“Of course I don’t play fair;” Beatrice said with a sickening grin. “I can control minds! I can make anyone do anything! Rules aren’t made for me. The only thing that stopped me from taking you back was convenience. It would have been work to enslave you again and extract you from the Ambassador. I would have had to send slaves all the way to fucking Germany to take you. So much hassle!”
She raised her eyebrows. “But now you’ve made me come here, to make sure you didn’t out me to a criminal system I don’t control. And you don’t even have insurance against me!? I mean, technically you do, but that only works if I don’t make you my slaves. There’s no dead man switch! I asked. Tom obediently answered. So well-behaved.”
“Please…” Iris said.
“Shut up, bitch,” Beatrice said, raising a hand. One of the slaves flanking her punched her in the side of her torso, and she went down with a yell of pain before the slaves pulled her back to her feet. As she righted herself, another slave approached her with something that looked like a flashlight, and shone it into her face.
Iris looked confused for maybe five seconds as her eyes seemed to be drawn to the light, then her expression smoothed over and she visibly relaxed. The slave kept pointing the light into her face, and Iris wordlessly stared at it, mouth hanging open slightly. Simone looked back at her daughter, who looked mortified. Simone wanted to say something to comfort her, but there was nothing she could think of that she could possibly–
“–As I was saying,” Beatrice continued. “There’s literally nothing to stop me from enslaving all of you.”
“Someone will report us missing! We’re important,” Cora said, and Simone could clearly hear the almost unmitigated panic in her voice.
“You’ll be back home in a couple of hours, making all the necessary arrangements to ensure that no such thing will happen.” Beatrice chirped with a wide grin. “Turning you into my slave will take maybe fifty minutes; your mother will be even faster.”
“What?” Simone said, her attention snapping back to Beatrice.
“Oh, yes. We’ve come a long way since you last were my fucktoy, twenty-four. The march of progress has been quite unstoppable. And with all of your former programming, your brain is primed to be enslaved again.”
“No,” Cora said. “This isn’t fair! You can’t just–”
“–she can,” Simone said heavily, looking Beatrice in the eyes.
Everything had become terribly clear, and Simone’s heart seemed to shrivel and freeze as the horrible reality of what was unfolding sunk fully into her. Beatrice hadn’t called her here to negotiate. Beatrice had called her here to get what she wanted. Like she always did.
The monstrous woman that was about to take their lives looked like she had been about to say something herself before Simone had spoken out. Now she was only smiling, looking almost satisfied. It hurt Simone like running her hands over a cheese grater to say anything that Beatrice wanted to hear, but she also knew that indulging her was the only currency that could buy them any time now.
“I know that you’re going to enslave us, Beatrice,” she said, her heart hammering in her ears in blind, useless panic. “You win. All I ask is for a moment to say goodbye to my daughter.”
“Mama, was passiert–” Cora began, but she didn’t know. She couldn’t know. No one should know the depths of human depravity that Beatrice was capable of.
“–please, Beatrice!”, Simone begged. This was the end. Nothing would save them. This was all they were going to get. Just let me have this, you fucking monster!
Beatrice still smiled. Simone would give anything to wipe that smile off her face just once before it all ended for them. But she had no more illusions now of getting anything she wanted. She braced herself for it all to suddenly be over, for a hand signal, for slaves grabbing her from behind, for a frantic moment of struggle before they took her mind.
“Sure, twenty-four, why not,” Beatrice said instead.
Simone turned to her daughter. Cora was crying. It broke her heart.
“Mama… bitte sag, dass das nicht passiert,” she said. Please say this isn’t happening. Simone was still not there, either. Some part of her insisted that this couldn’t be it. That this wasn’t real. That there had to be a way out.
“Cora. Schatz. Ich hab dich so lieb. Komm her,” she said and stretched out her arms to embrace her daughter one last time, and Cora fell into her embrace, sobbing, crying, shaking. I love you so much. You’re everything I could ever wish for in a daughter. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.
“Du bist das beste was mir je passiert ist,” she sobbed. “Ich liebe dich.”
Cora cried alone with her for a long moment where they just held each other.
