9.

Lily Mosely's eyes are large and almond shaped, her lips plush, her cheeks softly rounded. But none of that disguises the fire at her core. It burns through even the silver of her eyes. "Monica," she says as I kneel before her, "Monica, I know you're in there. She's too cruel to have it any other way. So Monica, listen to me. I love you and I'll forgive you anything, but Monica, you don't have to do this. You're stronger than that red-eyed bitch - fight her!"

I'm a little afraid of this woman. She knows my former name (Yet again, I curse myself for remembering it), and she acts as if she has some power over me. Surely no one but Mistress can command me, but the stranger's voice is so compelling. My hand shakes as I bring the nail gun to her head. Nail gun? No, wait, it's a webber! Where did that other term come from?

"Fight it, Monica," says the woman again, and my needle rattles against the edge of her socket. The crowd can't hear it, but I sense their murmurs and rustles. They can tell that something isn't right. If I fail in this, they'll know for certain that I'm a bad slave, and Mistress will be humiliated. I love her too much to subject her to that fate. My finger spasms once on the trigger.

The gun locks on Mosely's head and she grits her teeth. Her eyes squeeze shut, her muscles clench, and a long loan moan escapes her throat.

I've done enough webbings by now that even with my hazy memory, I know what comes next. A subject this strong might take two or even three cartridges to subdue. But to my surprise, the numbers on her readout drop almost too fast to follow. Perhaps, I think, she's decided not to fight. Perhaps I've set a good example for her through my obedience. That would be nice.

Now the readout is at zero, though Mosely's eyes are still shut and her muscles are still locked tight. This, too, is strange; for a subject (victim?) should relax as domestication takes hold. But when her lips curl open, I know there's only one thing she can say. It will be the last thing she ever says.

"I'm still here, Xziomi," growls Lily Mosely.

Noise erupts around me. From the corners of my eyes I see hands flying, robes swirling, fingers pointing. But I can focus on nothing but the wall in my mind: cracking, trembling, roaring like a wounded lion. In another moment it will fly apart and then my whole world will be lost.

Mistress's voice cuts through the chaos. "I know," she says, and my jigsaw mind locks back into place. Of course. She is infallible.

"Slaves, release the captive," Mistress commands, "and take up your stations - all but my traitor pet. She will remain just as she is." I watch the humans around me loose their hold, passing me on right and left as they fill in the mouth of the horseshoe. For a moment my attention is caught by a girl with paper-pale skin who looks no older than eighteen. Then she disappears, and I am left alone with the rebel. Her body is still rigid and she has begun to pant.

Mistress's voice swells behind me. "You didn't think I'd let you off that easily, did you, Mosely?" she asks. "Oh no, you're going to be the centerpiece of this evening's entertainment."

"Go to hell," grits the rebel. Her hands twitch into fists.

"No, I think I'd rather bring it here." I hear the rustle of her gown and wish I could be back at her side - traitorous thought, to be unhappy where she's placed me. But I think it nonetheless.

"We've injected you with a very special web," says Mistress. "It's only paralyzed you for the moment, but don't worry; that will wear off soon enough. You should be more concerned about what will happen in thirty minutes. That's when the webbing takes over your autonomic system and you become a prisoner in your own body."

"I'll fight it."

"I hope you will. And I hope your lover will, too, though she's done little in that regard up to now. You'll have to encourage her, Mosely. You see, she's the only one who can save you."

Lily finally gets her eyes open and glares from me to Mistress. She doesn't speak.

"The web in your brain is equipped with a timer, which Bellingham alone can stop. To do so, she must speak only one word: disarm. But only she can speak it; the mechanism is keyed to her unique vocal signature."

"Fine," grates Lily. "And what happens after she says it?"

"If. She's conditioned not to speak, so the only way you could succeed would be to break her programming. In that case, she'd be useless as a slave and I wouldn't trust her to a second webbing. I'd have to kill her - and probably you as well. Of course, that could be amusing, in its own way. I'm sure you'd try to fight."

"Too fucking right."

"That's the spirit. I can see we're in for an exciting thirty minutes. Now listen carefully, both of you. For entertainment's sake, the game will proceed as follows. Mosely, you may say or do anything you like as long as you stay within the circle and do no harm to yourself or anyone else in this room - including the slave. Defy me in this, and I speak my own trigger word, which will activate your web instantly."

