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Description
The sounds: A pumping bass audible even from outside the house. The loud but incomprehensible murmur of hundreds of conversations, all at elevated, drunken volume. Splashes and shrieks from women in the pool, and whoops of the men who watch them.

The scents: The sweet but confusing cocktail of colognes and perfumes. The underlying bitter alcohol of all the actual cocktails sitting on chair arms and tiny tables. The unmistakable smell of weed. The distinct but less familiar scent of cocaine.

The sights: Many people, smart-casual dress. Some in groups that stand close together and smile with familiarity. Others more guarded, talking to strangers. Silhouettes inside dancing gracelessly but enthusiastically. Everyone made-up, well-groomed, attractive.

The sensation: Overwhelming, pure hedonism.

Were it anyone else, they would have been rendered basically senseless. With so much stimulation, it would be impossible to actually take anything in. But Amelia Oliver was the top reporter at the Prying Eye. She saw only sources, she heard only leads, she smelled only...

Okay, the smell of perfume and musk from basically everyone was a bit overpowering.

But that was a minor thing. In truth, Amelia was intimidated by the opulent decadence all around her, but more importantly she was incredibly excited. Because this was the closest she had ever managed to get to Isaac Waters, the reclusive billionaire who was clearly by any standard short of a court of law the centre of an international enterprise of money laundering, trafficking (definitely drugs, possibly humans), and all the other stuff which makes a spicy exposé.

Not everyone here was an associate. Most of the revellers were certainly just invited on the basis of their own money, fame or connections. But when it was a party at Waters' own summer house, there were certainly going to be some real marks. Actual friends of the oligarch, and probably absolutely off their faces on drugs at that.

Her search had not started well. Multiple men had simply used the opportunity to describe how big their dick was in comparison to Waters' (one particularly drugged-up man who professed to be a top executive wasn't even doing it metaphorically). Those women who weren't drunk out of their mind just apologised - they didn't know the host.

Or, at least, they weren't going to tell a suspicious-looking stranger.

"Hey, lady! You're overdressed. Enjoy the party!!!" The shout came from a man in the pool, and was joined by whoops from the three women draped over him in bikinis.

Amelia looked down at her own body. She was wearing a fairly normal black pencil dress, but she did have to admit her white cardigan looked a bit frumpy. She needed to get into character more, maybe not going full bikini-mode, but everyone else was dressing a little... looser.

So she had to loosen up as well.

Her cardigan fell on top of the discarded pile of clothes near the swimming pool. She gave a smile and wave to decline the invitation to join the girls, though. She was loosening up, not giving up on the mission entirely.

She needed to head into the house, that would be where the inner circle was.

"Finally decided to have a good time, sweetie?"

Amelia turned to the voice. The path up to the house went through a garden of tropical trees, and the voice had come from inside the shadows, but now its owner stepped forward. She was somehow familiar, at least in her silhouette. Amelia must have noticed her subconsciously doing the rounds.

But security guards didn't usually wear bikini tops and harem pants. Amelia judged it was probably a reveller who was doing something in the trees. No-one to worry about.

"Yeah, I just thought the real party would be inside." She turned to leave.

She was stopped by a gentle (and viscerally warm) hand on her arm. "No, no, no. You're not meant to think about where the party is, honey. You have to feel it."

"I get you, but I'm more of a... thoughtful partier." Amelia shrugged and tried to leave. This one was definitely a druggie, and definitely not worth her time.

"That's not how it works. You're just networking. Like... like a briefcase wanker."

"W-what?" Her face flushed. It shouldn't have annoyed her. It was a ridiculous, childish charge. But it was kind of correct. She was here to, in a sense, network. Not to enjoy herself.

"We're here to let loose, girlie. You can't be so uptight." The woman's voice had a stern will behind it, even as her tone was still high-pitched and playful.

Amelia stared for a moment. For some reason, she started to smile. The woman had a presence to her, an infectiousness to her attitude. The way her eyes shone with excitement...

"Come on, it's healthy to live a little."

The woman was healthy. Her skin was almost flawless. Her body didn't have any visible excess fat. Amelia felt bad, feeling her own love handles slightly protruding under her top. She felt bad knowing she was going to turn this woman's offer down.

It was ridiculous, this was just a random druggie. Amelia supposed that was why she was blushing.

"Sorry, but I just have people I want to meet." She tried to give a knowing wink. Surely this beautiful lady would understand a girl wanting to meet a guy?

