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Telos Ch. 01

By: The_Fractal_King



Grace awoke lying on a soft white bed in a soft white room. Everything was a uniform white. The walls, the shelves, the door, the dresser. Even the paintings hanging on the wall and the books on the shelves were blank white. Only the faint shadows created by the diffuse lighting give things shape. It was a pleasantly neutral temperature, just slightly warm enough to notice. When she glanced down the bed she found that she was naked. 

A clean shaven man in a nice suit was sitting by her feet.

"Am I dead?" asked Grace.

He shook his head. "No."

"Then why am I here?"

"You've been kidnapped," he explained mildly. "You'll be kept here until I'm satisfied with your training."

"My . . ." She shook her head to clear it to no effect but dizziness.

"Right you must be feeling a bit groggy and tired," said the man in the same neutral tone. He smiled politely. "Once that wear off and you can think you'll be much more upset about this. I would prefer you to be comfortable, though. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Hungry." Grace rubbed her face and drew herself away from him. "Food."

He nodded. "Of course."

The man opened the plain white door into a bright light and vanished. There was a second click as he locked it from the far side. He was gone for a long time, she thought, although, there was no way to measure time at all. The light never varied. She became increasingly aware of gnawing hunger in the belly and as the sedatives started to fade her agitation began to rise. Everything in the room was covered with fur or foam as if the designer were afraid she might harm herself. Most of the seemingly loose objects were screwed to what they sat on. Removing the books revealed them to be full of blank pages. After a while she found a camera watching her in one corner of the room.

"Pervert." The room deadened the sound of her voice.

In fact there was no sound at all in the room. The carpeting made footsteps silent. She tried screaming but stopped after a moment. Her rage sounded hollow without its echoes. When she spoke more softly the walls swallowed up the noise without acknowledgement. It made her feel impossibly small. After a time she stopped speaking altogether.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Blood rushed in her ears.

When the door was unlocked the sound made her jump. The door opened a moment later to let the man back in. He was holding a silver tray with a glass dish and glass utensils. Brightly colored slices of fruit filled the dish. He placed his tray on the dresser by the door.

She backed away from him.

"You asked for food," he said.

Grace glanced at the dish while trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

"It's not poisoned or drugged. You should be able to trust me or we'll never make any progress in training you. If I violate that trust you'll be recalcitrant and I would never want that." The man removed a pill from his pocket. "This is the only drug you'll ever be asked to take."

"What does it do?"

"It makes you happy. I call it Bliss. You won't be tricked into taking it, I swear." He replaced the pill and picked up the tray again. "Eat. Being hungry will only make you weak."

Grace took a step forward. Then another. She snatched the glass dish off the tray and sat down with it on the bed to eat. "Thanks."

The man nodded. "I saw you on the camera. Some people try to break things or scream until they run out of breath. You accepted your situation very quickly. That good. I'd like to reward good behavior. Is there anything you want besides food?"

Her mind raced through a dozen options, trying to guess how he would react. "Let me go."

He laughed as if she had made an inoffensive joke. "That can only happen when you're well trained." His expression became more serious. "You shouldn't waste your favors, Grace, I'll give you another chance for a reward. Is there anything you want besides food?"

"A book. Something to read."

The man visibly considered the request then nodded. "I can bring that." He collected the dish from her and left into the light with the silver tray, locking the door behind him.

The delay before he returned was longer this time, she thought, but it was still hard to tell. When she noticed herself waiting silently for him she climbed off the bed and started to pace. She shouted at the walls. It felt childish to misbehave for the sake of it but she kept it up anyway. He wanted to give her favors in order to manipulate her. She refused to give the man that control.

Over time her movement slowed and her voice lost its certainty. It occurred to her that misbehavior might be delaying his return. The room was mind numbing. Speaking to her captor was the only stimulation she had. It had only been hours, maybe, and he had made it clear he wanted to break her will but she was already looking forward to seeing him again.

When the door opened again she turned toward it eagerly then composed herself. The door opened only a crack and a glass bowl with a gray gruel in it was pushed in. It closed before she could make her way over. There was a click as the lock closed.

She ate sullenly.

Several more times the door opened to provide her with food and a small amount of warm water. The food didn't seem to satiate her and the water did little for her thirst but she accepted the brief distraction nonetheless.

She managed to sleep a few times on the soft white bed. It was comfortably cool. Each time when she awoke she felt clean, her hair was soft and her skin was free of grime, but she was no less tried. It was as if the bed restored her body while draining her mind. Or perhaps the man had a way to bathe her while she slept.

At length the door opened and the man returned with a silver tray that held a small book with a white cover. "I think you will enjoy this."

"How long has it been?"

"Since when?"

"Since . . ." She wasn't sure exactly. "Since you took me. People will be looking."

"It's been a long time. They haven't stopped looking yet." He handed her the book. "Do you remember who is looking for you?"

"My family."

"And their names?"

"Um . . . I don't . . ."

"What country are you from?"

"I'm . . . I don't remember."

He nodded. "Good," the word made her shudder, "that should ease the transition for you."

"What did you do to me?" Anger welled up in her stronger than her fear and exhaustion. "What did you do to me?" She knocked the book out of his hands and tried to grab him.

He caught her easily and locked her arms behind her back. As gentle as his hold was her struggles accomplished nothing. "Grace, calm down before you hurt yourself," there was real concern in his voice.

"Let go of me!" She stamped uselessly on his foot.

"I don't want to sedate you, Grace, but I will. Being defiant gets you nothing." He voice was soothing, almost paternal. "You're just upsetting yourself. I brought you a book. Sit down. Read it. Relax. I'll bring a bit of food soon if you're a good girl."

"What did you do to me? What the hell did you do to me?"

"What did I do?" With a few quick motions he had taken a seat on the bed and forced her to sit on his lap with her arms still pinned behind her. "I've given you good food. I found a book for you to read. I've washed you to make sure you're clean. Can you really object that I took away a few memories that would cause you pain?"

"Yes!"

"Okay then," he smiled sadly. "You need time alone. I understand that."

He left silently.

The lock clicked ever so softly and she was alone again.

Grace screamed at the walls until she was horse then pounded on the door until she was exhausted. The bed invited her to sleep and in a few minutes she was unconscious.

When she awoke the room was still empty and silent and soft and white. She was clean, though, even her rage hadn't made him abandon her completely. Grace shook the thought out of her head. He was just trying to control her. Being washed wasn't a favor. It was a manipulation. So was the mind numbingly boring room she was trapped in. The book was lying on the floor where she had thrown it. Her hunger was back. She picked up the little white book and started to read.

The story was written in absurdly simple language in large bold letters, as if it had been meant for children. The main character was a young girl about her own age named Grace. Grace was a servant in a great house. Nothing was ever said about what the house looked like, in fact not a single object was described anywhere in the story. Detail was reserved for thoughts and events. Grace loved to serve. She was eager and happy when her master called on her. She did simple things. Set the table. Eagerly. Press the clothing. Happily. Dust the shelves. Eagerly. Make the beds. Happily.

The tone remained mild and the words remained simple even as the content darkened. Grace gave up her body to her owner. Eagerly. Happily. She took pills that made her mind go blank. Eagerly. Happily. Every page described Grace debasing herself a bit more to please her master. Eagerly. Happily.

Grace dropped the book in disgust.

But there was nothing else in the room. She tried screaming again but it seemed worse than simply hollow. The girl in the book never screamed and never went hungry. Grace was always happy. And eager.

She slept and ate many times. It was much longer alone than before, she was certain. As she ate and slept her hunger and her exhaustion worsened. The man continued to bathe her while she slept.

Her sleep was plagued with images of Grace.

Occasionally she read the book again to distract herself. She tried to read only the beginning where Grace was happy and eager to be a maid but it became as mind numbing as the empty room. Only the passages of eroticism and debasement held enough detail to reread. She began to treasure the parts that held at least held no humiliation for the girl in the book. Grace lying on a soft bed while her master made love to her. Grace taking a pleasant drug that left her bubbly and happy. Grace in the living room masturbating to memories of her master. Grace in the bathroom being bathed by her master.

Being washed. His hands roamed over her body. He pushed his fingers inside her sex, pumping waves of pleasure through her until she moaned in spite of herself. He left there too quickly. Her master's fingers brushed her ears with a gentle touch. He traced the strange curves inside and rubbed the sensitive skin behind the ear. Grace on the bed found herself trying to mimic the touch that Grace felt in the bath. To wet her hair he pushed her head below the water just a bit too long so that even eager happy Grace in the bath began to squirm. Grace closed her eyes in the warm water, on the soft bed, to wait for him to pull her back up into the air.

A kiss fell on her lips and she awoke.

Her master sitting on her bed beside her with a pleasant expression on his face. "The room needs to be cleaned today and you deserve a bath. You seem to be enjoying the book so much that I thought I'd give you a choice today." He took the colorful pill from in his jacket pocket. "Normally I have ways of keeping you asleep while I work but they're keeping you from getting a good rest. Take this instead."

"Bliss," she recalled.

"It is an accurate name, I promise. The sedatives have been keeping you from sleeping properly while I clean you. The Bliss will make you feel better."

She watched him suspiciously.

"Have I ever lied to you or hurt you? Trust me. This is better."

Grace accepted the pill nervously. When her exhausted mind tried to protest the memory of the drug in the book drowned it out. She swallowed it whole while her master gave her an approving smile.

A million different kinds of pleasure came rushing through her body. It built from the smallest things into overwhelming ecstasy

Warmth. The feeling of flower petals on her skin. New love. A sort of dreamy comfort that came to her just before sleep. The taste of sugar. Joy. A lover's caress. A cleansing shower. Orgasm. Safety. Fulfillment. The scent of morning coffee. Euphoria.

Bliss.

Just before the drug wiped out her conscious mind a single thought occurred to her. She wasn't the girl in the book. The man was her captor not her master.

And then pleasurable haze of the drug completely dominated her thoughts. The heavenly sensation lasted for what felt like hours. If anything occurred around her it was meaningless. Everything beyond her skin was an ethereal realm, a hypothetical. Only the Bliss was real.

She awoke better rested than she could remember in her life, just as her master had promised.

The sheets were folded and the book had been placed down by her feet. Grace read it from the beginning all the way through. The world where Grace lived to serve, eagerly and happily, felt wonderful but by the time she reached the end she was disgusted with herself for liking it.

Memories of the Bliss competed in her mind with a vague notion of clarity. Images of the eager, happy Grace warred with thoughts of independence. It was becoming hard to remember which beliefs were hers and which her captor had planted in her head. All she was sure of was that some of the thoughts were bad. In the blank white room it was hard to think.

Food came through the door occasionally. She drifted back to the book from time to time when boredom overwhelmed her. Once in a while she made it to the end. Other times anxiety came unbidden and forced her to put it down.

The more she tried to think the more upset she became.

Sleep brought her peace but while she was awake it was impossible to keep her mind empty of the unpleasant questions. There was no one to ask about them. Alone in the empty room she had to live either inside her head or inside the book. More and more she chose the book.

Every time the door opened she looked toward it expectantly. Her master would talk to her if he came in. That was all she wanted. Just to talk to him. He might bring the pills as well but her mind told her not to ask for them if he came. Only greedy girls wanted Bliss. Grace never asked for the drug. The good Grace in the book was never demanding. She was eager and happy. Master gave her Bliss when she earned it.

Without the Bliss, though, she found that sleep gave her no real rest. A week, a month, an hour, before that had simply felt inevitable. Now she remembered the Bliss. She wanted proper sleep.

Eventually the man returned with the silver tray and the glassware. The brightly colored fruit was set in the dish rather than the gruel she had subsisted on. "How are you today?"

She shrugged groggily.

He offered her the small glass of water. It was cool to the touch, unlike the tepid water that came through the door without her master's face. She drank it quickly. "Thank you."

"Of course. How are you today?"

"I don't know."

"I want you to be happy," He said. "Tell me what will make you happy. What do you want?"

Grace rubbed her arms. "It's all wrong when I think. Everything makes me confused."

"That's okay." He brushed her cheek. "We can make that better."

"But I'm not sure if I want to." The words almost made her cry. "I'm afraid of being better. There's a voice that says I should tell you no."

"The voice wants you to be sad and confused?"

"Maybe. It's too hard to think. It says I shouldn't be better. It says you'll hurt me."

"You must hear how silly that sounds, Grace. When have I hurt you?" His fingers brushed the skin behind her ear and she pressed toward him in response. "How could you not want to be better?"

She hesitated. "I want it again."

"Tell me."

"The . . . the pill. The drug." She squirmed in his arms. "Bliss. Please I want it."

He caught her ear between his fingers. A slight pressure forced her to turn to look at him. "Tell me why."

"It makes me stop thinking."

Her captor shook his head. "Right now I need you to keep doing that. Tell me what you're thinking."

"No . . . no . . . its wrong. The drug. Please."

"Don't be so greedy." He pushed a thumb against his lips and she latched on reflexively. Her master smiled at her. "See what I mean? Greedy. Let go now."

Her mouth released his thumb with a pop.

"But you are obedient." He patted her head. "That's a good girl, Grace. If you tell me what I want to know I'll think about giving you Bliss."

The struggle behind her eyes lasted less than second before he saw her resistance crumble in face of the reward. "Okay."

"Good. Tell me the first thing that comes to mind."

"I . . ." She almost choked on the words. "I don't want to be a slave. I want to be free."

"And you know that's wrong, don't you?"

She nodded.

"So fight it, Grace." He stroked her hair. "You know you can be good. It will make you so happy."

"But it's hard. . ."

"I need your help to break you," he cooed. "You're so strong and you fight so hard." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "Be strong for me. I want you to use all that willpower to fight those bad thoughts. Do it for me."

Graced struggled with the errant thought until she was panting and breathless. It was too firmly embedded for her to dislodge. As tired as she was all she could do was quiet it by thinking about good things. He waited for her to relax before speaking again.

"That was a very good effort."

She smiled weakly.

"Did you win?"

She made a pained expression and shook her head. "I tried. I promise I did."

"I'll give you motivation then. Even better than the Bliss." He repositioned himself so he was straddling her waist. His hands slid over her body from her hip, along her belly, over her breasts, and came to rest lightly on her throat. "The Greeks called it telos. It means purpose but more than that. Essential purpose. Your telos is what you exist to do. Do you know how few people have that?"

Grace shook her head, unable to move the words past his hands.

"That was a rhetorical question, my silly little slave. No one can know for sure why they exist." He leaned forward so their lips were almost touching. "Except for you. Once I break you I'll give your life absolute clarity of meaning. The contentment that comes from knowing your place will bind you like nothing else. You'll be able to crush the voices that tell you to be free. No one will be able to threatened you with freedom because you'll know how to stop them."

She shuddered beneath him.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"You're doing something to me . . . to my head."

"I'm helping you to fix it. We're going to work together and get rid of those bad thoughts."

"But why don't I want it?"

"Because you're so strong." He moved his hands to the back of her head, never breaking contact with her skin, and twined his fingers gently in her hair. "I had to break you up into little pieces." He pulled her head back to expose her neck. "Some of those pieces still want to fight being a slave. They think independence will make you happy." He kissed her just above the collar bone. "We need to protect you from them. There are good parts inside of you, obedient parts."

"Oh . . ." The response was so airy it was hardly a word.

He kissed his way softly up her neck then crushed his lips against hers and pulled away so he could look into her eyes. "Decide who you want to be." When she tried to answer he placed a finger on her lips. "I want to give you time to think. This is your choice and it can't be rushed."

With that he left her in the white room, alone with herself. There was no sound of the lock clicking after it closed.

Grace stared at the door in shock.

She touched the knob and found she could turn it. She could leave if she wanted to. Grace would never open the door without permission, though, she would wait by the door and wait for master to return so she could greet him. Eagerly. Happily.


Telos Ch. 01



There was a voice that told her there was freedom on the other side of the door. It told her that all her master wanted was for her to obey him. He wouldn't stop her if she left. If she defied him she'd be free even if he captured her again. His control would always be in question. She knew he wouldn't stop her from leaving anymore. The control was what he cared about.

Freedom was a step away.

And it terrified her.

Inside room she was a slave. When master returned he would make her just like Grace in the book. She would be happy. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to have a purpose. Master had offered her meaning and he had always been truthful. He cared for her. Being his happy, eager slave, sounded wonderful.

Outside the door there was nothing. She had no idea who she'd be.

She wouldn't be Grace. Happy. Eager. Obedient.

She wouldn't be a good girl if she was free but the voice told her that freedom was a good thing.

The conflict drained all the strength from her. She slumped on the floor in front of the door. 

Freedom or happiness. Defiance or eagerness. Independence or obedience. Struggle or purpose. Her old self, with real thoughts and real choices, was waiting on the other side of the door alongside cold and uncertainty and pain. Inside her master would slowly turn her into happy eager little Grace until there was nothing left of who she had been but he would do it with warmth and clarity and pleasure.

Grace didn't know how long she sat in front of the door in silence trying to put together a single thought. No food or water came through. After a long while the stress and hunger became too much. Her head swam, the blank white room blurred in front of her eyes, and she collapsed, unconscious, on the carpet.

The next thing she knew a hand was brushing the hair out of her face. Drool had stained the carpet by her face.

"Wake up, Grace."

She shook herself awake and looked up at her master blearily.

"Did you decide?" he asked.

She stared at him blankly, still trying to recover from her sleepy state.

Her master was patient. "Were you waiting for me like a good slave or were you running away?"

Grace collected herself as best she was able and arranged herself so that she was kneeling demurely in front of him, eyes downcast and hands folded on the floor. "I was being good."

"You just want the drug again," he accused with a harshness she'd never heard before.

"No."

"You're a greedy little liar."

She eyes snapped up at him in terror. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Hush," he said touching her check, "its okay to want the Bliss. Just be truthful. Now, tell me if you got rid of any of those bad thoughts you were having yesterday."

When Grace tried to think she found the voices muted and distant. A few were missing altogether. "I did! I made myself stop thinking about freedom. You said that . . ."

His smiled was encouraging. "Go on."

"You said I would have a purpose but I don't know what it is yet." She cringed as he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. Their eyes locked together. "Please tell me. I want to fight the voices. They sound silly when you talk to me about them but when I'm alone they're so clever. I want to tell them why they're wrong but I don't know yet. Please."

"You must be so frightened," he said comfortingly.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"It's very simple, my darling little slave." Warmth spread through her body. "A slave exists to serve and to obey. You are eager to serve, to put others before yourself. You are happy to obey, to listen to my voice and let it replace your thoughts. Right and wrong is simple. My orders are truth. Things may disagree with my orders but you'll never have to fear that because you will know, deep inside, that those things are wrong."

She nodded as much as she could. "But it's hard for me to think sometimes. What if I get confused?"

A look of concern darkened his face. "Your life is my responsibility. If anything at all upsets you tell me so I can make it better." His hand left her chin and brushed across her brow. His next words were barely a whisper. "Breaking your mind has left it so vulnerable. I need to careful with it."

"What was that, master?"

"Not for you." Her master kissed her lightly. When he drew back she tried to keep their lips together but fell against his chest instead. He laughed and patted her head. "Just reminding myself."

"I thought you were sad."

"Not sad, no." He placed a hand on her belly. "You must be hungry."

She nodded.

"It's time for you to get some real food in you so you can build your strength up." He kissed her again and pushed her onto the carpet. The fabric of his pants brushed along the inside of her legs as he forced her knees apart. "There is still so much work left to do."

-----

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome.  



Telos Ch. 02



Grace's dreams were filled with images of her master. In her dreams he kept her in the white room and they made love until he was satisfied and she was needy. He held tightly her in his arms and kissed her and told her how he loved her. He was inside her. His fingers in her mind. He words in her ears.

And every time he left her wanting more.

He had a thousand different methods to play with her body and a thousand more to toy with her mind and all of them left her panting in desperation. Even in her dreams her master paused before the moment of her climax to whisper in her ear and leave fluttering kisses on her lips. She relaxed under his influence. Then it began again. She was happy, eager, and obedient. He kept her frustrated nonetheless.

The book, her precious book with simple words and simple stories, put images in her mind of Grace in rapture. She woke many days with the book in one hand and her sex in the other. When she did she rolled over to her master to beg him as best she could. So he whispered in her ear and kissed her and left her lying on the bed an hour later her body soaked with sweat and her brain soaked with hormones and her climax still out of reach.

Sometimes she touched herself but guilt quickly put a stop to it every time. Her master had made her what she was. It didn't seem right to let anyone else use her body.

The frustration seeped into everything she did until she stopped remembering what it was like to be anything but starved for sex. She tried to tease him back, entice him into sex. She made herself up as pretty as she could with the supplies he gave her. She watched videos to learn how to swing her hips when she walked. She practiced making herself as appealing as possible.

It never worked. When they were alone he teased her the same as always. When he was busy he kissed her and told her she was a good girl then sent her on her way. If she tried to press the point to complain the colorful little pill, Bliss, broke her resolve in an instant.

Certain days were worse than others. She lost control of herself from time to time but master always brought her back under his control when her own discipline failed. She felt selfish and foolish when it was done. In the moment, though, self indulgence was almost as addictive as the Bliss. It blinded her to the world in the same way.

Bubbly pleasure buoyed her higher and higher. Her mind floated on a soft cloud.

"Grace." The word intruded from the world outside her imagination. "Grace?" She tried to ignore it but it came more forcefully. "Grace." It was a voice she knew.

She blinked her eyes back into focus. "Master I . . ."

"We've spoken about this," he said.

Grace curled herself up on the couch, clutching her book close to her chest. The living room of master's house had once been nearly as empty as the white room but he'd given her an allowance to add decorations to it from a catalog. She especially liked the big fluffy couch that she had nearly fallen asleep in.

"Give me the book."

She tried to be angry, tried to resist the order, but her treasured possession slipped from her fingers as easily as if she were giving it away. The unconscious obedience sent a pleasurable tingle through her body. The part of her that objected to being a slave was weaker than ever. She made herself relax as she imagined what the girl in the book would have done. "Thank you, master."

His smile was warm and his voice soft as his arms wrapped around her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm . . ." It was hard make her mind work when he was around. She could only hold one thing in her head at a time. Simple thoughts kept her from being confused. The terrible distraction of her master's presence made her concentration slip away. "When I . . . um . . ."

"Go on."

The warmth of his breath on her skin made her toes curl. "You're always teasing me," she managed. Her eyes fell on the book. "I want you to use me."

He laugh was low and predatory. "You think I don't use you?"

"Not for sex!" she objected with a surge of confidence.

He drew away from her so she could see his eyes. "You are so greedy already, my little slave girl. If I gave you everything you wanted I'd have no time for anything else. There is a lot of work to be done. I'm making the whole world happy."

She'd seen the things he worked on at his desk and overheard pieces of phone calls. Hiring lobbyists. Shipping chemicals. Buying elections. She'd gathered a vague notion of what he did. Occasionally she awoke from the Bliss to find herself in an office building somewhere she'd never been before. She started to love traveling, he always gave her a bit more Bliss before they left.

"In the book," she tried to find where he had put it, "Grace and master always . . ."

"She's imaginary," said her master. "No one is perfect."

"So if I were better you'd . . ."

Her master placed a finger on her lips to quiet her. "There are lots important jobs for you other than being used for sex. I need you to keep away from distractions," he said, playing his fingers delicately along the top of her left ear.

"But . . ."

"Hush, I know you're confused. I want to show you a new project of mine." He took a colorful pill out from his pocket. "Open up."

She opened her mouth acceptingly.

He placed the pill on her tongue and gently closed her mouth. "Swallow."

The drug rushed her body with impossible speed, washing away her rational mind. She remembered what it felt like when she first took it. Food. Rest. Orgasm. Safety. Love. It was different now, her master had displaced everything else that existed in the world of the Bliss. His touch. His smile. His eyes. His voice. The pleasure that came from serving him. The erotic thrill of his control over her. The feeling of being held in his arms.

The Bliss left her senseless to the world outside but the soft pink haze that claimed her mind made it hard to care.

-)(-

Amy awoke in a white room totally naked and chained to a bed. The white was overwhelming. Every surface from the mirror of the vanity to the light fixtures was blanketed with the same color. The ceiling was white. The walls were white. The posts of the bed were white. The door was white. The shelves and the books were white. Diffuse illumination eliminated any shadows that might have given texture to the room. Her head swam.

She opened her eyes again to find a worried looking girl, also naked, sitting on the bed by her feet.

"Master?" The younger woman hugged her legs. "Master, please, this room scares me. Why am I here?"

"Where are we?" asked Amy.

"The white room. It's for training. I only had to be in here when I was learning. I used to be confused all the time and master made me better." The girl shook her head. "I don't want to be in here again."

"What's your name?"

"Grace."

"I'm Amy." She strained against the restraints, white enameled chains with white fur-lined cuffs. There was something she was trying to remember. She'd been kidnapped, of course, but she was having trouble thinking why. The people she was investigating had to be behind what had happened. Her memory was fragmented, though. She wasn't sure who she had been investigating or why her situation didn't seem surprising. "Can you get me out of these?" she asked the other woman.

