The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

9.

Petra had been helpless. Even knowing it was her place to wait and obey, not to ask, she’d found herself begging to help Them conquer the world.

Mistress didn’t mind. Her slave’s eagerness pleased Her. And amused Her. “But you’re the heroine type. Pet-Ra.”

Petra twitched pleasantly at the nickname and what it meant. Her memory and Bree’s were Mistress’ playrooms to ransack for emotional triggers.

“Before I brainwashed you,” She sneered, “you’d be the sort I’d expect to organize a resistance cell if We came.”

“Only to betray them to You,” Petra gasped, unable to rise from her knees even if she’d been allowed. She pleaded silently for permission to masturbate. Mistress could see the fantasy in her mind, a roomful of ragged, sexy young disobedients succumbing to Her hypnotic control. Weapons clattering forgotten to the floor, the sound of free wills discarded like trash.

Mistress licked Her lips and just let Petra liquefy. Petra loved Her more.

Then She looked away, pretending to consider. She contemplated Bree, who posed beside Her with a shotglass and a bottle of vodka on a tray.

“Nevertheless. Hunger keeps an edge on a hunting bitch, makes her eager. But even with obedient humans, there’s a way to overdo that. And you’re still new to My collar. I know what you’ll do for a treat.” She smiled.

Then She stared Petra into trance, and programmed her.

Petra awoke under Bree’s control, dressing for their mission. They wouldn’t wear boots and collars, but the gymwear was brief, tight, and decorative—perfect for a pair of hot dronegirls. A shoulder-strapped monokini and sports bra of Bree’s fit her, and they were twins in spandex, Bree in yellow and Petra in blue.

They carried gym bags to Petra’s car, waving to some of her neighbors, two sexy friends heading to an evening fitness session. Petra knew a couple of them were imagining her and Bree under the shower or fucking each other on a bench amid gleaming freeweights. She could picture it, too, but it aroused her more that these humans had no idea what Her slaves were really doing.

Mistress wanted another slave. Another fit girl like Bree, with a strong body and a mind She could dispense with.

She had to be selective. Earth wasn’t yet Their hunting ground, where She and Her kind could choose at random from a city or a nation of surrendered minds. But Bree’s usefulness encompassed her many female clients, including the coeds she gave a sympathetic discount. Mistress had scanned her mind, selected Her prey, and programmed Bree to get her.

Bree drove. They’d parked a block away from the student union, and as Bree watched impassively for the target, Petra’s eyes kept creeping skyward, wistfully looking for Their invasion fleet.

“That’s her.” Bree pointed at three girls coming down the steps. “In the white jeans.”

“I understand.” Petra reached for the doorhandle. Her pussy glowed with wanting to march robotically up to the girl and drag her off to be hypnotized.

Bree quelled her by palming her thigh without looking away from their target. “We will let Kirsty isolate herself. Then we will take her.” She left her hand on Petra’s thigh, worked her fingers lightly on the inner side.

Petra exhaled raggedly. “I understand. I will obey.”

“Yes, you will.” Bree’s head rotated toward her the way she’d turned to Allison in Mistress’ hypnotic dream. It made Petra feel even more controlled. “She let you have that.”

Bree smiled, a much older smile than Petra’d ever seen on her lively friend. “Don’t worry, Petra. You’re a very obedient slave. You can’t do anything She doesn’t want.”

Petra covered her hand but sat quietly. Bree started the car after seeing which way the girls walked. Rounding a corner, they saw Kirsty’s friends wave to her and enter a coffeehouse. Bree drove past. She probably knew where the girl was headed, and knew where to intercept her in privacy.

Glancing back as they passed, Petra saw Kirsty’s appeal. She was trim and neatly muscled under the jeans and T-shirt. Fit enough for Her needs, and Petra could probably help Bree carry her once they’d stunned or drugged her—unless Bree put Petra into a trance and bade her carry Kirsty herself.

Petra was still high on that when Bree pulled over in an empty, paved lot between a closed dry-cleaner’s and a three-story house. As Bree got out, Petra reached back into her gymbag and took out the mind-damping device Mistress had prepared her to use.

An unwitting human might just see an odd-looking remote, but its subtly exotic lines and strange heft told Petra it wasn’t made anywhere on her world. She wasn’t programmed with everything it could do, but holding it would’ve made her the single most powerful human on Earth.

If she weren’t an obedient puppet.

More than ever, she knew Mistress owned her. No one but a thoroughly brainwashed slave would ever see Their technology, let alone be told to use it. It was nothing like trust. But it still thrilled her that Mistress considered her submissive enough.

She got out and joined Bree behind the dry-cleaners, as programmed.

