Defences Activated

She blinked as she swayed in the kitchen doorway. Hah. You'd think that after napping so much during the day, she'd...

The stage stretched before her into the darkness.

She was suspended in a web of ropes. She knew she was laced onto an actual spiderweb shape, her limbs held essentially immobile with only the give in the ropes and the weave allowed to her.

She was upright, but tilted slightly to the left. Her left arm was stretched out straight and horizontal, her right lifted directly above her head. Her left leg was straight down, her right lifted above the horizontal. There was rope snugly against the underside of her breasts, and between them, but not constricting them this time.

Her head was loose, letting her look around and down at herself, but all she saw was darkness.

"Are you ready to finally embrace your true self?"

The voice came from all around her, a voice so deep and masculine and masterly it reverberated through her and left her tingling with pleasure.

She knew, suddenly and overwhelmingly, that yes, she was. She wanted to not wake up from this. She wanted to embrace this, how she felt during these sessions, for the rest of her days. She truly was a slave, and was meant to be one because she was a woman, and they were men, and that was natural and right.

"Yes," she said. "Please accept me, Master. Please let me become a slave."

The voice chuckled, and she gasped as it vibrated through her, leaving her aching with need.

"We think you are ready," the voice said, rich with amusement, triumph and gloating. The voice slid around her like the most lascivious of caresses, and she burned for something harder and firmer.

She began to almost make out faces in the darkness. A line of men, all those who had taken her in her visions over the past evenings and day.

"We must now reset your mind."

She moaned as the sound played over and through her, almost tactile. She knew what the words meant. It meant she would be destroyed by orgasms, to leave her a helpless blank slate. The thought made her clench inside.

How would they do it? She was eager for anything they chose. Clamps? Whips? Would they just fuck her, over and over again, one after another, until she was too exhausted to even have a mind any more?

She almost jumped in her ropes as she felt hands lightly touch her. Touches landed on her legs and belly and breasts and back. Then more hands began gently caressing her. She gasped in surprise, this sensation new and somehow even more erotic because of it.

When even more hands landed on her skin, she looked down, confused, but saw nothing. She tried to twist her head behind her, but ropes stopped her. More and more fingers and palms were trailing over her skin, each one the most erotic touch she had ever encountered, the total of them overwhelming.

Her body burned. She opened her mouth to gasp, but felt fingers, still unseen, slip between her lips. She began sucking them as hungrily as she would any cock, and the first fingertip slipped inside her.

The first orgasm rolled, soft but undeniable, through her body.

The touching became more intense. It began moving from simple caressing to fondling, to groping. Each one seemed to know exactly how to manipulate her flesh for the maximum effect. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of them, on her buttocks and between them, covering her back and her breasts, even her arms. Her breasts felt as though a dozen hands were independently teasing them to burning desire, each one of which could have made her helpless with lust but together...

She began cumming in a wave that crested and receded but never truly stopped. She was so well trained, now, that she came simply because she was being used, and the orgasms rolled on without end.

Every single inch of her skin was crawling with possessive, burning touches of fingertips and palms that stroked, felt, cupped, squeezed and massaged her.

Wave after wave ebbed and flowed through her, cresting and breaking her without ever fully retreating. She became only her orgasm, her flesh, and the hands that possessed her.

At 3am, Hala, naked and quivering from the exhaustion of orgasms, swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and dressed in her work clothes. She did not put on any underwear.

She left her apartment without taking her handbag or her purse or phone or keys.

On the street, an unremarkable black car waited for her.

She got into the back, where she sat quietly as it drove.

When the car stopped, she got out. She walked. She stepped onto a stage, then undressed. She stepped into a circle of light, then knelt.

"I am here, masters," she said, then she waited.

There were strange noises in the darkness. Faint thuds, grunts, exclamations and heavier thuds.

Hala waited, blankly, until something touched lightly to the back of her head made her slip into unconsciousness.

###

When she woke up, she almost vomited into a bucket left helpfully next to the hospital bed she was lying in.

As she lay there trying to get her heartbeat back to normal, an operative came into her room to debrief her.

Hala knew of Christine (not her real name, of course), had seen her once or twice, had even met her. She had seemed nice, for someone whose job involved sometimes doing things Hala found chilling and terrifying.

