8 comments/ 51528 views/ 26 favorites A Willing Subject By: Shopassistant A Willing Subject is about the length of a short story and should pay off slowly. ***** 1 "Oh please! I'm sure Heather won't mind." Sarah pleaded, her expression affecting helplessness. Sam couldn't remember her so animated. Blythe and always indifferent to him, she hadn't given him the time of day for years. "There's money in it for you." Sam was torn. As a struggling acting student about to become a struggling actor he needed an ear to the ground for the next gig. And as gigs go this one would be handy. It would be a rehearsal tonight helping Sarah and her friend Jennifer with their final presentation. They needed a man and Sam had been singled out. His girlfriend, Heather, had got a late call a couple of days earlier for an audition in Edinburgh, which meant he would be free at least. He had been ready to spend the weekend in front of the TV or Playstation. So there was a neat convenience to the proposition that made Sam more amenable; he'd be done before Heather returned, and could keep it secret from her, perhaps forever. Because he knew she would never approve of it. Heather didn't like Sarah, and it was easy to see why. Heather was dedicated to her craft, while Sarah was there to pass the time and snipe at her peers. What talent she had was blighted by contempt for everyone. Academically Sarah did just enough to get by, but it was hard to imagine a future for her in acting. It didn't seem to matter much to her. The rumour was that she was from a rich family. "Not just rich; crazy rich. Buy-and-sell our asses rich. Powerful rich.", he remembered a friend confiding to the group in the first year. Sam had always been curious about her. He found her alluring even if he couldn't quite admit it to himself. She was a redhead with ever-changing streaks of colour in her hair, and always wore dark eye make-up with a cat-like tick. She was kinky in a way he couldn't pin down. It was some blend of the vintage dresses she wore that cinched at her waist, and her aloof, arch demeanour. He hardly registered it, but when he saw those pointy Russian red lips in a closed smile he was totally disarmed. She knew it, even if he didn't. But since those first months he had fallen in love with Heather and noticed Sarah less. To the point where he wasn't even sure if she had finally dropped out. Yet here she was, pleading with him on the front steps. He was taken aback by her uncharacteristic friendliness, but she was also being pushy, forcing herself into his space. The only way he could leave would be to nudge past her. "Just the three of us, lucky you. We've got to present it next week, and we need a heavy couple of rehearsal days. This weekend we need a male voice, and we're going to have to pull an all-nighter tonight." Hardened by a sense of duty to Heather, Sam was ready to tell Sarah no, but his resolve would be hollowed out. "Course, there's two grand in it for you." She let it linger in the air, knowing the punch it would pack on a hard-up student in London. This was crazy. Two thousand pounds for a weekend of reading from a sheet. It changed everything. So the rumours about her wealthy family had to be true. The amount made Sam calculate sums in his head. It would not look good to disappear for a weekend with these two, and despite the money Heather would be upset. But Sam needed it; he could clear a couple of debts and wouldn't need to think about rent for a few weeks at least. "Give me your details and the money will be in your account tonight. Yes or no. I need a quick answer." Her big eyes examined him, and her freckled cheeks twitched as her lips parted in a confident smile. Sam's firm "no" melted to a compliant "yes" in his mouth, and like that it was done. Sarah gave him the address: Suite 106, Park Hotel. She was definitely rich. "Bring exercise stuff. There's going to be a bit of action." That naughty closed smirk curled on lips after she said this. A weekend with Sarah and Jennifer. The gossip was that they were gay. Someone said they had seen them kissing somewhere, but as Sam thought about it they seemed like less of a couple than a duo, a sniping double-act with an endless list of in-jokes that bewildered everyone else. He had time to go home and pack a change of clothes, uneasy with guilt, reminded himself not to speak to his friends as he marched back stiffly from the station. Fidgeting in his room he checked his account before he left. The money had already cleared. There was no way out now. His final task was to call Heather, knowing that it would be their last contact of the day. Waiting for her to pick up he could hear his own shallow breaths in the receiver and tried to calm down. It rang through to her voice-mail, he told her he loved her and that they'd talk tomorrow. It felt like he was stepping into a different world - the part of London sequestered by old money and oligarchs, off limits for everything but sightseeing trips when relatives were in town. He got off at Bond Street and walked in a daze to the hotel vaunted for its luxury. It had always looked nondescript from the outside, which only inspired the curiosity of the people who passed by. He felt honoured when the concierge nodded him through and wordlessly accompanied him to the correct lift - a private one that would open out straight onto the suite. His pulse raced as he ascended. It was the rush from going behind Heather's back, mixed with the giddiness of crashing this unfamiliar, palatial setting. The lift slowed, stopped, and the doors opened out on a hall-like living area, where Sarah and Jennifer were watching from a couch. "You made it! There's no time to lose. We simply must get started right away." Hot air sent him reeling as he entered. The room wasn't just warm; it was tropical, and he shed his jacket as a reflex. There was an ambiguous fragrance of spice weighing heavy, a feminine perfume that he couldn't discern, strong enough to make him dizzy. Hair-tied back in pony tails, they were wearing matching belted pink leotards that reminded Sam of a Kate Bush video. Both a few inches shorter than Sam, they could have been doubles were it not for their hair colour and subtle differences in their body shapes. Jennifer, fuller-figured was also darker than Sarah, with a delicate, heart-shaped face and doleful, down-turned eyes that were lifted by a vacant joy when she smiled. And she smiled often. The suite was gigantic, and its sleek decor contrasted with the baroque style of the hotel's lobby and lift. Alone in the second bedroom he got into his workout gear, flinging his stuff onto the emperor bed, eager to get started. "OK, we'll do some warm-ups first. Come over by the window you two." Most of their acting classes involved some kind of preparation to help the students relax and begin to look outward rather than inside. Sarah led them in some stretching, reaching up towards the ceiling and sinking back. Sam was weakened by the heat and scent of the room, and as he breathed deeply it felt like every nook of his body was being filled, invaded by the mysterious, heady aroma. He turned round numbly to see ribbons smoke quivering from an incense burner on the coffee table. Jennifer then took over the preparation, and asked Sam and Sarah to close their eyes. She