Tuesday, November 3, 2015

The Organization (Modern Sex Slavery)

Luke rode in the back of the limo, eyes blindfolded. The ride was smooth, the car soundproofed so there was little he could hear. This was intentional; as a newcomer to the business, security precautions were in place.

He had been trying to find and gain access to this exclusive business ever since he heard rumors of its existence. It fascinated him, and when he finally met someone that had actually availed themselves of the organization's services, he became obsessed.

Luke wanted to buy his own female sex slave.

It was extremely difficult to find and gain access to the organization. They served mostly the very rich in the middle east, Asia and some portions of Africa. It was extremely rare for them to accept the business of an American. It was too risky in a number of different ways. Not only were they cautious of American authorities, but Americans were notoriously indiscreet. However, after two recommendations by rich oil magnates that he did business with, he was finally being taken to the headquarters where the slaves were taken, held, trained and finally sold to the highest bidder.

The limo came to a halt, and the door opened.

"Welcome, Mr. Litner. My name is Hans. Please take my hand. I will guide you inside, after which we will do away with this blindfold." The voice was rich and deep, and Luke took the hand that was offered, making his way up several steps and finally inside.

As the blindfold came off he could see his impression of being in a large room was correct. The echos of stone walls that rose to a very high ceiling were somewhat muffled by tapestries he now saw, and the rich rugs covering the floor. A grand staircase circled up to his right, and large doors stood open to several rooms lined with books and panels. A fireplace filled the central reception area before him, with gently crackling wood fire. He was in a castle of some sort, with modern conveniences mixed with ancient architecture and style.

"May I get you a drink, Mr. Litner?" Hans stood led Luke to a side room and approached a small bar.

"Yes, please, perhaps a scotch? Neat?"

The drink was poured, and Luke took a sip of the excellent liquor.

"Mr. Litner!" A younger man, tall and thin with a grey complexion and ugly, pointed face approached with a large smile and outstretched hand. "I am Sergei, and will be showing you around this afternoon. Are you ready?"

"Yes! I am rather eager to see it all. You have no idea how long I have looked forward to this!" Luke downed the remains of his drink quickly, and followed Sergei through the door, across the main entryway, and through another door toward the back. He unlocked this door using an electronic keycard.

On the other side of the door was a short corridor. At the end a set of old stone steps descended into what appeared to be a cellar corridor. The lighting wasn't quite as good here, and there were a number of odd smells. Cleaners, bleach, wet stone odors mixed with more organic smells of human waste, sweat, and perhaps... was he imagining it? Fear.

"I thought we would progress through our training and operations in stages, so you can see our product as they develop into final product for sale. This is the initial holding areas for new arrivals." Sergei went to a metal door and slid open a small metal window, revealing a barred cell with a single naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The cell was gray concrete, empty except for a bucket in the corner. A wave of stench came from the open partition.

Huddled in the corner of the cell was a chained woman partially clothed in pink cotton panties, though otherwise naked.

"This is our newest arrival. Actually, Julie here arrived last night and is still probably completely unaware of what has happened to her. She will be left here for a couple of days in isolation, with no food or water, to begin the process of breaking her spirit."

Luke stared at the half naked girl. She was beautiful, though dirty and ragged from whatever ordeal she had gone through when she was kidnapped and shipped to the organization's training center. Perhaps 20 years old, she had long muscular legs, smooth skin that curved in a lovely example of the perfect female form. She was thin in the ass and waist, and small but perky breasts were visible peaking out from behind an arms she used to try and cover herself. Long brown hair looked like it would be beautiful if it were washed and brushed.

"Julia will fit in well here," Sergei said as he shut the metal window cover with a clang. The muffled sound of Julia suddenly begging came from the other side of the door. "She is submissive, and it will not take long to break her. Some women come here and are violent, or obstinate out of some sense of pride or self-entitlement. Those women have a much tougher time."

"How long does the training usually last?" Luke asked as the walked down the basement corridor, passing other locked metal doors. He wondered how many actually contained girls at the moment. The basement was eerily quiet.

"The standard is two months. Julia... I would guess she will be ready for sale in as little as four weeks. If a girl takes much longer than two months, we begin to question whether she is suitable for sale. Here, this is Megan. She's been here several days already."

With that, Sergei stopped at another metal door, slide open the window partition revealing a similar cell. Inside was a completely naked petite blond, thin but with large breasts. She was cute in a very young way, and reminded Luke of a teenage daughter of a neighbor at one of his homes. She was on her hands and knees, eating from a bowl on the floor. Her breasts hung down enticingly, her ass sticking up into the air. When the viewing portal opened, she raised her head then stood and rushed to the door, speaking urgently.

"Please. Please let me go! I will do anything. I will cooperate; my father has money, a lot of money and can pay for me. Whatever you want. Just let me go; I have been good!"

Sergei closed the metal partition on Megan's pleas. "You see the first stage of training with Megan. Her spirit is beginning to break but she still hopes for release. She truly wants to cooperate, to 'be good', but for the wrong reasons. She has been fed, and recovered from her initial shock. She's begun to think of herself as a commodity that can be bought and paid for. But, she still needs her spirit completely broken and to accept that she is no longer what she was. This will come over time."

They once again continued down the corridor. Luke was breathing more quickly, aroused by the girls he had seen so far. He wanted ownership. He wanted control. He wanted one of these girls to do with as he pleased. Either Julie or Megan would do nicely.

"Would it be possible to purchase either of these girls?"

"Right now? No, no. We only sell properly trained girls, ones that will expose minimal risk to their owners and to the organization. Please, let me show you the next stage. This is the first order training room."  Sergei took out a set of special security keys and unlocked the door. It slid open revealing a small room bare, dark room. Sergei flipped on a light.

In the center of the room a naked girl hung upside down from the ceiling. A heavy rope was tied tightly around one ankle and ran up to a pulley attached to the ceiling above, then over to a clamp on the opposite wall. Luke observed quickly how a woman's body changed when suspended, especially inverted. She was stretched, elongated in various ways, her legs taught, ribs clearly visible, hips standing out clearly. Her ample breasts were each tied tightly, bulging out to a rope that descended to heavy rocks below. Her other leg was stretched back and to the side, the ankle secured tightly to her wrists behind her back. Labored breathing made her body move, gently swinging slightly back and forth.

"Shauna has been in this room for a couple of hours. She is learning how truly helpless she is."

Sergei reached out and slid his hand over the girl's thatch of pubic hair, gliding backward over the soft folds of flesh nearby. "Why don't you touch her, see how she feels?"

Luke reached out, excited by the feeling of touching a woman that had no choice but to let him examine her most intimate parts. Her helplessness turned him on and as his fingers explored her pussy lips he felt his erection growing against his pants.

Shauna made some small noises that Luke realized were quiet sobs. She was crying, tears trickling over her forehead instead of her cheeks. Luke continued to feel her crotch, sliding his hand back to spread her ass cheeks, looking at the pucker of her anus.

"Note how Shauna may feel violated and exposed while in extreme discomfort from being suspended upside down; and yet she does not protest or threaten when you touch her. This is a good sign, it means she is quickly accepting and understanding her state of helpless subjugation." Sergei observed.

Sergei turned and picked up some implements from a side table. "This room is essentially a torture chamber, one of several here in the basement. By causing various levels of pain and degradation, we strip the slave girls of their personal identities, self worth, even memories of their past. They become animals, simply concentrating on survival. We can then retrain them in obedience and subservience."

Luke considered the beautiful woman hanging upside down before him, and gave her genitalia one more probe before leaving the room. He felt a growing excitement over seeing the rest of the operations, and finally having the opportunity to purchase a finished slave product.

They walked down the hall and entered another room through a heavy metal door. Inside a were several heavy iron cages. Three of them had young girls inside. All the girls looked frightened, horrified, and one of them sobbed quietly. There was a strong stench of body excretions, urine, feces and sweat. None of the girls spoke to the men as they entered. Luke had the feeling that they would have cringed and scampered to the back of their cages had there been enough room. As it was, the cages were just barely large enough for the girls.

"Observe," Sergei said as he took a metal prod about two feet long down from a hook on the wall. All three women gasped and cried out. Sergei knelt before the first of the women, a petite brunette that looked beautiful though her cheeks were stained with tears.

"I have here some food," Sergei indicated a meal bar in his left hand. "And here, the punisher," he indicated his right hand. "Answer the following question, get it right and you will receive food. A wrong answer is punished."

The woman simply looked, and mouthed the word "please" without more than a whisper.

"What are you going here?" Sergei asked calmly.

The girl hesitated and then whispered, "learning obedience?"

"Wrong answer," Sergei stuck the prod into the cage where it contacted the flesh of the girl's breast with a loud *snap* of electricity. The woman screamed and jerked in pain and began crying.

Sergei moved to the next cage. "What is your name?"

The young blonde woman inside looked almost relieved and said with timid confidence, "Emily, sir."

"Wrong answer," the probe slid through the cage bars and shocked the blonde's breast. She jerked, screamed, and let flow a stream of urine.

Sergei moved to the next cage. "What is the punishment for error?"

The girl curled into a fetal position inside the cage with no room to move said, "A... a shock... with the stick, sir."

