One step after another, Megan slowly descended the staircase, her hand grasping onto its burnished handrail. It was cool to touch - a marked contrast to the warmth of the early morning sun that shone through the window. Outside, the leaves of the trees rustled in the breeze, the sound of bird song filtering through the glass panels.
Megan paid little attention, fixating her mind on the idea of reaching the front doors of the facility and escaping. Everything else was mote: Not how her cunny demanded her attention, nor the lack of clothing besides her shirt. Even the headphones still cupped to her ears could wait, the chord dangling down besides her to tap against her thigh. All that mastered was reaching someone - anyone - who would listen to her.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Recognition made Megan’s heart flutter, even as it stopped her in her tracks. Fear and anxiety lanced through her heart - not her; anyone but her.
Megan pictured the doorway in her mind, focusing on the thoughts of escape and freedom which had helped her resist the initial stages of her conditioning. But that voice…
That soft highland burr had always left her weak at the knees, making it impossible to ignore. Even so Megan willed herself to picture the door she knew existed at the bottom of the staircase, grasping onto the knowledge that freedom was just within reach like she was holding on for dear life, dangling from the edge of the cliff.
“Turn to face me.”
Oh god, how the command tugged at her, weighing her down, unpeeling her finger tips from dangling from the cliff’s edge of obeying, one-by-one.
Her inner submissive purred as she let go, thrilling as she slowly turned to face the one person she knew would break her. Her waking mind panicked as she began turning to face the source of the commands, and her one, true weakness in the world.
Bree leaned over the bannister, watching her, hair the colour of crackling fire tumbling down over the other woman’s bare shoulders, her skin dusted with a galaxy of freckles that made Megan want to kiss each one individually.
Bree… the prettiest girl in the whole of the Highlands, who had stolen Megan’s heart the first moment they’d met, and the reason the group had concocted such a hair brained scheme to rescue her: The tearful phone call made to Megan after days of being missing; the vague but on point directions that lead them to the facility, miles outside of town; just enough hints that time was of the essence.
It had obviously been a trap from the start, but everyone had agreed the risk was worth it. Bree would have done the same for them, they argued. She would have stuck her neck out for any of them, had the tables been turned. At least that’s what Megan would have believed until she met Bree’s eyes and saw nothing but the glazed emptiness of the brainwashing staring back at her. Had she had the same expression on her face whilst making that call?
Megan couldn’t have imagined her making it willingly, otherwise.
The silence between them stretch out into eternity, and found herself beginning to lie before Bree could demand anything else from her. “I needed to relieve myself.”
She kept her tone soft, sleepy, hoping not to tip her hand as anxiety welled up inside. Blair had always been able to beat her at deduction games, an amused smile on her lips as she forced her girlfriend to remove another article of clothing.
“There are facilities upstairs.”
Blair continued to stare passively down, her tone as emotionless as the expression on her face. “All the others are being processed.”
Listening to Emily, Faye and Tessa being distilled down to mere objects to be acted on excited Meghan more than she cared to admit. She’d passed them during her escape, leaving them to mindlessly plunge their fingers into their exposed cunnies as they greedily drank in their conditioning. Just thinking about their soft moans and gentle whimpers tickled her insides, the urge to rejoin them swimming up from the depths of her subconscious.
Shit. Shit. Shit. They’ve gotten to me. Megan growled to herself. God damn it, it’s in my head.
She hadn’t unplugged in time; part of the brainwashing was already inside of her.
The urge circled lazily around the inside of her head - a hungry predator of an impulse that would devour her if given half a chance.
Come on, snap out of it! She berated herself, even as she thrilled at the idea of handing herself over and letting Bree have her wicked way with her. Bawling her top up in one hand, she anchored herself to the present, using the here and now to buy herself some time - if she could ignore it, she might be able to starve it long enough to escape.
“I-I-I don’t know why,” She admitted, hoping to sound suitably confused. “So hard to think…”
“Good girl,” Bree intoned in a matter of fact manner. “It’s much easier to let me think for you, isn’t it?”
Too late, Meghan realised her mistake. She had given Bree just the leeway to play on their relationship, using their shared exploration of hypnosis to wedge Meghan’s mind wide open.
Good girl… Good girl… Good girl…
Just two words had reduced Meghan’s thoughts to mush, arousal and the need to submit blossoming in their place. Yes, it was so much easier to let Bree’s words into her head and have them take over.
“Yes,” Meghan agreed with a sigh, her body visibly sagging as the tension flowed out of her.
“It’s so much easier to obey, isn’t it?”
Christ, yes. Meghan thought to herself. I would obey every word tumbling from your lips…
She nodded her confirmation, not trusting herself to say anything else.
“You want to obey me, Meghan.”
Meghan felt her insides do a pleasurable little flip as she surrendered to the command and listened intently for what came next.
“Let go. Stop resisting” Bree continued.
Thoughts of resistance began to dissolve as her fingers resumed their rightful place against her slit and began to stroke. No longer holding back the urge to surrender, it breached the surface and dragged her back down with it into the darkness of her own mind. There, waiting to wrap itself around her lay the programming she had already received - a tangled web of deepeners, pleasure triggers and obedience protocols.
There was no need to hide the truth now.
“I resisted…” She said softly, shame burning her cheeks as she realised how naive she had been to fight the brainwashing.
“I know,” Bree responded, her eyes locked with Meghan’s own without a hint of judgement.
“I wanted to escape,” Meghan continued, unable to look away as she felt the shame burning her cheeks. “I want to alert the authorities. I want to come back with the cops and rescue you all.”
“I don’t want to be rescued,” Bree said, before correcting herself. “We don’t want to be rescued. We simply want to obey.”
This time Meghan didn’t bother hiding the soft gasp as arousal surged through her.
“You want to return to your seat, Meghan.”
Meghan couldn’t look away as Bree took a step closer.
“You will follow me back upstairs,” Bree continued. “You will allow me to reinstall you into your seat. You will not resist. You will not deviate. You will submit to your brainwashing.”
“Yes,” Bree whispered as her lover’s lips met hers and she sank into the kiss.
“Will you be there when I wake up?” Meghan asked as Bree took her hand and led her back upstairs.
“I cannot promise you that.” Bree admitted. “Obedience comes at a price.”
Meghan followed her lover, through the closed doors and past the sighs and moans of the others.
Bree halted before the sole empty seat, turning to face Meghan. “Though in fairness, you did deliver the others into our grasp. Our new owners might take that into consideration.”
Meghan’s arousal spiked at the knowledge that her failure had doomed the others just as much as it had doomed herself, just like it spiked at the idea of serving beside Bree for the rest of her life - blank, aroused, without a single thought of her own. And as Bree pushed Meghan gently back into her seat, sliding the headphone jack back into the audio socket, Meghan mused there were worse fates to be had…
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