Fadin In And Fadin Out

And everything faded away.

Marie drifted in a warm, mellow haze, not even conscious of the way her body slumped sideways onto the floor. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Everything in her field of vision had turned bright orange, the color of the inside of her eyelids, and even that connection was too complex for her to make now. Thoughts slipped out of her grasp as though they had been greased, and her mind felt slow and clumsy. An image flittered into her mind of herself as a child, trying to pick up her toys while wearing socks on her hands; before she could figure out why her brain had dredged it up, she wondered why she had been wearing socks on her hands, and then the question faded and all she was left with was the sheer absurdity of the mental image. She started giggling and couldn't stop.

Her body felt like she'd been wrapped in warm cotton. Physical sensations happened, but they were distant and unimportant next to the feel of vague, gentle bliss that washed over and through her. She knew she heard things, but they came into her ears as meaningless sound and her mind was too distracted by currents of drifting pleasure to make any kind of sense of them. She felt like she was floating, like a cloud had wrapped itself around her, and now it supported her and caressed her naked body. It felt glorious. Marie didn't care about how it had happened. Time had switched off, identity had blurred into a swirl of melting ecstasy. She simply was. She simply felt. Marie never wanted it to end.

It didn't, exactly. But Marie did slowly become aware of the world around her once again. It felt like waking from a dream, the way that the voice in her mind slowly resolved itself into sound coming from the world around her. "That's right, beautiful," it said. "Licking and sucking, tastes so good..."

And it did taste good, Marie realized. Her mouth felt wonderfully full, the taste of slick and salty flesh firm against her tongue. She tried to open her eyes and realized they were already open. She didn't remember when they'd opened. All she knew was that she was suddenly aware of staring at the flesh of her Master's belly as her head bobbed up and down, up and down.

She had a Master. Marie wasn't sure when she'd learned that. It felt so hard to connect one thought to another, especially when there were so many delicious certainties crowding her awareness. Cock tasted wonderful. Master owned her. Being naked made her horny. Sex fulfilled her. It was so hard to think, and so easy to know.

Master's voice drifted into her ears again, insinuating itself into her mind so easily that she barely even registered it, and she slid her mouth off of his cock to tongue his balls. From this angle, she could see his face, and she recognized it as Jeremy...but it didn't matter to her. The realization that she had just obeyed her Master, that she was licking Master's balls at his command...that mattered. Marie felt her nipples tighten into hard buds and her clit swell with arousal at the understanding.

Marie's tongue slowly and sensuously brushed up the entire length of Master's cock, flicking at the very tip before returning to his balls. Her thoughts slowly began to cohere, but they didn't seem to have any kind of real impact. It felt like her mind was still wrapped in that warm woolen cloud, and the ideas that battered at her brain sank softly into the warmth without ever really touching her.

It didn't really matter that Jeremy hadn't always been her Master. It didn't really matter that the last thing she remembered before everything faded away was drinking a cup of coffee with a strangely medicinal taste that even the bitter flavor couldn't fully conceal. It didn't really matter that she'd trusted him and he'd drugged her with something. She could almost wrap her head around the idea that the drug was making her not care that she'd been drugged, but then her tongue was working its way into the opening at the tip of his cock again and that suddenly seemed so much more important than thinking could possibly be. Marie tasted salty precum and redoubled her efforts.

"Good girl," Master purred out, his voice slightly hoarse with pleasure. "Must obey, must be a good girl, must please your Master..." His breath quickened, and Marie knew she had to make him cum. She didn't need to think about it; the knowledge was simply there, like the knowledge that the sky was blue or that water flowed downhill. It was only natural. Slave girls had to make their Master cum. And Marie was a...she felt her pussy clench in orgasm as the awareness burst into her mind like an unfolding flower. Marie was a slave girl.

"Good slave girl," Master moaned. His voice was unsteady now. "Good slave girl..." Marie loved hearing those words. She loved being told that she was a good slave girl. Doubt scrabbled ineffectually at the surface of her mind, but it could gain no purchase in the face of the utter certainty in those words. It was hard to think about not wanting to be a slave girl. It was easy to know she was one. It was hard to think about why she was swirling her tongue around the head of Master's cock. It was easy to lick away each new drop of creamy precum and easy to shiver in bliss as his hips bucked and his cock twitched.

Marie grunted in orgasm again as his warm, wet semen splattered onto her face and breasts.

