The Process

Synopsis: Anna is willingly enslaved.

mc md mf

*****

1

She knocks on the door of the hotel room. As specified in the message, she is wearing a cream dress, cream heels, and a white coat. Her hair is up in a French roll.

The man opens the door. "Anna? Please come in." She walks into a large suite, with a desk in front of the large French windows and an inner door leading to the bedroom.

The man motions for her to stand before the desk and sits behind it.

"You do realise what it going to happen here now?" he asks.

She nods. "Yes."

"We have discussed this via email and on the phone before. But this is the first time we meet in person, and I would like to go over it again with you, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"Good. When you sign this form you will be setting in motion an irreversible process whereby you will become permanently enslaved. You will be trained and assigned to several placements. Finally, you will be assigned to your final owner. You will have no say in these decisions but rather will trust us to decide on what is best for you based on what we have found about you during the process. And in the end, we will know more about your needs and desires than you know yourself. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"The training will involve intensive hypnotic conditioning, which will be continued during your placement periods as well as by your final owner. This will keep you in a permanently malleable, extremely suggestible, submissive state of mind. Indeed, after a certain period of time, what we call a 'slavemind' will be generated and will become your basic personality, to be modified and manipulated by your final owner as desired - who of course will also be free to modify your physical appearance in any way. Your previous life and personality will become basically erased. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Your training will also involve heavy physical and sexual use so as to reinforce and speed the loss-of-self process. By entering this process, you will be effectively cutting all ties to your previous life and permanently waiving all your rights as a citizen and an individual and becoming, to all purposes, our property first and later on your final owner's property. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

The man takes a look at her. "Are you wet, Anna?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand that there is no going back? That this is not a game?"

"Yes."

"Yes what, Anna?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Have you brought your flat keys?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Place them on the desk."

She takes them out of her handbag - two sets - and obeys.

"Your documents?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Give them to me."

She brings a large folder out of the handbag and, again, places it on the desk.

"Is everything here?"

"Yes, Sir. My passport, driving licence, ownership deeds , medical history, academic record, and various ID cards."

"Your flat is empty and your car has been left in the parking area specified?"

"Yes, Sir. I left the key in the starter."

"Good. I will send someone to take care of them later. Please place your handbag on the floor and remove your coat and dress. Then place everything on that armchair."

She does as she is told and returns to her position, standing in her heels and an ivory bra and culottes. The man stands up and walks around her appraisingly.

"You are a beautiful woman, Anna. What are you, thirty-nine?"

"Thirty-eight, Sir."

"You will make a wonderful slave for a discerning owner who is not interested in breeding you. And we will fetch a very good price, I daresay. Why do you want this, Anna?"

For the first time, Anna blushes. " I need it, Sir."

"And why do you need it, Anna?" asks the man, almost curiously.

"I... I don't know, Sir. I only know I do. I always have."

The man approaches her and runs his finger lightly down the line of her jaw. "Of course. Some of you are just born slaves. Don't worry, Anna. We are going to set you free. How's your cunt?"

"Sopping wet, Sir."

"Yes. I can smell it. Well, let's begin then, shall we?" He takes a step back and contemplates the goose pimples on Anna's flesh. "Walk into that bedroom. There is a blindfold on the bed. Tie it on, lie down on the bed, face up, arms by your sides, and wait."

***

She waits and waits and waits, losing track of time, listening for every tiny noise, her nipples hard as rocks, and so wet that the quilt beneath her is starting to get soaked.

Then the door creaks open, and she feels a hand on her legs, gently opening them. Soft steps on the carpet, and more hands - three? four? five? - on her face, her breasts, her stomach, he mouth. A male smell, so close, so hot. Then a cool hand slipping beneath her culottes, cupping her mons firmly, just so her juices slurp and slither between fingers and she raises her hips involuntarily, greedily, seeking more.

"So docile. So eager," laughs her handler's voice, softly. "Don't worry, Anna. We will make you even more so. And we will remove that little voice at the back of your mind. The nagging voice that keeps insisting that you are an independent person with a mind of your own. It will be gone. Forever."

Then two fingers slide into her, so deftly, and something hard pushes against her mouth, and she opens hungrily - above and below - and she moans gagging as she falls into the rocking rhythm, sucking and pumping, grinding against the hand, slurping against the cock, blindly. Her handler's voice, now next to her ear, whispers relentlessly: "Such a good slave. Such a good piece of property. So biddable. So docile. So obedient. You will obey, Anna. You will serve. You exist only to serve. You are ours. Obey now, Anna. And... cum."

When commanded, she explodes into an orgasm so hard that it feels her entire body is bursting. So hard that she hardly feels her cunt clenching wildly around the intruding fingers, the hot jism spurting wildly onto her face and breasts.

She feels hands supporting her, holding her up somehow, as her orgasm subsides. Then her blindfold is suddenly removed and she blinks in the sudden brightness and rawness of it, her sperm-covered skin so sensitive after the shock.

Something is presented to her. A form and pen. "Sign," says her handler's voice, and, in her dazed and confused state, she can only scratch a cross at the bottom of the page.

