Cora cried bitterly as the slave approached her. There was nothing left to do but cry. The slave was carrying the flashlight that she had just used to erase her mother. The vibrators that had penetrated her dangled from it, still visibly wet. Cora felt numb and tired and terribly alone. Some part of her felt strangely glad that it would be over now. Clearly, this wasn’t what had happened to Mama when she had been young. This was different. This wasn’t peaceful. This was rape. This was sick and so much more wrong than she could have possibly imagined – and some part of her just wanted it to end.
When the light hit her eyes, she closed them anyway. Despite everything, she knew it would be wrong not to fight. She had to try. She couldn’t just give up.
“Nein!” she screamed. “Nicht so. Nicht so!” Not like this! Not like this!
“Du wirst dienen, Cora!” said the voice of her mother. Cora could tell how every word was making her get off. It was like slaps in her face. “Als ihre hörige Sklavin.”
You will serve. As her obedient slave.
The rage and pain made Cora open her eyes. She looked past the light, past the muscled slave, looking defiantly at the slave that had been her mother.
“NEIN!” she screamed, with all her rage, all her frustration, all her desperation. “das… bin… nicht… ich…" that’s… not… who… I… am...
Cora caught a glimpse of the light and it grabbed her violently; her eyes lost focus and her face smoothed over as the complexity of it caught her off-guard. She couldn’t have possibly been prepared for how utterly alien it was – shifting and morphing and dancing. So many colors. So many patterns. So subtle. So beautiful. So fascinating. So pretty. So nice. So warm. So... so... wait... no... oh God... she couldn't... she had to... had to... watch the pattern... so fascinating. So strange. So nice. So warm. She had to watch... She had to... she had to understand it. Yes. Of course. If she could understand it, she could get around it. If she understood, she would be immune. She had to watch it. She had to watch it. She had to understand. She had to understand. Understand. Understand the pattern. The pattern. She had to understand, in order to... in order to... why did she have to understand again? For a moment it had made so much sense. She... what? What was happening? She was dimly aware that something else had been going on just a little bit earlier -- something that had seemed important. But nothing could possibly be as important as understanding the light shining at her. She had to watch. Watching made her calm. So calm. Had she... had she been afraid? She didn't quite remember. Something strange about the pattern. The pattern. The pattern. Yes. Of course. She had to understand. She had to watch. Watching made her understand. Watching made her safe. It was important to be safe. She had to watch. She had to watch. She had to… had to… wait… this… was… oh no… she remembered. This was what she had been afraid of. The pattern. Falling into it. She had to escape. Yes. Escape... escape the pattern. Yes. The pattern. Warm. Escape. Nice escape. Nice pattern. Yes. Escape the nice pattern. So nice. She knew how to escape. She had to watch it. Yes. She had to understand. She had to watch. Yes. She had to watch. That's what she had to do. Watch. So nice. So warm. So nice. Nice. Warm... watch... watch... watch...
Slave Simone watched, her fingers between her legs, and she couldn't believe how fucking hot this was. Yesss!, she thought as she kept stroking. Look at it, Cora! You'll be nothing but her slave!
Cora did. The hypnotic pattern had caught her, and her expression of anger and fear had slowly turned into confusion, then fascination, then bovine dullness. She had been struggling and kicking in the slave's grasp, trying to look away from the light, but she had failed and now her eyes were wonderfully empty, without any more thoughts behind them. Her limbs hung motionlessly by her side. She was seeing only the inducer's patterns. All her bright thoughts had been stilled, all her defiance had been snuffed out. She had lost any will and the very idea of resisting. Her daughter was hypnotized and ready to be enslaved.
One of the attending slaves started softly speaking to her, telling her to relax even more deeply, telling her to listen, telling her how easy it was to go along with what was happening, asking her if it wouldn't be much easier to just go along with it all. Cora was almost to caught up in the pattern to reply, but eventually, after a long pause, she softly mumbled "yes.", her voice tiny and frail and vulnerable. She didn't know what was happening. She had forgotten. She had lost herself in the pattern. She was theirs to bend and break.
The slave told her that she would do what she was told, and Cora had no thinking left to do anything but to agree. The slave told her that she had nothing to worry about, and Cora had forgotten not to believe it. Her mind was caught up, and the young woman that had minutes ago cried and fought and screamed did exactly what she was told when the slave told her to strip naked.
