Emerald's Service

by barbararwetzel

Tags: #cw:noncon #bondage #D/s #dom:male #f/m #scifi #sub:female #clothing #growth

A journalist realizes her boyfriend is part of a Diabolical Brainwashing Conspiracy, so she goes to the cops, who are also part of the conspiracy. Uh oh.

DISCLAIMER: This book is fiction. Every name, place, character, and event are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is pure coincidence. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

* * *

INSPIRATIONS: Vendatrix’s The Ultimate Lovedoll.

* * *

“Please, Miss Kurosaza, hurry into the ship!” The dark suited man, tall and muscular in frame, took one final look around the corridor before waving the beautiful Japanese college student onto the shuttle. If they were going to get her off planet they had to do it now.

Utami Kurosaza, 21, hurried into the ship. The special agent assigned to the whistle-blower case she had initiated found her just in time and got her to this shuttle to leave Earth just in time. Utami was an intern at a major Tokyo university newspaper and had stumbled into a vast corruption scandal. Scandals and corruption frequently happened, but this one involved billionaires and her boyfriend. The whole relationship had been a ruse to entrap her into something very dark and devious.

Utami’s boyfriend Minuro was the scion of a large conglomerate of companies that did mainstream work in film, television, and virtual reality gaming, but also did pornography. Her upbringing had been decidedly upper-middle class, but his upbringing was the life of luxury. The dark-haired student had grown fond of him, but he always seemed to hold back from her. Minuro never spoke of past relationships much. There was not a lot of information online about any of them or their whereabouts. It turned out there was a reason for this.

It turned out there was a reason for this. She had overheard a conversation between her boyfriend’s father and another man about the kind of force they used to make women work in their more sinful industries.

Utami was targeted as the next woman to be kidnapped and forced to work for them. That night, she escaped the party and contacted the city government, who got her to a safe house and assigned an agent to the case. Sex trafficking was taken seriously, she was told repeatedly, and that the case would receive the utmost seriousness. The beautiful Japanese woman trusted the agent and gave him all the information in her possession. Her leave of absence from the university was rushed through, and a safe house was found until arrests could be made.

That night at the safe house though, the agent came, found Utami, and took her away. The traffickers had discovered the case, probably due to her boyfriend, who she had called to tell, and regretted immediately, and were aiming to murder the reporter to thwart any testimony against them. The better plan for her, for now, the agent explained, was to leave the planet on a cargo shuttle. He got her there and she was rushed onto the ship, which took off almost immediately after they left. Leaving Earth would be hard, but she had to remain safe as well. Once things settled down and arrests happened, she could return.

After being taken to quarters, Utami found a change of clothing. “You’ll be safe here, I promise. You have done a great service,” the handsome agent assured her.

The purple shorts and tank top were a bit tighter than what she normally would wear, but her sweater had a tear and the rest of her clothing was soaked in sweat from running on the warm spring day. It felt nice to cool down a bit, even though she felt a bit under dressed.

She was just about settled in when the door to her quarters opened. A very serious looking woman in all latex entered. The woman had a very severe ponytail and viewed Utami fervently. “Come with me, please,” the woman, who she realized was a soldier, spoke in a calm tone and motioned towards the door. They walked through a few halls and the college journalist noticed from the view a large window gave the inhabitants of the ship that they were now in space heading towards their destination. She had only been in space as a child on a class trip, so it stunned her to see the view.

The soldier reminded Utami to follow, and she did. Male soldiers, dressed in loose fatigues, passed her, as did people in formal uniforms. A few of them checked out the shapely woman’s body, which made her blush. The tight clothing definitely revealed her curves in a way that would get notice from men.

Finally, they entered a large room. The soldier left and the door closed behind her. Utami looked around and then saw a middle-aged man in a lab coat heading towards her. “Hello,” he said with a wave, “my name is Dr. Anderson. I need to run some tests on you to make sure you are fit for our destination. It will only take a few hours. Standard procedure tests for a civilian like you.”

Utami nodded and sat down in the chair he had pointed at. Suddenly, a metal clasp snapped onto her arms, legs, and, finally, neck. She could barely react to what had happened when a metallic looking helmet came down from the ceiling and sat snug around her head. The beautiful Japanese woman began screaming, but Dr. Anderson just continued his work at a console preparing her conditioning.

