Moral Slavery (2/3?)
After a few minutes of idle TV-watching and drink-sipping, Elle returns. She gives a polite curtsey and informs me that dinner is served. “Would you prefer to dine at the table or should I bring the food out here?”
“The table is fine,” I tell her. I hold out my hand for her to take to help me stand. She takes it and pulls me up gently.
I recall a much rougher Elle, an Elle that would yank me around like a rag doll, dig her fingernails in my flesh, and send jolts of electricity through me. That Elle is gone. My Elle is much sweeter.
She’s sweet in more ways than one. I lick my lips as I remember that sweet Elle taste.
Elle starts walking toward the dining area, but I grab her arm. Pulling her around, I kiss her aggressively again. When I get my fill and withdraw, she looks overjoyed. Of course she does. She’s a sex toy that’s fulfilled its purpose for the moment.
Releasing her arm, I head to the table. Elle has got it set up with a tablecloth, a heaping plate at my place, and an unlit candlestick in the center. “Nice presentation,” I say. “If only you could’ve lit the candle first.”
“Right. Sorry, Ms. Bennet,” she says, darting into the kitchen area. She gets a box of matches and lights the candle. After returning the matchbox, she stands attentively at my side. “May I do anything else for you?”
What she really wants to know is if she can eat more than the few bites it takes to tell me my meal isn’t roofied. I’ve withheld her dinner before when her service was less than perfect. I know, sounds bad, but I really have to be hard sometimes or she’ll walk all over me.
“Yeah, you can try this.” I cut out a bite of chicken, spear it on my fork along with some green beans and mashed potatoes, and hold it up for her.
She closes her mouth over the fork, seductively cleaning it of food as she presses her lips against the tines and slides back. “Mmm,” she says, almost moaning as she chews.
I smirk as I watch her, entertained. “Earning your dinner, Elle?”
She glances at me to see if it worked.
“Okay,” I allow. “You may have exactly one cup of soup. Eat at the end of the table.”
She smiles. “Thanks, Ms. Bennet!”
I start eating as she goes to get her soup. It’s from an extreme dieting service, so it’s just a couple of mouthfuls, but slaves don’t expect a lot. I manage her figure closely to make sure she stays as attractive as possible. It’s okay for me to overindulge in carby starches because I have an active lifestyle hunting down bad guys, but Elle stays locked in my apartment and the only exercise she gets is having sex with me, so eating less is really what keeps her in shape.
Not for the first time, I wonder if I should have some exercise equipment brought in. Maybe one of those stationary bikes? Hell, why not get Elle a big wheel she can run in?
As I snicker to myself, she sits down with her soup and starts saying grace, head bowed. “Thank you, Ms. Bennet, for giving me this food, with which I will get more energy to serve you. And thank you, Ms. Bennet, for letting me stay in your nice warm apartment when I deserve nothing. Most of all, Ms. Bennet, thank you for making me yours and giving me a purpose in life. Amen.”
“Good prayer,” I mumble with my mouth full of chicken.
“Oh, thanks, Ms. Bennet.” She giggles and takes a bite of soup. “I worked on it today while I was doing my chores.”
I marvel at her. She really seems like a perfect slave. Of course, I’ve trained her to be. She used to be quite a bitch, always ordering me around.
I wonder sometimes if I hadn’t enslaved her, if she would have enslaved me. Oh, I know she would’ve if she thought she could’ve gotten away with it with little effort, but she was sitting cozy as my partner and didn’t make the move. She did, however, get me for my birthday a steel chain necklace that looks suspiciously like a dog chain collar with a few parts swapped; I still wear it even at this exact moment, but the power differential has changed dramatically since then. Suppose she went the full nine yards?
Well, I’d be in her place. I’d be the sex slave in the collar begging for the tiniest meal. And Elle would be my mistress, but she’s a sociopath, so… it’d be fucking terrifying.
It’s thought experiments like that to make me confident that my enslaving Elle was the right choice. Elle shouldn’t be in power. She should be in as little power as possible.
I think I’m a good mistress. I mean, I don’t ever hurt my pet for no reason. All pain I inflict is specifically for training purposes. When she is good, she doesn’t get punished. Too, I lead with carrot as well as stick. I give her privileges like getting to orgasm to help encourage good behaviors. Yes, I’m a good mistress.
