Incursion

Suddenly a blaze of colour dazzled her. Vibrant hues of blues, purples, reds and yellows. Seemingly random flashes of light pulsated in front of her. Adrienne gasped. It must be coming from the visor. She should really leave right now. But, the swirling patterns were so soothing. So relaxing. Was it a random series or was there a pattern? She should look and see. Slowly, without even being aware of it, Adrienne allowed her mind to sink into the endless rapture of the flashing colours. Her muscles relaxed. All thoughts of leaving evaporated.

In fact, it was becoming very difficult for Adrienne to think at all. But that didn't matter. She didn't want to think anyway. All she wanted to do was keep looking at the gorgeous display in front of her. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. She had to keep looking and searching.

Adrienne stared into the swirling vortex consumed by the need to keep following the endless loop of spiraling patterns and colours.

* * *

Keyshia had found what she was looking for. She had developed an instinct borne of countless forays into unknown buildings for being able to find what she was looking for. Here, in the depths of this underground warren, she had found the computer she had sought.

She could see it clearly through the clear glass paneled wall that fronted an austere, blank room filled with the dull silver and grey boxes, flickering screens, coiling wires and the blinking lights that made up your average IT hub. A number of access terminals were dotted throughout the room, all empty, all waiting for her to pluck the secrets from their electronic brains.

But Keyshia had spotted the problem that confronted her. She could see it clearly through the transparent wall. On the far side of the computer room a three identically clad rubber women were working. From what she could see, the women had opened up some sort of panel in the floor and were busily replacing some components inside. Keyshia surmised that it must be something to do with the computer cables. Maybe that's why they were doing this job at night, when the computer was being used least.

Whatever the reason or whatever they were doing it caused problems for Keyshia. Although the women were on the far side of the computer center, they would surely notice her if she dared to enter the glass walled room. Even though from what she had seen so far, Keyshia thought that they all looked kind of zoned out, the sight of an obvious intruder must set off some alarm bells ringing in their heads. That was the last thing she needed.

But Keyshia was not a quitter. She'd faced similar challenges throughout her professional career and often the direct approach worked best. As long as you looked and acted the part it was amazing how far you could get into places without being challenged. The maintenance crew were busily engaged with the network of rainbow coloured wire beneath the floor, intent on completing their task before morning. Their concentration would be focussed on that.

It was dangerous. Reckless. But Keyshia relished the sweet buzz of adrenalin that accompanied her adventures. Risk was nothing new to her.

Creeping away from the computer center, Keyshia retraced her steps back down the empty corridors. She knew exactly where she was going and what to do next.

* * *

Adrienne stared vacantly upwards. The pulsating spirals throbbed onwards in front of her, absorbing all her concentration, sucking away any stray thoughts.

She thought of nothing.

Adrienne's mind was a void of blankness.

Empty.

Placid.

She wanted nothing.

She needed nothing.

Just the spiral.

Just the colours.

Adrienne had sunk deeply into the embrace of this comfortable, cloying emptiness that filled her entire world. It just felt so good. So relaxing. Like the best massage she'd ever received magnified a millionfold.

She barely registered a sudden brightness through the visor as the room lights flickered into life. Lost in the endlessly swirling patterns of colour and light, Adrienne didn't see the white clad figure standing above her, staring coldly downwards measuring and observing her entranced form.

Adrienne didn't hear the white figure speaking into a headset or the clear response relayed back to the rubber encased slave standing inches away from her.

The reporter did however register the sudden change in the pattern being flashed in front of her. Instead of the random swirling vortex, something else appeared as well.

Something new. Something wonderful. A purpose. Adrienne felt the purpose filling her mind, worming its way into every crevice of her vapid, slumbering brain. It grew and grew, overwhelming whatever residual resistance it encountered. Nothing could stop its progress. Adrienne willed it on, nurturing the first shoots of the bud that had been planted deep within her consciousness.

She had a new simple purpose. A purpose that consumed more and more of Adrienne's whole being with every passing second. Her mind dissolved into the delicious certainty that claimed her utterly.

obey...obey...obeY...obEY...oBEY...OBEY...OBEY...OBEY...OBEY

* * *

The time for prentence was here. Strutting onwards in her heels, Keyshia made her way through the still deserted corridors back towards the computer center.

