“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 rat me out 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.

“Whatever's left of you willl be back home in a couple of hours, obediently making all the necessary arrangements to ensure that no such thing will happen.” Beatrice chirped with a wide grin. “Brainwashing you 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... this isn't real! 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.”

For a long moment where they just held each other. She felt Cora cry silently, and she wished with all of her being that there was anything at all that she could do to end this horror.

“Wie… wie fühlt es sich an?" Cora said finally, and she wasn't crying anymore. 'How does it feel?' The words weighed a million tons.

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 was going to 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 you see her become my slut again.”

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.

"No! No! Don't make her watch, please! I'll do it! I'll watch! I'll—" They pushed her down and they forced her arms and legs apart and someone gripped her head.

"It doesn't change anything for you, Beatrice, please! Don't make her—"

She lost the thought. Suddenly, there was a light in front of her and she at once knew what it meant – and still, she forgot to scream as she fell into it. She had forgotten. How could she have forgotten? How it danced and shifted. She suddenly remembered all of it. All of it, all at once. 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. But so familiar. She remembered. She remembered how it made her feel. She remembered how it made her slip away. She helplessly fell into the familiar pattern and into the place of her mind that belonged with it. She let 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 she was already back in the place where only the colors and patterns were important, back in the place that she had died so hard to forget. She was back. She remembered. It was all still there, waiting for her return. It made her feel so calm and relaxed. She remembered. 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 back where she belonged. She was calm and open and entranced. She was… calm… and open… and… and…

Cora screamed as her mother’s eyes went suddenly empty in front of her. 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 as she tried uselessly to break free. Beatrice had told them not to entrance Cora, only restrain her. Beatrice wanted her to watch, and her slaves were holding her by the back of her head, making sure she couldn’t turn away.

They made her watch how they shone that strange light into her mother’s eyes and they made her watch how her mother lost herself in it. They made her watch how 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 her mom simply did it without offering any resistance. It didn't seem possible. How could she be this far gone from just a light? Hypnosis didn't work like that!

And then they made Cora watch as they raped her mother. 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. Cora screamed, but her mom didn't wake up. She screamed, and screamed, and cursed, and struggled, and fought, but she was too weak. Her mom wasn't hearing her. She only heard the slave that was brainwashing her.

She screamed, and screamed, screamed at her mother to wake up, screamed at her to resist, screamed at her to fight. But her mother had stopped listening.

Ten minutes later, her mom was lying on the floor, masturbating. They had told her to, and she had just... obeyed them. She hadn't woken up. She hadn't done anything to resist. She had only obeyed. The vibrators were still inside her, connected to the light that a slave was still shining into her eyes, and there was no thought left in them, no fight, no resistance. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.

“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. 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 all alone.

“I am property,” her mother repeated after the slave with the light, and Cora sobbed.

This can’t be happening. That’s my mom! 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. Her voice was hoarse. She couldn't scream anymore, but she couldn't just watch silently, so she kept repeating and repeating. You’re free. This is not who you are. This isn’t happening. Please, wake uup.

It didn’t work. No one even bothered to stop Cora from shouting. Her mother was still repeating the thoughts that the slave was feeding her. They told her that she was property. They told her that she existed to be fucked and used. They told her that there was nothing better than giving her body. They told her that being a slave turned her on, and that she wanted nothing else, and that she loved it when her Mistress enslaved others. They told her that she existed to be used, loved to be used, loved to obey, loved her enslavement. They made her repeat and believe the most horrible and degrading things, and her mom simply repeated it. She simply repeated it, and believed it. The impossible light was making her. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real!

Her mom suddenly moaned, and Cora winced. She closed her eyes just long enough to be able to bear it. They were making her want it. They were making her enjoy it. She was moaning as she became exactly what she had dreaded. She was screaming with pleasure as she repeated what they wanted her to think.

“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. It had happened so gradually that Cora couldn't remember when her mother's words had gone from sounding like mindless repetition to sounding like honest belief.

“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 — and they had made her witness all of it. Every moan and scream and every poison word. Every repetition. Every lie that they were forcing her to believe. And then, it was over.

“Enslavement complete,” said the toned slave after a final sickening orgasmic moan 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 that felt like hours, she opened them again with dreadful, horrible curiosity. Her gut twisted itself into a knot. Her Mama was lying on the floor like a discarded doll, legs spread, eyes unfocussed and mindless. Then, suddenly, she blinked, and her face hardened. She pushed herself up to sit. Her body was glistening with sweat, and some deeply wrong part of Cora thought how pretty and youthful she looked. Then, she saw the expression on her mother's face, and something inside of Cora died.

Her mom looked happier and more relieved than she had ever looked, and it was the most horrifying thing Cora had ever seen. There was no dullness in her eyes at all, not like the slaves that were standing guard. Just the opposite. Her eyes were burning with excitement.

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 yours again! I am… I am…”

“You’re welcome,” Beatrice said.

“I’m still me, Mistress!” said her mom, and her voice was breathless and unsteady with sickening joy. It made Cora wince with disgust. No. 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.

“Thank you, Mistress! 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. It was still her. She had said so herself.

“Cora!” her Mama said, her voice breathless and her eyes wide, and Cora swallowed hard as her heart hammered against her chest. Please.

Then her mother smiled and slowly – languidly – slid her middle finger down between her legs, and her lips twisted into a sickening, perverted smile.

"She is yours, Mistress."

No. No! NOO!

“Yesss,” her mother moaned as she started masturbating in front of her daughter. This time, no one had told her to. “Oh, yes... you will obey, Cora! You will obey! Yes! You’ll be Mistress's slave!”

Cora’s mouth fell open, and the slave that had been her mom grabbed her breast with the hand she wasn’t using to pleasure herself, and squeezed it between her fingers.

“Yesss! You'll spread your legs and be her whore! "

"Mom! Please!"

"Cora will... oh yes... Cora will... obey!" moaned her mother, stroking between her legs. "Yes! Make her serve! Make her... fuck... yes! Yes!!! Make her your slut! Ohh... Make her... your property!"

"No. Don't! Mom! Stop! Please!"

"Mistress... Yes!... She is yours!.. She is yours! Oh God, yes!!! She is yours! She is...ohh... she is... Yesss!!!"

Simone's words turned into a shameless scream of ecstasy as her enslaved mother came in front of her — and Cora broke. She had been holding out the entire time, screaming in anger and fear, but never breaking down, never giving in to the crushing dread in the back of her throat. Even when her mom had stopped answering. Even through everything they had done to her mind and her body. She had endured it. She had kept some semblance of strength and some semblance of resistance.

It all collapsed in that moment. When Simone made herself come in front of her Cora became nothing but a terrified little girl who was without her mother, and she started to cry.

Slave Simone watched her daughter burst into tears and smiled.