The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Society

I hadn’t seen Madam Kane in a long time; three years almost. As I pushed myself to climb the seemingly never ending set of stairs that led the way up to Kane manor, I reaffirmed my belief that breaking ties with my former mistress was a good move. What kind of an arrogant bitch puts this many steps leading up to her towering mega-mansion? I wasn’t one of her slaves, not like the army of shiny, oiled up drones that tended to her gardens every day, but I had been indentured to her. Once, I had even loved her, or at least I’d thought I had.

I pulled my long coat tight against my body in a futile attempt to stave off the cold that was encroaching even now and sighed. My breath appeared before me as a misty cloud, then evaporated behind me as I pushed onward up to the gate-house. The Society, and Madam Kane in particular, had given me a lot, they’d taught me how to control minds, how to resist control and how to play the political game, but I’d tired of the life long ago. It was a life for middle-aged men and women who couldn’t get enough of their mind-tranced slaves telling them how godly they were; I wasn’t yet middle-aged and I could never handle flattery.

I could see the gate itself now, not too far ahead. As I drew closer I could see that it shone with the morning’s light. It had been polished recently, Kane always kept a team of slaves about for the express purpose of cleaning up any steel or silver that was around the manor. For a woman as rich as Kane, that meant a lot of cleaning. A thin, trim slave stepped out of the gate-house as I drew near. She was dressed in a blue guard’s uniform; Kane didn’t like her slaves to be clothed, but anybody who came snooping around would probably find a busty, naked slut tending to the gate a bit suspect.

Her eyes weren’t pale white orbs, or iris-less pools or any clichéd crap like that, you only found that sort of stuff with the supernatural controllers, but they were unfocused and aimless; just like Kane’s trancing would leave them.

“Identify,” The woman commanded, raising a stun-gun in her right hand. The movement was rigid and robotic, the voice was even more so.

“Maria Rodriguez,” I said, my throat scratchy and wind-bitten. I slowly raised my hands to show that there was nothing in them.

The slave’s arm dropped slightly, but the stun-gun’s barrel was still aimed in my direction, “Identified. Please enter.”

She gestured with her other arm towards the gate and it slid open gracefully; there was no grinding of gears, no whine as metal ground against metal, just the sleek, mechanical motion I had come to expect from Madam Kane’s establishment.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I stepped briskly past the slave; she was attractive, but I didn’t particularly like the idea of stopping and conversing with her. What could we talk about anyway?

As I walked toward the heavy, gilded face of the double doors of Kane’s manor I glanced back. The slave had slipped the stun-gun back into her holster and was marching back to the gate-house. I turned back toward the front doors and half-skipped, half-jumped up the set of stairs leading to it. Always with the fucking stairs. Kane had once taught me that someone’s initial first impression of you was the most important factor in whether or not you’d be able to control them; if they were afraid of you, or already had an image of you as powerful in their subconscious then manipulating them was all the easier. It could turn a strong-willed woman into a shell, or a resistant beauty into a demure geisha.

The front doors swung open as I reached out for them. Two slaves wearing nothing but French maid’s caps stood on either side. Blissful, content smiles were plastered on their blank faces. My eyes dipped to their breasts; their nipples were rock hard and small pearls of sweat trickled down to them and then dripped to the floor. Madam Kane was all about the finer touches.

“Maria, darling!” The voice was just as I remembered it, although in the last conversation we’d had she’d been swearing a whole lot more.

My eyes found the slave first; she was up on a hard-backed chair and her mouth was open in a blissful ‘o’ shape. The reason for that was readily apparent. Madam Anna Kane stood behind the slave, completely naked save for a long sheer black gown and the strap-on she was currently thrusting into the slave’s wet cunt.

“Kane,” I responded with a slight, terse nod.

“Oh come on, Maria!” Kane threw her arms wide and stepped back, sliding the strap-on out of her slave in one fluid motion, “Are we still to hold knives to each other’s throats?”

I shrugged, it was unlike Kane to forgive and forget so easily, “Not at each other’s throats, Kane. Each other’s backs, maybe...”

She laughed; the same mirthful, joyous laugh I heard on the nights where we’d drink together after dinner, “You always were a witty one, Maria. I think that’s why I took you on as my adjutant.”

I shrugged again and felt two hands quickly seize my jacket and pull it off. I turned, annoyed, and saw one of the maid-slave’s hanging my coat up on the nearby coat rack.

Kane smiled at that, “Come Maria, sit.”

“No thanks, Kane,” I stepped closer, but only to get away from the door, “I won’t be staying long.”

She shook her head slowly, purposefully and I couldn’t help but stare at her face. She’d been younger when I’d left, visibly so, but even at 39 she was still beautiful. Her full, brown eyes were framed by her long, well kept black hair and her face was a finely sculpted work; slight nose and shapely, full lips set perfectly between her arched cheekbones.

“Why have you come here, Maria?” She asked, her eyes boring into mine; she wasn’t using her ability, not that I’d know if she was, but her eyes still held the power and force that a woman like Kane commanded.

“I came to warn you,” I said steadily, holding her gaze.

She cocked an eyebrow quizzically at that and opened her mouth to ask another question, but I cut across her.

“And to ask for your help,” I let my hands fall against my thighs in defeat.

“Must be the end of the world,” She mused, leaning back and accepting a grape from a slave that had strode in from a door at the back of the room.

I shook my head as the slave offered me a golden tray filled with fresh fruit, “There’s something going on in the city, something that could be Society related. Or a rogue controller, I’m not sure.”

Kane sat down and leant back against the chair she’d been fucking a slave against only moments ago, as she sat her nightgown flared open with the movement and I caught a glimpse of the soft, pale flesh of her breast. My heart caught in my throat.

“Really?” She mused, her head tilting back to look at the ceiling, “Perhaps we could talk about this over lunch?”

“No,” I said forcefully, folding my arms across my chest, “No games, Kane. This is serious. A rogue controller in the city is bad for everyone.”

She sighed dramatically and sat up, looking directly at me, “Fine. Have it your way, tell me of this ‘rogue controller’ of yours and I’ll decide what is to be done.”

“You’ll decide?” I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion, “What about the Lady Constantine?”

“She died last winter,” Kane clucked her tongue against her teeth and looked away briefly, sadness flashing across her features, “Terrible business. I was nominated by committee vote.”

