Pickup

Brian came back after three nights, in the morning. He arrived just as the girls were finishing breakfast, and knocked on the door. Marta let him in.

He looked over the pair as he walked in. Jeana was visibly better; rest and food had done wonders for the flu she’d been fighting. Marta was anxious, and both were dressed in new clothes. The beds were unmade, and the room looked well lived-in.

Brian took the chair he’d sat in before, and spoke: “So, any final questions?”

Silence was the answer.

“And your answer?” He looked at Marta.

She shrugged. “I already said yes. This,” She meant the room, the hotel, the food, everything, “just proves you meant what you’ve said.”

He nodded, and turned to Jeana. “And you?”

“Marta knows you better than I do. And, she trusted you to get us out of Darren’s grip. If the choice is between you and Darren, I choose you.”

“There is a third choice: I give you some money, and put you on a bus to somewhere. Darren will never find you, and I won’t come looking.” He answered, softly.

“Would you give me enough to stay out of this situation? I’d arrive uneducated and unemployed.”

He shrugged. “I haven’t won the lottery. I can make sure you have a meal when you get there, maybe a motel room for a day or two, but no more.”

“I know. I’d be on my own again. I could survive, probably, but sooner or later I’d be back under the control of someone like Darren. I would have no friends, and no skills, and no hope. I’d rather stay with the one friend I’ve got.” She nodded at Marta. “And… Nuttyness aside, you don’t sound too bad. I’ve probably endured worse than anything you will ever ask. I can obey someone who’ll keep me, without abuse. Just…”

“Yes?”

“One promise: We serve you, not your ‘friends’, or anyone else. No pimping us out.”

“Done. I will guard you as jealously as anyone could wish.” He waited a moment, for any more comments, then stood up. “Then… Thank you both. Pack up and we’ll check out.”


Marta quickly packed the little that they had into the bag Brian (or should that be ‘Master’ now?) had left with them. It wasn’t much, the remains of their life.

She hadn’t known Jeana’s answer before Jeana had said it. She was glad her friend would be coming with her into this… Whatever this was.

They had spent a lot of time discussing this, yesterday and the day before. Marta had let her friend sleep in the first morning; ordering in breakfast and leaving it for Jeana when she woke, while Marta took advantage of the shops in the hotel to buy some clothes that actually fit. Their ‘streetwalking’ outfits didn’t really count as clothes, anyway.

After the morning, Marta had returned to help nurse Jeana through the flu. Jeana improved throughout the day, but it was clear she could have been really sick. It wasn’t until she was better that Marta had allowed the topic of Brian to come up again.

In a perverse way, arguing with Jeana had made Marta more sure she wanted to follow through on this. She had to convince herself to convince her friend, and she needed to convince her friend to keep her from getting killed by Darren.

One argument in particular had stood out: It had been yesterday, last night in fact. They had been speculating over dinner when Brian would be back, and the topic had drifted to what would happen then.

“Look,” Marta had said, “I’m not saying he’s a saint. All I am saying is that he been nicer than anyone in a long time.”

“So, now we owe him? Is that it? You remember the last guy we ‘owed’? We probably still owe Darren, by his count.”

“That’s not it, and you know it. Yes, Darren claimed we ‘owed’ him. For everything we did, usually, and was willing to take it out in blood if we disagreed. Brian is giving us a choice.”

“Yeah, him or Darren. Darren I know.”

“Yeah, you know what he’s like. Considering what we know of him is that you’d be dying right now I’m willing to bet Brian is better. And Brian said he’d be willing to help you get away from Darren, if you want.”

“Where to? Someplace better? Can he wave a magic wand and make all this go away?”

“No. But he’s willing to help. And he hasn’t put any conditions on it.”

“Right. No conditions. And why are you trying to convince me to become his slave? Or is it join you as his slave?”

“I called him. We were in trouble, and I called for help, from someone who had offered it before. I said yes.”

“So there were conditions on the help.”