"Good girl, Anna," says her handler's voice, obviously pleased, and she hears the crinkling sound of paper being folded and placed in an envelope. "You have done the right thing. It has started."

Suddenly the brightness disappears again as the blindfold is slipped back on and the hands push her down onto the bed. Fastenings - bands being stretched over her chest, hips, and knees, cuffs being secured around her wrists and ankles. Tightly, like the restraints in a psychiatric ward. She feels cold metal against her skin as scissors slide under the restraints to cut off her underwear and she is left lying naked and helplessly bound on the bed.

Her mouth is prised open and something smooth and hard is inserted, then a gag is secured over her mouth. Her legs are opened again, and something else is inserted, large enough so as not to slide out on all her wetness.

"Keep her on P1," comes her handler's voice from beyond her feet. "No stimulation. I think this has been quite enough for today. And besides, this one seems capable of generating stimulus enough on her own," he laughs lightly again, and seems to leave the room.

Careful hands place earbuds in her ears, and a crackling hum invades her head, blocking out everything else. White noise? is all she can think, as she seems to catch elusive snatches of words, meaning, in the sudden avalanche of sound. But soon her body takes over and she falls into a heavy, blank sleep, punctuated by the hisses and slithering voices being looped over and over into her exhausted, vulnerable mind.

2

She kneels naked in front of the mirror, staring at the pale, dark-haired woman in front of her, her bleary, slightly glazed green eyes, her huge pink areolae like another set of eyes. Confusedly, she is somewhat aware that this must be her looking at her, but in her disjointed state she is unable to articulate any sentence or judgement. Only the perception, and the distant rumble of missed thoughts at the back of her mind as they fade out of her awareness.

She feels someone standing behind her, but is unable to look up or back and see who it is. She has been told to stare into the mirror, and the idea of not doing so does not even cross her mind. Yet she feels the warmth of the other against her back, legs, and involuntarily she shimmies and grinds her hips against the object which she had and had not noticed is placed between her thighs, rubbing its long, smooth curve against her G spot. She moans slightly.

Her handler pats her dark brown hair. "Good girl." His hand slightly raises her chin, then gently touches her lips so that she will open it and pours a few drops into her mouth. "Scopolamine," he says. "Also known as burundanga in South America. It makes you... extremely amenable to our suggestions, Anna. Basically, it flattens your will. Unfortunately, this effect is transitory, but we have found that it provides a good basis for more intensive and permanent work. So let us have a little session now. What are you?"

"A slave, Sir."

"Who do you belong to?"

"I belong to you, Sir. And to whomever you sell me to."

"What is your purpose?"

"To obey and serve my owner, Sir."

"In what way?"

"In any way I am ordered to, Sir."

"For how long?"

"For as long as I live, Sir."

"Do you have any rights?"

"I have no rights, Sir. I am just a piece of property."

"What is your name?"

"Anna, Sir."

"And what is your surname?"

"Dixon, Sir."

"Hm."

Her handler writes something down on a notebook and kneels down next to her. He removes the device and puts his hand between her legs. "Sodden. Good girl." She holds backher groan, as she has been told to do.

He stands up again and helps her up, holding her by her shoulders and making her stand again in front of the mirror. Following her conditioning, her eyes become immediately ensnared by his and her own reflection. "Look at her, Anna. She is a slave. Slaves obey. Slaves derive pleasure from their obedience. But your pleasure is secondary. All that matters is pleasing your owner. Bringing pleasure to your owner. Obeying your owner. Who is your owner now, Anna?"

"You are, Sir," gasps Anna.

"You must obey me."

"I must obey you, Sir."

"You are my property."

"I am your property, Sir."

"Look into my eyes, Anna."

Anna gazes helplessly into the cold blue eyes of the reflection that is holding her own, rigid reflection in the mirror, his strong hands around her narrow shoulders. "I control you, Anna. Whenever the sentence 'obey, Anna' is pronounced, you will feel this control, this hold on your body and your mind, and you will be reminded that you are a slave, and you will obey. Helplessly and with no thought or objection. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Helpless, Anna." He runs one hand down her breastbone, between her breasts, all the way over her navel and down to her naked mons. He starts to caress her red, swollen lips. "You will be constantly aroused and wet, Anna. At all times. A slave is always available for use. A slave is always ready to serve in any way possible. A slave is always ready to be fucked." He slides two fingers in, then two fingers from his other hand into her mouth. "You will make a wonderful slave, Anna. So eager and molten. Do not cum, Anna."

She cannot help but press against his hand, desperately sucking at his fingers. Her knees legs start to tremble. "Stand up straight and look at yourself, Anna. A slave. A piece of property. A possession. A toy. Something to fuck and use. That's what you are now, Anna. That's what you will be for the rest of your life. Owned. Enslaved. And that is just your body to begin with." She is shaking so hard now that he has to remove his hand from her mouth and hold her around the waist so that she won't drop to her knees.

"Obey, Anna. Cum."

And he holds her again as she thrashes helplessly into the dark in his arms.