The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1.

Hannah checked the numbers of the address with those of the house in front of her. 5762 Joplin Street. This was her last delivery for the night, and the last thing she wanted was the confused expression on the face of whoever would answer the door as she proudly held up the order in its red hotbag.

Hotbag. The word still made Hannah smirk to herself. They could call it a thermal bag, an insulating bag, anything, but they call it a hotbag. It was not a rare thought. She’d been driving delivery for over a year and the name still amused her.

Distantly she hoped that would never change because it made every delivery give her some reason to be amused. It wasn’t always a conscious thought. Sometimes it was in the background, but it was still there.

Soon like so many times before she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed up the walkway. Autopilot kicked in as soon as her car door had slammed shut.

Reflexive; that’s what it was. She’d made no concentrated effort to learn how to let her body go through the more repetitive motions for her. That had happened all on its own. She welcomed it with as little thought as it took.

The time it took from her to step out of her hand-me-down station wagon to the sizable suburban home was her own little micro break. In those moments she was pondering the following week’s likely homework, if she would get enough hours for her job, and if that good looking guy she’d passed in the hall last week even remembered her.

She was too far removed to comment on the picturesque nature of the home. The fence that cordoned off the occupant’s lawn was wood stained a clean, pure white to match the blinds and other little details of the home itself which was otherwise a soft red as though to give the illusion of aged bricks. It was wood of course, but it earned its place within a neighborhood where the residents had all paid extra to look like they had even more money than they already clearly possessed.

If Hannah had been pondering it, she might have wondered how many times over her tuition could have gone into that house without paying off the foyer.

Instead, she took her deep breath she always did and pressed her finger into the doorbell as she slid the hotbag onto her arm. She pulled out the receipt to check the order over again. A medium, extra sauce, olives, and pepperoni. The name: Charlotte Kelley. It was a name Hannah planned to forget as soon as she stepped away from the door.

The door opened, and Hannah looked up to the woman on the other side with her most professional smile. “Pepperoni and olives, extra sauce, just like you ordered!” She rattled out the familiar price from memory. Cash.

Who even pays with cash anymore? Hannah would have rolled her eyes at the inconvenience if it wouldn’t be so rude. She certainly felt the mental equivalent.

If the woman in the doorway noticed the annoyance, she did nothing to show it. Her red painted lips stood out from her pale face as much as their pose hinted only at joviality. “I’m afraid I forgot to grab my wallet.” Hannah struggled not to frown. “But it’s so cold out tonight anyway. If you’d like you could just step in and set the box down while I get what I owe you.”

Hannah’s smile faltered. A hitch coming up at the end of her shift did a lot to make her apprehensive. Thankfully her face hid it well. “Of course, miss! Thank you!”

She had to admit to herself that it was nicer than being asked to wait on the stoop. And she didn’t ask me to let her take the pizza inside. Everyone always thinks they’re clever when they suggest that.

Hannah stepped in as she was beckoned. It was a place the college girl would have loved to imagine lived in her own distant future. Hard wood floors. Elaborate rugs that looked like each one would have cost her a paycheck. Art on the walls that she actually recognized. It was tastefully opulent, looking more like its owner had collected it as a matter of course along a very profitable life.

She’s too young to be the owner, but she acts like she belongs here. Daughter? Trophy wife? Girlfriend? Mistress? Whore? The delivery girl wrinkled her nose as she watched the blonde who’d answered the door disappear out of view. Her hips moved a bit too much, making it impossible not to catch the sway of her well curved rear.

With nothing else to do after the white pizza box was removed from the hotbag—again drawing a faint mental snicker from Hannah—she stood dutifully in an attempt to not have her mind wander off before the woman would return. Hopefully acquiescing to her request would earn Hannah a tip. It was the least she could do for paying in cash and not having it ready. Everyone used credit cards. She was at least glad that the woman hadn’t insisted on a check.

Small favors.

The woman returned, carrying a small, black leather hand purse. Hannah’s heart soared in the hope that soon she’d be turning around to clock out and head home. Nothing sounded better.

Then the blonde’s brow furrowed as she began to dig through the audible clutter.

“Sorry, it seems that I don’t have the cash after all.” Hannah’s heart sunk into her stomach. She opened her mouth to inform the woman she was going to leave, but found unspoken thoughts audibly interrupted as she continued. “But perhaps there’s another way that I could pay?”

Hannah raised an eyebrow over her widening brown eyes as she struggled to decide if her lips should show her shock or her amusement at anyone—much less her—treating her job like a setup from a cheap porno flick. That was how they went, wasn’t it? The blonde’s lips even quirked into a proud, crooked grin. This was hardly the first time that a delivery had involved a woman flirting with her. Both men and women hadn’t appreciated that she was on the clock and more interested in getting to her next delivery than planning a date.

This was the first time someone had suggested the delivery turn into more than just a date.

What would that make me, some kind of... pizza whore? Or would that make her the whore, sleeping with me to be paid in pizza?

“I don’t know what kind of vibe you think you’re getting off of me, but I’m not...” Hannah shook her head, and began to put the pizza box back into the hotbag. This time she didn’t snicker. “It wouldn’t matter if I was into women. I’m not going to let you pay for a pizza with sex. This isn’t a joke, you know. This is my job.”

As Hannah slapped the bag closed and prepared to turn and leave the woman cleared her throat. “You misunderstand. I’m not offering you sex.”

“Then what?”

“I’m offering you this.”

The blonde pulled a small black something from her purse, and instinctively Hannah started to turn away. It was too small to be anything more than a flashlight yet withdrawn too aggressively to do less than set Hannah’s adrenaline into overdrive. It whirred to life with a loud click, and Hannah wished she’d closed her eyes. A kaleidoscope of light danced over her eyes, twisting, spinning, and shifting in shapes and patterns she thought she’d seen in a daydream but could only remember with the same part of her brain that had engaged her earlier autopilot.

Hannah forgot she’d wished her eyes were closed.