“There were. I knew that, and I knew the conditions. I thought they were worth it, and I am almost surprised he gave you a choice! But he did, and there are no conditions for you.”

“What, you thought he would just enslave me on your say-so? And that I’d be happy?”

“I thought it was better than spending another night freezing on the street! And, I don’t know what I expected him to do about you. I just knew I couldn’t leave you with Darren.”

“That the truth? You thought your friend would be safer with a nutcase you’ve talked to once? That’s why you dragged me into this?”

“Yes. I think we both would be safer with Brian than we were with Darren.”

“And you feel you need to convince me of that. Why is that, friend? You’ve already admitted you consider yourself his slave, and he told you to get me to join you. Are you taking his side because you want to, or because he told you to? Hell, why did you take care of me yesterday? He told you to heal me, didn’t he?”

“I…” At this point in the shouting match, Marta had broken down, as she’d searched herself for the answers to the questions. “I took care of you because I wanted to. Because I wanted my friend to get better.” She’d taken a breath, amazed herself at her next words: “I’m trying to get you to join us because he told me too. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t press you one way or the other. I’d let him make his own case, I think. He could. It’s a strong case.” Another breath, and she’d looked into her friend’s face. “But he’s not here, and he’s asked me to make his case for him. I don’t mind. I want you to join me: That’s why I asked him to pick up both of us. Don’t you see? That’s the difference between him and Darren: Brian only wants to ask us to do things we want to do.”

“Yeah, but first he gets to change what we want.”

Marta had shrugged. “Or try to. He’s not into drugs or pain, so he’s not going to be able to make us change our minds.”

Jeana had calmed down too, by this point. “You believe that. That this guy is telling the truth, and will keep his word. To us, of all people.”

“I do.”

Marta had not been sure she would be able answer the inevitable ‘why?’. Sure, he had so far. Sure, he’d done more for them than anyone else almost since they’d hit the streets. But why he would keep promises, when they applied for a lifetime… She wasn’t sure. Just that he had never held back on them so far, not even a little.

Her friend’s first response of “Huh,” was a relief while Marta tried to sort out her own thoughts. But Jeana had never followed up on it, just said she was going to sleep and turned out the lights.

Now Marta wanted ask what had changed her mind. But not now: Not with Brian right here. And not while they were checking out of the hotel, or getting in the car. She didn’t want to sound like she was trying to talk her friend out of it, and Jeana was probably still on light feet about the decision.

For that matter, now that it came down to it, Marta’s nerves were turning flip-flops on her stomach. She had agreed, and had fought for that agreement, but did she really know what she had agreed to? Where were they going, what was he going to make them do?

Of course, Jeana’s last point, that Brian was unlikely to ask them to do anything as bad as one of a hundred clients had asked, was perfectly true.

Brian had brought a different car. (His own, not a rental, he said.) His apartment wasn’t far, and Marta found herself ushered along with Jeana to the elevator, and up to the fourth floor of the apartment building. He opened the door, and held it as they entered.

“Nice place.” Jeana was in her be-nice-to-the-client mode again, Marta saw. Still, it was a nice apartment.

“Thanks. Take a look around; you’ll want to know your way around it.” He took the bag, and hung up his coat.

Underneath it he wore a shoulder-holster, and a gun. Which he took out and emptied, putting it into a safe near the door. “You wore a gun to come get us?”

He didn’t stop putting away the firearm. “Sure. Worst case was that you’d called Darren, and he was waiting for me.” He finished, but didn’t close the safe. “Which reminds me: Cellphones, please, girls.”

“Why?”

“Because during training I want control over who you see and talk to. And because I don’t want someone trying to trace those cellphones to find you. You’ll get them back when initial training is done.”

“How long will that take?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Partly that depends on you, and I haven’t done this before. Cellphones.”

Jeana handed hers over, while Marta asked one more question. “How else are you going to control who we see and talk to?”

He checked to make sure it was off, then put Jeana’s cellphone in the safe. Turning to Marta, he answered: “Simple. You will stay inside until I say otherwise.” He took the cellphone from her hand, and placed it in the safe as well.