She had stashed all her clothes and gear back in the deserted storeroom after changing into the slippery red rubber clothing. The latex catsuit had slid on easily, enveloping her body in a snug embrace of tight, cloying rubber while the boots were simple enough to lace up. Although it took a few nervous moments to figure out how to walk in the obscenely high heels particularly as she had managed to stuff her box of tricks into the top of a boot which added to the discomfort. But there were no other options. There were not many hiding places in this particular outfit.

Finally, with a good deal of reluctance and foreboding, Keyshia had examined one of the thick leather collars. The exterior was a solid, hard black material with the number 61 clearly embossed in large white figures on the front. But behind this smooth external façade a band of complex circuitry and wiring ringed the interior of the collar. Neatly wired silver components snaked their way throughout the collar.

Taking a deep breath, Keyshia had clasped the thick leather collar to her neck. It had clicked ominously shut when she had pressed the two ends of the collar together behind her neck. Luckily, whatever gizmos were inside the collar didn't seem to work. Keyshia had no illusion whatsoever that this particular item was designed for some dark purpose.

The thought made her flesh crawl.

With a confident stride that masked her nervousness, Keyshia returned to the corridor and soon found herself back at the glass paneled computer room. She walked onwards, careful to keep her breathing and emotions under control. From the corner of her eye she watched the three rubber coated figures in the parallel corridor. Like before, they were kneeling, intent on their task.

None of them looked in her direction.

Keyshia opened the glass doorway and stepped into the room, assailed by the low hum of electricity and the smell of hot circuitry. The maintenance crew were still untangling wires. Keyshia moved swiftly to one of the access consoles, as far away from the workers as possible.

After a hurried peek at the fetish women, Keyshia set to work at the keyboard. Sliding her left hand downwards, she pulled the small box out from the top of her boot and used the small retractable lead to plug it into the nearest access port.

A tool of her trade in the lucrative world of industrial espionage, this little box was a product of brilliant minds. Designed to surmount the complex, state of the art protection that only a multi-billion dollar corporation could afford, it easily bypassed whatever security features the system had. Within seconds the entire network was hers.

Keyshia now was confronted by a different problem. Usually when she was performing one of her cyber-thievery gigs, the client had a particular file that they wanted copying so it was a simple enough matter to copy it and go. Here she was looking at a mass of data that meant absolutely nothing to her, dressed up like an internet pervert's wet dream and only feet away from three very dangerous women who would probably rip her to shreds if they knew what she was doing. There was no way she could copy everything. That was impossible with her limited time and resources. Instead, she would just have to cherry pick and hope for the best.

Keyshia came across the Accounts folder and it was first to be copied on to her portable drive unit. It was always an interesting read to see where the money came from and was going to. That was always a good first port of call. And from what she had seen here, it would take a damn fine accountant to legitimize all the cash spent on building this underground lair.

Risking another glance towards the still busily working women, Keyshia returned to the screen and flicked through the folders. Most of them were full of technical gibberish and gobbleydegook that meant nothing to her so she ignored them. Just as she was beginning to despair of finding anything else, Keyshia came across the Personnel records. Only they weren't called that.

The file was labeled Slave Registration Data.

Suppressing another shudder as best as she could Keyshia copied the entire file. This was giving her the creeps big time. Slavery. The very word made her flesh crawl. So that was what the rubbercoated women were. They were Ms. Abernathy's slaves.

Keyshia opened the folder on the screen and was presented with a neat numerical list beginning at SLAVE 1 and continuing downwards to finish at 52. Fifty-two slaves. Fifty-two of those sluttish creatures running around this rabbit warren bowing and scraping to their Mistress' every whim. Her stomach almost heaved with revulsion.

Trembling with a mixture of horror and disgust, Keyshia typed a name into the search box. The egg timer twirled briefly before the computer disgorged the information she had sought.

There, clearly staring back from the screen was the familiar face of her cherished childhood friend. The face was expressionless, dull eyes stared blankly back towards Keyshia. She could barely keep her emotions under control. Wetness welled up in her eyes. She wanted to wail and sob with grief. Keyshia wanted to scream, to wail with the anger that burned through her.