was a gifted singer and her voice was expressive and melodious. Unlike Sarah she had a talent for performance, and there was something authoritative in the way she implored Sam to relax and become open, loose and pliable. They stretched again, and at long last returned to a comfortable position. She told them to close their eyes and forget themselves, and the room, the women, everything melted away. 2 In a dream or long-forgotten memory Sam could feel himself standing, supported by the thick warmth. The London skyline in the window became opaque, like a twinkling fresco, while the suite stretched out boundless in front of him. Sarah and Jennifer were awake and looking at him, and Sam, unable to move, responded to their words over and over with one response - "yes". They would giggle, pink cheeks lifting with menacing smiles, and swap the kind of conspiratorial glances they were known for. Sarah, propped lazily against Jennifer, would reach out and touch Sam's face, but Sam could not move and was planted helpless and statue-like in the room. When Sam became aware again he was on the couch with the booklet of lines and directions on his lap. Sarah and Jennifer were talking through the scene. Sam zoned in, and flicked through the thin booklet to find his lines. They were minimal - four or five in total. "Easy money" he thought, but as the idea crossed his mind the cash became less important. He was just glad to be here. Sarah and Jennifer stopped chatting and tittered softly when they noticed Sam studying his lines The scene began. Sam wouldn't be needed for a while and followed the dialogue:: Cassandra: So everything's in place? Catherine: Yes, all we need is the subject - Mr Cross Cassandra: And you're sure that this will work? Catherine: Of course, I've seen it in countless clinical trials. We need some time to soften him up and make him pliable, and then, when he's loose and ripe, we pluck him from the branch. Cassandra: But how do you know he won't suspect anything. What is the pretext for meeting him? Catherine: The poor fool thinks he's coming to help us. And because he wants us, because we make him hard, he'll step right into the trap without even thinking about it. Cassandra: What do you plan to do with him once you've got him. Catherine: I think we both know the answer to that. I'll see where my fancy takes me. We can get him to do almost anything, he'll be so besotted there's no way he can resist. Cassandra: Well we both have the need. Catherine: We do indeed, and I don't want to fight it any longer. I don't want to see any more shrinks. I just want it. I want to cross the line - and I want it as much as I can get it. Cassandra: So he won't finish. Catherine: He'll never finish again. Not without our say-so. The girls let our belly laughs like camp super-villains. This was Sam's cue, and he entered the scene, wondering who had written this rubbish. As directed, Jennifer grabbed him from behind in a full nelson. Sam was jolted from his amusement. He was shocked by the power of her grip, rendering him immobile as she pulled him up with improbable strength to face Sarah, playing Catherine. Was this real or part of the play? He craned his neck to see his line in his helpless hand. "You won't get away with this." Sarah responded with a leer - "Oh but I will. Do you know why? Because I can see that you're only too pleased to be here." She pointed at Sam's shorts. Maybe it was an instinctive reaction to Jennifer's control, but Sam's cock had become hard and visible through his clothing. The booklet fell from his trapped hand. Jennifer's perfume and the yielding press of her breasts against his back made him ache, while Sarah made him uneasy him with her strange assuredness when fixed her dark round eyes on his. She drifted closer until she was face-to-face, her nipples pushing against the sleek material of her leotard. Sam could feel her breath on his cheek, and could make out the individual freckles on her pale face. At last she pressed up to his body, urging against the cock that was rigid in his shorts, before turning her head and meeting Jennifer's lips in a passionate wet kiss. Still trapped he could hear their murmured moans and see their tongues slipping against each other, millimetres from his own mouth. Sam wasn't sure if he was still in character. Some combination of the atmosphere in the room and his studied, actor's detachment impaired his defiance. He didn't understand why he was so weak to Jennifer's control, and tried to assert himself. He gasped as she pulled the nelson tighter, leaving him tottering on his tiptoes. Her ease was incredible. She had no problem restraining Sam and devoting her full attention to Sarah's glossy lips. No, this was not part of the act. Dampened fear began to creep in, and Sam nudged Sarah away with a raised knee, "What the fuck's going on here?" "Nothing that you didn't want the moment you first saw me." Sarah replied, as if she were intimate with his weakness for her. "And nothing that you weren't prepared for when you accepted the proposal." Sarah knew how to subdue him. "We dropped out months ago. You must know that. When you said "yes", you knew that this wasn't going to be a rehearsal. I've always had bigger plans than acting. From this moment on you're out of that game too." "Seriously, you need to let me go right now.", Sam stammered. "Heather -" Sarah cut him off, "It looks like she means less to you than you pretend." She said, drawing attention to his hard-on. She let one hand drop to Sam's shorts, and began, lightly, to trace the tip of his cock with a single manicured nail. "Please don't!", Sam complained meekly. But Sarah had a flair for the chase, and with each feather-like stroke, each whiff of the room's strange fragrance, Sam's defences were being worn down. She spoke steadily as she touched him, and when Sam tried to reply she had a more pertinent counter-answer that rendered him weaker. She was smarter or at least more spontaneous and prepared. Sam's reserves of defiance almost exhausted he tried to project confidence, but was appalled to hear himself whimper, "I'll call the police." Yet shuddered when her finger grazed the head of his cock. Sarah batted the notion away nonchalantly, "Pfft! We could make this scene look so bad for you, Sam. Within minutes you'd be the one answering charges." Her demeanour softened, "But Sam dear, I know you'd never do that. You want to be here. You're desperate to stay and see what we're going to do with you, don't you?" In a strange sing-song, Jennifer chanted behind him. "Desperate to stay, desperate to stay.", pulling closer until he could feel her lips dabbing against his ear. Sarah grabbed his face and looked deeply, inquisitorially into his eyes. "Aren't you?" Sam dizzy, confused, and viscerally aroused, searched himself and found more defiance than he expected. "No, shut up, let me go." Jennifer continued to chant, and Sarah kept time by sliding her finger up and down the outline of his cock. "Aren't you?" Sam wanted to fight, but was losing himself in the endless refrains. "Desperate to stay." It was like his hands were clinging to the tip of a precipice, and with their words they were tugging him down, weakening the grip of every finger. He couldn't hold on. Jennifer changed the chant and raised the tempo, "Desperate