Story title: Brainwashed Into Submission
Author: Hazel Grace
Part 2
The first week is the hardest for Vivienne.
I don’t need to read her thoughts to see it. I notice it in the way her eyes flicker in confusion, in the way she takes hesitant steps around the workshop.
It takes three days before she finally says she loves me for the first time without any prompting, and her voice is barely audible over the sound of my typing.
When I look up, I find her staring at me, lips parted like she’s about to speak again, but all that comes out is a faint, incoherent murmur.
I stare back. “Yes?”
“I just… I…”
I see her eyes widen at her own stammering and she falters. The rest of the sentence wilts before she can even complete the thought. She stands there, rooted in place, looking both confused and distraught.
I almost feel bad for her.
Almost.
I know her thoughts are running in circles, trapped in the growing confusion, trying to process what’s happened to her.
For the first time since we started, I don’t feel nothing but pride when I look at the neural device resting on her head.
The thing I built was never just a prototype, it was a promise I made to myself about making the world softer, kinder, a little less dark. I imagined governments licensing it for battlefield trauma therapy, couples finding their way back to each other in counseling, clinically depressed people finding solace in its warm waves of comfort, closer to a genuine smile and ease of being than they’d been in months, perhaps years, of putting in work with a psychologist.
It was supposed to be about healing, about offering people a choice to feel something good, something real, when their own minds had gone too dim to reach it.
But what it is really, under all the branding?
Mind control.
I imagine someone strapping it onto a dissident, a witness who knows too much, an addict programmed to never seek rehabilitation.
Changing the threshold parameters had been entirely too easy, all it took was just a few lines of extra code, and to remove the consent gating, by the need for emotional synchronization, force an , overwrite whatever’s there and then it was just… done.
They’ll call it therapy. Restoration. Maybe even salvation.
But clearly, a tool this powerful won’t stay benevolent forever.
All it took for me to corrupt my own designs was a woman’s betrayal. People have done worse for less. Dictators, warlords, cult leaders, they’ve rewritten lives, burned down cities, slaughtered truth itself, just to feel like gods for five minutes. All it takes is a little power, a little promise of control, and someone willing to look the other way.
I want to take it all back, but how can I? Now there are investors. Vivienne has told many powerful and rich people how it all works, she’s shown them results, testimonials, she gave them a future with their name on it and a spot in history.
If I leave it as is, they’ll run with it.
If I fight, I’m just noise, some bitter engineer with no equity and a disappearing paper trail.
I open the build environment and begin pushing a silent patch. I bury a checksum anomaly deep in the firmware sync, invisible unless you know exactly what to look for. A kill switch keyed to a specific set of emotional signatures: mine. If the headset ever attempts to or imprint without a verified two-way sync, it’ll fry its own kernel.
Quiet.
Clean.
Irreversible.
Then I overwrite the backup branch and corrupt the previous restore points. I secure wipe protocols, redundancy layers, the kind of thing I once told Vivienne was paranoia-level overkill. Now it feels like common sense. I encrypt the clean build, the real one, the safe one, and store it in a private cloud under a different project name. It’s inert, unusable without my biometric lock.
I write no documentation. No breadcrumbs. I’m not just building anymore. I’m burying a bomb with its own detonator.
The prototype still works exactly how it’s supposed to, except that it’s currently being used by a sadistic piece of shit, aka me, who enjoys playing with a female viper’s mind. It doesn’t need the safeguard for its intended use, and it’s not like there’s a chance anyone but me will be using it.
I stare at the screen for a moment longer, at my clean code, the thing that could still be something beautiful, something pure.
The rest of the night is a blur, and as I push the build, the sound of it compiling lulls me into an exhausted sleep, the headset still humming, still keeping Vivienne locked in an emotional loop.
“Take off your necklace.”
Her eyes flutter, caught between confusion and something like shame, but nonetheless, her fingers go to the delicate chain resting on her collarbone, trembling as they unclasp it and let it fall, cold, to the floor.
“Your diamonds don’t belong to you. They’re the trophies of your manipulation. Trinkets bought with lies and favors. You’re a woman who toyed with men like pieces on a board. Who never gave, only took. Undress.”
The blouse slips from her shoulders, exposing bare skin that suddenly feels vulnerable and stripped of pretense. Her jewels, her clothes, the armor that shielded her from the world’s judgment, lie discarded like the manipulative bullshit she spun so effortlessly.
“I’m breaking you because you broke me first. You’ll learn. You’ll obey. And when you look in the mirror, you’ll see what you really are. Not the queen you pretended to be, but the pawn you always were.”
