Borderline

She could remember the first time she'd walked through campus to her Controller's house, although that would change soon. Her Controller had promised her that. Soon, the last nagging worry that disturbed her perfect slavery would be gone, the very memory of the existence of a life outside of slavery, and she would belong, body and soul, to the Controller. She came hard at the notion, but no passer-by would see even a twitch of her body out of place as she walked.

Her Controller had trained her very well not to betray her orgasm. She knew that at some point, in the past, she had not been able to control it quite so well. Back then, she simply had to freeze, absolutely immobile, when one of her slavetriggers had made her cum. She was much better trained now. She could cum while walking, talking, cleaning, performing any of her slaveduties, all without missing a single step. Her Controller made her cum a lot more now that she didn't betray it. Pleasure was her reward for obedience. Soon, she would be perfectly obedient. Soon, she would experience perfect pleasure. The orgasm would never stop, then.

But for now, she was still chained to the past and the future. She still remembered a time of less perfect slavery, still anticipated a time of more perfect slavery. She hated the past. The past her was not enough of a slave to the Controller; back then, she even had limits. She no longer remembered what they were, but even the knowledge that they had once existed made her ashamed. No wonder the Controller had broken them down. No wonder the Controller had eroded them away with pleasure, finding the hidden dams that pent up her perfect slaveself and breaking them down, letting her obedience flow out like a river. The Controller knew that the only slave was a perfect slave, and had taught her that. She was so grateful.

She wondered if the past her had ever realized that the Controller was wearing away her resistance, if she'd recognized that she was doing things she'd sworn she never would do, or if the Controller made those things desirable to her, step by step. Did she fight against her enslavement, knowing that she was being forced to obey but unable to resist the pure, addicting pleasure of obedience? Or did everything seem perfectly natural, totally normal by the time the Controller had reshaped her brain into an obedient slavegirl? It didn't matter. The important thing was that she had been utterly broken to the Controller's will. And today, she would be broken even of the memory of disobedience.

Her cell phone rang, playing a tune that she only heard as, 'You can trance if you want to, you can leave your friends behind...' She knew those weren't the words that other people heard as she walked past them, but she was no longer capable of hearing the real words, let along remembering them. The Controller loved to play with her perceptions. Sometimes she went out in public believing herself to be naked, or wearing a latex slavesuit. She probably wasn't, but she was utterly unable to perceive herself as anything other than what the Controller desired her to be. She knew that she didn't just live according to the Controller's commands, she experienced the world that the Controller wanted her to. Just knowing that triggered another orgasm, but it didn't stop her from answering the phone.

"I wait," she said. And she did wait. Only the Controller had this number. She had vague, ghostly memories of other people in her life, but they didn't seem important. They couldn't make her feel like this. They must not have been important, if she had gone seeking the Controller in the first place. Back when she only wanted to be a little bit of a slave, a play slave, a pretend slave. She hated the woman she had been for only wanting to pretend.

Her Controller's voice said, "Good Samaritan," and the call ended. But she knew what she had to do. It was a trigger, and she came both at the understanding that she had triggers she didn't remember and the realization that she was going to obey, that she could not help but obey. She stopped, turned towards the nearest building, and walked towards it. She came up to the door marked 'Entrance'. She knew that it wasn't supposed to mean, 'bring someone into a trance', but her Controller had made her see it that way. Every building she entered deepened her trance state, made her more obedient, more hypnotized, more enslaved. She pitied people who didn't go into trance through the entrance. She wondered how many people did. Certainly, nobody walking down the hallways with her would think she was a sex slave. She could even converse with them if she had to, her programming letting her sound perfectly normal while she orgasmed deep inside at the thought of being programmed to sound perfectly normal.

She walked past room after room, quietly evaluating the groups of computer students tapping away at terminals, waiting for the one that met the criteria that had dropped into her brain just moments ago. Finally, she saw one, a lone male working in front of a screen, clearly shy and studious. She walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, startled, and she smiled at him. Clearly, he was unused to beautiful women smiling at him, because he said, "W-w-w-who are y-you?"

She took a step back, and beckoned him towards her. He looked around, but the few other students in the room were too engrossed in their projects to notice. "I...I..." She stepped back out of the room, but reached her hand around the corner and beckoned again. Her Controller had taken away her voice until she had performed her slaveduties, but she had been taught how to seduce a man without words. She knew he would follow.

She led him to an empty classroom, shut the door, and propped a chair under it to ensure privacy. Still without saying a word, she knelt down in front of him and unzipped his pants. His penis, when she pulled it out, was not particularly large, but it was hard. "W-w-what are...w-w-why..." She silenced his speech by taking his entire cock into her mouth.

Was this one of the things that she would 'never' have done, she wondered? How much work did her Controller have to do to brainwash her into finding a random stranger, performing oral sex on them, and then walking away without a word? She no longer knew. The memory of her limits was gone, and today, the memory that there were limits would be gone as well. She would no longer be distracted by memories of a self that did not want to be a slave, the memories that were the last part of herself that could understand not wanting to be a slave. She understood dimly the concept of "choice", but she would be glad to part with that understanding. Her Controller had long ago made it clear that whatever her old, pretend slave self thought, the only real "choice" was 'away from pleasure' or 'towards pleasure', and that nobody would ever choose the path away from pleasure. Which meant that there really was no such thing as "choice" at all. Soon, she would gratefully relinquish even the idea.

The stranger moaned and gasped under her lips; her Controller had taught her how to pleasure both men and women. She no longer had a sexual preference, if she ever had; a preference was a choice, and her only choice was towards perfect pleasure and perfect slavery. Doing what she was told caused pleasure. If that involved sex with a woman, it caused her pleasure. If that involved sex with a man, it caused her pleasure. This time, it was a man. She had no doubt that there were triggers that made her seduce a woman, but it felt good not to think about her triggers until they were activated. It meant she was obeying.

She felt his hands on her breasts as she continued to bob her head up and down on his cock, but the actual pleasure of a man fondling her nipples paled into insignificance next to the pleasure that her Controller had manufactured in her mind. Physical sensation was controlled by the mind, and her mind was controlled by her Controller, and her Controller had decided that she would feel nothing but ecstacy while she was sucking cock. The sensation of the cock sliding in and out of her mouth felt better than fucking, because it meant she was obeying her Controller's will.

She came again, harder than usual this time, as the young man erupted in her mouth, and she swallowed every drop of his cum. Still without saying a word, she removed the chair, opened the door, and walked away without saying a word while he tried to do up his pants. She would never know his name, and he would never know hers. She would never know hers, for that matter. Her Controller had taken it away. Soon, her Controller would take away even the memory of a name.

She left the building, now heading off the campus and down the last few blocks towards her Controller's house. She wondered if there was still a part of her that would try to fight this last violation, this final boundary that the Controller would break down between imperfect slavery and perfect slavery, but she felt nothing. Her Controller had taught her too well. There was no longer even a single part of her that did not want to be a perfect slave.

She arrived at the door. She knew that this was the last moment she would ever remember, ever anticipate. She embraced the notion.

The door opened.

THE END