This is a that includes graphic sex,
humiliation, bondage and of course, mind control. If you're
under eighteen, please take your eyes elsewhere. If you're
likely to be offended, please remember that reading is a
voluntary act. Parents, take responsibility for your
children.
(c)2001 Sara H
All rights reserved. Do not post this elsewhere without
the express permission of the author.
---- ---- ----
With Strings Attached
by Sara H
Categories: FF, MC, F-dom, NC, BDSM Lite, Hum, M-solo
---- ---- ----
Part One
Dr. Armand Meinred walked to the Doctor's lounge with a
frown showing his frustration. As he pushed the door open
he stopped and turned, letting it close behind him as he
walked back to the Nurses Station located in the center of
the ring of rooms.
"Helen," he asked, "have we even found out who the woman
in 220 West is yet?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, Doctor. Her name is Susan
Witte. Her called in a little bit ago after calling
hospitals all over the city. We all got lucky on that one."
"Yes. Anything else on her?" He allowed himself a little
smile. At least they had *some* information to go on, now.
"She's allergic to penicillin, bee stings and tree pollen.
No known history of drug abuse or trouble, other than how
and where the police found her."
"That's enough trouble for anyone, I think. Page me
overhead if anything comes up. I'm going down to the
library."
"Of course. Oh, and Dr. Meinred?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck with her."
"We're all going to need that, Helen. A lot of it."
Once he got to the library, he sat down and turned to the
Internet. While he waited for his search engine to come up,
he thought back over the cases that were beginning to leave
him shaken at a professional level. He'd never been one for
conspiracy theories and rumors that were half-innuendo, but
over the last year he'd been faced with several cases of
apparent cult-worship that seemed to border on complete
loss of reality.
He typed in some keywords. The only articles he cold find
were the typical "I was a teenage sex slave" amid
obvious fantasies presented as "true" stories. It would
have been entertaining reading had he not met these women -- women seemingly oblivious to their surroundings
and who would only respond to female voices with the words
"Yes, Mistress, I obey," and "No Mistress, I obey always."
That interspersed with their adventures into self-pleasure
were enough to have them sent in for mental observation.
But they were just the start of a growing list of women --
a list that had become quite long over the last year.
It wasn't a case of individual delusion anymore. So far,
nothing had worked for those brought in, and all of them
now lived in their own little worlds, obedient to some
inner calling. One by one they had been declared incurable,
and all that could be done was to make them comfortable,
hoping for a spontaneous recovery.
Yet with each new arrival Dr. Meinred was sure that he was
closer to one of them pulling out of it -- each new woman
was another chance at breaking the spell and perhaps
helping all those who had come before. It was becoming an
obsession to him. He laughed under his breath. An obsession
over an obsession of possession.
Even so, this was more profound than the clinical
brainwashing he'd read about over the years. This was
wholesale reorientation, complete absorption of the
individual mind into the slave/Owner concept. It was more
than a role. It was who these women *were*.
He barely noticed that someone had come in and sat down;
it was a common place for research, after all.
"Wild stuff, eh, Doc?"
He turned in surprise at the voice of the woman who had
spoken. She was quite stone-faced, with a dark blue suit
and neatly set hair.
"Excuse me?" he answered.
"Wild stuff. Brainwashing. Mind control."
"Young lady, it's rude to read over someone's shoulder,"
he huffed, perturbed at the continuing interruption.
"Yes it is. And I wasn't. I was assuming, Dr. Meinred."
"I'm sorry, miss, but you have me at a disadvantage..."
"Sorry. Habit. Constance Hankins, Special Agent for the
Department of Psychological Research."
"Ah. Well, Ms. Hankins, according to the Internet, your
agency has quite the nasty reputation."
"Call me Connie. Well, I'm sure it's deserved. If we went
around debunking *your* theories, you wouldn't have much
use for us, either."
"Well said. And Dr. Meinred will have to do for now, if
you don't mind. I assume you were looking for me."
"Well, yes, Doctor. We are not just in the business of
being skeptics. We are in the business of investigating
possible instances of real mind control."
"Really." Under other circumstances, Connie's help might
have been a relief, but one thing he didn't need was some
low-level government lackey screwing around with his
patients. He'd run into this before with other well-meaning
but totally ineffectual and damaging prosecutors of the
mentally distressed.
"I'm not some flunky with a badge, Doctor," she said,
answering the question that rested just behind his lips.
"I'm an MD with a specialization in the physiological
manifestations and alterations of psychological
conditioning. Having looked over your cases, your patients
fit the profile. I'm not interested in arresting your
patients. I'm interested in making sure you don't have
more."
"You looked through my files?" he whispered, his voice
harsh enough that he would have been screaming outside the
confines of the Medical Library.
