A Slave's Doubts

"Nothing I can't handle though," Brooke assured them as Master N. kissed her forehead.

"Of course, babe," he said, patting her cheek. "Can we leave the rest to you?"

"Oh...sure..." Brooke's smile faltered. "Are you sure you both don't want to, you know, have the first taste?" She sat up, pressing her tits together and shifting her hips. "I could help too, if you want..."

"I've made other arrangements," Mr. G. explained, though Brooke imagined she detected some regret in his voice.

"And I've still got work ahead of me," Master N. pointed out. "As do you, remember?"

"Yes, Master," Brooke pouted, slumping back in the chair as the two men left. She sighed, regarding her subject. So far the process was going smoothly: Melissa's breathing had settled into a steady rhythm, a trickle of drool sliding down her chin and onto the mattress. Brooke enjoyed seeing a job well done, but still, the timing of it all irked her. Of all the nights for Melissa's condition to go critical, why did it have to be during homecoming?

It was because of that asshole—Chris, or whatever his name was. If he hadn't shown up at that store and shown Melissa that stupid ring, things would've never gotten this bad. She and Brooke would be out on the floor like usual, having the time of their life. Instead, Brooke was relegated to babysitting the free-use station. Snoozeville.

Still, there was no point in grousing about it. With a heavy sigh, Brooke rose from her seat, loosening the bed's restraints a few notches and prepping Melissa for the next stage of the process. In doing so, Brooke noticed the silver ring resting on her subject's finger, and recognized it as the exact same memento she'd glimpsed in the grocery store. How had it ended up here? Had Melissa somehow kept it a secret?

Resolving to be a bit more careful in the future, Brooke slipped the silver band free, tossing it aside with a contemptuous sneer. A sharp sigh rose through Melissa, and for a panicked moment Brooke realized the wrist cuff still wasn't secure. Thankfully, the tension in her captive's body slacked the very next moment, and she offered no further resistance as Brooke finished re-securing her to the bed, before sliding to her knees beside it.

Now all that was left to do was wait.

It didn't take long.

Brooke recognized the first patron to enter: it was Keith, the tutor Melissa liked the best. He seemed nervous but ultimately eager to get a free ride with his favorite slave. Though, as his pants fell free, it seemed his body was having trouble overcoming his anxiety.

That was where Brooke came in. She let him babble excuses as she coaxed his cock to life, kissing and licking in between murmured assurances that all was well, that this was a perfectly normal part of the process. Finally, when her ministrations produced satisfying results, she shifted aside and returned to the desk, offering only a gentle reminder to Keith not to cum inside the free-use slut. While some patrons didn't mind another man's load sloshing inside their sex toy, it was better to be safe than sorry. Not that Brooke didn't enjoy cleaning up after those who forwent her warning.

Keith lowered himself onto the bed as Brooke sank back into her seat, already slipping a hand under her skirt to play along with the show. As it turned out, this one was rather short lived, but Keith still made a satisfying spray across Melissa's tits before he sheepishly struggled back into his pants and left. Brooke double-checked that the program was still running smoothly, and was awarded with a satisfying dip in Melissa's cognitive processes. God, the things that girl must've been feeling, trapped in spiraling bliss, her body helpless and open to be used over and over again...it was almost enough to make Brooke tear off the visor and strap it to herself instead.

That wasn't what the Masters expected of her, though. So once again she resumed her post by the bed, shifting impatiently as she awaited the next patron looking for a cheap fuck. Thus began the process in earnest, a steady stream of "assistants" entering the room and forcing the programming further into Melissa's mind, one hearty thrust at a time. Brooke made the best of her role as spectator, enjoying the way the patrons used her captive's mouth and pussy with reckless abandon, her pigtails unraveling and makeup smearing as she went from pristine temptress to cum-streaked mess. One generous patron even offered to fuck Brooke next if she wanted. She dutifully demurred, but still let him suck on her tits while she rubbed herself to another orgasm. Just because she was a brainwashed slave didn't mean she couldn't be selfish, now and then.

The night was winding down shortly thereafter, the times between visitors stretching so long Brooke's knees started to get sore. It was just as well: even she was beginning to tire of the amusement, and the readouts from Melissa's brain showed the process was pretty much complete. Besides, the copious splatter was starting to smell, enough to likely put off any patrons who weren't into that kinda thing. Better to just call it now, let Melissa sleep off the night, and clean her up in the morning.

