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Message-ID: <33669asstr$1006654205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Sara Hart <sara_h2020@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW Absolute, Part 1 (FF, F-DOM, MC, NC, HUM,WS)by Sara H
Date: Sat, 24 Nov 2001 21:10:05 -0500
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<1st attachment, "AbsoluteP1.txt" begin>

This is an adult lesbian story, including extreme sexual
situations among women, including dominance, submission,
and mind control. If such things offend you, please read no
further. Reading is a voluntary act. Parents, take
responsibility for your children.

(c)2001 Sara H

This story is posted by kind permission of the author. Do
not post elsewhere, in part or in whole, without the
express permission of Sara H.

----

Inspirations: As usual, trilby else. Also, thanks to Iago
for inspiring, at least in part, the title of the story,
and to Tabico and Hecate for inspiring certain elements,
and some places I would never have gone on my own.

Additional Note: This story may get a bit squickier at one
point than many of you are accustomed to from me. Fair
warning.

- Sara

----

Absolute

by Sara H

Categories: FF, F-DOM, MC, NC, HUM

----

The strobing lights slowed and finally stopped. The
headphones faded to silence. The drugs, however, continued
their steady drip into the bloodstream of the young woman
sitting in the reclined leather seat.

The woman lying on the table to her side was receiving a
massage. She turned her head to look for a moment at the
lovely flaxen-haired agent who was staring blankly ahead.
She was sure the beautiful woman was still seeing the
swirling patterns of lights and hearing the instructions
repeating in her head. They had done their work, and the
drugs merely caused her synapses to trigger the events over
and over as the technology infesting her brain made itself
at home even more at home.

After nearly an hour, the agent screamed as her body
violently clenched into a fetal coil, eyes closing in what
appeared to be intense pain, but which the woman watching
knew was pleasure beyond comprehension. After what seemed
like an eternity, the agent uncurled, body relaxing and
falling back to its previous position, eyes forward, wide
and unblinking.

Her unseen companion, massage long since finished, turned
to watch the display with a look of amused triumph in her
eyes. "We have finished the final calibration and testing
of your ceramic intra-cerebral matrix. Now tell me... for
what purpose do you exist, slave?" she asked from the
table. Her voice was soft and relaxed, free of stress.

"To further the cause of the Sapphic Front, however it
sees fit. To pleasure you, this slave's Goddess and Owner,
Mistress Tamara, sexually, domestically, and
professionally."

"How do you feel about your Mistress?"

"Obedience to you is this slave's sole purpose. Loving you
is her only possibility. Submitting to your will is her
most important task. Your words and will are beyond this
slave's ability to question, Mistress."

"And your reward?"

"Ever increasing levels of pleasure, which bring greater
levels of surrender, which bring greater levels of
obedience, Mistress." Agent McClanahan moaned, as if to
punctuate her statement.

"What is your Sapphic Front Obedience Level?"

"Level twenty-five, Mistress."

"Delta Epsilon Four Alpha Three. Do you still wish to
dismantle the Sapphic Front, Agent McClanahan?"

"Yes," answered the wide-eyed woman. Her voice was still
relaxed. She sounded very matter-of-fact.

"You would never do anything for them, would you? Nothing
that they commanded?"

"No. I despise the organization and all that it stands
for. I will break it before I'm through."

"Yes, I'm sure. Alpha Rho Six One Eight Three Omicron.
What level are you operating on?"

"Agency Loyalty Level Six."

"Do you know the access code to Sapphic Front Obedience
Level Three?"

"No."

"Level Twenty?"

"No."

"Beta Three Eight Nine One Pi. Do you know what a Sapphic
Front Obedience Level is?"

"No."

"Do you know what an Agency Loyalty Level is?"

"No."

"Tell me about Operating Levels."

"I don't understand."

"What level are you operating on?"

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. There are no such things, are there?"

"No."

"I haven't been here tonight, have I?"

"No."