It’s not my natural inclination to own a slave. That just sort of… came about. I was trying to fix Elle at first, cure her of her sociopathy. But as any sociopath will say, what’s to cure? Sociopathy really isn’t a disease. She’s just a different kind of person. A really fucking dangerous kind.
I enlisted the help of one of our incurables, a telepath named Maury Parkman, to assist in reforming her. I promised him slightly more agreeable accommodations if he would hack inside Elle Bishop’s mind and get her to love me, like really love me. That’s a noble sentiment, right? Beat apathy with love.
But it didn’t work. It couldn’t work. Elle can’t love me. She literally can’t. Her brain is just incapable of comprehending that emotion. It’s not her fault, but it certainly limited my options as to what to do with her.
I gave it some thought and decided that Elle was like a pet. I enjoyed her company, but she needed to be strictly controlled. Why not go all the way and make her a slave? It’s not like she really counts as a person who could be abused, being a sociopath and all. She’s really like an animal. Most slavery is immoral, but because Elle doesn’t have a conscience, I fully believe this is moral. Or at least not immoral.
Then Elle, being Elle, had to go and escape. The bitch actually fucked my girlfriend just to hurt me and escaped at the same time. Pinehearst found her, and we dragged her back, at which point I had Maury give her a more lasting personality change.
I couldn’t make her love me, but I could make her submissive. I wrote down a long list of orders Maury was to give to her. She would think about me all the fucking time, constantly be aroused in my presence, and be in awe of my power over her. In other words, the hot little psycho would want to be my sex slave.
“Is everything okay, Ms. Bennet?” Elle asks. “It’s not overdone, is it?”
I realize I’ve stopped eating. “No, no,” I assure her. “You’re a wonderful cook.”
It’s true. Her food is always enjoyable. Especially since she’d stopped trying to drug me. Rohypnol really ruins the mood. Fortunately, it just made me a little sleepy. I didn’t collapse or anything. Superior constitution FTW.
“No,” I continue, “It’s just… Uh, I was thinking about how Damian’s a vegetarian.”
Damian is my latest partner. He’s a memory-manipulator we recruited last year away from that goddamn carnival that skips across continents by the time we get mobilized to try to raid it. It’s true he’s an avowed vegan, won’t touch meat. I know he would disapprove of me eating chicken. Fortunately, he’s respectful of my viewpoints enough that he doesn’t subject me to rants. And, ooh boy, have there been some rants from some people.
“Oh.” Elle blinks. I can tell she thinks that’s stupid but is smart enough not to say anything. “Should I not make chicken again? I can try and learn some vegetarian recipes.”
“No, don’t bother.” I shake my head. “I’m a carnivore. It’s just kind of weird, you know? I don’t feel guilty-I’m sure you know what that’s like-just kind of more aware of it.”
“Okay, Ms. Bennet.” She looks confused but doesn’t press it.
“You know what? Come here.” I wave her over.
“Yes, Ms. Bennet.” She swallows the last of her soup, puts down her napkin, scoots her chair back, and comes over.
I pat my leg, and she sits down in my lap, wrapping an arm around my shoulders like I taught her. From this position, I can easily enjoy her beauty and access her mouth, which I do. When I pull back, she looks disappointed.
I resume eating, and as I do, I cast my gaze downwards to admire her breasts. When she sees, she sticks her chest out to give me a better view. Charmed, I give her a pat on the head. “Good pet.”
“Thanks, Ms. Bennet!”
She really has come along well as a pet. For a while there, it looked like she would continuously try to subvert me, but all the effort finally paid off. I glance at her collar, in which is engraved ‘DANGEROUS nonhuman. Pinehearst prisoner. If found, call 1-800-SPECIAL.’ Beneath the collar, which shouldn’t be removable, the same message is tattooed on her skin. I run my finger over the words.
Elle glances down at my hand and looks up at me. She looks proud… Like, she’s so badass she needs a warning label.
I smirk at her, and the look of pride vanishes. “That’s right, Elle. You’re a pet. The mighty have fallen, and they’re wearing a collar.”
She smiles a nice fake smile. “Of course, Ms. Bennet. You’re way too powerful for me to be… what I was. I’m yours now and forever.”
“So you are.” I pat her head again, but I don’t call her a good pet. That was a little too subversive for my tastes, and I make a mental note to have Maury give her another treatment.
