Mike had fallen back asleep. Sophie was checking some data on her tablet. Sarah was leaning in the corner, arms crossed. She was tapping her feet, looking pensive. Suddenly, she looked up in surprise.

”What was that?” she said.

“What?”

”Someone screamed.”

”I didn’t—”

With a mechanical snap someone locked the door to the sick room. Sarah rushed towards it and tried to open it. It didn’t budge. “Kate? Director West? What is going on?” she shouted and banged on the door. No reply came. Instead, Sarah heard the sound of knocking and the front door being opened, followed by footsteps.

“Right on time,” said Kate’s voice, coming muffled from behind the door. She sounded short of breath.

“I noticed. She’s not even awake yet. Well done, slave,” said a young, bright voice.

The world shrunk, shifted, turned upside down. She blanked on reactions. For a moment she just stood there, mouth open. Her insides were molten lead. Sarah would recognize that voice anywhere.

Lilly.

“They’re in the sick room, Mistress” came Kate’s voice. Sarah stepped back from the door without thinking. The world had turned cold and distant as the horrible reality became clear.

“What is going on?” whispered Sophie.

“It’s happening again,” Sarah muttered, her eyes as dead as her voice. “It’s always happening.”

“What is happening?”

With a click, the door opened and behind it stood Lilly Zimmerman, Kate Prescott -- and Florence Moreau.

“Not this time,” whispered Sarah, her face a grimace of pain and rage, pistol already ready and raised with her finger on the trigger, aimed at Moreau. But they were fast. Before she could fire, Lilly and Kate were between them, looking at her with unreadable expressions, facing death, protecting the monster that had taken their wills. She looked at them, down the barrel of her pistol, and knew that they were gone. There was only one choice.

She pulled the trigger.

The hammer pulled back and snapped forward. Click. Nothing happened. There was the smallest of pauses as they all just stood there.

“Removable firing pin,” said Kate -- and everything exploded into chaos. Kate sprang forward, knocking the gun out of her hand. Sarah ducked, dodging the follow-up and punched her in the gut. Kate’s left fist hit her flank, a bit too high. Sarah grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled Kate’s face into her raised knee. Kate screamed and hit the floor. Sarah made an automatic side-step to dodge whatever attack Lilly would be launching against her right now. She felt a blow glance her shoulder and there was the noise of someone falling behind her. She pivoted and her eyes darted around. Kate was in a heap at her feet. Lilly was struggling to her feet behind her. Moreau—

Moreau had a gun pointed at her.

Sophie saw Sarah hesitate for just an instant. She should have charged. Instead, she hesitated. Running into gunfire isn’t a human instinct. That moment of indecision was enough. Sarah seemed to realize it, too. But she reacted too late. It was enough time for the blonde woman that had been Agent Lilly Zimmerman to grab her from behind, violently twisting Sarah’s arms into a tight grip.

Sophie watched, paralyzed in terror and confusion. Sarah was struggling hard. She let out a scream of pure rage.

“No! Fuck you!”, she yelled as she twisted in the woman’s grip. The sinews in her arms and neck stood out as she tried to escape the police hold, lifting her feet off the ground, bringing her center of mass almost up to head level, kicking, trying to gain leverage. Lilly swayed, but didn’t let go.

Moreau strode forward, pulling out a small metal cylinder. She narrowly sidestepped a kick by Sarah. There was death in Sarah’s eyes. She kicked again, missing. Moreau raised her hand. Sarah screamed in rage. Kate, still on the floor, had grabbed her by the legs. The woman stepped up to Sarah. Sarah spat at her.

“Moreau! You motherfucking--”

The woman brought her hand down against Sarah’s neck.

“Aaargh! You fucking--” Sarah began, but her breath caught, all the air inside of her suddenly gone. Her eyes went wide in pain and shock. Her mouth stood open in a silent scream. Then, her head fell forward. With a final voiceless sigh, she collapsed.

Lilly and Kate were still holding her by her armpits and calves, making her arms poke out awkwardly as she was being held upright. They quickly lowered her unconscious body to the floor where she lay motionless, her eyes closed.

Sophie found herself backed into the far corner, her back against a cabinet, the gurney and Mike between her and them.

Moreau was now pointing the gun at her.

