Dissertation

1 - Amelia's Lifeline

A crowded park soaks in the sun on a day like any other, sand kicked onto the footpath causing young Amelia to scoff like the kids aren't half her age. The girl finds herself alone as usual, as she prefers if anybody should bother to ask and yet none ever do. It isn't that she's a particularly unapproachable person, she's just good at going unnoticed. In this crowded park, on this saccharine summer's day, the college student resists the urge to bite her nails in mounting frustration that grips her from every angle. Even with the entirety of this spacious bench to herself, bookbag spread over it so thoughtlessly, Amelia finds herself traversing a sea of troubles and she's certainly no sailor. Another week of failing to start her dissertation and she'll consider switching to one from student, figuring she might fare better on the open sea without scrap of land in sight to tie her down.

It's an entertaining prospect, but maybe Amelia likes being tied down, she always considers herself to produce her best work under pressure and so she awaits deadline confidently. This is what she tells herself, that she's simply cooking and the oven clock's yet to ring in those pale ears, but then the urge to wear her nails down with chattering teeth bubbles to the surface again. Perhaps she's on a stove, then?

Sitting there, the only one oblivious to the sun's generous rays, Amelia reads passively and escapes into the realms of fiction. Most would find it difficult to lose themselves in a good book while the park's overbearing bustle assaults both ears so ceaselessly, but the young woman invites it, letting all fade into background noise that sets the scene playing out on paper before her. A crowded park in her world becomes the backdrop to the fictional one in her hand, so easily she can manipulate it into something befitting her wants. Take the two college freshmen sitting on the bench across from her, over trails of sand and swings, gossiping for almost an hour now about such excruciatingly mundane affairs. Those voices become a pair of merchants in ink dried streets, discussing new tariffs from the corrupt king who rules over this land. It's so easy to ignore the truth and convince yourself of new reality, a ring of fantasy, Amelia finds herself in a form of trance sitting here letting another unproductive day pass her by with a jeer and a wink.

Time flows on and the sun slowly moves to other parks, too distant for Amelia to follow on her paltry budget. The girl does not watch as people filter out of the park with each wave of the hours hand, but listens. Silence comes at long last and just in time for her to call curtains on her reading for the day. When the book lowers and Amelia's eyes trace up that disturbed stretch of sand, she can only blink in shock at the sight that greets her on the other side.

Those gossiping students she had borrowed voice from for her background cast yet linger, sitting on the same bench they had spent the past several hours warming. Only... Amelia remembers those voices fading out a long while prior, at least two hours by her account. The girl sets down her book and scratches unbitten nail over dark brown hair. Whipping her head left and right to see if anybody else remains in the park at dusk, she confirms that only the college girls remain and leans forward to inspect them without concern over how she looks. If she's to appear strange for doing this then the three of them will have something else to share in common, thinks Amelia wryly.

Both of them are dressed casually, trendy clothes that would not typically turn her head until her eyes trace the chokers. No, collars, thick black leather that stands out like sore thumb when viewing them in this light. Even more curious is their blank gazes, staring out past Amelia and her own stiff bench. The two must have been sitting there, expressionless and silent, for hours now. Without turning her eyes away, lest the spell breaks and she finds an empty bench or perhaps a pair of normal girls once more, Amelia reaches into her bag and retrieves her notepad. Amelia clicks her pen's ballpoint into place and she attempts to sketch those unexplained looks as best she can. Not that anything is truly unexplainable, Amelia knows this. Most people would race over to check if the girls are on drugs, check to see if they need help. It's as much something to scoff at as that kicked up sand from earlier in the day, just a triviality to someone so disconnected. Perhaps she's struggling to find topic for her dissertation because nothing can ever hold her interest, as above-it-all as she makes herself to rationalise the executive dysfunction, but now this is something which holds her attention.

As Amelia's eyes flick between paper and petrified pair, she begins to note down every eccentricity of the unlikely scene before her. Those black collars that don't match their outfits. The way their eyes stare out into nothing as though consciousness eludes them. The softly parted lips, drool which cascades down their chins and reflects twilight in picturesque manner. They look like a pair of dolls left and forgotten by their owner, unable to get up and walk home by themselves. And yet they were so lifelike earlier, grating voices so bothersome they needed to be given purpose in Amelia's immersive reading.

