Vox Dominus Pt. 17

Chapter 17

Chelsea stood petrified in front of the door, a short-circuiting robot struggling to process the world around her. Distance and time no longer made sense; impulses fired in random directions and collided in mid-flight. She should open the door. She should run. She should call Master. Why would she call Master? She couldn't say; she just needed somebody to tell her why. Why was her mother here? Why was everything falling apart?

How long had she been standing there?

"Chelsea, don't be childish," Elise Jaeger scolded. "Keeping me out here won't make me leave; I'll just get one of the staff to open this door. Or perhaps I should contact your roommates. Wouldn't that be nice, dragging them into your mess as well?"

A fresh jolt of panic zapped Chelsea, miraculously rattling her synapses back into place. She pivoted on her heel, racing back to her room. There was no time to consider the reason for her mother's sudden arrival: all Chelsea could do now was mitigate the damage.

That meant dealing with the drooling, masturbating girl on her bed.

No time for subtly—Chelsea crossed the room in two strides and threw the headphones off of her moaning subject. She grabbed Sophia's face, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Sophia, can you hear me?" Chelsea hissed.

"Hngh?" The busy girl blinked. "Um, yeah...hear you..." she drawled, her fingers still lazily tracing the lips of her pussy.

"You love to obey, don't you?"

"Yes...love to obey Master..."

Chelsea swallowed. Sophia was still in trance, but odds were it wouldn't take much to shake her out of it. "That's a good girl," the blonde murmured, moving Sophia's hand away from her dripping snatch and guiding the naked, unsteady girl to her feet. "Master just gave me some very important instructions for you. And you'll follow them, right?"

"Follow...yes..." Sophia's brow furrowed. "Wait...Master...?" she put a finger to her still-glistening lips. "Where...is...Master?"

Chelsea threw open the door to her closet. "He said you need to wait here and listen to his voice. But you need to do so quietly, understand?"

Sophia's eyelids fluttered. "Listen to his voice..." she echoed as Chelsea plopped her down below a rack of coats. "Feels good...to listen..."

"Yes exactly. Quietly though," Chelsea emphasized, retrieving her phone and slipping Sophia's headphones back on her head.

"Quiet...ahhhh..." Sophia slumped against the wall, her mouth hanging open and the light in her eyes dimming as the recording started again.

Chelsea shut the door, pausing for a moment to make sure no moans of ecstasy leaked through. It was a far from ideal solution, but still preferable to waking Sophia up and trying to juggle her and Elise at once.

The doorbell rang again.

Chelsea rushed to unbutton her blouse, tearing it and her skirt off and tossing them across the floor. She scooped up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie as she dashed for the door, hastily covering her bare pussy and lacey push-up bra. Hopefully her mother wouldn't ask her to strip for an inspection; it was unlikely, but not impossible.

A quick pause in the hall mirror to smudge her makeup was all the time she had left. She opened the front door, blinking as though uncertain if she were dreaming or not.

"Mom?" she said. "What are you—"

"There you are," Elise interrupted, brushing past her daughter like an icy breeze. "Took the scenic route, did you?"

"Sorry..." Chelsea mumbled, trying to sound tired even as her neck-hairs stood on end. "I was asleep."

"At nine-thirty on a Friday?" Elise asked, surveying the apartment. "You're not sick, are you?"

"No..."

"Pregnant? Amnesic? Delusional?"

"Of course not."

"Then how do you explain yourself?"

Chelsea rubbed her forehead. "I was just tired. Isn't that an acceptable excuse?"

Elise crossed her arms. "For mere tardiness, perhaps. But from what I've seen, very little about your sophomore year has been 'acceptable.'"

Chelsea's jaw clenched. "What are you talking about? Why are you even here?"

"As if you don't already know," Elise laughed, shaking her head as she moved down the hall.

Chelsea trailed reluctantly behind, her eyes narrowed. "Is this about my grades? If you had checked this morning, you'd see that they're back where they should be."

"Correcting a mistake doesn't mean it never happened," Elise tutted.

Chelsea scoffed. "Now you're just being cruel."

"Perhaps," Elise replied, reaching the kitchen. She scanned the array of bottles, frowning until she found one that seemed to meet her grudging approval. "Truth is often crueler than fiction," she continued, mixing herself a drink. "To use another example: while you may believe that college life is yours to shape as you please, the cruel truth is that it's only through my grace that it exists. And that can be revoked as easily as it was given."

