The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


by trilby else ()



Dawn woke Petra too soon.

She knew soft firm warmth and silken skin against her, odd light, and smells under a strong tang that scared and aroused her.

When she slipped out to get to the bathroom, it took long seconds to realize where she was. She’d never seen Bree’s bedroom from the bed.

What—the fuck?

She whipped a glance down at Bree, seductively half-covered by licks of bedsheet.

Most of last night was a blur but some of it was clear, and her friend looked wholly innocent, spent and loose in sleep. Petra reached down, moving some sweat-matted hair from Bree’s forehead. Bree’s lips moved a little and then she squirmed, dreaming something.

Bree hadn’t been the aggressor. She’d trusted Petra in her time of weakness, and Petra—

She winced. Obviously, Bree hadn’t been safe from her. But there was a smile on those wonderful lips. She wasn’t even sure she knew everything she’d done to Bree, but she remembered Bree liking it.

Something weird had happened. Without knowing why, Petra kept thinking about hypnosis. Had she let Bree hypnotize her into this? Would that even occur to Bree? Why wouldn’t she be able to remember it?

She looked down at her friend—her lover, now.

Petra wanted to hold her tenderly. Or dive between those loose thighs and lick without mercy.

All she did was run her hand down Bree’s shoulder. She leaned down and kissed it. Smelling both of them, she forced herself to sit back up.

She almost thanked her bladder when it insisted she pad over to the bathroom.

More comfortable and saner when she returned, she looked down at Bree. Did she want that conversation now?

Actually, what would they be saying? How had they ended up in bed?

Gripping her head, Petra remembered not to plop back down and wake Bree. This was too strange. They’d never even experimented—but if she were ever going to try her own kind, Bree’d have . . .

But how had she and Bree gotten to this? They hadn’t gotten drunk, because her head would be coming off and Bree would be curled around the toilet.

She could wake Bree, gently, and see what she remembered. But something about seeing Bree’s strong tight body so helpless stopped her. Waking her seemed like betrayal.

Irrationally, she risked waking Bree anyway to coax enough sheet free to cover her, and smiled as her friend mmmmed and undulated underneath. But Bree stayed asleep, then and a moment later when Petra kissed her forehead and tiptoed to the living room for her clothes.

She’d left a note on the other pillow. Off to work. Call me if you’d like. I’ll talk to you today. P

Latching the door after doublechecking she had everything, she walked out to her car. It wouldn’t be the first late night she or Holly had had at Bree’s, but they never made noise. Still, she tried not to seem furtive, as if everyone might deduce that this time she’d had her first lesbian tryst, with one of her closest friends.

She headed home, showered and dressed, and even managed to be on time for work. She kept thinking she could still smell sex on her mouth, but was able to push the idea aside. Better—it was a day for interacting only by phone and computer, so no one veered close enough to smell it. If it were more than her own conscience.

God. Poor Bree. What the hell had happened to them last night?

Her first call went to Bree’s voicemail, and the morning got busy before she could try again. But Bree left one for her just before noon.

“Everything’s cool, Petra.” Petra closed her eyes in relief, hearing the smile in Bree’s voice. “I know you’re worrying. Don’t—I’m really OK.

“See you later on?” There was a quiet breath. “Love ya.”

Petra closed the phone and stared through her flatscreen, wondering whether to start bawling.

“OK, so your bad day can beat up mine.”

She looked up. Holly Charpentier leaned on her office doorway, trim and sane in dark jeans and a sportcoat. “Petra?” She looked ready to stop grinning and start sympathizing.

“Oh. No. Sorry.” Petra assembled a reassuring smile she worried might frighten Holly even more. Well, whatever they’d done to themselves last night, at least she and Bree had waited until Holly left.

On the other hand, what could Petra say about it? After you left, your two best friends fucked each other silly and at least one of them can’t even remember why?


She blinked. Holly’d stopped calling her that long ago. Bree was the one who—


“Just—you know.” She gestured vaguely at computer, files, phone, until Holly nodded. “No one big thing, just a lot of small ones.

“But come on in.” She waved at the chair. “You said you were having a bad one?”

Holly just leaned her head onto the doorframe. “Gets better. I’m starting to wonder what the crap they had Orsini working on.”

“If you tell me you have to kill me?”

“They haven’t told me, yet.” Holly shrugged. “The pharmaceutical people are too busy climbing the walls, Roerich’s—”

“Already installed handholds?” Petra asked. “On the walls?”

