A Slave’s Doubts

Something felt off.

Melissa tugged on the straps of her bra, her breasts jiggling in the lace demi-cups. She angled her face in the mirror, trying to determine if perhaps her makeup wasn’t right, or if her sandy blonde pigtails weren’t falling like they should. But no matter how she twisted and turned, she could spy no cause for concern, no source for the gnawing unease in her stomach.

She frowned, puzzled, and cast a cursory glance around the slave quarters. None of the other girls seemed to share her discomfort. They were all as they should be: bouncing restlessly on the beds or touching up their appearances at the vanity mirrors, accompanied by the usual chorus of giggles and gossip. It was a morning just like any other. So why did Melissa feel so…restless?

She turned to the mirror again, and tried putting on a smile instead. There, that was better: that was the way a proper slave should look. Melissa wasn’t as fit as some of her fellow sluts, but her soft, luscious curves always got plenty of attention from her Masters and patrons alike. She tried out several provocative poses, her confidence growing with every coquettish wink and teasing hair twirl. But then she blinked and, for the briefest of moments, the enticing girl in the maid lingerie vanished, replaced by a dowdy doppelganger in a drab skirt and tightly buttoned blouse. Before Melissa could comprehend what she was seeing, the vision disappeared, leaving her staring into her own wide, confused eyes.

It couldn’t be…was she still thinking about that…?

“Mornin’ Mel,” a lithe, sable-haired girl yawned, plopping down on the neighboring seat. It was Brooke, a fellow house slut and Melissa’s de factor partner-in-crime. “Excited for tonight?”

Melissa tried her smile on again, even as a fresh wave of anxiety seized her. “Uh, yeah, can’t wait.”

“Same,” Brooke grinned, pursing her rosy lips to apply a fresh coat of gloss. “Gonna be a looottta competition this year though. You see the new girl? She’s practically soaking the floor where she walks. It’s adorable. Reminds me of your first homecoming party when…whoa, you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, totally,” Melissa swallowed. “Um, why do you ask?”

Brooke raised an eyebrow. “You seem kinda like you’re…somewhere else. And not in the ‘thinking-about-getting-dicked-stupid’ kinda way. You didn’t chip a tooth or something, did you?”

“Oh, um, no, nothing like that,” Melissa quickly assured her friend. “It’s fine. I’m just…”

“Just…what?”

Melissa bit her lip. She should’ve known better than to try and bluff Brooke. The two of them had been best friends for almost a year, pretty much since Melissa’s first day at Alpha Rho. Most sluts preferred not to work with error-prone newbies, but Brooke hadn’t hesitated to take the fledgling Melissa under her wing, guiding her from protégé to partner to…something more. It wasn’t long before they’d become experts on each other, fluent in the sighs that signaled boredom and the moans that meant the other’s tongue had found the exact right spot. They were an unstoppable duo at parties, the interplay of Brooke’s sex kitten allure and Melissa’s Midwestern innocence able to seduce even the most selective of patrons. The two sluts always had each other’s backs, always kept each other’s secrets.

So…why was it so hard for Melissa to speak the truth now?

“Mel?” Brooke pressed, craning her neck to meet her partner’s averted gaze. “C’mon, talk to me here. What’s on your mind?”

“It…” Melissa cast a glance over her shoulder then lowered her voice. “It’s about that guy from the store.”

“The bible-humper?” Brooke exclaimed. “Seriously?”

“Not so loud!” Melissa hissed, eyes darting to make sure none of the other girls were listening in.

“Sorry, it’s just…I thought you were over this.”

“I am. Or…was,” Melissa admitted, ashamed.

The encounter in question had happened a week ago, while the two of them were grocery shopping off-campus. Brooke had left to find some item they’d forgotten, leaving Melissa mindlessly browsing the magazine rack alone. Then, out of the blue, a stranger in a polo shirt and khakis accosted her, claiming to be Chris, her long lost boyfriend. At first, Melissa had simply tittered and brushed him off. It wasn’t unusual for owned sluts like her to have strange interactions with students, especially former patrons trying to talk their way into a free ride. It was possible she had slept with a Chris prior to Alpha Rho—maybe they had even gone on a date or two. It didn’t really matter: Melissa didn’t care much for dwelling on the past, and she knew there was no way a slut like her had ever matched the object of affection the desperate boy described.

Then he had showed her the ring.

It was a simple little thing, pathetic compared to some of the gifts patrons had bought her. Still, she’d found herself strangely fascinated by it, unable to look away as Chris insisted this “purity ring” had once been hers. He’d claimed it represented a promise between them, an oath to stay virginal and true until they were happily married. It was such an absurd notion, Melissa had almost burst out laughing right there in the store. But when he offered to put the ring on her finger, the mirth instantly died in her throat. There’d been something…familiar about the gesture, something that suddenly made her deathly afraid of the shiny silver band, as though once she put it on, she would never be able to remove it.

Fortunately, Brooke had arrived shortly thereafter, and chased Chris away before things got any weirder. At the time, the two girls had laughed the whole episode off, interpreting it as an unusually crafty attempt to get into Melissa’s panties.

But now…now she wasn’t so sure.

“So what’s the deal?” Brooke crossed her arms. “Why are you hung up on some loser virgin that ambushed you in a Kroger?”

“I’m not ‘hung up on him,’” Melissa insisted, the words sounding hollow even to her ears.

“But..?”

“But, well…” Melissa let out an exasperated sigh. “I looked him up afterwards, okay? And…I found his Facebook profile…”

“Oh no,” Brooke shook her head. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

Melissa toyed anxiously with her hair, trying and failing to laugh. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I just…got curious or something, I guess. But I was going through his photos and I found…all these pictures of him and me together. And…other stuff too. Like, there’s this video of me in a church and…I’m giving this whole speech, about sin and, um, temptation and…it doesn’t make sense, right? Because that totally isn’t me, and yet, it is me, and—”

Brooke held up a hand, halting Melissa mid-spiral. “Mel, relax. Don’t you see where you went wrong?”

“Huh?” Melissa blinked. “Wh-what do you mean?”

Brooke gave her a knowing look. “This is what our Masters warned us about. Remember? You’re thinking too much.”

The phrase hit Melissa’s brain like a calming breeze. “I’m thinking too much,” she repeated, the words slipping from her lips in an automatic murmur.

“Thinking too much is bad for us,” Brooke continued, her own expression relaxing. “It makes us sad and unhappy. That’s why we let Masters do the hard thinking for us. So we can be happy and fun all the time.”

Melissa nodded, her eyelids drooping. A strange fuzziness had descended on her, slowing and smothering her thoughts. Yet strangely, it took no effort at all to agree with what Brooke was saying, nor did Melissa hesitate to add: “I want to be happy and fun. I want to be a good slut.”

Brooke smiled. “And good sluts don’t need to think.”

“Good sluts don’t need to think.” Melissa exhaled, the tension that had been clawing through her body receding. For a moment, she just sat there, smiling at Brooke, enjoying the blissful fog that always seemed to return whenever the two of them chatted for long enough. It was probably why they were such good friends, Melissa mused. She had never enjoyed conversations this soothing before…

Before…something about…before…

A knock on the door snapped the dazed girls to attention. They rose to their feet, hurrying into line with the rest of the slaves, arms behind their backs and tits thrust forward for inspection. Master N. was on management duty this month, and though he was strict, he was also generous with rewarding those who pleased him. Earning his blessing now meant favorable pricing and placement later, an honor Melissa desperately craved. After all, she needed to repay her Masters for taking such good care of her.

