It was nearly the start of sophomore year before Sammy caught up with Cora properly. In fact, Cora had already found it necessary to call him herself and ‘adjust’ him to be more… pro-active… about things. She’d been very clear on how important his need was, and how urgent hers was.

Even when the fateful video call reached her, she thought at first that it had to be about something else. It was, after all, a group call, and one that was already going; the invitation read:

Chrysalid has invited you to join a group call with SoccerStar15.

Which meant Sammy and Cynthia were in a call together, Cynthia on the same account she’d had now for four years since her mid teens.

All the same, Cora clicked into the call, looking forward to speaking to her friends even as she again felt a mild disappointment that this wasn’t Sammy taking advantage of her the way she’d tried to program him to.

Clearly she just wasn’t as good a hypnotist as she’d thought.

It was still good to see them both, though, and it surprised her to see Cynthia taking the call from out and about, presumably somewhere on her farm, although the cluster of trees in the background hid most clues.

“Hi,” she said. “You guys were chatting without me?”

“You’ve been here in spirit,” Sammy said. Cora blinked, not sure how to respond to that, but Cynthia was nodding.

“We’ve been talking about you for the last couple of days,” Cynthia said. Cora blinked again, but her heart leaped in her chest. Steady, she thought to herself. Don’t give it away. Especially because it still might not be what I think.

“Like what?”

“Just try not to ask yourself that question, Cora,” Cynthia said. “It’s better if you go along with it. Sir?”

And Sammy nodded. “Begin, Cynthia.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first thing Cora noticed was Cynthia’s eyes glazing and crossing before rolling up until only a sliver of the iris could be seen below her lasses. It wasn’t the biggest thing to notice, but it had the advantage that it was - admittedly only at a stretch - something she could imagine Cynthia doing.

Cynthia had pulled up her T-shirt above her breasts in one smooth move, revealing that she hadn’t been wearing a bra in the first place. Now she was running her hands in slow, sweeping, languorous arcs across the underside of her breasts, her breathing raggedly audible over the call, her body seeming automated, not under her own control.

Sammy was talking and Cora was barely aware of the words; she was just staring at the window on her phone showing Cynthia, her pulse loud in her ears, “…just keep your eyes on Cynthia, Cora, keep your eyes on those beautiful breasts and that lovely empty expression, and I know you’re very empathetic, Cora, and you’ll find you can almost feel what her hands are doing, she’s doing this for you, after all…”

A shudder of pleasure and attention ran down Cora’s spine at those words, but she couldn’t have told you why, was too busy staring, was not listening to Sammy’s words in any way she was aware of.

“You can feel her touch. You’re very sensitive to touch, Cora, aren’t you? Almost hypnotically sensitive. And if stroking your hand can put you into trance, what Cynthia’s doing can send you spiralling down, down, down, helplessly slithering into deep trance, your body alive with pleasure, your mind asleep, open and accepting of my words, your whole world reduced to this call.”

Her scalp was tingling. Her friend looked so wonderful with those beautiful breasts and that lovely empty expression. Cora hadn’t realised that an empty expression was such a lovely thing, but clearly it was.

She had a strange sensation of vertigo, a downward momentum in her comfortable chair, a plunging feeling while she sat completely still, holding her phone and yet feeling hands against her breasts, caressing her, teasing her, entrancing her.

“Focus. Stare. Sink,” Sammy said. “You’re doing so well.” Cora’s thoughts felt like cotton candy in her head. His praise felt so good.

“You’re doing very well indeed. A good girl. A good girl who wants a big strong man to take control. What are you?”

Her thoughts were far from clear enough to give an answer of her own, but she had no need to; he had handed her the relevant words. “I am a good girl who wants a big strong man to take control.”

“That’s right. And I want to take control,” he said. This time there was no hesitation. “You will accept my control.”

Cora moaned softly, her idle fantasies now come true. It did not occur to her that this needed a response.

“You need this,” he said. “Right?”

“Yes,” she answered dreamily. “I need this. I will accept your control.”

“Show me,” he said after a moment. “Salute.”

Cora sat perfectly still, staring at Cynthia’s hypnotised form, for a long moment. She felt her left hand take her phone without being aware of any decision to move on her part; once her phone had changed hands, her right hand began to rise and she flashed a perfect Girl Scout salute, holding it as she continued to stare.

“At ease, Cora,” he said. “Good girl.”

She was smiling, she thought. But it only made sense it would be, with Cynthia’s hands caressing her bare breasts and a big strong man in control.

“You need me to control you,” Sammy told her. “You need the room to be a submissive little sexpot. Did you know that?”