They waited only a minute or two in the alley behind it before Kirsty appeared. She was adjusting an MP3 player when she looked up. “Hey—Bree?” She frowned prettily at their out-of-place gym attire, their blank faces. “Um, what’s up?”

“You have been chosen for enslavement,” Bree said casually.

Kirsty’s frown deepened. “The fuck, Bree? I didn’t rush any of the sororities because I don’t—”

“Petra.”

“I obey.” Petra stepped away from Bree and raised the damper, aiming at Kirsty’s head.

“You can submit, Kirsty.” Bree sounded like she was reviewing gym-membership options. “Or, Petra will neutralize your will, and you’ll come anyway.”

Kirsty turned to Petra. “I don’t know why you’re playing along, but—”

“Petra won’t help you. She’s already been brainwashed.” Petra heard it, felt the belief in Kirsty’s gaze across her body, preened inside. “She will subdue you, if you’re disobedient.”

Kirsty’s gaze shifted and her eyes narrowed. Petra was proud her slavery was so visible.

But Kirsty had good instincts. She tensed to run.

Bree saw it too. “Neutralize.”

Petra obeyed, and the device hummed in her hand. Kirsty jerked, then froze, dropping the player and backpack. Her eyes and mouth were wide, frozen in fear or appeal. Petra released the control, and they watched her sway a little.

“Again.”

Petra hummed another dose of Taker mindblast into Kirsty’s head. Kirsty twitched, then stood slack, looking terribly sleepy and confused. Bree waved Petra to lower the device, as she picked up what Kirsty had dropped and looked around for anything else.

Controlled by the implanted sequence, Petra now went to the girl. “Come with us,” she said gently, squirming as Kirsty nodded numbly and obeyed. Bree slid behind the wheel and Petra guided Kirsty into the back seat and lay half on top of her. Kirsty’s tight body was excitingly like Bree’s.

As they rolled back onto the street, Kirsty shook her head drowsily. “Donnnn’t . . .”

Petra smiled and stroked her thick chestnut hair, watching that soothe Kirsty into closing her eyes briefly. She forced them back open. “Nooo . . . !”

Petra was programmed for this. She smiled and kept caressing her. “Relax. Soon you won’t have to think any more.”

“Not . . . a slave . . .” Kirsty struggled valiantly.

It stoked Petra’s need to make her submit. Petra guessed she’d looked like this herself, when Mistress took her mind. Dazed, frightened, pathetically resisting.

Succulent.

Empathy melted under envy. All Petra wished now was to have watched Mistress break her will. If she’d known how erotic obedience was, she’d have crawled to Mistress on her belly and pleaded for it.

Nor was there need for pity. Like dream-Allison in the ruins of Earth, Kirsty would forget her distress when she was enthralled.

Petra massaged Kirsty’s head, then fingered slow circles on her temples. “Obey,” she cooed. “Obey.”

She actually felt Kirsty weakening under her, eyes rolling up. Kirsty’s breathing sped as she tried once more to resist.

Then relaxed. “Obeyyyy . . .”

Petra smiled and circled. She helped Kirsty keep repeating the pretty word, then spared one hand to reach down, slide the mind-damper back into the bag, and retrieve the next tool.

When she lifted the dully-gleaming black cube to Kirsty’s eyes, they’d become vague. “Look,” she coaxed, and Kirsty compliantly focused for her. “Watch it flash, right here.” She tapped the center of the featureless side facing Kirsty. “See only the flash. So bright. So pretty. You can’t look away!”

“Can’t look away,” Kirsty sighed, staring.

“Flash,” Petra whispered. “Flash. Flash. Flash . . .” The cube remained dark, but Kirsty’s pupils shrank and expanded at each flash. Mistress’ device had rendered her that suggestible.

Petra stopped whispering. Kirsty kept seeing the flash. A tiny smile eased her mouth. The flash was as pretty as she’d been told to see.

“Each time, it flashes, Kirsty, say, ‘I must obey,’” Petra breathed on the cadence. “Start now.”

“I must obey,” Kirsty said promptly. She repeated it in synch with the phantom flashes.

Petra held her as she sent herself deeper, all the way back to Bree’s. Kirsty was utterly docile when they led her from the car. Her mantra had trailed off to a whisper, and Petra had let her fall silent as Bree parked.

Mistress would be waiting for Her new plaything. She’d probably take Her time—Petra could feel Her thirst for a virgin mind.

Petra shivered as she led the hypnotized victim inside.

Helping Mistress find and enslave Earthgirls was as addictive in reality as in the training dream.

She would do it again. Whenever Mistress commanded.

Her will was now Petra’s.

10.

Petra woke up alone, in her own bed.

