“Follow me, slut. I’m not done with you yet,” The Black Queen commanded. “Laura, you’re coming too.”

“Yes, My Queen,” they said in unison, but while Laura was allowed to stand and walk beside her owner, Jeremy had no choice but to crawl for her amusement.

His knees scraped against the floor as he crawled, head bowed in forced submission. He knew he was being paraded around but had to keep the ruse going until he had the perfect opportunity to strike.

The Black Queen’s heels clicked against the floor, a metronome of impending doom. She stopped before a nondescript door with a complex electronic lock. Her fingers danced across the keypad, and the door slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss.

The room inside served as both a private office and an improvised BDSM dungeon where she could have some fun with those under her control anytime she wished. One wall hosted a sleek desk with multiple computer monitors, while the opposite side featured an array of restraints, implements, and specialized furniture for all her kinky desires. There was also a cupboard filled with exotic costumes to make her fantasies even more delightful.

Much like her fictional counterpart, Deirdre loved to push minds and bodies to their limits. There was always the risk of breaking them beyond repair but that was the thing about brainwashed thralls: she could always make more to replace the defective ones. She pointed at the cupboard and commanded,

“Laura, assist your Queen.”

Laura hurried to the cupboard, marveling at the kinky selection of outfits before her eyes. One quick glance was enough to know what her owner wanted to wear. She reached for a deep purple corset with black lace trim and then returned to Deirdre. Her delicate fingers worked quickly, unlacing the Black Queen’s current outfit as efficiently as possible. 

Deirdre stood still, allowing Laura to undress her like a living mannequin. The corset was fitted meticulously, each lace pulled tight to accentuate her already impressive figure. Black leather panels on the sides gleamed under the room’s soft lighting, complementing the rich purple fabric.

Laura’s hands moved with reverent care, smoothing each section of the garment against Deirdre’s skin. Matching black thigh-high boots came next, zipped up with so much sensuality that one could be mistaken into thinking she had been serving this woman for years.

Jeremy watched from the floor, still forced to remain in his submissive crawling position, unable to look away from the elaborate dressing ritual unfolding before him. With every new layer, Deirdre was becoming more and more like the fantastical character that had inspired her, but, unlike those erotic tales, he wasn’t going to let her win. The performance of power and control until Laura asked,

“Is this to your satisfaction, My Queen?”

“Oh yes,” she replied, a dangerous smile on her lips. “Excellent work, slave.”

Deirdre examined herself in a full-length mirror. Her new ensemble radiated dominance, a sartorial declaration of her absolute authority over everyone in the room.

With a simple gesture, Deirdre signaled Laura to her side. Without hesitation, the hacker sank to her knees, waiting for further instructions. Her posture was fluid yet rigid, in perfect sync with the brainwashing she had been subject to. 

The Black Queen then glided toward her collection of BDSM toys that ranged from delicate psychological torment devices to more severe instruments of corporal discipline.

Leather restraints hung in precise rows. Delicate silk ropes coiled like serpents beside gleaming metal clips and clasps. Crops and paddles of varying materials - supple leather, polished wood, flexible carbon fiber - were arranged with surgical precision. Each tool suggested a different potential experience, a different flavor of controlled suffering.

Deirdre’s eyes scanned the collection with the clinical detachment of a surgeon selecting instruments. Jeremy remained frozen, watching her selection process with both terror and fascination.

He thought of attacking her while she was distracted, but Laura would get in the way and he didn’t want to hurt her. Despite the mind-warping, she was still his friend (and more). She needed to be protected at all costs.

“Hmm, which shall I use first?” Deirdre murmured, more to herself than to her slaves.

Her slender fingers traced the edges of a slim black riding crop, its leather tongue gleaming with a dangerous promise. With calculated precision, she withdrew the implement and ran its tip across Jeremy’s trembling back.

“You thought you could deceive me,” she whispered. “Such hubris requires… correction.”

The first strike landed with surgical accuracy - not a wild swing, but a controlled descent that made Jeremy gasp. The crop left a thin crimson line across his skin, precise as a surgeon’s incision. Laura watched in silence, her programmed obedience preventing any intervention.

Each subsequent strike was calculated for maximum psychological impact. Deirdre understood pain was more than physical - it was a language of dominance, of breaking resistance. Jeremy’s muscles tensed, then relaxed as endorphins and shock began their complex dance. The hardest part was suppressing his inner rage, but he was a good actor under duress, and that was the only thing preventing her from noticing something was wrong.

“Count them,” she commanded.