“Yes,” she said simply. Was it her imagination, or did Cynthia’s eyelids flicker at that?

“What do you need to be?”

“I need to be a submissive little sexpot,” she intoned.

“Good girl,” Sammy said. “You’re not the only one. Don’t worry. You’re my submissive little sexpot.” he told her. “Prop your phone up somewhere so we can see you without you needing to hold it.”

Cora sat there for a few moments as her mind processed this order - to say she was thinking about it would suggest more awareness than she could bring to bear.

She uncrossed her legs and rose from her chair, taking two quick strides to the desk in her room, where she propped her phone up on her open laptop.

Then her mind caught up to the other specification Sammy had given her. Taking a step back, she stood staring glassily at the phone, in view of its camera from mid-thigh upward.

“Cynthia, stop,” Sammy said.

“Yes, sir.” Her hands dropped away from her breasts, and Cora whimpered a little to lose the sensation of hands on her own. After a moment, Cynthia’s eyes rolled back down and, after a flutter of eyelids, she smiled broadly at Cora’s entranced self. “Hello, sir,” she said.

“Welcome back, Cynthia.”

“Did I do well, sir?”

Sammy chuckled. “What do you think?”

“It looks like she’s very deep, sir.”

“Are you very deep, Cora?”

“Yes,” she said, but it didn’t feel like enough, so she added, “Master.”

There was something wonderful, she thought, in the way his expression went suddenly still; she could tell she’d hit a button he liked.

“Very good,” he said after a few moments. “Very good indeed. Now, ladies, what am I to you?”

“You are the big strong man who has taken control,” they both answered, their voices not quite in sync but both obviously excited.

“That’s right.” Sammy smiled. “Doesn’t that feel right?”

“Yes, sir,” Cynthia answered, and “Yes, Master,” said Cora. Sammy’s grin grew wider.

“Do you know what you are to me?”

“Submissive little sexpots, sir,” Cynthia said. “Your submissive little sexpot, Master,” was Cora’s answer.

“Well, that’s true,” he acknowledged. “But each of you are something special, as well.” His eyes seemed to twinkle. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Master,” they chorused. Cynthia had evidently also noticed how Sammy reacted to that title.

"Each one of you has a place under my control,” he told them. “Each of the study group will find the place for them, with a big strong man guiding you all.”

Cora wanted to frown at that. She hadn’t pushed Sammy to the study group, she’d been very specific that it was herself and Cynthia - the one she knew would enjoy it and the one she thought might. The happy lesbian couple seemed less likely, to say the least.

She wanted to frown, but she found she could not. Instead she remained in place, standing helplessly still, waiting for Sammy to ask a question or give her a command; anything she could - and would - eagerly respond to.

“Just as Cynthia helped today, you’re both going to help me with that.” Sammy winked. “I know you’re a good hypnotist, Cora. You’ll use that just exactly as I tell you to. Won’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” she answered, and it was with conflicting emotions that she realised it was true.

“Good girl, Cora,” Sammy told her, and she felt reassured, even if she still thought that Tasha and Sadie should be nothing to do with this. “Strip.”

“Yes, Master,” Cora agreed, glad to receive a command which didn’t concern her to carry out.

Off went the loose college hoodie, and off went the sports bra beneath. She had more difficulty with her leggings, her movements in trance slow enough to make balancing as she wriggled down and stepped clear trickier, especially as she had been to the gym that morning - while she would never had admitted it she was quietly jealous of the muscle that Sadie had built up, and although she knew she’d never be competing on that firm, muscular level, she wanted to at least carry some of that in the way she looked.

Her panties followed obediently, and if Cora felt any embarrassment or shame it, like her uncertainty about the entire study group being enslaved, did not show on her face.

Sammy was smiling. “Beautiful,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

The answer she was supposed to give was obvious, but she couldn’t bring herself to. “If you say so, Master,” she said.

“I say so,” Sammy said, then paused. He leaned in toward his screen and Cora knew she was being studied more closely, not for the attractions of her body but for whatever was written on her entranced face. “Cora, would I want a sexpot who isn’t beautiful?”

“I don’t know, Master.”

“I would not.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Are you my sexpot?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So you must be beautiful.” He nodded emphatically. “Cynthia thinks so, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Cynthia agreed. Having been brought back out of trance herself, Cynthia had not troubled to readjust her clothing. She was leaning back against a tree, phone in one hand, her other hand lazily toying with her own breast as she enjoyed Cora’s conversion.

The thought sent another shiver down Cora’s spine.