But she remembered instantly she was a slave. Mistress had edited her recall of last night, but Petra loved Her for what She’d left—blurred snatches of Kirsty’s fall, from hypnotized captive to mindless devotee.

She saw the girl sprawl, jerk in ecstatic spasms, mouth the mantra she no longer had strength to speak aloud.

Petra could still taste Kirsty’s pussy, and remembered writhing with two hypertoned girl bodies. She touched herself, thanking Mistress for using her to break Kirsty.

She had no doubt Kirsty was broken.

Petra kept strumming herself.

One day, Their hovering destroyers would darken Earth’s skies, and Petra would be used for the mass-subjugation of the human race. Even before the Taking, though, there would be women They chose to enslave by ones and twos. Mistress had made Petra Her hunting bitch.

Petra came, crying out thanks and devotion.

While Petra had been out doing Her will by paralyzing Kirsty’s, Holly’d left messages. Holly wanted to see her and Bree, just to talk. More misery at the institute, sounding as if the late Dr Orsini had deliberately sabotaged things before killing herself. Holly hadn’t reached Bree so far.

Petra called Holly on her office landline, partly to see whether she’d be in already. Her disappointment that Holly answered was genuine. “It’s six AM, girl. Sick enough to be up at all—she said hypocritically—but you’re at work?”

“More trouble about the mysterious—well, probably shouldn’t get detailed on the phone.”

“And welcome to those now joining us.” Petra’s Malkovich wasn’t too bad.

“Petra!” Holly laughed but the nervousness sounded real.

“Sorry. Guys? Never mind. Anyway—did you reach Bree?” They shared a sigh about their overscheduled friend, and agreed on lunch sometime around midday. Petra promised to wear something even more businesslike than usual, in case she needed to rescue Holly at her office and could look vaguely official.

“But not too business-y, Petra. I don’t want them thinking I’m—”

“—flirting with the competition?” Petra swallowed, thinking of flirting and Holly and surprised with how warm it made her.

Holly had no idea and just thanked her for getting her implication.

Morning at the office passed quickly. Petra made a point of joining Allison for coffee and wondered if her body were as slim and beautiful as Mistress’ hypnotic virtual-reality had made it.

She looked into Allison’s eyes and decided the real girl was as brave as the one she’d imagined.

As Allison started to feel her scrutiny, Harry barged in and resumed his awkward courtship, which Allison liked him too much to shut down as crudely as he needed.

Petra just looked around the coffeeshop, picturing herself stalking through it, booted and bared in Their metal. With elfin Allison on one side, jock-gorgeous Bree on the other, Kirsty nearby, all in step.

Empty of eye and mind. Seeking any who did not yet obey.

They wouldn’t even know each other anymore—just the simplicity of Takers, slaves, disobedients, and the orgasmic thrill of obeying Them, forever.

“Inflation-adjusted buck for your thoughts.” Allison poked her.

“Just a little daydreaming,” Petra grinned. “Career change.”

“Oooh! Take me with you!” Allison clasped her hands in front of her. “Please! I can do stuff!”

“Count on it, kiddo.” Petra kept herself from stroking the girl’s arm.

Escaping at lunch was as easy as obeying Mistress yesterday. Maybe being a slave made her more productive. Petra was still imagining the invasion when she met Holly, who remarked on how she kept looking around at everything.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s those books, you know? The ones where all the people are gone and it’s just wild animals and feral goldfish and mutant styrofoam.”

Lying to Holly felt weird and luxurious. Not very wrong.

She indicated the pedestrian mall they crossed. “After those pictures, now I’m seeing my own.”

Holly looked. “Can I choose how I take the people out? I mean, of the picture?”

Petra laughed and let her pick the place.

Holly waited until they’d sat in the deli. “Things’re better. Sort of. Dean Roerich has decided to hold a reception tomorrow night.” She cringed. “In my honor, as the new acting director. Show of support. Institution behind me.”

When Petra stared at her, she spread her arms. “Just like that, too. No complete sentences for about a minute. I expected him to put his thumbs in his suspenders—which he does wear—and harrumph.”

“Did he?”

“No. But in his way, he’s backing me. The regulators seem to be easing off. I apparently don’t suck as far as the corporates are concerned. The university’s so thrilled I’m not indictable they’re happy there isn’t anything new about Orsini.”

Petra raised her iced tea. “Outstanding.”

Tapping paper cups, Holly nodded. “Anyway—I still haven’t found that sane woman I was looking for. So would you fill in for her? Come to this shindig to back me up?”

Unable to resist, Petra pretended to ease away. “But—isn’t this a little sudden to, you know, come out? And at a professional—”

Holly sputtered; Petra should have waited for her to swallow the soda. “Fuck ‘em,” Holly managed gamely, “if they can’t—” She coughed.