“Committee vote?” I snorted, “Queen Catherine is too arrogant not to vote for herself and Bishop hates you, there’d be a three-way deadlock.”

“The Inquisition has a right to cast a vote now actually, they broke the tie by voting for me. One of the Lady Constantine’s last declarations, as a matter of fact,” Kane twirled a hand around idly, her eyes locked onto her manicured fingers.

The Inquisition were the arm of the Society, an ex-paramilitary group that followed the lead of whoever was in control of the Society by way of popular vote. They had been commissioned long ago; before Lady Constantine’s time and certainly before mine. I’d never had reason to cross their path, the Inquisition operated out of Europe and only came to America when they were hunting down a rogue controller. But I’d heard of them when I’d served as Madam Kane’s adjutant and if the stories were to be believed, they were very, very good at their job.

“I’d hoped for you to grant me an audience with her, but given her current state I suppose I should just talk directly with you then?” It was a cruel jab, I knew more than anyone how much Kane had loved Constantine, but I was feeling particularly venomous today.

If she was hurt, she showed no sign of it, “Go to the Queen and the Bishop, then. I will contact the Inquisition and see whether they can spare a team.”

I took a mock surprised step back, “That’s it? You’re on board right away?”

Kane sighed and stared at a spot on the wall, “There have been rumblings. Plus, I trust you, Maria. I always have.”

“Rumblings?” I asked, stepping in front of her and moving my hand in front of her eyes, “What ‘rumblings’?”

Kane coughed once, then cleared her throat, “The Inquisition believe they have found Conrad. In Britain, no less.”

I shivered, Conrad was an old name, but one that even I remembered. He’d been a Society member up until about a year before I left. He’d been a specialist of sorts; intelligence and body modification. He’d been a well respected member of the Society for about ten years before I’d joined, but that had all changed when he’d turned another society member into a slave. There were rules about that; rules that punished very severely for such infractions. He’d fled America in fear shortly before I’d quit.

“Good,” I said bitterly, “Piece of shit deserves whatever they do to him.”

“Your rogue controller, is it especially serious?” She asked, her eyes meeting mine.

I shrugged, “The police found a couple of woman on top of an apartment block screaming that they needed their ‘slut-cunts’ fucked. Sounded serious to me.”

She nodded, “Very well, I’ll send for help. You go and tell the Bishop and Queen Catherine what you just told me. Tell them you’re under my protection just in case they get any ideas.”

“Catherine’s still upset, I take it?” I asked. I couldn’t even fake surprise, Catherine had always been keenly interested in me and when I’d left the Society she’d taken it as a betrayal. Or a possible slave escaping, I was never sure which.

“Quite,” Kane smiled up at me and I saw a spark of amusement there which I knew was genuine.

“I’ll, uh, see myself out then,” I said, stepping back.

“Of course.”

A slave stood waiting by the door with my coat, I took it and began to slide it up my arms and over my shoulders.

“Oh, Maria?”

I turned, “Yeah?”

“Would you like to meet your replacement?” Kane’s smile twisted into something predatory, like a shark that had just smelled blood.

“Fuck off,” I hissed and turned back to the door.

Her laughter followed me all the way to the gate-house.

* * *

The Bishop lived the furthest away, so I went to him first. My Mustang was close to failing; an aching, ailing machine that Kane had given as a gift shortly after we’d met. I liked the classics; muscle cars in particular. I used to take more care of it, in fact I kept it in almost pristine condition, but after I left Kane it became less of an item to be cherished and just one more tool she’d left me with.

The Bishop, I’d never known his real name, lived in a rural town that sat a half a mile outside of the city. It was an eyesore; a mismatched block of rusted and worm-eaten houses and barns that held none of the charm that I’d been led to believe rural towns had by the shows on my TV.

It was oddly fitting, I mused as I pulled my car to a slow halt outside the city, a sick, rotten town for a sick, rotten mind. The Bishop was the worst kind of controller, in my mind, second only to Conrad. He kept slaves to amuse himself and frequently let them have their minds back only to savour their attempts at escape before enslaving them again. I’d seen him do it once, Kane had invited me along to a meet and greet shortly after she’d taken me on as an adjutant, and once was enough. I’d told Kane that no matter what she ever asked of me, I never wanted to see it again.

She’d apologised. It was one of two times I’d ever seen her say sorry and really mean it.

I sighed as I pushed open the car door and caught a whiff of the pollinated air. I took my jacket off and threw it in the back of the car, the midday sun had started to shine down in earnest and it was naturally warmer down in the sticks. A door creaked as it swung open nearby, a man with a dumbstruck look on his face stumbled out.

“Hullo?” He called out, staring at me, “What’s your purpose here, missy?”

He spoke, but with the Bishop’s voice.

I shivered, “I’m here on Society business, Bishop. I need to talk to you. The real you. Not one of your puppets.”

The meat puppet growled and hissed something guttural under his breath, “Fuck it. Alright.”

I thought about making some sort of quip about swearing not being very bishop-like, but I decided against it. The Bishop, much like Madam Kane, was a natural, he had been born with his ability. He could strip someone’s will with a thought. Not instantly and if you knew it was coming and you were trained to resist you could probably hold out for an hour or so before he broke you down, but he had been actively breaking people’s will over the past couple of years. I’d been getting out of shape playing at being a private detective.

“Well?” A growled voice called out from the doorway, “What do you want?”

A small, potbellied man stepped through the doorway and I had to stifle a laugh by pretending it was a cough. The Bishop, it seemed, had been getting out of shape too. But in a more literal fashion.

“There’s a problem in the city,” I said quickly, eager to be gone, “A rogue controller, I think.”

Shut up, slut. Take your fucking clothes off, I thought. Wait, what? My hands stopped a centimetre from the buttons of my shirt.

I scrunched up my eyes and took a staggered step back, “Get the fuck out of my head!”

Bishop relented briefly, then redoubled his assault. I thought about something else; a dog running through a field, chasing a hawk. Anything else. It was a sloppy defence; the act of an amateur, but it bought me time to think. Plus it made Bishop pull the stupidest fucking face I’d ever seen.

‘What the fuck?’ Bishop’s voice bounced around inside my head.

