tagMind ControlBent 4 U

Bent 4 U

byJukeboxEMCSA©

The wonderful thing about being an obedient slave is that I don't have to feel guilty about any of this. It's not a sin. It's not a crime. It's not wrong, because 'wrong' implies a judgment and I am incapable of exercising judgment. I simply obey. This is a command and I am following it, that's all. It's that kind of mindless devotion that makes betrayal so much easier, and I am once again grateful to the Masters for taking away my capacity to desire anything but what I am told to desire.

Not that I think they would thank me right now.

I glance down at the man on the bed. He's trembling, shaking with the mindless bliss that only comes from true, deep, will-breaking hypnotic pleasure, but that's all the motion he's capable of right now. He's in a trance so deep that his body treats it almost like a form of sleep, shutting down his motor cortex so that he doesn't act out the things he imagines himself doing right now. It's a level of hypnosis that's useless for most practical applications, but not for the kind of deep brainwashing I'm performing right now.

I reach out and stroke his cock again, providing him with just enough sensory stimulation that he can never drift all the way from deep trance into full sleep. I don't need to speak-the earbuds he's wearing are playing the script to his hypnotic programming, just like the goggles covering his face provide him with all the inescapable visual fixation he needs to completely lock down his ability to think critically. He can only accept the voice that's telling him what to think from now on. Normally I would already be gone by this point, off to my next assignment as Service Unit 4U or returned to my surface identity as Haley Keene, but of course I can't call in a programming team to handle this young man. They would ask too many questions. They might even think to contact the Masters, and I can't allow that right now.

Not when the man on the bed is one of their sons.

I shouldn't know that, of course. Not exactly. The identities of the Masters are locked deep in my mind behind layers of conditioning, buried so far down behind so many defenses that I would simply refuse to keep breathing before I would reveal them even to myself. I don't know how many Masters I have, I don't know their names or their genders or their locations or anything I am not directly and immediately programmed to know to execute their will. ("Their collective will", I once said. I am rapidly learning that the will of the Masters is anything but collective.)

But Shane, the man whose cock I'm teasing right now with long-practiced skill, isn't one of the Masters. He benefits from their power and privilege, and one day he will join their ranks, but he is not a Master even when he commands me to obey. There's a tiny snarl in the finely-wrought chains that bind my will to service, there, a little loophole through which I can thread my thoughts and memories without disobedience.

So I can remember Shane because Unit 4U remembers anything that makes her a better slave except for those things she has been commanded to forget, and Shane makes a special point to request me whenever he has earned a visit from one of the "special girls". It's not knowledge I'm supposed to have, but it's not knowledge I'm forbidden to have either. It exists in that tiny gray area that all the service units have, because no Master can anticipate every contingency and truly perfect obedience is a dream even for us. Shane is a part of my world, but the prohibitions that apply to the Masters do not apply to him.

And neither do their protections.

He dropped his guard instantly when I came to his hotel room, just as I knew he would. He let me inside without a moment's hesitation, his voice filled with excitement instead of suspicion when he said, "Rebecca! What are you doing here?"

I set my overnight bag just inside the door and smiled. It was easy to become Rebecca for him again, the sweet and sensual lover with just enough experience to teach an eighteen year-old boy how to become a man while letting him think all the while that he was leading the way. I teased him with my eyes for a moment, reminding him with nothing more than a raised eyebrow of five more birthdays since then and a few other special occasions, before I said, "I think you must have been a very good boy, Shane. And I must have been a very...good...girl." My smile broadened, my lips drawing out the last few words to suggest that while I might be any number of things, 'good' is rarely one of them.

That's never more true than now, of course, but I don't make judgments. I can't.

He smiled back, reaching up to undo the ribbon that did up the collar of my dress. "That must have been tough, hearing that you needed to come visit me again." He didn't even finish his sentence before his hands dipped inside my outfit, flicking my stiff nipples with his thumbs and pushing the fabric aside and down with the motion.

I frowned just a little. "Oh, don't say that, not even as a joke," I said. "You know you're my favorite." It was true, of course, at least in that instant. Rebecca has many lovers-Shane was never under any illusions that I had anything as romantic and nonsensical as 'free will', and he always knew that I was a reward for his filial triumphs. But he wanted to believe that I was capable of loving him. He commanded me the first night we made love to think of him as my very favorite partner. And of course I always did...when I wasn't commanded to believe differently.

Someday, I know, he will be saddened to find out the truth. When he becomes a Master, and he learns all the secrets I am not permitted to know, he will find out that my love was merely an illusion so perfect that even I believed it. He will find out that I am obedient above all things, that my will is perfectly and gloriously malleable to the desires of the Masters and what I meant to him is only what I was commanded to mean. It will be a difficult day for him when that last vestige of innocence is shattered.