Sound finally and abruptly fills the silent scene and has Amelia startled enough to look up from her notes in a panic, like she fears being caught studying the women in front of her instead of rushing to help them. The girl can't help it, she's simply wired this way. As her eyes scan for the source of the approaching footsteps to her left, she catches sight of a figure, indiscernible in their long black coat and stingy brim hat. Their footsteps fall onto the path on which the dolls' bench lies, though they never pass threshold and block those raptured stares from Amelia's attentive viewing.

Now she's as fascinated by the figure as she is the girls, however. Like her, the silhouetted person does not find themselves in any rush to check if the two are okay. Likely just an old man on a walk... it's not like inaction is particularly uncommon with those who do not want the trouble, but then why have they stopped for so long? Amelia begins to jot down notes again. At least she's managed to write today after all, the girl thinks bitterly.

Her interest is piqued to new heights when the stranger lifts their arm and a hand coated in black fitted leather snaps its fingers so soundly that even Amelia hears it from across the sand. Both collared women blink several times as they register the sound, turning towards one another as each takes hold of the other's waist slowly. Before Amelia can process what she's seeing, both girls are leaning close to share long, passionate kiss. Still in their apparent state of trance, the college freshmen coat the insides of each other's mouths like it's a competition, a never ending power struggle that appears all too orchestrated.

At long last, Amelia bites her nails. When the girl scrambles to shove books back into her open bag, the paperback she had been enjoying earlier slips between her hastily clamouring fingers and drops onto the ground. The silhouette turns and Amelia catches the outline of a smile. A shark toothed grin. Amelia's eyes are glued to the stranger's even if she cannot quite make them out, the two mirroring one another in swift motion as she reaches to pick up her book while the enigmatic figure reaches and unclasps the closest girl's collar. The uncollared girl does not even seem to notice, too preoccupied with the wrestling muscles in her mouth.

Quickly stuffing her bag, Amelia watches with rapt interest as the silhouette drops that removed collar onto the ground in front of the bench and snaps their fingers again. Both girls forget one another entirely and pull away, not thinking to wipe their spit-soaked faces. They stand in unison and follow from a distance when their apparent commander whisks them off like pied piper. With a long sigh, Amelia sits frozen in place for a while after they leave her sight, wondering if fantasy spilled out of her pages as she recklessly flipped through them. For the first time in hours the girl checks her phone and sees single notification, remembering she had plans other than wasting her entire day reading in the park.

can't meet today after all. too much on my mind. sorry, charlotte.

Amelia rolls her eyes and wishes she hadn't bothered checking. The collar catches her attention again, as though it ever really left, and Amelia cuts straight through the sand while looking over her shoulder intermittently. Fingers curl into the leather. Still warm. The studious girl flips it over in her hand and like a pet's collar it has contact information written in neat cursive that almost makes her laugh. Just what has she stumbled onto here? Maybe she needs to find out... in fact, that could be exactly what she needs.

As the longest dusk of her life dies out and she stares out of her bedroom window into starry night, Amelia runs her thumb over the now cooled leather and sighs again. Come morning, she's already decided on skipping classes again, dialling an otherworldly number into her phone without affording herself time to reconsider. Regrets can come later, everything in its right place.

* * *

2 - Amelia's Thesis

Same crowded park, same lovely weather. For the first time in a long time, Amelia lets herself enjoy the way the heat crawls up her legs and rests back with her arms over the bench's backrest. Before long, however, her short-lived moment of indulgence is interrupted by a presence that has her nerves begin to fray.

"Was it too hot for a trench coat in the midday sun, mister?" In a flash, Amelia has composed herself, turning with unkempt curiosity at the figure to her left which now occupies her own private bench. "Oh... or, ma'am?" The college girl sits up and straightens her back, quickly retrieving her notepad once more and trying to figure this person out.

