The Slave, the Stripper and the Slut Page 3

  The time that Claire had set to show up at Dr. Don's had come. She restrained the urge to run over. When she got to Dr. Don's door she gave it a hard pounding, hoping to rile up the occupants from their illicit conjugal bliss.

  Claire had been surprised the first time she had knocked on Dr. Don's door when it turned out that he knew her and Rachel even though they had never met. She was surprised this time too when the door opened to reveal Rachel, completely naked except for a slinky pink thong, with a tiny pink bow in the middle, and matching pink high heels. Claire was also stunned to find Rachel wearing makeup—lots of it. The most Rachel usually wore was maybe some gloss. Now, her lips were painted bright red, her eyelids were coated with full-blown, gaudy purple eye shadow, her lashes were thick black with black eyeliner, and her cheek bones were defined by bright rouge.

  Rachel's eyes were closed as if she were trying especially hard to concentrate. When she opened them, she whispered, "Don't."

  Claire misinterpreted the word as a plea instead of the warning Rachel had summoned the strength to make.

  Claire was about to make a teasing comment, but Dr. Don's voice interrupted her. "Girl, please show our guest in."

  Instantly, Rachel's demeanor turned to one of stiff formality, like a servant on Downton Abbey.

  "Come in, Miss Claire." Rachel said meekly. "Dr. Dunlop has been expecting you."

  Rachel spun around and sashayed into the house, her hips swinging seductively. Claire gulped. Rachel was certainly beautiful but Claire had never seen her do anything so sexy before. Presumably she saved that stuff for her husband. Now she was moving as if she wanted to turn Claire on and she had succeeded.

  Claire followed Rachel into the Doctor's living room. The Doctor himself was sitting comfortably in a plush leather chair, reading one of his scientific magazines and drinking a scotch. Without acknowledging Claire, he raised his drained glass and gave it a little shake, clinking the ice cubes it contained. Without hesitation, Rachel obtained a scotch bottle and refilled the glass. For a moment, she turned her head slightly to look at Claire and gave her a brief, pensive look of shame. Then she returned the bottle to a shelf and fell to her knees besides Dr. Don, her head bowed as if a supplicant before her god.

  Claire laughed out loud. "Could you two just be a little less discrete with your master slave act you got going on here?" She snorted sarcastically.

  Rachel blushed but neither she nor the Doctor said anything.

  Claire became annoyed about being ignored. "Doc, you can move wherever you want, but Rachel has her reputation to worry about. If anyone finds out what you two are doing here, Rachel's good name will be in the toilet."

  Finally, the doctor gave a light wave to Rachel and said, "Tell her, girl."

  "I'm not Rachel anymore." Rachel said blushing, with an air of sad resignation. "I am Sir's girl."

  Claire became unnerved. "Come on, Rachel! Snap out of it." She said insistently. "You'll need a miracle worker for a divorce attorney if your husband finds out about this!"

  "I live to serve, my Sir." Rachel said flatly.

  Claire couldn't believe what she was hearing. "For god's sake Rachel! Think of your future. This weird ass s-and-m thing is not worth it."

  For a moment, just a moment, Rachel's brow trembled and she closed her eyes as if she were exerting herself to move. She failed to lift a finger and sobbed, "I am Sir's girl."

  Claire pointed an accusing finger at the doctor. "You've brainwashed her, you bastard!"

  The Doctor finally looked at Claire and shook his head. "Brainwashing would presume that I compelled my girl to do something she wouldn't want to do. I am merely helping her realize one of her fantasies. In return she is providing me with some valuable data. In fact, I've learned from her that my induction programs have to move slower if they are to properly alter a subject's thought patterns. My girl, here still feels a need to resist her programming even though she cannot fight it."

  "You're crazy!" Claire gasped.

  The Doctor shrugged. "I am sure I seem that way to you now, but once you join my experiment, you will discover how lucid I am."

  Claire didn't like the sound of that. "Back off, asshole!" She cried, not realizing a small black creature had crawled up her sleeve and was on her shoulder. Only when it had scurried to the base of her neck did she realize it was there until it quickly burrowed into her skin and attached to her spine.

  Suddenly, Claire fell into a void of empty whiteness, deprived of thought and emotion. Out of this emptiness came a voice, a chanting voice, reciting a seemingly random series of zeroes and ones, "Zero, one, one, zero, one, zero, zero, one, one, one." As the voice droned on in a monotone, Claire began to reemerge into conscious awareness. Slowly, Claire realized she knew the source of the voice. It was her own. She was saying these numbers even though she could not feel her lips moving or even the rest of her body. Finally, her voice deviated from the numbers to which it was devoted and said something else. "Test Subject 2. Claire Willis. Twenty-eight-year-old Caucasian female. Fantasy: exhibitionism...

  Claire swooned as the doctor's living room came back into focus. The doctor was giving her a clinical look as if performing a routine health exam. Rachel was staring at her sadly.

  Something was wrong. Claire felt it. Even if she had no idea what it was. Anger rose within her. "What did you do to me, you bastard!" She demanded of the doctor.