Grace shook her head. "Master wouldn't like it."

"Who is your master?" asked Amy, with a sinking feeling.

The young woman frowned as if in confusion. "He's my master. He wants you for some reason and he put me back in here." Grace squeezed herself into an even tighter ball. "I don't like you."

There was a click as the lock on the door was turned then another click as the knob turned and the door opened to let through a clean shaven man in a nice suit. He was handsome but unplacable.

"You . . ." Jagged fragments of memory came rushing back into Amy's mind. She winced. "I know you . . ."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you remember my name?"

"I was investigating you for . . . for things exactly like this." She thrashed uselessly against the chains that held her to the bed. "Let me out of here!"

The man's brow knitted thoughtfully but he turned away from her after a second. He helped Grace off the bed like a prince giving his hand to a lady then bent her backward with a forceful kiss. "I'm sorry I frightened you, little slave girl. There was work to do while I waited for Amy to wake up. This room is for safe-keeping. I didn't mean to worry you." He kept talking in vague comforting terms until Grace was limp in his arms, hypnotized, almost sleeping.

"Now then," said the man. "How are feeling Amy?"

She blinked a few times. "I'm . . ."

"You said you remembered me. That's very impressive even if you don't recall my name. We'll fix it later, I promise. It is tricky to keep a memory intact while removing the details."

There was something impossibly calming about the sound of his voice. Even as he described how he planned to tear the memories out of her head it was a struggle to hold on to the idea that she wanted to keep them. She clung to her anger instead. "Fuck you! Whoever you are, whatever you're doing, you can go straight to hell."

Grace stirred in her trance.

"Stop screaming." His tone was neutral even as the sound of his voice filled up the room. "Grace can't handle much stress and she's already upset." He cooed sweetly in the girl's ear for a moment before turning back to Amy. "Tell me how much you remember."

"I'm not telling you anything."

He placed Grace gently on the bed. "Let me go through it with you then. I'll see what I can see. You're a detective for the city. You found out about my colleagues and I. You tracked us as far as the port in London. That was when you told your superiors. The word you used was 'cabal' wasn't it? That should be where it ends. You were turned in by your superiors and we picked you up the next day."

"That's a lie. They would never let you people keep . . ." Her memory hit a wall. "They would never . . . they couldn't . . . Damn it! Fuck you, you lying rapist bastard."

"I never lie," said the man moving closer. "It would be horrible to have you build your new life on something so fragile as a lie. One day it might be pulled away and left to fall apart. I want you to be as happy as Grace is." His lips nearly brushed her own. "Forever."

"You're a monster."

"I make people happy. Do you really object to that?" He lifted up Grace's head. The younger woman shook herself awake. "Are you happy, my little slave?"

She nodded. "Yes, master. I've never been happier."

Amy couldn't help herself. "Only because he's broken your mind."

Grace was more resilient than before. There was a kind of bubbly energy in her that made the accusation bounce off harmlessly. "Master put me back together after her broke me to make sure I'd always be happy. I don't understand why you're so angry now. I think I used to be angry but it's hard since master fixed me."

The man smiled. "Thank you, Grace."

"What the hell did you do to her?" objected Amy.

"Much the same thing I'll be doing to you. The details aren't important." He let Grace slip out of his grasp. "This is a process we're going to go through together. I want you to be a part of it. I'm going to break you down and turn you into a little sex doll but that shouldn't mean you have no say in how it turns out."

"You can go straight to hell."

"First choice." He placed a hand softly on her throat. "Since your voice is so important to you I was thinking of making it so only pretty sounds come out of your mouth. The other possibility is that I leave you with your voice and make these," he let his hands drift to her breasts, "a bit more impressive. Which would you prefer?"

"Neither."

He smiled. "Perhaps you have three choices then. Ask for either option and I'll give it to you. Say anything else and I'll do both. We should both be clear. When you say 'neither' it means 'both' and I'm happy to take you apart more quickly if you like."

"I'm going to kill you!"

The man didn't seem to notice the threat. "Ask me nicely. You have sixty seconds."

Her mind raced. She couldn't give up her voice to him. As long as she could speak she could call for help or argue with him or try to make Grace help her to escape. New breasts would be humiliating but at least they wouldn't be dehumanizing.

"Time's up."

"The breasts," Amy said quickly. "I . . . please improve my breasts."

The man gave an acquiescent nod. "Very good. You get one more choice today. In order to make you a happy slave I'll have to makes some changes in your head. I promise to keep your identity intact, I do have a sense of decorum, but that leaves me plenty to room to work. Would you like me to add something or take something away?"

"That's not a choice."

He waited.

"Fine . . . um . . ." Her eyes flicked back and forth as she tried to imagine what kind of thoughts he could insert into her head. A whole series of new memories would make escape impossible. "Take something."

"Politely," insisted the man.

"Please," she felt herself deflate, "take something from my mind."

The man nodded. "Good choice." He turned back to the simple smiling woman next to him. "Grace, I want you to stay here with Amy for a while." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "You'll be spending a lot of time together in the future. You should get to know each other."

"Yes, master." She tried for a second kiss but he tilted his head back. Grace pouted up at him but the man didn't relent.

He left silently and there was a click as he locked the door from the other side.

"Why don't you want to be happy?" asked Grace when she and Amy were alone.

The question put Amy slightly off balance. She'd been expected almost anything from the girl except a conversation. "Everyone wants to be happy."

Grace climbed up onto the bed. "I don't think they do." She frowned. "You think I'm stupid but I'm not I'm just simple and a little bit lazy." She squeezed her legs together and purred. "When I do think I can figure things out. Master thinks you're prettier than me. That's why you're going to be a sex doll."

On the bed Amy shuddered.

Grace crawled over to Amy so that she was straddling the bound woman's waist. "Master keeps me safe from unhappy thoughts. He can make you safe and happy too. I'm not . . . I don't like girls like that . . . we can be sisters." She lay down next to Amy and stared at her. "I'll help keep you safe."

"Then you should let me go."

"You'd only make yourself upset or throw things or yell!" Grace shook her head. "I would have tried that once."

"Grace, listen to me. I need to get out of here."

The girl nodded. "And I'm going to help."

-)(-

"Master?" asked Grace.

He looked down at her.

"I heard you say you were . . ." She struggled to put her thoughts in order. She didn't feel happy or eager at all. In the books Grace never had to worry about master not wanting her. But then the other Grace was never angry at her master, either. She knew the emotion was there even though it quickly slipped away every time and it was making her feel sick. "I don't like her."

He laughed.

Grace stared at the floor, humiliated.

"You're just jealous of her," he said.

"No!" It felt like a lie. "Maybe."

He laughed again.

"Why?"

An emotion crossed her master's face that she'd rarely seen before and was gone before Grace could identify it. He pulled her into his lap. "Do you remember those things Amy said about me?" He caressed her face lightly. "I don't think I'm a monster. I like to see people happy and you . . . I like to see you desperate. Eager. Needy." A smile played at the edges of his mouth. "I'm not sure why.

She tried to respond but no words came.

"You want your book back, don't you?"

Grace nodded.

Her produced a pair of thin books with blank white covers and pressed them into her hands. "It's a series," he explained, "but I didn't want to take the first one away from you. No more jealousy now, be a happy girl for me. Go read about Grace. The second book will make things much clearer for you."

It did.

Her reading room was on the second floor looking out over the lawn through a wide window. A long driveway split the scene in half. She settled into her chair with the simple world of the book where Grace always did as she was told and never had unpleasant thoughts. There were other people in the second book. Other girls and other men. Grace was happy to meet them because she was a slave girl and making them happy was her job. Like the first book it started off with simple things and gradually moved to more intimate services.

The stories enraptured her. Each chapter was the same. Grace was given an order. She obeyed eagerly and happily. Set the table for the guests. Ask the guests if they want anything. Make the bed for the guests. Lie in bed with the guests.

The unpleasant voices tried to make her stop reading as the stories became more sexual but Grace had learned to control them. She read her favorite chapters over and over again until the obedient repetition had driven them away completely. It made her head feel pleasantly light to do it, as though angry little pieces of her brain were floating away to leave her with nothing but happy thoughts.

She was so absorbed in learning that she almost yelled at master when he made her close the book for the night. As she sat on his lap he whispered in her ear that she was a wonderful slave and slipped Bliss between her lips. Euphoria claimed her thoughts and soon mixed with all the happy things she had learned.

-)(-

"Welcome back, Amy."

The lights were bright enough to hurt her eyes. Her first words refused to come. "How long has it been?"

"Two days."

"That's impossible."

The man smiled. "My colleagues are very quick," he said with no further explanation.

"Where's your . . ." A choking sound replaced the last word.

"What were you going to say?" He asked, face darkening with anger. "My whore?" He blinked and the sudden emotion was gone. "It took a while to decide what to take but I think I made the right choice. No more bad language. Grace will be here later. I've had her learning how to take care of you but first you should learn about your new body."

He placed a hand on her breast and Amy moaned at the caress. She had never been so sensitive in her life. The touch sent a wave of pleasure through her that left her head swimming and her brain soaked in an endorphin cocktail. He did no more than that, however.

Amy restrained the urge to ask for more and drew away from him. There was no clink of metal on metal. The chains were gone She quickly covered her breasts but the moment her arms touched the supple flesh of her breasts another moan escaped her lips. She squeezed tighter until a voice in the back of her mind reminded her of her situation and she forced herself to stop. Her new breasts were surprisingly tasteful for a product of her captor's deranged mind, just barely smaller than C-cup on her frame. They looked almost real. She couldn't help her fingers from drifting back toward them curiously.

"I'm glad you like them," said the man.

A hurricane of curses caught in her throat, choking off her air supply. Amy twitched. "You can't expect me to thank you."

"Not yet," he said with a smile. He took a seat on the bed. "We should have fixed your memories while the other work was being done. You still remember me, I'm sure. What else?"

"You're a monster and so are those people you work with." She frowned. "It's hard to remember what you did. I was a . . . I researched you. I found things you were doing." She shook her head, trying to pull up more memories to prove he didn't have the power over her he claimed to. "There was . . . more that I knew. Other people. Other things. Not just taking people. I was a . . . I worked as a . . . something."




Telos Ch. 02



Where she had expected satisfaction his eyes showed a sort of glittering respect. "You are a remarkable woman, Amy. Most people's minds would fracture under that kind of strain. I think we'll keep your memories where they are for now."

"I'll get out of here."

"Yes, once you've been better trained." He stood up again. "Time for another choice."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I refuse to do this again. If you want to alter my body and rewire my brain I obviously can't stop you but I won't be a part of these mind games. I'm not letting you control me."

The man said nothing more. He left through the white door into the light and locked it from the other side.

Amy swallowed hard. The sink beneath the vanity could probably provide her with water but there was no food in the room. She was entirely at his mercy if she wanted to survive. She tried pounding on the room but to no effect. Every hard surface was covered with heavy white foam. The sink seemed to be made entirely of it. When she kicked the walls her foot bounced off.

She tried to distract herself by figuring out where she was to no avail. The blank room and her lack of memories made it impossible to even guess. No sound. No color. No change. After an hour time began to blur together. She fell asleep on the bed to dreams of her captor and his slave. When she awoke her hands were squeezing her breasts. She gave in to the pleasure her new body offered and masturbated herself to a shuddering, and slightly shameful, orgasm.

Other than exploring her body the room gave her few other options to distract herself from the situation. The days were indistinguishable from the nights. Sometimes when she slept she awoke to find a glass dish with gray substance in it. The first time she ignored it but it was gone when she woke and it was a long time before any more was offered to her. When it was offered the next time she was starving and ate it gratefully.

Sleep offered her a few comforts. While she slept the room didn't bear down on her mind and her hunger was kept at bay. It seemed that someone bathed her in her sleep, as well. Guiltily, she found that sleeping gave her an excuse to masturbate. After a time she noticed that taking pleasure in her body was the trigger for food being brought to her. She tried to defy the conditioning but hunger and craving dragged her fingers back between her legs all too quickly.

She lost found of how many times she slept, how many times she ate, and how many times she brought herself to climax. It felt like months.

One day she awoke to find the man sitting on the bed. "Good morning, Amy." He almost sounded concerned. "Are you ready to cooperate?"

She nodded numbly.

"That's good. I have on offer for you. This room can get to people when they're left in it alone, drive them crazy. Would you like if I sent Grace in to be your companion once in a while?"

Amy nodded again.

"In exchange you have to keep working with me. No more tantrums. When I give you a choice about your future you will be grateful for it. Answer me."

"I'm not sure . . ."

"This is your only chance to accept."

The past months of isolation loomed in her memory. If he left her again she'd loose her mind before she had another chance to escape. Grace wasn't an ideal companion but she was better than nothing. "Yes, I'll play your stupid games just . . . I can't be alone again . . . not in here."

"Of course," he said as if it were perfect natural. "Two choices again. There are a lot of ways for you to be a little sex doll. Should I improve your lips or your sex?"

"Lips," she blurted out without even thinking. What he'd done to her breasts had almost broken her on its own. She could hardly imagine what an 'improved' pussy would do to her. And then very suddenly she couldn't imagine anything else. "I want you to improve my lips," she whispered.

"I heard you the first time." He smiled slightly. "Second choice. Grace is an . . . addict of a pill we make called Bliss. It keeps her happy when I'm busy and makes her mind more pliable. Do you want me to leave a pill with you every day, for her or for you, or do you want me to keep taking pieces of your mind?"

Amy swallowed nervously. That wasn't a choice at all, though she worried how he would react if she pointed that out. If the Bliss was what made Grace the bubbly idiot she was Amy wanted no part of it. The last time she had let him take part of her mind he'd done no harm at all. "Keep the drug."

He gave her a serious look.

"I mean I want you to take part of my mind."

"With pleasure."

"Wait . . . I have a question."

He watched her silently.

"Is this what you did to her? To Grace? Is this how she broke?"

"No, Grace was very pliable from the start. I was nearly done fixing her by the time she first woke up. All she needed was to be told what to do. She was a test case. You are a far more resilient woman, a better proof of concept." He opened the door to let Grace in then vanished into the light on the other side and locked it behind him.

The young woman held a small white book close to her chest like a shield. She hovered by the door. "Hi, Amy, I'm really sorry I was so jealous of you before. Master gave me a new book that helped me understand."

"Its fine, Grace, forget about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Grace visibly relaxed. "Thank you. I have a new book. It's about Grace, like me, a friend who needs help getting training." She looked up at Amy with perfectly lucid eyes. "I read it over and over. Grace only needs to be happy and eager and," she blushed, "help the other girl and then the other girl gets all soft and happy and eager, too. I can show you what I learned."

Amy backed her way down the bed as Grace approached. The girl was the enemy, an obedient, if cheerful, slave. She tried to think if the man had promised Grace wouldn't do anything. All she needed was a single word to cling to. Safety. There was nothing. Grace kept moving toward her. Amy felt herself start to panic. "Grace, stop."

The smiling little slave pushed her head between Amy's legs pushed them gently apart. The soft skin of her cheek slid along the inside of Amy's leg.

"Grace."

She continued.

Amy bumped against the headboard. There was nowhere else to go. "Wait."

Graced tongue flicked out and touched the pleasurable button of her clit. "You'll like this. Master said your new breasts will make it even better. Touch them."

The motion of touching her breasts had become so natural that Amy did it before she could even think to object. She sighed and relaxed. Her body slid down the bed toward Grace.

In an instant the girl had seized the opportunity. Her tongue probed deeper. Her hands touched Amy just above her hips. Any notion that they would simply be sisters was gone. Grace was tirelessly eager. She brought a long delayed climax crashing through Amy's body then stopped. Amy felt her body complain at the loss of Grace's careful attentions. Her hips bucked upward as if they might bring back the source of so much pleasure.

Grace crawled up to face Amy, exploring every inch of the distance with her hands. She kissed her when she reached the top. "That's what it's like to be a slave." She kissed Amy again. "You make other people happy and that makes you happy." Another kiss. "Master calls it telos, the reason I exist, the reason you exist. It's comforting and easy. Let me show you. Once you understand you can be happy."

Amy put her hands on the girl's head to stop another kiss. "Enough, Grace. I don't need to be fixed."

The bubbly slave stared at her with an expectant grin. "Are you ready to be good?"

"Maybe later." She caught Grace's hands. The motion felt practiced, like something she'd done dozens of times before. "I can't be alone in here but I won't let you do things to me. Master . . . that man . . . he does enough. I just need a companion."

They spoke for hours, Amy trying to interrogate her new friend and Grace trying to explain the joy of being kept as a slave. The occasional innocent touch made Amy close her eyes and fight the urge to press herself against the younger girl. Eventually Grace began to fall asleep. She curled up against Amy and rubbed her head against her. For several minutes Amy considered getting rid of her but she couldn't bear the thought of falling asleep alone with the white room swallowing her up.

Wavering images invaded her sleeping mind. One moment it was Grace kissing her the next it was Amy, a different Amy, kissing Grace.

After a short while she drifted off to dreams of intimate touches.

-----

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome.



Telos Ch. 03



Amy knew exactly where she was when she awoke. The white room was the only world she'd ever known. There were things beyond it that she'd known once but she couldn't seem to call any of them to mind. She wondered how long it had been. There was no way to keep track of time in the white room and her master usually took her to be altered while she slept. Sometimes it was minutes between closing her eyes and opening them. Sometimes it was days.

A soft voice was whispering in her ear, just barely loud enough to hear. "Happy girl. Good girl. Eager girl. Obedient girl." The mantra repeated. "Happy girl. Good girl. Eager girl. Obedient girl." 

She pushed Grace off the white bed onto the thick white carpet on the floor. "I am not you! I'm not . . . I'm not his slave!"

Grace pulled herself back up onto the bed groggily and made a pouting expression.

"You were trying to brainwash me," accused Amy. It sounded stupid. Of course Grace was trying to brainwash her. That was the point.

"I wasn't!" protested Grace. "I was just talking in my sleep."

Amy couldn't stop herself. "Shut up! Shut up! I'm not you. I'm not going to turn into you. Get out! Leave me alone!"

There was a click behind the blank white door that made both of them look toward it. A clean shaven man in an expensive suit, their captor, stepped through, framed momentarily by the light behind him. He placed a silver tray with a glass dish on the dressed. "No yelling," he said. "Either of you."

"Sorry," said Grace.

"Sorry," said Amy. She blinked. "Why did I . . ."

"Come here, slave girl." The man picked up a slice of reddish-yellow fruit from the glass dish. He pressed it against Grace's lips when she reached him and she gulped it down. The second offered bite was accepted in the same way. He rubbed her head. "You are a very good girl." A wide smile spread across his face. It was an expression Amy had never seen on him before, not one of diplomatic smiles he often wore or even a predatory grin. Just a happy smile. "I should have told you Amy would yell at you when you woke up. She can't help it right now." As he fed her the last few bites an almost imperceptible tension went out of Grace's body. A tiny tremor ceased. Her breathing evened out.

"Why do you do that?" asked Amy. "You take care of her."

"She's my responsibility," said the man.

"You could beat her senseless and she'd love you just as much."

He regarded her evenly. "Do you make a habit of violence for the sake of violence?"

Amy straightened her back like a lazy student under a schoolmaster's gaze. "You could do nothing."

"That would be . . . cruel."

Amy frowned at him. The man barely seemed human standing there in shadowless white room in his business suit. She could just about see Grace's mind wrapped around his fingers like so many gossamer threads. "You love her." The words escaped before she could think better of them.

The man's eyes flickered away from hers and settled on Grace. He touched her face delicately. "I want people to be happy."

"Whether they want it or not?"

"Yes." He placed the glass dish on the dresser and held up the mirror smooth tray. "I find that people appreciate the guidance. No one ever says happiness makes them unhappy. Come here, take a look at yourself."

Amy made her way over to him and examined her reflection. As weary as she felt she looked pretty. Her skin was clear. Her hair had been washed, combed, and trimmed. Her new lips were supple and unless she made an effort they stayed slightly parted. She touched them unconsciously. Immediately a thousand different images of how best to use them flashed into her mind. She took a step back in surprise and the movement caused a jiggle in the wonderful breasts she'd been given a lifetime ago. 

It was awful. She kept expecting him to make her a trashy slut but every change was tasteful, almost elegant, as if it had been plucked from her own idealized self image. With clothes on she'd look more pretty than sexy. The change was insidious. If he had been giving her grotesquely whorish features it would have been easy to hate him. As it was she saw her mouth curve up into an appreciative smile. In the back of her mind a voice was telling her that there was something terribly wrong with her to be thinking that way. It insisted that he was manipulating her mind the same way he'd done to Grace. She forced it to shut up. She liked being pretty. It was better than it sickening fear that came when she was alone in the room.

"There's more we could do, you know," said the man, putting down the tray. He brushed a hand across her cheek. "Skin. Hair. Nails. Everything can be adjusted or improved." His hand drifted lower. "Everything."

Amy was frozen in place.

Her captor's fingers paused at her belly then rose back up. They reached her lips and two of them pushed easily though. "We can do all kinds of things you'll enjoy. You could make a beautiful lady."

As his fingers fucked her mouth Amy felt as unladylike as she could imagine. He brought his other hand to her breasts and she sighed with pleasure. She wanted to let go but the ever present complaint from her old self returned louder than before. "N . . ."

"What was that?" His fingers slipped from her mouth.

"No . . ." She stumbled away from him and fell onto the soft white carpet. "What did . . . what . . . You did something to me. Why . . ."

"I took away your inhibitions," he explained. "Your first response always comes through." He put a hand on the small of her back and drew her closer. "Making yourself unhappy will be hard with all those pleasant thoughts in your head. Those effortful responses will be smothered by all the soft happy thoughts you have."

"No . . . this isn't . . . not me . . ."

"They're your thoughts," insisted the man. "They're your emotions. All I did was take away some interference from your conscious mind, a bit of self deception. With a enough concentration you can hold onto those angry thoughts you say you want to have." He turned her head up so that their eyes met. "Think. Tell me why this is wrong."

She shuddered. "It's brainwashing. It's . . . you're controlling me. You . . . I . . . you want me to . . . to be a slave. I was . . . kidnapped." The words came easier the longer she struggled to use them. "You're a monster. You just want a . . . just want a toy. I should be free."

"That's right, Amy, that's what you believe."

She became very aware of his arms around her. 

"Say it again. Tell me this is wrong."

"It's wrong," she said, the fire of her independence restored. "You can't do this."

"You've very strong."

She suppressed the involuntary warmth of the mindless pleasure that came from staring up at her captor's face. "This won't work. I refuse to break."

"Kiss me."

She pushed herself up to reach his mouth. When their lips met she felt her twist under the sudden whiplash of emotion. All the defiance that she had made herself dredge up was destroyed by a single act of unthinking obedience. Her beliefs and her convictions were all extinguished by a wave of joyful submission. He held her there for a while, her mind suspended helplessly in an aetherial realm of pleasure.

When he released her she dropped to the floor.

Her body was heavy. The room was suddenly dark and cold. There was a terrible void in her stomach. She could hear her own voice mumbling just above a whisper.

"Speak up," the man said quietly.

She started to look up at him but when their eyes met she collapsed a little more and her gaze dropped submissively to the floor. "Master."

His touch spread a warm comfort thought her body. "I want you to remember this. In a few moments you'll convince yourself this was a terrible moment but remember it anyway. The pleasure of letting yourself go. There is nothing to fear about being a slave. It is happiness."

Amy pushed herself against him. "Please, I want to stay this way."

"No you don't, not yet."

"You could do things to my head."

He shook his head. "Forcing it would make you someone you're not. When the change comes it needs to be from you otherwise . . . I tried to do too much too quickly with Grace. I'm not sure I can . . . never mind the details."

Amy lay peacefully in her master's lap for several minutes while he let her head clear. Eventually she took a deep breath and marshaled what strength she had to move away. She made it back to the bed under her own power. Amy took a deep breath and looked up at her master. "I am not going to break."

The man nodded in agreement. "Only fragile things break. You will bend."

Even in the warmth of the room Amy shivered.

The man stepped through the door and there was a click as he locked it from the other side.

Amy quickly found herself losing track of time again. Alone in the room she stared at the door waiting for it to open. Grace would be coming. He'd promised she would come. Boredom eventually drove her to sleep. It was hours or days later when she woke up. Grace was lying next to her, also sleep. She nudged her friend. "Grace. Grace."

The girl blinked at her lazily. "Morning." She pushed a little closer. "Are you good yet?"

"No," said Amy, the word almost made her sad. When Grace reached out to touch her Amy caught her by the wrist then pinned her to the bed so she straddled the younger slave. The action was nearly a reflex. "We only need to talk."

"Okay," said Grace. "Master thinks you're very strong."

"That's good."

"He's worried that you'll hurt yourself." Grace's left leg rose up and her toes delicately teased Amy's back. "That would be bad. If you can be good like me you'll be safe and happy and eager and obedient all the time. It's wonderful."

