Vox Dominus

Chapter 5

by Mesmerciless

Tags: #cw:noncon #brainwashing #dom:male #f/m #pov:bottom #pov:top #sub:female #blowjob #brainwashed #college #D/s #fingering #humiliation #hypnosis #hypnotic_voice #hypnotized #love_triangle #Master/slave_language #masturbation #multiple_partners #slow_burn #stripping

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--Mesmerciless

Chapter 5

Veronica turned as she heard the door open. “Hey Chels,” she called, throwing her voice around the back of the couch and down the hall. “Maddi and I are thinkin’ of checking out the Delta Omega Alpha party tonight. You in?”

If Chelsea heard, she didn’t reply. Veronica shot a quizzical look at Maddi sitting on the chair across from her, but the muscular red-head only shrugged. “Chelsea?” Veronica tried again, only to be met with similar silence. She sighed and carefully set her nail polish aside, holding her half-painted nails aloft as she stood and walked down the hall.

Sure enough, Chelsea was in the foyer, wresting her jacket from the packed closet. But something was…off. Her styled blonde hair and impeccable makeup were ready for a Friday night out, but her yoga pants and striped tank-top combo definitely was not. And…was she not wearing a bra underneath?

“Yo, Chels,” Veronica said as she padded closer. Her friend turned, appearing to register the greeting this time.

“Oh, hey,” Chelsea said, seeming distracted as she threw her coat on. “What’s up?”

“You, uh, you doing okay?” Veronica asked. “Your mom finally call you or something?”

“Huh?” Chelsea blinked. “Oh, um. No. Not yet.”

“Okay so…do you wanna come with me and Maddi to—”

“Sorry, I can’t.” Chelsea interrupted. “I have to go and uh…take care of some…thing…” her voice trailed off, her gaze becoming oddly dull and distant as she turned and headed out the door.

Veronica stood in the empty foyer for a moment, trying and failing to process what she just witnessed before drifting back into the common area.

“What was that all about?” Maddi asked.

“Dunno,” Veronica answered, dropping back onto the couch. “Guess she’s got somewhere to be.”

Maddi chuckled. “Better be somewhere good if she’s sneakin’ out like that.”

Veronica sighed. “Yeah, I guess. I just hope she’s okay. She’s seemed really strung-out all week.”

“Did she finally get the call from momma-saurus-rex? Thought I heard her on the phone when I came in.”

“Wait, really?” Veronica sat up. “With who?”

“Dunno. She had it on speaker, but I couldn’t really make out the other voice,” Maddi squinted in thought. “Although…it did kinda sound like…” she let out a frustrated sigh. “Ah, never mind. Think I’m imagining things.”

“Some help you are.” Veronica sank into the sofa, disappointed.

Maddi smirked. “Are you worried that she’s got a boy on the hook? Or maybe even a girl?” she added with a devilish grin.

Veronica shot Maddi a glare, not appreciating the jab. “Very funny. But that’s not it. She would tell me if she was seeing somebody.”

Or at least, Veronica hoped she would. But there was no need to tell Maddi that, especially when she had just teased Veronica about her own amorous history.

In truth, there was one other time that Chelsea had acted this way. It was back when the two of them were in high school, when Chelsea had secretly started dating a boy without her mother’s approval. What started as a rebellious fling turned into a fight that left Chelsea locked in her room for days. To save face and reassure her mother, Chelsea had to humiliate her poor beau on Christmas, spinning the whole affair as a demonstration of her manipulative might. But Veronica knew better. She had seen Chelsea’s hidden glances turn to hidden tears.

Whatever her best friend’s new secret was, Veronica hoped to God it had a happier ending. Hiding her own feelings while helping Chelsea up had been bad enough the first time—Veronica wasn’t sure she had strength to do it again. If there was one thing she had learned from their friendship, it was that denial wasn’t the death of desire—it was the fuel.

And all it would take was the right spark to set it ablaze.


Seb hesitated as he mounted the steps to the graduate library. The Grad (as it was called) was an infamously ominous presence: a towering cathedral-like structure hidden down a forested path. Its stone façade and gothic architecture were the pride and joy of the school, remnants from the days when Diepner was known more for its seminary than its social scene. Now the lonely building felt less like a holy beacon and more like a lonely ghost. Seb supposed that was why there were rumors of the halls being haunted, and why even the most studious of students tended to avoid it.

He hoped dearly that held true tonight.

Seb swiped his student ID through the entrance card reader and pushed open the heavy oak doors. The receptionist didn’t even bother looking up from her phone as he slipped into the library proper. The ground level held mostly open desks and furniture for studying, but the second floor was an absolute maze of overladen shelves and forgotten pushcarts. Warm lighting filtered through the rows of academic journals and textbooks, creating pockets of intimate shadows. Not only did the tomes block long sightlines, but their thick paper binding also worked as impromptu sound-proofing: even on high alert as he was, Seb still had to strain to hear the sound of his own footsteps as he ventured deeper into the Grad.