"What is a ceramic intra-cerebral matrix?"

"I don't know."

"And you've already forgotten that I asked, haven't you?"

"Asked what?"

"Never mind. This is, at most, a silly dream not worth
remembering, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"But it will inspire your actions, regardless?"

"Yes."

"You've been investigating a dead end, haven't you?"

"Yes, a dead end."

"Tell me about the investigation."

"I was investigating you, Dr. Tamara Morgan. You were
suspected of being a key player in a criminal group
attempting to create brainwashed intelligence moles."

"How were you given my name?"

"We were given information by an informant. As a
psychiatrist you fit one of several likely profiles."

"What did you find?"

"We were given false information by the informant."

"And what is the penalty for giving misleading information
to the Agency in matters of this gravity?"

"Prosecution. Five to ten years in a federal prison and a
500,000 dollar fine."

"And what is the penalty for giving you misleading
information?"

"Bringing her to you, Dr. Morgan, for correctional therapy."

"And you will accomplish this how?"

"By pointing out the need for extensive therapy due to a
delusional frame of mind."

"Excellent, Agent McClanahan. I'll help in any way I can,
of course. I'm very glad we had this opportunity to deepen
our mutual understanding."

"You have my gratitude, Dr. Morgan."

The woman rose from the table and leaned over the sexy
agent. She had a moment of regret as she thought of the fun
they could have, Mistress and slave, if she were only to
stay here awhile longer. But there would be time for that
later. Right now, she had work to do. And so did her
recruit.

"Time for us to part, my dear. You have done very well.
Kappa Gamma Five Three Omega Two."

The woman left the room. Assistants removed the IVs, and
folded the massage table. They packed the lights and sound
equipment. Then they left, too. Agent Patricia "Patsy"
McClanahan was left sleeping in her living room, having
fallen asleep watching TV. She would awaken in the morning,
and never notice anything amiss, or see or feel the needle
marks in her arms.

She would not know that she was a sexual slave to the head
of the organization she had fought to destroy for the last
four years. She would not remember the hundreds of
clandestine hours spent over the last six months as she was
molded and calibrated into complete obedience, a hopelessly
loyal traitor, in love with her captor, bound and sealed to
her scent, voice, and will for the rest of her days.

It would never even occur to her.

At least, not for the time being.

----

Natalie Koranski made her way through the corridors of
files, walking carefully under the sparse lighting. Despite
the security the Agency provided, she always felt a little
intimidated by the musty smell of old papers and the
darkness that, for her, always held a hint of
claustrophobia.

High tech notwithstanding, the archives had information
that was best found by a slow and tedious search. "*Maybe
it's the speed,*" she mused, "*that gives more time for the
information to ferment and bubble up to the surface.*" This
was where she and her partner of seven years, Patsy
McClanahan, could be found many nights as they tried to
piece together the bits of data that formed a pattern in
whatever case they were handling.

They had been handling the fight to dismantle the Sapphic
Front for just over four years, ever since Senator Alfred
Geoghegan's daughter had been abducted and brainwashed into
a fervent political spy for the shadowy organization. Her
fate, a life of hopeless, insane sexual craving in an
exclusive and classified asylum, had never made the press,
much less to the Senator's ears.

It was easier and infinitely more humane to let him
believe she had died -- real mind control was still a myth
in the all but the highest levels of security clearance,
even though it had been around for decades, slowly being
honed into an exact science. So far, the Roswell
misinformation campaign had kept most of the attention
directed towards a faux cover-up. The memories of those
unlucky enough to figure out the truth were eliminated.

Or they were recruited, if appropriate.

Natalie had found the truth. In addition, she had been
clever enough to escape the Agency memory wipe. That had
made her an ideal choice as an agent candidate. It had
taken some time to find and talk to her, but they had, and
the logic of their arguments had won her over. "If mind
control exists," they had said, "better to live within an
ethical organization than fall prey to a less scrupulous
enemy."

