Strange Queens Ch. 03

Seeing nothing in the cafeteria area Rachel saw the doors to the kitchen and made a move, stopping only to listen at the threshold. Bar from the heavy breathing from Jordan's table, she could hear the gold clad woman writhing about against the far wall. Other than that, she couldn't make out anything. Blowing caution to the wind she rammed the door open and entered, looking about for anything she could find to help. No one came to stop her.

Inside was a fairly ordinary assortment of cupboards and shelving with various cooking tools and utensils stored on and in them. Roaming about, Rachel found a few locked cupboards high above a bench that seemed promising. She investigated the fridge and checked the open stores but nothing more than food greeted her back. Useful, yes, but uninteresting.

Stepping back into the lunch room Rachel made a pass of Jordan, who was now in a delirious sleep, turning her head and winding her hips about. She'd be out for the count by the time the injection had worn off, Rachel mused. Moving on she scouted the far wall where the guards usually stood for door patrol, where a metal locker stood. Inside would go any utensils or trays the female inmates hadn't handed back, but Rachel also found a few small bags and two unloaded dart guns. Snagging some bags she put the guns into one and tucked it under Jordan's table before taking the loaded one fallen from Jordan's hand, sliding the muzzle under her chastity belt strapping round her waist. Then, she moved to the gold clad female and took the baton from the ground beside her. Seeing her, Rachel took in the effect the juice in the darts could have in concentration.

Lying in total relaxation, mouth open, saliva dripping from her lips, her body twitched rhythmically, her chest sucking fresh air in in time to her explosive orgasms. Rachel saw the puddle under her legs, the rivulets flowing steadily over her thigh and around her groin belt. She could see each pulse rip easily through her unresisting body, each breath causing her nerves to sizzle, each nerve sending ripples of ecstasy into her cunt where it did the only thing it could do under such extreme stimulation; ejaculate. Even as more waves expelled her body, her liquids would be replenishing, drawing from everywhere they could to provide enough juice to reward whatever was giving her such joy. She would likely stop when her body had no free sustinence left to use, or when she simply shut down from the exertion. Rachel couldn't help but hope that Jordan would fare better than this; she wasn't sure she'd be able to deal with a limp, frisky woman for an extended period whilst running an escape mission.

Taking some bags and her baton with her, she returned to the kitchen and filled a few with some non-perishable supplies before turning her attention to the locked doors. Sizing up where the joints were, she carefully planned her swing, then brought the night stick hard against the weak spot of the lock. She repeated this for both doors, cracking the wood, releasing the pins. The doors swung free and Rachel put her weapon down, peering in.

'Well fuck me sideways...' She breathed.

Inside was row upon row of carefully labelled jars, bottles and cups, each with different coloured pills or liquids in them. On the top shelves were sterile bottles for needles and syringe packs, as well as a few vacuum sealed field kits containing a micro-needle, tweezers, antiseptic and alcohol. A very, very good find. Grabbing the rest of her bags, she crammed the supplies in and tied them up carefully before placing them in another bag to keep them safe. Then, she grabbed every sealed jar and packet, carefully reading their labels so she knew what was there. Everything from isopropyl to barbiturates, aphrodisiacs to suppressants and knock out drugs were there -- the perfect range of chemicals needed to keep a crew of female slave prisoners under submission. Rachel even found a glass jar with more thin, pre-prepared rounds for the dart guns in it. Hopefully, if Jordan needed it, she could use some of this to ween her back to health.

And with that it was time to move. Scooping up the bags in one hand, she grabbed a pan from the shelf and stepped back out through the swinging doors into the cafeteria. She looked over to Jordan to find a black guard standing over her. Thinking in seconds, ready for another fight, she dropped her pan and pulled the dart gun from her belt, raising it to fire at the enemy.

Then she paused, finger hovering over the trigger.

'Wait! I don't mean to hurt you, just wait! I'm the only one here. Please!' He said as saw the pistol swing up. He flinched, hands up, already feeling the shot burning towards him. After a moment, he looked up to see that she hadn't fired.

