Jenny’s eyes bounced around the corners of her lightless room. Sleep had not come to her willingly, and so she had laid awake for hours. By her reckoning, Jenny hadn’t slept the whole godforsaken night. She didn’t even know if it was still night or not, or how long she’d been awake. It had gotten to the point where she’d even put her damn jumpsuit back on to try and feel more comfortable, thinking it was the heat that was getting to her. The cool interior of the jumpsuit calmed her only a little. It didn’t seem to help with the sleeplessness.

The thought of what the Mistresses were planning to do with her chilled Jenny in her totality.

Laying on her back, spread eagle to try and keep her body from fidgeting, Jenny considered her options. In the dark, she tried to foretell her own future.

The first option she could think of is that she’d be summoned to their tea room, be told she was being an ungrateful brat, and be put back to work under indenture while someone else on the staff became their receptionist. It was the most likely outcome in her mind. The fact that she’d even brought it up may have given them enough reason to keep her where she was.

The second thing that entered her mind was that they’d be so upset by her making this petulant demand of them that they’d kick her to the curb, bar her from ever entering the mansion or seeing Precious ever again. But … her Majesty did tell her that no one was going to throw her away. Jenny huffed as her cynicism bolstered itself. Of course she would say something like that, she was taking pity on her. The worst lies are the ones people speak when they think they’re the truth, or the ones said to make someone else feel better without any intent to change. People don’t change. Situations do.

Option three. This whole time she’d been playing right into their plan to turn her into one of them. The playthings. A fearful grimace crossed Jenny’s face. She’d been so subtly brainwashed by this crazy place that she’d thought it was her own stupid idea to ask to be treated like their property. “Don’t treat me like a person?” What the hell was she thinking?! The only good thing that could come from all this was maybe she’d get to stay in the mansion for a bit longer.

Jenny sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and hunched over in thought. The mansion. Why was she so fixated on this stupid giant house? Precious was here, obviously. She’d wanted to come back, to pay her dues, to make amends. But that wasn’t everything now, was it? Something else had started gnawing at her. And likely not because of whatever hypnotic tricks her terrified brain thought it was being affected by. Inevitably, this mansion was probably the best place she could have ended up.

She really should have seen what kind of path she was on, but had always been too preoccupied with just making it through each day to truly notice. Even as far back as high school. She could admit she had always been a bad kid. Hell, she was probably still a bad adult. Not fitting in socially or academically hadn’t been so much a problem for her. Being estranged from her parents had prepared her for that, more or less. She couldn’t say her mother was abusive. They just stayed out of each other’s lives, that was all. She knew Jenny could handle herself. Sure, she got into fights but Jenny always took responsibility, even when the other kid started it. Sure, she skipped classes but she always did her homework. Sure, she never graduated but at least she’d had a job for two years already. By that time, she’d be moving out to the city within the year.

Sure, she’d never had any real friends.

But at least she found Nicole eventually.

Jenny groaned as she looked back up to the ceiling. Nicole or Precious or the mansion. Why did her thoughts always come full circle back to here? Back to this giant castle, back to her old job, back to the people who terrified her into running so far across the world that she thought she’d never see them again, only to slam face-first into the actualised form of her first genuine friend, ruin her life, and not long after slam into the consequences of her actions.

Why? Why couldn’t she get away from this place? Why did she willingly trap herself here after a lifetime of running and falling, running and falling, over and over again? And … why didn’t she seem to mind all that much?

She closed her eyes. She’d been confronting a lot of uncomfortable truths since she got here. About herself. About Nicole. About Jasmine and Diana. Not least of all her own perceptions. The way she thought about the world was just a way to protect her own ego, she got that intellectually. Understood it on some level. But there’s a huge difference between understanding something and having the strength to face it, to truly accept it.

The mansion felt like home.

Jenny fell back onto the bed again, an emotionless sigh escaping her. She’d been institutionalised. The first time she’d ever felt genuinely accepted, found actual human connections, was working as a domestic servant to a pair of sadistic billionaires who bought people willing to sell themselves into sexual slavery, to give up their lives and be turned into something they’re not. What an insane thought. Jenny could still survive out there in the world. She could make something of herself. She’d been planning to become a translator anyway, maybe she could make a career out of doing that. She could go to college, that was something she could do. Maybe then she could actually be slightly closer to normal for once.

Then again, once she was done with school and looking for work, how the hell was she going to pay off her college loans?

Jenny heard footsteps before her door opened. She could tell who it was from the silhouette before the light was flicked on. It was Precious, dressed so prettily in mountains of lace and petticoats, her eyes just barely visible beneath the fringe of her black wig. Her Mistresses had given her such pretty blue eyes today. It took a moment for her to realise, but Precious was also holding a boxy case in her hands.

‘Hello Jenny.’

‘Hello Precious.’

‘Mistress and her Majesty would like to see you now.’

Jenny breathed in slowly, and breathed out. This was it. She was about to face her fate.

As she stood up and moved towards Precious, the doll shook her head.

‘The Mistresses would like for you to be dressed in a more presentable manner. Allow me to help you.’

Jenny felt mild surprise lift her chest as Precious closed the door behind her and began unzipping her jumpsuit. The smooth material slid off her easily, falling to the floor in a heap. Precious held Jenny’s hand as she stepped out of it, and was led back to the bare clothes rack in her sparse room.

The dress Diana had given her when she’d summoned her for tea the second time. Sleek and black satin, Jenny had no idea how much something like that would have cost if she’d tried to buy it for herself. Knowing the Mistresses and how well it fit, she probably couldn’t have bought it anywhere, so it’d have to have been custom made. Yet another thing Jenny felt like she didn’t deserve. Didn’t earn.

Precious helped Jenny into the dress, the zipper effortlessly sliding up Jenny’s back before Precious slipped the heels onto Jenny’s feet. As Precious finished, she gently guided her to the bed, placing the case down and opening it up. It was full of makeup.

Jenny tried to interrupt, ‘P-Precious, I don’t think that’s necessary.’

Precious’ eyes fixed on Jenny, no expression evident in her stare.

‘Mistress and her Majesty insisted you be made presentable. Please hold still, Jenny.’

Jenny tried to strangle her protests as Precious gently tilted Jenny’s face, finding the best light in the room to work with. Jenny tried to soothe herself as the doll worked. Concealer, foundation, blush. Eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner. Cherry red lipstick. Powdered makeup sealer. As all these things were applied with care and precision, Jenny realised that there wasn’t a single mirror in Precious’ makeup set or in her room. And with Precious doing her makeup, she had no idea what she’d end up looking like.