“Cynthia would happily kiss you or worship your body to turn me on, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” the adamantly straight Cynthia said. Cora felt she could understand it; it would be a command from the big strong man who had taken control and it would be for him. It wouldn’t reflect on their sexuality.

“And you’d do the same for her, wouldn’t you, Cora?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Then you are beautiful.”

Thankfully, he didn’t ask her to affirm it; just let the idea sink into her head. Her soppingly wet, needy, wide-open head.

“Turn around, Cora. Show yourself off.”

“Yes, Master.” She was naked, of course, but she was just standing still, her arms by her side. There was no movement, no vivacity, no bounce. She might as well have been a statue or a mannequin. And just by telling her to show herself off, her big strong man had made that clear to her.

One hip rose and the other dropped as she began to turn. Her arms lifted from their limp hanging position. She made a slow, graceful pirouette, her body rocking and grinding in slow revolution as she did so, her eyes glassily vacant, her lips smiling like the rare stripper in love with her own job.

“Oh yes,” Sammy said. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you. Are you wet for me right now, girls?”

“Yes, Master,” they answered in obedient, excited chorus.

“Show me,” he ordered.

“Yes, Master,” they responded, Cynthia moaning happily as she did so. Their hands found their way into their waiting pussies, fingers becoming slick with their own juices almost immediately, and then being held up so that the cameras could catch them glistening under the light.

Sammy’s eyes were shining bright. “God, I’m going to… The moment you’re on your own in your rooms when you get back to college, message me and come over,” he ordered. “No packing. No delay. The moment nobody’s there to hold you back, you come to me so we can do this in person. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” they answered, and Cora knew this would always be her answer whenever Sammy asked anything of her.

“Good girls. Very good girls. Cora, I want you to thank Cynthia for helping me change your mind.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Cynthia.”

“And Cynthia,” and Sammy was smirking down the camera, “I want you to thank Cora for pushing me to my potential.”

Cora would have stared, would have gasped, would have dome anything at the confirmation that her Master knew the role she’d played in turning him into one. But she was too deeply controlled to do any such thing without his command.

“Yes, Master,” Cynthia said demurely. “Thank you, Cora.”

“You know I am your big strong man,” he said. “Cora, you are my blank sexpot mesmerist. You will devote everything at your disposal to my service. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Cynthia, you are my busty serving maid. You too will devote everything you are to my service. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“What are you, Cora?”

“I am your blank sexpot mesmerist, Master.”

“What are you, Cynthia?”

“I am your busty serving maid, Master.”

“So you see, girls, you have your places in my service. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” they chorused.

“And so do the others,” he said. “I’ve thought this through. I have a plan. And I have the tools to carry out my plan in you both. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Master.”

He chuckled. “Girls, clean your fingers.”

Only then did Cora realise she was still holding up her slick hand for inspection. His next steps had knocked the thought entirely out of her entranced mind.

“Yes, Master,” she said alongside Cynthia, and they began to suck their fingers clean of their own juices.

*

After the call ended, Cora grabbed her phone and sat back down in her chair. She pulled a tissue out of the box on her desk and wiped away the traces of the long bead of saliva that had formed while she’d been under trance for so long, and was dabbing at her forehead against the thin sheen of perspiration she’d started to develop toward the end of - call it what it was - the brainwashing session Sammy had put her and Cynthia through.

She’d thought her own work on Sammy had been pushing it. In comparison to what Sammy had done to her, it felt like a walk in the park.

She was pretty sure that hypnosis wasn’t meant to be able to achieve some of the effects he’d achieved with them both. Maybe it was that he’d been able to play them off against each other, maybe it was her natural predisposition to some of the ideas he was pushing that somehow made the others easier to swallow, or maybe she just didn’t understand enough to be right on this.

It didn’t matter, anyway. He was her Master now - she had even given him that title - and she would obey him, and the same was true for Cynthia. Both of them had had that proved to them thoroughly enough.

Her cheeks burned again, remembering Cynthia thanking her for Cora’s own part in making Sammy their Master, in starting the chain of events that led to Cynthia being a busty serving maid and Cora a blank sexpot mesmerist.

She hadn’t been told never to use her skills on her own initiative again, but it would have been unnecessary. She knew already she would only mesmerise someone on Sammy’s orders.

She hadn’t even considered beginning to dress again, though that had less to do with the brainwashing she’d received and more with a private prediction she’d made to herself. True to form, her phone buzzed a moment later with a call from Cynthia.

Cora answered, mustering a drained smile for her friend, the only friend who currently understood that they shared a hierarchy. “Hey,” she said, by way of greeting. “I hope you’re not gonna flinch if I say your tits look nice?”

