The sun had risen and they were back in the main room of the former safe house, where slave Kate had enslaved the Director. Lined up neatly before the woman that had taken their will, standing proudly as her eager, obedient slaves. Their eyes were on fire with devotion.

Moreau commanded them to strip, and the relief was palpable in the air as they all happily obeyed. She watched her slaves undress before her, satisfied to see that their nipples were as hard as their panties were wet. It still made her shiver after all these years of enslaving people. Watching them turn was the best part, but there was a special thrill in making a slave bare herself for the first time. Seeing it in their eyes how much they liked it was such a thrill. She took them in hungrily as they exposed themselves for her. They all did it differently, which was a good thing. They were all utterly obedient and brainwashed, but most of the person they used to be remained. That had always been the goal, and this confirmed that her new method of enslavement worked as intended. Plus, it made for much more varied viewing.

Slave Karen, for instance, seemed to do it for her own pleasure, just knowing that it was done in service of her Mistress. The director’s eyes were closed, as if she was tasting something delicious and wanted to savor the sensation even more intensely. She stepped out of her shoes and took her dress off deliberately and carefully. Next, she removed her earrings and necklace, then undid her bra and finally pulled down her panties. She was tall and elegant, heavy breasts just barely starting to betray her age. She was beautiful. In her youth, she must have been stunning.

Slave Sophie was very much undressing in a performance for her Mistress, submissively staring at her owner with wide eyes as she unclasped her bra, begging for attention, begging to be consumed by her Mistress’s hungry gaze. Before the others had even really started, her shirt was already lying on the ground where she had carelessly tossed it in the hurry to bare herself. There was still some blood on it. She was a small woman trying to present as much of herself as possible, chest out and swollen pussy glistening between slightly spread legs. It made for quite the show. Her pink nipples stood erect on small, pointy breasts. She had a tattoo of a strawberry on her left ankle. Nude, she stood rigidly, trembling with need and purpose and pride. Pride to serve. Pride to obey. Pride to be owned.

Slaves Sarah and Lilly were undressing each other, not looking at their Mistress at all as they did so. Moreau didn’t mind. She would be able to suppress that kind of behaviour if she wanted to. But, honestly, she was enjoying it -- and she knew that slave Sarah would see slave Lilly as a symbol of her Mistress’s victory over her. Slave Lilly in turn was showing off her latest catch to her owner. The two of them stood very close to one another, leaned slightly forward, gently touching foreheads. Moreau caught slave Lilly’s sly sideway glance as she pulled down slave Sarah’s soaked panties, exposing the fresh slave’s slick sex to her Mistress. Slave Sarah had undone the ponytail she’d worn before, and her black hair now fell in gentle waves around her face. It made her look more youthful and less serious. She no longer needed to project strength, now that she had become property. Slave Sarah’s naked body was pale and muscular, her breasts were lightly glistening with sweat, and her nipples were as hard as everyone else’s. She was indeed as magnificent as slave Lilly had promised. She turned to Moreau, confident and proud, her hand entwined in slave Lilly’s.

For a moment, Moreau remembered the hateful fire in those eyes. There was only devotion burning there now. Slave Sarah stood nude and obedient, no more fight left in her. Only obedience.

Moreau nodded, and smiled, and enjoyed seeing slave Sarah tremble at even auch a slight gesture of appreciation. Such a wonderful slut. She would make a lot of use of her.

Next, Moreau turned her attention to the redhead, slave Kate. She was the other combat operative that had managed to get away, and looked no less impressive than slave Sarah. She was the tallest of the batch, with round hips and long legs, and she been wearing a wicked smile of reckless delight ever since she had unlocked the door to betray the rest of them. She, too, was deliberate, just like slave Karen -- but in a far more overtly sexual way. Before each item of clothing she pulled off, she made sure that Moreau was watching. She discarded every piece with great weight, as if every inch of herself that she was baring was proving a point. Her straight red hair fell down to her freckled collarbones, sweaty and untidy from the fight she had once put up. When slave Kate had discarded the last of her clothing and was completely nude, she stood rigidly and tensely, muscles taut and defined beneath glistening, pearly skin. Moreau’s eyes wandered down her body, taking in her full breasts with large swollen nipples, and slave Kate smiled with deep satisfaction.

It was done. All slaves had undressed themselves now. They stepped out of the heaps of discarded clothes they would forever leave behind and stood around her, proudly nude. Their young bodies belonged to her now. More importantly, so did their souls. They wanted nothing more than to serve her. They were hers.

They gave her the look. The look of absolute submission and adoration. Moreau lived for that look, especially the first time she saw it in someone’s eyes. Her breath caught in her throat for a second as she shivered at the sight. She almost didn’t feel worthy, then. 

The feeling passed as she slipped back into the moment of wonderful domination and satisfaction.

