The Exhibit, Part 3, Just the Facts
-- by jessicablank

Synopsis:  At the inn in Her Realm, MzDominica demonstrated Her
glass-covered sensory deprivation chamber, showing how the use of
Her Voice as a subliminal soundtrack could be used to program
slaves' minds to obey her, so very deeply.  Mistress Black, who
owns a chain of spas, made a deal with Dominica, to use the
"relaxation chambers" to expand her business, getting chambers at
a discount, in exchange for using them to recruit more slaves for
Dominica.  The problem is, fewer and fewer new slaves have been
reporting to Dominica's mountain community -- and Mistress wants
to know why!

*          *          *          *          *

Part 3:  Just the Facts

Sean's cell phone rang.  He answered and heard the brief message.

"This is 27.  You must obey Dominica.  Execute protocol 77."

He replied, "I must obey Dominica.  It will be done."  Then he
disconnected, and one by one, he selected two speed dial numbers.
 For each one, he waited for an answer, then relayed the message.
 "This is 27.  You must obey Dominica.  Execute protocol 77." 
From the other end came the reply, "I must obey Dominica.  It
will be done."

Thus, one slave called two.  And two slaves called four.  And
soon, over 500 slaves were notified.  Notified that an
investigation needed to be made.  Facts needed to be found.

Sean made another phone call, to the "Rest and Re-Creation" spa
he had visited before, and he made an appointment for the next
day.  For a haircut, and for an hour in the "decompression
chamber."  As a service manager, his schedule was flexible --
unlike many others.  Not all of them would be making appointments
for the next day, or even two.  But within the week, all 483 of
the franchises across the country would be visited, by one of
MzDominica's slaves.  By a slave who had been captured by her
Voice, and the slow dripping of Her pee into his mouth.

The name "Sean" hardly meant anything to him now.  He was simply
one of Dominica's slaves, continually obsessed with serving
Her... with returning to Her farming community, up in the
mountains -- Her Realm.  Aching for that state of complete
mindlessness that took away all responsibility, all care, all
thought.  The slave found his cock getting hard again, as he
recalled guiding a plow across a field, feeling with every step
the soft skin of Mistress thighs, seeing Her eyes glowing,
staring into his.  He smiled, knowing he would soon have time for
a short vacation, and could drive up there to serve Her again.

But for now, he was Sean -- and he had already forgotten about
the phone message.  At least, his conscious mind was unaware of
it.  He knew simply that his hair was getting a little shaggy,
and some time in "the tank" would be a nice, relaxing break from
his daily routine.

*          *          *          *          *          *

The waterfall was huge.  Like a panorama of Niagara Falls, that
Sean had seen in photographs -- except all the "water" was
yellow.  Second by second, millions of gallons of MzDominica's
pee rushed down between the river banks, flowed over the lip of
an unseen cliff, and cascaded through the air a thousand feet to
the river below.  Sean inhaled the scent, a smell at once pungent
and aromatic -- as though Mistress' pee had been mixed with a
perfume, sweet and flowery.  Like lilacs.  So strange.  He
breathed slowly and deeply, unable to get enough of the sharp,
florid scent.  And his mouth felt so wet.  Saliva threatened to
dribble down his chin, if he allowed his excitement to make him
lose control and open his mouth -- open it to pant, gasping for
air, because he was so aroused.  Needing to breathe, inhale the
scent of Mistress' pee and open his mouth to swallow.  To kneel
at the base of the waterfall, lean his head back, and feel
Mistress' urine force itself between his open lips, down his
throat, into his belly.  Filling him.  So warm.  Sticky like
syrup.  Slick, like water.  Yellow and acrid and flowery.  Sean
began to shake.  To shiver.  Craving to open his mouth.  Craving
to open it wide -- and drink, drink, drink, feeling Mistress' pee
flow into him, gallon after gallon, while he knelt in a river of
Her pee, washed in Her yellow fluids, wet and mindless, and
shaking with ecstasy.

"Hold still a moment," Soleil said, snipping around Sean's ears,
trying to get that perfect, rounded cut, shaping his hair as she
did, so carefully.

Sean opened his eyes, but still felt like he was wet, drifting...
streams of yellow fluid washing past his arms, his chest, his
legs.  He looked up at the hair dresser, shaking a little because
a woman had given him a command.  Only one woman really mattered
in his life, but Sean's conditioning had made him so obedient to
ALL women, he looked up at Soleil adoringly, helplessly -- even
though she was only nineteen, and a little ditzy.