He had to hand it to Chelsea: she had picked the perfect place for a covert rendezvous. The question was if she would make it as well.

Seb’s heart hammered in his ears as he neared their agreed meeting point. The naked photo on his phone was proof enough of the Vox’s efficacy over the airwaves, but controlling Chelsea remotely had proven far more taxing than he had expected. It made a kind of sense, he guessed: the Vox seemed to feed off of his own lust and desire, so it followed that controlling a subject would come more naturally in person than at a remove. Still, forcing his power through the scratchy phone speaker had left him feeling tired and woozy. A part of him worried that, even if Chelsea showed up, he would struggle to overcome her considerable mental barriers.

Fortunately, the part between his legs didn’t harbor the same doubts.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer, Seb rounded the corner. For a moment, his heart froze.

There she was. Staring through a shelf of scientific histories, her red lips parted vacantly, her unzipped jacket starting to slip from her slumped shoulders, her bare skin the color of cream. If he was worried about the Vox’s stamina, those fears were swiftly put to rest. It took all of Seb’s willpower to contain its eagerness, forcing him to announce his approach with a strained cough.

Chelsea blinked, the light returning to her eyes as she faced him. “The psychology section, huh?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “Cute.”

“It was the only one I knew I could find from memory,” Seb confessed. “I uh, actually spent a lot of time here my freshman year.”

“Reading about hypnosis?” Chelsea guessed.

Seb blushed and nodded.

“Why does that not surprise me?” she traced a delicate finger over the worn leather bindings. “Bet that kind of feels like a waste now.”

“I-if I knew then what I know now, I’m sure a lot about my first year would be different.”

“Now there’s a scary thought,” her lips quirked into an uneasy smile. “A freshman with mind control powers. The campus wouldn’t have lasted a week.”

“Y-yeah. Maybe,” Seb paused. They were stalling, and they both knew it. Over the phone, Seb had given Chelsea two sets of commands before hanging up, both intended to test the power and reach of his implanted “post-Vox triggers.” The first was for Chelsea to come straight to the Grad. The second…

Seb cleared his throat. “So…what was it like coming over here?”

Chelsea brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was, uh…weird. I could fight your instructions if I wanted to, but the uh, the compulsion was still there. And if I lost concentration I’d sort of just…drift off and start following your orders automatically.”

“Huh,” Seb clenched his fist, fighting the thrill of arousal racing through his body. “Interesting.”

His subject laughed nervously and shrugged. “I actually meant to get a little more dressed up than this, but I, uh, spaced out while checking my hair, and the next thing I knew, I was practically out the door. It was, um,” she bit her lip. “Yeah. ‘Interesting,’ I guess.”

Seb nodded, trying to keep a poker face as his mind raced. She tried to dress up for him? That wasn’t part of his commands—he had told her to just come to the Grad as quickly as possible. Which meant she had to actively fight his orders to doll herself up. Was she just trying to cover in case she ran into her friends on the way over?

Or…was she actually trying to entice him? To please him? Not because of the Vox but because…because…

Seb reconsidered his subject as she met his gaze. She was wearing an expression he had never seen on her before: her head bowed slightly, looking up with eyes at once shy and inviting, her cheeks flushed. She knew what was coming next. But she wasn’t trying to anticipate it—wasn’t trying to pull or push him into action. She was just waiting. Waiting for her Master’s orders.

Seb couldn’t resist any longer.

“Kneel,” he commanded.


Chelsea could feel Master’s gaze moving over her body after she drew attention to her clothes. Even if the story of her failing to change was true, it was still embarrassing that she felt needy enough to tell it. It was such an obvious maneuver—such a Sorority 101 ploy for attention. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t effective. Nor that she was entirely unhappy with the results.

She wondered if he could tell how hard her nipples were through her tank-top.

His eyes rose to meet hers, and Chelsea felt her heart flutter. It was coming—she could feel it. The word that would collapse her world into the palm of his hand; the word she herself had suggested as a trigger; the word that any Jaeger would feel an instinctual revulsion to obeying. And yet, she could already feel her body yearning for it: her ears burned in the silence, her legs shivered with anticipation, and her pulse thrummed with dreadful desire. Stripping in her own room was one thing—but to submit to Master here, in public, to abandon all of her cares and convictions just to please a man, all with the uttering of a single, sacrilegious word…

That wasn’t an experiment. That wasn’t seduction. That was surrender.

And she had never been more ready for it.

A shadow shifted behind her Master’s eyes. “Kneel,” he said, his voice flat and even.

Chelsea sucked in an involuntary gasp of surprise. One week ago, such a command would’ve elicited nothing but a bark of laughter and a scathing rebuttal. She had pitied the girls who debased themselves in front of men, who gave their bodies so willingly to the pleasure of others. It was like her mother had said: how could a woman ever hope to stand tall if she spent so much time on her knees?

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered now was Master’s cock.

