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.
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, 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.
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.
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.