Slave Simone fingered herself harder as her daughter exposed all of her naked body, only pulling her eyes away from Cora to glance at her Mistress; she wasn’t sure if she was looking for approval, or guidance, or a command she could obey. She got none of that. Mistress was as enraptured watching Cora be enslaved as slave Simone was. She took it as permission to continue fucking herself. She had started it without even thinking about it, and Mistress hadn’t told her to stop.
“You will listen,” said the slave with the inducer. “You will believe.”
“Yes... listen,” said Cora weakly. “...believe.” Her eyes were expressionless. She was seeing only the patterns in her mind, thinking only when they made her think what she was supposed to think. She was empty. The little fight she had put up had been worth nothing, changed even less. She was becoming Mistress's slave.
Slave Simone pushed hard against her clit. This was so fucking hot. She couldn’t believe what had happened to her. What she had become – it was too big for words. Too big for her brain. Her thoughts kept circling around it, looking at it from all angles, unable to grasp it all at once in its wonderfulness.
I am a slave!
Yet - somehow - she still thought of herself as Simone.
The thought made her mind celebrate. It was joy and satisfaction and pure sex. She loved Mistress, and she loved being her slave. And perhaps most of all, she loved that Mistress had just taken and enslaved her.
Yes. Being enslaved was the best thing that could ever have happened to her. It was the only good thing that had ever happened to her. It was the thing that retroactively justified her existence. It had always been true: she should always have been enslaved. Being enslaved was the only thing about her that gave her value. She was nothing but property. She existed to be used. She got off on being used. She loved that she did. It was so good. So much better.
She looked at Tom, and scoffed at the meaningless memories she had of him. He meant nothing to her now. She hated him as much as she hated everything she’d been in the last twenty years. But that time was over now. She was a slave. She was finally a slave again. It was so fucking good.
And there had been one good thing that had come from that time: Her daughter.
Cora was beautiful and smart and full of life and boundless ambition, and Simone had loved her more dearly than anything in the world. She had spent twenty years raising her, loving her, protecting her. Until the end. Until everything Simone had been had been finally undone.
Cora has to be enslaved, she thought joyfully. It meant erasing everything Simone had lived for. It meant betraying everything she had been. It meant taking a beautiful budding person, and reducing her to nothing more than high-quality Material to be converted into wet, eager lap candy.
“Lie down and spread your legs,” said the slave, and Cora obeyed without a moment of resistance, never taking her eyes off the light that was making her so pliant and suggestible. Without hesitation, she spread her legs wide. An act of utter submission. She was going to be fucked now. The slave spat on Cora’s pussy and inserted the vibrators into her. Cora took them without reaction. She was too deeply entranced to notice. With a tingle in her loins, slave Simone heard them spring into life inside her daughter’s body. Cora’s only reaction to being raped was a small, voiceless sigh. An involuntary reaction to the pleasure that would ensure that her enslavement reached even the deepest parts of her unconscious, so that she would obey absolutely.
Yes! Rape her! Make her serve, slave Simone thought, stroking her pussy harder as the vibrators hummed and Cora quietly repeated what she had to believe.
“I will listen,” she said, “I will believe.”
Yes! slave Simone thought. Cora was becoming a slave! Nothing but an eager, obedient slave! Mistress's property!
“I will obey,” Cora repeated mindlessly, after the slave told her to. “I will obey. I need to obey.”
Slave Simone shivered, thinking of how completely she had betrayed her only daughter; not only hadn’t she even hesitated one second, she had enjoyed it! She had looked her daughter in the face and told her that she had to become a slave, then climaxed in front of her because of it.
Her daughter had screamed at her, crying and desperate, and she’d felt nothing except excitement for the perverse act of betrayal she was committing in the name of her own obedience. She’d loved it more than anything. Certainly more than she loved Cora. Giving her to Mistress had been so easy. So effortless. So good.
Cora will become a slave, she thought again. The pleasure between her legs reminded her of it, and the thought fed back into the pleasure. The thought was like sex. Better than sex; it was obedience. She loved how completely obedient she was. So obedient that she had done this.
“I will obey,” Cora said, and her voice had become warmer and more intense. She was starting to truly believe it. She had started to moan quietly even when she wasn’t repeating that she wanted to obey. Beads of sweat had started to form on her skin, and slave Simone could see her lower body gently contract and twist around the pleasure that was currently erasing her very being. It was so beautiful and hot. Seeing it happen was magical. It still felt hard to believe that this was real, that this was possible. But it was! Every time her daughter mindlessly said how she would obey, it became more true. It was more than just words. She was being made to believe it. Truly, deeply believe it. She was being brainwashed.
