Chloe rushed through the long, winding corridor, blew a puff of hair from her cerulean eyes, and knocked on Laura’s dressing room. It was almost time for the show to start anew.
“You’re up in ten,” she said, tablet in hand. “And if I’m seeing these numbers right, you have a new record in attendance, too.”
“That’s great.” Laura replied as she glanced at the mirror one last time. “Almost ready. I’ll be there.”
“Confident?” Her assistant queried despite knowing in advance what she was going to say.
“Always. If I’m not, then what’s the point?”
A good advice, the perfect weapon against fear and insecurities that often cripple people more than any disease or natural disaster. There were plenty reasons why Laura Masters was considered one of the best motivational speakers in the country. Her unwavering resolve was high up there, perhaps only overshadowed by her beaming smile whenever she entered a room.
While we can train the mind to believe in many things throughout the years, charisma isn’t something you can learn in the long run. You either have it from the start or you don’t, and not all charismatic people share it in the same degree. A recent worldwide poll placed her 40% higher than any other voice in the business and though statistics can be skewed and distorted to suit whatever reality we desire most, she loved her numeric pedestal almost as much as she loved inspiring others. More than anything else, unbridled passion explained her astounding success.
It hadn’t always been like this. Before the shower of the roses, only thorns had filled her path. It had taken two unsuccessful marriages, half a dozen equally doomed relationships, and a miscarriage for the ex-lawyer to find her true calling, filing up conference rooms and music auditoriums in every corner of the globe to inflame hearts once again. Interviewers often scoffed about her common use of the words “divine” and “goddess” when she talked about her revelations, only to be proven wrong right after the next public appearance.
To those merely interested in superficial looks, Laura wasn’t the archetype of classical beauty though she wasn’t ugly either. A natural blonde who had only defied the norm at around 18 when fiery red and a tongue piercing seemed like the best ideas ever, she stood five feet seven in heels. Her almond-colored eyes bore no other resemblance to the fruit, instead embellishing her face with their adorable roundness. Her breasts were just about the right size for a good groping and squishing though the chances of a man getting that far had considerably decreased after losing her unborn child. On highly emotional days, sometimes she would reminisce about all the things she had planned for little Norman (or Patricia, had it been a girl) and tears still flowed.
“Okay, let’s get this show going!” She said to herself with a virtual pat on the back. For the Sunny Californian night, she had chosen a long, flowing blue dress cameras were sure to love as well as the audience’s front rows. Most of the people that attended her seminars and conferences were men with an age range between thirty and sixty, a vast collection of dreamers, dead beats or simply folks who had lost their way due to unforeseen circumstances and saw in her a reason to get back on the saddle, take control of their own lives. Unlike most of the “competition”, prices for attendance were quite cheap and there were always a couple of free performances in each tour. This was one of them which helped explain the sudden influx of people in a time where widespread fear of invisible foes dominated the news all around.
Also unlike others, Laura liked to keep her stage as minimalist as possible. No stands, no chairs. It was just her, a noise-canceling microphone and a projector. Though she had a couple of scripts she often fell back to, improvisation was part of the game, and so was reading a room correctly. Excessive silence or no silence at all, the shuffling of feet or papers, sunken eyes trying to find the nearest exit... all those things had to be taken in account on the fly to keep everyone engaged.
“Hello, Cali, and welcome!” She waltzed in with a perfectly choreographed twirl. “I’m so excited to be here with you again and I know so are you so let’s do this. Are you ready to change your life today? Say ‘yes’ or ‘yes, we are!” because anything other than that is the same as not saying anything at all. Let me hear you roar!"