"Nothing is easy with you," Chelsea shot back. "But that hasn't stopped me from passing every asinine test your throw my way. So if you want to use me as a punching bag, fine—I'll get through it like I always do."

Elise took a sip of her drink, her eyes unblinking as she regarded her daughter. "Is that why you think I came here? To vent? To assuage my own ego?"

Chelsea hesitated. For a brief moment, she feared her mother had somehow heard about Master but...no, this had to be a bluff. Elise had probably seen Chelsea's academic errors as an opening, and was fishing for further leverage. So long as she didn't take the bait, Chelsea would be safe. Relatively speaking.

"I don't know why you're here," Chelsea sighed. "Like I said, my grades are back on track. Everything is going as planned. Or at least it was until you showed up a week early."

"Ah." Elise set her glass down. "So you haven't been skipping sorority meetings then?"

Chelsea blinked. "My attendance isn't perfect, if that's what you're asking. But I'm always there when I need to be, and Veronica keeps me updated otherwise, so..."

"A reasonable explanation," Elise nodded. "Or it would be, if not for your...other transgressions."

"Transgressions?" Chelsea's throat tightened, forcing her to swallow. "What are you talking about?"

"What indeed?" Elise advanced, closing in like a cat cornering a mouse. "Perhaps I'm referring to you abandoning your friends late at night with nary an explanation? Or maybe the time you invited a complete stranger into your circle and told people she was an acquaintance of mine? Is any of this ringing a bell?"

Chelsea didn't even think it was possible for her heart to beat this fast. For the second time that night, she had been caught completely off-guard by her opponent. But that didn't mean she was done for. Like with Sophia, there was still a chance Chelsea could turn this around. If only she could regain her balance.

She forced a laugh. "This is news to me. I don't know who told you all this, but they clearly—"

Elise cut her off, waving her hand as though swatting a gnat. "Don't bother with that old gambit. You've insulted me enough—at least do me the courtesy of respecting my sources."

"Then...who..?"

"You really don't know?" Elise grimaced, a glimmer of pity in her eyes. "It was Veronica, sweetheart. She told me everything."

The name pierced Chelsea's chest, so sharp and fast she almost laughed. There was no way this was happening. Veronica knew what Elise was like, had seen the havoc she could wreak. Could it be that Chelsea's best friend, the support she had clung to when couldn't stand...was now a weapon in her mother's grasp?

Elise sighed. "I was as surprised as you are. But it seems the poor girl has been feeling quite neglected as of late. Ever since you met...what was his name again?" She arched an eyebrow. "Sebastian Wakefield, was it?"

Chelsea's breath stuck in her throat. Her Master's name rung in her ears, blurring her vision and sapping her strength. The full scope of Elise's attack was finally clear, and Chelsea's pitiful defenses were rapidly crumbling.

"Seems I've hit the nail on the head," Elise observed. "Would you like to explain, or should I assume the worst?"

"I....I...." Chelsea's voice faded as the ground beneath her gave way. She plummeted in helpless free-fall, speed and terror stripping away all semblance of balance and control. Her mind clawed at the air, reaching for distant possibilities, desperate for anything to slow her breakneck descent. But any plan that she grasped dissolved into nothing. She couldn't convince Elise to listen to the recording. Nor could Chelsea guarantee it would work on someone who hadn't heard the Vox before. She couldn't turn to Veronica for help anymore, nor would any of her other "friends" risk defying Elise on her behalf. Chelsea couldn't even run or fight on her own. Everything she owned, all the connections she had—Elise held the keys to them all.

Chelsea had nothing.

No friends, no allies.

Just a growing cavity in her chest, and humiliated tears leaking down her cheeks.

"I...I..." she continued to stammer between sharp, shaking breaths. Even though she was motionless, her body struggled for air. She had been a fool. She had thought she could actually face her mother on equal footing. But she was still living in Elise's world, still bound by her laws. What had made Chelsea think this time would be different? Hadn't she learned this lesson by now? How could she have been so stupid?

"Oh, Chelsea," Elise softened, reaching for her daughter. "It's okay. Your mother understands."

