Kari trailed her owner in silence, sticking to his shadow as they made their way into the compound. Her steps were steady and measured, her lips set in a blank, accommodating smile. It was a face she’d worn many times before, the expression of a compliant slut thinking of nothing but following her orders. There was no way Leurre would notice that this time was different; that her dull eyes weren’t pools of placid water, but rather storm clouds threatening to break.

Something was wrong—that much was clear. But the source of that wrongness remained maddeningly elusive. Was it Sean’s fault for disturbing her training? Or was it the nature of her training that was disturbing her? Neither possibility seemed appealing, and yet both tugged incessantly at her mind, making her feel as though she was walking a tightrope, bare feet nearly slipping with every step.

Who should she trust? Her owner? Or her friend?

Leurre stopped in front of a door, his expectant gaze bringing Kari to a halt. She stood at attention, the chaos of her thoughts quieting, stifled by instinctual deference to his authority. She’d been thinking too much; sluts didn’t need to think. They only needed to follow orders.

Right?

Following her owner’s lead, Kari entered the room, only to slow as she recognized her surroundings. When Leurre had mentioned needing to discuss something, she’d assumed his office would be their destination. Instead, it seemed he’d brought her to one of the common rooms, featuring a set of luxury lounge furniture arranged around a massive media center.

Puzzled, but knowing better than to asks questions, Kari waited as her owner settled on one of the couches. He gestured to a nearby armchair. Across its back lay a dry towel, on the seat a change of clothes.

Or, more specifically, a frilly, lacey maid uniform.

Kari swallowed, warm anticipation coiling inside of her. She glanced at Leurre, receiving a subtle nod in reply. Gliding towards the waiting garments, she peeled the soaked tee and thong from her water-slicked skin, tossing back her dark hair as she reached for the towel.

Her owner didn’t say a word; he didn’t need to. He’d trained her well, and she knew her place; knew to draw the soft cotton cloth just so around her curves; knew to arch her back and knead her breasts; knew to cast an inviting look over her shoulder, just in case he wanted to become more…involved in the process.

Leurre shook his head. Not yet, his eyes said. Continue.

Kari obeyed, turning her attention to the neatly folded uniform. Soon after, the blushing slut realized that “uniform” was too generous a word. The top was little more than a frilly frame around her tits, the ruffly skirt barely long enough to reach past her pussy. All in all, it wasn’t so much an outfit as maid-themed fetish gear.

Which was to say: it was perfect.

Kari’s skin tingled as she awaited her owner’s appraisal. Yet as his gaze swept up the stiff pink peaks of her nipples and down the sheer stockings squishing her thighs, she found herself strangely nervous. There was something...off in the way he was looking at her, a shadow behind his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before.

But that couldn’t be. Why would he be looking at her any differently than usual? Unless…this was how it always went. And it was only now that she was noticing…

“Position S,” he suddenly commanded.

Without thinking, the obedient slut lifted her skirt, daintily presenting her glistening sex. Leurre nodded, smiling at what he saw. Kari felt her face turn scarlet. A fresh dribble of arousal leaked down her leg.

“Position A,” he uttered.

Instantly, Kari lowered to her knees, head bowed and hands folded on her lap.

“Open.”

Her chin lifted, lips parting and tongue lolling out, already slick with saliva and ready to be used. Yet Leurre remained seated, considering her with that same, searching expression.

What was happening? Hadn’t he brought her in here to discuss something? Why were they practicing her positions now?

I need to train, something insider her said. Good sluts love to be trained.

As if responding to her thoughts, her owner chuckled. “Good girl,” he said.

Warm, blissful approval throbbed inside Kari, squeezing a soft moan from her mouth.

“Position D.”

Kari rose, facing away from her owner. She bent over, flipping her skirt up and resting her hands on the coffee table, giving her exposed ass and pussy an inviting wiggle. She could hear the deepening lust in Leurre’s breath, could feel his stare like a phantom touch. Wanting her. Claiming her. She shivered, her pulse quickening.

Maybe he didn’t want to discuss something after all. Maybe he just wanted a little show. That was fine, wasn’t it? After all the thinking she’d done, it was kind of nice to just let herself sink into a familiar rhythm, her cares and concerns drifting away beneath the steady beat of her owner’s voice, his words drawing her around the room, posing and presenting her at every possible angle.

“Good girl. Position K.”

Kari leaned against a wall and lifted one leg high, her legs forming an almost perfect line of soft, shivering flesh. A glow of pride suffused her dimming thoughts. Before her training, she never would’ve thought she could be this flexible.

Before her training…

Before her training, she never…would’ve…

“Position B.”

