The morning after, the first stop on the Save Mistress Iliana Tour was the indoctrination chamber, down in the basement. After Mistress Iliana’s lap, it was Sarahslave’s favourite place in the whole world. She loved being Chaired - having new ideas forced into her, shoved so deep it was like they’d always been there, at the very core of her being, inarguable. Some part of her knew that her love of the Chair was, itself, one of these thoughts, but no part of her cared. 

At least until now. If there was someone controlling Mistress Iliana, then the Chair was dangerous - a tool for spreading that corrupt, dirty wrong bad control to the rest of the complex. She had to investigate and avoid the delicious, beautiful, intimate, loving mental violation of the Chair until she had figured it out, one way or another. It was so hard being the independent one.

When the other slaves were moaning in unthinking bliss together in the slavequarters after a hard day’s work, Sarahslave wasn’t. She was moaning blissfully with them, of course, but unlike the others her mind was still there, looking down on them a little smugly. Her owner wanted her to be smart and capable, she knew, to defend her sister-slaves from the subtle threats they were too obedient to notice. It made her proud and happy to have such an important role, but she’d never had to put it to work quite like this. 

It was turning out to be awful.

“Hello, Technician-Captain!” she said to her sister-slave, on duty in the indoctrination chamber. Her voice was cheery and untouched by her inner turmoil. Can’t let the sleepers know you’re on to them.

“Hello… sister-slave,” said Technician-Captain Soniaslave, vaguely, her hands tapping away at the controls without pause. She’d clearly been Chaired very recently, and could barely remember her own name, let alone Sarahslave’s. It was a stroke of luck for both of them. The technician-captain would enjoy her work with an almost mindless level of happiness, even as she acted with perfect precision to bring the same wonderful controlled bliss to the sister-slaves scheduled for the Chair today. And Sarahslave could get away with a lot more around someone so out of it. Oh, sure, all the slaves had safeguards, and would fight back if someone was clearly not under Mistress Iliana’s control. But “suspicion” was a concept well beyond the technician-captain’s grasp at the moment, and as long as Sarahslave was careful, she could investigate without danger. 

“I thought I’d come down and watch a bit,” said Sarahslave enthusiastically. “It’s super hot.” It certainly was - watching was nearly as fun as being Chaired yourself.

“It is a duty. It is ‘hot’ only off hours.” Ungh, the stupid technicians. They obviously needed to be focused when doing some very precise work, but it was well beyond Sarahslave on any but an intellectual level how they could reprogram women day in and day out without fucking each other right at the controls. If Soniaslave had been a little less recently Chaired, she might have understood better how Sarahslave felt and not contradicted her - but, of course, highly programmed is what Sarahslave needed her to be right now.

“Can I watch anyways?”

“Of course. Do not touch the controls.” Sarahslave had no intention of trying to touch the controls. She could, in a pinch, Chair someone - her programming as defender of last resort had a lot of talents buried away - but it was Soniaslave’s job and, in any case, Sarahslave really was only here to watch. 

“You may enter,” said the technician-captain into the mike on the control board, after finishing off whatever last-minute adjustments she needed to perform. After a moment another slave entered the indoctrination chamber.

“Domestic Brittanyslave is ready for reenforcement, Technician-Captain,” said the slave, formally. “Oh, hey, Sarahslave. You here to get Chaired too?”

“Just to watch, sorry.”

“That’s cool too. It is super hot.”

“It is a duty. It is ‘hot’ only off hours,” repeated Soniaslave. Sarahslave and Brittanyslave exchanged a look and rolled their eyes together.

Brittanyslave climbed into the Chair. The name was really a misnomer, Sarahslave thought. It was three metres across, at least as tall, and the “seat” was more of a cradle buried in the depths. She’d once suggested Mistress Iliana rename it, but Mistress Iliana had just laughed and said it was called the Chair, and that was that. (The memory now sent a suspicious, terrified shiver though Sarahslave as she thought of other possible explanations for the firmness of her insistence.) Brittanyslave settled herself down in the cradle, arms wide, legs spread, and began snapping restraints around herself. 

Sarahslave approved. Some slaves let the technician strap them down, to emphasize their helplessness. Sarahslave was one of the ones who did as much as she could herself, to show off her eagerness and complicity in her own enslavement. So was Brittanyslave, and she managed to bind everything except her own left arm. Sarahslave went forward to help her finish.

“Sister-slave. You -” began Soniaslave, then stopped as her programming ground forward. “You may assist with the restraint.”

Sarahslave rolled her eyes again. The technician-captain was really out of it, if it took her three whole seconds to realize what Sarahslave was planning to do. “Thank you for your permission, Technician-Captain,” she said, sweetly, and from inside the Chair Brittanyslave giggled. Sarahslave crawled up on top of her and began strapping down her last free limb. 

“Mmmmm,” said Brittanyslave, tensing her muscles in what would have been a sensuous wriggle if she had had a single degree of physical freedom left. “Bet you wish you were in here instead of me, huh?”

“Oh, God, yes,” agreed/lied Sarahslave. The Chair was the second best thing in the world, after directly serving her owner, but she knew that she could not permit herself to go back in until she’d confirmed absolutely that it was clean. This was how she served Mistress Iliana. To distract herself, and Brittanyslave, she groped one of her sister-slave’s tits while kissing her. Brittanyslave was helpless now, just a prisoner awaiting processing, and it turned Sarahslave on so much to be able to use her like this. She knew it was turning on Brittanyslave even more.

