Chelsea hurried into the Undergrind Café, its warm glow drawing a relieved sigh from her shivering body. She lowered her umbrella, careful not to splash herself as she shook rain droplets from its canvas. Not that it really mattered much: even with a full raincoat and umbrella, the storm outside had still managed to drench her boots and splatter on her tights. Choosing the Undergrind as the drop-off point had seemed like a fun way to tease Master at the time, but now Chelsea felt like the butt of her own joke. Only a fool would choose to walk over a mile in this downpour.
At least she knew it would be worth it.
Rain splattered on the windowpanes, transforming the outside world into a blur of grey streaks and wavering silhouettes. In some ways, it really did feel like Chelsea had entered a different reality. After the chaos of the storm, the quiet of the café felt almost surreal, its scattered clientele still and silent behind barricades of textbooks and laptops. Chelsea found herself measuring her steps as she moved past them, trying not to seem too hurried or too excited. Such a precaution probably wasn’t necessary, but she couldn’t help it: a giddy mixture of anxiety and desire bubbled inside her, naughty anticipation spiked with fear. It was the same feeling she felt approaching Master’s dorm room for the first time, that sensation of being on a cliff’s edge, unsure of what lay at the bottom, but too curious to resist jumping.
This time, though, it was different. This was her plan. On her terms. She was in control.
Even if she couldn’t calm her racing heart.
She knocked on the bathroom door, then stifled a relieved sigh when no one answered. After entering and making sure to lock the door behind her, she paused, scanning the cramped space. Wondering if it would spark anything.
Nope, nothing—it seemed like a simple unisex bathroom to her. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember Master taking her back here. Couldn’t remember him pulling her into a deep, obedient trance, so complete that she would offer her very memory to him. A part of her knew it must’ve happened: since meeting Sophia was the only gap in her recollection of that day, Master must’ve entranced her while they were still in the café. If that were the case, it would stand to reason he would manipulate her into the bathroom for privacy.
Yet try as she might, standing here right now, Chelsea couldn’t honestly say for certain if it had happened or not. Master’s brainwashing was too thorough. Her subconscious obeyed his whims too perfectly. Both thoughts sent dreadful, wonderful shivers through her.
Now it was time to see if he was as good at following orders as she was.
Chelsea gingerly opened the back of the toilet, careful to lift the top only an inch at a time. It didn’t take more than two before she saw it: a strip of scotch tape on the lip of the lid. If she hadn’t been looking for it, if she had been, say, an employee opening the tank to clean it, she would’ve accidentally torn the tape in the process, causing what it was holding to drop into the water.
But Chelsea knew what she was looking for. She knew how to carefully slip her fingers inside, holding the hidden object in place as she lifted the lid the rest of the way, tearing the tape and the object free. An excited grin spread across her lips as she drew her hand back out. She opened her fingers, revealing a simple black flash drive cradled in her palm. To others, it might’ve looked like an ordinary storage device, but Chelsea knew what it really was: a crucible for the Vox. And a gateway to victory.
It was just as she had planned. She had recovered the recording of Master’s power, without risking confrontation or discovery.
Now it was time to put it to good use.
“Seriously?” Miki exclaimed, so loud Seb worried the whole thrift store could hear her. “You still don’t know what you’re gonna dress up as?”
“I uh, guess it kinda slipped my mind,” Seb laughed uneasily, rummaging through a rack of wrinkled button-ups. In truth, if Miki hadn’t invited him to go costume hunting, he probably would’ve forgotten about Halloween entirely. Not that he would admit such blasphemy out loud.
Tobias chuckled. “Not everyone takes it as seriously as you do, babe. Maybe Seb’s just not a Halloween person.”
“Impossible,” Miki shook her head. “No self-respecting theater kid could be anti-Halloween.”
Seb sighed. “I never said I was anti-Halloween. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
“Good thing I invited you then,” Miki smirked. “Otherwise you would’ve gone as ‘most boring person at the party’ by default.”
Seb scoffed in exaggerated offense, eliciting a snicker from his friends. In truth, he was grateful for Miki’s initiative. Trawling a thrift store for costume pieces was just the kind of distraction he needed.
It had been a strange, unsettling week. After recording and hiding the Vox induction on Sunday, all Seb could do was wait and see what Chelsea’s next move would be. But outside of instructional emails, the scheming blonde had gone radio silent. Worse still, she had started hiding from him in class, ducking away into other pockets of students or skipping their mutual lectures entirely. It was a marked contrast to her previous strategy of teasing, stalking, and outright groping him every chance she got. Seb told himself he should be relieved, but, in truth, her sudden absence from his life was…
Well, it made Seb anxious.