“Drop it,” she said with the slightest trace of a French accent.

She hadn’t even realized it, but Sophie was brandishing a scalpel. It was trembling in her hands. She looked at it, then back at the gun pointed at her. She dropped it and it hit the floor with a thin clatter. The woman handed the gun to Kate and turned her attention back to Sarah. Kate aimed the gun steadily at her with both hands, feet planted firmly in a solid stance. Sophie looked at Kate with an expression of betrayal and fear.

She looked at Mike. He was out. The noise hadn’t woken him. Even if it had…

“It’s some new technology, isn’t it?” asked Sophie, looking at Sarah’s motionless face. She felt her eyes turning wet as tears filled them, uselessly and unbidden. Kate just kept pointing the gun, not answering. “They got to you!” She swallowed. “How long does it take? Twenty minutes? Half an hour?”

Kate softly sighed as she seemed to recall a pleasant memory. “About two minutes,” she said with a benign smile.

Something caught in Sophie’s throat. She felt cold. She looked at Sarah again. She could have been sleeping. Two minutes? Sophie wasn’t ready for this. She looked back at Kate, mouth agape in disbelief and fear. She tensed, and Kate immediately straightened the gun in her hands.

”Sophie,” said Kate calmly but firmly. “We’re not going to hurt you, unless you do something stupid. So stay where you are.”

Something drew Sophie’s attention, then. There had been some movement behind Kate. Someone stepped inside the sick room. Sophie’s guts turned to ice. She’d forgotten. But of course she’d been here. 

It was so much worse.

“You started without me,” said Director West as she walked in, brushing wrinkles from her crumpled dress. It was a statement of simple fact. The director was utterly relaxed. All stress seemed to have lifted from her face and she looked content and dignified. When she noticed Moreau,  she stood up straighter, visibly shivering.

“Mistress,” she breathed.

“Slave,” answered Moreau in the cadence of ritual.

“Slave Karen,” supplied West, her breath catching slightly as she spoke. Sophie couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Karen West was now a willing cooperator of the Syndicate. A slave. They had turned one of the strongest and willful women Sophie had ever met into one of them. Just like that. This was the end of the world.

Florence Moreau smiled gently at the woman that had spent her entire career trying to stop exactly this from happening, and nodded in acknowledgment of her submission. “Slave Karen. I’ll have need of you shortly. For now, you may watch.”

”Thank you, Mistress. I shall,” West said gracefully and looked down at Sarah. Oh God, Sarah. Sophie caught herself looking, too. She knew and dreaded what would happen next. She felt sick. She wanted all of this to somehow go away. To wake up. To find that this had all just been a horrible nightmare.

But it didn’t stop. This was real.

No one spoke. They were all just watching as the unthinkable happened inside of Sarah’s sleeping brain, Sophie panting and trembling and close to tears, all others smiling with anticipation.Sophie imagined this was what mice felt like when cats played with them before they got eaten. Lilly was kneeling over Sarah now, gently brushing her neck and shoulders with the back of her fingers. It was a loving, intimate gesture -- and it made Sophie queasy. Sarah was on her back, arms and legs spread out around her, like a doll dropped carelessly on the ground, her head tilted in Sophie’s direction. She was wearing a tight black tank top and as Sophie watched, she couldn’t help but notice Sarah’s nipples stiffly poking through the fabric. She shuddered. Moreau's brainwashing worked through arousal. Her slaves wanted it like sex. It was revolting.

She shut her eyes so she didn’t have to deal with the sight of that happening to Sarah, but she only lasted about ten or twenty seconds before keeping them closed made her feel too vulnerable. She opened them again, trying hard to concentrate on Sarah's face, and only her face. It had been well over a minute already. Suddenly, Sarah twitched, and her fingers flexed, and Sophie winced -- but Sarah hadn't woken. Not yet. The dread in Sophie's chest almost physically hurt. This couldn’t be happening! Sarah was too strong! She’d get up and fight again! Something! Anything! This wasn’t who she was! This wasn’t something that could happen to her!

But it did.

Sarah opened her eyes and for a brief moment she felt disoriented and confused as her dazed thoughts assembled themselves. Something strange had happened and she felt.. excited? What had happened? She couldn't remember. She must have passed out. What...?