“You are keeping us prisoner until this ‘training’ is complete.”

“Yes, I am. It is the only way I can be sure you will keep your end of the bargain.”

“And what does this training consist of?”

“Light brainwashing: Repetition, hypnosis, indoctrination. I told you I want to control your minds, this is that part of the deal: Making you want to obey me.”

“And if we object?”

He shrugged again. “I’d have trouble with both of you, and I don’t want to hurt you. When the problem arises, I’ll deal with it then. I have choices, depending on the situation.”

“You are assuming we won’t object right now.”

“Yes, I am.” He walked into the room himself. “Anyway, that’s not the first thing on the agenda.”

“No? What is?”

“First, I want to collect samples for health tests. See if you two have anything that needs to be treated, or that I don’t want to catch. I bought some home-test kits.” He pulled them out, and handed one to each girl. “Here. Instructions are included.”

Marta looked at the kit in her hands. She’d seen one like it fairly often: Testing for STD’s was a standard part of her life. So he wanted to know they were clean. She would in his place.

He watched as they completed the rituals, then collected the kits. “Now, if you would come with me…” He lead them to another room. “This is your room. Training will mostly be in here, and you can decorate it as you wish. Either of you need to use the restroom? Anything else? Good.”

Marta was looking around. It was a fairly small room, but no smaller than some she’d shared with Jeana in their life. There was a window, a bed, a small end-table, and a clothes cabinet by itself against one wall. In the center of the room, facing each other, were two chairs.

“Clothes off please. You can keep your underwear, if you wish.” He was heading to the cabinet in the back. He opened it, and removed some electronic devices.

He turned around to where the two girls were standing. “Oh, don’t tell me you are shy.

“What are you doing?” Marta asked, starting to take off her shirt.

“Simple: The start of training. Doing this will be most of the training, actually. Once you are undressed, I want one of you in each chair. I’ve got headsets, vibrators, and a set of buttons for each of you. I’ll hook them all up to a computer, and the headsets will flash images at you while playing sound in your ears. Periodically, you’ll get an instruction, either visual or audio, and if you follow it you’ll get a small reward. Otherwise, it’ll be uncomfortable for a moment.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t abuse us.”

“I’m not. None of this will hurt, really, and it will only be uncomfortable for a moment.”

Jeana asked the other question. “What keeps us in the chairs?”

“Nothing. If you need to get up, you can. But I’m asking you to try it, and I don’t think it will be too boring. So, what do you say?”

Marta looked at Jeana, and they both shrugged. “Ok. I guess we agreed to this.”

“Excellent. Please, have a seat.” Marta took the far seat, and Jeana faced her.

Brian took a few minutes hooking them up; a vibrator in their panties, a button under each hand and by each foot, then a headset on the head. He spent a moment adjusting those, making sure the earpieces were right, that the vision screens rested comfortably, and that the microphones were placed in front of their lips.

“Ok, here we go.” That was Marta’s only warning before system came on. The vibrator was almost unnoticed: The pictures in front of her were the center of attention.

Though she never got that good a look at them, they didn’t stay long. Still, she got the general idea: naked, sexed, women.

The whispers in her ears she could barely make out: some were single words, some were sentences. Quickly though she got her first instruction: “Right hand.” Loud and clear, over the headphones. A section of the screen in front of her blinked as well.

Marta didn’t process the instruction in time, and got a blast of static, before the instruction repeated. This time she pressed the button, and heard a small cheer, and the image in front of her was a celebration for a moment.

It felt like a video game. Just follow the instructions for a prize. The main thing was that Marta never had the chance to focus: It was always coming at her, flashing another image, or giving her the next task. She had to answer questions, true or false. (‘I serve Brian.’ True.) She read words from the screen, or pressed buttons on command. All the while the images and whispers never faltered.

Over time, the tasks became more complex: She would have to read a sentence, then answer if it was true. Sometimes she had to say ‘true’, sometimes she had to hit a button. Sometimes the button would be on her right, sometimes her left. Occasionally it would be at her feet.