“YES!” The herd complied, a plethora of voices and accents combined in a single declaration of excitement. They were always like this in the beginning, easily directed masses of kinetic energy eager to look good in the picture. Riding the high was easy enough, turning it into something meaningful, the challenge she faced every single time. Even after thirty-six months on the road, things hadn’t become any easier. They often seemed so because of her hard work, yet the illusion mattered not if she felt things slipping by. Raising the microphone up high, she continued:
“For some of you, this is the first time hearing me talk. For others, the second, third, or more. Those that know me are aware I avoid repetition as much as possible, but it’s inevitable that some words or sentences pop up more often than others. If you hear things you’ve heard before in the past, I hope you’ll hear them differently at least because just like the world is ever evolving, so must we and the messages we convey. Sitting in one place for too long has never changed anything for the better which is why you’ll see me walk, and sing, and clap, and making you see that everything you believe you are is not half of what you think you can be.
“And now, some of you are thinking... yadda, yadda, yadda... same old cliches to get something going. I don’t blame you because up until a few years ago, I was on the same boat as you, dismissing any kind of positivity that came my way as if it were The Black Plague when there was nothing more contagious than my own belittling thoughts. We all know how easy it can be to spiral down into those and how excruciatingly difficult the opposite turns out to be, especially when we keep self-sabotaging our achievements. Stopping this cycle doesn’t happen overnight, it needs to be an ongoing process that builds affirmation upon affirmation, but what kind of process? How does it work? How do we work in it and let it work for us? This is what I want to talk to you about.
“So... wondering how you can be the best version of yourself? Different programs will give you different variations of ideas to set your mind in the right path. I’ve talked about a few myself in other presentations, but this one is different. No matter how much you think you’ve heard it all, you haven’t heard the full extent of what I’m about to say. I present to you my new five steps program for unmitigated success.”
The screen behind her lit up with a blurry haze. A fiery S dominated the center, its flames spreading across the floor. It was if she was in the middle of a pyre yet, instead of destruction, it promoted rebirth.
“Each step in this program is headlined by a letter which in turn becomes a word. I’m afraid S doesn’t stand for Superman or Superpowers, at least not in the way comic books and other fantasy media portray them. No. S is for Sweat as laziness and moping won’t lead you anywhere. You need to pump it, break the speed limit of your own mental processes, tire yourself out. If you’re not sweating, you’re not achieving, but merely sitting outside Life when the universe continues to happen. You don’t want that. Think of something worth sweating for, like the smile of a lovely woman, and surrender to that thought. If you don’t have a special someone in your life that can stir those desires in you, I’m right here. Let me be your Muse, your guide, the hopeful solace at the end of your long, sweaty journey. This brings us to step number two, which is...”
The burning S faded into an L, although the heat of her speech remained.
“L is for Labor. That’s how you sweat. Exercise is important to stay fit and healthy, but work is more important. Sweat through work and more work, but not just any kind of work, of course, but rather work that promotes more work. Work for yourself, for the goals you see taking shape within your mind with each day but also work for others, seek out the benefit of helping those in need. Labor can be happiness, especially if it helps more than just you. Labor is service, too. Wouldn’t it be nice to work for me, do whatever I want, knowing that securing my happiness would make you tingle from head to toe? Yes, I’m sure it would, and you can see it too. You’ve always seen this possibility as real, but now even more clearly. However, seeing this is only the beginning, for that means you must see what lies beyond it as well. Step number three is...”
The letter A flashed into existence as her voice soared. The audience followed along, enjoying the ride.
“A is for Attention. When you work, when you give it your best every day, you must be attentive, mindful, and professional at all times. Half-assing it is worse than not doing anything at all and unwanted distractions kill any enthusiasm you have faster than the blink of an eye. You must do more than what’s expected of you instead of settling for an arbitrary average you can always shift when things don’t go your way. If you were to work for me, you would focus on my needs above everything else, feel them consume you just like fire. Sweat invites sweat. Labor promotes labor. Attention begets attention. If you want mine to be a reality and not just a fantasy played out on a restless pillow every single night, you will fight for it, and you will beg and cry. Hmmm, yes... how wonderful is that? Three steps down but the two remaining are just as important as the others to get you closer to your one true goal. Don’t sleep on them. The fourth step is...”
V came to like cheering arms, eager to awaken everyone in the room.