Hannah forgot she was going to leave.

Hannah forgot Hannah.

“This is more special than sex. This is more important than sex.” The blonde stepped closer, holding that small device so the lightshow stayed focused so perfectly over Hannah’s face. Slowly she pulled away the hotbag, and set it down where the pizza had been placed before. “You will listen, but you will not remember. You will act, but you will not remember.”

“N-not... Not... remember... Will... listen... important...” Hannah’s eyes turned glassy and distant as she stared with trembling lips into the offered light. Shades of green, red, blue, and yellow reflected in her pupils in shapes that neither had nor needed a name. Her face had slackened, losing all expression. Her mouth hung open excepting when it attempted to form words with her quiet, confused voice.

“Good. Then listen, and forget.”

Hannah moaned.

The lights dancing in her eyes allowed little else.

2.

Hannah smiled as she walked back out to her car. The last delivery was done. She’d had to be patient but it wasn’t as though there were any more deliveries getting cold in her car. Being a little late home wasn’t so bad. While the next week loomed over her, for now she had no responsibilities. She could go home and have a nice relaxing weekend.

She turned the key in the ignition, and began to drive home.

Hannah forgot that the roads heading north were not the way home. She hadn’t forgotten where she had to go. She hadn’t forgotten to drive carefully. People were waiting for her. She knew it wouldn’t do for her to get in a wreck.

Driving was the sort of task where Hannah could often let happen on its own, and it seemed more effortless than it ever had before. It felt as though she didn’t even need to keep track of which road came after which or where she had to turn. She’d see the next road sign, and know she was going the right direction. It was a depth of clarity that usually required a focus she lacked.

Hannah drove, and her mind wandered.

Where it went, Hannah wasn’t sure.

The drive home felt so much longer than it had before, but Hannah knew that she was remembering the right way home. She’d driven home hundreds of times. Every stoplight she drove under convinced her that she was definitely going the right direction.

Something about the way red gave way to green seemed to make the world make sense.

When she parked, Hannah noted she hadn’t found such a convenient parking place in years. As the door shut behind her, a host of disquiet raged within her. It didn’t slow her steps along the path, but it filled her mind with discomfort she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

NOThomeNOTthomeGOHOMErunRUNrunRUNnowgoNOW

Hannah shook her head, frowning as she realized she’d forgotten her keys and would need to buzz her way in. It was always embarrassing, but she was sure that her roommate would understand.

It wasn’t the first time that Hannah had been so busy to get going in the morning that she’d forgotten her keys. She was sure she’d had them for her car though, and they were on the same ring. She reached into her pocket to grab them out, and found a new charm dangling from the ring. She stared in confusion as that sensation became something more.

The green spiral captured Hannah’s attention. Hannah forgot that she was waiting for the door to open, and instead felt herself fall into the center of the spiral. It was at once as though the tunnel swallowed her up, rushing past her periphery even as she felt like she was moving forward, spinning and twining with the coiling pattern of the infinitely deep spiral. Hannah didn’t remember how it had ended up amongst her keys, but she was far beyond caring.

When the door opened, Hannah was no longer on the welcome mat to notice it. She was in a void where there was no thought, no passage of time, nothing but an endless fall.

“Terminal Velocity.” Hannah gasped. She clenched her thighs tight as she released the keys and closed her eye. She was falling so fast now that she couldn’t even remember not falling. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be standing, to be in control.

Her keys fell into the blonde woman’s waiting hand who smiled politely as she led Hannah inside.

To her credit Hannah managed to restrain her scream as she felt herself being violently pulled from her descent. It didn’t end, it didn’t even slow, but feeling that even just going deeper was no longer a certainty was a truth she was hardly ready to accept.

A young Asian woman with rich brown hair and softly smiling lips closed the door behind Hannah who had already fallen too far away from concepts like sound to be aware.

Sweat made Hannah’s forehead shine as she struggled to somehow regain control. The spiral began to spin her now, and she felt the cool breeze across her body as the descent sheered away her clothes. When Hannah was certain she’d be pulled along forever she was shoved even more... down. The void seemingly rose to meet her, slamming into her with unexpected force that paralyzed her arms and legs. She struggled and pulled, but nothing she did could get them to move.

She screamed, thrashing in panicked fury from the chair where she’d been skillfully bound.

Fingers snapped, and Hannah forgot she had ever been falling.

3.

“Good evening, Hannah.”

She groaned as she tried to look towards the voice, but found all she could see nothing at all. Fears of having lost her sight quickly fell away as she realized a blindfold had somehow ended up around her face. She remembered driving home, and she’d checked if she had her key and then...

A wall of nothingness met Hannah’s attempted recollection just like it would her station wagon. Totaled and dazed, Hannah slumped and groaned in confusion. There had to be some stage missing, but it was so obfuscated that even its existence felt impossible.

The woman’s voice that had awoken her laughed and pulled her back into the present. “That won’t do, Hannah. Focus.”

“Wh...what’s going on...? Where am I...? What have you done to me?” Hannah didn’t want to admit she was so close to pissing herself with fright, but her voice did it for her without so much as needing to be asked. That was before she realized how much of her body felt the hard-smooth plastic of the chair where she was restrained meant she was completely naked.

Desperately she tried to wake up, but she stayed right where she was. It was too real to be a nightmare. She could feel her sweat sticking her body to the leather seat. Silently she wondered why she was blindfolded, but it was so unimportant compared to any other question she could bother putting the energy towards wondering.

“That’s three questions, Hannah. You have a cute body, and you’ve provided me some amusement to this point, but not enough for three questions.” Wry amusement dripped from the woman’s voice like so much extra sauce. “Choose.”

Frantically Hannah tried to pull herself away from the fog she felt hovering around her. Its presence threatened to overwhelm her if the fear didn’t first. Her lips parted to deliver a stream of obscenities, but instead she found herself screaming in pain as though she’d stubbed all of her toes in one extremely clumsy motion.