She was just starting to feel like she was getting the hang of it when Brian shut them off.

“Lunchtime!” He said, removing their visors.

“What? Already?”

He smirked. “You’ve been in there for three hours. Get up, stretch, and get some food. Then you’ll have another session this afternoon.”

He didn’t give them much time before sending them back in. The afternoon passed as quickly as the morning.

After supper he had them strip completely, then put collars and cuffs (wrist and ankle) on both of them. He told them to stand by the bed, where they went without comment. Marta realized she was looking forward to what was next, whatever it was.

A short chain went between their necks, and Brian wrapped their arms around each other. Then longer chains went from wrist to wrist, keeping them from releasing the embrace. Next was a double-harness dildo, which Brian slid into both of them.

Marta found herself surprised to realize she was wet enough to not need lubrication.

Then he locked their ankles together, and tipped them into bed. “Good night girls.” He said, turning out the light.

“Oh, almost forgot.” He came back in, and flipped a switch on their harness. A buzzing started up in Marta’s clit. “There you go. See you in the morning.”

And with that he shut the door and left.

Marta found herself staring into the eyes of her best friend, alone for the first time since this morning. “So what do you think of Brian now?”

“I think I stand a good chance of becoming a brainwashed love-slave.” Jeana answered, pulling Marta close and starting to hump the dildo in both of them.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve been looking at porn all day, with a buzzer in my sex, and there’s a buzzer down there now. I’m horny, and I’ve got what feels like a cock between my legs. I’m taking advantage of it.” She muzzled Marta’s neck.

“I’m here too.”

“And you aren’t horny? You should be, after all the work Brian put in to make us that way. Repeat after me: ‘I love sex.’”

It was one of the lines from the program, stated in the same tone the computer used. Marta repeated on autopilot: “I love sex.”

“I want to give sexual pleasure.”

“I want to give sexual pleasure.”

“I live to give sex.”

“I live to give sex.”

Jeana pulled up so she could see her friend. “See? You want this as much as I do.” She didn’t wait for a reply: the kiss silenced Marta.

And Marta couldn’t object.


The morning found them tired and horny, whether still or again Marta wasn’t sure. Their sleeping position hadn’t been the best, once they’d finally gotten to sleep. Any movement by one tended to wake the other up, for one thing. And the dildo felt odd just sitting there.

The buzzer had never let up, which was a large part of the ‘horny’ part. They’d humped each other to orgasm a couple of times before trying to get some sleep, and then the constant reminder had resulted in at least one more restart before they managed to sleep. Exactly who had instigated that was an open question: it had been more of a body thing than anything intended.

Dreams had been… Well, reality had blurred a bit on the edges. Marta thought she had woken at least once to Jeana humping her in her sleep, but it was hard to be sure.

So they were both groaning at Brian’s cheerful “Wakey wakey!” when he walked in and turned on the lights. He didn’t wait for them to respond before his next act either: He just reached between their legs and switched the vibrator off. Which was a relief, really.

He watched at waited until they were actually awake before unhooking and untangling them. Then he led them to the bathrooms, and sent each on their way with a pat on the rear.

Marta woke further as the water worked the kinks out of her muscles. Her head cleared as the body relaxed, and she thought over the last night, as well as the last twenty-four hours.

He had their phones (well, Darren’s phones…), and he controlled all contact with the outside world. Which on one hand was a scary thought: He could keep them here and…

And what? Program them to be his love-slaves? They’d already agreed to that.

Last night took more thought. She and Jeana had made out before, for or with clients. Two at once was a common fantasy, after all, and guys were willing to pay well for it. But that had always been at a client’s request, and for the money. Last night, they had started it on their own.

Ok, so Brian had left some encouragement. A lot of encouragement, in fact. Still, he hadn’t told them too, and he hadn’t even been watching.