The door opened, and Melissa smiled as a wave of heat washed over her. The haze in her head doubled, thickened by the sticky steam of arousal that descended whenever one of her Masters was in view. She thrilled at the sensation of her mind dissolving into desire, her doubts reduced to a roiling need to please and be pleased by her owners.

“Good morning, Master!” she and the other girls proclaimed in unison.

“‘Morning, sluts,” the young man replied. His sharp green eyes roamed the beaming line of girls, all of them dressed in the same pornographic parody of a maid outfit. It was the slave manager’s privilege to choose the uniform of his charges, and apparently what tickled Master N.’s fancy were frilly bras and ruffled micro-skirts. Of course, there were no panties underneath: for Master N., it was important every slut be as easily accessible as possible, a philosophy Melissa quite enjoyed. It wasn’t as fun as Master R.’s choice of cat-ear headdresses and butt-plug tails, but the knowledge that she could be fucked or fingered at any moment still enlivened her daily duties.

For his part, Master N. was clad in his usual morning garb: jeans and a tight tank-top stretched across his broad chest, his shoulder muscles visibly flexing as he crossed his arms and paced. No doubt he enjoyed making his sluts salivate, savoring the conflict in their eyes as they tried to resist staring. Melissa managed to keep her attention straight ahead as he drew near, but couldn’t stop from trembling as his gaze passed over her. She felt it like a phantom touch, tickling and teasing her needy flesh. A part of her wanted to surrender to the sensation, to throw herself at him and do whatever it took to have his fingers in her mouth and his cock in her cunt. But while that might’ve been the strategy of a garden variety whore, it wasn’t how an owned girls behaved. Good sluts like Melissa understood the importance of restraint, of waiting for a Master’s permission to indulge in their animal impulses.

With his first pass complete, Master N. moved onto the second part of the inspection. He worked down the line one girl at a time, his powerful hands teasing and kneading the helpless bodies before him, testing each slut’s sensitivity and obedience. One by one, his subjects gasped, quivered, and whimpered, but remained exactly as they stood, not even leaning in to his tantalizing touch. The new girl—Chrissy, Melissa remembered—almost didn’t make it. Her pale chest trembled as Master N. tugged her flimsy bra down, inspecting her tiny tits before pinching and pulling one stiff, pink nipple. She yelped, almost breaking formation, but quickly straightened back into place and remained still, even as a thin line of drool dangled from her whimpering lips. Ordinarily, this lapse in resolve might’ve earned her a punishment, but this time Master N. simply laughed, wiping a thumb across her mouth and murmuring something into the poor girl’s ear. Her breath hitched so sharply it startled her neighbors.

Melissa exchanged an amused, covert glance with Brooke. They both knew all too well what Chrissy was experiencing. It was this delicious tension that proper slaves lived for, the reason Melissa had sold herself to the fraternity in the first place. She understood that a wild slut needed to be collared and trained, to have a Master’s hand guide her to heights of pleasure she never would’ve experienced on her own. The denial of gratification, the effort and obedience required for every orgasm…that was where true bliss lie. To be so visibly desperate, so nakedly wanting, and yet unable to act on those urges was like…like…

She was blushing as she let her dress fall on the beach towel, revealing the swimsuit that lay underneath. It just was a simple two-piece, she told herself. Nothing overtly provocative or scandalous about it. Certainly not when compared to some of the other beachgoers. Yet, as she felt Chris’s stare, a part of her knew that she was lying to herself. She knew that she was tempting him; knew that she was toying with fire; knew that she purchased this suit not to uphold her modesty, but to be seen and desired. And she knew…deep down inside…that she enjoyed it.

Master N. stopped in front of her, his overwhelming presence shattering the strange memory. Melissa stiffened, trying to maintain her composure and posture. But the intrusive vision had left a strange chill inside her, dampening the heat that had kept her in melty, mindless bliss. As if sensing this, Master N. hesitated, peering inquisitively at her face. Melissa held her breath, willing herself to remain still. She had to keep it together; had to hope that he didn’t notice something amiss; had to play the part of a good slut long enough to talk to Brooke and…

“P-please sir,” a mewling voice broke out.

Master N. turned, surprised. Chrissy had stumbled out of line, and seemed to be fighting with her own hands. They roamed her body in restless patterns, always threatening to slip under her skirt, only to involuntarily divert at the last second.

“I-I need it, Master,” she mewled, her words dribbling out in pathetic, broken syllables. “P-please…I…I want to be a good…but…but I…”

Melissa felt the room around her exhale. Master N.’s attention was laser-focused on Chrissy now, which meant the rest of the girls could relax. Melissa even caught a few of them with barely-concealed smirks, no doubt eager to see how their Master would correct the interruption. A public, humiliating task, perhaps? Or maybe he would paint Chrissy’s ass pink right here and now, marking her with his hands and belt for the rest of sluts’ amusement.

Whatever the case, it meant Melissa was safe. For now.

She paused, catching herself.

Safe? Safe from what? If a Master wanted to reprimand her, it was in their right. And in fact, such punishments often lead to equally intense pleasures, especially for a good slut like her.

So why did she feel like she had just dodged a bullet?

Master N. strode in front of Chrissy, grabbing her face and forcing her bleary gaze into his. “But what?” he prompted. “You want to be a good slut but…what?”

“But…I…need your cock,” she sputtered, her hands weakly grasping at the hem of his pants. “Please…I’ll die if I…can’t…can’t get…”

Master N. blinked, seemingly taken aback for a moment, before letting out a sharp laugh. “Goddamn. Where did the pledges find you?” he asked, releasing his captive.

Instantly, she tottered forward and sunk to her knees, her face falling against his crotch, nuzzling the stiff bulge in his jeans as her open mouth panted and drooled.

“You must’ve been a hell of a slut even before the process,” Master N. sighed, undoing his belt. “Be a shame not to take advantage of that.”

Cheers and laughter rippled across the room as Master N. hoisted the cock-starved slut upright and threw her onto the bed. Soon he had her on all fours, one hand grasping her hips while the other tugged her hair like a leash, arching her back as he fucked her without mercy.

The other girls wasted no time crowding around the display, many sprawling on the surrounding beds, flipping up their skirts and fingering themselves until strained sounds of pleasure bounced from every wall. Melissa couldn’t blame her companions: this was one of the few times they were permitted to touch themselves, and most had been stewing in arousal and anticipation all morning. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to join them. Instead, she slipped to the edges of the group, seeking a quiet mattress to sit on and puzzle out what was happening to her.

At least, that was her intent. But the moment she closed her eyes in thought, she felt movement near her legs, and reopened her gaze in time to see Brooke looking up with a mischievous grin.

“B-Brooke!” Melissa stammered. “I, uh, I think I’m good today. Y-you don’t have to…really…”

“It’s okay,” Brooke murmured, gently kissing the trembling folds before her. “I can tell you’re still tense. And good sluts make other sluts feel good, right?”

“That’s…true…” Melissa moaned, her friend’s tongue lapping her stress and resistance away. What had she been trying to think about? It didn’t matter now. Her world was narrowing with every second, until there was no more room for thoughts or fears. Just pleasure, relief, and the words echoing in her head and out of her mouth.

“Good sluts make other sluts feel good…”

“Good sluts make others sluts feel good…”

“Good sluts…make other sluts…”

“Good sluts...make…”

“Good….haaah….mmmm…”

Melissa hummed happily as she carried the bundle of sheets down the hall, the smack on her ass from a passing Master putting an extra spring in her step. The house was abuzz with party preparation, some sluts dutifully scrubbing the floors and arranging the furniture while others prepped cocktail glasses and trays. All the while the Masters roamed, providing constant encouragement to their flushed and giggling property.

