Telos Ch 05

Things I have learned: When the title and description of a story together only contain one English word, I've gone too far.

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Amy woke up to morning sunlight on her face. She closed her eyes again after a second. She wasn't sure where she was. The glimpse she'd seen of room was rather plain, although the walls were cream not white. In the distance police sirens blared and faded. She was in the city. Sun on her face meant an east facing window with an unobstructed view. With no sounds of traffic audible other than the sirens she had to be on a high floor. The bedroom obviously wasn't in an office building which ruled out a good part of the city. She'd been in most of the cheap apartment buildings in the city at one time or another and none of them smelled as nice as the room she was in.

Most likely that put her in the top several floors of the Star Hotel, a few block from the river, in an east facing room other than the penthouse. From one hundred square miles of city to twenty rooms in a single building. With her eyes closed. She almost felt like a real detective again.

Amy took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was naked in a warm bed lying next to someone. Her uniform was draped over a chair along with her belt and gun. She couldn't remember undressing last night or coming to the apartment. Being disoriented was nothing new to her and she took a bit of comfort knowing master wanted her to be where she was.

Amy rolled to her side. Her companion was a very pretty woman in her thirties. She remembered the woman's fingers in her mind. Hazy recollections of emotion. Fear. Happiness. A little tangle in her mind came undone and she smiled. Memories returned gradually. The woman was a doctor or a scientist. Master trusted her, after a fashion, not the same way he trusted Amy or Grace. She cared about people. She could do things like master did.

Memories forced themselves into her mind of the woman touching her thoughts. Her words in her ears and her hands on her body. Amy took a deep breath. She wanted to obey the woman. Happily and eagerly. The mantra comforted her.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

One hand crept up to her chest and caressed her breasts. Amy leaned back against the pillow. This wasn't the time to touch herself. She had to stop. If she didn't stop she'd finger herself into a sex crazed mess.

It was easy.

She just had to stop.

"No . . ." Her hands refused to obey her. "No . . . stop . . ." Her will was turning to mush. The more she touched herself the more she needed to continue and the harder it was to resist the need. She squeezed her legs together. The air was warm and heavy, suffocating her with every breath. "No . . ." But release would be better than the torment. She slid a finger inside her sex and rubbed her thumb over her clit in desperation. She arched her back as the orgasm took her, toes curling and stomach tightening. "Yes . . ."

The energy came shuddering out of her body and she relaxed back onto the bed. Amy squeezed her eyes closed and tried to fall asleep again. She felt a hand on her breasts. Her own hand obeying compulsions she knew all too well. "No . . . not again . . . please . . ." Her own fingers tightened on her nipples. "Stop . . ."

"Amy!"

She ignored the voice in favor of indulging herself in pleasure.

A hand caught her wrist and dragged it away from her body. A moment later her other hand was taken from her as well. "Open your eyes," ordered the voice.

Amy's eyes snapped open to reveal the doctor looking down at her with concern. She bucked her hips helplessly, trying for contact.

The doctor frowned. "Stop."

"Yes, ma'am." She felt more under control. "Thank you."

"Amy, were you going to stay there all day if I hadn't stopped you?"

"I . . ." She blushed. "I don't know."

Her owner's hands crept along her cheek. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's very natural for a . . . no, what am I doing?" The woman took a deep breath and pushed away. "We have work to do, I need to get back to the plant and obviously I can't leave you here. Come along, now."

Amy showered carefully but the spray of water on her breasts sent her thoughts out of order and in a matter of minutes she was grinding against the bar of soap. The woman had to pull her out of the shower and dry her off before they could leave. As hungry as she was, Amy refused breakfast. She had no intention of humiliating herself again by showing off the improvements to her palate.

It was noon by the time they reached the water treatment plant at the county reservoir. The woman talked up the technical specifications the whole way. Her fingers never once wondered onto Amy's body and her words never once stole her mind away. It was a strange experience, the longest Amy could remember going without her mind being toyed with.

The guard took a second look at both of them but waved them through after the woman showed him her identification. She didn't seem to realize how little she looked like the photo anymore. The desk attendant provided them with a ring of keys.

