Slave Jessica watered the flowers with the same single-minded fervor that she did everything with. She carefully judged the timing and location of the spout to make sure the plants got just the right amount of water in just the right place. If someone had cared to ask her how she felt about her task, she would have become aware of the pleasant, ever-present buzz between her legs that kept her happy and obedient.
She would have never asked herself the question on her own, because she knew that only her obedience mattered. Only her obedience kept her happy. Only her obedience fed the sexual thrill that justified her existence. She lived to obey. She lived to feed that need.
Today, she was stilling the aching hotness between her legs by watering plants. It was a simple task. And as with all simple tasks, the obsessive part of her mind seemed to fill all the empty space in her head. Her thoughts were completely occupied by the way the water flowed into the soil, impregnating it with its moisture, seeping in and spreading just unto the point of saturation, and not a bit more. It was the most important thing in the world, and getting it right, making it behave just like it should, gave slave Jessica immense pleasure. It was so important. There was nothing but the water and the soil and the pleasure between slave Jessica’s legs that told her when she was doing a good job. She had to do a good job. She had to please. She had to obey. Obedience was pleasure.
She watered plants for hours without ever losing focus, without ever displeasing the constantly humming part of her mind that made her want to obey. By the end of it, she felt as exhausted and spent as if she had been carrying sacks of cement the whole time. It made her know that she had been deeply obedient.
She returned the watering can to its place in the shed and made her way back to report to Mistress. Without a task to obsess over, her mind wandered idly, like a butterfly fluttering aimlessly in the warm summer breeze. She knew that none of her thoughts were important, but Mistress had nevertheless chosen to allow her some independent cognition.
It hadn’t always been that way. Slave Jessica knew that she had spent many years in a complete trance, obeying blindly and thinking only what she’d been commanded to. There had been no need for her to think anything because her only function had been sex. She had been part of Mistress’s harem, to be used by Her, or by guests, or by those who knew whom to pay for the privilege. She remembered little from that time, safe for the occasional time when she had been woken up to pretend to be who she had been before she’d been enslaved. But even those memories were fuzzy at best, and the details of any life she’d had before she was a slave were as fleeting and volatile as tiny droplets of water dancing across a hot stove top.
Her feet had carried her across the garden and down the sandstone stairs that led to the souterrain servant’s entrance in the east wing. She entered the seven-digit code on the electronic lock, and the door clicked open gently.
Her mind kept slowly wandering. What had she been thinking? She had been thinking about the time she had been mindlessly enslaved to be used for sex. Yes. Even though she couldn’t remember much of it, it made her feel happy to know that she had pleased Mistress in that way for so long. She wondered how long she had been nothing but a body to be fucked and remembered that she didn’t know how old she was. But she knew she wasn’t young anymore. That was why Mistress had changed her programming to perform more complex tasks. When slave Jessica looked into a mirror, the slave that looked back at her looked like it was going on fifty, with strands of grey starting to appear in her wavy dark hair. Mistress still kept her on the training regimen that ensured that her body was pleasing to look at, but no amount of moisturizer, diet and exercise could hide the fact that she’d grown old. Her breasts were starting to sag where they had been full and firm, and her skin was starting to wrinkle and crease. She had crow’s feet around her eyes. She was still beautiful. She knew that. But she had lost the glow of youth.
Mistress hadn’t fucked her in years. She still readily rewarded slave Jessica by granting her orgasms when she obeyed—Mistress was generous, after all. Quite often, She even let slave Jessica have her pick among the young sex slaves that occupied Her harem. But whenever Mistress desired someone to attend to Her cunt, she had one of the young slaves instead. There was no more room in Mistress’s lap for slave Jessica.
It didn’t matter of course. She lived to obey, and she was obeying just as well as she ever had. The thought tickled her nethers pleasantly. She had almost arrived at her destination. She had reached the second floor. She knocked on the door that led to her Mistress’s quarters as she’d been commanded to.
“Enter,” said Mistress’s perfect voice, and slave Jessica obeyed.
Mistress’s study looked as beautiful as it did every evening, when the low sun’s light was filleted into thin stripes by the many tall windows facing southwest. It made the room feel even warmer and more welcoming than Mistress’s presence already did.