“Exactly. Now the General Counsel’s involved, but just sits there and refuses to say anything about anything. Yet.”

Petra frowned. “Are they putting you on hold for the acting directorship?”

Holly’s smile was ghastlier than hers. “If anything, they’re increasingly eager to have someone come in and sort it out. So I’m starting to wonder just how good a deal this is. Maybe I should have taken that pathology residency and been a sexy coroner on TV.”

Sexy. Thinking of sexy Holly seemed to trigger something in Petra. She stared at how snugly the jeans fit over Holly’s hips, the tight denim Y between them as lovely as Bree’s in flesh. She’d seen Holly undressed, and now she pictured Holly swaying those hips toward her, reclining on the bed, looking at Petra while Petra slid between her legs and—

Too fucking weird.

“The camera work would make you motion-sick.” Petra glanced at her schedule without seeing it. “On those appetizing notes—feel like lunch?”

“I feel like something’s half-eaten lunch.” Holly had no idea she’d just danced naked in another woman’s daydream. God this was so—

“No. Wish we could. I just needed to get away from that place for a while, and talk to someone sane.”

Petra nodded. “Well, until they get here, I’m pleased to meet you.”

Holly’s laugh was strained but real. “Anyway, I wolfed some fastfood on the way here—begged out of a ‘working lunch’ with the corporates. Which I don’t feel deprived of.”

Holly staring into her eyes. Her will melting in Holly’s cool gaze.


She almost fell into Holly’s real gaze, lovely and concerned. “Something’s up with you. Are you OK?”

“Yeah, completely, I just—”

Petra’s cell rang. She grabbed it too quickly.

It wasn’t Bree. Petra didn’t know the number.

“I’ll get rid of them.”

Holly leaned away from the doorframe, shaking her head, backing away. “No, it’s fine.”

Petra tapped. “Hello?” Holly waited, paralyzed by courtesy. Petra would free her in a—

“I know you’re in public.” The voice—Her voice—purred between Petra’s ears.

“Obey Me.”

Now she remembered what happened to her and Bree.

A superhuman hypnotist had enslaved their minds. Then they’d fucked themselves deeper into obedience to Her.

“I understand.” Mistress.

She’d triggered Petra right in front of Holly. Her will leashed Petra, kept her from snapping to attention and staring into space. But Petra was still deeply hypnotized.

Did Holly—? But Holly was waving goodbye, taking Petra’s trance for preoccupation. Petra waved back, shrugging apology.

Seeing Holly leave was like watching the rescue plane keep flying past. But the ache of that blurred into wishing Holly could have seen her stiffen and stare and proclaim her obedience aloud.

Either way, what could Holly do if she knew? Mistress was in Petra’s mind.

“Leave now, slave. Drive carefully to Bree’s workplace and speak to her alone. Tell her to obey Me. Then take her home.”

“I understand,” Petra responded tonelessly. Office sounds dinned around her but she ignored them. She was being hypnotized and programmed in the midst of her coworkers. No one knew. No one could free her.

Mistress implanted Her instructions. Then Petra logged off her computer and told her supervisor she was meeting someone for lunch.

Left in trance, Petra enjoyed being aware of her obedience, though she felt good that she’d jump through Her hoops without even knowing.

And she was looking forward to controlling Bree.

Mistress had programmed her, and Petra didn’t think about how she was going to activate her friend or how anyone else around would react.

If she felt herself compelled to turn Bree into a robot in front of a client or a whole group-workout, she wouldn’t resist. Maybe Mistress’ power would put everyone else into a trance and erase their memory of Bree.

Or maybe Mistress had programmed her to act crazy in public, and they’d just restrain her and she’d end up under arrest, staring and waiting for Mistress’ next command.

Petra juiced, thinking of custody while still on Her leash. She would reveal nothing. They might decide she was crazy.

Maybe they’d try drugs, or even a hypnotist.

As she got into her car, she brushed her fingers once across her mound, and smiled.

Mere humans could never penetrate a mind She had claimed. Much less free it from Her slavery.


She’d been to Bree’s gym before, but enjoyed going there under command. Obeying Her here in the open kept Petra simmering all the way over.

Bree was in a darkened viewing area overlooking a row of racquetball courts. The thudding and shouts of play just highlighted how alone they were as Petra walked in.