to stay, desperate to stay, desperate to stay" . "Aren't you?", Sarah inquired. Sam took a deep breath, as he prepared for his inevitable surrender. "Yes", and with this word he felt the panic flushed away by a pulse of relief and excitement. Say, "Yes, Miss." "Yes, Miss." It felt wrong. The title gave her an authority she didn't deserve. "Good, Sam." Sarah grabbed a remote on the table and music filled the room - down-tempo music with a slow steady beat, and searing bass that Sam could feel in his core. "I think you can let him go." Jennifer released Sam's arms but continued to hold him from behind, while Sarah completed the sandwich once more, her lycra-wrapped body pressing up against Sam's chest. Sam felt a distant pang of fear and tried to avoid Sarah's gaze. She laid her palms on his chest before drawing them up slowly towards his cheeks, manoeuvring his head with alarming lightness so his eyes were in line with hers. "We're going to have some fun with you. But don't stay if you don't want to." Sam assimilated the information blankly, as Sarah and Jennifer started to dance in time to the music holding him between them as they moved. Sarah picked a glass of wine up from the table, holding it to Jennifer's mouth and then Sam's before taking a mouthful and kissing it back to Jennifer. The heat was close and damp, and as Jennifer danced her hands ran up and down Sam's clothes, fingers catching the hem of his shorts and t-shirt and nail scratching lightly at the skin of his thigh and midriff. He felt the material tauten around his cock, now damp and overtly hard. Almost lost in the feeling of anticipation, Heather shot in to Sam's mind, and he said her name aloud. Sarah laughed and cooed at him with a spoofed sympathy. "You won't even care about her after this." "Guess who set up her audition." Slipping off to another place, Sam regarded her with confusion as her hands ran up his chest and grazed his nipples. He told himself that he might not be able to escape, but at least Heather wasn't gone forever. These women were forcing themselves on him, and he wouldn't reciprocate. In the heat it made sense to strip down, but Sam wasn't ready for the rush of arousal that ripped through him as the two girls began to peel back the tight material of their leotards. Sam's top was removed, and he he felt the the smooth flesh of Jennifer's breasts slipping up and down his back. He looked down and saw Sarah's small but buoyant breasts, curving upwards, nipples pointing temptingly towards Sam's mouth. Vaguely summoning the determination to resist, Sam remained passive, fixed in place by Jennifer's mysterious strength. Jennifer's fingertips teased Sam's chest, while Sarah danced close to his body, grinding against him with each throb of the bass. Sam tried to turn away, and was surprised to find that he was met with no resistance. He turned, but only into Jennifer's gaze. Two heavy breasts hung confidently on her chest, her hair was still pulled back tightly like a dancer and she wore a smile that was pure unrestrained joy. The thought of not being able to see what Sarah was up to made Sam's heart race. He felt gentle pressure down on his shoulders, but his knees almost buckled underneath him, and as he sunk back on his heels the women closed in together in an embrace that encompassed Sam from the neck up. He looked up at Sarah's lean stomach, and the pleasing, soft swelling of Jennifer's belly as their mouths locked in a kiss. His face was pressed on the ridge of Jennifer's pussy, he could smell thick arousal as she gyrated slowly. In unison they slipped their panties down and kicked them away. Sam's cheek was being gently buffeted by the upper contour of Jennifer's sex and puckered his lips to lighten the blows. The the command came down from on high and hit Sam like real blow. "Lick" Sam's head fell back, he grabbed the back of Jennifer's thighs, and pulled himself up to her eager pussy, plunging his tongue into her. He heard a muted cry far overhead and set about his task, hungry and diligent. In his daze he reasoned that his mind was not his own, but he still thought of Heather. The thrill of transgression guided his tongue as it slithered in and out of Jennifer, its slick path eased by abundant moisture. Dizzy Sam, felt himself being pulled back. Sarah had crouched down alongside him. He longed to return and bring Jennifer to orgasm, and he could hear her song-like pants as she fell back on the couch a few feet away. "Sam, you still have a choice. You can go home now if you want. This will all end, and we'll never speak about it again. Heather will never know." Sam battled inside to focus on her words. "Or it can be a lot more fun." She made her way to a handbag and produced a small vial of pink liquid. "If you stay then we will carry on, and I can see how much you want to do that. All you have to do is drink this. I can't tell you what it is. But you'll know about it afterwards, that's for sure." Jennifer laughed breathily. A Willing Subject Relieved that he had been given the chance to leave, am turned his head to find the exit. "Go on!" Sarah challenged him, as he stumbled for the lift doors. "Sam, you're half-naked, and you forgot your bag." That's right, he had to get his stuff. He tried to find his equilibrium and walk with dignity back to the bedroom for his bag. From the corner of his eye he could see Jennifer, still nude, shaking, trying to suppress laughter. He tried not to look up to make eye contact, but as he approached the room he sensed that Sarah was blocking his path. "Look at me." Uncontrollably, his gaze worked up, past her smooth thighs, trimmed pussy and pert, freckled breasts, until it met those large round eyes. He could feel his will ebbing away, and she hadn't said another word. Silently she opened the vial and raised it to his closed lips, staring into him all the while. It made him feel vulnerable, as if she had discovered a weak point and could control him with the merest breath. Her indefinable sexiness overcame him, and as she tilted the vial up he could feel his mouth opening and the liquid trickling over his tongue and down his throat. It tasted sweet, rich and faintly alcoholic. And no sooner had it entered his body he felt a wild, instinctive loyalty to his captors.. Sarah placed her hands on his shoulders and held him in place with the same strange strength that Jennifer had wielded. "Now, finish the job." She turned him back to the couch and released him like an elastic band. Sam dove to the floor and fucked Jennifer with his tongue. Eyes closed he set about his work with a ceaseless, mechanical gusto. In his dizziness he saw flashes of light penetrating his eyelids and mixed with the ecstatic moans of Jennifer he heard the click of a camera shutter. He didn't care about that, or the ache in his tongue. Nothing counted. Just Jennifer's pleasure. "Oh, I didn't tell you she was a gusher." Sam licked as if he had finally found his purpose, such was the empathetic joy her shrieks and intermittent jets of hot fluid gave him. She bucked on the couch and he tracked her spasms, stuck fast like a limpet, and with a singular purpose. Time slowed. Had Sam been aware enough to ask such questions he might have wondered why Jennifer was so insatiable, but as it was he continued unthinkingly. Cheeks, chin and neck coated with her juices, he brought her to orgasm again and again. Finally he got the command to stop. Exhaustion overcame him. He looked up feebly to see Jennifer, finally satiated, reclining limply in the couch, her head propped against the back cushions. He felt himself being ushered onto her, his head rested on her lap and his body horizontal on the couch. His shorts were being pulled from his body. The room faded away, and in the darkness he sensed more flashes, like lightning just beyond the night horizon. 