A Willing Subject

Relieved that he had been given the chance to leave, am turned his head to find the exit. "Go on!" Sarah challenged him, as he stumbled for the lift doors. "Sam, you're half-naked, and you forgot your bag."

That's right, he had to get his stuff. He tried to find his equilibrium and walk with dignity back to the bedroom for his bag. From the corner of his eye he could see Jennifer, still nude, shaking, trying to suppress laughter. He tried not to look up to make eye contact, but as he approached the room he sensed that Sarah was blocking his path.

"Look at me."

Uncontrollably, his gaze worked up, past her smooth thighs, trimmed pussy and pert, freckled breasts, until it met those large round eyes. He could feel his will ebbing away, and she hadn't said another word. Silently she opened the vial and raised it to his closed lips, staring into him all the while. It made him feel vulnerable, as if she had discovered a weak point and could control him with the merest breath.

Her indefinable sexiness overcame him, and as she tilted the vial up he could feel his mouth opening and the liquid trickling over his tongue and down his throat. It tasted sweet, rich and faintly alcoholic. And no sooner had it entered his body he felt a wild, instinctive loyalty to his captors..

Sarah placed her hands on his shoulders and held him in place with the same strange strength that Jennifer had wielded.

"Now, finish the job."

She turned him back to the couch and released him like an elastic band. Sam dove to the floor and fucked Jennifer with his tongue. Eyes closed he set about his work with a ceaseless, mechanical gusto. In his dizziness he saw flashes of light penetrating his eyelids and mixed with the ecstatic moans of Jennifer he heard the click of a camera shutter.

He didn't care about that, or the ache in his tongue. Nothing counted. Just Jennifer's pleasure.

"Oh, I didn't tell you she was a gusher."

Sam licked as if he had finally found his purpose, such was the empathetic joy her shrieks and intermittent jets of hot fluid gave him. She bucked on the couch and he tracked her spasms, stuck fast like a limpet, and with a singular purpose. Time slowed. Had Sam been aware enough to ask such questions he might have wondered why Jennifer was so insatiable, but as it was he continued unthinkingly. Cheeks, chin and neck coated with her juices, he brought her to orgasm again and again.

Finally he got the command to stop. Exhaustion overcame him. He looked up feebly to see Jennifer, finally satiated, reclining limply in the couch, her head propped against the back cushions. He felt himself being ushered onto her, his head rested on her lap and his body horizontal on the couch. His shorts were being pulled from his body. The room faded away, and in the darkness he sensed more flashes, like lightning just beyond the night horizon.

3

Sam awoke at the "ping" of the lift arriving, and through a haze peered across the room to see Sarah, fresh, as if she had been up or hours. She wore a dark-grey dress with a plunging neckline and pleated skirt. In her hand was a transparent plastic cup filled with more pink liquid.

"Got you a morning smoothie! This will keep you going for a few hours at least."

As he regained consciousness he was struck by a wave of guilt and shame. What had he done? Why couldn't he control himself? As soon as he could compose himself he had to escape, but for now he was wallowing in an unfamiliar place in abject misery, a morning-after remorse bleaker than anything he'd ever known. Tears welled in his eyes.

Sarah knelt on the couch next to his naked body and caressed his cheek with the back of her palm. "Ah, sweetie. Feeling dreadful I bet. Do drink up. You'll be so much better for it."

She straddled him, kissed his nose and lifted the straw to his lips. He needed to make the unbearable guilt go away, forget what he had done.

"Go on, you'll feel better straight away, I promise."

"But I don't know what it is. Look what happened last night." Sam's voice was cracking.

"Oh baby, drink this and you'll feel so good. You'll forget as soon as it touches your lips. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Y-yes Miss."

She ran her fingertip along Sam's lips, and he sucked on it gently. She probed his mouth with her finger, and slowly replaced it with the tip of the straw, whispering encouragement all the while.

He drew on the straw, and had to suck hard to get the viscous liquid up to his mouth. It was like drinking pancake batter, but with a sweet taste of strawberry. With light murmurs Sarah coaxed him to continue until the cup was empty. When he reached the bottom he felt implausibly full, and, wiping his mouth, regarded Sarah with absent inquisitiveness.

"People can live on this stuff alone. My dad's people developed it, but I've made some small changes to the recipe."