Slowly, Keyshia managed to read through the tears that filled her eyes and washed down her cheeks.

File Number: 27/SL/PU

Unit Designation: SLAVE UNIT 27

Unit Code: DRONE UNIT

Unit Status: ACTIVE, IN SERVICE

Sex: FEMALE

Date of Birth: 23 NOVEMBER 1983

Height: 5FT 6IN

Weight:

Eye Colour: BROWN

Hair Colour: DARK BROWN

Bodily Markings: NONE

Medical History: APPENDECTOMY, 9 JUNE 1990

BREAST ENLARGEMENT, 2 JANUARY 2009

Blood Group: O+

Allergies: NONE

Treatment History: LEVEL 10 TREATMENT SUCCESSFULLY ADMINSTERED, 8 AUGUST 2008

LEVEL 11 TREATMENT SUCCESSFULLY ADMINSTERED, 27 JANUARY 2009

LEVEL 11A UPGRADE ADMINISTERED SUCCESSFULLY, 11 JULY 2010

Date of Acquisition: 8 AUGUST 2007

Acquisition Method: PLANNED OPERATION

ACQUISITION TEAM: SLAVE 10, SLAVE 17, SLAVE 20

Disappearance Status: PRESUMED DECEASED (TRAFFIC ACCIDENT)

Pre-Slave Designation: WATERHOUSE, CHLOE

Pre-Slave Dependents: MOTHER

BROTHER

Keyshia wept in silence. Conflicting emotions boiled within her. On the one hand she was ecstatic to have her suspicions proved correct. Chloe was alive!

That thought alone made her weep with joy.

But Keyshia was also filled with a deep unquenchable rage about her friend being turned into one of these rubber doll women. A lifetime of being something akin to a blow up sex-doll parading around in obscene clothing performing acts of unimaginable depravity. What had happened to the fire of compassion and humanity that had ran through Chloe? Was that gone too?

God help the insane bitch who did all this when Keyshia caught up with her. Right then and there Keyshia knew that she was going to kill Abernathy. The realization comforted her and gradually she regained her faculties.

She was seized with a pure, primal desire for revenge.

The knowledge calmed her somewhat. It gave her an outlet for her anger.

The bitch would pay.

* * *

Adrienne was completely calm. She stood still. The room was familiar, the same small, cramped bedchamber she had dashed into all that time ago. Beside her lay the padded mattress, still warm, that she had laid on what seemed like an eternity ago.

She was not alone in the room. In front of her stood a tall, blonde woman dressed in a sexy, bodyhugging, white rubber suit that glistened in the bright light that shone down from the ceiling. Around her neck, the woman wore an uncomfortable looking thick black collar with the number 9 emblazoned upon it.

Adrienne felt something as she contemplated the woman in silence. The woman was familiar to her. She had seen her before. That much was clear to her. But there was something else within Adrienne now. A wholly new emotion.

With a mild twinge of surprise, she realized that it was desire. Adrienne wanted this woman. She wanted to kneel right now and press her lips to the woman's slick snatch. Adrienne could picture herself, on her knees, her tongue buried inside the soft, warm dampness that lay beneath the slippery white coating. She could almost smell the aromatic tang of sweat and sex in her nostrils.

Adrienne shuddered, lost completely within the vividness of the fantasy was making her wet.

Suddenly the woman she craved spoke to her. "You are a slave. You serve Mistress. You will obey," the woman in white announced.

They were simple, direct sentences, spoken clearly and calmly. Statements of fact that brooked no dispute.

Still lost in the throes of her waking wet-dream Adrienne tried to absorb what was being said to her.

The woman spoke again, repeating the same statements to her once more.

"You are a slave. You serve Mistress. You will obey."

The words hit Adrienne like a sledgehammer. She uttered a loud gasp of surrender. The remnants of her dream shattered into a million pieces. What did the fevered imaginings of fantasy matter when reality proved to be so much better. Adrienne's mind was lost in a swirl of realization, just like the patterns and colours that had filled it until recently.

Adrienne understood. Like nothing she had ever experienced before, Adrienne realized her one true purpose. Her sole reason for living. The paramount desire that would motivate every thought and action consumed her mind.