“Slaves,” she said. Seeing their eyes light up at the word made her loins tingle. She wanted to throw herself at them right then, make them tear off her clothes and take her. This was as much business as anything else of course -- but she would never have gotten into that business in the first place if she wasn't just as fucking horny for it as she made her slaves feel.

She controlled herself. Soon. This was foreplay. The best foreplay there was.

She had come up with the game she was about to play after something her second slave had blurted out in bed one time -- a wonderfully emotional and absurdly unsubtle outburst that had surprised her at the time. The slave had apologized, and they had chuckled as they had lain entwined. And then, they had both realized that it turned both of them on incredibly hard. Moreau had made her slave say it again and again, made her whisper it into her ear as she had stroked herself, the slave lovingly caressing her, telling her how she felt about what Moreau had done to her.

She stepped up to slave Kate. Tall, like her, and strong, like slave Sarah and slave Lilly. She kissed her softly. She had to tiptoe just a little bit to meet her slave’s eager lips.

“Tell me how you feel. Tell me what your mind sings. Tell me what you ache to say out loud. What gets you off. What makes you so happy to obey. I want to hear it, too. Tell us what you are. Tell us what you want. Tell us what I made you think.”

Slave Kate understood.

“Kate Prescott is dead, Mistress! I am nothing but your slave! I serve you! I am yours. My body. My mind. All of me! I want this! I betrayed my friends and it felt so good, and it made me so fucking horny and wet when I watched them be enslaved because obeying you makes me wet. Saying this makes me wet! Because I am a slave! Because everything I was has been overwritten, and I love it so much! Thank you for destroying what I was! I—”

“Enough, for now.”, she said, softly. She would make her elaborate when she was between her legs. Moreau kissed her again, more deeply.

She moved on to slave Karen, kissing her, too. She looked into her eyes expectantly. Slave Karen understood as well.

“Karen West is nothing but an obedient slave now. The Syndicate has won and I will eagerly serve to ensure the division’s downfall as your plaything and pawn. My mind is yours. My body is yours. My life is yours. I have been conquered, enslaved, and I will always obey because I am nothing but a good little slave that gets off from obedience. Serving you makes me wet. Seeing my agents as your slaves makes me want to touch myself. I am an obedient slut, and I want to fuck you -- and more importantly I want everyone to hear that I want to. I am Karen West, and I'm an enslaved whore.”

Moreau raised her hand and nodded with a smile, then kissed her tightly.

When Moreau came to her, slave Sophie spoke breathlessly and with an intense need, like they were already in bed. “I’m a slave, Mistress!" she whimpered. "I obey! I’m yours! Use me, Mistress! Use me! I am your slave! I am your little horny slave, and I'll do anything to serve you! Anything! I'm a horny slut and obeying makes me so wet, and I want to cum all the time. I love what you did to me! I have no choice! You made me! You made me!!! There is only obedience now! Only obedience! Nothing else is important! I am a slave and I obey!”

When Moreau kissed her, the petite slave’s lips were quivering beneath hers.

She had already played the game with slave Lilly the first time she had used her for sex two days ago. It would be quite hot to have her repeat it now in front of the ones she had so eagerly betrayed into her service, but Moreau was hungry to hear her final new slave proclaim her new truths -- so she skipped the blonde slave and moved on to the slave which was last in line: The woman that slave Lilly had betrayed the most. The one that had fought the most and hated her the most:

Slave Sarah.

The dark-haired slave was a bit smaller than slave Karen and slave Kate, but nonetheless standing tall and proud before her, naked skin glistening all over her taut body. She looked at her Mistress adoringly. Excitement made her voice unsteady when she spoke:

“I am yours, Mistress! I am the willing slave of Florence Moreau! I will obey! Thank you so much for enslaving me. Thank you for enslaving Lilly. She is so much better as your slave. Thank you for enslaving Kate, and Karen, and Sophie. They are so much better as your slaves. I am so glad we were all enslaved. Thank your for taking my will! Thank you for making me serve! Thank you for ending everything that I used to be! Sarah is dead, just like Kate and the rest! I am yours now! I will obey! I will serve! I am your warrior and your slut and I will worship you and serve you at all costs. Use me, Mistress! Please! Use everything of me! Make me serve! Make me obey like the slave I am! I will serve! Everyone must serve you! Please make me enslave more! Please make me—”

Moreau stopped her. She had been talking herself into a frenzy, and while Moreau tried to keep her hands steady, she was dripping and shivering herself. She took a slow, deep breath and kissed slave Sarah like she had kissed the others. The slave's lips  greedily sucked on hers, and Moreau could taste the slave's need to offer herself whole. To be used. To be fucked. To serve. She wanted it so much. It was so hot.