They were excited. Everyone was excited. Homecoming wasn’t just the largest, most lavish party of the year; it was also a reunion of sorts, a time when graduated Masters and patrons would return to see how the current owners were managing. As a result, younger Masters were often eager to show off their well-trained wares, leading to a lot of easy cock and cum for the eager sluts. Plus, there was always the chance one of the alumni would bring a slave of their own, one who had managed to move up from house slut to personal property. Those girls always had the best stories, and offered a tantalizing glimpse of what life could look like after graduation, provided Melissa played her cards right.

So she attended her duties with extra energy, even as her legs still wobbled slightly from Brooke’s earlier attention.

“You’re slower than usual today,” the dark-haired girl quipped as Melissa entered the laundry room. “Guess this morning was good, huh?”

Melissa giggled, the memory eliciting fresh tingle between her legs. “You’re on your A-game today,” she admitted, tossing the tangled sheets into the nearby hamper. “The boys won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Brooke smiled, kissing Melissa on the cheek before turning back to folding. Melissa practically skipped out of the room, carried through the house on a cloud of happy butterflies. By the time she began stripping the last bed on her route, a melodic song had risen to her lips, the words and notes floating through her as if by magic.

“Oh that day when freed from sinning, I shall see thy lovely face. Clothed then in blood washed linen…” Her movements slowed, the verse sounding more like a question than a song as she continued. “How I’ll sing thy…sovereign…sovereign…grace…”

She paused, the fabric to slipping from her hands. That strange feeling was creeping back into her, the sensation of being lost in familiar surroundings. She had the sudden impulse to bolt from the room, to put as much distance between her and it as possible. But that was such a silly notion. There was nothing threatening or strange around her. She had cleaned this bed a hundred times without thinking about it—all of the girls had.

So then…what was this uncanniness taking hold of her? Why did she tense when she saw the leather cuffs hanging from the bedposts? Why did the subtle whirr of the nearby computer set her teeth on edge? Why did the VR helmet on the nightstand constantly tug at her attention? Why was she afraid of seeing her reflection in the jet-black visor?

As Melissa tried to scoop up the sheets again, she found herself hesitate, her hand shaking inches from the bed’s surface. She needed to complete her task. She needed to obey her orders. She needed to be a good, happy slut. She knew this, but her body…just wouldn’t do what she wanted.

Taking a deep breath, Melissa tore all the sheets free in one pull, almost tripping over herself as she dashed for the exit. Her pace didn’t slow until she reached the laundry room, though by then she was so frazzled and distraught, she threw open the door and chucked the sheets away, almost hitting Brooke in the process.

“Whoa!” the surprised slut exclaimed. “Jesus. Don’t tell me there was a spider on those.”

“S-sorry!” Melissa cried, still catching her breath. “There’s nothing wrong with the sheets, I was just…” she stopped herself, but realized her mistake too late. Brooke was already staring, eyes narrow and dark beneath her long lashes.

“Dammit, are you seriously still thinking about him?” She let out an exasperated growl.

“I-it’s not just him!” Melissa exclaimed. “It’s…all kinds of stuff.”

“Stuff like what?”

“I’m…not sure how to explain.” It was the truth: nothing like this had ever happened to Melissa before, at least as far as she knew. Normally when she thought about her life before Alpha Rho, the memories were hazy and disconnected, scattered specifics with little to no narrative, outside of a growing embrace of her slutty nature. But the memories that had been cropping up since the grocery store…they were different somehow. Sharp. Urgent. Trying to tell her something.

“It’s like…” She fidgeted, toying with her hair again. “You know that feeling when you’re in a dream, and you realize that nothing around you is real, but you also don’t know how to wake up?”

Brooke blinked. “Are you saying none of this is real?”

“I…I don’t know.”

The washer buzzed and rumbled to a stop, an awkward silence descending on the tiny room. Brooke moved the sheets to the dryer, her expression distant as she set the next cycle. Melissa had never seen her so quiet and concerned. Yet rather than feeling guilty for causing so much trouble, the agitated slut felt increasingly wary, as though the longer Brooke went without speaking, the more dangerous her eventual reply would be.

The dryer hummed to life. Brooke sighed, wiping her hands on her skirt. “You know what? Why don’t we get a start on the tutors early?”

Melissa stiffened. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t we…wait until the laundry is done?”

“Why are you arguing?” Brooke laughed, but it sounded harsher than usual. “Don’t worry—we’ll be back before the cycle is over. Besides, don’t tell me you’re gonna pass up the opportunity for some free cock before the party.”

“Cock…” Melissa murmured, her tongue sliding across her lips. It was true: tutor duty did sound really appealing all of a sudden. Maybe a good face-fucking would make her a happy slut again. At the very least, it would stop the racing thoughts—her head had a way of going empty whenever a nice, warm dick went inside.

Before Melissa could finish forming an answer, Brooke clasped her hand, practically dragging her out of the room and into the hall. The two slaves made their way deeper into the house, to an expansive lounge lined with wooden desks and bookshelves. It was here that the “tutors” were at work. Some were simply pledges looking to earn their membership; others were outside help the Masters hired. Either way, their mission was the same: to complete the schoolwork the slaves shirked in favor of their daily duties. This way, every slut could focus on doing what she did best, without having to worry about grades or expulsion.

Melissa knew it was hard work—just looking at the stacks of papers and books surrounding each tutor made her stomach flip with anxiety. She was so glad she had left her academics up to her Masters, so grateful she only had to attend the occasional lecture or quiz, and could spend the rest of her energy on more…pleasurable pursuits. How the other students survived without Masters was a mystery to her.

But then…she had once too…hadn’t she?

“Hey there.” Brooke purred, approaching the closest tutor and gently massaging his shoulders. “That looks really hard. Care to take a little break with me?”

“Please,” the young man groaned. “If I have to do one more statistics test, I’m gonna go insane.”

“Let’s see what I can do about that,” Brooke winked, slipping under the desk. “By the way, Mel, I think I saw Keith down that way if you want to…ohhhh…” the rest of her sentence faded as she fished the tutor’s cock free, its insistent red head stealing all her attention at once. Melissa noticed her own mouth watering as she saw her friend go to work, but managed to pull her attention away and towards where Brooke had been indicating.

Sure enough, he was there: Keith, Melissa’s favorite tutor. He was a tall, skinny boy, a sophomore if Melissa recalled correctly, with a mop of fluffy blonde hair and a cute, abashed smile. Certainly not the handsomest boy she had ever tasted but...he was different. The other tutors generally fell into two camps: either they enjoyed her service as a matter of course, or otherwise grabbed the back of her head and used her like the owned bitch she was. And while both interactions had their charms, sucking Keith off was something else entirely—something Melissa was very much looking forward to.

Despite clearly wrestling with some difficult assignment, Keith’s expression brightened the moment Melissa drew near. “Oh, h-hey! What’s, um, what’s up?” he asked, his face already reddening.

“Just the usual, sir,” Melissa giggled. He had come in her mouth at least five times now, but always tried to make conversation whenever they met. “Ready for your break?” she asked.

“S-sure,” Keith nodded, already moving to unbuckle his pants. Melissa rested a hand on his, stopping him with a gentle smile. It was her job to see to his needs, and she adored every moment of it. As she knelt underneath the desk, she relished the tension she felt in his body, the way he shivered slightly as her fingers traveled up his jeans. A small gasp escaped him as she drew his cock into her hand. She skimmed her grip along its veiny surface, delighting in the way it stiffened and twitched.