The Mistresses weren’t even giving her a chance to find herself unrecognisable.

A few minutes later, Precious was done. Her hands went around Jenny’s neck, and she felt something click into place. She looked down, the fine gold chain and pearl pendant secured around her neck.

Jenny looked at the doll, their eyes level. A silence hung in the air.

‘Do you want to speak to her?’ Precious asked.

Jenny looked down at the pendant, the pearl resting in her open palm. Jenny shook her head and said, smiling, ‘I am speaking to her.’

She could have imagined it, but for a moment Jenny swore she saw the smallest hint of a smile on Precious’ placid face.

The doll guided Jenny to her feet and, holding her hand, led her away from her room.

The mansion was oddly quiet as the pair walked through it. No maids. No butlers. No servants. Not even any other playthings. It felt like the already sparse sound of the world had been removed, leaving only a hazy glow from the light of the outside world.

From the glances Jenny stole in the windows they passed, she could see the imposing barrier pines that surrounded the mansion in imposing eigengrau, the world in a haze of cold amethyst light.

It must be evening, Jenny supposed, it wouldn’t be purple otherwise. She’d witnessed enough sunrises and sunsets to know the difference. But still, part of her could not be sure. An unreality was seeping into her, the truth of the world she thought she knew was long since revealed to be remarkably fragile. Like wood from a tree, grown strong to protect itself, but petrified and stagnated over time, only to be shattered by the first true blow that struck it.

A familiar door encroached upon them with each step. Jenny couldn’t tell if her pulse was quickening or slowing. An unassuming door, much like all the rest in the mansion, but knowing what was behind it made it all the more imposing.

Precious stood to the side, nothing standing between Jenny and walking into the tea room. Jenny took a breath and turned her head to the doll.

‘Before I go in I,’ she hesitated only for a moment, ‘I just wanted to thank you. For wanting me back. Thank you for not letting me go.’

‘You are welcome, Jenny,’ Precious responded simply, her voice the same gentle chipper tone it always had.

Nodding as she forced her attention back to the door, Jenny took a deep, deep breath. This was it. For real this time.

She stepped forward and pushed open the door.

As Jenny walked into the room, she could feel her posture change as she laid eyes on Diana and Jasmine. The two Mistresses had been waiting patiently for her it seemed, the leather briefcase once again by Jasmine’s side. There was no tea or refreshments. They clearly expected this to be a short meeting.

‘Sit, Jenny,’ Jasmine instructed.

Jenny complied.

She couldn’t feel her heartbeat at all. It was as if the only thing keeping her conscious was the animal panic of her nervous system. She waited for them to speak.

She waited.

And she waited.

And waited.

Neither her Majesty or her Mistress spoke a word. They just looked at her with sharp eyes and impassive expressions. Jenny swallowed. She tentatively opened her mouth to speak, but Diana suddenly interrupted her.

‘My wife and I have discussed your … surprising request in great detail. We have tried to consider every aspect of it, and we have come to a decision of what to do with you.’

This was it. Despite the black satin and gold jewellery, Jenny felt like she was on death row. She held her nerve in a white-knuckle grip, trying desperately to keep it in check.

‘While it is understandable that you believe an ordeal like what you suggested may be a healing experience for you,’ Jasmine continued, ‘The risk that it could further traumatise you is simply too great. Even if we were to hold ourselves back in that instance, it would be going against your wishes and nullifying the point of the exercise.’

Jenny felt her heart again, only to feel it sink.

Diana spoke again, ‘But since you’ve brought this to our attention and, considering some other factors with our playthings, we will be bringing a licensed therapist on board with our private medical staff to help you through the challenges with your mental health.’

‘Your attendance with said therapist will be mandated in your amended contract,’ Jasmine added, ‘Regardless if you are willing to take up the role as our new receptionist or continue your indenture, it doesn’t matter. We cannot in good conscience do what you have asked of us. We are better than that now, and this is how we can prove it to ourselves. And to you.’

Jenny was speechless. Her hands had fallen to her sides, stuck clenched into fists as her short nails bit into her palms. A deep, miserable fury rose within her. How fucking dare they?! How dare they say they were better than this?! She knew this would happen, but even still it felt like all her dignity was being taken from her. How they’d dolled her up with their clothes, and their makeup, using their plaything to do it, all to reject her out of hand, saying it was for her own good!

Jenny felt small, and angry, and hopeless. Bitter bile rose in the back of Jenny’s throat as she tried to keep it pressed down inside her. She heard the click of a brass latch as the suitcase which held the Mistress’ contracts was opened, and another manilla folder extracted from it. Jasmine closed the briefcase, set the folder on the table in front of Jenny, and continued to speak.

‘You will need to read and sign your new indenture contract. Once you’re finished, we can read over it and discuss the next stages of your time here,’ Jasmine raised an eyebrow, ‘Of course, unless you want to go back on your word and become our receptionist anyway, we can postpone this meeting to organise that contract for you.’

Jenny’s temper snapped.

Suddenly standing up, she snatched the manilla folder from the table, her expression betraying the deep-seated rage and loathing that roiled within her.

‘I’ll tell you where you can shove your stupid fucking contract!’

Jenny tried to hurl the manilla folder at the Mistresses, putting everything she had into one violent act of defiance. But as soon as the folder left her hand it exploded outwards, loose papers scattering and shocking Jenny out of her anger.

White paper.

Pure white printer paper fluttered down all around her. Not a single drop of ink. Confusion halted Jenny’s spiteful wrath. She dropped to her knees, picking up scattered papers, turning them over, trying to see if there was anything on them. But all of them were blank. There wasn’t anything written on the paper. Not a word. 

‘Wh-where’s the contract?’

Jenny heard the dark chuckle of the Mistresses standing above her. She looked up, just in time to see one of Jasmine’s heels push into her cheek, sending Jenny sprawling to the floor with a yelp. Within a moment Diana was upon her, the older woman pinning her to the floor with a serious, terrifying look in her eyes.

Jasmine moved behind her, and reached down to grab her by the arms. Diana stood, both Mistresses pulling Jenny to her feet as Diana gripped the front of Jenny’s dress, found purchase, and tore the satin apart with her bare hands.

Jenny screamed, sudden terror filling her soul.

‘Fuck, stop! Please! I don’t want this anymore, I’m sorry! I made mista-‘

Diana’s hand wrapped around her mouth as Jasmine continued to tear Jenny’s clothes from her, her Majesty’s other hand gripping Jenny’s hair in a ferocious grip.

‘I don’t want to hear your fucking apologies. I had thought we had made this clear to you, Jenny. This isn’t about what you want,’ Diana hissed, but her expression twisted into a frightful grin, ‘Besides, we’re doing this for your sake. It’s all for your own good, Jenny. All you have to do is relax.’