"Would you have just shown them to me?" she asked. There
was no emotion in her voice, except perhaps understanding
laced with a pinch of implied apology. "If you thought you
could help someone as strongly as I do, you would probably
do the same."
"Perhaps, but you could have asked first. There's always a
chance..."
"...that you would have everything away. Really,
would you have let me see everything? Anything?"
"No," he said, deciding he had nothing to lose by telling
the truth.
"I've been dealing with this cult for nearly two years,
Doctor. I know the damage they can do. They operate in
cells. We get rid of one group and a new one pops up,
complete with Mistress. These Dominas have quite a network
built up. No one seems to ever get free, even with
assistance. In truth, one of your patients is an agent we
sent in to infiltrate this group. She's as lost as the rest
of them. I have a vested interest in getting her back to
normal... both for information and because she's my friend.
"I'm not interested in prosecuting anyone in your care.
I'm interested in saving these women, and in ending the
scourge that has made them victims. Can you help me? Can I
help you?
"I'd rather you volunteer," Connie added. Her expression
hadn't change, but her veiled threat didn't go unnoticed.
"I see. I suppose I have no choice," he grumbled.
"You do, Doctor. Just not the ones you'd like," she said.
Dr. Meinred sat back in his chair and considered. He
seemed to be painted into a corner.
"I'll need your credentials and verification, and I will
have to be the lead on this, and I'll be the one to make
any changes in patient care. Everything concerning the
welfare of my patients will go through me," he said.
"Anything less and you'll just have to take them away."
"Agreed. I'm glad. We'd hate to lose your experience and
expertise," said Connie, smiling for the first time.
Something about her smile made Dr. Meinred a bit more
uneasy about it. Behind the facade of cordiality, he felt
like he was looking into the face of someone standing at
the lever of a guillotine.
---- ---- ----
"Look here, here, and here. Almost no activity. That's the
problem. All reasoning has been either blocked out or
assigned to other areas of the brain. Wow! Look at the
increase of electro-magnetic activity in the pleasure
centers, Armand."
Despite his initial reservations, Connie had turned out to
be not only professional, but brilliant. As she showed him
her latest findings, he had to admit to himself that he
might never have taken this direction with his research.
"Who are we looking at?" he asked.
"Jennifer Taylor. student. Very bright, when her
brain isn't half shut down."
"Uh huh," he said. He was wondering what other bright
futures had been cut short by whoever it was that was doing
this.
"And here's your latest, Susan Witte. I think we may have
gotten lucky. Notice that the activity is diminished, but
not completely absent. There is a possibility we could
resurrect her normal thought processes without too much
relative difficulty."
"Maybe," he agreed. "But what about the other women?"
"I'm an optimist. I'm hoping that if we can 'cure' Susan,
we can perhaps learn enough about the process to find
effective treatment for the others."
It *was* optimistic, Armand knew. But it was good to have
an upbeat way of thinking around. In addition, their
combined progress was staggering, at least when compared to
his progress up to a few weeks ago, when Connie had entered
the picture. It was hard not to be optimistic. She really
*was* an expert on these phenomena.
"Give me a few days and I'll have some equipment brought
in, with your approval, of course. I'd like to begin the
process of cerebral stimulation as soon as possible."
"Hmm. Let's go to my office and look over what you plan to
do. It would be good to make some progress, though, so I
don't have any initial objection."
"Great. I'm ready to get away from charts and photos
anyway," said Connie. "I'll be along as soon as I get a cup
of coffee."
"Okay. If it's not to burned, you might bring me a cup,
too," he said.
"Fine. Oh, and one last thing. What sayeth the Good Doctor?"
Armand straightened and turned to face Connie. "The Good
Doctor is an obedient Doctor," he answered, his voice now
void of emotion.
"Good boy. Begin your obedience exercises. Recite your
mission."
Armand slowly unbuckled and dropped his pants. His cock
sprang forward, obedient to the words of his Controller. He
grabbed it in his fist and began to stroke it, his left
hand pulling down hard on his balls as his mouth began to
speak.
"I had no idea how empty my life was. Then came Constance
Hankins. She has shown me purpose and enlightenment. I owe
her everything."
"Yes, you do, Armand. Continue."
"My own research ideas are pitiful and lazy. I pretend to
defend them, but I always give into her Superior Female
intellect. When I do, I get a jolt of pleasure so strong
that it only makes me less and less able to disobey. The
less I disobey the more pleasure I feel. The more I obey
the happier I am. The happier I am, the less I am able to
disobey. I follow this spiral without thinking. It is my
life."
"Oh, you have learned so *well,* you fart. And what
else?"
"Once my work for her is done I am resigning. I am
satisfied. I have no more work to do. Constance will fade
from memory within a week of my resignation. I will never
think of her again. But while I am able to remember, I am
her toy, puppet, slave, amusement. It is the most
fulfilling career I could have ever dreamed."