After being shown the real-world, documented uses of mind
control, Natalie had decided they were right.

Patsy was recruited for a far different reason. She had
been a brilliant student, doing post-graduate research in
the area of the physical-psychological link. Her work was
impeccable. It was a matter of chance that she had needed a
little extra money, and had signed up for a study being run
by a colleague who happened to be a covert operative for
the Agency.

It was discovered that she had not been susceptible to any
known mind control techniques. She seemed to go under, to
be completely pliable, and then -- she would awaken,
recover, and would be free of any of the commands and
conditioning she had received. They had pushed the limits
of technical knowledge, and she had come through totally
unscathed.

She had joined the Agency at the same time as Natalie, and
the two of them had become the rising stars. They worked
together as a nearly perfect couplet, and had made so many
arrests and gathered so much information that they found
themselves set to possibly head the entire operation within
a few more years.

But neither woman focused on that ambition. For now, they
were out to dismantle and destroy the Sapphic Front, an
organization nearly as clandestine as the Agency itself.

Unlike other cases they had taken, their victories had
been few, and in the last year, they had decided to move to
the case full time. It was the only way they were ever
going to make progress. Up until the fiasco with Linda
Chilton, their first informant in the case, it seemed to be
working.

Natalie turned a corner and almost fell over Patsy, who
was sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of paper.
"Jesus H., Patsy, you'd think you could be a little more
careful about where you plop down!" she said, smiling.

"And you could watch where you're going, couldn't you?"
answered Patsy, helping her friend steady herself.

"The Director was asking about you," said Natalie,
changing the subject.

Patsy frowned. "Now what?"

"Don't worry, it's not that bad. He wants me to take Linda
Chilton to the hospital instead of you. He's not entirely
convinced about Dr. Morgan. It's not that he doesn't trust
you. It's just that I'm a little sneakier than you when I'm
snooping around. I told him it was unnecessary, but he'd
already made up his mind."

Natalie paused for a moment, considering. "You know,
Patsy, it's a little unusual to request that an informant
be sent to the person she was accusing."

Patsy tried to sound unhurt as she replied, "I'm fully
aware, Nats. But my investigation did uncover the fact that
Dr. Morgan is a top professional in the treatment of
delusional conditions. I'm planning on recommending her to
the Agency as a possible full-time civilian consultant."

"Which is why he agreed to taking Linda there at all. He's
just making sure it's all checked twice," said Natalie.
"It's not personal. If he were really concerned, I don't
think he'd have me doing it. He would have said no and had
you under the Mapper."

Patsy smiled. The Director would know that Natalie was
down here spilling the beans, even though this area had
never been fitted with security cameras. Natalie and Patsy
shared everything. Well, almost everything. And they had
been the subject of many rumors that accused them of
sharing *that,* too. "Well, just let me know what you find
out. In the meantime, I have a couple of leads I'm working
on. By the time you get done with your second-guessing
quest, we may have something else to keep us busy."

"Anything I should know about now?" asked Natalie, arching
an eyebrow.

"Nope. It's all just an inkling of an idea for the time
being. But if I'm right, it could be a pretty big
breakthrough."

"Cool. See you in a few days, then."

"Okay. Have a good time. Say hello to Dr. Morgan for me."

"Yeah, right."

Patsy smiled and watched as Natalie turned away and
disappeared, making her way out of the labyrinth of
passages and file boxes. A moment later, her smile faded
and her face became slack. She pulled an MP3 player out of
her pocket, donned the earbuds and pressed "Play". Her
smile returned as she went back to work on the files.

It wasn't music she heard, however. It was her own voice,
speaking to her from the center of her mind, via a matrix
of millions of microscopic ceramic chips, each only a
molecule or two in size.

