“Hey Clara,” Felicity opened Clara’s door after a knock, popping her head in. “How’s it going?”

It was unusual to see Felicity out of drone mode – whenever she was, though, she was a pretty friendly girl. Clara had spent a while making friends with her, getting to know the drone girl and why she was here. She’d been perfectly nice to Clara. Except for when she was in drone mode – Clara clearly remembered the time she and Lisa were punished because she was pushed into being an obedient drone and confessing. But when she was out of drone mode, she’d bring Clara and some of the others into her room for games and snacks.

“Um, it’s going well!” Clara looked towards Felicity, her makeup only half-done. “W-what’s up? I was just, uh, like, finishing my makeup.”

“Cool. Well, when you’re done, meet me downstairs in Jasmine’s office. Jasmine wants us for something, I think. She wants us for some kinda special date. Anyways, see you soon.”

“Huh? What could she, like—” Before Clara could finish asking, Felicity was up and out. A special date? What could that even mean? Jasmine was never one to refer to anything as a date; an arrangement, meeting, rendezvous, sure. But never a “date”. She even called her out-goings with Diana ‘events’. Whatever it was, it had to be interesting.

Clara quickly finished her makeup, now making it a bit more special with some sparkles. She loved the sparkles. Jasmine always called it childish, though, so she only saved it for special occasions. A date with Jasmine and Felicity was plenty special in and of itself! She got on her favorite pair of heels. Her fanciest dress. She styled her hair, and was out her room into the hall. The mansion was as large as ever, obviously; going downstairs to Jasmine’s first office still took more than a few minutes. Felicity was already in the office, the door slightly ajar.

Clara could hear some voices. Jasmine’s, for sure. Felicity’s, not so much – though Clara immediately noted she was now in drone mode. Clara was smart enough to figure that out, still. But there was a third, unfamiliar voice with a certain accent. English, maybe? Clara stuck her head through the door to see Felicity kneeling at the unfamiliar woman’s knees.

The woman was tall, even taller than Jasmine while they were both seated. Her hair was a blonde shoulder length bob, and her outfit was similar to what Jasmine would wear. Only, this woman’s button up was undone far lower than Jasmine ever would. Her surprisingly large tits were pouring out of her shirt. But what was even stranger about this lady were her glasses. They had soft, subtle spirals in them, spirals that the dronified Felicity was looking directly into. She barely acknowledged Clara.

Felicity – no, the drone – it was kneeling in front of the woman. The woman was idly playing with its hair and tits, admiring the blank look in its eyes, its heavily trained obedience. The drone went along with whatever was asked of her. It was oddly mesmerizing.

“You’ve continued her training quite well, Jasmine,” the woman responded in a sultry, slow voice. “It’s quite a shame you won’t reconsider selling her off to me. I’m quite certain she’d get along with my two other drone girls.”

“Once again, pass,” Jasmine sighed. “This drone is mine. You’re more than welcome to make the trip to the US any time you want to play with her, though. Excuse me, though.” Jasmine whipped around to see Clara, a devious smirk on her face. “Clara, this is Jordanna. She’s a colleague of mine from England… and a friend. Jordanna, this is Clara – she came to us as a talented, bright college graduate and is nothing but a dumb, ditzy princess now. Isn’t that right?”

Clara smiled, curtsied her dress and bowed. “It’s, um, nice to meet you, Miss Jordanna!” she eagerly greeted. “My name is Clara. I’m, um, well, a princess.”

“It’s nice to meet you, princess,” Jordanna cooed softly, in a condescending tone. “Jasmine, don’t you think she’d make a nice drone as well? One in cute pink latex, hmm?”

Jasmine tapped a finger to her chin in contemplation. “I can see the appeal, I suppose. But why would I make Clara a drone? She’s too stupid to keep drone-like obedience in mind. Not to mention, numbers larger than 5 are kind of a weak point of hers.”

Jordanna smiled, licking her lips. It was hard to tell for sure, but she looked like a cat that had a mouse trapped underneath its claws. She looked at Clara as if she were prey – as if she wanted to do to her exactly what she’d apparently done to Felicity. To Drone #0452. This woman looked like she was slowly building an army, an army of obedient drone girls who’d fall for her and obey her every command. Clara couldn’t lie. The thought of that was excessively hot. Not that she understood what the word ‘excessively’ meant, or how to pronounce it. But… she was Jasmine and Diana’s. And Jasmine had said that she wasn’t willing to sell her properties out to Jordanna.

