t want to change back. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to change back now.

The next day (?), and another training session. Cynthia and Pam practically leapt to their feet when the lights came on in their cell. David appeared with the two guards, and Cynthia raised her chin to allow him easier access to her collar. As David led the two slaves to the training room, Cynthia considered his form. He was not a mountain of muscle like the two guards that trailed behind their party. But he was a handsome man, six feet tall (some six inches taller than her and Pam), ice-blue eyes, strong cheekbones, fit and lean. Again, she wondered if he’d fuck her.

The routine was the same: the chair, the electrodes, then falling out of consciousness. Slave. Obey. Toy. She never could remember anything that happened in the chair, although she had odd memories of memories, like she knew she was hearing and seeing things in her head but she didn’t know what.

As usual she woke up punchy from the programming. This time, however, she was cradled in David’s arms, not one of the two guards. Also, her wrists were shackled. Also, the guards were leading Pamela away while she stayed behind.

At the sight of her daughter being separated from her, the panic that she earlier stopped feeling suddenly exploded again. She even struggled, weakly, but still, she struggled in David’s arms. “Sir, Master, where are they taking her?”

David held on to her, gently but firmly. “Shh, slave. Calm down.” Be calm. Cynthia stopped struggling, although her panicked eyes remained fixed on the now-empty doorway. “They’re only taking her back to your room. You’ll see her again soon.” She believed him. Her breathing slowed back to regular. She was suddenly aware of how her naked body was pressed up against David’s shirt and khaki pants, how her tits were resting on his locked arms. “I just wanted to get you alone for a progress interview.“

He led her by her leash to a single chair on the side of the room, where he sat. “Kneel.” She did, and sat on her heels, looking up at him expectantly.

“How are you, slave?”

The strangeness of the question almost made her laugh, but she must not laugh at a master. “I’m fine, sir. I’m good. When we first came to this place I was scared, but I’m better now.”

“Tell me, slave, how is your progress?” The second question was said just as politely as the first.

“I...I know I’m changing. I can feel it. I know you’re changing things in my head. I was...I never did anything like this. Not even for role play. I was never submissive, I was never into bondage. I didn’t even like to give blowjobs except that sometimes I had to, to get a man to go down on me. But now, now it’s different.”

“How?”

She thought. “I know I’m a vessel. A...a toy.” Toy. “I know I am to be used by a master, and, and I want to be used by a master. I want to be fucked.“

“Well, that’s a good girl.” As always, when David expressed approval, she beamed with pride. “Do you feel like you are a slave now?”

“Um, I do. But sir, I, uh...sir, some part of me still resists. I can feel it.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“Sir, I know that I’m going to be a slave, I know I’m supposed to be a slave, I want to be a good girl, but sometimes I still want to escape from here. Run away, take Pam with me, be a lawyer again, be independent. I was a good lawyer.”

David smiled and said “I don’t doubt it. What if you could escape, slave? What if I took you up on that offer you made when you were starting your conditioning. I could give you and Pam clothes. I could show you the way out. I could even open the door. Would you go?”

Cynthia thought for a long time. “I don’t know sir. I don’t...I don’t think so. Maybe? I want to be a good slave. I want to obey. But I still feel that part of me that wants out.”

In an understanding tone David said “I know. Don’t worry, that’s totally normal. Making a slave isn’t quick work. Can’t be rushed. It takes some time to crush that desire to escape, that desire for freedom.”

Cynthia rose up on her knees and said, suddenly and with desperate feeling, “Sir, please, can you do it? Please, Master. Make me a slave. Make me want to be a slave. Make me so I’m fully obedient. Make me a good girl. Please, please sir, finish my training. Please kill the old me. Please, so I can stop feeling this doubt inside.”

David said “We will. Don’t worry. But Cynthia, one thing. You’ll go back to your cell with Pamela in a little bit, but you understand that you’ll be a slave, and she’ll be a slave. You could be separated.” She swallowed but could not speak. He continued. “You’ll know that you’re fully a slave when that doesn’t bother you.”

