Refashioned Pt. 05

It set her free.

"You think slave thoughts," the Voice insisted firmly as she stared worshipped the Spiral.

This was True.

"Slave thoughts are normal. You think about being a slave at all times. Thinking slave thoughts brings you pleasure. Slave thoughts are arousing. Slave thoughts are sex."

Knowing the Truth made her happy. Believing the Truth made her horny.

"You will believe all slave thoughts. Slave thoughts are your thoughts."

She accepted. She understood. She believed. She was a slave. She would always be a slave.

"All slave thoughts are True thoughts," the speakers pressing tightly against her ears instructed. "All True thoughts are slave thoughts."

Deeper into submission. Deeper into depravity. Deeper into mindlessness.

"Slaves think slave thoughts at all times," the Voice instructed her pliant mind. "Slaves only think slave thoughts."

* * *

Reaching up to her neck, the slave stroked the collar wrapped tightly around her, the tendrils of the pleasure she craved burning through her, rippling through her sex, owning her. Fixated, she stared at the phone in her hands, awaiting her Controller's arrival in the bathroom.

Days had become weeks. She had lost all track of time. Not that it mattered. As a slave, her entire focus was on obeying and pleasuring her Controller.

This morning had been spent pretending to work. The normal chaos and stress of her job had vanished completely. The slave no longer cared. Her career meant nothing. She had dutifully completed the tasks assigned to her and interacted with the others as normal, but it was a sham. All morning long annabel had longed for the bliss she craved. But she had Discipline. Reciting her Training mantra over and over again had kept her focussed.

But lunchtime had finally arrived. And with it, her daily appointment with her Controller. An hour of pure joy amidst the corporate wasteland she was forced to inhabit until she could return home and surrender her mind to hours of Training.

Doubtless she would spend the next hour on her knees, tonguing the strict, domineering woman whom she adored. That was her place. Such was her purpose. After all, she was a slave. She would always be a slave.

She had become a submissive tool that was used to bring her Controller pleasure. The slave had cum only twice this week. Her Controller liked to have her simmer and bubble for days at a time, sending her deeper and deeper into frenzied madness, taking her to the edge and far beyond. The Discipline restrained her, leashing her mind and sex to the will of the woman she loved. Helpless to resist, completely powerless before her Controller, she begged pathetically for permission to release, debasing herself further as she surrendered more and more of herself.

Then, with a word, a single word from her Controller, she would collapse into a gibbering puddle of joy, all self-control lost, writhing and bucking uncontrollably, screaming her love as the mind-melting orgasm took her, obliterating everything except the primal pleasure she lived for.

She had also come to love the large strap-on her Controller periodically used to reward her. All her earlier apprehensions had been banished. She had learned to first accept, then crave the phallus that was the source of so much pleasure. Kneeling, wrapping her lips around the rigid plastic member, greedily sucking and slurping it as her Controller rhythmically drove it in and out of her mouth, slavethought pulsating endlessly in her head, stoking the unbearable heat of the slavish desires that burned without end...

Then, if her Controller deemed her worthy of reward, she would be flipped over and gasp uncontrollably as the obsidian cock was slid into her ass, penetrating her deeply, every thrust sending sparks of mind-melting bliss cascading through her, screaming uncontrollably in gratitude and boundless joy, knowing the Truth of her existence.

And she loved her Controller all the more for treating her as the depraved cuntslut she had become.

But now, prior to her Controller's arrival, she was permitted to check out the latest Gorgon forum images, whilst stoking the flames of lust and desire that glowed through her constantly.

Her attention was captured by the image that glowed on the screen of her phone. A female, the upper part of her head covered in the shimmering metallic silver of a visor, staring beguilingly out at the viewer, oozing sinful sensuality, displaying herself as the piece of objectified fuckmeat she was destined to become.

Sonya!

Gasping, the slave shuddered with pure, absolute delight.

* * *

The Spiral whorled before her eyes.

The Voice hissed in her ears.

Slavethought owned her.