It was a weird kick, imagining really walking in as a couple. She knew, now, that Mistress had either reoriented her or found her inner lesbian and put that other-Petra in charge. And the mindless sex with Bree . . .

But there was still a sweet novelty in lusting after Holly.

Petra swigged more tea. “I’ll be there. Dress code?”

“LBD, I guess. Roerich wants it to look less like business and more like academic aristocracy. Not black-tie but formal. Might have a string ensemble.”

“Did Bree ever resurface?” Petra hadn’t heard from her fellow slave, but wanted to know whether she’d talked to anyone else.

Holly nodded. “Voicemail. High-maintenance client. Probably not there right then, since Bree said something about being her ‘personal slave’ and laughed.”

Petra shared her smile. Bree, rigid and blank, laughing on command.

“I’ll track her down,” she promised. It was true—her programming compelled her to report to Bree for Her new orders.

Holly started running her index finger back and forth on the table. “Petra, would you say I was trustworthy?”

Petra looked at her, and felt the usual quips thump inside her. She resisted a balancing urge to take her friend’s hand. “Absolutely.”

Her even tone seemed to reassure Holly. She knew she’d have freaked out, having a conversation like this before she’d been brainwashed. She meant it—she hero-worshipped Holly for her integrity among many other things. But being Her slave redefined trust.

Petra trusted Mistress. If She told Petra the sky was as yellow as Her eyes, Petra could look up at the wild blue yonder itself and believe Her.

The need to squeeze her thighs tighter, remembering that, kept her smiling calmly at Holly. She waited for Holly to look up at her.

“Are they giving you a hard—?”

“Oh. No.” Holly gave a thumb-up. “NDAs are signed. They even moved me into her office.”

She saw Petra’s look. “I thought so too. No. She was at home when she—” Holly looked down, gripped her cup with exaggerated care. “In the eye,” she whispered. “She shot herself in her own—and didn’t blink—”

Petra’s lips were still parting when Holly shook her head sharply. “Anyway, um.”

“Right.” Petra winced inwardly. Holly hated pain she couldn’t help. Also being coddled. “So—agreements are signed?”

“Yep. And they’re guarding the details. But their idea of ‘big picture’—this stuff is scarier than I’d imagined, and they just don’t have imagination.

Holly did the index-finger thing, stopped herself. “It’s not illegal. Even unethical. But I need to tell someone I’m uncomfortable with what I’m doing, before I shut the fuck up and do it.”

Petra was curious despite herself. “You wouldn’t do illegal or unethical. So the problem is—?”

“Years from now.” Holly looked up. “Some undergrad stands up in a lecture and j’accuse-points. ‘How could you, Dr Charpentier?’

“Worse: undergrads no longer objecting to anything. Just nodding and doing exactly as they’re told.”

Petra didn’t lick her lips. “Hey, some of our old professors would’ve loved—”

“It’s what Orsini’s merry pranksters are pranking with.” Holly hadn’t even heard her. She looked around the table, seeking words that wouldn’t betray her confidentiality. “What passes for a joke there is ‘roofies on steroids,’ part of the joke being they’re not either one.”

Petra sat back. “Chemist humor?”

“Alas,” Holly said. “Along with ‘benzodiazepines are so late-1990s.’ They’re looking at small things—helping sedate dangerous psychotics. Aerosol-delivery, so a fifty-kilo nurse can tranq a ninety-kilo maniac without asking him to hold still for a needle. For example.

“Even the more official—ah, forget I said that.”

“Said what?” They smiled at each other.

Holly’s faded. “But strong. Really strong. Somnambulistic—never mind.”

Petra leaned closer. “You mean, ‘in the wrong hands this could,’ etc.?”

“Basically.” Holly blinked at her. “Of course these days it isn’t easy—or safe—to evaluate hand-wrongness.” She shrugged. “And it’s not like this might even be ready for a few years. But—”

Petra straightened, hiding her slow-motion pelvic thrust. Obedience mist, sprayed from Their platforms, could mass-tranquilize fleeing humans into passive herds for Their drones to sort. In the dazing fog, petra and the others could toil completely unaffected—with no wills to suppress.

“Sorry.” Holly misread her arousal as discomfort. After they’d apology-fenced she backed out of the topic entirely.

As they cleared the table and headed out, Holly was all business, giving her the time and place for the soiree. Petra promised to pass it on to Bree, and to strong-arm Bree into coming along.

When they hugged goodbye, Petra looked into Holly’s eyes. “I’m sorry you couldn’t say even one thing about your work! You’re so damned discreet.”