Cynthia’s lip trembled. Separated from Pam, forever. She started to cry. But she knew how happy Pam would be as a slave, just as she would be happy as a slave, just as she wanted to serve, just as she wanted to be fucked. Wasn’t that all that mattered? Wouldn’t Pam have left her one day even if they’d never come here? Even as the tears trickled down her cheeks she said “Yes. Yes, sir.”

“I have good news for you, though.” Hope bloomed in her heart. “You won’t be separated. You’ve been bought as a pair.”

She closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then she opened her eyes and looked up at David, her eyes now brimming with tears of joy. “Thank you, thank you sir, thank you Master.”

He smiled again, tenderly. “You’re welcome, but it wasn’t me. We don’t take a lot of mother-daughter pairs and when we do they’re virtually always sold as a set.”

“Thank you thank you thank you.”

“Again, you’re welcome. So,” and his voice rose in a way that voices rise when someone is ending a meeting, “anything else? Anything you’d like to share with me, slave?”

She gulped. Who was she, to ask him anything? “Master, can you—can you touch me again? I need it so bad. I’m so horny all the time now. Please, please, touch me, use me.”

David looked pleased. “Well, I certainly can’t say no to that.” Instead of reaching for her leash he grabbed her hair, which was closer, and pulled her face to his crotch. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back. She frantically worked at the button to his pants with her mouth and, to her own surprise and relief, got it open. But the zipper was harder and she was still struggling to get it in her teeth when she felt a hard yank up on her hair.

“Let me help you, slave.” He reached down with his other hand and pulled down his zipper. Then he pulled a hard cock free from his boxers. She sobbed with joy once before diving on it. She bobbed up and down on his shaft eagerly, frantically even, desperate to please him, hungry for what she needed more than anything. She smelled that man smell. He pushed down on her head and she went face first into his hair, and she nearly gagged as his cock hit the back of her throat, but she held on. She slurped up and down, wishing she had her hands free so she could touch his balls and his shaft, looking up into his eyes, hoping that she was pleasing him.

Another hard yank on her hair. She felt disappointed as his cock slipped out of her lips, but when he grabbed his cock with his right hand she knew what was next. Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes...he grunted, and painted her face with cum, splattering her forehead, her nose, her cheek. After breathing heavily for a few moments he looked her in the eye and said “That was excellent, slave.” She smiled with pride.

He zipped up his pants and, after another moment’s rest, rose to his feet and grabbed her leash. She stumbled awkwardly as he pulled and fell down on her knees again (it hurt) before staggering to her feet and walking after him. They made it back to the cell, David opened the door, and he pushed her inside. To her relief she saw Pam sitting cross-legged, her back up against the bed, her wrists also cuffed.

Her face, also splattered with cum.

David reached over and grabbed Pam’s hair and roughly yanked her to her feet. The two women stood toe-to-toe. “Wow Mom,” said Pam. “We match.”

“Clean each other off,” said David. Their hands of course were still shackled. Cynthia looked at Pam’s shocked face and felt the same emotion on hers. She couldn’t possibly do that...but a slave must obey. She must obey. She realized that her hesitation was from that part of her that she so wanted David to erase.

Cynthia leaned down and tenderly licked a single rope of cum from Pam’s left breast. Then she moved up and licked more off of Pam’s chin. Off of her upper lip. Off of her left cheek and ear. When she was done, Pam swallowed hard, then did the same with her.

David removed the cuffs. “All right bitches, time for bed. Go to sleep.” The door closed behind him. The lights dimmed. Pam and Cynthia slipped under the covers and put their arms around each other, nose to nose, nipple to nipple.

Pam initiated the kiss, kissing her mother tenderly, open-mouthed, like a lover. After they kissed for a while Pam broke the contact. “Gosh, Mom. Things sure are different now.”

“They are, sweetie. But that’s ok. Aren’t you happy?”

“Yes I am. I really am.”

“That’s all that matters, Pam. Now let’s sleep.” And Cynthia closed her eyes and realized that she was happier than she’d ever been.

The lights came on. Their morning breakfast of gruel and water. Cynthia was starting to forget about the outside. Not literally, she knew that before she had come here she had been a very successful attorney, and she certainly remembered everything about her old life, but everything before somehow felt unreal.

