Vox Dominus Pt. 05

Chapter 5

Veronica turned as she heard the door open. "Hey Chels," she called, throwing her voice around the back of the couch and down the hall. "Maddi and I are thinkin' of checking out the Delta Omega Alpha party tonight. You in?"

If Chelsea heard, she didn't reply. Veronica shot a quizzical look at Maddi sitting on the chair across from her, but the muscular red-head only shrugged. "Chelsea?" Veronica tried again, only to be met with similar silence. She sighed and carefully set her nail polish aside, holding her half-painted nails aloft as she stood and walked down the hall.

Sure enough, Chelsea was in the foyer, wresting her jacket from the packed closet. But something was...off. Her styled blonde hair and impeccable makeup were ready for a Friday night out, but her yoga pants and striped tank-top combo definitely was not. And...was she not wearing a bra underneath?

"Yo, Chels," Veronica said as she padded closer. Her friend turned, appearing to register the greeting this time.

"Oh, hey," Chelsea said, seeming distracted as she threw her coat on. "What's up?"

"You, uh, you doing okay?" Veronica asked. "Your mom finally call you or something?"

"Huh?" Chelsea blinked. "Oh, um. No. Not yet."

"Okay so...do you wanna come with me and Maddi to—"

"Sorry, I can't." Chelsea interrupted. "I have to go and uh...take care of some...thing..." her voice trailed off, her gaze becoming oddly dull and distant as she turned and headed out the door.

Veronica stood in the empty foyer for a moment, trying and failing to process what she just witnessed before drifting back into the common area.

"What was that all about?" Maddi asked.

"Dunno," Veronica answered, dropping back onto the couch. "Guess she's got somewhere to be."

Maddi chuckled. "Better be somewhere good if she's sneakin' out like that."

Veronica sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I just hope she's okay. She's seemed really strung-out all week."

"Did she finally get the call from momma-saurus-rex? Thought I heard her on the phone when I came in."

"Wait, really?" Veronica sat up. "With who?"

"Dunno. She had it on speaker, but I couldn't really make out the other voice," Maddi squinted in thought. "Although...it did kinda sound like..." she let out a frustrated sigh. "Ah, never mind. Think I'm imagining things."

"Some help you are." Veronica sank into the sofa, disappointed.

Maddi smirked. "Are you worried that she's got a boy on the hook? Or maybe even a girl?" she added with a devilish grin.

Veronica shot Maddi a glare, not appreciating the jab. "Very funny. But that's not it. She would tell me if she was seeing somebody."

Or at least, Veronica hoped she would. But there was no need to tell Maddi that, especially when she had just teased Veronica about her own amorous history.

In truth, there was one other time that Chelsea had acted this way. It was back when the two of them were in high school, when Chelsea had secretly started dating a boy without her mother's approval. What started as a rebellious fling turned into a fight that left Chelsea locked in her room for days. To save face and reassure her mother, Chelsea had to humiliate her poor beau on Christmas, spinning the whole affair as a demonstration of her manipulative might. But Veronica knew better. She had seen Chelsea's hidden glances turn to hidden tears.

Whatever her best friend's new secret was, Veronica hoped to God it had a happier ending. Hiding her own feelings while helping Chelsea up had been bad enough the first time—Veronica wasn't sure she had strength to do it again. If there was one thing she had learned from their friendship, it was that denial wasn't the death of desire—it was the fuel.

And all it would take was the right spark to set it ablaze.

________________________________

Seb hesitated as he mounted the steps to the graduate library. The Grad (as it was called) was an infamously ominous presence: a towering cathedral-like structure hidden down a forested path. Its stone façade and gothic architecture were the pride and joy of the school, remnants from the days when Diepner was known more for its seminary than its social scene. Now the lonely building felt less like a holy beacon and more like a lonely ghost. Seb supposed that was why there were rumors of the halls being haunted, and why even the most studious of students tended to avoid it.

He hoped dearly that held true tonight.

Seb swiped his student ID through the entrance card reader and pushed open the heavy oak doors. The receptionist didn't even bother looking up from her phone as he slipped into the library proper. The ground level held mostly open desks and furniture for studying, but the second floor was an absolute maze of overladen shelves and forgotten pushcarts. Warm lighting filtered through the rows of academic journals and textbooks, creating pockets of intimate shadows. Not only did the tomes block long sightlines, but their thick paper binding also worked as impromptu sound-proofing: even on high alert as he was, Seb still had to strain to hear the sound of his own footsteps as he ventured deeper into the Grad.

