Rescued 9

The buzzing of the vibrator against Sarah's clit had become unbearable. It hadn't stopped in all the time she'd been in the chair--hours? Weeks? She'd lost track of time long since. Still it buzzed on, torturing her to the point of orgasm and then giving her cheap release, only to torture her through her aftershocks with no mercy, until finally her poor sensitized body was calm enough to return to its baseline state, only for the whole thing to start over again. Sometimes it wrung two, three, four orgasms out of her in a row, only seconds apart.

It didn't matter. None of the variations in the pattern mattered, because the machine never stopped, kept vibrating against her. And the vibrations were powerful, total. The machine had a sort of suction cup extension, and so her clit had been drawn erect, to be completely and entirely encased by the vibrating. At first she had been pleased by this, but now it only made the torture more cruel.

And as the machine vibrated, the cups around her nipples sucked, drawing her back to arch away from the backrest. And as they sucked, that thick, impaling dildo drove in and out of her, making the contractions of her cunt more forceful, more responsive. She was a shaking, quivering mess, trapped always in the point of orgasm, but never quite knowing true relief.

And always there was the voice-- murmuring in her ears, speaking ideas that she couldn't remember, couldn't understand. She thought it must be promising her wonderful things-- relief, freedom, in exchange for something, but she didn't know what. She thought maybe it wasn't time to know.

A light crept into her dark world. Her eyes, having been in that dark so long, took a moment to adjust. An opening-- the concept of doors returned to her, dusty and unused, from the depths of her atrophied mind. Someone stood in the doorway.

Sarah's heart seized in her chest when she saw who it was. Somehow, this was more painful than all the overstimulation combined.

It was Isabelle.

Even after so much time had passed-- even after the way things had ended, the sight of Isabelle still left her breathless. She looked as immaculate as ever-- her flowing black locks didn't have a hair out of place, her makeup was minimal but expertly crafted. Sarah couldn't help but be ashamed to have Isabelle see her like this-- naked, and sweating, arched up off the chair like an animal.

It had been the secret private hope she hadn't allowed herself to think about. That Isabelle would come and save her-- that maybe, after all this time had passed, Isabelle had forgiven her. When she'd thought often about how her faceless captors were going to destroy her identity, the one thing she'd felt saddest about was that she would forget Isabelle-- that Isabelle would never know that she was still sorry.

But now, Isabelle was crossing the room to her like a dream, in her well-fitting lycra catsuit. It was so perfect, so wonderful that Sarah worried her mind had snapped, that it was just showing her what she wanted to see. But Isabelle reached the chair, and she reached behind it, pulling at something, and a moment later, the suction cups released, the dildo withdrew, and the buzzing blessedly stopped.

She sank back against the chair, boneless, breathing a sigh of relief. It was over.

Isabelle reached into her compact bag, and withdrew a cotton bathrobe. With great effort, Sarah leaned forward in the chair, taking it and putting it on. It wasn't much-- it was thin, but the feeling of being covered again after being naked and exposed for so long felt luxurious.

"Come on," Isabelle said, her voice quiet. She extended her hand to Sarah, and Sarah took it, allowing Isabelle to draw her out of the chair and to standing. Her former lover took a moment to rearrange the two of them, until she was supporting the weight of Sarah's body almost entirely with her right arm. Sarah slumped gratefully onto Isabelle's shoulder, moving only her legs to keep instep with her savior.

She led them out of the room, into the white, clinical hallways Sarah only vaguely remembered. She still walked with the confident assurance Sarah had always loved about her, through halls and past many other doors like the one they had left behind them. Sarah's heart sang in gratitude as they reached the front doors, and stepping out into the cool night air made her feel human again. Tears pricked her eyes as Isabelle helped her into the front seat of her sleek silver car. She'd never thought she'd be outside of that room, ever again.

Isabelle took her back to her condo, and never spoke a word the entire time. She helped Sarah into the elevator, and then into her home, sitting her down on the love seat in the living room. Sarah sighed in contentment again-- the love seat sagged beneath her, drawing her down and wrapping her up, safe and warm. She let herself sink into it fully, unable to keep her moan of satisfaction in.

"So," Isabelle said, sitting herself in the armchair to the right of the love seat. Sarah tilted her neck slightly, so she could see Isabelle clearly. "Are you wondering why I saved you? Or how?"