The half-dressed woman just leaned closer. Her eyes were so wide, so honestly curious, and so, so beautiful. "Ooooh, who do you want to meet?"

"I was hoping to talk to Mr. Waters..." Amelia stammered it out, her face hot. She didn't think it mattered. Her guard was down. This woman was high as a kite, it didn't matter if she knew the plan.

But the woman was instantly affected. Her beautiful eyes narrowed. Her lips curled downwards. "Oh... I don't think you're allowed to do that."

"I know, but I could talk to one of his friends, right?" She tried her most professional smile as she twisted out of the woman's grasp. But then she was being grabbed with two arms.

"No, people like you aren't allowed to know about him. Only sl... Only staff can." The woman had her friendly smile back on, but her eyes were piercing. It was like Amelia was being stabbed by brown arrows.

She looked away. "I-I don't want any trouble."

The woman reached into her pocket.

Amelia twisted out of her other hand. She turned to run. She tripped in her heels.

She grabbed out for something to pull her up.

She found a hand.

She looked up to a beautiful, brown-eyed smile. To a hand holding a small bottle.

She heard a little puff.

She smelled pure beauty.

Everything went black.

The sounds: Bass still pumping, people still shouting and partying. But even more muted. And, notably, from below.

The sights: A nearly featureless but huge bedroom. A king-size monstrosity. Her own legs, splayed out on the white duvet.

The scents: Only the intoxicating perfume, which refused to let go of her attention.

The sensation: Confusion. Frustration. An inability to put her thoughts in order.

Amelia had no idea what was going on.

"Do you like them?"

"Them what?" Amelia didn't really think about answering, she was just acting on instinct.

"The pheromones, silly." The voice was the same woman. She was still dressed in her bikini and harem pants. And in this room, she had the air of someone fully at home. "The pheromones to help you loosen up."

Loosen up. That's what everyone had wanted her to do. It was easier now that she couldn't think about her big, stupid plan.

But she could remember now. Loosening up. They'd talked about it. Outside, on the path. Before...

"Y-you assaulted me..." It was hard enough to bring up the memory, so Amelia couldn't really be angry about it. She could only wistfully state the fact.

The woman looked offended. "No! I held you. So you could loosen up."

It might have been because she kept thinking about how nice the sweet aroma in her nostrils was, but Amelia couldn't make sense of that. "Holding me... doesn't loosen me up. Not a good time."

"You need a solid foundation to really get loose, sweetie." There was no condescension in her voice, but she was saying it as though it made perfect sense.

It threw Amelia off. And she couldn't scramble to regain her thoughts when every other thought was eeee nice smell!. "What?"

"It's nice to be completely free, right? To just have a good time, without a worry in the world." The woman waited for an idle nod before she continued. "But you can't just be like that forever. You need something to ground you, something to come back to after you've had a good time."

Amelia kept nodding. She knew she had something she was meant to be doing. Something serious, something super important. So it must have been something to go back to, after she'd had a good time here absorbing the atmosphere... and the scents especially.

"Now, for a lot of people that's a job. But for the sl... The staff here, we have something even better. We have an anchor so powerful and heavy we can have a good time all the time. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Yeah. Yeah it does." Amelia took her friend by the offered hands. Her touch was warm, enticing, and exciting. She couldn't remember what they had been talking about. Only that it felt good.

"Take deeeep breaths, sweetie." The woman kneeled down, so she was eye-to-eye with Amelia.

Amelia breathed in. She could only smell the pheromones stuck into her nose. She really didn't mind.

"Stare. Relax."

She could see two brown pools. She could hear only a voice - coming from a relaxed, content person but purely exciting to her.

"Let go. Let your thoughts go away."

She was loosening up. She was truly free. Only experiencing. Only pretty, swirly eyes. Only beautiful voice. Only arousing aroma.

"You're free. You're happy. You're so, so happy."

Amelia nodded feverishly. Her body burned with joy.

"You want to keep being happy. You need to keep being free."

She could see what was coming next in the woman's eyes. The stern shadow behind her soft brown gaze had returned. Amelia thought the next words just before they came through her ears.

"You need to submit. Submission is freedom."

Part of her protested, but it was even more muffled than the party below. That party was calling to her. Her body needed more of what it had tasted. She understood what the appeal of drugs was, now.

She realised she had been kind of right about the woman. She had been drugged up. But her only drug was this freedom and pleasure.