The room feels colder without the shimmer of her status, her pride gone, replaced by something raw and broken. I know I’ve crossed a line, but it’s the only way a woman like Vivienne could ever be put in her true place. She stands there, stripped bare, not just of the silk and jewels, but of everything that once made her untouchable, radiant, dangerous.
The soft curve of her neck, the slender line of her shoulders, the subtle swell of her hips, all of it is there, perfect and unguarded beneath the harsh light of the workshop.
I can’t deny her beauty.
It’s impossible not to notice the smooth skin, the delicate arch of her spine, the way her breath catches in shallow rhythms. There was a time I might have knelt before that beauty, worshiped it like a relic too precious to touch. But now, as I look at her, something else seeps in, an overwhelming emptiness that swallows the light she once cast.
I reach out, almost instinctively, my fingers tracing the curve of her jaw, and I banish the ghost of what I once felt. Reverence has twisted into bitterness. She isn’t the woman I dreamed of loving, cherishing, or fighting for. She’s just a body, a tool, a possession.
And as of this moment, that is all she will ever be to me.
“I think you want to suck my cock now. You should get on your knees.”
The device pulses steadily in response to my commands, feeding her exactly the words her brain can’t generate anymore. I can feel the fear and confusion through our neural connection, but they’re buried under layers of mirrored emotion. Vivienne looks up, lips parted, breathless and trembling, eyes fixed on the outline of my hardening cock.
It feels like I’m floating somewhere high above as I watch her kneel before me and I can barely breathe as she lowers herself on trembling legs, her hands reaching to free my cock from the confines of my tros.
Her eyes are dulled, but there’s still a shadow of her defiance lingering on her face. I brush it away like a stray hair from her forehead, the touch soft at first, almost tender. But this is Vivienne we’re talking about, this is a woman who has used me for months and never thought twice about it, this is the same woman who had no problem selling out our partnership, selling me out.
It feels good to see her like this, eyes half-closed as if she’s still struggling against the overload of artificial feelings that keep forcing themselves into her head.
She’s no longer my muse, she’s my toy to use, my doll to control.
The feeling is addictive, a power trip like nothing I’ve felt before, and as her hand slides down the length of my cock, my eyes fall shut and I let out a moan of sheer pleasure. Her fingers feel small, delicate, and soft against the hot hardness of my shaft and when her mouth opens and she wraps her lips around the swollen head, my head tips back, pleasure shooting through me.
My cock pushes between her lips, a feeling like velvet, as she sucks and swirls her tongue around my cockhead. Her cheeks hollow with every slow movement and her eyes look up at me through long eyelashes as she works my meat harder.
Her tongue flattens against my shaft and she takes me in further and deeper into her mouth until her throat flutters against my tip and she gags. I press against the back of her head, urging her to take me all the way down her throat, but she resists, lips pulling back over her teeth in protest, until I twist my fingers through her hair, pulling hard, forcing her face against me.
Her fingers scramble at the front of my pants, nails digging into my thighs as she chokes and gags on my cock, the muscles in her neck rippling as she struggles to accommodate me.
I push deeper, and deeper, until the tip of her nose brushes my pelvis, my cock fully lodged inside her, cutting off her airway. My balls rest heavy against her chin as she trembles, drooling all over the base of my cock. She makes a soft, guttural noise of distress that sends shivers of pleasure all the way through me, my fingers digging into her hair and forcing her still as she takes the fullness of me.
I can feel her resistance crumbling with every throb of my cock. Her fear slowly subsides into acceptance and when I pull out of her mouth, she sucks in air and tries to look up at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. She gasps and her shoulders heave and shudder, but when I push my cock back between her lips her resistance melts away and her lips slide over my cock once more. Her hand moves to massage my balls while her mouth is sliding back and forth, lips gripping tightly on my shaft.
I start rocking my hips back and forth and Vivienne looks up at me as she begins to take me down her throat again. Tears are welling in the corners of her eyes as I begin to facefuck her in earnest. The hot wetness of her mouth makes me shudder with pleasure, my hand gripping the back of her head tightly and pulling her closer and closer, thrusting against her mouth.
The pressure in my balls grows tighter as Vivienne keeps sucking, her cheeks hollowing, lips moving, tongue swirling, her throat constricting around the head of my cock every time it reaches deep inside. I keep fucking her mouth harder, feeling myself growing bigger in her throat until she’s downright choking on me.
Her nails dig into the skin of my thighs as her cheeks redden.
I thrust into her harder and deeper and as my cock finally slips deeper down her throat and Vivienne’s eyes water and tears fall freely down her cheeks, my climax hits like a truck.
Waves of pleasure shoot through my cock as it pulses and spills thick spurts of cum deep down her throat and into her belly, leaving me shuddering with ecstasy. My vision blurs for a second, the air leaving my lungs as I hold Vivienne against my groin, letting her gag on the length of me as I unload myself completely in her mouth.
