*Bam bam bam!*
Chelsea cracked her drowsy eyes open. Somebody was pounding on her bedroom door. But who would be doing that at...
Wait, what time was it?
"Chelsea, you in there?" A girl's voice called. Chelsea's congealing thoughts recognized it as coming from Maddi, one of her roommates. "Our team won! The girls are throwing a party down at the house. Get that hot ass of yours in gear and let's go!"
"B-be right there," Chelsea answered as she sat up in bed and stifled a huge yawn. She lifted her phone from the nightstand: 9:45PM. Her stomach dropped. She had slept through the entire afternoon. Plus about a bazillion texts, apparently.
And she was...naked. She blinked. Since when did she nap in the nude? Was she sick? The last thing she remembered was this weird dream where she...
Her eyes alighted on skirt and stockings lying on the floor, out of place among her usual piles of laundry. And right there resting next to them: a pair of crinkled lace panties.
Oh no. It wasn't a dream. It had all really happened. She had stripped and masturbated right in front of Master.
Wait, no. That wasn't his name. It was M...it was Seb. Right. Master's name was Seb.
No! Chelsea slapped the sides of her head. SEB'S name was Seb. Why did that take so much effort?
What had he done to her?
Chelsea willed her breathing to slow as the memories came rushing back. She remembered the challenge, the induction, and her utter defeat. She remembered him guiding her into her bed afterwards, leaving her barely coherent and conscious. Now she was awake again, soaking in post-trance shock: the stupefying cocktail of shame, humiliation, and giddy, overwhelming heat, all exacerbated by one undeniable fact:
Mast—Seb had beaten her. He had taken her sharp, defiant mind and dulled it into a slavish instrument of his own pleasure. Even as she tried to fight off his power, his voice had found the part of her that yearned for surrender, the part that craved to be tamed, to be broken and bound. All it took was a few honeyed words, and she had let him take control. No, worse, she had wanted him to do it—had counted on him to.
What she didn't expect—what none of her scenarios had accounted for—was how far he would take it. The Seb she had planned around would've panicked the moment her clothing came off, ending the challenge as intended. But Master wanted more. He had taken her own body and turned it against her. Had made her to beg for permission to cum. Like a brainless bitch in heat.
And the worst part was...the worst part was...
Without even noticing it, Chelsea's hand had slid between her legs. God, she was wet again just thinking about it: about how horrified her family and friends would be if they knew; about how all her years of discipline and mental rigor had been laid to waste by a single, earth-shattering orgasm.
And about how utterly, stupidly HOT that was.
*Bam bam bam!*
"Tick-tock bitch, let's go!" Maddi shouted through the door.
Shit. Chelsea quickly withdrew her fingers and wiped them on her sheets. No time to drift off now. She still had a life waiting for her outside. Whatever had just transpired between her and Master, that wasn't for her roommates or sorority sisters to know. Nothing outside of the bedroom had changed: Chelsea would go to the party, socialize like she always did, and try to have a good time. After all, she was still a Jaeger. One afternoon of mind-melting masturbation didn't change that.
Right?
___________________________________
Seb lay panting in bed, his spent cock resting against his naked thigh. It had taken several goes, but the mad, pent up arousal he had been carrying since Chelsea's had finally been exhausted. Now maybe he could think straight.
Maybe.
He sat up, listening to the chattering and cheering of the pedestrians outside. For once, Seb welcomed the noise: a football win meant he wouldn't see his roommate for the rest of the night. No doubt Ben was out at a house party, trying desperately to work his way into some co-ed's pants. If only he knew what Seb had been up to.
Seb's cock stiffened as the image of Chelsea's dazed, naked form racing through his mind. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, willing himself to stay in the present. He couldn't get swept up in his fantasies again, hyperactive libido be damned. He had to think, had to try and understand this newly awakened power. If he didn't gain control, the Vox would eat him alive.
The Vox.
That was what Seb had taken to calling it: the "other voice" lurking in the dark waters of his deepest desires. Even as he knew it was a part of him, he couldn't help but think of it as something else, a force with a will of its own, conspiring against everything Seb wanted and believed.
Or, at least, everything he had been raised to want and believe.
Seb sighed, adjusting his persistent erection as he reclined back on the bed. The truth was, these fantasies didn't start with Chelsea. His interest in hypnotism was never a completely innocent one: he had always been intrigued and aroused by the idea of mind control, his formative youth spent secretly re-watching scenes of superheroines captured and converted into evil slaves. It was a part of him he was at once fascinated and repulsed by, an abnormal attraction he couldn't help but explore. To take an unsuspecting woman and brainwash her into his devoted thrall...it had been a secret dream of his for years.