"By the way, Heather had a fun time last night. Later we'll see what she got up to."

After a moment's foreboding his attention was re-diverted, and he began to worship Sarah in her tights, sleek dress and heels. The uncertainty and remorse that had hit him when he awoke was dissipating as he watched the sexy woman who sitting on the couch next to him. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, and was barely aware that his cock was rigid once more. All he wanted to do was stare. He pulled his legs up, and turned towards her, kneeling as she busied herself with her newspaper crossword.

He was bewitched by her; that sloping nose, those plump lips glossy with lipstick and the neat curves of her cleavage, watching as it rose and sank with her breaths. He felt like he had discovered the epitome of sexiness and was enraptured by the idea of watching her, basking, confounded by a power that had defeated him back when he first noticed her. He just hadn't realised at the time.

As if suddenly reminded he was there, Sarah turned to Sam. "Good, so it looks like it's taken hold. Am I in charge?"

Sam said "yes my love" before he even understood the question.

"Lovely! OK, let's try the spoken commands we pummelled into you last night. You won't remember until you hear them. Now, let me see."

She pulled a notepad from her purse and hummed to herself until she found the right page.

"I'll just say the commands, and I think I'll be able to tell from your reaction what's happening."

"Are you ready? No? Oh well."

"ROCK-HARD- oh, I see I'm a little late for that one."

Sam felt a brutal tightening in his groin, and peered down to see a cock that was almost bending back on itself. He gasped and bucked his hips reflexively, eyeing Sarah with a mix of lust, anticipation and fear. Sarah was excited too, but in a different way. She spoke with an unhinged joy.

"GLIDE", Sam grunted uncontrollably, as she let the word roll lazily off her tongue, and he felt a phantom stroke on his penis. In his mind's eye he pictured a woman's perfectly manicured finger sliding from the the tip to the base.

"Is someone messing around with you down there?" Sarah asked playfully. A dribble of fluid coursed from the tip of penis, and an elongated tear dripped viscously from his head to the cushion.

"CLASP!", Sarah's face was fixed with joy and excitement as she awaited Sam's unconscious response. At first Sam felt nothing, and after wincing looked up to see Sarah. But as he saw her face he lost his balance, falling back, overcome by a visceral arousal. It felt like his most sensitive, secret place was being manipulated and teased, expertly and incessantly. He was a stroke or two from spectacular release. Desperate to end the agony he tried to grab his cock, but his arms wouldn't obey. He would do anything to get over the line, but his body was no longer his own.

Sarah mounted his chest, her pale thighs cool against his skin, and she spoke down to him with insincere sympathy.

"I think you know what's going on. There's one more word. I'm sure you know what it will do to you. What I'm going to tell you now is important. You will not come until I say the word. Never again. It's that simple."

"Let's forget about what this means for your future. Because I can see you're not interested. And right now, I prefer you at CLASP. You'll go to any lengths to earn permission to come. And boy will you adore the idea of giving up that responsibility."

Writhing underneath her, Sam could barely take in her words. Sarah lifted the hem of her dress to reveal a bare pussy. Looking down at him, she lowered her pussy onto his face while clutching the material of her skirt. When her damp lips settled over Sam's mouth she released her dress, plunging him into darkness.

Being granted the duty of helping Sarah to orgasm made Sam prouder than he could remember, and he threw himself into the job with manic dedication. This fervour made him sensitive to her needs, determined to read her body language and listen to her moans to give her as much pleasure as possible. Maybe if he did his best she'd even let him finish.

When he tried to picture what she must look like on top of him - head lolling back, hands kneading her breasts and lifting them over the neckline of her dress - he found his devotion stronger than ever.

Her moans were rhythmic, and higher and higher in pitch. She was close, and the wetness, the urgency with which she rode him made Sam happier than he could imagine. In those tense, desperate breaths before climax she shouted "CLASP" in quivering voice, and all hell broke loose. Sam devoured her pussy, sending her screaming over the edge. He humped air, and in his mad lust tried to pull her down to his raging penis. Just in time, she screamed "NO", and his body became still.

Breathless, Sara regarded him with a mixture of pleasant surprise and horror. "I don't think so mister. Looks like we're going to need to work on your discipline."