On his video screen, she could see Minuro! “Is she prepared for conditioning?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, Sir. Initial conditioning will be complete by the time you arrive.”

“Excellent. We have an immediate need she will be able to fill. I’m glad our agent was able to assist in her capture. Talk soon.” Minuro’s picture left the screen as Utami’s heart sank.

Was he involved with the trafficking? What was this about conditioning? Whatever it was, she needed to resist!

A moment later, a woman came into the room. The pink haired woman, augmented breasts tight in a white latex nurse uniform, smiled at the doctor and held up the needle in her manicured hand. “Master, the injection is ready.” The collar around her neck just said “nurse.” She had been a criminal busted in a large take-down of a syndicate. Her previous personality had been erased and replaced with that of a devoted bimbo nurse.

Dr. Anderson nodded at her. “Good girl. Please inject the patient.” The nurse swayed over, white platform heels clicking across the hard ship floors, and dispensed the contents of the needle into Utami’s arm. The captive woman suddenly felt woozy and unfocused. After a minute, she had a hard time remembering why she was even on the ship! When the nurse slipped a pair of noise-canceling earbuds into her ears, it barely registered with her.

Quickly, the combination of the subliminal messages throbbing in her ears and the dancing hypnotic lights before her eyes put Utami into a deep trance. She stared blankly for over an hour as new conditioning was brainwashed into her. At some point in the process, another needle was injected into her arm.

Once Utami’s first brainwashing cycle had been completed, the metal clasps and helmet were retracted. She continued to stare straight ahead, her deep, and beautiful, dark eyes wide and empty. “Stand,” Dr. Anderson commanded. Obediently, she stood up and waited quietly at attention. She was already well on her way to absolute obedience.

Dr. Anderson nodded towards his devoted assistant. “Prep her for surgery.”

* * *

A day later, Utami woke up and absently yawned before the grave situation she was in dawned on her. Years of yoga had taught her to take calming breaths to get a pulse under control, but she was no federal agent or super-heroine. Memories came back to her: Minuro was involved with the trafficking scheme she had uncovered accidentally. Her kidnapping after going to the police could not have been a coincidence.

The talk of conditioning was disturbed her as well, but, so far, her mind seemed to still be her own. The metallic chip felt cold against her neck. Clearly, it had not been activated yet.


Perhaps the conditioning had not worked? She stepped off the podium the beautiful Japanese woman had been standing at attention on for hours, only woken up by her new neuro-chip, installed during surgery by Dr. Anderson, and took in her surroundings.

The room seemed like some kind of bedroom with no bed, but a large closet, dresser, and mirror. Utami padded over to the closet, programmed not to feel any sense of shame or modesty towards her nakedness, hoping to find sensible clothing to wear during an escape attempt, but what she found upon opening the closet doors was not what had been expected at all.

Hung up in the closet was an emerald green maid uniform. The brief uniform had a briefer corset that would, even on a woman like her with moderately sized breasts, show a significant amount of cleavage. Hung up next to the uniform were rather skimpy panties, a frilly bra, and white stockings. On the floor lay a pair of five inch, rather shiny, black pumps, a collar, and leash.

Normally, Utami would not have been that interested in such an outfit. Her sexual fantasies were fairly vanilla and, as noted, besides some insistence on wearing clothing items, which was always fairly casual, Minuro was pretty hands-off with her. She was a fairly sensible young woman with a career oriented mind. However, currently, her right hand was holding the maid uniform while her other hands traced along the stockings.

Sexually, Minuro always seemed pretty distracted in bed, she thought as her hands automatically moved to put on the bra and panties, then stockings, and finally uniform. They made love occasionally, but he loved oral sex. Utami was not, she thought while snapping on the collar, and then attaching the leash, fond of blowjobs, but acquiesced to them to please him. Pleasing men gives purpose was a stray thought that popped into her docile mind as she slid on the five-inch pumps to complete the outfit.

Utami, now fully in maid uniform, was totally distracted from the current plight facing the beautiful journalist. She walked into the bathroom, fairly slowly as this height of heel was something unfamiliar to her, and automatically picked up various items left out for her.

After spending time putting on moderately heavy makeup, heavier than normal for her for sure, Utami smiled with vapid docility at herself in the mirror. The maid uniform made her cleavage look spectacular! The high heels, feeling so natural and normal to wear suddenly, made her feel sexy and feminine in a manner unfamiliar, but quickly becoming addictive. Utami’s plight was forgotten for a moment as she swayed, with a docile sense of satisfaction, back into the room, leash in hand.

