A Mind to Contain

The door tinkled with the sound of a service bell and swung shut behind her, closing out the sound of the driving rain, the silence inside almost as deafening as the storm outside. Rising to her knees, Carla slung the heavy scarf from around her neck and dumped the soaked item in a pile on the carpet beside her, uncaring of the stains it might leave later. A slim man strode up to her quickly and bent over, helping her out of her coat which he threw with the scarf. Flapping out a clean towel, he draped it around the shivering Carla's shoulders and guided her to a seat, planting her backside down and helping her tuck the towel in around her body.

'There, there,' he cooed as he tucked the towel up around her. 'My god girl, you're completely soaked. Don't tell me you walked all the way here like this.' Carla just nodded in between shivers and allowed him to tend to her. He bent down, talking as he unzipped her boots and pulled them off her feet. 'It's alright, well you've made it here now, no complaints in that. I'm glad you did, I'd have hated for you to make it all the way here just to pass out outside. Here, let me take these,' he said, gripping and drawing Carla's socks off in one firm motion. Ghostly white toes glared back at him, which he quickly wrapped up tight in a towel and rubbed vigorously, working into the gaps of her toes. The strangeness of a public facility that saw no qualms in the intimacy of removing a woman's shoes and socks was lost on Carla, and the man seemed completely fine with it, if not used to it. He drew both her boots and socks off with ease.

'We'll get you cleaned up a bit, and then you can shower. Don't worry, no one else is booked in until eight, so you've got plenty of time to warm up before we get started.' He worked Carla's other foot before placing her feet down in their bundled towels and standing up again. 'I'll go run the showers. When you're ready, head on down this hallway here and I'll show you in.'

@ @

Some forty minutes later, Carla stepped out of the shower, the small room filled with steam. Her button up shirt and tee lay in a lump on the bench, discarded, alongside her pants. Glancing down, she saw the pile of fresh white towels that the man had left for her and quickly wrapped herself up in them, slinging one around her waist and another around her chest, tying her hair up in another.

When she was drier, the man from earlier peeked inside, knocking. He grinned when he saw her sitting on the bench, now no longer shivering and showing far more colour in her cheeks.

'Aah, excellent. That looks better! Since we don't need you clothed, you can head on next door whenever you're ready. The heater's on so don't worry about being cold. You'll be warming up in no time anyway!' He disappeared without waiting for a response from the girl, letting the bathroom door swing shut behind him. Carla sat for a few minutes longer, then stood, following him.

The room was white walled, but warmly lit, bright but angled lights blaring away from the centre of the room, lighting everything in a crisp yet disconnected light that allowed for clarity without drawing overly-lit attention to anyone inside the room. Sitting in a chair behind a desk, the man grinned widely as Carla stepped in. She had removed the hair towel, but kept the others. Her dark hair hung down her back, damp. Her bare feet made no sound in the thick, lush carpet underfoot.

'Carla. Disrobe and take a seat and a blindfold.' He gestured to one of the furnishings, a long, side-less psychiatrist's couch. It seemed sensual and curvaceous, as if it was moulded to the female form, and it was made from a crisp, clean fabric that made it look like it might shine. As the man stood from his desk, Carla undid the towel around her bosom and let it fall from her body, adding the body towel to it shortly after. Naked, she stepped towards the couch, scooped a specially placed nightcap up from its headrest, and sat down. The couch was shaped to the female body, and she felt her backside naturally perk a little as she settled into its shape, her chest pushed out and her back ever so slightly curved. The blindfold was wide and with it on she was blinded. After a minute and the sound of clinking, she felt the sensation of the first strap going around her ankle.

So this was the catch, Carla thought tensely. This was how you got it, got the hard ones to give in. You restrain them, you play with them until they break. The second strap looped over her other ankle, and Carla felt the couch do something she hadn't noticed it could do from above - splitting in the middle, the leg section parted, drawing Carla's bound ankles wide apart and bearing her lady parts to the cool air. It was well shaped, and didn't strain her hips the wrong way at all - Carla guessed there must be a neat little gap between the legs and main section of the couch that would allow for no restrictions in accessing her body.

She jumped slightly as the fingers grasped her wrists, but allowed them to lift up her arms and clasp restraints around them, tying them together and binding them to a fixture under the back of the headrest. With her arms drawn up above her head, Carla's chest rose, and she felt her body go taught - relaxed and comforted in the naturally sensual shape of her form, but immobile, restricted in a way that, despite how much she might wriggle, she would not be able to adjust herself or move. It was a clever device, and probably had a long line of women with orgasm problems that had gone into its research. Carla could feel herself stretched at the pussy, and the slightest hint of wetness was beginning to form on her lips. I guess that's a good sign, she thought distantly, 'but it's not like I haven't managed that bit myself.'

The hands left her wrists and then nothing. She strained to hear where he was, but she couldn't place him - his footfalls were muted in the carpet and her own heartbeat in her ears was deafening her. Minutes that were hours that were mere seconds passed. Carla started to focus on breathing, and in some strange way, in channelling herself to her crotch. She didn't really believe in channelled energy or anything, but if she was here, she was desperate enough to try anything. It couldn't hurt.

