extreme dark fantasy – Remote Control Love Slave

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WARNING: This is a story of Dark fantasy, depicting extreme violence and perverse acts in graphic detail.  Although it is pure fiction and does not contain any true events, many readers will find this story offensive or disturbing.  If you are not looking for extreme dark fantasy with elements of violence and perversion, this story is not for you.

Story Codes: M/f F/f exhib incest mod teen BDSM slavery high school real reluctant humiliation serious

Synopsis: A well to do man sends his step daughter off to a clinic for some extreme modifications, turning her into a remote control sex slave. Her mother is led to believe she was sent to a girls school to learn manners and discipline

 Part 1:  The Clinic

 

Jack checked the address on the wall one more time, and compared it against the sheet of paper he had been given.  The bare metal door at the bottom of the stairwell did not look inviting, and certainly was not what he’d expected from the description he’d been given of the clinic.  Mentally shrugging, he walked down the steps and knocked one time, as instructed.  A brief moment passed before the door was opened by a large, casually dressed man, obviously a bouncer.

 

“Invitation?” he said.

 

Jack handed over the plain, blank white business card he’d been given.  Taking the card, the bouncer inserted it in a small box inside the door and examined it closely through the glass top.  Jack could not see what was revealed under the reader, but it must have passed muster.

 

“Please step this way sir,” the man said, inviting him in.  With a thud the door was latched firmly behind him, and the bouncer led the way down a long empty hall.  At the end there was a single elevator, door standing open.  The bouncer swiped a card over the black reader and the elevator dinged once.

 

“Step inside sir, Dr. Iverson will meet you in the lobby.”

 

Nervously, Jack stepped in to the elevator, and the door immediately closed.  Reaching for the button, he was startled to note that there weren’t any.  Momentary panic was eased as the elevator began to descend, rapidly, by the feel.  Several whole minutes passed, and Jack began to wonder what he was getting himself into.  Finally, after what must have been thousands of feet of decent, the elevator stopped, and the door opened.

 

Jack stepped out into a large, brightly lit lobby, with comfortable couches and chairs placed strategically around coffee tables and cheerful plant arrangements.  Artful pieces decorated the walls, giving a warm, inviting feel to the room.  Straight across from the elevator, thirty feet or so away, was a closed, heavy oak double door.  Off to the right of it was a small receptionist desk, complete with a small, female receptionist.

 

Striding across the room, Jack approached the girl, who looked up and said, “Please have a seat, sir, the Dr. will be with you in a moment.”

 

Choosing to stand instead, Jack admired the artwork on the walls for about five minutes while he waited.  The large doors opened, smooth and surprisingly quiet and a tall man in a white doctor’s overcoat stepped out.

 

“I do apologize for being late Mr. Stevens.  I’m Dr. Iverson.  Please, step inside and let’s go to my office, and see how we might best assist you.”  Walking down the hall, it was some small distance through a maze of hospital like corridors to the office.

 

Finally, seated at his desk, Dr. Iverson asked, “So, what can we do for you, Mr. Stevens?”

 

Taking a seat in a plush lounge chair in front of the desk, Jack sat back and addressed the doctor.  “I’ve been given a brief description of what you do here, of course.  And it goes without saying that price is no object, or I daresay I’d not have made it past your front door.”  Smiling, he chuckled.  Jack was a genius at stock picking, and had amassed quite a respectable pile of cash over the last 15 years.

 

“However, I’m a little vague on the particulars, as it were.  I wonder if you might give me the nickel tour, show off your, um, capabilities, and demonstrate any, er, limitations?  I’d like to get a feel for the, er, full range of potentials, before I place my order.”

 

“Hmmm,” he replied.  “Yes. A lot of our higher end clients tend to feel that way.  We’ve set up a kind of show room in the new wing.  Would you like to take a look?”

 

“Yes please,” Jack replied, “that would be excellent.”

 

Grabbing a key card out of his desk, the doctor led the way to another elevator.  Waving the card at the reader, the doors popped open.  This time the ride was brief, descending only a few floors.  Entering a new hallway, they walked a few yards and entered a door to the left.  This room looked like a small night club, bar in one corner, rich looking tables with leather chairs were spaced around the room.  Two chairs faced the bar, where several young women sat on the tall chairs, quietly chatting.  On the chair arms rested four large remote controls.  Picking up one at random, Dr Iverson said, “Watch this.”

 

Jack watched with interest as he pressed a button labeled “Come Here.”

