Telos Ch. 02

Grace's dreams were filled with images of her master. In her dreams he kept her in the white room and they made love until he was satisfied and she was needy. He held tightly her in his arms and kissed her and told her how he loved her. He was inside her. His fingers in her mind. He words in her ears.

And every time he left her wanting more.

He had a thousand different methods to play with her body and a thousand more to toy with her mind and all of them left her panting in desperation. Even in her dreams her master paused before the moment of her climax to whisper in her ear and leave fluttering kisses on her lips. She relaxed under his influence. Then it began again. She was happy, eager, and obedient. He kept her frustrated nonetheless.

The book, her precious book with simple words and simple stories, put images in her mind of Grace in rapture. She woke many days with the book in one hand and her sex in the other. When she did she rolled over to her master to beg him as best she could. So he whispered in her ear and kissed her and left her lying on the bed an hour later her body soaked with sweat and her brain soaked with hormones and her climax still out of reach.

Sometimes she touched herself but guilt quickly put a stop to it every time. Her master had made her what she was. It didn't seem right to let anyone else use her body.

The frustration seeped into everything she did until she stopped remembering what it was like to be anything but starved for sex. She tried to tease him back, entice him into sex. She made herself up as pretty as she could with the supplies he gave her. She watched videos to learn how to swing her hips when she walked. She practiced making herself as appealing as possible.

It never worked. When they were alone he teased her the same as always. When he was busy he kissed her and told her she was a good girl then sent her on her way. If she tried to press the point to complain the colorful little pill, Bliss, broke her resolve in an instant.

Certain days were worse than others. She lost control of herself from time to time but master always brought her back under his control when her own discipline failed. She felt selfish and foolish when it was done. In the moment, though, self indulgence was almost as addictive as the Bliss. It blinded her to the world in the same way.

Bubbly pleasure buoyed her higher and higher. Her mind floated on a soft cloud.

"Grace." The word intruded from the world outside her imagination. "Grace?" She tried to ignore it but it came more forcefully. "Grace." It was a voice she knew.

She blinked her eyes back into focus. "Master I . . ."

"We've spoken about this," he said.

Grace curled herself up on the couch, clutching her book close to her chest. The living room of master's house had once been nearly as empty as the white room but he'd given her an allowance to add decorations to it from a catalog. She especially liked the big fluffy couch that she had nearly fallen asleep in.

"Give me the book."

She tried to be angry, tried to resist the order, but her treasured possession slipped from her fingers as easily as if she were giving it away. The unconscious obedience sent a pleasurable tingle through her body. The part of her that objected to being a slave was weaker than ever. She made herself relax as she imagined what the girl in the book would have done. "Thank you, master."

His smile was warm and his voice soft as his arms wrapped around her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm . . ." It was hard make her mind work when he was around. She could only hold one thing in her head at a time. Simple thoughts kept her from being confused. The terrible distraction of her master's presence made her concentration slip away. "When I . . . um . . ."

"Go on."

The warmth of his breath on her skin made her toes curl. "You're always teasing me," she managed. Her eyes fell on the book. "I want you to use me."

He laugh was low and predatory. "You think I don't use you?"

"Not for sex!" she objected with a surge of confidence.

He drew away from her so she could see his eyes. "You are so greedy already, my little slave girl. If I gave you everything you wanted I'd have no time for anything else. There is a lot of work to be done. I'm making the whole world happy."

She'd seen the things he worked on at his desk and overheard pieces of phone calls. Hiring lobbyists. Shipping chemicals. Buying elections. She'd gathered a vague notion of what he did. Occasionally she awoke from the Bliss to find herself in an office building somewhere she'd never been before. She started to love traveling, he always gave her a bit more Bliss before they left.

"In the book," she tried to find where he had put it, "Grace and master always . . ."

"She's imaginary," said her master. "No one is perfect."

"So if I were better you'd . . ."

Her master placed a finger on her lips to quiet her. "There are lots important jobs for you other than being used for sex. I need you to keep away from distractions," he said, playing his fingers delicately along the top of her left ear.

"But . . ."