Her friend looked perky and fit in the jogbra and tight shorts, with her hair gathered primly on her head. Her trainer’s outfit displayed the gym’s logo, and as she straightened Petra saw it as servant’s livery, showing off that tight body while making clear she belonged to someone else.

Petra smiled again. Whatever adorned Bree’s body, Mistress had branded her mind.

“Hey.” Bree saw her, and grinned shyly—even put her hands behind her back. “’About last night’—” She started to laugh and it caught, but she was still smiling as Petra walked up to her. Petra’s trance let her feel glad to see her new lover, even as it made her feel gleeful that in a moment she’d turn Bree’s mind off.

“I have a message for you,” she said.

Bree’s eyes lit up and she stepped forward, opening her arms.

Petra grasped Bree’s firm biceps. She remembered Bree’s limber strength against her last night in the sheets. Loved how useless that strength was, against Her domination. Pressing ardently against her, Bree was smooth and tight under the spandex, smelling of a fresh shower.

But Mistress didn’t want Bree’s body fucked now. Just her mind.

“Obey Mistress,” Petra said, as Bree’s lips opened to hers.

Bree stiffened divinely against her, eyes going soft and faraway. “Obey,” she murmured, as if it explained everything she’d ever wondered about.

Then it slid home in her mind. “I must obey.” She stood rigid, staring through Petra.

Petra released her. “She wills that we go to your apartment now.”

“I understand,” Bree droned, her expressionless face suddenly pathetic above the bright, tight costume. She pivoted, so close she brushed against Petra. It aroused Petra, but so did the need just to pace calmly after her.

At the door, Bree turned. She’d put on a dazzling smile to deceive all the ones Mistress didn’t control, and only Petra would see the deadness above it. “I already have permission to leave.”

“I understand,” Petra moaned, and followed her numbly to the staff lockers. Retrieving her bag and sweats, Bree let Petra take her to the car. No one did more than greet Bree or wave as they left.

Free from Her specific control while she drove, Petra made herself focus on her friend.

“Bree?” It was hard even to speak unbidden, but something ate at her about how blank the blonde beside her was.

“Yes, Petra.” Bree sounded a lot fresher. Almost—perky.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course, Petra.” Bree sounded dangerously serene. “I’m under Her control now.”

Petra would’ve closed her eyes, but She’d said Drive carefully.

“That’s—I’m glad, Bree. But I meant—’about last night.’” She didn’t know how she’d awakened even this much from the robotic trance. It seemed about to overwhelm her again.

When Bree didn’t even react to the cliche, it subdued Petra even more. It was so tempting just to say I must obey! and fall back into blankness with her. But she felt protective of Bree, even if Bree sounded as though she were far past protection.

“Last night helped reinforce your obedience to Her, Petra.” Bree’s tone didn’t change. “I performed as programmed.”

Petra tried to feel sad, but suddenly it was too exciting to think of that hot crazy bedthrash as just another way for Her to control them.

“I am more obedient today,” she heard herself say. “You served Mistress well.”

Then Bree took her hand and squeezed it, not saying anything. Petra blinked tears away, but Bree heard her breathing change. “It’s all right, Petra. She has a different use for you, so She controls you differently.”

Another squeeze, and soft sympathy in Bree’s voice. “You still think so hard, and your mind isn’t even yours anymore.”

“What is Mistress?” Petra was just thinking out loud.

“What do you think She is?” When Petra turned, Bree didn’t look playful. The calculating stare over the aerobics-hottie outfit made her look like the teenager no one ever suspected of serial arson.

Mistress must be using Bree to evaluate her. Instantly Petra relaxed.

“She wants you to think,” Bree went on, as if Mistress had also rewired her to read minds. “Not like me.” That stung, the more so for how matter-of-factly Bree dismissed herself.

“I tried to wonder what She is,” Petra confessed. “Just before She took my will and I went to sleep.” Merely saying that was like jilling off, but she fought the distraction. “She could be a demon. Or alien. Or—from the future.”

Petra kept seeing Her, in different dominatrix costumes. “Maybe an parallel world. Where Amazons with ESP hypnotized everyone else into slavery and ended history.” She tried to sound sarcastic, but now all she could think of was kneeling in a columned temple in a brief tunic, feeling someone beautiful wipe her mind of old loyalties.

She shook her head, still watching the road. “I have no idea, Bree. She made me Her slave, and now I just want to obey Her commands.”

They rode on.

“Mistress,” Bree said softly, “is an explorer. From someplace where beings like Her rule, and people like us obey Them.”