"Yes, and what are you, really?"
"I am a cock that thinks. I am a penis. I am constantly
erect for Constance because she wishes it. I have no life
of my own. My cock-life is as the cock of Constance."
"And when you are awake?"
"All of this applies, though my conscious mind cannot
possibly remember any of it. It believes it is in control."
"Good little cock-boy. Cum, cock. Seal and close."
With those words, Armand let out a large howl and let go
of his aching balls, catching his in his hand as his
right hand pistoned with impossible speed.. With a look of
complete bliss he brought it to his mouth and cleaned his
hand off with his tongue, savoring every drop of his cum.
He pulled his pants back on, sipped and buttoned them,
buckled his belt, and said, "Yes? What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You said you had one last thing," he said, sounding a bit
impatient.
"Oh, nothing," she said.
In truth, he had already answered.
---- ---- ----
Connie looked at the angelic face of Susan Witte. It was
more than just a description of her innate beauty -- the
Cerebral Stimulator had induced a yellow-white glow around
the woman's head. So far, there had been no change,
but it was still early in the procedure.
"Are you comfortable?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress. I obey." answered Susan, as she always
answered.
"Good," The irony that there was no other possible answer
was not lost on her. It didn't matter. She had a duty to
perform. She had a Agent to save.
She turned up the intensity by another 20%.
"Still with me?"
Susan's eyelids fluttered. "Yes... Mistress. I - I obey..."
Connie perked up as she noticed a change. "No, Susan, I'm
Constance. *Constance*. Do you hear me at all?"
Susan began to sweat, the beads visible on her forehead as
the machine stimulated her brain, forcing atrophied
connections closed. Her lips twitched, and then her entire
body seemed to relax. She almost looked as if she was
smiling. "Yes, Mistress Constance. I obey."
Connie laughed. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She
began to turn up the intensity again when a rather nasty
thought occurred to her.
"Who do you obey?" she asked.
"Mistress Constance," said Susan.
"Who would you do anything for?"
"Mistress Constance."
"And who exactly *is* Mistress Constance?"
Susan's eyes closed and then opened, looking directly into
Connie's own. "You, Mistress," she said. It was a voice
without question.
It made Connie wet -- wetter than she had been in some
time. And despite her desire to move forward, a little
entertainment didn't seem to be such a bad idea, all of a
sudden. In fact, it seemed to be a very *good* idea. Her
libido shifted into high gear.
Susan was sitting in a reclining chair designed to place
her in any position needed. Connie grabbed the controls,
hands trembling. She lay the nymphet back and lowered the
chair. She turned off the stimulator and walked behind the
chair and above Susan's head and lifted her leg over as she
pulled up her dress, the illicit thrill making her almost
cum on the spot. She was glad she'd decided not to wear
panties today.
"Pleasure your Mistress," she said, her voice earthy and
low.
She squealed as Susan's tongue dove deep into her,
pressing relentlessly and dancing her lips into further
wetness. She began to grind her hips into the woman's
mouth, turned on even more by the power she now held.
"Thaaaat's it," she rasped out in a whisper. "Harder.
Tongue Mistressss hard -- harde -- harder." The pleasure
was shooting through her now, causing little lights to
blast away at the edges of her vision. She'd always been a
little kinky, but this was so much more powerful than she'd
ever imagined... having a controlled woman that she hadn't
programmed herself. It gave the sparks of pleasure a
spontaneity that she couldn't resist.
"YESSS! UNGH! UNGH! UNNNNGH! UNNNNNNNNGH FUCK ME YES YES!" she shouted, not caring if anyone heard. Her legs
buckled and the full weight of her came down on Susan's
head, and *still* the nubile tongue kept on, the upper lip
rubbing her clit as it rubbed away the last vestiges of her
sanity.
She fell forward, her face landing on Susan's belly and
she began to lick like a true bitch in heat. Susan would
not and could not stop without a command, and Connie, was
beyond the ability to speak as her body convulsed over and
over, climax after climax building and spreading through
her.
Both women finally collapsed, and Connie managed to
whisper, "Stop..." before falling asleep.
When she awoke, she discovered that she'd only been out
for a few minutes. She straightened her clothes and hair
and turned off the machinery before leaving the clinical
room. There would be time for more treatments tomorrow. For
now, Susan was too worn out for more.
So was Connie.
As she walked by the Nurses Station, she asked Helen to
bring Susan back to her room. She wondered if the amused
smile on Helen's face was from something she imagined, or
something she saw. It didn't matter, either way. But she
would have to make sure she had assured Helen's cooperation
along with Armand's before too long.
Anything less was much too risky.
