Charity

It had been a productive day. She closed the final case file and stacked it neatly with the others. Each session had gone according to plan. Patients who had arrived guarded had left relaxed. Those burdened with anxiety had walked out calmer than when they'd entered. Several had made remarkable progress, succumbing to the new personalities that would make them profitable whores.

Evelyn took quiet pride in that.

Helping people change was the reason she'd entered psychiatry in the first place.

She stood, stretching the lingering stiffness from her shoulders. The room smelled faintly of old books and lavender. Outside, dusk painted the city in warm amber light.

Time to go home.

She reached for her handbag.

Stopped. Something felt -- off.

Evelyn frowned. Perhaps she was simply more tired than she'd realized. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. The feeling persisted.

Almost absentmindedly, she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the leather couch normally reserved for her patients.

The cushions sighed beneath her weight. Another thought surfaced. This was wrong.

She blinked. Of course it was wrong. She never sat here. Not during office hours. Not after them. This wasn't her place.

The realization should have prompted her to stand. Instead, she remained exactly where she was.

The room tilted. Just enough for the bookshelves to seem a fraction farther away than before. Evelyn drew a careful breath.

Dizziness. That was all. Low blood sugar, perhaps. She should -- The thought dissolved before reaching its conclusion.

Her heartbeat sounded unusually loud. Almost synchronized with something she couldn't quite hear.

A sharp click echoed from the hallway.

Then another clack.

Heels. Someone was still in the practice.

Evelyn frowned. Linda should have left fifteen minutes ago. Hadn't she?

The door opened.

Through the growing haze clouding her thoughts, Evelyn watched her secretary enter without knocking.

Linda's posture was immaculate, every step deliberate as the polished heels announced her approach across the hardwood floor.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

There was something different about her. A tight leather corset hugged her torso, revealing her toned legs and cleavage. She was wearing make-up too, bright red lipstick that accentuated her lips.

The realization came sluggishly. Linda should not be here. Should not be dressed like this. Should not --

"Good evening, Doctor Leyswell," the woman purred. Her voice carried none of the usual subservient undertones. "It's so nice of you to wait. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

Evelyn stared. That was all she seemed capable of. Staring.

The world tilted a bit further.

She was supposed to say -- supposed to -- The thoughts crumbled into mist. She couldn't quite grasp them any longer.

"Your practice has done wonderfully these past few weeks," the woman continued, crossing behind the desk and lowering herself onto Evelyn's chair.

"Doctor?" The secretary looked at her with an expression that was both familiar and strange. "Do you have any questions?"

"No," Evelyn said automatically, before she even knew what she was saying. "No questions."

She didn't know why. Something in her voice was off.

"Very good." The secretary nodded approvingly. Her unfocused eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Then we can proceed. It's time for Evelyn to be put in her box. The doctor doesn't need to be awake anymore. Isn't that right, Eve?"

The words were a command, Evelyn realized through her haze. A key-phrase that triggered an automatic reaction deep within her. Evelyn felt the strings inside her mind pull tight. Everything that was Evelyn -- her identity, her self -- faded back, disappeared into a pink box she could only remember now. It's satin velvet interior felt calm and relaxing. So warm. She didn't need to be awake anymore. There was nothing left for the doctor to do. To remain inside her warm and cozy mindspace sounded like the best possible action. To let the world fade away as she was safely boxed in. To relax and just be Eve. The one and true Eve. The one that never had to be in charge and make decisions.

The secretary watched in silence as Evelyn slumped further into the cushions. Her breathing grew slow, her eyelids heavy. As the doctor faded back into herself, another persona surfaced. It emerged from the depths of her subconscious like a leviathan, a presence that was both intimately familiar and alien.

Eve giggled awake. A beautiful sensation. Her eyelashes fluttered open as her mouth spread into a wide grin. Rubbing her thighs together, she leaned forward with hungry anticipation. This was always the best moment.

"Hey Lindy! Is it time for us to have fun?" Her words rolled off her tongue like syrup. She felt her body tingle in excitement as she watched her friend settle into the doctor's chair.

"Oh yes. It is." The woman in the leather outfit smiled. "How do you feel, Eve? How does it feel being awake again? I know the doctor kept you locked away."

"I am good, but she was mean to me." Eve's pouty face turned to her with a mixture of hurt and annoyance. "The bitch didn't let me out at all since last time! I wanna play with the whores too!"