“Thanks for not listening.” Holly hugged her again, hard.

“So. Check e-mail for the invitations. I’d meet you at the door, too, but—”

“Too tempting just to run away?”

Nodding, Holly waved and walked into the crowd.

11.

Her marvelous yellow eyes.

They were devouring Petra’s mind as Petra realized she was awake again, standing braced before Her.

In snippets, Petra recalled coming to Bree’s, Bree not even greeting her before stunning her into trance with—with something too powerful to remember, that She’d given Her toy to help condition Her tool.

Mistress had come and reclaimed Petra’s thoughts.

Petra’s blood thudded through her body, each pulse beating the need into her to serve Her. What every human was born for.

Petra felt Her in her head, reading everything, savoring Her willing slave.

Her subservient, ruthless hunting bitch.

Petra bucked—against Her hand. She was close, caressing Petra as an owner could, masturbating her but not letting her come.

Thank You! Thank You for Your torment!

Her eyes still held Petra’s, but then She looked over Her shoulder. Petra saw Bree, smiling faintly at nothing.

“Do you still want to be her?” Mistress had turned back and whispered into Petra’s neck. Her breath was hot.

“Thank You.” Able to speak again, Petra knew what She meant. “Bree is lucky to be Your toy, but—thank You for using me. To enslave the other girl.” She didn’t name Kirsty. Her first victim was just one more brainwashed slave now.

Mistress smiled.

Petra almost orgasmed at her utter slavethink. She’d been brainwashing Petra for less than two days, and Petra already dismissed an innocent teenager as her chattel.

“Your attitude is perfect.” She palmed circles on Petra’s belly. “You will do anything I will you to, with joy.” Her eyes released Petra for a moment, letting Her slave adore Her face, Her subtly alien bone structure—superior to human beauty.

“You enjoyed that trip to your future.” Understanding—and contempt—honeyed Her voice. “You can hardly wait for the day when We come to take what’s Ours. You’ll be one more mindless, nameless, naked robot helping enslave your species.”

Petra was shaking, muscles taut as She’d left them. “Yessss—!”

“But what,” She purred, “if your utility was, say, to seduce some key leader or scientist?” Her finger found Petra’s clit, stroked on either side.

“To become his depraved fucktoy?” Her hiss rose to be heard over Petra’s. “Then kill yourself—so they revile him instead of using his skills when they need them most?

“Before We ever arrived, you’d just be a dead whore. But You’d have been useful.”

Petra looked into Her eyes. “Yes!” Her jaws were steel-tense. “For You—Mistress! Anything!”

Her laugh reached deeper than Her fingertip. Petra screamed without sound.

And didn’t climax. Mistress hadn’t told her to.

Mistress let her stand motionless, not even coming down from the heat-spike but just slowly twisting.

Then: “But there are other worlds, slave. Other Takings. Some of the women who disappear from your world are repurposed. They become wholly Ours, sent to do Our will under strange skies.

“Being used to destroy the wills and freedom of people they never knew existed.”

She moved only Her finger, only slightly, and Petra’s beautiful agony bloomed again.

Suspended over an orgasmic abyss, Petra could see the ruins of this parallel world, smell the smoke and the ozone from energy-weapon discharge—the arousal of new slaves climaxing into submission.

Treading their ravaged streets in her boots with the others, killing hope just by letting them see her in rank with her brainwashed sisters. Cunts aflare with the submission they spread. Minds throbbing with Taker command.

She must. She must.

I will obey You forever Mistress obey You obey You I will do—anything—

The mindbending touch ceased, but her thoughts still fluttered in time with her clit.

Mistress let it work on her.

“You would be brainsmoothed first, of course.” Her low voice seduced Petra with each syllable. “Even more deeply than Bree is now. There’s no premium on thinking-slaves when We tear a world open. Just obedient slaveflesh.”

Yes. Petra remembered being used to hypnotize Allison, in the dream. Brainsmoothing Petra would let Them use her as a projector for Their control.

Mistress offered her this. She knew exactly how much Petra craved it.

She knew She’d totally enslaved Petra’s mind. Petra’s reward was just the chance to obey Her again. Mistress was beyond generous. Mistress was—

Her lips brushed Petra’s throat and Her hand eased, freeing Petra from the madness. Panting, Petra stood still, awaiting Her will.

“You can still serve the Taking that will happen here, Petra,” She whispered. “We may not come, soon, but your chance to serve Us shall.

“Very soon.” Another kiss, and Petra almost cried at Her kindness.

“In fact, you’ve already begun. I understand you’ve been asked to a gathering tomorrow at the learning collective—the university. At one of its subunits.”

