5.

When Gemma was next aware of the world, she saw Rachelle. But she didn’t recognize her dear friend at first, for a few reasons. She’d seen Rachelle in a tiny bikini, of course, but had never seen her completely naked, with her dark nipples erect and the number 7 tattooed in dark ink just above one of them. She’d never seen the little golden piercing Rachelle wore through her clit. But Gemma had especially never seen her perky, witty friend with such glazed eyes, an expression so devoid of any animation, a trickle of drool descending from her slack lips.

Rachelle looked completely brainless. She looked like how Gemma felt.

Gemma was still on her knees, where Sonny had left her, and her legs were cramped. But the discomfort was far away, along with her confusion and fear. Bliss and serenity lay like a thick blanket on top of everything else. She knew those pleasant feelings were fake—somehow the headphones she still wore dulled her thoughts just like they dulled outside noise. It was like noise-canceling for her brain, which would have been a funny concept if Gemma hadn’t been so deeply under its influence.

While Gemma remained kneeling, Rachelle was standing up straight, her hands behind her back. She was showing off her body, but the Owners who stood on either side of her weren’t even looking, just carelessly touching her like one might absentmindedly pet a cat. Sonny and Ty were talking casually to each other, and the expressions on their faces suggested to Gemma they couldn’t be less interested in the two naked, stupefied women they had under their power.

Then, as Gemma watched, Ty told Rachelle to get on her knees and suck his dick. The Owner didn’t even call her by name, though. He just said, “Number 7, serve me,” and Gemma’s brainwashed friend moaned and dropped to her knees. And what was really fucked up was, Gemma moaned, too.

Sonny slid his shorts off, coaxing his cock to erection with his hand. “Come here, Number 22,” he said, and Gemma’s body moved without her will. She couldn’t resist the compulsion to crawl to him when he pointed to the floor. He was an Owner. He owned the whole resort, and all its property… and that meant he owned her, too.

She knew that was insane but also true. The suggestions in the music she couldn’t stop hearing through the headphones she couldn’t even think about taking off and throwing across the room were invisible to her conscious mind, but her deep mind accepted them helplessly.

Those suggestions must be telling her she needed to serve her Owner more than she needed air. Gemma needed him more than anything. Her pussy, embarrassingly soaked, spasmed as she took him in her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she could hear the wet slurping sounds Number 7 was making beside her. Gemma fell easily into the same rhythm. The rhythm of serving their Owners.

Number 7? That was wrong. The other woman was her friend, and her name was… but Number 22 couldn’t remember. She was losing focus on anything but the feel of her Owner’s thick cock throbbing in her hand as she stroked the shaft, straining against her lips and tongue as she took him deeper and deeper into her open, willing throat.

The Owner tangled his hands in her hair, careful not to dislodge her headphones, and Number 22 forgot about everything but this, her purpose. A purpose being branded on her mind more deeply with every beat of the music. Her only purpose was to bring her Owners pleasure.

Gemma lost track of time. She had vague memories of dreamy sex in the Owners’ condo, but now she was lying on the secluded patio out back, relaxed on a huge, comfortable chaise lounge. She was naked, her warm skin golden and glistening with oil. Num… Rachelle knelt by her side and massaged her body. Between the hot sun, the massage, and the music pouring into her brain through the headphones she was barely conscious of wearing, Gemma felt like she was melting into a warm shimmery pool.

It felt good, but deep beneath the surface she was still struggling. She knew this was wrong, that she shouldn’t be here. She and Rachelle shouldn’t have numbers, shouldn’t be slaves to the Owners of the resort. But she couldn’t leave. She could hardly think. Her body was far too relaxed to move.

Or she thought it was. But then Rachelle slid her slick fingers across Gemma’s clit, and her legs spread automatically to give her friend easier access.

Gemma moaned, and mumbled, “Rachelle… what’re you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Gemma. It feels so good. Everything feels so good, doesn’t it? Belonging here feels so good.”

