Chapter 2: Truth and Consequences
The neon’s pulse seemed to sync with the rapid beat of Blake’s heart. “Truth,” she had said, and the word hung in the thick air, a fragile shield. She met Argent’s gaze, her golden eyes wary but steady under the compulsion that warmed her from within with the knowledge she shouldn't be concerned that he was mind controlling them. Truth felt safe even if she objectively knew it wasn't.
Argent’s smile was a razor’s edge. “Good. A brave choice.” He settled onto the edge of the combined mattresses, a king at the foot of his bed. “Your truth, Blake Belladonna, is this: You will tell us your deepest, most private sexual fantasy. The one you’ve never told a soul. The one that makes you wet just thinking about it in the dark.”
A visible shudder ran through Blake. Her cat ears pinned flat against her black hair. “I…”
“And,” Argent continued, his voice dropping to a intimate murmur, “you will show us. While you describe it, you will touch yourself. Let us see the truth of it on your fingers.”
A strangled sound escaped Weiss. Ruby looked at the floor, her face burning. Yang’s jaw was clenched, her lilac eyes fixed on Blake with a storm of conflicting emotions of protectiveness, shame, and...was that curiosity?
Blake’s arms were wrapped tightly around her knees. The command was an iron hook in her mind, reeling the words up from a place she kept locked and buried. The warmth of his control fought against the icy plunge of humiliation. Her breath hitched.
“I…” she began again, her voice a thread. She uncrossed her arms, letting her hands rest on her thighs. The gaze of her team felt heavier than any weapon. “It’s about…control. Not having it.”
She closed her eyes, unable to look at them. One hand, trembling slightly, drifted downward. Her fingertips brushed through the dark, neat triangle of hair at the junction of her thighs. A small, helpless gasp left her lips.
“I imagine…being restrained,” she whispered. “Bound. Wrists and ankles. Leather, or cold metal. I can’t move. I’m completely…exposed.” Her index finger found her clit, a gentle, circling press. Her hips gave a minute jerk. “The person…they take their time. They look. They touch wherever they want. I can’t stop them. I can only…feel.”
Her breathing shallowed. The circling grew more deliberate. A faint, slick sound accompanied her movements. Weiss had turned her head away, but her posture was rigid, listening. Ruby’s shoulders were hunched. Yang was staring, unmoving, her own body reacting with a traitorous heat.
“They use their mouth,” Blake continued, the words coming faster now, forced out by the compulsion. “On my breasts. Between my legs. They make me come, over and over, until I’m begging them to stop, but they don’t…”
Her fingers slid lower, delving into her own wetness. She was soaking, her body betraying her utterly. “They fuck me then. Hard. Like I’m just a thing for their use. They tell me what I am. A pet. A slave. And I…I believe them. I want to believe them. That’s my deepest, submissive fantasy. Letting go. Being…owned in bed.”
Her hand moved with a desperate rhythm now, her back arching off the mattress. The room was silent except for her ragged breaths and the soft, obscene sound of her fingers working her own cunt. A low moan ripped from her throat as she climaxed, her whole body tensing, her toes curling against the sheets. She rode the waves of it, shuddering, until she collapsed back, chest heaving, her skin glistening with sweat.
A long, awful silence followed. Blake kept her eyes shut, tears of shame leaking from the corners.
Argent let the silence fester. Then he leaned forward. “A follow-up question, Blake. For truth’s sake. The last time you had that fantasy…who was dominating you? Who did you picture binding you, using you, owning you?”
Blake’s eyes flew open. Panic, raw and real, cut through the mind-cloud. This was worse. This was specific. Her gaze darted, against her will, to the figure sitting directly across from her. To the strong arms, the wild blonde hair, the lilac eyes now wide with stunned realization.
“No,” Blake breathed.
“Truth, Blake,” Argent said, and his voice was stone.
She gritted her teeth. The words were glass in her throat. “It…it was Yang.”
The air left the room.
Yang recoiled as if struck. “What?”
“I pictured…it was you,” Blake choked out, the confession tearing her apart. “Last week. After the sparring match. When you had me pinned.”
Yang’s face cycled through shock, confusion, and a hot, furious blush. Her eyes dropped to Blake’s glistening fingers, then snapped back to her face. “You…you thought about me like that?”