He had to hand it to Chelsea: she had picked the perfect place for a covert rendezvous. The question was if she would make it as well.

Seb's heart hammered in his ears as he neared their agreed meeting point. The naked photo on his phone was proof enough of the Vox's efficacy over the airwaves, but controlling Chelsea remotely had proven far more taxing than he had expected. It made a kind of sense, he guessed: the Vox seemed to feed off of his own lust and desire, so it followed that controlling a subject would come more naturally in person than at a remove. Still, forcing his power through the scratchy phone speaker had left him feeling tired and woozy. A part of him worried that, even if Chelsea showed up, he would struggle to overcome her considerable mental barriers.

Fortunately, the part between his legs didn't harbor the same doubts.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer, Seb rounded the corner. For a moment, his heart froze.

There she was. Staring through a shelf of scientific histories, her red lips parted vacantly, her unzipped jacket starting to slip from her slumped shoulders, her bare skin the color of cream. If he was worried about the Vox's stamina, those fears were swiftly put to rest. It took all of Seb's willpower to contain its eagerness, forcing him to announce his approach with a strained cough.

Chelsea blinked, the light returning to her eyes as she faced him. "The psychology section, huh?" she asked with an arched eyebrow. "Cute."

"It was the only one I knew I could find from memory," Seb confessed. "I uh, actually spent a lot of time here my freshman year."

"Reading about hypnosis?" Chelsea guessed.

Seb blushed and nodded.

"Why does that not surprise me?" she traced a delicate finger over the worn leather bindings. "Bet that kind of feels like a waste now."

"I-if I knew then what I know now, I'm sure a lot about my first year would be different."

"Now there's a scary thought," her lips quirked into an uneasy smile. "A freshman with mind control powers. The campus wouldn't have lasted a week."

"Y-yeah. Maybe," Seb paused. They were stalling, and they both knew it. Over the phone, Seb had given Chelsea two sets of commands before hanging up, both intended to test the power and reach of his implanted "post-Vox triggers." The first was for Chelsea to come straight to the Grad. The second...

Seb cleared his throat. "So...what was it like coming over here?"

Chelsea brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was, uh...weird. I could fight your instructions if I wanted to, but the uh, the compulsion was still there. And if I lost concentration I'd sort of just...drift off and start following your orders automatically."

"Huh," Seb clenched his fist, fighting the thrill of arousal racing through his body. "Interesting."

His subject laughed nervously and shrugged. "I actually meant to get a little more dressed up than this, but I, uh, spaced out while checking my hair, and the next thing I knew, I was practically out the door. It was, um," she bit her lip. "Yeah. 'Interesting,' I guess."

Seb nodded, trying to keep a poker face as his mind raced. She tried to dress up for him? That wasn't part of his commands—he had told her to just come to the Grad as quickly as possible. Which meant she had to actively fight his orders to doll herself up. Was she just trying to cover in case she ran into her friends on the way over?

Or...was she actually trying to entice him? To please him? Not because of the Vox but because...because...

Seb reconsidered his subject as she met his gaze. She was wearing an expression he had never seen on her before: her head bowed slightly, looking up with eyes at once shy and inviting, her cheeks flushed. She knew what was coming next. But she wasn't trying to anticipate it—wasn't trying to pull or push him into action. She was just waiting. Waiting for her Master's orders.

Seb couldn't resist any longer.

"Kneel," he commanded.

__________________________________________________

Chelsea could feel Master's gaze moving over her body after she drew attention to her clothes. Even if the story of her failing to change was true, it was still embarrassing that she felt needy enough to tell it. It was such an obvious maneuver—such a Sorority 101 ploy for attention. But that didn't mean it wasn't effective. Nor that she was entirely unhappy with the results.

She wondered if he could tell how hard her nipples were through her tank-top.