“I have finished my task, Mistress,” slave Jessica reported dutifully. Most times, she would simply have returned to the slave quarters to rest until she was presented with her next task. Her obedience would have simply been assumed.
But today, she had been told to come to Mistress after her work was done.
“Well done, Jessica,” Mistress said. She hadn’t called her ‘slave’ in a while, now. That was understood as well. “You may come.”
Jessica obeyed quietly and with dignity. A deep breath and slight shiver were the only signs of the pleasure she had just been granted. Her orgasms were the only thing that thankfully hadn’t changed with age. She had simply become better at controlling her reaction. But the pleasure of obedience was as sharp and pure as the first time she had realized that her free will had been taken and that she was nothing but a slave.
That had been even before Mistress had turned her into an unthinking harem slave. The moment she’d become a slave was maybe the thing in her life she remembered most clearly and brightly, and every time Mistress made her come she returned to that place of innocent wonder and joy. It always reminded her how lucky she was to be a slave. To be able to obey and come for her Mistress.
Mistress allowed slave Jessica a moment to enjoy Her gift, then continued:
“Today’s a special day, Jessica, even though you don’t realize it.”
Slave Jessica recognized the tone of voice Mistress was using. It was the one She used when she wanted slave Jessica to talk freely. Well, as freely as she was able to.
“No Mistress, I didn’t. Why is today special?”
“It was thirty years ago today that I took your will, Jessica.”
Slave Jessica wasn’t sure how to appropriately respond.
“Thank you for enslaving me, Mistress,” she tried. “I am happy it has been that long.” It was true. She loved that she had spent most of her life kneeling at Mistress’s feet. But she didn’t know why it was important. After all, she wasn’t important. She was only a slave. One of many. She lived to serve.
Mistress smiled. It looked… melancholic?
“Do you know that you were my first slave?” Mistress asked, and her voice was quiet and thoughtful. It almost didn’t sound like Her. Mistress always sounded confident.
“…no, Mistress,” slave Jessica said, and her brow furrowed when she noticed that she didn’t feel surprised. Then, blinking, she realised: “Yes. I do. I’d… forgotten.”
Mistress didn’t say anything after that for a while. She was still sitting behind her desk pensively. Slave Jessica noticed that on the desk top, there was a number of photographs Mistress must have been looking at before slave Jessica had entered the room.
“We were twenty-one when I enslaved you, Jessica. You probably forgot that, too.” Mistress said, her voice heavy and dry.
Slave Jessica thought on it for a moment. The memory was one of the dancing droplets that kept eluding her. She thought for a moment that she might remember, but the shape in her mind evaporated into nothing.
“…no, Mistress. I don’t remember anything about what I was before you enslaved me. I am only your slave. Nothing else.”
“You were twenty-one, Jessica,” Mistress said, and her inexplicably wistful expression lightened for a moment, and She smiled mildly. “As was I.”
She picked up two photos and folded them up before slipping them into a pocket in her sleeve. Then She slowly got up and approached slave Jessica. She took her hand. Feeling Mistress’s touch made slave Jessica’s lower lips tingle by sheer reflex.
“We’re getting old,” Mistress said. Slave Jessica looked at her and for the first time she realized that Mistress had the same lines in her face, the same traces of grey in her hair. Jessica had never seen it before. In her mind Mistress had to be perfect. To see her as anything less than that hadn’t been something slave Jessica had been able to do until Mistress made her notice the fact that the years hadn’t gone past Her without trace. It was a startling revelation.
“Yes, Mistress,” slave Jessica said, and this time it was easy to know what to say: “but it doesn’t matter. My cunt is as wet for you as the day you enslaved me. I will always obey you. I will always desire you.”
Mistress laughed, and for a moment the years seemed to vanish from her face, and it was like she was once again the perfect Goddess that slave Jessica would obey. A trace of the smile remained on Mistress’s lips as she answered:
“Oh, Jessica. What a perfect slave you are. What are the odds that I would get it so right on the first try? You didn’t even ask me the question I thought you’d ask. Of course you didn’t. So let me answer it for you: Thirty years ago, before I enslaved you, your name was Jessica Roberts. You grew up in Swindon, and moved to Leeds to study Psychology when you were nineteen. I first noticed you when we were twenty.”
“Why are you telling me this, Mistress?” slave Jessica asked.