Her voice hardens. "Slave, you will listen attentively to everything this woman says, and you will obey any commands she gives you as long as they do not conflict with my will. You will most certainly not speak. Defy me in this, and you will be a very, very bad slave."

My stomach crawls, though I tell myself I could never sink so low as that. Could I?

Lily lifts her chin. "And what about you, Xziomi? What's your role in this game?"

"Whatever I want it to be. Spectator, judge, even participant if I deem it necessary - though I'm sure it will be more fun to leave you to your own devices. And you'd better get started. Do you see the time display on the monitor behind me? You're at twenty-six minutes and counting."

Mosely jerks her attention back to me (Mosely? Was I calling her something else just now?) and seizes my face in her hands. "Monica? Can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me."

To my horror, I do so. I have never followed the commands of anyone except my Mistress, but Mistress has commanded me to obey this other woman. I have no choice. Worse yet, I have never communicated assent or dissent - never even known I could - but already this stranger has taught me something new. I feel a brief flash of terror.

"Monica, I want you to think for me. I want you to think about who you were before you became this creature's...slave." It tickles my sockets to hear her describe me this way. Perhaps, I tell myself, I don't have to be scared after all. Perhaps I can enjoy her futile attempts to suborn me. Yes, let me revel in my obedience - and her frustration. The terror subsides.

"You were the leader of all the rebel forces in Virginia, Monica. And you were my lover." Well, I assumed that much from what Mistress had said. But now I belong only to her. My web tingles again. It's working!

"I want you to try to remember how we met, Monica," says Mosely. I wish she wouldn't keep using that name, but I have no way to make her stop. And really, it shouldn't bother me much. I am no longer Monica; I am "slave" or sometimes "pet."

"You and your troops were holed up at Quantico," says the rebel, "but I didn't know that. I'd led my troops there on a weapons raid, and our people almost shot one another before we realized the truth. Do you remember that, Monica? Nod if you remember that."

I remember nothing of the time before my enslavement. Well, nothing but my name. I do not nod.

"Try to remember it, Monica," Mosely says, but this is one command I will not obey. It contradicts Mistress's express will. "When you walked out to meet us, I took one look at your face and fell in love on the spot. Your eyes were so beautiful, Monica. Soft as spring grass one moment, hard as jade the next. They're still like that, underneath the webbing. They flash so beautifully when you're angry - or when you're excited.

"Then there's your chin. I love the set of your jaw when you make up your mind to do something. You have such a strong will, Monica. The strongest I've ever seen! I can guess why Xziomi had to use so much webbing on you, but I know even that won't hold you if you're determined to fight. I know you, Monica, and you're stronger than this, this cow, can even imagine."

My eyes were green. The detail captures my attention for a moment, but I forget it when Mosely says Mistress's name. Yes, General Xziomi webbed me. She has bound me in her will and elevated me to slavery, and I will never sink so low as to rebel against her. Even if the wall is closer now, and weaker than it was. I sense it trembling in my mind and spare as much effort as I can to shore it up. But Mistress says I must listen to Mosely, so I cannot give it my full attention. No matter. Mistress is infallible. She will not let me fall.

The rebel's frustration is clear. "All right - slave," she says (her lips twisting on the words), "if that's how you want to think of yourself. Open your mouth." I obey. "Stick out your tongue." I obey. "Say 'aaah.'" I do not obey. A slave's mouth serves only one purpose, and this is not it.

"Damn," says Mosely. She thinks a moment. "All right. You know you can speak, right? Nod if you know you can speak." I nod. "Good. Good...slave." My crotch throbs again, and I see her notice it. "Oh, you like that, huh? You like hearing you're a good slave?" Throb. Nod. "And what else do you like, huh? I know. There's this." She pulls me close, slips her tongue inside my ear and swirls it gently. She withdraws, blows, swirls again, and chuckles when I shudder. "Yeah, baby, Lily knows everything that turns you on. Like this." She nibbles on my earlobe, then paints a slick trail down the side of my neck and tongues the hollow. Our breasts are pressed together, and mine have begun to pump.

Mistress's voice floats out across the space between us. "Really, Mosely," she says, "where do you think that will get you?"