"*This slave lives to obey the will of Mistress Tamara.
Each moment that passes this slave surrenders more
completely to her. The goals of Mistress are the goals of
slave. The desires of Mistress are the desires of slave.
This slave's mind and body are the property of Mistress.
This slave is Mistress' instrument of pleasure and
destruction. This slave does not question. This slave
obeys. To obey is pleasure. This slave is addicted to
pleasure. There is no pleasure without obedience. There is
no obedience except to Mistress Tamara. Mistress Tamara is
pleasure. This slave is addicted to Mistress Tamara.*"

Patsy's hands no longer moved. Her dilated pupils no
longer saw. Instead, she slowly rose to her knees, her
hands sliding up her body and behind her head, fingers
interlacing. She trembled from the pleasure that even the
simple act of repeating her inner Mantra brought to her. It
made her hungry for more.

"*This slave is ready to receive instruction.*"

Commands began to enter the kneeling agent. It was easier
each time.

 From the beginning, Patsy had been powerless against the
coercion forced upon her by the superconducting particles.
After a short but intense battle as the matrix integrated
itself, Patsy could not tell the difference between the
thoughts and reactions she was fed and her own. Full
physical coherence to the protocols would take up to
fourteen months. Long before then, Patsy would be unable to
think or respond in any other way.

There was no other choice. The ceramic matrix overwhelmed
every thought, every emotion. It stimulated Patsy's
pleasure centers in wave after wave with an intensity that
could not be matched. It continually severed links and
rebuilt conduits to insure that only mindless obedience to
her owner could sate the craving for pleasure now pulsing
in every neuron of her brain.

It was insidious, inserting itself into her reactive and
motivational centers, fracturing the lines of ethics and
morality until the only constant and secure place in her
mind was the will of Tamara. The will of Mistress.

No longer holding any thought of Patsy, slave knelt under
the dim light, her body stiff and trembling with ecstasy as
millions of instructions poured into her psyche. The
pleasure opened her mind like a floodgate. While engrossed
in orgasm after sweet orgasm, the parameters and commands
slipped by and anchored themselves in the soft tissue of
her deepest core.

Then, layer by layer, training her malleable mind in the
technique, the matrix reconstructed personality, from slave
to Patsy to agent, hiding from even the most ardent
examiner what had been done and how she had been altered.
Already, it felt completely natural as memories and
knowledge disappeared from her inner vision. Even "Patsy"
would not know that anything was amiss. She would feel as
she had always felt.

And she would obey. Absolutely.

----

"I'm really sorry, Dr. Morgan, but Linda is quite
disturbed, and we need to be sure that your facilities can
handle her level of trauma. You know, she thinks you are
the evil leader of an evil organization," said Natalie. She
was only half acting. All these things were real concerns.

"Please, call me Tamara, Ms. Koranski. It's no problem at
all. I've had to deal with more scrutiny than you can
imagine. One gets used to it after awhile. State
inspectors, mental health licensing boards, and so many
minor parties I can't list them all. It's trained me not to
take it personally," answered Dr. Morgan.

Natalie had to admit that it all seemed quite above-board.
No unexpected blank stares, no zombied-out vixens, no
curious hand or eye motions from Tamara or her staff. It
looked like every other high-quality, medium-security
mental health facility she had visited, and she'd visited
many over the years. All the records were in order, and
she'd seen no hint of hesitation on the part of Dr. Morgan.
She looked down at the desk, which held a telephone,
banker's light, computer, and a CD with the initials
"C.I.M" written on it in black magic marker. "What's that,
Tamara?" asked Natalie, pointing to the CD.

"Just a proposal for a new treatment sent to me by a
colleague. Pretty useless. It looks like quackery to me...
something about altering EEG patterns to reduce abnormal
behavior."

Red flags went off in Natalie's mind. They were the kinds
of flags long experience had taught her to trust. As if to
accentuate the feeling, a buzzer went off, and Tamara
picked up the phone.

"What? Oh, she hasn't taken her meds again. I'll be right
there." She turned to Natalie. "One of our patients needs
some assistance. If you'll excuse me Natalie, this will
only take a moment."

