Sweet Surrender

She felt Cassidy's fingers carefully pulling apart her labia, and it took all of Martha's self-control not to thrust her hips into Cassidy's hand. "How often have you been masturbating, Martha?" Cassidy asked.

"fffffive...six times a day," Martha husked out. "Sometimes more."

"Interesting," Cassidy said, running her finger along Martha's perineum. "And you haven't noticed any soreness, chafing, any pain of any kind?"

"n-no," Martha said, her voice unsteady. "Feels...feels good..."

"Very interesting," Cassidy said. "I'd thought there might be some therapeutic effects of the drug in terms of tissue revitalization, but this is more than I'd hoped for. And do you always lubricate this much?"

"I, I don't...I think so, yes..." Martha closed her eyes, giving into the sensations and letting her head get fuzzy with arousal. "yes, I please..." She caught herself about to beg for orgasm, and gritted her teeth.

"And you generally achieve orgasm quickly?" Cassidy asked, the tone of her voice not giving away any awareness at all of how badly her touches were affecting Martha.

"yes, oh god yes..." Martha groaned out, unable now to stop her hips from gently rolling back and forth in a hungry rhythm.

"I'm sorry," Cassidy said, "I'm sure this is quite embarrassing for you, but could you demonstrate for me?"

"yes, Mistress," Martha whispered. She hoped Cassidy hadn't noticed her slip, but she didn't care anymore; she didn't care about anything except the way her hand slid down to her pussy and the way her fingers thrust into her needy cunt and the way her body surged with pleasure, already so needy and hot and horny and she imagined latex fingers instead of her own, imagined Cassidy frigging her off with that same calm expression on her face, showing how powerful she was as she kept control even while her slavegirl totally lost it and came so hard...

"Thank you, Martha," Cassidy said once Martha had finally stopped shaking. "You can get dressed now." Martha slowly opened her eyes and slid off the table, her legs shaking underneath her as she put her clothes back on. While she was doing that, Cassidy headed over to the fridge and brought out another box of chocolates. "Here we go," she said. "I've included a couple of extras, since you've been such a co-operative girl."

Martha wanted to ask if Cassidy thought the chocolates were making her so horny and submissive, but something about the way Cassidy handed her the box made her meekly accept it instead. She took the journal as well, and silently made her way back out of the lab.

The whole way home, she replayed the session with Cassidy. In her memories, Cassidy was wearing a leather mask.

*****

'A couple extras' turned out to be a full extra box worth of chocolates. Martha almost thought about stopping when she noticed just how much Cassidy was giving her; the connection between her consumption of the drug and her need to be dominated by a hot blonde doctor was obvious, even through her haze of non-stop lust. But whenever she thought about quitting, she thought about how she was being made into a horny submissive slut, and then that got her thinking about how hot it would be to become a horny submissive slut, and then that got her fantasizing about Cassidy remaking her into an obedient slavegirl, and then she realized that Cassidy was doing exactly that and the perfect totality of the fantasy made her gobble down the chocolates with reckless abandon as she squatted down on a vibrating butt plug and fingered herself.

Her weight stabilized after a few days at 130 pounds, and she spent long hours kneeling in front of the mirror, reveling in her sexy, curvaceous body and the way her breasts heaved as she pounded her ten-inch dildo into her cunt. Constant masturbation seemed to tone and firm her muscles, or maybe that was just another side effect of the chocolate. Martha wasn't sure anymore. She was having trouble thinking about anything except sex, now. Making decisions seemed hard, and she wished she had a Mistress to make them for her.

Most of her journal entries were about that. She'd lost all sense of restraint by now, filing the journal with page after page of fantasies about submitting to Cassidy, kneeling before her and worshiping her body with her tongue and her fingers and describing how powerful, how dominant, how sexy Cassidy was and how much Martha needed to obey her. Re-reading the entries just locked the fantasies in further, like Martha was re-programming her own brain as she soaked in her own desires of slavery and fed them back to herself, again and again and again in what seemed like an endless spiraling descent into obedience and pleasure.