Marta had gone down on a fair number of girls during the course of her career, but she’d never considered herself a lesbian, or even bi. She wasn’t sure she was now. She’d just… enjoyed herself last night. And despite everything, thinking back over the last day was reminding her at least that she’d been horny for much of it, and that was likely to continue in the near future.

Which brought a different wetness than just the shower to between her legs. And that was scary. Hot, but scary.

He might just have a chance at doing what he wanted.

Outside the shower, sitting on a rack, was an overlarge men’s t-shirt and sweatshorts. Putting them on made Marta feel more human again. Like a woman waking up after sleeping over at her lover’s house, and dressing in his clothes.

She brought a towel with her, and was drying her hair as she exited.

Brian noticed as she walked into the living room, and called from the kitchen, “Pancakes?”

They smelled delicious. She took the nearer seat, one which already had a plate set in front of it. “Sure.”

He nodded, and turned back to the stove. “There’s milk or juice: orange and apple. Take your pick. I can have tea ready in a moment if you’d like it as well.”

Marta reached for the orange juice, and poured herself a glass, then watched her master make her a set of pancakes. He finished before Jeana came out, and flipped the stack onto her plate. “Buttermilk flaxseed. A family recipe.” He said with a smile.

She took a moment, looking at it all. The juice, the pancakes, the selection of toppings. Bacon waiting for her to pick it up. It was as good, or better, than had been in the hotel. But that had felt like ‘work’, this felt like…

She hadn’t had a breakfast like this since before her parents had broken up. Mom just hadn’t had the time on her own, and then…

Well, Marta hadn’t been able to afford it on her own.

It was… She hadn’t had a chance to think about all this yet. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure she’d earned this, and she was still trying to work her head around agreeing to be his sex slave, but nothing here she’d seen yet was going to be an incentive to leave. It might be a little weird, but nothing felt dangerous even. And at the moment, looking back on what she’d been a week ago…

She was feeling human again, for the first time in months, at least.

How much of that Brian caught Marta wasn’t sure, but his voice said some of it. “No problem. Tell me if you want more pancakes.”

Not likely. She and Jeana had ruthlessly indulged at his expense at the hotel.

She set to eating while she tried to think of the questions she wanted to ask.

Meanwhile, Jeana had finished her shower, and came over to the table. She was dressed much like Marta, but she had a pair of panties (which Marta recognized as being from their bag) instead of the sweatshorts Marta was wearing. She didn’t seem to think anything of it.

Brian repeated his offers of pancakes and tea, as well as the rest, and Jeana was soon seated and eating as well.

Marta decided she could fit in another stack, if he was making them. Brian happily obliged. He also slipped a stack onto his plate, joining them at the table.

Marta finished first, and looked over the little group. She felt at once an intruder in a strange place, and a part of a family.

“So what’s all this for?” Someone had to break the silence. Might as well be her.

“You mean breakfast?”

“This whole scene, really. Not that I’m not appreciative, you understand, but… Why?”

“Why am I being nice?”

“Something like that. I mean, when you mention brainwashing, people think dark cells, drugs…”

“Those work if you want to instill fear, can get the drugs, and can handle the ethics involved. Governments often like that. ‘It is far safer to be feared than loved,’ and all that. I’d rather you came to love me, and I can’t afford all their paraphernalia. This is brainwashing on the cheap.” He gestured at the table. “Being nice is far less work, fairly cheap, and influences you to trust me. The more you trust me, the more likely you are to believe me and follow me.”

“So you are doing this to make us trust you.”

“Yes, no, aghh.” Brian rubbed his temples. “I would rather you trust me than fear me. So I decided to not try abusing you until you obey me out of fear. Instead, I’m going to try repetition, isolation, and hypnosis. Those I’ve thought about, and are the ‘intentional’ parts of my brainwashing program. Making you a good breakfast when I can does not interfere with any of those, and is something I’m likely to do for a guest, to impress them, to make them like me, to show I’m a good host, because it is good manners, and all of the above. It’s not intentionally part of the program, but it’s intentionally not fighting the program. Does that make sense?”

“I think so. Basically, you don’t want us to think its a cynical attempt to gain our trust.”

