Sarahslave was propped up against the side of the control console, fingering herself to another glorious orgasm. It was nothing like the one Brittanyslave was having inside the Chair as she watched, the lucky bitch, but it was pretty respectable in its own right. Brittanyslave was bucking her hips hard now; or rather, the Chair was doing it, servos shifting the bed of the cradle along with the torso and leg bindings. It was moving her in a pretty good simulacrum of the way Brittanyslave would be moving on her own if she were free to move and had, eg, a single conscious thought in her head. The rolling bliss of being controlled by the Chair was one thing, one wonderful continuous thing, but the body had needs too, and as far as her actual physical meatparts were concerned it was as if she hadn’t gotten off once. So the comedown phase of the Chair’s programme brought the body to a physical orgasm too. It had the additional purpose of reminding the mewling, flayed wreckage of Brittanyslave nailed to the inside of her own skull that she had a body, and helped ease her back into the world of motor control.

Plus, of course, it was really hot. No point denying the appeal of that.

“Unghdyssss,” slurred Brittanyslave, barely audible through her mask and the grinding of the Chair’s forced orgasm engines. “Gdyess. God yes. Harder! Harder! Yes! God! Yes! Mistressssssssss!” That did it for Sarahslave, who came again, her owner’s name on her lips too. When her vision cleared, Brittanyslave’s orgasm was finally running out of steam inside the Chair. The cradle settled down and brought Brittanyslave back to a resting position.

“Cooldown complete,” said Soniaslave, who as far as Sarahslave could tell hadn’t so much as twitched through the whole procedure. “Subject autonomous responses, nominal. Subject volitional responses, nominal. Disengaging sensory locks. Subject verify stability.”

“I am… alright,” said Brittanyslave, a little raggedly, as the various pieces of machinery unlocked themselves from around her head. “Zee why ex doubleyou vee you tee -”

“Subject stability confirmed,” said the technician-captain, leaving the console and walking over to the Chair. “Subject verify conditioning.”

“I obey Mistress Iliana.” Brittanyslave’s smile was a sight to behold. “I am Domestic Brittanyslave, under Majordomo-Captain Niobeslave. I maintain -”

“Subject conditioning confirmed,” said the technician-captain, cutting her off again. She moved to remove the other slave’s restraints, in an efficient and businesslike manner. The domestic didn’t move at all until the technician-captain was done and out of the Chair. Then she sat up in a single rigid motion. 

Sarahslave found it all terribly erotic, and if she hadn’t already been fingering herself since - since the middle of the procedure, she’d probably have started trying to get herself off again. As it was she sighed and slumped a little lower against the controls, watching the programmed, will-less motions of the two slaves across the room. 

At the exit of the Chair, Brittanyslave hesitated for a moment, then turned and rubbed an unusually worn patch of exterior plating. “Thank you, Mistress Iliana,” she whispered reverently. Then she turned back to the door and marched stiffly out. It touched the romantic side of Sarahslave a little, that even in the depths of her conditioning Brittanyslave could spare a thought to thanking her owner for building the wonderful machine that shackled her to her will.

Except… except Mistress Iliana hadn’t built the Chair. Maybe hadn’t. Sarahslave didn’t know. The terrible thoughts were bubbling up into her mind again. And Sarahslave was on the floor of the indoctrination chamber, having fucked away her chance to watch for evidence. Why had she done it? She’d been watching closely, it was vitally important, and she’d seen a trigger for Brittanyslave she’d never known about, never heard of, and then shortly after that fingerbanging herself had become the most important thing in the world.

She was looking at triggers…

And then she was fucking herself…

While looking at triggers…

She was, was, fucking herself…

Because of, of, of, of fucking herself…

Triggers, she was looking at triggers…

And then, fucking herself, because…

Triggers, looking at triggers…

She fucked herself…

Because she…

Was…

Tr- Tr- Tr-

Triggered.

God, that had been hard. And even now a part of her was arguing that even if something, not saying what, had happened to her while reading Brittanyslave’s programming, that proved nothing. Mistress Iliana wasn’t the amnesia type (that Sarahslave had known about), but if she had a specific trigger for Brittanyslave then it was totally possible that what had come next in the programming was a general one that had made - it was totally possible that she had a general one too. This still wasn’t evidence.

She stood up and smiled complacently at Soniaslave. It was a waste of a perfectly good pokerface: the technician-captain was still barely aware of the world around her. But if she wanted to do her job and protect Mistress Iliana she should get back in the zone as soon as possible. “That was super hot,” she breathed, like a good slave with nothing on her mind but the delicious mindfucking of the Chair.

“It is a duty. It is ‘hot’ only -”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” said Sarahslave. Conveniently, the reactions of a good, loyal, mindless slave and a panicky, slightly desperate counter-subversion slave aligned perfectly here. “I kinda want to relive it. Can you send me the programming for Brittanyslave?” I want to relive it by reading the program? That was awful. Even Soniaslave had to see through that.

“The programs are secure. They cannot be altered without Mistress Iliana’s presence.” Or, the freshly-Chaired technician-captain could just be utterly literal.

“No, like read-only. I wouldn’t imagine altering any of our owner’s perfect programming.” The hypothetical mistress-bitch, on the other hand…

“The programs are secure. You may not view them unsupervised.” The technician-captain was actually looking up from the controls, giving her a look that wasn’t quite focused enough to be called suspicious.

“Of course, of course, just wondering.” Sarahslave backed off, hands up reassuringly. Soniaslave stared at her, unmoving. Sarahslave didn’t move either. Soniaslave wasn’t quite ready to accuse Sarahslave of anything, apparently, but she didn’t dare do anything further for fear of setting her off.

Setting her off… oh, God, it was an awful idea. There was no possible chance it would work and even if it did it was stupid and dangerous. She’d be going well past “quixotic quest” and into the realm of “actively damaging the smooth functioning of the complex”. But she had to do something. Mistress Iliana was too important to ever give up on.

“Technician-Captain Soniaslave. Sonia open red blue green.” Soniaslave’s body went limp. What little expression there had been on her face drained from it. Oh God, it had worked. Sarahslave was almost more terrified than she would have been if it had failed. This power was too much for her to have. The keys to her slaves’ minds were for her mistress alone. But she couldn’t turn back now. “Technician-Captain Soniaslave. You will remember none of this. Mistress Iliana commands -” she almost choked at the magnitude of her lie “- commands that you immediately send the programming sequences to Sarahslave. You will tell no one that you have done this, not even yourself. But you will remember that you have helped protect your owner, and be satisfied.” Soniaslave stayed slack and it took a moment to realize why. “Sonia close green blue red.”

Soniaslave turned back to her console and began tapping controls with furious speed. After a minute of work, she stopped, shook her head as if trying to dislodge a buzzing only she could hear, and turned to stare at Sarahslave. “Sister-slave?” she asked, confused.

“Thanks so much for letting me stay,” chirped Sarahslave. “It was super hot watching Brittanyslave get Chaired.”

“It -” began Soniaslave. Then she took a breath and started up again. “It is a duty. It is ‘hot’ only off hours.” She turned back to the console and began making adjustments for the next slave to be reconditioned.

Sarahslave knew better than to push her luck. She slipped out of the indoctrination chamber and headed back to her slavequarters.