His eyes rose to meet hers, and Chelsea felt her heart flutter. It was coming—she could feel it. The word that would collapse her world into the palm of his hand; the word she herself had suggested as a trigger; the word that any Jaeger would feel an instinctual revulsion to obeying. And yet, she could already feel her body yearning for it: her ears burned in the silence, her legs shivered with anticipation, and her pulse thrummed with dreadful desire. Stripping in her own room was one thing—but to submit to Master here, in public, to abandon all of her cares and convictions just to please a man, all with the uttering of a single, sacrilegious word...

That wasn't an experiment. That wasn't seduction. That was surrender.

And she had never been more ready for it.

A shadow shifted behind her Master's eyes. "Kneel," he said, his voice flat and even.

Chelsea sucked in an involuntary gasp of surprise. One week ago, such a command would've elicited nothing but a bark of laughter and a scathing rebuttal. She had pitied the girls who debased themselves in front of men, who gave their bodies so willingly to the pleasure of others. It was like her mother had said: how could a woman ever hope to stand tall if she spent so much time on her knees?

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered now was Master's cock.

Her eyes had drifted to his crotch without her even noticing, her mouth salivating in anticipation. He hadn't even spoken using the Vox, and already Chelsea found it hard to think of anything else but the bulge between his legs. She tried to focus on her surroundings, to remind herself that at any moment, she might see the shadow of an interloper pass by the shelves, or catch the eyes of an unwitting spectator down the aisle. Yet even as she tried to ground herself in the fear of discovery, an undeniable urge kept tugging her at her thoughts.

She needed to...needed to...

Chelsea blinked. She was on her knees now, her tank-top pulled over her breasts. It was happening just like Master had described. She sensed him tense, his breath quickening as she steadied her head in line with the object of her fascination. She wasn't in trance, but she still felt his power working inside her, softening her will and sweetening her submission. It would feel so good to give in, the voice whispered. Whether it was her own thoughts or the Vox was becoming difficult to say. But it spoke truth all same.

She could fight it all she wanted—she could dwell on the danger being found out, fret over Veronica, and worry about her mother. But why would she? She didn't have to hold onto those heavy thoughts; she didn't have to be afraid, or worried, or troubled.

She could just be obedient. And she loved to obey. Master had told her so himself.

Chelsea sighed and let her mind drift. Her eyelids drooped, but she could still perfectly make out her fingers fumbling with Master's belt buckle, each brush against his erection causing her thighs to clench. She tried to control the rising desperation in her chest, tried to steady her shaking hands. Even if her thoughts were becoming hazy, even if her blood ran hot with need, she had to focus on her orders.

She had to suck Master's cock.

"This is insane," she heard Master whisper as she unzipped his jeans. She could only manage a quiet murmur in response: if she opened her mouth now, she would drip all over herself.

It was so close now, just a thin layer of fabric separating her from the key to her release. All she needed to do was pull Master's boxers down and...

Cock. Chelsea's mouth fell open involuntarily, a thin line of drool running from her lips onto her leggings. It was so prominent, so commanding, so...captivating. Master shifted his legs, causing the perfect pink tip to sway, Chelsea's eyes tracking it automatically.

"Is this real?" Master whispered. "Y-you're not just messing with me, right?" Chelsea could barely decipher what he was saying, but his words did push her out of her temporary paralysis. As arousing as it was, staring wasn't sucking. And Master had been very clear about what he wanted.

She leaned forward, wrapping her lips tight around his rigid member. Chelsea had only given head once in her life before, and a part of her was nervous she was ill-equipped for Master's pleasure. But as she slid her tongue around the shaft and pushed him deeper inside, she realized the two experiences were nothing alike. Before, she was pantomiming a transaction—now, she was fulfilling a purpose.

An intoxicating, entrancing, irresistible purpose.

"W-wait, stop," Master suddenly gasped, his hand gripping her shoulder.

Chelsea slowed, then stopped, reluctantly sliding the cock free. She licked her lips, brow furrowing as a strange, muddled emptiness spread through her. It felt disorienting, like a dream disturbed; like a song interrupted before its final chorus. "What's wrong?" she managed to ask. "Am I not doing it right?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Master quickly assured her. "I just, um, need to check: how are you feeling?"

Chelsea tilted her head. That's why he had stopped her? To ask how she was feeling? A tinge of guilt pricked her stomach. Maybe she really was doing something wrong, and Master was trying to let her down gently.