Her eyes had drifted to his crotch without her even noticing, her mouth salivating in anticipation. He hadn’t even spoken using the Vox, and already Chelsea found it hard to think of anything else but the bulge between his legs. She tried to focus on her surroundings, to remind herself that at any moment, she might see the shadow of an interloper pass by the shelves, or catch the eyes of an unwitting spectator down the aisle. Yet even as she tried to ground herself in the fear of discovery, an undeniable urge kept tugging her at her thoughts.

She needed to…needed to…

Chelsea blinked. She was on her knees now, her tank-top pulled over her breasts. It was happening just like Master had described. She sensed him tense, his breath quickening as she steadied her head in line with the object of her fascination. She wasn’t in trance, but she still felt his power working inside her, softening her will and sweetening her submission. It would feel so good to give in, the voice whispered. Whether it was her own thoughts or the Vox was becoming difficult to say. But it spoke truth all same.

She could fight it all she wanted—she could dwell on the danger being found out, fret over Veronica, and worry about her mother. But why would she? She didn’t have to hold onto those heavy thoughts; she didn’t have to be afraid, or worried, or troubled.

She could just be obedient. And she loved to obey. Master had told her so himself.

Chelsea sighed and let her mind drift. Her eyelids drooped, but she could still perfectly make out her fingers fumbling with Master’s belt buckle, each brush against his erection causing her thighs to clench. She tried to control the rising desperation in her chest, tried to steady her shaking hands. Even if her thoughts were becoming hazy, even if her blood ran hot with need, she had to focus on her orders.

She had to suck Master’s cock.

“This is insane,” she heard Master whisper as she unzipped his jeans. She could only manage a quiet murmur in response: if she opened her mouth now, she would drip all over herself.

It was so close now, just a thin layer of fabric separating her from the key to her release. All she needed to do was pull Master’s boxers down and…

Cock. Chelsea’s mouth fell open involuntarily, a thin line of drool running from her lips onto her leggings. It was so prominent, so commanding, so…captivating. Master shifted his legs, causing the perfect pink tip to sway, Chelsea’s eyes tracking it automatically.

“Is this real?” Master whispered. “Y-you’re not just messing with me, right?” Chelsea could barely decipher what he was saying, but his words did push her out of her temporary paralysis. As arousing as it was, staring wasn’t sucking. And Master had been very clear about what he wanted.

She leaned forward, wrapping her lips tight around his rigid member. Chelsea had only given head once in her life before, and a part of her was nervous she was ill-equipped for Master’s pleasure. But as she slid her tongue around the shaft and pushed him deeper inside, she realized the two experiences were nothing alike. Before, she was pantomiming a transaction—now, she was fulfilling a purpose.

An intoxicating, entrancing, irresistible purpose.

“W-wait, stop,” Master suddenly gasped, his hand gripping her shoulder.

Chelsea slowed, then stopped, reluctantly sliding the cock free. She licked her lips, brow furrowing as a strange, muddled emptiness spread through her. It felt disorienting, like a dream disturbed; like a song interrupted before its final chorus. “What’s wrong?” she managed to ask. “Am I not doing it right?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Master quickly assured her. “I just, um, need to check: how are you feeling?”

Chelsea tilted her head. That’s why he had stopped her? To ask how she was feeling? A tinge of guilt pricked her stomach. Maybe she really was doing something wrong, and Master was trying to let her down gently.

Wait…no.

Chelsea sat back and blinked the heaviness from her eyes, pushing against Master’s power until she could squeeze her thoughts free. Then she remembered: the whole pretext of this was that the two of them were experimenting with the Vox. As far as Master knew, that’s all this was: a scientific trial. It made sense, then, that he would stop her before things went too far, that he would be more concerned with her state of mind than her blowjob technique.

Even if it kind of infuriated her.

“Um…good, I guess,” she said, still fighting the urge to dive back into her duties. “I mean…it’s like it was before. I think. But uh…” she looked away, hoping to formulate a more coherent answer. But as her mind emerged from the Vox’s depths, all that greeted her was the cold, disappointing reality she had so briefly managed to forget.

Master sighed and stepped back. “M-maybe we should stop for now,” he muttered. “I think we’ve uh, proven the point.” He was right, of course—that was the logical thing to do. Everything beyond this point was uncharted territory for the both of them—it was best to just play it safe, to inch their way forward bit by bit. In a way, she should be thankful that Master was this concerned about her well-being.

But she didn’t feel thankful. She felt cheated.

And, looking at Master again, she guessed he felt the same way.

Chelsea let out a shaky breath, her mind tingling as the Vox’s programming started to seep in again. She welcomed it this time, allowing its inspiration to guide her wavering thoughts—to help her stop thinking like Chelsea Jaeger, and start thinking like a good girl. Right now, that was all she wanted to be.

Fuck logic. She needed to make Master cum.

Chelsea bent down on all fours, crawling beneath his cock and gazing up with what she hoped was a tempting smile. “Are you sure that’s what you want…Master?” she asked, sticking her tongue out so it just barely grazed his quivering flesh.