The woman laughed again, this time joined by two other voices. One was distantly familiar, but the other Hannah was sure she had never heard before. At least not laughing. At least not with so much fog filling her skull.

Need to stay calm to get out of this. Need to find a way out. Has to be a way out...

“You’d do well to remain polite, Hannah. Our... preliminary work has already made some behaviors impossible for you to attempt emulating. Persisting will only cause the pain to become more and more unbearable. You’ve just felt its weakest setting. I warn you that each step up in intensity is... more dramatic.”

Hannah nodded. She wasn’t sure whose benefit it was for, but it felt good to do. That hadn’t felt so bad, but already she didn’t want to know what would happen if she were to insist the woman’s tricks weren’t working.

If I can’t be ‘impolite’ then I can only imagine what will happen if I dare her to show her worst.

“Oh, and tick tock. I’m a busy woman. You’re getting my personal attention, but the amount has already been carefully rationed. Unless you impress me.”

Something told Hannah that more of this woman’s time might be something she’d regret. Impressing her captor was the last thing she wanted. That meant she had to decide what to ask quickly or let the chance slide. Where felt irrelevant. She could be in another state and the answer wouldn’t change her situation. What had already happened felt increasingly irrelevant. It had already occurred. Knowing more couldn’t help her steel herself from its past due inevitability.

Swallowing hard, Hannah spoke with voice barely loud enough to not be called a whisper. “What are you doing to me?”

The woman sighed, and Hannah was sure that she heard the all too familiar sound of a pizza being chewed. “Brainwashing you. I’m brainwashing you, from an English Major Pizza Delivery Girl into my little slave. Really, you should thank me. You don’t want to teach and you’re going for a literature degree? Do you think student loans are something fun to collect?”

Hannah struggled in her bonds as much to try breaking free as in abject humiliation. Who does she think she is?! Brainwashing is ridiculous enough! I’ve been eating too much junk before bed.

She didn’t believe her own thoughts. It was the only explanation for the... not gap, but compound built in her memory. It wasn’t empty nothingness, it was a solid opaque brick wall without the single smallest crack for her to peek through.

“You aren’t being particularly fun, so I’m not going to be, either. Which is too bad. I enjoy these moments.” The woman chuckled, and the sound of sharp heels on a hard wood floor made Hannah’s tighten. “I’m going to shatter your will to bits until Hannah is nothing more than what you wear when I command it. Drugs. Pretty little lightshows.” The heels clicked in time with her words, making a path behind the bound delivery girl. “We have so many ways to choose from.”

Panic that had been held back by how ludicrous the whole idea felt began to overwhelm Hannah. No longer did she simply pull and twist at the bonds holding her arms and legs to the chair, but she thrashed and threw the weight of her body as hard as she could.

Hannah tried to ignore that each movement caused her breasts to bounce and shake in full view of her captor. She tried to ignore the voice inside that told her this woman was experienced enough, good enough at what she did that she had put it in her planner like a lunch meeting. She tried to ignore that she didn’t know how much had already been done to her mind.

Am I even struggling now because I want to be free...? Hannah shook her head and growled, trying to regain control of her emotions with the display of anger even if she could barely feel any she had over the fear she was swimming in. Of course I am! Of course I’m still free! She won’t be able to brainwash me! I’m not some stupid delivery bimbo! I’m a college woman, and she’s a fetish nutjob who really needs to get out more.

Right?

The woman laughed, her voice so startlingly close that Hannah screamed as it came from right beside her ear. “I love hearing a woman’s inner monologue. Of course, it’s mostly been babbling. But I like the sound of that, too.”

She can hear my thoughts?!

“It helps that you’re vocalizing them, but yes. You really don’t know anything about brainwashing, do you?” Hannah whined, quickly shaking her head as hard as she could hoping the answer would somehow lead to her freedom. “Easily rectified. Soon you’ll be your own special little kind of expert. But visiting hours are over. I’ll see you in the morning. I have a register biscuit waiting for me.”

Hannah’s mouth opened to object, but she found it impossible to bring words to her mouth as the blindfold was pulled away from her eyes. Hanging from the ceiling was a large red spiral. Unlike the small green trinket on her keychain, this one actually moved.

It moved, and it pulsed.

It pulsed, and Hannah’s clit throbbed.

Clicks slowly grew quieter behind her, and Hannah turned away from the spiral to try watching the woman leave, to get some sense of where she was, and to try escaping whatever fate awaited her if she didn’t.

The room was dark. What little light was not the bright red spiral bathing the room were dim flickering candles that accentuated the movement of the spiral. Hannah was sure the room was large, likely larger than big as her living room back home, but it was hard to tell with how dark it was. It was hard when even the red pulses that she could see with the flickering of the light made her thighs tighten and clench as her sex moistened.

“Look, don’t look. It’s all the same to me. But is it all the same for you?” The woman laughed. “I wonder.”

“Wh-who are you?!” Hannah yelled her question with a voice so much louder than she thought herself still capable. The woman—no, the one responsible for this—didn’t seem affected by the red, but Hannah couldn’t hide that she was. Her exhibitionistic display put the view of her tightening thighs and her quivering pussy with each hint of a red flash on full display.

After another laugh, and a sound much like swallowing, the woman replied in a tone so matter of fact Hannah was certain she had said the same words innumerable times. “Don’t you think if I were brainwashing you, and I wanted you to know something... you’d know?” A sigh. “English majors.”

The clicking heels of her captor moving further and further away teased at Hannah’s mind as seemingly in counterpoint an electronic bass beat in time with the red flashes rose from the silence.

“I never get this from the comp sci girls, or even the art students.”

Hannah whimpered as she tried to shut her eyes tight enough to escape from the red onslaught, but found the effect too intense to be hidden by only her eyelids. There was no point in the darkness she could focus on to escape the taming of her clit. Her traitorous pussy yearned for her to look into the spiral and let it simply melt her into a puddle of dripping lust.