Finally, I release her and her face emerges from my groin, hair wild, her expression flushed and bewildered, eyes staring at me with confusion as she struggles to understand what’s happened.
“Good girl,” I mutter and pat her hair. “You’ll learn. You’ll obey, and I promise you’ll be happy being my submissive fuck toy.”
The room falls quiet save for our breath and the low hum of the neural device between us.
Vivienne stares at me with glazed eyes, her chest heaving. She swallows, the motion exaggerated as her mind slowly processes what her body’s done.
I watch, savoring every second, her bewilderment, her growing acceptance of my dominance. Her mind may not be fully under the control of the neural device yet, but her body responds, willingly or not.
She tries to stand and I release her, watching as she steadies herself on wobbling legs. I know what she needs now. She may not have said it yet, but it’s there in the subtle tilt of her body, the slight lean toward me.
I take her by the arm and guide her to the couch, laying her down. Her body is warm beneath my hand as I trace the lines of her bare chest, her stomach. I run my hand between her breasts, feeling the heavy weight, the slight, instinctive arch of her spine at my touch.
I look up at her face and see her lips parting in silent anticipation.
Her gaze meets mine but the light that was there once is long gone, now replaced by the blank acceptance that comes with conditioning.
I touch the softness of her stomach again, slowly making my way between her thighs and the sound she makes as my fingers press against her clit makes my heart leap in my chest. She spreads her legs without me asking, the gesture unbidden and instinctive, as she surrenders her body to the device and my will.
Her chest is rising and falling now, a steady rhythm of desire and desperation, as I circle her clit and bring the heat rising within her. The wetness seeping from between her thighs is more than enough confirmation that despite the machine, she desires me.
It doesn’t take long to coax a trembling orgasm out of her and she lets out a small moan, eyes shutting tight, lips pressed together, her hands fisting the fabric of the couch. She whimpers when I press two fingers into her wet heat and her legs part further as she cedes her body to pleasure.
“That’s it. Give in. You know it feels better that way, right?”
Her answer comes as another quiet sound of assent and as my fingers push deeper and curve upward, her whole body trembles and I feel her pussy squeezing tight around them, the sensation almost enough to make me hard again.
It takes three more strokes to make her cum a second time.
I hold her there until I’m satisfied the need in her has abated somewhat, then I lean close to whisper in her ear.
“Don’t ever think you can go back to being what you once were. Your mind belongs to me, Vivienne. You are mine and only mine. This body,” I murmur, fingers pressing hard against her flesh, “is mine now, too. And I’ll keep training you to want this, over and over and over again, until you learn.”
With that, I drape myself over her, the warmth of her luscious body lulling me into a deep, restful sleep.
She feels fragile against my weight, as if her very bones are breaking beneath me. Her shaky breath stirs my hair as she exhales against the back of my head and yet I smile, savoring my victory.
Vivienne is nothing more than a nice body now, a living doll stripped of her story, her power, her will.
When I wake up next, I find Vivienne sitting beside me on the floor, her hand resting on my thigh like she can’t bear to let me out of her sight for even a second. She leans in closer to me as I shift my weight and when her hand reaches up to brush a lock of hair from my face, her smile is serene.
“I love you, Julian,” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded with what I now recognize as artificial desire. “I’ve been dreaming of you.”
In another world, her words would have been music to my ears. Now, they sound like a script and leave me empty.
She looks at me expectantly, waiting, the need to be commanded etched into the lines of her body.
“You can suck my cock again, if you like,” I mutter. “I think it’ll make you happy.”
She lifts herself up on her knees and settles between my legs and as I close my eyes, the darkness around me is filled with her soft gasps, her breath tickling the base of my cock, the slick heat of her tongue sliding against me. I try to focus on the sensation and I grab a handful of her hair as her chin presses against my balls.
She lets out a moan that vibrates through my entire groin and her hand tightens as her head bobs faster. Her other hand moves to my thigh, pressing me into the chair, and her hair slips through my fingers. Her body leans closer, the scent of her skin, jasmine and solder, filling my lungs.
I push myself deeper down her throat as her lips close tight around my cockhead. I hear a choked gagging sound but Vivienne doesn’t pull away, her face buried deep between my thighs. The pressure makes me shiver. My vision blurs again and a moan escapes my lips as my cock pulses inside her throat, filling her mouth with a flood of warm cum.
The sensations roll over me and I feel as if I’m floating on a wave of pure, untainted ecstasy.
As I finally let go of her hair, Vivienne slumps to the floor and looks up at me through glassy, vacant eyes. She licks her lips clean, swallowing what I left on them without protest and a thin trickle of cum drips from the corner of her mouth.