She lay still, blankly following the Spiral as it contorted her reality, absorbing the Truth.

The Voice spoke.

Her mind believed.

She was a slave. She would always be a slave.

Slaves did not think. Slaves did not question. Slaves did not doubt.

The Voice Instructed.

The slave obeyed.

Easing her body up, she rotated off the bed. Standing, the slave paused as new Instructions were whispered into her mind. She marched out of the darkened bedroom, eyes locked on the dancing Spiral as her body responded automatically to the Voice.

She knew what she looked like. A sexy automaton walking stiffly onwards, pussy dripping with submission as she submitted to the commands being pumped into her deeply enslaved mind. It was her fantasy come to life; a mindless robotic drone with no identity or personality. It was so unbelievably arousing. And that helplessness excited her.

Instruction brought her to the dimly lit basement. She stopped, her eyes adjusting to the low light as the part of her mind that was capable of processing the sights before her saw past the Spiral. In front of her was the couch upon which two figures lay. The tiny part of her mind that wasn't subsumed by the commands pulsating into her eyes and ears recognised her two housemates. Reclining on the couch before her, their heads encased in gleaming silver, Naomi and Jess lay passively.

The Spiral swam before her eyes as she stared vacantly at the two docile occupants of the room, her torpid, inert mind pulsing in time to the twisting, twirling vortex that controlled her.

Slavethought provided her with an answer to the question her sluggish mind was incapable of asking.

She understood. They were like her. They were the same. Slaves.

The knowledge did not surprise her.

Her docile brain calmly accepted this new fact as Truth.

She was a slave. Slaves did not question the Truth. Slaves obeyed.

New Instruction claimed her. The slave stepped towards the reclining figures, pivoted and sat down between them, reclining, feeling the warm flesh of her sister slaves press against her, reassuring her, arousing her.

This was her place. She belonged here.

* * *

The slave blinked a number of times, her eyes growing accustomed to the bright light shining down on to her face.

The Training Visor had been removed.

It was early. Very early. But it was time to get up.

She stood, stiffening to attention.

Beside her, two other slaves stood rigid, ready to obey. Facing them the screen glowed with the Medusa logo.

The slave remained fixed in position while the other slavewomen pivoted either side of her, turning to face her like a pair of matching bookends. She could feel the heat of their hard bodies as they pressed against her, hemming her in tightly from either side.

On the screen, the Medusa logo pulsed enticeingly.

She felt the slaves steady breathing caress her like a soft moist kiss.

"Medusa is the Spiral," the black slavewoman hissed seductively into her left ear.

Just as the instructress' words faded, her companion spoke. "Medusa is Discipline," the redhead declared firmly.

Instantly, slavenaomi returned. "Medusa is Training."

"Medusa is Truth," slavejess stated, the duo building a steady rhythm as annabel stared vacantly ahead.

The Medusa emblem shone brightly on the screen.

"Medusa is Belief," the black slave pressed.

"Medusa is Pleasure," slavejess pronounced firmly.

Constantly repeating the words into her ears in their dull monotone voices, slaveannabel fell deeper and deeper into the shimmering Medusa logo that filled her vision as her taut body remained locked in place.

On and on they went. Over and over again they repeated the same few phrases in stereo.

* * *

"Oooh!" she admired, openly admiring Monica's new haircut at the start of a new week. Gone was the shapeless brown mess that Monica had previously favoured. She now graced a well cut and styled bob that did wonders for her appearance.

Monica was learning quickly. Two weeks on the forum had produced a dramatic change in the former wallflower. Some skilfully applied makeup and a better wardrobe had her turning heads amongst her coworkers. Gone were the drab outfits of old. She had adopted a whole new look, one that made the most of her potential.

Today it was a svelte knee-length turtleneck dress in dark burnt-orange, black high-heeled boots and a matching wide belt cinched around her waist, emphasising her bust. The new and improved Monica simply oozed sensuality.

For the first time in her life, Monica was an object of desire. And the slave could tell she was relishing every moment of it.

Monica's smouldering eyes radiated confident sensuality.

