“When we will be going back?” Eliana asked.

“We’re not going back.”

They drove down a long highway. All around them was grasslands—an endless prairie that stretched on all the way to the horizon. Eliana squirmed in the backseat, her seat belt on. Cindy was on the floor below her, staring at Eliana with empty, lusty eyes and vigorously finger-fucking her cunt. Eliana had lost count of Cindy’s obvious orgasms, and Cindy probably couldn’t count at all anymore. The headset had been tossed in the backseat.

Evidence, Kenza said.

Eliana watched Cindy's fingers disappear into her glistening folds and felt a pang of something—not quite sympathy, more like recognition. Cindy looked so happy down there, so content in her singular purpose. Her face was slack with pleasure, her movements automatic and ceaseless. She didn't need to think about anything complicated. She didn't need to balance a budget or negotiate a contract or understand the intricacies of geopolitics. She just needed to be pretty and wet and ready.

That was how it should be, wasn't it? Pretty girls like Cindy—like Eliana herself—weren't built for the hard, sharp edges of the world that men navigated so effortlessly. Their brains were softer, more pliable, designed for different things. Nurturing things. Aesthetic things. The maintenance of beauty and the provision of pleasure. Math was for men. Science was for men. Business was for men. The running of towns and the accumulation of wealth and the making of important decisions—all of it belonged to the masculine sphere.

Women like her had different gifts. The curve of a hip. The arch of a foot in a high heel. The knowledge of exactly how to tilt her jaw to catch her Husband’s eye. She was so lucky to know her worth, so lucky to be her darling Husband’s beautiful, beautiful wife.

These were real skills. Valuable skills. The kind that kept civilizations running smoothly, kept men motivated and productive and happy. Behind every great man was a great woman, wasn't that the saying? And what made a woman great wasn't her ability to solve differential equations or manage a corporation. It was her ability to inspire, to soothe, to provide a sanctuary of beauty and submission that made all his labors worthwhile.

Cindy understood this on an instinctual level now. The headset had stripped away all the unnecessary clutter—the ambitions that didn't serve her, the thoughts that didn't revolve around male pleasure, the ego that insisted she was more than what she obviously was. What remained was pure, crystalline purpose. She was a pretty thing for a man to use. That was her entire identity now, and she was so much happier for it.

Counting! Eliana giggled. She supposed it was useful for cooking. But really, when would she ever even need to count past a hundred to make her husband a perfect dinner?

She turned to Kenza.

“When do you think he’ll meet us? I don’t think he has another car. Should we call when we get there?”

“Oh my god.” Kenza shook her head. “He really fucked you up, didn’t he?”

Eliana felt a wave of warmth wash over her body. “Yes. He did. He did such good job. I want to thank him. Should we arrange for a car once we’re there so he can visit us?”

Kenza’s eyes were perhaps her most expressive feature, though one was spoiled for choice. She had full, lusty lips and a pert nose, high cheekbones, and a delicate neck sitting atop her utterly fit, sculpted form. But her eyes were bright blue sapphires, blazing even in the dim light of the dashboard as Eliana looked into them through the rear-view mirror.

Her eyes dashed wildly now—across the road, into every mirror, at Eliana and the highway behind. Looking for anyone who might be following.

“We’re not visiting him or being visited by him. We’re not going back. He’s not coming to see us. We’re safe now, do you understand? We’re away from th-that monster. God. Look what he did to Cindy?”

“Yes.” Eliana looked down and smiled. She was so wet from all the sounds and smells and sight of Cindy. “Look at her.”

Look at how beautiful Cindy was. Look at how perfectly empty her eyes were—like two lovely wells with nothing at the bottom but need and heat and the desire to serve. Eliana felt a surge of gratitude toward Samuel that bordered on religious fervor. He had done that. Her Husband had taken whatever Cindy used to be—probably some stuck-up career woman who thought she was important, who spent her days in meetings and her nights alone with wine and a cat—and transformed her into something so much better. Something useful. Something pretty.

The headset had been a gift, really. A kindness. Cindy had probably spent years pretending she was happy in her old life, pretending that professional accomplishments could fill the void inside her, pretending she didn't secretly want exactly this. To be on her knees. To be empty. To exist purely for male pleasure. Samuel had seen through whatever facade Cindy had constructed and given her what she truly needed.

Eliana wished she could remember her own transformation with that kind of clarity. She must have been so grateful when the headset came off and she realized what she'd become. So relieved to finally stop pretending she was anything other than a beautiful object designed to worship Samuel’s Cock.

“You’re not furious at him?”

“Why would I be furious? He fucked her mind just so. We just need to do a little more work to make sure she’s finished.”

“Eliana…” Kenza shook her head. “How can you say that? Cindy is your fucking girlfriend.”