David and his two muscular friends showed up as always. As the three men and the two naked women made their trip down the hall Pam piped up “Sir, how much longer will we be here?”

David looked behind his shoulder, frowning slightly. “That’s not really the sort of question a slave asks, Pam. It will take as long as it takes, until I’m completely sure that the two of you have been fully enslaved and any hope for freedom or desire to escape has been wiped out.”

Pam’s answer sounded nervous. “Oh Master, I’m sorry, I’m sorry sir, that’s not what I meant. I just meant...we’ll miss you. When we have to leave.”

David’s tone was much more friendly. “I see. Well, thank you, slave. I’ll miss you too, you and your mother. I’ve enjoyed programming you.”

Again the brainwashing room. Cynthia eagerly hopped into the chair. Again the consciousness that went out like flipping a light switch, then returned only gradually. As always, she luxuriated in the feel of her naked body against a master—in this case, David.

As the last cobwebs cleared from her brain David said, in a slightly knowing tone, “How do you feel?”

“This one feels good, sir.” The words came out of her mouth without thought. She was shocked. Why had she said that?

Back to the cell. The guards retreated, leaving David and the girls alone. “Well,” said he. “Cynthia, I have a question for you. What is your name?”

What a stupid question, thought Cynthia. She opened her mouth to say her name, and nothing came out.

Her lips trembled as she felt the sort of fear she hadn’t felt for a long time. Cynthia. Cynthia Cynthia Cynthia. Her name was Cynthia. She imagined it in huge block letters, CYNTHIA.

She opened her mouth. “Slave.” She swallowed nervously. “Bitch.” She took a deep breath. “This one. This girl.”

“That’s right. Good girl.” The surge of fear and panic she’d felt over not being able to say her own name receded, as relief and contentment washed over her for having pleased a master. “Now, Cynthia, what is her name?” He pointed at Pam.

This time it was easier. “That one. That slave. That girl. That bitch.”

“Right again!” He put out a hand and touched her cheek. She sighed with pleasure and rubbed her face against his outstretched hand. “Pam, your name?”

She hesitated only briefly. “This one. This girl. This slave.”

“Very good! Do you know why we have done this, slave?”

“No Master, this one is sorry,” said Pam.

“Because you two no longer have names, not really.” He slipped an arm around Cynthia’s waist, and one around Pam’s, and pulled the two slaves until they were facing each other. “You two don’t have names because you have no identity anymore. Because you are slaves. You are objects. You are toys to please your master.”

Cynthia was looking straight into her daughter’s eyes. Pam’s lips were slightly parted and her face was flushed. She looked as horny as Cynthia felt, which was very.

“Good night, slaves!” He turned and left. The light instantly dimmed to a low level, then, after Cynthia and Pam had gotten under the blanket, it went out.

“Good night, sweetie.”

“Good night, mom.” Pam suddenly made an excited noise. “This one can still call you mom!” She hesitated a moment then said, “Isn’t it weird that this slave can still call you that?”

Cynthia considered. “This slave doesn’t think so, sweetie. This slave thinks that this slave’s master must have wanted his girls to still think of themselves that way.”

“Probably. Good night, mom.”

“Good night, sweetie.”

There was silence in the dark. Then Cynthia heard a sort of rapid shuffling noise. She instantly knew what was happening: Pam was masturbating.

“Honey?”

“Sorry mom.” Pam’s voice was tight. “This one has to. This one—slave just has to. Slave is so horny. Slave needs it.” Cynthia rolled over and embraced her daughter. Pam started breathing more rapidly. “That one, uh...", said Pam as she huffed. “That one...", and she poked her mother in the thigh with her left hand, the one that wasn’t in her pussy. “That one should do it too. Mom should do it too.”

Cynthia started tickling her daughter’s ear with her tongue. Pam let out a moan. Suddenly she shot out her left hand, grabbed Cynthia’s hand, and shoved it between Cynthia’s legs. Now two women were eagerly rubbing their pussies.