Lily pulls back a little and slides her hands over my breasts. "I must be getting somewhere," she pants, "if you're bothering to talk to me. That's supposed to be a distraction, right?"

Her thumbs find my nipples (long habit, I remember despite myself), and my sockets expand to give them access. Lily jerks, but despite her horror she does not withdraw.

I am secretly pleased. Mistress has never touched me this way, but the thought of her sweet, sharp talons in my nipples sets me on fire. Maybe I can pretend these are hers. My breath comes faster, making tiny gasping noises in my throat.

"That's my Monica," purrs Lily. "Come on, babe, respond to me. Out loud!"

"She can't speak," Mistress reminds her - and me. My noises cease instantly.

Mosely's jaw tightens (Is that how she says mine looks?), but then she swirls her thumbs deeper and leans forward, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. A whuffle of surprise escapes my lips. Here's something else Mistress has never done; I can't even imagine her attempting it. But oh, the feel of that soft, flexible organ! My own curls reflexively around it, and for a moment the two wrestle between my teeth. Lily wins, and as her tongue slides over mine, it finds the socket hidden in the roof of my mouth. She probes it and I spasm with near orgasmic pleasure.

"Ten minutes left," comes Mistress's voice, and Mosely stiffens within me.

"Ignore her, Monica," she whispers, withdrawing her tongue just long enough for the command - and a kiss on my lips. "She's just scared."

Her tongue swirls back into my mouth socket, and her thumbs plunge deep in my nipples. My entire web sings with joy. This is almost as pleasurable as being plugged into the Machine. But wait! The Machine's purpose is to make me forget, make me submitsurrenderobey; but this rebel is trying to trick me into the opposite reaction!

Suddenly I realize that half the pounding in my body comes from my head: my wall is close to collapse. I turn my attention away from the stranger (She's not talking now, so I can ignore her) and press frantically against the fragile surface. It's never felt this soft before, this weak. But Mosely is right about one thing: I do have a bit of will power left, and I've used it before to shore up this wall. In fact, I remember doing so quite clearly.

Mosely's pace slackens as she catches my change. "What's wrong, Monica?" she whispers. "Can you feel yourself fighting against the programming? Are you scared the real you might win? Come on, baby, I know you can do it. You're stronger than that red-eyed bitch. Stronger by far."

"Five minutes," says Mistress. "But I think you've already lost. If you ever had a chance to begin with."

"Come on, baby." Mosely lifts one thumb from my breast and replaces it with her tongue. The combination of wetness and pressure makes my socket sizzle. I cannot help myself; I am programmed to respond this way. But it was Mistress who programmed me and it is Mistress who still controls me. She is infallible. Yes, I remind myself, she is infallible. I will take pleasure only in submission. My body pounds from head to toe.

Mosely's free hand slips into my mouth, fingers my tongue and mouth socket (lightning bolts of pleasure fill my spine), then slips south toward my crotch. I will not dishonor my Mistress, I tell myself, pressing desperately against the wall.

Xziomi's voice brings me back to reality. "Mosely, I think I'll install your first new socket over your mouth. Not in it, over it: I'll just web the whole lower half of your face. How do you think that will look?"

One of Lily's hands slides between my legs; the other slips down my breast onto my buttocks. "Come on, baby," she murmurs, "I know how much you like this. I know how much you've always liked this."

"One minute," says Mistress. "Oh, and when I speak of installing your sockets, I'm sure you understand that I mean she will install them. Little Monica Bellingham does all my webbing these days. She's so good at it."

Lily's finger probes deep, finding at last the stud of my homing beacon. submitsurrenderobey pulses through my mind and I convulse with delight. Yes, this is my Mistress's will. This is how I demonstrate devotion. The rebel doesn't know it, but she's just brought about her own downfall. I will ride the pleasure she gives me all the way back to my Mistress's service.

And yet the wall still trembles in my mind. If anything, it seems even shakier than before. But surely if I submitsurrenderobey, it will, too? That's what it's always done before.

Lily pushes the button again, again, again, sending me into spasms of delight. submitsurrenderobey, submitsurrenderobey, submitsurrenderobeysubmitsurrenderobeysubmitsurrenderobey. This can't be bad; after all, I'm pleasing them both - and pleasing myself, too.