Sarah paused for a moment, to think. Then, she shook her head, with some effort. "No. You're... Isabelle."

She seemed surprised by this answer, her eyebrows raising slightly. Sarah went on, to fill the silence. "I wouldn't let myself hope, but... in the back of mind I kept thinking that if anyone could save me, it would be you. When I saw you at first, I thought maybe I was hallucinating. I really wanted it to be you... I wanted to tell you... I didn't want you to think..." She drew in a deep breath, trying to gather the disjointed mess that was her mind.

"I didn't want to be annihilated with you thinking I didn't care," She confessed. "Isabelle-- I'm still sorry about what I... what I did."

Now, Isabelle's face had returned to being an implacable mask. "You're 'still' sorry, are you?" She asked, her voice polite and disinterested. The tone cut-- after the intimacies they had shared, especially after Isabelle had come to her as her savior, to be addressed as a stranger hurt. "Funny... you weren't sorry when I caught you. You were angry, and defiant. You said you'd made a mistake thinking you could ever commit to being with me; you wanted your freedom back." Isabelle recited these sins like they were of little more importance to her than a grocery list, or items in a shopping catalogue.

The memories of that night filled Sarah's head again. They had haunted her often in the three years that had followed it. She had felt perfectly justified in sleeping with another woman, perfectly justified in breaking Isabelle's heart. Isabelle, with her hurt pride, had gathered up Sarah's things and thrown them into the hallway. Sarah had thanked her, hadn't been able to resist getting the last dig in as she'd walked out the door forever-- that she wouldn't miss Isabelle at all, that she'd rather have any other woman in the world than her.

Her guilt was climbing up her throat, and she tried to swallow it down. "Isabelle, I really am--"

Isabelle held up her hand, silencing her. "It doesn't matter to me now. I just think we should be precise in our terms. You can't say you're "still" sorry about something you never apologized for."

Sarah opened her mouth again. "Well, I--"

She was cut off by the raising of her old lover's hand again. Isabelle's voice was sharper now, touched by a hint of bitterness. "I don't want your apology now. To be honest, even if you had apologized then, I wouldn't have accepted it. You broke my trust, and you broke my heart. I could never take you back after that."

Sarah's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you... why did you save me then? If you haven't forgiven me, why would you do that?"

A small smile touched Isabelle's lips. "There are things you don't know about me, Sarah," she spoke, her voice soft. Yet despite the decreased volume, Sarah was on high alert. Something was off... there was something dangerous here, something dangerous in Isabelle's eyes, but she didn't know what.

"For instance, you didn't know that I spent quite a number of years as a hypnotist before we ever dated." Sarah only stared, but Isabelle continued. "You didn't know that that is what allowed me to become the success I am, or that most of the relationships I had before you were more between a mistress and her slave than between two equals. And you didn't know that I gave all that up to be with you-- to treat you as an equal, as you deserved. Or, at least, as I thought you deserved. My judgement is rarely wrong, but I can admit it when it is. You didn't deserve that."

Sarah stared at Isabelle, hardly able to take in what she was hearing. If Isabelle had told her this years ago, she would have laughed at her. But after being kidnapped and held captive in a brainwashing facility, the idea of hypnotism seemed very plausible. And Isabelle did have a commanding air about her when she wanted to. She had a soft, goofy side too, that Sarah had loved getting to know, but that side was nowhere to be found now. She was entirely detached and condescending, now. It was very easy to imagine her as a hypnotist like this.

"When you left me, I went back to my old life." Isabelle went on. "Went back to making slaves for myself, for my own enjoyment. To living the life of luxury and freedom I so relish. There is a community of hypnotists and of mind-influencers, shall we say, in this town, and they welcomed me back. But word travels through that community. And about three weeks ago, I heard a rumor that none other than Sarah Thompson had been taken in by the people who run the local facility, as their latest brainwashing subject."

Isabelle gave a cold smile, hard as a diamond. "So I called on my contacts over there, and, as I have a relationship of mutual respect with everyone in my network, they graciously agreed to let me come and get you. So come I did."

Sarah's breath hitched in her throat. She tried to force her way through the blockage. "But why? If you're still so angry at me for what I did-- and you have every right to be-- why save me?"