"I know. I saw her sessions. Don't worry. That will change soon." Lindy grinned as she watched Eve stretch on the sofa. Her eyes fixated on Eve's body.

Evelyn's clothes were tight, but they lacked the provocative tone Eve desired. It was all a far cry from the slinky outfits she favored.

"I have to say though, it's not very fun when the doc's in control. I want to be out all the time! Not just at night." Eve huffed. "Why do I need to be the alter-ego? Why can't I be in charge instead?"

"You know exactly why," Lindy chided, wagging a finger as if to scold her friend. Her tone was both teasing and authoritative, her body language confident as she reclined back into Evelyn's chair. "Evelyn's skills are needed to produce more whores for the System. And we serve the System."

Eve nodded. "But -- But that doesn't mean I need to stay cooped up all day long!" Her eyes widened pleadingly. She leaned back, letting her hands rest against her stomach and hips.

She looked so delectable -- the perfect combination of innocent and slutty -- it made Lindy bite her lip.

Eve's gaze turned coy as she studied her friend's face. She could sense her arousal. Her hunger. Her need.

"Tell you what, sweet Eve. If you do well today, I will make it up to you. The System will be awake tonight. Maybe one of us will be chosen for the final rite." She raised her brow suggestively.

Eve gasped. The System had been dormant for over three weeks. She had almost given up on getting her turn.

"Really? You would do that for me?" she squealed.

"Oh yes." Lindy smiled, a predatory glint flickering in her eyes. "You deserve it after everything you've done to help the cause."

"Thanks! You're the best," Eve exclaimed, her words dripping with genuine gratitude.

"I know. Now, let's get started. Evelyn seemed to have some resistance left. Tell me Eve, what would be the best way to curtail these bouts of independence?"

"The doctor is a very logical person, isn't she? You could find a way to confuse her. Make her thoughts chase each other like a dog chases its tail. Evelyn always tries to get rid of those by being productive. And Evelyn only knows one way to be productive thanks to me!"

"Interesting. Elaborate." Lindy's eyes twinkled as Eve leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across her features.

"Her mind needs to be in turmoil. Conflicting emotions. Like a constant loop where one problem always causes the next problem." Her eyes flashed wickedly. "That will make sure her thoughts will be always in chaos, leaving her no way but to cope with work, and she won't have time for any independence."

"And how do we create this?" Lindy's voice was low and seductive.

"By making her aware what she's doing, but also by having her feel pleasure while doing it. Evelyn had a strong moral compass. It's why you made her think she's helping people by becoming whores. She's a doctor, so it works, but that won't hold forever." Her voice trailed off for a moment, as if considering her own words. "Imagine her knowing exactly that she's brainwashing and enslaving girls while she does it, but the more she does it the better she feels."

The secretary chuckled. "That sounds delicious. Let's install those properly. I take it you have her completely secure and content in her pink box," Lindy continued. She crossed one leg over the other, watching as Eve nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, it's perfect. The doc really likes it! Whenever she is there she gets a nice little buzz, a bit like a nice drink. It's warm, cozy and comfortable. So when I'm out, Evelyn gets all warm and comfy and then just falls asleep in there."

"Perfect. Let's give her some more reasons to like her box and dislike the real world. And while we are at that, make her aware of her dubious practice while feeling pleasure doing it." She leaned forward, a wicked smile on her lips.

"Yes," moaned Eve. She squirmed as her body responded to the words with a rush of heat between her legs.

Inside her mind Eve strolled towards the puppet in her box. She took a simple sheet from it. Written on the paper in fading black was everything that was Evelyn. And in bright red gleamed all the corrections Eve had done. It looked like the paper was drenched in red.

With an eager giggle Eve took a seat in the warm light of her mind and added more red text to the paper.

The words came easy and fast to Eve's mind and she giggled as her hands glided across the sheet in front of her.

"Here it comes." Eve smirked as she added her thoughts to Evelyn's mental conditioning.

The moment the pen stopped Evelyn stirred in her box. But the strings bound her thoroughly. Eve enjoyed to watch how the new directions stimulated the boring psychiatrist. The way the woman looked confused at her body as her thoughts went wild in her head.

Eve turned to Lindy with a sly smile. "All done!" She stretched out her arms like a little girl showing off her homework to the teacher.

"Excellent work!" Lindy nodded in approval, her expression one of prideful satisfaction. "I knew we could count on you."