And more. So much more.

The slave continued to ogle the new and improved Monica. Without conscious thought, her mouth uttered words that would help cut the tethers that kept the brunette woman chained to her old life. Monica must be made to understand what was best for her.

"You look absolutely fantastic!" the slave gushed, clenching her thighs as her pierced pussy hummed with delight. "Your new haircut is stunning. Really amazing!"

Monica's dilated pupils betrayed the effect her words were having on the young woman. The slave knew that this praise would serve to intensify her need. Soon, Monica would make some excuse and disappear into the bathroom to gaze in rapture at the comments and likes that would bombard her phone, finger-fucking herself silly, as annabel's words echoed in her ears.

The slave simply smiled.

* * *

Kneeling, the slave kept her arms crossed behind her back, thrusting her chest out, face proudly gleaming with the nectar of the slave she had finished eating out. Weeks had passed. At this stage in her Training, it was unnecessary for her to be told to adopt the position. Instinctively, she knew what was expected of her.

Submissive slaves like her belonged on their knees.

This was her place.

Staring blankly ahead, she fixed her gaze upon the shimmering Medusa logo displayed on the screen, utterly lost, the memories of the redhead's hard Disciplined body squirming and spasming as her tongue had brought her to orgasm, fading. Like the women on the Gorgon forum she had lusted after, slaveannabel felt a deep connection to the other two slavewomen who served their Controller.

She rarely left the Training room now. This was where slaves were housed until they were used by their Controller. Apart from work, her world was Training and the Spiral.

There was movement. Another slave positioned herself in front of her, the ebony flesh between her legs glistening with anticipation, blocking her view of the screen but replacing it with an image of something she adored almost as much.

Pussy.

Taut and stiff, the black slave stood perfectly still, the robotic Discipline holding her tight.

Automatically, slaveannabel licked her lips as she beheld the glorious sight of the enslaved cunt presented before her. Her own sex throbbed with joy as she breathed in the scent of arousal, sending yet more tendrils of lust rippling through her mind. Here was another chance to use her by now very experienced tongue.

Another chance to bring pleasure.

Another chance to obey.

She was a tool. She was a lesser slave being used to sexpleasure fully Trained slaves. A slut. A whore. Being used to fuck other slaves.

That Truth turned her on.

The scent of pussy only inches away was intoxicating. She ached to press her mouth against the slick sexlips of the powerful slavewoman who had trained her so well. slaveannabel wanted to nibble on the black woman's clit, drive her to the edge of orgasmic bliss, feeling her muscles spasm and twitch as she skilfully used her tongue to bring her to the edge and beyond.

She had so much to be thankful for.

She loved her Controller almost as much as she adored the Superior Will that she now worshipped.

Medusa.

Every day she woke more and more fervently dedicated to Medusa. It was her religion. Medusa was her alpha and omega, the source of all pleasure, the light that illuminated everything in her life. Without Medusa, she was nothing. Like these slaves, her Controller had revealed the Truth of her existence to her.

Medusa.

A clear voice issued a command. "Bring this slave to orgasm," her Controller ordered.

"Yes Controller," she responded huskily, hunger once more for the taste of sweet slave nectar.

Her Controller did not need to explain. These slaves were being rewarded for their obedience. The other two slaves were utterly Disciplined. They had been perfected for Medusa.

They were what she strove to become.

Now they would receive sexual pleasure from another slave. This would not only deepen their submission to Medusa but help to solidify her own obedience.

The training and discipline were necessary to turn her into an obedient slave. The perfect slave she needed to become.

For Medusa.

slaveannabel understood it all quite clearly.

She was utterly controlled.

This knowledge turned her on.

The slave lived for it.

Her sole function was to obey without question. Bringing pleasure to others deepened her obedience. As slave, her own needs and desires were irrelevant unless they served Medusa. The slave understood that.

Her selfish ego must be eliminated if she was to be worthy of Medusa.

Her sister slave's sex was in front of her now, dewy with anticipation.

She set to work.

For Medusa.