I’m under Kane’s protection, Bishop, I thought back at him. Back off.

That stopped him.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” He screeched in that insipid hillbilly drawl of his.

He scratched his balding head with a single, dirtied finger.

“I was about to,” I growled, “But you were a bit busy trying to play ‘Girls Gone Wild’ with my cerebral cortex.”

He shrugged and laughed; that stupid ‘hyuck-hyuck’ noise that I hated so much, “Telepathy’s a hell of a fun thing! What can I say?”

“Grow up,” I snarled and looked at the puppet; he was standing stock still, staring up at the sky. His mouth hung open and drool slipped downwards from his dry, cracked lips in thick, long strands, “Are you going to do something about that?”

Bishop shrugged, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Whatever,” I sighed and shook my head, “The controller mindfucked a bunch of women in the city. Kane’s going to get the Inquisition to look into it but I’ve been going around warning everyone just in case they’re looking for bigger fish to fry.”

“And in case it’s one of us?” Bishop snarled, “You think it might be me, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” I replied coolly. But the thought had crossed my mind more than once.

“You fucking whore,” He spat.

I sighed, “Anyway, if you find anything out, contact Kane.”

I turned to leave and pulled open the door of my car.

“Next time I see you,” He said quietly, through the mouth of his puppet, “You better hope you’re still under Kane’s protection.”

My skin crawled. Fucking scumbag. I got inside the car and put it into first gear. I rolled down the window, “Next time we meet, Bishop? I’ll have my fucking gun.”

It was a lie, I didn’t actually own a gun. There was a tazer in the dashboard, but I’d never used it.

I peeled out quickly, before he attempted to breach my mind again, and headed back to the city.

* * *

I met Detective Lisa Monroe at the foot of the Lusaka building. Not for the first time. No, the first time we’d met had been a year ago. She’d been chasing a man who liked to kidnap policewomen. Except really he’d been using a chemical that destroyed all higher brain function to turn them into his harem. She’d been the bait in drawing him out, the police had assumed he was just a killer or something. Someone with an axe to grind. I’d stopped him from brainwashing her, and in return I’d gained an ally in the police force.

Few people outside of the Society knew about its existence. I was one of two people in the city, Lisa was the second. I’d told her everything about it. She’d been reluctant to believe me at first, but I’d shown her some files I kept on my home computer and she’d quickly come around.

She was an attractive women, not quite out of her prime yet. I didn’t know her nationality, but she had Nordic features and warm, sun blonde hair that was always pulled back in a simple, business-like bun. I enjoyed her company, even if she didn’t enjoy mine all that much. Me being there usually meant something was terribly amiss and Lisa had always preferred the world of killers, rapists and thieves to the world of brainwashers, trancers and telepaths.

Leaning against the hood of her car in that ice cool way she had perfected long ago, I again thought about how much I wanted to fuck her. In the old days I could have any woman I wanted at my beck and call. Now I tried to show a bit more restraint.

“What’s the problem?” She asked harshly, her eyes stared at me from behind her opaque sunglasses.

I ignored her, just long enough to duck down and wave at her partner inside the car. Detective Carla Hines was three years my junior and twelve years Lisa’s. She was Latin-American, like me, and we’d spent many a conversation talking about places we’d been and lived before coming here. She was youthful, smart and always energetic. But completely oblivious. She still thought I was an informant for an ongoing case against an extortion racket. Me and Lisa had agreed things would be better that way, if a little harder to manage.

I straightened up and turned to Lisa, “A rogue. Those women your pals found on top of the apartment block? They were victims of a new controller.”

Lisa sighed and rubbed her temple, “Always another fucking problem.”

I shrugged, “I didn’t ask them to come in and brainwash a bunch of sorority girls.”

Lisa snorted, “How the fuck would I know? I only know what you tell me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s going to change,” I said, glancing up at the towering Lusaka building, “There’s going to be some new players in town. Real badasses. Spec-ops types. They handle problems like this, usually. I’m going to have to introduce you to their boss, preferably sooner rather than later.”

Lisa’s brow wrinkled, “This boss, they going to be pissed you told me about all this stuff?”

My mouth tightened into a grim line, “Maybe. But don’t worry. Any trouble will roll back on me before it rolls back on you.”

“Good,” Lisa nodded, “Any tips for what I should do now?”

I shrugged, “The usual. Get the victims to a safe place, then I’ll try my best to deprogram then when it’s all blown over.”

Lisa nodded again, then spat on the sidewalk, “Alright. Call me when you set up this meet with that boss you were talking about.”

I nodded, “Will do. Stay safe.”

She jerked her head toward the Lusaka building as she got in the car, “You got business here?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Old friend.”

She shrugged, “Fair enough.”

I was thankful she didn’t pry. If there was one thing I could always count on from Lisa Monroe, it was the fact that she didn’t give a flying fuck about me.

It’s the little things that people do that reassure you the most.

* * *

The thing that stunned me most about the lobby of the Lusaka building was how utterly banal it all was. It was a long, sterile white room lines with pillars and with a reception desk sat at the far end of it. An elevator was situated behind the pretty young girl sitting at the desk.

I approached the desk with a slight hint of trepidation. Just because she was wearing a double-breasted suit instead of a latex body sleeve didn’t mean she wasn’t a slave waiting to strike.

“Hello? Can I help you?” She asked me, smiling brightly. There was no hint of compulsion in her eyes.

“Yes, I have an appointment with Catherine Lusaka? An Anna Kane called ahead,” I fidgeted nervously with the hem of my coat.

The receptionist’s eyes traced their way down a page of notes on the desk, “Oh yes, here you are! Go right on ahead, Ms. Lusaka is waiting for you on the penthouse floor.”

I hesitated, “Uh, which floor exactly would that be?”

“The seventieth,” She smiled.

I nodded; my heart jumped inside my throat. “Thanks.”

The elevator slid open automatically as I stepped toward it. I walked gingerly inside and pressed the ‘70’ button with one shaking finger.

A small TV monitor above the control panel switched on as the elevator began to move.

“Are you afraid of your own body?” A perky, big breasted woman in a lycra workout suit asked.

I leapt up and yanked the power cable out of the back of the monitor. Call me paranoid, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. Catherine’s specialty was subliminal messages; videos, music, sounds and images. Coupled with psychotropic drugs it could completely change a person’s personality.