Like all drugs, Amelia knew it was unsafe to give in to this hedonism. But the woman had shown her a way to make it safe. And when their eyes met, Amelia knew that way was true. That it would work.

She knew she could be free, if she submitted.

"I submit." She mouthed. The woman understood. They kissed for more than a few moments. It wasn't needed, but they both needed some outlet for their pleasure.

And then they talked for a few minutes. Amelia absorbed the information more than she heard it. She was too busy focusing on the fingers between her legs to really pay attention, and she knew her subconscious would understand, anyway.

The anchor had formed in her mind. She was obedient to Mr. Waters. It didn't matter even if she would never see him. Seeing him wasn't important. Just knowing that he was there was enough to ground her.

And that meant she could have fun. She was free to do whatever she wanted.

Arm in arm with her new friend, she walked down to the party.

Number Eight woke up in the pool, in a borrowed swimsuit . She had lost Number Three early into the night. It didn't matter, she didn't need a guide. She had moved by instinct. She had enjoyed herself.

And now she was awake again, and free to have another good time. The party would last well into the afternoon, and she was free to make the most of it. As long as she remained on the mansion's grounds, she could do whatever she wanted.

Her skin tingled at the thought. That was why it was so great to be property. She was so completely free. It was liberating to be enslaved.

She didn't wonder what to do, she simply looked around and let her feelings decide.

By the pool, a man was stirring from sleep. He was an honoured guest of the Master.

She knew the best way to bring herself pleasure.

She climbed out of the pool, ready to show the guy a good time.

---

You guys have no idea how long this one has sat around in my WIP folder, waiting for inspiration to strike so I did not undersell the 'Victoria Justice in a bikini top and harem pants' image. I finally got somewhere when I combined the 'anchor' concept with an overwhelming-pleasure induction idea I was also having.

And then tied it all together with undercover-agent-getting-brainwashed because you all know by now I love that. Journalists are an especially fun lower-stakes version of that which require less exposition to appreciate (in my opinion, at least). Points go to whoever identifies in the comments the previous story the PoV character here appeared in!

Proofreading credit as always to my... copy editor, I suppose, journalism puns make it too on the nose: Dormiria

Description
The sounds: A pumping bass audible even from outside the house. The loud but incomprehensible murmur of hundreds of conversations, all at elevated, drunken volume. Splashes and shrieks from women in the pool, and whoops of the men who watch them.

The scents: The sweet but confusing cocktail of colognes and perfumes. The underlying bitter alcohol of all the actual cocktails sitting on chair arms and tiny tables. The unmistakable smell of weed. The distinct but less familiar scent of cocaine.

The sights: Many people, smart-casual dress. Some in groups that stand close together and smile with familiarity. Others more guarded, talking to strangers. Silhouettes inside dancing gracelessly but enthusiastically. Everyone made-up, well-groomed, attractive.

The sensation: Overwhelming, pure hedonism.

Were it anyone else, they would have been rendered basically senseless. With so much stimulation, it would be impossible to actually take anything in. But Amelia Oliver was the top reporter at the Prying Eye. She saw only sources, she heard only leads, she smelled only...

Okay, the smell of perfume and musk from basically everyone was a bit overpowering.

But that was a minor thing. In truth, Amelia was intimidated by the opulent decadence all around her, but more importantly she was incredibly excited. Because this was the closest she had ever managed to get to Isaac Waters, the reclusive billionaire who was clearly by any standard short of a court of law the centre of an international enterprise of money laundering, trafficking (definitely drugs, possibly humans), and all the other stuff which makes a spicy exposé.

Not everyone here was an associate. Most of the revellers were certainly just invited on the basis of their own money, fame or connections. But when it was a party at Waters' own summer house, there were certainly going to be some real marks. Actual friends of the oligarch, and probably absolutely off their faces on drugs at that.

Her search had not started well. Multiple men had simply used the opportunity to describe how big their dick was in comparison to Waters' (one particularly drugged-up man who professed to be a top executive wasn't even doing it metaphorically). Those women who weren't drunk out of their mind just apologised - they didn't know the host.

Or, at least, they weren't going to tell a suspicious-looking stranger.

"Hey, lady! You're overdressed. Enjoy the party!!!" The shout came from a man in the pool, and was joined by whoops from the three women draped over him in bikinis.