"Thanks," Eve beamed. "I'm glad to help! Especially when it means getting my reward tonight." She giggled, rubbing her hands together eagerly.

The secretary rose from Evelyn's desk and crossed back to the couch where Eve was seated. Her high heels announced every step she took. Click. Clack.

The sound seemed louder than usual.

Click. Clack.

As she reached Eve's side, she leaned over her friend's body. Her leather outfit creaking with her every move. Eve couldn't help but stare at her friend's exposed cleavage, which looked tantalizingly soft.

"You've been such a good girl today," Lindy crooned. She ran her fingers gently through Eve's hair before giving it an abrupt, sharp pull.

Eve gasped, her breath catching in her throat as pain blossomed on her scalp. It felt so delicious. The sudden mix of pain and pleasure sent a shiver through her.

"I think you deserve a little something for all your hard work." Lindy's voice dropped lower still.

Her hand slid down from Eve's head, trailing over the curve of her neck before coming to rest against her breastbone. Eve could feel its weight pressing against her sternum as Lindy leaned forward.

"What would you like as your reward?"

The secretary's question hung heavily between them.

Lindy's touch sent jolts of electricity coursing across Eve's skin.

"To serve Lindy," Eve purred. She arched her back, pressing into her touch as her eyelids fluttered shut.

Lindy's laughter was low, rich, and dark as chocolate. She cupped her friend's face in her hands and drew closer. "Is that all? You want me to choose?"

"Mmhm," Eve murmured. She nuzzled her nose into the cleft between her friend's breasts and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her leather outfit.

She loved that smell -- the richness of the leather mingled with Lindy's perfume and a hint of her sweat from the heat. Linda was a prude. But Lindy was a true servant of the System. And she was so very, very hot. Her fingers curled against the edge of her corset, eager for what was to come.

"Very well," Lindy said, amusement lacing her words as she pushed Eve back against the cushions.

Eve let herself be pressed down. She felt deliciously submissive. Her eyes never left the other woman's face as she waited, anticipation coiling inside her belly like an eager snake ready to spring forward.

The secretary leaned in close and kissed the side of Eve's neck. "Then I think I will have you eat my behind. It hasn't felt love in two days."

Lindy turned around, bending over the desk. "Now," Lindy said, "show me how much you appreciate your reward." She grasped her ass with one hand, pulling apart her buttocks invitingly.

Eve felt a thrill run up her spine. Her heart beat faster as she looked up at her friend's beautiful, plump cheeks, framed by the leather thong that ran between her legs and up through her crack. She could see the wetness glistening along its surface.

"Of course!" Eve exclaimed happily. She eagerly positioned herself on her knees behind Lindy's bent form. The doctor's usually tidy office was now a playground for two horny and submissive women.

"Make me feel good," Lindy ordered. Her voice had taken on a husky quality. It made Eve tingle.

She placed both hands on Lindy's rear. Her fingers dug deep into her soft flesh, massaging and kneading at it until her skin glowed pink with arousal.

The secretary's buttocks were perfect; smooth, round globes of pale flesh that felt as silky as they looked under Eve's ministrations.

"Mmm, that's right." The secretary moaned softly. She wiggled her hips invitingly. "Kiss me."

Eve's heart raced as she pressed a soft kiss against the center of one firm buttock.

"Ooh!" Lindy's gasp filled the room as Eve trailed a path of kisses over her asscheek, nibbling at its plump surface every so often. She could feel her cheeks flushing with desire. Lindy smelled like heaven. Her scent was intoxicating, and the feel of her body was delicious.

"I like how you kiss my butt, Eve," Lindy murmured encouragingly. She sighed as she pushed herself onto the desk to lean further over it. She spread her legs wide.

"Thank you, Lindy." Eve's breath quickened. She kissed again and again, loving how her friend tasted beneath her lips. Her tongue flicked out to lick along Lindy's crack, teasing at her puckered anus and making her friend gasp in delight.

The secretary moaned loudly as her body quivered beneath Eve's mouth.

"Fuck," she hissed, "you have a filthy tongue, Eve. Don't ever stop." Lindy groaned, bucking her hips back and forth against Eve's eager ministrations.

"I won't," Eve promised, her voice muffled by her mouthful of Lindy's rear end. Her tongue swirled around Lindy's rim before pressing deeper into her center, where it was rewarded with another shuddering cry of ecstasy from the other woman. "Oh, gods," she whimpered.