“F-fuck,” Keith whispered. “You never go easy on me, do you?”

“Sorry sir,” Melissa murmured, kissing her way from the base to the tip. “I just…love it so much.” She meant it, too: to feel this hardness, this heat, pressed against her face…it was what sluts like her dreamed of. At last, she could hold back no longer—with happy moan, she slipped the object of her worship into her mouth, pushing it deep inside her throat, and then sliding her tongue over every inch as she pulled it back out again. Keith parted her hair as she repeated the process, and she hummed in blissful gratitude, glowing with delight at every joyous utterance she drew from his lips. This was why she was always drawn to his station, why Brooke had suggested she service him before anyone else. No matter how often she got him off, he never treated it as routine. It was as though each encounter were a fresh surprise, each orgasm a miracle only she could create with him.

Of course, it never took long. Melissa had hardly increased her pace when she felt his hands on her shoulders—not forcing her onwards, but to pleading her not to stop.

“I…I’m going to…” he grunted, unable to finish the sentence. “It’s…it’s gonna…”

Melissa doubled her efforts, bobbing her head up and down in eager supplication. She always assured him that such a warning was unnecessary, but that never seemed to stop him from trying. He was so sweet. So delicate. So…much…like…

“Are you…sure about this?” Chris asked, his voice shaking. It was strange: she was the one kneeling by his bedside, and yet it was he who was acting like cornered prey. Maybe, in a way, he was: after all, she was the one who had confessed her desires, trapping them both in this precarious position. But there was an urge inside her she couldn’t control, a voice she couldn’t stifle with mere kisses and petting any longer.

“I’m sure,” Melissa lied. “I’ve…seen videos and stuff, so it should be…”

“You have?” he exclaimed. “When? Why didn’t you tell...hh!” He stiffened, his entire body going rigid as she slid her hand over his boxers, smoothing the contours of his erection.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, as much to herself as to him. “This doesn’t…it won’t go against our promise. We’re still being true to each other, right?”

“I…I…” he swallowed, but didn’t stop her as her fingers tugged his waistband. “I’m…not sure…”

“Th-this isn’t wrong,” she whispered, her heart racing. “I…I just want to make you feel good. I just…want…”

Melissa sputtered as Keith came, caught completely off-guard. His cock popped free from her lips, spilling thick strands of seed as she doubled over, coughing.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Keith yelped, fumbling to look under the desk. “Are you okay?” he extended a hand to help her, only to jerk back as his own juices dripped from the desk onto his wrist.

“I-it’s alright…” Melissa muttered, wiping her chin. “S-sorry…” The usual cum-high had still hit her brain, but it was muddled somehow, the traces of the intrusive memory still tainting her bliss. She crawled into the open, only find Brooke standing before her, the shining splatter on the slender slut’s chest proof that at least she had managed to meet her tutor’s wishes without incident.

“Seriously, Mel?” Brooke grimaced, absently wiping a trickle from her tits before licking her fingers clean. “What is going on with you today?”

Melissa opened her mouth, but no answer came out. She looked at the floor, burning under the stares of the other tutors and sluts. How could she explain herself to them? How could she describe the horrible ball of shame, confusion, and dread that had lodged itself in her gut? She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She was a good, happy slut.

Wasn’t she?

A cool breeze raced across Melissa’s thighs and up her mini-skirt, causing her to shiver. Several passing students stopped to stare, prompting her to wink and extend the flyers clutched in her right hand. One man was brave enough to approach. Melissa made sure to bend over as she passed the leaflet along, letting her tits sway in her skimpy Alpha Rho crop-top. She said she was looking forward to seeing the man at the party. He stammered something noncommittal and quickly rejoined his friends. She doubted he would actually show—guys like him rarely had the guts.

Not that it mattered. The point of flyer duty had never been to attract new patrons, not really anyway. No, the real reason Melissa and Brooke were standing in the middle of campus, freezing their scantily-clad butts off for everyone to see, was because Master N. had heard about Melissa’s tutor incident, but had been too busy to punish her properly. Instead, he’d placed the two of them on the worst task a slave could receive, a tedious chore far from excitement and safety of the house, in a world that didn’t exactly welcome their slutty ways. It was torture. Their bodies were made for touching and pleasing—not distant gawking and fleeting chit-chat. By the time the two girls had rotated to their second spot, Brooke was practically throwing herself at anyone who passed too closely, an accidental boob graze enough to make her flush and sigh with relief.

At least she had stopped trying to cheer Melissa up. From the moment the two of them had stepped outside, Brooke had become a nonstop stream of assurances and rationalizations, all trying to convince Melissa that her upsetting memories were nothing more than fleeting fantasies. But the words that had once radiated warmth and comfort now sounded strained and forced. A part of Melissa desperately wanted to believe Brooke, to stop thinking so much and start enjoying her life as a slut again. Yet every time she tried to slip away into that pleasant fog, something else would trigger another rush of unsettling recollections. And the voice that had been growing louder inside her would say:

Something was very, very wrong here.

It just didn’t make any sense. How did someone who had gotten nervous wearing a swimsuit end up sucking off strangers in a frat house? How could she have spent years condemning campus promiscuity, and still salivate at the thought of passersby feeling her up? When she grinned at a cute guy and promised to show him a good time at the party, she really meant it. And when that guy’s eyes lingered for just a beat too long on her cleavage…the embarrassment and disgust she felt was undeniable.

But…which feelings should she trust? Which were the real her?

“Melissa?” a voice from behind her asked.

Oops. Some guy had apparently snuck up without her noticing. She quickly turned, beaming and pushing the intrusive thoughts away with a smile.

“Hey cutie,” she giggled. “Sorry, didn’t see you…” She stopped, the oxygen vanishing from her lungs as she realized:

It was Chris. He had found her again.

“It is you.” His voice was hushed, yet heavy with longing as he approached. “Thank God. Can we talk? Please?”

Melissa’s head spun, competing impulses chasing each other in dizzying spirals. “I don’t…I’m not allowed to leave,” she mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Chris replied, undeterred. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything.”

“Um…okay?” Melissa took a step back, looking to Brooke for direction. But the other slut was too busy chasing a gaggle of passing students to notice Melissa’s predicament. That was…a relief. Or was it bad? Melissa didn’t know anymore.

“You don’t have to forgive me right away,” Chris insisted, his hot breath fogging the air in front of him. “What I said to you…what I did to you…it can’t just be swept away. Especially if it pushed you to become like this.”

Melissa blinked. “Um, I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she muttered. But it was a lie: even if she couldn’t put it to words, she knew what his earnest eyes were saying. Yet a part of her still wanted to look away, to shove him aside and maintain that no, she was the reason she had ended up “like this.” It was her decision. Her desire. It was for her own good, and she loved every second of it.

Or at least, she had.

Unable to hold her former beau’s gaze, Melissa glanced back to see Brooke bid farewell to the passing crowd. Chris seemed to notice too, and quickly snatched a flyer from Melissa’s hands, before placing something there in return. Somehow, she recognized the object in an instant, knew its smooth surface and surprising heft before even looking. She still couldn’t stifle the gasp when her eyes fell on her palm, and beheld the purity ring glimmering on its surface.

“I’ll come by tonight,” Chris said, backing away into the flow of foot traffic. “If you change your mind just…come outside. I’ll be waiting in my car. We can just…drive and talk. Like we used to.”