The tanks that held the chemical solutions were clean, devices set to send an alert if they noticed any contamination were intact and untampered with. Amy followed dutifully as the doctor checked the entire length of the wiring system. The pipes that moved the chemicals into the water supply were similarly untouched. They spent the next several hours examining the entire facility in excruciating detail. When it came to reading through the accounts Amy tried to hold her attention to the job as best she could. She made it through the first ledger before giving up. She understood the job perfectly but the need for orgasm began to drown out everything else.

"Ma'am . . ."

"Yes?"

"I need to . . . um . . . I . . ."

"Go ahead," said the woman. "I can finish the rest."

Amy pushed a hand awkwardly into her pants and slowly worked herself into a sexual stupor. With a bit of guilt at her jealousy she wished she was like Grace. The younger girl didn't have to lose herself over and over again every day. Climax washed away that unpleasant thought a minute later. Amy floated on a hormonal sea for what felt like hours. The sun was low in the sky when her mind returned.

"Get up." The doctor wiped Amy face with a cloth. "There wasn't much in the accounts but I have a few names. One place left to check that occurred to me."

At the extreme edge of the system's output, the final pipe that led to the city water main, a little mesh bag full of colorful pills was caught against a grate. Most of the pills were partially dissolved.

Amy took a step back from the water, tripped over a stone, and landed awkwardly on the ground.

"Bliss," said the doctor. "So it didn't even matter that I kept it out of the deliveries."

"At least you tried."

"They've been putting this stuff into the water for . . . must be years now." She stuffed the bag of pills into a pocket of her lab coat. "Making the world happy."

"It does make people happy," said Amy. Memories of Grace in rapture after taking the drug invaded her thoughts.

"And docile and pliable and obedient." She gave Amy an almost predatory look. "Give people enough of it and they're perfect little slaves once you whisper to them enough. Happy. Eager. Obedient. Isn't that what you are, Amy? A good little slave? Say it for me. You want to be obedient."

Amy licked her lips. "I want to be obedient . . ."

The doctor took the pills out of her pocket and Amy's eyes fixated on them.

"Ma'am . . ."

"Come here, girl."

Amy approached, entranced. She opened her mouth the way she'd seen Grace do.

"Good girl. Good slave. I'll make you so happy." She took Amy by the chin. "You're a slave. Say it."

"I'm a slave."

The woman shook her head. "What am I doing?"

Amy reached craned her neck for the drug but none with forthcoming. She was drained and empty. "Ma'am. Please . . ."

"Detective, what's wrong with you? Amy!"

The command snapped her out of the trance. "I'm sorry . . . I was . . ."

"It's okay, Amy." The doctor frowned and composed herself. "We should go."

"Yes, ma'am." She smiled. "Thank you."

When they reach the front offices a blond man in a severely cut suit was waiting by the reception desk. The receptionist was lying face down on his computer while blood spilled over the lip of the desk. Amy blocked the doctor from stepping through the door behind her. "Wait here, ma'am." She took her gun from its holster, wondering if it would do any good, and made her way down the hallway. "Hello there, mister . . ." Her memory hit a wall. She knew she'd met him before but his name was missing.

His eyes fell on her like lead weights and Amy had to plant a foot to steady herself. "You're one of his girls. Leave us. I will speak to Doctor Silva."

"She was just going home." Amy raised her weapon fractionally. "I'm sure you can arrange to speak to her tomorrow."

"Leave us."

Amy's heart fluttered unevenly but she held her ground. Her gun felt terribly heavy.

"You," the man stared past her, "whatever you are. We will have words."

"St . . . stop!" ordered Amy.

He took a step toward her.

She retreated out of his reach and brought the gun up to chest height. In the fraction of a second it took her to blink her eyes in nervous fear he managed to close the gap between them. Amy heard the gun go off. His fingers touched her skin and pushed contemptuously past all resistance as they forced their way into her mind. Time slowed down. Pain started to creep through her body like acid in her blood. Seconds stretched into hours so she could feel every instant of it. Her mouth started to open into a scream just as she blacked out.

Amy clawed her way back to consciousness still screaming. The room was gone. She was in the back of the car with the woman staring down at her. The breath went out of her and she fell back onto the seat.

