Chapter 4: Lucy at the Club

Hi, I’m Lucy, Lucy Hale, I’m 27 now, and I’m a sex slave. Maybe I should say EX-sex slave now, according to my new Master. He’s 52 year old Professor Paul Logan, ha, ha. I am ... was ... I guess you would have to say still am, a love slave now, Most everyone thinks they belong to themselves. Me, Me, Me. I guess you would have to call that freedom? ... free will? Which is vastly overrated by the way. I don’t think that way anymore, I belong to Ray. You have to understand I don’t think I belong to Ray ... I KNOW I BELONG TO MY MASTER RAY. Yes, I know it’s the drug and the hypnosis, but that doesn’t make it any less real to me. I even know that Ray gave me another shot of his drug and hypnotized me to be Paul’s slave. Once again it doesn’t make it any less real for me. Even though I know Paul is working on a ... a ... well he calls it a cure ... I don’t want it. I’ve also found I have quite a bit of independence as a love slave to two master now.

I was captured right out of the wild pool of young female adolescent college students that populated the campus of State U at that time. This was all at the tender old age of 17 for me. I was hooked and landed by my undergraduate thesis advisor Raymond Floyd for his Experiment. An experiment which Paul, ever the White Knight Errand, tried to save me from 10 years ago.

My primary qualification for capture back then was nobody would really miss me if I just disappeared. I was an only child. My parents died in one of those tragic car vs. 18 wheeler accidents on the Great American Highway when I was 12, almost 13. I got a pretty good settlement from the trucking company that was at fault, and my 81 year old grandmother was left with the burden of raising me. The sad truth of the matter was she really didn’t care if I lived or died. It wasn’t really her fault she was just too old to raise another child.

This all happened when I was just turning 13, when my real mother and father died. I learned to take care of myself early on. I’m what is known as a “Child Prodigy”, and I’ve never connected with other children my own age anyway. By the time I was 15 I was a Freshman at State U. At 17 I was a full time college junior less than one year away from graduation. Most of the other juniors around me were 21 years old, or older. I could have already graduated if I had really wanted to. The sad truth of the matter was I was hiding from the world there at college, and I had become a professional student. One of the things the settlement did pay for was my education, with a education trust fund, as long as I stayed in school it paid for everything.

I’m, well I was, the very definition of “Nerd Girl”; A foolish, or contemptible person, who lacks social skills, or grace, or is boringly studious, or engages in or discusses a technical field obsessively, or goes into great detail about things than get their attention, but nobody else’s. Looking back I have to be honest, I was ... did ... all of that. I was truly a nerd. I also wore large thick glasses that I really didn’t need, and I bundled myself up in shapeless cloths that hid the fact I was even a girl. Honestly since the boys wore their hair long now, it was hard to even tell I was a girl, ha, ha. For me college was a welcome reprieve from the torture of the high school girls bullying me.

Sure, being the smartest kid in the class at 17 was it’s own burden to bear, especially here in college, but it didn’t leave actual blue bruises on me anymore from the other girls pounding on me. I lived on campus, in the women’s dorms, in my own little room, and I had no real friends, not that I wanted any mind you. I guess my real downfall though was I was majoring in psychology first, and good old sociology second, and Ray, Raymond Floyd, was assigned as my undergraduate thesis advisor. That, and the fact he discovered I was extremely susceptible to hypnosis. With that my fate was sealed I guess you could say.

Maybe at this point a description of myself is in order. I stand at 5 foot 11 almost 6 foot, without my 3” spike high heels, I like to think I’m a very neat package today. I’m the classic top heavy hour glass 41-26-38 figure most men, and some women, dream and drool over. The type of figure Hollywood and Penthouse has made so famous. With large firm pendulous teardrop shaped breasts and long thick grape sized nipples, maybe a 42-DD cup size. I have an impossibly narrow waist, and generous wide flared hips. At a mere 120 pounds, I like to think I’m the perfect Earth Mother image. Ray made me into his perfect wet dream.