"Wrong answer," and the girl screamed even before the shock sliced into her body. Sergei stood, returned the meal bar to his pocket and hung the probe back on the wall. The sobs of the girls behind them was pitiful, and gave Luke a solid erection. Outside the room with the door closed, he just had to ask a question.

"What were the right answers to those questions? Surely the girl must have known her own name?"

"Oh yes, she did. That is Emily. At this stage of the training there is no right answer. The girls are punished for literally everything they do or say until they are frantic with fear and despair. Look inside here," Sergei opened the sliding metal window in the door of another cell.

Inside a young woman of about 25 was sitting on a wooden saw horse, the kind carpenters use for propping up and cutting wood. Her arms were bound behind her and pulled up, forcing her forward somewhat so her breasts hung down before her. Her naked pussy was spread and crushed beneath her on the wooden beam of the saw horse, and Luke saw the beam had been sharpened to a point at the top. The slave's legs were tied apart.

The combined effect of her bondage was to force the girl to sit on the wood beam, leaning forward so her pubic bone crushed her clit on the pointed edge, unable to move forward or backward, right or left.  The girl, who appeared to be a teenager, sobbed and moaned in pain.

"Here is a girl being punished for eating the food she was given. She will remain here for another few hours, after which she will be given food again. The purpose is to break the mind, and once every action, every thought is called into question and results in punishment and pain, then we begin to introduce slow rewards for very specific behaviors. At that point the girl will seek and comply with such desperation they learn quickly."

Luke observed the agonized girl in awe, watching the suffering before him in a haze of sexual arousal.

"Come, let's head upstairs and observe some of the girls that have moved to another stage of training." Sergei led the way up another set of stairs and into the more pleasantly decorated, plush environment of the building's ground floor. They headed down a hall with rich wood paneling and beautiful artwork positioned periodically between the doors leading to various rooms.

Sergei stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall and opened it. Inside several women sat in a row in front of a stern man holding a cattle prod like the one Sergei used downstairs.

"Igor, glad to see you have a class in session. This is Luke, and I'd like to demonstrate some of our position training to him."

"Of course," Igor said with a thick accent. "27, step forward and worship!"

A woman at the end of the line, a gorgeous brunette, turned to the men and then assumed a position before them, on her knees with ass up in the air, legs slightly apart, forehead on the ground, arms in front of her and wrists crossed above her head.

"This is the standard worship position," Sergei explained. "It is one of the first positions the girls learn. Proper slave positions are an important fundamental to slave training, sort of like learning to march as a soldier."

"Class, present!" Igor barked. All the women in the class sat on their legs, knees spread wide apart, hands on the top of their thighs, open and facing palm up.

"31! Stand up!" Igor barked. A woman at the end of the row stood with a fearful expression, head down.

"27, assist in preparing 31!"

The brunette that had bowed before Luke earlier stood and went over to the young girl. She took a rope that hung from the ceiling with cuffs at the end and pulled it over to the frightened girl.

"At this stage of training, commands are expected to be obeyed immediately. The slowest girl is usually punished, regardless of her actual speed," explained Sergei.

Once the cuffs were attached, the girl known as 27 returned to join the other girls. 31 was standing alone, waiting. Igor pulled the other end of the rope, lifting the slave's arms into the air until she was stretched, toes barely touching the ground.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Sergei asked Luke.

"What? What would I do?"

"Simple. Whip her. 12 strokes, using this whip here." Sergei brought over a braided leather whip that must have been 12 feet long.

"Oh, my... I am not sure I could..." Luke hesitated.

"Well, if you are going to own a slave you will eventually need to discipline her. Think of this as training."

"Hmm... yes, I suppose you are right. OK, I will give it a try." Luke positioned himself near the girl, close enough he could see her frightened eyes and a tear trickle down her cheek.

"Step back a couple of feet. You are too close for a whip of that length," Igor grunted.

Luke stepped back, then swung the whip behind him and brought it around through the air. It whistled slightly as it traveled, and when it reached the girl the thin strap wrapped around her chest and ribs suddenly and with such force that it surprised Luke. The cracking slapping sound as it hit the girl's flesh was loud, but not as loud as the scream that came immediately after. The girl jerked her head back and sucked in air as she screamed from the pain.

Luke stood in awe, feeling an erection stirring in his pants. It was the first time he had used corporal punishment on a woman, and it felt good. He swung the whip back again and then forward, where it wrapped around the woman's stomach twice. She screamed once again, jerked on the rope that held her aloft. Her body rotated slightly as she struggled.

The whip felt good in his hands, and he was getting the hang of its weight and swing. His third strike was more accurate, and faster. He could see the girl's flesh ripple from the strike just before she screamed, a shorter scream that quickly sank into sobs.

He continued the whipping, each time feeling the resistance of the girl's body as the whip made contact, observing the red welts that each strike raised, listening to the screaming sobs. His erection was rock hard and the woman before him looked more beautiful as she sagged on the rope. He had lost count so it was lucky that Igor called out, "Last one."

After the whipping was over, the girl's cuffs were removed and she sank to the ground, crying.

"Present!" Igor yelped at her.

Struggling with all her might, the girl got off the floor and onto her knees, and managed to take the position, knees spread, hands on top of thighs.

"Back straight!" Igor barked and slapped a riding crop on the girl's breast. She straightened her back as best she could, given she was shaking uncontrollably from the whipping.

"You are a natural, very good. You will do well with a slave." Sergei said to Luke. Luke nodded. He was sweating with the exertion of the whipping. It had felt good. Very good.

"Come, let's have a drink and then we can see some of the more advanced training we do here." Sergei led Luke out of the room and into another room opulently decorated as a study with comfortable chairs. Sergei poured a brandy for the both of them and they sat sipping in facing wingback chairs.

"After being broken through constant sleep deprivation, hunger, the girls learn some basic slave behavior. The positions and attitudes you saw in the last room. However, mixed with this training is a very specific type of training I call Debasement. It is where a girl is forced to participate and accept the most disgusting, invasive actions, completely helpless. This reinforces what has been taught during their breaking, that they are no longer themselves. All body and mental functions belong to her masters. Nothing is to be withheld, nothing is beyond their limits."

Sergei sipped on his drink, savoring the fine scotch whiskey he had poured. Luke was feeling a warm glow from his own drink gin and tonic.

"What types of things happen during Debasement?"

Sergei nodded, and answered, "A variety of things, typically tailored to the girl. By that stage we have some idea as to what is most disgusting and fearful. It could be being locked in a very small cage with hungry rats. It might be constant gang rape, or forced consumption of human waste. It might be close confinement in the dark, or in a coffin. In some cases it is being put on public display for a number of days where her body and all her bodily functions can be observed by casual bystanders."

"It sounds fascinating, though... does it ever damage a girl beyond repair?"

"Damage beyond repair is something of what we are trying to achieve, rather like a lobotomy. To damage the mental structure, the willpower, if you will. To take away the sense of self and self worth. The trick is to do it in a surgical manner, destroying free will and self value, while allowing the mind as a whole to still function."

They finished their drinks and Sergei led Luke down a corridor to show an example of a woman experiencing Debasement.  They entered an exterior extension to the mansion, a sort of corrugated metal hut that had a number of small chambers. They entered one.

There was a young naked woman tied upside down. Her face was red from having hung in this position for some time and her breathing was labored. Her body was perfect, stretched out as it was. Luke was beginning to realized the female body became even more desirable and sexy to him when it was stretched by hanging.

Sergei picked up a plastic bag from a side table and the girl started whimpering, begging. "Please, please sir, please don't! Please, no... I will do anything. I am nothing, I know this, just don't do this!"

Sergei slipped the bag over the woman's head as she protested, her protests continuing as the thin clear bag fitted closely.

"Please, would you like to do the honors on this as well?" Sergei picked up a roll of duct tape and offered it to Luke.

"Of course, but what do I do?"

"Simply wrap the tape around her neck, securing the plastic tightly so no air can escape."

Luke saw immediately what was to happen. He eagerly pried the end of the tape loose and began wrapping it around the young girl's delicate neck. He felt the vibration of her voice in her flesh as she sobbed and begged for mercy.

Three or four wraps around her neck and she was done. The bag was expanding like a balloon and then collapsing tight against the girl's face as she sucked air in and then exhaled. She had stopped begging, though she continued crying. Tears wet the inside of the plastic bag as it collapsed against her cheeks, and trickled down as it blew out on the girl's exhale.

"Now we watch," Sergei said.

The woman was breathing hard, almost panting from crying and the difficulty of breathing upside down for so long. It caused the plastic bag to expand and contract rapidly. At the same time the girl's stomach expanded and contracted, attempting to pull in air that was rapidly losing its oxygen content.

"The sensation of suffocation is an interesting one. She can breathe, of course, but the air is more and more useless to her body. Her limbs feel it first, a sort of aching or restlessness, as the need for oxygen grows in the cells. It rapidly moves to the head which becomes dizzy-- there, see how she shakes her head? That is caused by the brain reacting to the lack of oxygen. She is becoming light headed, dizzy."

Luke observed the woman's body and face closely, soaking in the reactions as she tried to cope with her body screaming out that shy was dying. She had stopped begging and was simply breathing hard now, panting.