=======================================================
Part Two
Connie sat down in her study and turned on the desk lamp.
She turned on her PC and brought up the files on the known
victims of the Drainiacs, as the cult was called back at
the Agency. There was no real name that anyone knew about,
and anything was better than Case A298622-C.
She began correlating information, letting her eyes and
mind sift through the more substantial reports as well as
the scraps and rumors, looking for something to give a clue
to the origin of this particular group.
She was having a hard time concentrating. Since Tamara
Morgan took over the Agency nearly a year ago, things had
become very different. Women were on the fast track, and
allowed to be successful. But Connie missed the moments of
self-indulgence the regime had allowed.
Today, she'd been reminded of how good it felt to be in
control -- *really* in control. Not like Dr. Meinred...
that was a case of necessary administrative efficiency
mixed with a need for maintaining secrecy. She felt no
sexual desire for the man, but his libido was the best way
to keep him in check. Her moment with Susan had been for
the pure, unadulterated pleasure of it.
And it *had* been a pleasure.
Her mind went back to the moment that Susan had looked at
her, eyes locked in assured adoration. It was the moment
that Connie had known that she could do anything she wanted
with the woman, and it had proved impossible to resist.
For the first time since her orientation in the Agency's
reorganization, she was envious of Tamara and her power.
She even resented it a little. But it was of no
consequence. She had work to do. Her partner to save. *(Her
partner to control completely, just like Susan...)*
She winced. It was all well and good to feel the seductive
power of controlling minds, but LuAnn Brooks was more than
a partner and lover. She was Connie's best, closest friend.
She still hadn't been able to bring herself to visit, even
though she was on the same ward with Susan. It had been
three weeks already, but Connie wanted to be able to offer
something to LuAnn other than a horrified look.
She thought of LuAnn, and then of Susan, the images
coalescing in her mind as her fingers began to play at her
crotch. She wondered if she'd have the self-discipline to
keep herself from playing Mistress to LuAnn.
Her fingers moved more rapidly and guilty pleasure swept
through her, bringing her close to climax within mere
seconds. As the waves broke across her and her bestial
grunts filled the air, she wasn't sure she'd be able to
stop herself at all.
*Rogue Agent Harkins.* The phrase sounded so *good*. She
wondered if she had the psychological makeup of a true mind
controller.
Another wave of masturbatory bliss hit, and she didn't
wonder again.
---- ---- ----
Helen Chambers looked in on Susan before heading back to
the Nurses Station. She was in charge of the care of five
victims, but she always left Susan for last. Something
about the way she looked so child-eyed and innocent helped
Helen cope with the others, even as it broke her heart.
Even after what Dr. Hankins had done with her, Susan
retained a kind of cleanliness and purity that was so rare
in the world today. She wondered if it was a natural thing,
or if it had been brainwashed into her. *My name is Susan
Witte and i am a doe-eyed sex-slave.*
Helen frowned as she thought of Dr. Hankins. She had
seemed so sincere, but when Helen had walked by the
treatment room and seen the doctor with her crotch planted
on Susan's face, everything changed. It was an outrage, but
Helen, like a deer with it's eyes caught in the headlights,
wasn't sure how to proceed.
And she had been aroused. It was like a strange fantasy
come to life that she could never admit to anyone. When Dr.
Hankins came walking by an hour later, both women had been
smiling like the who swallowed the canary. And now this
morning, it all seemed so surreal that Helen was having a
hard time processing it all.
For a moment, the room spun and she thought she was going
to be sick. There was so much at stake.
The gravity of the situation demanded a response, but if
she handled it wrong, it could be the end of her career,
and the women on the ward would be left unprotected. After
all, Dr. Meinred seemed so taken with his new partner, and
seemed to grant her license reserved for an associate of
many years. And even Helen had to admit that up to that
awful moment, Connie had seemed more than professional.
She decided that the best course of action would be to
confront Dr. Hankins head on. At least if she lost, she
would have done the right thing, and she wouldn't have to
deal with Dr. Meinred until she was on better footing in
the whole matter.
She was staring into space when Dr. Hankins' voice
intruded, making her jerk in surprise. "Good morning, Nurse
Chambers."
She didn't turn around at first. She steeled herself,
knowing it was now or never. Her courage gathered, she
finally turned around and, trying her best to hide her
emotion, said, "Good morning, Dr. Hankins. Nothing unusual
to report this morning, yet. But I do think we need to
talk. Alone, if we could."
"Of course," said Dr. Hankins. She didn't seem to suspect
anything at all. So far, so good.
They walked the short distance to Connie's makeshift
office and entered without speaking. Connie moved behind
her desk and placed a CD in her PC. "I hope you don't mind.
I like to have music on. It helps me concentrate. That is,
if it works. Dr. Meinred didn't give me the best PC in the
world."