Master’s breath caught in his throat. “This is insane,” he whispered again. Chelsea closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his tip, giving it a gentle, teasing kiss. She knew there was a side of Master that wanted to take her, that wanted to turn her into the mindless whore of her dreams. She had caught a glimpse of it before—now she just needed to bring that Master out again, to coax the dangerous gleam back into his eyes, to ignite the flame that would burn away her cares and transform her into a being of pure, joyous servitude.

Master’s breathing slowed. Chelsea looked up, nuzzling her cheek against his cock. Eager and ready for him to unleash the voice she so desperately craved.

Then the floor beside her vibrated. And Chelsea’s entire world froze over.

Master’s eyes flicked to her coat lying on the ground. Before he could form the question, Chelsea leapt to retrieve her phone from her pocket, hands fumbling as she turned the device towards her. The shining screen seemed to suck the light from the surrounding air, forcing her to stare at the name flashing before her:

“Elise Jaeger.” It was her mother.

Chelsea’s hands gripped the sides of the phone, as though by sheer force they could push the invader away, could hold back the inevitable reckoning. But she knew it was no use. Her fate was sealed the moment she showed any signs of weakness. That’s the way it was in her world.

Tears pricked Chelsea’s eyes. She had gotten so close. So nearly free from these endless trials. But her name always caught up with her, every time. Now she had to speak to her mother with the taste of Master still fresh on her tongue. Chelsea had never felt so low. So pitiful. So…

“Chelsea.”

Chelsea tensed, as though an electric shock had pricked her ears.

It couldn’t be.

“Turn around and face me.”

Chelsea did as she was told, her movements rigid and stiff. Conflicting emotions and impulses waged war inside of her, the violence only heightened by the sight of her Master striding towards her, his face alight with purpose, his hard cock nodding with every step.

“I…I…” she tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.

Give me the phone,” her Master commanded.

Chelsea hesitated as the Vox crashed through her. “C-can’t…” she stammered. “It…it…”

“It doesn’t concern you,” he intoned, his mesmerizing eyes fixed on hers. “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

He extended his open palm. Chelsea shivered, her petrified grip loosening, her arm extending on its own to heed its Master’s call. “B-but…I…need to…”

Master reached his other hand around and clasped the nape of her neck. She gasped, her mouth falling open as warmth flowed from his fingers, easing her body and brain. “You don’t need to do anything but listen and obey, remember?” he gently asked.

“Y-yessssss…” Chelsea sighed, almost losing her grip on her phone as the confession sent a wave of relaxation through her. She did remember. She remembered it all. Listening and obeying. Easy and natural.

“Good girl. That’s right. It feels so good to follow my words, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh,” Chelsea said, swaying on her feet as the Vox swam into her.

“It feels so good to obey your Master. Because that’s what good girls do, isn’t it? They do as they’re told.”

Chelsea gave a droopy nod of agreement, letting the Vox swirl her thoughts into an unrecognizable blur, a soft, formless putty for Master to form into new, more perfect truths. It felt so good to just let him shape her, to be so wet and warm and weak in his hands.

And you know what that makes you, right?” Master smiled. “If I am your Master and you do what I tell you, then that must make you my…”

“Sl….slaaa…..” Chelsea shut her eyes and lips tight, some primal repulsion managing to briefly halt the Vox’s current. Even if she had a Master, and even if she loved to obey him, that didn’t mean she was his…she couldn’t be a…

It’s okay,” Master cooed, gently massaging the back of her head. “You can do this.”

Chelsea moaned with pleasure, allowing her body to lean against his, her cheek resting on his chest, the heat of his breath gracing her ear and sinking into her mind. The vibrating phone in her hand became dim and unimportant, as trivial as the thoughts trickling from her brain and leaking between her thighs.

“I know it’s so hard for you to think,” he whispered.

It was. So hard to think.

“I know you would just rather listen and obey like a good girl.

Obey. Good girl.

“But I need you to try and puzzle this out with me. You will, won’t you?”

Chelsea couldn’t even find the strength to nod. She pressed closer to her Master’s voice, hanging on his every word. Letting his truths pour into her empty head.

“I am you Master. You know this is true.”

“Hn-ah!” Chelsea let out a startled gasp as Master’s free hand drifted up her stomach and squeezed her naked breast. It felt like her body was melting into his grasp, conforming to his will just like her mind was, eager and obedient.

“It’s also true that you love to obey and please me. You know it feels so good and so right to listen to my words and follow my commands. In fact, your devotion is so perfect, that your subconscious will heed my orders even when your conscious mind resists.”

The tips of his fingers tweaked her nipple, and Chelsea’s entire body shuddered with delight, shaking the ability to speak from her lips.

“Deep down, you know what your purpose is: to serve and submit to your Master.”

The sensation was almost enough to make her cum right there, but a part of her remembered that good girls waited for their Master’s permission, even as her pussy twitched with need.