The perky woman disappeared into a sea of black as the monitor powered down. I waited in silence and prayed that there would be no elevator music as I made the long, slow journey up to the seventieth floor.

* * *

When the doors opened, I felt an immense flush of relief as I saw the woman that was waiting to greet me. She was young, but plain. Her pale, freckles flesh was only covered by the stiff, leather corset she wore. She gestured to somewhere behind her, “Greetings. My Mistress will meet with you now.”

I nodded and smiled, more for my benefit than hers, “Cheers.”

I pushed past her and felt an electric rush as we brushed together, her hand lingered on my breast. I pushed the thought out of my mind. If Catherine wanted me enslaved, she could do it a lot easier than a greeting slave with a toxic coated hand.

The Queen herself was standing in the centre of her office, hands on her hips. Her left foot was raised up onto a polished stool; a slave whose face was hidden behind a full latex mask was cleaning Catherine’s boot with her tongue.

“Catherine?” I called out, waiting at the entrance to her office, “We need to talk.”

Her head slowly looked up from the slave at her feet to stare at me. Her sharp, angular face looked like a knife; her rosy cheeks gave the impression of a bloodied edge. I pushed that thought out of my mind too. Her dark, red hair was tied back in a slick pony-tail. She wore a ruffled dress that would have looked absurd on anyone else. It was a deep purple. How adorable.

“Maria,” Catherine said quietly, and for a second I wasn’t sure if it was a hiss or she was just pleasantly surprised. “How dare you come here!”

Well, that answers that.

“I’m under Kane’s protection, Catherine. Hold your horses,” I raised a single hand, palm open, “I’ve come to tell you something. Something important.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again and wrinkled her face in disappointment, “ All this time and that’s all you have to say for yourself. I’d hoped you’d finally seen the error of your ways and had come to be enslaved.” She sighed. “Well?”

I gave her the cliff-notes version. Hell, even I was tired of hearing my recital of the situation myself by now.

She gently stepped down from the stool and gave her slave a quick, firm kick in the ass.

“Charming, Catherine.”

“Don’t push me, Maria,” She raised a single finger and waggled it back and forth, “Now, about your problem; I could flush him out, broadcast a subliminal over every TV and radio in the city, get him to reveal himself.”

She must have seen the look of disapproval cross my face before I managed to stop myself, “I think we’d better hold off on going nuclear just yet, Catherine.”

She pouted slightly, mocking me, “You’re no fun anymore, Maria.”

I smiled thinly, “I’m sure you think you could fix that.”

She smiled back, wolfishly, “Oh I’m sure I could.”

“I’ve said my piece,” I stepped backwards, “I’ll see you around Catherine, good luck.”

A woman stepped out from behind a door to my right. She was muscular, but not overly so; like a surfer or a cyclist. She was also completely naked. Her face was hard and set and she looked me up and down with a slight hint of disgust.

“You’ve met my adjutant, Princess Beatrix?” Catherine gestured with her hand.

I smiled as sweetly as I could manage, “Of course.”

“She’ll show you out,” Catherine nodded to the door.

A single, powerful hand seized my upper arm and the silent, muscled woman half guided, half dragged me to the elevator. It opened automatically once again. She threw me inside, my head smashed against the wall.

“Fuck!” I gasped, turning around to face her.

She smiled then. Bitch.

“If you come around here again,” She said slowly, evenly. Her eyes met mine, “I’ll brainwash you until you’re nothing more than a doll for me to play with.”

I sneered. She laughed. The doors slid shut between us. I practically punched the button for the first floor. Anger flared through me. Red hot fire burned through my veins and behind my eyes.

Oh yeah, I was making friends all over the place.

* * *

I took Lisa to Kane Manor the very next day.

She whistled appreciatively as we walked in through the front doors. But was quickly quietened when she saw the two slaves that flanked the entrance. I silenced her with a glare.

Kane was waiting in the same spot I’d found her yesterday. Thankfully, this time she’d thrown on some proper clothes. A long, elegant evening gown that actually covered most of her skin. She’d also refrained from wearing a strap-on. Which was always a plus.

“Madam Kane, this is Lisa Munroe,” I introduced them, gesturing with my hand.

“Detective,” Lisa added forcefully. Kane smiled.

“Delighted,” She said quietly, stepping forward and gently kissing Lisa’s hand.

Lisa jerked away instinctively. I shrugged, “Can’t win them all over with your charm, Kane.”

“Thankfully, god saw fit to grant me other gifts in that area,” She winked slyly at me and I felt a shudder run through my body. Next to me Lisa did the same thing.

“So, my darlings, what do we have to discuss,” Kane smiled, taking a seat. She clapped her hands together and a slave came shuffling out of a doorway beside use. She was hobbled by an ankle binder. In her hands was a large, round bowl.

“Drink?” Kane asked us. Lisa looked to me for guidance. I shook my head.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Kane threw her hands into the air and then looked pointedly at Lisa, “Would you like a slave to eat your pussy while we talk?”

Lisa frowned, “I’m not a lesbian.”

“Ah? My apologies...” Kane turned to look at me, “Maria? No? Very well.”

I sighed, “We’re here to discuss what’s to be done about the, uh, issue in the city.”

Kane nodded, “Ghastly business. Just awful. Thankfully, it’s all under control, Maria.”

I cocked an eyebrow, “Really?”

“The Inquisition has elected to send an operative to fix this problem,” Kane shrugged, “I suggested a small team, but they insisted.”

“An operative?” Lisa spoke up, finding her voice.

Kane smiled at her, “Yes, dear, an operative. A highly trained individual. Quite capable in these matters. I’ve told her about our mutual friend Maria’s hot headedness and she’s even offered to allow the two of you to accompany her. Wonderful, no?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but the front door slamming open silenced me.

Kane’s eyes widened in shock, from where she was she could see the intruder better than any us. I turned, so did Lisa. But hers was a practiced motion; her gun appeared in her hand in a blur of movement.

The Bishop was standing in the doorway. There was a gun in his hand. His eyes were empty and unfocused, staring at some point just above our heads. He’d been enslaved, I realized absently in the back of my mind. Time slowed as the pistol he held in his hand came up. It wasn’t actually a pistol, I realized, but a small compact dart gun. I threw myself at Anna and tackled her stunned form off of the chair she was sitting on and dragged her to the ground.

