Acquisition

She smiled. Slavetwelve was always very good at appearing calm when praised. It amused her to see how each of her slaves reacted. Despite being wiped clean and turned into her living zombies, each slave still displayed subtle remnants of permissible individuality. She could have had slavenine work on the programming so that even these were made uniform but as they were of no harm and did not pose a threat, why bother wasting time and energy on fixing something that wasn't broken. In fact, she found it quite endearing. Sometimes, it reminded her of the pet rabbits she had kept during her childhood.

"Excellent slavetwelve," she laughed. "You never cease to amuse me."

The vinyl clad slave continued to stare blankly into her eyes.

"I permit you to come now," she grinned, watching as slavetwelve sunk to her knees, body gasping with pleasure as one of her hands began stimulating her crotch.

The intercom buzzed. Looked away from her moaning slave and pressed the button.

"Speak," she commanded.

"Mistress, slavenine reports that the subject in the conversion chamber has successfully completed the neural reformatting procedure. Slavenine awaits further command."

"Excellent. Have slavenine install standard slave programming as well as my fetish and bondage protocols."

"At once Mistress," the voice responded before the intercom went silent.

Raising herself up from the chair she walked over to the exit, passing slavetwelve who was back on her feet, her expressionless face reddened through her exertions. Her heeled boots clattered loudly on the tiled floor as she made her way down the long corridor of the large stately home she had purchased. An elevator at the end of the corridor brought her down to the specially constructed basement level where she kept her less legal activities concealed from whatever visitors might appear at the upper levels.

Turning left from the elevator brought her to another long white tiled corridor with regularly spaced openings on either side with glossy black doors emblazoned with a large, bold, white number. Finally she approached a door. Freshly painted, the white digits of the number 27 sparkled in the fluorescent lighting. She paused momentarily, admiring the latest decoration, before entering the small room,

Small it certainly was; just a bit longer than the length of the black vinyl mattress and just wide enough for the necessary equipment. Hearing somebody enter the room, the kneeling slave looked around. Registering the presence of her owner the girl abandoned the wires she was threading into the metal equipment beneath the mattress and stood proudly to attention, arms stiffly by her sides, chest thrust outwards. A tool belt, containing various gadgetry was the only item of clothing that disrupted the erotic effect that the smooth, red bodysuit, contoured to her shapely, curvaceous form produced. Apart from the bodysuit, the slave also wore a pair of knee high black heeled boots and a standard black slave collar containing the number seventeen.

"Report slaveseventeen," she commanded.

The young Asian woman spoke clearly, calmly. "Preparations are almost complete for the newly acquired slave Mistress. The neural interface equipment has been installed and is now being wired to the central control computer."

She glanced over at the vacant bed. Instead of a pillow, there was a slightly raised, padded section, clearly designed to hold a human head which was lined with various metallic devices which would encircle the rear portion of the sleeper's head.

"Good. I'm sure my new pet will appreciate the efforts you have made on her behalf slaveseventeen," she quipped.

"You may continue with your task slave."

"Yes Mistress," the erect drone replied.

Casually leaning against the door frame, she watched idly as the slave returned to her knees and began the seemingly complicated task of connecting the various coloured wires trailing from the plain metal box under the headrest to a large wall socket which would link it to a central control point.

Slavenine's genius at work again. The process had evolved so much now that it was actually quite difficult for her to follow all the detailed minutiae of exactly what did what but the opportunity to bombard the sleeping brain's flat, receptive, theta waves with programming was not one to be ignored.

There would be no chance for Chloe to escape the continual brainwashing that would accompany her existence for the rest of her life.

* * *

The subject's eyes were open now. Wide, deep, dark brown pools of emptiness that gazed into the abyss. The dome had performed it's task well, as it always did. Everything that had once defined the subject as Chloe Waterhouse was gone.

Just an empty vessel ready to be refilled.

The brown eyes looked at her. The girl had sensed the movement, nothing more.

There was nothing behind that gaze.

No fear.

No curiosity.

No anticipation.

Yet.