“Wie… wie fühlt es sich an?" Cora said finally. Her words weighed a million tons. She hadn’t asked what was about to happen to her. She was way too smart not to have figured that out already. She had asked her how it would feel. The thing that she knew was coming.
How does it feel? To be a slave? Simone knew the answer. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it, even now. She mustn’t tell her the truth. It was the one thing she could still protect her from.
“Friedlich. Man denkt garnichts mehr. Wie ein Traum. S’ist okay,” she said, struggling with her own tears as Cora sobbed bitterly in her embrace.
It’s like a dream. Peaceful. Without thought. It’s all going to be alright. She almost believed it herself. It was almost true. Except for the part where Cora would crave obedience like sex. Except for the fact that she would get wet and climax at Beatrice’s command, and be fucked by anyone who would pay for her.
“Ich liebe dich, Mama,” Cora said, and hugged Simone more tightly than she maybe ever had. Then, she let go, and the terrible, cruel world around them returned. Cora turned to Beatrice, face tight.
“Fuck you,” her daughter said, her voice collected and almost calm, and in that moment Simone was prouder of her than she’d ever been. “Do what you must. I have found peace.”
Beatrice looked at Cora with a crooked smile.
“Cute,” she said, sounding almost bored. “Heard that one before. Enslave the mother. Let’s see if you’re still peaceful after that.”
Oh God no! Simone thought as adrenaline crashed into her in a wave of cold fear, and the slaves were upon her before she could properly react. They had been ready and waiting for this, and she had still been caught up the emotion of watching her daughter, her beautiful, brave daughter–
–strong hands gripped her and twisted her away from Cora and she couldn’t see her anymore. They pushed her down and they forced her arms and legs apart and someone gripped her head and–
– There was a light in front of her and she at once knew what it meant – and she forgot to scream as she fell into it. It was just too otherworldly; nothing could have prepared her for it – how it danced and shifted. She remembered it. She remembered the colors and patterns that just shouldn’t be possible. It was just a small point, and yet it was endless, and she couldn’t fathom how something so small could be everything that there was, how all those patterns were so smooth and calm in her mind, and how her mind went with it. It was familiar and strange all at once. She could feel it drag in her whole attention with detached fascination, and suddenly, in a way that she noticed but couldn’t stop, only the colors and the patterns mattered. Only the colors and patterns that were hypnotizing her now. Somewhere, her daughter was screaming, but only the colors and patterns were important, and that made her feel so calm and relaxed. This was so much easier. She felt so relaxed, and she knew that she was being hypnotized. It didn’t worry her anymore. How could it? How could anything possibly worry her? She was calm, and open, and entranced. She was calm and open and entranced. She was… calm… and open… and… and…
Cora screamed as her mother’s eyes went empty.
She screamed until she was out of breath and her voice was coarse like gravel by the end of it. Nameless, thoughtless Slaves held her with athletic strength. Beatrice had told them not to entrance Cora, only restrain her. Beatrice wanted her to watch, and her slaves held her by the back of her head, making sure she couldn’t turn away.
They made her watch how they shone a strange colorful light into her mother’s eyes, made her watch how she lost herself in it.
They made her watch her mother forget that Cora was even there.
They made her watch as her mother started quietly repeating every last thing they said to her. They made her watch as they commanded her to strip, and watch how she simply did it without offering any resistance.
And then they made her watch as they raped her. They raped her with two vibrators that had cables running out of them, connected to the light that had caught Mama’s mind. And her mother was too far gone too even notice it.
Ten minutes later, her mom was lying on the floor, masturbating. They had told her to, and she had obeyed them. The vibrators were inside her, connected to the light that a slave was still shining into her eyes. There was no thought in her mother’s eyes. The slave was telling her things, and her Mama was repeating them. Cora wanted to cover her ears. She wanted to turn away. But the slaves holding her were too strong.
“You are a slave,” said the toned woman that had entranced her mother with the flashlight.
“I am a slave,” her mother said, and Cora’s insides turned to ice. She could tell that she was starting to believe it. It was like lashes against Cora’s skin to hear her say it. Her father and Iris stood passively at the other end of the room, looking at nothing, doing nothing. They were hypnotized, too. Even Cora’s desperate screams hadn’t woken them. She was alone.
