by Chan Nei
"Here?" Claire asked with surprise, fighting the urge to undress. "Outside? I won't do it!"
"Very well." Miss Prymm replied. "Then go."
"Really?" Claire said suspiciously sure that this was some trick.
"Really!" Miss Prymm said. "I have no need or desire for unwilling girls."
Claire laughed and tried to get back in the car. As she did, she caught the men with Miss Prymm lewdly staring at her body as it moved under her dress. She drowned again in an intense feeling of warmth. Even with her back to them she could sense their eyes, roving up and down her figure. As if their stares spoke to her in musical form, she began to sway delightedly in smooth undulation, moving like a snake. Everyone, even Rachel and Miss Prymm were transfixed by Claire now and she found herself reveling in their attention. Unconsciously, she pulled at her collar, tearing it so that her dress could fall to the ground and her naked body could emerge like a blooming white rose. Claire swirled around and ran her hands over her breasts and let them glide over her tight tummy, hungry for the attention of all around her. The men were obviously excited into straining erections, Rachel was blushing with her own arousal and Miss Prymm was salivating at the performance.
Claire caught herself before she could do anything more lurid. She realized now why Miss Prymm had been so ready to let her go. If anyone ever wanted her and showed their desire, she would give them a show like the one she had just performed. She was addicted to being seen. She had been able to resist the feeling before Mr. Jenkins, but her will was getting progressively weaker. Rachel had been right. Soon she would be so hungry for stares and looks, she would be streaking through the streets to get them. She would be totally out-of-control. She didn't know what Miss Prymm had in store for her but the alternative currently seemed a whole lot worse. She was trapped. Claire Willis the housewife was now helpless in the clutches of Dr. Don and this Miss Prymm.
Claire caught a sob in her throat and hung her head. "So what are you going to do me?" She asked.
Miss Prymm moved closer and felt Claire's body like she was inspecting a horse. "Nice body. Strong thighs. I bet you can handle yourself on the pole real well. You're a bit older than most of my girls, but that gives you a maternal quality that the customers just love. I'll have you on the stage in no time."
Claire found herself getting excited. She was going to perform! This was going to be her dirty dream come true. She tried to douse her thrill. It may be a dream but it was a dirty dream. DIRTY! She couldn't like it, she couldn't enjoy it even if she had to do it. That would mean she was dirty too.
Rachel cleared her throat. "Miss, if you have no need of me..."
"Your master said I could make use of you, girl, if I needed you and I do need you." Miss Prymm interrupted. "I am short a waitress and you will do just fine."
Rachel gulped as Miss Prymm descended upon her.
"Undress." Miss Prymm commanded firmly. Rachel was soon almost fully undressed down to her pink thong. Claire found herself taking special pride in the fact that though Miss Prymm's men were slightly distracted by Rachel's performance, their eyes remained on her.
"Domination fantasy. One of my favorites. The first experiment the Doctor performed upon me involved making me live one of my domination fantasies. It must make you feel sooo goood" Miss Prymm said in a near hiss.
"Yes, miss." Rachel stammered meekly.
Miss Prymm considered Rachel briefly. "The best thing about the domination fantasy programming is that it is so easy to get whatever I want from you. Whatever I ask, you will give to me without hesitation." Miss Prymm said. Her voice then became dark and more demanding. "You master has given you to me and so this is what you will become. My waitresses are always cheerful. They think of nothing else but pleasing my customers. Whatever my customers want, they will do, within the confines of the house rules. Their sole goal is to make my customers happy. Nothing else matters. Is that understood?"
As Miss Prymm made her decree, Rachel’s eyes started to roll back as she absorbed these commands, her bright red painted mouth making an "o". What remained of her old personality was subsumed by her programmed need to obey and Miss. Prymm's directives. Before she realized what was happening, she had shed all thought except that necessary to carry out what Miss Prymm had commanded. It was as if she changed into a totally different person within a minute. Her lips widened into a broad grin. She sighed a happy sigh and her eyes twinkled not with intelligence but with saccharine cheerfulness.