Moreau broke the kiss. Not yet. But soon! She needed it, too! Her own need was palpable now, and her slaves had been undressing her with their eyes from the start. She looked down at herself. She was wearing practical clothing. Blouse, jeans. She’d never been the red-dress-with-no-underwear type. Her slaves adored her either way.

It was time. She had done this many times before, but it never ceased to thrill her; she started to undo her blouse, looking at the naked bodies of the enslaved women. She saw it in their quivering hips, in the wetness between their legs. The need they shared. The need she had burned into their brains.

”I am blessed,” she said, looking at their enraptured faces, “by your obedience. You are magnificent. Turning you was a pleasure, and a privilege. I am your Mistress, and you shall obey and adore me, but I also adore you. Slaves -- but not mindless. You are still strong, and your strength is my strength.”

She slipped off the blouse and let it drop on the floor. She undid her bra. She struggled with the hooks for a second, but no one minded. She let it fall to the floor and enjoyed their needful gazes on her breasts.

“I could be your Queen, your Empress, your Goddess.”

She stepped out of her pants.

“But what I enjoy even more than your subservience is your companionship.”

Her panties were as wet as the ones of her slaves. She pulled them down.

“So please, fucking relax,“ she laughed softly. “I know that you’ve all been aching to touch yourselves since I enslaved you, so, for God’s sake, just do it already! I don’t mind, quite the opposite. Do it!”

Like a string snapping, the slaves were on the floor and over each other. It was truly a sight to behold.

Slave Lilly and slave Sarah had entered into some sort of contest to see who could most quickly and effectively touch every bit of the other with their hands and tongues. They quickly settled on slave Lilly lying on her back with slave Sarah’s head between her legs, her own hand reaching back around toward her own pussy, stroking and penetrating herself. Slave Sophie was still on her feet, two fingers of one hand deep inside of her, legs spread wide, her other hand holding the back of slave Kate’s head. Her ass was occupied by slave Kate’s hand, who was kneeling in front of her. They were furiously tonguing, and slave Kate was alternating between rubbing her clit and pushing her middle finger between her sticky and swollen lips. Slave Karen had laid down on the floor, legs spread wide, furiously working between them all by herself while watching her former subordinates like a wife getting herself off to the sight of her husband fucking another woman.

Moreau watched them all, her own hands slowly stroking the wetness between her legs. It didn’t take long at all. Release came quickly, for all of them. She watched them come, one by one.

When they had all climaxed, she stepped closer. She stretched out her hand, reaching out to slave Sarah. It was arbitrary. Deciding which of them turned her on the most was a futile endeavor. She would have them all, eventually. Possibly all of them today.

Slave Sarah took her hand and the slave’s skin felt hot and sticky. Moreau raised her from the floor until they were eye to eye, hand in hand, faces only a foot apart, breasts almost touching. They could feel each other’s heat, Mistress and slave, both ready for what was about to happen next.

Slave Sarah looked at her Mistress with primal need of submission burning between her legs, and she still couldn't believe that it had happened to her. She was a slave, now. She was Florence Moreau's slave, and she would do absolutely anything to please her and serve her. Anything at all!

Still, what her Mistress had said was true. She still felt like herself, and She was confident she could still make decisions. Mistress just had made it so she’d never want anything other than to obey. That was what made her a slave. She hadn’t been dulled, only completely and utterly turned around. Everything she wanted and believed had been forced into line to serve her enslaver. She loved it. Of course, she loved it.

She looked at her Mistress, Florence Moreau, who she had no desire not to worship, not to obey. Her pussy screamed with the need to fuck her, to be fucked by her. She looked down at her Mistress’s tits and her own, two pairs of hard nipples, so ready to be touched, played with, sucked. Behind her, the presence of the other slaves was like a cozy fire, wrapping her in a comfortable blanket. She thought of them and how they were all united in their need to obey. How much they all wanted this, now. How much they hadn’t. How they had been made to. Most of all, she thought of slave Lilly, and how fucking hot it was that she was watching this, fully complicit, eager and horny to see her enslaved girlfriend serve the woman that had taken her will. It was so good, and she smiled at the thought as she stood there and waited for her Mistress to command her, pussy throbbing with need and excitement as the moment dragged and dragged and dragged.

She could have made the first move, she judged. She just didn’t want to. She wanted to wait, and enjoy the anticipation. She wanted to be told. To be commanded. She wondered if that desire was her own and then, of course, found that she didn’t care.

Finally, Mistress raised her hand, cupping slave Sarah’s cheek, thumb on the corner of her mouth. Slave Sarah sighed and leaned her head into her Mistress’s hand.

“Pleasure your Mistress,” spoke the voice that connected to slave Sarah’s core.

Slave Sarah went to her knees and gladly served like the eager and obedient slut that she was.