Up in the mountains... perhaps the American Rockies... there is a community, nestled in a little valley. Private. Isolated. Surrounded by thick forest, it cannot be seen from the nearby road, as you drive past it. Only from a distance, as you come through the pass and follow the winding mountain road back and forth, descending. It looks like a little farming village, with fields, orchards, and gardens. Most of the buildings look utilitarian -- barns, storage sheds, work areas, housing for the "field hands." A few houses are very large, and fancy -- one might even call them mansions -- sumptuous, as befits their owners. Because this community is ruled by beautiful, powerful women. One woman in particular -- for this is Mistress Dominica's Realm.

There is very little machinery to be seen on this farm, because all the work is done by hand. By her hypnotically-conditioned slaves, male and female. Each slave pursues his or her assigned task in a perpetual haze of sexual obsession. Wanting to serve Mistress. Desiring Mistress. Needing to cum. Perpetually, constantly, relentlessly pushed toward orgasm, aching for release -- which can only happen with Her permission.

The farming helps keep the community self-sustaining -- leaving MzDominica free to focus on... other interests. To administer rewards, and punishments. To perform little experiments, playing with Her slaves' minds and bodies.

One such experiment was in progress inside MzDominica's mansion. It had been going on for several months, and was showing very great promise indeed...

The lovely jessica slave set the tray on the table near the locked door, and pressed her palm against the light panel on the wall. She waited a moment, maybe two, until the panel lighted and scanned her fingers and palm for identification. Dazzled by the light, as she was every time, jessica stared at the panel, waiting until she heard the loud beep that signaled her palm print had been accepted, and the click that told her the door had become unlocked. She turned the lever, pushed the door in slightly, holding it in place with her bare foot. Then she picked up the tray, carried it through, and let the door close behind her.

Tranced to think she was always wearing ultra-high heels, jessica tip-toed from the door, down the long staircase, to the floor of the underground laboratory. The jessica's only real clothing was the leather collar around her neck, and the brand high up on her right thigh -- if a brand could be called clothing. She waited to be acknowledged by Dr. Tiniski, the hypno-psychologist, who was busy examining the trainees in the room and updating her journal.

"Day 143. All subjects continue to do well, remaining deep in trance and at the edge of orgasm." Dr. Tiniski rubbed her thighs together at that word. The white lab coat -- her only garment besides her own leather collar and brand -- seemed to feel warmer than usual. She looked up at the kneeling slaves, arranged in six rows of six slaves each. "The minimal cereal and fruit diet has proven sufficient to sustain them during the conditioning process, leaving their bodies dependant and their minds weakened and pliant. Considering that their only activity is to listen to MzDominica's voice on the headphones and watch the conditioning images in the goggles, they clearly do not require much sustenance." A thick trail of lubrication dribbled slowly down Dr. Tiniski's thighs. Her right hand set the pen down on the clipboard, and began to reach down between her legs -- but she seemed to forget what she was doing. She picked up the pen again, and resumed writing. "Subject number 27 is the first to have achieved the state of rigidity required by Mistress. While it is still possible to reposition the arms and legs on the other slaves, this one holds his position as if he were a statue." The doctor didn't realize it, but her hips were gently pumping. "It does indeed appear likely that the other subjects will attain this mode within a matter of days." Why was she breathing so hard?

Dr. Tiniski looked up... and saw the jessica. "Ah, is it that time already?" she said. "You may begin feeding." The doctor retired to one end of the room and sat down, absent-mindedly crossing her legs and squeezing them together, rhythmically, while she watched the jessica set down the tray, then pick up one of the bowls of oatmeal. The jessica walked -- so quietly on tip-toe -- from one slave to the next, holding up a spoonful of cereal to the lips of each one. Like a robot, each slave opened his mouth, let the jessica spoon in the oatmeal, and swallowed. The jessica completed the first row of six, then returned to the tray and exchanged the empty bowl for a full one. She proceeded down the next row of six. Spoon into the oatmeal, hold the spoon up to the lips, wait for the slave to open his mouth, tilt the spoon, mouth closed, pull out the spoon. Walk to the next slave, repeat. The jessica's heels never touched the ground. Tip-toe. Tip-toe. High up, on imaginary spiked heels. One face after another, each one nearly concealed by the goggles over the eyes, the headphones over the ears. The jessica looked down at the rigid cocks, bulging with cum just about to spurt, the dripping pussies, ready to gush. She licked her lips, forgot why she was so excited, and walked forward, digging another spoonful of oatmeal out of the bowl. Her hand shook slightly with her lust, spilling a tiny drop of cereal onto the floor, as she fed the next slave. Another slave... then another. End of the row. All gone. Back to the tray for another bowl.