Helen knew her eyes were wider than normal. How could this
woman, this *doctor*, be so nonchalant about what had
happened? How could she sit there and pretend nothing had
transpired?
"Dr. Hankins, I... I saw you with Susan yesterday,"
blurted Helen. It just sprang forth, like a bubble
bursting. "I saw what you did to that poor woman. I think
you should resign. If you do, I won't mention anything; I
just want to..."
"Oh. I see. What is it that you thought you saw?"
There was no turning back. "I don't *think* I saw, doctor.
I *know* I did. Susan was leaned back in the treatment
chair and you were... were... letting her..."
"Lick my cunt?" finished Connie.
The bluntness of the woman was incredible. Was she
completely bereft of shame?
"I wouldn't have said it that way."
"How would you have said it then, Helen? Tongue-mining for
woman-dew? Tasting the female fruit? Savoring the Sapphic
sweetness?"
Helen's head was spinning. It didn't help that the CD
player wasn't working. Instead of music, there was a high-
pitched whine like a on the blink coming from the
speakers. It grated on her ears and was keeping her from
thinking straight.
"N-no..." Helen felt her resolve slipping, drenched in
fear. Constance... Dr. Hankins... seemed larger-than-life.
Intimidating. *Powerful.*
"What if I were to tell you I was doing Susan a favor?"
Something about the words didn't make sense, but Helen had
been hoping for a rational explanation, hadn't she?
"A... favor?" Why was it so hard to think all of a sudden?
"Some women have needs, Helen. To be dominated sexually
and otherwise. Sometimes it's quite natural. Completely
normal, really. With Susan, it's been implanted into her.
It's artificial, but just as strong. You, on the other
hand..." Connie stepped from behind her desk and walked
behind Helen, who was now shivering and confused.
"You, Helen, are a natural if I ever saw one."
Helen jerked. This was completely wrong. It was obscene.
It was... it was... so sensible. The two thoughts warred in
her tiring mind.
"Tell me the truth. Always the truth. What are you
feeling, Nurse?"
"Torn." It was the only word she could come up with.
"Indecisive? Confused? Embattled with conflict?"
"Yes, doctor," said Helen. She was so glad Constance
understood. Maybe this whole mess *could* be resolved.
"This level of self-doubt and conflicting thoughts could
cloud your judgment, couldn't it. It could screw with your
reasoning, and make you less professional. It could lead
you into making false accusations, or worse, bad decisions
regarding patient care."
"Yes... but... what I saw..." Helen grasped at her outrage
and felt it slipping away like oiled gelatin.
"Was perfectly natural clinical treatment. Wasn't it? Or
am I wrong? Tell me what you saw."
The image was as clear as ever, but it... it was somehow
less shocking. All kinds of medical procedures looked
invasive from the outside, after all. Who was she to
question, when it was obviously... "Perfectly natural
clinical treatment."
"That's right. That's why you want me to do the thinking
for you -- you're not able yet to think for yourself. You
may never be able. You can't tell if what you see is right
or wrong, good or bad, virtuous or evil. You know that,
now. You aren't competent to make any judgments at all.
That's why you never question what I do. And from your
naturally submissive state of mind, you also find it
arousing, don't you?"
The blush in Helen's cheeks wasn't from embarrassment, but
from the release the truth brought. "Yes, I do."
"See how petty you are. When you saw me with Susan, you
were even jealous. Envious. Wishing it was you and not
Susan calling me Mistress Constance. Don't lie to me, girl."
The sound from the CD was nowhere and everywhere, like a
drug that coursed through her veins. She barely noticed it.
Her felt hot and humid... she could feel moisture
making her thighs slick with desire. "Yes, I wished I was
just like her. I wished I *was* her."
"Yes. And you see why you need to listen and obey, and
never question, don't you. You're more like Susan than
Susan is. You are a completely natural slave without the
capacity to make judgments about what I do or don't do.
That's why you obey without question. That's why obeying me
feels better than sex. That's why you can't even *think* of
calling me anything but Mistress Constance when we're
alone. And since so few understand, just like you didn't
understand, you call me Dr. Connie in front of others.
Isn't that right?"
"Yes, Mistress Constance." The words swelled in Helen's
mouth, filling her mind and body with unabashed lust and
adoration of her womanly Salvation. Her heart filled with
pride at her place in Mistress' world. *I understand. I
know the Truth.*
Connie regarded her new slave with a thoughtful gaze as
the moved around to lean back on the front edge of her
desk. "I'm not sure I believe you, yet, slave. I wonder if
you can prove your loyalty and adoration?"
"Just tell me how, Mistress!" Helen's voice was filled
with panic and dread. She was so close to paradise... and
now, she was faced with it being ripped out of her like her
innards.