"We can't have customers calling you, girl." Miss Prymm mused. "Rachel is to boring a name. So we will call you Racquel. Are you ready to work, Racquel?"
"Oh yes, Miss!" Racquel with childlike simplicity. "I want to make customers happy. Can I make them happy?"
"But, of course, Racquel, that is your sole purpose." Miss Prym laughed. "Gentlemen, see that Racquel is properly employed."
The two men took Racquel into the house, one cupping her ass with her hand while she giggled in delight.
"So is that what you're going to do to me?" Claire asked Miss Prymm. "Turn me into some brainless bimbo?"
Miss Prymm laughed as she took Claire's hand and directed her into the house. "Strip away the Rachel's imposed civilization and education and you'll find a slave at heart. Someone who needs to be dominated. You are a natural slave too, but a slave to your body. I will unlock your inner slave. You will find the experience must illuminating. I know I did. You will thank me after I do and you will acknowledge me as your mother!"
Entering the manor, Claire found that the interior had been gutted to make a huge strip club. Tiered stages served as venues to naked and nearly naked men and women performing erotic, gymnastic dances. Their rhythm matched that of the loud music blaring through the room with heart stopping bass. Customers sat either in rapt attention at dinner tables or huddled up against the stages screaming their adoration at the dancers and waving money to get their attention. On small stages in side rooms dancers performed acrobatic sexual acts for smaller groups.
If Claire had come to this place before Dr. Don had reprogrammed her, she would have walked out in disgust. Now she was drawn to this place like a moth to flame. This was a place she wanted to stay This was a place she wanted to perform in like the girls on the stages.
"No!" Claire told herself in rebellion against these thoughts. "They've done something to me to make me act crazy. I won't become their plaything. I won't! No matter what they make me do!"
Miss Prymm led Claire through the hall, passing Rachel, now Racquel, who had completely slipped into the role of one of Miss Prymm's waitresses. She was going from table to table, asking "Want a drink? Need a drink?" She giggled in immature excitement as customers swatted her ass or copped a feel. Racquel wanted to make the customers happy and, if this is what made them happy, this made her as happy as could be. To Claire, this Rachel, stripped of all inhibition and will power, with her personality recast and simplified to play this part, was a bizarre mockery of the housewife she knew. Racquel passed by Claire without acknowledging her, the now-limited resources of her mind focused solely on the customers' needs. Since Claire wasn't a customer, she didn't register to Racquel at all.
Miss Prymm took Claire backstage to a dressing room and eased the dazed woman into a salon chair. A group of girls similarly undressed as Rachel descended upon her. One gave Claire's feet a pedicure. One gave her hands a manicure. Another washed and coiffed her hair. Another painted and applied makeup. One spread a cream over her bush and shaved her pussy clean. Claire was washed, waxed, massaged and exfoliated all at once. She felt she was being cleansed from head to toe.
Miss Prymm spoke to Claire as she endured the treatments.
"The wonderful thing about reading your remote brain scans from Dr. Dunlop is that I know more about you than you do about yourself. For instance, I know you have loved your body. You have always loved your body. You love the way men and women look at you. It makes you feel comfortable, hot, relaxed, proud."
Claire grinn
ed and her hand stroked her tummy. She did love her body, she loved everything about it. The way her firm breasts bobbed on her luscious chest, the slopes of her shoulders and waist. She loved to see it reflected in the lustful eyes of men and envious eyes of women.
"You have been ashamed of this self-love." Miss Prymm said with an accusing harshness. "You have been conditioned to hate it as self-love. You have been educated to believe that it is wrong."
The change in Miss Prymm's tone took Claire by surprise. She had been enjoying the touch and feel of the body at that moment so the charge was not one she could deny. Claire choked back a sob. Miss Prymm was right. She had been told it was wrong to love her body. Her parents, her teachers, her religion. They all said it was wrong so she repressed her self-love in obedience to their dictates not hers. And here she was doing what they said not to do, loving herself and her own touch.