3 Sam awoke at the "ping" of the lift arriving, and through a haze peered across the room to see Sarah, fresh, as if she had been up or hours. She wore a dark-grey dress with a plunging neckline and pleated skirt. In her hand was a transparent plastic cup filled with more pink liquid. "Got you a morning smoothie! This will keep you going for a few hours at least." As he regained consciousness he was struck by a wave of guilt and shame. What had he done? Why couldn't he control himself? As soon as he could compose himself he had to escape, but for now he was wallowing in an unfamiliar place in abject misery, a morning-after remorse bleaker than anything he'd ever known. Tears welled in his eyes. Sarah knelt on the couch next to his naked body and caressed his cheek with the back of her palm. "Ah, sweetie. Feeling dreadful I bet. Do drink up. You'll be so much better for it." She straddled him, kissed his nose and lifted the straw to his lips. He needed to make the unbearable guilt go away, forget what he had done. "Go on, you'll feel better straight away, I promise." "But I don't know what it is. Look what happened last night." Sam's voice was cracking. "Oh baby, drink this and you'll feel so good. You'll forget as soon as it touches your lips. Doesn't that sound nice?" "Y-yes Miss." She ran her fingertip along Sam's lips, and he sucked on it gently. She probed his mouth with her finger, and slowly replaced it with the tip of the straw, whispering encouragement all the while. He drew on the straw, and had to suck hard to get the viscous liquid up to his mouth. It was like drinking pancake batter, but with a sweet taste of strawberry. With light murmurs Sarah coaxed him to continue until the cup was empty. When he reached the bottom he felt implausibly full, and, wiping his mouth, regarded Sarah with absent inquisitiveness. "People can live on this stuff alone. My dad's people developed it, but I've made some small changes to the recipe." "By the way, Heather had a fun time last night. Later we'll see what she got up to." After a moment's foreboding his attention was re-diverted, and he began to worship Sarah in her tights, sleek dress and heels. The uncertainty and remorse that had hit him when he awoke was dissipating as he watched the sexy woman who sitting on the couch next to him. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, and was barely aware that his cock was rigid once more. All he wanted to do was stare. He pulled his legs up, and turned towards her, kneeling as she busied herself with her newspaper crossword. He was bewitched by her; that sloping nose, those plump lips glossy with lipstick and the neat curves of her cleavage, watching as it rose and sank with her breaths. He felt like he had discovered the epitome of sexiness and was enraptured by the idea of watching her, basking, confounded by a power that had defeated him back when he first noticed her. He just hadn't realised at the time. As if suddenly reminded he was there, Sarah turned to Sam. "Good, so it looks like it's taken hold. Am I in charge?" Sam said "yes my love" before he even understood the question. "Lovely! OK, let's try the spoken commands we pummelled into you last night. You won't remember until you hear them. Now, let me see." She pulled a notepad from her purse and hummed to herself until she found the right page. "I'll just say the commands, and I think I'll be able to tell from your reaction what's happening." "Are you ready? No? Oh well." "ROCK-HARD- oh, I see I'm a little late for that one." Sam felt a brutal tightening in his groin, and peered down to see a cock that was almost bending back on itself. He gasped and bucked his hips reflexively, eyeing Sarah with a mix of lust, anticipation and fear. Sarah was excited too, but in a different way. She spoke with an unhinged joy. "GLIDE", Sam grunted uncontrollably, as she let the word roll lazily off her tongue, and he felt a phantom stroke on his penis. In his mind's eye he pictured a woman's perfectly manicured finger sliding from the the tip to the base. "Is someone messing around with you down there?" Sarah asked playfully. A dribble of fluid coursed from the tip of penis, and an elongated tear dripped viscously from his head to the cushion. "CLASP!", Sarah's face was fixed with joy and excitement as she awaited Sam's unconscious response. At first Sam felt nothing, and after wincing looked up to see Sarah. But as he saw her face he lost his balance, falling back, overcome by a visceral arousal. It felt like his most sensitive, secret place was being manipulated and teased, expertly and incessantly. He was a stroke or two from spectacular release. Desperate to end the agony he tried to grab his cock, but his arms wouldn't obey. He would do anything to get over the line, but his body was no longer his own. Sarah mounted his chest, her pale thighs cool against his skin, and she spoke down to him with insincere sympathy. "I think you know what's going on. There's one more word. I'm sure you know what it will do to you. What I'm going to tell you now is important. You will not come until I say the word. Never again. It's that simple." "Let's forget about what this means for your future. Because I can see you're not interested. And right now, I prefer you at CLASP. You'll go to any lengths to earn permission to come. And boy will you adore the idea of giving up that responsibility." Writhing underneath her, Sam could barely take in her words. Sarah lifted the hem of her dress to reveal a bare pussy. Looking down at him, she lowered her pussy onto his face while clutching the material of her skirt. When her damp lips settled over Sam's mouth she released her dress, plunging him into darkness. Being granted the duty of helping Sarah to orgasm made Sam prouder than he could remember, and he threw himself into the job with manic dedication. This fervour made him sensitive to her needs, determined to read her body language and listen to her moans to give her as much pleasure as possible. Maybe if he did his best she'd even let him finish. When he tried to picture what she must look like on top of him - head lolling back, hands kneading her breasts and lifting them over the neckline of her dress - he found his devotion stronger than ever. Her moans were rhythmic, and higher and higher in pitch. She was close, and the wetness, the urgency with which she rode him made Sam happier than he could imagine. In those tense, desperate breaths before climax she shouted "CLASP" in quivering voice, and all hell broke loose. Sam devoured her pussy, sending her screaming over the edge. He humped air, and in his mad lust tried to pull her down to his raging penis. Just in time, she screamed "NO", and his body became still. Breathless, Sara regarded him with a