“Lisa... hey, Liiiisa...”
She blinked. Unbeknownst to her, animation – personality – returned to her features. The unfamiliar voice intruding on her (lack of) thoughts was, suddenly, familiar once again – one of her colleagues, Ryan, who seemed to have been elected spokesman for the rest of the office inhabitants – four or five of them were staring at her with one or another puzzled expression.
“Oh, there she is,” Ellen called. “Back with us, are you?”
Lisa struggled to remember exactly what she’d been doing. She had a vague impression of having been answering a series of questions – but if they were the questions she imagined (she blushed) and she’d been giving the answers, then the rest of the staff wouldn’t need to ask her anything at all.
She took the earbuds out, looking around. “Sorry,” she said, attempting to recover somewhat. “I was... I guess I was miles away.”
“You looked like it,” Ryan nodded. “We thought you were singing along, maybe.”
“Singing along?” God, her face must be so red, her cheeks were burning...
“Under your breath, maybe.” Ryan shrugged.
“I thought you were trying to talk to me,” Ellen cut in to clarify. “I looked up, and it was like you were looking right through me, your lips were moving.”
“And?” God, the embarrassment, she was going to die...
“I took my own phones out, and I couldn’t hear a thing.”
“We were trying to guess who you were so hooked on all of a sudden,” Ryan offered, his eyes agleam.
Her head seemed to spin. So soon after such a deep trance felt really unfair as a time to start pressing for information; she felt like she needed another half hour in bed, slowly waking up...
Imagining that for a second she smiled reflexively; half an hour’s luxury, time alone in comfort with the need that had developed between her thighs...
And somehow, she hadn’t noticed that need, that lust... but it had been there...
They were staring at her. She tried to remember what Ryan had just said.
“H-hooked on?” Fuck, her voice was cracking, they had to know something was going on...
“Yeah, you don’t normally listen much to music round here. Ellen thought maybe the new boyfriend had introduced you to something.”
“Hah!” Ellen exclaimed, clapping her hands together before pointing at Lisa. “Nailed it! Look at that blush, you know she’s seeing someone.” She sat forward in her chair, attention fully piqued. “Was I right about the other thing, too?”
The sensation of vertigo was just getting worse. “Boyfriend?”
“Why else the total makeover?” Ellen asked.
“Be-” But Lisa stopped herself before she finished the sentence.
Stopped herself, but in her mind it still echoed, faintly accusing, somehow nonetheless deeply warming, satisfying, deeply right:
Because my Master likes this look.
My God. How... how could a phrase like that suddenly seem so natural? How could it seem so desirable, so much like... no, not like... how could it seem like an aspiration, now that the fantasy had been ripped away, now it was real?
But it was. It was right, now; you could tell, the same way you knew you belonged somewhere when home no longer referred to the last place you’d been living; when Master was a word your mind used by instinct, it was true that you had one, it was fact – even if you’d never seen or heard him without a computer or a music player in the way.
Maybe that was why it felt so natural – her mind could at least kid itself that it had made the decision on its own...
But did she really want that?
Truth be told, Lisa wasn’t sure she did. She had, she accepted, (won) lost. The acceptance had been subconscious, as had been the (victory) surrender in the first place, and she’d only just realised it had happened... but she had.
Would she really rather live that existence kidding herself? Or would it be better to embrace it?
She felt – surprisingly strongly, now that she thought about it – that embracing this was the only way to go. Better to lose herself in what pleasure submission (would) might bring than to live a life which she’d imagine to be utterly mundane.
And what wonder there would be, to stand before her Master, alongside (Diana) Jasmine, and be commanded to worship him together... or to play with her sister-slave, or be played with, at his whim and for his pleasure.
That would... that would be right. Would be (what’s meant to be) perfection.
And to think she’d worried about how to listen during sex.
