Note 1: If you are under 18 years of age, this story is not for you. Go away.
Note 2: This story riffs on so many common MC themes that it would be impossible to cite all influences. However, I'd be remiss if I didn't give thanks to Tabico for "New Tunez" and "Community" and to EyeofSerpent for her "Ancients" series. Triple thanks to Trilby Else for writing "Sleeper," for providing pre-release feedback on "Willing Subject," and for letting my characters walk through his "Dark Forest."
Note 3: I've drawn a lot from personal experience in writing this one, but how much personal experience, I leave entirely to your imagination.
Note 4: This is the third part of a three-part story arc. If you haven't read Parts 1 and 2 yet, I strongly urge you to do so before getting into Part 3.
synopsis: It's true that a hypnotist can't make you do anything you don't want to do - but what if you want to be a thrall?
The alarm went off and m jerked upright, still dreaming of the assistants' eyes. She knew the truth now, that "hiding in plain sight" applied not just to Black Pearl, but to Her slaves, as well. Their real eyes were far more remarkable than the novelty lenses they wore at public shows. From corner to corner, they shone the same lustrous black as their Mistress's sigil. Looking into them had sent m into a trance far deeper than anything she'd experienced at her first induction. This time, though, she remembered it all. she lived in that state of trance now.
m looked over at Debra's bed, empty now. her roommate had already gone to class, and that was a shame - but it was probably a help, too. No doubt Deb would have tried to stop her from what she had to do today.
she stood up slowly, enjoying the new, stiffer feel of her body, and moved to the dresser. m had slept in the bondage gear, so all she needed to do now was straighten her hair and reinsert the contacts. Good. she looked almost the same as she had last night, though her face was a bit more rigid. m grasped her lips in both hands, pulled them open (it was the only way she could move them now) and felt her clit come alive.
So that was what it looked like, the wall Mistress had erected in her mouth: a plane of lustrous black fusing her jaws and hiding both teeth and tongue. m doubted anyone else could see it, but she knew it was there. Just as she knew all her facial muscles were gone - and her vocal cords, too. she could still blink, but otherwise her head was just a lump of meat and bone.
And that was only fitting. As Mistress explained it, "From this point on, you have no say in your fate. You have no voice, either literally or figuratively. In fact, you have no way to communicate at all, except by obedience."
How true that was. Black Pearl had taken her face, her mouth, her voice - even the memory of that voice. But She hadn't stopped there, oh no. m had lost her ability to write or sign or even blink in response to a question. No communication except by obedience. she still lived in the free world, but she could hardly have been more cut off from it.
The thought brought her almost to orgasm, but she resisted the urge to come. That reward must wait until she'd proved her devotion. m caressed her cheeks, which still thrummed with the Black Pearl's touch (Oh, the feel of those sweet raking nails!). she ran her hand down her paralyzed throat, and on to her pearl-pierced breasts. Then, satisfied, she pivoted and walked smoothly out the door.
m's room was on the second floor of the sorority house, midway down the hall. Rachel stood at the far end, brushing her teeth in the bathroom with the door wide open. That was a mistake. Looking in the mirror, she caught sight of the blank-faced, leather-bound thrall, and choked on a mouthful of foam.
m paused a moment, posing, enjoying the creak of leather against her ribs. she wondered what Rachel would do if she stalked on into the bathroom and grabbed her from behind. Would her nipples rise at the touch of a thrall's hands? Would her panties dampen if m pressed them up against her crotch? Or would she just scream and fight against the thing that had been her sister?
m longed to find out, but she had more pressing matters to attend to. Pivoting again, she started down the stairs and smiled inwardly at the clack of stilettos against bare wood. Everyone downstairs would hear her coming. Even now the heads must be turning, the jaws gaping....
she reached the bottom step and turned toward the lounge. Oh yes, this was even better than she'd hoped! Twelve girls she'd once called sisters sat staring at her: outraged, embarrassed, horrified, beautifully blank-faced with shock. "Missy, what the hell-" began one of them, and the real Missy wailed silently in response. Shut up, cunt, sneered m. You have even less right to speak than i do.
she was tempted to walk in among them, perhaps to press her rigid face between their thighs, perhaps to seize a rose figurine (the room was full of them; after all, they were the sorority's symbol) and thrust it up between her legs. But the longer she remained in one place, the more she risked seizure. Better to use their shock to her advantage and escape. After all, she had so far to go. m swung back to the door and let herself out, noting the babble behind her.