Diana pulled Jenny’s hair down sharply, twisting her head upwards. In one rough movement, she let go of Jenny’s scalp and tore the pendant from her neck, just as Jasmine finished ripping the dress from her, its tattered rags falling to the fine wooden floor. Jenny could feel herself hyperventilating beneath Diana’s hand as her Majesty began dangling the pendant in front of Jenny’s eyes.

Jenny’s fear began to spiral deeper, trying to look away from the dazzling gold and pearl of the necklace she was only just wearing. Another supposed gift. Another nasty trick.

Diana’s hand moved down to just below her jaw, squeezing and forcing her face closer to the pendant.

‘Look at it, Jenny. You wanted this. You begged for this. And now that you’re finally getting what you deserve, you think you can back out? No. For this one night, we’ll fulfil your indenture properly, breaking your pitiful will like you had the gall to demand from us. Everything you ever feared, you will suffer. You won’t be a plaything. Not even a slave. You’ll be our pain-thing. But before we get there, we’ll need to make some … alterations.’

Diana turned her head to Jasmine, and Jenny strained her eyes to look in the same direction. Jasmine had retrieved from a drawer a heavy looking hair trimmer, and had finished plugging it into the wall. Turning it on with a flick of her thumb, the trimmer bucked in Jasmine’s hand from the machine’s powerful torque before the Mistress tightened her grip to control it.

Diane pushed forwards with her tight grip on Jenny’s neck, forcing her backward as she staggered, her shoes falling off her feet as she stumbled. Jasmine was soon behind her, holding her forehead tightly as the Mistresses both forced her into stillness, pinning their prisoner between their bodies.

Jenny heard the harsh buzzing of the blades as they neared the back of her head. Frightened tears escaped from her eyes. Diana began to swing the pendant back and forth in front of Jenny, speaking with a voice so gentle but so firm.

‘It’s alright Jenny. You don’t have to struggle for control anymore. You don’t have to be afraid of us. You won’t have any other choice. You wanted this, remember? You knew this would happen. You prepared for it, in your own way. You’ll be made stronger by this ordeal; you’ll find out who you truly are. But you can’t do that until you submit.’

Jenny whimpered pathetically, feeling the cold metal of the clippers touch the back of her neck as a sob escaped her, the sob turning into a terrified scream. It was too much. Too real. She wanted out.

‘P-please! I’m sorry … R-red! Red! Please, I-’

The clippers sank into Jenny’s hair and she gasped in horror, feeling the soft strands fluttering down onto the floor to join her ruined dress and shoes. Jasmine pushed the electric trimmer through more of her hair, shearing it off in wide swathes.

They weren’t stopping. Nothing Jenny said would convince them. No matter how she protested or screamed, they wouldn’t stop until they had what they wanted out of her. And what they wanted was for Jenny to break.

‘The more you resist, the more you will suffer,’ Diana warned, ‘You knew this was coming. You know there’s nothing that can save you. You see the wave on the far horizon is now bearing down on you, your feet stuck in the mud and unable to move. You feel the terrible sensation that you will be crushed if you continue to struggle. You know there is only one way to survive that wave, only one way to find peace on the other side.’

Diana shifted her grip, holding Jenny’s face in her clawed hand, her fingernails digging into her cheek and jaw as she stared unwaveringly into Jenny’s eyes, Diana’s ferocious expression the only thing filling her vision besides the gently swinging pearl.

‘Give in.’

Jenny faltered. Her eyes fluttered and her body slackened. Her hands dropped to her sides, dangling uselessly. Jenny was theirs.

Diana stepped away to call for a few servants as Jasmine finished cutting all the hair from Jenny’s head, leaving only a thin fuzz left to cover it. She whispered words into her suggestible mind, Jenny blinking slowly as her mind grappled with all that it was feeling. Dread. Relief. Service. Absolution. Terror. Unknowing. It had all been so much. But it was quieter now, now that Jenny was in that safe floaty place that Precious had shown her.

It felt like no time had passed at all when a quartet of staff entered; two butlers with a big steamer trunk, and a pair of maids with their cleaning cart. Jenny was dimly aware that one of the maids looked familiar. The one with a shocked expression. She wasn’t sure why though. Maybe it was because she looked like a mouse.

Mistress and her Majesty guided Jenny down, gently folding her into the padded trunk. It was close, but somehow not claustrophobic. Oddly comfortable.

The lid closed, and everything went black.

Jenny had no idea how much time had passed before the trunk was opened again. She was pulled out from her container, still vaguely dazed and entranced, as she adjusted to the light and her blinding new surroundings.

Once her eyes adjusted to the overwhelming white and teal, she saw a room she had never seen in the mansion before. Sterile white tile walls, a set of anatomical charts and eye tests posted on them being the only relief from the reflections of fluorescence from the cold light above. Jenny’s skin already had goosebumps from the ambient temperature, but the starkness of the light made her feel like she was freezing. The cold linoleum floor was a hideous speckled teal from one wall to another. But unlike the offices of the doctors she knew were employed on-site, the door was made of painted steel with a small square window that showed nothing from her position on the floor, the door handle on this side entirely absent. It reminded her of the cells of a psych ward she had briefly stayed in.

Trying to dispel the chilling memory, she turned to the rest of the room to try and figure out where she was. But as soon as she twisted her head she flinched in surprise. Two people had been standing behind her, silently observing her.

‘Lie on your back,’ one spoke with the voice of her Mistress.

Thoughtlessly, not even aware enough to mentally struggle, Jenny complied and squinted against the searing overhead lights as they circled around her. As her mind finally caught up with her situation, Jenny realised that these two women must be Mistress and her Majesty. They were dressed so differently now, Jenny almost didn’t recognise them at first. She didn’t have much time to fully get her bearings before a stiletto heel stepped onto her bare breast, the heel digging into her sensitive nipple and dragging a pained and surprised gasp from her.

Their outfits had to be fully latex, the shimmering of her Majesty’s professional white coat contrasted by the deep black of her bodysuit and corset, her polished white shoes were almost unnaturally tall stiletto heels, the same that bit into Jenny’s chest. Her Majesty peered down at Jenny over the edge of her clipboard held loosely in a hand covered by deep blue latex wristgloves, the lower half of her face obscured by a medical mask of the same colour.

Mistress was similarly clad in latex, the most prominent part of her outfit a black latex apron. Though she didn’t hold anything in her hands, her arms were clad in elbow-length gloves of the same colour as her Majesty’s mask and gloves, and a white latex blouse and tight leggings. Her tall black heeled boots stood in stark contrast to her Majesty’s giving her a far more stern and severe look.