Lisa’s gun barked twice.

I felt Kane’s breath hot and flush against my throat. Her legs had wrapped around me as we fell to the ground. Her hands had found my chest.

“Feel familiar?” Her voice croaked.

“Shut up, Anna.”

“Kane,” She corrected.

I stood up, untangling myself from her and turned to look. Lisa was by the doorway, her gun pointed at the Bishop’s body. I felt sick.

“Lisa?” I called out, “Is it safe? Is he...?”

“Yes, and yes,” She called back, sliding her gun back into her holster.

The two slaves on either side of the door stepped forward, they’d procured mops during the excitement and were now cleaning up the pool of blood that had begun to soak into the carpet.

“Jesus,” Lisa murmured and turned away. She was holding the dart gun in her hand. A pink liquid bubbled and hissed inside the translucent dart.

Kane got to her feet beside me, “He was...”

“Enslaved,” I finished, then nodded, “But why didn’t he just try and force his will on us?”

“Naturals generally struggle to use their powers after being slaved,” Kane said grimly, “It requires willpower they no longer have.”

Lisa held the dart gun up, “Know what this is?”

I shook my head, “No. But I bet it’s got something to do with who did this to Bishop.”

Kane spoke up and for the first time in my life I heard a prickle of fear coat her voice, “I know what it is.”

We both turned to face her. Her face was set and serious, her eyes were locked onto the dart gun, “That’s one of Conrad’s tools. He’s here. He’s the rogue controller.”

I felt like being sick all over again.

I glanced at Kane, “Get all your guards on high alert. Or go somewhere safe. Or both.”

“Maria...” She started to say, but I cut across her.

“Come on, Lisa. We’re going to get the Queen out of her tower,” I said, feeling a lot less confident than my voice sounded.

* * *

The drive to Lusaka tower was largely uneventful. At least in comparison to what had just happened.

“Who the fuck is Conrad?” Lisa asked me as I drove.

My heart pounded. The deep throb reverberated through my whole body, “He’s a traitor. An old name and not a very popular one. He...”

“Yes?” Lisa’s voice was tinged with impatience.

“He enslaved another Society member,” I said quietly, pulling us to a stop outside the tower.

“That’s bad, huh?” Lisa asked as she stepped outside. I nodded in confirmation.

“Very.”

Lisa shrugged, “I suppose even sex-mad, mind controlling freaks need laws.”

“More than anyone else, actually,” I said pointedly, stepping out of the car. I paused, then ducked back inside and got my tazer from inside the dashboard.

Lisa stared at it for a second, then smiled, “You got a permit for that?”

“I didn’t know you needed one.”

Lisa made a slight, disapproving grunt and slid her pistol free from her holster, “Expecting, uh, trouble on this Queen’s part?”

“Always,” I replied bitterly as I pushed open the front door of the Lusaka building. I gestured Lisa in and she stepped through quickly, scanning the room from behind the barrel of her gun.

The reception desk sat abandoned. A spike of fear shot up my spine that I tried to suppress. I jerked my head toward it and thumbed the safety on my tazer to ‘on’. Lisa took the signal and slowly made her way toward it, each time she stepped past a pillar she swept her gun around behind it and then waved me forward. I followed behind her. Mind control might be my specialty, but clearing rooms was hers.

She rifled through the items that had been left on top of the reception desk. I stepped past her and waited for the elevator doors to open. They did so, with a faint hiss. I stepped inside, turning to face Lisa, “You coming.”

“Hold on,” She said quietly, glancing around at me.

The elevator doors slammed shut between us.

“Fuck!” I gasped, pounding my fist against the steel. One of my knuckles split open against it. I hissed in pain.

“Hold on!” Lisa’s voice called from the other side, “I’ll try and pry it open!”

With fucking what? A stapler?

I stepped back, seething with anger. I glanced up at the monitor I’d unplugged on my last visit.

Big mistake.

The elevator flashed once with white light as the monitor erupted in a cacophony of light and sound. My eyes stopped seeing. My ears stopped hearing and second later I pitched forward at the floor into sweet, blissful darkness.

* * *

There was an IV in my arm. That was the first thing I noticed as I awoke.

The second thing was that my clothes were gone.

The third was that I was strapped down. I tried to move my head around, but something held it in place; strapped it down to whatever steel frame I was tied to.

The room was white, painfully so. I could see no discerning features, no furniture or windows or anything at all, as my eyes slowly began to adjust to the harsh light that shone down on me. The air was warm, but not unpleasantly so and the metal frame I was strapped to was lined with leather.

Just like Catherine to treat her victims as well as she would a houseguest. Though to her, they were often the same thing.

I glanced downward.

Oh, that bitch.

She’d pierced me.

She’d fucking pierced me!

Two shiny, silver rings hung from my nipples. I winced as I shook my chest a little. My tits had never been ‘big’, but they’d always been quite attractive I thought. I guess Catherine thought they weren’t quite good enough for her.

“Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly!”

I heard her laughter from behind me. Then she stepped into view.

“Still with the clichés, Catherine?” I faked nonchalance.

“Still with the pretending to be a tough, assertive woman instead of a quivering little slave-to-be?” Catherine retorted, arching an eyebrow.

I shrugged as best as I could in my bonds, “Whatever works. Listen, there’s something important I need to say, Conrad is back. It’s why Kane sent me here. He twisted the Bishop’s mind. He tried to ambush Kane.”

She clasped a hand over her mouth as she laughed, “My dear, Conrad is the least of your worries...”

“I bet you thought you had Kane fooled didn’t you, you impetuous little slut?” She hissed, stepping into the space between my spread legs, “Telling her that you were leaving because you didn’t want to control people anymore, didn’t want to risk becoming like Conrad, or the Bishop, or me. But we both know the real reason, don’t we?”

“Which is?” I asked, a flush of heat travelled through my body and I suppressed a moan as she placed a soft hand on the inside of my thigh.

“You were afraid you’d confess your hidden desire. Your need to be a slave. You were afraid that one of us would turn you from the wolf you were pretending to be into a docile little sheep,” She threw her arms wide, in a mock celebratory gesture, “And now I will make that a reality! Wonderful isn’t it?”