His voice broke on the numbers, each syllable punctuated by another devastating stroke. The crop whistled through the air, her punishment unrelenting.

Twelve strikes. Thirteen. The room filled with a symphony of controlled violence.

“That’s enough for now,” she declared when he was almost on the verge of tears. Deirdre circled him and kicked his balls until he was squirming on the floor. Then she said.

“Slave, crawl to the St. Andrew’s cross.”

The metal frame gleamed in the far end of the room. Jeremy complied, though the veneer was starting to crack. He took a deep breath and assumed his position for another round of cruel debasement.

Laura was called in to assist, securing his wrists and ankles with padded leather restraints. The cross positioned him spread-eagled, vulnerable, giving The Black Queen complete access to his body.

Her right hand slid across Jeremy’s exposed legs, trailing upward and stopping mere inches from his tumescent ball sac. Laura pulled his pants down, and his throbbing erection came into full view, something he couldn’t fake no matter how much he tried. Deirdre exchanged the crop for a thin silicone paddle, flexible yet quite precise.

“Do you think you deserve any mercy?” she purred. “Do you even think at all?”

“I deserve only what you think I do, My Queen,” he replied, cursing himself for being so aroused. This was not the right time to let his lower brain dictate his thoughts and actions. His moment would come, but only if he stayed focused on the task at hand.

“You can say that again, bitch!”

The first strike with the new implement landed across his testicles. Jeremy’s body convulsed against the restraints, a strangled gasp escaping his throat. Before he could process the pain, she hit him again. And again.

“Such weakness,” she continued, punctuating each word with another calculated blow. “It didn’t have to be like this, Jeremy. You could have been something, but now you’re nothing. Less than nothing. You should be grateful I’m even wasting my time with you. Are you grateful for my discipline, slave?”

“Yes, My Queen. I’m a lucky slave,” he said, struggling more than he would ever admit out loud. “Stay strong,” he thought. “This will all be over soon.” His endurance capacity was already nearing its limit but if he broke now, then hope was gone for good.

Laura remained immobile, the masochist portion of her training, wishing Deirdre would torture her too. She wanted to be used and forced to heel, her breasts pearled with sweat and blood while her owner reminded her of her subservient position. All for The Black Queen. Always and forever.

Deirdre’s hand transitioned from the paddle to direct skin contact, her manicured nails raking across Jeremy’s burning  flesh. Each scrape left thin crimson trails, her fingernails digging into his most sensitive regions. She squeezed his testicles with relentless cruelty, twisting and pulling to maximize his agony while he could not move.

Her fingers continued their methodical destruction. Jeremy’s body spasmed, fighting between pain and an unwanted physiological response. Blood rushed to his groin even as tears formed in his eyes; the ultimate humiliation caused by his body’s reactions.

“Does this hurt? Good.” She completed before waiting for his response. 

Jeremy’s teeth clenched. Every muscle strained against the restraints, but showing more weakness would only encourage her further. His gaze narrowed as he continued to suffer for her.

The Black Queen grinned, savoring the helplessness radiating from Jeremy. She glanced back at Laura, who was kneeling in the corner, unmoving like a dutiful slave.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she mused aloud. “Maybe it’s time for you two to have a little play date. What do you think?”

Deirdre unhooked Jeremy from the St Andrews Cross, letting him collapse into a bruised and shaking pile. She hauled him over to where Laura waited and none too gently shoved his face into her lap.

“How about a nice sloppy blowjob to show me how much you love me?” The cruel dominatrix smiled, stepping back to watch the reluctant lovers squirm.

Laura gazed down at Jeremy’s hapless form cowering between her thighs, his eyes glittering with impotent rage even as she stroked his hair.

“The Queen has spoken,” Laura declared. “I will suck you off now.”

Laura grabbed his penis and pressed her lips against it. He shuddered at first, not wanting her to humiliate herself in front of the cruel businesswoman, but the programming ran too deep. He tried to twist away, but Deirdre seized his hair.

“Stay still or I’ll string you both up and flog you until you pass out.”

Laura opened her mouth and his cock slid inside her, the girth invading her throat.

“That’s it,” Deirdre crooned. “Nice and deep, slave.” While Laura sucked Jeremy’s manhood, the evil bitch pinched the hacker’s nipples, almost forcing her into a biting reflex. White teeth grazed against red and purple skin, so close to disaster.

“Good puppets,” Deirdre purred, satisfaction blazing in her eyes. “Keep going, Laura. That’s an order.”