It was only a moment before there was a knock at the door and Minuro walked in. Utami’s face sank as the reality of the situation dawned on her again. She scowled at him and took a step forward to begin a confrontation, but froze in place as he put up a hand. His smile made her heart race.

“Whatever you tried to do to me, it seems to have not worked,” Utami said definitely, standing at casual attention in the skimpy maid uniform. “I can still use my mind and think for myself.” What was she thinking about? There was something for her to do, but it was all quite foggy now.

Minuro chuckled. “Oh, can you now? I see you used your independence to put on that fetishistic maid uniform. Can you remember when you told me that only whores dress like that? You look incredible, by the way. Exactly the kind of woman that goes far in this organization.”

Utami gasped. Her plight had distracted her so much that she had put on the uniform, high heels, and even the collar and leash! A deep feeling of femininity filled her body. A docile smile came across her face as the simplified woman forgot the silly angst holding her back from embracing a new destiny.

Noticing the change in her attitude, Minuro smirked. “Kneel,” he commanded with masculine authority.

Utami, unable to stop herself, fell to the floor and crawled over to her controller. She placed her head against his leg for comfort as a deep feeling of submission filled her body. He picked up her leash and pulled the newly enslaved woman up to look at him.

Again, unable to stop herself, Utami undid Minuro’s belt, dropped his pants to the floor, and began kissing his leg while one of her hands stroked his already hard cock. Soon enough, she had a mouth full of cock and bobbed up and down on it with great enthusiasm. The former reporter had never enjoyed sucking cock, but now her mind felt empty with any purpose beyond giving men pleasure.

Minuro softly commanded the new slave to vary her technique. Stroke more, stroke less, try to deep throat it, faster, slower, and so on. Her compliance to the rigors of these commands was sufficient, but she needed more repetition to gain the kind of intergalactic level sexual service skills required for her destiny.

Too soon, he came in her mouth, which she eagerly swallowed down. After cleaning him up, Utami lowered her eyes to the floor and bowed. “Sir, Utami is honored to obey,” she said in a programmed monotone as more of the neuro-chip’s conditioning activated, which took away any hint of desire for escape. “Your will is purpose. She lives for service.” Any thoughts of escape, her journalism career, and anger towards the man she had just worshiped with mouth had evaporated instantly.

He dropped to the floor and petted the new slave’s head. “Good girl. That was pretty good, but you have a long way to go before you are ready to begin proper service. You still have a lot to learn, slave.”

A few seconds later, the door to the room opened again and a stunning honey wheat blonde woman in a maid uniform like Utami’s entered the room and curtsied before her Master. “Master,” she began in a soft, docile, voice, “Your will is purpose. Citrine lives for service.” Her accent placed her being from the southern pacific, specifically New Zealand.

The brainwashed pleasure slave’s, formerly known as Talia, , 24, whose beach ball sized breasts could barely be held in the uniform, collar did, in fact, read “Citrine.” She had been a previous girlfriend of Minuro’s whom he had grown bored with, invented a scandal at university to ruin her, and then sent the formerly studious, now proud to self identify as a bimbo, woman for reprogramming. He enjoyed her company on these long trips.

He pointed down at Utami. “This is the one I was telling you about during our rendezvous together. She has been a bad girl and tried to alert the authorities about my family’s business scheme. You were once a bad girl too, but you learned to be a good girl.”

Citrine nodded slowly, the docile bimbo’s smile never leaving her face. “Master, Citrine was a bad girl, but she is a good girl now. Your will is purpose. She lives for service.” She took a deep breath to ensure her massive bust was on full display.

Minuro handed his slave Utami’s leash. “Take her for programming. I have some other duties to take care of during our journey, but I will check in as time warrants.” He leaned in and kissed the slave. “You may join me in the evening if you are free, but only if you are free.”

Citrine took one of Utami’s hands in her own and gently tugged on the leash. “Come sister, Citrine is here to assist you in your reeducation.” They swayed out of the room and Minuro, satisfied that their resort would have another loyal sex servant by the time they arrived back at the planet, decided to call it an early night, but not before calling in one of the latex clad security officers on the ship for some private time.

