Something was wrong; that much, to say the very least, was absolutely clear to Andrea. She’d just finished her third meeting over the past two days which had left her absolutely lost. Apparently Andrea had been calling these meetings, all featuring rather important figures within her own little kingdom. Most recently it had been the chief executive of her company’s board of directors. Admittedly, Wade was as boring as he was old and unlikable. Which was to say, he was very boring, old and unlikable. As such she could hardly blame herself for spacing out in the meeting. Yet she had no idea why the meeting had been called or what its outcome had been. Regardless, Wade had left looking quite displeased, which, at the very least, was a small victory. As she strode through the halls of her opulent manor, Andrea found her legs seemed to move with a mind of their own as she wracked her brain for a reason behind all the strange occurrences she’d been experiencing lately. 

First, she tried to gather her thoughts, catalogue what was missing. For starters, she’d been having trouble focusing lately, but when that issue had first cropped up was totally lost on her. To make things worse, Andrea seemed to have huge gaps in her memory, which correlated very strongly with that lack of focus. Lastly, something very important was clearly going on in the background of her day to day life. These were the sort of meetings Andrea would have maybe once a year, to have them all back to back like this suggested there was an important catalyst bringing them about. 

As she continued to puzzle over the reasons for her situation, Andrea rounded a corner, walked through a doorway, and found herself in a familiar room. Before her, was a padded chair, equipped with all manner of straps and other restraints. Next to it, a monitor sat powered off, connected to a computer, a large face-covering helmet suspended over the chair, and a small, blinking headset. Confusion bubbled up within her, as though on autopilot, Andrea had walked into her pet conversion room. Before her stood the device she used to amplify her gift, and rewrite the minds of the women she’d bound to her will. Why on earth had she wandered here of all places? Andrea hadn’t taken a new pet in months, she had no business here. Only, there was something strange. The room was hot, and stank of sex. In other words, it had seen recent use. That didn’t sound right at all. Perplexed, Andrea crossed the room in a few long strides, powering on the monitor and accessing the machine’s logs. A look of shock crossed Andrea’s face as she realized that, over the past month and a half, the machine had been used exactly four times, the most recent use being only hours ago. And, considering Andrea was the only one authorized to access the machine, something was terribly wrong. 

A sense of dread burrowed deep in her stomach as Andrea furiously tapped at the keyboard, pulling up the video records of the very first in this series of unauthorized uses. She opened the video, and gasped in shock and horror at what she saw displayed clear as day on her monitor. 

Andi stood in the middle of the room, completely still with arms at her side as she gazed ahead with eyes as empty as her mind. Her mouth hung open in a slack-jawed expression as she stared directly into the camera, awaiting her next set of orders. The distant sound of footsteps drawing closer could be heard, and then, Mistress appeared, flanked by two other slaves. Immediately Andi snapped to attention, her eyes lighting up with adoration at the sight of the woman who owned her mind.

“Hmm,” Mistress mused, “it seems that your mind is good and pacified for the time being.”

“Yesss, Mistress. You are my goddess and I am nothing but your devoted servant,” Andi slurred. 

There was a giggle, and Mistress said something unintelligible to the two other slaves. Immediately, both women, wearing expressions as vacant as Andi’s, sprang into action, forcing Andi to lie back within the chair behind her. Which wasn’t to say Andi put up any fight. She eagerly followed their lead, allowing herself to be strapped down and tightly secured in her restraints. 

“Well then, let’s make your programming permanent.” Nothing sounded better to Andi, she wanted nothing more than to have her mind owned by such a beautiful, perfect woman. With each step Mistress took toward the control module, Andi’s arousal heightened. She squirmed and panted helplessly in the chair, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she bucked her hips, futilling grinding against nothing. And then, Mistress was above her, gazing down at her with a taunting smile. “Hmm, I must say this is rather boring, don’t you think? I mean, I sort of cheated getting you under in the first place, never got to see you put up a proper fight.” She flipped a switch, causing the overhead lights to come up, blinking brightly in odd, flashing, blinding patterns. “Let’s give you a fighting chance, shall we?” She purred. “Wake up, Andrea.” 