"Even despite this condemnation. You became a dancer to enjoy your body. To show your body. You told yourself that you danced for art. This was a lie. You danced to be seen, to turn people on."
"No! Claire cried. "That's not true!" But it was a hollow protest. Miss Prymm was right again. Claire had told herself and others that she loved dance as an art. She claimed to love Balanchine and Taylor but this was just fancy window dressing for what she really wanted. Miss Prymm was flaying away the layers of denial she had put down to contain that desire that drove and fueled her. She and her girls were chipping away at Claire's personality, corrupting each aspect of it with her increasingly liberated self-love.
"You've been tempted to strip. You envied the girls you knew who did it. It seemed like such easy money. But you wanted to do it for more than just make money at it. You wanted to let loose on stage and have people hunger and want your naked body. You wanted to drown in their gazes. You couldn't do it because of all those lies you told yourself. It wasn't proper. It wasn't right. You didn't do it. Y ou wanted to. Badly. You regret not doing it when you had the chance."
Claire squirmed in the chair as tears ran down her cheeks, which the make-up girls patted away. It was as if Miss Prymm possessed all of her secrets but, more so, she could not find the ability to contest them with the deceptions and lies that had hidden them even from herself. It was as if she were compelled to tell the truth and confront it. She felt more bare than she had ever been in her life. Yes, Claire had wanted to strip back then. She so wanted to. Not just for fun and money, but for the sheer ecstasy of showing off her wonderful body. She had such a great body and it would have felt so good to do it. How could she have passed that up?
"Yes." Claire admitted aloud. "Yes, you’re right. I wanted to strip. I wanted to be seen." Admitting her secret gave her a sense of release but also a tingle of shame. It wasn't something a proper woman would admit to. The condemnation of her word and her past rose against her but now they were just phantoms against the truth that had been released.
Miss Prymm laughed. "Now you will strip. That urge to show yourself has always been with you, gnawing at you. It wants to escape and consume you and a part of you wants it to. Tonight it will!"
"Yes." Claire moaned. "No!" She yelled quickly afterward. Yes, she wanted to strip, she was desperate to do it now and realize that desire she had wanted to embrace. Only surrendering to that temptation would jeopardize her comfortable life. If her husband ever found out she had done such a thing, he would turn her out. Shamed, she would have nowhere to go. Her parents wouldn't understand. Her friends wouldn't.
"Please don't!" Claire pleaded. "Please don't make me do it!"
"It's who you are, Claire." Miss Prymm told her. "It is time to stop lying to yourself and become what you are meant to be."
The girls who had been treating Claire pulled away and the back of the salon chair was raised so that Claire could see their completed work. Her hair was pinned up while the rest of her body was completely hairless and bronzed with fake tan. Her eyes, with lids painted in a shimmery blue, batted heavily mascaraed false lashes almost double their normal length. Her eyebrows were now sculpted to be short and extra thin, prominently arched and tapered at the ends. A sweep of pink toned contouring blush drowned her cheeks. Her lips were glossed with bright red glittery lipstick. Sparkles and glitter were powdered lightly over her breasts, reflecting light like a galaxy of stars. Her fingernails and toenails burned with a red that matched her lips. Not only did was she painted with makeup but she also decorated with jewelry. Her nose was pierced with a diamond and belly button was pierced with a silver ring. Sparkling bangle bracelets danced on her wrists and ankles.
The makeup girls pulled the passive Claire up and "dressed" her, slipping her into a red g-string and seven inch stiletto heels. They draped a flowery dress over her body that was so flimsy she barely had to breathe to slip out of it.
"I want to take advantage of that maternal look." Miss Prymm informed her as she placed some horn-rimmed glasses on her nose. "To make you look like the horny, out of control housewife the Doctor has programmed you into."