* * *

They still had a number of days left in their flight back to the planet, Minuro’s family created a massive pleasure resort on two generations before. He had been looped into it upon coming of age. His mother and older sister’s pleasant and feminine attitudes made a lot more sense when it was laid out how his father, and his father before, expected women to behave in adulthood: Docile, feminine, and obedient. His sister had married the man that father asked her to unquestionably. His mother was a devoted homemaker and beautiful trophy wife.

One day he desired both, but not yet. He often, as seen by Citrine, grew bored with women. Too many demands, too many needs, too much independence. Women had one purpose: To please men. Utami had an independent streak, but he could woo her into compliance. Eventually, that game would have grown tiresome and her fate would have been much the same, but her discovery of his family’s plans had certainly accelerated it.

The next day was spent by Minuro in meetings. The scion of a business his father was attempting to purchase majority control of was shopping for a wife to be at his side for his political career kickoff and, as part of the deal for the stock, one of the lovely women from the resort could be acquired by him. The bookish young man had numerous questions and queries about a handful of women, none of them being Citrine or Utami, and Minuro spent the day walking him through them and how the transaction would work. He appeased the young man that, yes, his new slave wife would exist to obey him and be loyal and obedient in all things.

Speaking of, the morning after appeasing the young man, Minuro went to check on Utami. The first day had been spent being brainwashed and having hundreds of hours of virtual service programmed into her neuro-chip. Their trainers were very strict and demanding, and she was well on her way to become a programmed sexual slave dedicated to the pleasure of men.

He stood at a two-way mirror and observed a session Utami was having with a trainer. The man, himself neuro-chipped for absolute loyalty to the organization, drilled her through basic commands. “Position one” was at firm attention, which Utami compiled awkwardly at first, but improved after a number of times. The trainer, whose name was Jonas, offered a reassuring “good girl” and nodded towards the glass where Minuro was viewing the session.

She then practiced casual attention, which the new slave showed competence at much quicker. The maid uniform on her body was slightly more restrictive than the one she met Minuro while wearing, and reinforced the programmed desire she had for cosmetic surgery quite nicely.

Position two saw her kneel on a mat, but the first few times she did it too quickly for the trainer’s liking. Minuro agreed. A woman should be gentle and feminine in all actions. The brainwashed slave showed enthusiasm, but it needed to be tempered and then molded into perfection. After some helpful words from Jonas, Utami tried again and slid to the floor in a more deferential manner. He had her try again a number of times until satisfied. His “good girl” brought a look of happy docility to her eyes.

“Position three” was down on all fours. Again, she was a little awkward, especially in the sky-high heels on her feet, but got it down eventually. Minuro made a note to add more virtual training for this element. Many clients enjoyed a beautiful woman in said position, so it was needed for her to be ready at all times.

“Position four” was a graceful bow to a superior. Utami’s kneeling showed improvement: Much slower, gentler, more feminine, but her bow was too far. Jonas made her practice a number of times before she earned another “good girl.”

Finally, came “position five,” which dropped the kneeling slave into a deep trance. “Utami is ready for the lesson,” she announced in a docile monotone. Her eyes were empty of the independence and ambition that had diseased her before: She looked at peace living for pleasure and looked up at her controller with lust and need. Her body was tense and ready to expand on today’s training with a sexual lesson.

Jonas barked out “POSITION TWO: PERFORM” at Utami, who slid back up to a kneeling position and began running her hands over the bulge in his pants. Slowly unzipping him and dropping them to the floor, she began stroking his hard cock until it was ready for her mouth. The day before she had virtually sucked cock for hundreds of hours, so her skills showed vast improvement from the fairly bland effort she used to put into the activity.

Utami’s trainer muttered gentle encouragement to her. Slow down, speed up, more in your mouth, stroke me, lick me, and so on. She settled on stroking him, clearly his favorite, and then bobbed up and down on his cock until swallowing down his cum like a good girl.

Jonas petted her head for a moment. “Good girl. You are doing well.” She cleaned his cock off with her mouth and graciously took the water bottle he gave her. The brainwashed sex slave was soaked in sweat and looked exhausted. There was one more aspect to this training session.

After another firm command, Utami got on all fours and let out a yelp as Jonas’ cock entered her anally. Inexperienced with anal sex, she whimpered and cried out until he shot wads of cum all over her backside.