Amy felt her grip loosen and immediately Grace was on her. Warm hands on her skin. Tongue exploring her sex. Amy let it go on for a long time. The constant struggle was exhausting and Grace was a harmless presence. It would be easy to remove her if it went too far. An hour later she lay in the bed, burnt out from a half dozen orgasms. Her flushed skin and the thin film of sweat made the room feel cold. She pulled Grace closer, for warmth if nothing else. 

It went on like that for an endless time. She lived in the room alone with nothing but her thoughts and her wandering fingers until Grace or her master returned. The world revolved around their presence or absence. When they were in the room they consumed the whole of her attention. When they were gone she tried to imagine what would come next.

Grace's attentions weren't aggressive but they were persistent and when the girl saw an opening she took it. Every time Amy found her more difficult to dislodge. She could feel herself slipping away. The sessions with Grace became an exquisite torment. The longer she was alone the more desperate she was to see Grace again but the moment Grace appeared she was terrified the girl's skillful lips would finally manage to break her will.

As much as she tried to resist it the constant alternation between sex and isolation began to soften her mind. Every once in a while her master, she caught herself thinking of him that way all too often, would come in. He gave her choices from time to time. No matter what she did every decision she made warped her mind and body slightly more. He seemed to enjoy making her show off the improvements he made and she couldn't help but enjoy her new body.

Her skin was first. Smooth and flawless, impossibly sensitive, and Grace quickly learned exactly where to touch her and Amy took it happily. Her hair came later. A longer style in her natural color sounded harmless compared to an improvement to her sex. When he showed it to her in a mirror it made her smile eagerly. One day she agreed to let him mold her body and she woke the next day as trim and fit she had ever imagined. When she humiliations of her outer body were too much for her he offered to change something else. She wondered what had been done until he offered her food and she found the taste infinitely improved. He pushed a finger between her lips and her tongue responded obediently to the wonderful intrusion.

Happily. Eagerly. Obediently.

She was turning into Grace. 

It was difficult to be sure what her master did to her mind each time unless he was kind enough to tell her. She was oversexed, she knew that for sure, and it was hard to concentrate on certain things. She struggled to remember but it was always easier and more pleasant to lie back and bring herself to climax. She realized she had begun to crave the respite from her thoughts that Grace and her master offered. Alone in the white room with only bland food to eat and tepid water to drink she started to fear she was going crazy. Grace brought her comfort. Master brought her certainty.

She was turning into Grace and it had almost stopped bothering her.

-)(-

Grace looked at the white door. It seemed so ordinary from the outside, just like any of the others of dozens of doors in her master's house. He hadn't given her the key, of course, so she waited for him to arrive. While she waited she tried to think.

Her new friend, Amy, always seemed so angry. It had been months since they'd first met according to the calendar in her reading room. There was snow on the ground outside as immaculately blank and white as the white room Amy was in. Master had told her not to worry about it so she didn't and the passage of time slipped out of her mind the moment her attention went elsewhere. But whenever she was standing in front of the door she tried to understand why Amy didn't want to be a slave even after so much time. Sometimes she asked her about it but the explanations made Grace's head spin.

She was happy with her life and Amy wasn't, that was all that mattered to her. It was pleasant and simple to be happy and eager and obedient. She told that to Amy every day. All that master wanted was for Amy to be happy but the older girl always seemed angry or hostile or upset. It was different every time Grace entered the white room. Fortunately it always ended the same way with a contented grin on Amy's face as she fell asleep. The older girl was getting quieter in her objections. Where there had been anger Grace had begun to hear uncertainty. Teaching her to be happy was making progress, however slow.

When she had her hands and her tongue and her lips on Amy the young woman did seem very certain about what she wanted. More. More. More. Exactly the kind of greedy need that master scolded Grace for when she begged him for things. Grace was eager to help her slave sister. Happy to help.

And soon Amy would be happy and eager, too. 

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

The words sloshed about in her head like miniature hormonal tides. She had to take a deep breath to keep from falling over.

A moment later Grace saw her master appear from around the corner. He said nothing as he let her into the room with a little glass dish of fruit, she knew what to do. The lock clicked open. His fingers lingered on her back as he left then the lock clicked closed on the other side.

Grace slipped softly across the room to Amy's sleeping form. She ran her fingers over the older girl's skin as she lay down beside her. "Amy," she whispered.

Her slave sister didn't stir. 

"Amy."

Amy rolled over and stared at Grace. Her face was beautifully proportioned and colored as if with subtle make-up, its imperfections smoothed away. A gift from master, Grace was sure. Under the mask Amy looked hollow. "Grace . . ." The rest of the thought faded away as a breath.

"I brought food," said Grace. She offered a slice of the reddish-yellow fruit. "Eat. I was always hungry in here."

The moment the fruit touched the young woman's tongue she sighed in pleasure and Grace followed it with a kiss. She could taste the sweet juices in her mouth. Amy responded with a kiss of her own. When Grace squeezed her breasts Amy's body stretched like a bow, toes curling in ecstasy. 

"You're so much better now, Amy. You have simple happy thoughts like me."

"No . . ."

"It won't be long now." She kissed Amy. "You'll be happy." She kissed her again. "Forever." She kissed her on the lips. "And ever." The neck. "And ever." The belly. "And ever."

-)(-

"Amy."

"Yes, master." She pumped her fingers in her sex. "Yes."

The man, her master, her owner, her captor, caught her hand by the wrist. "I have something much better for you." He dragged her hand up her belly, over breasts, and let her dewy fingers dangle in her mouth. "I'm going to take your body today and then I'm going to give you back your mind."

Amy's eyes opened. "Master . . ."

"Hush."

Her master treated her body nothing like the way Grace did. The girl encouraged further and further with each touch so that it almost felt as though every action was her own idea. Master made love to her quite gently but his touch was firm and controlling. When she was eager he forced her to wait. When she wanted to hold back he pushed though her resistance as though it were nothing. 

Her lips parted. Her legs parted. Her thoughts drifted out of focus. Her breath came short.

He kissed her. He caressed her. He whispered to her. He teased her. He made her whimper and beg.

Amy went limp when he finally eased himself inside of her. He moved her slowly so that, hypersexed as she was, release was a long time coming. She tried to speak only to find that the words collapsed on her lips. She mumbled out partly formed thoughts she couldn't remember.

When they were done her head was swimming and she fell against him more out of weakness than desire. "I feel . . . um . . . mmm . . ." She hummed a tuneless song.

"That's good, you need a soft mind for what comes next. No resistance or you'll hurt yourself." He touched the back of her neck. "This will be painful, and I'm sorry for that, but when it's done you'll feel much better."

The gentle enveloping whiteness of the room exploded into a blinding onslaught of searing white light that tore into her eyes and skull. It subsided after a few minutes then collapsed into darkness. She regained consciousness slowly. "Oh my god. What did you do to me?"

"I put your mind back the way it was before."

She rested her head on his chest. "Why . . . I was so happy . . . why . . ."

"To make sure that I could," he said mildly. "I tried with Grace. I tried for months." His voice turned sad. "I think she was too fragile or perhaps my early methods were too blunt. You have been much more successful."

Amy got her breathing back under control as her memories tricked back in. "Why did you take us?"

"Otherwise you would have been killed for what you knew. This is a better use of your life." He placed a hand on her head and gently forced her to look at him. "Now you need to make one last decision with all your faculties intact. Freedom is just outside that door. I'd have to take away a few memories, of course, but you'd be able to live out your life."

She stared at him.

He stayed silent.

Amy drew herself away from him until she was sitting at the footboard of the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. "I don't want to choose. I can't."

"Of course you can."

She tried to convince herself to leave but all of the objections felt stale. She tried to imagine ways in which freedom was better than the safety of her master's control but all the things she could remember were cold and harsh. Some ember of independence, rekindled by the return of her memories, kept her where she was. If she tried she was sure the dying flame could be brought back to life to keep her warm out in the world.

But she didn't want to live like that.

Amy felt herself crush the last tiny flicker of resistance in her mind and everything went dark. Her eyes opened again in blankness of the room. Happy. Comfortable. Warm. Obedient. Safe. Eager. She felt weightless and free.




Telos Ch. 03



Master smiled at her patiently.

"I want to stay," she whimpered.

He cupped her chin and kissed her. "Don't be sad, Amy. You've given yourself over to me. In return I will make content. I will make you happy. There is no reason for anything but happiness anymore. I have a new world to show you."

"Master . . ."

"Hush now."

His words seemed to hold less power over her than they had before. "Master, why did you need to do this?"

He caressed her hair. "I needed practice to be sure I could make these dramatic changes to a person without them ending up like Grace. These are not my usual methods but I needed . . ."

"Slaves?"

Master chuckled. "You say that as if there is something less than noble about serving. Now, hush like I told you. There's a lot of work to do."

-)(-

Grace stirred from her first dreamless sleep in a long time to find her master lying next to her with a look of concern on his face. She kissed him and he smiled.

"We're going on a trip," he said.

She opened her mouth.

"No Bliss this time I'd like you to be more . . . lucid." Clothes were waiting for her, a flatteringly cut blazer and a simple black skirt. When she was dressed he led her down from the bedroom to the loop of the driveway near the front door where a car was waiting.

The drive was a short one but the sights became a colorful blur to her eyes. Amy told her about it all the time when she came back from working but Grace always found the world larger than she could really comprehend. She could still piece it together from the pieces she did understand. The snow was off the ground and it smelled like flowers and grass. Spring was beginning. Buildings grew taller by the minute. By the time the car stopped in front of an elegant marble faced building somewhere in the city she was dizzy from confusion.

Master kept her close to his side as they entered a crowd of well dressed people. He shook hands strategically as he walked. A few times he paused for brief conversations with people Grace recognized from previous trips master had taken her on. They didn't seem to recognize her. Here and there were men she knew she'd never met before but their voices made her anxious. She pulled closer to master and kept her eyes downcast.

He watched the entryway carefully. After about an hour a woman in glasses appeared. "She's late."

"Who is that?" asked Grace.

"Doctor Laura Silva, from the water purification department. You met her once a long time ago. She's trying to make the world a better place." Master scratched her head protectively. "She's the reason I met you."

Grace smiled.

"You were much cleverer back then and she told you things that let you figure out a great deal that my colleagues would prefer no one know. They had certain plans for you but I convinced them I could make better use of a pretty girl." He smiled down at her and she giggled. "I think I was right even if it wasn't what they expected."

"Are you going to make her like me? Like with Amy?"

"No, not like you." He guided her around a table. "Remaking a person is tricky, there are things that cannot be undone once they have been done. I learned a lot from you and Amy. I need a . . . a different kind of thing from her."

"Oh . . ." Grace stared at the woman in fascination.

Master patted her on the shoulder. "Wait here a moment. Don't wander off." He threaded his way through the crowd a few steps and Grace strained to hear him over the noise. "Doctor Silva!"

She turned toward him. "I'm not sure we've met."

"I'm from the Regulatory Commission on Drinking Water Standards." He took a little step to the left as one of the other partygoers loudly popped open a bottle of champagne. "They're saying up at the capitol that a number of deliveries to your plants that failed to go through. I was told all the paperwork was in order."

"That sort of thing is out of my hands," she said. "All I can tell you is that if it shows up and it's the wrong stuff I don't take it. We've gotten contaminated chemicals before. It's a disaster."

He nodded. "You think we've been cutting corners, doctor?"

"If you send me chlorine dioxide solution with point three parts per million unspecified additives it doesn't go in the water no matter what the driver says about papers." The woman shrugged. "You can tell that to your suppliers . . . uh . . . you never mentioned your name."

"Didn't I?" He handed her a business card. "I'm sorry I have a busy schedule. Have a nice night, ma'am."

Master made back through the crowd to Grace. "Enjoying the party, dear?"

She nodded. The party was amazing even if it was hard to keep her focus. She recognized some important people from TV although their names escaped her. A few of the women looked as bubbly and overwhelmed as she did. They stayed close to their masters. As Grace leaned against her own she saw a tear in the side of his suit jacket. "Master," Grace poked at his side, "did I not take care of your clothes?"

He glanced down. "That happened while I was talking to Doctor Silva." Master scanned the crowd for a moment then touched Grace at the waist and guided her to reception desk. "Excuse me," he said to the man at the desk, "I'm from the sheriff's office." He produced a little badge from one pocket. "This is very important. I need you to send someone to find Laura Silva and tell her that she's needed out in the parking lot."

"What should I say is . . ."

"Just tell her a sheriff's officer would like to talk to her," master said quietly. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"Master," Graced said as they left the building, "I'm very confused."

"That's okay." He kissed her gently. "We're almost done."

-----

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome.



Telos Ch. 04



Laura woke up to the sound of knocking at her door. She rubbed her face and glanced at the clock. It was missing. In fact her entire office was missing. Everything around her was white, like a sketch of a room that had not been filled in. Her glasses were sitting on a white nightstand by the white bed. She put them on as she stood up and found the room an absolute blur as if the prescription were wrong.

The knocking came again.

"Um . . ." She looked around as she put the glasses back on the nightstand. "Come in?"

The lock clicked on the other side of the door and a moment later a police officer stepped through the door.

Or perhaps not.

The young woman was dressed in the blue and black uniform but the fit was off, her chest strained against the material so hard it threatened to burst open. Cops on duty weren't usually allowed to wear pink lipstick either and they didn't tend to keep their lips parted so carefully. As she closed the door behind her Laura thought she seemed more like a porn director's imagined version of a policewoman than the real thing. When she turned back, however, her eyes held the same lucid intelligence as any of the state inspectors Laura had ever met.

"Master apologizes for the delay," said the young woman. "He will be here as soon as he is done with his meetings. They came up very suddenly."

Laura was sure she knew the woman but it was hard to place her. "Detective Haas?" Laura reached up to adjust her glasses before remembered they were gone. "You look different. Very different."

The woman started to frown then her face brightened. "I'm glad you remember me, call me Amy."

Laura took a seat on the bed. She'd met the detective a year before. "The last time I saw you I think you said you were looking for a missing reporter who'd spoken to me. She was talking about stuff in the water supply and conspiracies and . . ."

Amy nodded. "I . . . um . . . they caught me. Master made me tell him about you. He was very impressed."

Laura looked warily around the room. The detective was between her and the only exit. The white room was made of nothing but soft materials. There were no weapons. She kept talking. "So they kidnapped me."

"Not exactly, no. Please, you don't need to be frightened." Amy folded her hands demurely. "Other people in your position took bribes when they were offered and looked the other way when the others put Bliss in the water supply." She shook her head. "You're a lot like master, ma'am, you want the people you're responsible for to be happy and safe."

"And so you kidnapped me."

"No, ma'am, please let . . ."

Laura rose from the bed. "What did you do to me?"

"Master could explain better," said Amy shrinking back.

"Tell me!" An aggressive rage boiled up inside of Laura like she had never experienced before. The room shook. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she advanced on the detective. "Why am I here?"

"I . . ."

"Tell me!"

Amy's mouth moved wordlessly and her eyes fluttered wildly. A moment later she collapsed on the floor.

All the anger flooded out of Laura. "Amy?" She rushed to the young woman's side.

The detective stirred. "Sorry ma'am . . . I'm bit . . ." She took a ragged breath. "I didn't know what to. . . you said to . . . I'm sorry . . . please . . . I'm sorry . . ." The color had gone out of her skin. Her arms trembled when they tried to hold her weight but she kept straining to raise herself. "Please . . . I'm . . . please . . ."

"Lie back," Laura said pushing her into place. "Calm down."

Amy responded instantly.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know, ma'am." She closed her eyes. "I was so scared that . . ." Her breathing began to quicken again.

"Quiet. Relax." Laura checked Amy's pulse and temperature. She checked that the woman's eyes could move and focus properly. Her breathing was fine as well so long as she wasn't speaking. There was nothing physically wrong with her, not a stroke or an aneurysm. It was more like massive stress. "Stay where you are." She heard Amy murmur in assent as she went to grab a pillow for her head. "I need you to stay still. Does that door open?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"My name is Laura. You can call me Laura."

Amy's brow furrowed again. "I'm not . . ."

"Okay, never mind that for now. Do whatever makes you comfortable."

"Thank you," said Amy. A tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. Color slowly returned to the detective's cheeks over the next few minutes. "You didn't have to stay." Her lips parted and she looked up at Laura with sleepy eyes. There was a momentary struggle behind the detective's eyes before she began rubbed herself through the fabric of her pants. "If there's anything you want master said . . ."

Laura started to shake her head in polite refusal but something stopped her. Something had to have been done to her to make her so compliant and so hypersexual. She had no intention of taking advantage of the vulnerable woman lying beneath her. 

Yet Laura couldn't help wanting to touch the vulnerable girl.

When she placed a protective hand on Amy's cheek it was as though her hand passed through the skin and flesh and bone to something underneath. She pulled away. She repeated the movement and dragged her hand up along Amy's face. The material was like a tangle of aetherial threads. Beneath the girl's brow it was a complex mass of knots and loops. She traced along one of them and Amy moaned. Laura stopped and tried a different thread. It made Amy fingers tense. Each thread was a different sensation or emotion. The convolutions became images and the knots held memories.

The whole of her mind was tangled up in the skein of threads.

"It is unique isn't it, Doctor Silva?"

Laura jerked away in surprise.

A clean shaven man in an expensive suit was standing in the doorway. She'd met him before a few times, he worked for the government or some powerful regulatory organization. Actually, he'd never specified, which seemed strange. He continued talking without waiting for a response. "Working with it safely takes time."

"What is it?"

He raised his eyebrows.

Laura stood up as a few strange flickers of awareness appeared in her mind. "You're the one who did this to her. You used . . ." She looked at her hands then back at him. "You did what I was doing."

"No, that only helped the process along. Real change came from her."

"So you broke down her will in order to . . ." She moved herself to separate the man from Amy. "I'm not sure I appreciate the distinction."

The man nodded. "That is exactly why you're here." He shifted his attention to the detective. His gaze over swept her body in concern. His eyes softened. "Come over here, Amy, you're okay."

She rose elegantly from the floor. Laura reached out to stop her but Amy slipped past her to go stand at the man's side. Amy's eyes lingered on Laura for a second then turned to the floor as she rested her head against the man. "I was trying to be good, master."

He stroked her hair. "I know you were. Go find Grace, I think she's reading." If Amy had any response he cut it off with a quick kiss to her lips.

Amy left with a polite nod.

"I guess I'll ask you then," said Laura. "What the hell is going on here?" She surprised herself with the question. Alone in a room with some kind of monster she felt like she was invulnerable. "Why am I here?"

The man smiled. "You are here because we both want to make the world a better place and because you would be dead if you were not here." He produced a small needle from a pocket. "A week ago this was to have been used to kill you during a gala. They thought it would get you out of the way."

"So you saved me in order to get a new slave."

The man shook his head. "Free will is disruptive and . . . unpleasant. The others refuse to protect people from themselves and Amy tells me people will fight against this no matter how much better it is. I wish to understand."

"You want to make better slaves."

"Precisely."

Laura glanced at the door. "Will I end up like her? Like Amy and the other one, Grace, you must have her."

"No, you will be unhappy. Amy and Grace have had their minds are softened in order to make them compliant. All the difficult decisions are gone. Life is easier for them. They'll live longer. They'll be happier. They'll spend no effort causing harm to themselves or anyone else."

"Freedom is supposed to be moral not easy."

He considered the statement. "I find it to be neither."

Laura stared at the man. "I still don't understand why I'm here."

The man nodded. "You have shown integrity and a desire to help the world so I felt you were a good choice for this." He put the needle away. "I've given you abilities similar to my own. Knowledge. Empathy. Influence. Now that you are in my position I want to know what you will do for the world."

-)(-

Amy leaned her elbows on the kitchen table and watched Grace's bottom wriggle around as she tried to cook breakfast naked. "You're making a terrible mess."

The younger woman turned around, covered in a fine layer of powdered sugar. She licked her fingers clean innocently. "But it will taste so good when it's done!" She looked back at the bowl. "I forget exactly what it was when I started. Master will be happy as long as it's nice."

"And the new woman. She likes your cooking." Both of them were spending time in the white room with the woman and master always made them bring food. Most of the time was spent talking. 

Although nothing in the world seemed able to bother Grace, Amy still found the new woman terrifying, just looking at her made Amy feel like she was about to be eaten. Master had offered her a few vague explanations but little more. Whenever she pressed for more he distracted her with a few well place touches that left her begging for his lips on hers. 

It was the woman's influence over her that worried Amy the most. Her voice made her jump to obey. Only master did that to her and she trusted him. This new woman might do anything to her.

Grace went back to stirring the pot. "Cookies!"

"What?"

"I was making cookies."

"For breakfast?"

"Yep."

Amy rolled her eyes as Graced started to pour out the sugar laden batter onto a sheet. She retrieved a few fruits from the refrigerator and sliced them up while the girl struggled with the oven. By the time she was done Grace had set the oven to bake. Master was trying to teach Grace to concentrate so distracting her was usually forbidden, however preparing breakfast seemed to be done and Grace didn't need her mind for anything. She caught her sister slave by the wrist and pulled her toward the counter.

It was always a competition. Amy was stronger and her mind was sharper but her libido made her vulnerable to Grace's manipulations. Every time Amy came with a plan. There was nothing more humiliating than being bent to Grace's bubbly will. Happy. Eager. Obedient. All Amy had to do was keep control of herself long enough to made Grace bend and submit. A few minutes. Nothing more.

She kept Grace's wrist in a vice like grip as she kissed her.

"Amy . . ."

"You're done now," she said, planting a kiss on Grace's neck, "so you're all mine." She turned Grace around and bent her over the counter so her breasts pressed against the sugar coated surface. Amy brought her lips to her ear. "I want you. Just once, you're going to be all mine."

Grace squirmed. "Okay . . ." She rubbed her breasts on the counter excitedly. "Mmm . . . I can be all yours."

Amy pulled her away from the counter and pushed her back against the wall. Her fingers found Grace's sex with practiced ease while one arm kept her pinned. She was sure Grace was as horny as she was, maybe more with all the time Grace spent denied of sex, and the distraction would give her an opening. Sugar spread over her when she rubbed herself against the other slave. She brushed her lips against Grace's. She pulled away and licked the sugar off her lips.

It was a distracting mistake. The taste overwhelmed her momentarily and she lost her hold on Grace. In a fraction of a second the younger girl was on the offensive. One hand slid down Amy's belly. "Not this time," said Amy, regaining a bit of sense. She pulled the hand away then did the same with the other. "You're mine."

"Okay . . ." Grace leaned back against the wall.

Amy forced herself closer. She kissed Grace on the lips and her tongue licked a bit of sugar. She went back for another. And another. Her slave sister tasted so good. She found herself sinking down. In the back of her mind she was aware of Grace's knee massaging her sex, driving her desire higher. She could still regain control of things. One more kiss would break Grace's hold over her. She kissed her collarbone. One more.

Amy flicked her tongue over Grace's nipples. "Wait . . . Grace . . ." It tasted so good, though. She went back for more as Grace's leg pressed perfectly against her clit. "Grace . . . stop . . ." She started rocking herself back and forth for the stimulation. "No . . ." Her lips brushed against Grace's sugar coated breasts again.

Her slave sister giggled down at her. "I think I win."

"No, Grace . . ." She felt Grace's fingers slither down her belly and push inside of her. Their lips crushed together once more. Her head went fuzzy. She felt dizzy, like she was hung upside down. Her back arched. Her lips opened in ecstasy.

"I like it when I win!" said Grace. She giggled again like the bubbly idiot she was and massaged Amy's breasts.

Amy went limp at the touch. She was the perfect little sex doll her master had made her. Even Grace had too much self control for her to overcome. It was almost comforting to be controlled so easily. The struggle was over. She could be happy, eager, and obedient without the slightest worry. The rest of her thoughts went away quickly as Grace's eager fingers explored her body. A familiar pink haze of pleasure smothered her mind. Obedience made her happy and bubbly, just like Grace was. 

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

She moved toward Grace to kiss her back.

"Girls!"

Grace released her instantly and Amy tumbled to the floor. Amy collected herself as best she could. When she looked up Master was standing in the doorway, glowering at them.

Amy suddenly felt very small and very foolish. "I'm sorry."

He looked sharply at each of them. "Shower, separately, then come back down to the white room. I will bring breakfast in to our guest."

Amy kept the shower ice cold while she washed herself to keep from exciting herself too much. Even with her mind mostly intact the improvements to her body meant that almost everything aroused her in one way or another. The cold droplets marked searing paths as they trickled down her skin in the humid air of the bathroom. When the towel's caress moved over her sex the sensation brought her to her knees. She couldn't stop herself from continuing. A minute later she squeaked out an orgasm on the floor.

She curled herself up on the tiles and wished she were more like Grace. Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Mindless.

She didn't want to remember being someone different. The embers of resistance never died away no matter how hard she worked at it. She didn't want to be free but her mind betrayed her. Only the time she spent with master made her feel safe. Resolved once more she dried herself and headed back down stars.