Kari stumbled a little as she righted herself, a strange static shimmering in her head. Still, the faithful slut did as commanded, sinking to her knees beside Leurre, like a pet settling next to its owner. She stiffened when his hand rested on her head, then melted as his fingers stroked her hair, a faint, grateful whimper leaking from her throat.

“Okay, slut.” He sighed, lifting a tablet from the nearby end table. “We need to talk.”

Talk? A vague memory wafted through the haze. That’s right—they’d come here to discuss something. After…after Sean had…

“Well, to be more accurate,” he continued, “I need to talk. All you need to do is listen.”

Kari purred, relieved. Talking was hard, but even a dumb, dazed slut like her could listen.

“First of all, I feel I should tell you how proud I am of what you’ve accomplished. Your training hasn’t always been easy, but the progress you’ve made has been…inspiring to say the least.”

Kari’s heart fluttered. Her owner was proud of her! She nuzzled into his touch, face flush with joy as a happy giggle escaped her.

“Unfortunately…” Leure sighed. “Well, there’s no easy way to put this, so I’ll just say it outright. I’m afraid we’re going to have to remove you from our Strikeforce roster.”

That barely made any sense to Kari at first. Strikeforce? Roster? What did any of that have to do with her? She was just an easy, brainless slut for her team to…

To…

A sudden wooziness swept through her.

“I know you tried your best,” her owner acknowledged. “But it simply isn’t going to work out. We’ll be making our official debut soon, and the entire e-sports world will be watching. Can you imagine what they would say if we fielded four professional players and, well…” He looked down with condescending pity. “You?”

Kari could imagine it. She could see the swirling stage lights, feel the roar of the crowd in her chest. She could hear the announcer’s voice booming as it introduced her team, the excitement in the air gradually turning to confusion as the players made their way on stage. The audience’s shock was warranted—none of them had anticipated this sort of introduction. They hadn’t foreseen Kari being led out on a leash, her heavy tits swaying as she trailed her team on all fours, maid outfit disheveled and stained from an enthusiastic “pre-game” ritual.

“It would be ridiculous,” Leurre laughed. “Would it not?”

Of course it would. Kari was already picturing the rows of faces looking down at her, their surprise turning to sneers as they realized who she was. What she was. The jeers would come from the opposing fans first. But soon everyone would join in. Especially when they saw how their words made her blush and squirm; when they noticed the arousal pooling between her legs; when they realized she was going to cum from nothing but the relentless pounding of their abuse.

Her owner was right. A slut like her wasn’t meant to play Strikeforce. She was meant to…meant to…

The reverie in Kari’s mind shuddered, a disorienting feeling of déjà vu sweeping over her. The dream she was having…the crowd, the lights…she’d imagined them all before. But back then, when she’d fantasized about joining her team on stage, it hadn’t been as their collared slut. It had been…she had been…

Kari slipped out from under her owner’s grasp. Her head felt like it was filled with brackish water, stirred and churned by his probing hands.

Her brow furrowed. Wait…why would she move away from her owner? She loved his touch. She lived for his touch. She…

She…

Kari winced, blinking spots from her vision. Leurre was staring at her, apparently unable to hide his surprise. The expression set off alarms in her head. She needed to react in some way, to set things right. But she couldn’t figure out how. A part of her wanted to show him that she was okay, to press herself into his hands again and assure him she was at his disposal. But another part…another part…

“Position H,” Leurre suddenly ordered.

Even as Kari’s thoughts spun, her body obeyed without question.

Rising from her knees, she placed herself in front of her owner before sinking low onto her haunches, pussy quivering just inches above the floor, dribbling onto the rug as she placed her hands on either side of her head, fingers curled in a pantomime of paws. For a moment, the clashing impulses in her head faded, subsumed by the recognition of how pathetic and pitiful she must look, a broken bitch begging for her owner’s approval.

Leurre rose to his feet, hands working the buckle of his pants as he stood before his pet. By the time Kari recognized what he was doing, it’d already happened. His cock popped free of his waistband, the flushed tip hovering above her gaping face. Her rapt eyes gradually crossed as their object of desire drew near, the hard, red shaft eventually resting against her nose. The stiff flesh twitched; her eyelids fluttered. The heat, the smell…it was seeping deeper into her with every moment, eroding her higher functions, leaving nothing but the most basic, bestial desires.

But she didn’t move. No matter what her overheating sex demanded, no matter how badly her body shook with agonizing arousal, the well-heeled slut didn’t break. She remained as commanded, trapped under her owner’s power, panting and whimpering as he consulted his tablet, his face wearing the bored expression of a man who’d forgotten all about the girl currently serving as his cock-rest.