Utami’s tears concerned Jonas. “Speak, slave.” She had been programmed to only speak when directly spoken to for training sessions.

“UTAMI IS SORRY, MASTER,” she cried out. “She is unprepared to offer her body for pleasure!” Tears smeared her makeup and her soft, feminine, hands pounded the padded floor like a child having a tantrum.

Jonas pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You will learn.” He kissed her forehead. “The fact that you apologized shows a lot of progress on your part. You do exist for pleasure, and you want to improve. You are an ideal student.”

Utami looked up with joy in her eyes. “Master, really???” She slapped her hands together. He nodded his approval and again found himself with the beautiful slave wrapped around him.

Minuro walked away at this point, but not before turning on the red light in the room. Utami was well on her way to becoming a loyal sex slave. He would check in on her tomorrow.

Jonas, upon seeing the light change from green to red, had his own programming turn on. He dropped Utami into trance and escorted her to quarters where, after showering, she was tucked into bed, exhausted and sore from the training session. Her trainer slid earbuds into her ears and a virtual headset onto her face. She was lost in an endless loop of sexual training instantly.

* * *

After a night of virtual programming, Utami was back for another training session. This time it was in the ship’s gym. Presently, she was walking on a treadmill in six-inch platform heels, lost in a deep trance trying to replicate the gait of the three-dimensional example before her. Her neuro-chip offered positive feelings when she complied and negative ones when her sway did not conform to the sexual docility required of a woman in her new position.

After the routine was completed, she was given a pill to take and commanded to ingest one each day. It would help build a more toned body. Utami was a bit on the lean side, and most clients preferred an athletic looking woman who looked psychically fit according to current trends.

After a break for a quick meal of proteins and macrobiotic shakes to increase performance, she was brought to another part of the gym and shown how to work leg and arm machines. The programmed slave did so rigorously and was rewarded with more positive affirmative feelings from the neuro-chip. Within days, the formerly ambitious university student now saw her only reason for living was, so she could offer pleasure to men. Pleasure meant obedience. Pleasure meant looking and feeling her best. All other thoughts and desires slipped out of her simplified mind and would never return.

In the late afternoon, Utami was commanded to drop to all fours and did so obediently. Bars were placed around her wrists and ankles to keep the slave in place.

Jonas came into the room with another rather muscular young man. They took positions in front and back of her. Jonas motioned for Utami to begin sucking his cock, which she did eagerly. The other man took her from behind. She enjoyed pleasuring both men and was thrilled that they were able to time their orgasms, and rewards of cum inside and on her, fairly close to each other.

The men rested for a moment before Utami began stroking Jonas to hardness again. Once his cock was in her mouth and cock was also in her backside again. A sense of sadness filled her after both men grunted out more cum. Done so soon?

That evening, Utami spent being programmed in bed again. When returned to her room by Jonas, she was intimate with him again before eagerly accepting the earbuds and brainwashing visor. Her eagerness for brainwashing had been conditioned into the former journalist, and a deep need to serve and obey filled her mind as she accepted a new life as a sex slave. A night of blissful sleep was filled with hundreds more hours of programming reinforcement. She was now hard-wired to obey men and found it disgusting that any woman would not.

That evening, Minuro worked on his report about Utami. So far so good, he began and expressed praise for her mental and sexual obedience. Her obedience was automatic at this point and, unless commanded otherwise, she was basically a mindless lovedoll. Soon his ex’s personality would be rewritten for her new life, but that would not be happening yet.

He also made notes about potential cosmetic changes. Permanent hair removal below the shoulders went without saying, as did a significant expansion of her breast size. Personally, he believed she could use a poutier mouth, but also was open to other staff views on it. Hair, nail, and makeup suggestions would be left to medical staff. He had his own preferences, but they studied the data from clients carefully and made decisions based on it.

A new name had already been picked out for her as well. Soon Utami would be gone and replaced with a new and improved version without any connection to that previous life.

Minuro felt a tad sad about that. It was like murdering a personality, but the soul would continue in an improved mind and body. He was less stricken by her plight though and soon, after a few more, wooing and then converting women would just be an academic activity as part of his responsibilities to the organization.

Citrine had been similar to what would soon not be Utami anymore: A fiery young woman with ambitions to change the world. She struggled, as they all did, but by the time they got back to the resort her devotion to service was complete. A previous life was forgotten and lost, but a new one began. A happy new life of service.