The cold damp of the lubricant on her cunt shocked her and Carla jumped. Tenderly, the hand played out across her, working the stuff into her skin, running it around her love cave but never edging too near it. It spent an eternity at her edges, teasing her, making her beg silently for it to touch her and give her satisfaction. It did not. Only once the burn started did it move to her labia and begin to massage the lube in there, and by then the icy fire of what was obviously a little bit of something like muscle cream mixed into the concoction was distraction enough. It took half an hour just for the fingers to rub the lube into her, but by the time they had, every corner and crevice of her quivering vagina had been covered. The chill had turned to a heat and the heat made her pussy feel numbed, as though she had been fucked too hard for too long. It was hot as hell, but the emptiness of her depths left her aching, and Carla actively rolled her back and reached out with her hips, yearning for more. By now she was breathing heavily, her arousal thick. But the master that he was of her orgasm played her patience, and a second application followed, refuelling her ice and fire experience. This was how it was to be; lengthy teasing and professional manouvering of her elusive orgasm, teasing it, coaxing it, and helping her channel it out, for however long it took until she came.

An hour and a half later, Carla's throat was dry. She had been screaming for half an hour, before that, her moans had coated the walls. The man was a master, a magician of the female body, and his skills took her to new worlds. Her nipples had been electrified, chilled and heated with the lube, as had her whole chest, and now she was on pumps, her areolas dark, her nipples thick and solid inside the thick plastic of the tubes as they used vacuum suction to massage her breasts with mathematical vibrating precision.

At her cunt, a similar contraption played at her sex, a thick plastic cup sealed to her crotch playing her tensions in rhythmic looping sensations, using a cycling vacuum pressure to pull the nerves all the way up to her very depths inside her body to the surface, using air itself to massage her very walls to their utmost sensitivity. She was on fire, not because of the lube, but because of the bliss, her cunt aflame. Nerves were gone, sensation as she knew it had ended. Carla's entire world was her pussy, and it was being milked by precision engineered machinery that probably had cost more than her house to make. In the centre of it all, as her labia visibly opened and closed in the suction of the machine, a clear, thickly ribbed, nubbed plastic phallus fucked her, slowly and in time with the machine, its non-solid walls themselves controlled by a pump operating in reverse, so that for every controlled contraction inwards of her interior, the member thinned inside her as it moved back and forth, and for every relaxation of the pressure that let her walls relax back, it thickened, maintaining a perfect pressure on her insides, coaxing her closer to orgasm with scratching nubs and massaging ribs. It would have made any girl quiver at the knees the second she felt it in her but for Carla it only drove her further, pushing her beyond orgasm itself.

Yet it didn't come.

And so she screamed, an animalistic plea of pure, unbridled desire. She wanted to cum, she knew she could. She knew she should be. Her body was going crazy, driven beyond the human range of sensory input, her nerves exploding, her mind going mad at the feeling of it all. She could feel her tendons stretching, taste the sweat on her lips as it exploded across her entire body, feel every single one of the tens of rough nubs as they scratched and teased at the exposed nerves of her insides. She could feel her very walls being extruded, played with like a clay mould, the machine controlling her vagina's very shape and firmness. She panted through the strain, feeling the suction seal of the pumps rolling on her round breasts as they massaged and vibrated her nipples into an oblivion-like stupor of blissful sensory input. Her muscles ached, her throat hoarse, and she was sweating bullets.

Carla threw her head back in frustrated fury and screamed again, hoarse and dry. As she made to suck in more air, a plastic cup appeared at her lips and tipped, and she gulped the water down. She dropped her head back as she finished and mewled in agony, rolling her head in frustration, her hair soaked with sweat.

Standing over her, the man, his sleeves rolled, his own brow glistening, poured another cup and helped the distressed woman drink. He checked his timers, watching Carla as she writhed in uncontrollable sensory overload, desperately trying to chase release.

Carla's brain raced, visions blurring in her mind as she struggled to remain present in the world in the sexual overload. All she could think, all she could feel was the rhythm of the suction and the dildo, expanding, retracting, in and out, tense and relax, suck and blow. It owned her now, ran her. Her internal clock ticked by the rhythmic push-pull movements of the machine.

Amongst it all, Carla saw a fleeting glimpse of herself. She was kneeling, kneeling naked at the foot of a woman who stood over her.

In, out, expand and contract.

She gazed up, timid and begging. A question was asked. She couldn't hear the words, but the memory carried the recorded intonation with it. She was being given a choice by the woman.

Deeper, rubbing, tight and tense. Out again, relaxing, the rush of blood to her crotch.

She was a slave. A subject. A hypnotised servant, programmed to perform and obey and be rewarded.

Her nipples shook, her clit red and raw. Inwards, the scratch of the nubs and ribs. Deep inside, right up to her back wall. Tightening, tension, Explosion of bliss.

She could accept and give up her life, or turn down the offer and... And what?

Out completely, emptying her. Her walls opening, her own stickiness as her insides parted feeling like the ice and fire lube all over again. Thickening, tension. Retracting, relaxing. She vibrated with tension, her breathing ragged and her muscles burning.