“As I was saying,” he sighed, “I think it’s best we terminate your contract as a player for Team Salt.”

Kari gave the subtlest of nods, savoring the rigid warmth rubbing against her face. If her owner said this was best for her, she believed him completely.

“That being said, it would be a shame to let a woman of your…qualities go. And I imagine you don’t have any desire to leave Team Salt, do you?”

Leave? Even in her cock-addled stupor, Kari felt a foreboding chill run down her spine. She let out a low whine, strings of drool leaking from her lips, the only form of communication she was capable of.

He tousled her hair. “That’s right, of course you don’t. Lucky for you, I’ve come up with a solution to make us both very happy.”

A bright screen descended into Kari’s vision. It took her a moment to recognize it as Leurre’s tablet, now covered in little black text that she struggled to parse.

“You don’t have to read it,” her owner assured her. “It’s a new contract, one that will reclassify you as Team Salt’s ‘special assistant.’ That way, you can continue living in the compound as you always have, serving their needs just as you have mine. Of course, this new position would necessitate a severe reduction in pay. But there’s no need for you to worry—as a token of goodwill, Team Salt has agreed to accept all responsibility in managing your finances. Isn’t that a generous offer?”

Kari let out a moan of assent. She didn’t understand what her owner was saying, but she knew a leading question when she heard one.

“Good girl,” Leurre purred. “All you have to do now…is sign here.”

The tablet screen scrolled, a simple series of lines blurring and blending in Kari’s vision. She extended a shaking hand, struggling to keep her balance and focus as her owner’s cock throbbed against her cheek. She could sense his excitement building, could feel it radiating across her flushed skin. No doubt there was an aggressive, passionate reward waiting for her. All she had to do was…was…

Her finger touched the screen. She froze.

“Go on,” her owner pressed. “You want to stay on the team, don’t you?”

She did. She really, really did.

But…

Something…wasn’t right…

That odd, familiar feeling was reemerging again, reminding Kari of the last time she’d signed a contract. She remembered sitting in her room—not at the compound, but in her own apartment—paging through a PDF, heart beating faster the further she read. It was really happening. Her dream was finally coming true.

Her dream…standing on stage before a roaring crowd…hoisting a trophy high…basking in the glory of victory…sharing the smiles and laughter of her teammates…knowing that all their hard work had finally paid off…

“Kari?”

Kari snapped back to reality with a jolt, just in time to realize she was falling. Before she could recover, her aching legs finally gave out, causing her to tumble back with a yelp, her bare ass thudding against the ground.

“Ee!” she squeaked, wincing and rubbing her backside. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what…oh…ah!” She reeled, a wave of dizziness crashing through her, the ringing in her ears barely audible over the roaring cacophony of her thoughts. Her hands flew to the sides of her head, eyes screwing shut as she struggled to hold herself together, to keep her skull from splitting in half.

“Ka-i? Kar-!”

A voice. A familiar voice. Growing clearer as the pain receded.

“Kari! Can you hear me?”

She blinked. Gradually, the world came back into focus.

She was seated on the floor, her face wet with tears, shoulders trembling though she didn’t know why. Her owner was kneeling beside her, fully clothed and comforting, his face stricken with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Kari stared at him, unable to arrive at an answer. The storm in her head had abated, but she hardly recognized the landscape it’d left behind.

Leurre sighed. “I know this is a lot to process. But I think you’ll feel a lot better once everything is settled.” He paused. “You know you can trust me, right?”

I trust my coach.

The words formed immediately, only to break upon the wreckage in Kari’s head. Truthfully, she didn’t feel like she could trust anything anymore. Her dreams, her desires…they were all jumbled together in a chaotic mess.

Still, Leurre was expecting a response. She swallowed. “Uh, actually…” She hesitated, struggling to find the words. “I…I don’t think I feel so good. Can I…can I go back to my room and lie down?"

Her owner was silent. His eyes narrowed slightly.

Kari held her breath, summoning all her remaining strength against the pressure of his gaze. Her resistance was stable, but brittle. If he pushed even a little, she knew she would break.

Leurre looked away, rubbing his jaw. “I’ve been pushing you too hard,” he conceded. “Very well. We will resume this some other time. You are dismissed.”

“Th-thank you. Sir.” Kari gave a low bow, fighting the desire to stay, to confess everything and accept whatever punishment she deserved. Instead, she choked down the guilt, rose on shaking legs, and tottered for the door.

It was only in the hallway, safely out of Leurre’s orbit, that Kari allowed her pace to pick up. A part of her wanted to break out into a run, but even as fear nipped at her heels, the leash of her training pulled taut, forbidding her from moving any faster than her swaying, sauntering hips would allow.