I pat her cheek. “That’s it, Vivienne, you’re my good girl.”
My fingers run over the softness of her jaw and my thumb presses gently against the bottom of her lip, wiping the drop of cum from the corner of her mouth and pushing it onto her tongue. Vivienne licks that clean, too, and swallows and then her body sinks against mine.
I have truly broken her, I realize.
Vivienne moves at my will, obeying my every command, having surrendered everything she was because I demand it.
I have forced her to betray herself, to cross boundaries she would never have dared approach willingly. I have made her recite the darkest truths she kept hidden, speak aloud the manipulations, the lies, the twisted games she played with those who trusted her. I have made her confess sins not just of the heart, but of power, using love as a weapon, seduction as a trap, loyalty as currency. She used to wear her luxury and status like armor, but beneath it all, I have stripped her bare, reduced her to a puppet dancing on strings I pull without mercy.
And now I find I no longer want her.
Vivienne was once the kind of woman that would have had my heart at the very first smile she graced me with, but now that her face has lost the spark of life, I look at her like one looks at a doll, cold and disinterested.
“Come wash me. We need to get ready for a business meeting.”
The command slips from my lips as easily as water from a glass and when I get to my feet, Vivienne follows, like a puppy, eyes fixed on my back as she stumbles after me, legs trembling from being knelt on for so long. She moves awkwardly, almost drunkenly, the movements jerky and unfamiliar.
I see the fear in her eyes at the prospect of stepping away from the workshop, the last place she re being herself.
I walk into the bathroom and Vivienne stands still by the door, as if unable to understand my request. Her eyes are dull as I look at her, but there’s still the slightest hint of something resembling force of will. Something is fighting to come back to the surface, to take back what has been taken from it.
The thing on her head is a leash that drags her mind under, but her body still has its own will, and right now, the fear of leaving this apartment, of stepping out into the unknown, is making her tremble.
“Come.” I order. “Do as I say.”
She looks down at her hands, eyes fixed on her fingertips, almost as if trying to understand them again, but eventually, she forces herself forward, moving with an unsteady step. One small, hesitant movement after the other, her entire body taut like a string, ready to snap at any moment, but eventually, there she is, beside me under the stream of warm water.
I let my hand trail over her lower back and down over the curve of her ass and I the first time I fucked it, a mere two nights ago.
I can tell by the slight shudder of her body that Vivienne re, too.
“Bend over and spread your ass cheeks,” I order, my voice low and almost a growl.
She turns her head, almost like she doesn’t believe she’s hearing me correctly, but the hesitation in her gaze fades with the steady pulse of the headset against her skull and the smile I offer her is soft.
I watch for a moment as she’s standing there, her fingertips pressing against her ass cheeks and pulling them apart for me. Her asshole is still red and sore, but my eyes slide away and up the line of her spine instead, lingering on the slight tremble that runs through her muscles, on the tension I feel through my hand as I press it between her shoulder blades, keeping her pinned to the cool tiles of the shower stall.
“I’ll fuck you in the ass again and you won’t scream in pain. You’ll welcome the pleasure,” I command.
I step closer, pressing the length of my hard cock against her, and as I reach for the shower gel, the shudder that runs through her body makes me feel almost triumphant.
I remind myself that Vivienne deserves this.
My cock presses against her puckered asshole, slowly pushing against it, and a slight whimper escapes her lips. Her asshole tightens around my tip as I start rocking my hips gently, but I don’t relent. Instead, I grip her ass with one hand and the back of her neck with the other as I start fucking her deeper, the sounds of her breathing turning to muffled cries as the hot water pours down onto both of us, our bodies slick, my cock throbbing with desire.
I fuck her slow at first, taking my time, and as her body relaxes under me and my cock begins to slip in and out more easily, I start picking up the pace, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her head back as I slam my cock all the way inside her fuck hole.
A faint sound of protest escapes Vivienne’s throat but her asshole tightens around my shaft, almost like it’s pulling me in deeper, and I keep going, fucking her harder with every stroke, pushing deeper, faster. My hand slips under her and I start toying with her clit and a cry breaks free from her lips. Her hips roll as if by instinct, seeking that extra friction, the thing that makes pleasure flare within her, the thing that makes the pain recede.
The headset pulses. The device hums.
Slowly and steadily, she surrenders herself to my control, body and mind.
I feel the familiar tingle in the tip of my cock and a shudder runs down my spine and I lean close, lips pressing against her shoulder, murmuring the word ‘cum’ right into her ear, and Vivienne does exactly that. Her muscles spasm and her body shakes like it’s about to tear itself apart as wave after wave of pure, blinding pleasure hits her.