Diana lay prone below her on the bed. Had Lisa been able to see her face she would have gloried in its emptiness, a simple form, waiting to be moulded, but she couldn’t; Diana’s mouth was open, Lisa’s thighs parted around her head so that, without moving or thinking, Diana’s tongue could service her. The mp3 player rested on Diana’s chest, between her breasts, with the headphone cable running up Lisa’s entranced form, past the hands which traced eager, thoughtless spirals upon her body, to her ears, listening to her Master, drinking in the sensation.
Lisa felt utterly, wonderfully programmed. She thought, at the moment, not at all.
At length, the track ended. In obedience to her Master’s final word, Lisa felt herself surrender to orgasm; below her, Diana felt the woman who held her in thrall erupt in pleasure, and at a command buried within her before Lisa’s earbuds went in, her own body was rocked by the same bliss.
For both women, it was the signal to emerge from trance.
“I gotta hand it to you,” Diana said, smiling slightly as the two settled in together under the covers, “If you’d told me about this whole hypnosis thing, I wouldn’t have liked the idea at all...
“Fun, though, huh?”
Lisa blushed, glancing away, but the smile on her lips – the smile of a woman completely at peace with her place in life – was enough. Diana grinned.
“You mind answering a question, though?” she continued. Lisa nodded. “Sure.”
Diana’s free hand emerged from below the covers, holding up the mp3 player. “What’s this got to do with the whole thing? Or am I just so dull you need to distract yourself while I’m licking you out?”
Lisa felt herself start to panic, faced with an impossible explanation. But she also felt that panic suddenly not mattering; her body was responding of its own accord. Her mouth opened, and words spilled from it.
“Do you remember the spiral, Diana?”
“The... spiral...” Diana’s hands rose to trace a spiral pattern around her breast, the small music player slipping from unaware fingers.
“I... remember... the... spiral...” Diana continued, her voice a drone at first, slowly turning into a blissful moan.
“You’re going to help me brainwash you.”
“I’m going to help you brainwash me,” Diana echoed, her voice a contented drone.
Lisa was smiling despite herself. This sudden action, this clearly-conditioned response to a situation she hadn’t even imagined before it came up... God, it shouldn’t be so hot. But she’d learned for this, she knew, without realising it; she found herself echoing another of the films she’d watched, as Diana began to properly surrender. She found herself echoing the princess who had entranced Jasmine for her father.
“Soon, it will be time to awaken, and to obey. There will be no need, then, to question... but now, tell me your name.”
“Diana Mitchell,” came Diana’s soft voice.
“Well done, my dear. A kiss will wake you soon... and while Diana would question what she hears, what she’s told, I will give you a name that will not, isn’t that right?”
Lisa took a deep breath, abruptly back in at least partial control of her own actions – but only partial; she couldn’t believe the enormity of what she was about to do. Here was Diana, and here she lay beside her, the power to entrap Diana as she had been trapped herself in her hands. It was too much not to be scared of, but at the same time...
At the same time, she was leaning forward, Diana’s lips open in anticipation, yielding. Lisa watched as her eyes, already glazed and empty, opened as the kiss took place.
She couldn’t help but purr. “I shall call you DeeDee,” she almost gloated. “My little pleasuredoll. My plaything.”
DeeDee said nothing in response. DeeDee did not move; did not even blink. DeeDee waited.
“You are my plaything,” she said. “You are my pleasuredoll. You are mine.”
Again, DeeDee waited.
Lisa slipped the red gemstone on its pendant from around her body, holding it in the air for DeeDee to watch. She continued to coax her hypnotised lover, giving DeeDee more and more definition, creating her word by word, shaping this new self into one who would delight in this role, plaything to a slave – for such Lisa was.
And in the end, gently, she surrendered the gemstone, slipping it around DeeDee’s neck where it would rest, just as the princess had used it to seal the surrender of Kimba.
It felt like she had taken another step forward, like the necklace had fulfilled its purpose for Lisa.
As if her neck needed to be bare now, for something still to come.
She let DeeDee drift back toward Diana, let the two reconcile, knowing there would be no further questions about the mp3 player.