"The sensation, while not exactly painful, is extremely uncomfortable. Her lungs are burning now and heart should be beating two or three times faster than normal, trying to get blood to the body. Of course, it doesn't help because the blood has no oxygen."

"How long before death?" Luke looked on in fascination.

"Well, she will lose consciousness in about a minute and a half, two at the most based on her breathing. After that death is a rather slow process as the body shuts down. Ah, there, see how her head is still and her breathing is not as panicked? She has lost consciousness."

Sergei went over and unwrapped the tape around the unconscious girl's neck. He slapped her a few times and she began to make noise and eyes fluttered.

"Brain damage occurs fairly quickly after loss of consciousness, so we wouldn't want to leave the bag on because we intend to sell her. The purpose of this exercise, along with others you might see, is to illustrate and teach the slave that she is no longer in control of any aspect of herself. Every function of her mind and body, even down to the ability to breathe, is at her owner's discretion."

The woman was conscious now, though still disoriented and recovering, breathing heavily to oxygenate herself. I tiny bit of urine had leaked and was trickling down her stomach on its way to her head and maybe even face.

"Number 15 here is still fighting the concept that she is no longer in control of anything. She will continue to undergo this type of treatment regularly until she completely accepts that her body is nothing more than a tool or plaything for her owner."

Sergei and Luke left the room. They entered another room where several women were standing in front of low, saddle-like devices. All were naked, collared and standing in an obedient posture. A male trainer had just finished inspecting each one and was barking orders.

"Now, when I say begin, you are to sit on the cock before you. Insert the phallus into your cunt. Ride on the cock, and allow it to pleasure you. You must achieve five orgasms before you are allowed to dismount. Ready? Begin."

The girls moved forward in unison and straddled the rubber dildos. They reached down, spread their cunt lips and settled down on the devices, letting the long artificial phallus impale them. One girl was slower than the rest, and the male trainer gave her a stroke with a whip. She yelped, and moved quickly, ramming the phallus inside her. She cried out in pain as she did so, but did not complain.

"All these girls have been catheterized, with a special catheter that is clamped shut. They have not been allowed to urinate for the last day and their bladders are quite full. I don't know if you have ever had a full bladder that you have held for an extended period of time, but it can become very painful. These girls are in agony."

Luke looked and noticed that the girls did look very unhappy, one or two held hands over their bellies and leaned forward. Several had tears on their faces.

The girls began riding their artificial cocks, their bodies wiggling and writhing on the saddles. Some moved up and down in small, quick motions.

"Once a girl achieves her required number of orgasms, she will be allowed to relieve herself, so they are highly motivated. This process trains them in accepting that their body functions are no longer under their control, as well as the skill of engaging in and enjoying sexual pleasure while in pain, and lastly, in accepting and moving toward a goal of pleasing their master with sexual or any other pleasure in order to relieve pain. This technique is called negative reinforcement, the removal of pain when a designated behavior is exhibited."

One of the girls had started frantically moving her hips against the dildo in her cunt, and was moaning loudly as she achieved her first orgasm. Others continued to ride their mounts, trying as best they could to follow suit.

It was fascinating seeing the line of girls writhing in place, each moving in their own way to achieve a sexual climax as quickly as possible. Knowing they were each also in pain made the process even more exciting for Luke.

"Would you stay to dinner this evening?"

Luke was distracted from the line of writhing bodies and moans in front of him.

"What? Oh, yes, it would be delightful."

"Yes, it would. In this way you can see some of our finished product, girls that are trained in service and slavery, and ready for sale. Let's go ahead and move toward the dining room now."

Luke followed Sergei out of the room just as one of the girls let out a cry of pleasure, achieving her second orgasm.

The dining room turned out to be on the second floor on a separate wing. It was lushly and luxuriously decorated, with fine china, silver and crystal prepared for dinner. There were only a few men there, and surprisingly, two or three women were joining them for dinner.

Sergei nodded toward the women, and spoke in a low tone to Luke.

"I see you are curious about the women. One of these women is a former slave and now works with us in training. She is still a slave but holds special status. The other two women are guests and buyers. You didn't think that only men are interested in slaves, did you?"

Sergei smiled and guided Luke over to the table where they sat. Several women came out to serve the initial course of the meal. Luke was taken aback at how precise the women were in their service, and how gorgeous they all appeared. She was especially drawn to one girl that had the most perfect skin like alabaster.

"All these women will be for sale during the coming auction, tomorrow. You may wish to observe them closely and determine if any might meet your needs."

Luke did observe all the women as the evening progressed. They served flawlessly, presenting the food courses quickly, quietly and efficiently. About halfway through the meal one of the girls spilled some water on the table cloth. A rough man who seemed to be in charge immediately whispered quietly to one of the other girls, who took the girl who had spilled water by the arm and left the room.

Luke leaned over and asked Sergei about the exchange.

"Oh, yes. Well, the mistake of spilling water isn't a serious failure, but every failure is punished. Igor gave instructions for her to be disciplined outside."

"I see. But the instructions were given to one of the other slave women. How can this be?"

"Certainly. Slaves are trained in all tasks, including the punishment of other slaves. It is considered a duty and important role of a slave to discipline other slaves appropriately. Would you like to see?"

"Yes! That would be fascinating!"

Sergei rose from the table, offered their apologies to the other diners, and the two of them left the room. Down the hall they passed the kitchen where several naked women were working, cleaning the remains of the meal and preparing the final desert course. The passed through the door at the end of the hall, and there were the two women.

One had been tied securely to a table, stretched out and gagged. The other woman stood at a side table with a cane, ready to administer the punishment. When she saw Sergei and Luke she stopped and waited for instructions.

"Please, continue!" Sergei told the dominant slave.

The dominant walked over to the tied slave who lay on her stomach, still and quiet, waiting for the punishment. The dominant slave raised the cane and brought it down swiftly onto the prone slave's ass. She gave a slight grunt and twitched, but otherwise showed no signs of pain.

The cane swished through the air again, and made a sharp slapping noise as it hit the prone girl's ass. She grunted again, and lowered her head.

The third stroke brought out a more obvious reaction; the prone slave jerked and moaned slightly. Her ass was showing red stripes appearing where the cane had struck. The forth stroke brought out a whimper and the slaved pulled against the bondage that held her in place, but settled down quickly.

The fifth and final stroke was rewarded by a low sob from the girl, and Luke could see a tear running down her face. The dominant slave put the cane away, oiling it and wiping it off briefly, and then released the ropes that held the punished slave on the table.

The punishment was brief and painful, but seemed to Luke as if it was appropriate for a minor transgression such as an inadvertent spill. The two women left the room without a word, returning to their duties in the kitchen.

"I'm convinced, Sergei," Luke said excitedly. "I want one of these women. When is the auction?"

"Tomorrow morning, at 10:00. There is a viewing of the merchandise at 9:00, during which you can examine the girls for sale in detail and decide which suit you. Let me show you to your room for the night, and someone will wake you at 7:30 so you have plenty of time to prepare for the auction."

The two men traversed the lush wood paneled halls and climbed stairs to the second floor, where Sergei showed Luke his room for the evening, a beautiful room with a four poster bed, paintings of discrete nudes in bondage on the walls, and subdued lighting. It had a private bath.

Luke went to bed that night but had a hard time sleeping, he was so excited to see what the auction the next day held in store.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Sold Into Slavery: Escape

Part One Here
Part Two Here
Part Three Here
Port Four Here

Stephanie could not tell how long she remained packed inside the contained, bounced around against the styrofoam packing. The space was not cramped; the term cramped implies there is some limited movement available. No, the styrofoam was form fitted to her body, and she was unable to move her limbs more than an inch or so.

She knew it wasn't going to last forever. There was no food or water, and they weren't killing her, they were just transporting her. Was it a few hours? Perhaps a day? She was thirsty. She had no choice but to urinate in the closed space, which made it stink. Muscles cramped with no way to relieve the pain. Her naked body was drenched in sweat that dried after a while, when the air grew cold. It must have been night.

Through it all the headphones stuck to her ears continued to deliver their brain washing message.

"You are a slave, owned by your master. You owe your very life to him, for yours has worth only through his. Obedience is the only way to happiness and fulfillment. Constantly think of ways to fulfill your master's desires; learn his desires and meet them before he asks. Maintain your body in the best shape to please all men. Learn the rules of obedience. We shall review the rules of obedience now...."

Stephanie tried to fight the voice in her head, going over memories of when she lived in the outside world. She had been a marketing and sales executive, visiting Malsi on a sales trip; she went over the memory of the meeting in which she had first been introduced to the Malsi practice of offering their sales women as sex rewards at the end of a successful negotiation. Kevin, her partner, had taken advantage of her natural curiosity and slightly kinky side to get her to go through a slave sale that had gone horribly wrong. She reminded herself that she owned an apartment back home, and had a sports car waiting. All these thoughts brought tears of anger and loss.

And yet, the last days had worn on her; she had been treated and abused as a slave so utterly, she was forgetting her past. All there was now was her slavery, and the desperate need to please her male masters, whomever they might be.

The voice droned on in her head, "...perform stretching exercises each day, so that you may spread your legs wide for your master. Your body functions at the male's whim; you breathe only because he allows it. Appreciate the kindness of your master in all things...."

