Chapter 1 of Override (1295 words)
Tags: Female domme Female sub Gender change Consensual Mind control Oral
Sitting down on the bench, Mark looked down from the crowded city square to his phone. The main screen of Override was simple. The avatar his mistress always used was displayed at the top in a big circle, with time controls underneath. There were more settings hidden behind a little cog icon, but they weren't available on his subscription.
As he dialled the timer up toward thirty minutes, a readout of the session price climbed on screen. His thumb hovered over the big red button at the bottom of the screen as he glanced back up at the hundreds of people milling past him, most not giving him even a first glance. As his thumb tapped the glass, a warning appeared:
Override in ten seconds: one second of implant downtime will occur during backup phase. Please ensure you are seated.
Mark's heart raced as he waited out the time. He'd experienced the odd bit of downtime before: everyone had, during implant maintenance or updates. This time was different, though: the app would be safely backing up his current state so that it could be restored at the end of the half hour, altered only by the addition of memories of what happened to him during the session. Some people asked for this last step to be skipped, getting off on the rush of having no recollection of what the mistress made them do. That was a premium feature though, and he wasn't even sure he liked the idea.
Two seconds left, then one. Mark's head slumped, as if he'd suddenly fallen asleep. His body began to slip to one side, but before it gathered any momentum his faculties kicked back in and he steadied himself with a hand.
The world was softer now. As Mark looked up at the crowds, a rosy pink glow seemed to blur the view. Were those flower petals floating by in the breeze? They were beautiful. There were people here, he noticed, but they were inconsequential. He had trouble even focussing in on any one of them and quickly decided they weren't worth bothering with. He caught a stunning scent in the air, too: deep, heady and floral.
The voice had come from the person sitting on the bench next to him. He didn't jump. The world was too beautiful, he was too relaxed for anything like that. Happily, he turned his head to meet the eyes of his mistress. Or, the avatar she'd chosen to have him think he was seeing. She was a vision: a messy bob of deep pink hair framed a sweet, smiling face.
"Ready, Maya?" she took his hand and he squeezed it. Of course he was ready. He? She. Maya looked down and reminded herself of her body. Her thighs, her breasts, her pale skin all wrapped in a colourful sundress. The weather was warm so her legs were bare, her feet in a pair of ankle boots.
"I'm ready, mistress," she smiled, her silky voice mixing with the quiet sounds of laughter coming from the square. She was led from the bench and away from the square toward a side street that had all the feel of some old Italian town: high walls broken by beautiful doorways wrapped in flowers. As she was taken further into a warren of lanes, Maya noticed that she was alone with her mistress. A door opened, and she was urged inside.
The room they entered dripped with an airy kind of luxury. It was perfumed just like outside, and lit as if by a bright sunny window that didn't seem to exist. It didn't matter. A bed waited in the middle of the floor, linen sheets crisp and warm. Maya blinked and her mistress was on the bed. She was unclasping her bra, the last of her clothing, and then throwing it to the ground. She rested back on her hands, spread her legs and looked at Maya expectantly.
"Up here, Maya, and make me cum. Now. Do well and you might even get a treat."
Maya wasted no time. She kicked off her boots and pulled her dress over her head, exposing her naked body's soft curves. As she crawled up onto the bottom of the bed and approached her mistress, her body became warm and her cheeks flushed. She never wanted to be anywhere else, she wanted nothing ever again but to sink her face between this beautiful woman's legs and drink her in.
Of course she smelled like roses. Maya began to run her wet tongue over her mistress's beautiful pussy, parting her lips and tasting her as she moved up and over her clit. This close, the aura that seemed to surround the woman could practically be felt in the air. Maya's body was resonating with it now. Her breathing was laboured, her mouth ran with drool and everything burned hot. She needed hands all over her, needed some release. As she licked and sucked hungrily, her mistress ran a hand up her back and the touch was pure burning pleasure.
A beautiful siren's moan pre-empted her mistress bringing Maya's head in tight with her hands as she shuddered to an orgasm. She laughed with the purest joy and as she did so, she clicked her fingers. Maya's world exploded, every sense hit with an overwhelming rush of pleasure. She screamed out, her mouth still gaping over her mistress's pussy, as she was rocked by her own orgasm pushing itself through her body.
After what felt like an age, Maya was gently guided up her mistress's body to lay her head sleepily on her stomach. They stayed like that for some time without saying anything.
"You did well."
"Thank you, mistress," Maya murmured.
"How do you like the changes I made to your body? I think they're what you asked for last time." She was playing with Maya's cheek and ear. Tracing the intricate tattoo that ran over her neck and shoulders, a large powder pink rose. "I couldn't help adding some designs of my own too. I hope you don't mind."
Maya remembered discussing the changes. She remembered that this hadn't always been her body, though in the moment that thought didn't bother her.
"I love it, mistress, thank you. I feel beautiful."
"Perfect. Now, get some sleep, okay?"
"Yes, mistress," Maya obediently allowed her eyes to fall shut.
The feeling of implant downtime was quite disorienting. Mark's eyes finally snapped open after the stomach-lurching second. He blinked away a momentary brain fog as he adjusted to his surroundings: a small backstreet, the sounds of a busy city moving all around. He was sat with his back leant against a brick wall.
He never was too concerned with what had happened to his body during a session. What he'd seen and felt was the only reality he cared to remember. Pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking it, he found Override again. A post-payment screen thanking him for the session filled the view, along with a button encouraging him to book his next appointment.
He tapped the button.