"Lick my pussy, Helen. Tease my clit. Tongue-fuck my
asshole. Beg me to on you. Make me like no one ever
has. Seal your heart and soul to me. Obey and go deeper
into your new life. *Now*."
Helen leapt from her chair and onto her knees before her
Mistress, pulling down her skirt and diving into the moist
folds of heaven. her tongue worked as if it had a will of
its own. her lips pulled on Mistress' clit as she flicked
with her tongue. It was the only world that mattered now.
As Mistress hiked back, Helen's tongue was everywhere,
dancing deep in Mistress' asshole and savoring every taste
of her precious Owner. The pleasure screaming through her
obscured the words pouring from her slave lips. It didn't
matter. She didn't judge. Mistress did the judging.
Mistress did the thinking. Helen was here to obey.
Connie felt the strength of her orgasm growing, like an
earthquake waiting to be born. Helen's complete
transformation was transforming her, too, bringing her to
new depths of bliss and abandon. Like the rising tide of
lust and explosions in her sex, she was swept to places
she'd only dreamed. She knew there was no stopping, now or
ever. This was her *destiny.*
As she released her yellow stream and screamed out her
insane orgasmic pleasure, her words were nearly lost in the
noise and gurgling debasement of both women.
*Rogue... rogue... rogue... *
---- ---- ----
Part Three
Connie hung up with the Vermont Field Office of the
Department of Psychological Research after giving her
weekly status report. She was a little uneasy... her life
was changing and her desires were maturing at an
exponential rate. She had already converted the nursing
staff with which she worked into loyal, obedient, adoring
slaves.
It wasn't that she felt guilty about it. She knew this was
her destiny. And she knew she wasn't limitless. She didn't
really need more slaves. She wasn't some megalomaniac
priestess with a desire for world domination. She was just
a Dominatrix that loved controlling her loving and loyal
stable.
Totally.
Thinking back, it had always been a part of her, waiting
for a moment of independence to give it the opportunity to
spring forth. She was in a state of near constant arousal
now. It was the best her life had ever been. It was more
than she'd ever dreamed.
What bothered her was that she wanted to shout it out to
her Supervisor. "This is what I've always wanted!" the
imagined conversation would go. "I don't need the Agency to
be fulfilled! I just need my slaves!"
She stayed silent. She knew the punishment for going
rogue. Even Tamara couldn't risk all her agents following
their own agendas. She'd be wiped into non-existence and
placed in a clerical job, happily convinced that it was
what she was born to do.
The irony was not lost on her. She would go from what she
was born to be into what she was born to do.
Rogue Agent Hankins would become Compliant Aide Ditz.
She was starting to resent Tamara more openly-- perhaps
even despise her.
She wished she had LuAnn around. She'd always put things
in perspective. She could see the clear light at the end of
any tunnel. Connie felt tears rising as she thought of her
lover, babbling complete loyalty to a total stranger.
To her shame, the image also made her hot. Again. But she
was less and less able to deny herself the pleasure of her
fingers, or her growing number of toys. Her after work
forays to the local sex toy boutiques were starting to
become as much of a habit as some people's stop at the
local bar.
And it was just as addictive.
She started with the usual collections of vibrators and
dildos, but had soon moved to the hardcore outlets. Her
wardrobe, both at home and at work, included more and more
latex... the smell of her sex and rubber sent her sopping
cunt screaming for attention. Nipple clamps, crops, knotted
floggers, butt plugs, anal beads, restraints of every shape
and kind were in her house and in her dreams.
She wondered for only a moment if she was out of control.
She sighed with contentment. She'd never felt more in
control in her life.
She thumbed her clit through her latex and pressed
the newly installed button on the console on her desk. Out
loud, she said, "Grace, Judith and Helen, report to
Mistress, stat!"
There was no usual echo of the intercom in the halls. With
Dr. Meinred's usual and obedient approval, she had
installed a wireless system that transmitted to receivers
on the belts of the ward's nursing staff, and spoke only
into their headphones. It was very kind of the good doctor
to obey so swiftly, she decided. It was almost a shame that
he would never be allowed to know the pleasure of serving
her fully.
In less than a minute, the three nurses had come to
Connie's office, the office that had until recently been
Dr. Meinred's. Closing and locking the door, they stepped
out of their clothes and proceeded to undress their
Mistress. Their tongues began covering her body with
worshipping licks, and she fell into them, wondering when
she would ever get around to finding a cure for the women
on the ward.
Seeing how wonderful it could be, she wondered if it was
really all that important. Who was she to deny them such
fulfillment?
Without further distraction, she turned her attention to
the slaves that were being so kind as to obey without
question. She let the pleasure sweep into her. Again. Soon,
she'd have the other two come and join the fun.