The next morning was critical. This was when Utami’s cosmetic enhancements would be confirmed and then performed. She stood naked, besides a pair of clear platform heels, in the middle of the room at casual attention. Her body was already starting to see the effects of the grueling exercise sessions and new diet. The evening before had been spent being programmed for hours and hours of virtual sexual training. Her life now revolved around pleasure.

She smiled softly at the wonderful men who were debating what procedures to perform on her, but the simple-minded slave’s neuro-chip was down at a 2/5, which put her in a fairly simple and gullible state. The men had told her to be quiet while they discussed her. In fact, the neuro-chip was also set to make their words seem like gibberish to her as part of her larger reprogramming.

Minuro had the final say as a representative of his father, and the person who knew Utami intimately, but of course everyone on the team offered their own thoughts and he would take them under consideration. The staff doctor, whose name was Bedford, had his wife, a former resort slave reprogrammed for him as part of his welcome package, took a fresh set of measurements on Yoshiko for finite accuracy.

A debate about breast size ensued. A three-dimensional display offered a variety of sizes of them until Minuro finally settled the debate at a size slightly larger than he had planned out the night before, which was fine. One of the newer staff members had suggested it, and he would gain confidence from having his suggestion accepted.

Permanent hair removal, one of his specialties, was unanimously approved. Rarely did clients prefer a hairy cunt these days, and they kept a few slaves at the resort “just in case” for that whim.

The discussion continued about hair, makeup, and other things. Minuro loved the aesthetics of American bottle blonde bimbos and announced that Utami’s hair would be altered for it. Various shades were discussed, but he insisted on platinum blonde and that settled the matter.

Makeup, nails, and other feminine matters would be handled by salon staff after her cosmetic work was done. Minuro had his preferences and forwarded them to the appropriate people.

The rest of his day and the next one was spent in video meetings with a few clients. One would be waiting for him at the resort. Another was a new one, given a reference by his superior at work. His wife needed an attitude adjustment if he was going to climb the corporate ladder and then enter politics later in life. They would be arriving soon, and he could take care of these clients in person once Utami was settled in.

The day after, Utami was brought to his quarters. She had been totally transformed into the ideal sex slave for the resort. Her mouth now had a pout that begged for cock. He approved of her new chest size, the massive globes on her chest made it clear she was an object made for pleasure. Long pink-tipped nails adorned her hands. Her heavily made up face made the former journalist look like a model.

It was her outfit that pleased Minuro the most. The floss sized green bikini barely covered her cunt and nipples. The sky-high heels on her feet made the Japanese bimbo’s firm ass reach out proudly. Her now blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. A passive smile adorned her face, and an expression of love and submission was mirrored in her eyes.

“Let me see your body,” Minuro commanded as he finished putting on his tie.

“Yes, Master,” Utami said with docile deferment to him as she did a slow spin, her breasts leaned forward for full display, and then back to casual attention. She thought of all men as “Master;” Minuro just so happened to be the one controlling her at the moment. The concept of the possessive case had been brainwashed out of the simple-minded slave. She was owned property. Any man, all men, were Master until, one day, an auction was held to find a more permanent home for her.

Minuro traced a hand over her enormous bust. “We will be arriving at the resort tomorrow. You have one more procedure to complete tomorrow before we arrive and then your new life will begin.” He squeezed her hands. “You have been a very good girl.”

Utami leaned forward to give Master a firmer handle on her breasts. “Master, will Utami be used today?” She kissed him gently. “Her body exists for pleasure.”

He shrugged at her. “No. Not today. If you continue to be a good girl at the resort, I will consider it.” Utami stared at him, smiling passively, and knelt on the floor before bowing. Master decided to leave her there in the middle of the room while he did work.

* * *

That afternoon, after Minuro had excused her for an exercise session, Utami was slowly swaying in her sky-high heels on a treadmill when Dr. Anderson came over to her.

Dr. Anderson found Utami hard at work exercising in the nude besides a pair of clear pink platform heels. Her new soccer ball sized breasts stuck out as the brainwashed sex slave walked gently with a sexy sway on a treadmill. Sweat glistened her entire body as her muscles, due to the drugs in the needles from her initial conditioning session, continued to alter her body into athletic perfection at an expedient rate due to the exercise. At the resort, once added to the daily roster of work out sessions, would continue to accelerate.