"Good girl," Master said again, panting with exertion. "Now hold still." Marie froze into immobility, as if she was incapable now of even thinking of motion. Thinking still felt so hard; it felt like too much work to press against the immediacy of sensation and connect random ideas together into a coherent notion. But for the first time, it occurred to Marie that it might be worth doing. Even more, it felt like something she needed to do. It felt like there was some sort of eventual goal, some kind of conclusion that she might find at the end of the trail of thoughts.

But it was so hard to think. Marie started thinking there, because it was the only place she could begin. It was so hard to think. It used to be easy, then Master drugged her, and now it was hard. But it was getting easier again. Earlier, she couldn't think at all, but now her consciousness was slowly emerging from the drug-induced fog. And...and Master didn't want her to think. She felt that groggy certainty almost pull her mind back into an undertow of mindless lust, but she persevered. Master drugged her to stop her thinking. The drugs were wearing off. Which meant...which meant...Marie felt like she almost had it...

There was an instant of pain. Marie looked down at her arm to see a needle sticking out of it. The needle was on the end of a syringe, the syringe was held by Master, Master was already pushing the plunger home...

"Good girl," he said. "Now listen."

And everything faded away.

Marie felt her thoughts scatter again, like she was watching a sugar cube fall through endless fathoms of warm water and dissolving as it went. Then the image itself crumbled, and all Marie knew was pleasure. Everything felt good, and all those silly thoughts became distant and meaningless next to the hazy ecstasy that flowed through her. Marie felt like she was dissolving now, like her body was expanding and thinning out to become nothing more than a cloud of diffuse bliss that sparkled with delight every time she touched. Every time she was touched.

Her own voice sounded in her ears, but she didn't think about what she said. Her thoughts were nothing more than trails of colors streaking through the cloud that was her body, endlessly fascinating and ultimately beyond understanding. She could see them changing colors and directions, and she wondered who guided them...but to wonder was to think, and it was always easier to know than to think. She didn't think about how she knew. She didn't think about why she didn't want to think. She didn't want to think about it.

Marie felt herself cumming. The orgasm felt like only a tiny surge of pleasure on top of the endless, drifting wash of bliss that filled her body and mind, but the distortion of time made it seem like it went on for hours. Maybe it did. Time didn't matter. Her own animalistic groans of lust were just sounds, just like Master's words were just sounds. Her own fingers, endlessly playing across her clit, were just more sensations that overtopped her ecstasy like warm water pouring into a cup that was already full. Marie's mind could hold so little right now, and so much pleasure gushed into her.

She felt sticky fluids gushing out of her, onto her fingers, and with that came the gradual realization that she was masturbating. That she had been masturbating, for some time now. She was on her knees, her legs spread wide so that her shaved snatch was lewdly displayed for the camera, and her fingers danced over her own flesh until she came again.

And there was a camera. And she was staring at it. And she was chanting. Marie heard her own voice, a docile monotone repeating, "Master owns me, I am a good slave girl, Master owns me, I am a good slave girl," over and over and over again. Marie wondered how long she'd been saying it. Marie wondered why she wasn't stopping.

Then she remembered that wondering was thinking, and that it was always easier to know than to think. She stopped wondering...but she didn't stop chanting, and she didn't stop masturbating. Her breasts heaved as she drew in a long shuddering breath, another orgasm flashing through her body.

She didn't know how long she knelt there. Time still felt distended, warped by the endless stillness that was broken only by her own endless repetition. But at last Master came into the room. He turned off the camera, and Marie finally felt the spell of his commands break. She slumped forward, suddenly exhausted by the spasms of pleasure that had wracked her body.

"Good slave girl," Master said, putting a bottle of water to her lips. He squeezed, and Marie felt cool water rush into her mouth. She drank greedily from it, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was. Sweat and sex filled her nostrils, the dehydration the only real way she had of knowing how long she'd been masturbating.

"Good slave girl," Master cooed into her ear as she suckled at the water bottle, "so obedient, knowing you obey and knowing that obedience is pleasure." She barely even noticed the words; the lingering haze of the drugs and the sleepy afterglow left her drowsy and passive, but she did realize that she was being programmed. Master was programming her. That felt so good. It felt good because he had programmed her to enjoy being programmed, but she didn't care. She felt the warmth of his hands petting her like the good slave girl she was, and the sheer rightness of it all lulled her into a blank and accepting trance.

She didn't know how long he spoke to her. She didn't care. It was Master's will that he program her, and Marie wanted nothing more than to accept Master's will. When he told her to stand, she stood. When he told her to move in front of the desk, she moved effortlessly and thoughtlessly. "Watch," he said, and her eyes locked onto the screen as he clicked on the link.