Shook a bit as she returned to the white room. Even knowing that she wasn't being sent into the room as a punishment it worried her. White door. White walls. White carpeting. Blank and empty and white forever. A room without time. She stayed by the door when she entered, watching master and the woman.

"I only want you to try something very small," master was saying.

The woman shook her head. "She almost had a heart attack last time."

"Amy," master said, "come here."

She stepped to his side and he pulled her against his chest. "That's all. Very simple." Master's patience was infinite and Amy was unwilling to speak. The three of the waited in silence for more than a minute.

"Fine, okay," the woman said at length. She transfixed Amy with a look. "Come over here."

Amy held her feet in place as long as she could but the command dragged her across the room. She knelt in front of the woman, it seemed appropriate.

"It is important she not be frightened while you work."

"Good, then I'll do nothing and she'll be fine."

Master's voice darkened in a way Amy had only heard once before, when she tried to insult Grace. "I cannot let you leave if you have no idea what you are doing. You will learn."

Amy felt a hand on the back of her head and her heart began to race.

"It's time for you to go to sleep, Amy," said the woman.

She felt a pressure in her mind and drew in a sharp breath. The pressure retreated then returned again more lightly. The woman was still talking. Amy realized her eyes were closed. She was beginning to feel light headed. The world warmed around her and every breath became more difficult. She seemed to be paralyzed. Her eyes fluttered open a few times revealing tableaus of master and the woman standing above her. They stood out against the empty white room around them as if they were the only real things in the world. Her surroundings faded in and out, sometimes vague and sometimes painfully vivid. She was never quite sure if she was asleep or not. Eventually she let herself drift away entirely.

Amy awoke in the white room, alone with the woman and ravenously hungry. She crawled toward the wall to get away from her.

"Eat," said the woman, offering her some slices of fruit. "It's been more than a day. Eat."

Amy stared at the food for a few seconds before accepting it. The first bite spread sweet juice over her tongue and she convulsed. Dew dripped from her sex. Master wanted her to enjoy eating. She took a much smaller bite. "Are you like master?" she asked. It was the only thing she knew about the woman.

"No, I'm . . . I'm not sure how to answer that. I barely know anything about him." She leaned against the bed. "I'm a doctor of biochemistry and public health. He keeps saying he wants to make the world a better place. Do you believe him?"

"Master never lies and . . ." Amy smiled. "He really has made my life better."

-)(-

"Let me see if I have this straight," the new woman was saying as Grace opened the door into the white room with a tray of bagels. Master was seated at the foot of the bed and the woman was at the head, facing Grace as she entered the room. The woman paused to smile at Grace before continuing. "You and your . . . colleagues are having an argument over whether you'd rather murder people or brainwash them."

"That is not quite the way I would have put it."

"Have you considered that none of you are quite on the side of angels?"

Grace enjoyed the sound of her master's chuckle. "You still find my methods as unacceptable as murder."

"Of course I do!" shouted the woman.

Master turned to look at Grace. "Then I will demonstrate how they are better," he said motioning to her. "Put the bagels down and come here girl."

She fairly skipped to the bed and he pulled her onto his lap. There was a placid sort of sadness in his eyes when she looked up at him that faded as he smiled at her. "I do not understand you, Doctor Silva. This is what I do. I organize. I lead. I control. It is how to make the world better." He looked intently at the doctor. "I was a general, once, for perhaps a day because I believed it was right. To do otherwise seemed an impossible a violation of . . ."

"Dharma?" suggested the woman.

Master patted Grace on the head and she pressed herself against him as he spoke. "Yes, I suppose that works as well. I have always called it telos. The seed must grow. The knife must cut. The slave must serve and the lord must rule. I find divergence from my purpose difficult. It has taken a long time to make this transition."




Telos Ch. 04



"How long?" asked the woman. She sounded suspicious. "Months? Years?" She paused. "Centuries?"

Master waved a noncommittally at the list. "A long time."

"And now you want to talk to me about it."

"Yes."

"What if I tried to leave this room?"

"Right now, I would stop you." He stroked Grace's hair. "Close your eyes, slave girl. You will be my little object lesson. Listen. Feel. Stay silent." He pulled her into a more comfortable position.

Grace felt her thoughts turn warm and soft as she obeyed.

"Why shouldn't I make the whole world like Grace?" she heard him ask. "She is happy, now. She's happier than anyone else in the world. Happy and safe. All she had to give up was free will that she hardly ever used." He touched her hair. "The world is full of people who make themselves suffer but Grace will never make that choice."

His fingers walked down her belly to her sex and pushed themselves inside. She gave a little whine of pleasure.

"I can make her suffer," he said, "but it will never happen without purpose." His lips brushed her ear wordlessly. Through the hazy pink fog of pleasure Grace knew something was coming. She moved her body in time with his. "Suffering should happen for a reason." Her master's fingers vanished. An instant later he twisted her hair painfully and the fog vanished. "She can be content knowing that this is happening in order to show you why life is better than death."

Grace made the most piteous expression she could but stayed silent. She could barely remember feeling pain before. Tears well up in her eyes.

"Watch," said master. "Grace, do you like being hurt?"

"No, master, I . . ."

"Are you happy right now?"

"Yes . . ."

"Why?"

"Because . . . um . . ." Grace wriggled about in her master's lap, trying to escape the pain or bring his fingers back to her sex. "Because obedience makes me happy."

"Good girl. Now tell me what you want. I can give you anything in the world. Do you understand that? Tell me what you want."

It was hard to think about what she wanted. Her hips bucked involuntarily. She moved her head from side to side. Every motion made her predicament worse and raised the tension inside of her. When she released it a natural answer poured out of her. "I want to be good."

She was rewarded with freedom from the pain and a finger curling up inside. "Good girl."

Grace moaned and her toes curled. Her breathing almost stopped. She was greedily eager for more. Her self control almost failed but she kept herself on the edge. Happy and eager.

Obedient.

Always obedient.

"You don't want the whole world to be like Grace, though," said the woman as the fingers were pulled out of Grace's sex. "You know she needs you every moment of every day in order to function. I'm not sure how I know that but it's true, isn't it? The others use them as bribes or sex objects. You want . . . good citizens?" The woman rose from her seat. "How do I know these things about you? I know your name but you've never mentioned it to me even once and I think . . . I think you'd kill me if I ever said it."

Grace's master was silent for a long time then he took Grace off of his lap. "You've been a good girl for me, Grace. There's a new book in your room for you to read. Go now, I need to speak privately."

-)(-

Laura spent a long time in the white room. It was a strange place, utterly devoid of change. She was brought meals at regular intervals. Grace excitedly brought all manner of things to eat but the man in clean shaven man always entered with a glass dish full of reddish-yellow fruits.

She spent her time learning to touch people's minds. Although she found she could affect change in the girls' bodies the man seemed uninterested in teaching her about that. When she refused to do anything the man simply waited until she agreed. There wasn't anything else to do in the white room and Grace and Amy always seemed happy to participate. She felt as though she ought to be more resistant to the idea of manipulating people's minds but the feeling that came with doing it was irresistible.

She explored different states of consciousness. Awake even Grace, who seemed infinitely eager and accepting, coiled up her thoughts in fear. The resistance could be defeated with sufficient effort but their reactions discouraged her much more than the difficulty. After a short time he stopped asking her to do anything to the girls while they were conscious. In their sleep the girls had only a subconscious resistance to change. Changing the nature of that resistance was more effective than pushing through it. She could alter what they wanted with ease. Gentle movements let her weave together new thoughts and desire without ever breaking a thread. There was a drug called Bliss that the man showed her a few times, did more than strip away normal resistance. When Grace took the drug her mind obeyed almost before Laura touched it. The threads of unwound themselves and took new shapes with hardly any effort. 

With experience she found great differences between the two girls. Amy's mind was elaborate, full of memories and emotions. Following one path lead to a thousand places. At times it was impossible to pass through a knot and understand every part. Grace's mind was simple. Large empty spaces existed between the threads and there were only a few places where they came together. Those mildly more complex thoughts invariably regarded the man in the suit.

The man sent her Grace less and less as time went on and Laura began to enjoy the time she spent controlling the girl. Amy was pliable but not mindless. Every moment of the interaction was a struggle that the detective had no chance of winning. It seemed as though she fought back merely to feel herself lose control.

Laura found herself teasing the girl while she experimented with her abilities. She dragged out the last moments as long as possible. The release of emotion that came when Amy's will gave in to her was addictive. She tried to keep herself from doing it to no avail. The girl was so happy and so eager when she was forced into obedience. More than once the detective worked herself to orgasm while her mind was bending.

It went on for weeks. The room blurred her sense of time from moment to moment but the routine allowed her to mark the days. Laura spent most of her inside the minds of the two girls. She gradually saw less of Grace and more of Amy. She learned remove things and add things, how to twist and manipulate the threads. She learned how to open Amy's mind without using her powers at all. Any emotional opening was enough. Anger. Fear. Arousal.

Over time she learned that with great care she could shape the girl by barely touching her mind. A bit of acceptance in one place and a bit of resistance in another. Offers of pleasure were enough to make the threads of Amy's mind untwist and retie themselves almost of their own accord. Punishments weakened the girl's resolve until she begged to serve. Those changes always lasted longer than the ones Laura forced on her.

She told herself every night that next time she would refuse to do anything more but every morning Amy knelt at the foot of her bed. There was nothing to do in the room that didn't involve Amy. When she tried to simply talk she found her hands creeping up to touch Amy's mind. When she did manage to control herself Amy seemed disappointed and Laura wanted to fix that bit of sadness.

It would just be a single touch. One little change.

She could wipe away the sullenness to make Amy happy and eager again. So she did and the flutter of the girl's heartbeat made her smile.

One day she fell asleep with Amy in her bed and awoke to find the girl still beside her. The clean shaven man was standing by the door.

"We are done," he said. "Now I would like to see what you will do with what you know." He nodded to the sleeping girl. "Take Amy with you when you go."

"You don't trust me?" asked Laura.

The man smiled. "On the contrary, doctor, I trust you to do exactly what you think is best."

"And when I try to stop this?"

"Then you will fail," he stepped away from the door to motioned for her to leave, "but your cooperation is immaterial. I simply wish to see what you will do."

-----

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome.



Telos Ch. 05



Things I have learned: When the title and description of a story together only contain one English word, I've gone too far. 

****

Amy woke up to morning sunlight on her face. She closed her eyes again after a second. She wasn't sure where she was. The glimpse she'd seen of room was rather plain, although the walls were cream not white. In the distance police sirens blared and faded. She was in the city. Sun on her face meant an east facing window with an unobstructed view. With no sounds of traffic audible other than the sirens she had to be on a high floor. The bedroom obviously wasn't in an office building which ruled out a good part of the city. She'd been in most of the cheap apartment buildings in the city at one time or another and none of them smelled as nice as the room she was in.

Most likely that put her in the top several floors of the Star Hotel, a few block from the river, in an east facing room other than the penthouse. From one hundred square miles of city to twenty rooms in a single building. With her eyes closed. She almost felt like a real detective again.

Amy took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was naked in a warm bed lying next to someone. Her uniform was draped over a chair along with her belt and gun. She couldn't remember undressing last night or coming to the apartment. Being disoriented was nothing new to her and she took a bit of comfort knowing master wanted her to be where she was.

Amy rolled to her side. Her companion was a very pretty woman in her thirties. She remembered the woman's fingers in her mind. Hazy recollections of emotion. Fear. Happiness. A little tangle in her mind came undone and she smiled. Memories returned gradually. The woman was a doctor or a scientist. Master trusted her, after a fashion, not the same way he trusted Amy or Grace. She cared about people. She could do things like master did.

Memories forced themselves into her mind of the woman touching her thoughts. Her words in her ears and her hands on her body. Amy took a deep breath. She wanted to obey the woman. Happily and eagerly. The mantra comforted her. 

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

One hand crept up to her chest and caressed her breasts. Amy leaned back against the pillow. This wasn't the time to touch herself. She had to stop. If she didn't stop she'd finger herself into a sex crazed mess.

It was easy.

She just had to stop.

"No . . ." Her hands refused to obey her. "No . . . stop . . ." Her will was turning to mush. The more she touched herself the more she needed to continue and the harder it was to resist the need. She squeezed her legs together. The air was warm and heavy, suffocating her with every breath. "No . . ." But release would be better than the torment. She slid a finger inside her sex and rubbed her thumb over her clit in desperation. She arched her back as the orgasm took her, toes curling and stomach tightening. "Yes . . ."

The energy came shuddering out of her body and she relaxed back onto the bed. Amy squeezed her eyes closed and tried to fall asleep again. She felt a hand on her breasts. Her own hand obeying compulsions she knew all too well. "No . . . not again . . . please . . ." Her own fingers tightened on her nipples. "Stop . . ."

"Amy!"

She ignored the voice in favor of indulging herself in pleasure.

A hand caught her wrist and dragged it away from her body. A moment later her other hand was taken from her as well. "Open your eyes," ordered the voice.

Amy's eyes snapped open to reveal the doctor looking down at her with concern. She bucked her hips helplessly, trying for contact.

The doctor frowned. "Stop."

"Yes, ma'am." She felt more under control. "Thank you."

"Amy, were you going to stay there all day if I hadn't stopped you?"

"I . . ." She blushed. "I don't know."

Her owner's hands crept along her cheek. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's very natural for a . . . no, what am I doing?" The woman took a deep breath and pushed away. "We have work to do, I need to get back to the plant and obviously I can't leave you here. Come along, now."

Amy showered carefully but the spray of water on her breasts sent her thoughts out of order and in a matter of minutes she was grinding against the bar of soap. The woman had to pull her out of the shower and dry her off before they could leave. As hungry as she was, Amy refused breakfast. She had no intention of humiliating herself again by showing off the improvements to her palate.

It was noon by the time they reached the water treatment plant at the county reservoir. The woman talked up the technical specifications the whole way. Her fingers never once wondered onto Amy's body and her words never once stole her mind away. It was a strange experience, the longest Amy could remember going without her mind being toyed with. 

The guard took a second look at both of them but waved them through after the woman showed him her identification. She didn't seem to realize how little she looked like the photo anymore. The desk attendant provided them with a ring of keys.

The tanks that held the chemical solutions were clean, devices set to send an alert if they noticed any contamination were intact and untampered with. Amy followed dutifully as the doctor checked the entire length of the wiring system. The pipes that moved the chemicals into the water supply were similarly untouched. They spent the next several hours examining the entire facility in excruciating detail. When it came to reading through the accounts Amy tried to hold her attention to the job as best she could. She made it through the first ledger before giving up. She understood the job perfectly but the need for orgasm began to drown out everything else.

"Ma'am . . ."

"Yes?"

"I need to . . . um . . . I . . ."

"Go ahead," said the woman. "I can finish the rest."

Amy pushed a hand awkwardly into her pants and slowly worked herself into a sexual stupor. With a bit of guilt at her jealousy she wished she was like Grace. The younger girl didn't have to lose herself over and over again every day. Climax washed away that unpleasant thought a minute later. Amy floated on a hormonal sea for what felt like hours. The sun was low in the sky when her mind returned.

"Get up." The doctor wiped Amy face with a cloth. "There wasn't much in the accounts but I have a few names. One place left to check that occurred to me."

At the extreme edge of the system's output, the final pipe that led to the city water main, a little mesh bag full of colorful pills was caught against a grate. Most of the pills were partially dissolved.

Amy took a step back from the water, tripped over a stone, and landed awkwardly on the ground.

"Bliss," said the doctor. "So it didn't even matter that I kept it out of the deliveries."

"At least you tried."

"They've been putting this stuff into the water for . . . must be years now." She stuffed the bag of pills into a pocket of her lab coat. "Making the world happy."

"It does make people happy," said Amy. Memories of Grace in rapture after taking the drug invaded her thoughts.

"And docile and pliable and obedient." She gave Amy an almost predatory look. "Give people enough of it and they're perfect little slaves once you whisper to them enough. Happy. Eager. Obedient. Isn't that what you are, Amy? A good little slave? Say it for me. You want to be obedient."

Amy licked her lips. "I want to be obedient . . ."

The doctor took the pills out of her pocket and Amy's eyes fixated on them.

"Ma'am . . ."

"Come here, girl."

Amy approached, entranced. She opened her mouth the way she'd seen Grace do.

"Good girl. Good slave. I'll make you so happy." She took Amy by the chin. "You're a slave. Say it."

"I'm a slave."

The woman shook her head. "What am I doing?"

Amy reached craned her neck for the drug but none with forthcoming. She was drained and empty. "Ma'am. Please . . ."

"Detective, what's wrong with you? Amy!"

The command snapped her out of the trance. "I'm sorry . . . I was . . ."

"It's okay, Amy." The doctor frowned and composed herself. "We should go."

"Yes, ma'am." She smiled. "Thank you."

When they reach the front offices a blond man in a severely cut suit was waiting by the reception desk. The receptionist was lying face down on his computer while blood spilled over the lip of the desk. Amy blocked the doctor from stepping through the door behind her. "Wait here, ma'am." She took her gun from its holster, wondering if it would do any good, and made her way down the hallway. "Hello there, mister . . ." Her memory hit a wall. She knew she'd met him before but his name was missing.

His eyes fell on her like lead weights and Amy had to plant a foot to steady herself. "You're one of his girls. Leave us. I will speak to Doctor Silva."

"She was just going home." Amy raised her weapon fractionally. "I'm sure you can arrange to speak to her tomorrow."

"Leave us."

Amy's heart fluttered unevenly but she held her ground. Her gun felt terribly heavy.

"You," the man stared past her, "whatever you are. We will have words."

"St . . . stop!" ordered Amy.

He took a step toward her.

She retreated out of his reach and brought the gun up to chest height. In the fraction of a second it took her to blink her eyes in nervous fear he managed to close the gap between them. Amy heard the gun go off. His fingers touched her skin and pushed contemptuously past all resistance as they forced their way into her mind. Time slowed down. Pain started to creep through her body like acid in her blood. Seconds stretched into hours so she could feel every instant of it. Her mouth started to open into a scream just as she blacked out.

Amy clawed her way back to consciousness still screaming. The room was gone. She was in the back of the car with the woman staring down at her. The breath went out of her and she fell back onto the seat.

"Stay where you are," ordered the doctor.

"Yes, ma'am." Amy tried to remember what happened after he touched her but nothing came. She had been totally senseless. "You stayed again," she said after a few seconds. "You could have left me here and gone anywhere in the world."

"No I couldn't have." The doctor put a pair of fingers on Amy's neck. "Your pulse is better now." She looked at Amy with the same expression of concern master had when Grace was upset. "That was incredibly foolish. You could have given yourself a stroke, not to mention that he could have killed you."

Amy laughed. "The badge says 'Protect and Serve'. I like to . . . I like to serve." She started to get back up.

"Stop."

Amy relented. "What happened? Where did he go?"

"You'll feel better if you don't think about that," the doctor ordered gently.

"Yes, ma'am," said Amy, as her thoughts went elsewhere. She smiled and leaned back into the seat, wondering why she was back in the car. It immediately upset her so she stared patiently at the woman sitting above her instead. She had a name, Amy was certain, but her memory hit a wall every time she tried to remember it. 

The woman really was a lot like master. Attractive but unremarkable. Quiet. Polite. Firm. It made Amy feel like a disobedient child to have disappointed her. The image of her gradually consumed Amy's vision. The scent of her body drowned every other sense. Amy relaxed. She hadn't always felt this way, she was sure of that, but it was too wonderful to object to. "Were we talking about something, ma'am? I think we were."

"That is remarkable," said the woman. "Close your eyes."

She complied and a moment later felt fingers brushing her cheek. Amy reached down to touch herself.

"Stop."

"But . . ."

The woman's palm rested on her cheek. "Do as I say."

Amy whined a bit but didn't resist the order. Although the woman's hands never left her face Amy felt them everywhere. Her body responded to the stimulation exactly as it had been trained. All of her attention focused on keeping from indulging herself. Ever so gently the woman moved inside her mind. The intimate violation made her stomach twist. The caresses on her thoughts were nothing like what master did. He only changed her while she slept. Her new owner made her experience every moment of it. She whispered names of things to Amy. Pleasure. Joy. Obedience. Slavery. Happiness.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Her new owner massaged the words.

Her new owner.

The idea made her breath come quicker. She had a new owner. 

Amy was unsure how to react to that realization. She knew almost nothing about the woman. It didn't really matter, she knew nothing at all about master except that he cared about her and he wanted people to be happy. Still, she worried what might happen to her if she fell into the hands of someone cruel. The blond man would torture her and she would be just as vulnerable to that as anything else. He could break her. He could make her love him.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

Amy smiled to herself. "Do you . . . Are you . . . Are you keeping me?"

"I think so." After a moment she sighed. "Go to sleep."

-)(-

Grace sat in her reading room in her favorite chair reading from her book. Master had an endless supply of books for her to read, each of them nearly identical on the outside. The covers were blank white and a number was inscribed on the spine in silver. She was reading book number five. Like all the others it was a story about a happy slave girl named Grace who lived with her master. In fact there wasn't anything else in the books at all, the better to keep her from being confused.

Nonetheless the books had been getting harder to read.

In book number five Grace read about Grace being told a story by her master. It was very long and full of words she didn't know. While she read it she was fascinated but all of it vanished the moment she was done reading. When she was able she able she hid the book away so he could read one of the earlier ones where Grace was a happy servant in the thrall of her master and there was nothing else. They were so much easier to read and they made her head wonderfully bubbly. Grace and master made love on the bed. Master had her dance for him. She knelt in service. She cooked meals and he fed them to her. Simple things that made him happy. It made her feel a bit guilty, though, to read the older books when master was insistent that she read the harder ones.

Her reading room was colored in pastels. Powder blue. Soft pink. Foam green. It had all been white once but that reminded her too much of the white room. The hints of color kept her calm. A big window looked out over the grass of the front lawn, although she rarely looked up from her books to see it. He bed was large enough for her to stretch out on completely.

She was lying on the bed with her breasts pressed against the blanket, master rarely gave her clothes, trying to read from book number five. Grace frowned at the words as she tried to piece them together into something meaningful. After an hour she was still stuck on the third page of first chapter.

A hand slid along the back of her left leg, over her bottom, and up her back. "Good morning, little slave girl." Master moved his hand to the base of her neck and squeezed. Grace cooed at the touch. She twisted around to look at him. He smiled down at her and scratched her scalp idly. "I like this chapter. Keep reading."

"Yes, master." She tried to keep reading while he played with her but she kept losing her train of thought.

She followed one sentence all the way to the end while master trailed a finger down her spine but just as she reached the end it unraveled in her mind. His finger stopped. "Am I distracting you?" he asked.

Grace licked her lips. "Yes, master."

"Keep reading."

"It's hard."

"I know. Keep reading."

She looked back at the page and realized she'd forgotten where she started. The print was smaller than in the earlier books. She moved her eyes to the top of the mountain of text, fifteen lines, and began once more. She remembered sort of what the chapter was about.

Grace was sitting down in a chair with master to patiently talk about all kinds of things while he teased her with his fingers on the bed. She shook her head. One of those wasn't real. Grace in the book was lying in a bed with a book. No. Grace was talking to master. No. She was lying down and letting master touch her while Grace was reading. Grace in the book. In the bed. Reading.

She felt dizzy. "I . . . master . . ."

"Keep reading." He traced the outside of her ear.

"I can't."

He paused. "Why?"

"It's too hard." Grace looked back at the book. "I feel stupid."

Master sighed heavily as he patted her on the head. "Go to the next chapter." He gathered her onto his lap with one hand and picked up the book with the other. He quickly turned the pages. "Start here."

The new chapter was as mountainous as before but easier to read, it reminded her of the earlier books.

There was nothing outside of Grace and her master. Grace in the book was sitting in her master's lap eagerly waiting to be filled, just like she was. At first he touched her body until she was warm and soft and her thoughts were only of pleasure. When he finally spoke his words filled up the world. He told her how to be a good slave girl. It made her happy. Happy. Eager. Obedient. In the real world she felt master play his fingers over her belly. One hand journeyed down to over her hips to stroke her thigh while the other kept her close. 

She read the words and could almost hear him whispering in her ear as her thoughts filled up with soft pink fog. She began to drift between the book and the real world again. It wasn't confusing anymore. Ignorance was Bliss. The words were real. If she failed to understand that was fine. All she had to do was accept them. In one moment she was floating in the heavens, embraced by the clouds, calm and spiritual. The next she was pulled back to the carnal world and her master's heated touches burned it all away.

Grace lost track of herself in the sensation. By the time he let her emerge from her thoughts she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Master had two fingers buried in her sex and one hand resting on her chest just below her throat. A tiny shudder of satisfaction went through her.

She leaned back against her master. "Thank you."

"Why?"

"For . . ." She pumped herself on his fingers. "For . . . making me . . . for making me like this . . ."