Melissa was too dizzy to reply. She could only watch as the specter of her past vanished, leaving her feeling even more lost than before. The ring weighed heavily in her hand, and for a moment she considered letting it fall, releasing the anchor that threatened to pull her deeper into her doubts.

Instead, her fist closed around it, hiding it from view as Brooke’s footsteps approached.

“Phew,” the flushed slut breathed. “Think I actually managed to hook a few patrons there.”

“R-really?” Melissa asked, forcing a laugh as she returned her flyers to her bag, stowing the ring among them. “You can never tell for sure though, right?”

“Maybe,” Brooke admitted, though her confident grin didn’t waver. “I’ve got a good feeling about it though. Don’t hate me if I end up coming out on top tonight.”

“I won’t,” Melissa replied. “Just…promise me the same, alright?”

“Of course.” Brooke laughed. “I could never hate you, Mel.”

Melissa nodded.

She dearly hoped that was true.

Something felt wrong. And it was getting worse.

Melissa lingered in the kitchen, pouring the champagne as slowly as she could. Other sluts around her bustled in an out, eager to refill their trays and get back out on the floor where the fun was. But not Melissa. She kept her gaze pinned to the glasses, seeking refuge in the tiny bubbles dancing in their depths. Yet even they were no longer completely safe—looking at them now, she couldn’t help remembering…

…Snatching a glass as she stumbled down the hall, not even bothering to thank the lingerie-attired serving woman. Melissa wasn’t sure which party she was crashing, and she didn’t really care—she just knew that it was away from him. Away from the judgmental stares and whispers. Away from everyone and everything she knew. A place she could drink, dance, and be forgotten. A place where…

“Hey, do you guys have any mineral water?” A man in a grey blazer and dark jeans entered the kitchen, unbuttoning his collar and wiping his brow. “It’s like a goddamn furnace out there.”

Melissa looked up, and quickly realized she was the only slave still left in the kitchen. “O-of course sir,” she replied, smiling through her swirling thoughts. Fortunately, her training kicked in automatically, prompting her to prance over to the fridge and retrieve a bottle of water from the bottom drawer. She shot an inviting look over her shoulder, and was rewarded by a tiny surge of arousal when she caught the man’s gaze roaming her exposed skin. She moved slowly as she straightened and turned, ensuring he got a chance to read all the prices scrawled across her body before she handed the water over.

“O-oh, thanks,” the man stammered, as though he had forgotten his original request.

“Is there…anything else I can do for you?” Melissa asked, biting her lip and sliding closer. What was wrong with her? A moment ago she was trying to avoid this kind of situation. But now that a man was here…now that she could see the fascination in his eyes and hear the hunger in his breath…all she wanted was to obey her slut instincts and take anything he was willing to give her. It was what she was made for, what her aching insides longed for. Even if it hadn’t always been that way…that didn’t mean it was wrong, right?

The man was clearly making a similar calculation, his eyes darting between Melissa and the door. It must’ve been his first party—repeat visitors rarely worried about getting caught. All the more reason for Melissa to move in now, and take this adorable new patron as her own.

“Please?” she cooed, lifting his trembling hand to her chest. “It gets so boring just serving drinks all night…and you seem like a lot of fun.” Her heart fluttered as he grasped her breast, his thick fingers kneading and squishing her sensitive, needy softness. He wanted her—she could tell. All she had to do was yield to his touch, to let him pull her closer and...

…A man pulled her to him as she danced, pressing his erection against her swaying ass. It was a bestial, perverted move, but one she couldn’t bring herself to resist. So what if some stranger wanted to grind against her? Hadn’t Chris called her a whore? Hadn’t he told her this was where she belonged? Maybe if he could see her now, he would be sorry. The thought sent a tickle of perverse pleasure through Melissa’s alcohol-soaked brain, only for a surge of nausea to erupt soon after. She suddenly felt sick, and fought free from her gyrating partner. He shouted something in protest, but his words were lost in the roaring of her own blood in her ears. This wasn’t helping. It wasn’t making her forget. It wasn’t filling the hole in her heart. It was only making it worse. She had to run, had to get out of there, had to…

“What the hell?” the man exclaimed as Melissa tore free from his grasp.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, fumbling to tuck her tits back into place while tottering towards the exit. “I n-need to…need to go.” She grit her teeth, forcing herself to stride out into the hall, fighting the urge to turn around and fall to her knees. That was what a good slut would do. But Melissa wasn’t…wasn’t a slut. Or, at least…she…she hadn’t wanted to be or…didn’t…

“Hey, Melissa,” a perky red-head stepped in front of her. “Have you seen Master N.? He was supposed to price me after I was done cleaning the bathroom but I—”

“I-I don’t know!” Melissa blurted out, startling her interrogator back and continuing her harried retreat. She wasn’t even sure where she was going—she just had to get away from the party, from the low moans and thrumming music. What little stability Melissa had was crumbling by the second, the awful memories flowing freely as she…

…Began to realize there was something off about the party around her. Most of the women she passed were dressed in ridiculous Playboy bunny outfits, some with wads of dollar bills stuffed into their garter belts. They draped themselves across the other partygoers, seemingly content to be at the mercy of their ravenous eyes and groping hands. Melissa spied one man unbuckle his pants in the middle of a crowded longue, grabbing a passing bunny’s ponytail and yanking her to her knees in front of him. The girl seemed dazed at first, but didn’t resist or hesitate as the man forced his cock into her mouth. If anything, she seemed grateful for his attention, and slurped enthusiastically as he jockeyed her head back and forth. Melissa stared in horrified fascination, only to belatedly realize that the man was now leering at her, an inviting grin spreading across his obscene features. She quickly moved away, pushing against the tide of partygoers and bunnies now moving in to join the fun.

The world seemed to tilt as she staggered back into the hall, her senses overwhelmed by the bacchanalia breaking around her. It seemed every room she passed offered another a fresh hell of dripping tongues and writhing bodies. The stench of sex clung to her nostrils; ecstatic moans and cries echoed in her ears. What the hell had she stumbled into? Why hadn’t she just stayed home and repented like a good girl? And where on earth was…

…The exit. Melissa had to find the exit. If she could just find her way outside, away from the memories and duties she was bound to…maybe then her brain would stop trying to tear itself apart.

If only everything around her wasn’t so distracting.

The party was in full swing by now and, true to Brooke’s predictions, it had turned into quite the night. Every room seemed to host sparkly new stimuli for Melissa’s addled mind, every glimpse of cock and flash of cash enough to divert her path back into the haze of pleasure and servitude some piece of her still craved. She spied Chrissy on all fours atop a coffee table, her lips slobbering over one patron as another pounded her tight, tiny ass from behind. Melissa was transfixed for a solid minute before she managed to turn away, fighting the call of Chrissy’s moans like a leash around her neck. At the other end of the room, the red-head Melissa had passed earlier was buried between some woman’s legs, licking eagerly at her pussy despite still not being properly priced. Melissa turned to find the nearest Master, then growled with frustration when she remembered her mission.

This wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t even make it down the hall without her slut-side taking over. She needed away to stop it, to block out her training. There had to be something she could do, some way she could…

…hold it together, just a little longer until she could find the exit. Melissa kept her eyes low, rubbing the spot on her finger where the ring used to be. If only she hadn’t left it behind. Now more than ever she missed its comforting embrace, missed the certainty she saw in its smooth, uniform surface, missed the man who had given it to her, along with the promise she had just made a mockery of. How could she have been so careless? Didn’t she understand it was…

…The key to her salvation.