"I am a slave," Adrienne repeated, "I serve Mistress." As Adrienne spoke the words aloud she believed. They became the core of her being. Her mind glowed with certainty and purpose. A river of lust flowed down her legs beneath the black combat trousers she still wore, washing away the remnants of an irrelevant, inconsequential existence.

"I will obey," Adrienne managed to stagger before bucking under the orgasm that signified her rebirth.

* * *

It was time to leave. Keyshia had slipped the box shaped drive unit back into the top of her thigh high boot. As discreetly as possible, she wiped the salty wetness from her face and tried to regain her composure.

Her professionalism was reasserting herself. She had a mission to perform. Abernathy was going to die and Keyshia was going to kill her. That was a fact. But first Keyshia had to get herself out of here.

Turning around Keyshia faced the doorway. The slaves were still bent to their maintenance task, apparently neither noticing or caring about her presence amongst them. The frontal approach had worked yet again.

Just then one of bending women stood up, dangling a coil of cable from her rubber gloved hands. The petite brunette looked directly into Keyshia's eyes. Mustering all her resolve, Keyshia returned the stare, locking her own gaze with the slave's blue orbs that watched her. The two women remained locked for more than a second but for Keyshia it felt like an eternity. Keyshia struggled to maintain her composure as she looked into the blank emptiness of the slavewoman's eyes. Somehow Keyshia knew that to look away would cause her downfall. She couldn't break first.

Keyshia swallowed. Fear's icy grip was clawing at her.

The moment passed. The voluptuous brunette turned on her heel, placing the coiled cable on top of a metal tool cart.

Keyshia felt as if she had stared into the abyss. The whole experience had unnerved her completely. The slave's eyes had been a portal to nothingness. It was as if whatever had once been behind the pair of blue eyes had been scooped out completely and discarded.

Keyshia took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She wanted to run. Her instincts were screaming inside her but she forced them to be quiet.

Summoning all her courage Keyshia turned her back on the trio of busy slaves and made her way towards the exit from the computer room.

* * *

The white woman was still there standing in front of her. Adrienne was completely calm now, the shockwaves of orgasm had faded from her body now. Instead, she felt a deep sense of contentment press down against her head. She wanted nothing. Everything was as it should be.

Adrienne's fellow slave was standing before her. The delicious, sexy woman had placed a sleek black headset over Adrienne's head. A female voice devoid of emotion emanated from the headphones asking her questions. Adrienne answered without hesitation.

"The other intruder is named Keyshia Price. She is a professional burglar. I employed her in order to get access to this facility. We separated soon after entry. I have no information about her current location."

Adrienne stopped. Silence.

"Did you inform anyone about this incursion?"

"No. I was operating without any official sanction from my editor. This was a personal project that I hoped would enhance my career."

"Does Keyshia Price have any reason other than money to assist you in this intrusion," the female asked Adrienne.

"Keyshia told me that she suspected foul play in the death of a friend of hers and that Ms. Abernathy was implicated somehow."

"What was the name of the dead individual?"

"Chloe Waterhouse."

There was silence for a few moments. Adrienne just stood there waiting for the voice to speak to her again. She had never realized how good it felt to be so deliciously blank and thoughtless. It was so liberating.

The woman spoke to her again. "Now you will listen to my voice and obey."

"I will obey," Adrienne acknowledged, still sightlessly staring at the white vinyl clad form of her fellow slave.

* * *

Keyshia had made her way back to the storeroom without incident. Gratefully she had plunged into the sanctuary of darkness that the storeroom offered her. She was exhausted now and collapsed to the floor, leaning up against a pile of neatly stacked boxes.

Her mind whirled with everything she had seen this night. It was almost too overwhelming to take it all in. She needed to rest for a few moments.

Keyshia wished she could turn off her mind. It was feverish with activity. This was the familiar come-down after an intense adrenalin high that she usually experienced after a break-in. But usually this happened when she was safely far away. She had to keep moving. To stay too long would mean certain capture and...well she wasn't able to finish that sentence.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Keyshia got to her feet. First things first. She was getting out of this filthy uniform. She tore at the rubber fabric, ripping and pulling the tight catsuit off her body before clawing at the boot laces. It made her feel better, more like a human being rather than an object.