The stranger laughs, voice as androgynous as their appearance. "You can call me what you like, I think sir has a nice ring to it even detached from perceptions of gender, hm?"

Amelia scoffs, more sand on the path. "Okay then, sir. I've got your lost property in my bag, I thought I'd be a good citizen and return it since you were oh so clumsy and dropped it. I've got a few questions first though..." She readies her pen, looking up at the taller figure who's all too smug for her liking. An angular face with lips curled like a courtesan's, rich red hair traipsing down to hang just shy of their shoulders. Light freckles strewn across their cheeks like constellations and mascara that muddles any assumptions Amelia could otherwise try to make up. The stranger wears a loose button up shirt and flannel pyjama pants to contrast heavily with Amelia's formal dress.

"Like any good citizen, I suppose. Curse my butter fingers... ask away, girl." The stranger looks around, seeming more than comfortable to be out here in a public space after showing their hand the night before. They figured that Amelia called them here for the safety of a crowd.

"Last night... just what was that? I mean--"

"You know what it was, I can tell you're not completely clueless and besides... I can see it in your notes."

As the stranger smirks, Amelia shuffles back and tilts her notepad away with a wince. "Alright then, touché. Those girls on the bench, they were under your control? Under hypnosis?"

"Not against their wills, if that's where you're going here. It's all strictly consensual, though I suppose you could have them done for public indecency if you were so offended?"

"Ah... that's not. Wait, just them? Are you saying you wouldn't be charged too? Oh, I suppose not... interesting. I'm not offended by them kissing, nor them being gay if that's where you're going here." Amelia keeps her calm well, still not quite sure what she's getting into here.

She earns another laugh from the enigmatic stranger, who flexes their fingers inside giving leather that Amelia recognises from the snap that yet rings in her ears. How did they manage it while wearing gloves? Plastic inlays meant to replicate the sound reliably? The girl takes notes even as her company speaks. "You'll be surprised to know that both of those girls identify as straight, then. Sexual orientation did not factor into what they did together last night, neither was thinking about the other at all. They both did it for me, because I instructed them to. I was testing their loyalty by demanding they let me take control out in public for the first time and while they both agreed... I thought I'd go easy and let the park empty out before seeing if they could commit the kissing crime, aha... almost empty, we missed a certain little mouse sitting here all quiet and what front row seats you got as a result. Once I saw they were deep enough not to care about you enjoying the show, it was an easy pass for both of them."

Amelia feels the hairs on her neck standing up, startled at how open and honest this stranger is being if their tall tale is to be believed. It's hard not to eat up the words with the visual accompaniment she had been given. It fits at least, as well as those sleek black gloves. Before even daring to consider opening her mouth, Amelia makes sure to take notes on everything that was just said. "Easy pass? You're telling me it was an exam of sorts, then?"

"Right you are, you're a clever one. I'd ask for your name but why start now? I like coming up with my own names for people, an odd habit... you can keep calling me sir if it pleases you." The epicene stranger reaches out to lift Amelia's head from those notes she won't stop taking, cupping her chin in leather grip and tilting her gaze up towards their own confident eyes.

The lightest tint of red on her cheeks, the student stubbornly meets those smug eyes with her own determined glower. "It doesn't to be honest, but I'll entertain it if it pleases you, sir. I'd like to stay on your good side if I can help it, something I'm sure you'll refrain from making into snide entendre. My name's Amelia, by the way, and I'd have you use it if you wouldn't mind." The girl does not move as her chin is held, waiting for those fingers to leave of their own accord.

"Ah, very well... Amy." With dripping hot grin, the stranger returns hand to their side, seeming very amused with the new plaything that has landed into their lap. "And what would you ask of me, then? I take it you've more ambitious designs than simply asking me a few questions for your school project or what have you. I left that collar hoping for a new subject but it seems I've become yours... how curious."

"Amelia. And well... yes, I'd like to shadow you for a little while if you'd indulge a college student desperate for adequate thesis? Any documentation over your... activities... will be completely anonymous, rest assured. I can pay if that'll sway you." The girl swallows drily, fingers gripping the sides of her notepad tightly as she tries to look natural.