'Thank you, thank you! I'm not going to hurt you. The others are off duty, there's no prisoner activity scheduled for another two hours. I just came to check on things. Please, I don't intend you or your friend any harm. I'm not like everyone else here.' He said. He stepped carefully back from Jordan, arms still out before him. 'I don't want to see you locked up again. Not yet. But you won't have long.'

Rachel put her bags down carefully on the table closest to her, still not trusting the guard, and stepped closer.

'Why not? What makes you any different from the rest of the pervy fuckers here?'

'We're not all like them. The guards, we're all given drugs. Drugs to make us forget, make us intent on seeing pain and imprisonment as... Sexy. Some of us give in to it, most of us have by now. I sometimes wish I could... B-because, whenever the drug wears off, I get like this.' He seemed almost meek, embarrassed.

'What do you mean? Like what?' Rachel asked, moving to Jordan and checking on her. She was still suffering, but her breathing seemed even enough and her body was moving less under the intense rushes from the serum.

The guard spoke again. 'The drug makes us horny, makes us like what we see done to you. It's hot to see you chained up, alone, as slaves. That's what it makes us feel. A lot of us were conditioned when we started here, given pill after pill and made to watch and listen to videos of people like you until we got off to it. People would talk us into believing it, and it worked, because it's fucking hot. We don't see it any other way. But sometimes it wears off until the next pill. I get that from time to time. That's why I don't want you to go back in, because I'm not under right now, but I will be. It will come back.' He looked up at her, and in a moment of strange clarity, he reached up and lifted off his mask. Below was a face circled by black combat head clothes, tired, with eyes that pleaded Rachel to believe him. It was the first time Rachel had seen any humanity beneath the emotionless black guard clothing.

'What do you mean by come back? When? What will happen?' Rachel asked.

'The drug works in waves. Sometimes it wanes off, other times it swings back. I can't feel it now, but seeing you two has triggered it. It's going to come back, and when it does... When it does, I won't be able to resist locking you back up. Or worse.' He looked at the stub-nosed pistol still clasped in Rachel's lowered hand. 'You're going to want to use that. It won't do much to me other than take me out for a bit. If you don't, you'll have to fight me soon.' The man looked into Rachel's eyes, and she almost thought she could see the sorrowful pity in them. She shook her head, but he spoke up.

'Please! If you don't, I won't be able to stop what I try to do to you. It's not just my job, it's who I am now. I have to. Just put one in me and I won't even know this has happened.' He seemed desperate enough, perhaps desperate enough to be telling the truth. Rachel looked to her friend, then back to him.

'I'm gathering my things first, and you can help me get these chains off.' She said. She spun and strode back to the table, grabbing her bags and the pan. Then she returned and carefully slid Jordan down until she was sitting on the bench. The guard watched, fidgeting, idly tapping the hardened cup sewn into his trousers. 'Quickly, quickly...' He breathed. 'What can I do?'

'Do you know where the key is to these locks?' Rachel asked. He shook his head in reply.

'Only Mistress can get them for us, as it's the same key to her own. No one comes in or out of here without her word, and no one but her Master is above her rule. He would likely keep the key with him, to keep her as enslaved as you.' His tapping was growing more rapid. Rachel could tell he was getting closer, and, despite his best efforts, his eyes kept wandering to the girl's bodies.

'Take this,' Rachel said, passing the pan to him. She put her arm on the table, and held the snapped cuff with the other, so that it was taut over the corner of the metal bench. 'Smash the chains. Quickly, please.' He seemed unsure, but after a moment he raised the hardened edge of the cooking implement and brought it down sharply on the edge of the metal links. Sure enough the impact bent the fastening of one of the links, and Rachel was able to force it open enough to slide another link through. Now that her arms were free, she swung herself up onto the table and sat, legs towards him, ankle chains tight. 'Do it.'

This time, it took a few commands to get him to swing. He was on edge, and he could hardly stop looking between her thighs. This was getting close, Rachel was going to have to act soon, or face another struggle with a horny, hypnotic guard. As he brought the pan edge down a second time, the link between her ankles cracked open and her leg came free. Unfortunately, it was only the left leg -- the right still connected to the long chain that reached up to her crotch -- but it would do. There would be enough slack left in the links to let her move. Raising her pistol, she said a clear and short 'thank you' before losing a dart directly into his chest. The gun cracked, he recoiled, and half a second later he was sinking to his knees, and then to his hands, before keeling sideways and lying back.