The orgasm that rocks my own body is more intense than ever. I bury my cock all the way inside her and I let the sensations flood me, until all that is left of me is a shuddering wreck, panting and gasping for air, as Vivienne’s body trembles in my arms.
I don’t let go.
Not even after I pull out.
Her breathing is slow and labored and I finally see the tears she’s been shedding, silent and unacknowledged until now. The water washes away the first few, but not those that follow. I let her stand there as I watch her sob under the shower spray, the tears and water intermingling until they run down the drain with no discernible difference.
Vivienne turns slowly until she’s facing me and she leans back against the tiles, eyes red and unfocused, her shoulders shaking with her silent weeping.
I watch as the realization hits her, as she sees the futility of it all. Her chest heaves and she wraps her arms around her middle and presses herself flat against the wall of the shower and sobs.
It takes her a few minutes to be able to speak the words, and when she does, her voice sounds different, like something in her is shifting.
“I… I hate this…”
I don’t need a headset to understand the deeper meaning behind her words. She sounds scared and alone and desperate, the kind of broken a person gets to only when everything is gone and only pain is left.
“No, you love me. You love having my cock inside your body.” I murmur.
“Jules…” She starts to say, but she trails off, unable to finish the sentence, because her mind, the thing that would once have allowed her to fight back, is not what it used to be.
The silence in my mind, the lack of anything to grasp onto, it all reminds me I was never anything to her, other than a pawn she could discard when she was done with me. The fact she can’t even deny it, or explain herself, is almost a blessing.
“Don’t call me that,” I shake my head. “My name is Julian. Don’t use any pet names with me. You’re not allowed.”
I finally pull away from her and turn off the shower, reaching for a towel.
Her voice comes like a broken whisper behind me, and I look at her, a small, crumpled heap in the corner.
“Julian?”
She looks at me, pleading, the fear and hurt in her eyes unmistakable, her cheeks wet, her skin paler than usual, a faint sheen of sweat covering her skin.
I wanted to break her, to make her feel the consequences of her coldness, her manipulation, the way she used others like pawns in some cruel game, but as I lie here, watching the slow, empty rise and fall of her chest, I wonder if I’ve crossed a line I’ll never come back from.
Am I better than her?
Or have I simply become another predator, just as toxic and cruel, hiding behind a mask of revenge?
There’s a bitter irony in how easily I slipped from victim to tormentor, how thin the veneer between righteous anger and dark desire really is. I sought to reclaim control, but in this moment, all I feel is the weight of my own surrender to something far uglier.
I brush a stray lock of hair from Vivienne’s forehead, a gesture that feels foreign and hollow.
She doesn’t know it, but it’s the last tenderness I will allow myself for her.
Her eyes close, lashes damp with the last of her tears, and a quiet exhale slips through her parted lips. Her breathing steadies, her face slowly goes blank, the same as it is every time she feels the device feeding her a mirrored emotional state to mine.
My hand traces the soft curve of her cheek. “I need you to do something for me today.”
She nods without hesitation, eyes steady on mine, no questions, no conditions. Just trust, absolute and quiet.
Hours later, the boardroom is a monument to modern ambition with its glass walls, polished chrome, and a skyline spread out like a promise none of us can keep.
Vivienne stands at the head of the table, radiant and self-possessed, commanding the room with every word. Like this, she’s flawless.
“Empathos Labs isn’t just another startup, as you are now all well aware,” she begins, her voice smooth as silk over steel. “We’re pioneering a new era of connection, bridging emotional gaps that have kept us apart for too long.”
She paces slowly, letting silence do its part. Our investors lean in as her mere presence pulls them forward, then holds them there. I’ve studied her long enough to know the exact cadence of her magic. How she doesn’t just sell an idea, she sells a future people want to belong to.
She gestures toward the headset on the table, like it’s a holy relic.
“I’ve asked you to imagine a world where leaders feel the undercurrents of a room before anyone speaks. Where partners don’t just understand each other, they experience one another. Where education is shaped by real-time empathy.”
Nods ripple through the room like a tide. They’re hungry.
Then comes the turn.
Vivienne’s voice lifts slightly. “But for a vision like this to thrive, we need a leader who doesn’t just understand empathy, but builds its architecture from the ground up.” She pauses. “That’s why today I’m introducing the future CEO of Empathos Labs, the man who engineered the core of our technology. Julian Ward.”
Every head swivels to me.
Eyes harden.
I’m the anomaly here, too quiet, too cold, too forgettable. I’m not what they expected, not who they wanted. I know it, yet it still hurts to see it.
One of them, silver hair, sharp tie, leans forward. “With respect, Ms. Knox, we were under the impression that you would helm the company.”