Finally Claire got a good look at herself. Made up, dressed and decorated as she now was, she was a sinfully, seductive temptress. She was more than a common whore or slut in this form, she was a succubus, painted and decorated to be viewed and to inspire lust and desire. Her very presence was a lure for souls, to offer everything they held dear, money, family, job, loved ones, salvation, everything, just to be with her even if it meant their everlasting damnation. She was breathtaking. She even took her own breath away.
The old Claire was repulsed by what she had become, shocked at her new lush tawdriness that seemed a mockery of the woman she had been back in suburbia. It was like that this vision she now saw was a parody of that life, using it as an element to enhance her allure by appealing to dark dreams and fetishes. What made this part of herself cringe even more was that the realization that it was slipping away. This new her was asserting control, flexing its power, drinking in its beauty. That part of her that had always wanted to be on display was now at the forefront, its passions dulling her self-control and her judgment. It was as if the body had a powerful voice in her mental counsels and wanted to show off this form and enjoy what it could do and inspire.
"I won't do what you want. You can't make me!" Claire protested but doubting whether she had the will to resist.
"Oh, you will do everything I ask." Miss Prymm said smoothly stroking Claire's trembling cheek. "This defiance is merely the last fragment of your free will. Soon Dr. Dunlop's programming will dissolve even this into the desires you have repressed. Soon you will become your desire completely and perfectly malleable to my commands. You will beg to do everything I want of you. You will do it because I will give you what you have always secretly wanted. I know because Dr. Dunlop did the same thing to me."
"I won't!" Claire whined.
"Time to go on stage." Miss Prymm told her.
"Don't make me." Claire pleaded.
Miss Prymm laughed. "I hear the old Claire speaking. That Claire is disappearing."
"No!" Claire begged. "Please." Indeed Claire as she was slipping away before the new her that was emerging, sweeping her former consciousness away into irrelevance.
"In her place." Miss Prymm continued. "Will be Morgana, stripper queen!"
"Morgana!" Claire said, savoring the new name for herself. She tried to resist, shaking her head as if she could just wake up and everything that was happening to her would disappear in the mists of a dream. But the woman she had seen in the mirror, that body, embraced the name and was ready to shrug off Claire and her suburban prudeness in a heartbeat.
While Claire was struggled desperately to maintain her finger hold on some small bit self-control, she hardly realized that Miss Prymm was moving her to the dressing room exit and directing her toward the stage. O nly when the D.J announced her arrival did she really realize what was happening.
"Now, Miss Prymm's newest acquisition, Mooooooorgana!" The D.J. Shouted to the audience that cheered with anticipation.
As Nine Inch Nail's "Closer" began to shout from the speakers, Claire found the eyes of the entire club upon her, pulling her out onto the stage as if she were on a leash. At first her steps were hesitant as she tried desperately to assert the will to restrain herself but she felt herself being drawn on to the stage as if she were being pulled by invisible strings. The music beat was crushing her resistance and she found herself doing a vamp strut onto the stage. She didn't know what to do but she could feel what the crowd wanted, she could see it in their eyes, their desire was a palpable presence and it took control of her and manipulated her body like a marionette. Her shoulders started to roll, her hips began to sway seductively, as her hands ran up and down her body boobs, her waist, her thighs, her tight ass .
"I can't believe this is happening to me." She whispered desperately to herself as she found herself on display. "I can't stop it...I can't stop it. I have to dance!"
Making eye contact with a man below the stage, she strode up to him, thrust her breasts forward, her butt out and gyrated her way into a crouch, swinging her skirt as to give him brief glimpses of that hotness between her legs. She was as surprised by her own actions as the recipient of her attention was to obtain them. For a moment, Claire had a sudden realization about the wellspring of her moves. Back when she had thought about being stripper, she had fantasized about what it would be like, what she would do and how the audience would respond. It was a dream she had masturbated to often back then and then locked away after marriage. Now it was as if the music reached into her and pulled out that long forgotten repressed memory and stoked it into an overwhelming compulsion. She was making it come true! She tried to restrain herself but she could not restrict the impulse to dance--to dance and drive the crowd wild