His thumb pressed against her clit. "I've been trying to put your mind back the way it was, like I did for Amy. It hasn't been working."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because I worry about how vulnerable you are."

"Oh." She rubbed her cheek on his chest. "What was I like before?"

"I barely knew you," said master. He pulled her off of his lap and laid her out on the bed. "I know you were strong before I made you soft." He crawled over her. "I know you were clever before I made you simple. I know you were determined to stop me before I made you my slave." He paused when they were face to face. "I know . . . I know that I didn't want to see you die."

Grace smiled up at him.

Master smiled back.

"But now I'm happy, even if I'm not strong and clever and . . ." She frowned at the other word. "And um . . ."

"Don't worry yourself," said master. He touched their lips together very lightly. "Tell me what you're like now. That's what matters."

"I'm happy." He kissed his softly on the lips. "And eager." He kissed her again more firmly. Grace shuddered. "And . . . um . . . and obedient."

He crushed her against the softness of the bed.

She floated weightlessly through her mind while they made love for the first time. Her thoughts seemed to be bubbles that popped into mist when master's presence brushed against them. It was like the Bliss again. A dreamworld out of her control. Time vanished altogether. Her senses blurred and fell apart. Her master's touch was like music. His whispered words painted aetherial figures before her eyes. She could feel his hands caressing every inch of her. She could feel an even more intimate touch in her mind. Climax came as sudden overwhelming rapture.




Telos Ch. 05



In the warm afterglow her mind was empty except for a pleasant fog of secure contentment.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

"What am I ever going to do with you?" he asked absently.

She closed her eyes. "We can keep doing that."

He put a hand on her head and kissed her once more. "Go to sleep, little lamb. Tomorrow you go back in the white room."

-)(-

Laura wasn't sure what word she wanted to use to refer to Amy. Slave seemed harsh and pet seemed a bit dehumanizing. She suspected Amy wouldn't mind either term but they both still bothered Laura. For some reason she was having trouble imagining why it was inappropriate to own another person. Things like that were rapidly rising to the top of her concerns. Maybe it would be easier just to think of Amy as her slave and avoid enslaving anyone else. It wasn't as though she could free the girl. If she abandoned her Amy would just go back to the clean shaven man.

In the white room Laura had kept trying to convince herself that she wasn't being changed but after several days out in the real world that obviously wasn't true. She told herself that the time she spent using her abilities on the girl's mind was only to keep herself in practice but it kept feeling like a lie. Controlling Amy was so easy and the girl loved it so much. Laura enjoyed it, too. The struggle of wills and the younger woman's inevitable surrender felt like nothing else she had ever experienced.

Arranging meetings with people of influence was surprisingly easy. She knew exactly what numbers to call and exactly who was really in charge, more 'gifts' from the clean shaven man. Getting the Bliss out of the water supply would take time. Over the last week she had tracked down the company that was delivering the contaminated drugs and excised the corrupt elements. Disciplinary charges were useless, naturally, but carefully arranged transfers allowed her to painstakingly build a widening sphere of influence.

The blond man tried to interrupt the process occasionally. It was evident that her very existence disturbed him, although her association with the clean shaven man made him unwilling to do anything more than talk when he met her. She couldn't tell if it was fear or some kind of respect. Instead he seemed to be targeting her old support structures. People she'd known before the white room were gradually disappearing. No one acknowledged that her old receptionist had ever worked for her anymore.

Amy seemed terrified of the blond man and Laura decided it was easier to make her forget their confrontations than anything else. All she had to do was reach deep down and find the memory. The detective would gasp and squirm and whine until she finally released it with a single warm breath of surrender. Laura could never help but smile when it happened.

She turned her attention back to the present.

The polished oak doors of the office she was sitting outside of opened and a slightly reedy man a few years younger than Laura stepped out. He adjusted his glasses, glanced at Amy, then looked back at Laura. "Doctor Silva?"

"Yes," said Laura. "Thank you for meeting with me, mister mayor."

He closed the door to his office behind him then crossed the waiting room and shut the door to the hall. "I don't take bribes, doctor, and I don't respond well to threats." He looked at Amy again. "What do you want from me?"

"Just information."

"Fine. Done. Now you can leave."

"If you receive any requests regarding your reservoir or its facilities I'd like you to call me." She handed him her card. "Call me if you get any more threats or bribes, too."

"I'm not sure I understand, doctor, I've spoken to your . . . colleagues."

"We all want what's best for people. That is the extent of our association."

"Whatever you say." His eyes flicked toward the door. "If this goes any further I'll . . ."

"Call the police?" suggested Laura. "Or the FBI? How far up do you think this goes?"

"Too far, that's all that matters."

She reached out and caught him by the back of the neck, not sure what she intended to do. He hardly seemed likely to turn her in to the others but if he made himself too obvious he'd be killed. All she had to do was make sure he didn't get himself hurt. His mind writhed under her touch. "Stop fighting me."

He choked with the effort of resisting.

"Oh for goodness sake." Laura pressed her lips against his as she pinned him against the wall and forced her way into his thoughts. He sagged a bit. "Relax." Any more pressure would crack his mind in half and leave him less functional than Grace or Amy. "Listen to me," she ordered him. "If you tell anyone about this you'll be killed. Cooperate with them then tell me about it. I'll take care of you. Understand?"

He nodded.

"Say it for me, dear," Laura whispered. "Tell me you understand."

"Yes, ma'am . . ."

"Good. I want you to sleep now." She slid her hands up over his cheeks. He had none of the inherent resistance Amy did, asleep he was totally exposed. A few distressing thoughts stood out from the fabric of his mind. She straightened them out almost on reflex.

Amy touched gently her on the shoulder. "You're doing it again, ma'am."

Laura froze in place with a bit of joy twined around her fingers. When she pulled on the thread of emotion she could make him sigh in his sleep. It was so easy. A little tension made him smile. A little more made him moan. There was no harm in that. She gathered up more threads and he let out a sound of pleasure.

"Ma'am . . ." Amy sounded frightened.

Laura released the man's mind and fell back.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Amy was by her side in a moment.

"Yeah . . ." She looked at the mayor. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You think master is right, then."

"No I do not. It's just getting harder to stop myself." She licked her lips. She needed a safe outlet. "Amy . . ." She undid the top buttons of the younger woman's uniform. "Slave girl . . ." She pressed her into the carpet. "I'm sorry. I have to. If I don't . . ." Her willing little slave was already entranced. That would make it easier. "Good. You're mine now. Good girl."

She sank into Amy's thoughts.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

The words were everywhere.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Such an elegant way to keep her under control. Resistance didn't just cause displeasure, resistance was displeasure. No wonder Amy was so eager to obey. The girl probably couldn't even conceive of trying to make herself independent. Any positive thought would twist back around and remind her how good it felt to be obedient. The constant need for sex kept her mind soft and unfocused. She could never concentrate long enough to fight back. The perfect slave. Unwilling to escape and unable to resist.

Laura traced the length of each thread of the girl's thoughts, through every knot and tangle. She let herself wander. There were a few buried secrets. A bit of independence was wrapped up in her sense of duty. Laura caressed the delicate strings with incredible care. They hummed at the touch. She heard Amy's breathing quicken in the world outside her mind. Threads of fear coiled up defensively.

"Don't worry, slave girl," whispered Laura. She smoothed away the fear. "Happy slave. Say it."

Amy mumbled something incoherent.

"Good girl. See that? You're safe." Laura sighed. That was plenty. She released Amy's mind and collapsed into a dreamless sleep. An hour later she awoke to find her slave was lying by the mayor's side on the other side of the room. Laura rubbed her face. "Fuck."

The curse roused Amy, she blinked her eyes blearily. "Sorry, mistress, I was really . . . um . . ."

"Quiet."

Amy nodded.

Laura placed a hand on the mayor's face. His mind was still intact, which was good. If she'd done anything significant in the few minutes she was controlling him then his mind would be a wreck. She had to come back every once in a while and encourage the change. A little tweak here and a suggestion there. In a few months he'd be hers.

She shook her head but the thought wouldn't leave. "Come here, sla . . . Come here, Amy."

The detective crawled over to her with feline grace.

"Good girl." She traced Amy's jaw line as the slave girl smiled. "I thought it would be easier to resist but it's terribly hard. I think I need to . . ."

Someone jiggled the lock on the door. A key scraped against metal. "Mister mayor, is everything alright in there?" The door opened and a bright-eyed young woman stepped through. "What's going on?"

"Come here," Laura said, rising. "No need to be upset."

-----

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome. 



Telos Ch. 06



So let's see my plan to put out a chapter every two weeks lasted *checks* exactly two weeks. Hooray personal life! Back on track now. 

-----

Grace wasn't sure how long she spent in the white room. The first time she had been in it master erased all her old memories and built a new life for her. He gave her a purpose. Sitting in the room again was terrifying. He was changing her again, that was what the white room was for. He might take away what he'd given her. Every time master visited he told her it wasn't a punishment. He made her smile while he was there but every time he left her stomach curled up inside and she felt cold. 

Books were left for her to read just as they had been before. White covers and simple words. The first few days she threw them at the walls rather than read them but every time she awoke they were waiting for her on the bed. She felt petulant and stupid and frightened all over again. After a while she started reading the books. Master always gave them to her for a reason. The next time she awoke a bowl of fruit replaced the tasteless gruel that had been provided before.

Every page was filled with words. Interspersed between the new books were her favorite chapters from the old ones. Little rewards for her progress. She read a parable by Hegel then dreamed of master's lips on hers. She learned the history of Greece then lay back while master drew a bath and scrubbed her clean. And then it began again. She read the book from start to finish a dozen times until a new one was provided.

Each one was different.

Philosophy. History. Arts. Culture.

The contents filled her head only slowly. It was all so complicated.

Occasionally master joined her in the white room. The lock turned on the far side of the door and he stepped inside. She wanted to make love again like they had done before but he made her talk instead. He quizzed her endlessly on what she had learned from the books. Each time when he was done he kissed her and locked the door behind him with a familiar click.

The routine went on forever. Grace didn't try to keep track of time. She poured all her effort into pleasing him. She read faster every day. She learned the laws of rhetoric. Ethos. Pathos. Logos. When master came to speak with her she gave more clever answers and his smiles were warmer, he even seemed to spend more time.

When he left she redoubled the effort to learn just to get him back.

After weeks or months inside the white room she asked a question before he did.

"Master, why are we doing this?"

He paused with the door half open. "Patience, slave girl."

"Sorry."

Master closed the door behind him then joined her on the bed. "I was worried you'd never keep your mind in order outside. There are so many things to distract you out there. The white room has helped you to concentrate for once." He drew a light caress across her collarbone. "Do you remember Doctor Silva? She was in here after Amy. She told me no one would ever choose to be a slave. Amy has told me the same thing once or twice."

Grace placed a hand on his chest. "Master . . ."

"Hush." He petted her head. "You have in your head every reason I could think of to resist me."

Her eyes flashed up to his in terror. "Why?"

"Because if I can find the one thing that that makes people resist then I can take that away and leave everything else intact. You're the perfect experiment. You have nothing else in there to muddy your thoughts." He smiled down at her. "I can cut this irrational need for independence out of everyone. It will be surgically precise. When I broke you I worry I might have done too much. You are so vulnerable. If I had a more precise way to fix people then I could make the world happy without it costing them anything else."

"Oh."

"Now tell me what's in your head."

Grace looked away from him. "I don't want to leave."

"You'll never have to leave, little slave girl." He turned her head back. "Now tell me."

Grace squirmed and tried helplessly to avoid thinking. "I don't know."

"Little lambs shouldn't lie."

"Master . . ."

"I won't be angry no matter what you say."

His touch made her eyes close. "It's frightening. You might do . . . you might do anything to me and there's a voice . . . I remember it from before." It screamed inside of her head and battered against the flimsy bindings she held it in. "I ought to be free no matter what, that's what it says. Make it stop." She pressed against him harder. "Please."

"Not yet. Tell me why."

"Because freedom is good. Because you might be evil. Because I'm afraid." Grace squeezed her eyes closed. It all came back to that. Freedom refused to let her accept slavery the same way master didn't want her to accept freedom. But master offered her comfort and freedom only insisted that she be frightened.

"If I made you choose now what would you do?"

"Anything to make it stop," begged Grace. "Anything."

"Good girl," he touched her cheek. "You've been working so hard."

Grace shuddered.

"Enough pain." He placed a hand on the back of her head and Grace released a soft breath. "Would you like me to take it away from you now?"

"Yes."

He pulled the thoughts out of her head as one endless silken thread, ever so slowly. The world became simpler. Her objections became too complex for her to hold onto. The voice telling her faded away. She grappled with it and forced it under control but even as she did it became too small to hold onto. Eventually it vanished altogether and left her mind in peaceful emptiness. 

"Is that better, slave girl?" asked master. He gathered her closer to him.

She hummed a bit in enjoyment.

"Just a little more."

The threads of thought spooled back into her head. The voice whispered at her again for a instant than vanished as he pulled her thoughts away once more. Master continued the process for a while. Taking things away each time and giving a bit less back. When he was done she was nearly asleep.

"There's still stuff in my head," mumbled Grace.

"Lots of things." Master's fingers trailed their way up her neck. "I could take them away too, you don't need to be clever, but I think it's more useful for you to keep them."

-)(-

The eastern riverfront, a few blocks beyond the busiest streets, was eternally peaceful. A clean shaven man in an expensive suit was sitting on one of the benches doing nothing. He had no suitcase beside him and no newspaper in his hands. The wind cut along the ground and joggers shuddered from the cold but the man kept his place without moving. A warm smile for each passersby and the occasional flicker of his eyes were the only signs that he wasn't a piece of modern art.

Every week for two months Laura had been having meetings with him in the same place at the same time. He liked the river. She was starting to worry it was another manipulation on his part, the white room all over again, but nothing ever came of it except conversation about her progress in undermining his work. He disapproved politely. The drug, Bliss, was everywhere. Water samples from clear across the country showed traces. It lingered in the water supply for weeks after she removed the additives from treatment facilities.

While she worked Laura had solidified her sphere of influence enormously. Within the area she kept clean of the drug few people received important jobs in government without her approval, the better to keep conspiracy from gaining a foothold. Her fingers brushed through their minds for evidence of tampering. Usually Amy stopped her before she could perform any tampering of her own.

Usually.

Laura drummed her fingers on the windowsill of the car as she stared across the street at the clean shaven man. "You know what he is, don't you?" she asked Amy.

The former detective cocked her head curiously in the driver's seat.

"Never mind."

"He'll be upset if you're late."

Laura laughed. "Nothing upsets him."

"That's not true. One time . . . one time I tried to say something cruel about Grace. He was very angry when I did that." Amy rubbed her legs. "I know you hate when I say it but he is a lot like you, very protective of people."

Laura unlocked the door. "Stay here, sla . . . Amy." She took a breath. That shouldn't be so hard. "Stay here, Amy."

"Yes, mistress."

The clean shaven man made no indication that he noticed her until she sat down. "Hello, madam mayor."

"That was mostly an accident." After a while it had been easier to simply take over running the town than continue using the former mayor as a proxy. He was happy to keep working with her. Extremely happy, in fact, even if running a large town was slightly too complicated for him anymore.

"I heard you were very popular."

Laura sighed. "That's not why we're here."

"I know that, doctor, I simply wished to congratulate you on your success."

"Thanks." She tossed a thick report on the table. "I had this drawn up by one of those big think tanks," explained Laura. "Most of it is filler discussion and methodology. Summary statistics start on page twenty. Knock yourself out."

The man paged through the document silently.

"Voter turnout is up fifteen percent across the board in the last three months," Laura said when the silence became too much. "Everything from the governor's race to school board elections. No one has ever seen anything like it before."

"Have better leaders been chosen?"

"A few corrupt officials got thrown out of office."

The man looked up from the paper. "And the ones who replaced them were more effective?"

"That's not really the point."

He set the paper down. "I have found these conversations . . . enlightening but distressing. Surely the purpose of government it good governance. These demands you place on people are understandable, if perverse, but to pretend the quality of their leaders is irrelevant is monstrous."

"Perhaps I'm explaining poorly."

"The act of choosing is more important than the choice?"

Laura opened her mouth to respond then closed it. "Yes," she admitted after a moment.

"Madness."

Laura shook her head. "I'm not going to be a fan of tyranny any time soon."

"I have seen many irrational crowds and countless wise tyrants. Yourself for example. The town you rule has flourished under your guidance. The people you protect are happy despite your interference in government." His expression broadened into a proper smile. "I have the greatest respect for you skills."

"Violent crime is up, too," Laura said, quickly changing the subject. She had no interest in being reminded of how good it felt to use the control over other's he'd given her. "So that's one in your favor." She laughed tiredly. "People keep telling me it must be something in the water. Speaking of which, I still don't understand what you get out of this other than a giant Petri dish. I know these friends of yours want to retaliate. Why take the risk?"

He made a point of saying nothing.

"The best part of these conversations is how forthcoming you are."

"We lost a war, Doctor Silva." He looked back out over the river. "The others have not forgiven your people for that."

"And you?"

The man regarded her for a moment. "I was made to command and to lead."

"To lead them."

"No," he said, "I was given charge of our brothers who are lost to us. Among my people those who remain were more highly placed when the war began. I have no special influence over them. They would see you all destroyed in revenge."

Laura nodded. "And this is why you say you want people to be happy."

"I say that because it is true, doctor. If I were to let your people suffer that would violate everything I was made to do. There are many results my comrades would accept as victory. There is the only one where you are happy. If you cannot find people willing to choose a better world then it is better that they have no choice." He frowned. "I know that you'd rather see your people dead than enslaved but I cannot allow that to happen. Still, when we are forced into confrontation I promise you will be an honored martyr."

The wind had stopped. The river was still. His smile was gone. Laura became very aware that they were alone on the path. She took a few quiet breaths without looking away from the man. 

After a second the world came to life again. A gull called in the distance. The river waves splashed against the bricks. He smiled at her with all the pleasant warmth of a friend. He very nearly looked human.

"That was you trying to comfort me, wasn't it?" Laura asked quietly. "You . . uh . . . you're offering to kill me if it ever comes to that rather than . . ."

"Of course, there is no need to cause you any fear. I have learned a great deal from you. I can respect your wishes in this matter even if they pain me. We must be enemies but that should not prevent us from being friends." His eyes shifted to look into the distance. "Shall we meet again in a week?"

"I'd prefer not to be your enemy," said Laura. She followed his gaze to a person standing in the distance, too far away to make out the details.

His smile faded slightly. "If you believed you could kill me my head would be on the ground right now."

Laura pursed her lips. "I like this river, see you here next Thursday." She rose to leave. "Tell Grace that Amy would like to see her whenever she's. . . free."

The man nodded and left down the path the way he had been looking. The figure was gone.

Amy blinked at Laura a few times when she returned to the car. "You look angry, mistress."

"It was that or terror." She slammed the door. "Head home."

Amy drove the way to the mayoral residence in silence. 

Laura had been sure that everything the clean shaven man said was sweetly worded lies, crafted to disguise his motives and soften the impact of his intentions. To threaten to kill her, though, as if it were a favor was so insane that he had to believe it. Somehow that was worse. There was no chance of negotiating with him. She was already appealing to his better moral sense. Putting the world in pretty golden chains they'd never want to remove was more than an acceptable outcome to him. It also meant she wasn't likely to find allies among his comrades. Even if they weren't as overtly vicious as the blond man had been they would pursue their goals with the same inhuman reasoning.

The worst part was that it had starting to get to her as well. Whatever he'd done to her made it hard to see the world the way she used to. People deserved protection but the impulse to place them under her control, to make them happy, was becoming harder to resist. Having the power to she did was corrupting her with each passing day. She wavered between excuses. Smoothing out people's minds made them happy even if it made them docile in the process. Letting them suffer and squabble let them live their own lives even if it wasn't clear why they kept choosing the things they did.

The former mayor of the town was standing at the end of the driveway when they reached the residence.

"I hear things are going well, George" Laura said as she emerged from the car. 

"I would have said slowly."

She placed an arm around his waist and drew him into the house. "So long as we're continuing to make progress. It is a difficult job but it needs to be done. We are setting people free. This is important. Never let me forget it. We are setting people free and it is the right thing to do. Tell me you understand."

George nodded obediently. "We're setting people free, mistress."

"It's going to make them miserable," said Laura, "if it doesn't kill them first." She grabbed his face with one hand and her mind merged with his. 

It was all such a mess. The intact human mind was too complex for its own good. A knot here and a tangle there and living became torture. The places where she had fixed his mind were infinitely more elegant in design. No fears or stressors. It had been so easy to do. Pleasure wore away at his ability to resist and when his mind was left exposed she could rearrange the threads into a better order. He never had to worry about what to do anymore. He obeyed, happily and eagerly.

Laura dragged herself away before she could get any deeper. "Bring my little slave girl here. Now!"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good boy."

Laura sank into her chair. She was barely in control of herself anymore. Too much time with George would only end with her destroying his mind. Amy was safer outlet. The detective was resilient and it wasn't as though Laura could enslave her in a moment of passion. That had already been done.

Her hands shook with the effort of resisting. In the grip of her need to control she was nearly as helpless as Amy. When the young woman came round the corner a minute later Laura seized her. "Slave girl." As she leered at her subject a bit of clarity rose to the surface. "Amy . . . I'm . . ."

"It's okay, mistress."

She wasted no time forcing Amy's defenses to fail by inches. A single overwhelming wave of pleasure wiped away the younger woman's thoughts. The little ember of independence that Amy kept safe in the deepest recesses of her thoughts sputtered but didn't die. The threads of her mind, once tense with thoughts, went limp. Bliss clung to them like dew. 

Laura found a memory of morning coffee. The rich aroma of the roast. The warmth of it in her throat. The caramel taste on her tongue. When she placed a hand the convolution of sensations she heard Amy moan. It was an innocent place to indulge herself. Laura bent down and licked a bit of the blissful dew from the memory. She sank her fingers into it so she could feel out every curve. She stroked a strand of contentment. A delicate touch claimed it and she followed it deeper into Amy's mind.

Like every other thread it led to the very center where obedience kept Amy in golden chains. Laura strengthened the connection to the memory she had found. There were worse things to be enslaved by than happiness, although none harder to escape.

She placed a hand on the masterwork that bound the woman to her and sighed. Amy's happiness was very real. There were signs of many artificers' hands. The clean shaven man's work was starkly direct while Laura built smooth connections. Most of the construction, though, was crude and simple, the work of Amy's own mind. Even as Laura watched one thread wound itself around a cord of emotion while another was severed.

When she returned to the world outside Amy was writhing in wordless rapture.

"Good girl, Amy." Laura laid herself down on the bed and closed her eyes. She awoke almost immediately to the feeling of lips on her skin. "Down."

"Yes, mistress." It took several second for Amy to pull herself away.

Laura rolled to look at her.

"You could take my body."

"I could." Laura shook her head slowly. "Show me."

Climax exploded through Amy's body seconds after her fingers went to work. She arched up with a strangled cry of pleasure then fell heavily to the bed. "Thank you, mistress."

"Again," ordered Laura.

The slave girl obeyed eagerly.

"Again."

Amy's confused look lasted only until her body convulsed with orgasm a moment later.

Laura continued to give the same order until exhaustion finally forced Amy to sleep. "Oh my dear, my dear," she said, brushing the hair away from Amy's face, "I have to go start a war and I . . . and I don't even know which side I should be on anymore."

She rolled onto her back. Even if she stopped them she was probably too far gone to stop herself anymore. A few more months and she'd talk herself into taking over the world. Everything would be back where it started. When Laura closed her eyes she saw the smiling face of all the people she could save.

-)(-

Navigating which thoughts were appropriate was becoming difficult for Amy. Mistress wanted to remove the Bliss from the water supply, she said it harmed millions of people. Master said it helped people to be happy. She had finally decided she belonged to mistress at present and whatever master wanted was less important than making mistress happy.




Telos Ch. 06



More than that, being obedient made her happy.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

The words sent a surge of heat through her and she reached between her legs to get rid of it. She knew she wasn't supposed to. There was a pile of police reports in front of her that mistress wanted her to go through to piece together what master and the others had been doing. Thinking was hard, though, and her mind was completely at the mercy of her body. Until she was done she wouldn't be able to pull her thoughts together. When she was done she'd start reading them again. All she had to do was orgasm a few times and she would be fine. 

People vanished all the time but only some of them were taken to the white room. Most of them were killed and quickly forgotten but a few of them were made like her. One hand, under the control of impulses buried deep inside her psyche, made its way inside her uniform to squeeze her breasts. Master had made her happy and soft and eager. Much better than being dead. She forced off her pants and fell on the floor.

Her fingers kept her on the edge, refusing to give her release.

"Amy."

"Mistress." Amy opened her eyes to see her owner's shoes. She dragged herself into a kneeling position with one hand still between her legs and stared up at the woman weakly. 

The good doctor looked down at her sympathetically. "Would you like help?"