I laughed, bitterly and sourly, and spat in her face, “You’re fucking crazy, Catherine. You can’t break me. Even if I wasn’t under Kane’s protection.”

“My dear, it’s Kane you have to thank for this...” Catherine’s eyes glinted, “Did you really think she didn’t trance you while you were under her heel? Of course she did. She left the door to your mind wide open, if someone knew where she hid the key, of course.”

The thought had crossed my mind many times. I’d even lost sleep over it. But time, and apathy, had dulled the notion that Kane had ever tranced me. Now it didn’t seem so far away.

“Where’s Lisa?” I snarled, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, your friend? I sent Beatrix to deal with her. She’s quite skilled, you know, she’ll have your friend broken before I break you, I’m sure of it,” Catherine leant in close and hooked her fingers into my new nipple rings.

She gave them a gentle tug. My cunt burned with a sudden need. I gasped and spasmed once as the heat filled my body again. She tapped her nose secretively and then gestured to the IV drip, “Arousal and resistance suppressor. Very effective. Though I’m sure you know that well enough.”

I gasped again as her fingers slipped downward over my taut stomach to my hot, wet pussy.

“Stop!” I commanded, but the word was split in two by the long, wailing moan that slipped past my lips.

“That’s good,” She cooed, “Give up all that yummy will. Let it all flow out of that empty little head of yours.”

I gagged, it was an awful line. But it was also working. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t even begin to mount a defence against the savage, unbridled lust that was taking over my body. I bucked my hips up to meet her hand and gave a content sigh as I impaled my white-hot cunt on her fingers.

“Yessss....” She hissed, leaning in close, her thumb dancing over my clit. “Give in.”

I clenched my teeth together and thought about something else, anything else, but this woman. This amazing woman who had brought me so close to the edge. I felt like a bucket ready to spill; a bomb yearning to detonate.

“Say my name,” She commanded, drawing her fingers away from my slit. My pussy howled for release.

“Catherine,” I hissed through my teeth.

“Not that, you silly little bitch; my real name,” She smiled down at me. Her fingers moved in front of my eyes; my juices were dripping slowly from her fingertips.

Mistress. She wanted me to call her Mistress. For a second, I almost did. My mouth gaped open stupidly, about to concede. About to do anything just to have her inside me again.

A door swung open behind her. Beatrix stood there, her hands at her sides.

“What?” Catherine snapped as she turned, dismayed at being interrupted.

Lisa stepped out from behind the young Princess, her pistol levelled at Catherine’s head, “Let her the fuck go . Right now.”

My shining knight. Looking at her then, framed by the sickly grey walls of the staircase behind her, gun in her hand; righteous anger twisting her face into an ugly snarl, well, I almost exploded right then and there.

* * *

When we were safely back in the car, and I’d got all my clothes back on, I made sure to avoid Lisa’s gaze.

“You okay?” She asked.

I shook my head.

“I mean, like, you’re not about to turn into a Stamford wife on me, are you?”

Oh Lisa, you’re always such a caring friend.

“No,” I said firmly, not so sure myself, “And it’s not ‘Stamford’.”

What Catherine had said had really left a mark. Whether or not she was telling the truth, I felt it was a question that needed answering. Had Kane really played with my mind? It wasn’t impossible, that was for sure. She could have tranced me and wiped any memory of the event.

But I’d never thought she’d do such a thing. Maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought...

“Where’s Carla?” I asked Lisa suddenly.

“Back at the station,” Lisa was driving and her eyes were glued to the road, “She got put on a taskforce dealing with those girls that were found. That uh, this ‘Conrad’ guy messed with.”

“I don’t think he did, actually,” I sighed.

“Hmm?” Lisa grunted, questioningly.

“I think that was the Bishop’s handiwork, it’s not exactly Conrad’s style, plus he wouldn’t leave them on a roof somewhere to be found.”

“Why, though?” Lisa glanced away from the road ahead to look at me.

I sighed, “I think he might have been working with him and his little stunt pissed Conrad off. Or maybe he just got stupid. Either way, I’m sure the Bishop was the one who did those girls in. Maybe on Conrad’s orders.”

“It could have been anyone,” Lisa responded.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “But until we know more, I think we can assume the Bishop.”

“Okay, what now? Where are we headed?” Lisa had been driving us away from the Lusaka building, but I hadn’t indicated where.

“Back to my place,” I yawned, “I need some sleep. Tomorrow, when you get a moment, come pick me up and we’ll head over to Kane’s manor together.”

“You got it. Shithole apartment on the west-side river bank it is,” She quipped.

I thought about calling her a bitch. But she was right; my apartment was a shithole.

She pulled the car into a swift u-turn and we peeled away down the road, tyres screeching. My head fell back against the headrest, and I was asleep before the tyres stopped wailing.

* * *

When I awoke in the morning, I lay in bed for an hour and played with my new nipple rings.

Catherine certainly spared no expense. They were real, proper silver. The kind that rich women wore around their fingers. I guess I was just kind of rich, then. It took me five minutes to remove them without tearing anything. It was slow-going and every delicate twist of them sent me to new heights. I hoped that whatever Catherine had fed me through that drip would go away soon.

Lisa had carried me up to my room and dumped me on my bed; I knew this because my keen detective skills had noted the fact that I was lying on top of the covers, completely dressed. Also, she’d left a note on the fridge door.

I almost threw the nipples rings down the sink drain, but I stopped myself when I thought about how much they were worth. The pawn broker down the street already thought I was a weirdo from when I’d sold him a solid gold dildo I’d recovered from a cult hoping to control the mayor using it. What the fuck did I care if he thought I was some kind of sex freak?

After all, he was right.

I showered and made some cereal before turning on the television and waiting for Lisa to arrive. The show that came on was a current affairs program. A panel of experts were discussing the women that had been found. Well, they thought they were experts.

Lisa came around at noon. She knocked and checked twice that I was dressed before entering.

“How’s it going?” She asked, as she pulled open my fridge.

“Fine,” I shrugged and pulled my jacket on over my t-shirt.

She rummaged for a second before making a disgusted noise and pulling her face away from the fridge, “Have you got anything edible?”

I held up the half-eaten cereal bowl I’d just set aside, “It’s still good.”

The disgust in her face deepened, “Let’s just get going.”