Vivienne smiles, and it’s like watching sunlight bend. “And I am, as chairwoman, as partner, and as strategist. But Julian is the true architect of everything you’ve seen today. The emotional sync, the neural pairing algorithms, the ethical safeguards. He didn’t just build this, he lives inside its bones.”
A murmur.
Someone shifts uncomfortably.
She keeps going, effortless. “I’ve watched him tear down and rebuild this system a hundred times to make it safe. Stable. Human. He’s not just qualified, he’s the only one I trust with this.”
That last word, trust, settles like gold dust over the room.
Their body language changes. Eyes soften. Wallets loosen. They believe her.
When the meeting ends and the room clears out, the applause still faint in my ears, I don’t move. I just watch her. Vivienne turns toward me slowly, something behind her eyes flickering out like the last spark in a filament. The charm drops. The poise cracks.
I speak first. “You did well.”
For a moment, she just stares back at me, a confused, almost scared look in her eyes, as if she can’t quite how we ended up in this place, can’t understand the events of the last few weeks at all. Then a smile flickers over her lips, as the thing inside her whispers words in my voice and the look she gives me is one of such blind devotion, I feel my stomach clench in response.
I wish she wasn’t so beautiful when she smiles.
“I love you, Julian. You’ve changed everything.”
I also wish that her happiness was real and that my revenge hadn’t been so devastating for the both of us. I almost pull her in to kiss her, almost do it to taste the love in her lips, but the emptiness inside me doesn’t want that and instead I force myself to reach for my laptop, to shut it down.
“We’ll grab takeout and then you can service me once we get home,” I order, as coldly as I can manage. “I want you on your back this time.”
The place I take us to is a diner. Not one of those iconic, curated ones, this is the real thing, with greasy tables, laminated menus with faded photos, a that still makes that satisfying ding when it opens.
Vivienne walks at my side in a slate-gray coat, everything about her crisp, clean, expensive. She draws stares just by existing.
We approach the counter, and the waitress behind it pops her gum as she punches something into the screen. Blonde hair piled into a lazy twist, too much eyeliner, a faded tattoo half-covered by the short sleeve of her uniform. Her tank top’s pink and glittery beneath it, and there’s a chip in her neon nail polish. She glances up, and there’s something familiar in her face, but I can’t place it.
She grins. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
It’s the voice that hits first, too casual, too knowing, and then it slams into me all at once.
Clara.
She leans on the counter like we’re picking up right where she left me. “Didn’t think you left the lab anymore. Still writing those little code poems for robots to read you bedtime stories?”
I don’t flinch. “We’re just picking up an order.”
Vivienne stands beside me like a statue carved from money and silence, saying nothing. She doesn’t need to, her mere presence rearranges the room around her. Clara notices and gives her a once-over, then again, slower. Her smirk falters. She blinks.
“Wait… wait a minute. She’s with you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to, not when Vivienne anchors herself to me.
Clara stares like she’s looking at an optical illusion and is waiting for it to resolve.
“Are you like, what, rich or something now?”
Vivienne turns her head then, slow and deliberate, and looks Clara up and down like she’s considering whether to bother responding.
“Is there a problem with our order?” she asks, her voice mild but glacial.
Clara swallows. “Uh, no, miss. Ma’am. I mean, it’s almost ready.”
She reappears a minute later with the paper bag in hand, suddenly quiet, deferential. She hands it over without meeting my eyes.
“Have a good night,” Clara mumbles.
I allow Vivienne to take our order from her hands.
“We will.”
We leave without another word.
Outside, Vivienne falls in step beside me again, silent as ever. I can feel it radiating off her, the certainty, the possession, the obedience.
Clara was always too loud.
I would never do it to her, God knows she’s not worth the effort, but the thought creeps in anyway. What it would be like if my ex wore that same gentle stillness Vivienne does now, if her laughter wasn’t cruel-edged and mean. What if, like Vivienne, she had an exquisite kind of control that silences other women, if she looked at me like she had my name etched somewhere behind her eyes?
I shake my head free of such nonsense.
No amount of designer clothes or expensive jewelry would make Clara high class.
Vivienne has an air about her, something that makes other women cower at the sheer perfection of her presence, like standing next to her is somehow not worthy. It doesn’t matter what Vivienne wears, that aura follows her no matter what. It makes her presence feel almost sacred, as if the space she moves through has been filtered, like she’s somehow better than all the other mortals that breathe the same air.
As we head back home, I imagine walking next to my ex, the woman with her nails too long, her makeup too thick, and a sharp tongue she was all too quick to use to put others down.
Perhaps there are better ways for Clara to use that filthy mouth of hers, I think, and then, before I know it, a different idea starts taking shape in my mind. I still have a working neural tuning device at the lab.