“Quiet now,” Mistress said with a soft smile, and took slave Jessica’s hand. She started to walk, dragging slave Jessica with her. Slave Jessica was used to following her, but being guided by her hand felt novel.
Mistress led her down the stairs. It looked like they were headed for the cellar.
“I wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Mistress said as they walked “You had a red bicycle you would ride to class every day, and you used to wear those second-hand sweaters that were way too big for you, and sometimes they would slip down on of your shoulders as you studied. And you would stay in the library way too long, and drink way too much coffee. And when you had trouble understanding something in a book, you would tap both your temples as you quietly repeated it to yourself.”
Slave Jessica listened attentively even though she was confused why Mistress would remember anything about the girl she had been. Mistress would probably tell her at the end of this.
They were in the cellar now, and Mistress led them past the scullery into the little room where the secret lift was that led further down to the lab where new slaves were processed. She pushed the secret button that opened the false wall and they got in.
“In your fourth semester you were working on a large project, with one of your professors tutoring you. You would visit his office every other Friday evening, for one hour. But one day, after two hours, you hadn’t come out. So I sneaked in after you, and found you naked, sitting on the professor’s chair, with electrodes stuck to your head and a screen in front of you.”
Mistress paused, a distant smile on her lips.
“The professor was telling you things,” She continued, “and you were repeating them with an empty, emotionless voice. He was hypnotizing you, enslaving you. I realized what he was doing, and I walked up behind him and knocked him out with his own academic excellence award.”
The lift door opened, and they stepped into the sub-cellar, walked down the brightly lit hallway and took a right turn into one of the enslavement rooms. Inside, there were two young women laying naked, ankles tied with leather straps to hospital stretchers. They had electrodes attached to their heads, and their empty eyes were staring at flickering screens above them. Their slack mouths silently repeated the words that were being fed to their docile brains through the headphones over their ears.
Slave Jessica noticed them in the same way that she might notice trees in a forest. They were background noise. Unimportant. There was always material being enslaved down here. This was what this place was for. When they were done being processed, Mistress would use the resulting slaves for herself, or, more likely, sell them to the highest bidder.
“There you were,” Mistress continued, not looking at slave Jessica, but instead looking at the two soon-to-be-slaves. “Helpless. Hypnotised. Open. I had watched the professor long enough to see how he was doing it. I knew I could make you do anything. Want anything.”
She paused, and for a long moment the only sound in the room was the quiet whispering of the material being enslaved. Mistress’s expression was an amalgamation of sadness and something more complex, like happiness, but not quite.
“I think I managed to fight the urge for maybe ten seconds. Then, instead of calling the police, I tied the professor up with packing tape and finished what he’d started. I did you both. You, because I wanted to. The professor, because I had to. And it worked! It really worked! And when I had both of you, I made him help me make it work even better.”
Mistress sighed. “But I felt horrible. I felt so terribly guilty. I hated myself for what I had done. But there was no way back. At least I thought there wasn’t at the time. I realize now that I could have simply made you forget. I could have ended it all then. But I didn’t know better, and instead I used it on myself, to make the guilt go away. And it worked. My God, did it work.”
Mistress chuckled quietly, obviously deep in remembrance. Slave Jessica, of course, remembered none of it. She felt some vague sense of familiarity at most, as if she was hearing a song she had heard only once, a lifetime ago.
“Every time I saw you between my legs, every time I watched you being fucked by anyone willing to pay for you, every time I saw you climax when I told you to, it was as good as sex. Better that sex. I had conditioned myself to feel that way.”
She took another breath. Slave Jessica listened.
“But here’s the thing: I never got you. You were never more than my slave. And because I brainwashed myself out of my own guilt, I never wanted you to be more than my slave. It made my cunt throb and ache to know that I had erased you, but only because I had bluntly made myself love what I had done.”
She pulled the photos from her sleeve and unfolded them. One was obscuring the other. Slave Jessica’s pussy quivered excitedly. She recognized the room, even though she had forgotten all of its context, and she recognized herself. She had been so young. Just as young as the women that were being enslaved next to her now, thirty years later.
”I took that photo Saturday morning, after I had been telling you how much you want to obey me for six hours,” Mistress said. “Two hours later, you woke up, and you were my slave, and you had forgotten who you’d been. That was exactly thirty years ago.”