Amelia looked down at her own body. She was wearing a fairly normal black pencil dress, but she did have to admit her white cardigan looked a bit frumpy. She needed to get into character more, maybe not going full bikini-mode, but everyone else was dressing a little... looser.

So she had to loosen up as well.

Her cardigan fell on top of the discarded pile of clothes near the swimming pool. She gave a smile and wave to decline the invitation to join the girls, though. She was loosening up, not giving up on the mission entirely.

She needed to head into the house, that would be where the inner circle was.

"Finally decided to have a good time, sweetie?"

Amelia turned to the voice. The path up to the house went through a garden of tropical trees, and the voice had come from inside the shadows, but now its owner stepped forward. She was somehow familiar, at least in her silhouette. Amelia must have noticed her subconsciously doing the rounds.

But security guards didn't usually wear bikini tops and harem pants. Amelia judged it was probably a reveller who was doing something in the trees. No-one to worry about.

"Yeah, I just thought the real party would be inside." She turned to leave.

She was stopped by a gentle (and viscerally warm) hand on her arm. "No, no, no. You're not meant to think about where the party is, honey. You have to feel it."

"I get you, but I'm more of a... thoughtful partier." Amelia shrugged and tried to leave. This one was definitely a druggie, and definitely not worth her time.

"That's not how it works. You're just networking. Like... like a briefcase wanker."

"W-what?" Her face flushed. It shouldn't have annoyed her. It was a ridiculous, childish charge. But it was kind of correct. She was here to, in a sense, network. Not to enjoy herself.

"We're here to let loose, girlie. You can't be so uptight." The woman's voice had a stern will behind it, even as her tone was still high-pitched and playful.

Amelia stared for a moment. For some reason, she started to smile. The woman had a presence to her, an infectiousness to her attitude. The way her eyes shone with excitement...

"Come on, it's healthy to live a little."

The woman was healthy. Her skin was almost flawless. Her body didn't have any visible excess fat. Amelia felt bad, feeling her own love handles slightly protruding under her top. She felt bad knowing she was going to turn this woman's offer down.

It was ridiculous, this was just a random druggie. Amelia supposed that was why she was blushing.

"Sorry, but I just have people I want to meet." She tried to give a knowing wink. Surely this beautiful lady would understand a girl wanting to meet a guy?

The half-dressed woman just leaned closer. Her eyes were so wide, so honestly curious, and so, so beautiful. "Ooooh, who do you want to meet?"

"I was hoping to talk to Mr. Waters..." Amelia stammered it out, her face hot. She didn't think it mattered. Her guard was down. This woman was high as a kite, it didn't matter if she knew the plan.

But the woman was instantly affected. Her beautiful eyes narrowed. Her lips curled downwards. "Oh... I don't think you're allowed to do that."

"I know, but I could talk to one of his friends, right?" She tried her most professional smile as she twisted out of the woman's grasp. But then she was being grabbed with two arms.

"No, people like you aren't allowed to know about him. Only sl... Only staff can." The woman had her friendly smile back on, but her eyes were piercing. It was like Amelia was being stabbed by brown arrows.

She looked away. "I-I don't want any trouble."

The woman reached into her pocket.

Amelia twisted out of her other hand. She turned to run. She tripped in her heels.

She grabbed out for something to pull her up.

She found a hand.

She looked up to a beautiful, brown-eyed smile. To a hand holding a small bottle.

She heard a little puff.

She smelled pure beauty.

Everything went black.

The sounds: Bass still pumping, people still shouting and partying. But even more muted. And, notably, from below.

The sights: A nearly featureless but huge bedroom. A king-size monstrosity. Her own legs, splayed out on the white duvet.

The scents: Only the intoxicating perfume, which refused to let go of her attention.

The sensation: Confusion. Frustration. An inability to put her thoughts in order.

Amelia had no idea what was going on.

"Do you like them?"

"Them what?" Amelia didn't really think about answering, she was just acting on instinct.

"The pheromones, silly." The voice was the same woman. She was still dressed in her bikini and harem pants. And in this room, she had the air of someone fully at home. "The pheromones to help you loosen up."

Loosen up. That's what everyone had wanted her to do. It was easier now that she couldn't think about her big, stupid plan.

But she could remember now. Loosening up. They'd talked about it. Outside, on the path. Before...

"Y-you assaulted me..." It was hard enough to bring up the memory, so Amelia couldn't really be angry about it. She could only wistfully state the fact.