The first thing Andrea felt was stinging pain in her eyes from the incessant flashing of her own brainwashing machine. Before the full horror of her situation even set in, Andrea was already helplessly thrashing in her bonds. As the reality, and futility of her situation set in, Andrea threw her entire weight against the restraints to no avail, screaming all manner of obscenities at her captor. “Who’s there? Show yourself you goddamn bitch!” She shouted at the blurry silhouette lurking in her peripheral, obscured by the blinding light. 

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head, sweetheart,” the woman sounded familiar, then she laughed, and Andrea realized exactly who she was speaking to. “Gosh, I’ve always wanted to say that. Maybe it’s a little overdone or cliche, but it’s so perfectly condescending, don’t you think?”

“You!” Andrea spat. “How fucking dare you, after everything I—”

“Hush, now.” Two fingers clamped Andrea’s lips shut, leaving her to scream her distorted and muffled insults in vain. “It’s time to give up and surrender your mind to me, permanently.” She snapped her fingers, and the two slaves advanced on Andrea, one stuffing a gag into her mouth while the other worked her fingers into her panties. 

“Mistress,” one of them giggled vacantly. “I’m so excited! You’re going to be just like us, so empty and happy forever. You’re going to love it.” Horror dawned on Andrea as she realized that between her legs, arousal was beginning to build, her pussy beginning to soak and ache for attention, which was happily granted. 

“Oh dear,” while she couldn’t see her face, Andrea could hear the gloating smirk plastered on her captors face. It dripped from her every gloating word. “I think she’s enjoying this, girls. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure there’s a place for you at my feet when all this is settled and done.” 

Helplessly, Andrea screamed as another switch was flicked on the device’s control module, and the helmet began to descend, lowering itself to cover her face. She struggled to squirm, to pull her head free, but the straps holding her in place were far stronger than anything Andrea could ever hope to escape. The last thing Andrea saw as the helmet blocked her vision, was the sight of her own slave removing Andrea's pants. For a moment, she sat in the dark, screaming into an empty void of blackness. Over and over again Andrea told herself she could find a way to resist, but she struggled to believe it. Nobody could resist the power of her brainwashing device when it was operated by someone blessed with the gift. Andrea had no more time to fret over her situation, as, a moment later a low hum picked up all around her, vibrating from every angle, reverberating into her skull, into her mind. Immediately, her thrashing stopped as her body went limp, muscles completely relaxing along with her mind. Intellectually Andrea knew she needed to resist, but all the passion, all the fear and anger and dread had evaporated. 

She sat still, unable to move even if she wanted to, gazing straight ahead into nothingness. Then the lights started, blinking soothingly, prettily, mesmerizingly. A deep, sleepy confusion settled over her mind. “Nooo, lemme out,” she slurred unintelligibly into her gag. She was likely completely unheard over the sound of the machine, her voice having grown quiet and meek, but even if she had been heard, she wouldn’t have been allowed to escape. A curious sensation built within Andrea, starting deep in her gut and building slowly. It was warm, and heavy, and brought with it a deep need. The gears in her mind turned slowly as her muddled thoughts pieced together it’s meaning. She gasped softly into her gag as realization dawned on her. It was arousal, she was horny. A muffled giggle rose from her throat, and then, as though reading her mind, a tongue pressed against her exposed pussy, causing a raw, primal moan to erupt from her core. Then the voice started. 

“You are owned,” it said. And the voice was so pretty, so nice, so authoritative. Part of Andrea wanted to protest, to deny that she was owned. She was a Mistress, after all. But Andrea also knew that if she agreed with the pretty voice that meant she would be let out sooner. Maybe if she just did as she was told, Andrea could be let out without the machine doing its job. “You are owned.” The machine repeated. And, this time, Andrea echoed the sentiment into her gag. 

“I am owned,” she mumbled. And, in many ways, that made sense. Everyone else who’d gone through the machine was owned, so wouldn’t that make her owned too?

“You live to please your Mistress,” it said. And, automatically, Andrea repeated the phrase back. Which really, just made sense. She knew exactly what a Mistress was for, she’d been one, after all. Those who were owned, were owned by Mistresses. And Mistresses were for pleasing and obeying. 

“Your thoughts belong to your Mistress. Your mind belongs to your Mistress.” 