Everything Rachelle said was true. Her voice was soothing and her fingers were giving Gemma such intense pleasure, and yet even as she started to buck her hips under Rachelle’s teasing touch, the kernel inside of her that was still free knew this was wrong.

“We need… to go… home. Home, Rachelle. Don’t you remember?”

Rachelle leaned forward and kissed her dazed, dreamy friend on the stomach. She slid a finger into Gemma’s pussy, rubbed her faster. Gemma moaned and whimpered. Rachelle sucked one of Gemma’s nipples into her mouth and bit it gently.

Gemma came.

“There’s nothing we need to remember,” Rachelle reassured her friend. “It feels so good to be here. It feels so good to belong. We belong to our Owners.”

Gemma’s body went limp. She didn’t think she could move a muscle if she tried. But the voice in her head told her it was time to turn over, to tan her backside, and her body responded automatically. Rachelle helped her roll over onto her front, and once she had, straddled her friend and started massaging her. Rachelle’s hands were soft and strong and warm, the luxurious massage starting at Gemma’s neck and working down to her ass. Rachelle spent a lot of time there, and soon Gemma felt another orgasm building inside her.

“It feels so good,” Gemma whispered, “to be here.”

Rachelle smiled, feeling the hot sun above her, and the hot body of her friend below. She shut her eyes and basked in the pleasure of kneading her friend’s warm flesh, knowing she was doing what her Owners wanted her to, helping Gemma accept that she belonged here, belonged to them. Just like Rachelle did.

Days passed in that daze: sex and massage and tanning and sex. Gemma couldn’t have said how long it had been since she arrived. Every morning she stood at attention, in a line with the other property of Sun Dreams. Like Rachelle on her left and the girl from the ice cream stand on her right, Gemma was naked, her number tattooed on her left breast, and, like the rest of the property, she had no will to move. Ty stood in front of her, looking over his property, gloating at the harem of brainwashed young women waiting to serve him.

Gemma recognized the hunger in his expression. She was forgetting how to hate him. The music pumping through her mind left no room for any emotion towards an Owner but the burning desire to serve. She knew Ty and Sonny had done this, not only to her, but to her friend Rachelle; they’d reprogrammed her so completely she would betray Gemma with a smile on her face. Yet Gemma could not hate Ty. She could only desire him. She could only long for the moment that he selected her from among all his property, selected her for his use.

Much later, lounging in the sun, deeply tanned, Gemma heard a chime sound over the music playing in her comfy headphones. She obeyed the compulsion to stand and leave the balcony. Her naked, oiled skin was so warm from the sun. She felt drowsy and horny. It was much easier to go back into the condo, letting her body answer the summoning trigger, than it was to question why she might be doing so.

Sonny was waiting for her. He wore only swim trunks, and she admired his tanned and tattooed body in a listless way as she came to attention in front of him, like a soldier awaiting inspection. His eyes roamed her body with their characteristic hungry gleam. He lingered on her breasts, the curves shiny with tanning oil, nipples stiffening in the cool air of the climate-controlled room. Gemma felt so horny her heat must be visible, rising in waves off her skin. Simply standing under the gaze of an Owner made her feel so soft, weak, and wet. She forgot the music whispering to her subconscious mind, forever reshaping her. Any slight volition that may have remained to her fled as she watched Sonny, completely focused on awaiting his instructions.

Sonny stepped up close to Gemma, and her breath quickened. But all he did was take the headphones off her head. The silence felt strange, but Gemma didn’t move or look away from her Owner, hoping he wanted to use her. Gemma belonged to the resort, and the resort belonged to Sonny, so she belonged to Sonny. It was a simple equation, and she performed it over and over; the music had drummed any more complex thoughts out of her head. Her brain was completely programmed with this understanding. Sonny was her Owner, and her place was to obey him. She was his property, and her purpose was to please him. And to please the other Owners. And to please their customers, too.

To Be Continued…