Petra was so dizzy at Her approval that the strangeness of Her caring about that made no impression. “Yes, Mistress.” Of course—she’d been questioned under hypnosis and remembered nothing. Maybe Mistress had planned to use her for something that evening . . .

Petra relaxed. It felt wonderful that Mistress could take whatever She wished from her mind. And tomorrow night Petra would be wherever was most useful for Her.

“You will attend this gathering.” Her eyes glowed, and the resolve hardened. She’d promised Holly, but now it was Mistress’ will. Petra would die before missing it. “As will Bree.”

The blonde stayed in her trance. Mistress might not even program her until later. She was focused on Her thinking-slave.

“I played back your discussion with Dr Charpentier.” She let Petra squirm at being a recording device. “Apparently this institute is pursuing a very primitive form of mind control.”

When she’d talked with Holly, Petra hadn’t even remembered Her earlier disparagements. Being under Her real control made it hard to take human efforts seriously.

Petra knew she had no right to do that. She wasn’t one of Them, just a human awakened to her true place. But Mistress did scorn what her species had devised so far.

She resumed caressing Petra, almost as a human might stroke a dog while thinking.

But my Mistress is so much more than human! And I am so much less than Her pet.

“Chemically-driven, too, which is almost always a dead end. But your species has no idea of true—

“—power.” She turned those eyes back at Petra, thrusting Her will into Petra’s mind until Petra whined with the unbearable joy.

She laughed as Petra’s thoughts came together again. “But it’s still of interest. Not just to antiquaries who like to watch the local—witch-doctors? yes—stir their grimy little pots.

“No. But if prey starts preying on itself, it can affect the material when the Taking comes. Human minds will be even more sluggish if other humans have been trying to dominate them.”

Petra frowned.

“Don’t worry, slave!” She chuckled. “Nothing can make humans resistant to Our power. It just makes them more than usually slow.” She brushed a finger playfully along Petra’s mons. Petra smiled at Her and leaned into it, letting Her see her relief. She hadn’t thought there was anything that could save humans, but just the idea—

“Finding out more will be a bit of a challenge. I can’t just send a squad of mindslaves to take samples and drain the computers.” Petra still saw herself and Bree—and Kirsty?—stalking coldly into the restricted spaces in their gymbot costumes, stunning disobedients with Her weapon. Kirsty mindlessly wielding the same mind-damper that had helped enslave her.

It would be sweetly mortifying to bring Her project results downloaded by the hypnotized staff. To Her, the data media would be as primitive as notched sticks or clay tablets, inscribed with superstitious drivel.

Humans are destined to serve Them. Humans deserve it.

“And I could enslave one or more of their staff as easily as you. But it’s technically possible for humans to detect when one of their minds has been tampered with. Lacking detail or even certainty, but they could.

“Oh, not easily.” She soothed Petra’s concern before it rose. “Not without what in their terms, anyway, is complex equipment. But their project would be a logical place for such devices, and it would be prudent for them to examine their staff periodically.” She grinned. “Of course, usually humans ignore prudence and prefer reckless stupidity. But it’s no excuse for complacency.”

Petra realized Holly could be there, possibly suspecting colleagues or even saddened as her machines identified one as suborned to Their service. She started to wonder how Holly might fit into this. But Mistress sounded more interested in the mind control itself, and Petra’s attention was slaved to Hers.

Mistress moved to Petra’s side and began kneading her ass and breast, nuzzling her shoulder. Petra luxuriated under Her handling even as she fought to keep her lust-drugged mind on Her voice. Seeing Bree standing mindlessly nearby just made her feel more objectified, and that was so goood—

“Obedient little earthgirl,” She whispered. “Trying so hard to perform. If I want you to think something, it’ll be in your thoughts. But you keep trying to act as if your mind were still your responsibility.

“Mmm.” She kissed Petra’s ear, and Petra sobbed. “Still—that’s the hard lot of a thinking-slave. And you can use that mind to dream again of the Taking.” Her lips followed the edge of Petra’s ear as Her breasts pressed Petra’s arm and back.

“I’ve implanted some new things, too.” She laughed at Petra’s shimmy. Her body was warmer than a human’s—Petra wondered at how much stronger She was.

She didn’t respond to the thought. “You’ve become such a pliant little H. sapiens, and so much quicker than others. I can indulge you.”

Dreaming of Earth under Their heel was pleasure-bonding Petra into an ever more abject slave. Petra groveled inside—that was the best reward of all.

Mistress laughed loudly in her ear, and reached down. She fingered Petra’s cunt like a hot-key sequence She knew well.

The orgasm knocked Petra off her feet. Mistress held her easily, lowering her to the floor and leaving her on Bree’s rug, staring up at her friend.

Mistress walked away still laughing.