"Stay where you are," ordered the doctor.

"Yes, ma'am." Amy tried to remember what happened after he touched her but nothing came. She had been totally senseless. "You stayed again," she said after a few seconds. "You could have left me here and gone anywhere in the world."

"No I couldn't have." The doctor put a pair of fingers on Amy's neck. "Your pulse is better now." She looked at Amy with the same expression of concern master had when Grace was upset. "That was incredibly foolish. You could have given yourself a stroke, not to mention that he could have killed you."

Amy laughed. "The badge says 'Protect and Serve'. I like to . . . I like to serve." She started to get back up.

"Stop."

Amy relented. "What happened? Where did he go?"

"You'll feel better if you don't think about that," the doctor ordered gently.

"Yes, ma'am," said Amy, as her thoughts went elsewhere. She smiled and leaned back into the seat, wondering why she was back in the car. It immediately upset her so she stared patiently at the woman sitting above her instead. She had a name, Amy was certain, but her memory hit a wall every time she tried to remember it.

The woman really was a lot like master. Attractive but unremarkable. Quiet. Polite. Firm. It made Amy feel like a disobedient child to have disappointed her. The image of her gradually consumed Amy's vision. The scent of her body drowned every other sense. Amy relaxed. She hadn't always felt this way, she was sure of that, but it was too wonderful to object to. "Were we talking about something, ma'am? I think we were."

"That is remarkable," said the woman. "Close your eyes."

She complied and a moment later felt fingers brushing her cheek. Amy reached down to touch herself.

"Stop."

"But . . ."

The woman's palm rested on her cheek. "Do as I say."

Amy whined a bit but didn't resist the order. Although the woman's hands never left her face Amy felt them everywhere. Her body responded to the stimulation exactly as it had been trained. All of her attention focused on keeping from indulging herself. Ever so gently the woman moved inside her mind. The intimate violation made her stomach twist. The caresses on her thoughts were nothing like what master did. He only changed her while she slept. Her new owner made her experience every moment of it. She whispered names of things to Amy. Pleasure. Joy. Obedience. Slavery. Happiness.

Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Her new owner massaged the words.

Her new owner.

The idea made her breath come quicker. She had a new owner.

Amy was unsure how to react to that realization. She knew almost nothing about the woman. It didn't really matter, she knew nothing at all about master except that he cared about her and he wanted people to be happy. Still, she worried what might happen to her if she fell into the hands of someone cruel. The blond man would torture her and she would be just as vulnerable to that as anything else. He could break her. He could make her love him.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

Amy smiled to herself. "Do you . . . Are you . . . Are you keeping me?"

"I think so." After a moment she sighed. "Go to sleep."

-)(-

Grace sat in her reading room in her favorite chair reading from her book. Master had an endless supply of books for her to read, each of them nearly identical on the outside. The covers were blank white and a number was inscribed on the spine in silver. She was reading book number five. Like all the others it was a story about a happy slave girl named Grace who lived with her master. In fact there wasn't anything else in the books at all, the better to keep her from being confused.

Nonetheless the books had been getting harder to read.

In book number five Grace read about Grace being told a story by her master. It was very long and full of words she didn't know. While she read it she was fascinated but all of it vanished the moment she was done reading. When she was able she able she hid the book away so he could read one of the earlier ones where Grace was a happy servant in the thrall of her master and there was nothing else. They were so much easier to read and they made her head wonderfully bubbly. Grace and master made love on the bed. Master had her dance for him. She knelt in service. She cooked meals and he fed them to her. Simple things that made him happy. It made her feel a bit guilty, though, to read the older books when master was insistent that she read the harder ones.

Her reading room was colored in pastels. Powder blue. Soft pink. Foam green. It had all been white once but that reminded her too much of the white room. The hints of color kept her calm. A big window looked out over the grass of the front lawn, although she rarely looked up from her books to see it. He bed was large enough for her to stretch out on completely.

She was lying on the bed with her breasts pressed against the blanket, master rarely gave her clothes, trying to read from book number five. Grace frowned at the words as she tried to piece them together into something meaningful. After an hour she was still stuck on the third page of first chapter.