Chelsea sucked a painful gasp through her teeth, flinching as Elise's fingers stroked her cheek. But the defeated girl couldn't pull away, couldn't resist shivering against every caress. She recognized her mother's gambit, knew her affection could evaporate any moment. Yet as long as it existed, Chelsea couldn't resist its pull. She would fall to its whims like she always did, clinging to its promise like a fading dream. No matter how awful the inevitable awakening.

"In a way, this is my fault as much as yours," Elise murmured. "I've been too hard on you, expecting you to grow up as fast as I did. But how could you? Your adolescence has been nothing like mine. I've shielded you from the worst of the world, given you privileges I never had. I should've known it would lead to this—that even as you learned to pantomime adulthood, you were still the same lost, scared child you've always been. In need of guidance. In need of protection. I'm right, aren't I?"

Even as her stomach churned, Chelsea found herself nodding. It was true. She was lost. And so, so scared.

"Don't worry," Elise said. "Your mother will take care of you." She stood and extended her hand. "Come. I have a suite in town for the weekend. We have many plans to make, and I'd rather not have any more interference with your...education."

Chelsea took her mother's hand without a word, gliding numbly towards the door. She was dimly aware that Sophia was still in her room, but couldn't bring herself to break from Elise's grasp. It all seemed so childish now, her dreams of running away, her fantasies about Master and a life of bliss. None of it was real, not compared to the truth in her mother's words, the power of her touch. They knew Chelsea better than Master ever did, and would shape her into something more perfect than he ever could.

And yet...for the briefest of moments, she imagined Master waiting for her outside, pictured his eyes meeting hers, heard the echo of the Vox in her ears.

She wiped the tear away before her mother could see it.

______________________________________________

It was dark, but Sophia wasn't concerned.

Should she be?

She blinked, peering at her surroundings as though through a dense fog. She was in a small room. Naked. Her breasts were dappled with drool. Her hand was resting against her spread legs, her fingers coated with her own juices. Her glasses were askew, and there were headphones on her head.

It felt like she should be concerned.

Yet even as the thought occurred to her, it began floating away, like a balloon slipping from her fingertips. She grasped at it, but in doing so several other fleeting threads escaped from her mind, making it impossible to focus on recovering them.

So she sat, her lips curved into a vague pout, waiting for the world to start making sense again. If only Master were here. He could tell her what to do.

Wait...Master...

That was...Seb, wasn't it?

Seb was Master. That felt right.

Had he...always been Master?

Sophia sat up, groggily wiping her fingers on her thigh before readjusting her glasses. Strange memories of Master drifted through her brain, recollections of sleepless slumber parties, raucous game nights, and endless adventures in the woods. She remembered his nervous stutter when she had found his book on hypnotism, and the glow in his eyes when she had told him it was interesting. He hadn't been Master then, and yet...he was Master. Her Master. Whom she loved to obey. It felt good to obey. She was a good girl. She...

She moaned, rubbing her forehead. It took so much work to marshal a few thoughts in place, yet stray ideas kept setting off rapid chain reactions, like dominos falling outside her control. She focused on her surroundings, hoping the present would pull her out of her whirling head.

There were coats hanging just above her. And dresses. She was in a closet, one larger than her bathroom back home. A phone was resting next to her, but it wasn't hers. Yet her headphones were plugged into it. And a moment ago...she was pretty sure it had been playing a recording of Master's voice.

His voice. She had to listen. It felt good to listen. To follow his words. To obey like a good girl should.

As if in a dream, Sophia's hand moved on its own, scooping up the phone and bringing it close. Her dazed reflection stared back at her on the dark screen, the spark of recognition giving her a moment's pause. But it didn't last. Master wanted her to listen. She had to obey. It felt good to obey. So easy and natural. Much more so than thinking.

The phone buzzed in her hands: locked. Disappointment trickled through Sophia, followed by a rush of revulsion. She quickly unplugged her headphones, tossing the phone deeper into the closet before it could tempt her further. What was wrong with her? Why had she been practically salivating over a stranger's phone? A vision flashed through her mind, an image of her on a bed, drooling and moaning as hands caressed her breasts and teased her pussy, her hips grinding mindlessly, automatically as her willpower leaked out between her legs.

Sophia shook her head. The vision was terrifying. Mystifying. And, in a way she couldn't explain...tempting.