And, if he was really honest with himself…a little disappointed.
Which was why he had leapt at the chance to join Miki’s annual costume caper. It was a return to normalcy and routine, a reminder that a world existed outside of his insane, psychosexual struggles. Mind control powers or no, Halloween was still two weeks away. Miki was still taking the Diepner Players’ costume party too seriously. “The Monster Mash” and “Thriller” were still playing on loop over the PA. Life went on.
“Really, though,” Seb cleared his throat, “thanks for bringing me along. And for inviting Sophia too. I know it means a lot to her.”
Miki nodded, even as her lips curved into a thoughtful frown. “I still don’t really get her deal, but she seems nice. Nicer than I expected anyway.”
“What this?” Tobias exclaimed with sarcastic shock. “Miki, admitting she jumped to conclusions? It’s a Halloween Miracle!”
“Very funny,” Miki shoved a jean jacket against his chest. “Why don’t you take a break from being a smartass and try this on? We’re not calling it a day till your costume’s complete.”
“What are you guys going as again?” Seb asked as he watched Tobias sulk towards the changing stations.
“John and Claire from The Breakfast Club,” Miki sighed, plucking a pink blouse from the rack. “Assuming I can find a top that doesn’t look like I’m swimming in it. Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “We could go as a group! You could be Brian, and Sophia could be Allison! She already kinda has the hair for it.”
“Uh, maybe.” Seb rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think she’s seen the movie though.”
“That crime can be addressed later,” Miki pointed a warning a finger at him. “What’s important now is that we figure out your costume pronto. So start looking, alright? And no cheating this year.”
“Cheating?” Seb arched an eyebrow. “How do you cheat at a Halloween costume?”
“By throwing on a random sweater and saying you’re Mr. Rogers,” Miki shot back. “Not gonna fly this year, Sebastian. Be better.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am,” Seb answered with a sardonic salute. Miki rolled her eyes in response, but couldn’t hide her excited grin as she skipped off to join Tobias at the changing stations.
With a loose sense of purpose, Seb ambled through the aisles of oversized shirts and faded jackets. Nominally, he was looking for possible costume pieces, but a part of him just wanted to vanish into the mundanity of it all; to get lost in the hand-me-down fashions and boxes of VHS tapes; to be just another invisible and anonymous college kid, exactly as he was a year ago.
Then a flash of blonde caused his heart to leap and the Vox to growl.
It was a false alarm, of course: just another shopper who happened to share the hair color of his adversary. Even so, it wasn’t the first time that day he had jumped at shadows, nor the first time his bubble of normalcy had been punctured, allowing the fears and feelings he had blocked to come spilling back into him.
She had called him a coward.
Or had at least implied it. Even if Chelsea hadn’t use that exact term, her tirade in the forest had aptly conveyed the point. And it had stuck. Though Seb had tried to brush off her attack at first, her words lingered like poison in his veins, corroding his confidence as the week progressed.
Was he actually in the wrong here? Was enslaving Chelsea the moral choice?
No, it couldn’t be. Even if she wanted to…even if he wanted to…it was still wrong. For her to lose her independence completely, possibly permanently…that wasn’t a choice either of them could make. They were still 19, for Christ’s sake. They were young, and confused, and still flush with adolescent hormones. Feelings this strong had to be phase, had to be a quirk of biology or psychology, something they would grow out of. They shouldn’t—they couldn’t be the basis for a life-changing choice.
Michael Jackson was belting over the loudspeakers again. Seb tried to refocus on the task at hand.
He shifted directions, bending his path towards the far corner of the store, where the more overtly “Halloween-y” garb was displayed: capes, witchs’ hats, and all manner of cheap plastic accessories. Seb doubted he could get away with donning some toy fangs and calling himself a vampire, but he might be able to find an alternative outfit to Miki’s Breakfast Club suggestion, one that wouldn’t require him to spend the whole night glued to her side, lest somebody not “get” their ultra-hip reference.
Instead, he found Sophia, staring longingly at a shiny black corset.
“Oh, hey!” she squeaked, turning abruptly to face him. “S-sorry, I didn’t hear you coming!”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Seb laughed. “Thinking of going as a dominatrix vampire this year?”