She licks my cheek. The sensation is unexpected, but I recall I have in fact given her permission to do so. Or at least, I never rescinded permission from last night’s sex. She licks again.
“Okay, enough,” I say, wiping my cheek.
“Tastes so good,” she whispers. She squirms in my lap.
“That’s the brainwashing,” I tell her. “I don’t actually taste that good. You just think I do.”
“I think, therefore you are tasty,” she says. “Please, more. Please.”
“No more until bed,” I say sternly.
She pouts. It is a sexy pout.
I continue eating while she pouts. “I know you don’t care about me at all…”
She says nothing.
“…But you are my pet.” I smile at her. “Okay. One more.”
“Thanks, Ms. Bennet!” She smiles the most innocent smile. She ducks over to my neck and gives me a long lick up my face to practically my eyeball, clearly savoring every second. “Yummy…”
Well, that’s not at all creepy. I wipe the side of my face thoroughly, thinking that if Elle actually did manage to turn the tables, she’d at least keep me around to lick all day. Could be worse.
She squirms again and rubs against me like the total slut she is.
“If my legs are damp by the time you stand up, I’m gonna be pissed,” I warn her, and she calms down. “You’re eye candy. Act like it.”
“Yes, Ms. Bennet.” She stretches and just shows off her curves.
I finish eating, after which I shrug her off. Standing, she immediately takes my plate to the sink to wash off. I watch her work.
There are some definite advantages to having a slave. I don’t have to worry about household chores anymore. On the other hand, I do have to watch my back a bit more. Elle’s normally submissive now, but the brainwashing is never perfect. This new licking thing is problematic, a sign her selfishness is becoming more dominant. She still rebels sometimes, and when it’s a sociopath rebelling, people can get put in danger. I bring a hand up to my neck and stroke the chain.
I stroked my steel necklace chain as I observed Maury go to work on Elle through the security feed. Elle was putting up a fight. Her glazed over look was punctuated by tensing and jerks of her muscles. I wondered how much he would actually affect her.
“Elle, c’mon,” I muttered. “Stop being a bitch and accept the changes.”
But submission was not in her nature, which was the whole problem. If this didn’t work, if Maury couldn’t remove her domineering personality and replace it with cheerful submission, I would have to lock her up on the bottom floor. She was too fucking dangerous to let free, and it broke my heart to think of just storing her away and forgetting about her. I needed this to work.
Finally, Maury turned away from Elle. She flopped forward, just barely managing to catch herself on the table. She blinked sleepily.
I hit the intercom. “Elle? Are you alright?”
Elle tensed when she heard my voice. “Ms. Bennet? I’m fine, ma’am.” She looked wondrously upwards, searching the ceiling, looking for all the world like a religious person praying for salvation. Then she saw the camera and glued her eyes to it. “I can’t wait to serve you as your own personal slave, Ms. Bennet!”
“And why is that?” I asked, a smile growing on my face.
“Because you’re so powerful, ma’am,” she gushed. “I… I have to be yours. It would be my greatest pleasure to make you happy!”
By this time I was grinning. “And you don’t mind being a slave?”
“No, ma’am! I don’t want to be free. I want you to keep me, Ms. Bennet. I want to be a slave!”
I laughed. “Then give Mr. Parkman a kiss to thank him for giving you your new personality, and go sit in the corner.”
“Yes, Ms. Bennet!” She surged over the table and practically molested him. She never had proper understanding of personal space.
“Okay, that’s enough, Elle!” I said after half a minute went by.
She crawled back, fixed her hair, and then went over to the corner to wait. Okay, not perfect, but some training would make her closer to my ideal pet.
I turned to Dr. Taylor. “Tranq Maury, dose him up on power inhibitors, and take him to the isolation room. Then install the new restraints on Elle. If she resists, tell her I said it was important.”
“And if she still resists?” the doctor asked.
I sighed. “If she still resists, treat her like an incurable.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I stepped out of the room and went down to the coffee machine. I got a cup, sipped it. It tasted awful.
After killing time, I walked down to the isolation room. Maury was knocked out, and I had a handler give him something to wake up. I was warned that it could be unhealthy for him, but I waved it off. Maury was an incurable. I just needed him for this one job. It was a stupid move. I should have considered the fact that I’d need him again. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt him too bad.
I stepped into the room as he was standing up. “So, progress report?”