Isabelle's lip curled. "Because it's too easy for you. You don't deserve annihilation that easy. That lovely, floating mindlessness... all your worries, your troubles gone forever. All the ups and downs, every memory of your former life, wiped away, your brain left clean and open and carefree. You don't deserve that." Isabelle spat. "You don't deserve to sink into blissful oblivion, to become just another drone. I want you to remember. I want you to suffer."

Sarah's blood ran cold. The hard fury in Isabelle's eyes was like nothing she'd ever seen before. All she could feel was twisting dread in her stomach.

"You know, I was going to be the bigger person," she continued, her voice slipping back into an easy, conversational tone. "I could have sought you out for punishment. I thought about it many times. But I didn't do it. Because I thought I owed you your freedom, at the least. That however much of a sham our relationship was, those few shining moments we had deserved to be honored for what they were. And I could do that-- I could leave you to live your life in peace, even if you didn't deserve it."

Something flashed in Isabelle's eyes. "But you just had to get yourself kidnapped, didn't you?"

Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but the icy glare Isabelle shot at her silenced her words. "Don't lie to me. I told you I know all the mind-influencers in this town. I'm very familiar with the facility you were sent to, and very familiar with their recruiting process."

Sarah's sense of dread increased, but Isabelle went on. Her calm demeanor was gone again, and she was speaking with a low but deadly intensity, each word coming out of her mouth like little stabs of a knife. "They only recruit the real sluts, the whores who will give it to just anybody, and their "intake" interview is an offered threesome with two of their drones."

Isabelle's voice was thick with emotion now, but the intensity of her tone only increased. "After the fun is had, the drones drug the mark, and they dispatch a team to pick her up and bring her back for processing. I've watched a recruitment or two of theirs in my day. And they usually watch a mark for months before they act to recruit-- they only want the girls that every one knows are fast and loose, so no one is surprised when they disappear."

Sarah's cheeks burned. She felt as exposed as she had been when Isabelle had opened the door to take her out of that place. She had been particularly promiscuous in the last few months, it was true. The more time passed from the night she and Isabelle had broken up, the lonelier and guiltier she felt, and she'd fallen into the habit of seeking out the comfort of other women's arms, stranger's arms, to keep the guilt and regret at bay. To keep her mind occupied by other things. To keep the memories away from her.

It was clear looking at Isabelle now that this had hurt her all over again. She looked almost as broken as she had that night, her eyes wide with rage and grief, her lips pulled into that tense, taut line, her jaw set in anger. Despite her guilt, Sarah felt a flicker of hope. Beneath the hurt, Isabelle still cared-- cared enough to be jealous, to feel personally wronged by Sarah's sleeping around. Maybe she could use that, somehow.

"Months, maybe years of whoring around, and then a threesome? Really, Sarah? That's what you wanted your freedom for?" Her voice was caustic, and her words burned. Sarah could barely meet her demanding gaze. "You never pursued even one of your life goals in all our time apart, did you? You've just spent... years... acting like a badly behaved teenage girl trying too hard to rebel, and for what? Look where it's gotten you." Isabelle's gaze burned into her, her voice low and deadly. "It would have meant your effective death. Sarah Thompson would have ceased to exist. Forever. Do you think that kind of recklessness is worth it? Is that what you wanted?" She snapped.

"N-no, I... I've just felt so...lonely." Sarah tried, weakly. "And so...guilty. Having human contact... makes it go away for awhile."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "It's been three years. That excuse is good for 4, maybe 6 months."

Sarah swallowed, bracing herself for the next question. "Are you going to... let me go home?"

Her old lover snorted. "There's no home to go back to. The facility saw to that. They divested you of all your assets, such as they were, and had you declared legally dead. As far as the world outside is concerned, your reckless behaviour really did get you killed. The only reason your mind isn't as dead as your name is my intervention."

Her eyes softened for a moment."It wasn't an easy intervention. Your pretty little head is stuffed full of very valuable programming already, programming my colleagues at the facility have spent decades perfecting. They only agreed to give you up as long I could ensure the integrity of their programs, with no risk of losing them to rival competitors."

Sarah's eyes widened. "So I'm... I'll be living with you indefinitely, then."