Slavenine set to work again wheeling over yet another metal trolley. The doe eyes of the placid, drooling woman strapped to the chair followed the slave's every move. She watched as the white woman knelt between her splayed legs. A slight instinctive moan as her body felt the intrusion between her legs and her muscles tightened around the hardness inside her body.

The white woman was standing again now. She had more shiny metal things in her hands which she started to attach over her head again. Something made her eyes grow dimmer. It was no longer so easy to see the white figure. Then it was quiet. No noise.

The white woman was walking away from her now. She strode purposefully towards the bank of screens and displays. The woman was looking at the shining screens, pressing buttons.

A small puddle of drool had collected under her chin. Chloe didn't care.

Now things began to happen.

Colours filled Chloe's eyes.

Noises assailed her hearing.

The intruder buried inside her began to swell.

The white woman was standing by the console again, operating the controls one handed. The other hand was between her white legs.

Now Chloe no longer noticed her.

Chloe was gone.

* * *

"Enter," she barked. The door opened inwards and two female figures entered the classically decorated, book lined study. She glanced up from the soft couch she was sprawled upon and placed the interesting book, that had transported her into the world of the eighteenth century Grand Tour for so long, down on the antique mahogany table beside her. The two women had adopted identical erect stances and stood side by side. The new entrants did not speak.

Her eyes ran over the chocolate coloured form of the naked woman alongside slavenine. The woman's long, thick dark hair was now brushed tightly back and gathered by a thick black band at the top of her head. The naked woman stood completely still, arms stiffly by her sides, head held high, her small, pert chest thrust forward, erect nipples standing proud under her inspecting gaze.

The pair of dark brown eyes stared forward. They did not waver for an instant.

"Well, well, what have we here," she mused as she got off the couch and approached her two slaves. Gently she reached out and caressed the left nipple. It was as if the naked girl had been given an electric shock the way the ripple of pure, blinding ecstasy ran through the tautly coiled slave's body. The dazzling bliss of being touched by her Mistress. The brown eyes still stared forward, never moving from hers.

"So my pretty one, did you enjoy becoming my slave?" she inquired lightly.

The voice that replied was struggling hard to remain calm, on the brink of an unimaginable explosion of sheer pleasure.

"Yes Mistress," the quivering voice managed to reply.

She smiled again at her new slave. "Good, I thought you might be more appreciative now. I intend to enjoy you slavetwentyseven."

Another visible shudder through the erect slave as her mind tasted the delight of being addressed for the first time by her true name.

"Slavenine, the collar please," she ordered, while maintaining her gaze into those adoring eyes.

Movement to her side. Reluctantly she tore herself away and glanced towards the vinyl bound slave standing to her side, offering reverentially, a tray towards her Mistress. On the tray was a black collar, the sign of belonging. Gently she felt the hard, stiff material of the collar between her fingers. The number 27 was slightly raised where it had been worked into the hard material of the collar. Surprisingly heavy to lift.

"This is the symbol of your final submission to my service," she informed the adoring eyes. "Everything that you once were is gone. All you are is mine. Slavetwentyseven has no past, no memories, no thoughts other than those I permit. The family of Chloe Waterhouse does not exist. The new slavetwentyseven's family only consists of her sister slaves and her Mistress."

With almost superhuman effort, the shaking form of the entranced drone barely maintained her stance.

"Slavetwentyseven will wear my collar for the rest of her life."

Rivulets of wetness snaked down the girl's legs.

"Kneel and be collared slavetwentyseven."

With a whimper, the slave sank to her knees before the supreme deity that every fibre of her body had been conditioned to obey.

The collar slid over the glistening, sweat drenched skin of the slave's neck. The body shivered even more at the touch. The collar slowly got tighter and tighter, pressing against her chin, forcing the trembling head into position. Then there was a clearly audible click. The collar was locked tight.

The black, unyielding band encircled the girl's neck forever.

She smiled and took one pace backwards from the body of her latest acquisition, that still knelt twitching in spasmodic ecstasy.

The white number against the black collar gleamed in the light of the room.

"You look well slavetwentyseven," she announced towards the brown eyes.

"Your Mistress permits you to come now slavetwentyseven."