He blinked groggily, yawned, and stretched. “Claire? Oh… right. Elle, yes. Well, she’s a piece of work, I’ll tell you that.”
“Did it work?” I said, getting to the point.
“Hard to say.” Maury stroked his chin. With another yawn, he got down to business, “She’s very good at looking at certain way, but that doesn’t mean she feels it. To use a cliché, she knows the words but not the music. I keep whispering instructions in her head, ‘you like being submissive’, ‘you are in awe of Ms. Bennet’s power’, and she says she’s submissive and that you’re very powerful. She says it very convincingly, and if I hadn’t had a look ‘round her head, I’d believe her.”
“So, you think she’s lying.”
“Hmm. My best guess is that she believes it for the moment, but that she’s lying to herself and will eventually snap out of it. Not my fault. If I went into the head of some average girl on the street and gave her the treatment I gave Elle, she’d be your loyal sex slave forever and ever. Elle, on the other hand… She’s not built to be a victim. She’s a monster like us. She’ll-”
“I’m nothing like you and Elle,” I snapped.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. “Okay. She’ll eventually revert back to her usual controlling self. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous she’ll be when that happens.”
Goosebumps crawled up my arm. She was scary enough without wanting revenge for my attempt to enslave her. I didn’t want to think about what Elle would try to do to me… The idea of gang rape came to mind, as well as being eaten alive by ants. Elle doubtlessly could think up a punishment for me ten times worse. I couldn’t allow that to happen, and I wouldn’t just lock her up if I could help it. “Her reverting is not an option,” I asserted. “If her treatment starts coming undone, you’ll just have to do it again.”
“It would be much simpler with a normal mind,” he said. “If I were to brainwash Gretchen, it’d be permanent.”
“Never speak that name again,” I said, realizing he must have grabbed the info from Elle’s mind. “Gretchen is off-limits. Only Elle. I don’t care how hard it is. I want Elle!”
“You’re mine,” I growl, eying Elle intently as she dries off the plate.
She smiles big. “Yes, Ms. Bennet! I’m yours.”
“I want you on the bed naked in ten seconds,” I order.
Elle looks excited. Putting down the dish, she dashes toward my bedroom.
“Slut,” I mutter affectionately under my breath. I follow her slowly, taking my time. I lick my lips.
“The table is fine,” I tell her. I hold out my hand for her to take to help me stand. She takes it and pulls me up gently.
I recall a much rougher Elle, an Elle that would yank me around like a rag doll, dig her fingernails in my flesh, and send jolts of electricity through me. That Elle is gone. My Elle is much sweeter.
She’s sweet in more ways than one. I lick my lips as I remember that sweet Elle taste.
Elle starts walking toward the dining area, but I grab her arm. Pulling her around, I kiss her aggressively again. When I get my fill and withdraw, she looks overjoyed. Of course she does. She’s a sex toy that’s fulfilled its purpose for the moment.
Releasing her arm, I head to the table. Elle has got it set up with a tablecloth, a heaping plate at my place, and an unlit candlestick in the center. “Nice presentation,” I say. “If only you could’ve lit the candle first.”
“Right. Sorry, Ms. Bennet,” she says, darting into the kitchen area. She gets a box of matches and lights the candle. After returning the matchbox, she stands attentively at my side. “May I do anything else for you?”
What she really wants to know is if she can eat more than the few bites it takes to tell me my meal isn’t roofied. I’ve withheld her dinner before when her service was less than perfect. I know, sounds bad, but I really have to be hard sometimes or she’ll walk all over me.
“Yeah, you can try this.” I cut out a bite of chicken, spear it on my fork along with some green beans and mashed potatoes, and hold it up for her.
She closes her mouth over the fork, seductively cleaning it of food as she presses her lips against the tines and slides back. “Mmm,” she says, almost moaning as she chews.
I smirk as I watch her, entertained. “Earning your dinner, Elle?”
She glances at me to see if it worked.
“Okay,” I allow. “You may have exactly one cup of soup. Eat at the end of the table.”
She smiles. “Thanks, Ms. Bennet!”
I start eating as she goes to get her soup. It’s from an extreme dieting service, so it’s just a couple of mouthfuls, but slaves don’t expect a lot. I manage her figure closely to make sure she stays as attractive as possible. It’s okay for me to overindulge in carby starches because I have an active lifestyle hunting down bad guys, but Elle stays locked in my apartment and the only exercise she gets is having sex with me, so eating less is really what keeps her in shape.