In a way I’m a “freak of nature” because I’ve looked this way since I was 13, believe it or not. It happened almost overnight. At the time of my parents deaths, I was just an abnormally tall willowy girl for her age, with absolutely no curves at all, just straight up and down. It’s the main reason I was bullied by the other girls in my 7th grade high school class ... well really the whole damn high school got into it. First I was abnormally tall, and then I was abnormally tall and curvy. I was like some kind of evil changeling left in the baby crib by the evil fairy godmother in a bad Grimm Fairy Tale.

Suddenly I sprouted boobs and a butt, and in months I was pretty much what I am today. ALL the males buzzed around me like I was a bitch dog in heat, and yes, I knew about “the birds and the bees”. ALL the females around me wanted to kill me because all the males suddenly buzzed around me and ignored them. ALL I wanted to do was hide under the bed and be ignored by everybody, and no I never went into heat, I never even had a sexual urge back in those days.

The medical doctors, psychologist, and even the psychiatrists, the school system called in to examine ... study me ... poke me ... prod me ... were shocked and amazed as much as me. Yes, I was a medical freak. Their final report attributed my amazing growth spurt to hormones, stress, and shock over my parents death. Whatever it was, it left me with a clearly immature mind, and a very ripe mature female body that I couldn’t handle, so I was pulled out of regular classes and bussed across town to the “Special Classes” school. I was grouped in with the problem children, and retards.

Rather than holding me back the “Special Classes” set me free. It was discovered there that I was a quote unquote “Child Prodigy” by the behavioral psychology people running the program. In their own ways they were nerds too, ha, ha. So I learned to hide my body under a bundle of lose fitting clothing and use my brain to get out of high school. I applied myself, and was soon in college with people that didn’t know me, or care about me. Which was a blessing believe it or not. I might have moved on through my entire life as a nerdy Zelda like Scooby-Doo character never discovering the wide world ... or joy of sex, but for Ray.

Also, for the record here, I had never had a sexual impulse ... urge ... never even a horny though ... until Ray discovered me. I was a complete virgin in both mind, and body, but contrary to the popular urban myth, and/or legend, I did not have an intact hymen. According to Young Women’s Health (so I’m a nerd sue me?), the hymen is a thin membrane around the vaginal opening. In most cases, it looks like a half moon. There’s no such thing as normal hymens people. Hymens tear, they do not break contrary to popular belief. An intact hymen doesn’t prove a woman’s virginity. In the same way, a torn (stretched) hymen doesn’t necessarily mean that a woman is not a virgin either. Hymens can easily remain intact due to their elasticity. Furthermore, some women are born with less hymenal tissue than others, ha, ha.

It was Ray that forcefully pried me out of my ugly oyster shell, like the valuable beautiful pearl I was, 10 years ago. Since then my long silky tresses have been everything from platinum blond, to Raven wing black. If you were to ask me what I look like today I would probably say I look like the actress Jayne Mansfield, when I was a platinum blond, and had turquoise blue eyed. Of course I looked like a sultry Kylie Jenner when I had long Raven wing black silky hair and emerald green eyes. Yes my eyes seem to naturally change color with my moods. Of course the scientists say all eyes are really brown, ha, ha.

In the end Ray turned me into ... trained me ... to be a stalking predator of men’s ... even some women’s ... desires. A predator that needs ... feeds on ... no ... has to have a steady healthy diet of sex. Something that Paul has refused to give me so far. Abstinence, and masturbation, can only go so far toward satisfying my needs ... craving.

Dear Janet?, don’t you dare say Poor Janet, was only the first appetizer The Ranch was going to serve up to me before my appetite was truly satisfied. At the moment I had reopened the link between me, Paul, and Ray. It was about 10am in the morning, and I was fixing to enter the Club in search of Paul’s sister and her girlfriend ... mistress ... with my new slave Janet.

The entire front of The Club was made of these 1’x1’ cubes of either clear glass or some kind of clear plastic. The blocks were cemented together and evidently had neon lights in the cubes themselves. Anyway the light show was impressive even in the daylight. I could only wonder what it was going to be like at night, in the full dark. The entrance was these 2” thick clear glass, or plastic, 10’x10’ counter balanced swinging doors. When we got inside all the tables and chairs had been pulled, or pushed, to the side, and the open floor was being polished by some women. I headed straight to the bar and Janet followed reluctantly in my wake.