To her credit Hannah didn’t let the helplessness of the situation lead to her surrender.

To the credit of her captor, her stubbornness did nothing to change the inevitable.

Lust pounded at the poor woman’s body, heating it warmer than a hot summer’s day in mere moments. The telltale scent of sweat and musk did nothing to encourage Hannah’s struggles, only serving to remind her of the rewards of yielding her futile struggle. She was growing exhausted, and worse still when she didn’t consciously remind herself that it was the worst thing she could do... she felt good.

She felt really good.

The pulsing red held all the anticipation of a waiting, skillful lover, and an eternity of distant foreplay. Hannah could never remember being so aroused before without a climax being close behind.

Finally, when her neck grew too tired to thrash, she opened her eyes and stared defiantly ahead as though the sheer force of her will could reverse her fate. As her eyes widened, she felt all too quickly how foolish she’d been.

HotwetDRIPPINGpulsingTHROBBINGwetneedycuntpussymind!

Hannah grasped the plastic under her hands tight and whined as her hips rose to try marrying her pussy to a sensation greater than the agonizing desire that threatened to consume her.

Slickhotwetpussymind knows that pleasure is to obey!

Hannah forgot her defiance in a marathon of frictionless orgasms without number. It never even occurred to her to count. Her open mind listened to the thuds of the beat that pulsed in her stiff, eager nipples. She watched the spiral, and surrendered another small piece of herself with each pulse.

Across the room, on the other side of the screen shining the spiral over her vacant face, the blonde watched her and nibbled thoughtlessly from a half empty pizza box.

4.

Hannah remembered.

Somewhere in the red hotSOAKINGwetNEEDfuckSLUT it all came back to her. Now that she was alone in the dark without a spiral to make her pussy juice her mind like a ripe orange she had time to think over what had happened to her. She remembered the blonde flashing the strange device, and then remembered how it felt.

No, Hannah remembered more how it didn’t feel. She remembered how impossible it had been for her to even think of looking away. The idea hadn’t even occurred to her. She hadn’t even considered closing her eyes, though now she was certain that would have done nothing against those dancing lights. The red had been an aspect of that, too, if less pronounced. It had just turned her off, like an appliance.

The blonde had sharply commanded her to pull out her cellphone, and call her boss to let them know she’d had some car trouble and would be late coming back. She’d even laughed and assured them that the last delivery had gone just fine. Better than fine.

She’d mentioned...

“The tip I got from the last delivery is going to keep me squealing for weeks!”

The blonde had told her to say that. Precisely that. She’d never handed Hannah anything even resembling money, but Hannah had slipped the money from her own wallet once she’d gotten back into her car.

But there were things that happened between the light and the car.

Even when the lights had gone away, Hannah hadn’t felt anything more than placid nothingness. She couldn’t remember why she’d made the call as she was ordered. She couldn’t remember how eager she’d been to get home. It was like being asleep with her eyes open, and she found herself almost toppling over before the blonde had gently righted her.

That was when the dark haired woman had entered. She was short, with an athletic body that might have made Hannah jealous if she’d been anything at all.

They’d given her instructions. Commands.

Each time, Hannah had whimpered out as many of the words as she could hold in her mouth at once, which seemed to be fewer and fewer.

None of that was what stood out the most. It made a certain kind of sense that she’d been told to remember the way back to that house as the way back home. It made sense that every green, yellow, and red light would renew her purpose. Her delivery.

It wasn’t something she wanted to remember.

But it was the only way that things made sense.

Hannah liked it when things made sense.

What she didn’t like was how easy it was to remember they hadn’t just been speaking to her. They’d been... touching her. Their hands hadn’t just caressed or rubbed or teased, they’d groped and molested her. They’d pawed at her, and squeezed her most intimate places with each command.

When they told her that she would believe she’d forgotten her keys, hands had been squeezing her breasts, and at her groin.

When they told her what would happen when she saw the new charm on her key ring, their hands had been under her clothes. She remembered all too clearly sucking in a sharp breath of air as nails had twisted her nipples, and fingers had traced along her cleft. It was like feeling it happening all over again.

She’d moaned, but she hadn’t wanted them to stop. She hadn’t wanted more. She hadn’t wanted anything.

It sent chills down her spine to remember being so utterly removed from herself that women she’d never met fondling her and harshly insisting on commands hadn’t even registered as something to react to. She’d followed their commands, but Hannah reasoned that was less reacting to them and more...

Obeying them.

Obey.

It was a powerful word. Hannah couldn’t remember it feeling so strong. Before... She’d certainly heard it. But it hadn’t felt like this. It didn’t feel like a need she had in a physical sense just as much as she needed water or food.

Don’t. You can’t let them do this to you. Fight it. You don’t want to... to... obey.

Even thinking the word brought a quiet whine to Hannah’s lips. Her thighs clenched, shuddered, and sabotaged the dryness that had begun returning to her thighs.

Don’t think that word. Don’t think o-obeyyyy....

Hannah mewled pitifully as she felt the phantom sensations from within her mind and remembered how that red spiral had made her feel. Sticky. Needy. Aroused. All it took was a spinning light that pulsed the right way to make her struggles to escape become struggles to feel more. She remembered desperately bucking her hips in the hopes of feeling something, anything to fill the ache between her legs and receiving nothing.

She hadn’t been strapped to the chair to be fucked. She’d been strapped to the chair to be made to want to fuck. Hannah wasn’t sure if the shiver that went down her spine at that idea was entirely fear or something more slick.

More memories surfaced, and Hannah bit her lip to keep from making a sound at how it felt to remember. She was supposed to remember, now. She was being rewarded for remembering on cue.

She remembered her slacks pooling over her shoes to keep them from getting messy as fingers had pumped inside of her. Again, her phone was held up to her ear. Hannah hadn’t dialed it, but she had told them which name would satisfy their parameters.

Hannah’s roommate.

No, no, please, please don’t have pulled her into this. Not Renee. Please.