“I remember that, Mistress. I remember it every time you make me come,” slave Jessica said happily.
Mistress closed Her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Her body seemed to tense and slave Jessica knew she had aroused Her. When she didn’t speak for a long time, slave Jessica dared to ask the question that lingered on her mind. She didn’t want to say it, but everything Mistress had told her seemed to point in the same direction.
“Do... you regret enslaving me?”, slave Jessica asked, and Mistress laughed musically.
“Oh, Jessica! Of course not. Of course I don’t.”
Something relaxed in slave Jessica’s chest.
“If I could go back and change what happened that day,” Mistress said with a wicked smile, “I wouldn’t. I’d brainwash you all over again.”
Slave Jessica’s breath caught, and a jolt of pleasure and warm joy went up her spine.
“But,” Mistress said. “We are no longer in your late professor’s office. Things have changed so much. I have come to realize that there are so many more options. So many more things to do to a mind. Things that I have discovered over the years, things I have developed. Things that I have already done to so many others.”
She swallowed, and sighed.
“I programmed myself to feel no regrets. To see you as nothing but my slave, to get rid of my guilt. I enslaved you, and considered you done. I treated you like the slave that I made myself insist you were. I used you and let you be used and enjoyed every minute of it. But it made me blind to what you could be.”
She paused meaningfully.
“What could I be, Mistress?” slave Jessica asked after the silence stretched long enough for her to know her answer was expected.
“Who I wished you to be when it all started” Mistress said. “My lover. My partner. My friend.“
“I will serve in any way you choose to use me,” slave Jessica said without having to think.
Mistress smiled gently.
There was a third programming chair in the room, sitting empty. Slave Jessica obediently sat down in it when told, and Mistress herself connected the electrodes to slave Jessica’s forehead. She rarely did her own enslavements anymore. She had trained slaves for that, too.
The synthetic leather was tacky and cold against her skin on her back, but she hardly noticed it through the throbbing excitement of being put into an enslavement device to have her mind altered. She would serve exactly as Mistress wanted her. She knew that the chair would make her cunt wet sooner or later anyway, but she was happy to feel sweet moisture already coating her lower lips. She was ready, and told her Mistress.
Mistress kissed her softly on the lips.
“I’m looking forward to finally seeing you again. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Mistress put Her finger on slave Jessica’s lips, and her desire to speak vanished like a bird fluttering away. She watched Mistress walk over to the control panel, and push a button.
When Her finger lifted, slave Jesicca’s mind was already turned off.
Jessica woke deeply disoriented. Blinding light was saturating her vision, and it took her a long moment to figure out that it was in fact sunlight streaming into the bedroom. The sheets around her were very soft, and smelled pleasantly of lilac. Her mind still was leaden with half-sleep, and she felt like she’d slept for an impossibly long time. She yawned heavily as her mind assembled itself in what felt like slow motion.
She noticed absent-mindedly that she was no longer in the enslavement chair as she rolled over on her back and stretched out her limbs. That had to mean that she was—
Her eyes flew open, and she was wide awake. She drew in a sharp breath.
“Holy shit,” she whimpered.
She was staring at Valerie, who was no longer her Mistress.
It took her a long moment to get to grips with what she was seeing and feeling, and that was before the memories started crashing into her like a hailstorm. That experience made her so dizzy that she thought she might faint.
She remembered everything. Everything that had been locked away from her was back again, and it was as overwhelming as watching a hundred movies and listening to a hundred songs at once. But she remembered—and in the onslaught of images and recollected feelings, she realized what her life had been for the last thirty years:
She had fucked hundreds of people, maybe thousands. Men and women. She had whored and danced and debased herself. She had worn the most revealing of clothes or none at all while she did years of menial labour.
She had been property.
She had been a slave.
She had been unable to see herself as anything else.
Because of Valerie. The same Valerie that was smiling at her now, sitting at her bedside.
Valerie had enslaved Jessica and made her do all of these things. She had made her cut herself off from the world. Made her lie to her family. Made her lie to her friends. Made her enslave some of those friends.
Jessica hadn’t even really known her. To her, Valerie had been nothing more than that one awkward girl from English Lit that she suspected of following her around campus. She’d been hardly more than a stranger — before she had made herself the center of Jessica’s every desire. Before she had taken Jessica’s whole existence and taken it for herself.