“Right.”

“Which, of course, would be exactly what you’d want if it were a cynical attempt to gain our trust.”

Brian had to laugh at that. “Right. But its not, in this case.”

Oddly enough, Marta believed him. “Exactly.” Although maybe that was the ‘I trust Brian’ set of questions she’d had to answer yesterday…

“Well, now that I’ve completely shot any hope of getting you to relax in my presence… I do have some drugs for you.” He turned in his chair, and grabbed a couple of pill bottles off the side counter. “Antibiotics, for each of you, and some zinc. Mostly to help shake off the remnants of that flu Jeana had.” He set out two pills (one of each type) in front of them.

Jeana said the obvious. “And we are supposed to trust you on what these are?”

Brian looked ready to answer in the same tone he’d been using, but he must have noticed the change in the girl’s attitude. “No, I guess not. I suppose you’ve had trouble with guys offering pills before.” He took one pill from in front of each of them, so that he now had one of each type. Then he carefully and deliberately swallowed them himself.

He then handed the bottles themselves to the girls.

Marta glanced at the store-name bottle in her hand, and decided to go along. A moment later, she’d taken one of each of the pills herself.

Jeana hadn’t. She examined her bottle far more closely, and then carefully set it aside.

When she didn’t move to pick it up again, Brian spoke: “Anyone can fake an open bottle, right?”

Jeana lowered her head, slightly.

Brian shrugged. “Ok then.” He picked up the bottles, and the spare pill, which he replaced in the bottle it had come from. The bottles went back on the side counter. “Can I get you to help me with dishes at least? Then it’ll be time for the training chairs again.”

“You aren’t going to punish me?”

Brian re-focused on Jeana. “Not unless you want me too. My failing to know what your limits are isn’t something to punish you for. And I did, after all, promise not to abuse or drug you.” He moved a bit closer to her. “Of course, if you want me to punish you, I can think of something.”

“No, no, I’ll be good. You don’t need to punish me.” She got up to head to the sink.

“Jeana.” She stopped, turned. “Sit.” He motioned to the chair, she slunk back quickly, and was soon in it.

He considered her a moment. “I have studied psychology for this. I may have forgotten for a moment the difference between your experiences and mine, but I can read reactions. Somewhat.” Jeana seemed to be having trouble looking up to meet his face. He remedied that with a finger under her chin. “You’ve dealt with a lot of assholes over the years. I’ll bet being a street-walker wasn’t your first choice of occupation, either.”

She managed to shake her head, but it now appeared she couldn’t look anywhere but his eyes. “And now you find yourself at the hands of someone who’s admitted to wanting to turn you into a brainwashed sex-slave. Because of a friend of yours, who said she wanted to help you.” He raised a hand to silence Marta.

“This isn’t what you planned, and your life is out of control. You aren’t really sure what you want anymore, besides a roof over your head and food to eat when you are hungry, are you?”

The head shake was clearer this time. “I’m guessing you’ve been abused, along the way. Maybe Darren, probably others. It didn’t always have to be physical. You don’t want abuse, but you can handle it. Or so you’ve told yourself. If it is what it takes to survive.”

She didn’t appear to notice she was nodding.

Brian closed his eyes, in obvious thought for a moment. Both girls found themselves holding their breath. “This isn’t the life you chose. It is the life you’ve been thrust into, and forced to live. You are willing to go along with it, as long as that is clear: That it is not your choice.”

Jeana surprised herself by nodding.

“Ok then. I have a question for you: Shall I take away your choice? Make it clear that you have to serve me, be brainwashed by me?”

“You’ve already trapped us here, given us no other option.”

“That’s what you’ve told yourself. And I have built a decent trap. But it doesn’t feel like one, nor is it perfect. If you felt you needed to, you could probably find a way to escape. If I wanted to stop you, you might have to kill me in the process, but I haven’t restrained you or forced you to do anything. Much. I’ve just made it clear what was expected, and not given you other obvious options.”