“Y-yeah right,” Sophia laughed, backing away from the rack as though it might attack. “Could you imagine?”
Seb could. All of those luscious curves packed in a tight vinyl package? It was enough to make the Vox hum.
“I don’t think I could pull it off even if I wanted to,” Sophia continued. “That thing would probably crush me if I put it on.”
“Never know until you try,” Seb countered, before realizing what he was suggesting. “I-I mean, if you really want to.”
To his surprise, the busty Latina hesitated, throwing one last glance at the corset. “W-well, guess there’s no harm in trying right? Not that I’m gonna be a, uh, vampire domi…whatever you just said.”
Seb forced a laugh. “Damn, thought I struck gold with that one. What are you going as instead?”
“Probably Velma. Y’know, from Scooby-doo?” She lifted the forbidden item off the rack. “I already have the sweater and socks for it. Just need to find a skirt, and boom: instant Halloween costume. No muss no fuss.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go as Allison?” Seb asked.
“From The Breakfast Club. Miki suggested you and I go as ‘the Basket Case’ and ‘the Brain,’ respectively.”
“Oh. Uh…” Sophia’s brow furrowed. “I mean, I don’t wanna mess up Miki’s plans but…”
“It’s fine,” Seb waved away her concern. “She mainly suggested it for me, since I don’t have a costume yet.”
“Ah. And I’m guessing ‘stage hypnotist’ is off the table?”
Seb tried to cover the hitch in his breathing with a laugh. “Ha, well, maybe as a last ditch resort.”
It was then that he realized he had been following Sophia towards the dressing area. Without her asking him to. Which was…at best, a weird thing to do. At worst...well, it was too late to suddenly break away now. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.
“W-well,” Sophia brushed her bangs out of her eyes as they reached one of the curtained-off stations. “If you wanna team up, you could be the Shaggy to my Velma. All you’d really need is a big green t-shirt.”
“Huh. That’s an idea.” Seb blinked. “Wait, isn’t he, like, the most useless member of the team? Why is he the one I remind you of?”
“Because he’s funny!” Sophia laughed. “And, no offense, but you don’t really have the pecs to pull of Fred.”
“Like, zoinks, man,” Seb said with a sardonic smile, “That’s harsh.”
“Just be thankful I didn’t suggest Scooby instead,” Sophia shot back.
“Jinkies.” Seb laughed.
The dressing station remained impassive.
“So, um…” Sophia held the corset up, gestured vaguely towards the dressing station.
“Y-yeah, I’ll just…go look for a Shaggy shirt.”
“Actually…” Sophia fidgeted. “Would you mind waiting out here? I might need help, y’know, zipping up or whatever.”
“Oh.” Seb replied dumbly. A part of him wanted to suggest waiting for Miki, but instead his mouth said: “Sure.”
“Cool. Uh, brb.” Sophia uttered before ducking behind the curtain.
Seb exhaled. Being around Sophia still made him nervous, but this was going well, right? They were joking and bantering like they used to. And Sophia was gonna be trying on a corset for him. Well, maybe not for him, but still…she clearly didn’t mind showing off a little. There was trust there. Maybe something more? Was Seb imaging that?
Was he running away again?
Seb’s jaw clenched. Dammit, Sophia was undressing on the other side of a thin sheet, and still Chelsea’s words found a way inside his head. Whatever feelings he had for Sophia, they too were entangled in this stupid game he was playing. He partly blamed Chelsea for that: she was, after all, the one using Sophia to blackmail him. But, then again, the only reason that strategy was effective was because he wasn’t exactly on solid footing with her to begin with. Especially not after having to lie about the block party.
How long would that lie last? How long could any of this go on?
“Uh, S-Seb?” came a tiny voice from behind the curtain. “Could you come give me a hand?”
Seb’s heart leapt, derailing his darkening thoughts. “Sure,” he said, lowering his voice without knowing why.
Sophia’s back was turned when he stepped through the curtain, her hands holding the shiny black garment up against her chest. Even unfastened, the corset had pressed her waist into an hourglass figure, accentuating her wide hips and ample ass, wrapped snuggly in her dark, high-wasted jeans.
Seb had to force himself not to stare as he drew closer. He was just helping her try on a costume. As a friend. Even if his hands were shaking a little as they hooked the fasteners into place. Even if he had to adjust his position to make sure his erection wouldn’t brush against her backside. There was no point in getting worked up, no point in letting the Vox’s dark temptations slip into his thoughts.