There were three female bartenders in Playboy Bunny, or Penthouse Pet, (there is a difference) fetish maid costumes, washing and storing their glassware, with another female off to the side dressed up as a man, complete with fake handlebar mustache and long curly sideburns, restocking the different beverages behind the bar. I saw no need to pussyfoot around, so the first question out of my mouth was, “Where is Dorothy Logan, or Shella McGaret?” I demanded, which got no response at all from anybody. Ok, so I made a mistake.

“Janet you ask them.” I directed her. I should have done that in the first place anyway.

“Jane”, Janet addressed the fake man, “are Dorothy, or Shella, around? I really need to talk to them.” Janet addressed the fake man on the end closest to us.

“Haven’t seen them, and don’t expect to see them till later this afternoon Janet. You know those two only show up here after the Club opens up and everything gets to hopping.” The fake man told Janet while looking directly at me.

“What is on for tonight Jane? Janet asked.

“Some band named Jazzabelle. Their lead singer is really hot. They’ll get into it by 6pm and it’ll be standing room only by 7pm, if last night is any indication Janet.” Jane told Janet.

Being there was nothing else to do till 6pm tonight anyway I took Janet back to my room and screwed her brains out. Sometimes it really is, “better to give than to receive”, ha, ha, especially if you’re brainwashing your personal slut. Pavlov back in 1902 invented ... perfected ... Pavlovian conditioning. Behavioral and physiological changes brought about by experiencing a predictive relationship between a neutral stimulus and a consequent biologically significant event.

When I got tired of the physical sex, OK, it does happen you know, with my obedient sex doll Janet, I sat her back in the couch and opened up my laptop for “training time” with Janet. Actually all I have to do is use their trigger, “It’s Training Time ****(put in girl’s name of your choice)”, and she’ll pull out the laptop and earbuds and do herself. This was something I thought up to help Ray, my first Master, with his Experiment. Part of the “Advanced Training Time Program” is the part where it directs the hypnotized subject to open it’s eyes and appear normal, tee, he, he. I still find it hot to watch the normal looking girl brainwash herself with the audio tapes.

The college runs these little mini busses around campus, and one day this pretty girl gets on ... well really she was more than pretty, she was beautiful. Anyway she gets on the crowded bus and we manage to be seated face to face across the isle from each other. She’s got her earbuds in and listening to something and as I watch I can see her nipples poke out of her light cotton shirt, and then she starts giggling her legs up and down and rubbing them together. Soon she lets out a Ooohhhhh and sorta slides down in her seat real relaxed and boneless. And yes, she turned out to be one of Ray’s girls listening to her training tape, on the bus, in public. I almost had an orgasm just watching her cum. I was so turned on I used her “Training Time” trigger and took her back to the lab and screwed her brains out for hours. In fact Ray discovered us both still locked together naked when he got to the lab latter in the day. He woke her up and sent her on her way and punished me, but that’s another story.

“Stare deeply into the screen Janet,” My voice was coming from the open laptop setting on the coffee table before a deeply relaxed Janet on the couch. Janet has wireless earbuds that are almost impossible to hear or even see really, but I never miss getting a thrill from watching and hearing Janet, and the other girls, train themselves to be better slaves.

At this time she was playing the file named, Sleep Aid 1, in the laptop’s hidden directory. Watching the pretty spirals continue to spin and spin, drawing Janet’s mind down ... down ... deeper ... and deeper ... into their endless black back hole. The black hole that the pretty spirals seemed to suck her mind down into. I can still have a orgasm from watching it happen to one of the girls.

“You feel relaxed.” My voice went on.

“I feel relaxed,” Janet repeated in her mindless monotone.

“You feel so relaxed.” My voice went on.

“I feel so relaxed.” Janet repeated in her mindless monotone once more.

“You like feeling relaxed.” My voice said.

“I like feeling relaxed” Janet repeated.

“Following instructions helps you feel relaxed.”

“Following instructions helps me feel relaxed,” Janet felt her body getting hotter as she listened.

“You love obeying my instructions.”

“I love obeying your instructions,” Janet’s body got even hotter as she thought about obeying.

“You love to obey.”

“I love to obey,” Janet’s continued to get even hotter.

“You are a slave.”

“I am your slave,” Janet repeated obediently.

“You love being a slave.”