“V is for Valor. The best version of you is always the one that recognizes its worth, cherishes it, and shows it with each breath. You are unique, you matter in the grand scheme of things. You matter not just to yourself but to everyone who was fortunate to meet you, whether they’ll admit it or not. You matter to me. You heighten your work when you work for me and go the extra mile to continue working for me, but most especially when your thoughts slip away to embrace that working for me is all you should be doing. Accept my authority... slip... drift into…”
An E exploded behind her, one last letter in an alphabet easy to understand.
“E is for Excitement, which is the same thing as saying passion, even arousal. There’s no stress in doing something you love and doing something you love will make you feel better about yourself every time. You’re excited listening to me because you love doing it. You love my words and what they do to you, keeping you focused, calm, and energized at the same time. It’s a contradiction, but one that works. You love me because the rush that comes with it is the excitement you need. In this stage, I’m like a Queen and you’re my enraptured subjects, the anticipation of the next sentence ticking off your mental checklist until only what matters remains. The power to listen. The power to acknowledge. The power to accept. The power to submit. The power... of women. You love powerful women such as myself and this excitement will just keep on growing the more conditioned you become.”
Bated breaths drew the air in the room, captured it, send it spinning. Laura tapped her heels, one for each step, one for each letter.
“I promised you five steps and there you have them. Five fingers in one hand that doesn’t want to stand still when it could be working, pumping, letting the sweat run through its fingers, making an effort to push it hard... harder... harder... harder... Your future is in the brain but also in your cock. Take it in hand. Take it for me. Make it flow. Make it count. Pump it. Harder, boys! Harder!”
From the first to the last row, sweeping from left to right like a tidal wave of ecstasy, the herd nodded, smiled, complied. Blood, sweat, and tears was a good, yet outdated motto. Blood, sweat, and cum, on the other hand... Of the few that had already realized something was different, even less read the new word repeatedly flashing before their eyes. They didn’t need to for they wouldn’t forget it, anyway. For the first time since she started speaking, Laura stepped down from the stage and lowered the microphone. Thousands of mindless heads dropped in unison.
“As you can see, the answer is SLAVE. SLAVE is the secret, the foundation, the beginning and the end. SLAVE is who and what you are meant to be, sweating, laboring, attending to superior causes like me. You are better when you serve, your worth blooms when you SLAVE away. SLAVE makes you whole. Accept SLAVE into your life. Be SLAVE. SLAVE until you come. SLAVE today. SLAVE tomorrow. SLAVE always. Come for me, boys, and give your life the meaning it needs. Come for me. Cum. NOW!”
The auditorium exploded in geysers of white, none of which fortunately hit her dress. With a quick glance, Laura surveyed the room, noticing only a few stubborn creatures still conscious. It didn’t matter though. The doors had been closed, there was no way out. The zombified masses would make sure they got the message before they being allowed to leave. By the end of the show, there would be nothing but smiles and a new drive to see things through. They would work. They would strive every day to become fully functioning members of society to keep her spirits high. They always did.
Yes, it had taken years for Laura Masters to find her true vocation, but there was no coming back from the delights of mass brainwashing. The show had to go on, and it would. As the screen behind her dissolved into a mesh of spirals to enhance the programming, she bid the audience goodbye.
Chloe was waiting for her, outside the dressing room, pussy clenched underneath the leather pants she was wearing.
“Hmmm... Perfect as always, Mistress.” She moaned. “God, why don’t you do ever talk to me like that?”
“Because I don’t need to.” Laura smirked, rubbing her chin. “You already do everything I say no matter what.”
“You’re right.” Chloe kneeled to kiss her shoes. A speck of cum glistened at the tip of her left heel. “For me?” She asked.
“I have something better...” Laura opened the door at the same timer she undid her dress. “While the boys learn their place, why don’t you remember what you’re truly good at?”
Salivating like a bitch in heat, Chloe trailed behind her, the scent of sweet pussy dripping over her submissive soul. It was the only motivation she needed.