She nodded when Petra glanced over. “She touched my mind today. To implant truths for us both to know while we obey Her.” She writhed on the seat, and Petra ached with envy for how that violation must have felt.

“I’m receptive to telepathic hypnosis now. Your kind of slave just doesn’t get brainsmoothed enough for remote contact.”

Bree waited for another glance, then smiles again. “Yet. It’s one truth She implanted.

“She still has uses for your mind. It’s why She paired us. I can receive Her commands and guide you. You can perform tasks like a freewilled human, which I no longer can.”

“What—tasks?” Petra felt herself slipping again. This was real, Mistress was an alien or Astarte Incarnate or a freelance slaver from the Amazon Alternity.

From somewhere They rule, and we obey. This could be an invasion, maybe one that had been quietly going on for years. Beings who really did think humans were cattle—and could bend human minds to think so too.

Instead of fighting them, Petra was already one of their eager pawns.

Funny. Watching those movies, I always assumed I’d be one of the holdouts. Not a brainwashed convert.

Not wet for their commands.

Sensing her anguish—or reading her thoughts with Mistress’ downloaded power—Bree ran a soothing hand down Petra’s thigh. “Mistress hasn’t programmed me with that.”

“But it—they—” Petra covered her mouth. These invaders were letting her think, even speak, but what if she went too far with that?

And what awful thing did they need a brainwashed slave to do, that they couldn’t bribe or threaten or fool someone for? Was She going to reprogram Petra to seduce and assassinate some key leader? Spread a hideous plague?

It didn’t matter. By then, Petra would be Hers.

They reached Bree’s complex, deserted in the middle of the day. Petra was grateful. She’d see everyone as a potential victim of Mistress’ nefarious program, whatever it was.

Inside Bree’s apartment, she looked at where they and Holly had sat just yesterday. When things had been sane and the only problem was Holly’s suicidal management-echelon.

“Poor Petra.”

She blinked. Bree stood pertly beside her, sleek and alluring in the brief spandex, regarding her with heartbreaking concern. They flowed into a kiss and Petra softened inside, finally able to feel Bree again.

Bree smiled, keeping hold of her when the kiss ended. “That is my other purpose, Petra. I am to help tame you into Her service. She knows what makes humans weak. Sex and tenderness are useful.” She pressed her pelvis against Petra. “I am programmed for both. To seduce you and keep you docile.

“You can’t resist.” She grinned like the old Bree, impish and friendly.

It melted Petra, who smiled back. “I won’t.” She leaned in and renewed the kiss, grinding against Bree.

Their alien Mistress had telepathically lobotomized Bree with a single glance. Petra’s friend was just a sexy, mindless puppet mouthing Her words. A control device for Petra.

Petra was already Hers enough that it only made it sweeter to succumb to Bree.

Then they were apart, and Bree was stripping off the gymwear, smiling at how hungrily Petra looked at her. Petra started undressing, too, and instead of jumping on Bree she just stood quietly when they were both nude.

Bree sauntered toward her. “Things that make humans weak,” she whispered huskily, as if she were the gloating alien mind-controller. “That make us pliant. Tractable.” She inhaled and her eyes half-rolled up. “That make us obedient.”

Petra gasped with need.

“So does hypnosis.” Bree suddenly stiffened and lost all expression, wholly Her puppet now. She raised her right hand, pointed between Petra’s eyes.

“I am also programmed to hypnotize.”

Petra savored her own paralysis as the entranced blonde came closer. Touched her forehead.

Dropped Petra into instant, obedient trance.

She listened to Bree’s words without hearing them, then followed her to the bedroom. She stood blankly while Bree turned on what might have the same music they’d fucked to last night.

On a towel spread next to Bree’s bed they knelt dovetailed, each riding the other’s thigh and fingering her with a slowness imposed from outside her will. Face to face, instead of kissing they fell into each other’s unblinking eyes.

Softly, they began to chant about obedience.

Mistress had implanted the mantra in Bree’s thoughts. But very soon neither of the aroused, hypnotized women could remember who began.

Again, when Her voice spoke, Her two slaves fell silent, minds and pussies slick and open.


This time, instead of sleep and forgetfulness, they stayed slave-aware after their programming.

Petra didn’t know if that were among Her recorded commands, or something She’d conditioned them to do automatically. Not knowing turned her on.