"Fifteen seconds," calls Mistress's voice, out on the edge of hearing. "Fourteen, thirteen." Other voices swell along with hers. Oh yes, I remember now: there are other people in the room. "Twelve, eleven, ten."

The noise pulls me back from the brink and I see the wall has become as flimsy as a spider's web. Spears of light show through cracks between the threads. Oh no! The thing behind it isn't submitsurrenderobeying at all! And if I flatline now, there will be left to hold it back. Damn this horrible, hateful human rebel! Now I have to try not to flatline! But how can I resist when that finger keeps plunge, plunge, plunging in my deepest socket of all? This will take more will power than I've ever used before. Fortunately, I only need to use it for a few more seconds. Then I can return to the one I love, and the one I hate will be punished. I grit my teeth against the urge to cry out.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" count the Ssilm, and Lily looks up from my breast. A single tear forms in her eye - the first she's shed since her arrival. "I'm sorry, Monica," she whispers. "I did the best I could."

The tear falls, clear as pain, soft as pleasure. It splashes against my nipple: one last drop of moisture in my socket. One last sizzle, and that's more than my poor weak will can resist. I submitsurrenderobey into oblivion.

Orgasm explodes through my head, shattering the wall like silver confetti. Long, bright streamers of self fly out from behind it. Yes, I am Monica Burke Bellingham (my mind sizzles with knowledge); and yes, I am the leader of the rebel forces (my body bucks with victory); and yes, I am in love with this woman who cries above me, who has seconds left of freedom unless I speak now.

"Disarm," I gasp, just as the Sslim shout "One!"

Lily stiffens above me and the party guests cheer. They didn't hear my whisper, so they can only assume her rigidity means she's lost the game. But I see her eyes shining bright into mine, and her lips breaking into the grin I love so much. "You're back," she sighs, and I return her radiant smile.

"You brought me back. I love you, Lily."

Gradually it dawns on the Ssilm that things are not as they should be. A babble of voices rises around us, topped by a high-pitched, hysterical laugh that can only belong to Xziomi. "How wonderfully unexpected!" she shrieks. "Slaves, up!"

Our former comrades rise around us, blank-faced and deadly. Any path of escape will have to cut through them.

"No one else move," Xziomi commands. "I'll handle this - with pleasure!"

Lily pulls me to my feet but my head is still swimming, my body wracked by strange pains. I guess the web is fighting my control now. In other circumstances I might find this funny, but at the moment it only frightens me. I can barely stand upright, much less fight, and as I turn I see my eight-foot-tall ex-owner striding toward us with her dagger drawn. Lily has the webber, but with its cartridge spent it's only useful as a club.

Xziomi pushes through the line of slaves, knocking them down like bowling pins. Not a one of them even tries to break their fall. I did that to them, I tell myself, and then I remember how I did it. I have lasers! Frantically I search my memories, ragged but clearing, of my time as a slave. How did I trigger the blasts? Was it the button in my cunt? No, that was the homing beacon. Was it the lens in my pinkie? No, that woke them up. Did I touch any of my other sockets to set off the blast?

Xziomi lunges at me, spit flying from her huge bared fangs, and Lily grabs her wrist and swings her wide. She knows, I think as I fall to my knees. She knows I've remembered the lasers. And if she doesn't kill me in the next couple of seconds, she knows I'll remember how to use them. I open my mouth to warn Lily, and seeing that, Xziomi lunges again.

My head is a little clearer now, so I can scramble aside without much difficulty. In fact, I think, that was a pretty clumsy pass. I'd have expected better from a General, but this one had seemed pretty desperate. Wait, that's it! She saw me open my mouth, and it scared her so badly she had to lunge. And why? Because the lasers have a verbal trigger, just like Lily's web! The question is, what is the trigger?

Lily leaps on Xziomi's back and makes a valiant, doomed effort to grab the blade. I can't bear to see her risking herself like this, with me on the sidelines, but my best hope of ending this is to think. What did I say to my troops to make the lasers fire? What did I say when I betrayed them?"

Oh!

"Xziomi," I shout, and her head comes up, fangs bared, spit streaming. Her knife is just at Lily's throat. "Xziomi, they've sent me to betray you!"

The hall fills with blinding light.