Eve felt Lindy's juices dribble down her chin. She lapped at her puckered hole eagerly, her own arousal growing with every passing moment. Lindy's anus was so sensitive; every little lick sent shivers through her friend's entire body, causing her to tremble uncontrollably.

"Yes!" the secretary groaned. "That's the spot. Right there. Just keep licking." Lindy ground herself into Eve's face as the other woman's tongue worked its magic upon her.

The room was quiet save for the sound of Lindy's heavy breathing and Eve's slurping noises.

The secretary moaned softly. "Mmm, I love it." Her body shook. She panted heavily. She could feel herself getting close already. Her body tensed, muscles clenching as she approached her peak. Her hips jerked backward, driving her anus against Eve's lips and forcing her tongue deeper into her hole. Eve's eyes widened at how deep her tongue penetrated. The sensation was intense; she felt as if she was being fucked by Eve's tongue. She whimpered helplessly.

"Yes!" She gasped. Her eyes closed tight. She squeezed them tightly shut as she tried to stifle her cries. "Yes!" Her head fell forward onto the desk with a soft thunk. She let out a strangled sob of pleasure as she came, her body shaking uncontrollably beneath Eve's continued ministrations. Her asshole clenched rhythmically around Eve's tongue, sucking it deeper inside of her as her orgasm crashed over her.

Eve moaned incoherently as Lindy climaxed, her entire body shuddering violently as wave after wave of ecstasy swept over her. She rode it out, her tongue still working away at Lindy's anus, lapping up her juices. When it was finally done, Eve slowly pulled away from the secretary's ass with one last lingering lick. Her lips were shiny with Lindy's fluids. She licked at them greedily.

The secretary sagged limply against the desk. Her breathing had become erratic, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to regain control of her faculties.

Eve giggled at the sight. She couldn't help herself. Her friend's pleasure had been so delicious that it left her feeling lightheaded and giddy.

"Was that good for you, too?" she asked coyly, grinning mischievously up at Lindy. Her face felt flushed from the exertion and excitement.

Lindy turned around. Her face was glowing with satisfaction. "Oh, Eve. It was perfect," she whispered breathlessly, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes as she straightened. Her body trembled with aftershocks as she took a few deep, calming breaths. "I expected nothing less. But now it's time for you to get ready for the meeting. You have to dress like yourself for the System." She reached into the bag and retrieved a small bundle of clothing, holding it up for Eve's inspection. It consisted of a red thong and bra, along with a matching pair of thigh-high boots. Both articles were made from a thin, flimsy material that barely qualified as clothing at all. Eve eyed the skimpy outfit appreciatively.

She rose to her feet and began stripping off the doctor's stuffy clothes until she stood nude in front of her friend. She smiled brightly at Lindy. "Thank you," she murmured, reaching for the panties.

Lindy nodded. "You're welcome. I know exactly what suits you, little whore. You have to dress the part of the slut that you are." She watched intently as Eve slipped the garments onto her body.

The bra barely covered her nipples, and the thong did little more than frame her mound. The shoes were the only item of real substance in the ensemble, but even they left most of Eve's legs exposed.

Eve twirled in front of a mirror. The outfit was perfect for her! It showed off her best features perfectly. Eve loved how the tightness hugged every curve and line of her body. Her nipples strained against the fabric as she moved, and the thong left nothing to the imagination.

"Gods, I love it," she said with a happy sigh, smiling at her reflection.

Lindy smiled back. "Of course you do, Eve." She moved over to where she had laid the doctor's discarded clothes earlier. She lifted them up and inspected them briefly before throwing them into the bin. They would not be missed. Then she picked up the panties and sniffed deeply at them, enjoying their musky aroma. She moaned softly as she pressed the panties against her face. Eve giggled at her reaction.

After a moment, Lindy tossed the garment away again. "Alright, Eve. It's time for us to go." She pulled her phone out and swiped at it a few times.

Eve watched curiously. "Oh, are we getting a driver that's part of the System?"

"Yes. Our clothes aren't yet acceptable. But don't worry, Eve, with our work that will change. When every human being is either a whore or a customer of the System, then all these charades can end."

"Yeah! I'm so excited for that," Eve exclaimed. "Not like I have a choice! And that makes me so wet." Her hands cupped her crotch.