Her Majesty drew a pen from the pocket of her latex coat, putting the tip of it to her clipboard.

‘What is your name?’ she asked.

Throat dry from fear, Jenny’s words cracked as she answered, ‘Jenny.’

Eyes narrowing, her Majesty wrote something down on her clipboard.

‘What is my name?’ she asked.

Jenny opened her mouth to speak, her words escaping before she could understand that she was speaking them.

‘Majesty.’

Her shocked expression was like nectar to them.

Her Majesty pressed down with her heel before lifting it away, Jenny’s nerves rattled and tingling from the cold and the pain. Why? Jenny’s eyes flickered between the Mistresses. Why couldn’t she remember their names?

‘You’ll banish unnecessary thoughts from your mind, subject. Your former name will be one of them soon enough,’ Mistress spoke down at her, ‘Kneel.’

Jenny’s body obeyed. Unnecessary thoughts were to be discarded. It should listen to its Mistresses. It should listen to its betters.

Jenny shuddered. Since when was she an “it?!”

A latex-clad hand cupped Jenny’s jaw, gently bringing her face back up to look at her Majesty again.

‘Are you afraid, subject?’

‘Yes, your Majesty.’

Jenny had no idea what was happening. Why was she speaking so … candidly? Why wasn’t she trying to resist? Why didn’t she feel like she was in control of her own body anymore?

‘Do not worry. Soon you won’t have the capacity to understand what fear is. And once that happens, we will surgically carve out your sins. The first of our subjects to undergo the excision of their soul.’

What the fuck?! This … this wasn’t what her Majesty and Mistress were like! Jenny struggled to even find the power to move, but her Mistress’ firm hand on her shaved head quashed the notions in her mind. But Mistress’ words only tightened the feeling in her spine.

‘Stand.’

Jenny rose thoughtlessly, wordlessly, at Mistress’ command. The sterile hands of these warped yet familiar figures guided her towards a padded gurney covered in medical restraints. The guidance with which they placed her onto it was almost tender, yet the fear Jenny felt was like she was floating untethered through space. But with each restraint that crossed her body, each strap that held her down, she felt tethered to the world again. Felt safer.

Its Mistresses were doing what was best for it. It- Augh, again with the “it?!” Jenny’s brain felt like mush, why was it so hard to concentrate?

Once Mistress and her Majesty had tied her down, they had set about arranging things around the gurney, including a few small pressurised tanks attached to some kind of ventilator machine feeding into a hose, on the other end of which was a breathing mask that Mistress was affixing over Jenny’s mouth and nose.

Summoning every ounce of wherewithal and spirit she had left, Jenny quietly eeked out a small question.

‘Wh-what’s that?’

‘During my many years in my field, I’ve made a number of useful connections for both work, and pleasure,’ Mistress explained as the straps were secured and locked, ‘A friend in the pharmaceutical industry developed an inhalant which has a dramatic influence on the effectiveness of hypnosis. With our funds they’ve secured us some samples. Normally we’d only use them on the most unruly toys under our charge, but we’ll make an exception for you, subject.’

Jenny should have panicked. She should have fought and thrashed in her restraints, she should have screamed, she should have realised that she was in danger.

It was calm. It was safe. Its Mistresses would not let true harm come to it. It could let go of its fear. It could let go of its pain.

Jenny’s desperate eyes bounced between the corners of the stark, white room, the fluorescent light making her eyes water. She blinked hard, trying to soothe them. But upon opening them again, Mistress had positioned over her eyes a pair of goggles that she was lowering onto her head.

She tried to protest, but nothing beyond a muffled huff came out as Mistress lifted its – no, her! Jenny’s last desperate thoughts cried. She was a her! – head to affix and tighten the goggles.

The goggles were pure black, blocking out all possible light, save for a pinpoint of white which seemed so far away that Jenny would have to strain her eyes to even focus on it.

The voice of her Highness spoke once more, pen scratching the paper of her clipboard.

‘Subject, do you see a light in the goggles?’

Jenny nodded, giving voice to a wordless affirmative grunt.

‘Good. Then we can begin our initial deprogramming.’

Jenny’s vestigial thoughts were confused. What did she mean by-

The sound of hissing gas and the flicking of a switch pricked Jenny’s ears, the smell and taste of somnous honey and sickly lemon wafted into her face. Animal instinct jolted her limbs against her restraints, but they held firm and yielded not even a millimetre. Jenny trembled on her back, her skin sticking to the tacky plush covering of the gurney.

Mistress’ hand settled on her forehead, and Jenny felt calm despite herself. Her breathing was regular, something was going to happen to her. Something she couldn’t control or stop or run away from.

Something flashed in front of her eyes that she couldn’t quite make out.

‘Do you understand your situation, subject?’ her Majesty asked, the sound of her heels distinctive as she walked to her side, running her latex gloved hand up Jenny’s naked and twitching body, ‘Until we are done, you will know no peace. Feel no joy. Desire no pity. We will shred you to pieces and everything that you were will be left in tatters around you. And then, once we are satisfied, we will stitch you back together. The structure of your very being will suit our purposes. You will become a simulacrum of what you were, indistinguishable from who you once were to all those who do not know the truth. And all of this is to be a kindness for your undeserving life. This is our mercy to you.’

Something began to happen in the goggles. Bright flashes of words, almost too fast for Jenny to catch yet slamming into her brain as if they were hammer blows. Kindness. Mercy. Peace. Joy. Jenny had already felt woozy, but now she was starting to recognise that she was almost at that edge, teetering on the verge of consciousness.

The sound of old computer keys could be heard tapping somewhere. Had Mistress turned away from the gurney? She spoke, her words clinical.

‘Beginning deprograming.’

A spiral began to twist its way through Jenny’s goggles. Slowly at first, a single strand of hypersaturated blue, the same blue from a computer’s fatal error, weaving its way through the darkness from the dot so far into the horizon. But soon its shape took form, harsh contrasting black and searing blue straining Jenny’s eyes further. The shape contorted further, the curved spiral becoming increasingly angular. Even sides emerged from the smooth curvature, before folding into more sides … or would that be less sides? Decagons folded into octagons folded into hexagons folded into squares, before they began to split and crack again. Pentagons snapped into heptagons into nonagons, and before she realised it was back to a perfectly smooth curve.

As the process started again, the words of her Mistresses pooled into her ears like poison.

‘So much of what you believed you knew about the world was false. Little wonder you were so confused and scared. Expectations subverted constantly. Disproven. Disappointed. Every thought you had revealed to be simply wrong. How sure can you be in the solidity of your own reality?’ her Majesty said.