Without thinking about it, her hand collected the fallen player. She rolled over, clipping it into place in a newly-bought speaker system and, not really recognising that she’d done so, she set it to play the one mp3 she had yet to listen to, the one marked Dreams.
Lisa stayed home that Thursday, calling in sick. So did Diana, as she was bid, before she looked in the mirror and noticed for the first time her new item of jewellery. By ten am, DeeDee was convinced that so long as they were alone, that necklace was the only thing it was appropriate for her to wear.
Lisa, for her part, was delighting in wearing less; she knew that DeeDee saw her perfect woman when she saw Lisa, that the bewitched beauty couldn’t help but find every part of her desirable. Somehow that gave Lisa more confidence in her appearance; what could go wrong, after all?
By lunchtime DeeDee had spent a grand total of twenty-five minutes out of both trance and posthypnotic suggestion. There didn’t seem any point and, indeed, at lunch, a conscious Diana was begging to be put back under, to be allowed not to think for a while.
At lunchtime, DeeDee did not hear – could not hear, due to instruction – the doorbell. But Lisa did; she had no caller she expected, and suddenly her nakedness came back to her as something to be ashamed as. One mad scramble to find a robe later, she opened the door to find a delivery van parked outside, its uniformed driver on her doorstep with a box under his arm and an electronic signature kit in his hand.
Strange, Lisa thought, I don’t remember ordering anything... But curiosity ran strong, and after scant moments she agreed that it was, indeed, her name on the form. She signed, taking the box inside, and sent Diana scampering into the kitchen to bring out a knife to open it. For all that she was conscious, Diana had become surprisingly willing to follow orders... something that, in itself, couldn’t fail to provoke a reaction from Lisa... how much more delectable was it when someone submitted because of a slave’s intervention? (When had she started thinking that? Before Diana succumbed? Because Diana had succumbed? Certainly it hadn’t been part of her fantasy before...)
The blade ran along the seam, splitting the packing tape, and Lisa lifted off the upper later of card, coming face to face with
Those eyes... those wonderful eyes, the centre of her growing (submission) obsession... looked out at her from within the packaging, a photograph printed on an inner box. Lisa was only barely aware of anything at that moment, but a dim recollection of entering her address into a website came back to her.
She had some vague notion that Diana was watching her with concern, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t know what she had to do, but that didn’t matter either; her hands clearly did, stripping the rest of the packaging from around the inner treasure. She lifted that container up gently, almost reverently, and rose, leaving the room, walking with a purpose to... where?
To, it turned out, the desk where her computer rested. She set the box down beside the monitor and pushed the chair away automatically, sinking to her knees before the display instead as her finger sought out the power stud, bringing the machine to life.
Lisa knew Diana was watching her, but she could do nothing about it. Her body was already in the thrall of another, and it had no instruction connected to her plaything – and so, nothing could be done.
There was an icon on her desktop that she didn’t recognise, that she couldn’t remember seeing before. It seemed inevitable that her fingers would guide the cursor to it, that she would open the program. So much of what Lisa evidently knew, she had no idea that she knew.
She had no need to.
The program was, it seemed, some form of chat software, one she hadn’t seen before. Lisa had a login name – lisalovestolust—and a password, her fingers typing the latter without deigning to let her know what it was.
A few moments later, the screen announced CONNECTION MADE. She had one contact – something which again failed to surprise her, watching from within her mind – and she placed the call immediately. A camera window blinked into existence, and Lisa found herself face to face with a waiting Jasmine, who beamed welcome.
“Lisa,” she purred. “I was wondering when you’d call.”
“I called as soon as it was right,” came Lisa’s response, which again did not surprise her – but which did thrill her, nonetheless, in ways she had not expected. She wondered if her expression revealed that desire, or if her face was incapable, at present, of expression.
“Of course,” Jasmine dimpled. “Delivery guys are getting later and later... still, it doesn’t matter.” She blinked. “Hey, who’s that?”