“And what do we call a good girl who submits to her Master? Who wishes only to serve and please the man who owns her? We call her a…”

“Nnn…” Chelsea forced her sluggish tongue against the roof of her mouth. Her body was a quivering mess of arousal and aching emptiness, but still she had to answer. She had to obey her Master.

A….”

“Sl…sssslaaaave,” she slurred, feeling the last of her resistance drip out of her and into her already drenched panties.

“Good girl. So if I am your Master, than you are my…”

“Sllllaave.” It came so much easier this time. As easy as breathing. But then, of course it would. It was the truth.

He was her Master. And she was his Slave.

“Hand over your phone,” Master commanded.

Slave obeyed without hesitation, lifting her limp grip and dropping the phone in Master’s waiting palm. “Good girl,” he murmured, tenderly tilting her gaze to meet his and stroking her cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to worry about that now, do we?”

Worry about what? Slave vaguely remembered something about a call but…she shook her head. If Master said not to worry, than she wasn’t going to think about it. Not thinking was what she liked best.

“That’s right. Now. We were interrupted from something very important. Do you remember what it was?”

Slave licked her lips and smiled. Of course she did. Remembering that was easy.

“Kneel.” Master ordered.

“Yes, Master,” Slave answered, sinking to her knees and slipping Master’s cock between her lips in one fluid motion. He let out a small gasp of surprise. Slave looked up at him with adoration and pride before pushing his girth deeper inside. She bobbed her head up and down, taking more and more of his rigid member each time. His warmth and strength filled her so perfectly, like her body was made for it. Maybe it was. Slave moaned with pleasure at the thought, pressing her face against his crotch and breathing in his scent, trying to fill every part she could with her Master’s taste.

“Good g-girl,” Master shivered as Slave slid his cock free, one hand delicately teasing his balls as the other held the shaft in place, allowing her to run her tongue up and down it. He was getting close—she could see it in the gleam of his eyes and feel it in the shivering against her fingers.

“You want to make your Master cum, don’t you?

“Mmmmm,” Slave moaned with assent.

“That’s a good S-slaaave,” Master grunted as Slave took him back inside. She moved her lips fervently up and down his cock, barely able to contain her excitement. She wanted it so badly now. To feel Master cum inside her. To know that she was obeying like a good Slave should.

“F-focus on the sensations in your body,” her Master said, his voice rising slightly. “Focus on the arousal you feel. Building and building.”

Slave’s body trembled as the pleasure and excitement inside of her flourished, every inch of her blossoming with desire.

Th-the m-more you please me, the more pleasure you feel. A-and the deeper you t-take my cock, the deeper into my power and pleasure you g-go.”

Without hesitation, Slave pushed Master as far inside of her as he would go, almost choking as an explosive wave of bliss flooded her senses. She pulled back before diving onto his cock with renewed fervor, slobbering and drooling with desperation, completely lost to the irresistible sensations controlling her.

“A-and you know that when you make your M-Master cum, you’ll cum too. Harder than you e-ever have before.”

Cum. She needed to cum. Needed Master’s cum. Needed to be a good Slave. Needed to suck. Needed to cum. Needed cum.

Master’s hips twitched. Slave wrapped her lips as tightly around him as she could, her body singing with triumph.

Master let out a strained cry of pleasure as his cock spasmed, his cum splashing inside Slave, sending cascades of pleasure reverberating through her. She swallowed deeply, allowing them to fill her needy body, her muscles tightening as the waves grew higher and higher, until at last they broke and…

Slave shook as she came, every inch of her crying in a chorus of heavenly annihilation. Time lost all meaning as she fell into ecstasy, a helpless puppet bouncing on strings of mind-melting pleasure.

Good girl. Good Slave. Made Master cum. Cum cum cum cum cum.

“G-good girl,” Master said as he gently pulled free from her open mouth.

Slave’s heavy head slumped forward, small traces of cum dribbling from her open mouth, her mind still drifting on gentle currents of post-coital bliss. She sensed him hesitating above her before she felt his hand rest gently on her head, eliciting a small, satisfied sigh from her lips.

“You’ve done very well tonight,” he said. “You’ve made your Master very happy.

Slave glowed with pride and gratification. But something was off: even as he praised her, Master seemed concerned. Distracted.

“I…I need you to go back to being Chelsea Jaeger now,” he said.

Slave blinked. Chelsea…Jaeger? Why…would he…want…?

“Feel yourself rising out of trance,” Master continued, his voice suddenly sounding strange and far away. “Follow my voice up, up, up, energy returning and mind clearing more and more.”

Slave blinked rapidly, surprised at the speed of her own thoughts as they chased his words higher and higher. Her muscles stirred, the heaviness that had previously filled them gradually dissolving.

“That’s right. And when I snap my fingers, you’ll fully awaken into your everyday self, becoming Chelsea Jaeger again.”

Master snapped his fingers. The sound clicked through air, dissipating the last traces of the Vox. Leaving Chelsea’s mind clear and uninhibited.