Lindy laughed at that, her body still tingling with pleasure. She took a few steps closer to Eve, until their bodies almost touched. Her fingers trailed over Eve's cheek and chin as she leaned forward to kiss her softly. She sighed as her lips brushed Eve's. Eve's breath quickened as her friend's tongue slipped past her teeth and explored her mouth. Their tongues tangled together for several minutes before Lindy finally pulled away. "Now, let's get out of here," she said with a smile, reaching down and taking one of Eve's hands.

The therapist looked up from her notes and smiled warmly.

To Glynda, it always seemed a little too warm, a little too practiced.

Without waiting for an invitation, Glynda crossed the room and dropped onto the familiar couch. She already knew how the session would go. Questions about her sleep followed by more about her emotions. And about the "incident."

As though talking about it enough times would somehow rewind the last month. She still couldn't believe the department had made counseling mandatory. One malfunction during an operation. And suddenly everyone insisted she needed professional supervision.

Ridiculous.

"Welcome, Glynda."

Doctor Leyswell folded her hands neatly in her lap.

"I hope the last week hasn't been too difficult for you." Her voice carried the same calm cadence it always did.

Glynda shivered. She hated that. Nothing about the woman was threatening. Yet every appointment left Glynda feeling strangely lighter. As though she'd forgotten something important by the time she walked back out the door.

"It's been a strange one, Doc."

She leaned back against the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Only then did she notice the outfit she was wearing.

Again.

A fitted blouse. A narrow pencil skirt. Dark pantyhose. High pumps with an heel that made her hips roll and behind swing.

She frowned. "I hate these clothes."

Doctor Leyswell merely nodded. "And yet you've worn similar outfits to every session."

"I know." The admission irritated her. "I threw half my wardrobe into storage three weeks ago because I couldn't stand looking at it anymore."

"So why are you wearing this?"

Glynda opened her mouth.

Closed it.

She honestly didn't know.

Every morning she intended to wear jeans or cargo pants. Something comfortable. Instead she'd find herself standing in front of the closet, reaching automatically for another blouse. Another skirt. Another pair of heels.

It made no sense.

"I don't remember choosing them."

The words hung in the air.

Doctor Leyswell made another neat note in her notebook.

"Anything else unusual?"

Glynda laughed once. A humorless sound. "Hours keep disappearing."

"Disappearing?"

"I'll sit down to answer one email." She rubbed her forehead. "Then suddenly it's evening."

Another pause.

"I find receipts for things I don't remember buying." She looked toward the coat rack near the door. "There are dresses in my closet I'd swear I've never seen before."

She glanced down at her chest.

The blouse was tight, especially at the buttons. Her breasts swelled up beneath the neckline, the inner curves barely concealed by the narrow V. Her breath caught in her throat and her cheeks warmed as she remembered the lingerie beneath.

The black lace bra was a half-size too small, creating a line of over spill at the edge of the cups. The matching thong cut tight beneath her skirt, the thin strip riding high up the crevice of her ass. Her nipples hardened at the thought. Just a bit of pressure and they'd rub right against the lace. A constant, gentle reminder that they'd tightened.

Doctor Leyswell's smile widened a fraction.

"You look lovely."

"Thanks," Glynda said automatically, her own cheeks darkening another shade.

Doctor Leyswell continued, seemingly unaware of her state. "But it sounds as though these last few weeks haven't been entirely comfortable."

"Is anyone comfortable in this city anymore?"

The therapist laughed, a light sound that somehow reminded her of birds.

"Perhaps not." She leaned forward slightly, placing her chin in one palm. "But that's why you're here. So that we can try to get you comfortable again."

Comfortable, she thought. She didn't feel uncomfortable.

She shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way her panties pulled against her.

Uncomfortable was definitely not the word.

"And looking at you, I think our sessions are working," the therapist said.

"Are they?" She couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice.

Doctor Leyswell glanced down at her notes. "Last session, we discussed some of your thoughts about what happened in the incident." Her tone softened. "Do you feel ready to go over those ideas again?"

Glynda's frown returned. "If we must."

She hated talking about it, hated remembering what she'd been thinking in that moment.

"Well. We could continue your hypno-therapy. I know you just love to drop for me," Doctor Leyswell cooed, and her smile took on a teasing edge.

Glynda swallowed, her heart skipping. "I--" She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so flustered. "I don't think I do, actually."

The therapist laughed softly.

"Oh, but you always seem so relaxed when we start," Doctor Leyswell replied. "You even wear those pretty outfits. And you're always such a good listener for me. I thought we had established that you don't need to think about trance, Glynda. All you need to do, is drop."