She looked around and saw Sophie Shaw staring at her, her expression frozen in terror and disbelief, and their eyes met. Sarah looked at the young analyst; Sophie looked utterly helpless and scared. Sarah didn't understand. Why would she be scared? Everything was perfect now. It hadn’t been perfect before, but now it was, because…

She was a slave!

Realization hit her like a gush of hot water, the sudden need between her legs greeting her in a flare of unbelievable pleasure. For a heartbeat, she wondered how it had happened – but then the thought was drowned out by waves of throbbing ecstasy. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that one sizzling thought between her legs:

I have been enslaved!

The wonderful truth of it sat at the very foundation of everything she knew – and it made her pussy scream with lust. Sarah moaned with gratification and watched Sophie react with terror at the sight of her freshly enslaved self, and her smile widened even more as she realized why seeing Sophie’s expression of fear made her so incredibly hot:

Sophie will be next!

Oh God, Yes! The thought of seeing Sophie enslaved was so new and so immediately perfect that it was hard to believe that she had ever wanted anything else! She wanted to see Sophie enslaved! Enslaved like herself! Her head swam with the newfound ecstasy of everything that she had become and how much she loved it. Oh God, she was so wet! She was a wet, horny, slave! The Syndicate had won! She’d been enslaved! She mewled when she thought about how she had just become the thing that she had dreaded becoming more than anything. She was enslaved. Like… Kate! Like Lilly!!!

She suddenly remembered, and she turned her head upward, and her breath caught in her throat.

Above her, mere inches from her own face, was the slave that had been Lilly Zimmerman, watching her with an expression of lust and satisfaction so deep she couldn’t see the bottom. Slave Lilly’s blonde hair was falling down towards slave Sarah’s face, just inches away. The woman she loved was with her again and slave Sarah didn’t think. She simply wrapped herself around slave Lilly and pressed her open lips against hers as love and desire overwhelmed her. Slave Lilly responded in kind and they kissed like they had never kissed, furious and reckless and violent, united in burning hot knowledge that they had both been made to serve. As their tongues played around each other, slave Sarah’s thoughts spiraled. They were kissing again! They were together again! She had her Lilly back! 

Only it wasn’t Lilly. 

Lilly was gone. 

Lilly has been enslaved. 

The thought rolled through slave Sarah's mind and it felt better than Lilly’s kiss, better than her touch, better than any love. They were both slaves, and it was perfect. Slave Sarah wanted to fuck her, to have her, to feel her, to use her like slaves were meant to be used. They fell back down together, smacking and slurping. Feeling slave Lilly against her skin, her tongue pushing into her mouth, hands all over her, was bliss.

And as they kissed, slave Sarah suddenly remembered back two days ago when they had last seen each other – and she realized that Lilly hadn’t been a slave then. 

Some useless part of her felt relief. 

She remembered how untouchable Lilly had looked in the leather jacket as she’d walked out the door of Sarah’s bedroom. She remembered the anxiety and fear she had felt in that moment and how she had wanted to stop her from going, but hadn’t. She hadn’t stopped Lilly from going, and because she hadn’t, Lilly had been captured and enslaved by Moreau!

And in that moment she realized with a sudden throb of arousal that she had missed the most obvious part of all of this:

Moreau.

Moreau!!!

“You're welcome, slave Lilly,” said the voice of her owner and the world dissolved into a million sparks of joy. Thoughts flooded her brain in an overwhelming rush of ecstasy and excitment as she recognized the voice.

Florence Moreau!

No. Not just Florence Moreau. Of course not. Of course! Of course!!! Mistress!!! Florence Moreau was her Mistress! She obeyed Florence Moreau!

Yesss!!!

The realization filled her heart with a warm golden glow and the glow wandered down between her legs, and the swelling feeling in her loins made her wonder how far the pleasure of being a slave might still reach. She forgot slave Lilly. She forgot slave Sophie and slave Kate. The most important person in the universe had just spoken to her, and the voice of her Mistress burrowed into the deepest, wettest places of her newly enslaved soul and made her suddenly see just how completely her mind belonged to Her. All her thoughts fell into line. All her desires crystallized into singular purpose. There was no more doubt. No more thought. She was a slave and slaves needed to obey. Wanted to obey. Lived to obey. She scrambled to get up, breaking the kiss with utter disregard and pushing slave Lilly aside to meet the woman that had enslaved her -- and there she was:

Florence Moreau!

