Disclaimer
This story is just that, a story. It is a work of fiction and nothing at all to do with the real world or how to treat people in it. All the characters within it are adults. It contains descriptions of nonconsentual sex and other nasty things that should not be read by anybody under the age of 18.
* * *
The Spiral was her.
She was the Spiral.
She was asleep but not asleep.
She was aware but not aware.
The Spiral twirled endlessly reaching into the deepest crevices of her pliable mind, filling it with slavethought.
Slowly the Spiral faded.
Images now appeared, flashing rapidly before her intent gaze.
Familiar.
Comforting.
Reassuring.
Arousing.
Photo after photo of the same woman, her face partially obscured by the shimmering silver covering her eyes and ears, flickered past annabel's wide eyes. Cheeks flushed with arousal, lips pouting sensuously, the visored female presented herself time and time again in image after image.
The endless procession of pictures bombarded annabel's receptive mind, her arousal growing and growing as she gaped at this wanton slut that simply oozed pure sex.
The slave wanted her.
The uncontrollable, insatiable, desperate need to have sex with the woman rushed through annabel.
She wanted to take her. Fuck her. Hard.
The fantasy was so vivid, so real. Arousal boiled like superheated steam surging through her body, transforming her into a puddle of molten lust. Yes, she could see her now; the visored woman's body spasming and twitching uncontrollably as she shrieked in agonised ecstasy as climax after climax ravaged her, surrendering completely.
On and on, more and more images danced before her eyes in a kaleidoscope of sex.
She imagined the woman on her knees, arms behind her back, chest thrust out, her entire being quaking with need. The submissive female was nothing more than a horny slut begging to be Used by a dominant woman... no, more than a woman... a Mistress!
Where had that word come from? It had just suddenly popped into her head.
Mistress.
But the description felt right. It was right.
Moaning unheard into the darkness, slaveannabel's body shuddered and quaked as the flames of desire licked at her soul. The visored female was nothing more than a piece of debased fuckflesh, reduced to nothing more than a living sex-object for her Mistress.
Now, she visualised the sexwhore bound, heavy black leather restraints gripping her arms and legs, pressing her tightly against the bondage frame, the slut's juices gushing like a torrent down her thighs as she trembled in anticipation of the delicious depravity about to be inflicted by her Mistress.
Her body writhing on the couch, the slave allowed the fantasies to penetrate her mind, twisting her, reshaping her as she squirmed helplessly, knowing that she must Believe.
Like a sudden ray of sunshine piercing the lustfog that blanketing her warped mind, realisation finally dawned.
These were her photos!
She was looking at herself!
All the headset-selfies she had posted on the forum were being displayed in an endless procession of cyber-porn.
Moaning loudly into the darkness, the slave gave into the hunger. The need.
She wanted to fuck herself.
She wanted to be fucked.
The Voice oozed into her ears, whispering the Truth.
She was a slave. She would always be a slave. She obeyed.
As a slave she needed to be Used.
By a Mistress.
With sudden startling clarity, she knew this to be True.
The Truth was she craved to be nothing more than a living robot, mind and body pulsating with Discipline, willingly yielding herself to the desires of a Mistress, deriving pleasure from her complete submission, surrendering all power to whomsoever Used her.
She had always wanted this. It was normal to want this. The slave was perfectly normal.
All Truth was slavethought.
All slavethought was Truth.
The slutwhore vanished from her eyes, replaced by the essence of her being, the symbol that epitomised everything that the slave was and ever would be, the ultimate focus of her adoration. Awestruck by the glowing and pulsing vision that filled her, the slave worshipped the Holy Sign.
Pressed against the warm bodies of her sister slaves on the Training couch, slaveannabel's body spasmed and twitched as the Voice ordered her to climax, the explosive orgasm obliterating everything but the Truth.
Screaming aloud as she came, the slave repeatedly repeatedly cried out the Blessed name of her Owner as she eagerly locked the heavy steel chains tightly around her corrupted soul, binding herself to eternal slavery.
Medusa!
Medu..saaa...!!
M...Meee...dusaaa..!!
Meddd...uuu...saaaaa!!!!!
MM...EDDDD...UUU...SAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!
* * *
"Hello?" the familiar voice asked.
"Hi mom, only me!" the slave announched cheerily, her face animated. Before her the huge screen of the Training Room swirled and pulsed as the Spiral swam before her eyes.
"Oh Annabel!" the woman's voice replied, thrilled. "How wonderful to hear from you!"