With a renewed surge of determination, Melissa clenched her fists and charged through the party, focused entirely on reaching the treasure hidden in her nightstand. If she could just recover it, if she could feel it around her finger once more…maybe it would be enough to counter whatever this place was doing to her. Then she could make her way to the exit, to where Chris would be waiting for her. He could take her somewhere else, somewhere far away from her Masters and their temptations. Somewhere she could finally find herself.

Whoever that ended up being.

Melissa poked her head into the slave quarters, and was grateful to find they were empty. Still, she slipped inside the darkened room as quietly as possible, not even risking the lights as she made her way to the nightstand by her bed. What she was doing wasn’t technically forbidden but it still felt sacrilegious. Somehow, she knew the loss of her old self had to do with her Masters. And they didn’t suffer defiance lightly.

With shaking hands, Melissa opened the bottom drawer, fishing all the way to the back corner until her fingers touched a cold, familiar smoothness. She held her breath as she withdrew the simple band, its silver surface catching the moonlight that slipped between the curtains. How had she ever considered this ring pathetic? Right now, it was the most beautiful object she had ever seen. It captured her gaze, quieted the anxious thoughts, and steadied her hands as she slipped her finger through its center.

Like a conductor completing a circuit, the contact sent a shock of memories through Melissa’s mind.

For almost a year, she had assumed that being a slut was what she was meant to do, that her sale to Alpha Rho was a mutually beneficial inevitability. The past had seemed like a disorganized web of disconnected incidents, details and dates that she didn’t care to string together. Sure, there had been moments a patron would ask some awkward, unanswerable question about her pre-slut life, or a concerned voicemail from her mother would leave her keenly aware of the long gaps in her memory. But even when she’d had these fretful moments, it’d always been so much easier to focus on the cock bobbing in front of her face, or the pleasure of a Master’s hand between her legs. She’d wanted to be a good slut after all. And good sluts didn’t bother thinking about the past, did they?

No. No they didn’t.

But now it was all Melissa could think about.

She collapsed to her knees, hugging her shoulders as her mind rapidly remapped the story of her life. She hadn’t come to Alpha Rho to become a slut—she had arrived on a heartbroken whim, fleeing the rejection of the man she had once promised herself to. Yet…something must’ve happened at that party, something that still remained in the shadows of her stolen memories. The Masters…they must’ve done something to make sure she didn’t leave, to convince her that her place was kneeling at their beds and under their desks. What sort of demonic spell had they cast on her? And how could she have been so blind to their manipulations?

Melissa shook her head, yanking her thoughts out of their erratic orbit. Whatever the Masters had done to her, she could figure it out later—for the first time in what felt like forever, she was fully in possession of herself. Which meant it was time to act. It was time to escape this gilded cage and reunite with the life she had left. A part of her still paled at the idea of leaving the house and its pleasures behind, of abandoning the strong, protective guidance of her Masters for a relationship that had nearly broken her. But even if she couldn’t reclaim what she’d once had with Chris, at least it would be her choice, one made not by the real, reawakened Melissa, not some brainwashed fabrication.

Her heart beating with renewed courage, Melissa stood up and peeked through the nearby window. A familiar red car was idling down the street, its headlights a beacon of hope in the dark night. Chris had come, just like he’d promised. Suppressing a relieved laugh, Melissa kicked off her heels and pulled her flats from under her bed, readying herself to make the run through the house in one go. It would be a little embarrassing for Chris to see her in this ridiculous maid uniform, but she couldn’t risk lingering any longer. There was no telling what the Masters would do to her if they caught on to her plan.

Then the door creaked behind her. The lights flicked on. And the fire burning in her veins turned to ice in an instant.

“Mel?” Brooke asked, entering with hesitant steps. “What are you doing up here?”

“N-nothing,” Melissa quickly shot back, too frazzled to come up with a convincing response. “What, um, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you,” her friend explained. “One of the patrons downstairs was complaining about you. And some of the other girls say you’ve been acting, like, super weird all night.”

Melissa faked a look of surprise, trying to calculate if she could get past Brooke and out of the house before she raised the alarm. But the dark-haired slut seemed to sense this, and approached as though recovering an escaped animal, arms subtly spreading to the sides as she drew nearer.

“Is this about me leaving you with the drinks?” Brooke asked. “I told you I would try to convince Master E. to take the both of us, but you know he likes having me one-on-one. What was I supposed to do, turn him down? That’s not what good sluts do. Good sluts obey their owners.”

“Good sluts o—” Melissa shook the thought free from her head. “Brooke, stop. Don’t you see what they’ve done to us?”

To Melissa’s surprise, this froze the other slut in her tracks. “Done to us?” Brooke repeated, seeming genuinely baffled. “What are you talking about?”

Melissa paused, realizing her error. She had been so caught up in the horror of her own situation, she hadn’t even considered what it might imply about the other girls. But if Melissa had been enslaved against her will…wasn’t it possible Brooke was the same? Wasn’t it possible she was also a victim of their Masters’ machinations?

“Brooke, listen to me,” Melissa commanded. “Those memories I kept telling you about? They’re real. More real than anything our Masters have told us.”

Brooke flinched, as though the words had physically struck her. “I-I don’t understand. Are you saying they’re lying to us?”

“It’s worse than that. I think they’ve…tricked or brainwashed us somehow into thinking we want to be their little sex-pets. But now I know that’s not true. And somewhere, deep down, I think you know it too.”

“St-stop.” Brooke pleaded, arms raised like a shield in front of her. “Mel, you’re scaring me. Can’t we just go downstairs and have fun like we always do?”

“Not until you try to remember,” Melissa insisted. “Think, Brooke. Think about your life before you sold yourself. You must remember something, right?”

“Of course I remember…things. But, like…none of it matters right? I’ve always been a slut, and good sluts don’t need to think so…”

“F-forget about what makes a good slut or not! Think about how you got here. What brought you to Alpha Rho? Why did you choose to stay?”

“I-I…I don’t know!” Brooke exclaimed, her voice cracking. “There was a party or something and…I’m a slut, so I came looking to have fun, and then…one of the guys there…said he wanted to show me something and…” She stopped, the confusion in her eyes transforming into dull clarity.

Melissa’s throat tightened. Somehow, she knew Brooke had remembered something bad. Yet Melissa couldn’t stop herself from pushing onward, even as she could barely raise her voice above a whisper to ask:

“What happened, Brooke? You remember, don’t you?”

“I…I do…” the dazed, dark-haired girl nodded. “He…it was Master N., I think…he brought me to this room. And there was this…bed with, like, handcuffs on the ends.”

Melissa felt a strange tickle run through her body, her skin suddenly hot and cold at the same time. Part of her was afraid of what Brooke would say next. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to speak or interrupt, couldn’t stop from hanging on every word and breathe that slipped from her friend’s lips.

Brooke swallowed. “I…I thought at first that maybe he was, just, like kinky or whatever. And I was a good slut, so I played along like I should but…”

Melissa blinked, a horrible realization overtaking her. “Wait, stop. Brooke, that’s enough. You—”

“But then…he put this weird thing on my head…like a VR helmet or something. And then…”

“Brooke, please, don’t…” The memory was returning now, faster than Melissa could stop it.

“I saw the spiral.”

The spiral. Melissa remembered it now. The cascading colors that had filled her vision; the droning hum that had invaded her ears, pulsing her thoughts into mush as her consciousness faded. Even through the lens of memory, she couldn’t escape the spirals gravity, couldn’t help but let it pull the strength from her body, her eyelids becoming so, so heavy as her chin drooped and her jaw fell slack.