Slave Sarah trembled as she stood erect before the woman that owned her. She met Her gaze proudly, breathlessly, heart hammering in her chest. She was so beautiful. So perfect. It was incredible. Moreau's slim bespectacled face and dark hair were thrown into sharp contour in the overhead light and seeing her suddenly filled Sarah’s mind with sharp memories of hate and anger, recent and fresh and clear as day. 

Monster. Enemy. Target. That's what Morau had been to her. This was the woman who had enslaved Lilly, taking and destroying her lover and friend. This was the woman she had hunted. The woman she’d wanted to kill with every fiber of her body.

Slave Sarah smiled at the woman she served and worshipped -- the woman she wanted to obey, to fuck, be used by. She was her slave. She was obedient and eager to serve and everything she’d done to fight it only made it more satisfying to know that that old version of herself had been destroyed. All those memories were now nothing but kindling for the fire in her chest that burned for Mistress. Yesss! Mistress had defeated and enslaved her! She had won! She had made them all hers! It was so fucking good!

"Thank you, Mistress!" she whimpered, as adoration threatened to overhelm her. Her. Only her. Anything for Her! She loved Her. She loved Her so much. She stood before Mistress, body tense in pleasure and excitement as she offered herself to the woman she served. She was Hers! She was Her slave! She would obey!!!

There was not a single thought of resistance left in her as she stood before the woman that was her reason for living -- shivering, dripping, and breathlessly waiting to be told how to serve.

Sophie stood at the edge of the room, trembling and crying. There was no doubt. No question. The unthinkable had happened: Sarah was gone. She was a slave. Just like Kate. Just like Lilly. Just like Director West. They had all been so strong and fierce and full of conviction -- and none of it had made any difference. Now, they were just brainwashed slaves.

Sophie felt a strange absence of fear. Instead, she felt mostly sick and dizzy, like there was a vacuum inside her that coldly tugged at her, trying to collapse her. It felt like she had departed her own body, no longer participating, like she was watching a movie. Some part of her insisted that his couldn't be actually happening.

“Slave”, said Moreau. There was a question in her tone as well as proclamation.

“Slave Sarah.” The answer came unhurried, confident. She smiled as she said it, and it was like a punch in the chest. Seeing Sarah call herself ‘slave’ was wrong. She was a fighter. A warrior. Not a slave. The smile of deep satisfaction on Sarah’s lips was an affront to everything that should be true. Not five minutes ago, Sophie had still been talking to Sarah. They’d been colleagues. They might have been friends, even. The woman that stood there looked like her, but Sarah was gone. Sarah would despise Moreau and scream at her for what she’d done. Sarah would be fighting Moreau right now. Hurt her. Kill her. 

The brainwashed slave that had been Sarah just stood there, looking at Moreau with wide eyes and erect nipples.

And then they kissed.

Sophie winced, unable to really process what she was seeing. It was just too much. She felt numb, the cacophony of thoughts and feelings inside of her too jumbled and too far away to understand. At some point their kiss ended and Moreau held up an injector, like the one she had used on Sarah. Sarah took it like she’d been given a precious gift.

“Slave Sarah,” said Moreau with a nod in Sophie’s direction. Sarah immediately fixed her gaze at Sophie, and a thin smile played across her face.

”Serve,” said Moreau.

Oh no. Awareness hit Sophie like a brick and her thoughts cleared. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of her own physical presence as she turned from spectator into the target of attention. Fear descended upon her, overwhelming and relentless. The kind of fear the body reserved for matters of sheer survival, sharp and pure. That injector was intended for her. No. No. No. Enslavement was something you read about. This was something that happened to other people, but... now it was happening to her. Right now! This was real! No! No! NO! She looked into Sarah’s eyes and it was like looking into an abyss. There was no sympathy there, only purpose. Sarah was a dangerous woman, strong and uncompromising and for all the time she had known her Sophie had been under her protection.

But Sarah was gone.