The hairdresser caught his gaze for a moment -- he looked so
sweet and helpless and cute!  What was it about the guys who came
for haircuts in this place?  They were all like such helpless
little puppy dogs!  She wanted to cuddle him and hug him, and
take him home!  Soleil suddenly blushed, when she realized that
her panties felt warm and wet, and she realized what she wanted
to do with this little puppy, sitting in the barber chair before
her.  She covered by reaching down to the table for the hand
mirror, and lifting it in front of the guy's face.  "There, how
does that look?" she asked -- feeling her nipples harden even as
she spoke.  Oh, he looked so adorable!

Sean gazed into the mirror, not quite seeing himself.  Thinking
only of the huge waterfall of Mistress' pee, and gazing up into
Her eyes as he knelt at Her feet, face uplifted, mouth open. 
Awaiting Her pleasure.  Awaiting Her liquid blessing.  He found
it so very hard to bring himself to the present, to pretend to
inspect his haircut, lift a hand and brush it over one side. 
"Looks good," he muttered, hoping he wouldn't need to say
anything more cogent.

Soleil smiled, disengaging from the guy's puppy dog gaze.  "Looks
good," they ALL said.  Yes, men WERE all alike!  Oh, but for a
moment there, "all alike" meant helpless little puppies, and she
had wanted to take care of this one so much!  Soleil quieted her
breathing... paused a moment... then turned and undid the safety
pin at the guy's neck, then whipped the little barber sheet away,
smiling her usual plastic smile -- the one that seemed to bring
the biggest tips.  "Thank you," she said, "I'm glad you like it!"
 Before the guy could reply, Soleil felt -- rather than saw --
the receptionist just behind her.

"Sean?" the receptionist said, "You're in luck!  We've had a
cancellation.  If you'd like, we can put you in the decompression
chamber right away!"

Sean looked from one woman to the other, still so deep in his pee
fantasy, he was not sure who had spoken.  "That would be great,"
he replied.  He stood up, in a daze, and followed the woman with
the little clip board.

Soleil watched as the receptionist led her customer toward the
back hallway, pouting a little.  Another moment, and she would
have been able to stroke his cheek before he stood up --
pretending to straighten a stray hair or two.  That almost always
brought an extra dollar tip.  Now, she could only hope he would
even remember her, when he signed the credit slip.  She smiled a
little, though, remembering that puppy dog look, and the
tightness of her nipples -- as she brushed off the barber chair,
and straightened up things, preparing for her next customer.

Sean followed the receptionist, watching her hips sway left and
right, trying not to be noticed staring at her ass, at her legs,
as he walked down the hallway, following her.  Drifting and horny
at the mere thought of the "decompression chamber," and how much
he wanted to be there.  Images of the huge, yellow waterfall
again entered his mind, the sound of roaring "water" filling his
ears.  The receptionist brought Sean to the end of the hallway,
where a woman stood, wearing a white uniform -- looking almost
like a nurse.  Maybe in her mid-thirties.  She wore a badge with
her name on it, that identified her as "Tree."  Sean smiled,
looking at the name.  Still floating and drifting with the image
of that huge, yellow waterfall.

"This is Tree," the receptionist said.  As if Sean couldn't read.
 "She'll be your relaxation technician for this afternoon.  Tree,
this is Sean."  She handed Tree the clipboard, with Sean's past
appointments on it, smiled, and returned to the store front.

"Hello Sean," Tree said.  Oh yes, she could tell he'd been in the
relaxation chamber before.  This one was having trouble focusing
on the here and now, clearly anticipating being in the isolation
chamber again.  Tree smiled -- she knew he wouldn't be much for
conversation.  They were all so cute like this.  So obedient and
tractable.  She carefully guided him toward the big, glass
enclosure, tilted at a 90-degree angle to the floor, so he could
simply stand in front of it while she adjusted his clothing, and
prepared him.  Slipping the white noise headphones over his ears,
the blindfold over his eyes, the drip tubing into his mouth.  The
straps to hold him in place.  Yes, even the little sleeve inside
his pants.  After the first time in, they simply let you attach
things, without question.  Very professionally, Tree slipped her
hand inside Sean's pants, wrapped the tube around his cock. 
Already hard.  Tree smiled, and NOT so professionally gave his
cock a gentle stroke, knowing this one would never remember.  She
checked that everything was in place, and then slowly closed the
glass cover, locking Sean inside the coffin-like chamber, and
pressed the switch to tilt it back to 45 degrees.  Then she
flipped the switch to activate the chamber, and set the timer for
three hours.