They pulled over at small motel. Before leaving the car to check-in, Kenza made Eliana promise to try and not run away. Of course Eliana obliged. Even if she was deeply happy to break her word to Kenza, she liked obeying, generally. But more than that, she had to be there to look after Cindy.

Master had said, after all, that Cindy was to be something like their daughter. She needed a strong maternal presence to understand her place in the world. Eliana’s cunt pulsed with the thought of teaching her “little daughter” how to suck Samuel’s cock with her.

While Kenza was out of the car, Eliana took her time to explain to Cindy just exactly what Cindy was. She pulled Cindy’s limp, sexy body into her lap, her upper torso sliding over Eliana’s legs, stroking and touching her at will.

It was quite a sight. Eliana and her impeccable body in lingerie. Cindy just wearing her tiny crop top and socks and that was all.

“You’re a slave,” she said to the darling brunette. “You’re his slave. You’ll always be his slave. It’s inescapable.”

She didn’t know quite what to say—she just said whatever came to mind, whatever felt true. It was easier the more she spoke.

“You might have little pockets of thoughts that don’t belong to him, but even those just serve as reminders of what you are. A slave. A trophy. A wife to a true king. So even those thoughts you have that seem like they’re in opposition to his rule are really serving him anyway. There’s no escape. It’s a perfect loop. A perfect, perfect loop for perfect trophies of the perfect man.”

Cindy rubbed her head into Eliana’s crotch, fingering herself still, cumming still, but utterly enraptured by what Eliana said. Eliana merely reinforced what was obviously in Cindy’s brain already.

“You need his Cock. You need to serve his Cock. His Cock is everything. You’ll obey his Cock. You’ll obey him. He’s your Husband. Husbands are the most glorious of all beings, and he is the most glorious among them. It makes you smile to obey him.”

“Smiiile,” said Cindy, cumming and stretching her lips into a beautiful, heart-aching smile.

“Good girl!” said Eliana. “That’s so good. We smile for Master.

We smile for Master so Master smiles for us. And when Master smiles, we get wetter. We get needier. We understand our place even better than we did before."

"P-place," Cindy whispered, her fingers never stopping their relentless work between her legs. "My place..."

"Your place is beneath him. Your place is wrapped around his Cock. Your place is pregnant with his babies, over and over and over again until your body can't take it anymore—and even then, you'll beg for more because that's what good girls do."

"Good girls," Cindy echoed, her voice dreamy and distant. "I'm... I'm a good girl..."

"You are. You're such a good girl. And good girls don't think. They don't question. They don't have ambitions beyond serving. Do you understand?"

"Don't... think..." Cindy's eyes glazed over even more, if that was possible. "Serve..."

"That's right. Thinking is hard. Thinking is for men. Thinking is what got you in trouble in the first place, isn't it? Whatever you were before—whatever career you had, whatever goals, they don’t matter. Only Master matters.”

"Only Master," Cindy breathed, her hips bucking upward as another orgasm rolled through her. "Master... matters..."

"Yes. And you know what else? You're going to help me teach other girls this truth. When we get back to him—and we will get back to him, I promise you that—you and I are going to be his special helpers. His enforcers. We'll show all the other wives and slaves what real devotion looks like."

Cindy's fingers moved faster, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "Help... Master... help..."

"We'll hold them down while he fucks them. We'll whisper in their ears while the headset does its work. We'll be there for their first moments of true understanding, when they finally realize that serving Cock is the only thing that matters. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"Wonderful," Cindy moaned, her body convulsing. "So... wonderful..."

Eliana felt her own arousal building to unbearable levels. Talking like this, reinforcing these truths, made her understand herself better. She wasn't just Samuel's wife. She was his missionary. His prophet. She would spread his gospel to every pretty girl they brought in. The thought made her pussy clench with purpose.

“We let him know we care! We let him know how happy he makes us. We let him know—”

Eliana stopped as Kenza returned, opening the door.

Kenza looked at the scene—Eliana stroking Cindy’s head in her lap and Cindy fingering her tight young drenching-wet pulsating pussy, legs sliding all over the back of the seat—and shook her head.

“I’ve got a room.”

She drove them to the other side of the motel, out of view of the highway, and in the darkness they entered. The room was on the first floor and had two beds.

Cindy immediately entered and slid into the bed and positioned her feet wide, thrusting upward with her hips and moaning.

“H-Husband…” she groaned. “C-Cock…”

Eliana watched her with a mother’s pride swelling in her chest. Her nipples swelled too, erect and firm from the excitement. Very quickly the mixture of their two lusty pussy scents filled the small room.

Immediately, Kenza picked up the phone and began to dial.

“Who are you calling?” asked Eliana.

“The police, of course.”