She begged her own memory like she would have begged a film. It was just as meaningless. The memories had already happened, just as those movies had already been recorded. Of course she knew that, but the futile struggle felt necessary.

Was necessary, if she wanted to keep being sure she was still scared of what was happening.

“Hey, Hannah! What’s up? You all right? Calling a little late... Everything okay at work?” Renee had no clue that on the other end of the call a woman was tugging and twisting at Hannah’s nipples like toys while another familiarized herself with the insides of her pussy. Somehow she’d managed not to moan.

She’d been told not to, so it was simple as obeying.

Even just remembering that word as responsible made Hannah suck in a sharp breath as she bucked and bounced with her body’s betrayal.

Tears wet Hannah’s eyes as her lust wet her thighs. She tried screaming at herself to beg Renee for help, to tell her what had happened, but in the past Hannah couldn’t hear her. If she could, Hannah was sure it wouldn’t matter.

“Oh hell yeah! Everything is going great! I just wanted to let you know I won’t be home after work.” The blonde was whispering words into her ear in time with the fingers exploring Hannah’s slick depths. Hannah’s breathing quickened, but an order was all it took for Renee to never hear it. “Hot date. Really hot date. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow! Or Sunday. Maybe Monday.”

Hannah’s thighs squeezed tighter.

They have me until Monday. Two whole days! If they can make me.... do... that, in just a few minutes...

“Wow! This is... a first. I’ll try not to wait up for you! But you better tell me everything or I’m going to pout.” Renee giggled as Hannah’s body struggled not to moan from the woman’s thumb on the hood of her clitoris. The contrast felt so jarring that present-Hannah found herself struggling again as though it had been a long forgotten impulse.

“Promise, Renee!” The dark haired girl had nibbled on Hannah’s ear, and told her to wrap up the conversation. She hadn’t told her the words to use. Hannah had chosen them on her own, but not for herself. Not for Renee.

“We’ll talk soon! Gotta go!”

The blonde had ended the call for her, and set the phone down out of Hannah’s range of vision. It no longer mattered. It no longer existed to past-Hannah. Present Hannah begged her again, with silent tears, to reach out and call Renee back and beg her to come.

No, call her and beg her to run, to run far, far away and call the police!

Again, past-Hannah didn’t respond. The futility somehow made watching her own memories play out in her head that much more powerful. That much more damning.

I had a phone up to my ear, and I told my best friend to forget about me for two days.

Her phone was probably turned off now, and tucked away in some dark corner of the house. She was now even more certain that Charlotte Kelley was not the woman who had answered the door. If she was, Hannah doubted that she was the woman who owned the taunting voice.

She didn’t even have a name for the woman. She’d mocked her goals, her life, her reactions, and given her no name. She’d treated Hannah as so much lesser that even now when she was fairly certain she could think for herself it was almost easy to believe that in some horribly wrong way the woman was right.

Right, about being her superior.

Right, about being her better.

Right, about so much that Hannah could not even comprehend.

Hannah shook her head as though to force the idea from it, but it lingered as though stuck by a stubborn strip of tape. Only the tape was alive, and pulling that idea in tighter from the resistance itself.

“It is time for the next phase of your processing.”

The blonde woman from before. One of the women who had made her lie to her best friend. She recognized her voice, and then her face as heels clicked and the woman stood tall in front of her. Gone was the innocent look of the jeans and blouse from when they’d first met. Hannah wished for that look back.

Now the woman’s hair was tied back in a ponytail, a look that with the determined, stoic expression on her face made her seem so much more focused. Devoted. Dedicated.

Purposed.

In place of her average clothes was a gray spandex leotard that crisscrossed under her breasts only to disappear behind her back and reappear at her hips for the bare minimum of fabric to be tightly clutching between her legs. Her arms wore long fingerless gloves that attached to the neck of the leotard, right below the thick leather collar.

Her legs would have been bare, if not for the thigh high boots. Black. They filled Hannah’s mind with thoughts of whips and riding crops. They clicked when the blonde stepped, but not the same as the ones the Voice had worn. These were pointier. Sharper.

Yet she moved with as much grace and ease as another woman might have wearing flats. She moved with more solidness than Hannah could ever remember having. Now, all of that felt stolen away.

“Fuck you!” Hannah hissed out before she remembered how politeness was enforced. No pain came. Nothing. Instead of relieved, Hannah only found herself more scared.

If she couldn’t understand the rules, how was she supposed to win?

“No. This slave will be fucking you. Red Spiral Pussytwist.”

Hannah groaned as the words pulled her eyes up into the back of her head. She was sure she’d remembered everything, but some things she hadn’t forgotten.

Some things she’d simply never known, or been too lost in her pussy’s traitorous ecstasy to care.

She couldn’t sit still with how intensely her hips were bucking and squirming without her will driving them. She had no clue how long she’d been writhing under the assault of those red pulses, but she knew that all of it was affecting her now as though it was occurring simultaneously.

The blonde lowered herself to her knees between Hannah’s legs. The blonde slave. The word had been said with such pride. Her phrasing had been so passive, like she wasn’t even in control.

Even has her pussy throbbed and yearned, Hannah fought a losing battle to stop from arching as if to offer herself to the blonde’s lips. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t what she wanted. This probably wasn’t what the blonde wanted either. She’d called herself a slave... no, she hadn’t even called herself that. She’d just identified herself as though she were an object moving about its task. An automaton following a script.

This slave.

It carried with it an unspoken plethora of truths. If she was this slave, then there was that slave, too. She was not unique in her slavery. She was just another drone.

Hannah’s wordless cries caught in her throat as the blonde’s tongue began to dance between her folds. It was violation, a woman she didn’t know, a woman who had probably been sitting in the very same chair as her undergoing the very same treatment.

But the heat burning through her did not allow the depth of thought to do more than briefly struggle. She was being violated, and the worst part was how little it felt like the mindless blank of before.

It felt good.

It was what she needed.

