They told her to make the body get off its knees and stand at the side of the room, and she made it obey like she always did. When she was out of the way, Christine sat down in the cushioned chair and spread her legs for her owner. It was the perfect height to allow access to her pussy. She smiled as she was being used, and appeared to climax hard when Berger shot his load into her. If she had ever wanted anything else, there was nothing left of it. It was clear that she couldn’t be more invested and complicit in any of this. She was his willing property.

Some part of Lillian felt ashamed to admit that she envied her for it. She wished she could feel like that. She knew it was selfish and wrong, but she couldn’t help but imagine a better existence than this. She was only a mind, trapped in a body that wasn’t her own, burdened with a painful and utterly irrelevant past and set of ideas still lingering in her memories. It would be so much easier to simply want it. None of her thoughts had value anyway. Couldn’t they just change them?

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. 

All that mattered was that this body would serve.

When Bouvier and Berger were done, Bouvier took her old place behind her work station. They commanded Lillian to move the body back into the chair, and after she had complied they proceeded with further diagnostics to ensure that every part of the truth had been properly conveyed to Lillian. It was a long process, and Berger quickly wandered off to check on his phone and do whatever he desired with his time and property. 

Lillian, meanwhile, was left alone with Bouvier, and her own thoughts.

All of this was so strange.

She felt the body’s skin, slightly cold, as it lay naked on the artificial leather of the chair. She sensed the stale aftertaste of cum in the back of its throat. Feeling it, she realized the connection between it and the rest of the universe. Touch and taste and temperature. Gravity pulling down on it. Blood flowing inside of it as air was flowing outside of it. Earlier, another body had been inside of it, and she had felt skin on skin, and it had been so hard to tell where it had ended and the other body had begun. And then, its mouth had been filled with cum, and it had mixed with saliva, and now it was still inside it after being swallowed down. It had been part of one body, and now it was part of another. Two bodies had been inside of each other, and now they were apart again. But they had never stopped existing as the same kind of thing, interchangeable and completely arbitrary in their boundaries. They air in her lungs, the food and cum in her stomach, the nutrients in her blood – all of it was just matter passing through each other. 

It was a strangely reassuring thought. This body wasn’t special. Just another piece of property.

She might be getting used to this.

She really hoped that she would.

It took another fifteen minutes before Bouvier was done with her. When all diagnostics had been completed to her satisfaction, she commanded Lillian to make the body follow, and she obeyed like she had to. She moved the body, and felt the universe push through itself, skin and muscles and bones passing through light and dark and air and cold, a naked body walking down a hallway, passing a leering guard, feeling nothing as a body that existed to be used became an object of desire by a stranger. This body wasn’t special. Just another piece of property.

They met Berger in his car. Bouvier was driving again. Lillian placed the body on the back seat next to its owner, and obediently spread its legs when she was told. Berger wasn’t even paying attention to it. He was on his phone. He simply seemed to enjoy being able to idly rub his fingers between the body’s pussy lips as they drove.

It didn’t take long before Lillian felt the arousal, and she did her best to let it make soft noises of pleasure without being too distracting. Berger seemed to enjoy that, too, from what she could tell. 

The drive took an hour and ten minutes, and they finally arrived at an impressive-looking lodge that had never shown up during Lillian’s research into Lotus. It was pretty late at night by now, probably going on midnight.

The mountain air was bitingly cold in the body’s lungs as it walked across a gravel driveway, and Lillian felt the small stones dig into its naked soles even as goosebumps were rising on its flesh. Bouvier and Berger were walking ahead, and she made the body obediently follow up a wide set of portico stairs, and into the cozy warmth and mid-century elegance of what surely belonged to Berger.

“Get yourself ready, Christine,” said Berger, and Bouvier nodded and hurried off somewhere down a hallway. 

The body kept following its owner under Lillian’s careful supervision, and they found their way into an enormous dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, and a fireplace on the third. What must have been a roaring fire had burned down to embers.

In the middle of the room, a stately oak table dominated the space. There were three empty wine glasses at one end of it, with a bottle of red vintage nearby.

Some old part of Lillian sprang into action on pure instinct. Lipstick marks on one of the wine glasses, and not the others. The wine has been opened, but it’s not empty. Plates are untouched. Chairs either haven’t been moved or someone’s carefully pushed them under the table.

She pictured someone getting a call, opening the bottle, pouring a glass, and drinking it in one go without sitting down. Whatever the plans had been for tonight, Lillian had caused them to change. And if there was one likely candidate to be waiting for them, it simply had to be–

“On your knees, slave,” said the voice of Susanne Berger.

It took Lillian a brief moment to parse the command. She hadn’t thought of herself as a slave until now – but the intention was clear.

She made the body obey.

She was surprised to see her owner kneel down next to her.

“I’m sorry, honey,” said Simon Berger. “But–”

“-you could have just let slave Christine handle it,” said Susanne, obviously annoyed, but not quite angry.  “I mean, she’s really fucking pretty, but don’t you have enough playthings already?”

“Not like her,” said her owner. “I let Christine test her–”

“WHAT?! Without me?!”