“The game continues,” Argent announced, his voice slicing through the tension. He was visibly aroused, the bulge in his pants evident, but his focus was surgical. “Blake earned a question. Ask me anything.”
Blake, shattered, could only form one coherent thought. She looked at him, her eyes pleading even as the compulsion soothed her. “Does it…does the mind control wear off?”
Argent’s answer was immediate, brutal in its honesty. “Well, yes and no. It depends on how specific I get with my commands and how much power I choose to put behind the orders. After all, as you know, every semblance requires you to spend a portion of aura to use it, but if I use enough from my aura reserves, I can choose to make any command I do permanent or at least permanent until I say otherwise. In case you are wondering though, I hadn't done that fully with the command that you shouldn't be concerned at all about my using my semblance to mind control you, which is why you are still experiencing some spikes of worries and flares of panic before you calm down and focus on obeying me despite everything. But don't worry, I will make more permanent commands to all your mind eventually so that you actually enjoy following my orders for as long as you live,” He added with a cheery smile as Blake paled in response
Then he turned his head. “Your turn, Weiss. “Truth or dare, my dear heiress?”
Weiss stiffened like a porcelain doll awaiting breakage. “Dare.” She whispered, with a face that screamed that the truth was too dangerous.
“Smart,” Argent nodded. “But not safe. Weiss. I dare you to get on your hands and knees. Crawl over to Yang. And using only your mouth, make her come.”
Weiss’s composure was shattered. A choked sob escaped her. “I can’t. Please. Not with my…not with my teammate...”
“You can. You will. The dare is the rule. The rule is law.”
Weiss shook, but her body moved. She got onto all fours, her slender back pale in the light. She crawled the short distance across the mattress, the movements stiff and graceless. She stopped before Yang, her head bowed, silver hair curtaining her face.
Yang stared down at her, paralyzed. “Weiss, don’t—”
“Do it, Weiss,” Argent commanded softly.
Weiss looked up, her blue eyes filled with tears of utter humiliation. She shuffled forward, nudging Yang’s knees apart. Yang gasped as Weiss’s cool, trembling fingers touched her inner thighs, guiding her. Then Weiss leaned in, her nose burying in blonde curls, and her tongue tentatively swiped through Yang’s folds.
Yang’s head slammed back, a guttural “Fuck!” exploding from her lips. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Weiss’s movements were clumsy, inexperienced, fueled by desperate obedience. She lapped at Yang’s clit, her cheeks hollowing as she tried to suck. The wet, messy sounds were loud in the quiet room. Yang’s hips began to move, a slow, rocking thrust against Weiss’s face. Her breaths came in sharp pants.
“That’s it,” Argent murmured, watching with avid interest. “Good girl, Weiss. Taste her. Make your teammate cum on your tongue.”
Weiss moaned, the vibration making Yang cry out. The heiress’s tears fell onto Yang’s skin as she serviced her, the humiliation transmuting, under the relentless pressure of the command, into a perverse, focused purpose. Yang’s thighs tensed, her back arching. “I’m…I’m gonna…” she grunted, and then she came with a sharp cry, her body convulsing against Weiss’s mouth. Weiss kept going, licking and sucking through the tremors until Yang pushed her head away, oversensitive and gasping.
Weiss collapsed onto her side, trembling, her lips and chin glistening. She curled into a ball of shame on the combined bed.
Argent didn’t let them rest. “You did well, Weiss. You can ask me anything now.”
Weiss uncurled slightly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She tasted Yang on her lips, a salty, musky tang that made her stomach clench. The warmth of Argent’s command soothed the raw edges of her shame, but a cold, sharp knot of confusion remained in her core. She swallowed, her throat tight.
“You said…” she began, her voice hoarse. She cleared it, trying to find her usual composure amidst the wreckage. “Earlier. You said you wanted our Semblances especially. What did you mean by that?”
Argent’s eyebrows raised, pleased. “An excellent question. Gets to the heart of things.” He leaned back, propping himself on his elbows, the picture of casual confession. “You see, technically, my Semblance isn’t mind control. Or rather, it wasn’t my original one.”
The admission landed in the silence. Blake’s ears twitched. Ruby finally looked up from the floor, her silver eyes narrowing in dazed focus.