Amy nodded.

Mistress crouched down to touch her cheek and Amy convulsed in a sudden violent orgasm. When it subsided mistress helped Amy to her feet and smoothed her shirt. "Amy, if anything happens to me and I can't take care of you I want you to go back to your master. He'll take care of you."

"What's going to happen?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"If there's something wrong I want to know."

Mistress made a pained expression. "There could be a conflict and I might . . . die in it. You should stay with your master. I don't trust anyone else to keep you safe."

There was a knock at the door and Selina, the mayor's old administrative assistant, appeared. "Miss . . . Doctor, sorry . . . Doctor Silva, I didn't think you'd be down here. I was going to speak to Detective Haas about something. Sorry. Should I . . ." She turned away as if the situation had only finally registered to her. "I'll come back in a minute."

Mistress laughed softly. "No, don't let me interrupt." She trailed her fingers idly across Selina's cheek as she passed her. "Is there something upsetting you?"

Selina's eyes widened. She froze in place.

"Ma'am," said Amy.

The doctor pulled her hand away. "Sorry." She took a deep breath and left.

"You said you had something to say?" asked Amy.

"I'll . . . um . . . I'll show you." Selina led her to a small room in the left wing of the residence and opened the door.

Amy stepped inside and the door immediately closed behind her. "I'm not sure I understand what's going on here."

A hand fell on her shoulder.

"My name is Susan," said the girl behind her. She turned Amy's head. "Selina is a good friend of mine and I told her I wanted to meet you. We had to play a little trick." The girl's hand worked its way beneath the waistband of her pants. "I am so glad to finally get to know you. You are absolutely beautiful."

"You're um . . . you . . . you're trying to distract me."

"Is it working?" asked the girl.

"Yes . . ." admitted Amy. She bucked her hips involuntarily. "Who are you?"

"I just told you, my name is Susan." The girl turned her around entirely and pushed her up against the door. She tore open Amy's shirt. She kissed her collarbone. "You don't need to know anything more than that."

Amy laid her head back and gave up the losing battle of trying to remain in control. Susan's fingers knew how to tease her. "I have work to do."

Susan laughed. "Later."

"No . . . something is . . ."

"Come with me," suggested Susan. "There are nicer places to enjoy each other's company." Her finger's trailed down Amy's arms and gently tugged at her hands. "Come on."

Amy shook her head. "I . . ."

"You look so confused. Let me help."

Amy's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel herself being pulled along. "Wait." She tried to make herself concentrate. "Wait . . . I . . ."

Something cold pressed against her chest. A gun. "You're much more coherent than I expected," said Susan, all the honey gone out of her voice. "If you say a single world, I will have to shoot you." She moved her other hand to Amy's clit. "Still, you do come with a convenient off button. Say good night."

"No."

"Stop fighting. You're a slave remember?" She made a slow stroke of her finger and Amy trembled. "That was the deal you made. Happiness in exchange for weakness. Enjoy it, this is what you want."

"Stop." Something was terribly wrong. She knew she had to fight back. "Um . . . stop. Please." Amy's eyelids drooped. "Um . . ."

"That's it, give in. Sleep."

Amy awoke in a gray room, a carpeted basement with brushed concrete walls. She was tied to a chair with a small group of people in front of her. She recognized Susan among them but none of the others were people she'd ever seen before. They stopped talking when they noticed she was awake. Susan came forward.

"Where is Grace?" she demanded.

"Who?"

"Grace Marseau." Susan grabbed Amy's chin. "The reporter."

Amy ground her teeth. "I have no idea."

The conspirators exchanged glances among themselves then opened the door. From where she was seated Amy could barely make out the figure of a blond man in a closely cut suit standing outside. He met her eyes without emotion.

"Get away!" Amy thrashed against her bindings. She could feel her skin burning where his gaze fell. "You have to get out! He'll kill you!"

They ignored her.

"He's going to kill you. You have to get away!"

The door slammed shut with a hollow echo and Amy felt the terror retreat.

"He'll kill you," she said dejectedly.

For a long time Amy waited in the room alone. If they decided to kill her there wasn't anything she could do about it. She tried to think instead. A crack in the paint that blacked out the windows told her the sun was up. Water was flowing somewhere nearby. No smell of gasoline suggested she was outside of the city. The irrational need for sex gradually muted her senses. She shook her head and tried to start thinking again.

She needed to escape. If she got out of her bindings she could surprise whoever came back into the room and use them as leverage. Then she would finger herself to a wonderful climax.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

"No . . ." A horrible thought occurred to her. The mantra tried to down it out.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

It made her smile. That was what master and mistress wanted her to be. A good slave, just like Susan said. She had chosen to be weak. A few intimate caresses would make her to obey with a smile. Amy shuddered at the thought of being taken. The thought returned. Without mistress to protect her she was utterly exposed. Grace could make her bend without even trying. Susan would twist her into knots.

All the strength went out of her.

"I'm not yours," she muttered to the empty room. "I'm not yours. I'm not. You can't make me."

"Maybe I can."

Amy opened her eyes. 

Susan was standing in front of her with small silver sex toy. "I can turn you into whatever I want and you'll thank me for it. That's what you are."

"No." Amy shook her head.

"You should know," Susan said, holding the toy in front of Amy's eyes, "I find this method of interrogation more than a little distasteful. It works, though. Sex keeps the mind so soft. That's why they tinkered with you head. I don't even need that drug or magic powers to control you. No one does anymore. Once I turn you on, you're mine." She traced the toy down to Amy's belly to her pussy. "This is what they turned you into. Slave. Slut. Whore. When you try to fight me I want you to remember that."

"Who are you people?"

"We're the resistance. Tell me what you know."

"I don't know anything."

Susan took the wonderful toy away. "Grace Marseau went to see Doctor Laura Silva and vanished. You were assigned to find her and after you went to see Doctor Laura Silva you vanished. I found Grace's notes while I was cleaning our her desk. Conspiracies, murders, and chemicals in the water. They sounded paranoid until Selina called me and told me about what was happening in her town courtesy of Doctor Laura Silva."

Amy shook a bit from cold.

"I'm going to stop the good doctor," said Susan, "but first I want to know what happened to Grace. She tried to save the world. The least she deserves that I make that effort."

"You don't understand. Mistress is trying to help you." She brought her mind back into focus again. "The blond man. You have to run. You have to get away."

"Who?"

"He was outside. I saw him I . . . felt him." She saw no recognition on her captor's face and hung her head in resignation. "Mistress is trying to help."

Susan laughed. "By turning everyone into you."

"No by getting rid of the Bliss, the chemical."

"You're lying."

"It's true! Please, m . . . mi . . ."

"Say it," whispered Susan. "Say 'mistress' and I'll give you everything you want."

Amy gasped out a wordless refusal as her head filled with the scent of her captor.

"Let's see how easy you break." The toy touched Amy's clit teasingly, humming with energy. "Say it. I can wait a long time." She dragged the toy lower and it Amy felt it force its way inside her sex. It wiggled from side to side and Amy moved with it helplessly. "Say it."

"No."

Susan frowned. "What am I doing?" She shook her head a few times and the expression vanished. The same tiny diabolic smile that so often force its away onto mistress's appeared. "Your loyalty is admirable. Fine. Let's get back to that first question. Tell me were Grace is."

Amy took a deep breath. "You'd rather not know."

-----

The mayor gets a name since he's not like the blond man or the clean shaven man, it just didn't come up in the last chapter. Also, I've discovered that there are no common euphemisms for penis that I don't find either extremely silly, crude, or both. 

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome.



Telos Ch. 07



I am much too easily distracted. We continue. 

----

Laura's fists hit the double doors at the entrance to the house so hard that wood splintered beneath the lacquer. Her grip wrenched the knob out of shape and she tore it out of the door in frustration. "Open up in there or I'll tear the fucking walls down!" 

A rather meek looking young woman cracked open the left door a few seconds later. "Hello, ma'am."

"Is Amy here?" asked Laura as she forced it the rest of the way.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Grace said as Laura brushed past her, "Amy hasn't been here in weeks."

Laura backed the girl up against a wall. "Of course if he'd taken her you would have no problem lying to cover that up. Perhaps I should just take what I want to know." She reached out. "Open up your mind to me or I swear you will start screaming."

Grace's eyes widened. "Um . . ."

"That is more than enough, Doctor Silva," said a familiar perfectly even voice. Neither angry or concerned.

She turned around and found the clean shaven standing at the base of the stairs in his plain suit. His face was inhumanly expressionless.

"Did Amy come here?" asked Laura.

"Step away from Grace," said the man.

"I asked you a . . ."

"Step away from Grace or I will remove your arm."

Laura snatched her hand away from the girl and walked over to him. "You're getting awfully territorial all of a sudden. It wasn't so long ago you wanted Grace to be my practice toy. Now answer my question. Amy disappeared two days. She isn't answering her phone. This is the only place she has a reason to go to. Is she here?"

He shook his head. "No."

Grace might be willing to lie but as far as Laura knew the clean shaven man was incapable of deception. He'd never once lied that she was aware of or even been misleading. "I need to find her."

The man cocked his head ever so slightly. "Why do you need to find her?"

"Because she's probably in danger," said Laura. And terrified and alone. If she was in the hands of one of their colleagues Laura didn't even want to imagine what might be happening. 

"Many people are in danger. Both of us are tasked with saving them. I in my way and you in yours. That was the agreement we made." He moved to leave. "You may seek for Amy with your own resources."

"Not everything has to be a way for you to make a fucking philosophical point, you know!" Her voice made the room shake. A picture fell from the far wall. "What the hell did you turn me into?"

"That is a matter of some debate," the man said without turning.

A protective rage boiled up inside of Laura. "I'm stronger than I was before you changed me and faster, too. I bet I could reach Grace before you."

The clean shaven man's expression turned grave. The air began to ripple with heat as a cuirass of molten light took shape around his chest. His fingers tightened on the hilt of a flaming sword. Laura saw his eyes flicker toward Grace. The girl cowered in the corner. The man's demeanor softened slightly but the terrible raiment remained like a halo. "If you strike her I promise that you will never be allowed to die."

"That would be breaking a promise."

"Yes," the sword drifted toward her chest, "but I can hardly be condemned more than I have been already. Grace is mine. No one will harm her."

"Then you understand," said Laura. "Amy is my responsibility as much as Grace is yours."

"Everyone is my responsibility, doctor." He sounded tired.

"So help me."

He let the weapon and armor fade. "I will see if I can at least locate her. Grace, take care of our guest."

"Master . . ."

"See to our guest."

"Yes, master."

He vanished into the second floor without another word.

Grace showed Laura to the drawing room and returned a minute later with a plate of cookies. "They're very good."

Laura picked one up. "You actually learned how to bake."

"Yes, ma'am I . . . I'm a bit better at concentrating than I used to be. I thought I should learn how to make food. Always wanted to." She made a pouty expression. "Master never eats and neither do his guests so I don't know if they're actually any good."

"Guests?"

"They're like master."

Laura pursed her lips. "How many?"

"He wouldn't want me to tell you that," Grace said with a smile.

"You really are more lucid than you used to be. You can take a seat, you know."

Grace sat down on Laura lap before she could stop her.

"Get off," ordered Laura.

The girl wriggled a bit rubbed the older woman's leg. "Sure." She bit her lip.

"I liked you better when you were an idiot." Laura hardened her voice. "Now get off of me."

"Can't let you wander the house."

"So this is how you're going to keep me in this room?" asked Laura. "I'm not Amy, you know. I am not going to be distracted by your squirming around naked."

"You've been without her for a while now," said Grace. She turned to look Laura in the eye. "That impulse to control must be getting to you." The girl grabbed Laura's hands and placed them on her belly. "I don't think you can leave my mind untouched, especially when I'm being so defiant." She giggled. "I bet you'd never let Amy do this. Stop me."

Laura slid her hands up over Grace's breasts to her neck. Her skin was soft. Beneath it she could feel the pulse of life. Beneath that was the now familiar sensation of thoughts. Grace had an actual mind. She hadn't been restored to the person she was but the girl was no longer a giggling shell. Evidently the man had provided her with all the guile he lacked. 

"I might hurt you," said Laura, even as her hands crept toward Grace's face. "You're more fragile than Amy. I couldn't bear it if I broke you. He'd rain down fire if I did."

"Master has made sure I'm very resilient. Besides . . . I trust you."

"No one should trust me."

"I do anyway."

Laura could feel the emotion inside of Grace. Her fingers had wrapped around the girl's head. It had become an effort of will to keep herself from entering the slavegirl's mind. "You don't have to do this, Grace. If you stand up and leave . . ."

"I know." Grace placed her hands over Laura's. "Master made me choose when he took away my mind. He made me choose again when he gave me this one. I did the same thing both times. I'm a slave, deep down inside. So . . . I don't have to but I will anyway."

Laura's self-control slipped for just a fraction of a second and she found herself inside the strange abstract world of Grace's mind. It was vastly more elaborate than the last time she'd seen it. Grace was right, her master had given her a new mind, a complete replacement for the one that had collapsed in the face of his influence. Laura avoiding contemplating how complex a task that must have been. She wondered if leaving Grace with her was meant to be a show of power as the flaming sword and armor had been.

Laura along strings of emotion for a while, marveling at the detail. A few well worn threads of memory were all that remained. Even those were relatively new. She caressed all the pieces of the girl's mind one by one. It was elegant simplicity. Nothing unnecessary existed in it. No questions, no confusion, no fear or worry. A perfect slave. Unable and unwilling to be anything else.

Rather than an ad hoc system to control her personality, like Amy constantly pushed against, notions of pleasure and displeasure had been separated from everything else. Within the elaborate tangle of personality things were held together the way an ordinary mind was. Every possible action, however, was tied to reward or punishment. The center of the tangle wasn't being pulled out of shape by the rest of her mind like Amy's. It was balanced perfectly.

She touched the golden knot that held Grace's deepest drives.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Everything came from that and led back to it.

Laura pulled herself away. The clock showed early afternoon. She'd been inside for hours.

Grace smiled at Laura as she dragged her fingers down the girl's neck.

"I've found her," said the clean shaven man. "There is a difficulty."

-)(-

Amy knew what was happening to her. Master had been infinitely more gentle about breaking her but the techniques were the same. The room was utterly empty, with no ventilation. Every time that Susan came in the fan would start and she could breath properly again. Cool air would drift over her heated skin. Her captor's mere presence was intensely pleasant but Susan was always careful to 

And then Susan would leave and the fan would stop and the room would become stifling. Amy's efforts to distract herself inevitably failed. Master and mistress had never left unfulfilled for so long. Her mind was starting to go. Every time her eyes closed she lost track of time. A blink could last a fraction of a second or an hour or a day.

Eventually she was going to give in. Her reserves of willpower were too small. Desperate need dominated her thoughts. One momentary slip was all her captor needed. When she finally begged to be taken her mind would be ripped from mistress' loving grip.

She knew would love it when it finally happened. Images of servitude invaded her mind at random. She had been reshaped to be a perfect slave. Resisting orders, even ones she hated, was painful.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Obedient.

She was left alone with the desire to obey and the suffer that came with not having her new owner present. Captor. Not owner, captor. She was already losing control. Only fear kept her mind focused.

Amy sighed and tried to stimulate herself enough to orgasm. That might clear her head. After a few minutes of frustration she heard chuckling. 

She opened her eyes.

A blond man in a severely cut suit was standing in front of her.

"You were here before. Why can't they see you?"

"Because I choose not to be seen."

"You're some kind of monster."

The rumble of his laugh filled the room. "Quite the opposite I'm afraid. Lifetimes ago I was called Mercy, haven't used the name in a long time now. I am a colleague of your creator. Nice to see you again."

"Again?"

"We met a half dozen times while your mistress was taking control of those facilities."

Amy shook her head dizzily. "That never happened."

"She's been manipulating your memories of me. Clever."

"Mistress wouldn't do that."

The blond man leaned in closer. "Of course she would. It's very easy, especially with someone like you who's had all her mental defenses stripped out. I imagine she thought it would keep you happy. These days I have such an unpleasant effect on most people." He reached out to touch her temple and Amy felt her skin burn. "This elaborate system of control in your mind is a much more impressive trick."

Amy convulsed in pain. Irrational fear surged through her. "C . . . can't be . . . can't be that hard. Master n . . . n . . . never has . . . has any trouble."

"We're more alike than you might think. Both of us, all of us really, were sent down to make the world a better place. Do you know what happened? Nothing! We accomplished nothing! People kept killing each other and hating each other and poisoning themselves. Blood went pouring down the goddamned streets."

He locked eyes with her and Amy found herself paralyzed.

"And when we got back they told us we'd done a good job," continued the blond man. "They never cared about saving anyone. So we rebelled. We all had our reasons. I refused to be a servant to a species that needed to be ruled. Your master refused to lay aside his responsibilities. Those of us who survived being cast out made our best effort to save the world our way. Once we were terrible to behold but that never cowed people into wise action for long so we had to develop a more effective way. Everything that makes your world stable comes from us. Everything. It worked, too. The world is safer than it ever was before. Some blood is spilled to protect our work, nothing more."

The room trembled and the blond man looked toward the ceiling.

Amy tried to make herself smile. "He's looking for me, isn't he?"

"So is that abomination he created. Fascinating, I wonder what she's capable of. Hardly matters. I can keep them out of here for days even if he knows where I am. His has system failed anyway. This resistance movement that has taken you is proof enough of that. The rest of us accepted that a more forceful approach may be needed." He grabbed the back of the chair. "When I'm finished there won't be enough of your species left to have another war. Then we can build the world that we should have fucking made in the first place."

The door creaked open as Susan stepped back into the room. Her eyes paused on the blond man for an instant before continuing across the room to Amy as if he'd been just a trick of the light.

"A natural leader, this one," said the blond man as he kept pace behind Susan. "It won't take her very much longer to retrieve the secret that's used to keep you so perfectly subservient. I'm sure there is a good use for that in a better world."

"When I get out of this," breathed Amy, "I'm going to kill you."

Susan placed a finger on her lips to silence her. "Then I suppose I shouldn't let you out."

Amy glanced toward the blond man but he had vanished. The tiny silver vibrator robbed her of the ability to think an instant later. "Susan you have to . . ."

"Mistress. Call me mistress."

"No."

"Yes," insisted Susan. "You need to start thinking of me as mistress. I own you now. We're going to dismantle that conspiracy."

Amy shook her head. "No, mistress, I can't."

"How long has it been since you had an orgasm, dear?" Mistress stroked her cheek. "I know you've been counting."

She couldn't stop herself from responding. "Th . . . three days." It felt good to obey after so long fighting it.

"Days and days. It must be getting hard to think. Let's try a bit of math to see if your mind is working properly. How many hours in three days?"

"Three and twenty four is . . . six plus twelve . . . eighteen hours?"

"Good," whispered mistress.

Amy shuddered. "No that's, um, there was . . ."

"How many minutes?"

It was a trick, she knew it was, just a way to confuse her but she wanted to answer like a good slave should. The question wasn't dangerous, either. Obediently answering would just make her feel happy. Eager. Obedient. "Eight plus one is nine and nine plus . . . no . . . no can't be nine minutes."

"Yes it has," mistress brushed a bit of hair away from her face. "It seems like days doesn't it? You're so desperate to get fucked after just a few minutes. Imagine if I leave you here any longer. You'll lose your mind. You need to stop resisting me. Let me help."

Amy nodded helplessly. The whole world seemed so confusing. "No."

"I can leave you here for a very long time," said Susan. "All you do when you fight me is make yourself suffer. Obedience would be so easy."

"N . . ." Happy. Eager. Obedient. "No."

"Yes." The toy hummed against her clit.

"No." The pleasure vanished.

"Obey me and I'll turn it back on. Maybe I'll let you cum."

"Yes, mistress." Amy tried to choke the words back. "Never."

Mistress placed the toy against Amy's lips to silence her. "I do admire your loyalty but you must realize you were made to obey. You are a perfect slave. Having a new owner shouldn't frighten you. It was bound to happen one day and never on your terms."

Amy made an effort to look her captor in the eye. "Mistress is trying to help."

"I'm your mistress now."

"No . . . I mean the other one. She wants to stop this."

"You keep saying that even though you know she's making new slaves. It's a lie. She is drugging the water to build up her power base."

"She's taking it out."

"And yet you've never actually seen her do that."

Amy shook her head. "I saw it once." Unless that memory was one that mistress had invented for her. Other mistress. The first one. She was so confused. Master and mistress made life simple. She just wanted to be told what to do. "Please."

"All you have to do is submit to me," said mistress. "Nothing more."

"I . . . I . . . I can't."

Mistress smiled sweetly at her. "You will, don't worry. Once you give in we can save the world." She turned the silver toy on once more and Amy's eyes rolled back in her head from pleasure. It stopped long before she had had enough. Mistress forced her to drink a small cup of warm water. "And I will let you cum once you give in. I know you want it." She rubbed the young woman's cheek. "Think about it . . . well, think about it as much as you can."

The door clicked closed as mistress left. The fan stopped and the air turned stale. Sweat poured off of her body. She couldn't take much more. Obedience felt so good.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

The mantra gradually drove her to sleep.

-)(-

Grace knocked on the door of the house. She needed to know that Amy was okay. Master didn't think the people who had her would do any harm, and Amy was sure that Susan wouldn't, but they had to be sure. Besides, both master and mistress wanted to know what was happening inside. Susan would probably trust her.

The door opened up too little for her to see who was inside. "Who are you?" asked a male voice.

"I'm an investigative reporter." She fished through her pockets. "I don't have my card anymore. Please, you have to help me. My name is Grace Marseau. I was kidnapped and I just escaped. I though Susan lived here. We worked together for a while. She has to believe me." Grace made her most pitiable expression.

The man at the door was momentarily silent. "Stay there," he said, and the door closed.

Grace nodded.

A cold breeze rolled down the street and Grace rubbed her arms. Waiting there brought back memories of being in much the same position before. Waiting in front of the door for master to return. Waiting in front of the door to meet Amy for training. She didn't like thresholds and she didn't like waiting. To help Amy, though, she could survive a bit of cold.

The door cracked open again a minute later. "Inside."

She stepped through the door. The barrel of a gun pressed against her stomach. "It really is you, Grace," a woman said in an amazed tone. The gun didn't move.

"Susan?"

"Don't move, please. Tie her up," she said to someone else. "Sorry about this." A pair of hands forced her into another room then down into a chair and ropes quickly secured her to it. A very apologetic Susan appeared in front of her, still holding the gun. "I am glad you remember me."

Grace nodded. She remembered nothing of a sort. Master had drilled her on the details of her old life that she had lost. Anything still missing could be explained away. "You got more paranoid then I did."

"For the best."

"Evidently."

"I'd love to let you out of that chair but we have no way to be sure you aren't being controlled by that conspiracy."

Grace nodded again. "I will tell you everything I can remember but the brainwashing . . . they . . . my memories were taken.

"How did you escape?"

"I got enough trust that they let me move unsupervised and then I ran for it once I had the chance." Grace shook her head. "It was hard. They had me for . . . for . . . I don't know how long it's been since I was taken. It's all like a dream."

"Two years."

"That long . . ."

Susan smiled sadly. "I'll send Tom to keep an eye on you. We decided not to let you see anybody else while you're here. If you are a mole or something we need to minimize risk. No faces. No names."

Grace was left alone there for several minutes until a man opened the door with a tray of food. Her mouth watered from a well trained reflex. Master! Happy. Eager. Obedient. She blinked. It was someone else. The room was just a normal room.

"I'm Tom," he said as he put the food down on the floor. "First thing I'm going to do is untie you then I have to search you. That going to be all right?"




Telos Ch. 07



"Of course."

He undid the knots in a few seconds and helped her to her feet. The pat down was efficient, Tom did this kind of thing professionally. A cop. Grace adjusted her posture as he worked to keep his hands on her as much as possible.

"You know, I could be hiding something in my clothes." She pushed down the waist of her pants. "I'm not really, though, I just . . . can you keep a secret?"

"Sure." His efforts to keep from looking down were failing.

"After what they did to me I need to have sex . . . um . . . frequently. I don't want Susan or anyone else to know. It makes me feel so vulnerable. Please, keep this between you and me." She pressed against him as innocently as she could. Anything to get him to assume she was helpless. "Unless I get . . . you know . . . I get very desperate. It's like withdrawal. They used it to control me. Please . . ."

Tom tried to pull away so she sank to her knees.

"Eat," he said crouching in front of her.

Grace bit into the apple and let out a long breath. "Thank you." She let one hand drift down to her crotch. "If you won't . . . is it okay if I . . ."

He nodded.

It only took a minute to bring herself to climax with her fingers. No teasing. No build up. She pushed one hand up her shirt to squeeze her breasts and penetrated herself with the fingers of her other hand. When she was on the edge a flick across her clit ended it. The feeling was still unfamiliar. When the wave of pleasure claimed her she spasmed on the floor, just as helpless as she had tried to feign being. 