“I am property,” her mother repeated after the slave with the light, and Cora could hear a sickening joy in her voice.
This can’t be happening. That’s my mum! That’s not what she is! She doesn’t want this!
She hung her head in despair, weakly whimpering “No,” over and over and over. “You’re free,” she sobbed.
She had screamed it so many times already, until her voice had given out. Then she’d kept saying it quietly but firmly, repeating and repeating. You’re free. This is not who you are. This isn’t happening
It hadn’t worked. Her mother was still repeating the thoughts that the slave was feeding her.
Simone moaned, and Cora winced. She closed her eyes just long enough to be able to bear it. Her mother was becoming a slave. They were making her want it. They were making her enjoy it. She was moaning as she became what she had dreaded. She was screaming with pleasure as she repeated what they wanted her to think.
Cora had looked away at first, then decided that it would be better to witness it. Better not to flinch away. This was her mother. She would not abandon her like that.
“I am an obedient slave,” her mother said, and Cora could almost hear her lick her lips. With every repetition, she could hear the belief deepen. With every repetition it sounded less like her mother and more like someone else that was very good at pretending to be her. Cora felt numb.
“Obedience is pleasure,” Simone moaned, arching her back, screaming with pleasure again as another belief of hers was overwritten. Cora winced. She wondered how much longer it would last.
The answer turned out to be not very long. All in all it had been maybe half an hour since she’d held her mother for the last time.
“Enslavement complete,” said the toned slave, and removed the perverse sex toys from between her mother’s legs. Cora closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear it. But after a moment, she opened them again with dreadful, horrible curiosity.
Her Mama lay on the floor, legs spread. Then, suddenly, she pushed herself up to sit. Her body glistened with sweat. Some deeply wrong part of Cora thought how pretty and youthful she was before the rest of her saw the expression in her face, and something inside of Cora died.
Simone looked happier and more relieved than she had ever looked, and it was the most horrifying thing Cora had ever seen. Then, her mother opened her mouth and moaned so loudly and shamelessly that Cora knew that she had to be doing it on purpose, just to show how much she loved it.
“YESSS!!!” said the woman that had less than an hour ago cried and begged for exactly this not to happen. “Oh my God, Yes!! I am… I am… I am…”
“You’re welcome,” Beatrice said.
“I’m still me, Mistress!” said the slave, but Cora heard in every single word that it wasn’t true. Not really. Her mother hadn’t wanted this. Her mother would have–
“I’m me, but I’m a slave! How…?”
“The march of progress, slave Simone,” Beatrice said.
“Fuck, it’s so good, Mistress! Thank you! Thank you so much.”
She wasn’t even looking at Cora. She was only looking at Beatrice, her eyes wild with sickening joy and wonder. She was completely fixated on the woman she'd been made to serve. It was unbearable. This couldn't be happening. Cora could't just let this happen. She couldn't just... she couldn't just...
“Mama?” Cora whimpered, despite herself. Something had made her. Some primal, childish thing that didn’t want her to be gone. A begging plea for this not to be true. For her mother to still be there, even if she knew it was hopeless.
She could see her pause, as if she had just noticed something important.
Then her mother looked at her.
For a moment she said nothing. In her eyes, there was a deep emotion, and for a split second, Cora felt something like hope.
“Cora!” her Mama said, her voice breathless and her eyes wide, and Cora swallowed hard as her heart hammered against her chest.
Then her mother smiled and slowly – languidly – slid her middle finger down between her legs, and her lips twisted into a sickening, perverted smile.
No. No! NOO!
“Yesss,” her mother moaned as she started masturbating in front of her daughter. This time, no one had told her to. “You will obey! You’re Material! Yes!!! You’ll be enslaved!”
Cora’s mouth fell open, and the slave that had been Simone grabbed her breast with the hand she wasn’t using to pleasure herself, and squeezed it between her fingers.
“Yesss!!! Enslave her!!! Make her serve!!!” she screamed, and came.