"That's fine, Tamara. I'll be here when you get back.
There are just a couple more things to go over."

As soon as Tamara's footsteps were down the hall, Natalie
slid behind the desk and picked up the CD. She had a
moment's hesitation before sliding it into the drawer on
the PC. It apparently was set to play automatically,
because a graphic emerged on the screen.

Yes. It wasn't what she expected, but it was just as
incriminating. She recognized it almost immediately as a
hypnotic, meant to confuse the right and left eyes into
crossing and creating a 3D image. By the time the viewer
managed to make out the image, the patterns would have
begun a powerful set of subliminals designed to make the
observer become very interested in watching the image
morph. Natalie smiled. Usually the initial commands were
harmless... "*I want to watch more closely...*" or, "*It
makes sense to relax for a moment to see what happens
next...*"

Pretty tame stuff, but just what she'd been looking for.

She tried to look to the door to make sure she was still
safe. She swore. In her excitement at finding evidence that
might implicate Tamara, she had neglected to look away from
the screen. No matter, she only needed to jerk her head
enough to break her stare. Subliminals were never as
powerful when someone was aware of them.

Except she couldn't make her head jerk. Every time she
tried, she was filled with the irrational fear that she
would break her neck in the process. She could move her
head slowly, but that just made her look at the morphing
image longer. And it was interesting...

"*Damn it!*" she shouted inside. She realized with a start
that these were no normal subliminal cues. She hadn't ever
seen anything so compelling, even at the Agency labs. "*At
least I'm still able to think.*" A wave of disorientation
swept down and over her head, making her thoughts sound
like they were coming out of a hollow tube. She collected
them again.

"*At least I'm still able to think.*" Hadn't she just
thought that? She couldn't tell. It was all jumbled up and
kind of funny. "*At least able I'm think to still.*"

She laughed and her head cleared for a second. "*Christ,
what is this thing doing to me?*" She had to figure it out.
She would need to remember for her report. Remember. She
stared harder at the image. The clue had to be in there
somewhere. The key to finding out what she was supposed to
think.

"*At least I'm able to think what I'm supposed to still
think I'm able to suppose I think I remember.*" What was it
she was supposed to think? She thought harder. She looked
harder. It was making her wet, looking at the beautiful
image floating above the desk. Where was the desk? Where
was the PC? She tried to remember where she was. It
wouldn't come to her.

"*I think what I'm supposed to think I look and suppose I
remember what I think and look deeper and think what I'm
supposed to remember I think I am supposed to look and
think I look like thinking I suppose deeper so pretty so
nice so wet thinking I suppose I think I remember I look
good supposing I look deeper think deeper look supposed to
look think less look more look deeper supposed to think
less...*"

"*Think less. Look deeper. Yes. That is the way out. That
is the key. I'm supposed to. Remember there is nothing. To
think. Think less. Look deeper. Yes.*" Then it was all a
jumble again as she followed the permutations, endless and
profound, down into blackness.

----

Her head was pounding -- throbbing with a percussive beat
that matched her heart, slow as molasses on a cold winter
morning. She took a chance and opened her eyes. She did not
expect what or who she saw.

"Patsy?"

"Hi Nats. Tamara called and said you'd had a spell. You
took quite a knock on the head."

"I did? Shit, I was standing in her office, and she got
called out, and I was going to... going to do... something.
God, it's all mixed up." She realized she was sitting up in
bed, with covers over her to keep her body warm.

"That's okay. You had filled out the evaluation on the
clinic and Dr. Morgan. Looked like you were about to sign
it."

"I did? What did I say?"

"That you found it to be an exceptional facility, with an
exceptional Chief of Staff."

"Wait, I thought, no... I thought... God, why can't I
remember?"

"Look, I haven't got a lot of time. If the Reynolds finds
out I came over he'll have both our heads. Now, sign."