After a long kiss they slid apart and stood. They didn’t dress. They moved slowly and quietly through Bree’s apartment, half-pretending to be naked slavegirls who only served there but had no right to use anything for themselves. There were really things to do, though not much—tidying up after Holly’s visit, mostly.

Little enough of that. There’d been no struggle when She’d come. She’d hypnotized them too quickly. Too completely.

Petra remembered trying to resist. It hadn’t been enough to stop Her—not even enough to be able to stand up, before Petra was vanquished. Before Petra could regret even trying to oppose Her will, she remembered Mistress had enjoyed defeating her.

Standing for a moment, she looked around for something else she could adjust or move. They were slavegirls here. They belonged to Her, and their homes were Hers now, just places She could store Them.

It made her wet. She watched her fellow-slave needlessly shift some cushions on the sofa.

Petra wondered if it would happen like that when Mistress and Her Kind took over the world. All the humans suddenly under the adamant bonds of true hypnosis, their wills dissolving before they even knew they were in danger. The whole human race at attention, waiting for Their first mental commands.

Only Their thralls, Petra and Bree and the others They’d already brainwashed, would move. And only at Their will.

“We won’t even know it,” she said aloud, and Bree turned to her. “We slaves. When Mistress’ people invade.”

Bree grinned and walked over to hold her lightly. “We’ll know whatever makes us useful to Them.”

“And—” Petra blinked.

“What?” Bree cocked her head, so adorably quizzical than Petra kissed her.

“Maybe by then She won’t need thinking-slaves,” Petra told her, smiling. “I’d be brainsmoothed. When She sent control thoughts, I’d receive them as you do.”

The idea made her slide her pussy against Bree’s thigh. Bree flexed it, holding her gaze as she sighed, then kissed her. “Mistress will be very pleased.”

Petra trembled with how good hearing that was. She looked back into Bree’s wide, brainwashed eyes and considered that she was aroused by praise from another slave. A slave who was proud to be unable to think on her own anymore.

Then she let Bree’s skin warm her. Bree was Hers. Petra was still allowed doubts and curiosity, but there was nothing behind Bree’s eyes that She had not put there. So praise from slave Bree was from their Mistress.

Bree straightened, turning to look over Petra’s shoulder. Her eyes glazed over.

Petra felt Her in her mind even before turning.


She was even more beautiful than She’d let Petra remember. Knowing She was other made Her looks even more striking. Her body was shapely in another sexy suit—not as strong as Bree’s, but then She had slaves to work and fight for Her, and could turn anyone else into another at will.

And taut, conditioned Bree was a slave, displaying herself on command. No one saw Her without Her leave.

Her eyes.

Petra willingly stared into them, thoughts sliding under Her touch like a dog’s head.

“I must obey,” she said, without prompting.

“Yes.” Mistress smiled, feeling Petra succumb. She gestured, and without registering it Petra knew it had freed her to look away. Petra looked at Her sleek legs instead, wondering if She would want Her thinking-slave between them.

“Perhaps I have,” Mistress told her, laughing. She turned and went to the chair where Holly had been yesterday, before She’d come and taken control. Petra followed, kneeling before Her, hands on thighs in a submissive posture that felt instinctive.

“Humans are natural slaves.” She openly admired Petra’s body. “Not all of you get to learn that. Many of you end up in other humans’ thrall, which you can even resist. Sometimes.” She laughed again. Her scorn made Petra moist.

“Some of you never realize the truth unless you meet one of Us.” She licked Her lips.

“Once that happens, of course, you forget ever being anything but chattel.”

Petra straightened. “Thank You, Mistress.”

She acknowledged it with a slight nod. “Bree’s explained your new purpose in life.” Bree padded over to stand beside Her chair, staring over Petra’s head. In Her presence Bree might not even remember Petra was there.

Seeing her vivacious friend sleepwalk at Her mental command, Petra sobbed a breath out and in.

The yellower-than-human eyes lasered into hers. Mistress already knew what she was thinking. She wanted Petra to say it.

Petra waited for Her nod. “Mistress, Bree told me I must keep thinking for You. I await Your will and it will become mine. But . . . right now—I want to be Bree.” She blinked up at Her. “I may be too soft already—”

Mistress’ laugh seemed gentler this time. “Excellent attitude, Petra. You are suited for serving Us. But you needn’t worry. I have reshaped Earthgirl minds for—” She smiled. “—long enough to have seen them evolve. You are as I wish you to be, and you will do My will when you’re needed.