“I–” stammered Simon Berger. “I thought you said you didn’t want to if she’s not gonna be willing?”

“But I wanted to be asked!” Susanne said, her eyes wide and intense with irritation.

This was making Lillian uncomfortable. She was right in the middle of a marital argument between people she hardly knew.

“I did ask!” insisted Simon. 

“Yes. Two months ago, when it was still purely theoretical!”

“What’s the difference between theoretical and practical if it’s not your thing anyway?!”

“Maybe I get to change my mind sometimes?!”

“Of course you do! But you didn’t tell me!”

“I– I was going to tell slave Christine to put up a demo for me!”

“Okay? Did you, though?”

“I– shut up, you’re stupid and ugly and dumb.”

“And you’re a sick pervert.”

“Look who’s talking!”

“Look who made me!”

“Fuck you!”

“No fuck you!”

“Cum for me, slave!”

“Oh come on, you—aaaaaaooohghgh!”

Simon Berger convulsed with sudden pleasure, doubling over and shivering, his mouth open with a breathless gasp. He did his best not to collapse into a heap as the orgasm subsided, and ended up on all fours, panting heavily, an exasperated smile on his lips.

“If I had gotten you first…” he said.

“But you didn’t,” said Susanne Berger with a self-satisfied smile. “And now you’re the one that gets to obey like a good little husband. Happy?”

“Very.”

“Clean yourself up. I cancelled everything tomorrow. We’re still having date night.”

“Okay, thank you,” he said, and walked off.

There was a moment of strange silence. Lillian wasn’t anything more than a disconnected observer to the universe anyway, but this had felt especially out-of-body. She hadn’t known what to do except keep the body still and quiet, and hope that it wouldn’t do a disservice to its owner while all of this was happening.

She didn’t know if she had succeeded. The owner of the body was gone, and instead she was now alone with… the owner of its owner? It was all terribly unclear. 

Susanne Berger looked down at her. If she was in any way disturbed by the naked body of a woman kneeling on the floor of her house, she certainly didn’t show it.

“So you’re… the body?” she asked.

“I am the mind that controls the body,” said Lillian. It felt unwise to tell her that she had been exactly wrong. Simply stating the truth was better.

“Huh,” said Berger, nodding slowly. 

She said nothing else. Instead, she walked over to the end of the dining table, picked up the bottle of wine, poured a large sip into the glass that already had her lipstick marks on it, and downed it in one go.

Despite everything, it felt good to be right.

Berger poured another glass. This one, she was drinking more slowly.

After another minute, Bouvier returned. She was wearing a very fine pair of black dress pants and matching kitten heel pumps, as well as a cream-colored silken blouse.

“How may I serve, Ma’am?” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I see you’ve already started with the wine. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Berger smiled playfully, her eyes wandering up and down Bouvier’s body. “It’s fine,” she said. “Get us the starters. The husband will be here soon.”

And so it started. It didn’t take long for Simon Berger to reappear in a fine dinner suit and offer a seat to his wife. Music started playing from prohibitively expensive looking speakers, and Christine came back with two plates of appetizers and a bowl of bread. There must have been a staffed kitchen somewhere in the house, because after a round of starters, Christine came back with soup, then fish, then risotto with beef, and finally with dessert.

Whenever she wasn’t busy serving her owners food and cleaning up plates, she stood proudly by where they could see her be attentive and ready to please, elegant and pretty and eager. The couple gave her appreciative glances between discussions about business strategy, holiday plans, potential purchases and wishes, and friendly but animated banter about which human property they had used since their last proper night together.

The fourth body, meanwhile, was still kneeling on the carpet, fully naked, aching more and more with every minute. Lillian noticed the occasional glances of her owner (or was it owners? It really seemed like it), and it felt strangely satisfying and disheartening at the same time every time it happened. 

This was degrading. 

It didn’t matter. 

She was hurting. Badly.

That didn’t matter either.

And still, it felt as much like the truth as the rest of it all. All of this had to happen, but it was undeniable that the little mind that she was felt all those things. She wanted to be comfortable. She wanted to be let go. She wanted…

She wanted to be like Christine.

It felt sacrilegious. She knew all the things she had wanted before. All the things she had valued and all the thoughts she had. She had been an activist. A fighter. Someone with a mission, and a grudge, and means and motive to do something about all the injustices in the world.

None of that mattered, of course.

She only existed to make this body obey.

She knew that.

But…

She had never been given anything else to want. Unlike Christine. Unlike what Susanne Berger would have done to her. She remembered what she’d been told about her. She remembered the look of slight distaste in her eyes when she had looked down at the body around Lillian.

She had to make this body obey. She knew the truth of that. It could never be changed. This body belonged to them. It existed to be used. It existed to be fucked. It was property. Commodity.

But she wasn’t.

…

“So what about the one running for Congress in El Paso?” Simon Berger said as he sipped his wine. “The latina. You or me?”

“You can have her,” said Susanne. “Just be sure to check the–”

“-I DON’T WANT THIS!” shouted the body of Lillian Stewart. 