The blonde’s tongue danced a waltz around her clit. Hannah’s hips shuddered, both trying desperately for more and to obey Hannah’s attempts to resist.

Each flick of that tongue, each slow languid caress, was like the red pulsing and throbbing deeper in her head than she’d felt anything before. Pulsing, throbbing obedience to programming that she had absorbed without the slightest understanding of how it would be used against her.

Hannah’s first orgasm came with curling toes and tightly shut eyes.

By the second Hannah could no longer focus enough on anything but the blonde’s mouth on her cunt to know anything else.

5.

Hannah groaned as she regained awareness. She couldn’t be sure if she’d been conscious already and was only just being freed from the fog to think again. She felt exhausted. Drained.

Sore.

Her wrists and ankles were sore from struggling in her bonds. Her head was sore from what felt like too much being shoved in as if there was only so much room for what Hannah already was and what her mystery captor was squeezing in. Something had to give, and Hannah doubted herself when she tried to insist it would be her captor’s attempts at brainwashing.

Just have to hold on. I win if she loses. I don’t even have to beat her, just have to not...

It took so much of Hannah’s force of will not to think that word. She tried to only imagine the shape of it, or the letters that comprised it. A dangerous game, but while she could think before she spoke...

Thinking before she thought was such a bizarre concept as to make her feel dizzy with how her head was already throbbing.

She felt so dirty. Sweat and pussy filled the air, and she recognized it as her own. She hadn’t expected to be cleaned, but she’d been given too little time to think much of anything without something else interrupting or directing her thoughts.

They aren’t doing anything now. This is my chance! I just have to think about being free—

The sound of small wheels along the wood floor in time with clicking heels echoed in the room so loud Hannah’s tired mind couldn’t think over the sound. An IV. It wasn’t the blonde slave she’d seen before, or her dark haired accomplice. She wore the same leotard, the same boots, and the same sleeve-like gloves the blonde had, but her dusky skin and much longer shiny black hair stood out as different with so much else the same.

“Doctor’s Orders.”

Hannah gasped, choking on her own breath as she found herself so wholly paralyzed. That was when she realized the chair she was in had changed. The room seemed the same, but the shape was not a chair one would imagine to find in such a wealthy residence. Now it was a medical chair, and she saw that her legs were positioned in stirrups as they began to adjust the chair back.

The slave swabbed her arm, and Hannah screamed. She couldn’t struggle or twist, but she could scream. It was a loud, purely terrified scream.

Needles.

When her captor had mentioned drugs Hannah had pictured drugged water or food and resolved not to take anything from her or any of her slaves. She hadn’t wanted to imagine anything more than pills or maybe skin patches. Needles felt too far.

“H-how many of those phrases do you have in my head?! Don’t put that inside of me!” Hannah whined, hoping there was some humanity still left in the woman who attended her. The blonde had seemed so much more normal when she’d answered the door for the pizza. Was that the real woman, or the act? Not a needle in my arm please not a god damn needle!

“This slave does not know. i am only programmed to deepen your obedience.” Hannah didn’t believe it was possible, but she had heard the slave’s lower case ‘i’. She thought that little of herself that she didn’t even warrant a capital. She was smaller.

Weaker.

Lesser.

Obedient.

The word would have sent shudders along Hannah’s body were she not trapped in place. She still moaned and felt the daze of the word’s power over her, thighs again feeling all the more wet, but even the power of obey couldn’t move her.

The slave pulled away, and grabbed up the needle. Hannah had no idea how she managed to stay still, even if her mind was being taken from her. She could still feel how afraid she was.

Her heart was beating so fast and hard she could look down and see her chest literally shake.

She held her breath as the needle neared her skin. The anticipation was always the killer. The stab could hurt, and either being drained or injected could burn or sting, but nothing was worse than the terror of knowing that needle was coming and there was nothing she could do. This time she didn’t even have the safety of knowing that her doctor was looking out for her health.

When the needle went in... she felt nothing. She felt the tape applied soon after to hold it into place, and she felt the warmth begin to flow into her body... but she didn’t feel the pinch. She couldn’t feel the needle inside of her.

Hannah almost fainted as the terror left her even more exhausted and drained.

Her respite was brief. Soon a pair of large noise canceling headphones closed over her ears. Familiar bass beats began to pour into her head, and she closed her eyes as if to redouble her defiance. It did nothing to slow the musical assault on her mind, and soon the strange electronic instrumentation that followed every throb of the beat had Hannah’s eyes half opening with the help of the drug working its way through her system.

Warm.

It didn’t feel like fire poured into her blood, but more the feeling of being curled up in front of a nice calm fireplace. It was like being drunk on a sunny day, too lazy to move and being held in her lover’s arms. It was pure and it was innocent, and it was insidious.

Each throb in her ears seemed to push that warmth further through her body. She forgot that she was trying not to listen to the music. She forgot that she should be afraid of things feeling good.

Hannah forgot herself, and that that made Hannah happy.

The dusky skinned slave returned, carefully brushing the dirty blonde hair from Hannah’s face. Somewhere in her musical haze she moaned, but the slave did not acknowledge the sound. Instead she slid the straps of the head mounted display in place over Hannah’s bliss filled face.

A moment later a cord was plugged into the chair itself, and Hannah sucked in a sharp gasp.

A classroom.

Her first class of Monday.

The music urged her to calm, and the tension from her sudden translocation soon faded into a wasted mewl. The familiar sound of a door opening drew Hannah’s attention, and somehow she knew her teacher had arrived. Hannah felt a vulnerable place in her mind open to prepare for her lesson.

Hannah was a good student.

Hannah wanted to learn.

The slave checked the lights on the side of the HMD, and then reached under the chair for an attachment stored away inside of a small compartment. With mechanical precision she slid the vibrator inside of Hannah’s already moist pussy, eliciting another stream of moans as she attached it to the chair.

