Indoctrination
mc; Fg; Fdom; drug; nosex
Rebecca rubbed the soot off the window, cloth rapidly turning black. The nine year old sighed, dropping the rag into the wooden wash bucket. She didn’t know why she bothered; it wasn’t like she simply wasn’t going to have to scrub them again in a matter of hours, anyways.
Her hand fidgeted with her corset. It wasn’t exactly tight, but the damn thing was cheap. It never felt like it fit right, or had shifted when Becca had been cleaning. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of her erstwhile employment. She supposed she should be grateful that the lady had seen fit to employ her. It beat the workhouse by far, even if the lady’s stay in this particular walled city was temporary.
“Back to work,” she muttered, grasping the broom and sweaping. Her eyes never left the floor, save for the moment the dull sputtering of an autocoach passed the small building that Becca and her erstwhile employer called home.
As she finished her sweeping, Becca sat in her chair at the small corner table and thought for a long moment. She really didn’t know much about the Lady; not even her name. She wasn’t from here, but a larger walled city (Ahenmar? Akenmar? Her mind puzzled, trying to remember), and her family had been refugees when their original home in the distant east had fallen.
She was influential, or at least wealthy enough that the local aristocracy took an interest in her. And she’d been able to keep the peelers from taking Becca to the workhouse. The girl smiled. She had that much, at least: Decent enough food, a roof over her head, and conditions that weren’t likely to be the death of her.
Becca paused, gnawing on a slightly toughened piece of bread. There were a few other oddities about her employer. She was well educated, and her lab was off-limits. She wore a mask that didn’t hide her features, but-
Her mind screeched to a halt as the semi-balanced thumping of clockwork automata was heard on the floor above, followed by footsteps starting down the stairs. Rebecca stood, turning to face the stairs as her Lady hurriedly descended. Becca bowed as the Lady had taught her, never taking her eyes off the woman.
“Rebecca, attend me,” the Lady said, irritation plain in her voice as she strode to the door of her lab and threw it open. Rebecca had started forward, and halted when the door opened.
“Lady? In your lab?”
The Lady turned to her, weary irritation on her face. “Can I not rescind my own rules?”
“Apologies, my lady!” Becca replied, hurriedly scurrying into the lab. She took a moment to look around. It was surprisingly tidy, everything in its place and labeled. It also looked as though it was meant to be packed in a hurry. She wondered what the Lady worked on in here.
“Damn fool of a Duke, can’t see the benefits of anything if it isn’t from the Guilds…” the Lady muttered, then glanced at Becca. “On the table, girl.”
Becca obeyed, sitting on the single table clear of chemicals and notes. The Lady scurried around, then handed Becca a glass filled with a liquid that resembled a liquid blue metal more than anything else. “Drink this.” Becca obeyed, tilting the glass back and drinking it.
The substance hit her stomach like a cold, dead weight. Becca fought back a wave of nausea, and continued sitting there while her Lady continued to putter around hurriedly, mixing something else up. Neither said anything, and Becca sighed. This wasn’t quite how she’d pictured her first time in her Lady’s laboratory.
Any further thoughts were interrupted by a sudden wave of vertigo. Becca drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. She fought against the vertigo, even as the room began to tilt in her vision. Her Lady glanced over, and helped Becca down from the table. Becca opened her mouth to thank her employer, but barely managed to stagger to the table’s edge. The nine-year-old’s strained mind suddenly decided that was a good moment to realize that Becca was feverish. Hot. The girl tugged at her clothing, not caring that her Lady was present.
It was much to Becca’s dulled surprise, then, that her Lady helped her free from her clothes. The prepubescent girl nearly wept in relief as her skin was exposed to the cool air of the basement labortary. Her Lady helped her to a small bed in the corner. Becca laid down, unashamed of her nudity, only wanting to recover so she could help the Lady further.
The Lady leaned down, softly planting a kiss on Becca’s lips. For a moment, Becca swore the Lady had whispered “Mine”, but the thought slipped away again. Her eyes locked on the Lady’s, pale blue-grey meeting jade green flecked with copper. Those eyes became all of Becca’s awareness.