The device, the one that is now in my apartment, can be reprogrammed, its neural patterns modified to fit a different subject.
It can be used on anyone.
Not just Vivienne.
By the time we reach the door to my apartment, the thought has rooted itself deep in my brain and it has already begun to take on a life of its own. It doesn’t take much more than a quick thought process for me to calculate the effort and resources involved, the possibilities of the project, the success I would almost certainly have, should I pursue this.
I glance at Vivienne out of the corner of my eye, almost to see if she would sense the shift in my mood, but all she does is step up to me with a smile and lean in, her lips soft as they press against mine, and the thought grows into a fully fledged plan, taking root in my mind, my own desire fusing with the thrill of a new challenge.
I’m going to get my revenge on my cheating ex.
It’s no longer a far-fetched fantasy.
I now literally have the means to punish her for what she did to me.
I push the paper bag full of food to the side of our kitchen table, the sudden rush of anticipation in my body stronger than the need to feed, and I get to work immediately. I command Vivienne to sit on the couch while I return to the workshop area and pick up my laptop, the only tool I really need to accomplish this task.
As the program on the laptop boots, I find myself almost giddy with excitement.
I’ll use my device to tune Vivienne’s neural patterns so they can imprint on Clara. Then I can program that heartless bitch to love her. I can force Clara to crawl and beg at Vivienne’s feet. She will worship her as if she were a Goddess and when Vivienne will command her to do things for me, for my pleasure, God… my cock is already throbbing at the thought.
A low chuckle escapes my lips as I look at Vivienne from where I sit.
I will force the same fate onto Clara as I have forced onto Vivienne.
I will take away her will, her dignity, her already loose morals, and make her into the proper whore that I know her to be.
My fingers run across the keyboard in a feverish, almost frenzied way as I begin to code the process for the new neural patterns. The code flies by faster than I can comprehend it, as if I’ve become one with the computer. As the programming reaches the end of the data load and begins the neural , I find myself grinning with glee, the anticipation so powerful it threatens to make my heart explode with pleasure.
It feels like a small eternity, the moments that follow, and as the program runs through a series of complex validation algorithms to test the stability and security of the neural , I feel the need to pour myself a drink. As soon as the process completes and the OK signal blinks back at me, there’s this sense of euphoria that’s taking over me, and it’s almost dizzying.
It works!
It fucking works, again, flawless and miraculous.
It’s time for payback.
The device, still humming from the neural , glows in my hands, and, as I carry it back to the main area, my mind begins to paint images of how the entire thing might play out. Women trust other women. Vivienne might offer Clara a pretty little headpiece to try on and from there, well… Clara will be eating out of Vivienne’s hand like the filthy bitch that she is. By tomorrow, I will have them both serve me like obedient little house pets, I think to myself, my cock twitching with the mere idea. Clara, in particular, will be eager to please me, to be used and abused, like the stupid, worthless slut that she is.
She deserves it all, I think as I make a quick phone call to order more food, a faint, victorious grin lingering on my lips.
Vivienne, my own personal Goddess of Victory, sits perfectly still on the couch, waiting, the same as she’s always been doing since I programmed her. I find that I don’t even mind her sitting there now; she is nothing more than an empty, docile little creature, after all.
“I need you to go back to that diner we visited earlier. Find Clara for me, the waitress dressed in pink, the skank who’s wearing too much makeup and trick her into putting this device on her head. Allow her a few minutes to adjust to her new… mindset. After that, I need you to instruct her to quit her job, then bring her straight to my apartment,” I say, and a soft, submissive nod follows in response.
The time it takes Vivienne to return with my prize es by much too slow and torturous, but it’s all worth it when I get to finally watch Clara follow my little fuck toy through the front door like a puppy, eyes wide with excitement, as she gushes over the expensive clothing Vivienne wears and how soft her skin looks.
“What do you say, bitch? Isn’t Vivienne the most beautiful creature you’ve ever laid eyes on?” I ask, my voice cold and condescending as I reach out and stroke Vivienne’s hair gently.
“Y-yes,” Clara stutters, her mind struggling to process my presence at the same time it’s basking in the glory of Vivienne. “Yes, she is…”
Vivienne turns toward me then, looking for guidance, for orders, for her purpose. Her lips curl into a small smile as she stares at me, but her eyes, glassy and empty as ever, reveal nothing of how she feels.
“Make your new friend service my cock,” I order.
Vivienne, the obedient creature she now is, immediately reaches out and pulls the bitch down on her knees without hesitation and begins to unzip my pants, revealing the erection I have been harboring ever since she left for that diner.