A hand slid along the back of her left leg, over her bottom, and up her back. "Good morning, little slave girl." Master moved his hand to the base of her neck and squeezed. Grace cooed at the touch. She twisted around to look at him. He smiled down at her and scratched her scalp idly. "I like this chapter. Keep reading."

"Yes, master." She tried to keep reading while he played with her but she kept losing her train of thought.

She followed one sentence all the way to the end while master trailed a finger down her spine but just as she reached the end it unraveled in her mind. His finger stopped. "Am I distracting you?" he asked.

Grace licked her lips. "Yes, master."

"Keep reading."

"It's hard."

"I know. Keep reading."

She looked back at the page and realized she'd forgotten where she started. The print was smaller than in the earlier books. She moved her eyes to the top of the mountain of text, fifteen lines, and began once more. She remembered sort of what the chapter was about.

Grace was sitting down in a chair with master to patiently talk about all kinds of things while he teased her with his fingers on the bed. She shook her head. One of those wasn't real. Grace in the book was lying in a bed with a book. No. Grace was talking to master. No. She was lying down and letting master touch her while Grace was reading. Grace in the book. In the bed. Reading.

She felt dizzy. "I . . . master . . ."

"Keep reading." He traced the outside of her ear.

"I can't."

He paused. "Why?"

"It's too hard." Grace looked back at the book. "I feel stupid."

Master sighed heavily as he patted her on the head. "Go to the next chapter." He gathered her onto his lap with one hand and picked up the book with the other. He quickly turned the pages. "Start here."

The new chapter was as mountainous as before but easier to read, it reminded her of the earlier books.

There was nothing outside of Grace and her master. Grace in the book was sitting in her master's lap eagerly waiting to be filled, just like she was. At first he touched her body until she was warm and soft and her thoughts were only of pleasure. When he finally spoke his words filled up the world. He told her how to be a good slave girl. It made her happy. Happy. Eager. Obedient. In the real world she felt master play his fingers over her belly. One hand journeyed down to over her hips to stroke her thigh while the other kept her close.

She read the words and could almost hear him whispering in her ear as her thoughts filled up with soft pink fog. She began to drift between the book and the real world again. It wasn't confusing anymore. Ignorance was Bliss. The words were real. If she failed to understand that was fine. All she had to do was accept them. In one moment she was floating in the heavens, embraced by the clouds, calm and spiritual. The next she was pulled back to the carnal world and her master's heated touches burned it all away.

Grace lost track of herself in the sensation. By the time he let her emerge from her thoughts she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Master had two fingers buried in her sex and one hand resting on her chest just below her throat. A tiny shudder of satisfaction went through her.

She leaned back against her master. "Thank you."

"Why?"

"For . . ." She pumped herself on his fingers. "For . . . making me . . . for making me like this . . ."

His thumb pressed against her clit. "I've been trying to put your mind back the way it was, like I did for Amy. It hasn't been working."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because I worry about how vulnerable you are."

"Oh." She rubbed her cheek on his chest. "What was I like before?"

"I barely knew you," said master. He pulled her off of his lap and laid her out on the bed. "I know you were strong before I made you soft." He crawled over her. "I know you were clever before I made you simple. I know you were determined to stop me before I made you my slave." He paused when they were face to face. "I know . . . I know that I didn't want to see you die."

Grace smiled up at him.

Master smiled back.

"But now I'm happy, even if I'm not strong and clever and . . ." She frowned at the other word. "And um . . ."

"Don't worry yourself," said master. He touched their lips together very lightly. "Tell me what you're like now. That's what matters."

"I'm happy." He kissed his softly on the lips. "And eager." He kissed her again more firmly. Grace shuddered. "And . . . um . . . and obedient."

He crushed her against the softness of the bed.

She floated weightlessly through her mind while they made love for the first time. Her thoughts seemed to be bubbles that popped into mist when master's presence brushed against them. It was like the Bliss again. A dreamworld out of her control. Time vanished altogether. Her senses blurred and fell apart. Her master's touch was like music. His whispered words painted aetherial figures before her eyes. She could feel his hands caressing every inch of her. She could feel an even more intimate touch in her mind. Climax came as sudden overwhelming rapture.