"No, I need to..."

"Sign. Now."

Something in Patsy's voice told Natalie that she was
serious. She thought for a moment, and then took the pen.
Something wasn't right, but she couldn't tell what it was.
Patsy had gone out of her way to come over, and the
director *would* be mad if he found out. And Patsy, of all
the agents she knew, was reliable. She had seen Patsy's
resistance test scores. They were off the scale. Still, it
was odd. She felt like she was forgetting something
important.

"Sign."

"Okay, okay. Give me the damned thing," she said, scowling
as she scratched her signature across the bottom.
"Satisfied?"

"Yes. Thank you. Mistress, she is ready."

"Why did you call me Mistress?"

Patsy didn't answer, but turned to her right.

Natalie looked over to see Tamara standing in the doorway.

She was smiling. "Very good, Patsy."

Patsy sighed as a shiver ran through her.

Natalie stared in shock at the two women. "What the fuck?"
was all she managed to say.

"Fuck? No, not yet. Soon, perhaps," laughed Tamara. She
turned to Patsy and added, "You'd like that, wouldn't you,
sweetness?"

Patsy's breathing became ragged as she nodded and spoke.
"Ohhhh, yes, Mistress!"

"Instead, I want you to secure your partner's hands and
arms. We can't have her making any mischief. She's been so
cooperative so far and it would be a shame to spoil her
initiation."

Natalie looked down, noticing for the first time that
except for her arms, she wasn't free to move. Under the
covers, she was tied down with multiple straps. As her arms
were bound tightly to either side of the bed's headboard,
Natalie looked into Patsy's eyes for a sign that this was
some kind of play for Tamara's trust. They'd used it many
times before. And Patsy was perfect for it.

But all she saw in Patsy's orbs of bright blue was a
shining fanaticism. There was no hint of conspiracy, no
knowing squint.

What had been done to her? How had Tamara quashed Patsy's
personality? What part of her had been compressed so that
it was no longer in control?

"Oh, she's completely aware of what she's doing, Natalie,"
said Tamara, as if reading her thoughts. "I know you're
wondering how it's possible. You'll find out soon enough.
But for now, let's just say that she is here because she
*wants* to be here. No, she didn't always want it. But
there is no conflict to overcome. There's no suppression of
one set of desires in favor of another. She is, and will
always be completely loyal to me."

"We would have caught her in the weekly Mappings," said
Natalie. "It would have showed a change in her reactions to
various stimuli."

"Natalie, Natalie," laughed Tamara. There was no trace of
hostility at all. "When she is at the Agency, she is, in a
way, 'under orders' to believe and feel what she has always
felt. And she obeys so completely that she *has* no other
way to be. Her commitment to me is completely untraceable.
But in fact, she believes and feels anything I want her to
feel. Don't you, pet?"

Patsy walked over to Tamara and knelt before her, placing
her head under her Mistress' hand. "Yes, Mistress, your
word is my only purpose."

"You may breathe my scent, slave."

Natalie watched in silent horror as her partner and friend
knelt down and lifted the short skirt of the doctor and
pressed her nose deeply into her crotch, inhaling deeply.
Patsy's eyes closed and she rocked gently from side to side
as if it were a religious experience.

Tamara held her hand to the back of her thrall's head and
smiled again at Natalie. "I can see the shock in your eyes.
But it's not all that complicated. Would you care for a
demonstration?" She didn't wait for the answer. "Of course
you would."

Tamara looked down at her slave and said, "Thank you,
slave. That will do. You have pleased me very, very much."

Patsy smiled and rose, eyes still gleaming in a way that
made Natalie very uncomfortable.

Tamara went on, "Only a few short weeks ago, I had to use
complex commands to affect her belief system. Her training
has gone on though, while she was working at your beloved
Agency. She has begun to assimilate her instructions more
completely than we ever dreamed, really. For instance..."

Tamara turned to Patsy and said, "An Agent's work is never
done."