 

One of the women in the middle flinched, then bolted upright and ran over to stand at attention in front of the Dr., eyes focused down on her toes.  “Here, you try it,” he said, handing over the remote.

 

Studying the controls for a moment, Jack pressed “Strip”, and she began tossing clothes to the floor.  Next he tried “Dance,” which brought up a menu on the display, listing possibilities.  Jack scrolled down and selected “Pole Dance.”  She immediately stepped up onto the runway and began a rather nice routine.

 

“Very nice,” Jack said.  “So how does it work?”

 

“Well, our process involves implanting controls into the woman that can give stimulus indicating the desired action.  In basic term, small electrodes are surgically installed at key, highly sensitive nerve locations, including clitoris, nipples, anus, tongue, etc.  The number and capability of these is adjustable with the sales package, of course.  These are connected to a computerized controller, the central brain if you will, installed internally, that is programmed to send spikes of electricity to the probes, in various patterns and intensity based on which button you press on the remote.  Then it’s just a matter of conditioning, teaching a subject that a hard, strong jolt on her clitoris means ‘Come Here!’ and several short stabs at clit and nipples mean ‘Strip’ and so on.  There’s no real limit to the command set, but each girl has to be trained extensively until she learns what each pattern means.  Part of any purchase package includes a thorough training period, to condition her to the basic command set.”

 

“Impressive,” Jack responded.  “I was told you’ve been experimenting with some more advanced models?”

 

“Yes, those are across the hall.  We’ve added some sensors to the controller to give us some feedback.  The electronics can sense position, motion, direction, even external conditions like temperature, etc.  We’ve developed a wide array of internal sensors to determine if commands are being obeyed.  For instance, we have a pussy caliber that measures penetration depth and width.  Also worth noting is our remote access and monitoring package, which includes a cellular modem, and audio and video sensors.  You can see and hear what she does, and control her from anywhere you’ve got cell phone coverage!  One of the best features of our new ZR1000 controller is automation, and intelligent monitoring.  Programs can be written to automatically monitor activity, or record detailed instructions to be performed on a schedule. Punishment can be given automatically for any deviation from her allowed list of actions.”

 

“Wow!  I’d love to see that in action!”  Jack’s palms actually began to sweat, thinking of all the delicious possibilities!

 

“Well then, let’s step across the hall.  But first…”  Reaching for the remote he pressed “Release.”  Up on the dance stage, the woman stopped gyrating, and then sat on the floor.  Sweat covered her body, as she had been really going at that pole.

 

“One of the biggest problems with these simple units,” the doctor explained.  “People are always forgetting to turn them off.  Either the subject continues until damaged, or she gives up and ignores the last command that was given.  Then we have to either forgive her, or punish her unfairly for disobedience.  Bad for discipline, that.  The new controllers have built in watchdogs for forgotten remotes.  The can automatically send release commands, or even complex orders to return to a specific condition, say, dressed and back in her cage with the door locked.”

 

Leading the way across the hall, the entered a large room laid out like a go kart track.  Six young women stood in what seemed to be the pit area, completely naked.  Each had a think layer of electrical tape wrapped around her head, covering eyes and ears thoroughly, and arms bound behind her back.  Large, two digit numbers were painted across each woman’s back, and someone had even slapped a few bumper stickers and logos across their asses.

 

Near the door was a raised platform overlooking the track, with six arcade-like stations, containing a steering wheel, gear shift, and foot peddles.

 

“Our engineers really went all out on this one.  We wanted a demo of our new, total control unit, with optional safety features.  Let me show you.”

 

Stepping up to a controller, he stepped lightly on the gas and one of the girls began walking forward.

 

“Pressing on the gas pedal sends a jolt into her clitoris.  Sensors monitor her speed and adjust the intensity based on how fast she moves.  A comparison is made between her speed, what gear I’ve selected, and how much I press the pedal.  A big difference gives her a big jolt that scales down to zero as she reaches the correct speed.  A similar jolt to her ass indicates she should slow down, and jolts to each tit tell her to turn left or right.  Watch this!”

 

Turning the wheel, he steered her around the others women in the pit and out onto the track.  Stomping on the gas made her grunt, and then begin running flat out.  He steered her around the track a few laps, then deliberately drove her at a wall.  Expecting the blind girl to pile into the wall she could not see, Jack was surprised when she braked to a stop about a foot in front of it.