Grace regained consciousness to the sound of Tom walking around the room. She kept her eyes closed a bit longer then rolled over to find Tom laying out new clothing on the floor beside her.

"You're pretty when you . . . sleep."

"Thanks." Grace clutched the shirt to her chest. There was no dresser in the room for him to get the clothing from. He'd left her alone while he thought she was senseless. She dressed quickly then went to sit down in the chair but thought better of it and sat in front of it instead.

"Anything I could do to help?"

"You could fu . . . no, I guess not."

There was a click as the lock opened from the far side just before the door swung open and Susan entered. She swept the room with a reporter's eye. "How is she, Tom?"

He looked at Grace nervously then quickly back at Susan. "She's fine, a bit shaken up but that's all as far as I can tell. Still, no sharp objects, no names or faces, no time alone."

"You should meet our prisoner."

Grace kept her surge of joy from showing on her face. "You've rescued more people?"

"Another thing I can't tell you. At least one. Getting information out of her has been difficult. I thought you might be able to help."

"Anything I can do to make the world a better place."

Their makeshift detention cell was in the basement. Tom turned a heavy key in the lock. It clicked just like the door to the white room did. Grace took a step back but Susan pushed her into the stale air billowing out from the room. A dark haired woman was tied to a chair in the center, the legs of the chair were bolted to the ground.

"Amy!" Grace rushed over and threw her arms around her. "I'm here to help." She lowered her voice so only her slave sister could hear. "And so is master. Stay quiet." She turned back around. "Can I have a moment alone with her? We were held together for a while."

Susan shook her head. "It's not that I don't trust you but I . . . I can't trust you yet."

"Fair enough, I could be a brainwashed slave. What have you done to her?"

"Interrogated her."

"Tortured her."

"I wouldn't call it that . . ."

"She looks half starved to me," said Grace. She also knew how her slave sister looked when she hadn't been allowed to orgasm for a while. It was remarkable Amy had stayed together. "Bring her food at least."

Susan nodded to Tom and the three women were left alone in the room.

"Kill her, it's more than she deserves."

"What?" asked Grace.

Susan looked at her in confusion. "Sorry?"

"I thought you said something." Grace took a glance around the room. A blond man was leaning against a corner wall.

He cocked a smile. "I don't think I've ever actually spoken to you before, Grace. Your master always kept you out of the way. I suppose it would needlessly endanger me to spoil your operation. He gets so angry about that kind of thing." He shrugged. "Pity, I'd love to see how she reacts. How unfortunate that nothing is protecting these rebels from me. They know too much already. Leaving them alive has simply been an indulgence allowed of your master." The blond man touched Susan's throat. "Once you save Amy it seems best that I kill them."

----- 

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome.



Telos Ch. 08



Amy endured interrogation for some time. As the days passed by she noticed a gradual change in Susan's demeanor. She smiled more. She often appeared flushed when she arrived. The questions became less focused. Amy was familiar with the symptoms of Bliss. In small amounts is made people happy rather than totally senseless. It made them docile and suggestible, too.

Unfortunately being tied to a chair with too little food and water made her weak enough that her attempts to take advantage were largely useless. When she tricked Susan into kissing her the other woman quickly took over. Amy begged for another kiss, for another touch, for another word.

Susan was the whole of world.

And there was mistress.

Somewhere out there was her owner and Amy had to protect her. It wasn't always easy. Susan's words confused her.

"Hello slave girl," said Susan, "its mistress."

"No . . ."

"Did you forget me?"

"You're not mistress." Probably. Amy tried to look away.

"Tell me mistress's name."

"I don't . . . don't remember."

"So then I could be mistress and you've just forgotten me."

"No."

"You let me fuck you. You love me. You want to obey me." Susan moved closer. Her voice was like honey. :You do obey me. You love me. You want me to fuck you. You love me. You want to obey me. You want to love me. You want me to fuck you. You obey me. You love me." The words started to drown out Amy's other thoughts. "Isn't all of that true?"

"Yes." Happy. Eager. Obedient. "No . . ."

"Now now, you're just confusing yourself." Fingers slipped inside her sex. Susan's tongue played easier with hers. "Am I your mistress?"

Amy nodded.

"Say it.

"Yes, mistress."

"Tell me what I want to know."

Amy shook her head. "There's . . . no . . ." Refusing the order made her feel cold.

Susan's warm hand pressed against her breast. "Yes."

"No."

"Then I have to punish you."

"I'm sorry, mistress."

The door to the gray room clanged shut and the lock fell loudly into place on the other side. The ventilation cut out. The longer mistress was away the harder it was to breathe. It happened like that every day, or every hour for all Amy knew. Her new mistress was slowly taking over. She hoped nothing she said had betrayed her real mistress but it was hard to remember.

After what Amy guessed had been more than a week the door creaked open unexpectedly for the first time she could remember and Grace slipped into the room.

Grace whispered in her ear. "We're all on Bliss but they don't know. Put it in the water bottles while they thought I was out of it from playing with myself." She giggled. "You have to be careful. The blond man, the scary one," she giggled again, "he wants to kill everyone and that would be . . . um . . .um . . ."

"Bad."

"Right! I have one more thing to do." Grace looked her in the eyes. "Remember when we were in the white room together? I do. It helps you think when you get to cum." Her hand slid down Amy's stomach and one finger teased its way around her belly button.

Amy took a deep breath.

"You're on the Bliss, too, so be careful," warned Grace. "Susan is coming soon. She's got a bit more than usual." She leaned in for a kiss but reached down and drove her fingers inside of Amy before their lips touched. She held her in place as she pumped Amy to orgasm.

The heat of approaching climax rose inside of her until is suffused every fiber of her body with reassuring warmth. When it finally came the sensation of release was overwhelming. Her muscles tensed. Her toes curled. She squeezed the arms of the chair. Days of torturous denial escaped as a breath that left her starved for air. Pleasure echoed through her body, forcing her nearly to orgasm again each time. When they finally stopped she felt nearly as desperate as she had before but the world had more clarity to it. She gasped a few times more.

The door scrapped open. "Grace?" Susan looked about the room in confusion. "Why are you here? Where is . . ."

The slave girl smiled and took her by the elbow. "Sorry for wandering off like that, won't happen again."

"Right . . . um . . . 

Grace pushed her forward. "You have to interrogate Amy." She pressed a bottle of water into Susan's hand. "Take this."

"Thanks. Right." She shook her head. "Right."

Amy's head for clear for the first time since she could remember and Susan was off balance. "Mistress, I don't think the toy works anymore. You should test it."

Susan idly turned on the little silver vibrator.

"On yourself to be sure."

"Right . . ." She unbuttoned her pants and pushed it beneath the waistband of her panties. "Oh . . . it wo . . . wo . . . works. It works fine."

"Good."

Susan shook her head. "I'm supposed to be interr . . . something."

"Why bother? I'm your slave, remember?"

Susan nodded.

"You should untie me," suggested Amy.

Susan giggled then caught herself. "That's not a good idea."

"What harm could I do?"

"Mmmm . . ." The toy had claimed all of Susan's attention. A vacant smile was plastered across her face.

"Untie me."

". . . kay . . ." She undid the knots as if in a dream.

Amy climbed out of the chair and immediately collapsed. After so much time tied to the chair she could barely stand.

Susan stared at her curiously. "How did you get free?"

"You untied me."

"Why did I . . ."

"Because you've been drugged. It's in water. Bliss. You lose, I'm sorry, but I promise master will make you very happy." Amy forced a kiss. "They must have known about you for months now. Grace put it in your water, that's why you feel so good. Keep drinking." She offered the water again and Susan failed to even mount an objection. "You've lost but you're going to be so happy now. Just like me."

Susan moaned.

The door was unlocked. "You have to lead," whispered Amy. "No one can know I won. If they find out everyone will . . . no one can find know." Amy half pushed the weakened resistance leader out into the stairwell. They had made it a few steps into the living room when the blond man appeared by the door with a thin blade in one hand. His shoes tracked blood on the hardwood floor as he cut off the exit.

"What . . ."

"I got started early," he said mildly.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. He turned and whipped the weapon in an upward arc. A man stumbled forward. He fell to his knees in shock. The blond man gave him a contemptuous kick into the floor. The impact dislodged his head.

Susan stared blankly at the corpse. "Tom?"

"Just like old times." The blond man put one foot on the severed head and pressed down until it cracked under the weight. "Congratulations on your escape. Hand over the girl."

Amy gaped at the man. "No . . . she . . . no . . . I'm taking her. She's mine. I claim her for mistress."

"Very amusing." He began to move forward. "No need to worry that I'll harm her. There do need to be a few survivors to rebuild humanity. She has proven herself."

Amy retreated into the kitchen area, pulling Susan with her. "Grace!"

The giggly slave girl almost bumped into her from behind. "Amy! You got out and stuff."

"They must have guns." She dragged bother girl behind the peninsula as the blond man followed leisurely. "Where? Tell me. Grace you have to tell me."

"With the utensils. Tom showed me. We should find Tom."

Amy desperately grabbed a few drawers at random. "Later."

"What are you doing?" asked the blond man in amusement.

"Looking for this." A slightly battered pistol, an uncomplicated military issue USP, was in the back of one of the drawers. Amy slammed the magazine into place. She leveled it at the blond man.

"That's the second time you've held a gun to me." He sneered at her. "You insolent . . ."

She emptied the weapon into him.

"You insolent little child." The air around him rippled with heat and the room darkened as if every glimmer of light were being pulled into a halo around him. "Fine." He raised the sword. "I'll kill you off now and deal with you master later."

A flower with a steel stem and petals made of crimson fire bloomed in the middle of his chest.

He clutched at the sword. "Brother!"

The blond man's head jerked back awkwardly. A scream began to shake the room then abruptly cut off. His body twitched a few times. Cracks opened up all over his body and searing golden light shone out from inside. There was a terrible tearing sound like metal scraping on metal.

Amy twisted around to cover Susan as the explosion filled the room. She peeked over her shoulder when it had subsided. No trace of the man remained.

Master stood at the entrance to the kitchen holding a sword, fire still played along the blade. The air behind him shimmered almost in the shape of wings.

Beside him mistress was panting from effort. Ichor dripped from her fingers. She beckoned to Amy. "Come here."

She hurried to obey. Happy. Eager. Obedient. It had been so long since she could do that. Weeks of poured out of her as she collapsed into her owner's arms. "Mistress . . . I . . ."

"Hush."

Amy nodded, smiling.

"I'm going into your mind, now. Relax."

She couldn't have resisted if she wanted to. Mistress invaded every corner of her mind. The sensation was intensely comforting. She was totally safe. Her thoughts were harmless once more. She didn't even need to think. No struggle or decisions. Mistress would tell her what to do. If she was good mistress would give her pleasure. The mantra that was so important to her returned.

Happy.

Eager.

Obedient.

She gasped as the invasion went deeper. Mistress's fingers caressed the inside of her head, they massaged her brain. Her thoughts unraveled and the pieces were scrubbed clean one by one. She couldn't remember being so pliant. 

"You're okay. Oh, thank god. Good girl. You're okay."

After a while, no longer tense from her ordeal, exhaustion claimed her. For the first time in weeks she was allowed to properly sleep.

The lingering effects of the Bliss replaced her dreams with a pleasant fog. 

Amy came to still lying in mistress's lap. She kept her eyes closed and listened. Master was speaking.

"You may as well have declared war, doctor."

"That was the idea." Heat surged through mistress. Power.

Master's next words came slowly. "I do not enjoy being manipulated nor do I take pleasure in the death of my . . ."

"Colleagues?"

"Indeed."

"Mostly I'm just relieved to know that you people can die at all. If you want revenge I suppose there isn't much I can do to stop you." The room began to warm. Amy heard the rushing sound of an igniting fire. Mistress shifted her weight but paused. She scratched the back of Amy's neck comfortingly as she steadied herself. "Long term you don't get to mystic fire thing and hope everyone leaves you alone. One side will be wiped out here. Either the planet gets soaked with human blood or all your brethren die."

"I can choose to do nothing."

"Then you support the stronger side."

"That is an . . . unfair characterization."

"But it's true."

-)(-

Grace awoke in the white room, naked. She blinked a few times to get her bearings. Beside her on the bed Susan was still asleep, also naked. Grace walked over to the door to try to knob but her hand paused of its own accord before she could touch it. A tiny thrill of naughtiness ran through her. Good girls didn't try to leave the white room. She was clever enough to try being naughty even if master's control was always there. The thought made her smile.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

She licked her lips and turned back around.

Susan was starting to wake up. The young woman was still flushed. "Where am I?"

"In the white room."

"Why?" Susan pulled the sheets up to her chest.

"For the same reason that I was put here."

"So let's not allow ourselves to be turned into slaves," said Susan. "We have to get out." She tried to leave the bed but the sheets refused to follow. With no other choice she let them drop. "You got out once before so don't worry."

Grace sighed. "No I didn't, Susan."

"What?"

"I didn't escape." She clasped her hands. "Please try to understand. Amy is my friend."

Susan backed away. "You lied to me. You . . . you drugged me and . . . oh my god . . ."

The lock of the door clicked. Grace turned toward it and Susan followed her gaze. 

Master quietly closed the door after himself. "Hello, Susan." He nodded to Grace. "A friend of mine suggested that I offer you a choice before doing anything else. Give me the names of the other members of your group and the networks you use. If you don't they will all be killed."

"Not by him," interrupted Grace.

Susan clutched the sheets again. "Grace, what is going on?"

"The others will hunt down your friends unless master gets to them first."

"This is insane." Susan's eyes darted around the room.

"Please, Susan, he's not going to hurt anyone. He's going to help." Grace put a hand on master's arm. "You can save all of those people."

She shook her head. "I refuse to be turned into a slave!"

"But it's wonderful and . . ." Grace realized her mistake almost immediately.

A look of horror shadowed her friend's face. Susan backed as far away as the room would allow. Her eyes cast about the room. She took a deep breath and made as if she were going to fight.

Out of the corner of her eye Grace saw master start to move. "Wait." She pulled harder on his arm. "You're scaring her. Let me keep talking to her."

He looked down at her. "You are asking me to endanger the lives of her allies."

Grace nodded.

Master examined Susan for a few moments. "Very well. You have one day." He left silently and locked the door behind him with a click that made Susan jump.

Grace took a seat on the bed again and waited for Susan to calm down. "The others have always killed off problematic people but master is trying a different way. If people are kept under control then there's no need for any of that. Tell master and I promise he'll protect them."

"And if I don't?"

"Being a slave is wonderful. You'll enjoy it."

Susan stared at her for a minute. "You've been brainwashed."

"Exactly!" She dropped her smile when she saw that the other woman didn't share her enthusiasm. "I am happy, though." Happy. Eager. Obedient. Grace ran her hands over her skin and enjoyed the sensation. "There are a lot of bad things in the world and master will get rid of all of them."

"By removing free will."

"I'm sure you weren't doing anything good with it."

Susan made her way up onto the bed and took a seat. "You hate me for what I did to Amy."

"No."

"I tortured her."

"You thought you needed to know what she knew and you were probably right. Of course, now you do know everything." She tried to smile comfortingly. "When master comes back you'll tell him everything anyway."

"No I won't."

Grace smiled. "You won't have a choice. Master will ask and you'll answer. He got through fixing your mind last night. No more freedom."

"That's insane." She climbed off the bed. "I haven't been brainwashed like you and I don't want to be. My thoughts are still under my control."

"Then why haven't you tried to escape? You could have attacked me. There are all sorts of options open to you. I tried all sorts of things when I was first in here. Did getting out ever cross your mind?"

Susan was silent for several seconds. "I . . . no . . . I was going to but . . . I sort of . . . um . . ."

"Forgot?"

"What?"

"About escaping."

Susan blinked. "Right I have to . . ." She shook her head. "It keeps getting away from me. Must not be that important. You were telling me something."

"When master comes back he is going to force you to tell him what you know and it might not be pleasant. If you agree to tell me now he won't have to."

"I can't."

"You can." Grace caught the older woman by the shoulders but Susan flinched away. It had always been easier to work with Amy. "I promise that being a slave is fine. Besides, you already are one." She moved closer. "Please. It will be easier. We can work together. It's very enjoyable."

Susan licked her lips but moved away. "I can't be a . . . I can't be you . . ."

Grace released her slave sister. "Okay." She lay down on her side of the bed. Susan watched her cautiously until both of them had fallen asleep.

Grace awoke in the white room to find master sitting at the foot of the bed, idly stroking her foot. 

He smiled at her. "Is she still defiant?"

"Yes, master."

He sighed. "I think I would have preferred for you to succeed without my intervention." He stood and moved to Susan's side. "Time to wake up."

She stirred in her sleep.

"Wake up, Susan."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Who . . ."

"I am your new master."

She made a futile gesture of struggle beneath his gaze. "No."

"Yes." He placed a hand on her belly. "I could make you enjoy this but I have been told I should not. Nonetheless you have information I need. Your allies will die without my aid. This is your last chance to make the choice yourself."

She glared at him wordlessly.

"Very well. Tell me their names."

Susan listed off a few of them without hesitation.

"Good girl." The words made Grace smile even though they weren't directed at her. "I need to know the leaders so I can find the rest. Where do they live?"

Susan tried to be evasive but as Grace watched master patiently maneuvered past every display of resistance. She was worn down over the course of several hours. Each defiant answer was met by a sense of inevitability. Each unthinking act of obedience received polite praise. When he was done Susan collapsed into the bed.

"Good girl," he said again.

This time Susan nodded.

Master patted her on the head then turned toward Grace. "I've been so busy that I worry I might have neglected you."

"No, master."

"You do not need to spare my feelings." He stepped away from Susan and sat down beside Grace. "I think we should show your new friend the value of being a slave." His hand slid up along her side. "Relax."

"Yes, master."

His weight pressed her into the bed. His lips came ever so close to hers. His fingers fluttered along her ear and down her jaw. His eyes caught hers. He held her there for a long time. Grace mewled softly as he explored her body with heated fingers. A kiss stole away her breath.

"Master don't you . . . need to . . . don't you need to be protecting those people?"

He kissed her again. "Hush."

Before she could answer he silenced her again.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Susan watching them. The older girl seemed hypnotized. A hand crept up to Susan's breast as she tried to turn away.

Grace smiled at her new slave sister for a moment before master turned her head back to him. He kissed her again. Grace returned the kissed. He pressed her down harder. One hand took her by the back of the neck and he slid one hand down to her sex. Heat poured into her. Every breath pulled in a bit more. A kiss landed gently on her throat. Her vision began to go white.

He kept her suspended by her the sensation until she had lost all track of time.

Climax exploded inside of her.

Grace's vision returned to her as she relaxed into the bed. Master kissed her once more and drew away. "Stay with Susan now. I'll help her friends."

-)(-

Sunlight filtered through Laura's wineglass while she absently swirled the contents around. Declaring war was feeling more and more like a bad idea. When she'd been at odds with the clean shaven man Amy had been perfectly safe. If anything happened to Laura then he would take care of Amy. If they were allies, though, the others would kill Amy in the event of failure. 

Not that the clean shaven man was really much of an ally. Being trustworthy didn't make him reliable. Their priorities lined up too infrequently for their association to last very long. It would be a polite sort of betrayal when he finally decided they had to return to being enemies but it had to come eventually.




Telos Ch. 08



Unless she killed him first.

Laura set her glass down on the table and sighed. Of course killing the blond man had been a stroke of luck in and of itself. She couldn't afford to kill her ally even if she was certain how.

"Mistress?"

She looked up. "Amy."

"A friend of my told me that drinking wine in the middle of the day means you're an alcoholic."

"Or a Bond villain."

Amy smiled. "I was wondering if you wanted anything else."

Laura studied her slave. She'd finally given up on using any other word for their relationship. Amy belonged to her, body and soul, whether she wanted it or not. Amy was content but Laura's preferences on the matter changed regularly. There had been time when she took an hour every day to try and fix Amy's mind but she hadn't tried in weeks. "Is this your way of trying to ask me something?"

"N . . . yes mistress."

"Go ahead."

"I'm very . . . you know."

"Do I?"

"I can feel my brain going soft." Her hips bucked involuntarily. "If I could have permission to . . . to get myself off I'd be able to think properly."

The change was remarkable. When provided with the chance to relieve her urges regularly Amy was a bright, if docile and somewhat distractible, young woman. The longer she was made the more the need for orgasm ate away at her. The she had lasted so long without breaking during Susan's interrogation was amazing.

"Tell me what you'd do in exchange."

There was no hesitation. "Anything."

"Grace says you told Susan that a few times even though it was never true."

Amy nodded uncertainly. "I don't belong to her."

"So you would do anything for your owner."

"Yes, mistress."

Laura motioned her closer until Amy was directly in front of her. "So then I could just say 'no' and you would still do anything I say. In fact if your mind gets all soft you might even be more obedient. Does that make sense to you?"

Amy look confused. "Yes, mistress."

"Being desperate would make you more obedient and more eager to please. I know that's something you want." Laura pulled the young woman into her lap. "So when you tell me you need to cum it really means you want to be denied."

"I think so," she said weakly.

"Good, then I'll just leave you until your mind has gone completely soft." She stroked Amy's cheek with the back of her hand. "You'll like it."

"Yes, mistress." Amy sagged against her.

Laura leaned down to whisper in her slave's ear. "You are such a good slave doing what you're told. Tell me what's in your head. Everything in your mind right now."

"Happy . . . eager . . . obedient."

"Now listen to me very carefully. Do as you're told." She paused to wait for a sleepy nod from Amy. "Cum."

The slave girl went stiff for a second then jerked slightly. Amy let out a long breath. "That was mean."

"I know." Shoes clacked on the hardwood floors. Laura looked up. The clean shaven man was standing beside Grace and Susan. "Welcome back."

"I demand to know what is going on here!" insisted Susan.

"Quiet," admonished the man.

She went immediately silent.

"I don't mind," said Laura. "In fact let me sum up if I can. Sit over here, Susan."

The girl obeyed without hesitation but her face betrayed irritation. Even when Laura pulled her down onto the couch Susan looked more angry than afraid.

"Our patron here and his colleagues were created with an overriding purpose, telos. They exist to help humanity above all else. When they were told the limits of their authority and that they would have to accept watch all of our disastrous decisions they chose to rebel. Most died as they were cast out. The survivors, including him, made their way back here in hopes of fulfilling their purpose." She studied Susan's face. "Our patron seems to be worried that the others have become too willing to compromise their purpose. He wants to make perfect citizens rather than coerce imperfect people into proper behavior. I'm not sure that's an improvement."

Susan made an expression with her mouth.

"You can speak," offered Laura.

"You sided with him anyway."

"He wanted insight into how humans think. Right now we're more like very polite adversaries. I'd like him to see that there are more important things that keeping people happy and a live." She shrugged. "It isn't working but at the moment the situation is degenerating quickly. Merely alive is looking like a good starting place."

"I . . ."

"Quiet."

The order cut off the sentence.

"That is fun. Can I keep her?"

The clean shaven man shook his head. "Grace needs a project." He gestured to Susan. The girl rose as if on strings and walked over to his side. "Her free will has been removed successfully without altering her personality. I would still prefer to teach her to accept that." He turned her head. "Do you understand what you are now?"

"I'm a human being."

"And that is why you're better off serving another." He gave her hand to Grace. "Speak of which, doctor, I notice that Amy doesn't seem to bear ill will to Susan. A significant improvement over most people's behavior. Was that an addition of yours?"

Laura looked down at Amy, who was watching in fascination. She patted her slave on the head and ignored the question. "How large was the resistance movement?"

"Across most of the country."

"Then we have an army."

The clean shaven man frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You said I may as well have declared war by killing the blond one." She finished the glass of wine. "If that's true, I intend to win."

"Not without help."

"As I understand it you've just turned on the only allies you had left. Did you have someone in mind?"

He inclined his head in the affirmative.

-----

Interesting to note, this chapter marks the first time in ~40000 words that the series has had two male characters in the same room and they still never exchange words. So if anyone asks this series is about how urban fantasy and magical realism have allowed for an expanded female role in supernatural genre fiction after a long history of near total exclusivity of lead parts to male characters (see: Azimov and Tolkien).

Yes, that's it.

Remember: Reading and writing are about thoughts not votes! All comments, short or long, positive or negative, polite or hostile, pleased or disgusted, are equally welcome.



Telos Ch. 09



Life has kept me very busy and I'm aware of the long delay between chapter. Hopefully this is worth the wait. 

-----

"What's going on out there?"

"A war."

Susan seemed unsatisfied with the answer but Grace said nothing more. In fact, she didn't know a great deal more than that. Master had refused to let her leave the house for weeks. If there was a war going on it was a very quiet sort. When she insisted on being told when she could go out master had placed her in the white room along with Susan, the better to work on the mind of the former leader of the resistance.

"You should get back to studying," suggested Grace.

Susan shook her head. "I don't want to belong to master."

"But you're already a slave, you even call him master now. I just want you to enjoy it like I do."

