Madam Masque smiled down at her, âCome now, my precious little slut, donât you want to feel itâs sexy, slick sheen?â
âFuck no!â Deirdre cried out as she swung her legs away from the figure in black
âHmmm. Resistant, I see. Well, thereâll be no more talking once youâre hooded and docile. Thereâll only be a lifetime of pussy licking and latex from now on,â The man in black lifted the hood, and with a flourish, opened it up. A dim light pulsed inside. âOnce the hood is on, thereâll be no more struggling, no more fighting. Just sweet, simple submission and a wonderland of wet snatch and mindless submission.â said Madam Masque with a smile
âYou canât be serious,â Deirdre blinked once. This was crazy!
âOh but I am, little slut. All you need to do now...â Madam Masque smiled wolfishly, â....is give in. Any last words?â
The hood closed down around Deirdreâs head with ease. Like a glove. Like it was always meant to be.
She tried to think of a way out of this mess. Anything! But every thought felt like slippery, shining latex. Her fingers would brush against it, grasping tightly, and then feel it flow through her mind like sand.
Soft, impressionable sand.
She moaned as the hood tore open her pleasure centre and began rewiring it. It didnât hurt. Nothing hurt. Nothing felt like anything at all.
âThatâs right, my dear. Open yourself to it, let it in. Feel the hood taking your mind, your face. Your everything. And making you just another slave-drone for me to play with.â
She felt a memory pop like a ripe grape in a hungry mouth. Her birthday? Her...third birthday?
âFeel it plucking your pussy like the strings of a harp, feel it working through your mind, erasing all those nasty thoughts, and memories, and silly little ideas of free will. Feel your new identity subsuming your old one; a face as black and deep and thoughtless as shimmering latex.â
Madam Masque. The woman from before-time called the voice-woman Madam Masque. God, thinking was hard now. So hard.
âWhat is your name, my dear?â
âI..my...there is...no...no...no name...â
âCorrect, listen to the Hood. Let it guide you in your new worship. Let it shape you. Let it break you and remake you. You have no name. You have only the hood. And your Mistress who saw fit to gift you with it.â
âdrone has the Hood.â
âdrone has Mistress.â
âYessss, Drone needs nothing else.â A voice, a chuckling voice. No. Mistressâ chuckling voice.
âdroneâs body exists to pleasure Mistress.â
âThatâs right. Drone and hood and body are one. They exist to please Mistress, to serve Mistress.â
âIt is all Drone needs. All Drone craves. Drones exist to please their Mistress, to bend and shape and obey at their Mistress word. You are Drone. I am Mistress.â
A thought vanishes. A thought drone didnât even know she still possessed and by the time it is gone drone has forgotten even the memory of it. The Hood is everything. The Hood is the pleasure. drone feels nothing now; nothing but perfect, complete obedience to Mistress.
âArenât you happy I hooded you, now?â Mistress knows what droneâs answer will be already, but she never gets tired of hearing it....
drone did as it was told.
Extract from a wonderful story called The Society 2: Masks and Capes by Tipsy
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