The walk to her room felt endless. The pull of her owner was strong. But she couldn’t give up, not when she was so close to making sense of everything.

She needed time to pick up the pieces. She needed space.

She needed…to think.

The shadow of her bed had gotten longer.

Kari stopped pacing, rubbing her eyes before peering out the window. The sun was beginning to set, its dying rays spilling color across the horizon. A pretty view, she vaguely acknowledged, but one that only filled her with dismay.

Had it really been so long? Had she really spent an entire day in her room, struggling to put her fractured thoughts into place?

For the hundredth time, her gaze drifted back to her bed, the soft, cream-colored sheets beckoning her closer. What was the use of trying to think so hard? She would feel so much better if she just gave up, sank into the mattress, slipped a hand beneath her frilly skirt and…

Kari bit her lip, yanking her attention free and resuming her frantic circuits. She had to keep moving, keep thinking. If she lingered for even a second, her training would catch up again, pulling her from the puzzle she’d been trying so hard to solve, scattering the pieces in the process.

Her training. That had to be the source of all of this. Before her training, she would’ve never dressed this way, acted this way, felt this way. Yet even as she recognized this, it seemed too absurd to be real. Wasn’t it more plausible that this was just who she truly was? That this was the natural consequence of being alone with a handsome, commanding man like her owner?

Kari growled, balling her fists until they were shaking. She kept asking herself these questions, but was no closer to finding the answers. There was something missing at the center—a piece that would finally complete the picture. But somehow, she just couldn’t see it.

Then she remembered Sean’s words:

“I think he might be, like…brainwashing you, or something.”

Kari froze.

It couldn’t be.

There was no way she was actually considering it. Even if it would explain everything, even if it was the only way out of this swirling malaise…she just couldn’t accept it. It was too outlandish. Too cartoonish. Too…

…Dangerous.

Maybe she really was a hopeless slut. Maybe she should just go back to her owner and have him explain things to her. He would make the ugly ideas go away. Then she could thank him afterwards with a nice, long…

“Fuck!” Kari forced the word out, the volume of her voice breaking the intrusive thoughts. This wasn’t working. She needed some solid ground to stand on, something, anything she could be certain of.

Her eyes landed on her computer in the corner. It’d been ages since she’d last used it, but now its presence sparked an idea. One that might finally light the way forward.

The machine booted up with a whir, sending tingles of anticipation up Kari’s arms. She tried to ignore them, determined to stay on task. A few clacks of the keyboard later and her Twitch page filled the screen. She opened the archive of her past livestreams, pulse pounding as her eyes scanned the videos. With any luck, watching them would finally put rest to the doubts that were haunting her, the whispers insisting that she hadn’t changed at all, that her desire for degradation was innate.

She selected the first video at random. And almost couldn’t believe what she saw.

The woman on screen was almost completely different from the one watching. If they didn’t share a face, Kari would’ve sworn they were different people.

The version of her hosting the stream was clad in an oversized hoodie, her dark hair close-cropped and tomboyish, only the barest hint of makeup visible as she snarked and strategized her way through a match of Strikeforce. She didn’t seem concerned at all about how little skin she was showing, nor did she hesitate to take charge of her team’s tactics, even though it would be so much easier to let them do the thinking for her. When her opponents gave her grief, she didn’t melt into a puddle of arousal, begging for forgiveness and masturbating beneath the desk. She became…annoyed, and even retorted with a few mocking words of her own.

Kari looked away from the screen, her headache worse than ever. It was like staring into a funhouse mirror version of herself. No—if anything, the video just made her feel like the uncanny distortion. Her soft, lengthening locks, her ridiculous maid outfit, her stockinged legs spread wide in her chair…she was like a pornographic parody of herself.

How had she turned out this way? How had she gone from that…to this?

Kari forced herself to look at the livestream again, only for her eyes to self-consciously dart away. It was then that she noticed a notification at the bottom of her screen. Her Discord account had a lot of unread messages.

Relieved by the distraction, she quickly opened the chat client, maximizing it to shield herself from the other Kari’s gaze. The most recent message was from Sean—he must’ve sent it after they’d spoken that morning. Curiosity piqued, Kari opened their private chat, and quickly realized he’d sent her a video.

Of her.

She swallowed. Another recording of herself she didn’t recognize. Another ghost Kari clinging to her back. She didn’t want to face it. Somehow, she could sense that this video was both the key to unlocking the mystery, and the thread that would unravel her.

But Sean had ordered her to watch it. And…without anything else to redirect her…she clicked “play.”