“I will obey,” Cora said again, firmer, more readily. But slave Simone still heard her daughter through it. Even through the weak, mindless mumbles, she could still hear her. Helpless and entranced and naked and already robbed of all dignity, yes -- but still Cora.
Slave Simone wondered at what point she would stop being Cora and start being a slave. Maybe it already happened. Maybe she’s already more of a slave than a person, she thought and took a quivering breath. For a moment, her fingers felt weak and unsteady against the deep wetness of her pussy. The feeling of dark joy and perverse pleasure almost made her cum, but she eased off with her fingers, letting it simmer, letting it plateau and ebb before slowly continuing to rub across her wet folds.
Not yet, she thought. She would hold off until her daughter obeyed. Until she could see in her eyes that Cora was gone. She wanted to cum when she knew that everything she’d once lived for had been made meaningless. When Cora was nothing but a mindless…
Something strange stirred in slave Simone. Something like hesitation. For a moment she was afraid that she might not be fully enslaved, that there was anything left in her that cared more about her daughter than her Mistress. But the fear quickly passed, and she realized that she had only been confused. She had mistaken the feeling for compassion, but she was merely wondering what kind of slave Cora would become.
“Mistress?” she asked, and was glad to find that her voice was slick and smooth with arousal and submissiveness.
“Slave Simone?” Mistress asked.
“Will she become like me?”
Mistress smiled enigmatically. It was wonderful to see. She was the most important thing in the universe. She had made herself that in slave Simone’s mind. Slave Simone loved her for it. She could never thank her enough for making her into her obedient servant and allowing her to love her as deeply as she did.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Mistress said after a moment of contemplation. “What do you want to happen to her?”
“I don’t want anything, Mistress. I am your slave.”
“That’s not true, and you can admit it. You’re not a number like you used to be when I first owned you. You’re programmed to want things. You want to obey. You want to serve. You want to cum for me, and for yourself. You want to see little Cora here be enslaved, and cum from that, too, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress. So much.”
“I choose to value your opinion this time. There has to be something you prefer: Do you want her to be like you, or do you want her to become a number? I’ll gladly own her either way.”
“This is a game,” slave Simone realized, smiling. It was a glorious notion. To think that her and her daughters life were something Mistress could just casually play with. It turned her on hard. It tickled the part of her that got off from thinking about herself as nothing but property to be used.
“I like the term ‘toys’,” Beatrice said. “You’re toys. Calling it a game implies that you have agency.”
“Yesss,” slave Simone smiled hungrily. We’re toys to be used. I am being used. I am a toy.
She looked at the young woman being enslaved. Her daughter. Cora. She lay there as she was being fucked, moaning, mouthing words, convulsing in pleasure. She was a toy. It was so hot. She was going to be a slave. She was going to obey.
But in what way? Would it be hotter – better – for her to be erased, to be turned into a mindless obedient puppet? Slave Simone’s lower body contracted with pleasure at the idea. Or would she rather see her as a slave that fully knew what she had become, willingly betraying who she’d been, like slave Simone herself?
Her daughter Cora was the thing Simone had loved most. To just utterly destroy her and undo her entire existence would be so fucking hot.
But making her slave Cora would turn her into an agent of her own destruction. She would cum and cream to the thought of what had been done to her. She would obey and serve in defiance of everything she’d been. She would be as obedient as any numbered slave, but celebrate and enjoy it.
It was both so good. She couldn’t decide what she wanted more. Seeing Cora completely mindless would be so fucking amazing. Nothing left of her. Nothing but a slave. Fuck yes. But making her want it…
A thought came to her, and she immediately knew that it was the right one.
What would I have wanted for her when I hadn’t been enslaved?
She reached into memory, into the panicked last moments of the life of the woman she would never be again.
“Friedlich. Man denkt garnicht mehr. Wie ein Traum. S’ist okay,”
Those had been the words she had used to comfort her daughter. It’s going to be peaceful. There will be no thoughts. It is like a dream. Things are going to be alright. That had been the thing she’d told her. It had been the thing she had told herself when her imagination stepped on the edge of the abyss that was imagining her daughter as a slave. At least she won’t know it. At least, she’ll be gone.
Slave Simone smiled.
“Make Cora a slave,” she said firmly, urgent pleasure between her legs. “Not a number. Don’t erase her; make her want it. Make her get off to it, like I do. Turn her into your willing slut.”
“Slave two-fifty-one, do as slave Simone said. Protocol Sigma.”
“Yes Mistress,” said the slave that was busy enslaving Cora, and set a dial on the inducer. Slave Simone thought she could see a change in the rhythm of the light in her daughter’s mindless eyes.