Tree always liked how blank and empty they looked afterward.  And
she enjoyed just watching them, while they dropped deep into
mindlessness, as the sensory deprivation relaxed their minds so
utterly.  She went to the back room, to brew herself a cup of
tea, so she could return, sip contentedly and watch...  "Sean" --
that was it... watch him, and make sure he was okay, the entire
time.

Sean could not remember anything from the moment he rose from the
barber chair, till now.  Lying/standing in the "relaxation
chamber," visions of yellow waterfalls washing through his mind.
The rush of white noise in his ears reminded him of those
waterfalls.  And, though he was unaware of it, his ears strained
to hear MzDominica's Voice mixed in with those waterfalls, to
taste Her flowery, acrid pee dripping onto his tongue, drop by
drop, as Her Voice programmed him deeper and deeper.

But deeply quiet and mindless as he was, Sean's brain was busy. 
Listening for MzDominica's Voice.  Searching for the sharp taste
of Her pee.  And all his ears heard... was static.  All his
tongue tasted... was water.

Patiently, quietly, Sean lay in the "relaxation chamber." 
Without smell, without taste, without light.  With no sound but a
consistent, patternless rushing.  With no touch, but the gentle
stroking of the sleeve on his hard cock.  Minute after lost
minute.  Hour after lost hour.

When he returned home, Sean pressed a different speed dial button
on his cell phone.  He waited, until he heard the answer.

"Hello, Slave..." in MzDominica's Voice -- though he knew it was
a recording

Sean spoke quickly, and simply.  "Protocol 77 report -- i am
nothing, nothing at all."

"Protocol 77 complete," the Voice replied.  "Good Slave."  The
phone disconnected.

Sean knelt on the floor.  His cock suddenly grew erect inside his
pants, and his sperm erupted from the tip of his cock, wetting
his pants, while he gasped in ecstasy, drooling on the floor,
cumming over and over again.  His reward... for total obedience.

*          *          *          *          *          *

In Her mansion, MzDominica watched, as Her naked accountant
crawled across the floor to Her feet, and bowed his head to the
floor, waiting to be acknowledged, waiting for instructions.  She
extended Her left, booted foot.  "Kiss My toes, slave," She
commanded.  The accountant obediently kissed her left boot.  Then
She extended Her right boot, and he kissed that also.  Then he
returned his forehead to the floor, awaiting Mistress' next
order.

"Report, slave," Dominica commanded.

"Please, Mistress, i beg You not to be angry with the messenger,
for i bring bad news!"  The accountant shook, frightened about
displeasing his Mistress.

"You will be rewarded or punished as I please, slave," MzDominica
replied.  "Now, your report!  Or I shall be angry!"

"All slaves reported NOTHING Mistress.  No sound of Your Voice. 
No taste of Your pee."

"As I expected," Mistress said.

"Please, Mistress, have mercy!" the accountant sobbed.

"You should know better than to think I will punish you for
reporting the truth, slave!" Dominica replied.  "So that you will
NOT forget, I will reward you for telling Me what I need to know,
even though it is displeasing."

"Thank You, Mistress!" the accountant cried, still kneeling with
his head to the floor.

"Cum!" Dominica commanded.  "Cum NOW, slave!  Cum, and cum and
cum!  STOP!!!"

The accountant's cock spurted, over and over, spilling his hot
sperm onto the hardwood floor, under him as he knelt and moaned
with pleasure.

"Now, slave, lick your cum off the floor.  Swallow it."  She
watched as he did so, hands still at his sides, palms to the
floor.  "Good slave!" She said.  "Dry the floor with your hair."
He pushed the top of his head over the floor, cleaning up every
remaining drop of moisture.  "Now, return to your office, while I
think about what to do with... Mistress Black."

"Yes, Mistress," the accountant gasped.  He crawled back to his
office, through the tiny slave door that connected his office to
Hers.

Head to the floor, still shaking, the slave was unable to watch,
as MzDominica's face curled up into a wry grin.  A plan was
forming in Her clever mind.  A very satisfying plan indeed.

*          *          *          *          *          *

Sounds to me like Mistress Black might be in trouble! 
Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!

More to come, later!