“No, my question was: Shall I make it clear that you are being forced? Remove the illusion that you have the ability to say no?” The finger was back, gently pulling her chin towards him. “Do you want the feeling of being a slave, not just a woman who happens to be doing what I say?”

“I, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I’m treating you like a guests. Guests who I’ve got their days planned out for, in detail, but guests. People who’ve chosen to obey me. Do you want me to treat you differently? Like someone who must serve, because that is who they are?”

“You said you wouldn’t abuse us.”

“I won’t. And I won’t even be rough. You’ve had enough of that, I think. I’m still not going to use fear or pain. But I will stop asking you to do things, and there will be some sort of punishment if you resist orders. Some way to make it clear to your mind that are doing this because I said so, and not because you have any choice in the matter. So you can tell yourself that you haven’t given in, that you just have no other option.”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he sat back. When she turned to Marta, he stopped her: “No, this is your choice. Ask me anything you want, but she stays out of it.”

“And, either way, you are going to continue to try to brainwash me, right?”

“Right.”

There was a long silence. Jeana even got up and walked around the room, as the other two sat and waited for her decision.

Eventually, she returned to the chair. “Yes. It would feel better to me if I didn’t have a choice, I think.”

“Ok. A few changes for you then. First off, have you heard of a ‘safeword’?”

“I’ve heard the term.” It was clear she wasn’t entirely sure of it’s use though.

“Yours is ‘sicher’. If you say that at any time, I will stop and back off. However, you are only to use it if you are unable to do, or to continue to do, what I have asked. That can mean physically, or it can be mentally or emotionally. If you find yourself past your limits and panicking, use that word and I will bring you back. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, if you use the safeword and you aren’t past your limits, and you could have continued, I will be forced to punish you. It is for emergencies only. Understand?”

“Of course.”

“Good. What is the safeword?”

“Uh…”

“ ‘Sicher’. Your safeword is ‘sicher’. Say it for me.”

“ ‘Sicher’.”

“Say: ‘My safeword is sicher.’”

“My safeword is sicher.”

“Good. I’ll ask you for it periodically, to make sure you remember it. Next, you will refer to me from now on as ‘master’. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“ ‘Yes’ who?”

“Yes, master.”

“Very good. You may refer to yourself as Jeana for now, but you are not to use ‘I’ or ‘me’ at any time. You will refer to yourself in third person. Understand?”

She paused a moment. “Yes, master, Jeana understands. She will refer to herself in third person.”

“A little wordy, but very good. One last thing: You are not to speak without permission, unless you have been addressed directly. Understand?”

“Yes master. Jeana will not speak without permission.”

“Good. A nod might have done, but I do appreciate you being clear. Of course it goes without saying that you will obey any order I give without hesitation, or I will find a way to punish you for disobedience.” He rose, and headed towards their room. “Come.”

Jeana followed, Marta right behind her.

Brain stopped Jeana next to the chair she’d sat in the day before, while he went to the cabinet in the back. This time he pulled out a few more supplies.

He didn’t ask her to get undressed. He did it himself, removing her shirt and panties by hand. He also said nothing as he strapped in a vibrator, and well as electrodes on both nipples, and her clit.

Eventually, he did speak one word: “Sit.” Jeana obeyed. He had more items from the closet: straps, that bound her wrists and ankles to the chair. He plugged her in to the computer, leaving off the headset for now.

When everything else was done, he turned to her and spoke again. “I’ll have to tune your program a bit. For now, follow it’s instructions, even if they disagree with the one’s I’ve just given you. I will be able to make some changes later, during the day. This may disrupt your programming as they come. So if you see any disruptions in the flow, just ignore them, as they’ll smooth out in a moment.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he placed the display over her head and started the sequence.

Then he turned to Marta. “So, dishes?”

“Um, sure.” She followed him back towards the kitchen. “Am I supposed to be calling you ‘master’ as well?”

“Not unless you want to. Here, you wash, I’ll dry and put away.”

He had a dishwasher, she saw. “So, what was that about?”