Mmmm, this just got better and better. O-Pi's house stood at the far end of Greek Row, with a dozen rival sorority houses between it and the campus proper. Girls sprouted from every door and window, laughing, jeering, taking pictures. For once, m was glad to have retained most of her old appearance. They knew who she was, all right - and she was glad they knew. That's right, look at the little leather robot and remember who i used to be. i was one of you, once.
Missy wailed again as they came upon the fraternity houses - but only once. When the first frat rat rushed out at her, whooping and flapping his tongue like a dog, she curled up in a whimpering ball. m marched on, her face expressionless, her clit keeping time with the click of her heels. thump, thump, thump.
Soon she'd attracted a whole crowd of boys, grinning, hooting, cheering, throwing money. A few brave souls grabbed her breasts and ass, but no one tried to stop her. Perhaps they wanted to see how far she'd go. Perhaps Mistress was watching out from her, insuring that m could complete her mission.
she wouldn't have banked on that, though. Surely Black Pearl had better things to do than following m around a college campus. After all, m was just a thrall. Just one of many. It actually made her hotter, to think of Mistress's back turned to her at this critical time.
Now she'd reached the street that separated Greek Row from the rest of the campus. The crowd of frat boys spread out behind her like the tail of a comet. m paused at the light, enjoying several near-accidents and the blare of car horns. Then it was on to the long green quad. Exams had just begun and students were everywhere, cramming in a few last scraps of knowledge before the bell rang. m drove every last bit of it from their heads. She thrilled to the books dropping around her, the cell phones flying out ("Hey, man, you anywhere near a window? Get over to it right now!"), the men and women screaming.
Missy was still playing fetus, so that left m free to enjoy herself to the fullest: the pinch of the hoops in her nipples, the thump of the pearls against the underside of her breasts, the electric current that raced from clit to brain. Look at me, she thought, striding down the long, green walk toward the Liberal Arts building. Look at me, mindless and faceless, abasing myself for a Mistress who doesn't even care to watch. Look at me, and know the true meaning of thralldom.
The bell rang just as she reached the steps; and then the students surrounded her, pushing, groping, giggling. m dawdled on the stairs, enjoying the abuse; and by the time she finally reached her Lit class, Dr. Winthrop had begun calling the roll. Oddly enough he'd just reached her name, but m's presence was all the "here" she could give him.
It was more than enough. The professor turned, gaped, dropped his pen. m smiled inwardly at the dark shape reflected in his glasses. Then she spread her legs and, without moving a muscle, orgasmed until her juice dripped onto the carpet.
The whole class, Dr. Winthrop included, were stunned into immobility. Just like the O-Pi's, thought m. Good. she turned again, more swiftly now, and slipped into the men's restroom. It was empty, much to her disappointment, but she forgot all about flashing the boys when Mistress's hand seized her. Just Mistress's hand, for even if the Black Pearl had deigned to visit m, She wouldn't have done so in a public bathroom. But the hand was enough. m saw the door begin to open; then she was snatched up like a rag doll and the world went dark.
Teleportation - m remembered it well enough, from her first induction. And where would she end up this time? m didn't care, as long as Mistress was there. she'd passed her test now; she'd earned her reward.
Or had she? The darkness passed, and when m could focus again, she found herself high above the college campus, on the roof of a gabled building. No! i thought i was done!
But thralls had no right to complain, did they? And after all, m was right where Mistress wanted her to be. she quashed her disappointment and looked around. Oh, this was the Administration building. And this gable between her legs must be just over the President's office. Another chance to abase myself - and so publicly! m almost felt like laughing, if only to herself. Instead she creamed again, letting her juices lubricate the shingle. Then she settled herself down on the puddle and waited for the crowd to gather.
By noon she'd attracted the President, most of the staff student body, a fire truck, an ambulance, and a television news crew. Snippets of the live report drifted up to her: "...mysteriously disappeared from a school bathroom and then reappeared...stumped as to how she got up there...suspect drugs...psychotic break...."
m sat quite still until the cameras panned up to her. Then Mistress's will came over her again - no communication but obedience - and she ground herself down along the gable, wetting it all over again. The reporter's jaw dropped open. "Are you getting this?" she hissed to her cameraman. He nodded, and m noticed the bulge in his pants.