Just when Stephanie thought she would die from the cramping pain, stuffy air, and going insane from claustrophobia, she heard the heavy bolts of her container being unscrewed. Moments later the top layers of packing came off and she blinked in bright light. Gasping for air, she was lifted out and lay on the floor slowly moving her arms and legs, trying to get them to move again.

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked up and saw Mr. Jackson. Her owner. Her true owner. He had bought her in the slave auction but had turned her over to others such as Mr. Hauser for her training. A feeling of fear shuddered through her; what would he do with her?

Mr. Jackson removed the headphones from Stephanie's ears, and helped her stand. She was naked, while he was fully clothed; Stephanie noticed but did not react. It had become a very normal thing for her to be naked in the presence of men.

"Welcome back, Stephanie. I am glad the first phase of your training has gone well. Now comes the time when you can begin to put some of what you have learned into practice, and get used to actually interacting with Malsi men and women. As you gain experience and skill as a woman, you may be given additional privileges, such as clothing to wear."

Stephanie bowed her head and said nothing. It came automatically, the training she experienced had its impact.

"Present." Mr. Jackson said.

Stephanie got down on her knees, sitting on her ankles, knees spread wide and placed her hands palms up on her thighs. She bowed her head.

"Good girl. Stand and follow." Mr. Jackson led the way from the small loading dock where Stephanie had been uncrated and down a hallway into the house. She recognized this house. It was the one where she was taken when first sold; it was Mr. Jackson's house. So much had happened since then, she had no idea how long it had been since she had been removed from here but it seemed like forever. The horrible transport, storage underground, and the humiliation of the training at Mr. Hauser's hands occupied her memory.

They arrived at a small chamber made of concrete. Chains of various lengths hung from the wall. There was another girl about Stephanie's age there, both dirty, shivering, naked, dirty and scared.

"Sit." Mr. Jackson ordered.

Stephanie sat on her bare buttocks, crossing her legs before her. A metal device was produced that looked like a large, upside down letter V. It hinged at the point of the V. Mr. Jackson took the metal device, spread it open and slid it over Stephanie's neck. Closing the hinge, a circular loop at the top closed around her neck, snapping into place firmly.

"Place your wrists here, and here," Mr. Jackson indicated places about halfway down the metal bars that now extended down and out from Stephanie's neck. She placed her wrists where instructed, and small metal loops, or shackles, were fitted in place, securing her wrists to the iron bars. The spread of the bars kept her hands fixed apart about the width of her body, slightly below the level of her breasts. Finally, Stephanie spread her legs wide along the edges of the metal V and her ankles were secured to the bottom of the metal rods.

Stephanie almost panicked, feeling how rigid and immobile the device made her. She couldn't move, and her legs were kept spread apart. She began to cry, the helpless feeling overwhelming her.

"In a few days we will take care of a little surgery, in the meantime we will see about you helping out around the house."

Mr. Jackson turned and left, closing and locking the door behind him. Stephanie was left, immobile, with the other woman that was chained to the wall, laying on her side with her legs and arms bent back behind her uncomfortably. Stephanie could not move, and her ass began to hurt.

"What is your name?" Said the woman.

"I'm...Stephanie." It took a moment for her to remember her own name, which frightened her. Was she losing her identity so soon, so easily? She looked at the pretty girl, seeing the beauty behind the dirt and look of misery. She was young.

"Why are you locked down here?" Stephanie asked.

"The master has no need of me right now. I'm..." here the girl looked absolutely forlorn and miserable, "I'm... I've failed at some tasks recently, and they are deciding what to do with me. I hope they will train me, or at least make me a breeder. But... they might..." she bit her lip, "sell me."

Stephanie saw the utter fear this statement brought, and asked, "Why is that bad? Would some other place be worse?"

"Oh, yes... Mr. Jackson is rich and provides well for all his women. The work is hard, but if you do well it can be very nice. Some other place, who knows? And... well, it is humiliating to be sold. It follows you. You are forever known as a woman that did not succeed at being a woman."

The other girl in the cell was Jamie. She was chained in a tight bent back hogtie, legs pulled behind and wrists shackled behind her back. Her neck had a heavy iron collar that was chained to the wall. Even with all this, she had more mobility than Stephanie, who was completely unable to move.

With some wriggling, Jamie taught Stephanie how to relieve body functions in a trough that ran around the edges of the room near the wall. The trough was flushed with water periodically. Stephanie was secured so that she could not move or feed herself, with arms and legs positioned rigidly apart. There was a bowl with food and another bowl with water, and with some wriggling Jamie could get to it to eat and drink. Because of the way her irons were spread stiffly out, Stephanie was stuck in the sitting position and could not eat or drink.

The next day a beautiful older woman came in. She was clothed normally, and had an attitude of superiority that showed she was in a position of trust and authority in the household. She let Stephanie drink from a water bottle with a large nipple on it, like a cows teet. It was humiliating but Stephanie needed water badly. No food was provided.

On the second day the same woman came in and gave Stephanie water again, but this time also gave her some food. Stephanie swallowed it ravenously.

Jamie was then unlocked and removed from the cell, shaking with fear about her unknown fate. Stephanie was alone for a while, feeling abandoned and hopeless. Two days shackled unmoving in the cell was taking its toll, and now she was alone. But a couple of hours later the woman returned, unlocked Stephanie told her to follow. It was difficult for Stephanie to move or walk as her arms and legs had been held immobile for two days; the muscles cramped and needed to stretch and be used again.

Stephanie limped behind the tall beautiful woman into a large kitchen with tile floor. The woman gave Stephanie a small brush and bottle of cleanser.


Stephanie knelt.

"Stephanie, your job is to clean the tile in this kitchen. All of it. Do it quickly, do it well. While here you may be called upon to service males; do so without question, but do not fall behind on your work. I will return."

"Ma'am? May I ask a question?"

The woman looked annoyed, but nodded.

"Mr. Jackson said something about surgery. Do you know what it is? What is to be done?"

The woman frowned, a crooked mean frown. "Yes, you are scheduled for tomorrow morning. Sterilization, I believe. You are not to be bred. I can't think of why Mr. Jackson is thinking you could rise any higher than a housemaid and breeder, so I assume he wants you to keep your figure so you can be farmed out to one of the brothels. Now, get to scrubbing!"

The woman turned and left, bare feet making no noise on the tile floor.

Stephanie shivered, wrapping her arms around her nakedness, the reality of her situation hitting her even harder than it had before. She was to be sterilized! Her body invaded, modified, the ability to have children taken away from her! She shook with fear and anger. It wasn't so much that she had ever wanted children, but to have someone just... cut into her body and take out parts... was just... unthinkable. And then to be sent to a brothel where men would paw her and take her for money? Stephanie cried hot tears as she began to scrub the floor.

She was hardly aware of it, but her training over the past few days and weeks had begun to teach her that her role in society was heavily dependent on having babies; on breeding successfully. Back in her home town she would have been indifferent to being sterilized because she had no intention of ever having children. But now, here, the news shook her and panic filled her mind. She needed to breed; she needed at least the option of having babies! It was fundamental to being a woman, to service men, to take their semen inside and use it to make new humans, to breed with any and all that wished it!

Stephanie scrubbed the floor absently as she thought and worried. She had completed barely a tenth of the floor area when a man came in and noticed her.

"Ass up, girl! Put your ass up as you work where I can see it!"

Stephanie obediently pushed her ass up into the air as she scrubbed on her hands and knees. The man fingered her, first her cunt and then pushing deep into her anus. The sudden penetration made Stephanie gasp, but she kept working.

After fondling and playing with Stephanie quite a bit the man finally left. Not once did Stephanie stop working, unless the man had forced her to by shoving her body around to gain better access. Her training was having its effect; she was doing her best to please all men, do her job, get work done, and service all those she encountered.

When the man left, Stephanie noticed some car keys on the table. With a flash, Stephanie's mind swirled around the idea of escape. She wasn't thinking rationally, but she realized that for the first time since she had come to Malsi she was able to walk and move unhindered, not secured to the floor or walls, and she reached out and picked the keys up in her hand. Their solidity took hold of her mind, made the idea of escape more real.

She would not allow them to cut into her. She would not allow them to sterilize her like some bitch dog, she was going to escape. She ran out the kitchen door and found the car. Getting in she turned on the car and familiarized herself with the controls.

The seat fabric felt strange on the bare flesh of her ass and back. It reminded her she had no clothes, that she would stand out in the crowd. Her first order of business after driving out-- get clothes. Then find her way to an embassy, or maybe even the airport.

Stephanie put the car in gear and it rolled around the side of the huge mansion; she had never seen it before from the outside. The drive went around it; the place was huge with rows of windows and stone colonnades. Green trees and rolling lawns surrounded the massive house. The car sped up and she turned the corner in a cloud of dust. An ornate heavy iron gate was before her. She drove toward it and slammed on the brakes just in time to keep from smashing into it.

The heavy metal gates were shut, with round metal retractable barriers across the entrance to prevent vehicles from ramming through.

A guard came out of a small office to the side of the gate, opened the car door and pressed a small device against Stephanie's neck. There was a snap of electricity and Stephanie's eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped to the side, unable to move, barely conscious.

