Grace's dreams were filled with images of her master. In her dreams he kept her in the white room and they made love until he was satisfied and she was needy. He held tightly her in his arms and kissed her and told her how he loved her. He was inside her. His fingers in her mind. He words in her ears.
And every time he left her wanting more.
He had a thousand different methods to play with her body and a thousand more to toy with her mind and all of them left her panting in desperation. Even in her dreams her master paused before the moment of her climax to whisper in her ear and leave fluttering kisses on her lips. She relaxed under his influence. Then it began again. She was happy, eager, and obedient. He kept her frustrated nonetheless.
The book, her precious book with simple words and simple stories, put images in her mind of Grace in rapture. She woke many days with the book in one hand and her sex in the other. When she did she rolled over to her master to beg him as best she could. So he whispered in her ear and kissed her and left her lying on the bed an hour later her body soaked with sweat and her brain soaked with hormones and her climax still out of reach.
Sometimes she touched herself but guilt quickly put a stop to it every time. Her master had made her what she was. It didn't seem right to let anyone else use her body.
The frustration seeped into everything she did until she stopped remembering what it was like to be anything but starved for sex. She tried to tease him back, entice him into sex. She made herself up as pretty as she could with the supplies he gave her. She watched videos to learn how to swing her hips when she walked. She practiced making herself as appealing as possible.
It never worked. When they were alone he teased her the same as always. When he was busy he kissed her and told her she was a good girl then sent her on her way. If she tried to press the point to complain the colorful little pill, Bliss, broke her resolve in an instant.
Certain days were worse than others. She lost control of herself from time to time but master always brought her back under his control when her own discipline failed. She felt selfish and foolish when it was done. In the moment, though, self indulgence was almost as addictive as the Bliss. It blinded her to the world in the same way.
Bubbly pleasure buoyed her higher and higher. Her mind floated on a soft cloud.
"Grace." The word intruded from the world outside her imagination. "Grace?" She tried to ignore it but it came more forcefully. "Grace." It was a voice she knew.
She blinked her eyes back into focus. "Master I . . ."
"We've spoken about this," he said.
Grace curled herself up on the couch, clutching her book close to her chest. The living room of master's house had once been nearly as empty as the white room but he'd given her an allowance to add decorations to it from a catalog. She especially liked the big fluffy couch that she had nearly fallen asleep in.
"Give me the book."
She tried to be angry, tried to resist the order, but her treasured possession slipped from her fingers as easily as if she were giving it away. The unconscious obedience sent a pleasurable tingle through her body. The part of her that objected to being a slave was weaker than ever. She made herself relax as she imagined what the girl in the book would have done. "Thank you, master."
His smile was warm and his voice soft as his arms wrapped around her. "What's wrong?"
"I'm . . ." It was hard make her mind work when he was around. She could only hold one thing in her head at a time. Simple thoughts kept her from being confused. The terrible distraction of her master's presence made her concentration slip away. "When I . . . um . . ."
"Go on."
The warmth of his breath on her skin made her toes curl. "You're always teasing me," she managed. Her eyes fell on the book. "I want you to use me."
He laugh was low and predatory. "You think I don't use you?"
"Not for sex!" she objected with a surge of confidence.
He drew away from her so she could see his eyes. "You are so greedy already, my little slave girl. If I gave you everything you wanted I'd have no time for anything else. There is a lot of work to be done. I'm making the whole world happy."
She'd seen the things he worked on at his desk and overheard pieces of phone calls. Hiring lobbyists. Shipping chemicals. Buying elections. She'd gathered a vague notion of what he did. Occasionally she awoke from the Bliss to find herself in an office building somewhere she'd never been before. She started to love traveling, he always gave her a bit more Bliss before they left.
"In the book," she tried to find where he had put it, "Grace and master always . . ."
"She's imaginary," said her master. "No one is perfect."
"So if I were better you'd . . ."
Her master placed a finger on her lips to quiet her. "There are lots important jobs for you other than being used for sex. I need you to keep away from distractions," he said, playing his fingers delicately along the top of her left ear.
"But . . ."
"Hush, I know you're confused. I want to show you a new project of mine." He took a colorful pill out from his pocket. "Open up."
She opened her mouth acceptingly.
He placed the pill on her tongue and gently closed her mouth. "Swallow."