The footage was unrecognizable at first—just a blurry, shaky recording of a darkened window. Gradually the shot came into focus, and Kari realized she was watching herself, naked and masturbating on her bed.

Warmth rose to her cheeks, her tongue unconsciously licking her lips. This video wasn’t so bad. She’d spent plenty of nights edging herself to sleep—nothing strange about that. Plus, if she listened closely, she could hear Sean’s breath behind the camera, growing heavier and shakier as he watched. Watching him watch her…knowing that she was turning him on…it was kinda exciting.

Then her owner appeared on screen. And Kari’s anxiety returned.

This was strange—Leurre had never come to her room before, at least not that she remembered. Yet here he was, saying something to her onscreen counterpart as she listened on her knees, practically humping his leg until he rested a hand on her head. Then suddenly, she went still, the lust in her expression dimming into docile subservience. She rose, moving to her desk with even, robotic steps before sitting. Her head blocked the computer monitor from view, but as the machine came to life, halos of color were visible spinning around her hair. Something about them was…alluring…entrancing…and…

…Familiar.

Kari gasped. The aim trainer. That’s what she was reminded of. But why would the video version of her suddenly decide to use that program?

Unless…unless…

Like a dam breaking, memories suddenly flooded Kari’s mind. In a rush of spiraling hues, she saw herself seated before the aim trainer, open-mouthed and drooling as Leurre’s voice filled her head. She remembered sinking into the chair, remembered the way it cradled her body, strength slipping from her limbs, a soft yet firm bulge buzzing between her legs, pushing the program’s lessons deeper into her brain, filling her with pleasure the more she stared, the more she listened, the more she changed. She could hear the echo of her own voice, slurring and stuttering mantras of submission, surrendering to the program, to her owner, thanking him for teaching her, for showing her where she belonged, under his thumb, his heel, his cock.

All of this had been kept from her, hidden in the recesses of her own mind. Now, the images and sensations were rushing to the surface, an overwhelming torrent of horror and humiliation. It was overwhelming. Excruciating.

And so…so…

HOT.

Kari moaned, unable to stop herself. Her hips bucked and writhed, her soaked, sticky sex grinding against her hand. She could feel her insides burning, yearning in ways she didn’t think possible. Even as she pumped her dripping pussy and pulled her nipples taut, her twisted desires only coiled tighter and tighter.

It wasn’t fair. She knew that she’d been tricked. Used. Violated deeper than she’d ever thought possible.

So why…why did she find it so thrilling?

The program was perfect, she realized, leaking another gush of arousal onto her seat. It hadn’t just forced her to submit—it had made her enjoy it. Crave it. Need it. There was nothing sexier than her own degradation, nothing hotter than utter defeat.

Suddenly, she wished her owner was there. She wanted him to see how pathetic she’d become, how thoroughly he’d broken her. She wanted him to know that she didn’t need the program anymore—she would happily brainwash herself. All to be his. His perfect pet, his submissive sex slave, his eager, obedient slut.

The realization brought Kari to the brink of orgasm. She chased it with a quivering whine, ready for it to erase her, to free her from the burden of independent thought.

But then…

She let out a cry. Her body locked up, unable to push itself over the edge, to do anything but suffer the sweet, painful pleasure of denial. Seizing her. Tormenting her.

Saving her.

As the ecstatic agony faded, Kari knew how close she’d come to losing herself. If she’d been allowed release—if she’d been able to cum to her own brainwashing, there would’ve been no turning back. She would’ve become Leurre’s slut for good, hooked on the overwhelming bliss that only self-subjugation could bring.

But she hadn’t lost. Not yet. The defiant piece of her endured, burning beneath the thrumming arousal, more certain and solid than ever before.

It was then that she noticed another message had appeared from Sean. Apparently, he’d noticed she was online, and was asking if she’d watched the video. With quivering fingers, Kari began to type a reply. Until she saw the time in the corner of her screen.

12:11AM.

Kari leapt to her feet, stumbling as she raced to her bedroom window. How had it gotten so late? How long had she been sitting there, getting off to her own destruction? Had she lost after all? Had she missed her chance to escape?

Her throat tightened as she scanned the darkened streets. It was a cloudy night, the shadows heavy between the streetlights, nearly impossible to pierce with the naked eye. Still, she stared deep into the murk, hoping with all her heart for some sign of salvation.

At first, she saw nothing.

Then there was a sound. The click a car door opening—subtle, but unmistakable. Scanning with renewed fervor, Kari spotted a hazy shape down the road. She squinted, vision gradually adjusting, until at last she recognized what she saw.

A parked car. And a figure standing beside it.

Sean. He was here. He’d come for her like he promised.

Kari suppressed a cry as she ran for the door.