“And Bree is programmed to control you as you awaken to perfect obedience.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Petra knew Bree had become Her creature. Bree could no longer be imperfect.

Her eyes held Petra’s until they glowed. “You will not worry. You will obey.”

“I will not worry,” Petra intoned. The chains inside grew heavier. “I will obey.”

Petra’s eyes were locked on Her but she could almost still see Bree’s face, feel her body as they masturbated each other. With Her name on their lips and Her voice filling their minds.

But her heart still burned for her friend.


Her eyebrow rose, but She smiled. How much would She allow Her thinking-slave? She could read Petra’s mind, and hadn’t decided to wipe this away.

“What will happen to Bree?”

Her smile quirked. Without looking up, Mistress reached back and traced Her finger above Bree’s pussy. It drew Petra’s gaze and she watched the other slave’s eyelids flutter. Bree breathed faster, but nothing else betrayed what Mistress’ touch was doing to her.

Petra let the fingering capture her attention for a moment. She wondered if the pattern was idle, or if those might be letters of Her language. She considered the power of commands written on Bree’s loins, in Their tongue.

“I told you what Bree is, slave. When I took you.”

Bree is a toy.

Tame. Malleable. Fun to play with, but not for serious use.

“Yes, Mistress. I understand.” Toys could be discarded. Mistress could kill Bree or give her to another of Them when She tired of her, without another thought. If She detected Petra reacting, She could delete that thought, too.

If I serve You well, may I have her? But Petra’s task might be to die for Her. And slaves made no bargains. If Petra survived Her will, she was more likely to become a toy than be rewarded with one.

Petra’s mind throbbed with knowing obedience was its own reward.

Mistress watched Petra think, and made no comment. Then She stopped stroking Bree. “In time, Petra, what I enslaved you to do for Me will become part of your mind. But you need some more domestication.”

She raised a palm. “You haven’t displeased Me, slave. If I wanted a robot, you’d be one.” Neither of them looked at Bree, who still stood where Mistress’ mind had called her, gazing into space.

“But there are tasks you need to be automated for. Part of your mind will be reconfigured.”

Then Her expression hardened. The golden stare impaled Petra’s awareness.

She is hypnotizing me again. She is fucking my mind.

Petra whined, needing to come.

“You want to be reconfigured. You want to become an automaton.”

Petra was hearing it inside her head.

“I want to be reconfigured,” she forced through clenched teeth. “I want to become—an automaton!”

Mistress rose, drawing Petra to follow. Still in deeper trance, Bree came also, halting at Her side like a trained pet. In Bree’s den, a flatscreen monitor was slung over a bowl chair, beside which some new-looking electronics were neatly stacked and interconnected.

Mistress’ raptor-eyes sought Petra’s, but Petra’s were fanatically wide. She no longer cared what Mistress did to her as long as it made her more of a slave.

“I could spend the afternoon whittling away pieces of your mind personally. But other things need My attention, and unlike this, none of them can be handled by a slave.”

Bree moved to Petra, guiding her into the chair.

“That’s another thing We like about humans,” Mistress purred. “What we laughingly call your ‘mind-control’ is mainly of archaeological interest, but your minds are still weak enough that it works on you.”

While Bree impassively attached sensors to Petra’s head and body, Mistress sneered at the array. “But there is something elegant in bewitching the natives with their own magic.”

Petra looked at Her, queasily happy that her species could be of use.

Bree came erect again. Mistress fondled her breasts, as the blonde slave stared serenely forward.

“Later, slave, I will return and brand it all onto the folds of your brain. But for now, I can let this jumped-up abacus subjugate you.”

Then She leaned over the chair, enjoying how Petra looked in the bowl, nude and wired in. Petra looked up at Her, still feeling Her control. As if sensing her need, Mistress reached down and began to draw Her signs around Petra’s slit. Petra jerked but held still for Her, not believing how much more aroused she could be.

“Before I leave My newest thinking-slave to the mercy of her race’s own slavemaker, though, I will soften her for it.”

She smiled down, watching Petra’s mouth open in a silent, delighted scream. Then Her eyes hypnotized Petra once more, and She began.


Over the wreckage of the human city, one of Their destroyer platforms floated closer to what had been a hotel. In its shadow on the boulevard below, three ranks of human women marched in perfect lockstep.

Owner-codes in silvery alien script were tattooed on their necks. They wore metallic gloves and knee boots, narrow metal harnesses and wide metal collars, and nothing else but expressionless stares. Metal and blankness were the livery of the Takers who controlled them.