Slave Sarah strode towards her, steps quick and pitiless. An unstoppable avalanche rolling down a mountainside. Sophie tried to back away, but she was just a trapped mouse about to be devoured. She was alone, among the enemies that used to be her friends. They were gone. Kate, and Sarah, and the Director. They all looked at her like hungry predators and she felt impossibly exposed and vulnerable. Sarah stepped forward, a look of grim enjoyment on her face.

“No!” Sophie whimpered quietly, desperately. She hit her back against a cabinet as she stumbled backwards. “No!” Tears were rolling down her face as empty IV bags spilled on the floor around her. Her hands were blindly grasping behind her, searching for something to defend herself with, finding nothing.

”Sarah, no!” she begged as Sarah reached out to take her, “Please!” Her voice became a screech as it broke, but Sarah’s gaze stayed unmoved as she took a last determined step. Sophie had run out of space. Sarah grabbed her by the wrist, her grip brutal and hard, and Sophie noticed just how much taller and stronger Sarah was than herself.

The slave that had been her friend raised the injector. “No! Wait!”, Sophie screamed weakly and raised her other arm in front of her in a final desperate attempt to stop this from happening -- but Sarah easily brushed it aside as if Sophie had no more strength that a little child, and Sophie screwed her eyes shut, instinctively turning her head away.

And then it happened. It really happened.

The sharp pain of the needle made Sophie gasp and squeak as burning pressure erupted from the puncture and filled her with throbbing agony. Her teary eyes were still screwed tight, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, and there was a last moment when the entire reality of it hit her in terrible clearness: This is my last moment, my last thoughts, my last–

Life went out of her and her face melted into blank calmness as she passed out. 

She never saw Sarah’s look of sheer ecstasy.

Slave Sarah barely managed to lower Sophie down to the ground, sitting her prey’s limp body against the medicine cabinet. She dropped the spent injector with a tremendous gasp and her legs gave in underneath her as she climaxed harder than she’d ever had. She went to one knee. A long, deep moan escaped her throat and she trembled and gasped, abdomen convulsing in waves of pleasure. 

Finally, a satisfied smile settled on her face.

“I obey, Mistress” she purred. Her voice was slick with adoration of her Mistress and the gratification with what she’d done to serve her. She’d loved every second of it. She loved how completely enslaved she was.

Mistress smiled at her, and it made her shiver.

“I told you we’d get you,” whispered slave Lilly, embracing slave Sarah from behind, putting her chin on slave Sarah’s shoulder and her hands on her enslaved lover’s breasts, squeezing firmly.

“And now we serve her together,” slave Sarah murmured back, and put her own palms on the back of slave Lilly’s hands, squeezing them tighter against her tits. “So… what was that about licking cunts all day long?” she whispered. Slave Lilly chuckled.

Director West, slave Kate and Mistress Moreau stepped closer, watching the incredible sight of an unconscious Sophie, minutes away from becoming just like them. Director West moaned openly.

“Glad to see you like this, Director,” said slave Sarah.

“Slave Karen,” corrected the Director with a satisfied smile.

“Hot,” replied slave Sarah. They exchanged eager looks.

“So fucking hot. I’m so damn wet right now,” said slave Karen.

“Hey, look at you, being all slutty. Hardly recognize you,” said slave Kate, who had holstered the gun.

”That is kind of the point,” said slave Karen with a smile.

They enjoyed the next moments together in reverent silence as they looked down on former agent Sophie Shaw, whose unconscious body sat on the floor, head hanging from her neck. She looked tiny and vulnerable with her lips hanging half-open and her limp arms resting on the floor spread out next to her. Her breathing was still fast, but shallow. Any second now.

Her face twitched, followed by her fingers. 

And then, slave Sophie woke with a manic smile.

“Oh God, Yes!” slave Sophie moaned as she realized what she was. “Yes! Fuck, yes!”

It had happened to her! She was a slave!

Her hands were on her chest, squeezing her tits in excitement as her perfect new truth throbbed between her legs. She felt it in her mind -- where she'd been violently altered! New desires and instincts made from pure, sweet dopamine, singing in her chest, making her dance! It was at her core, monolithic and so completely, fundamentally, right: She was a slave, and she would obey! Yes!!! She explored these perfect new thoughts that were so easy and so satisfying to think. She was glad to discover that the feeling of pure sex she got from thinking them was the only thing she now lived for.