Brian let out a breath, leaned back against the counter, and started laughing. “I’m sorry. I just… That was intense. I wasn’t expecting it, and then… I guess I just needed to laugh.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ve been trying to guess how you two are reacting. What’s going on in your heads. And Jeana’s reactions at the table this morning were, well, a bit odd.”

“True enough.”

“Well, at first I thought she was just reacting to people trying to drug you in the past. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I expect would-be pimps tried to get you hooked on stuff so they could get a hold of you, right?”

Marta nodded. “A few times. I was waiting for Darren to try it. He… Probably would have succeeded.”

“One of the reasons you called me.” He didn’t wait for a confirmation. “Anyway, at first I thought that was all of it, but then the way she headed for the dishes, and a few things I’d noticed already all clicked in my head, and I played a hunch.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Marta, in Jeana’s head she’s still whomever she was before she hit the streets. She is just trying to get along, doing what she ‘has to’ before she can get off the streets. Well, not exactly, but that’s a part of her. She doesn’t want to admit to herself that any of this is something she has control over. She may be right, for all I know.”

“But the point is, I’ve been trying to structure this as if you two choose to do everything I want you to do. So that, if the thought ever crosses your head ‘why am I doing this?’, you have the answer ‘because I want to’. And you won’t be able to argue with that, because you never really fought against the training. Because it is light, and is never anything you can’t handle. It just all adds up to serving me.”

“She wasn’t buying that. She was trying to reframe it so she had no choice; that she had to do what I said or ‘something’ would happen to her. I wasn’t helping, but she was trying anyway. Anyway, that was my hunch, and I offered to help her. To visibly take away those choices, and ‘make her’ do what I wanted. Then it’s not her fault, she can even enjoy it. Because I’m ‘forcing’ her to.”

“And she wants to be forced?”

“Well, sorta… She wants to think she’s a ‘good girl’. Someone who would never even think about doing what I want her to do. But she’s doing it anyway, because I’m making her do it. But that’s my fault, not hers. So she’s still a ‘good girl’.”

“Sounds like you’re saying she wants to be abused.”

“No. Most definitely, no. She’s probably more sensitive to abuse than most, really. I’m going to make it very clear to her that she won’t get abused here. That even in punishment, she still will be provided with anything she actually needs. And — as long as she follows the rules I give her — she will be comfortable and have a pleasant life. In some ways, life will be simpler for her: As long as she follows the rules exactly, she’s fine, and can trust that implicitly. She doesn’t have to worry about anything but those rules. No pain just because I like pain, no asking for more than she can handle, no arbitrary fate crushing her. She can choose whether her life is good or bad, just by deciding whether to follow the rules.”

“And that’s not the case for me?”

“Well — unless you ask for the same treatment — not exactly. I’m training you with more freewill. When we are done, you’ll gladly do whatever I ask, but you’ll be able to operate on your own more. Her life will be more black and white: If A, then B. Always. You’ll be able to deal with a situation without instruction, doing your best to do as I want.”

“And that’s not a good girl?” She teased back.

“You operate under a different definition there. For her, it’s a checklist: Good girls do this, and don’t do that. Unless forced, of course. But that’s not really their fault. For you, a good girl is one who acts in a good manner: Is polite, obeys her owner, etc.”

“So, from ‘master’ to ‘owner’, eh?”

“Something like that. I’m probably not explaining this all that well, really.”

“I think I get some of it.”

Good. Now if I can only figure out how to pull this off… It’s going to be a juggling act.” He turned, and grabbed a plate, starting to dry it.

“How so?” Marta was actually almost done.

“If you are on different training, you’re on different schedules. There will probably be times where she’s been trained to do something, but you haven’t, or vice-versa. Or you’ll get trained in different ways.”

“Regretting it yet?”

He turned a grin on her. “Not a chance. This is the best part, really. I get to try to outsmart two beautiful women, and turn them into my own, personal, sex slaves.”

“And if you fail?”

The grin turned slightly feral. “I won’t fail.”

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