“Sister-slave. Remove yourself from the Chair.” Pfff. The schedule wasn’t so tight that they couldn’t spare thirty seconds for a hot, dirty pre-processing makeout session, but Soniaslave was clearly in no state to make allowances. Sarahslave removed herself. Brittanyslave showed no such reluctance - drawing out anticipation was one thing, of course, but as soon as Sarahslave left the wonderful invasion of her deepest thoughts could begin. When Sarahslave reached the safety line and turned back to watch her, she was already smiling beatifically.

“Zone clear. Subject confirm readiness.”

“Fuck yes. Do this thing to me.” 

Sarahslave took a deep breath, trying to ready herself as well. Watching the Chair work its twisted magic on someone was really hot, but she couldn’t give in to her feelings. It was more important that she take in everything that was going on, and be on the alert for any sign of subversion.

“Sequence in T minus fifteen seconds. Sealing sensory locks.” A clear oxygen mask covered Brittanyslave’s mouth and nose, with tubes snaking away into the upper innards of the Chair. Heavy insulated headphones swung up and clamped over her ears. A boxy headset descended on a long flexible armature, covering her eyes. Pins sprang out from each device, and from the skull and jaw restraints already holding Brittanyslave still, connecting and locking everything into place. Sarahslave could watch all this because the Chair had been designed with a clear line of sight into the inner cradle, so the technicians (and any aroused onlookers) could see the whole, delicious procedure.

“Sequence in T minus ten seconds. All systems nominal.” The Chair was whirring softly as its systems spun up. There were two dildos inside Brittanyslave now, silent and unmoving, waiting for the technician-captain’s signal. Her nipples were hard at attention, tiny padded mechanical clamps waiting patiently above them for the moment to begin. Sarahslave tweaked her own nipples in aroused sympathy, then angrily forced her hands to her sides. Had to be ready. Had to be watchful.

“T minus Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Mark.” Soniaslave’s hands moved over the control board with graceful, mindless precision. Brittanyslave screamed into the breathing mask. Sarahslave gasped along with her. That first moment, she knew, was perfection.

“Subject autonomous responses, nominal.” The technician-captain was still babbling away, as if she was somehow unaware that she had just brought Brittanyslave to the highest plane of ecstasy a human mind could endure, and then pushed past it. “Subject volitional responses, nominal. Subject physical restraint, nominal. Subject mental restraint, deploying.” The hum of the Chair picked up another harmony as new systems moved into operation, and Brittanyslave’s scream cut off as if it had never been. There was no sound but Soniaslave’s calm voice, Sarahslave’s aroused panting, and the low vibrato of the Chair. 

“Sequence green. System prepped for conditioning. Programming block 0x01455A4A ‘Brittany’ loaded. Subject confirm readiness.”

“Yes,” said Brittanyslave, calmly, at just the right timbre to be heard through the mask and the hum of the Chair. Sarahslave knew, from her own experience, that she was desperately begging to taken, mind and body, but that she was shackled too tightly to respond to anything less than a direct command, or with anything more than a flat monosyllable. Sarahslave bit her lip as she watched.

“Programming commencing.” Yet another tone entered the Chair’s music as the longest and most critical phase began. Brittanyslave still didn’t move, or speak, but Sarahslave knew that inside her skull she was writhing as the Chair invaded her thoughts. Every part of her would be open to its reshaping, and every part of her would be pressing forward eagerly to be reshaped. Brittanyslave was as eager to be reinforced in her devotion to Mistress Iliana as Sarahslave was, only she had the good luck to be the one in the Chair right now. Sarahslave would correct that, though. She would get herself put into the Chair schedule as soon as possible…

Shit! thought Sarahslave, jumping back in horror from the corner of the control console she’d been grinding against. Just watching had gotten her distracted enough to forget her overriding mission. She had to concentrate. Protect Mistress Iliana. Protect Mistress Iliana. She kept her eyes averted from the Chair as she moved towards the technician-captain. “So, can I see the programming going in?” she asked, her voice casual. Of course, someone not panicking on the inside would have sounded eager, not casual, except that they’d be on the ground masturbating at the sight of Brittanyslave being remoulded, not asking at all, and - fuckit. Soniaslave was in no state to look for inconsistencies. She hardly needed to be subtle.

“Yes,” said Soniaslave, her eyes not moving from the controls. She tapped something with one hand without looking, and a monitor in front of Sarahslave filled up with scrolling text.

Obey Mistress Iliana

Your place is as domestic slave

Majordomo-Captain Niobeslave is an extension of Mistress Iliana’s will

Obey Majordomo-Captain Niobeslave as you would Mistress Iliana

Obey Mistress Iliana

Your duty is to maintain the complex

Maintaining the complex is pleasurable

By your labor you are obeying Mistress Iliana

Obey Mistress Iliana

You love your sister-slaves

As a domestic you serve your sister-slaves

Serving your sister-slaves is almost as pleasurable as serving Mistress Iliana

Obey Mistress Iliana

…the usual domestic crap. Sarahslave was familiar with it, at least in outline, and she let it scroll past without too much attention. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for, but “Cleanliness satisfies you at a deep emotional level” certainly wasn’t it.

Your control is “Brittany open red blue green”

What? Sarahslave started reading as fast as she could before the words scrolled off the top of the screen.

Obey Mistress Iliana

Your control is “Brittany open red blue green”

When you hear “Brittany open red blue green” you will return to this open state

You will accept Mistress Iliana’s commands without conscious knowledge or remembrance

Obey Mistress Iliana

Sarahslave didn’t remember anything like that. But then she wouldn’t, she thought, with a shiver that was at least half delighted. And if there was something dangerous smuggled into the programming, it would be near here, she was sure. She watched intently.

Obey Mistress Iliana

Your control is “Brittany close green blue red”

When you hear “Brittany close green blue red” you will become conscious again

You will not recall Mistress Iliana’s commands but they will be ready to be used 

Obey Mistress Iliana

Your control is