"Oh, I was wondering when you'd get up."

4

Bright and smiley, Jennifer emerged from a room. She blushed when she saw the scene - Sam turgid, Sarah's tits peeking out over her dress.

"I was just telling Sam that he needed to control himself better. I think we've been teasing him too much. First let's watch a video."

Dressed for the relentless heat Jennifer was in a one-piece swimsuit. She bounded over to the couch, and the two girls flanked Sam as Sarah turned the TV on.

A laboratory came into shot, and a female voice-over began.

"After the Abu Ghraib scandal armed forces discipline became a one of the most controversial topics of our time, and endangered already wavering public support for operations overseas."

"Commissioned by the procurement department, we set about developing Discip1in, a drug that can be ingested in a variety of ways, and, combined with visualisation and identification of a leader, will ensure the medium-term discipline of a unit."

Sam looked left and right, and saw the girls rapt, as the video showed footage of the testing process, testimony of commanding officers and technical details about Discip1in. When he saw the drug in liquid form, pink and gel-like, he understood. Sarah and Jennifer had shuffled closer and had their hands on his thighs.

A second presentation began.

"The sex bomb was abandoned in the 1960s, and labelled kitsch and impracticable But now is the time to re-evaluate its potential. A weapon that harnesses the sex drive could render certain threats obsolete. Our research shows that most religious militants are unmarried, and by the dictates of their religious law abstain from masturbation."

"By targeting the neurotransmitter that controls arousal we believe that we can retrain tap the source of this fervour and retrain it onto other subjects. Here is footage from the field of a recent test in Ar-Raqqa, Syria."

The time signature showed that the video was only a few weeks old. Shaky helmet cam footage showed a man running to a square where hundreds of militants, dressed in black, are rallying. The man looks down at a briefcase, places it on the back of a pick-up truck and moves through the crowd. Seconds later there's a whoosh, and the sky fills with pink smoke.

The cameraman slips a mask over his head, as the fighters, first prone, start to scatter. Within moments the desperation subsides and they look around distractedly.

"Phase One: Delivery."

The men regroup in fours and fives. Bursts of laughter and agitated can be heard. The cameraman approaches and shows them embracing each other salutarily, as if in relief that the gas wasn't harmful.

"Phase Two: Administration"

One such embrace lingers for a few seconds, and suddenly the two men thrust their hips against each other and stumble to the dusty ground. There's a yelp, and the cameraman turns to show dozens more all around, ripping at each others clothes in twos, threes, fours and fives. Within moments there's rhythm amid the mayhem as the militants suck and ride each other.

The image cuts away and returns, by the time signature many minutes have passed, and the group is now one large writhing mass of men, and a few women, naked and groaning.

"Phase Three: Denial"

The image reappears, hours later now. The men scream in frustration. Several bodies lie lifeless on the ground. Reinforcements arrive from a neighbouring stronghold, and the image goes blank.

"God that's hot" Jennifer said, her head leaning on Sam's left shoulder.

"Yeah? Well you haven't seen anything yet. This stuff has a different effect on girls." Sarah teased, opening a new file on the TV.

"Heather was invited to a party last night. I think it got kind of crazy." she sniggered, and blindly reached across to caress Jennifer's cheek.

"Luckily the venue was hooked up with HD cameras and mics. My people have edited the best bits."

5

The TV screen was split into 16 different feeds shot by cameras on walls, behind a bar, pointing down from the ceiling; it was easy to track a person's every movement. After a moment, revellers began to arrive. Sarah chipped in with a commentary that betrayed pride and growing anticipation. "Volunteers, mostly students, but I think they were allowed to invite friends too. Course, we got them all to sign waivers."

They were all dressed for a party. "We told them to let loose and have a good time. They thought we were trialling a new drink, and they got a free party in return."

After watching the feed for a few minutes, the prologue to a party, it dawned on Sam that there were no men. The room had the austere look of a depot; if this was a party it was going to be a Berlin-style event, occupying a some disused factory or office and packing up without trace afterwards.

"Here she is!" Heather arrived with Siobhan, a friend she stayed with in Edinburgh, and they went straight to the self-serve bar. "It's a smart drink, like the one you had earlier. There's no alcohol, but I have a feeling they're going to have fun."