Not for the first time, I wonder if I should have some exercise equipment brought in. Maybe one of those stationary bikes? Hell, why not get Elle a big wheel she can run in?
As I snicker to myself, she sits down with her soup and starts saying grace, head bowed. “Thank you, Ms. Bennet, for giving me this food, with which I will get more energy to serve you. And thank you, Ms. Bennet, for letting me stay in your nice warm apartment when I deserve nothing. Most of all, Ms. Bennet, thank you for making me yours and giving me a purpose in life. Amen.”
“Good prayer,” I mumble with my mouth full of chicken.
“Oh, thanks, Ms. Bennet.” She giggles and takes a bite of soup. “I worked on it today while I was doing my chores.”
I marvel at her. She really seems like a perfect slave. Of course, I’ve trained her to be. She used to be quite a bitch, always ordering me around.
I wonder sometimes if I hadn’t enslaved her, if she would have enslaved me. Oh, I know she would’ve if she thought she could’ve gotten away with it with little effort, but she was sitting cozy as my partner and didn’t make the move. She did, however, get me for my birthday a steel chain necklace that looks suspiciously like a dog chain collar with a few parts swapped; I still wear it even at this exact moment, but the power differential has changed dramatically since then. Suppose she went the full nine yards?
Well, I’d be in her place. I’d be the sex slave in the collar begging for the tiniest meal. And Elle would be my mistress, but she’s a sociopath, so… it’d be fucking terrifying.
It’s thought experiments like that to make me confident that my enslaving Elle was the right choice. Elle shouldn’t be in power. She should be in as little power as possible.
I think I’m a good mistress. I mean, I don’t ever hurt my pet for no reason. All pain I inflict is specifically for training purposes. When she is good, she doesn’t get punished. Too, I lead with carrot as well as stick. I give her privileges like getting to orgasm to help encourage good behaviors. Yes, I’m a good mistress.
It’s not my natural inclination to own a slave. That just sort of… came about. I was trying to fix Elle at first, cure her of her sociopathy. But as any sociopath will say, what’s to cure? Sociopathy really isn’t a disease. She’s just a different kind of person. A really fucking dangerous kind.
I enlisted the help of one of our incurables, a telepath named Maury Parkman, to assist in reforming her. I promised him slightly more agreeable accommodations if he would hack inside Elle Bishop’s mind and get her to love me, like really love me. That’s a noble sentiment, right? Beat apathy with love.
But it didn’t work. It couldn’t work. Elle can’t love me. She literally can’t. Her brain is just incapable of comprehending that emotion. It’s not her fault, but it certainly limited my options as to what to do with her.
I gave it some thought and decided that Elle was like a pet. I enjoyed her company, but she needed to be strictly controlled. Why not go all the way and make her a slave? It’s not like she really counts as a person who could be abused, being a sociopath and all. She’s really like an animal. Most slavery is immoral, but because Elle doesn’t have a conscience, I fully believe this is moral. Or at least not immoral.
Then Elle, being Elle, had to go and escape. The bitch actually fucked my girlfriend just to hurt me and escaped at the same time. Pinehearst found her, and we dragged her back, at which point I had Maury give her a more lasting personality change.
I couldn’t make her love me, but I could make her submissive. I wrote down a long list of orders Maury was to give to her. She would think about me all the fucking time, constantly be aroused in my presence, and be in awe of my power over her. In other words, the hot little psycho would want to be my sex slave.
“Is everything okay, Ms. Bennet?” Elle asks. “It’s not overdone, is it?”
I realize I’ve stopped eating. “No, no,” I assure her. “You’re a wonderful cook.”
It’s true. Her food is always enjoyable. Especially since she’d stopped trying to drug me. Rohypnol really ruins the mood. Fortunately, it just made me a little sleepy. I didn’t collapse or anything. Superior constitution FTW.
“No,” I continue, “It’s just… Uh, I was thinking about how Damian’s a vegetarian.”
Damian is my latest partner. He’s a memory-manipulator we recruited last year away from that goddamn carnival that skips across continents by the time we get mobilized to try to raid it. It’s true he’s an avowed vegan, won’t touch meat. I know he would disapprove of me eating chicken. Fortunately, he’s respectful of my viewpoints enough that he doesn’t subject me to rants. And, ooh boy, have there been some rants from some people.