Isabelle's cruel smile was back. "Oh, yes. Isn't it funny, you left me to live the single girl's party life, and the decisions you made left you stuck with me, after all." Then her smile was fading again-- she couldn't seem to hold the mask in place for long. Her eyes had a faraway look, now. "It would have saved us both a lot of time for you to have just gone through with the marriage, wouldn't it? You'll be with me for the rest of your natural life, anyway, as it turns out."

Sarah's heart constricted. Yes, she'd been a coward. It had felt too real, had felt like too much, in those last few months before the wedding. She'd been afraid... deep down, she'd always thought Isabelle was too good for her. She'd never really been able to understand why someone like her would love someone like Sarah. She'd been a coward, and she'd started looking for any way out, no matter how painful, how cruel.

"Well, no matter." Isabelle dismissed, rising from her chair. "I've got plans for you, now, my sweet. I won't make the mistake of treating you like an equal a second time." She crossed the space between the armchair and the loveseat, coming to stand over Sarah, and she tenderly caressed Sarah's cheek. The cool of the ring on her finger chilled Sarah's skin, but it highlighted the warmth and softness of Isabelle's hands. Hands she hadn't been able to get out of her dreams, hands she thought of whenever anyone else touched her...

"You wanted every other woman in the world but me-- you'll have them." Isabelle sneered. "But you can't have me, not anymore. You'll watch others have what you can never have again. And you'll pleasure and be pleasured by others for me-- but I'll be the only one you want."

She went on. "I will make you my slave-- but I want you to feel it happening inside you." Sarah shivered at the words. "I want you to feel me growing in your mind like a tumor, your obedience spreading through your body like a cancer. I want you to feel the humiliation, the degradation of everything I do to you while you are under my thrall. You, my love, will be perfectly aware of everything I am doing to you, and no matter how deeply I hypnotize you, or how obedient you become, you will never be granted the luxury of forgetting. You will always remember what you did to me, and your punishment will be eternal. You will always remember exactly who you are-- a heartless, cruel, slut. And that will be your life, because that is what you deserve."

Isabelle sank to her knees before Sarah. She stared at her, bewildered, questioning Isabelle's movement with a glance. "Oh, I can use you," Isabelle laughed harshly, in response. "I can put you through any and all kinds of pleasure, at my hands, or on my lips. You just can't touch me."

Roughly, Isabelle untied the cinch at Sarah's waist, and the thin robe fell open, exposing Sarah to her again, for what seemed like the millionth time that night. This was true cruelty-- nothing else that night could compare.

Isabelle's touch was as blessed, as beautiful as ever. She still knew just how to touch her, she could touch her like no one else could. Like no one else ever had. And even though Sarah had been used so painfully for pleasure in that chair, for so long, this didn't hurt her. This didn't feel like overstimulation.

Isabelle's touches were soft, gentle, coaxing, luring her orgasm out of its hiding places like a siren song. Her touch eased Sarah back into a state of arousal, brought her carefully to the point of orgasm, as carefully as she had carried her out of that room. And this was the good kind, not the hard, cheap, cold fucking of a machine. This was human-- this was Isabelle, stirring old yearnings and hungers in her, making her heart burn like a sun, raising that silky, honey-smooth warmth in her again.

Sarah was bucking onto Isabelle's hand with abandon in no time, urging her on. She'd forgotten how good it could feel... how skilled Isabelle was. The dreams were a pale shadow of the reality, and even the dreams were far better than any fucking she'd got in the last three years. Memories of nights long past were coming back to her now, of the two of them entwined in their bed together, the taste of Isabelle on her lips, the feel of her under her hands... Without thinking, she reached to wind her fingers through Isabelle's hair, to caress the back of her neck as had once been her custom, but Isabelle caught her by the wrist with her free hand.

"No no, Sarah." She reprimanded. "You know better than that."

Her heart ached at the words. But Isabelle swirled her fingers more rhythmically, and she could feel that her orgasm would soon be upon her.

"Alright, Sarah, we're going to do a nice, simple induction for you this time," Isabelle spoke, in that damn bedroom voice of hers that always made Sarah's pleasure increase tenfold. "I am going to count to three. When I reach the number three, you're going to cum, hard. And your orgasm is going to unlock your obedience and set you in trance. But no matter how deeply into trance you sink, you will have all the memories of your waking life, and all the memories of your identity. You will always be Sarah Thompson. You can't escape yourself."