Already his body was beginning to respond to the injection, part hypnotising to watch, part revolting, as the serum seeped into him and his mind fell under its erotic control. It was much too weak to resist it. Rachel swung off and picked up the pan, scooping her friend back onto the bench and spreading her ankles. She took several swings and was eventually able to weaken a link between Jordan's legs, worming the metal hoops apart, freeing her enough to walk. Making her mind up, she settled for legs over arms and sat her friend up, scooping her arm around her waist and heaving as she struggled the limp female onto her shoulder. Her chains dug painfully into the Rachel's shoulders and her weight pushed her shoulder cuffs harshly on her chest harness, but for now it was enough to get the girl outside. Stepping forwards, strangely unused to the long strides of normal walking pace, she entered the empty kitchen and stepped towards the far door. Surprised, she found it unlocked, and swung it easily aside.

And there, opening before her, the light making her squint and the fresh air rushing into her lungs for the first time in months, was the outside world.

* * * * *

'Chelsea, my little sugar cakes, fetch Daddy a drink from the fridge, baby?' Paulo Francisco Crete, distant descendant of a demi-god and head of a private crime industry bent on recreating Paulo's family's illustrious fortune, said luxuriously to the tall, thin blonde woman sitting across from him and giggling. Naked bar from her thin, very expensive lingerie composed of semi-transparent satin lace bra and panties, lovingly entwined with sparkling gold thread and tailored to show more through the front of the piece than the sides, she was enjoying her meal across from her loving Master. At his command she happily sprung up and strode sexily to the refrigerator where she extracted his beverage and returned, careful to take a moment to pop the top with it held against her chest before slipping it in front of him. He laughed heartily at her show, and, for the millionth time this week, told her:

'My dear, my little dear! You must do everything with lust and spunk, mustn't you? You want it too much, my little cake! Whatever happened to a frig before breakfast and a fuck after dinner?' To which Chelsea would reply, as she always did, with a cute and coy apology involving puppy eyes and breasts. Paulo laughed again, her entertaining sexual display as amusing as ever.

In the months after he'd stumbled across the girl, she'd changed a lot from the worry of a female whom had responded to his voice without him even attempting to hypnotise her. She had practically subdued herself, sucking up any suppressive and submissive emotions that had been in his tone at the time. Usually one to have to concentrate his ability on someone for it to work, Chelsea had had to have, so it seemed, one of the most open and clear minds he'd ever seen. Within minutes, he'd been forced to assume her body, mind and spirit as his own, sealing his control over her and rendering her being unto his own. After that, he'd worried, stressed about his promise to himself to never assimilate women simply for his own pleasure, or at least without reason. He had been a young and foolhardy boy and had wielded his ability too wantonly in his early years, and had vowed to do only right with it onwards. Having her around could cause serious problems for his efforts in his endeavour towards money making, and she could get in the way of several of his more delicate female trade operations.

But within a week she had simply let go, and, after nightly fucks lasting anywhere from half an hour to, on one occasion, three hours, he'd given in to her soft, sensual body and persuasive attempts to let her be his. It seemed as though she genuinely, whole-heartedly wanted him to be her Master, wanted to enslave herself to him. So it had come that, not long after she'd been her own woman, she was his, and he began to claim her as his own. Seeing as she appeared to have taken to her spiritual brain remapping as a self-aware, willing woman with little desire but his own happiness, he decided to treat her to a shopping trip for anything she believed would make him -- and in turn, her -- happy. They had settled on the red lace lingerie as just one of several hauls, and one that Chelsea very dearly loved. She believed the bra was one of the hottest things she could wear for her Master, and the panties, with the gold lacing entwining and encircling her pussy like the Golden Gates' Snakes, only made it better. The pair alone had cost nearly a thousand dollars, but the Crete business was a self-run industry and as such had no budget per say to keep, no taxes to pay, and no bills to reserve for, and plenty of money to invest. Chelsea's delight at the purchase had been that only of a child at Christmas, and had thanked him graciously -- and lustfully -- that night.