"And doesn't she look sexy!" In a clinging, shiny dress Heather was ready for a party. Sam longed helplessly for her in that moment, and feared for what might happen. The room continued to fill, with more and more women arriving. There was a hubbub of laughter and animated chatter, before the fluorescent red lights dimmed and music began to thump from the speakers.

"We're safe from it, but in Germany they'd call this song an 'earworm'. At first it might sound odd or trite, but it grows on you. This one goes to work on people's defences and inhibitions.The frequencies and textures strip you down until you can't resist. Just watch."

The time signature jumped forward, capturing clips at 15-minute intervals. For an hour it was a party like any other. At first the empty space at the centre of the room was clear, but after a couple of intrepid girls, laughing maniacally, started to dance they were joined by more, and before long the room was throbbing. The music hadn't changed much throughout, yet after about 90 minutes there was an audible change; the bass frequency was oscillating, and all of the other synthesised elements began to reach small crescendos and then subside, before rising again every few minutes. The gathering continued to dance. Not a single woman was on the fringes.

"You can watch Heather in the top left Sam." One square had been devoted to his girlfriend, switching camera to get the best shot. This is when Sam saw the changes. In stages Siobhan moved closer, and when they were almost touching Heather accommodated her, wrapping her arms loosely around her friend and actively meeting her gaze. Sam glanced at the other feeds. Where there had been one mass there were now groups. No laughter could be heard now over the pulse of the music, which was climbing to ever more intense peaks.

"How many more hits can they take?"

Sarah turned to Jennifer. "I say two."

"Ooh, I don't know. I think this next one should do it."

Sam saw Siobhan's pale face, made up for a party, half concealed by a sweep of glossy black hair that was bouncing as she danced. Her eyes puckered at intervals, like she was in pain, but she kept moving closer to Heather. Their breasts touched and their legs, skirts hitched up, were almost interlocking.

Sam was focussed on his girlfriend and hadn't paid attention to the other feeds. He had missed hands exploring underneath fabric, kisses. By comparison Heather and Siobhan, madly in love with each other for the last two hours, had done well to hold out.

But when the dam finally broke the accumulated pressure made the response even stronger. The frequency began to rise; oscillating tones gaining intensity once more. This peak would be higher and more sustained. As it rose, he saw Heather's head rock back like she had taken a blow, and she forced herself into her friend. Siobhan tugged at the dress, pulling it off Heather's shoulders, revealing a black silken bra and white breasts that she cupped frantically. Still moving in time, Heather's thigh urged between Siobhan's legs and the couple danced, supporting each other with faces that expressed a blend of panic and pleasure.

Sam needed to look away. Around the room he saw breasts exposed and a tangle of hands grabbing at bare flesh as the notes vibrated, climbing to a peak that never seemed to end, all the while gaining volume and strength. Even above the din Sam could now hear cries.

Sarah turned the volume up on the TV. "Hear that wobbling sound? We're safe from it, but if you hear that live it goes straight to your intimate parts like some kind of nuclear-powered dildo. You don't even need anyone to touch you. Just look at poor Heather. I think this counts as cheating you know," she said with snide amusement.

Heather had now been sandwiched. She was in a tight kiss with Siobhan while a mixed race woman with long curly hair had squeezed in behind her and begun to work her to orgasm, the outline of her fingers wriggling in Heather's underwear. The music soared to its arduous crescendo and the room filled with agonised shrieks. Heather was shaking in a way Sam could never recall seeing when they had made love. Any feelings of jealousy or hurt were seduced and mollified by arousal.

Sarah checked her phone and cut the video. "Ah, it's time."

She turned to Sam, addressing him matter-of-factly.

"I think I need to explain to you dear Heather's feeling today." She almost looked sincere.

"She wasn't drunk here. There will be no hangover. Do you know what it's like to fall in love?"

Sam nodded. Deep down he was fighting the desire, and had resolved to end this madness and do everything he could to get away and wake Heather out of this spell. He was raging, but had learned that Sarah was in control and that he needed to bide his time. He told himself he had to get out.

"Heather has fallen madly in love with her friend Siobhan. Both have no idea why, but that won't make it any less permanent. Your girlfriend loves someone else now. And in time they will join me, Jennifer and a growing number of women. See, we're building something."