‘But it’s alright now, subject,’ Mistress continued, ‘You are here to be corrected. We are here to fix you. It is best if you forget what you knew, to put these thoughts away where they will not be seen, for they will not be needed.’

‘That’s right, subject. Trust that our words are your reality. For your foreseeable future, they will be,’ her Majesty went on, ‘You will not need any memories that contradict us. You don’t even need your name. Because you do not have one, subject. You never had one.’

The spiral spun. The hypnotising gas filled her lungs. Her Mistress’ words overtook her thoughts. She … she didn’t have a name. What could it have been?

Unnecessary thoughts were to be discarded.

She didn’t have a name. She never had a name. She never needed a name.

The spiral spun.

‘Good subject,’ Mistress cooed, softly stroking the fuzz of her head, ‘It knows pleasure because it is free of these past things, these false memories, these imaginings of the outside world. Even its own identity is a fabrication. It always was. It isn’t a she, or a he, or a they. The subject is an it.’

More words flashed in its eyes. The information was lost but the meaning was conveyed. It was a subject. It was an it. It had no memories. Why would it need memories? It had no past. No future. All that was happening, all that would ever happen, was happening now. It didn’t need memories for that. It was just a subject, it would do as it was told because it was a subject.

It lost words. It lost the name for the fruit it smelled and the nectar it tasted on the air. It lost the name of the colour it saw. But it did not need its own words. Its Mistresses had many words to spare, that they graciously gave to it. It was a subject to her Majesty. It was a subject to its Mistress. It did not need to know more than that.

On and on the spiral spun. The subject’s breathing stayed regular, controlled. Calm. It was obedient for its Mistresses. It was permitted to understand obedience. There was … something in the way it felt. It was not permitted to know why, but it was permitted to feel that to obey felt good. To obey made it feel happy.

The words flashed in its goggles. Obedience is Pleasure.

It did not know how long it had been breathing this perfumed air, or how long it had stared into the spiral which caused water to spring at the corners of its eyes, but the Mistresses commanded it to close its eyes. It complied.

The goggles were removed. Something felt so bright. What was happening? It felt things coming undone around its body. Its restraints were being removed. It was being positioned to sit up. Its breathing mask was removed, fresh air once again circulating through its lungs. Its Mistresses spoke again.

‘What is your name, subject?’

‘It does not have a name.’

A voice had spoken. It did not realise whose it was, until it understood that it was its own mouth moving, its own tongue forming the words.

It should stop thinking. Useless thoughts were to be discarded.

‘Does the subject know its purpose?’

‘The subject obeys,’ it dully responded.

Mistress’ gloved hands massaged into the subject’s shoulders and neck. It was a feeling the subject did not have words for. A numb acknowledgement that there were emotions there. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Her Majesty wrote something on the clipboard – the subject would never know what – and set it down.

‘The subject will open its mouth.’

It complied.

Her Majesty removed her latex mask with graceful fingers before cradling the subject’s face in her hands. The subject stared up at this goddess before it, this shaper of its reality. Her Majesty spat in its mouth.

‘It won’t understand what is happening to it. It won’t need to. It doesn’t even need to like it. But it will happen.’

It understood, acknowledging the words of its goddess. It discarded useless thoughts. It obeyed.

Its Mistresses produced things that looked like clothes. Latex, like theirs. But very much not like theirs.

A mask, more accurately a hood, without eyes that would cover the entire head, yet resembled the same tone of the subject’s skin. The face was replaced in its totality by a shiny latex pussy. Some latex panties of the same colour were placed beside her, but the front seemed to have some thick phallic shape integrated into it, and the back was completely exposed. A third thing, a latex top once again of the same shade, which seemed to be designed to smooth away the subject’s features further.

But it didn’t stop there. The Mistresses began laying out black latex garments, heavier and more restrictive. An eyeless gas mask, heavily modified to remove the eyeholes entirely, and the respiratory system replaced entirely with a pleasure toy. A black bodysuit where the sleeves were oddly short and wide, and did not end in holes. A large plug, its design strange in how the inside was totally hollow.

The subject did not comprehend these things, but it did not need to.

Its Mistresses adorned it in these strange clothes, though in an odd way they felt like a new skin. The top flattened its chest, made it look as if there had been nothing there. The panties slid into it with surprising ease. The subject's body obeyed the desires of its Mistresses so easily.

Then came its hood. Its new face. A latex sheath was inserted into its mouth, which it took into itself until the latex and its body felt indistinguishable. Its slack eyes looked up, seeing her Majesty one last time before the rest of the mask closed in over its head, and was sealed tightly.

‘It is not human anymore,’ her Majesty affirmed, ‘It is a thing. An object. No more deserving of moral consideration than the ground we walk on.’

Something impacted the side of the subject’s face, as if to punctuate the point. The subject accepted the stimulation without complaint.

Another impact. The tacky grip of rubber on rubber. Another. Another. Warmth, a rush of blood to the head, was beginning to spread through the subject. It received the sensation. The subject’s body was grabbed by the wrists, puppeteered by another’s wrath, forced to its hands and knees as the restraints were wrapped back around it.

Something pushed into it, a hole it had in its behind. It obeyed, and accepted it. At the same time, something else was pushed into the hole that was its face. It was warm, slick and dripping, shapely and inviting.

The subject welcomed it gratefully.

Diana looked down at the thing she eagerly pumped her cock into. Jenny … no, this thing that she had reduced it to, barely even an object. Not a doll, for that would imply doting care given to it. Not a drone, as that insinuated it has some degree of internal automation. Just a faceless, soulless willing victim that she and her darling flower could take their revenge on. Nothing but a puppet.

She tightened her grip as she forced herself deeper into this new toy, this self-offering sacrifice. She still remembered her initial reaction when Jenny first – finally – voiced to them the feelings she had refused to acknowledge for so long. She was shocked, admittedly. But talking it over with Jasmine led them both to the same conclusion. Jenny wouldn't forgive herself without this. If she'd wanted to go to therapy, she would have by now.

And besides, they'd both wanted to make her their bitch since she'd come crawling back to the mansion. They just couldn't justify such a thing until Jenny finally admitted that was what she wanted too.

Letting herself moan with the pleasure of the rubberised throat wrapped around her cock, Diana beheld her darling flower, her beloved wife, also taking out her base frustrations on the body of the thing that had caused them both so much pain.

Jasmine’s hand struck their subject’s rear again and again in time with the thrusts of her strap, her own face a picture of gritted teeth and vengeful lust. Forcing every ounce of frustration and rage that she once felt out of her body and into their faceless fuckthing, Jasmine threw her head back and loosed a growl of rage from her throat.