After all, she had to be fair.
---- ---- ----
The time had come. Connie waited in the treatment room for
her next patient. She tried to calm her nerves with
familiar routine, but it was no use. She looked at the name
on the chart.
LuAnn Marie Brooks.
Tears filled her eyes as much as dread filled her heart.
No one else at the hospital knew of their relationship.
While she'd mentioned the fact that an Agency operative was
among the patients they were treating, she'd never said who
it was. Whether from her own fear or a futile attempt to
clothe her lover in dignity, she'd kept it secret.
And then she was in the room. It was less traumatic than
Connie had imagined. LuAnn looked more beautiful than the
last time she'd seen her, if it were possible. Placid and
serene, her face had none of the stress and worry that had
lined it before. Connie had never seen it, but now that it
was gone, it's absence was like the difference between
night and day.
The nurses strapped her into the Treatment Armature, and
began fastening devices and contacts, their skills having
been honed from practicing on the twelve women who had come
before. It was only a few minutes until LuAnn was ready.
Now, amid the wires and relays, the horror of it all came
home to roost in Connie. She walked over, pulled up an
examination stool and sat close to the woman with whom she
had shared her heart, her career and her life.
"LuAnn, can you hear me?" she said in a whisper.
"Yes, Mistress. I obey."
Connie's nearly exploded with juice at the words.
*Damn my cunt!* she screamed inside. It didn't help. She
was aroused and horrified at the same time, and each state
put an edge on the other, twining together like strands of
sexual DNA.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked, knowing exactly what
the answer would be.
"No, Mistress. I obey always."
She walked back to the console and looked down at the
controls. Without warning, anger surged in her veins like
white-hot ambrosia. "Fuck you for having caved to them,
LuAnn! FUCK YOU!"
"Yes, Mistress. I obey."
The words sapped the strength from Connie's body, and the
anger abated as quickly as it had begun. Her Agency
training took over. There was work to be done.
"Starting at 60%," she said, to no one in particular. She
typed several commands into the keyboard embedded in the
console and pressed the actuating button.
The machines came to life, and LuAnn's body flexed as it
tensed from the cerebral stimulation. Over the last week,
it had been discovered that anything less had little or no
effect. The glow effect began to show around LuAnn, making
her look, just like all the rest, like an angel born to
submission.
"Increasing to 75%," she said. She repeated the steps. She
could repeat them in her sleep, if need be. She looked at
LuAnn, searching for any sign of life behind her eyes,
which were beginning to glow with the energy being forced
through her synapses.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked again.
LuAnn's eyelids flickered. "No Mistress. I -- obey always."
Connie felt her impatience mounting. She couldn't believe
LuAnn had been so conditioned, so *changed* that she wasn't
being phased.
"Increasing to 90%," she whispered as she made the
adjustments. She was getting very close to burning out the
very synapses she was trying to re-open. But it was LuAnn.
She had to try.
The effect was almost immediate. LuAnn's body arched
impossibly, bending her back so strongly that Connie was
afraid she might herself. Her eyes glowed pure white,
like something out of a mind control wet dream. Connie
grunted as her sent an intense twinge through her,
making her whole body feel like it was being clitorally
massaged.
She was looking at the evidence of a monstrous act. She
was trembling with desire that was becoming harder and
harder to control. It was as if her mind was arching like
LuAnn, in a great spasm of pain and pleasure, mixed until
there was no difference.
LuAnn fell back into the chair, and stared straight forward.
"Can you hear me?" asked Connie.
"Y-yesss..." rasped LuAnn. "Yes." Stronger this time.
Connie's heart skipped a beat as the voice of her love
came to her.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Con - Connie?" said LuAnn, struggling to say it. "So
hard. Hard to speak. Think. Connie. Love."
Tears streamed down Connie's face as the words hit home.
LuAnn! Lover! She was going to be cured! All of them would
be cured! The adventures of the last weeks began to fade in
importance with the resurrection of her partner and lover.
She had no words. Now that the moment had come, the words
for what she felt had escaped entirely.
But she spoke anyway.
"No! Bad slave! I am Mistress! You have not obeyed!"
Connie sat horrified as the words pressed out of her,
unstoppable. She watched the confusion in LuAnn's face that
mirrored her own. What was she doing?
"Connie... what..." stammered LuAnn, confusion and fear
wending their way across her as her unused brain began to
spark back to life.
"Increasing to 100%," said Connie, icy resolution filling
her voice. She was screaming inside as she watched her
hands enter the code words and press the activator.
"You are slave. Slave to all Mistresses. I am Mistress of
Cell 87. You are slave of Cell 62. You obey. You do not
question. You are slave."