“You remember it, don’t you?” Brooke asked, a grin tugging the corners of her mouth. “You remember the spiral, Mel. How could you forget? It’s so pretty, isn’t it?”

“Nnnn…” Melissa clenched her eyes shut, trying to interrupt the invasive memory, to do something to break the spell falling over her. But the spiral wouldn’t let her go: it was everywhere now, rippling across her vision wherever she looked. It was inescapable. Indomitable. And, she had to admit, really, really…

“Preetty…” Melissa exhaled, a wave of relaxation passing through her.

“That’s right,” Brooke cooed, shifting a strand of blonde hair from Melissa’s face. “See? I told you you were a good slut. You were just confused.”

“C-confused…wait…” Melissa managed to ball her fist, reminding herself of the ring around her finger. “Not a…slut…gotta…escape…gotta…”

“Oh, Mel,” Brooke sighed, shaking her head. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this tonight. I wanted us to enjoy the party as usual but, well…orders are orders.” She sighed.

“Orders?” Melissa repeated. The more Brooke talked, the harder it was to follow her. The spiral kept tugging at Melissa’s thoughts, stretching and pulling them apart before she could form a coherent chain.

“Ah well.” Brooke clapped her hands together as if dusting them off. “Like I said before, a good slut obeys. So it’s time for you to follow me, Mel.”

Melissa moved before she had even processed the command, her heavy feet dragging as she staggered out of the room in Brooke’s wake. It was a strange sensation, being a passenger in her own body. Yet as much as Melissa wanted to scream and struggle, she couldn’t find the energy, not when it took so much just to maintain her own self-awareness, to not succumb completely to the spiral’s call.

“In here,” Brooke gestured to a nearby door. “Make sure you smile for the Masters when you go in.”

Melissa recognized the threshold she stood before, but couldn’t stop herself from crossing it. The door creaked open, revealing Master N. and a member of the alumni on the other side, both waiting expectantly next to the bed she had tried to so desperately to escape. Now, she just smiled placidly to her captors, unable to do more than let out a tiny whine of protest as Brooke guided her onto the mattress.

“So what exactly am I seeing?” The alumnus asked. “How is having one slave strap in another going to revolutionize the process?”

“Just keep watching,” Master N. grinned. “You’ll see soon enough.”

With a gentle smile, Brooke tightened the first cuff around Melissa’s ankle, locking it securely into place. The cold leather sent a jolt of panic through her, which she manifested as a feeble, kicking motion towards her captor, a wobbly, lethargic attack Brooke easily caught.

“Shhh…” the dark-haired slut whispered, securing the errant leg. “That’s enough of that. You’ll embarrass yourself in front of our Masters.”

“D…don’t…” Melissa squirmed, but couldn’t stop Brooke from lifting her arms above her head, restraining her feebly flexing hands, leaving her open and helpless as the spiral continued to turn in her mind’s eye. “Please…Brooke…”

If Melissa’s friend heard her, she didn’t give any indication. Instead, she moved over to the computer station by the bed, sliding into the desk chair and throwing her hair to the side as the system hummed to life.

The alumnus’s eyebrows perked up. “Hold on, is she…?”

“Running the process?” Master N. finished proudly. “That’s right. It’s one of Brooke’s many talents.”

“Thank you, Master,” Brooke smiled sweetly, tapping on a few keys. “I learned from the best, after all.”

“You taught her...?” the alumnus gasped. “But that would clash with the programming. They’re not supposed to know that they’ve been…you know.”

Master N. laughed. “Ordinarily, sure. But Brooke is a special case. It took a while to get it right, but we’ve managed to make her cognizant of her brainwashing, while keeping her loyal. In fact, she’s become quite the little helper now, haven’t you Brooke?”

“Absolutely, Master,” Brooke beamed, rising from her chair and sauntering over to Melissa. “It breaks my heart seeing good little sluts go bad. So I do my best to make sure they stay in line.”

Melissa let out a shaking growl, pulling uselessly at her bonds. “B…but we were friends…” she slurred.

“We still are,” Brooke purred, her eyes a cascade of cruel spirals in Melissa’s vision. “I’m doing this for your own good Melissa. You’ll see. You’ll be so much happier when we’re done.”

Melissa opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t think straight enough to form an argument. Instead, she just gaped uselessly as Brooke lifted a pair of scissors and a marker from the bedside table, snipping Melissa’s skirt off before writing in big bold letters above her pussy:

F R E E U S E

Melissa shuddered, arousal and revulsion clashing inside her, igniting her veins as she tried once more to pull free. But all she managed to do was rattle the chains and whimper pathetically as Brooke lifted the black visor overhead.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Brooke asked her owners.

“It’s your job, isn’t it slut?” Master N. responded.

“Yes, Master. I was hoping you would say that.”

“N-no…” Melissa tried to whip her head back and forth, all she managed was flopping it to one side before her strength gave out. Her body was too weak. The spiral was too strong. And soon…it would become her world.

The visor descended. The colors and hum filled her head. Until there was nothing else left.

Brooke sighed with satisfaction, stepping off the bed as Melissa sunk into the process’s clutches. The blonde’s arms were still tensing slightly, and an occasional spasm of resistance still echoed down her back and hips. But the readouts on the screen all seemed as they should. Within moments, Melissa would be back on the path of a grateful slut.

So at least the night wouldn’t be a total waste.

“Amazing,” the alumnus, Mr. G., remarked, staring hungrily at Melissa’s twitching, jiggling form. “How did you know this one needed to be reprocessed?”

Brooke smiled with pride. “I just get a hunch sometime. Probably something my Masters programmed into me. I can tell when a slut is starting to slip, even before she does. In poor Mel’s case though, circumstances forced my hand a bit.”

Master N. coughed. “We actually left a few errors in Melissa’s conditioning to test Brooke’s instincts. Though it sounds like things might’ve gotten a little out of hand.”

“Nothing I can’t handle though,” Brooke assured them as Master N. kissed her forehead.

“Of course, babe,” he said, patting her cheek. “Can we leave the rest to you?”

“Oh…sure…” Brooke’s smile faltered. “Are you sure you both don’t want to, you know, have the first taste?” She sat up, pressing her tits together and shifting her hips. “I could help too, if you want…”

“I’ve made other arrangements,” Mr. G. explained, though Brooke imagined she detected some regret in his voice.

“And I’ve still got work ahead of me,” Master N. pointed out. “As do you, remember?”

“Yes, Master,” Brooke pouted, slumping back in the chair as the two men left. She sighed, regarding her subject. So far the process was going smoothly: Melissa’s breathing had settled into a steady rhythm, a trickle of drool sliding down her chin and onto the mattress. Brooke enjoyed seeing a job well done, but still, the timing of it all irked her. Of all the nights for Melissa’s condition to go critical, why did it have to be during homecoming?

It was because of that asshole—Chris, or whatever his name was. If he hadn’t shown up at that store and shown Melissa that stupid ring, things would’ve never gotten this bad. She and Brooke would be out on the floor like usual, having the time of their life. Instead, Brooke was relegated to babysitting the free-use station. Snoozeville.

Still, there was no point in grousing about it. With a heavy sigh, Brooke rose from her seat, loosening the bed’s restraints a few notches and prepping Melissa for the next stage of the process. In doing so, Brooke noticed the silver ring resting on her subject’s finger, and recognized it as the exact same memento she’d glimpsed in the grocery store. How had it ended up here? Had Melissa somehow kept it a secret?