“Sure, she can keep the pink and the tiara and whatnot. But maybe she’d look good in a sparkly pink latex skater dress? I happen to have brought something like that for Drone #0452 – but it’d sure look better on this princess. And besides – which of your properties couldn’t do with a little obedience training? Well, I guess I can see how Lisa wouldn’t enjoy that kind of thing too much. But what do you say, princess?” Jordanna wasn’t even fazed by the way Felicity’s body popped up, as the drone girl started worshipping Jordanna’s tits. She did start petting its head softly, though.

“Um, well…” Clara sweated, looking to Jasmine for guidance. Jasmine still seemed deep in thought, though seemed to be erring on the side of ‘absolutely’. “If… if Mistress wants it, then yes! I’d love to be a drone. M-Mistress, is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” Jasmine affirmed with a wicked smirk. “I’d love that. Jordanna, fit Clara in the latex dress, they should be about the same size. Drone #0452, come worship your Mistress.”

“Affirmative,” Felicity responded with a long, blank sigh, standing up and walking over to Jasmine. The businesslady slipped off her suit jacket and undid her button-up, giving the drone access to her chest. Obediently, it got right back down on its knees and began worshipping Jasmine’s chest.

Jordanna leaned back to grab her large purse. She pulled out two things – a sparkly, pink latex skater dress, and a pocket watch. “Now, princess,” Jordanna started. “I want you to get on your knees and look into my glasses.”

“Of course, Jordanna,” Clara obediently replied as she lowered herself.

“Ah, yes, that reminds me. I’ll be your Miss for tonight, understand?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Good,” Jordanna smiled. Her English accent was something Clara was starting to enjoy, especially as the induction started. “What I want you to do is look into my glasses, and into the pocket watch. Slowly, just notice yourself relaxing, sinking deeper into my voice, into trance. You can do that for me… can’t you?”

“Yes, Miss,” Clara sleepily replied. Already, the trance was working. She’d been so conditioned by that point. Clara couldn’t resist the sensation of trance for even a few seconds. Trance was good. Trance was relaxing. Trance stopped those last few pesky thoughts she had bouncing around in her head. Clara was stupid – but in trance, somehow, miraculously, she was even stupider. Her head was filled with nothing but pink glitter and fog and mindlessness and obedience. That was just who she was – a dumb, obedient princess who couldn’t force an intelligent thought no matter how hard she tried.

“Good girl,” Jordanna giggled, and Clara felt an immense wave of pleasure wash over her. “Now, you’re going to undress for us, and when you get dressed, you’re going to be wearing this.” Jordanna put down the pocket watch and waved the dress in front of Clara. Clara gently nodded, eyeing it as best as she could. So pretty. So pink. So sparkly. Her eyes were drawn to it, deeper and deeper.

"Now, undress for me. Show me the body I'm going to mold and make my own." Clara obeyed, slowly taking her dress and panties off to show her body bare naked for Jordanna. Jordanna grinned wildly at her, all but drooling as she gazed upon the mindless princess. Clara's body was slightly slumped over; after all, thinking was hard enough in trance. Why would she be able to think to stand up straight?

Unfortunately for her, Jordanna wasn't having it. Jordanna stood up, and physically grabbed the front and back of Clara's body. She forcefully straightened it up, readjusting her posture. "There. Much better. It'd do you well to stand up straight when getting tranced by your Miss."

"Yes, Miss. I'm sorry, Miss," Clara murmured in response.

Jordanna chuckled. If anything, she was enjoying Clara's mindlessness, and her blank obedience. "Good. Now get in the dress." Clara nodded, taking the dress and sliding it over herself. Her pink, silk bra made her breasts look much more perky. She looked wonderful. The latex tugged around her body snugly, making it a comfortable fit. Not to mention how well it showed off the best, tastiest parts of Clara's body. Her hips, tits, and ass all looked incredible. She looked like a drone -- no, more like a doll.

"There you go. Don't you look much better now? Now you look like an actual drone, ready to mindlessly serve and obey. You see, princesses like you are great, but they're so full of emotions. Concerns. Feelings. Joy. Those things are thoughts, just in a different form. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss."

"So, in order to make you a drone, we have to remove those things. Remove your concerns, your inhibitions. All that's left will be devotion. You're going to get trained to be the perfect drone -- won't it be nice? You won't even have to think for a minute about if you're doing the right thing. All you have to do is obey. Obey. Obey. And as long as you obey, you can be certain that you're doing well, plaything. Nod if you understand what I'm saying. Drones don't need words other than 'affirmative'."