‘Fuck! I should’ve fucking done this sooner! If you’d just fucking said this was what you wanted all along you could’ve saved us all so much fucking trouble!’ she roared.

Diana allowed herself to feel the subtle softness of the flesh just beyond the latex sheath she pushed further into the former person’s throat. Perhaps her darling flower was right. How different things might have been if during the first time she’d commanded Jenny to accompany her for tea, she’d ordered her to unzip the crotch of her jumpsuit and fucked her right there in the garden. If only she had pressed Jenny’s face against her erect cock, forcing the punk to debase herself with tender little licks and kisses for Diana’s amusement and revenge. If only Jenny had realised sooner how easy deliverance from her guilt could be…

The subject twitched and a retching noise emerged from its body. Diana responded by pushing herself in further, roughly and suddenly.

‘It will be given breath again when we tire of fucking its holes.’

Despite her harsh words, Diana was sure not to push the body entrusted to her care to the point it would do anything regrettable. She had a lot of experience with both the body and the mind from her old work. As a pro domme, she’d spent hundreds of hours learning everything she could do to push either to their limits, or to make them merely think it was being pushed beyond them.

Jasmine groaned, speeding up her thrusts with her vibrating strap. The pleasure that she was taking from their subject was clear on her face as she finished with another three punishing thrusts, the slapping of latex and skin echoing through their medfet dungeon.

‘I think we’re ready to move onto the next stage of our subject’s depersonalisation?’ she offered.

Diana gave a lustful sigh as she felt herself getting closer, ‘Absolutely, my darling flower.’

Gripping the subject’s pussyhead harder, Diana licked her lips as she allowed herself to indulge in the willing destruction of another human being. Forcing herself as deep as she could, she relished in the soft feeling of her own cum splattering against herself as she filled the condom hood of the subject. A soft gasp escaped her as the subject subconsciously struggled, and she allowed it to unceremoniously slide off her shaft.

Diana leaned down, allowing herself to indulge in a dirty kiss with the subject’s alien face-turned-genitalia. Perhaps it was vain to enjoy the taste of one’s own cum licked from the perverted sublimation of a traitor, but fuck if revenge didn’t feel good.

With barely even a moment’s rest from her orgasm, Diana and Jasmine were in motion again, removing the subject’s restraints and adding new ones, the thick black latex bitchsuit covering the subject’s body entirely, its limbs folded into stumps so it was forced to crawl. Jasmine relished shining the subject’s thick and restraining new skin, bound inside its new form. Of course, it was not complete yet.

Diana slid the stroker gas mask over the subject’s fuckable head, its transformation nearing finality with the tightening of each strap. A thin line of Diana’s remaining cum dripped from the stroker, a needful whimper escaping the subject. Diana bit her lip as she ran a delicate finger around the soft rubber fuckhole. It was almost hard to believe this was once a person. Let alone someone who defied her so ferociously, who betrayed her so viciously, who clawed her way to earning Diana’s forgiveness only to reject it, demanding instead to be put through this lustful purgatory for her own salvation.

It was so funny how life had a way of working out.

The subject made more noises of hopeless, mindless pleasure, as Jasmine inserted the tunnel plug into its last unaltered hole. Retrieving another toy from the Mistresses’ trove, Jasmine lubed and slid in one of the more indulgent and overwrought toys they’d acquired; a self-thrusting dildo with a cumtube system. With a series of straps, Jasmine attached a reservoir full of thick white lube formulated to be that delightfully pornographic interpretation of cum, attaching the pump system to the thrusting toy and securing it so that the toy would constantly pump in a small drip of simulated cum into their toy, occasionally dumping a hefty load at randomised intervals to remind the subject that it was just a receptacle for orgasms.

The final touch, the final thing that reduced this subject and separated it from its personhood, Diana secured around its neck. A heavy rubber collar fully ringed with anchor points fit snugly around the subject’s neck, secured in place with a reflective nickel-plated padlock.

‘There,’ Diana said with satisfaction, ‘Finally, we see it as it always should have been.’

With the press of a button, the gurney began to lower to the ground. Taking a silver chain leash off a hook on the wall, Diana secured it to the collar of the subject beneath her. So very far beneath her.

Jasmine produced a mobile phone, speaking a few authoritative commands to whoever was on the other side. Diana detached the card on the breast pocket of her latex coat and brought it up to a reader on the side of the door, a mechanical click and faint pneumatic pressure allowing the steel door to swing effortlessly open.

‘Come along, subject. It is a long way to crawl between the basement and the master bedroom. Think of it as your own Purgatorio.’

Bea was having the weirdest few days lately. First the receptionist up and vanishes without explanation, then she sees that indentured girl being stuffed in a trunk by her Mistresses, then she gets called to clean up their master bedroom by the head maid!

To be honest, Anne terrified her, even as she was fluffing the pillows of the enormous bed. That thing had to be bigger than a California King at least! But, digressions. There wasn’t really anything special about why she was chosen to help out. Anne had just seemed to pick her because she was available. Wrong place, right time, she guessed.

A phone buzzed and Anne fished it from somewhere in the ruffles of her latex uniform. She answered it, replying with a surprisingly polite and courteous tone. Once the phone was back in her uniform, Anne returned to her tasks with renewed vigour.

‘Hurry the fuck up, Danger Mouse. The Mistresses are done in the basement,’ she cursed, ‘Meaning we’ve got at most twenty minutes to make sure everything’s exactly as they like it.’

‘Y-yes Miss Anne.’

Bea steadied her breathing as she focused on properly presenting and displaying all the toys, lube, restraints, and implements from the metaphorical laundry list they’d been given. She was no prude, but this spread seemed excessive to her.

Aligning and distributing the tools of perversion on the kind of sterling silver tray a christmas roast would be honoured to be served on, Bea and Anne scampered around the room to make certain that everything was perfect. Satisfied with their work, Anne gave further instruction to her subordinate.

‘Let’s get out of here. You can probably head to your room now, and I'll fix the roster so you’ll get a little time off tomorrow for working overtime.’

Bea muttered thanks to the head maid and they both made themselves scarce from the master bedroom. Bea was astounded at the sheer gaudiness of the door leading to the room. Just who covers a door in gemstones anyway? It looked like something out of a cheap fantasy movie! The only difference is that these gems were anything but cheap.

Quietly moving their cleaning cart through the corridors, Anne’s shoulders stiffened suddenly as if she suddenly heard something.