“My core superpower,” he said, as if discussing a rare Dust variant, “is Semblance Replication. Permanently. Essentially, I gain the capacity to mimic the Semblances of other people and be able to use them whenever I want.” He paused, watching as their eyes widened. “From what I’ve been able to gather, it only works on women, however, due to the very specific requirements needed to make the absorption process work. For you see, I can only copy a Semblance if I’ve fucked the woman in question and come inside their womb at least once. The trigger occurs when auras momentarily combine when our bodies are…mated. My ability instinctively makes a copy then, but don´t worry, the act won't steal or weaken your own, respective semblances when I do get around to fucking all of you, it just gives me the means to replicate it.”
Yang made a sick, choked sound as he continued
"One of the first women I managed to ensnare in my web was an aspiring huntress from Vacuo named Gillian Asturias," he reminisced, a soft, almost wistful note creeping into his voice. His eyes took on a distant look, as if he were gazing into a past that only he could see. "A true diamond in the rough, that one. She possessed a Semblance of exquisite subtlety, a mind-controlling ability that was as elegant as it was potent.
"And her ambition - ah, her ambition was a thing of beauty. You see, her lineage traced back to one of Vacuo's old royal dynasties, a family that had once ruled the kingdom before they were betrayed and deposed as the ruling dynasty a couple of centuries before the Great War and the subsequent reorganization of the world's political landscape. The fire of their lost power burned bright in her eyes, a hunger for influence and control that was almost palpable. It made my task all the easier, of course, after I was able to seduce her into sleeping with me the hard way. Once that was taken care of though, I started reshaping her mind in depth so that I could bend her to my will, twist her desires to align with my own until I was able to mold the ambitious secret princess of Vacuo into my most devoted servant, my first eager harem girl. After all, there can only be one true mind controller master in all of Remnant at a time as far as I am concerned, and I was determined that it would be me. So I dominated her utterly, completely, ensuring that not even the faintest spark of rebellion could possibly remain in her heart.
He gestured vaguely around the room, at all of them. “Led to me gaining dozens of Semblances over the past few years, expanding the versatility of my arsenal to the point that I am already the most physically powerful human alive in the whole world and by far at that. But as I am sure many of your professors have told you at this Huntsman Academy, there is always room for improvement. And so I’m now at Beacon to expand my collection of abilities even further.” His gaze lingered on each of them, possessive and hungry. “And to secretly gain strong, skilled, devoted followers for a growing enterprise. An empire needs its foundational pillars, after all.”
All four girls were pale as they processed the revelation. The scope of it, the cold, transactional horror, drained the warmth from their skin. Weiss looked physically ill, a hand pressed to her stomach. Ruby’s mouth hung open, her optimistic framework cracking under the weight of his casual confession. Blake’s mind, always analyzing, spun into a frozen panic, connecting his words to his earlier commands about their Semblances.
Yang was the first to break.
“You sick fucking bastard,” she snarled, the words erupting like gunfire. She launched herself off the mattress, uncaring of her nakedness, her lilac eyes blazing with pure, undiluted hatred. “You think you can just—just farm us and our semblances? I’ll break every bone in your—!”
Argent’s lips moved. A whisper, no louder than a sigh, lost under her tirade.
Yang’s next insult died on her tongue. She froze mid-step, her furious advance halting. A strange, warm flush bloomed across her chest and cheeks. Her breath caught, not in anger, but in sudden, bewildering arousal. Her nipples tightened into hard, sensitive points, a shocking physical reaction that made her gasp.
“What did you…?” she managed, her voice losing its edge, becoming shaky.
“A new conditional command,” Argent explained, his tone conversational, as if discussing a minor enchantment. “Just for you, Yang. A bit of behavioral conditioning. From now on, every time you insult me, try to attack me or feel genuine anger toward me, your body will react. You’ll become increasingly, unbearably aroused.”
He smiled as her hands twitched, instinctively moving to cover her breasts before she forced them back down, fists clenching. “And every orgasm you have as a result of that anger,” he continued, “will chemically reinforce your obedience. Each one will make you just a little more eager to listen to me.”
Yang stared, comprehending the trap. It was a psychic snake eating its own tail. Resistance was now the engine of her submission. “You can’t— that’s not—!” she shouted, the fury surging back, hot and defiant.
The effect was instantaneous.