"Hush, I know you're confused. I want to show you a new project of mine." He took a colorful pill out from his pocket. "Open up."

She opened her mouth acceptingly.

He placed the pill on her tongue and gently closed her mouth. "Swallow."

The drug rushed her body with impossible speed, washing away her rational mind. She remembered what it felt like when she first took it. Food. Rest. Orgasm. Safety. Love. It was different now, her master had displaced everything else that existed in the world of the Bliss. His touch. His smile. His eyes. His voice. The pleasure that came from serving him. The erotic thrill of his control over her. The feeling of being held in his arms.

The Bliss left her senseless to the world outside but the soft pink haze that claimed her mind made it hard to care.

-)(-

Amy awoke in a white room totally naked and chained to a bed. The white was overwhelming. Every surface from the mirror of the vanity to the light fixtures was blanketed with the same color. The ceiling was white. The walls were white. The posts of the bed were white. The door was white. The shelves and the books were white. Diffuse illumination eliminated any shadows that might have given texture to the room. Her head swam.

She opened her eyes again to find a worried looking girl, also naked, sitting on the bed by her feet.

"Master?" The younger woman hugged her legs. "Master, please, this room scares me. Why am I here?"

"Where are we?" asked Amy.

"The white room. It's for training. I only had to be in here when I was learning. I used to be confused all the time and master made me better." The girl shook her head. "I don't want to be in here again."

"What's your name?"

"Grace."

"I'm Amy." She strained against the restraints, white enameled chains with white fur-lined cuffs. There was something she was trying to remember. She'd been kidnapped, of course, but she was having trouble thinking why. The people she was investigating had to be behind what had happened. Her memory was fragmented, though. She wasn't sure who she had been investigating or why her situation didn't seem surprising. "Can you get me out of these?" she asked the other woman.

Grace shook her head. "Master wouldn't like it."

"Who is your master?" asked Amy, with a sinking feeling.

The young woman frowned as if in confusion. "He's my master. He wants you for some reason and he put me back in here." Grace squeezed herself into an even tighter ball. "I don't like you."

There was a click as the lock on the door was turned then another click as the knob turned and the door opened to let through a clean shaven man in a nice suit. He was handsome but unplacable.

"You . . ." Jagged fragments of memory came rushing back into Amy's mind. She winced. "I know you . . ."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you remember my name?"

"I was investigating you for . . . for things exactly like this." She thrashed uselessly against the chains that held her to the bed. "Let me out of here!"

The man's brow knitted thoughtfully but he turned away from her after a second. He helped Grace off the bed like a prince giving his hand to a lady then bent her backward with a forceful kiss. "I'm sorry I frightened you, little slave girl. There was work to do while I waited for Amy to wake up. This room is for safe-keeping. I didn't mean to worry you." He kept talking in vague comforting terms until Grace was limp in his arms, hypnotized, almost sleeping.

"Now then," said the man. "How are feeling Amy?"

She blinked a few times. "I'm . . ."

"You said you remembered me. That's very impressive even if you don't recall my name. We'll fix it later, I promise. It is tricky to keep a memory intact while removing the details."

There was something impossibly calming about the sound of his voice. Even as he described how he planned to tear the memories out of her head it was a struggle to hold on to the idea that she wanted to keep them. She clung to her anger instead. "Fuck you! Whoever you are, whatever you're doing, you can go straight to hell."

Grace stirred in her trance.

"Stop screaming." His tone was neutral even as the sound of his voice filled up the room. "Grace can't handle much stress and she's already upset." He cooed sweetly in the girl's ear for a moment before turning back to Amy. "Tell me how much you remember."

"I'm not telling you anything."

He placed Grace gently on the bed. "Let me go through it with you then. I'll see what I can see. You're a detective for the city. You found out about my colleagues and I. You tracked us as far as the port in London. That was when you told your superiors. The word you used was 'cabal' wasn't it? That should be where it ends. You were turned in by your superiors and we picked you up the next day."

"That's a lie. They would never let you people keep . . ." Her memory hit a wall. "They would never . . . they couldn't . . . Damn it! Fuck you, you lying rapist bastard."