"How do you feel?" Christine asked as she moved the room's sole chair and sat on it.

Hala was lying under a comfortingly thick blanket. She pulled it up to her chin. "Sick," she said.

Christine waited quietly for Hala to continue.

Hala had a forensically trained mind, and a memory for minutiae which was exceptional. She played out a conversation in her head in a slow eye-blink, and jumped straight to the end.

"My employment contract," she said quietly, "said if I ever become compromised, I may be managed as an asset until the situation is resolved."

Christine nodded solemnly.

Hala's lip twisted. "I just assumed they had disabled the equipment in my apartment. They didn't, did they? They needed me, to get to whoever it was."

Christine nodded again. "That's right," she added.

Hala shot her a fierce look. "Did you get them?"

A thin smile flickered across Christine's lips. "Not me personally, but a security team pulled off a textbook raid, and caught everyone present. We have found the apartment, taken your Chris into custody, and have already executed seven more captures, which includes a lot of valuable intel and very expensive, as well as potentially informative, equipment. We are currently pursuing several ends that add up to enough evidence for quite a few extrajudicial raids and extraditions. So: Well done."

"Who was it?"

Christine shook her head. "Just slavers. They picked on you because you're exotic, beautiful and sexy, and they thought you were a perfect target. Unlucky for them you had been hardened."

Hala, already lying with a controlled stillness, went even more still. Christine did not fail to notice it, but did not comment.

"I don't remember ever have anything done to me," Hala whispered.

"It is standard procedure for new employees," Christine said gently. "And you are not informed because it is more effective that way. The flashbacks you got? That was your mind triggering a warning when your conditioning reached a certain level. It wasn't a mistake they made, letting memories leak through. Unfortunately, it took a few sessions because of the way they ran their program."

Hala shivered. "What happens to me now?"

"All traces of their programming will be removed," Christine said. "That's begun, or we wouldn't be having this conversation. It will only take one more long session. We are much better, and have much better equipment. You can choose to remember as little or as much as you please."

"If I remember what happened during each... session," Hala said slowly, "will that affect me?"

Christine shook her head firmly. "It might sicken you. But the only way it can permanently alter you is if it prompts you to think about something you hadn't previously considered. Look, that does happen. But being exposed to a new experience you happen to like can happen at any time, anywhere. Go to a different club, see something, you can have your eyes opened."

Hala stared at her. "You mean, I might find myself liking being tied up, and it won't be because of any lingering effects?"

Christine smiled gently. "We have an operative who was captured and reprogrammed once. She is now in that lifestyle, and very happy with it. She simply hadn't been exposed to it properly before, and hadn't known the rules or any of the people. She investigated, she eased herself in, she met people, she does it on her terms. But our deprogramming is so good, and we are so confident, that she is still a field agent, and a very valuable one."

Hala almost asked if Christine was talking about herself, but restrained the impulse.

"I see," she said. She shuddered as the memory of the endless, rolling orgasm came back to her. "How do you trust anyone ever again?" she asked.

"The same way you learn to trust after any bad event. Slowly, and carefully, and maybe you may never do so again the same way, or maybe you will. There is a full employee assistance program available to help you at any time. It's very good."

Hala was quiet for a little while.

Christine waited.

Hala glanced at the agent. Christine was dressed casually, but it was obvious that here was someone who would be devastatingly beautiful with a bit of calculated effort. Most operatives were attractive, in Hala's experience. It was a good arrow to have in your quiver.

Every session Hala had been subjected to was now lined up in her memories, in full and unedited detail. So she remembered the women who had made her come as easily and as often as the men, and she remembered burning with lust for them. She saw sexuality in Christine's beauty that she had not seen before, but it was not an attraction, merely an appreciation. She was not suddenly bisexual.

She took a deep breath, and released it slowly. "I think I want to remember," she said. "I want to remember what they tried to do to me. It'll be something to think about."

Christine nodded. "This isn't your final decision," she said. "Deprogramming won't happen until tomorrow."

Hala just nodded. Knowing that she had been "hardened" without her knowledge was chilling, but not something that was totally unexpected. But she would prefer to remember. She couldn't know, not really, that nobody had altered her permanently—her employers or anyone else. But at least she could hold some memories of those who had failed.

"I'm pretty sure I'll want to remember," she said.