A wave of heat slammed into her, centering between her legs with an intensity that stole her voice. Her knees buckled. A sharp, unbidden cry tore from her throat as her body convulsed, muscles locking. Pleasure, raw and electric and utterly unwanted, ripped through her without a single touch. She came, hard, collapsing back onto the mattress, shuddering through the violent, empty climax.
Silence, heavy and thick, filled the room. The only sound was Yang’s ragged, sobbing breaths. She lay on her back, stunned, feeling the slick evidence of her betrayal cooling on her thighs.
She turned her head, looking at Argent with wide, horrified eyes. The insult burned in her mouth—monster, devil, I’ll kill you—but she choked it down. She felt the damning warmth gathering again at the mere thought. Further resistance would only fuel the transformation. She shut her mouth, a tear tracing a path through her temple and into her hairline.
“See?” Argent said softly. “Progress.”
Ruby made a small, wounded noise. “Yang…”
“Your turn, Ruby,” Argent said, his attention shifting like a spotlight. “Truth or dare?”
Ruby curled in on herself, arms wrapping around her legs. She looked from Yang’s broken form to Weiss’s shell-shocked expression, to Blake’s closed-off despair. The game was a meat grinder. Truth had revealed Blake’s secrets. Dare had destroyed Weiss’s dignity and Yang’s autonomy.
“I…I don’t want to play anymore,” she whispered, her voice small.
“But we’re having fun,” Argent said, not unkindly. The mind-control warmth pulsed, encouraging her to agree. It felt safe to agree. “It’s just a game. Choose.”
Ruby shuddered. The foundation of trust he’d planted warred with the mounting terror. The trust felt older, deeper, more real. It whispered that he wouldn’t truly break her. Not like the others. Maybe if she was good, he’d be nice.
“D-Dare,” she stuttered, opting for the path that hadn’t forced Blake’s confession.
Argent nodded, thoughtful. He glanced around the ruined room, at the four powerful, shattered young women he owned. His gaze finally settled back on Ruby, on her youthful hope not yet fully extinguished.
“Okay,” he said. “A simple one, to start. Stand up, Ruby.”
Trembling, she obeyed, unfolding herself to stand naked before him on the messy bed.
“Now,” he instructed, his blue eyes holding hers. “I dare you to beg me to mind control you into wanting me to take your virginity right here and now, with every fiber of your being.”
The words didn’t compute at first. They hung in the air, a nonsensical, cruel puzzle. Ruby blinked, her silver eyes wide and uncomprehending. The neon’s pink stripe slid over her bare stomach like a tide of something vile.
“What?” The single syllable was flat, hollow.
Argent didn’t repeat himself. He just watched her, patient as a glacier. The warmth in her gut, that foundational trust, pulsed warmly. It encouraged her to understand, to accept. A dare was a dare. The rule was law.
A cold void opened beneath Ruby’s ribs. This was different from Weiss’s humiliation or Blake’s exposure. This was a surgical strike at her own will, her own mind. The last piece of her that was truly hers.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You can’t ask me to beg for that. To want that. It’s… it’s wrong.”
“It’s the dare,” he replied, his tone mild. “The game requires completion. You agreed to the rules. They feel just and fair, don’t they?”
And they did. That was the unbearable part. The core command made his logic feel ironclad. Her own revulsion was just a silly, emotional hiccup to be smoothed away. A tear tracked down her cheek.
“Please,” she said, not to him, but to the room, to her teammates.
Yang stirred from her stunned paralysis on the mattress. The sight of Ruby’s tear-streaked face cut through her own shame and exhaustion. A spark of the old, protective fire ignited in her gut. It flared, hot and defiant.
“Hey!” Yang growled, pushing herself up on trembling arms. “You leave her the hell alone, you psycho! Don’t you touch my—”
The familiar, traitorous heat blossomed inside her, swift and violent. Her insult choked off into a gasp. Her back arched, not in rage but in rising, unwelcome pleasure. Her nipples drew tight again, a sharp, sensitive ache. The anger was still there, a bonfire in her chest, but her body was drowning it in liquid fire. She could feel the crest approaching, another humiliating climax ready to rip her control away and lock his obedience deeper into her synapses.
Ruby gasped, watching her sister’s struggle. Yang’s face was a mask of pained ecstasy, her fight visibly crumbling as her body betrayed her. She was on the verge again. Ruby knew, with a sudden, chilling clarity, what would happen when Yang fell over that edge. She’d become more his. Less Yang.