12.

The reception in the Faculty Library had a string ensemble after all, students from the music school. They were good.

Petra barely heard them. She was deep in trance, her mind pulsing with the new objective Mistress had thrust into it. It gripped Petra like a slave harness, and helped her imagine she and Bree were Their robotic drones tonight.

Her trance kept her functioning without missing a beat, spotting cues and reciting implanted pleasantries. Her arousal went unnoticed.

It was better than dreaming. Dreams were unreal, and from this Petra couldn’t awaken.

In the swirling talk, references to Holly’s unfortunate predecessor were infrequent, respectful, and vague. Everyone was on-message—hope and the future. No one mentioned bullets through the eye.

The ensemble’s brilliant violist was a full-breasted beauty with long black hair and huge dark eyes. After the Taking, she’d remain a thinking-slave—brainsmoothed ones couldn’t play, like that.

But They’d brainsmooth Petra. Perhaps They’d program her to tranquilize this girl with sex and hypnosis. Her music would mean nothing to petra, but keeping Their pet musician docile would be beauty enough.

Petra and Bree orbited Holly, her secret weapons. It was weird fun, pretending to be normal friends instead of Mistress’ hypnotized minions. At Holly’s covert Help! gesture, they’d swoop to disengage her from awkward conversations. Petra would have lacked the gall to do that of her own free will, but tonight her will was a vague memory.

Holly didn’t always need evacuation. Demure in a low-cut top and loose velvet slacks in charcoal grey, she played her precocity card—young face over mature mien—and held her own with the benefactors and officials and others whose names Petra wasn’t high-status enough here to know.

She knew them anyway. Mistress had imprinted them with the VIP guests’ names and faces. Petra wondered if She would command them to fuck a target, or kill them, or both. Petra dampened—she’d obey either. And even the most influential were nothing but Their unclaimed beasts on the hoof.

One caught her eye and stared her down—an older woman in a long-skirted dress. Petra’s programming clicked: Dr Danforth, deputy chair of the Psychology Department. Holly’s superior, and now colleague.

Danforth seemed to look right into Petra’s mind, as if she knew Petra was a slave. She smiled, almost like Mistress.

Danforth came closer, taking Petra’s upper arm. Her fingertips caressed Petra as she guided her away. It was a crude pass but she seemed to know Petra wouldn’t resist. Petra straightened as she was led, wondering how Danforth got away with preying on students. Maybe she knew Petra wasn’t one.

She leaned closer. “That choker’s very pretty, dear. But a metal collar would become you more.”

Petra’s body spasmed to attention, but no one noticed. She didn’t remember the trigger, but thrilled to submit to it. A stranger had just taken over her mind.

“A collar becomes me,” she whispered. “This slave obeys.”

“Wait for me in the restroom.” Danforth smiled and headed away.

Petra donned an equally false smile, and did as she’d been told. Her mind was suddenly quiet, awaiting the other woman’s will, but she could still think a little.

She was certain Danforth wasn’t another Taker. She’d have felt that power, pulling at her mind. Danforth must be a collaborator, serving Them freely. Petra despised her—not for betraying her world, but for wanting to do it for her own purposes instead of surrendering and obeying.

A collar becomes me. No matter. Petra was Hers. Petra would obey.

Entering the elegant ladies’ room, she realized Mistress must have a use for Danforth, and given her a key to Her slave’s obedience.

Petra was a reward, for something. She felt much better. Degraded to traitor’s-whore, she still served Mistress, making another human do Her bidding.

A collar becomes me.

As she checked her makeup and waited for the other woman there to leave, she saw Danforth in the mirror. The professor nodded toward the stalls and went to one. Petra followed, riding the warmth that suddenly grew between her thighs. The other woman left before she saw Petra slip in behind Danforth.

The older woman was completely different from gym-sculpted Bree, but Petra juiced for her softer, weaker body. She let the sex-programming control her, kissing the woman’s arm before sinking to her knees with the cold partition against her bare back.

Reverently she moved Danforth’s slit skirt and bent forward, kissing her way up the hose to the babysoft skin above, and then to the lace over the professor’s crotch. Danforth palmed her head, pressing lightly, and Petra moaned with her lips to the lace. Danforth moaned back, and Petra used her lips and tongue and fingers to slide the panty away.

Danforth tasted bitter. It was strange and wonderful against the costly perfume, and Petra lost herself in the dew she licked. The older woman bucked as she came, knocking Petra back but following her and keeping Petra’s head from hitting the partition.

When they faced each other, Danforth held her eyes, then reached under Petra’s dress and fingered her. Not to orgasm, but there was no need—her hand came up gleaming with slave-arousal. She wiped it on Petra’s lips, over her own. Petra kissed her fingers.