  "Merely inducted you into my test protocol as I have already done with my girl." The doctor replied matter-of-factly.

  "You're not going to pull your invasion of the body snatchers routine on me!" Claire yelled and she scrambled out the front door. Down the sidewalk she saw a neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, walking his dog. She ran after him.

  "Hey, Bert!" She called.

  Mr. Jenkins stopped, turned and faced the out of breath, sweaty Claire. Perhaps it was the surprise of female attention, unconscious lust, or a primal mating instinct but, whatever the reason, Mr. Jenkins eyes inadvertently fell on Claire's heaving chest.

  Claire liked Mr. Jenkins enough and never thought him anything close to attractive. Yet, somehow, his glance her breasts received turned her on. Her body began to glow with warmth and her stomach tightened from the reception she had received from his eyes. For a moment, Claire forgot her anxiety and coquettishly reached for her blouse as if she was going to give him a more unobstructed view of her bosom.

  A sharp twinge of embarrassment and shame retrieved her from going any farther.

  "Oh my god, what am I doing?" She blurted and tore off, leaving a confused Mr. Jenkins scratching his head.

  Claire slammed the door behind her when she reached home and rubbed her forehead. "What the hell did that freak do to me?" Her protest trailed off as her body began to throb with a strange sensation. Her flesh seemed to vibrate with energy as if the warmth from Mr. Jenkin's stare had infected the rest of her form. There was a countervailing sensation now too. Her clothes—they began to feel constricting, like a boa strangling its prey. This feeling became so unpleasant that the urge to strip then and there became overwhelming. She tore off her all clothes, popping buttons in her haste, and threw her garments across the room as if they intended to do her harm. Free from her bondage, Claire laughed and drank in the exhilarating freedom of her nudity, but only for a moment. This strange behavior worried her deeply. What had the Doctor done to her to make her act so crazy? She remembered that pinch at the back of her neck. Maybe that had something to do with the cause. She ran up to the full-length mirror in her bedroom to find if it had left a mark.

  Upon inspection, Claire did find a red mark on the back of her neck, but no other clues to show how she might have been tampered with. She grimaced as wondered what to do next. Her eyes fell to her reflection.

  "Hey, I am so hot." She discovered as she drank in the vision of her nude self. She still had her dancer's body with her strong and firm arms and legs, her long swan-like neck and non-existent tummy. Her big boobs and curvy waist that had been a liab
ility in her profession were still dazzling.

  "I am sssso hot." Claire told her reflection in a sexily smooth voice as she drank in her image. She ran her hands over down her chest, circling her swelling boobs and thickening nipples. The feeling of her own fingers was as intimate and delicious as a lover's caress.

  As her body swayed from the bliss of her own touch, she became intoxicated with its movements in the mirror. She playfully swung her hips to a Nickelback song she played in her mind. At first the undulating motion of shoulders, to waist, to hips was subtle but became more exaggerated with each wave of movement.

  "God, what a hot bod!" She repeated as she watched her private dance...giggling at her rhyme. "It's too hot to keep secret. I should be showing it off." A vision came to her, one like she had toyed with many times over the years. She was on a dance platform in front of crowd of lust inspired men, reaching out to her with desire, but unable to touch her glorious body. How she drove them wild in this dream, how she drove them from reason to lust's full embrace. Even though she had enjoyed this fantasy many times before, the rush from its current incarnation conjured the more intense bliss than she had ever know before. One hand fell to her sex and found it wet, hot, hungry and inviting.

  The doorbell rang, rousing Claire from her lurid dream.

  "Oh my God!" She gasped as she looked at herself, naked, hot and flushed from her self-arousal. "What’s happening to me?"

  The doorbell rang again. Claire ran to her closet for something to put on. She reached out for a prim blouse and skirt but hesitated. She couldn't bring herself to put it on, it was too restricting and too concealing of her sexy and luxuriant body. The thought of wearing it made her flesh crawl. Claire tried to force herself to pick something but she couldn't. The idea of wearing the clothes in her closet now seemed utterly repellant. It was like after eating the same food she liked had suddenly become unpalatable.

  The doorbell made an irritably long and loud ring.

  "Come on!" Claire yelled at herself, "I have to wear something. I can't answer the door naked."

  The thought slipped her back into the realm of her randy fantasies. In her boredom, she actually had dreamed of answering the door naked with whoever was there becoming entranced by her sexy body, their jaw slack, their mouthwatering, their hands reaching out to touch her. It was a fantasy that would become reality; she only had to let go...

  "No, no, no!" Claire screamed at herself as she banished the vision from her mind. "I am not that kind of woman!"

  Claire finally forced herself to war something: a sundress that danced about her skin in the right places to accent her body's shape. She never wore the thing because it became see-through when it was hit by direct light. It seemed the perfect compromise between her sensibility and her new-found desire to reveal herself.

  Claire ran down to answer the door. It was Rachel. She was back to wearing a shirt and jeans but she still had the heels and make up she had been wearing when she answered the door at Dr. Don's.