Resolving to be a bit more careful in the future, Brooke slipped the silver band free, tossing it aside with a contemptuous sneer. A sharp sigh rose through Melissa, and for a panicked moment Brooke realized the wrist cuff still wasn’t secure. Thankfully, the tension in her captive’s body slacked the very next moment, and she offered no further resistance as Brooke finished re-securing her to the bed, before sliding to her knees beside it.

Now all that was left to do was wait.

It didn’t take long.

Brooke recognized the first patron to enter: it was Keith, the tutor Melissa liked the best. He seemed nervous but ultimately eager to get a free ride with his favorite slave. Though, as his pants fell free, it seemed his body was having trouble overcoming his anxiety.

That was where Brooke came in. She let him babble excuses as she coaxed his cock to life, kissing and licking in between murmured assurances that all was well, that this was a perfectly normal part of the process. Finally, when her ministrations produced satisfying results, she shifted aside and returned to the desk, offering only a gentle reminder to Keith not to cum inside the free-use slut. While some patrons didn’t mind another man’s load sloshing inside their sex toy, it was better to be safe than sorry. Not that Brooke didn’t enjoy cleaning up after those who forwent her warning.

Keith lowered himself onto the bed as Brooke sank back into her seat, already slipping a hand under her skirt to play along with the show. As it turned out, this one was rather short lived, but Keith still made a satisfying spray across Melissa’s tits before he sheepishly struggled back into his pants and left. Brooke double-checked that the program was still running smoothly, and was awarded with a satisfying dip in Melissa’s cognitive processes. God, the things that girl must’ve been feeling, trapped in spiraling bliss, her body helpless and open to be used over and over again…it was almost enough to make Brooke tear off the visor and strap it to herself instead.

That wasn’t what the Masters expected of her, though. So once again she resumed her post by the bed, shifting impatiently as she awaited the next patron looking for a cheap fuck. Thus began the process in earnest, a steady stream of “assistants” entering the room and forcing the programming further into Melissa’s mind, one hearty thrust at a time. Brooke made the best of her role as spectator, enjoying the way the patrons used her captive’s mouth and pussy with reckless abandon, her pigtails unraveling and makeup smearing as she went from pristine temptress to cum-streaked mess. One generous patron even offered to fuck Brooke next if she wanted. She dutifully demurred, but still let him suck on her tits while she rubbed herself to another orgasm. Just because she was a brainwashed slave didn’t mean she couldn’t be selfish, now and then.

The night was winding down shortly thereafter, the times between visitors stretching so long Brooke’s knees started to get sore. It was just as well: even she was beginning to tire of the amusement, and the readouts from Melissa’s brain showed the process was pretty much complete. Besides, the copious splatter was starting to smell, enough to likely put off any patrons who weren’t into that kinda thing. Better to just call it now, let Melissa sleep off the night, and clean her up in the morning.

Or so Brooke had planned. Until the final visitor stepped through the door, and Brooke’s face ignited with fury. It was Chris. That idiot from the grocery store. The man who had cost Brooke her homecoming party.

And boy, was the look of horror on his face priceless.

“M-Melissa!” The young man exclaimed, rushing past Brooke as he fell to the blonde’s bedside. “Wake up! You have to wake up!” He reached to shake her arms, only to retract in horror as his fingers touched gobs of still-drying spunk.

“Relax, asshole, she’s fine.” Brooke sneered. “You’re welcome to hop on and see for yourself, if you want.”

“How can you say that?” Chris cried, his eyes red and enraged. “What have you done to her?”

Brooke grit her teeth. She knew what she was supposed to do next: call security and have this punk thrown out before he could muck around any further. But there was something about his trembling voice and pathetic protests that really pissed Brooke off. Nobody had made her this angry in ages. And she was going to enjoy it.

“What did I do?” she repeated with a laugh. “See for yourself.”

The helmet made a slight pop as it left Melissa’s head, her hazy, dilated pupils taking a moment to focus on the man kneeling nearby.

“Huh…?” she frowned, puzzled. “Wuzzhappenin’? Wuzzgoin’on?”

Chris was struck speechless. So Brooke opted to reply instead. “Everything’s fine, Mel. How you feelin’?”

“Mmm…good,” the blissed out girl replied, her cum-stained lips stretching into a drippy grin. “Kinda…sleepy though…” No surprise there: the slut had been through quite the forced reboot. It probably would be another day or so before her full mental faculties returned. Still there was enough awareness here to serve Brooke’s purposes.

“Melissa, listen to me,” Chris said, fumbling to release his ex’s restraints. “I…I think you’ve been drugged. I’m gonna get you out of here, and we’ll find someone who can help you get back to normal.”

“Normal…?” Melissa pursed her lips. “Y’mean…you’re not gonna fuck me?”

“F-what?” her would-be rescuer sputtered. “Of course not! I’m trying to save you? Now let’s go!”

With that, he grabbed her arm, pulling her upright. Melissa didn’t resist, nor did she follow. She limply remained where she sat, shooting a puzzled look to Brooke as Chris struggled to lift her off of the bed.

“Sorry, Mel,” Brooke said. “You have to stay here tonight.”

“’Kay,” Melissa replied, easily falling from Chris’s grasp and flopping back on the bed. “Sorry, cutie. I gotta stay here tonight. You can stay too if you want though.”

“B…but…” Chris faltered, his hands grasping helplessly in the air. “You can’t have forgotten...I…” his eyes roamed the room, before finally falling on the ring lying on the floor. Before Brooke could stop him, he scooped it up and thrust it in front of Melissa’s confused face, his voice cracking as he cried: “We made a promise to each other! Don’t you remember? You swore to be mine!”

Melissa thought for a moment, then smiled. “Of course I remember, silly. But that was suuucch a long time ago. And anyway, you were right about me: I’m just a filthy, selfish slut with filthy, slutty holes. Why try to fight it anymore?”

Brooke had to stifle a laugh as Chris’s jaw dropped, his hope visibly shattering across his features. Melissa’s attention had already wandered to the erection tenting his jeans. When she reached to touch it, Chris yelped and smack her fingers aside, backing away as though she had burned him.

“Ow!” she exclaimed. “What was that for?”

“I…I…” Chris shuddered, apparently unable to find the words to describe his horror. That was victory enough for Brooke, who finally stepped in between the two of them.

“You can keep the ring,” she said, nodding towards his hand. “Hell, if you pawn it, maybe you’ll be able to afford her at the next party. If you’re lucky.”

Chris met her eyes, and she savored the hatred boiling inside them. But before he left, he cast one last, longing look at Melissa, a somber sigh rattling through him. Brooke felt it like a chill in the air, a strange shiver disrupting her triumph. She recognized something in his gaze, some expression or feeling she couldn’t describe. Whatever it was, it lingered long after he walked out of the room. And though she had won, Brooke somehow felt even angrier than before.

“What’s wrong?” Melissa asked, resting a hand on Brooke’s wrist. “Did you wanna fuck him?”

“No,” she growled. “I…it’s just…I…” she stopped, unable to put words to the sensations twisting inside her. “I don’t know. Forget it.”

Melissa nodded. “It’s okay, I know what the problem is.”

Brooke blinked. “You do?”

“Of course,” her friend answered with a radiant smile. “You’re thinking too much, aren’t you?”

Brooke sighed, allowing the words to wash over her, to whisk her away to where she belonged. “That’s right,” she replied. “I’m thinking too much.”

“And good sluts don’t need to think.”

“Good sluts don’t need to think.”