“My thoughts belong to my Mistress. My mind belongs to my Mistress.”

“There is no pleasure greater than obedience.”

“There is no pleasure greater than obedience.”

“You love and worship your owner.”

“I love and worship my owner.”

“Good girl,” the voice purred. Andi shuddered, an orgasm wracking her entire body at the sound of her owner’s praise. “Now, I have some very special instructions for you…”

An hour later, Andi emerged from the machine, completely brainwashed, a guileless smile on her face. “Do you understand your purpose, plaything?” Mistress asked.

“Yes, Mistress.” Andi answered.

“Good girl, now return to bed and go to sleep. When you wake up tomorrow morning, you will have forgotten tonight’s events, and believe yourself to still be Mistress Andrea. But you and I will know the truth of who you truly are, won’t we?” Mistress asked, cupping her belonging’s chin. 

“Yes, Mistress.” Nothing sounded hotter to Andi than being secretly controlled by her Mistress, blissfully unaware of her own slavery as she went about her business believing herself to be in charge of her own mind.

“Off you go then, plaything.” 

The tape cut short. Andrea sat on the lip of the chair, mouth agape, her frightened, wide-eyed expression reflected back in the black screen. As she processed everything she’d seen, tried to convince herself it wasn’t real, that it was some twisted prank, a truly horrific realization dawned on Andrea. She was wet. Wetter than she remembered being in weeks. Her insides burned with aching arousal, she hips lightly, slowly gyrated, grinding against the very chair she’d been brainwashed in a month and a half ago. She needed to do something. To get out of here, to flee the mansion to somewhere safe and break her programming while she was still of sound mind. Then... then she would come back for revenge. Her eyes darted to the door, then back to the screen, then the door again as a hand snaked into her panties. She definitely needed to leave. And she would. She absolutely would. But, well, if she was going to break her programming, she would need to know everything that had been done to her mind, right? Andrea panted as her fingers pumped in and out of her needy pussy while her free hand moved to play the next video log. 

Nearly completely still, plaything knelt between her owner’s legs, eagerly tonguing Mistress’ soaking wet crotch. Behind her, a procession of slaves stood in line, each happily waiting their own turn to be reconditioned. But plaything paid them no mind, in fact, she didn’t even know they were there, because Mistress had told plaything to focus on nothing but worshiping her owner with her tongue. Over the course of an hour, the line dwindled, all while plaything eagerly licked between Mistress’ legs, or kissed her inner thighs, or simply lay happily at her feet. When the last slave emerged from the machine, they all lined themselves up before their new Mistress. Their rightful Mistress, not the false one who now eagerly debased herself. The next thing she knew, Mistress had grasped plaything by the chin and turned her around to face the line of waiting slaves. 

“Now, sweet one. Do you see these girls? What are they to you?” Mistress asked.

The answer came unbidden. “Your property,” plaything answered. 

“That’s right,” Mistress crooned. “Just like you. Except there is one very important distinction. You’re my special little toy. Do you know what that means?” 

Again, plaything knew without even a moment's thought, looking at those girls, there was one very important distinction between herself and them. They were standing before their owner, and plaything, she was kneeling. “I’m beneath all of them.” She answered happily.

“That’s right.” Affectionately, Mistress ran her hair through plaything’s hair. “You’re at the very bottom of the hierarchy, beneath me, even beneath my other slaves. When I’m not around, you’re to entertain them however they see fit. Isn’t that wonderful?” 

It was. It truly was. Nothing made plaything happier than knowing she would be used by all these beautiful women whenever they pleased. “Well then,” Mistress said, slapping plaything on the rear gently. “Best get to work then, hmm? Those asses won’t eat themselves.” Eagerly, plaything crawled toward the line of slaves, her mind already plummeting into a world of complete, utter submission and service.

Andrea was cumming, she was cumming to the image of herself on hand and knees, crawling toward her own slaves to obey them however she was told. Her hand furiously worked between her legs as she bucked her hips into the air, lying completely back in the same chair that had brought her here. Panting, she sat up, and leaned forward to play the next video. Behind her, Andrea heard a throat being cleared. She turned. “It’s you,” she gasped.

“Sleep, plaything.”