  "I tried to warn you." Rachel sobbed. "I tried really hard. When he ordered me, I had to obey. He's robbed me of my will. Whatever he wants, whatever he commands, I have to do it. I am the slave I always fantasized of being. The things he has made me do...you have no idea. But I loved doing them. I loved them because I love serving him. As ashamed as I am about what I have become, I still love it!"

  "Rachel..." Claire wanted to say something consoling but her friend interrupted her.

  "Don't call me that! You know about my slave self now. I am no longer Rachel. I can barely remember what it was like to be her. I can hardly remember what it was to think for myself and make my own decisions. Rachel is just a mask I wear now. I am whatever Sir wishes me to be. I am an instrument of his will. It still sounds so strange to say it but it is true."

  "Rachel...girl...whoever you are, we have to get help."

  "I want help but I can't! The urge to obey Sir is too powerful. I can't resist!"

  "Then I'll get help!" Claire groaned as she tried to leave.

  Rachel blocked her way.

  "You can't. Sir ordered me to take you somewhere where you will realize your own fantasies."

  "Rachel, please! Just let me go."

  "No, I won 't let you! The last time I failed Sir he turned me out for two whole days. He didn't talk to me. He didn't command me. It was agony. I felt as if a part of me had been ripped away. I can't go through that again!"

  "I won't go!" Claire growled.

  Rachel stepped forward, grabbing Claire's hips and pulled her close. "Don't be crazy! Your programming is phasing in. Everything you are feeling now is going to get worse. You won't be able to resist it. If it is not directed, by tonight you'll be running through the streets naked. You have to come with me to a place where your urges can be contained.”

  "No!" Claire protested, trying to pull herself away, finding that the idea of her streaking through the neighborhood was not at all that unappealing. She struggled fruitlessly as if she did not want to break away from Rachel's grasp.

  "This ass, these tits, these curves." Rachel whispered hotly as her hands roved over Claire's body. "These were meant to be seen and stared at. They want the eyes of a crowd. They can't be hidden away unseen, untouched!"

  Rachel's hands struck a chord where ever they touched Claire, until nearly her entire body was singing with arousal. Claire's mind drifted back to that Nickelback song she had hummed in the bedroom, slipping her back into that dream of herself before a huge crowd, with men yearning to covet her, women insanely jealous of her and both desperately wanting her. Her body was ready to offer herself to this vision and her mind was too weak to resist the temptation.

  "Take me with you." Claire whispered desperately as she dwelt on this dream.

  Rachel led the dazed unresisting Claire to her car. They both got in and Rachel drove them toward the location the doctor had chosen for Claire.

  Through the fog of her desire, Claire had a reawakening of the sharpness of her reason. Small though it was, it was enough for her to realize that the passenger car door was unlocked. The next time the car stopped, she could escape and run to get help! When they came to a stoplight, Claire reached for the door latch. Before she could pull it, she looked up to find the driver of the truck next to her, stealing a peak down her dress. Claire had been ogled this way before, by men a lot better looking than this jerk, but the effect of his lurid stare made her tummy do a flip and her tits start to ache with tingling. She found herself wanting more of a reaction from her voyeur, not for his sake but to inflame the feeling his stare gave her. She ran her hands over her bra-less boobs and then tugged at her dress' collar line to reveal them more and more. The man's jaw dropped and Claire drank in his attention. She ceased to see him as a person but his gawk distilled him to the essence of his lust. Claire drank it like intoxicating liquor. It was so delicious and she needed more. Her dress was now pulled down so low that her nipples were starting to show. The driver was now leaning so far out of the window; he was in peril of falling.

  The light turned green and Rachel and Claire were off again. Claire shook her head, realizing she was becoming too far gone to escape. She stared out the window as the burbs gave way to exurbs and then to the country. Finally they pulled up to the front of a gated drive.

  "Dr. Dunlop’s girl." Rachel said into an intercom. That gate swung open and Rachel drove in.

  "Is that what I am now?" Claire wondered. "One of Dr. Don's girls?"

  “Sir has only one girl.” Rachel declared emphatically. Claire understood Rachel’s statement to mean that she was his only slave.

  Rachel pulled up to a large manor house. Both women got out of the car and found themselves greeted by a woman in a full-length black velvet cape and two handsome men in tight clothes.

  "The Doctor's new test subjects, I see." The woman said. Then she addressed Claire, "I am Miss Prymm. I was the Doctor's graduate assistant and first experiment. As I am sure you know by now, his work has some intere
sting side effects. I will be your employer and house mother. Since you will now be working for me, you will call me, Mother."

  "There is no way in hell I am calling you that!" Claire shot back angrily.

  "Oh you will, my dear, you will do that and more." Miss Prymm said ominously." S he threw open her robe to reveal she was clad in a garter belt, stockings, and heels but nothing else.

  "I am Dr. Dunlop’s girl. My name used to be Rachel. I am test subject one. " Rachel introduced herself to Miss Prymm. "This other girl is Claire. She is his test subject two. The Doctor said that she will make an excellent addition to your establishment."

  "Off with your clothes." Miss Prymm told Claire.