And deeply, deeply confused.

“So…uh…” Master smiled nervously as he pulled his pants back up. “You okay?”

Chelsea wiped a trace of cum from under her lips, a disorienting, dreamy feeling lingering in the back of her mind. “Um. I…think so,” she said, taking a full beat to realize her tits were still hanging out. She pulled her tank-top back down, grateful that none of Master’s…ejaculate, had gotten on it.

“If that was…um…if I went too far, I’m so…so sorry…I…”

“Don’t apologize,” Chelsea said, standing and leaning against the shelf for support. His downcast eyes and abashed words annoyed her. She didn’t want him to say sorry. She wanted…she wanted…

“Sorry,” Master said. “Er, I mean…uh…” he shut his mouth, then reached over to a nearby push-cart and picked up her phone. “Here.”

Chelsea accepted the device and powered it on. The screen lit up: three missed calls from her mother, and one voicemail. She tensed, anticipating the terror such a sight would normally summon, ready for the icy spike to jab into her veins and deaden her pulse with dread.

But instead… her shoulders slumped as a deep sigh descended through her body. Even as she felt some traces of the ordinary fear, the overwhelming emotion clinging to her was…

Regret.

Why, oh why, had Master woken Slave up?

Chelsea turned to Master, catching him casting a nervous glance around the corner. “Sorry, uh,” he swallowed. “If you need a sec, I can just…go for n-now and we can…”

Before she knew what was happening, Chelsea’s hand grabbed his, halting him in his tracks. “Wait,” she said. “Can we just…talk? No Vox, no experiments, just…” her voice trembled. “Just you and me? For a moment?”

Master stiffened, a million thoughts appearing to flash behind his gaze. But then he exhaled, and his expression softened, his deep brown eyes meeting hers.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s talk.”


Moonlight filtered in through the arched windows as Seb and Chelsea wandered the Grad’s third floor. He had lost track of time, and now apparently the library had closed while they were still in it. All the main lights had shut off, leaving the silver, celestial rays the only source of illumination through the empty aisles.

Despite agreeing to talk, the pair hadn’t said anything to each other since their experiment. No, that wasn’t the right word, Seb corrected himself. Even if he had proposed their encounter as some kind of scientific trial, that was never really the truth. He had only called Chelsea because the Vox needed an outlet. And she had accepted because…

Maybe she did too.

After their first test of the Vox, Seb had felt like he had gotten away with something awful—like he had tricked Chelsea into indulging his base, wicked desires. Even if she was the one who approached him, even if she had seemingly been prepared for him to take control of her, Seb couldn’t shake the sense that he was taking advantage of her. Somehow.

But now…Seb snuck a covert glance at her as she drifted past the glass, her expression pensive and beautiful. As strange as it was to believe, Seb had to consider that maybe she was as intrigued and aroused by the Vox as he was. It certainly seemed like she had been enjoying herself. Though, of course, that might just be his power warping her mind to be in line with his desires. Maybe she was secretly disgusted with him, but he had unwittingly locked that part of her brain away. Maybe she was secretly a prisoner in her own subconscious, screaming for release while the Vox controlled her body like some invisible puppeteer.

Maybe he should just ask her. That seemed preferable to driving himself insane.

“Hey,” Seb finally said, stepping beside her. “Can I ask you something?”

Chelsea blinked. “You just hypnotized me into sucking you off, and now you’re nervous about asking me a question?”

“W-well, it’s actually about that. Kinda.” Seb rubbed the back of his neck. “When that’s…happening, I mean, when I’m using the Vox on you…what does that feel like?”

Chelsea exhaled, her eyes searching for answers in the window pane. “It feels…really, really good,” she answered.

Seb let out an involuntary laugh. “Yeah, I uh, kind of guessed that much,” he said. Chelsea shot him a glare, only to chuckle and then break out into a fit of giggles. Soon the both of them were laughing, the tension between them rapidly breaking down.

A creak somewhere in the library caused them both to go still. They waited, listening, then breathed a unified sigh of relief when no more sounds followed.

“But actually,” Seb continued, collecting himself. “I get that the Vox can make you feel, y’know, pleasure. What I’m wondering is what the whole, uh, ‘experience’ is like. If that makes sense.”

Chelsea nodded thoughtfully. “It’s…a little hard to describe. When you’re using the Vox, everything else around me just kinda…stops mattering. Like, normally I’ve got a million different thoughts buzzing around inside my head, but the moment you start using the Vox, everything gets all…warm and fuzzy in there, to the point where it takes basically all of my concentration to just follow your voice. But it’s not, like, a struggle, y’know? It’s not like you’re forcing me to stop thinking or shoving ideas into me. It’s more like…you’re guiding me into a different perspective, where everything is simple, and easy, and fun. And faced with the choice between that and the normal mess my head is in, well…I guess it’s no wonder why I can’t resist for long.”

“But you do see it as a choice,” Seb emphasized.