"I never lie," said the man moving closer. "It would be horrible to have you build your new life on something so fragile as a lie. One day it might be pulled away and left to fall apart. I want you to be as happy as Grace is." His lips nearly brushed her own. "Forever."

"You're a monster."

"I make people happy. Do you really object to that?" He lifted up Grace's head. The younger woman shook herself awake. "Are you happy, my little slave?"

She nodded. "Yes, master. I've never been happier."

Amy couldn't help herself. "Only because he's broken your mind."

Grace was more resilient than before. There was a kind of bubbly energy in her that made the accusation bounce off harmlessly. "Master put me back together after her broke me to make sure I'd always be happy. I don't understand why you're so angry now. I think I used to be angry but it's hard since master fixed me."

The man smiled. "Thank you, Grace."

"What the hell did you do to her?" objected Amy.

"Much the same thing I'll be doing to you. The details aren't important." He let Grace slip out of his grasp. "This is a process we're going to go through together. I want you to be a part of it. I'm going to break you down and turn you into a little sex doll but that shouldn't mean you have no say in how it turns out."

"You can go straight to hell."

"First choice." He placed a hand softly on her throat. "Since your voice is so important to you I was thinking of making it so only pretty sounds come out of your mouth. The other possibility is that I leave you with your voice and make these," he let his hands drift to her breasts, "a bit more impressive. Which would you prefer?"

"Neither."

He smiled. "Perhaps you have three choices then. Ask for either option and I'll give it to you. Say anything else and I'll do both. We should both be clear. When you say 'neither' it means 'both' and I'm happy to take you apart more quickly if you like."

"I'm going to kill you!"

The man didn't seem to notice the threat. "Ask me nicely. You have sixty seconds."

Her mind raced. She couldn't give up her voice to him. As long as she could speak she could call for help or argue with him or try to make Grace help her to escape. New breasts would be humiliating but at least they wouldn't be dehumanizing.

"Time's up."

"The breasts," Amy said quickly. "I . . . please improve my breasts."

The man gave an acquiescent nod. "Very good. You get one more choice today. In order to make you a happy slave I'll have to makes some changes in your head. I promise to keep your identity intact, I do have a sense of decorum, but that leaves me plenty to room to work. Would you like me to add something or take something away?"

"That's not a choice."

He waited.

"Fine . . . um . . ." Her eyes flicked back and forth as she tried to imagine what kind of thoughts he could insert into her head. A whole series of new memories would make escape impossible. "Take something."

"Politely," insisted the man.

"Please," she felt herself deflate, "take something from my mind."

The man nodded. "Good choice." He turned back to the simple smiling woman next to him. "Grace, I want you to stay here with Amy for a while." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "You'll be spending a lot of time together in the future. You should get to know each other."

"Yes, master." She tried for a second kiss but he tilted his head back. Grace pouted up at him but the man didn't relent.

He left silently and there was a click as he locked the door from the other side.

"Why don't you want to be happy?" asked Grace when she and Amy were alone.

The question put Amy slightly off balance. She'd been expected almost anything from the girl except a conversation. "Everyone wants to be happy."

Grace climbed up onto the bed. "I don't think they do." She frowned. "You think I'm stupid but I'm not I'm just simple and a little bit lazy." She squeezed her legs together and purred. "When I do think I can figure things out. Master thinks you're prettier than me. That's why you're going to be a sex doll."

On the bed Amy shuddered.

Grace crawled over to Amy so that she was straddling the bound woman's waist. "Master keeps me safe from unhappy thoughts. He can make you safe and happy too. I'm not . . . I don't like girls like that . . . we can be sisters." She lay down next to Amy and stared at her. "I'll help keep you safe."

"Then you should let me go."

"You'd only make yourself upset or throw things or yell!" Grace shook her head. "I would have tried that once."

"Grace, listen to me. I need to get out of here."

The girl nodded. "And I'm going to help."

-)(-

"Master?" asked Grace.

He looked down at her.