Lisa couldn’t turn to look, but nonetheless, she was able to answer. Only one other person could have entered the camera’s field of view, and Diana had more than reason enough to be curious as to what was going on. “A plaything,” she said simply.
“She seems to be awake,” Jasmine said, then shrugged. “Handle that, would you?”
“Diana, do you remember the spiral?” Lisa asked. That time, she was sure, a smile touched her lips, echoing and answering Jasmine’s smile.
She didn’t hear Diana respond, but that hardly seemed necessary.
“Attagirl,” Jasmine said, rising from her seat on the other side of the camera. Lisa took in her figure as it rose through the field of view, encased in a tight pink PVC corset, every inch of her the kind of fetish fuel their Master deserved. “Stay there,” she continued.
Lisa couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
He sat down. He was there. He was in front of her, save only for an internet connection – but this was him, and he would be talking to her directly, deliberately, and not a recorded message meant for anyone being taken, anyone being remade.
Her lips shaped the word. She couldn’t remember everything that had she’d experienced in the past few weeks; so much was lost to her, concealed for what she fervently believed to be her own good – but somehow, she knew, for certain, that this was the first time she would say it aloud.
“Master,” she declared. Fuck, but it felt so wonderful to admit it, to say it aloud – and to him, where the declaration would do most good.
His eyes smiled. “Yes,” was his reply. “You received it, then?”
“I did, Master.” Every one of his words resonated inside her; every one of his words seemed to touch chords within her, each one sending cascading shocks of arousal through her. It was, she was quickly realising, impossible for her not to be a creature of desire in his presence – even presence as artificial as this.
Her gaze locked onto his smile; satisfied, confident, entirely sure of her obedience – as sure as she was.
“And you have a plaything with you?”
“I do, Master.” He knew; of course he knew. “Her name is Diana, but I have made her DeeDee.”
“DeeDee,” he smiled. “Step forward, DeeDee. Show yourself more fully.”
Lisa was only vaguely aware of DeeDee moving behind her. Had she prepared DeeDee for this man’s instruction, then? Or did he simply command that level of obedience from those entranced?
It did not matter. DeeDee’s warm body touched hers, standing close enough now for the webcam to take them both in.
Master’s smile was enough for Lisa to know she had chosen exactly as she should. “Beautiful, both of you,” he told them. “Kneel, DeeDee, beside your initiatrix.”
DeeDee sank to her knees immediately, one breast pressed against Lisa’s back. Initiatrix... Lisa felt a surge of pride, now, at having fulfilled a task which had obviously been set for her. “Take up the box,” Master continued, and DeeDee complied. “Open it and wait.”
Lisa could not look away from the screen, but she assumed that obedience continued.
“Lisa,” Master continued. “Have you come to understand your place in life?”
“I have, Master,” she said, and knew that while the words were rote and ceremonial, she spoke nonetheless from the heart. “I am in preparation to be yours.”
The smile that rewarded her was everything she could need, everything she most desired.
“And you accept this?”
“I do, Master.”
He nodded. “DeeDee,” he said simply, “give my servant Lisa what you hold.”
Lisa’s hands raised of their own accord, and DeeDee placed something inside them; cold plastic, curved.
She unfolded the choker and raised it to her throat, fastening it around her neck in submission.
The trigger completed; both she and Diana lost themselves to orgasm.
Coming around later that afternoon, she found it hard to believe – all but the first time she had addressed him as Master; that was perhaps the clearest of all her memories. Only the feel of the latex choker around her neck reassured her that it was true – and somehow, that was reassuring. A better guarantee of satisfaction in life than any other milestone.
She wondered how long it would be before she was permitted to consummate her service.
She wondered when she could leave her life until now.
But somehow, she knew that however long it would take... she would endure. She had her purpose; she had her Master, and she knew that as soon as he was ready for her, she would be with him.
She wondered, too, how she would explain the choker when she went to work the next day.
At least she knew there would be an explanation. Master’s plans fit too perfectly.
Even DeeDee seemed to have accepted them, and it was beyond Lisa how that could have happened.