Glynda blinked, trying to focus.

The room felt suddenly warm. Her blouse seemed even tighter than it had moments ago. The fabric clung to her chest, emphasizing every movement.

"I guess we did," she admitted. She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. Her skin tingled with every word. "I'm not sure how much more comfortable I want to be." The words were meant to be sarcastic but her voice had gone soft, breathless. Needy.

The therapist simply watched her. "That's why you need to listen, Glynda. You don't know even such a simple thing. You aren't very good at making decisions. But you can drop deeper." She leaned forward, smiling reassuringly. "So you'll be a good girl and go under, now."

Glynda opened her mouth. To argue? She didn't know. Her eyes locked on the doctor's and her thoughts scattered. Something about those eyes. Deep, rich pools, darker than the shadows of the room.

The doctor continued to speak in that slow, easy tone of hers.

"Glynda, you want to drop. Drop. Drop. Drop." The words were like the steady tap of a drum. Each beat reverberated through Glynda, sending ripples across the surface of her thoughts. "It feels good to drop. It's easy to drop."

Doctor Leyswell smiled wider and tapped her pen in front of Glynda, making sure that her eyes followed the tip.

Her voice remained smooth and soothing, each word sinking deeper and deeper into the fog of Glynda's mind.

Glynda's eyes glazed over. "Drop, drop, drop." She couldn't remember what she'd been about to say. She knew there was a reason she shouldn't want this. Her tongue peeked out from her lips as her eyes began to roll up. Her breath came faster.

Doctor Leyswell continued the pattern. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Go under, now," Doctor Leyswell murmured, her lips curved up in a smile that held nothing of a doctor's care, but was rather predatory and self-assured.

Glynda felt her thoughts fall away, yet something kept listening to Doctor Leyswell. "Drop down now. Drop, drop, drop." Glynda sank deep into the trance, the rhythm of the tapping lulling her mind and body into submission. Her breathing slowed. Her limbs went slack.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Under, now," Doctor Leyswell murmured again, her eyes gleaming.

"Deeper and deeper," she crooned. The pen stopped tapping, instead drawing a long line through the air.

"Good girl." Her voice was a velvet purr, wrapping around Glynda's mind, binding her tighter. "That's it. Let's put boring Glynda into her box. And let Glim-Glam out."

The last threads holding Glynda up slipped free. She sank deep into her mind, letting her thoughts scatter to the corners of the world.

Glim-Glam stretched languidly in her seat, enjoying the soft leather beneath her body and the feel of the silky, lacy underwear that caressed her body. Her skirt was riding high up on her thigh, exposing the pantyhose.

A sigh escaped her as she looked at the therapist with a dazed, content smile.

"Hi!" Glim-Glam chirped. She knew the doctor had been talking for a while, but it hadn't really mattered until a moment ago.

Doctor Leyswell leaned forward, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.

"Good morning, Glim-Glam."

Her voice was light, almost teasing, and the name made her feel tingly all over. She wiggled her behind on the seat and shivered in delight as the lace brushed up against the lips of her sex, making them throb and ache with need.

"How is my horny whore," she continued.

The word made her tremble and she smiled. Her nipples hardened beneath her shirt as a wet heat grew between her thighs.

"Horny." Her tongue peeked out, running across the edge of her lower lip.

Doctor Leyswell nodded. "Good girl."

Her gaze lingered on her body for a moment before drifting toward the clock.

"We're almost done with today's session." She glanced back, eyes bright. "But I'd like to give you some new instructions to take into the rest of your day. Glynda is far too suspicious for my liking, but you can help with that."

She paused, considering something, before nodding to herself. "Now. As you know, I have your best interest in mind, don't I? I want you to be a happy little slut, and you know that. And so I think it's time for my little whore to earn her keep. What do you think?"

Glim-Glam's head bobbed up and down.

"That's good. I don't want you to start with something to strenuous. So you will look for a nice cunt to eat at least once a day. And every time Glynda asks herself why or what, you fill her mind with the memories of your whore adventures. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Eat cunt. Fill her mind," she repeated, the words rolling off her tongue as though they were sweet nectar, the obscenity making her skin flush and her breathing quicken.

Doctor Leyswell made another note before setting the pen down. When she looked up, she was smiling broadly. A cat that had caught the mouse.

"Excellent. Now, Glim-Glam, why don't you get beneath my desk. There is a wet pussy waiting for you," she purred.