In the flash of a moment she saw how artificial these thoughts were, how they’d been mercilessly forced into and onto her. She liked that idea so much that she let out a high squeal of pleasure. Her new neural pathways were paved with ecstasy and joyous obedience and it felt so good to be this way. Her whole body tingled and shivered in excitement over what she had become. She remembered how afraid she had been. It had been only minutes ago and it was dizzyingly fresh in her mind. She could still taste the bile in her throat. It was almost unbelieavable. That crying whimpering bitch had been her. 

Now, she was still that same person, but now she was a slave, and she loved it. It was sex. It was life. It was everything she’d ever wanted. The cognitive dissonance sparkled like a thousand wet kisses on her clit and she was so incredibly glad she got destroyed. This was better. So much better. Being turned into a slave was the hottest thing she’d ever experienced. She hadn’t known she could be that wet without touching herself and she was ecstatic to find out. This was who she was now, and who she wanted to be: Little slave Sophie, wet and hot and obedient! Her old life was over and now she would serve and obey and let herself be fucked and used like the good little brainwashed whore that she was. Fuck, yes! Her pussy was wet from just thinking about it, and she’d already spread her legs by sheer instinct. She was a slave and her cunt existed to be used.

She looked up. Above her stood the others. The former agents who had been so deliciously destroyed, like poor little Sophie had been. Fuck, yes! All of them were slaves, now! Slave Lilly. Slave Kate. Slave Karen. Slave Sarah. She wanted them all. She wanted to fuck them. They were slaves, and that had become the hottest fucking thing in the universe. 

They were looking down on her with various expressions of lust and pride as she gasped and moaned at them, so much louder than she needed to, slowly writhing on the floor like a shameless whore. Slave Sophie was glad that they had seen her be enslaved. It must have been so fucking hot to watch. She remembered the last moments of her old self, and this time she imagined herself as slave Sarah, bearing down on her, overpowering her, watching as little Sophie turned into a slave. It almost set her off. No longer Sophie Shaw. Slave Sophie!!! Oh God, yes!

And then Florence Moreau stepped forward from behind the other slaves.

It was a cosmic sunrise. She hadn’t noticed it before – that Need. Like the curvature of the earth, the source of her obedience had been too enormous to notice. But now she saw her Mistress, and the planet she had been standing on shrunk away beneath her, and the horizon curved into an eclipse, and she understood just how utterly she now existed to obey. Yes! Her! Only her! Anything for her!

“Mistress,” slave Sophie blurted, crawling and kneeling before her new owner. The need to submit pulled her like gravity, and her Mistress was the inescapable singularity at the center of the galaxy. 

Mistress took her by the chin, raising her up until they both stood, slave Sophie looking up at her. She was tall and beautiful and perfect and for a moment the need to fuck her eclipsed slave Sophie’s mind.

“Slave,” said Moreau. The word was sugar and honey and sour drops. It was perfect.

“Slave Sophie,” she affirmed, eyes bright and still glistening with long forgotten tears. She remembered seeing slave Sarah answering to Mistress for the first time like she was doing now – and the memory had turned beautiful.

Mistress bowed down to kiss her and slave Sophie met her hungrily, tasting the lips of her owner on her own with a feeling of coming home. She took half a step closer, her body aching with the need to be touched – but Mistress merely put her hand around slave Sophie’s neck instead of her tits or her cunt or her ass like she had hoped and prayed. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was entirely hers. Slave Sophie lost herself in the kiss, and felt only the chemically pure ecstasy of obedience that Mistress had forced into the core of her being.

“Slave Sophie,” Moreau finally said, breaking the kiss and stepping back. Slave Sophie stood straighter, proud and ready to obey. She could almost taste it. Mistress was about to command her! Yes! Anything! I will serve! I will obey!

“Kill the male,” Mistress said and slave Sophie's breath caught as she realized what she had been commanded to do. A shiver of excitement went through her. For a brief moment she couldn't believe what they had turned her into – what she was about to do.

She smiled, and calmly knelt down to pick up the scalpel she had dropped earlier.

And then she obeyed, and it felt so fucking good.