Jeremy winced, his disgust warring with his unwilling but persistent arousal. He glanced up at Laura, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked on his rigid length.

Almost insensate with pain and humiliation, Jeremy could only watch as Laura feasted on his throbbing shaft as if it were the sweetest of popsicles. The depravity of it all was sickening - being forced to use his friend this way, under duress from their monstrous captor.

Yet even through the haze of anguish, Jeremy couldn’t help but be aroused by Laura’s eager mouth engulfing him. It made him furious and disgusted with himself for responding despite the dire circumstances. What was wrong with him that he could still find twisted pleasure in violating his own values like this?

“It’s your turn, Jeremy. Lick Laura’s pussy now and don’t stop unless I tell you to.”

Laura popped off his cock for a moment and stretched backward to give him access to her dripping sex. 

Jeremy could only stare upward at Laura in disgust and pity as she presented herself to him.

“What are you waiting for, Jeremy? Put that tongue to work and service your slave friend like a good boy.”

A strangled groan escaped Jeremy’s throat as Laura’s pink slit was displayed before him. The heady scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, making his mouth water against his will. He didn’t want to betray Laura this way, to degrade her further than she already had been. But with Deirdre looming over them with sadistic glee dancing in her eyes, he knew he had no choice.

Slowly, Jeremy extended his tongue and began to lap at Laura’s dripping folds. She tasted sweet and salty, the slickness coating his lips as he dragged his tongue along her slit. Laura shuddered above him, hips rocking against his face.

Jeremy hated that even in this nightmare scenario, pleasuring another female stirred his own base instincts. As much as Jeremy loathed himself for complying, he also couldn’t deny the heat building inside him from tasting Laura’s intimate nectar. His cock throbbed between his legs as he savored her.

“What a pathetic pair of fuckdolls you are,” Deirdre mocked. “Go on then slut - cum on your friend’s tongue like a good little whore.”

Jeremy doubled his efforts, plunging his tongue deep inside Laura’s clenching hole. He swirled it around her sensitive bud while pressing two fingers against her G-spot. Laura cried out, thighs clamping around Jeremy’s head as she bucked against his face. Her inner muscles spasmed around his pumping digits.

“Yes, just like that!” Deirdre crowed in delight as she watched Laura throw her head back and howl with agonized bliss. Pearly juices flooded over Jeremy’s hand and chin from the force of Laura’s climax. Gasping for breath, the defeated hacker collapsed as tremors continued to wrack her body.

“Not bad for a pair of brainwashed slaves,” Deirdre sneered over them. “I’m going to enjoy keeping you in my stable forever.”

Jeremy screamed inwardly at the thought of belonging to this wicked sadist forever - an existence of endless torment and humiliation.The charade had been going on long enough.

“Stay there and gather your strength,” Deirdre commanded, convinced she had won the day, and the battle at hand. “I’ll use you again soon.”

The Black Queen looked away and turned around, moving toward the computer screens. The closest to the exit displayed a sequence of untested code, an improvement she was trying to implement in Omicron’s latest build. If successful, it would increase the machine’s brainwashing power, making her plans easier to come to fruition.

She whistled to herself as she examined the code, looking for any glaring errors or anything that deviated from the norm. The keyboard came to life under her expert hands, and she smiled as she ran a simulation of its effects on the existing structure. The results were even better than predicted, making her a thrilled woman, indeed…

… and that’s when Jeremy made his move. The distraction of the sex-play and now the promise of more brainwashing success had lowered the sadistic businesswoman’s guard just enough for him to act. His muscles coiled.

“I’m sorry about this, but I can’t have you interfere. Not right now,” he whispered in Laura’s ears before knocking her out with a well-timed fist to the back of her head. The hacker barely had time to register the shock of the impact before her consciousness went dark. 

Jeremy leaped up, using the last dregs of his strength to lunge toward the unsuspecting businesswoman. His calloused hands wrapped around Deirdre’s neck from behind while she was absorbed in her work, squeezing with all the remaining power he could muster.

Suddenly, imbued with all the rage he had been suppressing ever since the helmet had been removed from his head, Jeremy slammed her head-first into the computer screen, the glass shattering on impact. Deirdre crumpled to the floor in a motionless heap, blood splattering all over the room.

“Does this hurt, bitch?” he mimicked her words down to the exact way she had phrased them. “Good.”

Jeremy kicked the mangled remains of the computer screen and dragged the almost unconscious villainess to the St. Andrew’s cross. He stuffed a rubber ball gag in her mouth and held her in place. It was time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

((to be continued))