“Oh.” Elle blinks. I can tell she thinks that’s stupid but is smart enough not to say anything. “Should I not make chicken again? I can try and learn some vegetarian recipes.”
“No, don’t bother.” I shake my head. “I’m a carnivore. It’s just kind of weird, you know? I don’t feel guilty-I’m sure you know what that’s like-just kind of more aware of it.”
“Okay, Ms. Bennet.” She looks confused but doesn’t press it.
“You know what? Come here.” I wave her over.
“Yes, Ms. Bennet.” She swallows the last of her soup, puts down her napkin, scoots her chair back, and comes over.
I pat my leg, and she sits down in my lap, wrapping an arm around my shoulders like I taught her. From this position, I can easily enjoy her beauty and access her mouth, which I do. When I pull back, she looks disappointed.
I resume eating, and as I do, I cast my gaze downwards to admire her breasts. When she sees, she sticks her chest out to give me a better view. Charmed, I give her a pat on the head. “Good pet.”
“Thanks, Ms. Bennet!”
She really has come along well as a pet. For a while there, it looked like she would continuously try to subvert me, but all the effort finally paid off. I glance at her collar, in which is engraved ‘DANGEROUS nonhuman. Pinehearst prisoner. If found, call 1-800-SPECIAL.’ Beneath the collar, which shouldn’t be removable, the same message is tattooed on her skin. I run my finger over the words.
Elle glances down at my hand and looks up at me. She looks proud… Like, she’s so badass she needs a warning label.
I smirk at her, and the look of pride vanishes. “That’s right, Elle. You’re a pet. The mighty have fallen, and they’re wearing a collar.”
She smiles a nice fake smile. “Of course, Ms. Bennet. You’re way too powerful for me to be… what I was. I’m yours now and forever.”
“So you are.” I pat her head again, but I don’t call her a good pet. That was a little too subversive for my tastes, and I make a mental note to have Maury give her another treatment.
She licks my cheek. The sensation is unexpected, but I recall I have in fact given her permission to do so. Or at least, I never rescinded permission from last night’s sex. She licks again.
“Okay, enough,” I say, wiping my cheek.
“Tastes so good,” she whispers. She squirms in my lap.
“That’s the brainwashing,” I tell her. “I don’t actually taste that good. You just think I do.”
“I think, therefore you are tasty,” she says. “Please, more. Please.”
“No more until bed,” I say sternly.
She pouts. It is a sexy pout.
I continue eating while she pouts. “I know you don’t care about me at all…”
She says nothing.
“…But you are my pet.” I smile at her. “Okay. One more.”
“Thanks, Ms. Bennet!” She smiles the most innocent smile. She ducks over to my neck and gives me a long lick up my face to practically my eyeball, clearly savoring every second. “Yummy…”
Well, that’s not at all creepy. I wipe the side of my face thoroughly, thinking that if Elle actually did manage to turn the tables, she’d at least keep me around to lick all day. Could be worse.
She squirms again and rubs against me like the total slut she is.
“If my legs are damp by the time you stand up, I’m gonna be pissed,” I warn her, and she calms down. “You’re eye candy. Act like it.”
“Yes, Ms. Bennet.” She stretches and just shows off her curves.
I finish eating, after which I shrug her off. Standing, she immediately takes my plate to the sink to wash off. I watch her work.
There are some definite advantages to having a slave. I don’t have to worry about household chores anymore. On the other hand, I do have to watch my back a bit more. Elle’s normally submissive now, but the brainwashing is never perfect. This new licking thing is problematic, a sign her selfishness is becoming more dominant. She still rebels sometimes, and when it’s a sociopath rebelling, people can get put in danger. I bring a hand up to my neck and stroke the chain.
I stroked my steel necklace chain as I observed Maury go to work on Elle through the security feed. Elle was putting up a fight. Her glazed over look was punctuated by tensing and jerks of her muscles. I wondered how much he would actually affect her.
“Elle, c’mon,” I muttered. “Stop being a bitch and accept the changes.”
But submission was not in her nature, which was the whole problem. If this didn’t work, if Maury couldn’t remove her domineering personality and replace it with cheerful submission, I would have to lock her up on the bottom floor. She was too fucking dangerous to let free, and it broke my heart to think of just storing her away and forgetting about her. I needed this to work.