When she regained consciousness Stephanie was back in the concrete cell.

She was now laying on a rusted out old metal bed box spring, arms and legs tied to the ends, spread eagle wide. A board was placed under her head but above her arms, forcing her head up and pressing down on her upper arms, the sensation of pressure already cutting off blood and hurting. In front of her hung the tall woman that had been taking care of her, and had given her the duty of cleaning the floor earlier. The woman hung before her with her arms fastened to a metal bar that hung from the ceiling. She was hanging, dangling from her arms, sagging and moaning slightly from obvious discomfort.

There was a harness buckled onto the woman's head and fastened into the harness was a long wooden plug that was shoved deeply into her mouth, deep down into her throat so she gagged constantly against the rough wood surface.

The woman's legs were bent back, her ankles strapped tightly to her upper thighs. Her legs were purple from restricted blood flow. It looked painful. Drool from the wooden gag covered her chest and breasts.

The woman hung and swayed slightly before Stephanie. They looked at each other without saying anything.

After a few hours, Mr. Jackson entered the chamber and approached where she lay tied to the metal bed frame. The hanging woman whimpered an unintelligible plea. behind him

"Oh, Stephanie," began Mr. Jackson. "I had hoped your training had progressed further, for your sake as well as ours. Escape is a crime punishable by death, did you know this?"

Stephanie's eyes grew wide and she cried out, "no, please... please, I will, I will do anything!".

"But, my dear, you didn't actually escape. You tried, but you didn't succeed. That gives me some leeway. So instead, you will be punished. This option is quite unpleasant, but you will still have the opportunity to serve and enjoy fulfilling your true roll as a woman in our society when the punishment is complete."

Stephanie sobbed, either from fear of the torture to come or relief that she was not to die.

Mr. Jackson turned to the woman hanging from the ceiling behind him. "And you, Juliette, will suffer for your error in allowing her attempted escape. You will hang there and watch her suffering."

Turning back to Stephanie he continued, "Juliette will not suffer as much as you, for her error was not as serious. Still, she needs to be taught the lesson and take the punishment. Your own suffering may amuse her some, if she can be distracted."

Stephanie's body was prepared for her punishment. Each breast was tied with cable at its base, making it bulge out obscenely like a balloon. Copper wired clamps were attached to each nipple, squeezing painfully tight.

A metal dildo was inserted into her vagina, deep inside, and then strapped in place to prevent it from coming out inadvertently when she struggled and jerked.

These three points were wired with the wires extending away to a small box that lay on the floor next to the wall. This box was plugged into an electrical socket.

Mr. Jackson came over to Stephanie, shaking his head with regret once again. "I truly regret that you must endure this, my dear, but you must learn. Here in Malsi you may achieve true fulfillment of your purpose as a woman, your destiny, but only if you embrace it. Embrace this pain now, and use it to purify yourself and your thoughts. Empty your mind of everything but the agony. Suffer, and in suffering, become better, higher, more fulfilled."

Mr. Jackson turned on the box and then left the room.

The first shock hit about a minute after the metal door closed and locked, the room lights turned off until only dim outlines of the walls could be made out. The shock was brief, only about 3 seconds, but so intense it made Stephanie jerk and twitch with muscular convulsions. She immediately lost bladder control and urinated over the metal coils below her, where the urine then dripped to the floor. When the three second shock was over and Stephanie felt her muscles back in control she sucked in a large gulp of air and screamed, loud and long.

The second shock came about two minutes later, this one a longer dose of pain lasting about 10 seconds. Stephanie shook and twitched, her muscles contracted hard from the electricity flowing across from nipple to nipple, and into her cunt. The pain wasn't quite as bad, but still took over her entire being while it continued. When it was over, Stephanie screamed again, several screams this time.

She had barely finished screaming when another jolt surged through her breasts, the painful fire feeling like it was searing away her sensitive nipples. It lasted about five seconds, during which Stephanie gurgled and bit down on her gag.

Mr. Jackson had explained the gag was not to keep her quiet, for her screams were not to be suppressed but to be valued as a wonderful thing. In Malsi culture a screaming woman was sometimes called "Slavesong" and the different types and styles of screams were listened to by men and women alike, an enjoyment of a unique art form.

No, the leather straps pulled tight across her mouth were to give her something to bite into and to protect her from biting her tongue. As the third surge of pain dissipated, Stephanie realized how grateful she was going to be for the gag. She had bitten down hard on it, and if it had not been in place she might have already lost her tongue.

The shocks kept coming but at random, unpredictable intervals. Sometimes Stephanie had as much as 30 minutes between shocks, though the usual spacing was a minute or two. Shocks lasted between three and 60 seconds, also random. Stephanie almost lost consciousness during the 60 second surges of agony. Her throat became hoarse from screaming after a while, but she couldn't stop.

No sleep was possible, for even when the shocks did not come for long periods at a time it was impossible to relax. The sequence of shocks was random. The duration of the shock, the time between the pain, and the intensity of the pain all varied without any clues or ability to predict the next sequence.

At one point Stephanie was aware of a group of slave girls coming into the chamber to observe Stephanie as she screamed and writhed on the metal frame. They simply watched, some of them crying quietly, others simply observing with obvious fear. Stephanie could not hear anything they said, she was struggling to stay conscious and alternated gasping for air and screaming with what little voice she had left.

The pain was endless. It went on and on, never ending. Stephanie prayed for death, begged anyone who could hear through her gag for any relief, anything at all. She would work in the brothel, take the surgery, she would die. Anything. If only they made the random pain stop.

Finally it did stop. She didn't believe it at first, for some of the intervals between shocks had been as long as 30 minutes. Stephanie could not tell the time in the cell, she simply lay and waited for the next searing fire to cut through her body. None came, a hideous, terribly torture of waiting in itself.

Finally, exhaustion set in and Stephanie fell asleep.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Brute: Corkscrew

It was her sixth day.

She knew exactly how long she had been there. The grated openings behind where she sat let light through from some distant windows, though no sounds penetrated from the street or city. The days came and went, the pain persisted. She no longer felt the vulnerability of nudity, though the temperatures at night fell low enough she shook and huddled next to the other slaves for warmth.

She sat between two others; a young man to her left, and a woman to her right. They didn't speak, there was little to say if it had even been allowed. They fought for what little food was given them, though the other girl was weak and usually lost, going hungry. At night they huddled and touched out of necessity to share warmth; there was no intimacy implied.

It had never been this bad before. Her last owner had been demanding and cruel, but she had always at least been able to wear clothes when cold. Isolation and punishment had been severe, but here... here she felt like she was being cast aside as an animal. Or worse than an animal.

The cell was a long concrete chamber, three or four feet wide and perhaps 30 feet long. Obviously designed to hold more slaves, the chamber had the absolute barest of features; a trough on the floor leading to a drain down which body waste products were washed once a day. A shelf protruded from the wall before them where dry, moldy bread was placed and a tiny trough filled with stale water.

And the dildos. Yes, the dildos; the monstrous devices that kept the prisoners in place.

The dildos were about seven or eight inches long, perhaps three wide; enough to fill and spread any body orifice tightly. Spaced irregularly every inch or so along the sides were curved spikes,  very much like thorns from a rose bush. They were curved and smoothed on one side, but on the other-- sharp, ready to gouge and shred. When she had first arrived the guards had pushed her down into a squatting position, grabbed her ankles and forced her legs wide, and then taken one of these hideous probes and shoved it up her cunt, jamming it in deep until she felt her insides being compressed upward against intestines and stomach.

It went in OK, but even the slightest attempt to pull it out caused the sharp points of the thorns to gouge and dig into the sensitive flesh walls of her vagina. She screamed the first time she moved, the pain of the thorns hooking and penetrating flesh shocking her senses. Not moving became a priority. Some movement was necessary, but it was careful, and slow, and designed not to pull or dislodge the spiked obscenity inside her.

It wasn't easy; the barbed dildo was attached to the wall by a chain. Movement more than a couple of feet pulled the chain tight and the dildo barbs grabbed her flesh and she cried, screamed, once again.

Her hands were secured behind her back.

And so she simply sat in the cell, unable to move about, the pain of the dildo barbs occasionally shooting deep inside her gut. Blood from the cuts inside her dried on the inside of her thighs.

What had she done to deserve this? She knew, but didn't understand. She had failed to have an orgasm when commanded by her last master. It didn't matter that he had a tiny dick and smelled of pig shit; when he fucked her, she was to cum. Loudly. She had done her best, but he had become angered by her performance, threatened to sell her, and finally had done just that. Sold her to the famous palace of sadists, who used and consumed slaves for their own sick pleasures.

Her price had been high, that she knew as well. She was young, fit, and pretty. Her last master had used her frequently, kept her clean and well dressed, and allowed her privileges because he liked to see her. Coming to this place was like dropping from a beautiful meadow into a dark tiger trap.

She leaned forward to where a rat was nibbling on a crust of bread and took it in her mouth. The movement disturbed the dildo barbs, but she was so hungry, she had to eat. Kneeling, she pushed the bread around with her tongue until she could get some of it between her lips, and then teeth, where she bit a piece and chewed.