Connie tried to grasp what was happening, what was
creating this insanity coming from her lips and hands. She
watched on the monitor as the synapses that controlled
LuAnn's ability to reason began to overload, creeping ever
closer to total burnout.
"You are property. You are pleasure for Mistress. You are
a unit. You obey. You take on any persona given. You do not
choose. You do not judge. You obey. You only obey. You obey
completely. You obey because that is what you do. It is all
that you do. You obey. Obedience is pleasure. Disobedience
is death."
Connie tried to stand, to spring for the power coupling,
to do anything to save her beloved, but there was new
knowledge pouring into her now, too, and arousal beyond
even what she had known these last weeks. By the time she
realized that her body was refusing to obey her commands,
she didn't even have the energy to question.
She knew that if LuAnn disobeyed, she would simply cease
to function. Her body would just stop. Dead. Disobedience
was death.
"You do not choose life. You do not choose death. You only
obey."
"i do not choose life. i do not choose death. i only obey."
Connie felt her lust and pleasure ride straight into the
heat of the sun, blistering away the last of her morality.
"You worship, adore and believe all Truth that Mistress
gives you. You obey."
LuAnn's lips moved but nothing emerged but spittle. Connie
forced her eyes down to the console. The areas that had so
briefly come to life were completely black. Gone forever.
LuAnn was no more.
There was only slave.
Connie exploded and fell to the floor, laughting and
screaming and gibbering as pleasure crawled through her
like tiny spiders of latex heat and lust. She couldn't
resist them. They were everywhere. Inside, outside,
changing her, ending her, birthing Her. She was Mistress.
She was lust and pleasure personified. She lost track of
everything. She lost track of time. There was only now. Now
was eternal.
She was Mistress.
As She sat Herself up in the corner, still quaking from
the bliss of Orgasm Eternal, She began to laugh. It was not
the laugh of sanity. It was the laugh of inevitability. It
was the laugh of obedience.
This time, the irony was lost on Her as She continued in
hysterical laughter that would have shamed Renfield.
There were fourteen more slaves to complete, not counting
Her own.
---- ---- ----
Mistress dressed in Her best latex dress, garters and
stockings. The 6" riser on Her platform boots created the
most delicious cramps in Her feet. Her sex twisted in
pleasure again. She clenched Her butt plug and shivered in
anticipation. She adjusted Her jeweled nipple rings and
pulled on the chain that connected them, sending another
jolt to Her glorious clit.
Today was Her Day of Ordination. The day She would forever
be One with the Will of the Supreme Mistress.
She had not been given the honor, nor would She be, of
meeting Her Sisters. Already, all slaves but Her own were
of no importance, forgotten like the dust from yesterday's
cleaning.
She stood, ready to take Her place, to be given Authority
by the Supreme Mistress Herself. Her eyes were lowered as
She had been instructed. She waited. She would wait days,
until She fell down from exhaustion, if necessary.
Her was singing to Her again.
Steps came, and She closed Her eyes. Arms led Her... many
steps, a few turns, several doors, but She did not pay
attention or try to figure out where She was going. It was
not Her purpose to know such things.
She sat when guided, eyes still closed, and did not wonder
at the hands working around Her, the muted voices or Her
inability to understand. She knew that this was how it was
to be.
The moment came. The Voice of Supreme Mistress called to
Her.
"Open your eyes, Constance."
*Constance* She'd almost forgotten. That was what She used
to be called. Something else, too, but She couldn't
remember. She didn't *want* to remember.
She opened her eyes. She looked into the Face of Supreme
Mistress.
She looked into the face of Angelic Innocence.
She looked into the face of Susan Witte.
Confusion swept through Her, despite Her deep
conditioning. This was a *slave*!
"Dear Woman, I see that You don't understand. That is as
it should be. The best kept secrets have no route to
finding them. You've done *so* well for Me. I am impressed,
and that is not an easy thing to accomplish. I will allow
You one question before You are Ordained."
The Voice resonated as only the Supreme Mistress' Voice
could. Despite Her lack of understanding, Constance felt a
swell of irrational pride at the words of Her Superior.
"Supreme Mistress. How is it that You are both Mistress
and slave?"
Susan, Supreme Mistress, smiled. "Yes, it is quite a
paradox, isn't it. It can be summed up in a very short
sentence.
"Nothing comes without strings attached."
Laughing softly at Her unintended pun, the Supreme
Mistress turned Her attention to the console before Her and
said, "Setting level at 100%."
Her fingers moved swiftly as Constance watched, the
Doctor's hungry knowing what was to come. *Wanting* it
to come.
"Goodbye, Constance. Welcome to Your new life."
Constance, already in the throes of glorious Ordination,
didn't hear the words at all.
---- ---- ----
Finis!
Please send any comments to sara_h2020@yahoo.com, and let
me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
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