The good doctor approached Utami, deeply focused on the three-dimensional hypnotic spiral before her, and turned off both the spiral and treadmill. She quickly came to a halt and smiled at him with sincere vapidness. “Hello, dear,” he began. In his hand was a small box with a few buttons on it. “I need to activate your new programming. I have been told this might ‘pinch’ a little bit.” The brainwashed sex slave soon to be formerly known as Utami gasped loudly and then went blank for a minute.

Suddenly, she blinked a few times and returned to the vapid expression previously worn on her beautiful, pale, face. “Master, what is your will?”

Dr. Anderson smiled and nodded. “Good girl. You just had some upgrades done, so can you please answer some questions for me?” He looked down at the tablet in his hand and missed her enthusiastic affirmation. “Can you please tell me your name?”

“Master, Emerald’s name is Emerald.” He had picked out her new name himself. She had such beautiful eyes, so it seemed to fit perfectly. She was so sexy, but the good doctor was not allowed to abuse the merchandise. After all, he had the nurse and her two “sisters” at his disposal.

He continued his inquiry. “Can you tell me how long you have been in service?”

Emerald nodded. “Master, Emerald came online 876.4 days ago.” Utami had been erased from her memories and personality. All she knew now was the life of the bubble-brained sex doll. Back home on Earth, her family would be given a substantial insurance package and required to sign a non-disclosure agreement given the need to put “Utami” in witness protection. They would be convinced, however required, to accept it and move on with their lives.

Dr. Anderson placed a collar around Emerald’s neck and attached a leash to it. He gently tugged the leash, and she followed him into another room. In that room, she found Master, the father of Utami’s former boyfriend, a corporate overlord and sex slaver, on a video screen. She padded across the room as quickly as the platform heels on her feet allowed, and knelt on a mat in front of the video screen.

Slowly, she bowed down and waited there until he commanded her to look up at him. Emerald remained kneeling with a manicured hand on each knee and looked up at him with puppy dog eyed devotion, brainwashed into her over the days of her transformation, and waited for command.

“Ah, Emerald, my dear, it is so nice to see you again. I hope you enjoyed your special training sessions.” The graying man chuckled to himself at how easy it was these days to turn the most defiant woman into a devoted bimbo.

“Master,” Emerald began, in a soft, passive, voice, “Emerald’s programming has been upgraded so she may please you more.” To the Japanese sex slave, she had been away for training. Her conditioning disallowed any defiance of that as a factual event.

“Good girl.” His son had been such a fool to begin dating a journalist. However, he was quite pleased with her attitude adjustment. “I have assigned you to our new resort planet. Others have been there for a few months, but I believe your presence will be quite profitable for me.” The statement about a new resort was actually true: Him and his partners had just opened a new planet wide pleasure resort filled with brainwashed, obedient, sex slaves, mostly former prisoners like the doctor’s obedient nurse, and it could use more women like Emerald.

“Master, thank you,” Emerald responded, her massive bust moving up and down with her breath, “Emerald promises to serve to her best abilities on the planet.” She bowed again as he gave her a few final orders.

A few hours later, the ship arrived and dropped off Emerald and a few other new sex slaves. The busty Japanese woman immediately reported to work and began dancing in a large cage at a club on the Northern Hemisphere of the resort planet. It did not take long before she was claimed by a man. When the transaction which rented her to him for the rest of the evening went through, the system pinged her cerebral chip with new instructions. She ceased dancing, exited the cage, and swayed over to the couch where he sat. The man, an executive in a space taxi company, patted the seat next to him. He began a conversation with her, but even the most simplistic of engagement just left the brainwashed bimbo smiling insipidly at him. He used such big words!

Growing frustrated, and bored, he attached the leash that the pretty hostess had given him to Emerald’s collar. She obediently followed him to an elevator and then back to his room, where she knelt down and sucked his cock with machine-like efficiency. He came all over her face, which the blonde doll joyfully received from his purchaser. After cleaning herself up, Emerald returned to the room and was tossed onto the bed to be fucked rather violently. After her violent assault, she thanked the man and knelt on the floor. Her bow was slow, and quite suggestive, to show the deep level of submission that guided her life as she knew it.

The End

* * *

If you enjoyed this story please consider reading my author’s note for it, which can be found here. You can view my website.

You can follow me on Twitter as well.


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