Obey. Obey.

The brainwashed women looked straight ahead, not reacting to the warship above them, the collapse around them, or even the human gunners shooting at them.

Four slavewomen twisted and fell, one still moving. petra and the others stepped over them without a glance, knowing only the endless thrall-beat in their minds.

Obey. Obey.

The destroyer platform tracked the disobedients’ fire. That part of the hotel dissolved into dust and plasma.

So the dead slaves had been useful. In any case, disobedients found alive in the rubble could be brainwashed to replace them if needed. It was Their net gain.

The living slaves neither mourned nor wondered. they were not a team, just surface probeunits the platform was using. The last rank snapped to a halt, pivoted in unison, and stalked off on a new errand, their bootheels perfectly in cadence with those who kept going.

Obey. Obey.

petra watched the slave in front of her and thought nothing.

No further disobedients fired. The slavewomen were not programmed to wonder why, only to patrol and obey until they were retasked. Or killed.

In her peripheral vision, petra saw a few unsorted humans, stunned and unresisting in the ruins or along the cleared streets. Others in Their thrall acted with purpose, obeying commands, or awaited them, rigid and nude.

Obey. Obey.

A store, flattened and fused into rippled glass, was now a pen where human captives were brought for a Taker to assess and sort. Some, already under Their spell, brought themselves.

There were no barriers. Newly-obedient humans stood docile in rows, behind lines chalked on the vitrified ground. The looser gaggle of unsorted, freewilled ones diminished steadily. Hypnotized and classified, they joined the docile to await whatever fate the Taker had just programmed them to crave.

petra and the others felt that Taker’s influence brush their minds. Detecting their obedience, She ignored them, and turned back to smooth the mind of the recently-disobedient human still thinking at Her feet.

Obey. Ob—

HALT. A Taker needed a drone. Chose petra.

she froze on the boulevard, ignoring the companions who marched on obliviously without her. Pivoting, she walked to an office block half-open to the sky.


Alert so the Taker could use her senses, petra strode into the ruin’s shadows.

A lurking disobedient might shoot her, if it needed securing. Perhaps that was her use.

In her completely tranquil thoughts, petra recognized the place. she’d worked here, before They’d replaced her pointless life with obedience to Them. she neither knew nor cared if this was why the Taker chose her to use here.

She froze petra a few steps into the shattered lobby. Part of it was brightly sunlit under the missing upper storeys, darkening the rest. petra blinked, lacking bioenhancements to resolve the contrast. Working with what She had, the Taker focused petra on soft, rapid breathing from what looked like a heap of light debris in the shadow, and walked petra toward it.

“Human located.” petra’s words and robo-tone were only for the cowering human.

It worked. The debris shifted as a lithe shape erupted from it, then slid awkwardly to the dusty floor, finding petra in an unexpected spot.

petra was too brainsmoothed to admire how cleverly the Taker positioned her. she just looked at the girl as She used petra to examine her.

The girl was wildly pretty, still in the tatters of what she’d worn when the Taking had begun. She glared at petra’s metal-bedecked nudity and the trance that marked one of Their creatures.

What she’d be turned into, soon.

Then her eyes widened. “Petra?” She actually stepped forward. “Oh my God. Petra. They got you.” Her voice was cracked with fear and disuse. Thirst perhaps. And sorrow.

petra felt no sympathy. Disobedients didn’t need to suffer. Humans who submitted were fed and watered and hypnotized into bliss.

“Petra! It’s Allison! Don’t you remember?”

petra stood blankly. The Taker tapped her memory about Allison, but shared none.

“i remember nothing. i am Their slave. i must obey Them.” petra stared into her eyes. “You will obey Them.”

Allison’s face contorted. “No! No!” She sprang at petra, grabbed her, thrust her elfin, dust-streaked face in petra’s, as if passionate appeal could free petra’s mind.

petra’s Taker activated her. she slipped inside Allison’s grip. Their eyes locked.

The Taker’s power flared through petra’s eyes. The girl’s pupils dilated as her body tensed, but before she could even finished flinching the Taker was in control.

Allison’s pupils contracted now. Telepathic hypnosis stripped the stunned mind behind them of interest in anything but obedience. Commands streamed into Allison, and petra held her as she bucked helplessly in the orgasm that welded them to what was left of her mind.

petra released her. She came to attention, waiting for her first orders. They’d brainsmooth Allison later for direct command, but for now petra would control her.