“I love being a slave,” Janet felt herself getting wet with anticipation, her body knowing exactly what it had to do.

“Good slaves serve their Mistress.”

“Good slaves serve their Mistress.”

“Good slaves give themselves to their Mistress.”

“Good slaves give themselves to their Mistress,” Janet repeated.

“You are a good slave, you love to serve your Mistress.”

“I am a good slave, I love to serve my Mistress,” Janet moaned slightly as she spoke those words.

“Are you ready to serve your Mistress?” my voice spoke to her.

“Yes Mistress, I am a good slave, I love being a good slave to you Mistress, I love serving my Mistress, I live to serve my Mistress, I want nothing more than to give myself to my Mistress.” Janet spoke as she felt her underwear getting soaked from her free flowing cunt juices, and her body getting ever hotter, she loved feeling so obedient, and staring into the depths of the spirals.

“Take off your clothes,” my voice tells her from the laptop.

“Yes Mistress, I obey Mistress,”

Trust me when I tell you that nothing works better than a female orgasm ... or the anticipation of having a female orgasm, ha, ha, for the conditioning of a female sex slave. I speak from personal experience. Though I knew that Ray was fine with what I had to do, I wasn’t so sure of the response of my new Master Paul to what I might ... probably would have to do when, or if, I found his dear sister, and Shella.

Sure he’s a fully mature adult college Psychology Professor, but I’m not sure he’s at the point of accepting; Practical Applications Of Applied Psychology 101, ha, ha. Sometimes as the old saying goes; “Facilius veniam petendi quam petendi veniam”, or “It’s better to beg forgiveness, than ask permission”. So not wanting to chance getting Paul’s permission, more likely a denial, to re-enslave his older sister if and when I found her, I cut the communication link between us and went rouge at The Ranch.

Shella found, or Lucy rouge at The Ranch.

Shella dreamily smiled up at me as she felt me cup her nice handful of pink nippled breast and pinch her thumb sized nipple. Suddenly I reached out with my other hand and opened Shella’s mouth slightly with my thumb and tongue kissed her deeply. Reflexively, Shella closed her eyes and rolled over onto her back in submission to my advances. Shella had been into girls before this, but my passionate kiss was electrifying and incredibly seductive she suddenly found.

I broke the kiss and smiled down at Shella. “Liked that didn’t you.” Shella smiled back dreamily and nodded, I kissed her again long and passionately, deep and slow, as our tongues tangled together, just like I liked being kissed myself. As I did, I reached one hand between Shella’s legs and delicately walked my fingers up her inner thigh and began to caress Shella’s soft, moist slick pink inner folds with a finger.

“UhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHH”, was all Shella could say as the pleasure rolled over her. Round and round, my fingers slowly circled and parted the lips of Shella’s pussy. Then my fingers started slowly at first, then speeded up as Shella’s arousal grew. They speeded up even more as I saw her smile and eyes roll up into her head as my finger found the sweet spot. I smiled back as I saw Shella’s body arch up off the bed, and then her head drop back limply onto it. As I saw her eyes roll up into her head in pleasure once again I was envious of her pleasure.

I knew now I had found that magic spot on the vaginal wall, the magical G-spot, and now I was going to manipulate it and use it to force Shella to cum repeatedly until I exhausted her. I finger fucked Shella into surrendering to one climax after another for what seemed hours, but was really only minuets. This went on until Shella collapsed back on the bed, covered in sweat and nearly physically spent.

She had just begun to fall asleep when I went down on her in the 69 position and started to tongue fuck her wet pussy and clitoris. As I tongue fucked Shella’s clit, her little fun button, I felt Shella’s body thrusting her own pelvis up involuntarily into my face with her legs spread wide and her engorged delicious pussy on full display. Shella was making wild sounds of pleasure as my mouth and tongue were busy sopping away at her gushing pussy juices. Shella was overcome with pleasure as I began to grind my own pussy down into Shella’s face now.