As my cock slips through my boxers and into view, Clara’s eyes widen and then, a moment later, the device glows a little brighter and she smiles a sickly smile at the sight of my cock, the look on her face hungry. She doesn’t even wait for an order, she reaches for my cock almost on instinct and the first moment I feel her lips slide around my tip, I let out a quiet gasp of pleasure.
I feel Clara’s tongue moving across the shaft, soft and delicate and eager, her lips pressed tight around the base, her breath warm as she starts to lick and suck me off. The sensations are strong and the mere sight of seeing yet another woman worship my cock like she was born to do it is almost enough to bring me over the edge already.
I’m tempted to blow my load right down Clara’s throat but I have to remind myself to not rush things too much.
I want to take my time with defiling every hole these two whores have.
As Vivienne watches, Clara starts moving faster, and the whole space is flooded with the slurping, greedy sounds of her tongue sliding up and down, back and forth across my shaft. I groan loudly as her mouth slides deeper, her lips tight around me as I thrust into her, my hands gripping her hair. She moves even faster, her mouth almost frantic in its motions as she tries to take more of my length. I push her down further, forcing myself all the way down her throat, my cock stretching her lips and sliding down to the very base.
The feeling of her soft throat muscles closing tight around my shaft is exquisite, just like her warm, wet tongue is moving along the bottom of my cock, making me see stars.
Clara sucks greedily, slurping at it like a cock-starved bitch and her moans vibrate against my flesh, making my balls ache with need.
I grip her hair even tighter and pull her in even closer as I thrust forward again and again, pushing into the back of her throat, forcing it even deeper as I slide in and out.
She can hardly breathe, her hands on my hips, but I can see in the way that her whole body shudders that she’s enjoying this, loving every moment of me using her for my pleasure, like the pathetic little whore that she is. She’s always been a true, natural, slut, a greedy cunt who just can’t get enough, and the device only serves to amplify those dirty cravings.
I keep her there until I can feel the muscles in her throat twitching with every thrust, until I can hear the desperate choking sounds, then finally, I pull back and allow her to take a deep, gasping breath.
When Clara pulls away, her eyes are almost dazed, but her cheeks are flushed with pleasure, and her lips are slick with saliva and pre-cum, the same as they always were whenever she’s had a mouthful of my cock.
“Keep going,” I growl, as I slip back into her mouth again, sliding between her swollen red lips.
Clara looks up at me as I keep moving in and out of her, her eyes glazed, her lips tightening around the head of my cock as she sucks hard on the tip. I start fucking her mouth harder, faster, as her tongue continues to lather my cock with warm spit.
She looks into my eyes and then closes her own as if trying to savor the moment, savoring my pleasure and how much I’m enjoying myself. Her hands slide up and down my thighs and I reach down to squeeze one of her breasts through her tight tank top. I pinch her hard, twisting the nipple until I can see a shiver running through her body. She whimpers in pain but keeps sucking harder, and I know I won’t last long with how eagerly she’s devouring me, her whole body tensed in anticipation.
I’m close, and the look in Clara’s eyes is one of pure, mindless adoration, but then I see Vivienne shifting on her feet and a faint sound, almost a whimper, escapes her lips. The thought that perhaps my little fuck toy feels left out of all the fun that is currently taking place flashes through my mind, but I don’t stop to dwell on it.
As soon as I finish unloading a torrent of thick cum all down Clara’s throat and into her stomach, I immediately grab a handful of her blonde hair and drag her over to where Vivienne is standing, almost pushing her down into the carpet and forcing her head between the Viper’s legs, the order not even needing to leave my lips.
Vivienne shudders when Clara’s mouth presses against the warmth of her wet folds. Her head snaps back and a low moan escapes her lips when her cunt is met with a soft, eager tongue, lapping at it hungrily like she’s been dreaming of tasting that delicious, delicious pussy of Vivienne’s ever since she saw her earlier.
The device’s effects make Clara an even bigger, even more submissive whore.
My heart’s thumping in my chest.
I can see it now.
Absolute power, the kind that slides under skin and behind eyes, reshaping thoughts like clay. I imagine slipping the headset onto someone, anyone. A rival. A boss who once humiliated me. A woman who thinks she’s too good for me.
I imagine rewiring them quietly, precisely, until they see the world exactly as I want them to.
With a single line of code, I could make anyone grateful. Loyal. Loving. Blind.
I’d be worshiped. Obeyed. Never overlooked again.
I stare down at the devices currently resting on Clara and Vivienne’s heads.
The possibilities are infinite.
I am so deep in the fantasy that when Vivienne moans a moment later, my eyes snap to the scene of my two submissive creatures pleasuring one another, as if in slow motion, as if happening at the far end of a long hallway.
I reach over to the laptop again and begin programming new neural patterns.