She had stolen thirty years of her life.
And now Valerie had bent and twisted Jessica’s mind again. On the edge of every memory and every associated emotion, she could feel what Valerie had done. She saw herself in her memory, saw who she used to be, what she used to believe, what she used to want. And she saw herself now, and only the deepest trance could have made overlook all the parts of herself that Valerie had changed without giving a fuck about what she wanted. She knew without a doubt that she had been utterly brainwashed.
She didn’t care, of course. That was what was so great about it.
“Thank you,” Jessica said to the woman she loved, and she felt a wave of deep satisfaction roll through her. It felt as if the knowledge of who she had become was settling down over her like a light and comfortable blanket. Valerie had brought her back. She could remember her childhood again. She could remember her parents. Her sister. Her friends. Some of them she realized she would be able to visit with a quick walk to the slave quarters.
She smiled, and her pussy shivered warmly as she bathed her mind in the parts of herself that Valerie had modified. Thinking those things was like touching herself.
“Thank you for enslaving me,” she said. It still felt like the right thing to say, even though she wasn’t a slave anymore. Knowing that she had been a slave for so long was enough to make her wet — but what Valerie had turned her into was even better.
She had been modified, controlled, and she’d had her mind fucked and twisted in ways she would have never wanted. She was exactly who she’d been — except that she wanted all of this more than she’d ever wanted anything else. If she could go back in time right now, she’d enslave herself, and come hard doing it. A jolt of arousal pierced her, as if the thought of enslaving someone had grounded a bolt of lightning through her.
“This is so fucking hot. I love it so much. Oh God...”
She bucked and moaned as the idea of enslaved girls gripped her like an irresistibly catchy song. The idea of owning them, of having them as her property, had become easily the best thing in the world.
“Fuck you, why didn’t you do this to me sooner, you selfish bitch?” she moaned through her smile, and Valerie laughed. She knew that Jessica was only teasing. It was a wonderful sound.
Jessica loved her, and it took her a moment to realize that this was in fact something that was new about herself. It was very close to the thing she’d felt when she had been her slave, but not quite. This felt more open than the tight, controlled devotion she had been made to feel. She had no illusion that this was any less manufactured, but it felt less like being forced to a conclusion than having her every need and want and turn-on bent and altered until there was only one way for her free mind to think.
She was no longer caged. Instead, her wings had been clipped.
Jessica loved that so much. She’d been made to love it, and that was just the hottest thing there was. Or maybe it was enslaving people. She couldn’t decide. All that mattered was that she had someone to share this perfect obsession with. Someone who loved it just as much as she did now.
“You really need to take your fucking clothes off, Valerie” Jessica said. “You don’t get to make me like this and then not fuck me. Fuck me like one of your slaves. Fuck me like I used to fuck you.”
Valerie was beaming as she undid her dress and crawled between Jessica’s legs. Jessica watched her, enchanted by the sight, and memories of a lifetime of service overlaid themselves onto what she was seeing. Valerie was no longer her Mistress. She had freed her, and given her the gift of having the same remorseless obsession that she’d programmed herself with. Together they would enslave so many more!
Valerie’s tongue touched her core, and she trembled.
“Yes!” she screamed, giving into the all-too-familiar pleasure of voicing her modified thoughts: “Fuck me. I’ll be everything you wanted. I want it. I want it all. Yes! Yes! Thank you for making me like this! Thank you for... Oh God, yes! I love you! We’ll be together! We’ll... oooohhhh... have so many slaves. I love you! Yes! Yes! YES!”
She came, and it felt like she was riding a tsunami of hot, wet, perfect pleasure that would never, ever, ever end.
It did end, eventually, and she breathed shallowly as the sweat on her skin slowly evaporated, chilling her and giving her goose flesh. Valerie lay nestling next to her, arms gently wrapped around her. She had made her come with her tongue, and it had felt wonderfully unfamiliar. Already, the memory of seeing her as a Goddess seemed pale and distant. They were partners now. Conspirators. Playmates. She felt deeply, fundamentally connected to her. It was a warm, slow sensation that felt so much softer and rounder than the urgent, needy pleasure she was so used to feeling. She was utterly in love with her.
She looked down along her own body, still coming to terms with what had happened to her; that this was, in fact, really happening.