“So…” Sophia turned slowly to face him. “How do I look?”
For a moment, Seb was speechless.
The corset was a cheap costume piece, its surface coated in an almost plastic-y sheen. Yet that didn’t stop it from radiating an odd sort of allure, an unabashed, uninhibited invitation. It grasped Sophia’s body and molded it to perfection, its borders overflowing with her soft, sensual flesh. Her breasts strained the top, so tightly packed that they rippled as she shifted under his gaze. Her expression was shy, yet excited; at odds with her clothing, yet heightening its draw. She didn’t know the power she wielded, but that only made it more deadly. And more desirable.
Seb wanted to capture that power. To control it. To be consumed by it. These burning impulses dried his throat, making it difficult to speak.
“W-wow.” He swallowed. “It’s uh, uh…” Incredible. Intoxicating. Dangerous.
“I-it’s a bit much, huh?” his thrift store succubus replied, turning to face the mirror with an awkward laugh. “Like. God. It’s so tight and…cheap looking. Like I just walked out of a trailer park BDSM club or something. I look ridiculous. I…”
“Stop,” Seb said. His hands were on her shoulders before he could stop them. “You look great.”
Their eyes met in the mirror’s reflection. Hers were wide, yet unafraid. His were hungrier than he would like. But neither of them could look away. Neither of them could move. Even as the changing station shrunk around them. Even as the air burned with irrepressible heat. Seb couldn’t even loosen his grip on her. She felt warm, fragile, precious. He could see the edges of her breath licking the glass, fogging the reflection of her soft, parted lips.
You know, the Vox whispered, there is an easy solution to your problem…
A knock on the station wall shattered the moment like a gunshot through glass. Seb quickly released Sophia. The distance between them reformed in an instant.
“Seb, you in there?” Miki’s voice filled the tiny space. “I found a black sweater that’d be perfect for a Brian costume. Want me to bring it over?”
Seb met Sophia’s eyes again, a wordless acknowledgement passing between them. Whatever just happened, it couldn’t survive past the curtain. Not now. Not yet.
“Th-that’s okay!” Seb called back, turning to let Sophia change unobserved. “I think I’m gonna go as Shaggy this year.”
“Okay, good,” came the reply, Miki’s voice already receding as she marched off. “Glad you’re finally taking initiative.”
It was such a cruel joke Seb almost laughed.
Darkness was advancing as the costume hunters stepped out from the thrift store’s light. Sophia took a deep breath, hoping the chilly air would quell the fire inside of her.
Something had sparked in that changing room. She had felt it. Seb had felt it. When his eyes had found hers, when his hands had grasped her bare skin…that wasn’t the casual touch of a friend, or even the awkward fumbling of a high school crush. They may have been two childhood friends standing in a thrift store changing room, but in that moment, in that outfit, Sophia had felt her old shell slip. She wasn’t an awkward, chubby nerd flirting with her best friend. She was an enchantress. A seductress. A creature of the night, waiting to be tamed.
And Seb had felt it too.
Now they were standing side-by-side at the bus stop, chatting with their friends as if nothing had happened. The corset was gone, the moment had passed. But the heat lingered inside Sophia, embers that flared whenever she sensed Seb’s eyes on her body, or his arm brush hers. She couldn’t let those cinders die. Not now. Not again.
The bus arrived and the doors hissed open. The four students clambered up the entry steps, fanning out to find available seats. By some stroke of luck or some unholy curse, Sophia ended up next to Seb in the back, several rows away from the other couple. Out of sight, out of mind.
And, by the time the bus started moving again, she was almost out of breath.
It was a strange sensation, the way her world collapsed in the space between their bodies. Every jostle from the road, every shift and turn sent tingles of hyper-awareness through her. She became absorbed in the fleeting contact of their legs, the way her breasts bounced after a bad bump, the way Seb’s hand accidentally rubbed her thigh as he reached for his phone. The incidental had become incendiary, and if Sophia didn’t find release soon, she feared she would burn up from the inside.
She needed to say something. To make some kind of move. She had been standing idle for far too long, trusting her flame to Chelsea’s untrustworthy hands. No more.
Outside, passing headlights blurred, streaks of white against the shroud of twilight. Each one that passed, Sophia told herself the next would be her signal. That’s when she would tell Seb…what? What could she say to him?
Another car passed. Sophia opened her lips, then closed them again. Her heart sunk, defeated. The lights of campus were approaching, and the glow in her chest was fading.