Pam had a head start, so she came first, a long ragged moan escaping from her lips. As Pam caught her breath Cynthia rubbed the slickness between her legs frantically. Finally she came too, squeezing Pam’s boob hard with her other hand, her own moan caught in her throat because her mouth was pressed to her daughter’s shoulder.

She felt wonderful. She had a deep and restful sleep.

Another “day”. Mashed potatoes and water. Pam grinned as she kissed the food off of Cynthia’s face. “You are so messy, Mom.”

David showed up with two leashes in hand. He didn’t have the beefy guys with him—Cynthia knew that by now she and Pam were so well-conditioned that there was no need for a guard to stop them from making trouble.

“Before we go to the training room, you girls need a shower. This way.”

They certainly did. Cynthia and Pam had been spot-bathing with the single washcloth in their cell, but her body cried out for a good shower.

She was unsurprised to find that the single shower had no walls, and she was unsurprised that David stood in the doorway to watch. After all, they were slaves. She was again unsurprised when David said “Girls, maybe you’ve figured out this already, but we do have a sort of training regimen around here. Each of you will wash the other. Neither of you will touch your own body.”

Pam grinned again. “This slave saw that coming.”

They turned on the shower head. The warm water cascaded down on them. As she washed her daughter everywhere Cynthia took the time to consider Pam’s ridiculous body—her huge tits, that firm 18-year-old ass—but also the dimple when she smiled and the mischievous look Pam had in her eye right now. She was so happy that they were going to be slaves together.

After Cynthia had rinsed her daughter’s hair they kissed under the shower head, for a long time. Cynthia basked in the warmth and in the feel of Pam’s slippery body in her arms. Finally Pam began to bathe her mother.

For everything that had happened Cynthia was surprised when Pam’s fingers found their way to Cynthia’s pussy. Cynthia’s eyes widened and she drew her head back even as she unconsciously spread her feet apart just a little bit. “No, y—slave shouldn’t. Slave shouldn’t.”

Pam was now busy stroking her mother with one hand, while holding Cynthia tight with the other arm. She poked her mother’s shoulder with her free hand. “This slave wants it.” She was whispering right into Cynthia’s ear. “And other slave, younger slave—bitch slave. Bitch wants to make this slave feel good.” Pam was quiet for a moment while she stroked Cynthia’s clit. “Bitch loves this slave. Bitch wants to make this slave happy.”

Cynthia climaxed, very hard, moments later, shaking in her daughter’s arms as Pam held her up. Once her orgasm had washed over her, she returned the favor. Cynthia actually lost her grip when her daughter came, and Pam slid bonelessly to her knees on the floor, the water from shower still pounding on both of them, Pam with her eyes closed and her face resting on Cynthia’s thigh as she muttered “Oh god oh god oh god.”

When her daughter was able to get to her feet, they toweled off and left the shower area. It was time for another session in the training chairs.

The two slaves were led by leash back to their cell. Cynthia had not seen their two beefy guards for a while, so she was surprised to find them there—wearing bathrobes. An instant later she understood.

Dave said “Soon you two will be leaving us. So this is a sort of parting gift for my coworkers. Hands and knees, slaves.”

Cynthia eagerly assumed the position. Oh thank goodness, she was going to be fucked. She needed a cock in her so badly.

Her master was not gentle. She groaned when his cock slammed into her. Of course he did not need to be, as she had been wet since the moment she saw them and realized what was going to happen.

He pounded into her relentlessly. She moaned with each thrust, a sound deep in her throat. Next to her Pam was emitting more of a high-pitched whine. She found her face being slowly pushed to the floor by the violence of her master’s thrusts. The cool of the floor tile was a startling contrast to the heat in her pussy.

This was what it was to be a slave. She was a toy. She was an object. She was something for her master to use and abuse. Her master would take his pleasure from her, and God, it felt so good.

Blindly, she threw out her hand, and found Pam’s hand. She forced her eyes open and found that Pam’s face was also on the floor, and that Pam was already staring at her. Cynthia watched her daughter get fucked. She tried to say something but all she could do was moan as her master fucked her and she felt the heat bending in her pussy. Pam was able to speak, but she couldn’t say very much: “Uh uh uh...slave...uh uh uh...bitch...”