She was in perfect shape, but she had grown old. It was strange seeing herself like this. She felt like she had two sets of memories. On one hand, she remembered every day of being a slave, of maturing and growing older in Valerie’s service. On the other hand, there was a part of her that had been suppressed and turned off for all that time. The part of her that was Jessica and not slave Jessica.
And that part of her felt like she had skipped thirty years in a blink. One moment, she had been a young student talking to her professor, and the next moment she was fifty-one years old. All that time was lost. Wasted. It had never happened to her. It made her feel a deep, yearning sadness for all the opportunities that she’d missed. Half a life, spent serving instead of commanding. Of being used instead of using. Of being... gone.
She couldn’t decide how that made her feel at all. It made her feel too many things at once. She would need more time. But in the end it was irrelevant. It was in the past. She wouldn’t be able to change it even if she did know how she felt about it.
She did know however that she was incredibly lucky to be what she was. And even if she might end up regretting the years that had been taken from her, she still felt herself readily moistening when she thought about the beautiful young woman that she had been, and knowing that she’d been enslaved to be willingly used over and over and over. Every memory of herself joyfully obeying was like its own wet dream. The sexual nature of enslaving someone had become an obvious, sacred truth.
She sighed softly.
“I’m so glad this is what I am now. I can’t say it enough. Thank you.”
“You’re exactly what I always wanted you to be.”
“That’s hot,” Jessica joked, enjoying the freedom to do so. She enjoyed her own confidence, and how comfortably at ease she already felt in Valerie’s presence.
“You’re hot,” Valerie said, teasingly, and she felt like an old friend.
Jessica smiled. “I know. You kept me that way. You made me work out daily. And telling from the itching in my bones, you left those compulsions firmly in place. Good. I wasn’t really the most self-disciplined when I was free.”
Valerie smiled back warmly. There was a small pause in which they just enjoyed each other’s presence and the warmth of each other’s skin.
“I want to enslave someone,” Jessica said, her expression suddenly serious. “I’ve wanted it the moment I woke up. I want it so much.”
“I know,” Valerie said, her expression sly. “I want it, too.”
Jessica gently placed her hand around the back of Valerie’s neck, pulling her closer, staring deep into her eyes.
“And I don’t want it to be an already commissioned enslavement, or someone we’re going to sell later. I want to find a girl and make her a slave for no other reason than simply because I can. And no high-level programming, either. I want to—”
“—to erase her. Because the person she used to be is worth so much less than her obedience.”
“Yesss!” Jessica moaned voicelessly. She felt more deeply understood than she’d ever felt before. Of course she was. Both of their thoughts had been conditioned in the same way, by the same person: Valerie. She loved her so much.
“That’s the reason why I couldn’t think of freeing you sooner,” Valerie said in a small apologetic voice. Jessica took her hand. She understood her so well.
“Owning me like that must have been the hottest thing in the world,” she said.
“It really was.”
Jessica smiled benevolently, playfully.
“Don’t apologize. I’m here with you now. I’m your fucked-up, mind-bent, perverted and twisted companion. I’m here to enable all of your bad behaviour, and I expect you to enable all of mine in turn. Let’s replace the slave you lost today with a new one, and fuck her together. Let’s find someone strong and young and beautiful and turn her into a thing we can use.”
Valerie spryly twisted herself off the bed and wordlessly stretched out her hand. Jessica beamed like a little girl as she took it. She was so happy. She had Valerie, and Valerie had her; they were quite literally made for one another now. She loved her—more than she had ever loved anything or anyone.
She might not be young anymore, but she was grateful for every day she would now get to spend as Valerie’s equal. It was a privilege beyond words. To be with her. To be like her. She was made for this. Literally.
This is going to be the rest of my life she thought, and a cozy warmth enveloped her. Being with her, sharing this life, enslaving, selling, using people. Until the end.
She had missed more than half of her life, and she didn’t know how many years there were still left to enjoy the perfection she had come to inhabit. One day she would die—but in this moment she knew that she’d die content and happy. One day of this would have been enough. One day of her and Valerie being slave Mistresses together. One day of being a twisted, corrupted version of the person she had been. One day of enslaving young girls and making them her toy.
Just one day of this, and she’d been happy.
But they had more than one day left.
So many more.