Clara nodded. Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative.

Jordanna couldn't hide the wicked grin on her face. Even Clara could register it, through her deep, deep trance. "Now, to give you a number. Drones don't have names. They have numbers. Designations. So you can forget the name Clara, forget everything you know that isn't your number or obedience. Your number will be Drone #5308. Drone #5308. Drone #5308. Do you understand?"

"Affirmative, Miss."

"What is your designation?"

"This designation is Drone #5308. Affirmative, Miss." The way Clara spoke was devoid of all feeling and emotion. It felt so foreign. No. It didn't feel any way at all. Clara didn't feel. She obeyed. She was a drone -- all she had to do was obey. The more she stayed in drone mode, the more and more Jordanna's suggestions seeped deeper into her mind, taking it over like a virus.

"Drone #5308. Every time you hear these words, you're going to go right back into drone space. You're going to serve me, Jasmine... or even one of the other many playthings, here. Whoever speaks that designation will be your owner, the one you'll be serving."

Jordanna paused for a minute, reaching her hand out to tenderly stroke Drone #5308's cheek. After a minute, she slapped it hard, making the drone flinch only a little. Jordanna didn't have any reason for doing that. She just wanted to. "Good drone. Gooooood drone. So obedient for Miss."

"Affirmative, Miss."

Slap!

Jordanna tsk'ed her tongue. "Now, now, drone. I didn't say you could speak. Speak out of turn again, and your punishment will be worse."

Silence on the drone's part. All she did was listen.

"There you go, much better," Jordanna purred. "Now, I'm going to give you some worship triggers. Whenever I say a certain number, you're going to get on your knees, and worship that area. 'One' will be my neck, my shoulders. 'Two' will be my chest. 'Three' will be my stomach, my hips, maybe even a bit of my ass. 'Four' will be my cunt -- that'll be saved for special occasions. And 'five' will be my legs. I love having my legs worshipped, dear, so when I say 'five', you know you'd better do a good job. In fact... why don't we have Jasmine and the other drone unit exhibit it?"

"Certainly," Jasmine responded with a smirk. She turned back down to the drone girl in front of her. "One."

Felicity started worshipping Jasmine's neck, instantly. It used its mouth, tongue, hands, lips... all for the purpose of pleasuring Mistress. For that moment, that was all of its purpose. Worshipping Jasmine's neck. Her shoulders. All over. Clara could see Jasmine shuddering with pleasure as she grabbed the drone's head and forced it to worship her harder. Clara could see the rush in Jasmine's eyes, the pleasure, the power she took in it.

"Two," Jordanna suddenly spoke, and without a single thought, Drone #5308 was on her knees, worshipping her Miss' chest. She paid special attention to Jordanna's cleavage -- Jordanna had much of it, of course. While the drone worshipped, Jordanna used her own hands to teach Clara the proper form, the proper technique, the proper areas. The drone became more and more enthusiastic in her worshipping, savoring Jordanna's moans and grunts and gasps.

"Good drone," Jordanna spoke, using her hand to stop Clara. "Now, the next part of our training. Inspections. Stand up, drone."

The drone obeyed. The drone next to her did as well as ordered by Jasmine.

"Hands behind your back, standing straight, staring ahead. Don't dare move a single muscle, drone." Clara -- Drone #5308 -- obeyed. She stood up as straight as she could, trying her damndest not to flinch as Jordanna admired her body like a work of art.

"You know, my drones get inspections twice a day. In this form, or on their knees. It's nice to look at my properties as if they were art. Correcting form--" Clara had her back suddenly straightened. "Or being slapped or spat on, if I so choose." Clara was slapped again, and tried her hardest not to flinch.

But she apparently failed. She hesitated just a little with the sting of the slap.

"No flinching," Jordanna spoke coldly. "See? Now you have to be punished, since you disobeyed. Get on your hands and knees."

Clara obeyed. Obedience was harder than it seemed. She held back a painful, turned on whimper as she bared her body for Jordanna, who stepped aside to pull something out of her purse. Clara wanted to take a look, but knew that acting without permission -- even in the slightest -- would result in an even harsher punishment. Clara gripped the floor with her hands, curling them into tight balls. Jordanna, behind Clara, pulled out an elegant silk flogger.