“So…” Seb said. “You have anything going on tomorrow night? Some of the other club members are hosting a scary movie night, if you’re interested.”
“Oh. Sure,” Sophia answered automatically. Then realized: “Wait, I thought you hated horror movies?”
“Uh, I did,” Seb smiled sheepishly. “But then I figured out you can just look up the jump scares ahead of time, so…”
“Aha. And now you’re a fan?”
“I’m a fan of friends and alcohol. The movies are tolerable.”
Sophia laughed. “Sure. When you put it like that, how can I say no?”
“Great, so…” Seb looked out the window. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
Sophia followed his gaze. Their stop was just ahead. “Uh…sure…”
“Cool,” Seb bent down to collect his bag, readying to disembark as the bus slowed to a stop.
“Wait.” The word left Sophia’s mouth before she could think of a follow-up.
Seb froze. Met her eyes. Was there anticipation in his expression? She forced herself to believe it.
“I, uh…” she swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice her hands white-knuckling the seat. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to, uh, hang out a little more. Tonight. Maybe at my place?”
An eternity passed in the silence that followed.
“Sure,” he said as the doors hissed open and the passengers rose. “Lead the way.”
It all lead to this.
Chelsea stared at the flash drive on her desk, as though it might disappear the moment she looked away. It was such a simple object, so innocent and innocuous. And yet, if Chelsea didn’t know any better, she would swear it was glowing. She found herself drawn into its simple contours, imagining the power they held inside, the warmth that could melt her mind if she wasn’t careful.
She shifted in her seat, becoming aware of the dampness between her thighs. Her body knew what was in store, was already preparing itself to receive Master’s will. A month ago, such a realization would’ve turned her stomach; now, she bit her lip and slipped a hand between her legs, idly teasing the wet patch on her panties. It was a dumb move, and she knew it: if she started edging herself now, even a watered-down version of the Vox would have no trouble seducing her.
Originally, she had considered bundling up for this moment, donning an outfit with as many belts, fasteners, and impediments to her own arousal as possible. But even as she reasoned it was good strategy, it didn’t feel right. This recording was supposed to get her off, wasn’t it? Why make that harder than it had to be? Sure, she still planned to scan the audio for traps and tricks ahead of time, and sure, it made sense to keep her defenses up in just in case…
…But if a recording of the Vox did manage to sweep her away…if Master turned her own game against her and reduced her to a mere plaything…well, a part of Chelsea felt he deserved to win then. Whether that thought came from her own sense of sportsmanship or Master’s influence was hard to say. And she didn’t care to tell the difference anymore.
Either way, the result was the same: her bare thighs squished against the leather of her desk chair, her nipples stiff under the thin fabric of her t-shirt, her black panties already dripping. A fitting uniform for her penultimate struggle. Or surrender.
Her laptop chimed, signaling it had finished booting up. Chelsea hissed as she extracted her hand from her crotch, an involuntary whimper escaping her lips. She forced her shaking fingers to grasp the flash drive. The metal tip slid into her machine with a deceptively innocent *click.*
The file was simply titled “Recording 1.” Chelsea opened up her editing software, slipped a pair of wireless headphones over her head, and triple-checked to make sure her phone was silenced. Maddi and Veronica both had classes this afternoon, meaning Chelsea had another three hours or so before having to worry about interruptions. That was plenty of time.
Assuming it all went according to plan.
Chelsea stared at the audio waveform. It looked normal enough, its jagged lines forming peaks and valleys scrolling across her screen. At a glance, nothing about the file seemed strange or amiss—as far as her computer was concerned, there was nothing to differentiate a recording of the Vox from a normal vocal track.
Did that mean it wouldn’t work?
The thought stabbed a spike of dread in Chelsea’s stomach. She had always considered the possibility that the Vox wouldn’t transmit, and had told herself she would just think of another plan if that were the case. But now, to have come this far…to have anticipated this moment for so long…to have spent every night rubbing herself stupid, chasing a dream that was always out of reach…to have spent days dancing on the razor’s edge of bliss, her body stiff and sensitive to every stimulus, unable to relax, unable to do anything but wait, counting down the days until the flash drive was hers and her roommates were absent…to have gone through all of that, only to be thwarted at the last moment?
She had to know. Had to be sure this would work. And before she could stop herself, Chelsea’s hand shot out and clicked “play.”
“Listen closely slave,” Master’s voice commanded.