Or so Brooke had planned. Until the final visitor stepped through the door, and Brooke's face ignited with fury. It was Chris. That idiot from the grocery store. The man who had cost Brooke her homecoming party.

And boy, was the look of horror on his face priceless.

"M-Melissa!" The young man exclaimed, rushing past Brooke as he fell to the blonde's bedside. "Wake up! You have to wake up!" He reached to shake her arms, only to retract in horror as his fingers touched gobs of still-drying spunk.

"Relax, asshole, she's fine." Brooke sneered. "You're welcome to hop on and see for yourself, if you want."

"How can you say that?" Chris cried, his eyes red and enraged. "What have you done to her?"

Brooke grit her teeth. She knew what she was supposed to do next: call security and have this punk thrown out before he could muck around any further. But there was something about his trembling voice and pathetic protests that really pissed Brooke off. Nobody had made her this angry in ages. And she was going to enjoy it.

"What did I do?" she repeated with a laugh. "See for yourself."

The helmet made a slight pop as it left Melissa's head, her hazy, dilated pupils taking a moment to focus on the man kneeling nearby.

"Huh...?" she frowned, puzzled. "Wuzzhappenin'? Wuzzgoin'on?"

Chris was struck speechless. So Brooke opted to reply instead. "Everything's fine, Mel. How you feelin'?"

"Mmm...good," the blissed out girl replied, her cum-stained lips stretching into a drippy grin. "Kinda...sleepy though..." No surprise there: the slut had been through quite the forced reboot. It probably would be another day or so before her full mental faculties returned. Still there was enough awareness here to serve Brooke's purposes.

"Melissa, listen to me," Chris said, fumbling to release his ex's restraints. "I...I think you've been drugged. I'm gonna get you out of here, and we'll find someone who can help you get back to normal."

"Normal...?" Melissa pursed her lips. "Y'mean...you're not gonna fuck me?"

"F-what?" her would-be rescuer sputtered. "Of course not! I'm trying to save you? Now let's go!"

With that, he grabbed her arm, pulling her upright. Melissa didn't resist, nor did she follow. She limply remained where she sat, shooting a puzzled look to Brooke as Chris struggled to lift her off of the bed.

"Sorry, Mel," Brooke said. "You have to stay here tonight."

"'Kay," Melissa replied, easily falling from Chris's grasp and flopping back on the bed. "Sorry, cutie. I gotta stay here tonight. You can stay too if you want though."

"B...but..." Chris faltered, his hands grasping helplessly in the air. "You can't have forgotten...I..." his eyes roamed the room, before finally falling on the ring lying on the floor. Before Brooke could stop him, he scooped it up and thrust it in front of Melissa's confused face, his voice cracking as he cried: "We made a promise to each other! Don't you remember? You swore to be mine!"

Melissa thought for a moment, then smiled. "Of course I remember, silly. But that was suuucch a long time ago. And anyway, you were right about me: I'm just a filthy, selfish slut with filthy, slutty holes. Why try to fight it anymore?"

Brooke had to stifle a laugh as Chris's jaw dropped, his hope visibly shattering across his features. Melissa's attention had already wandered to the erection tenting his jeans. When she reached to touch it, Chris yelped and smack her fingers aside, backing away as though she had burned him.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"I...I..." Chris shuddered, apparently unable to find the words to describe his horror. That was victory enough for Brooke, who finally stepped in between the two of them.

"You can keep the ring," she said, nodding towards his hand. "Hell, if you pawn it, maybe you'll be able to afford her at the next party. If you're lucky."

Chris met her eyes, and she savored the hatred boiling inside them. But before he left, he cast one last, longing look at Melissa, a somber sigh rattling through him. Brooke felt it like a chill in the air, a strange shiver disrupting her triumph. She recognized something in his gaze, some expression or feeling she couldn't describe. Whatever it was, it lingered long after he walked out of the room. And though she had won, Brooke somehow felt even angrier than before.

"What's wrong?" Melissa asked, resting a hand on Brooke's wrist. "Did you wanna fuck him?"

"No," she growled. "I...it's just...I..." she stopped, unable to put words to the sensations twisting inside her. "I don't know. Forget it."

Melissa nodded. "It's okay, I know what the problem is."

Brooke blinked. "You do?"

"Of course," her friend answered with a radiant smile. "You're thinking too much, aren't you?"

Brooke sighed, allowing the words to wash over her, to whisk her away to where she belonged. "That's right," she replied. "I'm thinking too much."

"And good sluts don't need to think."

"Good sluts don't need to think."