A month went by and the day had come In which Chelsea had been questioned thoroughly by Paulo, with the intention of himself knowing all that she did to clear her past and help her move on with her new existence. With his half-son taking notes, under a routine process of conscious responses and subdued, carefully distracted hypnotism, Paulo found that with a little erotic physical stimulation, the girl was capable of total mental recall as well as stimulated reactions, a fascination to his hypnotism-inspired protégé. Before long, several pussy-massages and hypnotic-cum sessions later, sticky-fingered Paulo and his only family member had a notebook full of details regarding a girl named Jordan, a professor by the name of Roberts, and a private facility located on a hill to the north-west of the city in which the two females lived, all extracted from the happily dozing girl slumped down on the couch, her chest rising and falling peacefully, the cushions under her body thoroughly dampened. She had told much, and had much to tell, and had taken several hours to speak it all and to fill the pages of Paulo's notebook. Quite the fascinating journal, and not your average young woman's life story.

Deeming to investigate the hilltop house that had been mentioned many times further in the future, the prospect of private equipment patents with the added bonus of their practical uses generating big cash in mind, Paulo had little more time to spend on his new pet. Several weeks of important business meetings were about to take place, plans that had been carefully sculpted into fruition over several years of work, the culmination of his various business outlets growing in popularity. So it was that he promoted his new female subordinate to an equal member of his household, and she began to wash and clean, garden and shop, and even to manage some of the smaller paperwork.

While he was out, she would be calculating his funds and creating a portfolio for his budget, the washing going in the back of the house. Very quickly, things picked up, and the place turned into a functioning home. Far from unclean, the household had never really been a very, universal, place -- a certain stereotypical male style was evident in any of the twenty-six rooms -- but in very little time at all, Chelsea had converted it into a family-friendly building, well aired and spacious, and carefully partitioned between Hers' and her Masters' things, and the private space of the younger teenage boy. Although neither male would say it, having the gorgeous half-slave girl around was not only arousing and entertaining, but mutually beneficial to them both, and had improved their home in her work.

And so things went on, Paulo stepping out most days for his business or travelling to manage and oversee operations on various sites, while Chelsea and Albert worked about the house. Albert, on one occasion, even found himself sitting side by side one night with the attractive blonde girl as they watched TV in the glorious living room. Young, horny, and blinded by her beauty, he'd forgotten who's slave she was, and had hoped that she might submit to him too. Gently sliding his hand over her leg, he'd felt his heart skip as his fingers edged over warm, soft skin and he felt the very first hinting of dampness on the edge of her pussy. He couldn't believe it, he was about to feel this absolute stud's cunt, and if he was lucky, she'd let him ride her sore tonight. She hadn't even moved, sitting stock still watching the TV with his fingers twitching towards her waiting love cave.

But his hopes were crushed seconds later, as his fingers edged around her labia and began to sneak inside her, as her thighs rammed together and his hand was, in seconds, locking him to the carpet, twisted backwards, fingertips still ever so slightly just inside her pussy lips. He could feel the dampness of her sex on them. He couldn't move any of his arm, and her knee was sharp in his shoulder blade. The woman had moved with lightning speed, and had him pinned with a move that made him wonder if she carried martial arts mastery in that gorgeous head of hers.

'You only get to touch me if Master says so,' she breathed, hard, harsh, serious. 'And he gave me no orders to indulge you tonight, or at all. Now fuck off.' She breathed, glaring down at him. As soon as she finished speaking, the pressure on his back was gone and his fingers were cold again. Albert didn't bother trying to talk. He just got up and ran out. Chelsea, satisfied, simply raised thanks to her Master and returned her fingers to her pussy so she could finish the dirty daydream she'd started in her imagination.

A few weeks later Albert had brought his first girl home and Chelsea and her Master stayed mostly out of the way, listening in with some pride, and a little humour, one night as they heard her moans through the walls a few days after some apparently very successful dates. Of course, the two had their own hot sex to attend to, so, not ones to let the boy and his top shelf lady have all the fun, they simply drowned out the lusty young lovers with their own passionate penetration.