Vague, disjointed memories came into focus in her consciousness. There had been other phone calls, hadn't there? Or had there? Maybe she had imagined them? But why would she remember them if they hadn't taken place? The fragmented memories were confusing, disturbing, threatening... better to suppress them, much better to ignore them, far better to allow the Discipline to guide her.
Tautly at attention, arms by her sides, slaveannabel stared at the Spiral as the black slaveinstructress held the phone before her. The slave's mouth was moving, the words spilling out.
"Yeah, I'm really sorry for not being in touch as much as usual these few weeks. Things have been really hectic lately."
"You work much too hard Annabel," her mother scolded her lightly. "You really need to get a better job. You can't waste your time in that place. They just don't value you."
"I know mom," the slave sighed in agreement, her eyes locked upon the Spiral that was the centre of her universe. "I know. You're absolutely right."
Changing the subject, the slave spoke once more, her tone now upbeat. "I'm thinking of coming home this weekend. How does that suit you?"
"Wonderful Annabel!" her mother gushed happily. "That's perfect! The following weekend I'm helping Reverend Holloway with the new group. Ever since I started volunteering with that charity I've gotten a whole new insight into what goes on behind closed doors. Some of the stories I've heard would give you nightmares. Gambling, drugs, alcohol...all of them are just poison."
"You're right mom," the slave's lips agreed. "It's great that you can help out. I know that you want to make a difference."
"Well, ever since we lost your father I felt that I had to do something," her mother sniffed with emotion. "When I married him he was the sweetest guy you could ever meet. But then he started drinking and it all changed. You were too young to really understand what was happening... If he hadn't gotten behind the wheel that night all those years ago maybe he would still be here."
"I know mom," the slave soothed sympathetically, the Discipline holding her tight as she stared vacantly at the rotating Spiral, her pussy throbbing in time with every twirl.
* * *
"You're looking wonderful," Sonya breathed, unable to keep the arousal from her voice. The café was busier now as the lunch crowd started to file in. But having left work a few minutes early to meet Sonya meant that the two friends had managed to grab a table in the corner where they wouldn't be disturbed.
Weeks of constant Training had indeed improved her appearance, while the Discipline that was now woven into the fabric of her very being gave her the confidence and assurance that others seemed to be drawn to. But Sonya was no non-believer, even if she didn't fully realise it yet.
"Thanks," the slave gushed, her voice quavering with enthusiasm. "It's all down to my new fitness trainer, Naomi."
"Oh, wow!" Sonya breathed, captivated completely, her sparkling eyes locked on to the slave's gaze.
"She's an absolute miracle worker," the slave pressed. "I've never felt so positive and full of energy in my whole life!"
"It's not only the physical fitness side she works on but the mental aspect as well," slaveannabel continued as her fingers lightly brushed the tight fabric that encased her neck, loving the ripples of sexual pleasure that cascaded through her being. "Naomi really makes sure that you have the right attitude towards life. She's helped me so much with my goals."
"Amazing," Sonya breathed, a hand automatically snaking upwards to rub her own collar. With satisfaction, the slave noted the sudden flare that burst within Sonya's eyes as her friend succumbed to the flames of desire she was now fanning. slaveannabel rejoiced in silence; by inducing heightened arousal in the target, she would be easier to control.
"Yes," the slave pressed firmly, licking her lips as she dominated Sonya, who was still rhythmically stroking her neck, stoking the furnace between her thighs. "She is amazing."
"I'll introduce you," the slave announced. "I think you will benefit from being Trained by Naomi. Being properly Trained will change your life for the better.
"Y..yesss Annabel," Sonya agreed readily, her face flushing as the need suffused through her body.
"I'll send her a text right now," the slave smiled, pulling out her phone. "Perhaps she can meet us after we finish our lunch? The gym is nearby."
"T..thank you Annabelll..." Sonya gasped greatfully, her body quivering with pent up lust as a storm of desire began to rage.
"No problem," slaveannabel soothed sweetly. "That's what friends are for."
* * *
The Spiral swirled.
Her eyes were wide, staring.
Unlike her two sister slaves, whose almost robotic obedience was a source of awe, she knew that she was not yet fully Trained. There were doubts, hesitations, qualms that still troubled her. Disturbing thoughts, feelings of dread and anxiety, still managed to pierce the smooth carapace of Discipline that enshrouded her mind.
The Voice was speaking to her.
The Truth was that although she was a slave and always would be a slave, her mind contained two incompatible thoughtforms at present: annabelthought and slavethought.
The continuing struggle between these two thoughtforms was the cause of all distress.