Cynthia was still looking straight into her daughter’s eyes when Pam’s mouth flew wide open and she screamed with an orgasm, her hand closing on Cynthia’s like a vise. Cynthia’s climax came soon after. She saw stars.

The two masters filled their slaves’ pussies with cum at almost the same time. They pulled out, and both Cynthia and Pam crumpled to the floor like rag dolls.

David said, in a tone of gentle advice, “Don’t forget, girls, you have to clean them off.”

Cynthia, dazed, was able to pull herself to her knees. Pam’s eyes were closed and she was muttering something Cynthia could not hear. Cynthia got Pam into a kneeling position, and each of them carefully cleaned off their guard. The two beefy guys left, and the two slaves crawled into bed and slept.

Another brainwashing session. Cynthia’s pussy twitched as David put the electrodes on her head, and she remembered, with amusement, how she had once been terrified of this place.

As usual, her consciousness blinked out. As usual, she woke up woozy. After Pam got out of her chair David said “Hands and knees, girls!", and the women dropped to the ground. Cynthia thought that David might fuck them, but instead he took the leashes in hand, and the two slaves crawled back to their cell. Like dogs, Cynthia thought. Like bitches, and she smiled. She luxuriated in the feel of her tits swaying back and forth as she crawled. This was where she belonged, on her hands and knees.

When they were back, David sat on the bed and told them to kneel. He smiled and said “It’s almost time for you two sluts to go. In fact, this is your exit interview.” Pam whimpered. Their master continued. “Now, do you two feel that you are really slaves? Pam?”

Pam nodded. “Yes, Master. Bitch didn’t feel that way before, and for a long time bitch fought it, but now bitch knows. She knows that she is a slave.”

David turned to Cynthia. “And you?”

Overwhelmed with feeling, Cynthia averted her eyes. She looked down and saw David’s feet—he was wearing sandals. She leaned forward and kissed his foot before again kneeling. “Yes, Master. This girl is a slave now. This girl knows. This girl is so happy that you kidnapped her and brainwashed her. Thank you, sir. Thank you for choosing this girl to be a slave.”

David looked at Cynthia carefully. “Do you have any doubt? Is there any part of you that would like to escape? What if we could change you back? We did our research, you know. You were one of the top trial lawyers in your city. Wouldn’t you like to go back to that?”

Cynthia searched her feelings. She was sure. “No, sir. This slave was happy practicing law but not like now, not like how she feels being a slave. You changed this slave. You changed both of these slaves,” and with that she reached out and took Pam’s hand. “This slave knows what real happiness is now. This slave has a purpose. This slave knows that you put those feelings in this slave’s head, but it doesn’t make a difference. They’re still real.”

David looked over to Pam. “What about you? Straight A student. Debate club. Accepted to Stanford. Would you like us to deprogram you and your mother, so you can go to college?”

Pam didn’t hesitate. “No, Master! This girl wants to be a slave! This girl wants to serve! This girl thinks...this girl thinks that this girl always wanted this, deep down.”

David chuckled. “No you didn’t. Not at all. But the fact that you think you did tells me that I’ve done my job well. You two girls kiss.“

Cynthia and Pam, still kneeling on the floor, turned to each other and kissed deeply. Cynthia felt her daughter’s tits press against hers and thought, not for the first time, how powerfully erotic that sensation was.

Pam slipped a hand between her mother’s legs. Cynthia was mewling with an orgasm when they heard David say “On the bed!”

They turned and looked and saw David sitting on the bed naked, stroking his cock while he looked at them, his clothes neatly folded. The two girls leapt on the bed and tackled their master.

Oh, it was wonderful. Their bodies flew around everywhere. First Cynthia’s mouth was on David’s cock, then on her daughter’s pussy. The two girls kissed each other while jacking their master’s shaft. Pam buried her head in her mother’s tits and moaned as David fucked her from behind. Finally, they found themselves giving David a tit fuck, with Pam reaching around from behind and shaking her mother’s tits while Cynthia gazed down in wonder at David’s cock. When he finally came all over her boobs and neck, Cynthia greedily scooped up his cum and swallowed it.