"That's a first! Hmm, what are you studying, psychology?"

"Journalism."

"I see. You're fun, Amelia."

"That's a first."

The redhead scratches their chin, resting back against the bench and throwing an arm over the backrest to invade Amelia's space. "Very well then, on one condition. Put the collar on, okay?"

Amelia's eyes widen and she almost loses her composure, squinting at the dominant making demands of her. "Why? That's not necessary."

With a shrug, the stranger gives her a look that says it's non-negotiable. "If you're to document my operation I'd want your account to be as detailed and well informed as possible, you need a taste of what it's like to be mine. Unless you're scared that it really was against their wills? Hahaha... you don't believe in that sort of thing, do you Amy? Now take the collar out of the bag and secure it around your neck like a good girl, do that and I'll show you just how many women I have ready and willing to drop to their knees and do anything I ask of them. If that doesn't interest you, though..."

Feeling slightly bitter at being talked to in such a way, Amelia does as she's told with a look of her own that challenges her new focus of study with more confidence than she really owns. "Yes, sir." She adds with a scoff, telling herself this is just sand on the footpath. Another minor inconvenience she needs to get over quickly and not dwell on any longer. The cool leather clasps around her neck and Amelia tries to pay it no mind at all.

"Ah, you're very amusing... come along now, I'm behind schedule because of a certain stubborn missy." Amelia's stranger chuckles and stands, offering a hand she leaves in it's proffered hover. As the ambitious student rises to her feet, she feels a swell of excitement deep inside. Deep down, she knew that this figure she's fixated on would have far more reach than just two unimportant college sluts. Adjusting the collar until it sits comfortably and no longer bothers her, Amelia smiles with practiced pleasantry of her own.

"Lead the way."

* * *

3 - Amelia's Nerves

"So this is where the magic happens?" Amelia clutches her notepad with nerves rising to the surface as she takes in the sight of an unassuming warehouse on the edge of town. The girl has absolutely no idea what to expect on the inside, for once her imagination fails her.

The stranger once again finds themselves amused by this new plaything, watching as the studious girl takes notes on the journey and their location. "Strictly anonymous, remember? As I'm sure you can imagine, there are no signs outside for a reason." Stepping forwards, the redhead removes a key from their breast pocket and slides open the door with a hum.

"R-right, these are just personal notes in case I feel threatened." Her eyes narrow on the stranger but soon soften and open wider when they step inside and the door is locked behind them. Being locked inside does not exactly set her at ease, but she understands that she cannot argue it. The warehouse interior is nothing so fanciful, a little underwhelming if anything, but then she notices the bars. The two step closer to a corner cell in which two familiar women stand with straightened backs in black corsets and glossy heels. Chains reach between cell bar and the collars situated around their necks, their eyes as blank and doll-like as they had been on the bench. "How long have they been here... like this? Today, I mean."

With a chuckle, the stranger reaches through the bars to cup one of the girl's cheeks, a line of drool spilling from between her lips when the malleable flesh is pushed lightly. "As long as they wanted. Which is as long as I wanted. It's still morning, so a few hours at most I imagine... I've not been in yet so I'd have to check. These girls know the rules well and like following them, so I don't always have to control them manually. You've seen that already, haven't you Amy? Want a breather to take your notes?"

The girl breathes in sharply, forgetting pen and paper for a moment as she watches that hand slip back from soft cheek and wonders how the two girls her age got into such a unique situation. Online kink exploration? People do sometimes meet up in person, but this seems to have gone to logical extreme. Even Amelia herself has perused forums for ill-planned meet ups that never happened, but that was a lifetime ago. Eventually doing as she's told and taking plenty of notes, Amelia gives the stranger a meek glance when she's ready to proceed.

"Ah good, I told you I was a little behind schedule didn't I? Usually I'd drag these girls out and deepen their trance with some one on one time, if you see the area over there?" Amelia turns her head to view a dark cubbyhole with a bench against the wall and a hanging chain ready to have neck or wrists secured to at any time. "I'll have to show you that part tomorrow, dear. For now I'll take attendance, we usually do line ups this way, keep up."