Greedily Shella began to lap and suck at my picture perfect pink sex. I’m sure Shella had tasted other girl’s before, but now she was totally addicted to my pussy and was content to become my little bitch at the moment. I know this is because of Ray’s other Experiment, well actually Experiments. I now know my cunt actually produces the sex pheromone androstenone. While it was thought, before now, to be made exclusively by males as a female breeding attractant, Ray had managed to stimulate it’s production in abundant amounts in females, well me at least. Not only did Ray’s new and improved sex pheromone work on the chemical olfactory organs of smell, it also affected taste. In fact I have found it to be highly addictive to certain females.

It also appeared I was producing large amounts of copulin too. Men do not produce copulin, and the level of the pheromone in a woman’s body seems to correlate to that woman’s menstrual cycle. Well the production and release of an egg by the female to be fertilized by male sperm anyway. Meaning the levels of pheromones a woman normally produces is directly influenced by her amount of sexual activity she has. Women who produce elevated levels of these pheromones tend to have sex more often Ray discovered in his study. It also appears that it doesn’t matter which sex they have sex with. They also feel more confident with their sexuality, and are more sexually attractive to their partners. They also bond with others, men and women, easier he found too.

High pheromone levels in these women make them more sexually attractive to others, and therefore encourages more attention and social engagement. People who have a “love at first sight” reaction to someone, those who feel a “strong attraction” to another person, are usually experiencing a pheromone attraction Ray’s study showed. In these cases, your pheromones are telling you that this person, generally the opposite sex, is a genetically suitable match for matting and reproduction. Unfortunately for some unlucky bastards there is also the opposite affect in some that makes them sexually repellent to some others.

So you see I knew after Ray’s treatment that I had such a sweet delicate scent and flavor, the perfect lusty pheromone perfume, to drive Shella to do things she’d never imagined doing with a normal woman before. Shella licked a pair of her fingers and then slid them deep into my wide open pussy, sliding them around with a come hither movement she soon found my G-spot and began to work it. She played with it as she sucked and licked at my pussy.

I admit I had become somewhat distracted by Shella’s amorous efforts, and had stopped eating Shella out as she began to let out low moans of pleasure herself. Shella’s passion was really getting to me as Shella kissed, licked, and masturbated me to heaven. My hips began to undulate, causing me to grind my sharp pelvic bone into Shella’s chin. Harder and faster my hips ground as Shella answered my efforts with more targeted clit play with her own tongue. Her two fingers were inside me, driving me completely out of control on my way to orgasm heaven. Finally my whole body tensed up and my back arched as I let out a scream of pleasure before release.

When I came it was like a freight train had hit me, like the explosion of a super nova going off inside my brain, leaving me weak and disorientated. I hardly knew where I was as I collapsed completely limp and spent onto the bed, my head coming to rest face down between Shella’s wide spread legs. My hair felt very erotic rubbing against the skin of Shella’s inner thighs I thought to myself as I lay there too exhausted to move. I could feel my breathing and thought it was cute that I had fallen asleep with my head down there. Shella herself was relaxed as she enjoyed the afterglow of the post orgasmic experience and drifted off to sleep with me.

Hours latter Shella was woken from her pleasant sleep by something tight being put around her neck. Then there was a click, followed by something else sharp pricking the side of her neck. Before she could even utter a protest she felt the hot drug shoot into her external carotid artery. In moments she recognized that her will and control was slipping away as she laid back on the bed in a daze.

“I have something a little more intriguing than just using the drug and hypnosis to enslave you Shella.” I said to the woman on the bed, as I once again pressed a button on my hand held remote control, injecting a measured dose of Ray’s hypnotic drug through the hypodermic needle in Shella’s new gold collar. The drug went directly into her major blood stream via the external carotid artery, and into her brain in seconds. Then I watched as the drug entered her system. Shella soon collapsed back on the bed with her eyes glazed over, enjoying her continuous new body high.

“I’m going to have to make sure I keep you totally under my control Mistress Shella. Maybe I should say I have to make sure your new owner keeps you totally under her control, ha, ha.” I chuckled as I stroked former Mistress Shella’s nude body that was responding so well to Ray’s drug and the hypnotic conditioning I was giving her with Janet’s willing help.

“It is time for us to get to work on your new life Shella.” I laughed, as I continued to lightly stroke Shella’s beautiful body.