 

“Took some painful system calibration to get that to work right, let me tell you!  Anyway, that was a demonstration of the smart controller system.  Position tracking monitors her every step, and automatically sends the commands to stop before she hit the wall.  This is highly programmable, and even optional.”  Flipping a switch market SAFTEY to the off position, and shifting to reverse, he backed the girl up, then shifted through forward gears again to send her racing around the track once more.  “Certain commands are just more fun than others,” he commented.  Pressing down on a button labeled “Nitrous,” the girl began screaming, and then seemed to be pushing for all the extra speed her legs would give.

 

“This button sends a maximum intensity clitoral shock, giving her some serious incentive to run faster!”

 

Ignoring the turn at the end of the track, he led her straight at the wall.  This time she plowed in, running flat out, and bounced backward head over heals, then lay still.  Pushing a button on the wall intercom, he said, “Medic to Demo 2.”  The Dr. turned back to Jack as a medical team raced in to cart the limp body down to the hospital wing.

 

“Of course, entertaining as this demonstration is, it’s not really what most of our clientele is looking for.  The basic hardware install is the same, however, and we have a number of, shall we say, more practical, training environments.  Have you chosen a particular training plan yet?”

 

“I’m still trying to make up my mind between a few variations.  I was wondering, could you tell me what the differences were between Slave: Traditional, Slave: Bondage, and Slave: Torture are.” replied Jack.

 

“Hmmm, let’s see.  Traditional means simple obedience, like a pet, do the dished, suck my cock, that kind of thing.  Bondage slaves are expected to receive a certain amount of pain and bondage, and get extra obedience training to harden them.  Torture is like Bondage, but at a whole extra level, and requires extensive obedience training.  We warrantee that nothing you do to one of our Torture slaves can break her training, or the next one’s free.  Cost and training time can be extreme for this model, however.”

 

“I see.  I understand that I can arrange for pickup and delivery when I schedule a procedure?”

 

“Yes, talk with our receptionist on the way out and she can make the appointment.”

 

On the way back to the doctors’ office, Jack found that he was very impressed by the clinic.  Contemplating his schedule and trying to imagine the possibilities, he made up his mind.  For what he intended, Slave: Torture, was probably the best bet.

 

Taking a seat in the easy chair in front of the receptionist’s desk, he said “I’d like to place and order for pickup and return delivery.”

 

“Excellent sir,” replied the woman.  “Please fill out this order form, and specify all the features you’d like installed.  If there is anything you’d like that is not listed on the form, please give a detailed description on the back of the form, and we shall do our best.”

 

Sitting back, Jack began filling out the form, checking off features and desired training packages.  Grinning like a kid in a candy store, he couldn’t help a brutal erection from the anticipation.  Finished at last, he handed the form back to the woman behind the desk.

 

Looking over the form, she said, “Excellent choice sir.  When would you like us to pick up the subject?”

 

“Next Friday, at 9:00am would be perfect.  She thinks she’s going to summer camp,” he chuckled.  “How long do you expect it will be until I get her back?”

 

“Let me check on that sir,” she replied.  Taking the form, she ducked through the doors and returned with Dr. Iverson a few minutes later.

 

Perusing the form in detail, he was muttering to himself, then looked up and said, “Hmmm, let’s see…  This one could take some time. 10 days for the hardware install.  The new oversize fuel cell membranes we use to power the computer are a bitch to install, at least to do it without leaving any scarring.    Really amazing stuff, actually, pulls sugar from the blood stream and makes electricity to operate our little toys.  Don’t worry about scarring, by the way.  Our surgeons are really top notch, and we do everything through existing openings, like the belly button, or vagina.  Anyway, better figure at least 45 days for training.  Can you spare her for two months?”

 

“I’ll manage.  Summer camp should make a good cover for the neighbors.  Her mother thinks she’s going away to a finishing school, to learn some manners.”

 

“Yes, I see you’ve selected some discipline and cultural training in her package.  May I ask the subjects’ age?”

 

“Let’s see, she’ll be 14 by the time I get her back.  It’s my step daughter.  Hot little number, but she has a mouth like a truck driver, and attitude up to HERE!” Jack said.  “We told the girl its summer camp, and she’s expecting a few weeks of fun and frolic out from under her mother’s thumb.”  Jack said, with an evil chuckle.

 

Amused, the doctor smiled, “She’ll have a bit of a rude surprise then.”  Handing over a piece of paper, he continued.  “Please wire this amount to that bank account, and we’ll see you on Friday to take delivery of your step daughter Mr. Stevens.”

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