mixture of pleasant surprise and horror. "I don't think so mister. Looks like we're going to need to work on your discipline." "Oh, I was wondering when you'd get up." 4 Bright and smiley, Jennifer emerged from a room. She blushed when she saw the scene - Sam turgid, Sarah's tits peeking out over her dress. "I was just telling Sam that he needed to control himself better. I think we've been teasing him too much. First let's watch a video." Dressed for the relentless heat Jennifer was in a one-piece swimsuit. She bounded over to the couch, and the two girls flanked Sam as Sarah turned the TV on. A laboratory came into shot, and a female voice-over began. "After the Abu Ghraib scandal armed forces discipline became a one of the most controversial topics of our time, and endangered already wavering public support for operations overseas." "Commissioned by the procurement department, we set about developing Discip1in, a drug that can be ingested in a variety of ways, and, combined with visualisation and identification of a leader, will ensure the medium-term discipline of a unit." Sam looked left and right, and saw the girls rapt, as the video showed footage of the testing process, testimony of commanding officers and technical details about Discip1in. When he saw the drug in liquid form, pink and gel-like, he understood. Sarah and Jennifer had shuffled closer and had their hands on his thighs. A second presentation began. "The sex bomb was abandoned in the 1960s, and labelled kitsch and impracticable But now is the time to re-evaluate its potential. A weapon that harnesses the sex drive could render certain threats obsolete. Our research shows that most religious militants are unmarried, and by the dictates of their religious law abstain from masturbation." "By targeting the neurotransmitter that controls arousal we believe that we can retrain tap the source of this fervour and retrain it onto other subjects. Here is footage from the field of a recent test in Ar-Raqqa, Syria." The time signature showed that the video was only a few weeks old. Shaky helmet cam footage showed a man running to a square where hundreds of militants, dressed in black, are rallying. The man looks down at a briefcase, places it on the back of a pick-up truck and moves through the crowd. Seconds later there's a whoosh, and the sky fills with pink smoke. The cameraman slips a mask over his head, as the fighters, first prone, start to scatter. Within moments the desperation subsides and they look around distractedly. "Phase One: Delivery." The men regroup in fours and fives. Bursts of laughter and agitated can be heard. The cameraman approaches and shows them embracing each other salutarily, as if in relief that the gas wasn't harmful. "Phase Two: Administration" One such embrace lingers for a few seconds, and suddenly the two men thrust their hips against each other and stumble to the dusty ground. There's a yelp, and the cameraman turns to show dozens more all around, ripping at each others clothes in twos, threes, fours and fives. Within moments there's rhythm amid the mayhem as the militants suck and ride each other. The image cuts away and returns, by the time signature many minutes have passed, and the group is now one large writhing mass of men, and a few women, naked and groaning. "Phase Three: Denial" The image reappears, hours later now. The men scream in frustration. Several bodies lie lifeless on the ground. Reinforcements arrive from a neighbouring stronghold, and the image goes blank. "God that's hot" Jennifer said, her head leaning on Sam's left shoulder. "Yeah? Well you haven't seen anything yet. This stuff has a different effect on girls." Sarah teased, opening a new file on the TV. "Heather was invited to a party last night. I think it got kind of crazy." she sniggered, and blindly reached across to caress Jennifer's cheek. "Luckily the venue was hooked up with HD cameras and mics. My people have edited the best bits." 5 The TV screen was split into 16 different feeds shot by cameras on walls, behind a bar, pointing down from the ceiling; it was easy to track a person's every movement. After a moment, revellers began to arrive. Sarah chipped in with a commentary that betrayed pride and growing anticipation. "Volunteers, mostly students, but I think they were allowed to invite friends too. Course, we got them all to sign waivers." They were all dressed for a party. "We told them to let loose and have a good time. They thought we were trialling a new drink, and they got a free party in return." After watching the feed for a few minutes, the prologue to a party, it dawned on Sam that there were no men. The room had the austere look of a depot; if this was a party it was going to be a Berlin-style event, occupying a some disused factory or office and packing up without trace afterwards. "Here she is!" Heather arrived with Siobhan, a friend she stayed with in Edinburgh, and they went straight to the self-serve bar. "It's a smart drink, like the one you had earlier. There's no alcohol, but I have a feeling they're going to have fun." "And doesn't she look sexy!" In a clinging, shiny dress Heather was ready for a party. Sam longed helplessly for her in that moment, and feared for what might happen. The room continued to fill, with more and more women arriving. There was a hubbub of laughter and animated chatter, before the fluorescent red lights dimmed and music began to thump from the speakers. "We're safe from it, but in Germany they'd call this song an 'earworm'. At first it might sound odd or trite, but it grows on you. This one goes to work on people's defences and inhibitions.The frequencies and textures strip you down until you can't resist. Just watch." The time signature jumped forward, capturing clips at 15-minute intervals. For an hour it was a party like any other. At first the empty space at the centre of the room was clear, but after a couple of intrepid girls, laughing maniacally, started to dance they were joined by more, and before long the room was throbbing. The music hadn't changed much throughout, yet after about 90 minutes there was an audible change; the bass frequency was oscillating, and all of the other synthesised elements began to reach small crescendos and then subside, before rising again every few minutes. The gathering continued to dance. Not a single woman was on the fringes. "You can watch Heather in the top left Sam." One square had been devoted to his girlfriend, switching camera to get the best shot. This is when Sam saw the changes. In stages Siobhan moved closer, and when they were almost touching Heather accommodated her, wrapping her arms loosely around her friend and actively meeting her gaze. Sam glanced at the other feeds. Where there had been one mass there were now groups. No laughter could be heard now over the pulse of the music, which was climbing to ever more intense peaks. "How many more hits can they take?" Sarah turned to Jennifer. "I say two." "Ooh, I don't know. I think this next one should do it." Sam saw Siobhan's pale face, made up for a party, half concealed by a sweep of glossy black hair that was bouncing as she danced. Her eyes puckered at intervals, like she was in pain, but she kept moving closer to Heather. Their breasts touched and their legs, skirts hitched up, were almost