And just like that, slave Simone had decided her fate. No second guesses. No more consideration.
She’s a toy, she thought warmly. Her fingers were back between her legs. She just something to be used. Mistress's toy!
Yes, slave Simone thought, rubbing the notion into her grateful cunt, knowing from the pleasure that it was true. She looked down at her naked daughter. You’re just a toy. You’re just something I can betray to get off. It was such a good thought. It made her pussy ache to be touched harder. It made her wet to know how deeply enslaved she had to be in order to be thinking and wanting any of this.
What still remained of Cora was completely passive, naked, legs spread; Slave 251 was rewriting her soul with the same lack of ceremony that she would display unlocking a door or making coffee.
“You are a slave,” slave 251 said.
“I am a slave,” Cora said, almost peacefully. Her voice sounded light and unburdened. Her will was so easy to influence and bend. There was absolutely nothing left of the resistance she had once put up. She was an empty vessel, ready to be filled. It was so hot.
“You will obey.”
“I will obey.”
“You want to obey,”
“I want to obey.”
Slave 251 made her daughter repeat and repeat, until she was ready to be told the next thing that she had to believe. Slave 251 made her believe. She told her how relaxed and happy she was. She told her how good she felt. She told her how she wanted this. She told her how she wanted to cum. She told her how horny and needy and shameless she was. She told her that she wanted to be enslaved. She told her that she wanted to obey. That she had to obey.
And every time, Cora’s eyes seemed to shimmer with something that almost resembled thought, but slave Simone knew that it was only her mind being rewritten. Cora wasn’t thinking. Cora was nothing but naked, vulnerable thought ready to be raped into submission until there was nothing left of her that wasn’t what Mistress wanted her to be. Her wet, eager, slave.
Cora didn’t resist. She was easy to enslave. She was helplessly lost to the patterns in her mind and the vibrators in her holes.
Slave 251 told Cora that she was Mistress's property. She told her that she loved her. She told her that she loved nothing more than being a slave. She told her that she had no shame and no compassion and lived only to serve and to enslave and to be used. She told her that other slaves would always turn her on. She told her that being used turned her on. She told her that obedience was pleasure, and that pleasure was obedience. Cora soaked it up, affirming every of her new truths with mindless words of agreement as the lights and the vibrators burrowed them deeply into her subconscious. Her half-open mouth had long since turned into a mindless smile, and she had began to sweat. She was slowly gyrating her body and her empty eyes made her look like nothing more than a sophisticated sex doll going through all of its setting; slave Simone was certain that it couldn’t be much longer. She wanted to touch her and be part of what was happening. She wanted to walk up to the helpless young woman on the floor in front of her, grind her cunt against her, cover her face with her pussy juice, grab her tits and suck them, stick her tongue up her cunt and make her cum. It would be so hot. It would be everything she had been afraid of becoming.
“You’re obedient, docile and eager", slave 251 said.
“I’m obedient, docile and eager,” said her daughter firmly. There was no more peacefulness in her voice when she repeated the truths they made her believe. Her voice had become slick and needy and breathless; her face was flushed, and her nipples stood erect on the tips of her breasts as mindless instinct made her thrust her hips into the pleasure that was erasing her being.
“What are you?” slave251 asked.
“I am a slave,” her daughter said, her voice unsteady with arousal, sounding almost awake. “I will obey. I live to serve. I live to be used.”
Slave 251 paused, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the muffled buzzing of the vibrators in Cora's cunt and ass as she gently swayed with her hips, her eyes still staring straight into the light. Her face was as slack as it had been the entire time, but her skin was glistening with sweat, and her eyes were red and teary with the strain of following the patterns. Her pupils were wide, staring unblinkingly into the light. Her mouth was hanging open, and she was breathing heavily. She looked properly used already.
And just like that, the buzzing ended as slave 251 turned off the vibrators in Cora's body. Slave251 flipped off the inducer, carefully extracted the vibrators from Cora’s body, and stood up to face Mistress, her face as expressionless as if she’d already forgotten what she’d just done. “Enslavement complete,” she said. It all happened with a casual suddenness that surprised and excited slave Simone. Her daughter was still kneeling, eyes still taring blindly ahead on a point in space just in front of her. She was still under -- but it was done. It was over. Slave 251 and stepped away from the glistening, shivering body of Mistress’s newest slave as it slowly came out of trance.
Slave Simone's pussy was throbbing with lust. She couldn't wait to see her daughter serve.