The woman looked offended. "No! I held you. So you could loosen up."

It might have been because she kept thinking about how nice the sweet aroma in her nostrils was, but Amelia couldn't make sense of that. "Holding me... doesn't loosen me up. Not a good time."

"You need a solid foundation to really get loose, sweetie." There was no condescension in her voice, but she was saying it as though it made perfect sense.

It threw Amelia off. And she couldn't scramble to regain her thoughts when every other thought was eeee nice smell!. "What?"

"It's nice to be completely free, right? To just have a good time, without a worry in the world." The woman waited for an idle nod before she continued. "But you can't just be like that forever. You need something to ground you, something to come back to after you've had a good time."

Amelia kept nodding. She knew she had something she was meant to be doing. Something serious, something super important. So it must have been something to go back to, after she'd had a good time here absorbing the atmosphere... and the scents especially.

"Now, for a lot of people that's a job. But for the sl... The staff here, we have something even better. We have an anchor so powerful and heavy we can have a good time all the time. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Yeah. Yeah it does." Amelia took her friend by the offered hands. Her touch was warm, enticing, and exciting. She couldn't remember what they had been talking about. Only that it felt good.

"Take deeeep breaths, sweetie." The woman kneeled down, so she was eye-to-eye with Amelia.

Amelia breathed in. She could only smell the pheromones stuck into her nose. She really didn't mind.

"Stare. Relax."

She could see two brown pools. She could hear only a voice - coming from a relaxed, content person but purely exciting to her.

"Let go. Let your thoughts go away."

She was loosening up. She was truly free. Only experiencing. Only pretty, swirly eyes. Only beautiful voice. Only arousing aroma.

"You're free. You're happy. You're so, so happy."

Amelia nodded feverishly. Her body burned with joy.

"You want to keep being happy. You need to keep being free."

She could see what was coming next in the woman's eyes. The stern shadow behind her soft brown gaze had returned. Amelia thought the next words just before they came through her ears.

"You need to submit. Submission is freedom."

Part of her protested, but it was even more muffled than the party below. That party was calling to her. Her body needed more of what it had tasted. She understood what the appeal of drugs was, now.

She realised she had been kind of right about the woman. She had been drugged up. But her only drug was this freedom and pleasure.

Like all drugs, Amelia knew it was unsafe to give in to this hedonism. But the woman had shown her a way to make it safe. And when their eyes met, Amelia knew that way was true. That it would work.

She knew she could be free, if she submitted.

"I submit." She mouthed. The woman understood. They kissed for more than a few moments. It wasn't needed, but they both needed some outlet for their pleasure.

And then they talked for a few minutes. Amelia absorbed the information more than she heard it. She was too busy focusing on the fingers between her legs to really pay attention, and she knew her subconscious would understand, anyway.

The anchor had formed in her mind. She was obedient to Mr. Waters. It didn't matter even if she would never see him. Seeing him wasn't important. Just knowing that he was there was enough to ground her.

And that meant she could have fun. She was free to do whatever she wanted.

Arm in arm with her new friend, she walked down to the party.

Number Eight woke up in the pool, in a borrowed swimsuit . She had lost Number Three early into the night. It didn't matter, she didn't need a guide. She had moved by instinct. She had enjoyed herself.

And now she was awake again, and free to have another good time. The party would last well into the afternoon, and she was free to make the most of it. As long as she remained on the mansion's grounds, she could do whatever she wanted.

Her skin tingled at the thought. That was why it was so great to be property. She was so completely free. It was liberating to be enslaved.

She didn't wonder what to do, she simply looked around and let her feelings decide.

By the pool, a man was stirring from sleep. He was an honoured guest of the Master.

She knew the best way to bring herself pleasure.

She climbed out of the pool, ready to show the guy a good time.

---

You guys have no idea how long this one has sat around in my WIP folder, waiting for inspiration to strike so I did not undersell the 'Victoria Justice in a bikini top and harem pants' image. I finally got somewhere when I combined the 'anchor' concept with an overwhelming-pleasure induction idea I was also having.

And then tied it all together with undercover-agent-getting-brainwashed because you all know by now I love that. Journalists are an especially fun lower-stakes version of that which require less exposition to appreciate (in my opinion, at least). Points go to whoever identifies in the comments the previous story the PoV character here appeared in!

Proofreading credit as always to my... copy editor, I suppose, journalism puns make it too on the nose: Dormiria