Chelsea gasped. An ecstatic shiver trickled down her spine, causing her whole body to tremble with delight. Master had called her “slave.” And she had felt it. Joy and relief cascaded through her, with such force that she almost dropped into trance then and there. But she held on, grasping the edges of reality with all of her strength. If only to hear more of her Master’s words.
“You may think this recording means you’ve won,” he continued. “But I’m not here to give you what you want. I’m here to remind you of what you need.”
Chelsea’s heart raced. Her thighs pressed together. Her nails dug into the arms of her chair as she squirmed with excitement. Master sounded so close. So clear. His voice enveloped her head from all sides, filling her with his presence. The sensation wasn’t as strong as it had been in person, but it was more than enough to make her mind feel gooey. Especially in her current state.
“You need to listen to my words,” the Vox reverberated through her. “You need to obey your Master. You need to remember your place. Remember who your body and mind belong to. Remember what you are.”
Chelsea’s lips parted, her breath strained with longing. She remembered. She did. It was what she wanted…what she needed…
“Remember the feeling of surrender for me. Remember how easy and natural it is. To just give in. To relax. To let go and let my voice carry you into that wonderful, blissful feeling of trance. Of openness. Of servitude. You remember it, don’t you?”
“Yes…” Chelsea answered, her voice barely audible as more than a sigh, sounding so strange and distant in her ears.
“That’s right. It’s so easy and natural for a slave to obey her Master. As easy and natural as breathing. In and out. With every breath becoming more and more relaxed. More and more docile. More and more obedient.”
Docile. Obedient. Each word was like a bubble rising to the surface of Chelsea’s brain, popping and sending ripples of bliss through her. Her shaking breaths slowed, her whole body sinking into the rhythms Master had taught her.
Easy and natural. In and out. More and more relaxed. Docile and…
Chelsea wrenched her arm up onto her desk, clumsily slapping the key to stop the recording. Her headphones went quiet, the silence sucking the trance from her brain. It took a moment for her thoughts to slosh back into place, the sudden violence of her awakening like a wave throwing her out of the sea. And just when she was starting to get used to the water too…
Chelsea shook her head. She had to refocus. Remember the plan. As amazing as it was hearing Master’s voice again, as much as her body and mind longed to be pulled under his power, she couldn’t indulge in those feelings just yet. She had to investigate the rest of the file, to make sure there were no nasty surprises in store for her.
The waveform of Master’s voice stared back at her, taunting her, enticing her. Chelsea grit her teeth and selected a random spot in the middle of the recording.
“…Back down, down, deeper. That’s good. No thoughts, no concerns, no cares. A slave doesn’t need to think. A slave just needs to relax. To follow my words back down. Deeper and deeper down…”
Chelsea’s eyelids fluttered. Her head bobbed. She stopped the recording, exhaling a frustrated groan. So far she hadn’t detected any traps, but that didn’t mean the recording wasn’t having an effect. Hoping to keep momentum on her side, she advanced a few more minutes down the timeline, and hit “play” again.
“…Such a good slave. So obedient. So sleepy. So relaxed and happy. It feels so good to listen. To let my voice fill your mind, to let those pesky thoughts drift away. Good girl…”
Chelsea felt her breath hitch and her pussy clench. She fumbled to stop the playback, missing the first two times. Her hands felt so heavy and clumsy, her limbs so relaxed and droopy. Even when the recording wasn’t playing, it felt like an echo was constantly vibrating through her, disrupting her already tenuous thought process.
But she couldn’t give in now. She would have her chance to enjoy the file, but only after she was sure it was safe. Until then, she had to keep going. Had to keep advancing down the timeline. Had to keep listening. It felt so good to listen. So good…
Chelsea hit play again without consciously deciding to.
“…Very good. Focus on that feeling now. That pleasure slowly building inside. Bit by bit. Your body knows it needs to obey. That’s why it feels so good. So easy. So natural. You love to obey. Say it.”
“I love to obey,” she uttered automatically. Wait, this wasn’t good. She couldn’t just let him…
Chelsea gasped, hands balling into fists. She tried to dig her nails into her palms, tried to shock herself awake but…
“Relax, breathe. Just enjoy the feeling.”
Her hands loosened before sliding off the desk. Her arms went slack, dangling at her side as she sunk deeper into her seat. Deeper into Master’s voice.
“That’s right. Just like that. See what a good slave you are? How wonderful it is to obey your Master?”