There had been an incident, early in the days of the study group, when Tasha, meaning it purely as a compliment, had described Cynthia’s tits as gorgeous, and Cynthia had been… well, her reaction had been somewhat traditional. It had taken a lot of diplomacy from Sadie - easygoing Sadie, whose ear could distinguish malice from inexperience - and Sammy to calm things down.

That Cora could even think of joking about it now showed not just the healing power of time but also the impact that having pledged to kiss or fondle each other for Sammy’s pleasure had had on her thinking.

When Cynthia broke into a smile, her laugh barely smothered, Cora knew that her hunch had been right; both of them felt radically changed by their experiences.

“Thank you,” she said. “I guess if I’m a busty serving maid now I need to get used to the compliments.” She brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear, blushing. “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“You answered my call pretty much as soon as I made it,” she said. “That tells me you were waiting for it.”

“Oh.” Cora laughed. “Sorry. I was… I’d got on to thinking about something else. Yeah… No, I knew you’d want to discuss this afterwards. Do I need to apologise?”

Cynthia squinted. “For what?”

“Well, Master did say…” She swallowed. “We’re going to have to watch that. It’ll be embarrassing if we slip in front of people.”

“At best.”

“Right. He did mention that I…” She stopped abruptly. “No, that would only make sense to me, wouldn’t it?”

“What are you even talking about?”

“I wanted this. So I… sort of hypnotised Master and pushed him into… into…”

“Into being a big strong man who’d take control?”

“Right.”

“Is that what he meant about you pushing him to his potential?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Cynthia laughed. “Now I know why he had such specific plans for your induction.”

“I just want to know if I got it wrong.”

“Oh, you did,” Cynthia said peaceably. “Can you name one thing about the call we just had - or this one - that you think Cynthia would enjoy?”

“I thought… maybe you’d secretly like it,” she said, feebly defensive.

Cynthia shook her head. “No, you thought the same thing you always do; that I probably want the same things you do and I’m just too quiet and shy to ask for it.

“I should ask him to fix that about you. But no. You don’t have to apologise.”

“I don’t?”

“Nope. Master made me thank you for it, remember? So it’s a positive.”

Cora blinked, and tried to get her head around that concept.

“Besides,” Cynthia pressed on, “none of this is why I called. I actually wanted to ask you a favour.”

Cora smiled. “Name it,” she said, and set aside the fact she was so happy to be able to indulge her guilt even without her friend pushing for it as something to examine later.

“I’m going to need to completely overhaul my wardrobe once I’m back on campus,” Cynthia said. “Right?”

“Right.” Cora nodded. “Oooh, you know what would be cool? Matching outfits.”

“Like a uniform?” Cynthia giggled. “I bet he’d love that.” They shared a grin.

“Maybe we could vary it a little, though. You being the busty serving maid, yours could have one of those cute little aprons, and mine… hm.”

“Yeah, what makes yours a mesmerist’s? Do we just put pocket watches on the belt, or - ooh, what about clipping one to your collar?” Cynthia’s eyes were bright, and Cora was suddenly flushing at the thought of wearing a collar.

But it would definitely get Sammy excited… Cora realised both of them were squirming where they sat, and that the reason for both of them was what they were thinking about.

“It would help,” Cynthia said, “if we knew where the others were going to fit in the hierarchy. What roles they’ll have.”

Cora cleared her throat. “You’re OK with Master doing it to them then?”

“Cora, it doesn’t matter whether I am or not. Right?”

“I guess…”

Cynthia squinted. “Cora, are you feeling guilty?”

“I mean, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see why I should. Master decided, not us. We will just obey.”

“But-“

“Cora,” Cynthia said firmly. “We will just obey.”

“I guess.”

“Say it with me. We will just obey.”

“We will just obey,” Cora said doubtfully.

“Master decided. We just obey.”

“Master decided. We just obey.” She could feel her thoughts slowing again, felt the sense of herself under control more clearly again.

“Will they make Master happy, do you think?”

“Yes,” she echoed, but still in the mindset to affirm verbally, she continued, “They will make Master happy.”

“So guilt is irrelevant. Let it go.”

“Guilt is irrelevant. I will let it go.”

Cora, she realised, was below Cynthia in the hierarchy. She couldn’t imagine Tasha wouldn’t be above them both.

It was very possible that Cora would now be at the bottom of the pecking order, tasked with cleaning Sammy’s strap-on after he’d used it on any one of the study group.

“Better?” Cynthia asked.

“Yes, better…”

“That’s good.”