In class, Hannah listened to the lesson that throbbed into her ears. Her teacher smiled at the class, and Hannah felt shudders roll through her body as their eyes met. She paid ever closer attention, and felt satisfaction buzz deep inside of her. She was a good student, such a good student that listening to her teacher made her little cunt all juicy and warm.

Without words her teacher told her today’s lesson was about obedience.

Hannah’s pussy really liked to learn about obedience. She moaned, blushing in dreamy shyness at the thought of anyone noticing how aroused she was in class. No one noticed, but none of the other students needed this lesson as much as she did.

They already know how to o-obeyyyy...

Her teacher spoke, and Hannah learned.

6.

“Now, I think we’ve made you a bit more civil.”

Hannah didn’t remember leaving her classroom, or the examination chair for that matter, but now she was in a very different room. The best word that she could muster for it was lounge. She was on a chaise lounge, splayed out languidly on her side her side. She had clothes, but they weren’t clothes she remembered wearing.

Panties... no, a bikini bottom with ties on either side. It was black, with white lace that looked cute in a dollhouse’s fashion sense. It was made of thick material, but it held her snugly and felt sweetly comfortable. A small matching headband rested atop her head. A choker, around her neck, with that same lace. It seemed to tease at her skin whenever she moved her head, as if to remind her of its presence lest she forget.

The only thing that she wore below her waist were stockings, held in place by a sheer, thin wisp of a garter belt.

Only enough clothes for Hannah to feel just how nude she was otherwise.

Windows were open and warm sunlight streamed in over her body, making her keenly aware of her stiff nipples. Hannah couldn’t easily remember the last time they’d felt at rest. In her class they’d been so stiff it was all she could do to wait for her teacher’s permission to pull and twist and tug.

Then it had been so hard to stop when that permission was rescinded.

Almost impossible.

Now she was in a room she’d never seen, the unique warmth of the sun teasing her pale breasts. Am I here to lose my tanlines? No... I wouldn’t be wearing panties. What is this in my hair?

Hannah reached up to try pulling it away before she realized there was not another chaise across from the coffee table, but a large mirror. Beyond the edges of the reflective surface was elaborately shaped gold pressed steel, the structure’s base lined with locked wheels.

It only took Hannah a moment to recognize the decoration in her hair.

A maid. A French maid. I’m not French, but they usually wear more than this... Do I want to wear more than this...?

“And this isn’t 19th century France. But don’t worry about that.”

That woman’s voice was coming from the other side of the mirror. Hannah wasn’t bound. She marveled at how it felt strange to have her body free of restraint, but savored it. She was so comfortable lounging like someone’s private whore waiting to be used. It felt good to see herself like that.

“I’d considered an apron of some variety, or giving you locked heels, but I don’t want shoes on my chaise. You understand, of course.”

Hannah shuddered. Locked heels. Something about that sounded so concretely powerful. The idea of having her feet slid into black, elegant high heels that she would strain to walk in, a strap around her leg with a small heart shaped padlock dangling as yet another reminder. She moaned.

She moaned, and clenched as the egg buried in her pussy vibrated to announce its presence.

I don’t remember that getting there. Hanna’s thought wasn’t twinged with worry, only curiosity. She forgot to care that the more she forgot, the more that had to be hidden away in her mind.

Once she settled from the pleasure of her unexpected vaginal reward the image of those heels came back with fascinating strength. Another girl would be all right in those heels. Those sharp points. I can’t remember the last time I wore them. I’d keep tripping and falling, barely able to keep myself standing. I’d be helpless.

“I could teach you how to walk in heels like that, Hannah.” The voice paused, and Hannah waited eagerly for more as her eyes gazed lustfully along her own reflection. “I could teach you so much. Train you. Instruct you. You have a very receptive mind. It’s like a sponge. A dirty, filthy, cum dripping sponge, but a sponge nonetheless.”

Hannah groaned, trembling at the quick barrage of vibrations that shuddered through her. She wasn’t a prude, but Hannah knew she should be taking offense at being called something so crassly. Instead she let the instructional device inside of her remind her that no, she should feel hotter for it.

She watched in the mirror as her fingers ran along her own firm belly. She used to work out, but it seemed a decent diet and walking up and down driveways had kept her shape the way she liked it. She admired the smoothness of her skin, and the way the sunlight made her skin look even softer in the mirror. When her hands reached her breasts, she paused with her hands just underneath, nails gracing the start of their modest swell.

The woman in the mirror was Hannah, she knew that, but touching her own body while she watched the mirror...

It’s like touching another woman...

Laughter.

It was cool and amused, if superior. That made Hannah feel lesser, and her fingers trembled under her breasts. They almost moved higher, before resting flat instead. She felt a quiet disappointment with herself, but let it pass like a gentle breeze.

“You’re much more quiet this time, Hannah. The drugs can have that effect. Being up all night without rest can do that, too. Though, it could just as easily have been a whole day for you. Would you know the difference?”

Hannah shook her head.

She didn’t have to ask to know the drugs were still in her system, making her feel warm and at peace. She almost asked for more, before shaking her head again. It would feel nice, but...

“Ah, where are my manners. You’re so much closer to being a proper slave now. That means you wouldn’t do something so crude as speak without being invited.”

Hannah quivered. Something she wanted was coming. It was so close she could taste it in her mouth and smell her own pussy growing hotter even before the vibrator buzzed inside of her. Her hands grasped at her chest, and it took a few short moments for her eyes to refocus.

“Speak, Hannah. Feel free to tell me what’s on your mind or... ask any questions that you may have.”

“I...” Hannah stumbled over her words, finding vocalization far more difficult than she remembered it being. She’d given impromptu speeches on the nature of all manner of literary occurrences in her classes, but now she couldn’t even speak her own words for herself. The toy inside of her shook again, and she shook with it, grasping herself tighter. “I’mmmm not sure what to say...”

“That’s fine, of course. You didn’t have time to prepare. And I have.”

A faint buzzing from her headband made Hannah feel dizzy for a moment, but then quickly subsided. It felt like something she’d experienced so many times, but could only remember dreams of another woman wearing a similar headband and moaning as pulses coursed along her skull.