interlocking. Sam was focussed on his girlfriend and hadn't paid attention to the other feeds. He had missed hands exploring underneath fabric, kisses. By comparison Heather and Siobhan, madly in love with each other for the last two hours, had done well to hold out. But when the dam finally broke the accumulated pressure made the response even stronger. The frequency began to rise; oscillating tones gaining intensity once more. This peak would be higher and more sustained. As it rose, he saw Heather's head rock back like she had taken a blow, and she forced herself into her friend. Siobhan tugged at the dress, pulling it off Heather's shoulders, revealing a black silken bra and white breasts that she cupped frantically. Still moving in time, Heather's thigh urged between Siobhan's legs and the couple danced, supporting each other with faces that expressed a blend of panic and pleasure. Sam needed to look away. Around the room he saw breasts exposed and a tangle of hands grabbing at bare flesh as the notes vibrated, climbing to a peak that never seemed to end, all the while gaining volume and strength. Even above the din Sam could now hear cries. Sarah turned the volume up on the TV. "Hear that wobbling sound? We're safe from it, but if you hear that live it goes straight to your intimate parts like some kind of nuclear-powered dildo. You don't even need anyone to touch you. Just look at poor Heather. I think this counts as cheating you know," she said with snide amusement. Heather had now been sandwiched. She was in a tight kiss with Siobhan while a mixed race woman with long curly hair had squeezed in behind her and begun to work her to orgasm, the outline of her fingers wriggling in Heather's underwear. The music soared to its arduous crescendo and the room filled with agonised shrieks. Heather was shaking in a way Sam could never recall seeing when they had made love. Any feelings of jealousy or hurt were seduced and mollified by arousal. Sarah checked her phone and cut the video. "Ah, it's time." She turned to Sam, addressing him matter-of-factly. "I think I need to explain to you dear Heather's feeling today." She almost looked sincere. "She wasn't drunk here. There will be no hangover. Do you know what it's like to fall in love?" Sam nodded. Deep down he was fighting the desire, and had resolved to end this madness and do everything he could to get away and wake Heather out of this spell. He was raging, but had learned that Sarah was in control and that he needed to bide his time. He told himself he had to get out. "Heather has fallen madly in love with her friend Siobhan. Both have no idea why, but that won't make it any less permanent. Your girlfriend loves someone else now. And in time they will join me, Jennifer and a growing number of women. See, we're building something." A Willing Subject Sarah got up, straightened out her dress and paced the room. Jennifer started to stroke Sam's neck with her fingertip. "Right now it's all a bit physical for them. Heather has just got back from today's meeting. Safe to say it wasn't exactly the audition she was expecting. She's been recruited as this day." "Your phone's going to ring, right about..." The coffee table buzzed. "Now." Sam reached over and picked up. Jennifer intervened and tapped the 'speaker' icon. It was Heather's voice, husky and trying to compose itself. "Sam, let me say what I've got to say..." He heard a deep sigh, reminiscent of when they made love. 'It can't be!' he thought. Jennifer and Sarah exchanged amused glances. "...We, uh, have to end it. I, I've met someone else." Sarah whispered in Jennifer's ear. "She's going down on her." Sarah's face lit up with surprise and pleasure. "...It's really special. I can't explain it, honey." There were soft gurgling sounds just audible through the phone. Heather's voice quivered. "I'm so sorry. You can hate me if you want. I can't do anything about how I feel right now." Sam knew exactly what she meant. He was desperate to tell her it wasn't real, and that they were caught up in something, but Sarah had all the angles covered. He would concede defeat in this battle. "OK." It was all Sam could say. Heather moaned and Sarah hung up. "Let's leave them to it shall we? Disciplin empowers women to the point where they fall in love with the feminine force that lives inside every one of them. Eventually men just fall by the wayside I'm afraid." "I'm thinking you're kinda shell-shocked...I reckon we should all clean up. A good shower will help." 'All?' Sam wondered internally. In the swampy heat of the room he was stumbling through a thick tangle of thoughts. To the girls it looked like he was falling into some kind of catatonic state. Sarah grabbed his arm. "Don't worry Sam - we've got a plan for you." She hauled him up. Jennifer propped him up while Sarah wriggled out of her dress, and then Jennifer peeled off her swimsuit. The bathroom had a huge shower that could have fitted five, let alone three. "Let's take your mind off it." Jennifer whispered as the hot water began to fall. Her skin glowed as she slid her hands over her breasts. Sarah lifted Sam's arm over her shoulder and lowered her mouth to his nipple. Sam had been unresponsive, cloaked in numbness, while internally he was mining a stark landscape for some kind of plan. Yet, when Sarah's tongue swept across his nipple pleasure came rushing to the surface. Jennifer caught his sigh with her mouth, her plump lips and slippery tongue assaulting him, wearing him down with arousal. Sarah looked up at him from his chest. "CLASP" It was the command that sent his passion into overdrive and wrenched him from the grip of reason. It jarred his body, and when he opened his eyes again Sarah was kissing his chest, as Jennifer probed his ear with her tongue in way that made him feel open and vulnerable. His hips were bucking and his groin was tightening with every lap and caress. In his duress, Sam had a vision of his arousal. He was climbing a hot slippery pink peak in his mind. When he felt a tongue or finger swipe across his body he would take another step towards the summit, which rose in front of a dusky rouge sky. And yet with every step the peak was more distant, revealing hidden heights to his desire. He clenched his eyes shut, overwhelmed, but still under the illusion that he had some control left. His body remained motionless and passive until he felt soft, cool skin pushing against both thighs. Beneath him were the white, heart-shaped contours of Jennifer's butt, climbing, making its slippery way towards his rigid cock. She had bent over, bringing her head lithely to her knees, as she continued to stretch her legs out. They extended and the valley between her cheeks made slick contact with the underside of Sam's cock, forcing it up to his belly. She then rocked on her tip-toes, grinding into Sam, who remained statuesque and absent, his mind climbing that pink mountain. Sarah brought one hand down his back and between dabbed kisses, began to whisper into his ear. "She's ready for you, Sam." "All you have to do is push." "You can have her." "Prove you're a man to me, Sam." "Yes Miss." Sam responded without even realising the deference he was showing. Jennifer's soft ass continued to slip up and down his cock, making his body shudder, but when her pussy