The clip played, and Marie saw herself as countless others must have seen her: eyes glassy, pupils wide, staring directly at the camera as she chanted, "Master owns me, I am a good slave girl, Master owns me, I am a good slave girl." On the screen, Marie's fingers moved slowly and dreamily to her breasts, gathering the nipples between her fingers and working them until they were stiff, tight buds. She felt phantom tingles of bliss in her own nipples as she watched.

She felt Master's hands moving her, posing her; but he had not commanded her to respond, so she continued to watch the screen. Her hands found the edge of the desk and leaned on it without any conscious input from her still-dreamy mind; what few scattered thoughts she had were absorbed by the spectacle on the monitor in front of her. She watched her hands slowly drifting down between her thighs, heard herself chanting, "Master owns me, I am a good slave girl, Master owns me, I am a good slave girl." She didn't even realize she had joined in.

Master slid into her easily, her cunt lubricated by her previous masturbation and eager to accept his cock. He pumped into her, his breath coming in irregular gasps as he filled her over and over and over again in time to her mantra.

She pushed back against him, yearning to feel him as deep inside her as she could. She knew she was made to be filled with cock. She knew she was made to be filled with Master's cock. It was so easy to know, so fucking hot and sexy to know... Marie's words fell out of rhythm with her video self as they slurred into moans and stuttered with arousal. "g-g-good, good ssslave..." She felt a trickle of drool at the corner of her lips.

Her eyes went unfocused as the orgasm hit and kept going, as much a bliss of her mind as her body. She wasn't thinking, she wasn't aware, she simply was. She simply was Master's good slave girl. She simply was obedient. She simply was mindless. The instinctive understanding twined into the pleasure until they were indistinguishable. Marie couldn't have stopped cumming if she'd wanted to, and she didn't want to.

At last, she felt Master give one last convulsive grunt and thrust deeply inside her, his orgasm stimulating a shivery bliss that somehow went even deeper than her orgasms. He pulled the chair over and guided her into it, somehow understanding that her rubbery knees kept her upright only by an effort of will.

His will.

"I have something for you, beautiful girl," he said. He picked something up off the desk, something she hadn't been allowed to notice until now. It was a thick metal collar with a locking clasp, the kind of thing that any good slave girl might receive as a present from a loving Master. The kind of thing that people might think was just a symbol of their erotic play. But that was only because they wouldn't see the tiny needle that jutted inward from the metal surface.

"Do you want to wear this?" he asked, holding it out to her.

"Yes, Master," she said, knowing that he had taken away from her all other answers. She knew that the drug had already begun to wear off, but this time it felt like an impossible effort to stir her mind into thought. Master's programming had worn grooves into her mind, deep as chasms, and her thoughts had no way to climb out of the channels he had carved for her. She couldn't think, not when she knew.

"Good slave girl," Master whispered, carefully positioning the collar around her neck. She felt a tiny sting of pain as he snapped it shut.

And everything faded away.

The tiny hiss of the injector pumping the drug into her bloodstream melded into a warm, rushing whoosh of pleasure, the sound of the blood flowing through her veins amplified until it drowned everything else out. She felt each vein, each blood vessel, each tiny capillary as it was touched by a tingle of pleasure, and the pleasure only increased until every cell of her body was alive with it. Marie felt aware of her body's capacity for bliss in a way she could never have imagined.

Dimly, distantly, she was aware she moved. She was aware she spoke. She knew that she could be more aware of these things if she wanted to, but it felt so good not to be aware. It felt so good to act without thinking, to obey without thinking, to be so totally within Master's will that she followed his commands without even being consciously aware of what she was doing.

Marie floated serenely in her own private universe of obedience and pleasure, secure in the knowledge that she was Master's good slave girl. It was a perfect ecstasy, a perfect understanding of her place in the scheme of existence. That place was kneeling at Master's feet, and she was there always in her mind. It was all she ever wanted now.

Consciousness faded in, intruding only slightly on her obedient trance. She became aware of a cock in her mouth, a cock stretching her ass. She knew she was pleasuring Master, servicing his trusted friends, and that was all that mattered to her. Fingers brushed at her clit, strong and certain, rewarding her service with pleasure.

"Good slave girl," Master whispered, as one cock slid out and another cock slid in to replace it, and Marie whimpered in pleasure at hearing his praise. Her head bobbed up and down, but the collar fitted her neck so snugly that it didn't even wobble when she swallowed Master's cum. The puncture had already healed around the needle as though it were a part of her. In a very real way, it was.

"Good slave girl," Master said again, his words already going distant as she heard the tiny hiss of the injector and felt cool liquid flow into her bloodstream. Marie welcomed the sensation. She embraced her slavery.

And everything faded away...

THE END