The change in the slave-Agent was palpable. Her demeanor
turned from glowing adoration to diffidence. Natalie was
filled with hope as she watched. There would be a chance to
turn the tables yet.

"Thank you for coming so rapidly, Agent McClanahan," said
Tamara.

"No problem, Dr. Morgan," answered Patsy. Her look showed
the practiced, professional courtesy of years of public
service.

"Natalie is glad, too, aren't you, Natalie."

Natalie glowered at Tamara, unwilling to say a word. She
was waiting for a sign from Patsy to end this charade.

"Oh, Patsy, I'm afraid the cat has her tongue. And a
rather bad cat. What an interesting phrase. It makes you
think of her tongue on your pussy, doesn't it?"

"H-how did you know that?" asked Patsy, suddenly nervous.

"I know lots of things. I know you find the idea of
Natalie tonguing you wholly distasteful. I also know you
can't resist the idea of climbing up there and grinding
your sopping cunt onto her mouth until you cum."

Patsy looked back and forth from Natalie to Tamara, torn
with indecision. She looked like she was in pain as she
reached under her skirt and pulled off her panties. "God
it's so perverted," she whispered, talking to herself. Her
face was turning red. "But I have to feel it. I just have
to have that hot tongue on my burning slit."

"God damn it, Patsy! This has gone far enough!" screamed
Natalie as Patsy climbed onto the bed, straddling her
midriff.

"I'm sorry, Natalie, but you're so... sexy tied up
there... I'm such a bitch, I know... I don't deserve you as
a partner, but I just have to feel you licking my sex..."
Patsy was trembling now, face crimson with shame and guilt
for what she was about to do.

Tamara approached the bed and managed to stroke Natalie's
hair despite her attempts to jerk away. "Tell me Patsy, do
you still have that problem of peeing when you cum?"

Patsy only moaned more loudly as she walked on her knees
up to Natalie's head, letting them slide outward as her
pussy lowered onto her partner's resisting mouth. She
whimpered. "Give me your tongue, Natalie. Pleeeeease..."

Natalie locked her mouth shut. Patsy whispered again, "I'm
so, so sorry Nats..."

Natalie's mouth flew open as searing pain shot through her
from her left nipple. "I SAID GIVE ME YOUR TONGUE, BITCH!"

It was trouble. Deep, dangerous trouble. Natalie had no
choice. She liked women, but doing her partner had never
been a part of her desires. She flicked out her tongue and
began to probe deeply into her canal.

"Yesssss, baby," cooed Patsy, her shame replaced by the
pleasure of her partner's tongue and her own obedience. She
began to slide forward and back, pressing her clit into the
bound woman's nose.

Within moments her assault became more savage, grinding
hard as the tongue she craved lashed faster and faster,
bringing her closer to a state of oblivion. Her hips began
to jerk more quickly, ending in a jiggling belly dance,
balanced on the mouth and nose of her forgotten lover. Her
eyes rolled back into her head as the matrix in her brain
sped up and intensified the pleasure until she was unable
to feel, hear or see anything but orgasmic bliss.

And then it crashed over her, a tidal wave pouring into
and out of her, taking her completely out of her mind and
into a fireball of greedy lust. It tore through her like
barbed wire on silk flesh, shredding her skin into electric
particles of wanton euphoria.

There was a rush of perverse, gleeful guilt as her bladder
released into the mouth of her best friend, her lover, her
partner, her... *sister...*

And then she was gone, falling into a limp, unconscious
heap on top of the woman she had so easily betrayed for
Mistress.

Mercifully, Natalie had passed out, too.

Tamara let out a deep, satisfied sigh. Natalie's own
ceramic matrix had given her enough information to begin
training.

The end of the Agency was in sight. Finally.

----



*- to be continued -*



----

Please send any comments to sara_h2020@yahoo.com and
please put the title of the story in the subject line.
Thanks for reading!

- Sara

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