“Ye-sss...” Chelsea breathed. She could feel her shoulders dropping, her head tipping slightly forward. It was happening. She was falling for him. Her will was slipping away. She barely had the energy to fight anymore but…if she could just lift her hand…if she could just drop it on her keyboard then…
“Are you thinking of stopping the recording again?”
Chelsea blinked. Wait…how did Master…
“That’s okay. Go ahead and stop it if you want.”
The weight in her arms suddenly lessened, her hand drifting up and stopping the recording as though it were the easiest thing in the world. She swayed in her chair, her brow furrowing. She felt strange. Disoriented. Was she still in trance? Her body still felt so relaxed, her mind so sleepy and slow. But she was awake…wasn’t she? Then why was it so hard to think? Why did she still need Master to tell her what to do?
Master…she needed to hear his words…needed to listen to…
Chelsea leaned forward and hit “play” again.
“Good girl,” Master purred.
“Ooohh,” Chelsea moaned, slumping back into her seat. It felt like the floor had dropped from under her, plunging her into a vast pool of warm, dizzying pleasure.
“That’s right. Every time you drop back down, you go deeper and deeper.”
She was sinking. Her thoughts were floating and she was sinking away from them. Deeper and deeper.
“Do you want to know why you’re falling so fast? Do you remember what I told you?”
What he had told her? Chelsea didn’t…remember…
“It’s okay if you don’t. You might’ve skipped that part. Or it might just be too hard for your sleepy little mind to remember. That’s okay. Your Master will tell you the answer. Isn’t that nice?”
“Yesss…” Chelsea felt her lips spread into a droopy grin. That’s right. She didn’t have to worry. Master would tell her what to think. He would tell her everything.
“Right now, you are experiencing what hypnotists call ‘fractionation,’” Master explained, his tone warm and patronizing. “When a mind goes into and out of trance in rapid succession, it starts to get confused. Starts to lose track of whether it’s awake or asleep. Until it’s too tired to tell the difference.”
Oh…that made sense. Chelsea did feel tired. And confused. She was behaving just like Master told her to. Just like a slave should. Just like…
Wait…if Master had planned for her to stop the recording over and over again…then…oh no…
“You’re feeling so tired by now, aren’t you? You’ve probably been in and out of trance so many times now, it’s hard to keep track. You’re feeling so confused. So lost.”
Chelsea’s eyes unfocused, the world around her blurring. She felt a string of drool drip from her lips. She was so, so lost…
“That’s okay. Your Master knew this would happen. And your Master is here to help. Just listen and obey. That’s all a slave has to do, right?”
“Uh-huh…” Chelsea sighed.
“And you’re a good slave, right?”
“Then here’s what I want you to do. When I next snap my fingers, I want pause the recording and strip naked for me. Once that’s done, you may resume the recording and await further instructions. Do you understand?”
“Yess…” Chelsea droned, her hand drifting to the space bar.
Chelsea blinked. The heaviness of trance still weighed on her eyes, and it took a moment to get them to focus. She was awake…she thought…but it was hard to tell. Her head felt foggy. She was moving languidly, automatically, as though her body were just a dream from her sleepy, sleepy brain. There was a dim awareness that something wasn’t right. But the current Master had created was too strong, and she was too weak to fight it. It was so much easier to just let herself rise from the chair, to allow her clumsy hands to tug her shirt over her head and slip her bra from her shoulders. The sounds of her own breathing filled her ears, the steady rhythm enrapturing her. She didn’t even notice her pussy was exposed until she stepped out of her panties, leaving them crumpled at her feet.
A quaking sigh escaped her lips as she slid back into the chair. The leather was warm, soaked by her own heat. It cradled her shivering form, stoking her sensitive skin. One hand teased a stiff nipple while the other reached for the laptop, eager to further fuel the fires of pleasure. To receive her Master’s wishes.
For the slightest moment, her fingers hesitated over the space bar. Didn’t she…wasn’t she looking for something? She wasn’t…she wasn’t supposed to just listen to this file, right? But Master told her she should. So…why did she feel like this wasn’t….wasn’t…
The trail of thought wandered. Her hand slipped down and hit “play.”
“Good girl. That’s a very good girl.”
Chelsea’s hands grasped her breasts as the pleasure rippled through her. Why had she even tried to resist? Why didn’t she just listen to what her body was telling her? She belonged to Master. Obeying him was what she lived for.
“You’ve been such a good slave. Such a wonderful, obedient toy. I bet you’re feeling very horny right now, aren’t you?”