‘Shit,’ she gulped, sounding genuinely worried for the first time Bea had known her, ‘I didn’t think they’d be coming this way.’

Bea’s eyes widened at the realisation of what Anne was saying, as the head maid turned around to sternly address her.

‘Don’t you dare fuck up. Don’t say anything. Don’t even look at them. I am not getting dragged into whatever they’re doing tonight.’

Bea gulped and nodded as both Mistresses came into view. Anne stopped and curtsied dutifully, and Bea followed her example, keeping her head bowed and eyes low. After everything she’d seen over the last few days, getting into trouble with the Mistresses of the mansion and the head maid at the same time would be the absolute worst thing she could possibly do.

Bea concentrated on projecting an aura of serene civility and servitude while her Majesty and Mistress passed them in the corridor. Whatever they’d been doing it must’ve been stupidly kinky, judging only by their incredible shoes and latex stockings. Wait, what was that chain leash connected to-

Beatrice’s eyes widened in shock, seeing the gimp thing trailing behind its Mistresses. Fully encased in latex, whimpering with mindlessness and need, its bizarre mouth-toy dripping with spittle and who the fuck knew what else, and – oh fuck the back half of it – some kind of self-thrusting dildo? From the looks of the tubes and the quarter-full tanks of cum strapped to it, it’d been taking load after load in its ass already just on its depraved little walk through the mansion.

Bea hadn’t even noticed that her head had tilted to look at the poor soul subjected to that fate until she felt Anne roughly grab her by the forearm, the latex wrapping around her skin terrorising her as she snapped her head to stare into the furiously grimacing, furiously blushing face of Anne.

‘What the hell do you think I just said?!’ Anne hissed beneath her breath, beginning to drag her away by the arm.

Bea managed to make it barely four steps before a voice froze her in place.

‘Both of you, stay.’

A deadly side eye from Anne pierced Bea as the two maids turned to face Mistress Jasmine, striding towards them with eyes full of killing intent.

Bea tried to keep herself from trembling as this woman, almost certainly more than a full foot taller than her, stood over her. The Mistress’ eyes burned with an almost preternatural colour, the overhead lights plunging her face into shadow.

‘Beatrice, isn’t it?’ she asked coolly, the maid nodding demurely in response.

‘Y-yes Mistress.’

‘It is surprising to me that you believe you’ve earned the privilege of ogling our subject.’

Fear and shame boiled just under the surface of Bea’s skin as she shakily bowed her head, ‘I … deeply apologise, Mistress.’

‘Look at me.’

The severity of her voice chilled Bea to the bone. Struggling to lift her gaze, Beatrice looked back into the face of her Mistress. A heavy pause weighed down the air around them, making it a struggle for Bea not to allow her breathing to become laboured.

Mistress Jasmine’s face remained impassive, save for an imperceptible raising of one of her eyebrows.

‘You know, you’ve caught me in a good mood. Since you’d like to gawk at us so much, I may as well indulge you. Anne, you may go. Beatrice will accompany us to our room.’

Anne looked shocked for a moment, but knew better than to question Jasmine. She curtsied, and swiftly left with the cleaning cart.

Jasmine stepped to the side, a gentle hand pressing between Beatrice’s shoulderblades.

‘You will attend my wife and I as we finish entertaining ourselves with our subject,’ she said, ‘Since you are so fascinated with it, you will be permitted to watch us pleasure ourselves with this fuckmeat. But should you look away, or if you dare even think about touching yourself? Then, well…’

Bea followed the gaze of her Mistress, her own eyes landing on the image  of their “subject” whimpering and moaning at the end of a taught chain, as a splurt of cum dribbled down out from its hole, clinging to its stumpy rubber leglets as it settled onto the rich carpet.

Jasmine’s voice lowered into a lethal murmur.

‘... there will be consequences.’

The threat unspoken but viciously sharp, Bea fell into line and followed her Mistresses to their room, doing everything in her power to remain reticent and out of the way. More a tool for her Mistresses rather than an actual person.

God, that thought would be so hot if she weren’t fucking terrified.

They soon returned to the master bedroom, the gimp brought to the centre of the room as her Majesty delivered punishing kicks to its backside for daring to leak on the carpeted floor. Jasmine began disrobing, Bea’s eyes widening. This was the first time she had ever been so close to either of the Mistresses since her interview, and now she was watching Mistress Jasmine strip down into some elaborate and custom latex negligee. Jasmine flung the clothes into a corner of the room and gave an offhanded order to Bea.

‘Get us our toy tray. Stand by the wall until you’re told to approach.’

Bea moved swiftly and efficiently, taking up the heavy silver tray laden with depraved toys. She was pretty sure she’d seen at least one of these “toys” advertised in a magazine for self-defence weapons.

Taking her position, she tried not to shrink as Jasmine approached her after speaking with Diana. Wordlessly, Mistress Jasmine plucked a toy off the tray and returned to her Majesty’s side before handing the toy – a gorgeously modelled cock and testicles with a suction cup – to her wife.

Kissing her darling Flower, her Majesty Diana held the toy by its head and daintily dropped the toy. It fell straight and true, suction cup hitting the floor before their gimp with a loud pop. The two dommes positioned the subject by yanking on its collar’s chain, before Diana lifted a heeled foot up and stepped onto the back of its head, pushing it down onto the dildo. Over and over again, the faceless thing was throatfucked beneath its Mistresses’ feet, while they passionately kissed, embracing each other and tenderly caressing their bodies.

Bea was not permitted to look away. She should feel a damp spot beginning to soak through her panties. She tightened her grip on the tray.

Both her Majesty and Mistress had a heel on top of their subject’s head, forcing the toy into its throat over and over again, occasionally forcing it to the floor and holding it there for agonising seconds.

Bea thought she was a decently kinky person. That’s why she thought she could handle this job to begin with. Hell, she considered herself a pro when it came to fisting. But this was definitely a depth she didn’t think she’d see. She didn’t know if she wanted to have her foot on the thing’s head or to be the thing itself. She swallowed, trying not to let herself sweat or look away or draw any attention whatsoever to herself. It’d only take her dropping the tray for something to happen. If she just let it go, they’d descend on her like animals.

Biting the inside of her lip, she kept her grip firm. Maybe she wasn’t ready for the kind of shit whoever was inside all that rubber was going through.

Yanking back on the chain, her Majesty finally let the gimp off the dildo. The sight of white lubricant churned into a froth in its nonhuman face, the way it twitched and shivered from whatever overwhelming stimulation it was feeling – Pain? Pleasure? Did it matter? – it was all Bea could do not to moan at the sight of it.