The water in the tiny trough was fetid, but she lapped and then urinated below her. Movement was so limited by the dildo's chain she had to sit back down on the wet concrete. A hose was used to wash the concrete and naked slaves once a day, but the place still smelled like a cesspool.

As the sixth day waned to darkness, she found herself wondering how long it had been since she had used her arms. They were tied behind her back when her old master had become angry and decided to sell her. How many days? 10? 11? 

Muffled screams echoed down the corridor behind their cell and filtered through the grate above their heads. Someone was being tortured nearby. It would be easy to feel pity, but down deep she knew she would be screaming like that, soon. The screams went on for a long time, sometimes subsiding for a while, but always beginning again. They took on a wild, animal quality, no longer human. Just... screams, yanked out of some poor girl's gut. Tears trickled down her cheeks, not in pity for the poor tortured girl screaming a few yards away, but because she knew her screams would sound exactly the same.

The next morning she awoke, and the screams were gone. Whatever had been going on had stopped. Or the girl had lost the ability to scream. A privileged slave came by and hosed down the cell, taking special care to spray between her legs. He was an ugly slave, with a deformed face that looked like it sagged on one side. Every day he sprayed the cell, and took special care to spray her between her legs, as if that was the only form of sexual satisfaction he would ever have in life. She had been raped by many objects in her short life, and the water was inconsequential.

The boy was a privileged slave because he was ugly. That is what saved him, she knew. She was beautiful; she had always been beautiful. Her body was slim and her breasts large but did not sag. Her hair was dark and silky, though chopped short by her last master when he flew into a rage. It was her beauty that would be her undoing in this place. The men here would be eager to use her, to make her scream like the poor girl last night. She had no hope.

The sunlight in the cell was turning reddish as the afternoon of the seventh day progressed when two men came to the cell. She panicked and slid away, then cried out as the dildo barbs dig into her flesh once more. One man grabbed and spread her legs and the other grabbed the dildo; she cried out, begging them no, no, don't yank it out! The man pulled; the thorns dug deep into her vaginal flesh, catching and resisting. The man pulled harder and the sharp points dug into her sensitive flesh and began to tear. Blood trickled, and then drained from her cunt hole as the dildo was slowly pulled out. Her hips wriggled, her whole body writhed, her screams echoed in the small space.

She didn't realize at first when the thing had finally been removed, the pain continued after the spiked tore through the last flesh and the dildo fell out. The other two prisoners would not look at her, averting their eyes as she was lifted to a standing position and roughly guided out of the cell door and into the hall. She made a token bit of resistance but didn't have the strength to truly put up a fight.

Down deep inside she had still harbored a hope that her looks might save her; that she would be assigned to a brothel function, fucking endless lines of men, letting them shit on her, pee on her, hit her, fuck all her holes at once, endlessly. The prospect of being used in that way was all she hoped for. Now, her cunt had been shredded and was ruined. She knew she would never be lucky enough to become a slave whore.

The chamber was the nicest she had seen in the entire torture palace. Marble floors reflected beautiful decorations and light streaming in from the morning sun. She noticed these things because of the contrast with the cell from which she had just been removed, but they meant little to her. She was dragged to the center of the room. Several men gathered around her, evaluating and touching her naked flesh.  Apparently, they approved. Several were smiling and kept touching her body.

They lifted her naked body up and  her feet were inserted into a strange box with two holes at the top. She had to point her toes down in order to get her feet inside, and once she stood on her own, clamps inside automatically snapped into place, grabbing her ankles and feet. She could not move from the spot, but stood looking at the men that surrounded her.
"You ruined her cunt," one of the men observed. It wasn't a judgment, just an observation.

"You can still fuck it if you want," another said. "It's nice and lubed."

That brought harsh laughter. The man who had spoken first unzipped his pants, pulled out an enormous rock hard cock and walked around behind her. Someone punched her in the stomach, causing her to bend over with a grunt, and when she did the man behind her spread her ass cheeks and rammed his cock deep inside her rectum. He fucked her hard, making her body jerk and bob back and forth as he thrust. Her breasts were not big but large enough to wobble from the rhythmic banging from behind. She was tight around his cock and he finished quickly, spurting a load of fluid inside her and then withdrawing. She heard the zipper of his pants go back up.

Her hands were unfastened, causing blood to rush back into places that had been starved and numb. It hurt and she whimpered, rubbing hands and arms together. Her knees bent and she began to kneel down, though the stiff brackets held her ankles and legs in place and prevented her from doing so. As it was her arms were only free for a moment. The men grabbed her wrists and pulled them up over her head, inserting them into a similar box as her feet. Inside the holes in this box her wrists were clamped tightly in place.
She stood, legs held in place slightly apart and arms extended above, also held slightly apart. Her naked condition made her feel more vulnerable in this position, and she looked around at the men, wondering what would happen.

It became clear when she saw the bullwhip. An ugly man in a suit and tie pulled down, with collar open, wielded it expertly. Without warning or delay, he swung the long leather strand over his head and it lashed out toward her, wrapping itself around her naked body. The impact caused her flesh to ripple.

She heard the screaming, same as the night before, and realized it was her. It had begun.

After the third or fourth cutting stroke, the man stopped and said, "stretch her a bit."

In response there was a slight pneumatic hiss and the box holding her wrists pulled upward. Her body stretched, elongating painfully as the device pulled her muscles and joints tight. It was as if she was a guitar string, stretched and pulled tight, ready to be plucked. The men stood around, observing and appreciating how the stretched body became more beautiful, flesh pulled tight against and showing the slave girl's ribs and hips, her breasts lifted up slightly, and not least of all her face contorted in agony from the strain.
The whip hissed through the air again, slicing her flesh like a knife. She resumed screaming as the whip continued its work.

The pain of the whip masked what was slowly happening to her body, but during a lull in the lashing she realized she was facing direct sunlight through the window. Through the haze of fiery pain she looked and realized the box at the top had very slowly turned her 45 degrees to the left so her face was now looking at the window. 

The whip was handed to another man, who favored the upper half of her body. The whip cut bloody stripes across her breasts and arms, even across her face. A lovely young face, twisted in the screams of her flesh slowly being cut away, an inch at a time.

The box on the top continued to turn slowly. The box holding her feet in place staid perfectly still. Her body was slowly, ever so slowly twisted to the left.

They stopped whipping her.  Perhaps it didn't matter; her flesh was on fire, burning from the horrible flogging. Additional strokes might add some pain but there was something else happening that was going to provide more amusement for the brutish men.

She gasped in horror as she realized the box holding her wrists had turned a complete 180 degrees from where it had started. Her right wrist was over her left leg. The twisting force caused her legs to slide at an angle, her hips turned only halfway around. Her back and body were twisted by the force of the device, and her arms crossed, providing the last bit of give against the slow turning.

Yes, legs and arms were the first to give in to the twisting motion; her body was twisted as well but it resisted. 

The pain from the whipping was beginning to fade. No... not fade. It was being displaced by another, deeper agony. All her joints were screaming now as they were pulled tighter and tighter by the slow twisting motion. She continued screaming as well, her head tilted back, looking at the ceiling.

Somewhere, in another part of the building, some poor slave was listening to her screams, wondering what horror was being done, crying not out of pity but out of fear that the same would be done to them.

Arms crossed and intertwined, legs bent and knees pulled, she felt her joints weaken. It would not be long before her arms were pulled out of their sockets. Her back and hips were being twisted horribly, as well.

The men watched as the young girl was slowly, ever so slowly twisted and her body deformed. And yet, it was a beautiful kind of deformity. Her flesh stretched tight, emphasizing her young body's shape. Her breasts hung unaffected. Her hips moved, buttocks began to tighten. It was a beautiful sight.

The first sign of her true destruction was a crunching noise accompanied by a difference in the tone of the young girl's screams. Her upper body suddenly moved a couple of inches, increasing the amount of visible twist in her torso. Some vertebrae in her back and broken and given way to the pressure. It relieved a bit of the pressure on the girl's hips and shoulder joints, and emphasized the twisting of her torso.

Her screams were changing pitch as the device twisted her body around to 270 degrees. Her arms and legs continued to take the brunt of the twist, but her body could not resist the slow, persistent pressure. Breathing was becoming difficult for the girl. Shorter breaths meant shorter screams, more like a gurgling, rasping cry.

Both shoulders gave way at almost the same time. There was no audible sound, but it was obvious when it happened. The relief in pressure was temporary, as the device kept slowly turning.

It had been agreed previously that the twist would go to 360 degrees; that is, one complete turn around so the girl's face would be all the way around to the front. Bets were being taken whether she would survive to this point, and if so, how long after reaching this point she would continue.

Screaming had all but stopped. Two crushed vertebrae had cut off all sensation below her waist. Both shoulders had been pulled from their sockets, but not before her left ulna had cracked. Vital organs were functioning and she lived, still experiencing massive agony, though unable to express it through screams. Breathing was too difficult, her diaphragm was twisted and functioning very poorly, making it almost impossible to draw air in.

She reached 360 degrees-- one full twist around. Her arms, legs and body were a fascinating, gruesome and yet beautiful sight. Bruising throughout her arms and shoulders discolored her skin; her torso flesh was pulled tight in folds. Her head hung back and she panted in short, small breaths, making little noise.