She thanked the heavens that her appetite had diminished over the last couple of weeks; she couldn't imagine trying to grocery shop in this state. As it was, she knew that a couple of peeping toms had been hiding in the bushes outside her window at night, enjoying the free show she was giving them, but she was long past caring by now. If anything, exhibitionism was just another fetish that the drugs had made irresistible to her.

She managed to get her clothes on (showering wasn't a problem, the massaging shower head had just made that into another pleasant way to pass the time) and head out to 'Adult Playland' again, and part of her had been thrilled to see Tammy back behind the counter...but it just wasn't the same as it had been last week. Tammy was still just as beautiful, but Martha felt like she was locked off from the arousal she knew she should be feeling. She looked at that long, green hair and wished it was blonde. She couldn't help wanting to see glasses framing those eyes. Martha knew now that there was only one perfect woman, only one Mistress, and that was Mistress Cassidy. Martha knew she would have to wait for permission to release her slutty, wanton need for other women and other men. And that made so much sense to her now. So she just smiled and bought her latex slavesuit, and left.

She had trouble sleeping Sunday night, petrified that Cassidy wouldn't accept her devotions. What if she handed Cassidy the diary again, and Cassidy just nodded and read it with clinical detachment? What if Cassidy just sent her home again with more chocolates? What if Cassidy cut off her supply completely? Would she go back to being the Martha she vaguely remembered, the one who didn't understand how glorious it was to be a horny slutgirl slave? Martha shuddered at the thought.

She drove back to the lab in a haze of anticipation, panic, and lust, so caught up in noticing the sweat trickling down her skin inside the latex suit she wore under her clothes that she barely even noticed the drive. The walk through the complex seemed to take an eternity. She opened the door, and the pit of her stomach yawned in despair.

All the lab animals were gone. The cages had been removed. The fridge had vanished. Even Cassidy's desk was gone. There was just one box sitting on the floor, filled with papers. Apart from that, the lab was bare and empty.

Martha wanted to cry. It didn't seem fair. She'd come so far, changed herself so much to be the slave that she knew Cassidy wanted her to be, and now...nothing. She'd been abandoned. She couldn't go forward, but she couldn't bear to go back. "Mistress..." she whispered, hearing the lost tones in her own voice.

"Ah, Martha," came a voice from behind her. Martha turned to see Cassidy, and she couldn't help herself. She fell to her knees in joy. "Sorry I almost missed you, there. I'm just cleaning out my last few papers before I go."

"Go?" Martha asked, terror in her voice as she felt the fear return. "Go where?"

Cassidy patted her on the head reassuringly, seemingly unfazed by Martha's spontaneous demonstration of her devotion. "Go into business for myself," she said. "I quit. I think my talents are wasted here, don't you?"

Martha smiled dreamily. "Oh, yes, Mistress," she said. She didn't even notice she'd used the word.

"Of course, most of the formulas I've worked on are company property," Cassidy said, stroking Martha's cheek, "but I kept a few little secrets for myself. I think that should be enough to make my new business a compelling success, don't you?" Martha had a tiny orgasm when she heard Cassidy say the word 'compelling'.

"Yes, Mistress," Martha said, nuzzling Cassidy's hand. She felt a sense of completeness, being on her knees like this before her Mistress. Like this was what she was always meant for. The burden of independent thought slipped away from her, and she shed it joyfully.

"Which reminds me," Cassidy said, reaching into her pocket, "I have a present for you. Something to commemorate your contribution to my project." She pulled out a black leather collar with tiny silver studs. "Would you like to wear it?" she asked.

"Please, Mistress," Martha whimpered, "please oh please oh please yes please..."

"Good pet," Cassidy whispered, locking the collar around Martha's throat. "Now, it's time for us to go. Up on your feet, pet." Martha stood; but in her mind, she knew she would always be kneeling.

The two of them headed towards the door, Martha walking three steps behind her Mistress. "Tell me," Cassidy said, "do you know any other girls who like chocolate?"

THE END