Finally, Maury turned away from Elle. She flopped forward, just barely managing to catch herself on the table. She blinked sleepily.
I hit the intercom. “Elle? Are you alright?”
Elle tensed when she heard my voice. “Ms. Bennet? I’m fine, ma’am.” She looked wondrously upwards, searching the ceiling, looking for all the world like a religious person praying for salvation. Then she saw the camera and glued her eyes to it. “I can’t wait to serve you as your own personal slave, Ms. Bennet!”
“And why is that?” I asked, a smile growing on my face.
“Because you’re so powerful, ma’am,” she gushed. “I… I have to be yours. It would be my greatest pleasure to make you happy!”
By this time I was grinning. “And you don’t mind being a slave?”
“No, ma’am! I don’t want to be free. I want you to keep me, Ms. Bennet. I want to be a slave!”
I laughed. “Then give Mr. Parkman a kiss to thank him for giving you your new personality, and go sit in the corner.”
“Yes, Ms. Bennet!” She surged over the table and practically molested him. She never had proper understanding of personal space.
“Okay, that’s enough, Elle!” I said after half a minute went by.
She crawled back, fixed her hair, and then went over to the corner to wait. Okay, not perfect, but some training would make her closer to my ideal pet.
I turned to Dr. Taylor. “Tranq Maury, dose him up on power inhibitors, and take him to the isolation room. Then install the new restraints on Elle. If she resists, tell her I said it was important.”
“And if she still resists?” the doctor asked.
I sighed. “If she still resists, treat her like an incurable.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I stepped out of the room and went down to the coffee machine. I got a cup, sipped it. It tasted awful.
After killing time, I walked down to the isolation room. Maury was knocked out, and I had a handler give him something to wake up. I was warned that it could be unhealthy for him, but I waved it off. Maury was an incurable. I just needed him for this one job. It was a stupid move. I should have considered the fact that I’d need him again. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt him too bad.
I stepped into the room as he was standing up. “So, progress report?”
He blinked groggily, yawned, and stretched. “Claire? Oh… right. Elle, yes. Well, she’s a piece of work, I’ll tell you that.”
“Did it work?” I said, getting to the point.
“Hard to say.” Maury stroked his chin. With another yawn, he got down to business, “She’s very good at looking at certain way, but that doesn’t mean she feels it. To use a cliché, she knows the words but not the music. I keep whispering instructions in her head, ‘you like being submissive’, ‘you are in awe of Ms. Bennet’s power’, and she says she’s submissive and that you’re very powerful. She says it very convincingly, and if I hadn’t had a look ‘round her head, I’d believe her.”
“So, you think she’s lying.”
“Hmm. My best guess is that she believes it for the moment, but that she’s lying to herself and will eventually snap out of it. Not my fault. If I went into the head of some average girl on the street and gave her the treatment I gave Elle, she’d be your loyal sex slave forever and ever. Elle, on the other hand… She’s not built to be a victim. She’s a monster like us. She’ll-”
“I’m nothing like you and Elle,” I snapped.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. “Okay. She’ll eventually revert back to her usual controlling self. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous she’ll be when that happens.”
Goosebumps crawled up my arm. She was scary enough without wanting revenge for my attempt to enslave her. I didn’t want to think about what Elle would try to do to me… The idea of gang rape came to mind, as well as being eaten alive by ants. Elle doubtlessly could think up a punishment for me ten times worse. I couldn’t allow that to happen, and I wouldn’t just lock her up if I could help it. “Her reverting is not an option,” I asserted. “If her treatment starts coming undone, you’ll just have to do it again.”
“It would be much simpler with a normal mind,” he said. “If I were to brainwash Gretchen, it’d be permanent.”
“Never speak that name again,” I said, realizing he must have grabbed the info from Elle’s mind. “Gretchen is off-limits. Only Elle. I don’t care how hard it is. I want Elle!”
“You’re mine,” I growl, eying Elle intently as she dries off the plate.
She smiles big. “Yes, Ms. Bennet! I’m yours.”
“I want you on the bed naked in ten seconds,” I order.
Elle looks excited. Putting down the dish, she dashes toward my bedroom.
“Slut,” I mutter affectionately under my breath. I follow her slowly, taking my time. I lick my lips.