The drug rushed her body with impossible speed, washing away her rational mind. She remembered what it felt like when she first took it. Food. Rest. Orgasm. Safety. Love. It was different now, her master had displaced everything else that existed in the world of the Bliss. His touch. His smile. His eyes. His voice. The pleasure that came from serving him. The erotic thrill of his control over her. The feeling of being held in his arms.
The Bliss left her senseless to the world outside but the soft pink haze that claimed her mind made it hard to care.
-)(-
Amy awoke in a white room totally naked and chained to a bed. The white was overwhelming. Every surface from the mirror of the vanity to the light fixtures was blanketed with the same color. The ceiling was white. The walls were white. The posts of the bed were white. The door was white. The shelves and the books were white. Diffuse illumination eliminated any shadows that might have given texture to the room. Her head swam.
She opened her eyes again to find a worried looking girl, also naked, sitting on the bed by her feet.
"Master?" The younger woman hugged her legs. "Master, please, this room scares me. Why am I here?"
"Where are we?" asked Amy.
"The white room. It's for training. I only had to be in here when I was learning. I used to be confused all the time and master made me better." The girl shook her head. "I don't want to be in here again."
"What's your name?"
"Grace."
"I'm Amy." She strained against the restraints, white enameled chains with white fur-lined cuffs. There was something she was trying to remember. She'd been kidnapped, of course, but she was having trouble thinking why. The people she was investigating had to be behind what had happened. Her memory was fragmented, though. She wasn't sure who she had been investigating or why her situation didn't seem surprising. "Can you get me out of these?" she asked the other woman.
Grace shook her head. "Master wouldn't like it."
"Who is your master?" asked Amy, with a sinking feeling.
The young woman frowned as if in confusion. "He's my master. He wants you for some reason and he put me back in here." Grace squeezed herself into an even tighter ball. "I don't like you."
There was a click as the lock on the door was turned then another click as the knob turned and the door opened to let through a clean shaven man in a nice suit. He was handsome but unplacable.
"You . . ." Jagged fragments of memory came rushing back into Amy's mind. She winced. "I know you . . ."
He raised his eyebrows. "Do you remember my name?"
"I was investigating you for . . . for things exactly like this." She thrashed uselessly against the chains that held her to the bed. "Let me out of here!"
The man's brow knitted thoughtfully but he turned away from her after a second. He helped Grace off the bed like a prince giving his hand to a lady then bent her backward with a forceful kiss. "I'm sorry I frightened you, little slave girl. There was work to do while I waited for Amy to wake up. This room is for safe-keeping. I didn't mean to worry you." He kept talking in vague comforting terms until Grace was limp in his arms, hypnotized, almost sleeping.
"Now then," said the man. "How are feeling Amy?"
She blinked a few times. "I'm . . ."
"You said you remembered me. That's very impressive even if you don't recall my name. We'll fix it later, I promise. It is tricky to keep a memory intact while removing the details."
There was something impossibly calming about the sound of his voice. Even as he described how he planned to tear the memories out of her head it was a struggle to hold on to the idea that she wanted to keep them. She clung to her anger instead. "Fuck you! Whoever you are, whatever you're doing, you can go straight to hell."
Grace stirred in her trance.
"Stop screaming." His tone was neutral even as the sound of his voice filled up the room. "Grace can't handle much stress and she's already upset." He cooed sweetly in the girl's ear for a moment before turning back to Amy. "Tell me how much you remember."
"I'm not telling you anything."
He placed Grace gently on the bed. "Let me go through it with you then. I'll see what I can see. You're a detective for the city. You found out about my colleagues and I. You tracked us as far as the port in London. That was when you told your superiors. The word you used was 'cabal' wasn't it? That should be where it ends. You were turned in by your superiors and we picked you up the next day."
"That's a lie. They would never let you people keep . . ." Her memory hit a wall. "They would never . . . they couldn't . . . Damn it! Fuck you, you lying rapist bastard."
"I never lie," said the man moving closer. "It would be horrible to have you build your new life on something so fragile as a lie. One day it might be pulled away and left to fall apart. I want you to be as happy as Grace is." His lips nearly brushed her own. "Forever."
"You're a monster."
"I make people happy. Do you really object to that?" He lifted up Grace's head. The younger woman shook herself awake. "Are you happy, my little slave?"
She nodded. "Yes, master. I've never been happier."
Amy couldn't help herself. "Only because he's broken your mind."