"I heard you say you were . . ." She struggled to put her thoughts in order. She didn't feel happy or eager at all. In the books Grace never had to worry about master not wanting her. But then the other Grace was never angry at her master, either. She knew the emotion was there even though it quickly slipped away every time and it was making her feel sick. "I don't like her."

He laughed.

Grace stared at the floor, humiliated.

"You're just jealous of her," he said.

"No!" It felt like a lie. "Maybe."

He laughed again.

"Why?"

An emotion crossed her master's face that she'd rarely seen before and was gone before Grace could identify it. He pulled her into his lap. "Do you remember those things Amy said about me?" He caressed her face lightly. "I don't think I'm a monster. I like to see people happy and you . . . I like to see you desperate. Eager. Needy." A smile played at the edges of his mouth. "I'm not sure why.

She tried to respond but no words came.

"You want your book back, don't you?"

Grace nodded.

Her produced a pair of thin books with blank white covers and pressed them into her hands. "It's a series," he explained, "but I didn't want to take the first one away from you. No more jealousy now, be a happy girl for me. Go read about Grace. The second book will make things much clearer for you."

It did.

Her reading room was on the second floor looking out over the lawn through a wide window. A long driveway split the scene in half. She settled into her chair with the simple world of the book where Grace always did as she was told and never had unpleasant thoughts. There were other people in the second book. Other girls and other men. Grace was happy to meet them because she was a slave girl and making them happy was her job. Like the first book it started off with simple things and gradually moved to more intimate services.

The stories enraptured her. Each chapter was the same. Grace was given an order. She obeyed eagerly and happily. Set the table for the guests. Ask the guests if they want anything. Make the bed for the guests. Lie in bed with the guests.

The unpleasant voices tried to make her stop reading as the stories became more sexual but Grace had learned to control them. She read her favorite chapters over and over again until the obedient repetition had driven them away completely. It made her head feel pleasantly light to do it, as though angry little pieces of her brain were floating away to leave her with nothing but happy thoughts.

She was so absorbed in learning that she almost yelled at master when he made her close the book for the night. As she sat on his lap he whispered in her ear that she was a wonderful slave and slipped Bliss between her lips. Euphoria claimed her thoughts and soon mixed with all the happy things she had learned.

-)(-

"Welcome back, Amy."

The lights were bright enough to hurt her eyes. Her first words refused to come. "How long has it been?"

"Two days."

"That's impossible."

The man smiled. "My colleagues are very quick," he said with no further explanation.

"Where's your . . ." A choking sound replaced the last word.

"What were you going to say?" He asked, face darkening with anger. "My whore?" He blinked and the sudden emotion was gone. "It took a while to decide what to take but I think I made the right choice. No more bad language. Grace will be here later. I've had her learning how to take care of you but first you should learn about your new body."

He placed a hand on her breast and Amy moaned at the caress. She had never been so sensitive in her life. The touch sent a wave of pleasure through her that left her head swimming and her brain soaked in an endorphin cocktail. He did no more than that, however.

Amy restrained the urge to ask for more and drew away from him. There was no clink of metal on metal. The chains were gone She quickly covered her breasts but the moment her arms touched the supple flesh of her breasts another moan escaped her lips. She squeezed tighter until a voice in the back of her mind reminded her of her situation and she forced herself to stop. Her new breasts were surprisingly tasteful for a product of her captor's deranged mind, just barely smaller than C-cup on her frame. They looked almost real. She couldn't help her fingers from drifting back toward them curiously.

"I'm glad you like them," said the man.

A hurricane of curses caught in her throat, choking off her air supply. Amy twitched. "You can't expect me to thank you."

"Not yet," he said with a smile. He took a seat on the bed. "We should have fixed your memories while the other work was being done. You still remember me, I'm sure. What else?"

"You're a monster and so are those people you work with." She frowned. "It's hard to remember what you did. I was a . . . I researched you. I found things you were doing." She shook her head, trying to pull up more memories to prove he didn't have the power over her he claimed to. "There was . . . more that I knew. Other people. Other things. Not just taking people. I was a . . . I worked as a . . . something."