For a moment, both of them were too stunned to respond.

“PLEASE, SUSANNE! MAKE ME LIKE HER!”

Simon was the one to intervene first. “Silence!”

His command seemed to echo in the dining room, even over the soft sound of the music in the background. The body obeyed, like it had to. 

Susanne took a sip of wine. “See?” she said. “That’s what I told you. Willing obedience is the only stable configuration if you want an intact mind.”

Christine Bouvier stepped forward, shame reddening her face. “I’m so sorry, Mistress,” she said. “I ran all the tests, and they all passed. We’ll have to reassess them. This shouldn’t have been possible. She reported full obedience after positive field exposure under 20ccs of neurezepam.”

Susanne shrugged. “That’s not the issue, though, is it? She hasn’t disobeyed. We never told her to remain quiet. Did we tell you to be quiet, slave? Answer truthfully.”

“No,” said the body.

“Would you have screamed if we had told you to be quiet earlier?”

“No.”

“Mistress, I’m–” Christine began, but Berger cut her off with a flick of her hand. She looked at her husband, then back at Christine. 

She sighed. “Does this method have any advantages over willing slaves? Other than being exciting for my husband to use, I mean?”

Christine carefully considered. The intent of the question was clear.

“Only in tightly controlled environments,” she finally said. “Not for actual use.”

Berger nodded with tight lips .“...it was an interesting idea,” she said after a while. “And I’ll never blame you for trying – or for thinking it’s hot. I’m certain that we’ll learn a lot from continuing experimentation in this avenue, but…”

She looked at the naked body in her dining room.

“...this isn’t what gets me off. Did you use her already, honey?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to use her again before we fix her?”

He looked disappointed. He nodded, and shrugged. “...if it’s okay with you.”

Susanne Berger rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t. Go ahead.”

Simon emptied his glass, and got up. His wife followed, and motioned Christine to do something. The slave left the room.

The body knelt like it had been commanded to. Lillian was there, too, observing how the world changed around her. She felt strange. Guilty. Relieved. Excited. Confused. Everything at once. She knew that she had done something wrong. She knew that she was only a mind that existed to make the body around her serve and obey. It was the truth. It was the undeniable truth.

It just wasn’t the only truth.

She really hoped that the truth would become much easier now.

Her owner told her to move the body to the couch and spread its legs, and she did what she existed to do. His wife produced a condom from a small box on a shelf, pulled down his pants, and put it on him. Then, she sat herself on an armchair across from the body, spread her own legs, and started masturbating.

Lillian wished that she could be the one to use the body instead of him. It belonged to both of them, of course, but she wanted–

–no. It didn't matter what she wanted.

The body, meanwhile, was wet and excited at the prospect of being used. Its nipples were already hard when its owner placed himself between its spread legs, and she felt the tickling sensation of its owner’s pubes brushing against the insides of her thighs as he slowly rubbed himself across the top of her mons. His dick was pushing down the hairs on the body beneath his own, and she felt the roots bending and its skin rising.

Then, he pushed himself forward, and two bodies became one again. He used his property, and Lillian made it buck and gyrate like she knew he would want, doing her best to make it feel good to fuck, doing her best to make it pleasing and enjoyable, moaning and whimpering in time with his thrusts to make it feel impactful and satisfying to use. 

Despite everything, it felt good. Its pleasure felt as if it were her own. She tasted the satisfaction of being filled and the instinctive drive to bear down and chase the delicious pressure against its clit, all of it strangely familiar and utterly foreign as she made it happen from afar, doing only what she existed to do, nothing but a separate mind, nothing but an extension of a body that belonged to him.

He came quickly – but his wife told him to keep going, and so he kept pumping into the body until she had reached climax, too. Three bodies, connected through pleasure. Three bodies, arbitrarily separated by space and time, but not through being actually different. 

At some point, the third body nearly came as well, but its owner changed the rhythm, and the feeling faded away. 

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the body had served.

“Good,” said Susanne Berger when it was all done. She surveyed the room with a satisfied smile, then turned to the other piece of human property, which had returned in the meantime. Christine was holding a small black electronic device in one hand, and a syringe in the other.

“Your assessment, slave?” Berger asked.

Christine looked at Simon Berger and gave him a small apologetic shrug before looking back at Susanne.

“Definitely too valuable to erase,” she said. “She’s got friends to betray and secrets to divest, and I don’t think she’ll be lucid enough to give them out under field influence.”

“We can still erase her after she’s told us everything,” suggested Simon.

“Shut up, honey,” said Susanne. “We’ll get something blunt and pretty to use tomorrow. But not this one. Christine?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Time to make her complicit.”

Christine stepped forward.

Something inside Lillian screamed right then, as she realized what she was going to become. It was the part of her that had been holding on to the hidden truths that the reality of her purpose had not been able to touch: The truth of how she felt. The truth of who she still wanted to protect. She hadn’t thought about those truths when she had cried to be enslaved earlier. She hadn’t considered that getting what she had begged for would mean that she would betray everything she believed. Everything she valued. Everything she wanted.

It was a good thing that none of those things mattered.