The calculation was instantaneous, born of desperation and that distorted, implanted trust. If Yang came from anger now, she’d be lost further. If Ruby complied… maybe it would stop. Maybe he’d be satisfied. He knew best. The warm pulse in her mind agreed.
She swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. She looked away from Yang’s torment, directly at Argent.
“I…” Ruby’s voice was a dry rasp. She forced air into her lungs. “I beg you. Please. Use your Mind Controlling Semblance on me. Make me want…make me want you to take my virginity. Right now. I want to want it with every…every fiber of my being.”
The sentence hung in the air, ugly and final. Weiss let out a muffled sob into her hands. Blake stared at the wall, her expression blank, retreating inward.
Argent smiled. It was a small, approving thing. “Good girl.”
He didn’t move, but Ruby felt it. It wasn’t a new command. It was an amplification, a twisting dial on the existing one. The warm, trusting feeling in her core didn’t just pulse—it exploded, flooding her nervous system, rewiring pathways in real-time. Her revulsion didn’t vanish; it was overwritten, buried under a sudden, crushing weight of need.
Her silver eyes glazed over. The fear, the concern for Yang, the love for her team, all of it blurred and melted, leaving one crystalline, burning focus. Him. Need. Now.
A low whine escaped her throat. She dropped from her standing position onto her hands and knees on the messy sheets. The posture felt natural, necessary. She presented herself, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes wide and dripping with a need that now felt entirely her own.
“Please,” she begged, her voice thick and desperate. “Argent, please, fuck my virgin pussy. Claim it. I need it. I’ll be your bitch in heat, just please, put your cock in me, now. Take my Semblance, take everything. I’ll do anything for you, anything, just fucking penetrate me right now!”
Her hips jerked back in a silent plea, her entire body trembling with authentic, manufactured craving.
Argent chuckled, a low, rich sound of pure satisfaction. He stood up, finally. “Well. That is a compelling argument.”
He began to undress, his movements unhurried, deliberate. Each article of clothing—the jacket, the shirt, the pants—was folded neatly and placed on Weiss’s vacated dresser. The casual domesticity of it was more terrifying than any violence. This was routine for him.
“I will magnanimously fulfill your request,” he said, his eyes roaming over her offered body. “And I will hold you to that promise. ‘Anything’ is a very big word, little Rose. We’ll explore its dimensions later.”
Naked now, he approached the bed. He was fully erect. He knelt behind her, one hand gripping the swell of her hip, the other guiding himself. Ruby held her breath, her body screaming for it.
Yang watched, the last dregs of her defiance coalescing into a final, silent snarl. Her lips parted. The curse—get off her you fucking monster—was a phantom on her tongue.
The thought alone was enough.
The orgasm hit her like a truck. It was longer, more intense than the last, a white-hot wire of pleasure that seared through her nerves and burnt out every coherent thought. A broken cry was torn from her, her body convulsing. As the waves subsided, a profound, chemical exhaustion dragged her down. Coupled with the freshly reinforced instincts—eager obedience feels good, compliance is safety—it emptied her completely.
Her muscles gave out. She collapsed onto the bed, limp, her head turned toward the scene. Her lilac eyes, glazed and helpless, could only watch.
Argent pushed into Ruby in one smooth, brutal stroke.
Ruby’s scream was not of pain, but of shattering, absolute pleasure. The barrier of her virginity broke, a brief, sharp pinch utterly consumed by the tsunami of sensation he had programmed her to feel. Her back arched, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
“Yes! Yes!” she shrieked, her voice raw. “More! Please, more!”
He set a relentless, pounding rhythm, his grip on her hips tight enough to bruise. The sound of flesh on flesh, wet and rhythmic, filled the dorm. Ruby met every thrust with a desperate backward jerk of her own, chanting pleas and obscenities into the mattress, her world reduced to the feeling of being filled, claimed, and used exactly as she had begged for.
Yang watched, a silent tear tracking from her dead-eyed stare into her hair. Weiss had drawn her knees to her chest, rocking slightly. Blake’s ears were flat, her gaze averted, but there was no escape from the sounds. Ruby’s ecstasy was a crown of thorns for each of them, a loud, public testament to his total victory.