Did she obey? Was this a memory? She could turn it down and... And...

Her pussy opened on its own, the machine dictating her every nerve's place inside her. It entered, burying itself in her, filling her like the command filled her mind. So many nubs, so much sensation... If only she could just remember...

She could deny, and if she did... She would never feel...

... Never feel pleasure again. She could remain tied forever to her past, a past that had involved sex with someone it shouldn't have. It was the orgasm she had craved, and it would be that that she would be robbed of.

The memory rocketed away from her, blasting at a million miles an hour out of her mind. Carla was slammed back to the world, back into the sweaty couch, back to the soaked skin and vibration, the rhythm, the phallus, the machine, the pressure, the suction, the bliss, the everything. Her everything, her world, the world she had asked for. A world in which she was chasing orgasm, desperate for it, driven insane in the need for it.

The machine entered her again, and she felt it. She was at her mind's end, the fraying edge of her nerves, the tip of the knife's blade, her entire body on the line, ready to tip into the depths. She felt it, felt it rise up inside her. It was her orgasm, at last. Finally approaching, finally coming, finally ready to reward her-

The machine cycled again, and relaxed her, and the phallus retracted as it expanded, coaxing her pleasure even higher, beyond orgasm, beyond the release she craved. She didn't cum.

In that instant, Carla knew. Knew the memory was real, knew it was true. She knew what she'd chosen that time, crouched low at the foot of her Mistress.

She'd chosen out. She'd denied her slavery.

And as Carla realised her mistake in life, she threw her head back one final time, ramming her skull into the soft fabric and unleashing an unearthly wail, the sound of her shriek tearing across the walls of the office, stunning the man at attendance at the machine at her cunt. She could feel it, even now. Teasing her. Playing with her. Forever out of her reach, her orgasm would never come. Carla's life truly would be devoid of pleasure - Madame Ruviera had made sure of that. Her orgasm was gone, buried far beneath anything she could unearth, set only to tease and frustrate her, never allowed to burst forth, never free to give her release. Even as the machine elicited another wave of pure sensory bliss to her entire body, Carla knew it would be fruitless. This was her life now. She had turned down her Mistress, and She had made good on her promise.

This was Carla's punishment.

As if on cue, she felt another rush, another wave as her orgasm pent up suddenly, felt it push as though it should have come. But it didn't, and she didn't.

Carla went limp, despite the tens of thousands of dollars' worth of orgasmic machinery strapped to her body.

And she began to cry.

@ @

'Yes! Yes! Yes! I accept! Please Mistress, make me yours-' Carla yelped in complete submission to Madame Ruviera. Grinning, Ruviera nodded once, powerfully, entirely in control of both women.

'As you wish.'

Leaning over and placing a single finger on Carla's forehead, she pressed her clicker and pushed lightly on Carla's head, watching as the woman went completely limp, her eyes rolling back in her head as the rewarding orgasm kicked her whole body. Carla collapsed backwards and writhed on the floor, spasming uncontrollably, her legs going completely taut, her head shaking and her nipples firm and erect. She squirted, hard, her pulsing jets splashing Ruviera's foot, which she bent down to sample casually. The orgasm was intense even to watch, almost dangerous. One or two of Carla's joints cracked as she tensed almost to her muscles' maximum and Ruviera could see her insides squeezing as she jerked and writhed and squirted.

She knew what was going on inside Carla's head. As she came, she was jettisoning her personality, ejecting her entire previous mindset, willingly ridding herself of all her past morals and lessons. Her mind was wiping, cleansing, preparing itself for her new life. All her personality, her identity, would be remapped, reborn into a completely subservient, sex-free slave leashed forever to Ruviera's side, accepting a world of bliss, sex and pleasure, all at her command and hers alone. She was also, in a split-instant, living her second choice, envisioning the world she had chosen if she had picked not to follow Ruviera. In the space of a second, she would experience days, perhaps weeks or even months of sexless, pleasure-less life. It would be her living hell, and it would ensure Carla would never think twice about her choice again. Ruviera could only guess at the imagined world Carla's sexually overwhelmed brain was conjuring inside her right now to fit as a suitable enough deterrent for her to ever consider leaving her Mistress.

Ruviera grinned down at the wriggling girl.

A fine addition to the pack... As would be her male friend.

... Once Ruviera had had some time alone with him.

Perhaps tomorrow, Ruviera mused, watching her pet cum. Perhaps after a rest, and a little time to allow her new addition to prove her programming had been successful. After all, Ruviera was a needy, horny woman, and she had spent a lot of time working on the girl. It was only fair she paid it back.

Ruviera smiled as she watched Carla's dreamy, glazed eyes open and focus on her, and then flick instantly and readily to her crotch as she lazily looped a finger in her panties and flicked them down.

It had been a long time since she'd milked a man and turned his will to her own. Ruviera wondered what it would be like now that she was older, having another male around, another penis to add to her collection. She allowed her head to fall and her mind to clear a little as the lips of her new slave found her and went blissfully to work.

That was for tomorrow to worry about. Nathan could wait. Carla's expert work was far more enticing right now.

TBC...?