Yes, I ... we had found Shella and managed to lure her back to my ... our room, with the promise of a threesome with me and Dear Janet. By this time Janet was firmly under my total control. Hey, it’s true that you can’t get a person to violate deeply held life values under hypnosis, but who’s to say she didn’t already have these ideals in her head, these dark fantasies of her own. You could say I was only helping her develop her own fantasy of being my slave. Anyway she now wholeheartedly helped me with Shella’s conditioning. In no time the former Mistress was our new very willing sex toy.

Dorothy meanwhile had found the note I had left in Shella’s room for her days ago. The note read “Hey Dorothy, miss you lots babe and want to meet up with you again tonight” signed Lucy. Along with the note was a free pass to The Club.

“Is this somebody I should know?” Dorothy mumbled to herself while trying to remember who Lucy could be.

“Well, I deserve a break.” She finally said to herself, as she got ready to go to The Club, but wondering where Shella was at the moment. It wasn’t like Mistress to disappear like this.

At 8pm Dorothy walked through the doors of The Club. She had no idea where Lucy would be, or even what she looked like for that matter, so she just went to the side bar and got a drink. While waiting on her mai tai a waitress came up to Dorothy with a special note in hand. The note read... “Hey baby, glad you came. I have a little surprise for you. Meet me in Back Room number 10.”

Dorothy knew from past experience that the back rooms were reserved for wealthy customers and clients to hook up with other girls they meet here. “Wow, she must have setup something special for me.” Dorothy thought to herself as she picked up her drink and went looking for Back Room 10.

She found the room marked 10 easily enough, but didn’t see Lucy, or anyone else, anywhere in the room. All that was in the dark room was a chair, and a king sized four posted bed, sitting in the middle of it. Dorothy figured she would just sit and wait for Lucy to show up. As soon as she sat down in the chair a woman entered the room from a concealed door behind her. The woman now in front of her was dressed in translucent veils that covered her from head to toe. It reminded her of Rita Hayworth’s, Dance of the Seven Veils, in the 1953 motion picture Salome. Where Rita dances before Herod II in a little slave girl stripper outfit wearing a full face covering mask of white silk. It was hard to tell even what color her eyes were in the mask.

Dorothy also noticed the girl,,, well mature woman actually, was wearing a large gold collar around her neck. “The Club has gotten a little kinky I see. Girls in translucent veils, with masks, and golden collars, wow”. Dorothy said out loud.

Light stripper music started to play in the room and the girl began to move her body sensually in front of Dorothy. Finally the girl started her act by unfastening her bra strap and letting it slowly hang down low. Finally the bra was dropped and she began to take off her panties and get on her knees in front of Dorothy. She then turned around and exposed her pussy to Dorothy from behind. Sliding down onto her back she exposed her hardened pink nipples to Dorothy. All the while she was doing this, the girl kept her mask on.

Dorothy was so enthralled with what she was seeing, that she had completely forgotten about meeting Lucy, and didn’t even notice when I stepped into the room with them.

“Enjoying the show?” I asked from behind Dorothy, startling her for the moment.

“Yes, very much so, and who might you be?” Dorothy questioned back.

“I’m helping to run this place at the moment.” I laughed.

“Why does the girl wear a mask? And why all the veils?” Dorothy had to ask.

“Maybe she’s very shy, ha, ha, but how would you like to see her up close and personal without her mask, or the veils on, for your complete enjoyment Dorothy?” I leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“You can do that?” Dorothy questioned.

“Sure, for my new friend ... you are my friend aren’t you Dorothy? We just have to make sure that your hands are secure so you don’t lose control and touch her, is that Ok with you Dorothy?” I teased her as I noted she totally ignored the fact that I knew her name without being told. Dorothy might be the Professor’s older sister, but she wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box.

“Well that makes sense, sure do what you have to do.” Dorothy just nodded, so I began to tie both of Dorothy’s wrists to the armrests of the chair she was sitting in.

“See it’s not so bad, nothing like a little light bondage to get the juices to flowing, right Dorothy.” I laughed as I finished tying Dorothy’s hands and then her ankles to the chair legs.

Dorothy couldn’t move at all now, but she didn’t really want to move anyway I could tell. Something about the stripper kept her wanting to see more I was sure. As soon as Dorothy was secured I beckoned with the crock of my finger and the stripper quickly straddled Dorothy’s lap, coming face to face with her.