By 12:30 the ladder was in place, and m allowed herself to be bundled into a fireman's jacket, brought back to earth, and strapped onto a stretcher. Surely she was finished now, she thought. she'd proved her submission beyond all doubt. Mistress's hand would come and snatch her off to oblivion.
she thought that all the way to the hospital, and she kept thinking it even as they checked her reflexes and vital signs, drew blood; ran their CAT scans, EKG's and MRI's; and stripped her of her contacts (by far the cruelest punishment of all). And all the while they kept asking, "Miss, can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me. Miss, can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?" Missy woke again and begged for the chance to answer, but m only cursed her to silence.
They strapped her to a bed, which m found quite ironic. After all, she hadn't moved since the firemen first laid hands on her. Then they started the IV and catheter lines, and after several failed attempts to open her mouth, they slid a feeding tube through her nose. m lay quietly through it all, though the novelty of catatonia had worn off long before. Now she just wanted Black Pearl.
she remembered telling herself thralls had no right to complain. she remembered thrilling to the idea that Black Pearl might not even watch her abasement. But what if Mistress really wasn't watching her? What if She'd abandoned her? What if - and this thought terrified her as much as any other - m hadn't passed the test after all? Maybe she'd shown too much free will or failed to humiliate herself thoroughly enough, or maybe she shouldn't have let the paramedics take her. Maybe she'd proved herself unworthy and Mistress would leave her here forever, burning, burning....
m fell into a drugged and fitful sleep. Here were the spirals again, but this time everything was reversed. White still spun on a black background, but now it was dark that gave way before light; and even as m watched, the colors flipped again. Nooooo! she shrieked as the black arms withered on their new white background. Help me, Mistress! i don't want to fail You!
Too late, sneered Missy, dominant for the first time in weeks. Now at last she could get some help! She opened her mouth - or tried to, anyway. Neither her jaws nor her lips would budge. She tried to scream around them, but her throat was paralyzed, too. Damn that m for giving away her mouth! Missy thrashed uselessly against her restraints; for that, at least, she could do. Monitors beeped around her as heart rate rose, and suddenly the door flew open. Oh, thank goodness: a nurse!
"What is, dear?" asked the woman, laying a hand on her brow. Missy tried to rattle her bonds again - I'm in here! - but found her arms suddenly frozen. What the hell? She tried her legs, but they too had stiffened to uselessness. No! Don't do this to me!
Desperate now, she fixed her gaze on the nurse and willed her into understanding. But the more she thought about it, the more her focus drifted. No communication except obedience, she remembered. And no obedience except to Black Pearl. Damn that m! Damn herself for creating her!
Missy hammered against the wall in her mouth. She screamed soundlessly until the nurse noticed her hitching chest, and then her body relaxed on its own. Inside herself Missy sobbed, raged, wailed, but her eyes remained dry as stones. Dammit, there must be some way out of this! There must be some loophole Black Pearl hadn't closed.
The nurse regarded her with sad, tired eyes. "Poor thing," she murmured. "I know you're trying to tell me something."
Dammit! Why'd you have to say that?! Like it or not, Missy was programmed to avoid communication; and if she could reach the nurse even like this, her body had no choice. Missy's vision darkened, her ears closed, and her entire body fell limp. Noooo! she screamed, louder than ever, but no one heard her but m, smirking in the darkness. Now there was only the scent of the nurse's hand lotion, fading either because Missy's nose had abandoned her too, or because the woman had left the room. Missy couldn't even tell which was which.
She sank into despair, cursing m for dragging her into this, cursing herself for not seeing the truth in time to fight back, cursing herself both ways, because after all m was and always had been a part of herself. "I can only hypnotize a willing subject," Black Pearl had said, and Missy had been more than willing. Dammit, part of her still was. She could hear it now, chanting at the back of her mind: i am a slave, i am a thrall, i exist only to serve - help me, Mistress! i swear i'll never disobey You again if You just take me back!
Shut up, Missy snarled at her. You've failed your Mistress, and she's abandoned you. Now we both have to suffer the consequences. Unless the hypnotic suggestions wore off over time, Missy would spend her life being fed through a tube, unable to move or speak or communicate in any way except by accident. And that would be even worse than thralldom.
Oh, fuck! It would be even worse than thralldom! If Black Pearl took her back, She might turn her into a mindless zombie, but at least she'd be a happy mindless zombie. Missy still remembered the arousal she'd felt in the assistant at the Nethermost Pit. The woman's whole body had coursed with pleasure, even before m tongue-fucked her. And Missy had felt that same pleasure in her flesh, everywhere Black Pearl had touched her. Even now, if she concentrated, Missy could sense a faint tingle at her lips and throat. She sighed inside herself.