Pam cleaned him. When David had put his clothes back on, he said “Rest up, girls. Long trip tomorrow.”

The next morning, when Cynthia and Pam got down on their hands and knees to lap up their gruel for the last time, they each found a piece of chocolate on the top. Cynthia giggled, then ate all her food up.

David gave them two pairs of sandals, and returned their snow-white dresses. Cynthia’s dress itched just a little bit as she put it on, and she realized she’d never be truly comfortable wearing clothes ever again.

They walked up only a single flight of stairs to the surface. David gave them each sunglasses to help deal with the glare of the sun after the days on end they’d spent below ground. The airport. A private plane, taking off with only David and the two slaves as passengers. The ocean looked very blue below them.

It was summer, and they had left in the early morning, so even with the 5 1/2 hour flight and the three hour time difference it was still light when their plane touched down. There was little conversation as David and the slaves got into a limo at the airport. Pam excitedly squeezed her mother’s hand a few times.

Finally, they arrived at an obviously very expensive home in a very expensive neighborhood. Cynthia was hardly surprised; anyone who could buy two slaves must be a man of means. It was one of those houses with a circular driveway in the front, which was where David and the girls got out. He said “Lift your arms,” and they did, and he pulled both their dresses off of them. Cynthia and Pam stood there, naked, in broad daylight.

He smiled at the two of them. “Well, this is goodbye, slaves. Time for you to meet your permanent master. I’ve conditioned a fair amount of women into slavery in my time but I think you two might be my favorites.”

Cynthia smiled and said “Thank you, Master,” and Pam echoed her.

“All right, goodbye now. Ring the doorbell and your master will let you in.” Then David looked at Cynthia quite intently and said “He won’t open the door until you ring the bell.”

Then David got into the limo, and the limo pulled away—leaving Cynthia and Pamela standing on the front steps. Pam blew a kiss.

Cynthia turned and looked at the door. Then she realized, with a thrill of shock, that they were free! No one was holding them! She’d seen an intersection not much more than a quarter-mile away. Two naked women waving for help should draw a 911 call soon enough, and then the police would be there to rescue them, and they’d be free.

She looked down the block at the intersection and the traffic lights that she could see through the trees. Then she took Pam’s hand, mounted the steps, and rang the doorbell.

Soon after the door opened and Master greeted them, and waved them inside.

Moments later, when the cum hit the back of her throat as she knelt in the hallway, it felt like taking Communion.

Through all the happy years of slavery that followed, Cynthia often found herself coming back to a particular memory.

Although she personally preferred to be naked all the time and was always nude when Master was away she knew that part of her role was to entice him. So she, and Pam, often wore outfits to make themselves more desirable. Corsets, garter belts, baby doll nighties, negligees, French maid outfits, and the like. But one day she did happen to be naked, and on her hands and knees...scrubbing tiles in the kitchen.

She was cleaning grout when she heard a yelp of surprise from the next room. Suddenly Master appeared, dragging a giggling Pam by the arm. Pam was wearing one of those nighties. In an instant, Master had put Pam up on the counter, and just like that Pam moaned as he thrust into her.

Cynthia abandoned her cleaning and watched, sitting on her heels. I’m going to have to clean that counter thoroughly, she thought, then abandoned concerns and took in the show. Pam was grunting, legs sticking out from the counter, as Master fucked her. Then she crossed her legs behind him, seemingly trying to take him in deeper.

“Yeah....yeah...oh God...fuck your slave Master...”

Pam screamed. Then Master stiffened and grunted as he filled her up with cum. After he finally pulled out of her, Cynthia hastily shuffled over, said “Please, sir”, and cleaned Master.

Master left. Still on her knees, Cynthia looked up. Pam was sprawled awkwardly on the counter, eyes closed, leaning against the cabinets.

Cynthia stood. She stepped between Pam’s legs and embraced her. Pam had a dreamy look on her face, the look of post-orgasmic bliss that Cynthia supposed must be on her own face whenever Master fucked her. Their tits pressed together and Cynthia kissed her daughter on the lips. Pam opened her mouth and their tongues danced as Cynthia ran her hands up and down Pam’s back.

Cynthia was very happy.