“Unh…Uh-huh…” Chelsea panted at the screen. Master was right. Master was always right. She wanted to play with herself, to revel in the arousal borne from her obedience. But Master hadn’t told her to. So she waited, dripping and drooling. Ready to serve however she could.
“Since you’ve been such a good slave, I’m going to give you a reward. But only after you prove you obedience to me.”
She would. She would do anything he asked.
“I’m going to snap my fingers again. And when I do this time I want you to pause the recording, and pleasure that body of yours. Whatever way you can. Toy with yourself until you’re a mindless mess, until you can’t think beyond your intense need to cum for your Master. And then, once you’ve reached that point, once you’re ready to give yourself completely and drop deeper than ever before, start the recording again. You understand, don’t you slave?”
Chelsea nodded. She was so ready. So wet and eager to obey. But she couldn’t touch her pussy yet. Not yet. Not until…
Chelsea paused the video. Master’s voice receded, but his power was still in her. Even as she knew he wasn’t there, she also knew it was he who was piloting her hands across her needy body, he who was causing her to writhe and whimper in her chair. He was the one in control. She was an object. A mere conduit for bliss. For obedience. No more thoughts, no more fighting. Just a fog of wonderful, uncontrollable sensations.
She loved every second of it. The way her tingly tits squished in her hand. The way her pussy gushed as she plunged her fingers inside. The way her open lips moaned in stupid ecstasy, her words replaced by pathetic cries of pleasure.
It was coming. The precipice. She wanted to fall for him. Needed to follow him down, deeper and deeper. Where her control no longer mattered. Where she would be perfect for him. Docile and obedient and happy.
Master moved her hand to the laptop. And clicked “play.”
“Cum for me.”
Chelsea opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Her body had gone rigid, seized by a sensation beyond her comprehension. Her hips twitched. Her eyelids fluttered. When she could breathe, she gasped. She was empty and full all at once. She was undone and remade in every moment.
Chelsea’s head slumped forward, and the pleasure pulled her down, deep into a yawning abyss.
She hoped she never touched the ground.
Chelsea blinked her eyes open, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.
She was on her bed. Naked. With lipstick letters scrawled across her tits.
Her thighs were sticky. Her fingers too. She sat up unsteadily, and realized there were headphones around her neck.
She remembered: the recording. Master’s voice. He had…
Chelsea stiffened, whipping her head around to find her phone. She started to stand, only to notice the device resting on the mattress right beside her. With shaking hands, she lifted it to her face, unlocking the screen and frantically scrolling through its contents.
The video of Master in the woods was gone.
And a new picture was in its place.
It was a shot of Chelsea, crouched naked on the floor in front of her full length mirror, like a dog on its hind legs begging for treats. Thin strands of arousal leaked from her pussy onto the carpet. Her eyes were rolled upwards, her mouth hanging open and her tongue lolling out, dribbling drool onto her exposed tits, where bright red letters declared:
“I’M A DUMB SLUT.”
She didn’t even have to check to know that she had sent the image to Master. Still, she opened her messages to be sure. And there it was, included with a text: “I’m sorry for being bad, Master. Please forgive your stupid slave.”
Chelsea stared at her screen, her own degradation burning into her eyes.
Then she smiled.
How could she ever doubted Master? Of course this was how things would play out. Of course she would wake up with her arsenal erased and a new arrow in his quiver. One that she had happily fashioned for him. The realization made her giddy, and causing her to laugh more and more.
Once the giggles subsided and her breath steadied, Chelsea rose on her shaky legs and crossed her to her laptop, ready to assess the extent of the damage. To her relief, the recording was still on her screen: Master hadn’t commanded her to erase it. A misstep, perhaps? No…there was no way he knew what she intended to do with it. More likely he kept the file safe out of compassion. Or caution. After all, he couldn’t have been sure his fractionation scheme would work. He had probably calculated that making her delete the blackmail and send him a humiliating picture would be extent of what he could safely get away with.
But, just to be sure, Chelsea ran a quick mental checklist, trying to see if she could detect any alteration in her thought processes.
Her name was Chelsea Jaeger.
She loved to obey.
Her body belonged to her Master.
Her mind belonged to her Master.
And soon, so would Sophia.
Chelsea smiled to herself, settling into the chair and rewinding the recording back to the start. It would take a lot of work to edit the file from something targeted at her to something palatable to Sophia. And Chelsea was very, very much looking forward to it.