As the girl hung in place, unable to move any part of her body, experiencing the most agonizing pain she had ever experienced, she realized she was no longer screaming and remembered the silence of that other girl, the night before.  The silence was worse. It was when the ability to scream was lost, but the pain continued.

The men in the room stood around watching and admiring the twisted work of art that had been the girl slave. They drank, got drunk, prodded and poked her naked body. Her only movement was shallow breathing, but she was aware of their fondling and stroking fingers that probed and pinched and felt where her body had broken. Fingers probed between her legs, in a space that was closed tightly from the twisting pressure, pushing flesh aside until they reached the shredded flesh of her cunt.

After an hour of the 360 degree position, the men decided to add additional twist to finish the girl slave off. It didn't take much. Another 20 degrees and she let out a grunting rasp of breath, and did not take another.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Sold Into Slavery: Basic Training

Part One Here
Part Two Here
Part Three Here

Stephanie stood in the tight metal cage, barely able to move in the deep darkness.

Cracks of light though the door that covered the narrow chamber revealed little outside the cage. She was in a hole under the floor of the barn. The sides where concrete, probably. The metal bars pressed against her body, her breasts hung out between them, her head unable to move more than a few inches.

Stephanie cried, frightened of what might be in the hole, what spiders and bugs might crawl onto her. But more frightening was the idea that she did not know how long they might leave her there. Her body slumped, knees bending slightly until the cage supported her body in its upright position.

After a while Stephanie screamed. She screamed out, begging to be removed from storage. She cried out that she was willing to do anything, if they would only let her free. Finally, when her voice became hoarse, she simply screamed.

And then she slept. Naked, cold, alone, trapped in the confining, coffin-like metal cage, she slumped down and slept.

When she woke there was no light seeping through the cracks. It must be night. Her mind went over the events of the last few days; her arrival in Malsi, a country dominated by men where women were simply slaves. The successful business meeting that unexpectedly degenerated into an orgy in which she was forced to allow Mr. Jackson, the Malsi executive they had come to meet, to enter her and spew his semen onto her. Her fascination with the slave market, the arousal and interested, and her begging her partner Kevin to let her try the process of being sold (as long as he bought her freedom, of course). Then the ultimate betrayal; Kevin did not buy her freedom; Mr. Jackson bought her.

Accepting her new position as an owned slave was anything but easy, in her mind. But physically, there was very, very little she could do. She had been stripped naked, bound, and taken away in the trunk of a car. Things went downhill from there. At the moment, she couldn't even move a few inches.

She remembered her feeding tube; she had seen it when the ugly man had lowered her into the hole. She was starving, but most of all very, very thirsty. She turned her head and almost immediately felt the plastic tube against her face. She sucked on it; the liquid that filled her mouth was thick and slightly sweet.

After drinking her fill, Stephanie found she needed to pee. She held it as long as she could, but finally released a stream of urine into the pit she occupied. It was humiliating. But not as humiliating as when she needed to defecate some time later. She maneuvered her hands to grab her ass cheeks and spread them wide, pushing the shit out. It plopped down, some sticking to her legs as it fell. She cried again after that.

What seemed like a lifetime later, light seeped into her pit, and she was able to dimly see the concrete walls. Boredom overwhelmed her. Panic came in waves. She wanted to die, she wanted to live, she wanted to be free. She couldn't move. She was buried alive.

Masturbation was a relief. It suddenly came to her that it was something that she could do to amuse herself, even trapped in that cage. She pushed and squeezed one hand around the bars until two fingers reached her pussy and began massaging. It felt fantastic. Pleasure flooded over her as she massaged faster and faster, moving her fingers over her clit. When climax came she shuddered and felt the cage swinging slightly from her movement.

How often can a girl masturbate? Fairly often, it turned out. Stephanie fell into a cycle of eating, peeing, crying, masturbating to orgasm, crying, sleeping, eating, shitting and peeing again, then masturbating again. Over and over. Her pussy was sore from the constant rubbing, but that was OK. She would masturbate until she bled; it was the only pleasure she had. Well, that and peeing. That felt good as well. And drinking from her tube.

After many cycles of eating, sleeping, and masturbating, a loud noise came from above Stephanie. The metal door that covered her pit was pulled back and clanged to the side, and the chain holding her cage suspended started rattling as it pulled her up and out. The light was blinding, and she blinked, getting used to it. She began to cry once again, this time grateful for being rescued, for being pulled out of hell.

The door to her cage was opened and she fell out of it onto the floor, unable to stand. A high pressure stream of water from a hose struck her in the face and she coughed and spat. The water moved from her head to her body, washing up and down, rinsing away the sweat and feces and dried urine from her legs. After a few minutes it stopped, and two hands grabbed her and pulled her to her feet, demanding that she stand on her wobbly legs.

"You were only down there for a few days, you can stand!" A rough voice demanded. "Time for you to be trained. We have a special program for you, since it turns out you have none of the normal background provided for a female. You need a crash course in what it means to be a woman!"

The man dragged her by a leash he attached to her metal slave collar, guiding her out of the large barn with its storage for women under the floor, down a hall and into a small room with a chair in the middle. She sat in the chair, feeling the rough wood dig into her naked flesh, not designed at all for comfort. And yet, sitting anywhere was a delight for her, she had been in a standing position in the cage for days and simply bending her knees and waist was wonderful.

A table was pulled in front of her and a book placed open on the table. Her wrists were tied to the arms of the chair, her legs strapped to the side so they were spread wide. The exposure of her sex made her flush with embarrassment and an enhanced feeling of vulnerability.

"Open your mouth."

Stephanie failed to comply immediately and was slapped hard, a hand hitting the side of her face hard enough to jerk it to the side. Her cheek stung from the blow.

"Open your mouth."

Stephanie opened her mouth and a large but soft ball gag was inserted and then buckled behind her head. She bit down on the gag; her jaw was stretched wide but felt better when she bit down.

"Read the book. Remember what it says; you will be tested on it. Read aloud."

Stephanie looked in disbelief at the man, really seeing him for the first time. It was Mr. Hauser. She stared at him, wondering what he meant. When she delayed, Mr. Hauser took out a thin cane and struck Stephanie's bare breasts with it, hard.  The slap stung horribly, and she yelp a muffle cry of pain through the gag.

"Read the book, aloud," Mr. Hauser repeated.

Stephanie looked down at the book. It was opened to the first chapter, and appeared to be a legal guidebook of some sort, outlining responsibilities and procedures. She began to read, the ball gag preventing her words from making any sense.

The cane struck her breasts again, hard, bringing tears to Stephanie's eyes. The stinging lingered this time.

"I can't understand you. Read more clearly."

Stephanie sobbed, once, and then began reading again, doing her best to make the words less muffled around the gag. She hated Mr. Hauser at that point, he was the single pinpoint that represented the horrible Malsi culture and if she could have, she would have killed him. But she couldn't, and so she read the book, slowly, carefully, the best she could while her mouth was stuffed with a rubber ball gag.

The gag made her drool. Saliva pooled in her mouth as she read dripping out and over her naked chest and breasts. The process of reading while gagged, drooling uncontrollably, and receiving strokes with the cane across her breasts when she did not pronounce the words clearly was the most humiliating thing that had happened to her so far.

The horror and shock of her situation flooded over Stephanie's consciousness. She began to cry, remembering who she was; a professional, a businesswoman, a marketing specialist, the owner of a condo and a great sports car. How could this be happening to her? Strapped down naked, drooling, gagged, whipped by this ugly little man she wanted to kill, she began to loose concentration on her reading. Several burning strokes of the cane brought her attention back to the text and she continued reading in her muffled, gagged voice.

When she reached the end of a page she turned it with her nose and continued. The words meant nothing to her, they weren't applicable to her life or who she was. She read them simply to keep this horrible man from hurting her more.

"Stop reading."

The directive came suddenly. She stopped and looked up at Mr. Hauser, who removed her gag and untied her wrists from the chair. He held a long stick with prongs. She didn't know what it was, but had a suspicion. It looked a little like the taser used to carry in her purse.

"You have urinated on the floor. Get on your hands and knees and clean it up."

Sure enough, she had peed without realizing it. Several days of learning to pee in storage, whenever it was needed, had trained her to pee whenever the need struck her without thought. Stephanie flushed in embarrassment, but hesitated once again. She looked at Mr. Hauser, wondering if she could knock him down and run.

The stick in Mr. Hauser's hand brushed the side of Stephanie's right breast, and when it did a sudden searing pain sliced through her side with such force it knocked her down. She screamed and then lay on the floor shaking.

"Lick up the urine. Clean the floor."

Feeling was slowly returning to Stephanie's right side and she rolled over and began licking, thoroughly cleaning th
e puddle on the floor where she had been sitting. Her side ached and she remained on the floor, licking, until it was completely clean. Her naked ass was poked into the air as she groveled and licked, though she was hardly aware.

"Back into the chair."

She climbed back in the chair, was strapped in place, and she continued reading. It was some sort of textbook, or guidelines for behavior. Some social order thing, she read the words and understood some of them but her thoughts flew about she hardly knew what she was reading.