"Do you know what I'm holding in my hand, Drone #5308?"

"Negative, Miss," Clara responded through the whimpers. 'Negative' was probably what Jordanna wanted to hear, so that's what she thought -- assumed -- to go with.

"It's a flogger. And I'm going to hit you until you stop your incessant whimpering and fidgeting and speaking out of turn. Do you understand?"

Clara wanted to hesitate, but she held back the urge. She mindlessly answered with an "affirmative, Miss".

SMACK!

The first slap came down hard and sharp. Clara bit the inside of her cheek to stifle her cry of pain. Jordanna hit as hard, if not harder, than Jasmine did. Her body shivered in pain, trying to adjust.

"Oh, that was painful, was it, drone?" Jordanna asked in a condescendingly sweet tone. "Is that why you're shivering and moaning like a slut? Despite the fact I ordered you not to?"

"A-affirmative, Miss. I apologize, Miss."

SMACK!

"You are not a person anymore, there is no 'I'," Jordanna reminded as she stroked the sore spot with the flogger gently. "You answer with 'This drone is apologetic, Miss'. Let me repeat that since Jasmine had such a fun time draining your intelligence: This drone is not a person when she is a drone. This drone is not a person when she is a drone. Repeat it, drone."

"This drone is not... a person..."

SMACK!

"Faster, idiot. If you can keep one thing in your brain cells, let it be that." Jordanna clicked her tongue as she steadied the flogger on the drone again. “Repeat the mantra.”

“This drone is not a person,” Clara started, working through the stammers slowly. “When she is a drone. This drone is not a person, when she is a drone. This drone is not a person, when she is a drone.”

Clara thought she was doing well. She was trying so hard. Drones had high protocol – and if she couldn’t meet those protocols, what was her purpose? At least, that was definitely what Jordanna thought to herself as she watched Clara struggle.

"Hmm. You're still fidgeting and whimpering like a slut. We'll have to go a bit harder."

"W-wait," Clara instinctively responded. Her face paled as she realized what she had said.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Wow, we have a lot of training to do," Jordanna sighed in exasperation.

SMACK!

"Fortunately, I'm known to be quite the taskmaster. I'll keep hitting you, plaything, until you learn how to weather it. Until you know never to say another unneeded word ever again, in drone mode." Jordanna kept smacking, and slapping, and flogging Clara... until she got used to it. Slowly but surely, she adjusted to the pain, beginning to expect it no matter how hard or intense it became. She was a drone. She was meant to obey. She is not a person when she is a drone. That fact kept ringing in Clara's mind, the mantra becoming more and more of a reality as Jordanna kept going.

"Try to say something now, drone," Jordanna ordered.

"Affirmative, Miss." The response in Clara's voice was completely dull and lacking of emotion -- just what Jordanna wanted. Her body no longer shook in pain and anticipation, and Clara's whimpers came to a halt as well.

"Good. But just for good measure..."

SMACK! The smacks kept coming, one after another. The drone had no idea when they were going to stop. The blows seemed neverending, and Jordanna seemed unwilling to stop them. Clara's ass turned from clear to red to blue. And yet, she did not whimper, or pant, or moan, or shiver. All she did was quietly took the hits. She didn't even care when they'd stop. Jordanna was her Miss. Jordanna made those decisions on her own. All of Clara's job was to take the hits, the insults, and obey.

“Good work, drone," Jordanna praised. "You're learning well. I think it's time for us to get back to work on those inspections. On your feet, drone."

Clara rose to her feet, not brushing herself off at all as she stood to attention. Jordanna continued her inspection, going much smoother than usual. She groped and felt every inch of the drone's latex-clad body. Jordanna's hands were prying, predatory, demanding. And Clara went along with every one of her commands -- just as a drone should have. Jasmine continued her inspection of Felicity, as well. Felicity was, of course, much more trained than Clara -- but Jordanna seemed reassured that Clara would get there one day too, with enough training.

"That's much better, drone," Jordanna cooed. "Repeat your mantra for me."

"This drone is not a person when she is a drone. This drone is not a person when she is a drone. This drone is not a person when she is a drone," Clara repeatedly mindlessly. Her tone was stale, completely even and robotic. She didn't even care about the way Jordanna toyed with her body. Cold, calculating obedience was all she cared about. Nothing else mattered.

"There you go," Jordanna finally took her hands off Clara with an admiring smile. "You can stop repeating your mantra, now. You did well... for your first inspection. Say thank you, drone."