Then her mouth went dry. Was this what it boiled down to? A life of sentient paralysis or a life of mindless bliss? The spirals rose in her head again, but now black and white were balanced so evenly that she could choose which way to view them. Damn you, m, for putting me in this spot. Damn me. Oh shit, damn me.
She chose black, and Mistress's hand closed instantly around her.
m hung suspended in her Mistress's will. This was true literally more than figuratively, for she still possessed a few small shreds of independence. But at least Missy was quiet now.
she hung in midair, in a room made entirely of mirrors. Floor, walls, ceiling - all reflected her own image back to her, so that she could imagine herself one of thousands of identical thralls, naked and chained to her reflection by a new ring at her clit. her toes just brushed the floor.
m thought she'd been here for hours, though it was difficult to tell without watch or clock, and the music pulsing steadily through her head. It would have been heaven, if not for the absence of her Mistress. her longing had grown to a real, physical ache by the time the assistant appeared.
she winked into existence before m, teleported just as the thrall had been into this room without doors or windows. The tape that bound her now was black electrical grade, and it covered her head to foot. Literally. The assistant's eyes were mere depressions in the black, her nose a lump without even a hole to breathe through. So this was how thoroughly Mistress controlled Her thralls! They even live solely by Her will! m's clit chain jingled with the strength of her arousal.
The assistant knelt before her and closed bound fingers over the chain. she doesn't even have to see it, to find it; she's just steered by Mistress's will. Like i'll be, soon. m thrilled to the feel of tape against her clit. i'll wear it soon, myself.
The assistant unhooked the chain, then stood and reached between her own legs. Peeling loose a strip of tape, she reached inside herself and drew out a string of pearls as black as her bindings. On and on it spooled, seemingly endless, and the assistant let it pile between her feet. m noted the wetness of the pearls and wondered how they'd feel sliding through her cunt.
At last the assistant reached the end of the chain. Grasping it in both hands, she stepped forward and began to drape it around m. Mmmm. Cool, dark globes slipped up between her legs, over and under her breasts, across her lips (she could smell them now, but sadly couldn't taste them), and just below her eyes. she wasn't bound as thoroughly as the assistant, but of course she didn't deserve that yet. No, she was only being draped - like a sacrifice. m suppressed her millionth shudder.
When the assistant was finished, she reattached m's clit chain and stepped back. Then Mistress's hand caught them both, and when sensation returned m found herself in a soundless, pitch-black realm, still floating.
The assistant stepped forward, pulling m along like a balloon, and soon the thrall saw a light ahead of them. Perfectly globular, it enclosed four female figures. The first three stood at attention, their bodies smooth and perfectly identical, their eyes gleaming black like pearls. these were my sisters from the Nethermost Pit, m realized, and jingled her chain again they've been initiated.
The fourth figure in the tableau knelt beside the others - not facing them, for no one kneels to a thrall. Instead, the announcer faced toward the center of the globe, with eyes as black and unblinking as the other three. her arms had been bound behind her, by a rope of pearls that passed through both nipple and clit rings. For once, her face was as expressionless as the other thralls'.
m stared in mute admiration. Here were four women - five, if you counted "her" assistant - who would neither move nor speak nor even think until their Mistress commanded them. They might have stood like this forever; they might stand like this forever more. Nothing would change until Mistress willed it.
m longed to join the tableau, but to her shame, she could barely even keep herself still. Nothing holds me here but my will to submit, and even that is flawed. She felt the longing in her, burning so brightly now that, if she'd been allowed, she would have torn the chain from the assistant's hands and frigged herself raw with it. Nothing holds me here but my will to submit - but i will to submit even further.
Time rolled past, and m burned on.
At last, obeying no cue that m could see, the announcer began to speak. "thrall," she said, her voice every bit as expressionless as her face, "i am pleased to welcome you into the presence of your Mistress, the Black Pearl of Thailand."