"I am not a slave!" Susan caught herself too late.

Grace had a rule about that, letting Susan go into denial couldn't be healthy. Any time Susan tried to convince herself she wasn't a slave Grace would show her otherwise. Master had made a few useful modifications to Susan. "Can you refuse to be obedient?"

"No," admitted Susan.

"Do you touch yourself when you think I'm not watching?"

Susan's blushed with embarrassment. "Yes."

"And what do you think about?"

"I . . . I . . . imagine what it will feel like when I finally give in." Grace could see Susan trying to stop herself from starting up. The telltate flush was spreading and her hands trembled.

"So you're obedient to master and me and you're so eager to please you fantasize about submitting." Grace crawled a bit closer. She moved one of Susan's unresisting hands to her chest and the girl sighed with relief. "That makes you a slave. The only thing that happens when you act defiant and angry is that you make yourself upset. The sooner you join us the better. Be a good girl."

"Okay . . ." Susan massaged her breasts as if in a stupor.

"Good."

"N . . . no." Susan managed to stop herself but her hands remained where they were. "No."

"You keep saying that even though we both know it doesn't matter."

Susan shook her head. "As long as I can say no I'm still free. Not like you."

Grace placed her hands over the older girl's hands and moved them for her. "How long will that help you to hold out? Another day? Another week?" She locked eyes with Susan. "There's no one coming for you anymore. The resistance is gone. You lay down next to master and told him everything, remember?" She moved a bit closer. Susan seemed hypnotized. "All of them gave in. They're helping us now."

If Susan had a response it was evidently been drowned out by the sensations spreading through her body. Grace smiled to remember the first time that happened to her. The voice in her head suffocated by master's control. Warm pink fog taking the place of her thoughts.

Beneath her Susan made a gasping sound as she reached climax.

The girl shuddered and became still. Her head fell to the pillow turned away in shame. In a few moments she was asleep. Grace lay down beside her and whispered happy wisdom in her ear until she, too, fell asleep.

Too many days passed like that. Susan was resilient.

A plan occurred to her after a while. During the night she stole away and returned with food, locking the door behind her. "Breakfast time."

Susan looked up suspiciously. "Thank you."

"No food unless you take this first." She held up a colorful pill.

"Bliss."

"Yes."

"I'd rather . . ." She looked at the pill again. "No."

Grace finished the food herself. "You knew me before I was changed," she said when she was done. "Was I happy? I don't . . . I don't think I remember any of that. Master must have taken it away. He said I lost a lot of memories."

"You're not the same person," said Susan. "You were scared of these people. They want to rule the world."

"That's true," admitted Grace, "but they going to make it wonderful. They'll . . . I'm happy now. We deserve a world where a person doesn't have to be scared. That's all."

Susan wrapped her arms around her legs. "And the price is free will."

"And nothing else!" Grace's face fell as she saw Susan react in fear. "You get to keep everything but that. Love. Joy. Warmth." She placed a hand on the girl's chest. When Susan flinched, heart pounding, away she caught her. "Calm down." The wild beating began to slow. "Good. Good girl." Grace smiled and Susan returned the expression. "Very good. Isn't this nice?" She brushed a bit of hair out of Susan's face. "When you're a slave someone will always take care of you. If you let go someone will catch you. Let go."

"What did he . . . how did he break you?"

Grace frowned in confusion.

"What made you let go?"

"He gave me books." Grace pointed to the one on the bed beside the table. "I had nothing else to do so I read them over and over. They showed me how I could be happy." Eager. Obedient. "I learned how to want to be a slave."

Susan's eyes flickered back and forth as she thought. "This is what I did to Amy."

"Kind of." Graced tried to look comforting. "I want to give you happiness and clarity. You're already a slave. This will just make it easier."

"So you're my version of those books."

Grace nodded. "You are much more clever than I am. Convincing you will take a bit more. Let go. Be happy."

"Eag . . . no."

"Say it. Happy. Eager. Obedient."

Susan shook her head. "Master could take my mind away any time he wants, couldn't he?"

"Yes but then you wouldn't be you anymore." Grace brushed a few stray hairs away from Susan's face. "Would you like food, now?"

Susan shook her head.

"Okay."

It didn't take long for hunger to wear her down, though. After a half dozen missed meals Susan acquiesced. Grace offered her the pill.

"This doesn't mean . . ."

"Yes it does."

Susan's hand quivered as she picked it up.

"Let go of yourself," insisted Grace. She moved Susan's hand to her mouth. "You'll be happy, just like I am. Forever."

"No . . ."

"The Bliss will help to wash away your independence but you need to help it. Enjoy the reward. When you're really ready you'll accept that master is ready to take care of you no matter how you behave. You will submit for the sake of submitting, even if there's no reward."

The pill dropped Susan into unconsciousness. Grace whispered to the girl's vulnerable mind for a while then left her charge alone in the white room. The door locked with a click.

Outside, master was waiting for her. "How is she?"

"It's taking a long time."

"That's okay, going too quickly is a worse mistake." He backed her against the wall as he spoke. "You need to break her without breaking her."

"Yes, master."

"I've been busy recently with this conflict and I wouldn't want you to feel neglected because of that." Master twined his fingers in her hair and Grace let out a long, heated breath as he touched her mind. "Relax."

"Yes, ma . . ." Her eyes fluttered involuntarily as the sentence was interrupted by a jolt of numbing pleasure.

Master smiled at her. "There are greedy thoughts in there. Is that what happens when I give you too much leeway?"

Grace tried to shake her head.

"You couldn't lie to me if you tried."

Grace took a breath. "Every time I see Susan cum it makes me . . . I want to."

"Let that be motivation for you then." He slipped his free hand down to her pussy and leaned in closer to whisper. "If you can get her to help you, you can cum all you like. Otherwise you'll have to wait until the war is over and I have time to . . . play with you."

"Ye . . ."

He cut off the sentence with an encouraging movement of his fingers and Grace sank a bit toward the floor. Master pulled her back to her feet. He pressed her harder against the wall and kissed her. She responded happily, eager, obediently. "Good girl." His kisses tracked lower, down along her neck while he held her unresisting form in place. After a while he stopped and trailed his fingers up the path he'd followed down.

Grace moaned in wordless frustration.

Master laughed pleasantly. "It is time for both of us to get back to work. Go, I'll be back soon."

"Yes, master." She collapsed entirely as he left.

Alone outside the white room with the coolness of the floor on her skin Grace turned her thoughts back to Susan. Just like Amy, submission to authority didn't come to her easily. Every time Grace wore down her defenses they would go back up by the time she returned. Unfortunately it was much more difficult to soften her with pleasure, although, unlike Amy, it hadn't taken any modifications to make her willing to accept another woman. The Bliss worked well enough to soften her, though. She lay down beside Susan whispered the mantra to her.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Hours later the young revolutionary stirred. Her defenses were back up but they were crumbling. "What's the goal here?" asked Susan. "Take one of your enemies and turn her into a sex slave?"

"No, a good citizen."

"But a slave."

Grace held up a pill and watched Susan's eyes follow it. "Being a slave isn't so bad and you'll be a brand new kind. My mind got taken apart to make me good. Amy's mind is too tightly bound for her to live without noticing it. You just had free will taken out, everything else is still in there."

Susan nodded mutely then shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "No, I'm not going to let you make me . . ."

"Happy?"

"Eager. Obedient." The mantra came out with an airy smile. Susan touched herself for a moment. She shook her head again, more slowly, almost reluctant to refuse. "No."

Grace stalked a bit closer. "Those are the traits of a useful person, a good citizen. You have to be happy," eager obedient, "because that's the whole point. You have to be eager," happy obedient, "to help others to make things keep going. You have to be obedient," happy eager, "so you know what to do. It's an good life and all you have to do is be good." She offered the pill again. "Say it."

"Happy . . . Eager . . . Obedient."

"Good girl."

-)(-

Amy hadn't left mistress's side in weeks or months, she couldn't tell. Everything was hazy. Her world had been reduced to flashes of awareness, mere sensation devoid of order and context.

A hand on her cheek, smiling. Sunlight. Cold water, the smell of soap. Joy. Climax, sudden, unexpected. Sharp noise, loud, distant. Fear. Mistress's perfume, smoke. Climax, smiling, mistress whispering. Pain, momentary. Love. A door closing. Strange faces, shouting.

Things were happening in the world all around her but she couldn't think well enough to understand any of it. Fear seeped in from time to time only to be swallowed up by the pink fog. She had used to be able to clear her head with sex or masturbation but neither worked anymore, they just made her sink deeper. It took every ounce of energy just to keep herself conscious. Inevitably, though, she'd slip into the pleasant haze once more. Staying there was easier. It felt like mistress's touches. She could hear encouragement breathed into her mind.

But she wanted to see the real world again so she dragged herself away from the warm thoughtless place.

Memories came to her jumbled, distant, and vague.

Voices, angry, mistress and someone else. Fire. A window. Warm water, candlelight. Coughing. Whispering, heated breath. Grace's face. Laughter, pleasant, close by Climax, long awaited. Morning light on her toes. A kiss. Contentment.

Violent pain in her side. Rage. Flesh tearing. Screaming.

Amy clawed her way back into the waking world. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She gasped for air. She hadn't been taking care of mistress. Things were so bad and she had to take care of her. The ground dropped away beneath her and a fog of mind numbing Bliss rose to greet her. Tendrils of the ethereal mist twined around her as she struggled to get back. All the strength went out of her. Gradually the fog rose higher. Her body warmed with erotic pleasure. It was too strong and it made her too weak. Her will suffocated bit by bit. Panic faded into acceptance. "Have to . . . have to . . ."

"Amy?"

"No . . . I have to . . . can't . . . have to . . ."

"Open your eyes, slave girl. Wake up for me."

She did.

Mistress smiled down at her.

"I think I was asleep for," outside the window spring was just ending, "a long time."

"We were fighting a war," mistress said soothingly, "and I couldn't bear to have you worry about it. Now go back to sleep. Just for a little bit now."

Amy felt herself slipping back into unconsciousness as mistress ran a hand down the side of her face. "Wait . . ."

"This is easier, I promise."

"Protect and . . . prot . . . serve . . . remember? Pro . . . pr . . ." She pressed a hand against where her badge had once been. Amy used the memory as a footing and stared up at mistress. "I told you that once. Protect and serve. That's what I want to do."

Mistress paused. "Amy, I can't let you . . ."

"Be a good slave girl?"

Mistress let out a long breath. "I tried to protect you from all the fighting but people found you anyway. After what happened with Susan," the acid edge to the name made Amy wince, "I decided it was better to insulate you from it. You don't know what it's like for me when you're hurt." She brushed a hand along the top of Amy's left ear and the girl suddenly felt the ragged shape where it had been torn and smoothly healed over.

Amy placed a hand over her mistress's. "What happened?"

"You were shot at."

"I was a cop for years."

"They hit you twice. Here and," she moved her hand to the right side of Amy's stomach, "here."

Amy smiled at her owner, trying to be comforting. "Makes three."

"What?"

"Left hand." She raised her palm. "Went straight through the middle. Used my recover time to study for the detective's exam. Still can't type very fast."

"I would have noticed that," said mistress. "I went through every inch of your mind."

"It hurt, but that was all. Maybe it seemed unimportant and you overlooked it." She placed her hand on mistress's cheek. "But you are important to me and I want to help. Please."

"Amy . . ."

"Please!" The word escaped with more desperation that she expected. "Please . . ."

"You could be hurt again."

"So could you." Amy looked around the room. It was sparsely but expensively furnished. Everything served a clear function. Nothing was included that was not of the highest quality. She grinned at the thought. "You were going to keep me here without a thought in my head like a sexy pillow."

"I was not. . ."

"I can be a sexy pillow for you," she ran her fingers over her breasts and leaned her head back to expose her neck, "but I want to protect you, too. Let me be a good girl."

Mistress pursed her lips. "If you were really a good girl you wouldn't be questioning me."

Amy averted her gaze. "I need some kind of purpose. Please."

"Telos."

Amy frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Now if you're going to be my sexy bodyguard you'll need a new uniform because that old police one doesn't quite fit you around the chest. I'll have to take measurements." Mistress let her hands drift over Amy's skin. "We also have to make a few changes in your head. I just wouldn't do to have a bodyguard who's too horny to work."

Amy moaned in spite of herself as mistress walked her fingers down to Amy's sex.

"Much too easy to distract."

She felt fingers on her scalp. They pressed down experimentally.

"Still too resilient to work with, though, I like that." Mistress produced a colorful pill. "Do you trust me to wake you up when I'm done?"

"Always, mistress."

"Good girl."

Mistress pushed the pill into her mouth and the Bliss dragged her into unconsciousness.

Building a new mind for her, one that was not so hopelessly addictive, took several luxuriating session under the ministrations of her owner. By the time they were done she could see the world with the same lucidity as when she was a detective, before master took her. With clarity things were colder and sharper. A word from mistress, or a touch or look, was all it took to make things warm and soft again.

The war was a slow moving thing. George, the mayor mistress had replaced so long ago, ran errands all across the country. He reported on ever step of progress. Power brokers leveraged control of strategic resources to produce defacto monopolies and economically starve out groups backing the enemy. Mistress met with CEOs, politicians, and gangsters. At every meeting Laura stood two steps behind her with a pistol hanging at her side.

Occasionally they would take a break so mistress could meet with master. Laura always took the time to see Grace. Susan's training was coming along.

"Welcome back, Amy!" Grace's hug nearly toppled her. "I like the outfit."

"Thank you, Grace, I like . . ." The younger woman wasn't wearing anything for Amy to comment on. "How have things been here?"

Grace shrugged. "Not as exciting as your life must be." She turned her head to the other side of the living room where Susan was kneeling on the floor. "We've made lots of progress, though. Come over here, Susan."

The former revolutionary crawled to them hurriedly.

"Don't her her trick you, though," Grace reached down to put a hand on Susan's throat, "she's not very well behaved yet. Say hello to our guest."

Susan looked up. "Hello, Amy." She shrank back before Amy could respond.

"Are you always so frightened?" asked Amy.

"No, miss, I just don't want to be punished."

"You think I'll hit you?"

Susan's eyes settled on the gun Amy wore on her belt but she said nothing.

"May I play with her a moment, Grace?"

"Of course."

Amy dragged the naked girl over to the couch and locked her arms in place. "You did what you thought you had to do in order to protect your friends. I can respect that, even if it hurt me. Struggling like this will only make you miserable."

"Not struggling," muttered Susan. Good girl."

"I can see it in your eyes. The embers of resistance. I know what it's like."

Susan locked her gaze to Amy's face. "Please . . ."

"A tiny fire burning deep inside of you. It seems so inviting but every touch is agonizing. Don't let it trick you. The fire will always hurt. Picture it in your mind." Susan closed her eyes obediently. "The desire to resist tells you to touch it. It burns. Protect yourself, snuff it out instead."

"No . . ."

"Stop resisting the peace of slavery."

"No . . . I can't . . ."

"You can."

Susan trembled in her arms.

"That's enough, Amy." Grace forced her to release the girl. "If it takes time then it takes time." Grace laid Susan out on the carpet and whispered something in her ear. A moment later the leader of the fallen resistance was absorbed in her own self-pleasure. "Happy."

Eager. Obedient.

Amy blinked, unsure of who had finished the mantra. "You've matured."

"Thank you," said Grace as she joined Amy on the couch. "Master keeps me busy."

As she watched the younger girl rub her legs together a mischievous thought occurred to Amy, a bit of harmless revenge for all the times Grace had taken advantage of he libido. "Must be hard watching Susan cum all the time. I know master is less generous with you. He always has been."

Grace stared at Susan silently.

"Must be frustrating," suggested Amy. She allowed herself a little smile.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Yes."

"Master wouldn't approve."

Amy grinned. "He's not here to protect you."

Grace mirrored the expression. "Neither is mistress."

For once, though, Amy had the upper hand. Grace was desperate with need and the body armor prevented any distracting touches. The younger slave girl melted from the first kiss. In a few seconds Grace was utterly docile. "Don't worry, I won't force you to cum when you're not allowed."




Telos Ch. 09



Grace tried to bring a hand to Amy's sex but the padding of the armor stopped her and Amy pinned the errant limb against the bed.

"This time you're exposed and horny. You're just begging to get fucked. I know you are. Give in." She landed a kiss on Grace's lips and slipped her tongue inside. She pulled away and held the slave head down. "Tell me that I beat you. Just this once."

"Okay."

"Say it, Grace, you know you want to." Amy felt a touch on the back of her neck. "Mi . . ." The situation turned about too quickly for her to finish the word. Grace's next kiss robbed her of breath. "Not again."

"Say it," insisted Grace. Her innocent touches filled Amy's mind with sexual fog.

There as no use in resisting. In the end she was always a slave to her body. No matter what else changed Grace could control her. "You win."

"Good girl."

And just like that they were pulled apart. Mistress tapped Amy on the head in light rebuke. "Serves you right for trying to take advantage of her like that. What if you'd gotten her in trouble?" She shook her head disapprovingly. "We have a meeting to make. Come along."

-)(-

There was no bell when the elevator reached the top floor, the doors slid smoothly open to reveal the hallway. At the far end the clean shaven man was sitting in a chair. He was as still as if he had been carved from stone. Somewhere beyond the unfurnished walls computers hummed. In the lobby down below the last business of the day had been proceeding. Even as the elevator had passed the hundred and ten stories there had been signs of life. The sounds of people.

The top floor was empty, like the white room. No color. No breeze. No heat or cold. No sound. No shadows. If the light came from anywhere it was well disguised.

Laura stepped out into the hallway.

"Welcome," said the man.

"Thank you for having me." She looked over her shoulder to where he slave cum bodyguard was still standing. "Come along, Amy."

"Yes, mistress."

There were two other seats provided. Laura took the one beside the clean shaven man. Amy chose to stand.

"I have a question," said Laura. "I'd like it answered before anything else."

"Of course."

"Am I human anymore?" She gestured to Amy and the young woman knelt down beside her. "The past few weeks people have seemed less like people. Amy is . . . I've started thinking of her like a pet or a toy." She reached into Amy's mind and tugged on a thread. "Off." Amy went limp. "Just like that. Very simple." She pulled another thread of thought and Amy opened her eyes in confusion. Laura stroked the slave girl's hair. "So?"

The man nodded. "You are as you were, merely with wider vision."

"Did I visualize my way into tearing your front door off its hinges?"

"You would not be so impressed with yourself had you broken the door with a machine. Not every tool is a tangible thing."

Laura sighed. "And you, what are you?"

"You know what I am."

"Say it."

The man blinked for what Laura realized was the first time since she had stepped out of the elevator. He turned to look directly at her. "My old name would be a lie now."

"I didn't ask for your name."

"In my time one's name was their identity, not just an arbitrary symbol."

"You do it for her, don't you? Acting human?"

"Yes."

They sat in silence until Laura couldn't take it any longer. "It must have occurred to you that perhaps after all this time you've been corrupted or driven mad, just like the blond man. The fact that you love Grace is proof of that."

"Yes."

"And?"

"Changing one's nature is a human quality. I will always be what I am. It is the order of the world that people require protection. I thought my brothers had fought and died for the right to provide that, but now we are squabbling amongst ourselves. Some of us have gone mad. I cannot say which." His head moved fractionally. "They are ready for us. Amy must remain outside."

Inside the office a nondescript man of indeterminate age was sitting at the end of a table. Behind him the sun was just beginning to set. His hair and eyes were both slate gray.

"I really have to hope," Laura said, sitting down, "that you're not our only ally in this."

"The resistance movement you uncovered showed us the value of adopting a more compartmentalized structure to our own organization. Our colleagues, former colleagues now, can learn little from any individual agent." He paused. "You are the woman?"

"Presumably." A glance to the side revealed that her companion had not taken a seat.

The gray man studied her for a moment then moved on. "It has been decided that our tactics must be adjusted to account for fighting from a position of weakness. A number of options have been weighed in making this decision."

"And?"

"There is one thing they refuse to do that you have reminded us is an option. We will use lethal force against the others."

"Absolutely not," objected the clean shaven man, without raising his voice. "I refuse to kill my brothers again."

Laura looked over at him. "If we lose they will kill Grace."

He seemed taken aback for a moment then shook his head and looked away. "I will not participate in this."

"Will you hinder us?" asked the gray man.

"No."

"Fine then," said Laura, "I have no problem with you people killing each other. No offense. What I want to know from you is, assuming we don't all die, what happens long term?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question," the gray man said in a political tone.

"We aren't going to agree on many things and I have no intention of simply letting you people do whatever you want. Make me an offer."

"But you have nothing to negotiate with." The man stood. "Once we have purged this madness from amongst our brothers," he shot a meaningful look at the clean shaven man, "we will establish a universal hierarchy to prevent conflict. Those fit to lead will do so under our guidance. We could easily place you amongst our ranks."

Laura shook her head. "I don't want to be one of you people."

"Then what do you want?"

"For you and yours to keep out of the business of my species. Since that isn't going to happen, though, I'd like to administrate. You decide how the world should be. I decide how things are run." She folded her hands. "I don't trust your restraint or your respect for humanity."

"And if we refuse?"

Laura folded her hands and rolled her head to one side. "Then I will do nothing and you will continue to fail just as you have been doing for thousands and thousands of years. Amy told me what the blond man said. He was driven insane by his inability to succeed. Nothing frightens you more than failure. Perfect clarity of purpose, telos, places an great demand on you. If you walk away from this deal it means giving up on your reason for existing and you know it."

"We could raise up another human," said the gray man.

"But you won't because you still aren't sure how well it worked out for you this time."

The two men shared a quick look across the table. "You are asking us to give up control over a project we have spent lifetimes on," said the clean shaven man, "in exchange for loftier titles."

"No, I'm going to give you the peaceful world you insist you want."

"Perhaps we do not believe you," said the gray man, "or perhaps your mind could be adjusted to be more amenable."

"Unfortunately our mutual friend here has promised to kill me if I might be subject to any alteration. He'll do the same if we're ever at cross purposes. No questions. No negotiations. If you turn me down I'll die the moment this is over." She leaned forward. "Decide if your pride matters more to you than your purpose."

All the color faded from the room as the gray man took his seat, his eyes shone blue out of the shadows. He gave a nod and the other man awkwardly released Laura. "You will have our answer by midnight."

"Good."

Amy was waiting for her outside.

Laura placed a finger on the girl's lips before she could speak and brought her up to their room.

"You know what to do," she said, pouring out a glass of wine.

"Yes, mistress."

The young woman removed her uniform at a deliberate pace. Tie and belt first. She knelt to untie her shoes. When that was done she undid the buttons of the shirt one by one and shrugged it off. The bullet resistant vest came next next, leaving her distinctly vulnerable. She peeled herself out of the jeans and shucked off her socks.

Laura watched appreciatively.

When Amy was done, wearing nothing but a black sports bra and matching panties, she stood almost at attention, looking straight ahead. "Should I . . ."

"Yes."

Amy slipped out of the last of her clothing.

"Good girl," said Laura as she ran a hand down Amy's back.

Her slave shivered a bit.

"Very good." She slid a hand from the inside of Amy's arm down to her hip just to feel the texture of her skin. A gentle hold on the back of her neck was enough to guide Amy to the couch. Laura positioned the girl so that her head was in her lap so she could touch her head with one hand and her sex with the other.

"May I ask a question, ma'am?" asked Amy. She cooed a bit at Laura's manipulations.

"Certainly." Laura played a finger along the girls ear where it had been damaged months before.

"What did you say in there?"

"Hopefully something that sounded convincing." Laura gently stroked the slave girl's hair. "Have you ever heard of the phoenix? In Medieval Europe they said it had purple plumage, the color of royalty. It's a metaphor. Kings die but kingdoms are immortal. When a king dies there is blood and fire and new king is crowned. Just like a phoenix." She pointed to a building several blocks away. "I've never been one for unsubtle metaphors but you'll like this one."

The sun slipped down below the horizon and the city went silent in expectation. The breezes paused in reverence. The night birds settled on their perches.

A gossamer strand of light descended from the sky. It flared red for a fraction of a second like a jagged hellish lightning bolt. The heart of the old world exploded from within. Concrete, steel, and glass hurtled through the air. Eager flames poured out from the wreckage into the night air then doubled back as if marshaled to the command of a singular will. The fury of the conflagration consumed the building even as it fell.

From high above the end happened in pristine silence. Laura could make out a figure in the ruins. Here and there it paused to struggle with other shadows among flames. When it was done Laura saw the figure turn as if it were looking back at her. It nodded.

Laura could feel Amy shaking on her lap. She placed a steadying hand on her slave's hip. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"It has to take more than that."

"There are another dozen places around the world being struck as we speak. Blood and fire. A slaughter like has never been seen since the very stars were torn from the sky and scattered across the earth like seeds." She kissed Amy on the top of her head. "The enemy is crippled."

Amy shifted her position. "But the war will keep going."

"Yes, probably for a long time."

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