She couldn’t remember what the different pulses did, but she didn’t think the woman in her dream knew either.

Hannah didn’t notice as her hands rested atop her breasts with the faintest of squeezes. Another buzz. Another moan. The woman in her sleepless dream moaned a lot like that. Distant sounds that lacked understanding. It was thrilling in a way Hannah distantly considered troublesome, but the thought wasn’t strong enough to reach her lips.

“You’re being conditioned, Hannah. You’re part of a very special new project of mine. The first step, actually. Unless you count setting up this facility, but I don’t, so neither should you.” Hannah nodded drunkenly, deciding without words that she was definitively the first step in her plans. “Good girl.”

A longer vibration this time, and Hannah found herself squeezing the breasts of the woman in the mirror so tightly. They moaned together, and something about that made Hannah feel so naughty.

“You are coming along famously, Hannah. Since I want to keep more of you than the slaves you’ve met so far, we’ve had to do this in a more... steady fashion. Were you to be just another interchangeable drone you would already be processed and ready to be strolling about in a pretty matching uniform. But I have bigger plans for you, and quick processing... leaves very little of the original woman behind.”

Hannah whimpered without knowing why.

“I don’t... understand...”

“Of course you don’t. Not yet. But if you’re going to be my pretty little delivery girl, we’ll need to break you of your silly concepts of heterosexuality. Not that I want to make you a lesbian. Your androphilia will come in handy, if only for Hannah to not return from her long weekend suddenly showing no interest in her old... fascinations.”

Hannah remembered calling Renee with startling clarity. Even floating in a cocktail of warm pussy juicing mind softening drugs, she remembered saying the words that meant no one would come looking for her.

A hot date.

A really hot date.

Was there any date hotter than one that made you forget how many times you’d orgasmed in a time period you couldn’t even remember? Hannah was sure there was something wrong with that logic, but it was too slippery for her to hold onto. The woman in the mirror’s breasts were much easier to hold.

They were in fact impossible for her to let go of, as she felt another faint buzzing from her headband.

“We just need to get rid of the idea you have that you own your sexuality.” More vibrations, and more soft screams trembled from Hannah’s lips. “We need to have the notion that you have any control over how you desire to use your body flushed right out through your pussy. If I command you to suck another woman’s cunt, it is what you desire because I commanded your mouth there. Sucking a pillow, a pen, a mirror... Hot, not because of your sexuality, or your libido. Hot because I’ve commanded it. Hot because I will it.”

All the time her owner spoke the egg nestled deep in Hannah hadn’t stopped shaking for a moment. Her scent was so strong in the air, and Hannah found her fingers idly stroking over the nipples of that woman in the mirror. It was less a seductive touch than a curious one, but it quickly became less and less hesitant as Hannah continued her self-exploration.

“So we’re starting simple. Dissociation is an easy state to bring out in a woman going through a traumatic experience. This includes things such as... oh... becoming a brainwashed slave.”

Hannah’s body tensed and shuddered twice.

Brainwashed.

Slave.

The concept itself had always sounded so impossible to her before, but now, lazily tugging and twisting at her reflection’s nipples after the most gentle of pulses from her headband it was very much her reality. She accepted it, even as she hungered for more.

“You are not yet ready to be called my slave, but that’s what all of this is for: your journey to surrender. Your next task you’re going to make that woman cum. No red throbbing spirals, no secret words squirreled away in your brain for later. You are going to make that woman cum, and you will devote her screams to me. Obey.”

Hannah tensed up as soon as she heard the word, and didn’t need to be told again. The woman in the mirror’s hips were already thrashing even before Hannah slid a hand away from her breast to creep under her bottoms to attack her clit with a familiar intensity. Her body felt so familiar, and yet it was new. She’d never made love with a woman before.

No, this wasn’t making love

This was fucking.

Hannah moaned, bucking her hips faster as her fingers rubbed tighter and tighter circles. The woman’s clitoris seemed to respond to the same touches as her own, and that filled Hannah with a feeling of bliss. It would be so much easier to make this woman cum, to obey.

Obey.

The word thrust itself raw into her libido, bringing out a long low scream from her lips as the egg whirred seemingly without end inside of her.

It took such little effort. The woman seemed just as wet and trembling with need as Hannah herself. In what felt like moments, Hannah rubbed one last time, and screamed as she watched the first woman she’d ever made cum.

Hannah panted, watching that spent woman shudder and tremble in the aftershocks of pleasure. She looked like Hannah felt. Spent. Wasted.

Fucked.

“Now. Tell me what you want to be.”

Hannah quivered with renewed purpose. She hadn’t just heard the word. She’d felt the meaning. She had embraced it. Hannah had been nothing but that sweet perfect concept.

“A... a s... a... sl... a slaaaaave!” hannah screamed as the orgasm that wracked her body hit even harder than the one she’d share with the mirror. “i want to be a slave!” She screamed again with renewed passion as she heard her voice perfectly emulating the tone she remembered hearing from the other slave.

“Yes. Yes you do. Your mind has been molded and shaped to my whims, and with each indulgence you will succumb to this truth more and more. But there is a very important little question for you to answer. Now that you desire to be a slave, and know that becoming one is your inevitable fate, do you know who I am?”

hannah whimpered at the question, struggling to answer it. As always her voice sounded so amused, but also curious. hannah wanted to satisfy that curiosity, to give her what she wanted to hear.

“Tick tock, little hannah. Poor deliciously doomed lowercase hannah. I have things to be doing, as I told you before. You have thirty seconds, then you report to the next stage of your processing and we see if you can figure it out the next time I stop by to check on your progress.”

In a moment of pure desperation slave hannah let go, and instead of struggling to use her sheer force of will to discover the answer, she used her obedience.

“Mistress!”

The orgasm drowned hannah’s mind in that word, and she floated thoughtlessly in its majesty.