He will not remember that I already demonstrated all that to him last night. He asked me to tell him again, even as he pulled my dress down into a puddle around my ankles. "Tell me again that I'm your favorite," he said, his eyes shining bright with lust and adoration. "Tell me you want me more than any of the others Dad sends you to."

I allowed myself to chuckle, giddy with the thought that I was confessing a truth to someone who would one day own me. "You're my favorite," I whispered, believing it completely. "You've always been my favorite, ever since that very first time." My hands found his belt buckle, undid his fly and let his pants fall to the floor. "I want you more...mmm, more than any of the others, more than anyone, more than anything, Shane." I paused with every kiss he placed on my lips, but the words spilled out in a torrent of desire. "Please, make love to me."

Rebecca meant every word, and I was Rebecca. Did I love being Rebecca? Of course I did. I love whatever I am commanded to do. Otherwise my heart would be breaking right now. If I had the capacity to resist, I would be struggling against every second of my commands as I enslaved the man I loved, sobbing inside the cage of my own mind. But my love for Shane is nothing compared to my love of obedience, and Rebecca is no more real to me than Haley Keene is. Seeing Shane's will break is pure bliss to me, just like spreading my legs for him was last night.

He didn't spend much time with foreplay. He never did when I first arrived-he was always so eager to see me, to feel my cunt clench around his cock and know that we were joined together by pleasure. Once the edge was off, the remaining nights of each of my visits, he calmed down and took great delight in exploring my body, but I knew that tonight he would fuck me until he was exhausted. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deep inside me.

His hips worked rapidly, pumping with helpless intensity into my wet cunt while he stared at me with mindless bliss in his eyes. He looked almost like a slave then, lost in pleasure and unable to resist his desires, and I almost wanted to begin programming him then and there. But I had received my instructions, reading each word from a piece of paper that I destroyed after memorizing, and they were very clear. I needed to fuck Shane's body into mindless, lazy, sleepy bliss before I did the same thing to his mind. There could be no chance of resistance. Only when he was completely wrung out with ecstasy would he be ready to be broken.

So when he came the first time, I only took that as an opportunity to tease him back to hardness again. I smiled, I laughed, I told him I wanted more. I told him I couldn't get enough of his body. It was all he needed to hear. He is still a young man, after all. His body is capable of so much pleasure. More pleasure than his will can withstand, as he is now finding out.

And we fucked again, less intensely than before but still with the full vigor of a young man fucking his fantasy girl. And when he was done I licked his cock back to full mast, then kept licking while I gazed up at him with devoted eyes and smiled around his shaft when he came. I gave him all the pleasure I knew how to give, and the Masters have ensured that I know how to give a great deal. Not that they would have approved of the use to which I intended to put that knowledge, of course.

(Well, obviously at least one of them would. Only a Master could call me into service. Only a Master could command me to go to the post office and pick up the letter that was waiting for me, and follow the instructions within. A Master is telling me to betray...someone who is not a Master right now. That tiny, insignificant loophole allows me to obey without questioning the implications. Without conflict. Without hesitation. I love that so much.)

I never questioned any of it. When Shane was half asleep, unable to respond even to my teasing fingers with more than a drowsy murmur of pleasure, I never hesitated for a second as I slipped out of bed and got the brainwashing equipment from my bag. It all made perfect sense to me. Unit 4U is never allowed to harm the Masters, and certainly never to subject them to any control, but Shane is not a Master. He is related to one, he will be one someday, but he is not now. And I am only constrained from brainwashing one of the Masters. I feel no conflict when I obey.

And of course, the last thing you want is a slave who thinks too hard about whether she's doing something unethical.

On the bed, Shane is cocooned deep in my voice, listening to a recording that I made before I came to his hotel room. It will take almost four days for it to play in its entirety, but I know he is not expected back from his vacation for another six. I have plenty of time to keep him in deep trance like this the entire time, feeding him and tending to his needs while the woman he trusts bends his will to service to...not to the Masters. To someone specific. I don't remember who, and by the time I'm finished, neither will Shane. His memory of his programming will sleep in his mind the way Unit 4U sleeps in Haley Keene. But deep down, he will know who he belongs to.

Intellectually, I can appreciate what all this means. I understand on some level that at least one of the Masters would view this as a betrayal if they knew, and that they would want me to stop. But...I'm not supposed to know that. I'm not supposed to understand that. And Unit 4U is very good at failing to know the things she's not supposed to know and failing to understand the things she's not supposed to understand. So I continue my task. I continue my brainwashing. I continue my betrayal. And if I understand, somewhere in that tiny gray area, that I'm being used as a helpless pawn in a much larger game...

That just means I'm obeying more perfectly than I ever thought I could. How could I possibly resist that?

THE END

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by Anonymous11/12/17

I'm a big fan of your work....... please continue this story

Great story. I know you don't usually write multi chapter stories but this is so hot it's worthy.

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