I put the bowl down beside my rusted sink, “Guess I’ll break out the filet mignon, then.”

She snorted, then disappeared through my apartment door.

I followed her down to the car and we began the drive to Kane manor.

* * *

We walked through the garden as we talked.

Kane stared pensively at a particularly flush young woman who was currently crawling around on all fours, fetching a stick that had been thrown by another slave.

“I spoke with Catherine,” She said at last.

I glanced at the slaves, Lisa was staring uncomfortably off to the right of them.

“And?”

“She confessed to breaking my wishes, trying to break my protection of you,” Kane’s fingers slipped to the obsidian ring that dangled on her finger, “I had her Societal status revoked, pending review. I believe it may be time to excommunicate her.”

“Latin, huh?” I gave a dry laugh as I shook my head, “Guess that means it’s serious.”

“You know what it means, Maria,” Kane jerked her head around to glare at me.

Lisa turned as well, “I don’t.”

“She would be stripped of all rank in the Society,” I explained.

“And the Inquisition would be sent in to capture her,” Kane added, “She would be enslaved and her property would be divided between the other members of the Society. Or, if her branch of the Society no longer exists, between the other branches of the Society.”

“Other branches?” Lisa asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, one in Europe, where the Inquisition is based, one in Russia and one in Britain,” Kane waved a hand in front of her face, “It’s not important. What is important is our problem here. Come, let’s walk back to the manor.”

I shrugged to Lisa and fell in step with Kane’s hurried pace.

“So you have a plan, I take it?” I asked as Lisa sighed behind us.

“Not I,” Kane shook her head, “Our friend from the Inquisition has arrived. She has some thoughts on how to proceed.”

As she stepped swiftly up the stairs to the manor’s front doors, two slaves stepped forward and pushed open the doors for her. The hem of her dress swished idly behind her.

I stepped through behind her. Then Lisa behind me.

“Oh,” I intoned, whisper quiet as I saw the woman standing in the middle of the foyer.

Her hands were clasped behind her back and she stood stock still; every muscle of her body was locked into place so tightly that for a second I thought she was a slave. But then my eyes roamed up from her waist, over the curved slopes of her body in the tight latex body sleeve she wore and met hers. They were a warm, vivid brown; like none I’d ever seen. Hypnotic, in the exact way that Madam Kane’s weren’t. Her full, red lips were off-set by her pale skin. But it was a nice shade of pale, not cold or waxy but cultured and refined. Her hair was tied tightly back from her face in a tight ponytail.

“Maria, Detective Munroe, I’d like you to meet Camille Chevalier,” Kane introduced us, gesturing to each of us in turn.

My heart caught in my throat. She was beautiful; save for the long, twisted scar that ran along her right jaw-line. But even that held beauty in its own way, as if it were a reassurance that the women before our eyes was real and not some divine fabrication.

Lisa simply extended a hand and nodded as politely as she could manage. Camille took it gently and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Everyone do that around here?” Lisa asked me as she stepped backward.

“I hope so,” I gasped quietly as I extended my own hand.

For a second, just a second, I thought I saw the slightest flicker of a smile pass across her features. Or maybe I was just hoping. Her breath brushed against the back of my hand as she leant in. Her wet lips pressed against my worn, calloused knuckles. I gasped.

“Greetings, mademoiselles, it is good to meet the women who have helped us so much,” The corner of her lips curved upwards into a smile. One I was happy see was genuine.

Her accent was cultured, refined and most importantly, French. Exotic, but not so much as to need a translator. Another plus.

“We’ve helped you?” Lisa asked, incredulous.

“Conrad is a difficult fox to track, and a wily one,” She bowed her head slightly as she spoke, “You have done my order a great service by identifying his work here.”

I shrugged, it wasn’t entirely true, but I wasn’t about to stop us from flattering her, “Uh, Kane tells us you have a plan?”

Her eyes widened slightly at my nonchalance, “The uh, Madam? Yes, I attempted to discuss it with her earlier, but she insisted on your presence.”

I shrugged, “Well, we do good work. Not ‘Inquisition’ level, but still.”

She laughed softly and her cheeks filled with red, “Oh please, Miss, the Inquisition are merely humble servants in the war against immorality.”

I could practically feel Lisa coil up as she spoke, “You don’t think enslaving people like she does is immoral?”

Camille’s smile faded as she turned to look at Lisa, “Madam Kane is a loving mistress, and a woman deserving of her station. People like Conrad and the Queen Catherine were simply gifted with more power than they deserved. The Society strives to find a balance, sometimes it is the best we can hope for.”

I glared at Lisa, trying to will her into not badmouthing a Society member in front of Camille again. Who knows what she’s capable of?

Kane turned away from the discussion as a door opened behind her. A young woman with curled brown hair and a stern face stepped through it and approached us.

“Ah, Teresa,” Kane smiled, “I’m glad you’re awake.”

She glanced at Lisa, then turned and fixed her gaze on me. I’d never met her before, never even heard her name. But I knew who she was. This was my replacement.

“Camille?” I turned back to the operative, “We have a car waiting outside. If you want, we could discuss your plan on the way to...”

I trailed off, I had no idea where we could take this woman. My apartment was a tip that was barely fit for one person and the police station probably wasn’t the best place for a woman like her to show up.

“I have some quarters in the city,” She smiled at me, “My equipment and dossiers are there.”

“Excellent,” I grinned.

Kane glanced between me and Teresa and I noted a tiny bit of disappointment cross her face, but it vanished as she ushered us to the door, “Yes, excellent, you’d best be on your way. Conrad won’t wait forever.”

I’d prefer it if he did.

Camille followed us out the door, stopping to bow before Madam Kane.

Lisa looked at me. I shrugged, “She’s the best in the business.”

“I hate this business,” Lisa sighed as we walked to the car.

* * *

Camille’s residence was less of an apartment and more of a slice of heaven. It overlooked the bay and stood higher than any building we’d seen on the drive over.

“Wow,” I gasped as we exited the car and Camille led us up the stairs to the front door.

“It is acceptable?” She asked as she bent to retrieve her key from before the doormat.

Lisa coughed once, loudly. I stopped staring at the operative’s shapely rear long enough to respond, “Oh yeah.”

She thrust the key into the lock.

The door swung open.