Wait...no.

Chelsea sat back and blinked the heaviness from her eyes, pushing against Master's power until she could squeeze her thoughts free. Then she remembered: the whole pretext of this was that the two of them were experimenting with the Vox. As far as Master knew, that's all this was: a scientific trial. It made sense, then, that he would stop her before things went too far, that he would be more concerned with her state of mind than her blowjob technique.

Even if it kind of infuriated her.

"Um...good, I guess," she said, still fighting the urge to dive back into her duties. "I mean...it's like it was before. I think. But uh..." she looked away, hoping to formulate a more coherent answer. But as her mind emerged from the Vox's depths, all that greeted her was the cold, disappointing reality she had so briefly managed to forget.

Master sighed and stepped back. "M-maybe we should stop for now," he muttered. "I think we've uh, proven the point." He was right, of course—that was the logical thing to do. Everything beyond this point was uncharted territory for the both of them—it was best to just play it safe, to inch their way forward bit by bit. In a way, she should be thankful that Master was this concerned about her well-being.

But she didn't feel thankful. She felt cheated.

And, looking at Master again, she guessed he felt the same way.

Chelsea let out a shaky breath, her mind tingling as the Vox's programming started to seep in again. She welcomed it this time, allowing its inspiration to guide her wavering thoughts—to help her stop thinking like Chelsea Jaeger, and start thinking like a good girl. Right now, that was all she wanted to be.

Fuck logic. She needed to make Master cum.

Chelsea bent down on all fours, crawling beneath his cock and gazing up with what she hoped was a tempting smile. "Are you sure that's what you want...Master?" she asked, sticking her tongue out so it just barely grazed his quivering flesh.

Master's breath caught in his throat. "This is insane," he whispered again. Chelsea closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his tip, giving it a gentle, teasing kiss. She knew there was a side of Master that wanted to take her, that wanted to turn her into the mindless whore of her dreams. She had caught a glimpse of it before—now she just needed to bring that Master out again, to coax the dangerous gleam back into his eyes, to ignite the flame that would burn away her cares and transform her into a being of pure, joyous servitude.

Master's breathing slowed. Chelsea looked up, nuzzling her cheek against his cock. Eager and ready for him to unleash the voice she so desperately craved.

Then the floor beside her vibrated. And Chelsea's entire world froze over.

Master's eyes flicked to her coat lying on the ground. Before he could form the question, Chelsea leapt to retrieve her phone from her pocket, hands fumbling as she turned the device towards her. The shining screen seemed to suck the light from the surrounding air, forcing her to stare at the name flashing before her:

"Elise Jaeger." It was her mother.

Chelsea's hands gripped the sides of the phone, as though by sheer force they could push the invader away, could hold back the inevitable reckoning. But she knew it was no use. Her fate was sealed the moment she showed any signs of weakness. That's the way it was in her world.

Tears pricked Chelsea's eyes. She had gotten so close. So nearly free from these endless trials. But her name always caught up with her, every time. Now she had to speak to her mother with the taste of Master still fresh on her tongue. Chelsea had never felt so low. So pitiful. So...

"Chelsea."

Chelsea tensed, as though an electric shock had pricked her ears.

It couldn't be.

"Turn around and face me."

Chelsea did as she was told, her movements rigid and stiff. Conflicting emotions and impulses waged war inside of her, the violence only heightened by the sight of her Master striding towards her, his face alight with purpose, his hard cock nodding with every step.

"I...I..." she tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.

"Give me the phone," her Master commanded.

Chelsea hesitated as the Vox crashed through her. "C-can't..." she stammered. "It...it..."

"It doesn't concern you," he intoned, his mesmerizing eyes fixed on hers. "You shouldn't worry about it."

He extended his open palm. Chelsea shivered, her petrified grip loosening, her arm extending on its own to heed its Master's call. "B-but...I...need to..."

Master reached his other hand around and clasped the nape of her neck. She gasped, her mouth falling open as warmth flowed from his fingers, easing her body and brain. "You don't need to do anything but listen and obey, remember?" he gently asked.

"Y-yessssss..." Chelsea sighed, almost losing her grip on her phone as the confession sent a wave of relaxation through her. She did remember. She remembered it all. Listening and obeying. Easy and natural.