Females are a lower class of human, ordained to serve... Females are to remain naked at all times unless permission.... Motherhood is the pinnacle of achievement for any female, procreation is... ... pleasure is always provided to the male, a female's pleasure is a secondary side effect...

It was cold in the barn. Her naked skin prickled with gooseflesh and her nipples were embarrassingly hard. Her legs were strapped to the sides of the chair, forced apart slightly to expose her sex. It was humiliating, but there was nothing she could do. She must have read for an hour before Mr. Hauser stopped her.

"Well, Stephanie. You have completed reading a significant portion of your first course. Time for a quiz."

Mr. Hauser attached a clamp to Stephanie's right nipple; it was two flat pieces, one above and one below the nipple, screwed together tightly. It didn't hurt terribly, though it was uncomfortable. A second similar clamp was attached to her left nipple. Mr. Hauser took time to caress her beautiful softness and play with each nipple to make then harder as he applied the equipment. What scared Stephanie was the wires that descended from each clamp; one black, one red. She understood what this meant and started to sweat.

A metal bucket was placed underneath her chair. This made her even more nervous.

"Very well, let's try the first question. What is the proper role of a female in society?"

Stephanie panicked for a moment and then remembered something that made sense from the reading. "The female is ordained to serve the male in all things."

"Not exactly correct, and incomplete, but we will accept this answer for now. Next question: Describe the female body position when ordered to Present."

Oh god, she didn't know. She had no idea. She had to guess... "Bent... over at the waist, and..aaahhAAHHHHHHHHGGGG!"

White hot shots of pain zapped through both nipples, forcing a scream from Stephanie as she bent over and shook, her breasts bouncing though not enough to dislodge the tightly applied wire clamps. It only lasted a few seconds, but was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"The proper position is sitting on knees, ass resting on feet, knees spread wide, hands on top of thighs palm up, head bowed down. Next question. What is a female's highest level contribution to society?"

Stephanie felt a wave of anger come over her. She was no slave. She was a free woman, and when she got her first chance she would wreak revenge on all that had put her here; Kevin, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Hauser, everyone. She growled slightly and spit an insult at the man across the table.

"You ... bastard. I hope you rot in AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHEEEGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH".

Stephanie's breasts seemed to light on fire for a few seconds and she cried out in agony, struggling and writhing against straps that held her in place.

"Incorrect. A female's highest contribution to society is as a breeder, to conceive and become a mother. Next question..."

And so it went for a half hour. Most questions Stephanie didn't know the answers to and she was shocked mercilessly, her arms and legs straining and jerking against the straps that held her in place. At the end of the session she had lost bladder control and peed into the bucket below the chair more than once. Her breasts hurt constantly.

"Stephanie, I must say you are more beautiful than ever when you are writhing in pain. But, that isn't the goal of these sessions. Next time, pay more attention to the material." Mr. Hauser gently cradled her face with his hand, kissed her on the forehead, and then unstrapped her from the chair.

"Let's relax a little. This was a hard time for you, I know. Open your mouth."

Stephanie opened her mouth almost automatically. Obedience was beginning to sink in, her training slowly being absorbed into her being. Mr. Hauser inserted a round metal ring, angling it behind her teeth so that her mouth was held open painfully. The ring was strapped behind her head.

Mr. Hauser unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard, long member. Stephanie knew what was coming. She understood there was little she could do about it, but Mr. Hauser was so disgusting to her she tried to get away. Turning her head and wriggling out of his grasp, she started to crawl toward the heavy door of the barn, but didn't get far. She was still weak and before she got to her feet her captor had caught up to her and snapped a collar and chain around her neck. He forced her to her knees and shoved his elongated cock between her distended lips.

It was quick. Mr. Hauser thrust and Stephanie choked, the back of her throat closing around the glans of his penis, involuntarily massaging it until he thrust hard into her and ejaculated a load of semen. The gag kept her from swallowing, so the white fluid slowly drained from her mouth, mixed with her saliva and a bit of vomit.

That night Stephanie was locked in a cage, not long enough to stretch out or lay down, hardly tall enough to kneel on hands and knees. She slept fitfully, uncomfortable, unable to move much. It was better than being in storage, though, and there was real food and water in a bowl. A bucket under the cage caught her body's waste.

The next day was much the same, reading material out loud, caned across her breasts or any exposed part of her body when she faltered. Mr. Hauser seemed to appreciate her beauty, the shape of her body and her face and hair, for her fondled her frequently. She was tested again, this time standing with her arms and legs tied apart, electrodes smashing her nipples. Her body twisted and writhed from the pain when she got an answer wrong or hesitated.

The sessions of learning and torture blurred into each other. Shocks to her nipples were replaced by shocks to her anus, or vagina. She was fed from the bowl and had time to rest in her cage, but never rested or slept enough. The training sessions were relentless and Stephanie was desperate to begin learning so she could stop the pain.

Quickly, Stephanie learned how to pass the tests. She had to change the way her mind worked; she changed her thought patterns. In order to give the correct answers of a submissive woman, she had to begin thinking like a submissive woman. She changed her attitude toward Mr. Hauser; he was simply trying to help her. She needed to find her subspace and actually feel the reality of her submission.  Once she began to embrace the state and process of her slavery, it became easier to quickly answer questions correctly.

"Who does a woman look to for approval?"

"Her master and owner."

"What if her master is not there?"

"Any male that she serves or can serve."

"What is the submissive mating position?"

"On my back, legs up behind my arms or shoulders, as I am able."

"Why are you receiving shocks and strokes of the cane?"

"Because I am imperfect, and discipline helps me perfect myself."

As her answers became better and faster the shocks came less and less. The welts from the cane healed. Stephanie began to feel better and better. She wanted out of this place, anyplace where she could avoid the constant discipline and punishment, and she knew that absolute obedience and would be required. As she perfected her obedience and submissive nature she actually felt pride in her accomplishment. Down deep she still hoped to get away from Malsi, away from her owner. But until then it was good to adapt and serve.

Mr. Hauser used her periodically for his own pleasure. Stephanie learned what he liked, and pride swelled in her naked breast when he gasped and spewed semen into her mouth. She knew how to make him climax fast, and from his moans she was satisfying him better than ever.

She served, using her body and mind to pleasure the male, and that felt good and right to her.

Finally, the day came when Mr. Hauser announced that Stephanie had completed her basic training, and she was ready to begin actual interaction and integration with the Malsi culture. She was to be transported back to her master's estate, where she would be assigned duties.

This wonderful news excited Stephanie. As she stood in chains in front of Mr. Hauser, her hand strayed to her naked body and pressed between her legs. She was masturbating, unconsciously. She wasn't aware she was doing it, but her excitement, pride and joy led her to engage in the only form of pleasure she had had access to.

"Stop that, Stephanie!" Mr. Hauser's voice was stern. Stephanie jerked to attention, wondering at first what she had done wrong and then pulling her hand away from her pussy quickly when she realized what she was doing.

"Pleasuring yourself in that manner is only to be done when allowed by your master or his representative. You know this! Your pleasure is for men to provide at their discretion. Remember this. Now, let's get you ready for transport."

Mr. Hauser led Stephanie into a small room off the side of the barn. A styrofoam case with an odd hole cut in the middle lay on the floor. The hole was in the shape of a human being, curled into a partial fetal position.

Mr. Hauser took a small audio player and strapped the headphones to Stephanie's ears. When he turned the sound on, Stephanie heard a voice talking. It spoke continuously in a hypnotic, beautiful voice.

"You are a slave. You have no value other than obedience to males. Always obey, always strive to please the men around you. This is the only way to happiness and fulfillment. To be happy is to use your mind and body for the pleasure of males. Success of your master is your success. Pleasure of your master is your pleasure. There is no way to be happy than to pleasure men. You are nothing, empty without a male master. Your pain and suffering is joy. You can not change your slave nature any more than a rock can move on its own. Use your nakedness to show your willingness to serve. Your mind is simply a tool to use to bring success and pleasure to the men you encounter....."

The voice continued in her head, seducing her, filling her mind with the principles she had learned in her basic training.

Mr. Hauser brought
Stephanie to the box, laying her down in the hole. It fit perfectly; as more layers of styrofoam were added, her body became completely surrounded in a tight fitting cocoon. The audio player feeding the subliminal messaging into her ears was placed into a tiny compartment carved out of the packing material.

Stephanie panicked for a moment. The box was holding her tight, completely unable to move. She cried for a moment and began struggling, trying to rise up and out.

"Shhh... now Stephanie. Remember, you are being transported. Trust your masters to do with you as they see best. That is who you are. Property, to be used as your owner sees fit. Accept this. Be happy in it."

Stephanie cried, shaking uncontrollably as the last layer of packing material was placed over her, closing her naked body in completely. A heavy top to the box was applied and screwed into place, and she was packed away, unable to move, wrapped in the plastic padded packing material. It was dark, but the voice droned on in her ears.

"A man's semen is your blessing. Always seek to draw it from a man; it brings you pleasure whether inside you or smeared on your skin. Remember the slave positions for male pleasure, punishment, and submission. Your body is not your own. Your mind is not your own. Allow all men to penetrate and use your body and your mind at any time. It is the only way to survive. Accept the reality of who you are...."

The box was turned up on its side, and she felt it move. She was on her way.