"Thank you, Miss," Clara obeyed.

"Good. Now, I think it's time to get back to worship, shall we?" The way Jordanna phrased that sounded like a question, though in reality it was an order. Jordanna sat back down. But not before she grabbed Clara's sides once again and forcing her to turn around to face Jordanna. "Jasmine, dear, why don't you have Drone #0452 take care of you while Drone #5308 worships my cunt?"

"Certainly," Jasmine cooed. Both of the stern businessladies pulled up their pencil skirts and pulls down their panties, spreading their legs in front of their respective drones.

"Before we start, though..." Jordanna reached back into her purse and pulled out something else -- a set of intricite, beautiful leather handcuffs. "Hold out your hands."

The drone obeyed, and within an instant, she was cuffed. She gave an experimental tug -- shockingly allowed by Jordanna -- and found she couldn't move her hands in the slightest.

"Much better. You remember the number system, don't you, Drone #5308?"

"Affirmative, Miss."

"Good. Four."

The drones immediately got to work, worshipping their owner's cunts as they ate them out mindlessly. Of course, Felicity was much, much more trained, so her technique was slightly better; however, Clara had the advantage of being trained into being trained into a brainless princess slut, so eating her owners out and worshipping them was part of her weekly tasks. She'd eaten Jasmine out plenty of times, and Jordanna thankfully seemed to like similar things. Having her hands bound meant she couldn't worship Jordanna's thighs and cunt with her fingers, but it didn't matter. Her lips and tongue sufficed nicely. Jordanna grunted and moaned, pushing the drone's head deeper into her cunt to go harder.

"Yes, yes, yes," Jordanna gasped, inching closer to the edge of orgasm. "Fuck, harder, faster, you brainless drone."

Clara wanted to respond with an 'affirmative, Miss', but it was muffled out by Jordanna's folds. Clara licked every millimeter of Jordanna's labia, sticking her tongue inside her cunt whenever she could. She alternated between tongue fucking Jordanna's cunt and kissing her clit and pulling it out only a little with each kiss.

"Ugh, fuck, you're so good. You may even get as good of a drone as your friend there is," Jordanna grinned. Felicity was, indeed, doing quite the good job on Jasmine, who'd already finished multiple times on her face. "Pay attention, drone. I'm not taking these suggestions out -- anyone can make you a drone any time they want. And trust me, when I come back here, I'm going to make both of you serve me. Ugh, fuck, fuck--"

Jordanna's cunt twitched dangerously. The drone didn't even register it -- she was too focused on her task, on her service, on obedience. "I'm going to cum over your face. And you're going to take e-every last bit of it. Understand, drone?"

She attempted to respond with another 'affirmative, Miss', but was cut off by Jordanna's hips thrusting back and forth as she leaked her cum into Clara's face. She came harder, and harder. Jordanna's entire body shivered, her orgasm lasting for what felt like hours. Clara obediently took it for as long as Jordanna wanted. Jordanna pushed Clara's head in even further, panting out an array of 'yes'es and 'fuck's and 'keep going's. Clara obeyed. Drones obeyed. Princesses obeyed. And she was both.

Jordanna eventually pulled Clara's face back, a sadistic smirk on her face. "Good work, drone. I'll have to come back here sometime soon for some more fun with you."

~~

A few hours later, Clara was back in princess mode. She was doing her makeup once again, what with how much it was smeared by Jordanna's juices. Not that Clara minded, in the slightest. She found it quite strange, though -- did she really make that good of a drone? She figured it didn't really matter -- after all, Jasmine and Diana seemed happy with her being a princess. Besides, they already had Felicity, who invited Clara to play video games with her that night. (She promised this time, it was nothing nefarious.)

Just as Clara was finishing her makeup, she heard the door open. She whipped around to find Jasmine standing there, a triumphant look on her face. The glow of post-sex excitement eminated around her skin.

"Good evening, Clara. Sounds like you had fun with Jordanna."

"Um, yeah, of course!" Clara giggled. "Jordanna was like, so nice. And it was so fun being a mindless drone, y'know?"

"I'm sure it was," Jasmine affirmed, her smirk only growing. "But you know what would be more fun?"

"Hmm?" Clara cocked her head. Jasmine walked up to her, whispered her new designation into Clara's ear, and dropped her into drone space again.

"This," Jasmine chuckled. "Why don't we have just a bit more fun before I take these suggestions out of your silly head?"