And there, after all this time, was her Mistress. Rapture held m paralyzed, so that she couldn't have swooned even if she'd wanted to. Oh, but Mistress was so beautiful, she could hardly bear to look at Her! The thrall's heart glowed within her chest: at last she'd been found worthy to see her Mistress in all her glory! Mistress was perfectly nude tonight, with no other adornment than her own cool beauty. Her breasts and hips gleamed like honeyed fruit, begging to be tasted. The darkness between her thighs thrummed with power.
m's body stiffened to climax, her thoughts shattering and swirling in her head. Mistress! Mistress! At last, my Mistress!
The assistant knelt and presented m's leash to the sorceress, who took it with a smirk. She cocked one hand on Her hip and stepped forward, lifting m's breasts one by one as though measuring them, and tickling the space between her legs. m hung motionless, exultant. "Better," said the Pearl, and the thrall's eyes juddered, trying to roll back in her head. she wouldn't let them, but oh, the pleasure of that one word, "better"! i've pleased Her! i've pleased my Mistress!
"I felt it," said Black Pearl, "when you conquered the last of your self-will. And now you bring that conquered will to Me, so that I may crush it forever. Is that right, thrall?" She ran a finger over m's lips. "Oh, I know you can't answer; you have no voice. But every fiber of your being screams 'yes.' And why else would you be here, if not to give yourself to Me? Why else would you hold still for this?" She thrust Her hand between m's legs and drove a thick strand of pearls into her cunt, massing them against m's G-spot and grinding them there.
Rapture wasn't enough to hold m still now. i will not move, i will not move, she told herself, even as the juice flowed over her Mistress's hand. i will not move, i will not move, even as the fireballs raced up her spine and exploded in her brain. i will not move, i will not move, even as her eyes rolled up at last and she lost sight of that precious sneering face.
The hand withdrew. "Very good," said Black Pearl. "You have earned your reward." She traced one finger along the thrall's thigh, leaving pinpricks of pain and pleasure in her wake. "See, you are Mine now."
And now she could move - by her Mistress's will! m dipped her head and her breath quickened as she beheld her new tattoo. Lustrous black pearls, all the way around her flank. i've been branded, like cattle. she orgasmed again.
Then Mistress spoke a word of command, and m's bonds twisted, slithered, tightened. But just as the pain grew unbearable the pearls collapsed, becoming a liquid that seeped through her pores and bored straight to her white-hot center. Then they began to remake her. m felt her bones lengthen, her waist narrow, her features spread and change. Every hair on her body stood straight out - then most of it sizzled and vanished. her skin sizzled too, especially at her fingertips, where the whorls of her fingerprints spun themselves flat. i've just lost my identity , thought m. Now i really am a nameless, faceless, voiceless thrall. Just like i've always wanted to be.
And there was the thrumming again, the reward she'd felt only on lips and cheeks before this moment. Now it charged her every cell with pleasure. What had m done to deserve this ecstasy? Nothing but submit. Thank You, Mistress, thank You!.
Black Pearl curled Her lip and nodded. "Oh yes, much better. you're very close to perfection now, thrall. But are you ready to complete the process?"
Yes, Mistress! Of course, Mistress!
"I know what you're thinking: you've never wanted anything more in your life, have you? But what is it, exactly, that you want? Do you ache to please Me, or only yourself?"
Mistress barked a command, and m's body jerked, twisted, rearranged itself in midair. Now she arched backwards over bent knees, her breasts pushed out and away from her Mistress, her eyes staring back at Her upside-down crotch.
"If I freed your tongue for a moment - just your tongue, you understand - and gave you the choice of pleasuring Me now or after I completed your transformation, which would you chose?" She cocked a hip, and her cunt swung like a pendulum across m's vision. "What if the choice was not when to pleasure Me, but how long? How much effort would you expend, if you knew you'd receive the same reward for giving Me one minute of pleasure or twenty?"
A third command, and m felt her jaws creak open, ever so slightly. The wall behind her lips had parted. "This is the last choice you will ever make, thrall," said the Black Pearl. "Use it wisely."
m was ashamed to feel so torn. Of course she wanted to please her Mistress, but she'd been burning for so long now; and every time she thought Black Pearl would quench the flames, She threw gas on them instead. Why couldn't She take m's will first and then take Her pleasure with what was left? Wouldn't that be more enjoyable for Her in the long run? After all, m could hardly serve Her perfectly while she still had a self to contend with. And she'd been waiting on this moment for so long. All her life, really.
But that was precisely why she had to wait again. A gift like thralldom was too precious to be rushed or taken for granted. m owed Mistress all the thanks she could give Her.