“Are there others here?”

Allison didn’t hesitate. “Yes. In the concourse down on Parking B.”

“How many?”

Allison considered, wanting to be accurate for her new Mistress. “Fifteen. Fourteen if Harry dies. His leg was crushed.” A tear slid down her cheek, but her expression remained blank. The Taker saw the residual emotion through petra’s eyes but gave petra no orders. She knew She owned Allison now.

petra had a brief flash of Harry—loud, well-meaning, veteran—then forgot as the Taker rerouted the memory. Another human for Her.

“Are they armed?” The Taker’s concern wasn’t their safety, but the bother of reallocating drones.

“Yes. Four pistols and some Army thing. Antitank rocket?”

petra felt Her contempt. “You will betray their location and help capture them for enslavement.”

“I will betray their location and help capture them for enslavement.” Allison’s firm tone held no reluctance.

The hypnotized girl tore off the remains of her human clothes on command. Slave-naked, she rotated toward the stairs, her movements still more fluid and uncertain than petra’s robotic gait. Part of it was Their control, but some might just be fatigue.

No matter. If Allison lived long enough to be taken to Them, part of her would sleep forever.

petra didn’t try to conceal her footsteps on the concrete stairs. she didn’t mind the cold on her bare skin. They kept Their slaves in near-constant arousal, but certain things could spike it. Displaying her nude body and total submission to disobedients, to show Their power, did that for petra.

These humans weren’t even skilled enough to hide, thinking this underground concealed them. They were visible as petra and Allison approached.

Deeply suggestible after being flash-hypnotized, Allison had already fallen into step with petra, and the sight of them naked and clearly under control shocked the cowering humans. There was no sign of anyone with a leg injury, but the Taker didn’t look too hard through petra.

“What did you—?”


“Oh fuck they did it to Allison—”

“That’s Petra!”

They obviously knew her, but petra’s Taker saw no gain in letting petra remember them.

petra stopped and Allison halted beside her. It silenced the disobedients. “Surrender to Them,” petra said. “Give up your wills. Obey.” her voice echoed from the concrete walls.

The armed ones appeared, clattering as they cocked the pistols. Or tried to: one’s slide was jammed open and the human worked it desperately.

“Obedience is pleasure,” petra told them. she swiveled her head to Allison, who stared through her friends of a few minutes before. “Explain.”

“I obey.” Allison didn’t look at her. “I couldn’t resist. I am obedient now. They control the world and we must submit and obey Their every command.”

“Allie?” One woman with a working pistol peered at her with horror. “What did they do to you?” She turned to petra, seeing from her boots and harness that she was one of Their drones. “What the fuck did you do to my friend?”

“Mar—don’t yell at her.” An unarmed man regarded petra with pity that would have scalded a free woman. “Look at her. They’ve done something to Petra’s mind—just like Allie. You think Allie wants to stand there like that?”

Mar’s eyes glittered with terror and hate. “I know what happens in those ships. That’s not Petra anymore. They scooped out Petra and pumped in this robot.”

Inside, petra felt Her glee at the humans’ response. “Submit,” she told Mar. “Obey. Become useful to Them. Once you surr—”

Mar screamed and shot her.

It slammed into petra’s chest, but She disabled petra’s pain and as she flopped onto the hard concrete petra felt only obedience. she saw the humans staring, heard the crashing echoes of the report.

Saw Allison standing straight, still hypnotized and waiting for Her orders. The Taker tried to use petra to issue some, but petra’s lungs weren’t working.

her mouth formed obey as the final orgasm blew her awareness to pieces.

she died obeying Mistress.

Petra’s eyes snapped open, falling up and up into Her cold yellow ones. There were only the two of them, Taker and slavegirl, and Petra was Hers.

Then the ecstasy between her thighs licked again and she came back. Her legs wrapped Bree’s sinuous body as the other slave ate her out. Bree’s floor was softer than the dream-concrete.

Mistress crouched over her, enjoying Her handiwork.

Petra smelled the scents under the tang of girlsex, heard distant sounds.

Earth was still human.

“I wish it weren’t, Mistress.” Petra gazed up adoringly. “I wish it were Yours.”

Mistress leaned down and kissed her. Petra almost died of joy. She tasted so—so—

“Rejoice, slave.” Her smile promised wondrous terrors. “This way, you can still be of use when We take it.”