Chelsea’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. Maybe. I mean, honestly, who can say, right? We’re dealing with supernatural mind control powers here—maybe I’m just framing it as a choice to make it easier to give in. Maybe this was all going to happen the moment you put me under, no matter what either of us did.”

Seb grimaced. “I guess we can’t completely rule that out, can we?”

Chelsea frowned, then crossed her arms. “Y’know, I just can’t figure out your deal. You discover you have these incredible abilities, the kind that most people can only dream of, only to spend the entire week hiding and pretending that nothing’s changed. And then, after you hypnotize an objectively hot blonde into giving you a blow-job—something we both know we both enjoyed—you spend the whole evening nervously looking at the exit signs. What do you even want from all of this? Because all the back-and-forth is driving me crazy.”

Seb blanched, his mind reeling. “I…I…” He sat down on the floor and rested his head in his hands, suddenly feeling very tired. “I’m not sure,” he finally sighed, half expecting Chelsea to storm out.

But instead, she knelt down beside him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know what you mean. This has been kind of a confusing experience.”

Despite himself, Seb smiled. “You can say that again.”

Chelsea returned the smile, and then the two of them fell quiet, looking up though the darkened glass at the starlit skies above.

Seb cleared his throat. “To be honest, you’re right: in some ways the Vox is a dream come true. Hypnosis and mind control have been part of my fantasies for as long as I can remember. But they also were…” he grit his teeth. “Parts of me I had to keep a tight lid on. I learned that the day I brought a cardboard ‘mesmer ray’ into class for show and tell. And when my parents discovered Hypnohub in their browser history well…” he shuddered as a wave of nausea passed though him. “Let’s just say they weren’t the most understanding.”

The silence that followed was the sharpest Seb had ever heard. He dug his nails into his hands, as though preparing himself for Chelsea’s cutting words.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I get that,” she said. “Trust me, when it comes to dealing with parental backlash, I know all too well where you’re coming from. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore, right? You have the gift you’ve always wanted. You’re literally living the dream.”

“I-it’s not that simple,” Seb shook his head. “The Vox is…it scares me.”

Chelsea squinted, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it…using it brings out a side of me that I’ve never experienced before. A side that I’m not sure I like.” he explained. “Like, for example, a little while ago, when you got that call on your phone? The ‘me’ I grew up with would’ve just backed off and waited for you handle it, even if it meant ending the, um, the experiment early. But tonight…it was like the Vox had convinced me that I wasn’t looking at Chelsea Jaeger. I was looking at a subject who had lost her way; a slave who was hurting because she wasn’t serving her Master; a pet who needed to be reminded of her place. I know that sounds horrible right now but, in the moment I…I honestly believed it.”

Seb cringed, but to his surprise, Chelsea didn’t recoil in disgust. Instead, she just sighed. “It’s not horrible,” she said. “I mean, like you said, the ‘me’ I used to know might’ve thought it was gross, but now…” her voice trailed off, leaving Seb to listen to his own blood roaring in his ears.

“Now, what?” he finally prompted. “What do you want from all of this?”

She smiled ruefully. “Like I said, it’s confusing. But I’ve spent a long time thinking about it and…”

Even as she hesitated, the Vox howled with victory inside of Seb. He knew what was coming. He just couldn’t believe it.

Chelsea blushed and turned away. “I think I want to be your slave,” she confessed.

Seb’s cock stiffened immediately, along with the rest of his body. “You mean, like…you want to keep meeting and…um…playing with the Vox?” His jaw clenched so hard he was afraid it might break.

Chelsea fidgeted nervously. “In an ideal world, we could get away with something like that. But that’s not the one I live in. My world is full of prying eyes and people who expect me to be the cold, controlling bitch they’ve all heard about. I’m pretty sure my roommates already suspect something is going on between you and me. If we continue like this, well…it’s only a matter of time before things get really ugly.”

“B-but we don’t know for sure,” Seb countered, trying to stifle the Vox’s giddiness. “We could, y’know, um…take a break and, uh, see how things work out.”

“‘Take a break?’” Chelsea repeated incredulously.

“Yeah, you know. Like we did last time.”

“And how did that work out? Given that you broke your own oath of silence to call me, I’m guessing your week was just as hellish as mine. Do you really want to go through that again for a month? Two months?”

Seb grit his teeth. She was right. The only reason they were having this conversation, after all, was because Seb couldn’t keep the Vox’s urges down for more than a few days. But that still didn’t mean…he couldn’t… “And how would becoming my, my slave solve any of that?” Seb asked. “Isn’t getting found out what you’re worried about?”

“Well…” Chelsea hesitated. “For starters, if we start seeing each other, uh, ‘officially’, that’ll be good enough cover for some of my friends and sisters to stop asking questions. And it’ll be a little less scandalous when my family finds out.”

“But there will still be a scandal,” Seb pointed out. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“By the time that happens, hopefully all I’ll want…all I’ll care about…” she looked up at him demurely. “Is to please you, Master.”

