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Kasper the orphan.

Missy was still there. Beth picked herself up to her hands and knees and crawled over to the other girl, dragging her into a huddling embrace and kissing her so hard it nearly bruised her lips.

They held the embrace for a long time, just savoring the warmth, the realness of each other's bodies. Then food and water slid through the slot in the door, and the need to replenish their strength after a session in the chair forced them to separate.

"So how did you do?" Missy asked, picking up her bottle of water and taking a long, grateful gulp from it. Damage assessment was always the first priority.

"Not bad, I think. I can't remember how I met Caroline anymore, though. I know it was in college, but..." She could see the look on Missy's face, and knew that Missy must know, but she didn't ask. They'd agreed on that, after the second day. Hearing their own missing lives recounted back to them as stories hurt worse than the empty space where the memories had been. She wouldn't ask, Missy wouldn't tell her. Her first night with Caroline was gone and it was never coming back. "You?"

"Didn't lose much. But I love begging for sex now." Notch up another piece of conditioning in Missy's brain. Beth worried about that a lot, now. Missy had always been the bottom in their relationship, one with a submissive streak a mile wide. She'd been able to fight off the memory loss almost as well as Beth had, but the implantation, the insidious web of brainwashing that seeped into their minds like poison...Missy had a hard time telling the difference between the voice of the chair and her own desires. They'd use that weakness against her. One of these days, they'd tell her to stop fighting and she would. And just like that, the woman Beth loved would be gone.

Beth leaned over and kissed Missy again, on the neck this time. They'd both be gone someday. They couldn't hold out forever, and the first day's sessions had implanted instructions not to try to escape before they really realized how to fight the chair's control.

The idea of rescue had occurred to Beth, but she didn't hold out much hope. She'd counted eleven other cells on her trips up and down the hallway, knew that some of them were occupied. She'd been into five of the eight doors off of the big room where they took the prisoners when it was time for sessions, and they'd all contained chairs. She'd noticed at least twenty distinct brainwashed women guarding the prisoners. If they'd been kidnapping girls this long, then it didn't seem likely that they'd made a mistake now. That might be the pessimist in her talking--it also followed that the more girls they kidnapped, the more likely they were to do something that would lead people back to them--but the odds seemed slim of rescue arriving during the narrow window of their resistance.

But that just made every day more precious. Every day she came back into this room, still Beth instead of a blank-eyed slavegirl, and saw Missy still sitting there, recognition and love still lighting up her eyes...Beth kissed a trail down her collarbone, making her way down to Missy's breasts. She'd fight for this forever if she had to.

She heard Missy whimper, heard her voice taut with arousal and need as she said, "Oh, oh please, please lick my titties, please take them and suck my nipples, I'm so fucking hot for you now, I need your tongue on my horny slutty body, please oh please oh please..."

It turned into babble after that, Missy's arousal making it difficult to remember what words were, let alone how to string them together into a coherent sentence.

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