“Tell your mistress the room’s hers at ten-thirty.” Danforth smiled again. “Fix your makeup.” She left, without having to tell Petra to wait.

At the mirror as the whore-subroutine released her, Petra wondered. When They did come, would Danforth find herself herded naked into a sorting-pen? Or would They actually leave some humans free?

Not for Petra to consider. She’d been enslaved. Her lot was obedience, for the rest of her life.

She left the bathroom feeling high. This was as hot as helping enslave a total stranger for Her. Petra had obeyed another stranger, bottomed for her in a toilet stall, seduced a free woman into further treason for Them.

She met Bree, trading blank stares no one else noticed.

Then Mistress arrived.

Petra and Bree didn’t acknowledge Her. Their minds already throbbed with Her bidding. They could stare, though, and they weren’t alone.

Her royal-blue dress displayed exquisitely pale skin. The copper hair was slicked back from that vampiric widow’s peak, defiantly showing Her cheekbones. No one could know those otherworldly features were from another world, so She hid in plain sight. Those eyes—

Were green, tonight.

Blue contacts? Or—was She just hypnotizing everyone not to see Her golden Taker eyes?

No. She was wary of crude but effective sensors that Her powers might trip.

Petra squirmed furtively. If Mistress damned the sensors and nakedly unleashed Her power, She could reduce everyone here to slavery in one glance. As She’d taken Bree.

Obeying Danforth’s command, Petra approached Her and repeated the message.

Mistress smiled, looking deeply into Petra’s eyes.

Enslaved Petra all over again.

Everything else slipped away. Petra worshipped Her.

I will do—anything—You ask.

Mistress saw the silent prayer in her eyes and nodded. Petra almost wept. Yes. She was going to be used.

She didn’t care how. She’d go down on every human slave-to-be in this library. Or burn it down with them inside. Anything She wanted.

Mistress smiled, seeing that too. Another nod dismissed Petra.

After that, Petra was Her robot. It kept her performing flawlessly.

She found herself with Bree, Holly, and Mistress in a small parlors off the main hall, compliments of Professor Danforth. Soon enough, the few others with them melted away, driven off by an exclusivity too faint to point to.

Mistress charmed Holly, drawing her out without prying. Holly enjoyed talking with such an informed yet considerate journalist.

Just being in the room with Her kept Petra warm and eager to obey. It was lovely to spout programmed words or feel an implanted response alter her mind, and Mistress’ presence just radiated Her will. Even seeing Bree was like watching the moon passively reflect sunlight.

Being so obedient right in front of Holly made it even better.

After Bree’d wheedled an explanation about consciousness, Petra found herself smoothly changing the subject to hypnosis. Soon Holly herself mentioned Dr Orsini’s mysterious research, just before her suicide.

Petra’s heart hammered, discussing this with her hypnotist and another slave. Hotter still when someone else’s words used her mouth to speak.

The words tasted like Bree, from their endless sixtynine this afternoon as She’d indoctrinated them. Her voice had ridden their orgasms into their minds, bending them to Her new desire.

Petra could remember now what She desired.

Holly.

Bree was eagerly volunteering to undergo hypnosis, trying to coax Mistress into a demonstration. Petra struggled not to masturbate. Bree was Her marionette, dancing so obediently on Her strings she seemed exactly like the spontaneous girl Mistress had mindwiped where she stood.

Impersonating herself so well that Holly looked fondly amused.

Bree jabbed an abrupt forefinger toward Petra. “No short-attention-span jokes, either!”

But Bree’s enthusiasm to give up her will for a while sobered Holly a little. “Bree, this may be a parlor, but hypnosis isn’t a parlor game.”

She had no idea she was conversing with only one mind, here. That Petra and Bree were just Her mindless handpuppets, chirping Her script to guide the talk to the outcome She wanted.

When Holly ended up volunteering for trance herself, she fully believed it was her idea.

She nodded at Petra’s assurance to keep an eye on both her and Bree, but clearly felt comfortable enough with Mistress to try this casual trance.

Holly trusted Petra.

But Mistress’ kind knew how to control Their drones. Everything She’d made Petra do today had made Petra more Her slave. Now, slave Petra was ready to obey.

Petra loved Holly. But she belonged to Mistress.

And all Mistress was going to do, tonight, was talk.

After closing the door to ensure they weren’t interrupted, Bree plopped down on her chair and pouted. She ruined it by grinning. “One word, Holly. ‘Cluck.’ No worries!”

“So how should we start?” Rolling her eyes, Holly smiled into Mistress’ green ones and aimed a thumb at Bree.

“Now that my posse’s got my back?”