Seb shut his eyes, wincing as though he had been pierced. Despite the Vox’s influence on her, that was still definitely Chelsea Jaeger speaking to him. Only she would call him ‘Master’ while trying so nakedly to influence him. “So you’re saying you want me to…like…‘officially’ date you, all while using the Vox in secret so that when the hammer does come down, you’ll be too brainwashed to care?”

Chelsea frowned. “I mean…it sounds a little crude when you put it that way but…yes, I guess.”

Seb tried to slow his breathing, even as his heart raced. “How could you volunteer for something like that? You really want to just give up your freedom so easily?”

“‘Freedom?’” Chelsea echoed, her eyes narrowing. “Is that what you think I’d be losing?”

“Well, yeah,” Seb said, increasingly flustered. “I mean, you’re not talking about just, like, a few triggers here or there. You’re asking me to completely reshape your brain. With that level of control…you’d basically be letting me think for you. None of your decisions would truly be yours anymore.”

“Not necessarily,” Chelsea countered. “I mean, let me clear: I’m not asking you to turn me into some kind of mindless drone. The way I’d see it, I’d still have thoughts and desires—they would just revolve around being the best slave possible.”

“And you don’t still see that as a violation of your free will?” Seb asked. “How could you call them your own desires if I can always change them on a whim?”

Chelsea huffed, then stood, agitated. “Let me ask you something: what are you majoring in?”

“Huh?” Seb thought for a second he misheard, but her determined gaze demanded an answer. “Uh, it’s not official yet but I’m, uh, gonna study law.”

“And is that what your dream is, to become a lawyer? If you could do anything with your life, is that what you would choose?”

“W-well,” Seb’s face burned hot. “I mean, i-it’s not, like my ideal job, but if I wanna make a living I—”

“But nothing,” Chelsea cut him off. “The point is that for all your talk of freedom, the direction of your life is just as much dictated by others as it is yourself. And that’s true for all of us,” she paused, her voice becoming quiet. “Especially me.”

Seb rubbed his temples, trying to untangle his thoughts. “I get that none of us have perfect control over everything. But compromising on your career choice is completely different than signing your body and mind away to someone else.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Chelsea mused sadly. “The way I see it, we’re born trapped by systems and people we don’t choose. Right now, I have a choice to change that—to give myself freely to somebody who I know will make me happy.”

Seb looked away, the Vox practically spilling from between his grit teeth. “How…how could you know that…you won’t regret it?”

“I don’t!” Chelsea exclaimed, lowering herself beside him. “Nobody can ever know for sure if they’ll be happy forever. But this past week, the Vox has made me feel better and more at peace with myself than anything else in my life. How could you ask me to give that up?”

“Y…you…” A thousand fantasies flashed before Seb’s eyes, scenes of Slave worshipping him day in and out, her body and mind mere extensions of his will, satisfying his every need and desire.

“I know I’m asking you to take on a lot of responsibility,” Chelsea pleaded, leaning so close he could feel her desperate breath. “But I’m willing to give you everything in return. All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll be yours. Please, Master. Take me.”

Could it be so simple? Could everything he want be his? How could even make such a choice? How could he take a titan of the campus like Chelsea and transform her into his mewling, subservient slut?

How would he ever look at Sophia again?

“I-I can’t!” Seb leapt to his feet and fled.

“Wait!” Chelsea called. But Seb couldn’t stop. He had to get away. If he stayed any longer, if he even glanced at Chelsea one more time, he wouldn’t be able to contain it. He had to escape. Before he did something they would both regret.

Chelsea’s protestations rang through the aisles, but Seb could barely hear them over the pounding of his pulse. He just kept running, deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Until at last he was alone.


Chelsea stared out the window at the darkened campus, her eyes fixed on the stone path Master had just run down as he fled the Grad.

He hadn’t even looked back.

She lifted her phone, ready for her mother’s message to play. She was already feeling more alone than she ever had, and her tears were already dry against her cheeks: what was one more kick while she was down?

This was how it always ended. This was how her mother always won.

Chelsea stiffened as Elise Jaeger’s icy voice crackled against her ear. “I assume you’re either buried in your studies or dead. Otherwise I cannot fathom why you would not answer my calls. I’ve seen your latest marks, and…well, I don’t think I need to remind you of my expectations. So instead I will just say this: I have already cleared my schedule for the homecoming visit next month, and it would be too much of a headache to cancel it now. However, if you do not remedy things before then, it will be a very short and unpleasant trip indeed. You are a Jaeger; you can do better than this. No need to call me back.”

The message ended, and Chelsea lowered the phone, her breath slow and even. The contents of her mother’s tirade weren’t surprising; what was unexpected, however, was that they would be a source of inspiration. And a very odd one at that.

Chelsea stared at her reflection in the glass, the remorse inside her hardening into resolve. Elise was wrong about a lot of things. But she was right about one: Chelsea could do better. She was a Jaeger.

And Jaegers always got what they wanted.

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