The pussy gleamed above her, gold and rose with just a hint of dew. Slowly, deliberately, m extended her tongue. her only communication was obedience, but she could communicate something by refusing to rush. she slid up into the crack, savoring every slick inch of the Black Pearl's skin, and worked her way up to the clitoris. Then she began to spiral. Sweet, slow spirals, just like the ones in her head. Mistress understood. Her fragrance bloomed around m and she drank it in, reveling in the sweet thick perfume. she spiraled again, then blew gently between frozen lips and began to work her way downward.
"Yesssss," murmured the Pearl, pulling m closer as she slipped into the sweet warm tunnel. Emboldened, m drove deeper still, pulsing, twisting, seeking out that one magic spot and pumping for all she was worth. Pumping until the fingers twisted in her hair and the dark crotch smacked against her mouth. Pumping until her tongue cramped and her face was slick with cum. Pumping until the yes's came harder and faster and turned at last to shrieks.
m was so engrossed in her work, she barely felt it when the liquid burst from Mistress's cunt: dark, lustrous pearl, black and smooth and utterly implacable. It flowed over m's head and drove inward through her eyes, ears, nose, and gasping mouth. she pumped for as long as she could and then gave in to it.
At last, at long last, this was it! m's thoughts and memories, her will, her emotions, her personality - they were just grit to be bound into pearls. She felt it wash over them, roll them up in tight black globes of bliss, still them all eternity. There went her childhood years, her favorite color, the smell of roses, her political views, her first kiss. There went nineteen birthdays and all the faces that accompanied them. There went her mother, her father, her friends, her grandparents, everyone she'd known and loved - and everyone she'd hated.
At last the grit was gone. What was left of the thrall's mind was smooth and dark and utterly featureless. Just a little bit of liquid pearl remained, enough to well up through her pupils and spread across her eyes. Then she was complete.
There was no more Missy, no more melissa, no more m. All that remained was a blank-faced assistant whose every cell screamed pleasure.
Ten assistants stood in a line. They did not move or speak or even think, though if mindlessness can be considered patient, then they waited patiently indeed. Eventually Mistress would summon them and they would walk, in perfect lock step, out onto the stage. But for now they merely stood, suspended in Her will, with ten clits throbbing in perfect synch.
Flick went the reins in one assistant's head. she did not question Mistress's calling her into motion before her sisters. she merely stepped out of line and changed places with another assistant who'd been similarly called.
Flick went the reins again, and this time all ten moved at once, marching out onstage in perfect lock step. They looked neither right nor left, but only took up their positions behind the ten volunteers chosen for service.
The assistant who'd been moved found herself behind a girl with short, dark hair and a pink and white shirt. The volunteer glanced back at her and grinned, but the assistant's expression did not change. her eyes were fixed on her Mistress.
As she stared, the Black Pearl deigned to communicate with her a second time. The assistant stood motionless as the images flashed through her head. First she saw the girl before her standing in a shop, dazed by the scent of leather. Next, the same girl stood fingering a CD and asking a question. Finally, the girl's her face screwed up in anger and she shouted something and stormed away.
These images meant nothing to the assistant. Mistress had seen fit to amuse Herself, but not to explain, and it was beyond the assistant's ability to question. she merely accepted the communication as the gift it was, then waited for her cue. When it came, she pushed her charge forward, watched Mistress hurl the girl into trance, and caught her deftly before she could slip out of her chair.
Mistress leaned forward, as She sometimes did, and whispered in the volunteer's ear. The girl was too far gone to hear Her, but the message would come back to her later. For now, only the assistant caught the words that set her clit on fire: "You are chosen." Even a thrall knew what that meant. Mistress had expanded Her empire again, and the thrall's own significance would diminish further. Glory.
Mistress looked up, Her eyes boring through the assistant's sunglasses and novelty contacts, straight to the pearls beneath. Yes, She said. Her words rang like gongs in the thrall's silent mind. You should feel pleasure for this one. And you will again, when I pair her with you in the Nethermost Pit. How do you think Debra will feel afterwards, when I tell her whose cunt she's kissed? And how would Missy have felt, to know she'd brought Debra to Me?
The assistant accepted this as she'd accepted the previous transmissions: without thought or reflection. She didn't know who Debra and Missy were, nor did she care. All that mattered to the assistant was pleasing her Mistress. The roar at her clit told her she had.
Questions? Comments? E-mail me at thequeensthrall@yahoo.com.