Lisa drew her side-arm and pushed me aside, “Get back!”

Camille, stunned, stepped away from the now open doorway as Lisa pushed past her, gun up.

“Clear!” Lisa barked from inside a moment later.

Camille’s hands were suddenly filled by a small, snub-nosed pistol as she stepped in through the doorway. Feeling stupid, I placed my hands in my pockets and followed her in.

The room was undisturbed, as far as I could tell. Camille confirmed it by sliding her gun back into a holster at her ribcage.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” Lisa asked, returning her own gun to its place on her hip.

Camille stooped and picked something up from the floor, it was a thin, slim package.

“Step back, please,” She said slowly, gently and then when we obliged, she tore the envelope open.

I flinched. There was no explosion, no sudden burst of dust or poison or mind sapping oil or the flash of a sub-bomb. I sighed.

Lisa shrugged. Camille reached inside and gently slid out a small, silver disc.

“Is that a...?”

“DVD,” Camille nodded, she turned it over in her fingers, “Looks clean.”

I cocked an eyebrow, “You can tell whether a DVD is tainted just by looking at it?”

She blushed again. I liked it when she did that.

“Not exactly,” She shook her head, “But there are signs, sometimes.”

“We should watch it,” I said suddenly.

Lisa looked uneasily at the item, “You’re sure?”

“Spotter teams,” I offered.

She looked at me, confused.

“One of us watches, the others watch the watcher,” Camille explained, “Like a rock-climber...”

“...or a sniper,” I quipped.

Lisa’s face contorted, but she relented, “Who draws the short straw?”

Camille raised her hand, but I opened my mouth first, “I’ll do it. This is my case. Plus I know how to recognize and defend against a subliminal message.”

“As do I, madam,” Camille asserted with an air of frustration, “I am the operative, I should be the one.”

Lisa looked between us, then shrugged her shoulders, “I say let her do it, Maria.”

I shook my head, “Not a chance.”

“I am an operative of the Inquisition!” She fumed.

“Exactly,” I said calmly, “We need you. Need your training. I can, well, in comparison, I’m expendable.”

Camille stopped, then her whole body slumped in defeat, “Very well, madam, but I would prefer it be me.”

“Oh,” I laughed sardonically, “At least that we can agree on, then.”

* * *

We sat in front of the TV in Camille’s spacious living room and didn’t say anything for a long time.

I looked around; the furniture was Spartan and bland.

Camille slid the DVD into her DVD player with all the care she’d give a poisonous asp.

“Are you ready?” Lisa asked me. She was standing to the right of the couch.

Camille retrieved the remote and stood to the left.

“As I’ll ever be,” I sighed and focused on the TV screen. Lisa and Camille were holding up plates we’d scrounged from the almost empty kitchen against the side of their faces, blocking out the TV screen, even in their peripheral vision. Peripherals were dangerous, you could pick up a subliminal and have it start working on you without even looking at it or comprehending it.

The TV clicked on in a flash of white light. Then the DVD burst onto life upon the screen. At first I thought it was a still image, but then the picture began to move.

The woman restrained on the St. Andrew’s Cross began to jerk and pull against her bonds. She was naked. Her body was attractive, but plump in some areas and discoloured in others. She had an oddly familiar skin tone; like light coffee.

My head cocked to the side as I stared.

A man in black stepped into frame and produced a long, thin needle with a flourish. A pink fluid bubbled inside it, like the one that had been in the Bishop’s dart gun. He plunged the needle into the woman’s chest, just above the slope of her right breast, and then slid it away inside his jacket pocket.

I leaned forward, squinting; this woman was so familiar....

She fell still as the needle’s contents went to work. The man reached above, off frame, and lowered a glowing mask down over her eyes. The woman jerked once, then fell still.

Her body was changing before my very eyes. The fat seemed to quiver before it melted away, disappearing into the woman’s now curved, hourglass figure. The slight musculature in her arms and legs disappeared as her limbs began soft, curvy and sexy.

She looked, well, I had to admit, good. Like I’d like to. Sexy and shapely, like a real slut should.

I....

Her tits ballooned outward, forming a pair of large, round, firm DD’s from what had once been slightly out of shape C’s.

My hands reached to my chest and felt the soft flesh there. God, I wanted a pair like that. Think about how many times I could get fucked a day looking like that.

“Maria?” Lisa’s voice. Faint, far away. I pushed it from my mind, there were more important things at hand here; like how to become fuckable.

This woman would show me the way; had to show me the way. The visor pulled away from her face and I got a glimpse of her new, plump lips. Cocksucker lips. For sliding along the soft, warm flesh of a hot, hard dick.

“Maria!” A hand on my shoulder, but that too felt far away. Faint. Like a whisper at the edge of a thunderstorm.

I leaned in closer; the whole of the TV screen filled my vision. But it wasn’t a TV screen, not really. It was a window to perfection. A crystal clear understanding of what I was to strive toward. My hand reached out to touch the woman, caress her. Fuck her.

She was giggling, her whole bimbo body was jiggling with the motion as she was released from her restraints. She fell to her knees. It looked right, felt right. I fell forward from the couch onto my knees. The carpet beneath my legs felt like heaven.

Her hands reached out for his belt-buckle. So did mine. She reached inside.

The TV exploded. Shards of glass and pinpricks of light lanced outward toward me.

Camille’s warm body fell across me, shielding me from the blast. My head jerked around. Lisa’s gun was in her hand; smoke rose steadily from the barrel.

“Christ!” She breathed, “You okay?”

I nodded, dumbstruck. But all I felt was sick.

I was back, but so was my mind.

“It’s Carla,” I gasped, staring right at Lisa. My eyes were wet with tears.

I slipped a hand between my thighs and confirmed my fears; my pussy was wet too. Soaked, in fact.

“What?” Lisa cocked her head as I threw Camille off of me.

“He got Carla. He changed her. She was in the video,” The words came faster than my lungs would allow, I coughed and gasped as I tried desperately to swallow down more air, “That fucking bastard got Carla and enslaved her!”

Lisa’s gun dropped from her trembling hands, “Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.”

She was shaking all over.

She collapsed on top of the sofa. Beside me, Camille pressed a damp cloth to my forehead.

I sighed, then breathed out hard. Then I fell backwards into her waiting arms and closed my eyes.