came into contact with his shaft she would also pull away for a moment and lower herself before moving back in an another cycle A crazed desperation overcame him. He yearned to reach the peak and was ready to try anything to get there. He resolved, drunkenly, to do just what these women wanted him to do so they might leave him in peace. If he could just fuck her, that might prove that he's the man here. He'd be asserting his male dominance like some kind of beast, showing her who's really in charge. Jennifer's pussy had just rubbed against the slippery underside of his cock, and she had pulled away, ready to dip down and return to his upper thighs when Sam's hands seized her hips. He pulled her into position and with a brutal thrust, rammed his cock into her opening. Jennifer shrieked. All Sam wanted now from life was to come, and he used Jennifer's swollen pussy to get there as quickly as possible. Jennifer sensed his wild arousal and was sent tumbling towards orgasm. It took no more than a few seconds; he was so hard, his thrusts so rhythmic and his passion so bestial. Sam fired her into raptures, and when one orgasm subsided, new whimpers and screams echoed around the stately bathroom. Sam was wearing blinkers. Nothing mattered but his ascent to that distant summit. When Jennifer was sated she collapsed to the floor of the shower, and Sarah's slimmer body bent over to take her place. Sam could no longer hear her commands. He just knew that she wanted what he wanted - for his cock to pump in and out of her pussy, harder and faster until he could feel her slick juices easing his path up that slope. As he fucked Sarah she shouted something that took a few repetitions before he understood. "You can't come! You can't come until I tell you." It was a mantra that she recited with a voice buckling beneath her excitement. He felt her cunt tighten around his cock, building to a last orgasm that trailed a harrowing delay and arrived with a piercing shriek. She was finished, but Sam was not done. Joining Jennifer in a languid pile on the floor Sarah reminded Sam that one word now controlled his passion. "I won't say it. I'll probably never say it.", she told him with a smirk. Sam's instinct was to grab his cock, but he couldn't coordinate his hand to get himself off. Every frantic attempt met with amusement from the women beneath him. Panic gripped him, "you bitches!", but the women only laughed louder. The laughter poured into his mind, filling every sense until he could hear nothing, feel nothing and see only the pink, slippery peak that needed to be climbed. In the distance he could make out Sarah's tired voice, "Did we get that on tape?" 6 It was dark when Sam woke. He was dry, cloaked in warmth that made him wriggle his fingers and toes in comfort as he stretched. As consciousness approached he sensed his hardness, as well as something tight against his skin on his left wrist. He touched it and it felt rubbery. When he opened his eyes he saw a blue wristband with a small display and arcane numbers. He tried to get a finger underneath, but couldn't budge it. "There you are!" Sam was on the couch. "We wondered when you were going to wake up. You fucked yourself into a coma, Sam." Sarah said with a warm smile that didn't match her words. She noticed his confusion. "Oh, that's a little gift from us. See we can't keep you against your will, and you've got a life to get back to." "You, you...mean it?" Sam asked groggily. "Yes, of course. That's something to remember us by. It'll keep track of where you go, amongst other things." Sam automatically looked forward to cutting it off his wrist. "But be careful with it. Don't try do something silly like try to cut it off your wrist or you'll get a horrible electric shock. I don't know, it might be lethal." She was wearing a frown that didn't seem genuine. At that moment Sam didn't care. He wanted to flee and sprang up to get his clothes from the bedroom. Ideas of leaving the country or calling the police flashed into his head as he changed. First he needed to get away and organise his thoughts. "It's corny but true: 'If you love something set it free. If it comes back, it was, and will always be yours.'" "Ah, so sweet." Jennifer cooed from the other room, ever jovial. Sam made no eye contact with either woman as he left, repeatedly tapping the button for the lift and facing only the closed metallic doors. As they parted, Sarah told him, "Don't be a stranger. I know you won't." He didn't look up as the doors clicked shut. The lift descended and he danced impatiently, desperate to get past the concierge and out of the building. Finally he was out on the street in the cool evening air. He wanted to be nowhere else but the safety of his room. On the tube he rubbed the stubble on his chin and tousled his hair. He felt scarred, dirty and used. He kept his head down and counted down the stops. Once home he slipped silently into bed without eating, and he woke in the early morning just before the sun came up. He tried to make plans to avoid human contact for a few days, sealing himself off until graduation in a couple of weeks. Graduation, a landmark in a life that had only been interrupted by a day, but now felt as irrelevant as if it belonged to a different time in history. Sam phoned work to take the week off, and sat on his bed in a daze. The curtains were drawn and Heather's things were scattered here and there. He needed time to work out how to get her back. They had both been coerced into this - he simply had to find a way to get that message across to her and break the spell between her and Siobhan. He couldn't call her yet. He couldn't do anything yet but sit and think. The few people who saw Sam in those days before he disappeared worried he had either started taking hard drugs or lost his mind. There was a dimness to his complexion, behind which Sam was in deep concentration. The visions that had begun in the hotel became ever realer, as if they were being projected onto his sight, and the external world was just background. He wanted to go to the police, but worried about the wristband, realised how nuts his story might sound, how unreliable he would appear in his current state. He'd probably end up sectioned. He was constantly turned on, and it made him more withdrawn, but he didn't dare try to relieve it. Not yet; not until he was sure he could finish. He had to lay low and burrow down until he was sure Sarah's power had worn off. After a couple of days another problem began to take shape. It began with discomfort, and he would shift his legs and try to ignore it. But slowly the transformation became undeniable: His balls were growing, not just by the day but by the hour. He wondered if he had truly lost it, but his testicles felt heavy, and when he inspected his genitals it would be difficult to grasp them with his hand. When he wore trousers the bulge embarrassed him, but they continued to expand to become visible through his trousers. By Tuesday, three days after leaving the hotel, he had stopped going out. He sensed the wristband was responsible. This device made him feel like a prisoner on day release. When he tried to decipher the values on the display he found a connection between larger numbers and his own desire, which would flare up involuntarily throughout the