Callidus

Donna’s body strained in the bondage frame but the steel was as unrelenting as the indoctrination being pumped into her mind. She knew what was happening to her. She was being meticulously brainwashed. She’d seen it happen. She’d watched other women being placed into bondage and then subjected to sexual mind reconditioning. She’d watched as they’d resisted… then weakened… then relented. She’d watched as they’d stopped begging for their freedom and started begging for collars and orgasms and so much more.

Now, she was one of them.

It might have all turned out so differently, her life and career. If only she hadn’t let that damn laptop come into her law office. She’d worked with whistle blowers before. Handled sensitive information. Insider secrets. She’d kept packages and documents, computers and data drives for her clients and associates of her clients.

She’d kept them safe but ready for release in case someone didn’t return from a sketchy meeting. She’d kept originals in case the most damning evidence mysteriously vanished just before it could be introduced at trial. She’d swore an oath to never look herself. Only hold the information for safekeeping.

Of course, though, she’d looked.

Sometimes out of morbid curiosity. Sometimes because she knew naughty and very damning things were resting quietly in her safe. The footage of the presidential candidate bound to a leather horse and moaning like a whore while he was fucked by two women from both ends. The mega church pastor with a secret cult of nubile young whores dressed as latex nuns. The pretty District Attorney moaning into her own desk while her lesbian Mistress pumped secrets out of her with a neon green strap on.

But none of that compared to the laptop.

She’d agreed to take it and hold it for a friend in the media. She’d heard just enough keywords to clue her in as to what might be on it: mind control, sex slaves, conspiracy. It was laughable to think any of that was real. It was obviously fake. Obviously.

And that made it easier for her when she stayed late after work one evening. Locked up the office, poured herself some wine and stripped out of her skirt and panties with the laptop open before her. It was a very well executed fake though. Perfect camera work and sound quality. Perfect footage of women, adult performers no doubt, being broken and tamed; conditioned and reprogrammed; addicted and enslaved.

She’d touched herself while she watched.

She’d felt guilty about that, when she’d first awoken in the straps and realized what was about to happen to her. But that was so long ago it might as well have been a previous life. Things had changed since then. She’d changed. She resisted it, at first, just like they all had.

Now, she was being taught to love it.

She loved learning. They’d made sure of that. The machines molesting her body were unstoppable. They only paused long enough for her body to be cleaned and a larger cock to be fitted to the fucking device. Each time she advanced to a new level of her slut training she’d been rewarded with more length. More girth. More pleasure.

She loved what an easy slut she’d been to train.

But her owners wanted her for more than just the use of her body. Her law office, her staff, her clients and connections… she was going to be a very, very useful slave. Her ambition –during law school, while she’d been clerking in the state court, when she’d opened her own practice– had been left intact. It had been twisted though, along with the rest of her mind, into a tool for her owners.

She’d help them hide their money. Create the web of false identities and front companies that would protect them from law enforcement. And, best of all, she’d lure in new subjects. Fresh meat for her Masters. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever meet them. But she loved them. Loved them for what they’d done to her. Loved them for what they’d turned her into.

And once her pretty paralegal got back from her honeymoon, she’d learn to love them too.