She didn't know why, but she had to get out of there.

Sophia threw open the door to the closet, blinking in the light of a room at once alien and familiar. That desk...those panties...that bed...every point of recognition became a further anchor for her drifting thoughts. She remembered this was Chelsea's room. Sophia had come here to test something. Master's power. Even though it was obvious now, she hadn't believed in it back then. Until Chelsea had put these headphones on Sophia's head and...Sophia had tried to stop her but...

But that didn't make sense. Why would Sophia try to resist? She loved to listen and follow Master's voice. She loved to obey. All of this was true, and yet, she remembered fighting it all the same. The dissonance was paralyzing—she stood dumbly in the middle of the room, rooted to the spot as the competing realities fought for supremacy. It was like when she had recalled memories of the before-Master: some part of her knew they were real, yet they seemed askew somehow, unable to mesh with the new truths shaping her thoughts.

Maybe she should give up and stop trying to force it. Maybe she should forget that she was ever without Master's guidance...accept his ownership of her body and mind without question.

Her eyes fell on the bed, another anchor yanking her into a startling realization.

Had she...been brainwashed?

Her pussy twitched. A fresh dribble of arousal trickled down her leg.

Those sheets looked awfully inviting. And Sophia felt so tired all of a sudden. She could find the phone again if she wanted to. She could send Master a text, put the headphones back on her ears, and slip into blissful surrender while she waited for his arrival. That sounded nice. Easy. Natural. It would feel so good. To let him take her. To just stop trying to make sense of all of this. To let him tell her what she needed to think instead.

But then she saw her clothes on the ground. And remembered the brief moment when Master's voice had stopped, when she had struggled against Chelsea's grasp. The way the blonde had smirked, the way she had cooed condescendingly while she...stroked and caressed Sophia back into submission...the way Chelsea's soft, perfect breasts felt in Sophia's hands...

Escape. Sophia had to escape. She could figure out what to do about Master later. But this was Chelsea's domain—no good could come from lingering here.

With unsteady hands, Sophia collected the remnants of her outfit on the floor, forcing all of her attention on placing each article back in its place. So intense was her focus that she was quite startled when the door to the room opened, and a confused, rigid man in a suit hesitated in the entryway.

"Oh. My apologies," the man said, averting his eyes. "I thought this was Ms. Jaeger's room. You must be one of her roommates."

"Yes," Sophia answered blankly, more out of instinct than intentional deception. It took another full beat to process that she was still missing her tank top, a fact she quickly corrected. "S-sorry," she uttered without knowing why.

The man smiled apologetically. "The fault's all mine. Though if it's not too much trouble, could you point me towards her room? I work for the family, and her mother asked that I collect her things."

"Uh. This is...it." Sophia gestured vaguely around her, only to gradually realize how strange of an answer that was.

"Oh. So..." the man looked around the room, then quizzically at her.

"I...left my top here." The excuse was barely out of her mouth before Sophia was hurrying past him towards the exit. For a moment, it seemed like he might try to stop her, but she closed the door before he could make up his mind. She wasn't sure what was happening, but her goosebumps urged her not to stick around and find out.

Without a glance back, Sophia yanked her coat off the hanger and dashed out of the apartment. The dizziness in her head was finally fading, but her thoughts were still in a jumble as she descended to the ground floor and slipped into the cool night outside. Streams of students and honking cars passed on the street, causing her to hesitate, directionless and uncertain. It was like a new filter had been placed over her senses, subtly warping everything she perceived, rendering it recognizable yet out-of-place.

Now what?

A weary sigh escaped her lips. She felt drained, adrift and still a little aroused. A part of her wanted to just go back to her dorm, masturbate until she fell asleep, and let everything sort itself out in the morning. But another voice told her that was dangerous. If Master...no, if Chelsea had really brainwashed her, there was a chance sleeping now would just cement the programming in place. And while the thought of surrender tempted her heart, her resistance refused to yield. Even if Seb was her Master, even if she loved to obey, what Chelsea did was still awful. She had tricked Sophia and stolen her mind. Without her approval. Without Master's approval. It was wrong.

Even if she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.

A fresh wave of confusion crashed through Sophia, submerging her in the dissonance she had just managed to escape. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't just give in and go to sleep, but she would get nowhere swimming in her own head either. She needed help. She needed direction.