Whispers filled the girl’s besieged mind. Things she’d never been aware of, never known, things that weren’t appropriate for girls her age. But her Lady (Mistress) Mistress was teaching her. She was Mistress’ thing. Her mind rebelled, and she gripped the feather mattress beneath her.
Another cold dead weight slithered down her throat and hit her stomach, but the nausea was lost as the room spun, jade green flecked with copper. She was vaguely aware of brief stings in her chest, between her legs. The fever took her again, and she felt dampness between her legs, an odd slavering she’d never felt before. Sweat beaded on her skin.
The whispers continued. She was but a pupa, now, growing from the caterpillar she’d been hours before. She’d be her mistress’ butterfly, a beautiful thing at Mistress’ side. She’d live to serve the Mistress, but she wasn’t one of the Mistress’ normal toys, not leant out to men and women wanting some taboo copulation. She was Mistress’ handmaiden, her concubine, her personal maid.
She wasn’t some poor orphaned girl. She was a proud thing of her Mistress. Her owner.
Rebecca’s mind tried to rebel, but a deeper need to listen, to be what the whispers said was in control. The ceiling above her swirled, a jade green whirlpool flecked with copper stars. Rebecca the butterfly threw the protests of the old Becca into the depths of that whirlpool. Mistress had cared and protected her so far. She would keep doing so, and Becca would proudly serve her. Obedience was Becca’s main pleasure now, her drug. The spiraling whirlpool consumed everything, and Becca’s body strained with a cry as the last embers of her mind’s protests were torn away.
Becca slumped back to the sheets, panting as the world slowed down and returned to a proper ordered place. She looked around, trying to sit up. Her stomach protested even as the last threads of vertigo left her mind. She looked around, eyes falling on her Mistress in the dim lamplight. Jade green eyes looked over Becca’s half-sprawled form from behind Mistress’ raven-shaped mask. Those eyes laughed at her with a twinkle of joy, giving a deeper story to the small smile on the adult’s face.
Becca slid carefully off the bed and crawled over to Mistress Raven. She placed her head in Raven’s lap, and her Mistress idly stroked Becca’s sweat-drenched hair. “I’m sorry it was so rough, pet. I intended to indoctrinate you slowly, but the guilds are running out of tolerance for me and my ‘rogue sciences’. Time is short.”
“If it means I can serve you, Mistress,” Becca replied softly, “I am glad you rushed it.”
Raven smiled at her new pet. “Get dressed, child. We leave tonight.”
Becca forced herself to her feet and staggered over to the table she’d previously sat on. She ignored the clothing she’d worn earlier in the day, now piled against an empty workbench. She was Mistress Raven’s thing now, and she would dress in what Mistress chose for her. Becca slid into the brightly colored robes Raven had laid out for her. No underwear, of course. Easier for her owner to get at her, she supposed. It wasn’t her place to question; only obey.
She’d finished climbing into the soft-soled shoes when Raven spun her around and smiled at her, offering the young girl a mask. With a little help, Becca got it seated properly. Mistress did her hair then, sighing and muttering how they’d have to wash it properly later.
Mistress left, and Becca followed in her wake. Raven lead her up the stairs to the foyer, where the adult paused and slid punchcards into the automata that flanked the door. The massive brass machines whirred to life, and Raven exited the house. Becca followed, clambering into the autocarriage waiting at the curb for them.
Becca snuggled into her Mistress’ side, feeling protected. “Mistress, where do we go?”
“The Aeroyard, to board a ship to Aldenmar,” Raven replied evenly. Becca nodded, glancing up in the mirror that occupied the front of the autocarriage. Her eyes were taken by the mask she now wore. Where her Mistress’ was a pitch-black bird, her own was a burgundy butterfly.
The autocarriage settled as the weight of the two clockwork automata settled into their positions, and the carriage rumbled off. Becca nuzzled into her Mistress’ side, and was surprised and delighted when Raven rewarded her affection with a brown nipple to suck on. The nine year old smiled, and settled in for the ride, lips milking Raven’s breast like a newborn.