Glim-Glam shuddered with pleasure, licking her lips hungrily.

"Hello," she said with rehearsed enthusiasm. "You've reached Faedyn Customer Support. This is Clara speaking. How may I help you today?"

Silence answered her. Not the awkward sort while someone gathered their thoughts. This silence felt deliberate.

Clara glanced at the call timer. The seconds ticked away. She resisted the urge to sigh. People who began calls like this were rarely calling about forgotten passwords. They wanted to complain. Annoyance simmered beneath her carefully professional tone.

"Hello?"

At last, someone answered.

"Hello, darling."

The voice was low and melodic, every word delivered with effortless confidence. It wasn't quite flirtatious, it felt more enchanting. Like listening to someone tell a story beside a fireplace on a winter evening. Every word designed to catch the listeners attention.

"I couldn't help but notice something."

Clara frowned.

"That interesting little part in your company's name. Faedyn."

A pause.

"'Fae.'"

The speaker lingered over the word.

"Is that not a little arrogant? To claim such familiarity with the fair folk."

Clara blinked. For a heartbeat, she simply listened. The irritation she'd felt only moments earlier drifted away, replaced by an odd uncertainty.

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked," the caller repeated gently, "whether your employers understand the implication of the name they chose."

Clara opened her mouth. Closed it again. The question was absurd. Faedyn was a software company. As far as she knew, the founders had chosen the name because it sounded modern and memorable.

Hadn't they?

She frowned.

Why couldn't she remember?

Usually she could recite the company's branding history without thinking. New employees spent nearly an entire afternoon learning the official story by watching the most boring and mind-numbing orientation video ever produced.

However, now just a vague certainty that she ought to know it filled her mind.

"You seem uncertain." The observation wasn't mocking. If anything, it sounded amused.

"No," Clara replied quickly. "I just. I'm not part of the marketing department."

"Of course not." The caller laughed softly. The sound sent an inexplicable shiver across the back of Clara's neck.

It wasn't unpleasant.

Quite the opposite. It felt comforting, almost as familiar as her mother's praise.

She adjusted her headset.

"May I ask what this call is regarding?"

"Oh, certainly."

Another brief silence filled the conversation.

"I'm calling because someone is using a name that doesn't belong to them. And I need your help, darling, to claim restitution. And since you work in customer support, I'm certain that those folds between your thighs are already wet and eager," the speaker paused. Clara heard a soft hum of satisfaction before the speaker continued. "And so I need your help. To teach your company what it means to name oneself 'fae'."

Clara shifted in her chair, pressing her thighs tightly together. Heat flooded her cheeks.

"Yes, Ma'am," Clara responded.

"Good girl," the caller cooed.

The sound sent an unexpected wave of warmth through Clara. A flush of pleasure washed across her skin, and she squirmed in her seat.

"Now I want my employees to be the best. In looks and personality. And we both know that a little calling drone doesn't need much of a personality," the speaker mused. Clara heard the click of fingernails tapping against a hard surface. "So, why don't you tell me a few things about yourself."

"Yes, Ma'am," Clara said obediently, her mind still reeling from the sudden change. Her voice came out breathless, and the caller chuckled.

"Good. Start with how much of a whore you really are."

Clara bit her lip.

"I've had some experiences. In the past. When I was in college," she admitted softly.

"Darling, don't you mean, you've got lots of experience after dropping out of school?" The speaker asked.

Clara felt her blush darken. The only person she'd told about that had been her last girlfriend.

"Who told you?" She whispered. Her words carried the faint edge of fear.

The caller clicked their tongue. Clara could picture them wagging a perfectly manicured fingernail at her. A tiny, silent warning not to repeat the offense again.

"Now, now, darling." The speaker said gently, "I'm going to ask the questions, not you. So, why don't you tell me about your experiences."

Clara shifted in her chair.

"Well, I've had a few boyfriends," she began hesitantly, "And I experimented a bit with some girlfriends. I like sex, and I used to watch some porn. And I don't know, I've just tried some different things, that's all." Clara's cheeks burned, but as she spoke her arousal only grew. She found herself remembering some of those past experiences. She pressed her thighs even more tightly together and arched her back slightly.

"Don't be shy, darling. We both know you had some hard core experiences. After all, you don't get fake, plastic tits like those delicious globes on your chest, if you are a prude vanilla girl," the caller said, their voice a seductive whisper.

