I was sitting at the bar when I felt it happen. It started out feeling like a tingle, sort of like a wave of prickly heat that started at the small of my back and rushed all over my body. I thought for a moment that something had hit me and I wanted to...cry out in surprise, spin around to look for whatever did it, or really just do anything...but the realization that I couldn't move hit me almost as fast as the sensation itself. My whole body was rigid, holding a pose of casual relaxation with the intensity of a weightlifter. I was still staring down at my drink, and I could see the way that the muscles in my arm were clenched, holding my arm completely and totally still, but I was sure nobody else could.
Then the pins and needles started. You know that feeling you get when you've been sleeping funny and don't notice it, and your arm just goes nuts with pins and needles the moment you move? It was like that, only over my whole body. All over the skin at first, then receding deeper, like I had pins and needles inside of me. It burned up, into my spine and up into my brain. The brain's not even supposed to have nerves, I know, but mine felt like it was being jabbed with red-hot knitting needles. And all through it, I couldn't move, couldn't even blink. My breathing didn't even speed up, it just stayed slow and even. I don't know how long I sat there like that. Time seemed to distort and dilate inside my head. My watch was out of my field of vision, and I couldn't even move my eyeballs to look at it.
I was terrified at first, utterly panicked. I thought maybe I was dying, having a stroke or a heart attack or an aneurysm. But then I felt the thought enter my brain:
I'm totally in love with Adam DeMarcus.
It just seemed to sit there, deep in the core of my mind, and something about it relaxed me. Like the thought had been waiting there forever, and all the pain was just my brain finding the pathway to that one beautiful idea.
There was still some pain, though. It still felt like there was more to the idea, more to discover. I started to understand that my mind was trying to fight this...learning process, I guess you'd call it, but that's just a shadow of how intense it really was. But the more I fought it, the more it burned these new pathways through my brain, teaching me the absolute truths that I was having a harder and harder time denying.
I'm totally subservient to Adam DeMarcus,
I thought, and I let out a tiny sigh as the grip of the paralysis relaxed, just a little. I realized that the more I gave in, the more I let my thoughts fall into this new groove of obedience, the more I got back control of my body. Whatever it was that was holding me was just gripping me in place until I learned how to obey Adam completely.
You'd think I'd try even harder to fight, but I understood deep down that whatever was doing this to me, it was Adam's will that it happen. Adam wanted me to love him, to submit to him completely, and since I wanted that too, now, I just relaxed my mind and let the new teaching pour in.
I'm sexually submissive to Adam DeMarcus. I want nothing more than to please Adam DeMarcus in every way. I must obey Adam DeMarcus. Adam DeMarcus is my Master...
They just poured in, and I felt my eyes just unfocus and go glassy as my mind went all soft and pliable like putty, like clay for my new Master to mold. I could picture him in my mind's eye, now. I knew everything I needed to know about how to make Master happy, everything he wanted and everything he liked, and I wanted nothing more than to give it to him right now.
But I still couldn't quite move yet. My brain was still being adjusted--just tiny little brush strokes now, finishing details on the masterpiece of slavery that was my new brain. Every bit of programming integrated itself into my old personality perfectly, changing me away from the old Madeline Horowitz who had no real purpose in her life (aside from a dull job as a teacher and a passion for writing, but how could a half-finished novel possibly compare to the glories of servitude to Adam DeMarcus?) into a perfect slave.
Finally, with a tiny star burst glow of pleasure, the change was complete. My limbs returned to my control again...well, not my control. Master's control. My body was entirely His plaything, to do with as He willed. But I could move them. I turned, looking around and praying desperately that I would see...
There! I spotted Him across the room, in a secluded booth, holding a messenger bag (I'd once derided them as "man-purses", but Master couldn't make bad decisions, so my opinion of them changed in that instant.) I got off my stool, walked across the room to Him, and in a low, seductive tone, said, "My name is Madeline, Master, and I am Yours in every way to do with as You see fit. Use me, command me, make me obey."
"Oh...crap," He said.
I was confused. My brain still felt a little foggy as it adjusted to the wonders of servitude, but I felt fairly certain that this wasn't the response I was supposed to get. "Master?" I asked. "Is something wrong? Can I fix it? You know that anything I can do to serve You, I will do cheerfully and graciously without expecting reward."
Master rolled His eyes back and stared at the ceiling. "I was aiming six feet to your left," He said. "Dammit dammit dammit!"
"I...I don't understand." I felt a churning void of anguish in my stomach. Master was unhappy. I needed to fix it!
"The blonde, the absolutely stunning blonde girl with the double-D tits sitting six feet to your left? I thought I'd aimed the Synaptic Recalibrator at her, not at you. Why would I want a dumpy brunette when I could have her?" He looked in the bag, and I saw the glint of light on metal. "Now I'll have to sit here for a half-hour while this thing recharges. Fuck!"