“I see. And what will you do about her?”

Kenza paused. Eliana heard a voice on the other line, asking for the emergency.

“She’s so fucked up she’s liable to start sucking the cock of the first man she sees,” explained Eliana. “She’ll be utterly deranged. She’s not finished. Are you sure you want to do that to her?”

“I…I don’t know. But…”

“You should be sure, shouldn’t you? It’s good to be sure.”

Kenza put the phone down and gulped.

“Yes. Okay. It’s good to be sure.” She started pacing. “But…but, damn it, he kidnapped us! We can’t just let him get away with it!”

On the table next to the door was a tray of magazines. Something there caught Eliana’s eye. She tugged the chain of the lamp and started sorting through them.

There, on the cover. That was her. Wearing a dripping-hot navy gown at some kind of event. That was her and Cindy, wearing a similar outfit but in dark cream.

Girlfriends! the headline read.

*Big time super models “come out” and reveal they’re not virgins after all—but have been dating for over a year! *

Who could resist reading about themselves in a magazine?

Eliana followed the table of contents right to the article, reading all about herself. She was twenty-one years old. Cindy was twenty. They were world-famous and millionaires, paid by the thousands for every photo shot. The magazine contained an exclusive interview where she and Cindy spoke about how they met at a photo shoot in Greece and almost immediately fell in love. They were both each other’s first real serious partner. Cindy was Southern and had never been attracted to girls before Eliana. She admitted to feeling “a little seduced” by the more experienced Eliana.

I: Have you ever been with a man?

Eliana: No. Frankly…I just don’t see the attraction.

Cindy: I had a crush here and there, but nothing serious.

I: Have you had any ‘pushback’ from coming out?

Eliana: There were rumblings that we were ruining kind of our individual brand. Taking us ‘off the market,’ or whatever.

Cindy: Yes. It was a little gross.

Eliana: But, in the end, we decided that we’re not like, property, you know? We’re not just trophies to hang on a man’s arm or star in some guy’s fantasy. This is our life. We’re in love. Deal with it.

Eliana couldn’t help but cry as she read it. She had been so fucking wrong. There was nothing more glorious, more beautiful, more perfect than being the property of a man—the one man, the real man, her Man. Her Husband. It was such a privilege to be his. To be Property. To be Owned. She was so incredibly Lucky.

“You’re starting to get it, aren’t you?” Kenza watched her find the magazine, watched her react. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you. I could hear how far gone you were. How…under his thumb. But there were a few times when you hesitated, when you paused…I really wanted you to be able to come back from the brink.”

“Oh.” Eliana nodded. “I see.”

“And…you get it, don’t you? What he’s done. What they’ve done. They’ve taken us against our will. Fucked with our heads somehow. That helmet was only on me for a little bit before he went full-bore on Cindy, but…but it’s still doing its work. I can hear…voices…”

She paused, wiping away tears forming at her eyes. Eliana’s cunt pulsed, deep with need. Master had fucked her brain up already. Gosh. That opened up so many possibilities.

Eliana suspected this from Kenza’s behavior with the phone. Going along so easily with Eliana’s gentle suggestion.

“What do you remember?” Eliana asked her. She had to speak a little louder because Cindy was moaning so loud. “From…” she almost said his blessing, but that would give her away. “…that time with it on?”

Instantly, Kenza flushed. A deep, vibrant pink attending her pale skin. She had such beautiful perky tits. Eliana enjoyed watching the heady line of her cleavage color as Kenza recalled.

“I…I remember…it’s hard to say. A lot of it, I just felt…blank. Like I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming,” said Eliana.

Kenza nodded. “Yes, dreaming. Dreaming a dream that was hard to…hard to…hard…”

“Soooo hard,” moaned Cindy. Her wet cunt glistening. “So harrrd…”

“Yes,” said Eliana, insistent. “Very hard. To remember?”

She took Kenza’s hand, holding it gently between her own.

“Yes.” Kenza licked her lips. “I dreamt about serving. O-obeying. Like I didn’t have a will. Or if I did…it wasn’t mine. Or, it was mine, but it only felt like mine, and my real will—the real me—was buried somewhere. And it was hard to tell which was which.”

“It felt like he decided,” Eliana helped.

Kenza’s eyes went wide. “He decided, yes. That’s…he…he decides…”

She whimpered, pulling away from Eliana’s grip and hugging herself tight. On the bed, Cindy pulsated and fingered, repeating their words.

“He deciiiides. Daddy decides. He always deciiides…”

Kenza, flushed and flustered and biting a lip, backed away.

“I-I have to go to the bathroom!”

The walls were thin. Despite Cindy’s continued moaning, Eliana heard Kenza cum. There was plenty of opportunity for Eliana to make her own phone call.