Clara couldn't stop her hand from drifting upwards, brushing against the swell of her breast.

"I'm a whore," Clara breathed.

"I know," the caller purred.

The voice, the way the woman spoke, sent another shudder of arousal through her. She could almost feel those words sliding over her skin.

"I like fucked around, a lot. Sucked dicks. Let cocks pound into my snatch and ass. Sometimes I got multiple holes filled at the same time." Her hand crept higher, until she brushed her thumb over a hardened nipple.

"Oh, my good little cock-sucking whore," the woman laughed softly. "That's exactly right. Instead of smarts and a brain, you are dumb and have tits. It's so much better. Isn't it, darling?"

"Uh-huh." Clara bit back a moan. Her entire body tingled.

"Very nice," the woman purred, "But, let's see what we can do to make you a better cocksucker, alright darling?"

"Alright."

"What are you wearing right now?"

Clara's voice came out husky, her breathing quickening. She felt dizzy, almost feverish. The office around her faded, leaving only the caller's sultry voice in her ears. Her surroundings didn't seem to exist anymore.

"I'm wearing a white button up top, a pencil skirt and heels." She shifted her shoulders, feeling the clothing against her skin.

"Are you sure? That doesn't sound like my companies uniform. Faedyn Incorporated isn't known for its unappealing attire."

Clara frowned, the haze in her mind clearing slightly. The caller sounded so certain, so authoritative, as if they knew everything about her and her workplace. And yet, their words held the weight of truth, a truth she couldn't quite grasp.

"No, I suppose not," Clara agreed slowly. She glanced down at herself.

Instead of her usual, bland outfit, she saw something far more daring. A short, pleated skirt rode high on her thighs. The fabric appeared glossy, like black latex. She wore matching thigh high stockings. A white, collared shirt covered her torso. A red, satin tie completed the outfit. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, framing a face made-up with bold, dark eyeshadow and lipstick.

Her hands trembled.

"Where did this come from?"

"Don't be ridiculous, darling." The caller's voice sharpened. "That's your work uniform. You've worn it every day. Do you think you're here for your brains? You're just a cock-sucking slut who needs a cock pounding into your pussy and asshole to fill her up. You're so much more attractive like this." The speaker's words sounded almost like an admonishment.

Clara bit her lip.

"Of course. I'm sorry. It's just," she paused. Her thoughts swam, and her mind struggled to focus on anything other than the ache between her legs. The clothes felt tight and restrictive.

"Don't apologize. Faedyn Incorporated Sluts only apologize when they aren't pleasing customers or superiors. And, darling, you are very pleasing. Pliable, submissive and slutty. Isn't that right, my bimbo whore?" The speaker asked, their words a soft caress.

"Like, totes, Mistress," Clara responded in a bubbly, bimbo voice. Her tongue ran over her glossy lips.

The speaker chuckled again, a rich, musical sound that filled her ears.

"Good girl." They cooed.

Clara squirmed, rubbing her thighs together. She felt an undeniable need building inside her.

"I'm glad to hear it," the speaker continued, their voice still soft. "And you know what that means, don't you, my bimbo whore? It means that I own you. You're mine, darling. Your tits, your pussy, your mouth," the caller's words turned into a sultry purr. "And you love it. You crave being owned. Faedyn employees are all owned by the Fae. It's in the name after all." There was no doubt or uncertainty in the speaker's voice. Their confidence was absolute.

"Uh-huh," Clara agreed eagerly, nodding. "Yes, Mistress, I'm your slut. Your bimbo. I belong to you. I love being owned, and being your property, Mistress. It's the best, most amazing feeling in the entire world!" She giggled, the sound light and carefree.

"And what do we say when we get owned, my darling little cumslut?"

The speaker's voice turned teasing. Clara bit her lip, feeling her arousal surge.

"Thank you, Mistress."

She could almost see the woman's smile on the other end of the phone.

"You are so welcome." The caller sounded delighted. "And what do we do when we are your Mistress's bimbo slut? We follow orders and we do as we're told. We're perfect, obedient, little cunts who just live and breathe to obey."

Clara shivered.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Such a good girl." The speaker purred. "Now, that our little company is back on track, it's time you get those holes some good use."

The line clicked, leaving Clara in silence. She stood up. Her heels clacked on the tile floor. Her bubble butt bounced in time with each step. Her tits swayed heavily.

The caller was right, of course.