day. They were seizures that would grip him, and make him feel like he was capable of anything. When he came to he would be racked with anxiety about what was happening. All he could ever recall was that slippery peak, Sarah and Jennifer. Barely discernible above the chaos an idea arose in his mind. The word that Sarah had programmed into him that would let him come - if he could just remember it maybe he could say it aloud and end this nightmare. He spent a day shouting random words in his room, yelling at his friends to go away when they knocked on his door. "I'm OK, ju- just exercising my voice. I'll be done soon." Soon he stopped sleeping at night. Sarah would be in the room with him, doing nothing more than watching him with those made-up eyes in that knowing way, plunging him deeper into a well of madness. In brief clear moments he tried to work out how to save himself. He thought he was going to die. Only one person could stop it. And when he thought of Sarah and how she had outfoxed and how she had used him, he felt like he could explode. But the sense of building pressure only ever intensified without relief. The build-up was spiritual as much physical; as if he was being persecuted by his arousal, hounded out of a normal life. He wished he could guess the word that would allow him to release. Only Sarah knew it. Only Sarah could save him. A Thursday morning at 3 a.m., five days after being set free, Sam finally caved. He had to go back to Sarah. When he finally admitted this fact the tension left his body. He booked a cab and slumped in the back like a cheerful drunk. London through his eyes was like oil on water, a cascade of light and colour, all dominated by an electric pink glow. Like a drone senses where it has to go, Sam looked out of the window and saw a beam of pink light rising to the sky from his destination. He could have got there on foot in his stupor. "Just follow the raunchy pink glow." he told the driver, drunk with joy. "Yeah, yeah mate. You're absolutely battered aren't you?" The cabbie wished him good luck with his hangover as he dropped him off and Sam, after a nod from the man behind the desk, ascended the tower to Sarah's suite. Looked like everybody knew he'd be back. And when the doors opened and the suite's hot and scented air hit him he collapsed. 7 Sam regained consciousness in what looked like a large laboratory, with white walls and bare lighting. He was reclining in something like a dentist's chair. He tried to move his limbs, but they were restrained and buckled down. To his left was a black globe that looked something like an out-sized helmet, and connected to that were lengths of shiny black tubing that ran to a large white unit with a touch-screen display. He was in deep trouble and he didn't care. "Goodness, they're like oranges." Sarah cackled from the right. She was talking about his genitals. She couldn't have been referring to anything else. Sam was naked and had undergone a change and blushed at the attention. "I bet you know what caused it.", she was twisting the blue wristband between her thumb and forefinger. "You were absorbing a new version of the Discip1in drug we've been developing. You're our guinea pig I'm afraid. See there's a lot that we don't know about male sexuality. What we are aware of is that it can be manipulated to bend men to our will. We've always known this, but now we want to perfect the process." She laid a smooth hand on Sam's stubbly cheek. "Now to do that we need to know what turns you on and why. But there's lots we can find out from your semen too. We're going to make you orgasm every few minutes - don't worry you can take it now - and we'll collect every drop you spurt." Her eyes widened when she said "spurt". She now had the aspect of a boardroom villain, all formal and cold. The old image of that coquettish girl who made passes at him at college could have been from another lifetime. "It was easy to get you to submit, but right now we've only got a cottage industry here. We want to move it into mass production. The goal is to get men under control so they stop killing everyone. It's the only hope for humanity. Men need to be under the loving heel of our boot, but it's only now that we're learning how to keep them there." She leaned across and pulled the sphere over Sam's head. With a mechanical whir and click it fastened onto something on the chair, leaving Sam blind and at Sarah's mercy. He could feel a single fingernail running along his chest. "Are you ready?" "Yes" "Yes what?" "Yes Miss" Something was passed over Sam's penis. It felt like a sleeve. He heard her nails clicking over the dimples on the tube. "Try to relax and let it happen. Otherwise it's going to be a lot worse. I'm off now, but we've got a couple of technicians who will be in charge for the next few weeks." "There's not much else to say, but welcome to your new life. This chair will be your home a long time. Get comfy." Sam's arms twitched against the restraints, as if toying with the idea of breaking free, but he had submitted long ago. The time to escape was the night he first entered the hotel. Because now he had no hope. "Are you ready? Let's crank this thing up." Sam heard what sounded like a vacuum, and in an instant felt the sleeve grip his cock. This noise was drowned out by music emanating from within the sphere, which gained depth and power. It sounded like the video of Heather, Siobhan and all those other women descending into an orgy. Slowly he could make out figures in the darkness, but couldn't tell if they were being wired into the helmet or were generated by his own mind. They felt like his fantasies piled on top of each other; being forced down to give head to a selfish former girlfriend; being fucked with a strapon by a lecturer he fancied; and Sarah, smug and dressed up, cooking up some other scheme; Jennifer's broad smile. She was mouthing the commands "Rock-Hard", "Glide" and "Clasp". Soon he was being bombarded by a melange of sights, sounds and smells, all generated by the contraption that had attached itself to him. He felt his ankles and wrists twisting and straining against the straps and his cock being pumped with a rhythm that tracked the cacophony filling the sphere. Within minutes it became too much. He was overwhelmed for so long that he lost track of who he was; his name, his former life, family, dreams and fears. He existed only to feel this. He rocketing up that slippery pink slope and the peak was finally in sight. He flew towards it, breathless, bold and ready. He saw Heather and Siobhan watching him as they kissed, Jennifer's curvy ass cajoling him to enter. And then, when he had been left lingering on the final climb for an eternity the word shuddered to his core. "R---" It warmed him inside like a hot drink, but the heat accelerated on its path and kept spreading. Sam's cry began deep within chest and tore through his larynx, but he couldn't hear it above the noise in the helmet. He continued to cry out as each contraction fired a viscous white jet of semen into the contraption on his cock to be stored and evaluated. He scrambled to the summit, looked around to survey the landscape, and saw he was at the foot of another peak, yet larger. He had no time to rest; he was already on his way up the next mountain, delirious and happy.