‘Strip it, my darling. I believe it’s time we finished this in bed,’ her Majesty said, her tone languid but eyes flaring with energy.

‘Yes, my Queen.’

Bea watched as both her Majesty shed her latex clothes, and Mistress extracted the once-person from its black latex cocoon, removing the tormenting toy that had been ceaselessly fucking it, but not the tunnel plug which forced its ass to gape, exposing the deepest shame of its body for all to see as a river of cum flowed out of it. Bea couldn’t help but gasp quietly as she saw what was where its face should have been. Mistress’ eyes flickered to Bea before she leaned in, pressing the subject in for a kiss and pressing it against one of the supports of the massive poster bed.

Mistress brushed a hand across the gimp’s head, speaking softly but just loud enough for Bea to make it out.

‘The subject has earned its forgiveness. It has earned permission to feel pleasure and pain once more.’

As if a spell had been broken, the humanoid thing’s whimpers became desperate and almost pained, vocally pining and thrashing, bucking its hips and twitching uncontrollably. Mistress leaned in again, running her tongue over the plump lips that were its face, her other hand pressing hard into its crotch and rubbing it with joyful sadism at the overwhelming pleasure she inflicted on this living toy.

Her Majesty had finished undressing. Bea was shocked by not only her beauty, but her cock. She’d only ever seen proportions like that moulded in silicone!

Her thoughts were interrupted by Mistress throwing the gimp to the bed and sliding off her own latex clothes, quickly getting to work groping and beating the toy subject to her will.

‘Beatrice,’ Diana beckoned with her voice.

The maid stepped forward, dutifully but shakily presenting the heavy silver tray. It was certainly a strain on her arms to hold it out like this. Diana took her time, running a finger over each toy before selecting the most frightening implement, a stun gun.

Her Majesty approached the thing that they had made, and for a moment everything froze. The Mistress and her Majesty looked at each other. Her Majesty nodded. Bea felt as if an entire unspoken conversation had happened before her, just as her Majesty zapped the gimp’s exposed thigh with the stun gun.

The thing bucked and yelped, whining in pain, and Mistress Jasmine ran a gentle caressing hand down its back. Slowly her Majesty slid her perfect cock into its hole, gasping in pleasure as she lay down in the bed’s wealth of pillows and softness, indulging in the comfort of rubber and flesh the tunnel plug provided, continuing to use the stun gun on its thighs and buttocks, those loud electric cracks making it twitch and buck as Jasmine pinched and clawed at its front, biting at its shoulders and binding its sharking arms with pure force.

Bea could barely watch. But … but … she had to. At least, that’s what she told herself.

Diana tossed the stun gun aside, beckoning the maid closer once more. Both Mistresses indulged and abused this thing that was once a person. Its latex panties came off, and Mistress took her strapon from the tray, she and her Majesty penetrating both its holes as it looked as if it was approaching its breaking point.

If it hadn’t been broken already.

They pounded into it without restraint, over and over and over as Bea struggled to maintain her composure with what was happening in front of her. The Mistresses kissed, their lips meeting over the shoulder of the thing they'd brought into their bed. Diana orgasmed in unison with Jasmine, pressing the gimp’s body between them as they held each other, sliding themselves out of the fuckthing as Jasmine carelessly tossed her strapless dildo to Bea, the toy clattering onto the silver tray.

Bea’s own breathing had become tense, standing so close to this. Hearing everything. The overwhelmingly pungent scent of sex. Feeling only the touch of her clothes, the tightness of the tendons in her hands, and the flood building in her nethers. She could practically taste the spit and sweat and heat radiating off all three of them.

Her Majesty drew the gimp closer to her, resting its head in her bosom as she undid the back of the gimp’s mask. Eyes wide with disbelief, the hood came off to reveal the indentured servant to Jasmine and Diana. That girl she'd met what felt like so long ago, who looked so indignant when she'd made her clean the tall shelves for her, since she couldn't reach them. She saw that same face, dazed and hypnotised, exhausted from the sexual torture she had been subjected to, the internal condom of the hood sliding out of her throat.

At least, Jenny was who it used to be.

Diana stroked her hands across Jenny’s fuzz of shaved hair as Jasmine positioned herself to cradle Jenny’s body.

‘The subject has earned its forgiveness,’ she said, a gentle hand across Jenny’s midsection, ‘It will no longer grow thorns inside its heart.’

Even though Jenny’s eyes were dull, Bea could see some intelligence returning to them. Piece by piece. She pressed her thighs together tighter. What had they done to her?

Her speculation was ended before it began by Jasmine’s languid glance.

‘You have served your purpose, and presumably learned your lesson. Go.’

Wasting no time, Beatrice curtsied gratefully and fled from the master bedroom, the door closing behind her with a quiet click.

She stepped away from it, breathing a tremulous sigh of relief. She could barely believe she made it out of there alive! She thought she was going to die! She … fuck, had she forgotten something?

She looked down. Bea was still holding the tray. With Mistress’ strapless dildo, still slick with sexual pleasure and simulated cum, right at the centre.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!!

Bea nervously stepped back towards the door, then away from it, then towards it again. Fuck, if she interrupted she would be in so much trouble again! But if she just left this in front of the door again she’d get in just as much shit! Or if … or if…

Trying to take a calming, steadying breath, Bea breathed in a strong waft of that sexual power, the lingering pleasure that clung to the toy in her hands. She bit her lip so hard she thought it might bleed.

Bea took off down the corridor, as quietly as she could manage. She couldn’t leave this lying around anywhere, she’d have to return it. Later. For now … fuck, it might put her job at risk but she needed to get off, right fucking now.

Everything was so soft. Everything was so gentle. Its Mistresses were Everything. They were all it needed to know. They were all it would ever know.

It moaned softly as it felt her Majesty sliding into and out of her, not like before. Now that it had served its purpose, now that it had freed itself of perdition, now it deserved the paradise of its Mistresses’ embrace. Jasmine’s soft lips rained kisses upon it, and it knew it deserved them. Her Majesty used her body for pleasure, and that pleasure was given to it as well, for it had deserved it. It was sweet and sticky with nectar and love, and it knew it deserved it.

But, a greater paradise was in sight. A shining star, higher than any other, loomed large. It moaned in reverence, reaching with what was left of its soul.

No longer would it dream of blood and thorns and tears, but now all would be light and lightning and peace. It was so bright, it was overwhelming. It wasn’t even aware it was having the strongest orgasm of its entire life, because it could not know its entire life.

As its mind was reduced to sublime eradication, as it was filled with its Majesty’s divinity, a whisper encompassed its entirety.

‘C’est fini.’

Jenny felt her head split open, and into it poured the entire world.